correction detail

2

Canes commentator 1: “There’s Eddie on the bench, sporting those new pads…”

Canes commentator 2: “Having real battle with that gum, it would appear!”

Canes commentator 1: “He’ll get through it. These are the things that challenge you in life and somehow you have the perseverance to get through.”

Kanji Decorations in the Hokage Tower

I’m surprised that I can’t find someone already writing about this, but I noticed that Tsunade’s office and the halls of the Hokage Tower are decorated with kanji and I thought people who don’t read kanji might be interested.

Disclaimer: I read Chinese, not Japanese, but the meaning of characters and four character idioms is the same more often than it is different between the two languages; also I have crosschecked against Japanese dictionary jisho.org

Ok, so, the above image to start.

On the left, you see the single character I most want you to know, love, and appreciate with regard to Naruto. This is the character for the “nin” in “ninja” and “ninjutsu” and the “shino” in “shinobi”. But. It also means “endure, bear up under, tolerate, to move patiently, to be stealthy”.

I feel this is one of the most beautifully evocative characters, it consists of a heart 心 under a blade 刀 (as fans of my fanfic already know). So this character is communicating the concept of enduring even at a knife’s point.

When Jiraiya and Orochimaru are having their pissing contest about what “ninja” means, when Jiraiya says a ninja is one who endures, he didn’t pull that out of nothing. 忍者 “ninja” could, in fact, be literally translated as “endurer” with perfect truth.

So this is an interesting choice and it caught my eye. This character means “anger” or “rage”. So already this is an interesting choice to pair with 忍.

You’ll also notice that like 忍 this character has heart 心 at the bottom. The top of this character is 奴 “(female) slave” which is composed of 女 “woman" and 又 “right hand”.

Now technically this is a phonetic component, but it’s hard to miss the plain arrangement of the characters and I would reject any attempt to say that the choice is completely arbitrary. The notion that “anger, rage” is something “slavish about the heart,” and the fact that the character for “anger” is made up of “woman, hand, heart”, is not something that people are going to just not notice over millennia.

The juxtaposition of these two characters implies to me a kind of balance that perhaps Tsunade particularly wants to inspire her, since this is her office. On the one hand, endure. On the other hand, take no shit.

泰然自若

“Taizen jijaku”: cool and collected

温厚篤実

“Onkou tokujitsu”: gentle and sincere

天衣無縫

“Tenimuhou”: flawless (heavenly clothes without seam, literally)

金科玉律

Now this is interesting, I couldn’t actually find this idiom in either of the Japanese dictionaries I checked. In Mandarin, this would be “jin1 ke1 yu4 lü4″ and it literally means “golden regulations, jade laws”–presented in isolation as an inspirational image, like this, it basically means “our rules and laws are precious and unbreakable” (!!!!!!!!!).

Anyone spot anymore of these hanging scrolls? I think they’re very interesting, in the complementing and contrasting ideals that they’re portraying.

AT LONG LAST

4

White woman at the center of Emmett Till’s murder admits she lied

  • For decades, the story of Emmett Till’s 1955 lynching went something like this: 
    • Till, then 14, was visiting relatives in Mississippi from his hometown of Chicago when he whistled at a white woman in a local store. 
    • News of the transgression quickly spread, and days later he was found brutally beaten, shot and drowned. 
    • One of his eyes had been gouged out, and his face had swelled beyond recognition.
  • Now, Vanity Fair details how author and professor Timothy B. Tyson wound up correcting a crucial detail of that story in his forthcoming book, The Blood of Emmett Till.
  • As Tyson reveals, Carolyn Bryant, the white woman at whom Till had allegedly whistled, lied in parts of her testimony.
  • She said on the stand that what Till had said to her was “unprintable” but that he had bragged about being “with white women before.” To top it off, she told the judge, “I was just scared to death.”
  • Except that she wasn’t. Because it never happened. And she confessed as much a decade ago. Read more

follow @the-movemnt

anonymous asked:

Can you recommend anything that requires players to draw on relatively off-beat skills? That is, something outside of the usual mix of strategy, politics, social and narrative focus that tabletop RPGs normally have.

How about bullshitting?

The Extraordinary Adventures of Baron Munchausen, Told in the form of a New Style of Game termed Role-Play, by Baron Munchausen, the Third Edition, Considerably enlarged by the Baron’s own hand, with many remarkable stories and advice to his readers

It’s based on the 1785 novel, not the Terry Gilliam film, though you’ll get by easily if you’re only familiar with the latter. It’s not the easiest read; the text is written entirely in character as the good Baron, and is thus prone to ramble, pontificate, and go off on bizarre tangents at the drop of a hat. If you can muddle your way through, however, there’s a fascinating little game in there - and in any event, becoming accustomed to the eccentricities of the text is good practice for the mode of speech required in play.

The Extraordinary Adventures of Baron Munchausen is a storytelling game in the most literal sense: play begins with the host (GM) turning to the player to her right and opening with something like the following:

Most honoured and noble Prince, if you could refrain momentarily from the gracious attentions you are paying to my sister, mayhap you might satisfy our curiosity on the matter of how it was that you escaped from the prison of Akkra after you had been burned at the stake there two days earlier?

That player is then obliged to improvise - entirely on the spot - the details of the requested adventure. (An appendix of some two hundred such story seeds is provided if the host can’t think of one.) At any time, however, any other player can wager a coin to interrupt with an objection or correction to the details of the story; the speaker may then incorporate the twist into her narrative, or else wager a coin of her own to reject it with a stern insult to the interrupting party (the insult is mandatory). This goes back and forth until either the story is complete, or two parties reach an impasse, at which point the matter must be resolved with a duel. The text is very clear that this means an actual duel - the kind with swords and pistols - though several less lethal alternatives are provided for the benefit of children and cowards.

(For those whose improv skills aren’t so hot, players are explicitly encouraged to exploit the interruption rules to throw lifelines to floundering storytellers, so in practice the game can be as collaborative as you like - you’re not going to be up there on your own, provided you’re not playing with jerks!)

As you may have gathered, you gain coins by accepting and incorporating complications into your stories, and lose coins by rejecting them. Winning isn’t a simple matter of reaching the highest total, however. You see, you don’t get to keep your coins; at the end of the session, each player passes all of the coins she’s won to whichever other player she thinks told the best story. It’s only after this exchange that the coins are totaled and a winner is determined - in effect, what you’re accumulating by accepting wagers isn’t points, but votes.

The text is rounded out with several alternative settings, rules for playing with small children, a Rashomon-like variant in which players compete to determine the truth of an event in which they all ostensibly participated (and each remembers differently), and also, for no particular reason, a tabletop implementation of Mornington Crescent. All in all, it’s a very dense 150 pages - lots of good stuff in there, if you can prise it out of the occasionally impenetrable prose.

Just noticed that I’ve completly forgot to post the full version of this one here !
This is a drawing I made for a contest.
EDIT : I corrected a few details ^^
//PLEASE DO NOT USE WITHOUT CREDIT  this illustration is really important to me… I’ve been stolen  several times so now I have no choice but to put this ugly wattermarkt//

The Virgo is a restless person. Mercury relates to mental capacities and also governs the nervous system. So plenty of nervous tension filters through the Virgo brain. And the Virgo must ensure the information that is circulating is correct and detailed. Lower
evolved Virgos can become gossips and create rumors. But the Virgo in a
higher state of consciousness tends to be quite direct and very pressured
to present only flawless and perfected aloe nectars of information.
She writes articles with ink fresh from heaven.

anonymous asked:

So, you posted the quick history of Olexians quite a while ago, but I'd like to ask what it means by hoofed feet and animal heels?

there’s your arbitrary lieutenant fact of the day 

ree-fireparrot  asked:

Is there such thing as a martial arts disciplines or techniques that "suit" someone? Like if someone is physically on the small, weak side but has good reflexes and spatial judgment would they emphasize techniques that rely on accuracy (or hitting people where you can cause lots of pain without lots of strength)? Or is it less what you learn and more how you use it? Am I making sense? (If the answer to the first question is yes, what's a good discipline for the character in my example?)

You train your body to your style. In terms of physicality, there’s no barrier for entry. You adapt the techniques to your body as you train. It’s a common misconception that you need a certain body type to be able to fight, or to be good at it. Training takes care of the issue. The kind of physical training you engage in will mold your body. Practice, dedication, attention to detail, correction of errors, and time are all it takes.

There are martial disciplines that will “suit” someone, but those are psychological and philosophical in nature. Learning is faster when you desire to learn, and when the fighting style doesn’t counter your own goals. If you are mentally rejecting your training, then training will be almost impossible and produce poor results. A fast, brutal fighting style that focuses heavily on joint breaks will not suit a character with a gentle nature, who wishes to do as little damage as possible. Someone who wants a more inward focused and philosophical martial art will do better with Aikido and Tai Chi Chuan than they will with the sport focused Taekwondo.

The problem with your example is that it’s incredibly general and focuses on the character’s body rather than the character themselves. There is no good answer to it because the answer is, “all of them”.

Using physical strength as a metric for what kind of fighting your character can participate in or what martial arts they can learn is for stat based games like Dungeons & Dragons. You can take the abilities listed and apply it to any martial art you want. As I’ve said before many times, it’s better to work the other way around by finding your martial art then figuring out what you’re characters physical skills are going to look like as a result of their training. Trying to apply the combat style the other way around ultimately results in window dressing. Especially since, “all of them”.

All martial arts will hone and develop your character’s reflexes. So, the question is ultimately not that your character has good reflexes but rather, how were they developed?

You learn to judge distance through training exercises with your partner. All martial artists need spatial awareness.

You will learn accuracy by practicing your strikes on targets and then against live human partners.

Martial arts don’t rely on physical strength alone for damage, it’s cumulative and a balance of multiple factors that are all developed by training. Speed, accuracy, flexibility, momentum, endurance, learning where to hit and how to hit to achieve your desired results, your ability to move your body together, timing, these are what most people mistakenly refer to as, “physical strength”. Often, genuine effort and hard work are mistaken for natural gifts.

”Who is my character?”

“What do they do?”

“What do they want to be doing when fighting? Their philosophical outlook on the nature of combat? Their morals? What do they believe in?”

“What kind of fighting will they be involved in?”

“What kind of fight scenes do I feel comfortable writing?”

“What is my genre?”

What interests you and your character, who they are as a person, what you’re going to ask them to fight in your narrative, and, of course, how closely you want to hew to reality are what you should use to narrow down your search. After that, it’s gravy.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

On Editing

This was forwarded to me by a former colleague who attended a course on how to publish/edit a book. You probably already know most of these tips, but there might be something you’ll find helpful, who knows…

QUESTIONS TO ASK DURING FIRST PHASE OF EDITING

GENERAL STRUCTURE OF THE BOOK (what the story is and how it is being told):

  • What is the book about? What is the driving force behind the narrative?
  • Who is the audience for this book?
  • Is it based on real experience?
  • Does the story work? Are there any parts that feel unconvincing or where the narrative drags? 
  • Are there any parts I don’t understand?
  • What is the trajectory or the shape of the story?
  • Does the story start in the right place?
  • How quickly do I become immersed in the book?
  • Are there any points where my immersion in the story is broken, or I lose interest?
  • Do I believe in what I’m reading?
  • How satisfying is the ending? Does it feel inevitable?
  • Does it feel like anything is missing?
  • Is there anything extraneous (characters, detail, unnecessary plot points)?
  • What is the narrative point of view (first person, second person, third person)? Does it change? Is it consistent? Does it work? What might be lost or gained if the story were told another way?
  • Is the tense consistent? If it changes, is it necessary?
  • Does coincidence feature as a plot device? If so, is there another way to engineer the same events?

Keep reading

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part V)

Part V – “But we’re still sleeping like we’re lovers”

Twenty-six

I stood there, transfixed by the overwhelming feeling of her in my arms, unbelievingly real against the paleness of my tired memories. I didn’t know what had happened to her – clearly something had happened – but was only glad I had found her, right in the moment when my arms seemed to be so needed to hold her.

“Will ye tell me?” I murmured against her hair – fragrant like a freshly squeezed lemon, like a garden after pouring rain -, my hands rubbing her back in soothing circles. “What happened?”

“I will.” She tilted her chin, allowing our eyes to meet – hers were dry but glassy, as if her body was wrecked with fever. “I want to tell you.”

“Good.” I attempted a calming smile, but felt the muscles of my face stiff from concern. “Do ye want to sit down?”

“We can’t talk here.” Claire told me, finally stepping back, away from the comfort of my body – I felt the loss of her warmth as acutely as I would miss a limb. Phantom pain, permanent and excruciating, constructed by the mind to deal with unbearable loss. “This is Geillis place – she is a close friend – and she’ll be arriving shortly from work. I thought she had forgotten her keys when you knocked.”

“Ye can come to my house.” I offered, almost biting my tongue in eagerness. The image of Claire in my home - the tips of her fingers brushing the book spines in the shelf, her lips drinking from one of my glasses - a kiss shared through the marks we’d both leave there – made my heart swell to the point of bursting. “I mean, we can have a conversation there without being disturbed or interrupted.” I babbled, struggling to explain myself over a bout of flushing cheeks.

“Alright.” She nodded in agreement – trusting me implicitly. Naturally. “Let me just feed Adso and grab my coat.” The feline meowed in agreement and rubbed against Claire’s legs, sleek and charming, as if he had been waiting to be acknowledged.

We made our way through the pleasant streets of Edinburgh, headed towards my house, located just a few blocks away. We traded some words, but were mostly immersed in our thoughts – preparing what we would say and do, when we finally could expose ourselves in a safe haven. As we walked, we didn’t touch – not even our arms bumped into each other, in that casual way of shared movement. We were both consciously avoiding to touch, keeping a safe distance, even if acutely aware of each other.

“It isna a big house.” I apologized in a jumbled way as we entered my apartment, collecting unmatched socks and forgotten papers along the way.

“I love it!” Claire smiled in a reassuring way, admiring the big flat screen and black speakers. Her butterscotch eyes covered my pictures and books, the quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, the magazines and pamphlets I had sorted inside a little basket next to the bookcase. “I can tell you live here – it’s warm and alive. It’s a real home.”

I grinned in content – almost purring in satisfaction -, as she took off her coat. She wandered around, touching objects with a respectful hand and clicking her tongue in appreciation of my book collection. Eventually she talked again, her back turned to me.

“Where is your bedroom?” She asked in a rough voice, unhinged – and then, predicting my puzzlement, she added in a low and hesitant tone, as if talking to herself. “I haven’t been sleeping much – I didn’t want to close my eyes and let my mind roam freely. I can barely stand on my feet, to be honest. Besides,” Claire turned and glanced at me, fumbling again with her sleeves. “I think it would be easier to talk if we touched.”

“Aye.” I breathed deeply, walking towards my room. “Whatever ye need.”

I watched as she laid down on my bed, above the plaid that meant home to me – taking off her boots and socks in the process. Her movements were slow and calculated, as if she wished to cause minimal impact with her presence, so that I would carry on with my life after her departure. Claire rolled to her side, curled like an unborn child, safe and peaceful in the womb.

I came around the bed and managed to lay down – silent and precise as a thief in the night -, leaving an empty space between us, as I faced her. She seemed tired beyond her years and utterly broken.

Without a word she slid her hand to the middle of the bed, where I could reach out and touch it – I did so, softly playing with her fingers until she relaxed and our hands were entwined.

“Why are ye here?” I asked, my voice husky. Her face was a duality of shadows and bursts of light, coming from the window to dance on her features. “In Scotland?”

“I had to come.” Claire adjusted her face on the pillow, caressing the nail of my thumb with her fingers, her golden wedding ring cold like a fetch between us. “I couldn’t be in Boston right now – I needed time to think. This is the one place that has been home to me.”

“Are ye still married?” I risked, watching in anguish as she winced in pain. She sighed – but the movements of my hand in hers seemed to calm her enough to go on.

“Separated.” She licked her quivering bottom lip, avoiding my eyes. “It turns out Frank wasn’t the man I thought he was.  He wanted to own me.” Claire pursed her lips in anger. “And when he couldn’t own me, I wasn’t enough. Everyday became a war between us. A long and tiresome war.”

I gulped, taking in the shrapnel of her destruction. With a swift movement of my spare hand, I rolled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing bruises the colour of mustard and moss, screaming against her marble white skin – marks of resentful fingers, forceful enough to break vessels and spirits. A lonely tear streamed down her cheek.

“He hurt ye!” I hissed furiously between clenched teeth, fighting the urge to maim the husband who had so recklessly broke the vow to protect her – to love her. She needed my restraint and I could offer it to her – not another display of bad temper by a man she had trusted. I hesitantly touched the bruises, wishing to erase them with kisses, to heal them with the adoration I would bestow upon her.

“I hurt him back.” Claire assured me, a look of shame crossing her face – as if I could pay witness to the degradations inflicted by both during their marriage. “He didn’t want me to leave. Frank said he still loves me.”

“Does he?” I asked with gentleness, battling the urge to ask her if she still loved him.

“I don’t know.” The tear track on her face glistened like a dry river, leaving thirst in its wake. “His love didn’t hurt like this, before.”

I wanted to ask her details on her failed marriage – her unhappiness was patent and unbearable – but restrained myself. She must have spent hours replaying the film of her derailed life, echoing words meant to harm – there was no cure to be found in saying them once more. I wished only to placate her pain – to take it all into myself, if I could. I longed to be the bringer of her smiles and not of her tears.

“I called ye.” I suddenly revealed, half embarrassed. “I waited too long – ye were gone by then. Maybe if I did…things would have been different.”

“Perhaps.” Claire agreed, haltingly. “But you were right – I shouldn’t have settled for less.”

I risked to brush her hair – silky and curly, so elementally Claire that took my breath away – and she closed her eyes in enjoyment of the intimate touch.

“What will ye do?” I asked, so afraid of the answer I could die. I wished for nothing more than to have her in my bed, lying so close to me as I memorized her, for the rest of my days. And yet I knew I had no guarantee of intimacy, of another conversation, of another touch – I savoured them all as a gift, for they were precious and not promised.

“I have to go back to Boston.” Claire explained, gripping my hand with strength. “I have a life there – a nursing job, medical school, friends and - .” She stopped, her eyes wide open.

Frank.” I swallowed hard, fighting against myself to offer her an encouraging smile. “Ye are still married to him.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, almost sobbing. I brought her hand closer to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“I won’t tell ye what to do – that is for ye to decide, mo nighean donn. But I need ye to know something, Claire.” I touched her chin with tenderness, urging her to open her eyes. “Ye alone hold all my heart – even before I knew yer name, ye meant light to me. I’ll wait for ye my whole live – and gladly so, even if it means that I’ll watch ye from afar, happy and fulfilled with another man, worthy of ye.”

“Jamie, I – “ Claire started, but I kissed her hand again and brought her against my chest, where my heart kept pounding, speaking enough to silence her.

“I’d rather ye dinna make promises ye may not wish to keep afterwards, when yer heart is less sore. When – if - ye mean them, I’ll be here.” I pleaded, staring into her eyes – she held my gaze for a while and nodded back. “Rest now, mo nighean donn. Let me watch over ye as ye sleep. Let me see ye safe.”

“I’m always safe with you.” She whispered.

I cherished her and held her hand until she fell asleep – finding new reasons to love her while she dreamt. She felt safe and protected with me – and, for that moment, it was enough.

Even when night came and we were left in complete darkness, I listened to her breathing, absorbing the symphony of the lover I craved. Once in a while I closed my eyes, making sure I could remember her perfectly – opening them again to correct a small detail, to drink another drop of her, afraid I would forget. Tormented I wouldn’t.

In the wee hours of night, I fought against sleep. I felt raw and tender, heart and body aching, calling me irresistibly to slumber.

I must have surrendered at some point. I had the vague recollection of a chaste kiss against my lips – timid, yet burning.

In the morning, she was gone.

General tip for when something serious happens: Wait for details, official accounts, people who were direct witnesses etc, don’t be drawn in by snappy phrases and dramatic one liners. Chances are whilst the general info is correct, the specific details may not be too accurate/altered by being passed around. Much more important to get the correct story than to just be the first person to report it, falsely fueled hysteria and panic will not help.

4

I’ve been receiving a few asks from people wanting to know how I do the doodles that I do so I thought I’d do a small tutorial… I hope it helps. 

Pic 1. general outline of the subject’s profile; main anatomy is sketched out. 

Pic 2. correcting anatomy & adding details. 

Pic 3. more details 

Pic 4. Ink

Secrets - Castiel Version

Requested by anon:  Any Pairing: Reader x ?. I’ve got an idea where (Y/N) is hiding something and acting strange but when her boyfriend questions her about it, she avoids answering. This continues until he accuses her of cheating and during their argument she blurts out she’s pregnant (or something).

Pairing: Castiel x reader

Word count: 865

Warnings: None.

A/N: Castiel version! This is it for SPN ones, now off to the Sherlock versions. ;)

Enjoy!

Originally posted by subcas

Castiel was patiently waiting at the war room, fidgeting with his fingers as his mind listened absentmindedly to the angel radio. She had been acting weird, and he wasn’t sure why.

True, it was hard to be the girlfriend of an angel who, until a few days before proposing her to be his girlfriend, had no idea what the word meant – less to say what it implied. She had to teach him, not only the meaning but also the correct dating etiquette, manners, details and tips, and whatever they found useful.

She had been patient, more than she had ever been, but humans had a limit and Castiel was pretty sure he had reached her limit.

Maybe he had changed too much. At first, she had fallen for the rogue angel, the badass with the blade and oblivious to anyone and anything around him. But now, after so much time on Earth living with the Winchesters, he had turned into a sentimental being – without mentioning how little grace he had left – and so there was no longer a bad-ass angel but rather a lost baby in a trench coat.

Finally she came back. Castiel got up within an instant and moved fast to face her.

“Back to the no personal space thing, huh?” She joked cheerfully.

“I missed you.” He said mechanically. It was funny how awkward things could get due to his incapacity of human-socialization. Not even after dating her for so long could he find a good line to say whenever she came back home.

“I missed you too.” She said calmly and left a quick peck over his dry lips.

“We need to talk.” Castiel was sure to have heard that line in many movies, and it seemed to have the desired effect on people. However, when (Y/N)’s face fell, he knew he had made a mistake.

“Is everything all right?” She asked, guiding him to sit back at the table in which he had so anxiously waited for her.

“Is it?” Castiel asked back, “You are distant and I know you are keeping a secret from me.”

“What kind of secret would I keep from you? You’re an angel of the Lord.” She snapped back, although her culpability was more visible after being accused.

“You know I respect your privacy and don’t sneak in your mind anymore.” Castiel spoke, “Are you happy in this relationship or do you desire to end it?”

“END IT?” She inquired angrily, “WHY ON EARTH WOULD I WANT THAT?”

“Well, considering the regular symptoms of un-satisfaction in a human romantic relationship, acknowledge in that useful book Sam gave me when we started our own relationship, you are either cheating on me or hiding a bigger secret.” Castiel explained as eloquently as possible, “Unless you have killed one of my friends, which is utterly impossible because I have only be-friended two humans, which are Sam and Dean, and they are upstairs, you are cheating on me. Now, the reason as to why a woman your age would cheat on their romantic partner is because they can no longer get satisfaction; not only sexual but emotional, and if so I would like to know if you want to finish this because I’m fully aware of how difficult it is to maintain a lover with an angel as a boyfriend.”

(Y/N) remained quiet for longer than Castiel expected. She was dumbfounded, trying to process everything Castiel said and, at the same time, wanting to find the proper words to explain her behaviour and let him know he wasn’t planning to leave him – less to say cheating.

“Cas…” She spoke carefully, “I’m not cheating on you.”

“All right, then what is going on?” He inquired softly, trying to act like the whole situation didn’t affect him.

“I think it would be better if you… Checked me.” She said.

“You want to have role-play sex right now?” He asked in surprise and (Y/N) giggled.

“No, I mean it. Check me.” The angel nodded and approached her awkwardly; using the bit of grace he had left to accomplish her wishes, as usual.

“There’s nothing wrong.” Castiel said once he had finished, sitting back at his chair in front of her. “Your soul is in place, no demonic possession, the baby is healthy – three months old – and your immune system is working as it should. Your hormones are a struggling to re-organize but that is only because of…” He froze.

“Yes?” The angel took a deep breath and connected his baby blue eyes to her (Y/E/C) ones.

“You have a baby.” He said, almost a sceptic speaking about ghosts.

“I do.” She confirmed with a shy smile.

“Who’s the father?” Castiel inquired curiously.

“It’s yours.” (Y/N) replied calmly.

“That is…” He cleared his throat, “I’m… The baby will look like Jimmy, are you agree with this?”

“Of course I am.” (Y/N) chuckled, “Cas, we’re going to be parents.”

“Me, a father at last…” A soft smile grew on his vessel’s lips. “As long as I don’t ruin it like I did with Claire…”

“You won’t, you have me by your side now, remember?” She extended her hand to hold his.

“Yes, you’re right.”


| Dean Version | Sam Version |

Masterlist

SPN Tags: @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @roseyhxnt @thisisjessicatalking

instagram

Black Rabbit of Inlé WIP update! I’m still working on detail and correcting some anatomical stuff, but he’s coming along. Trying to get this guy finished ASAP to get him up to the foundry so I’ll have a bronze ready for this summer in Laguna! Monster Clay hard grade over a wire armature on a base made of Monster Clay medium and masonite. #watershipdown #blackrabbit #blackrabbitofinle #sculpture #monsterclayhard #creaturedesign #wip

Made with Instagram

anonymous asked:

How do you draw guidelines?

i start with something like this

which as you can see is super messy and should only really take 10 seconds to do, with practice. from there i add whatever details i need 

and also make adjustments so that the proportions make more sense, like moving the legs farther from the torso and changing the direction of a foot placement

what i’m getting at is that guidelines don’t necessarily have to be a huge part of the process. i’ll show a few more examples of my sketches, just to show how simple guidelines can be

my current stance on guidelines is, sure you could draw a super detailed anatomically correct figure before you even figure out what expression your character has, but you could also just practice trying to express an idea of a drawing through as few lines as possible.

guidelines may be difficult to get the hang out, because you need to practice a LOT and try not to be too much of a perfectionist. i suggest practicing by doing a lot of figure sketches, like these

try not to spend more than a minute or two on each one. if you make a mistake, just draw over it. using references will help, just don’t worry about getting small details. the easiest way to get good at drawing guidelines is to understand what you’re trying to express, and practice expressing it. 

hope that helps! if i misunderstood the question feel free to send another one!

anonymous asked:

Who all has died in the batfam? And in what order?

Oh boy.

Um.

Thomas and Martha Wayne, obviously. They stayed dead in the Earth that’s the primary D.C. focus.

Jason Todd would be next. He was Actually Dead™ and resurrected as the by-product of a universe altering event. His absence from comics is notably the longest, at 15+ years I think.

Stephanie Brown was killed but her death was retconned to be a faked death, so she didn’t actually die but was presumed dead.

Bruce was presumed dead, with a body (??) and was apparently only lost in Time-Space. Everyone except Tim Drake and Ra’s ah Ghul genuinely believed him to be dead and Bruce himself was not intentionally faking.

Damian Wayne was Actually Dead™ and later resurrected by Bruce via Very Supernatural Methods.

Dick Grayson was briefly (??, mere seconds? I’m not sure) killed and Bruce hid the fact that he was actually alive while Dick went undercover and was later revealed to be still alive.

Tim Drake was presumed dead by Everyone but is shown to readers to be held captive somewhere. He has not yet returned in canon.

I have various feelings about each of these. :/ I’m also welcome to being corrected on details as I’m fuzzy on some of them.