exaggerated frames

anonymous asked:

Do you have any tips on how to animate smoothly? 😶 you are fantastic

Aaaaah, thank you so much!!! I’m by no means an expert, like, bY NO MEANS, buuut here’s some of what I learned this year in school!

When we animated in class, we were encouraged to draw each frame quickly! And by encouraged I mean our TA timed us with a stopwatch to make sure we flipped on time. It was terrifying.

But! Working fast means that you don’t get caught up in a single moment and instead think about the action as a whole. You can always go back and add more details later, but roughing should be done quickly so you don’t pour a ton of effort into something that ends up looking stiff!

Acting things out and using references makes you think about how an action looks, rather than just how you imagine it looks. Obviously there are some limits here– for example, you can’t observe someone turning into a card. However, you can look at similar motions to what you want. Observe, then work. Try not to copy too directly if you can avoid it!

And exaggerate motions when you’re framing them out.

When I started the class, I was scared that pushing the two too far would look bad. I promise you it does not. Push it as far as you think you can, then push it further– turn your characters into streaks in the air or pancakes on the pavement, then do it all over again!

Everyone has their own way of drawing it, but when something’s in motion, your eyes can’t focus on it. And that’s okay! Our eyes will follow the motion better if you have some way of ‘smearing’ the limbs or body between holds. Experiment! Find what works for you!

I have some tweens that look like this. Others are two lines, or just a dot, or something wonkier-looking. Don’t let non-animators fool you with their ‘I paused this animation and it looked bad and therefore it is all bad’ rhetoric– mid-motions look bad in everything! If someone paused you in real life, you’d be wonky too.

So embrace it! Don’t sweat things looking absolutely perfect in each frame. It will actually detract from your animation in the long run.

And of course, practice. Unfortunately, and I used to hate when people told me this, nothing can really replace good old hard work! You’ll learn some tricks yourself as you plug away at things! Everyone has their own style.

That’s by no means all I learned, but! If I went on and on about how fun that class was we’d be here for about twelve pages. So go out and animate, and have tons of fun!!!

There’s a lot that gets me about the love story in FFXV and how it relates to the characters, or rather, what gets me about the characterization and how it relates to the love story, but it’s going to be a long read.

TL;DR the characterization tried to lift tropes from previous Final Fantasies ( particularly VII and X ) but XV’s version just seems like a hollow echo that takes the tropes on the surface without actually figuring out why they worked for the characters and their plot, instead banking on telling us that everything is supposed to work out and be coherent and letting nostalgia pull some weight. It also didn’t help that any use of those tropes was completely shot to pieces by the story being a forced tragedy requiring ( in my opinion, unnecessary ) character deaths to be “touching” ( read: edgy ) and playing that tragedy straight instead of subverting it, exposing the writing as having a juvenile lack of vision.

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Does Papyrus have a negative body image (Muscle dysmorphia)?

If you compare a bunch of different human skeletons, you might notice that the hip bone and the rib cage are usually about the same width, which got me thinking of Sans and Papyrus:

If draw lines between each of them’s upper body and mig section, we see Sans clearly follows this norm (in fact, just about all the other main characters does as well), but Papyrus seems to do not.

This got me wondering about Papyrus’ Battle body and how the ‘biceps’ of it obviously exaggerate the size of his upper arms. He is a skeleton, so he can’t have real muscles. Maybe the battle body exaggerates the size of his chest as well, like a muscle suit?

Could it be that Papyrus’ actual rib cage and hip bone has similar width, like Sans? What would that look like? I tried to redraw Sans and Papyrus’ sprites to find out:

I drew Papyrus’ rib cage to be much smaller than his Battle body and more similar to the size of his hip bone, as you can see it makes a huge difference. Sans does not appear to be wearing anything that would exaggerate his body frame, so with him, I just filled the space his clothes cover, so he ended up fittingly big boned.

Her you see their ‘skeletons’ bodies over their clothed selves for comparison.

Design wise I think this fitting, as Sans and Papyrus is by design each other’s foil, so it makes sense for them to have complete opposite body builds.

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Imagine One: You Have Trouble Sleeping


“Jagi?” Hansol called softly one day while we were cuddling on the couch.

“Yes?” I replied almost as gently.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

I froze momentarily, and then I sat up and turned to look at him. It was rare to see him with a concerned look, really, as he was always so lively and goofy.

“How did you know…?”

“I’ve seen you awake at night sometimes. I didn’t really do anything about it at the time ‘cause I was too tired, but I’m worried about you.”

I sighed gently.

“I-I… I just can’t sleep, I guess… I mean, I’m tired, but I just really can’t fall asleep.” I mumbled, feeling a shade of red bleeding into my cheeks.

He frowned a little, taking my hand in his.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“It sounds stupid, I-I know… but-but, I didn’t wanna… y’know, burden you or anything since I know you’re always busy.”

He looked slightly offended.

“I always have time for you, jagi.” He said, sitting up and pulling me into an embrace.

Then he let go and stood.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“Where?” I felt a bit dumb.

“Bed. You’re going to sleep.”

I found myself shrugging and following him, whether willingly or not.

When we walked in, I was greeted with a mountain of comfort and fluff. Lots of thick blankets and pillows were piled on the bed to resemble a sort of den.

“Hansol, what the hell?” I giggled, looking at him.

“If you’re going to sleep, you’ll need to sleep comfortably.” He insisted. He took me to the bed, laid down, and then gently pulled me onto him.

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Because I love you and I care for you.” I was blushing harder, I knew.

I snuggled into him, feeling soft and weak in his body heat.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my head.

“You’re really cute, you know.” He whispered in my ear, making me shudder ever so slightly. I laughed.

“Thanks.” I murmured as I began to feel myself drifting away from consciousness. I still felt his lips press against my head, hands, forehead occasionally.


I’d been having trouble sleeping recently due to stress and impending anxiety. Unfortunately, B-Joo wasn’t really picking up the hints I was dropping, no matter how subtle or obvious. However, there was a small part of me that had expected it, as he was always in his own little world and was always so jumpy and energized.

“Byungjoo?” It was late one day, a little after dinner.

“Yes, jagi?” He replied, looking over at me attentively.

“I don’t mean to sound needy or anything like that, but I haven’t been sleeping well as of late.” I said softly. I was a little worried of his reaction.

“Really?” If he has ears like a cat, they’d surely have been perking up by now. He suddenly looked at me with concern and worry.

“Yeah.” I murmured.

“I-I-I–” He looked like he was starting to panic, and he seemed to be internally blaming himself.

“Should I get you some medicine to-to help o-or should look for some new recipes for you to help or–” I stopped him with a gentle hand on his bicep.

“Byung,” I laughed, “all I really need is some relaxation and cuddles.” His face lit up. I knew how much he loved it.

“Well, let’s go!” He practically dragged me to our room, looking more excited than ever, it seemed. I chuckled and tried to keep up the best I could, my surroundings blurring a little because we were moving so fast.

Once in our room, he took me to the bed and laid back against the pillows with me in his arms. My head rested on his chest, my heartbeat slowing as I listened to his.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need water? Tea? Is it too cold? Too hot?” I chuckled and looked up at him. His looks resembled that of a puppy’s, curious, confused, and lost, only hoping to help.

“I’m okay, thank you.” I responded, smiling. He relaxed and grinned at me. I laid my head back down and felt him press a kiss to it.

“Goodnight.” He whispered gently into my ear as I began to nod off.

“Goodnight…” I mumbled in reply. His body heat melted me as I lost consciousness and finally rested well for the first time in weeks.


“Jagi, you know you’ve got to get your beauty sleep. How do you think my skin always looks this good?”

I rolled my eyes at Xero and smiled impulsively.

We were on the couch, cuddling. The dorm was near empty today, only a couple people were still quietly walking about.

“Oppa, you can’t go a day without spouting beauty tips and such, cant you?” I teased, giggling. He shot me an offended look.

“Wow, jagi. I never knew you felt that way.” I laughed and reached up to give him a gentle tap on the cheek. He smiled cutely at me, his hair slightly tousled and his eyes watching me softly.

After I turned back around, I watched his hand reach out for his phone.

Probably only some bragging selfies.

I continued to fidget gently as I laid in his warmth, listening to the distant sound of the drama he’d put on. Oddly, he wasn’t as invested in it today.

I yawned quietly.

“Hojoon!” Xero called.


“Come here, hyung.”

Footsteps padded over.


He whispered something inaudible.

“Hmm?” I hummed softly, curious.

“Nothing.” He brushed off.

I raised an eyebrow and turned back around again.

What’s this boy doing?

Hojoon’s steps died away and then returned moments later.

“Thanks.” Xero said, and his footsteps died away once more, permanently this time.

I sat up a little again to see what he had, but he tucked whatever it was away faster than I could move.

“It’s nothing!” He insisted.

“It’s something,” I grumbled, but I laid back down once again and tried not to think much of it.

He fumbled with it for a minute and the keyboard on his phone clicked rapidly. His chest was moving a bit, knocking my head around.

“What are you doing?” I asked again as I sat up fully, coming off as more agitated than I wanted to sound. Of course, I didn’t mean to.

“I’m sorry, jagi. Just lay down and relax please. It’s only something for a new jacket I’m getting.” The last statement definitely sounded suspicious.

“No, you’re not.”


“You never order anything from online. You always go to stores to check if it’s high quality.”

He looked at me sadly.

“Please, just try to relax.” He pulled me close and held me gently. I felt his nervous heartbeat and his hands gently softening my hair. They were no longer relaxed and loose, but rather incredibly tense.

I took a few deep breaths and leaned into him, trying to follow what he asked.

One hand moved from my head elsewhere, and then the other hand followed soon after. I tried to stay put and keep my mind clear.

“Here, sit up for a moment.” He beckoned. I listened and lifted myself.

“Put these in.” He handed me a pair of earbuds.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it, just put them in, lay back down, and listen.”

I eyed him closely as I put them in and rested again, skeptical.

A video turned on. Soft music played in my ears and a wave of calm washed over me.

“It’s not too loud, is it?” Xero asked, a little drowned out.

“No, it’s okay. Maybe down one?”

He nodded and pushed the volume button. I gave him a smile to let him know that it was at an okay volume, and then I laid still.

With him still playing with my hair, I began to fall into unconsciousness, still feeling his heartbeat against my temple.

Slowly, I drifted into darkness as the lingering drowsiness I’d felt for weeks finally took over.


We usually called each other every day if he was working, but it was later than usual. I wasn’t sure if he was on his way home or not, but I didn’t care. I needed to hear his voice because I thought I was starting to go crazy from the lack of sleep.

The phone rang for what seemed like hours before he picked up.

“Jagi? What’s up?” He answered casually.

“Hey, babe… d-do you know what time you’ll be home? I-I’m stressing the hell out over work and… I can’t sleep…” I slowly stopped myself because I felt myself wanting to cry, and I couldn’t have that.

He suddenly began to stutter seamlessly, and sounds of things being knocked around and pushed over could be heard as background noise.

“U-Um, yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll, uh, I-I’ll be home in twe-twenty minutes? Just-Just wait, I’ll be as fa-fast as I can.” He stammered.

“B-Babe, you-you don’t have to hurry. Ju-Just… just finish your work and come home okay?”

“R-Right. I-I-I’ll see you at home.”

Just like he said he would, he walked in the door twenty minutes later, his big and puffy coat exaggerating his leaner frame. He shook it off, threw it where he usually did and walked over to me. When he reached me, he took me into his arms and continued to walk with me until we were in bed and the door was shut.

He held me close to his chest so I could hear his heartbeat and feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“You’re gonna sleep for a week straight once you relax and finally doze off.” He said, kissing my forehead.

I smiled sleepily, and just from all the skinship, I felt myself beginning to nod off. He gently rubbed his thumb, dipping in and out of the small of my back.

This was what I truly needed.

As those of you know who have been following my posts about the Gaulois publication of Phantom, Leroux cut a large section out of Chapter 12 (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”) when he published his 1st Edition. For those of you who would like to see that omitted text in one place, here it is in its entirety:


Raoul spoke this “perhaps” with such love and despair that Christine was unable to hold back a sob; but the strength of her will quickly subdued her emotion, and she had the courage to question the young man without dwelling on her sorrow.

“Why have you asked me his name, since you know it?”

"To know that I was not dreaming! To know that I had really heard it!… … And now, Christine, you have nothing more to tell me!… Goodbye!…”

The young man bid farewell to Mama Valérius, who did not speak a word to detain him, since he had ceased to indulge her ward; then, more coldly still, he bowed before Christine, who did not return his farewell gesture, and “straight as an arrow,” but feebly, to the point where he thought he would faint as he took the third step that led him from Christine, he pushed open the chamber door and entered the sitting room.

The young woman’s hand, gentle upon his shoulder, stopped him there. They were alone, standing between the portraits of Professor Valérius and Daddy Daaé. Christine gestured toward them and said:

"If I swear to you, before them, that I love you, Raoul, will you believe me?”

“I will believe you, Christine,” assured the young man, who only asked to be consoled.

“Well, understand then, standing before them, Raoul, understand that if I have pitied Erik, it is because I love you!”

“Good Heavens!” breathed the Vicomte … and he sat down.

Needless to say, he wished to hear more, and the conversation was beginning to please him.

“Speak, Christine,” he begged… “Speak!… You have brought me back to life, for as I said farewell, I thought that I was going to die…”

She sat beside him, so close that he felt the movement of her gentle breath. He looked at her, unable to sate his gaze with this angel who loved him; but she did not look at him. And she spoke without seeing Raoul, or rather without looking in his direction. She saw him at first as a child, when he had collected her scarf from the sea, and she told him that from that day forward she had loved him, because he was courageous like a man; and then she reminded him of when he would sit by her side and listen to Daddy Daaé’s tales, and she loved him even more then because he was gentle like a girl; and then later, when he had returned, she had hated him, because he hadn’t dared to speak the words that her heart, unknowingly, was waiting to hear, and this was even further proof that she loved him. She had never stopped loving him with the most pure love, for as far back as she could remember.

Raoul, who was crying softly, took Christine’s hand and could not refrain from asking her why she had behaved in such an icy fashion with him when he had thrown himself at her feet in her dressing room, and why she had always attempted to rebuff him when he tried to meet with her.

She replied in a calm and serious voice:

“Because, rightly, I did not want to be compelled to tell you, my dear, what I am telling you today. It was my intention that you would always be unaware of the love that I have confessed to you.”

“And the reason for this?” implored Raoul anxiously.

“The reason was that I did not want to distract you from your duties, Raoul, and because I loved you enough to not want you to feel remorse. I live between these two images,” she added, gesturing to the portraits of her dear departed; “the day that I am no longer worthy of looking upon them, my dear, I shall die.”

“Christine, you shall be my wife!”

Raoul uttered these words while looking at the two witnesses who regarded him from their frames with exaggerated and stylized smiles. The young woman said to him calmly:

“I knew that you would be ready to commit such folly. And this is again why I have hidden from you the tenderness of my feelings, Raoul!”

"Where do you see folly in this?” protested the Vicomte naively. “Where is the folly in marrying you if I love you? And would you think me wise to marry someone that I didn’t love?”

“It is folly, my dear,” Christine persisted harshly, “it is folly for us to ‘get married at your age,’ you, the heir to the de Chagnys, and me, an actress and the daughter of a village fiddler, and this in spite of your family. I will never allow it! People would say that you had lost your mind, or that I had caused you to lose it, which would be worse!”

As harsh as the singer’s response had been, it had at least been tempered by the words, “at your age.” Raoul saw in this certain hope.

“I shall wait!” he cried, “I shall wait for as long as you wish, so that everyone shall know that my resolve is unshakable and that my heart is in agreement with my head.”

“Your brother will never consent to such a union!”

“I shall bring him round, Christine. When he sees me ready to die of despair, he will have to give in.”

“Your family will cast you out!”

“No, for you shall be with me, and when they see you, they will be unable to do without you. Oh, Christine, listen to me … if you wish it to be, nothing in the world can stop us from being happy!”

Christine had risen. She shook her head and a bitter smile passed across her pale lips.

“You must abandon this hope, my dear…”

“I swear to you that you shall be my wife!”

“And I,” cried Christine in an exclamation of peculiar sorrow… “and I, I have sworn that I shall never be!”

Raoul hesitated… He had no doubt misheard… He wanted to hear it again.

“You have sworn… You have sworn that you will never be my wife? Christine? And to whom, then, mademoiselle, have you made this fine oath, if not to the one whose gold ring you have accepted?”

Christine did not reply. Raoul pressed her to explain herself. The young man’s agitation was acute. The fire of jealousy was overcoming him anew. It frightened him.

“Take comfort!” she cried in a delirium where love and modesty engaged in the most seductive struggle… “I have sworn to myself that I would have no other husband but you.”

“Yes, but you will not marry me!” groaned Raoul. “This is a sorrowful remedy for my pain. What strange oaths, Christine! And how convoluted all of this is, even though I have esteemed you to be candor itself… What! You swear to yourself to have no other husband but me, and yet you make an oath to another that you will never marry me! To whom, then, Christine? I want to know… Wretch that I am, I already know! And you say that you love me and that you want me to believe you! You forget that I know the name of the man’s Voice!

She took his hands then and looked at him with all of the pure affection of which she was capable, and the young man, beneath the gaze of those eyes, felt his pain already subsiding.

“Raoul,” she said, “I have given you the confession of my love to have the right to tell you: You must forget the man’s voice and never again even recall his name … and never again attempt to fathom the mystery of theman’s voice.”

“This mystery is so very terrible?”

She raised her lovely arms toward the two silent figures, witnesses half smiling, half saddened by these strange words; her eyes became gloomy, and her throat choked back a sob. She said:

“There is none more terrible on this earth!”

A silence separated the two youths. Raoul was overwhelmed. She continued to win him over…

anonymous asked:

"Organic slow burn." GIRL, you can't get more slow burn than it already has after 4 seasons and 6 canonical years!!! It's past the point of organic imo, and I don't have any more patience. So chop, chop Jason.

honestly tho y'all don’t know slow burn tbh… 4 seasons isn’t a super long exaggerated time frame especially when they aren’t full seasons. imma be a broken record here, but mulder and scully took 7 seasons to kiss (at midnight on new years so…) and 8 seasons to actually get together on screen. and know mik can scream to you about the west wing and it’s slow burn.

i think blarke has the most natural and realistic pacing and progression of any ship on the show. i think it’d be unrealistic if they don’t show them moving more clearly towards romantic territory in s5 and the way they set up the finale (and that sizzle reeeeeeeel) was clearly to make way for those advances, but yeah its definitely not the worst slow burn out there, it’s pretty realistic imo. (they’re definitely still fucking next season tho)

plaguerick  asked:

-leans on the door frame- Since highschool huh Finnick?

he rubs the back of his neck and nervously smiles “y-yeah. well actually, no, i mean, i did it with diane? i guess i exaggerated th-the time frame… im sorry” he stumbles over his words, blush increasing.

I remember you tossing me into an abyss, I who was and should be king!”

Very quick, because I’m reading old metas and the issue of this line comes up on occasion. Usually to make the point that Loki is lying/delusional/exaggerating. Yes, this definitely frames Loki’s suicide with as much blame on Thor as possible.

What I haven’t seen mentioned, although somebody must have, is that Loki’s words are factually true. Loki was hanging in an abyss because Thor broke the bridge that Loki was standing on. Loki is physically tossed backward by a SciFi “shockwave” type thing-y when Thor’s hammer hits the bridge. Neither Thor nor Loki could have predicted Odin showing up. Thor nearly killed them both (assuming the void actually kills—from Thor’s reaction, that seems to be the common assumption). An argument could be made that Gungnir helped Thor’s hammer, since it appears they both struck the same spot at the same time—making the shockwave an accident—but doesn’t negate that Thor was trying to break the bridge and Loki was trying to stop him.

This isn’t any sort of argument about whether Thor did the right thing or not. This is pointing out that—had Odin not intervened and Loki subsequently chosen to let go—Loki still would have ended the movie falling through the void. Just with Thor for company.


WIP, Police Maki based off of Free! gif.

Note to self: Exaggerate last frame movement, 2nd frame head movement should go a little further back to connect better to 3rd frame.

First gif animation thing. I placed a layer over the original FREE gif and drew a quick manikin over it, making adjustments to make it, well, Maki really. I then copy and pasted the image, making adjustments until the middle point after. WIP, needs a lot of smoothing out.

This is rather difficult. I can’t imagine making one from complete scratch to be honest.

We'll Meet Again

World War Two AU from this prompt list of mine.

It’s a mushy, under-researched drabble and I apologize, but here ya go

We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when,

But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day…

Bending to sing into the microphone, Lily Evans’ red lips curled upwards. Her gaze scanned the crowd, made up of khaki green and their colourfully-dressed counterparts. Couples swayed to the music, noses touching, their own little bubbles undisturbed by the rest of the world for just this moment.

Lily had been singing for the army for a year now, performing at various town halls around the area. She’d always liked to sing, and she saw this as a good way of shutting up her annoying sister, who worked at ammunition factories for the war effort and pestered her to do the same. She knew the songs well enough by now to let her mind wander as she hummed.

Looking over the crowd, her eyes lingered at a table in the back, where a group of three men sat. Two of them seemed suitably drunk, laughing into their glasses. The third, though, was looking straight at Lily.

For an entertaining event, this boy wasn’t smiling. His hazel eyes were thinking, she saw, as he considered her. His jet black hair was ruffled out of any attempt at a hairstyle, and his uniform hung on his slim frame, exaggerating his shoulders. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, she figured.

With her green eyes locked on his, the last note rang out.

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cahlac  asked:

You did my prompt today(yesterday?) so I'll send you another. From the Prompt List: I'll have: "THE MAILMAN DELIVERED A WEIRD PACKAGE (sEX TOYSSS) TO THE WRON GHOUSE AU"

Prompts currently closed.


That was a dildo.

A dildo.

A dildo that Asami definitely hadn’t ordered. Yes, she’d had a hand in designing it ( she was the CEO, it was part of her job description, even if it wasn’t a department she usually had interest in), but she had not ordered it. She would defend that until the end of time.

But now she had a dildo (that she did not order) with no home. What could she do with it (besides the obvious)? She closed the box flap to get a look at the shipping destination, printed on a plain white label with lightly smudged ink. There was no name, but the address was for next door.

And since Asami did not want the dildo, she was going to give it to someone who clearly did. 

She dashed out of her house and stood on the doorstep of the proper house. Her knees shook a little - because what part of this wasn’t horrifying - but she knocked firmly on the red painted door. Barely a minute later, her (hot???) neighbor answered the door.

The woman had beautifully dark skin and chocolatey short hair that framed an equally stunning face, punctuated by two shining blue eyes. The woman blinked at her a few times, the bright eyes growing wide.

And there Asami was. Holding her dildo. 

“Pretty girl. At my door. Hi” the woman greeted in a swift breath. Why did it feel like the tables had suddenly turned?

“Erm, Hi. I live next door and I think I got your mail” Asami tried to say it as casually as possible (how could this not be a big deal?) but her voice shook as well as her hands when she held the box out. The woman took it and glanced inside before blushing madly.

“It’s a…”


“You saw?”

“Yes” Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip, her eyes avoiding the blue ones. The woman sucked in an audible breathe before leaning against her door frame in exaggerated casualness. Her face only blushed more.

“And how would you feel about helping me break it in?” Her grin was strained and she clearly meant it as a stupid joke but suddenly Asami’s mind was filled with the all too pleasant image of the woman-

“Maybe another time bye!” Asami turned on her heel and shuffled back to her own house as quick as her feet could carry her. Dildo girl had just asked her to use the dildo and she hadn’t said no.

She hadn’t said no.


Weekend Hashtag Project: #WHPoverunder

Weekend Hashtag Project is a series featuring designated themes and hashtags chosen by Instagram’s Community Team. For a chance to be featured on the Instagram blog, follow @instagram and look for a post every week announcing the latest project.

The goal this weekend is to take photos and videos of everyday scenes from especially high or low angles.

Here are some ideas to get started:

Get playful with perspective. Make a tiny object appear larger than life from a low angle or dwarf a giant scene into tiny specks by shooting from above.

Location is everything. Shoot from spots that put you greatly above your subject (like the top floor of a skyscraper or a double-decker bus) or below (like from a beach under a bridge or the floor of your bedroom). Include points of interest in the foreground, middle ground and background of your frames to exaggerate the sense of scale in your images even more.

PROJECT RULES: Please add the #WHPoverunder hashtag only to photos and videos taken over this weekend and only submit your own visuals to the project. If you include music in your submissions, please only use music to which you own the rights. Any tagged visual taken over the weekend is eligible to be featured next week.

anonymous asked:

hi pygmyyyyyy ❤️ do you have any tips for keeping a sketchbook? and getting inspired? xo

ooh yes, i actually have a MASSIVE list of general art practice tips which i’ve been meaning to share, so y’know what:

  • carry a sketchbook wherever you go. pull it out at starbucks, on the train, at school, etc, and just draw the things around you. use your imagination, too! if you’re feeling creative don’t limit yourself to just what your eyes see.
  • try out different mediums. paint, marker, graphite, charcoal, crayon, colored pencil, oil pastel, watercolor, chalk, ink, digital, collage, clay, mosaic, scratchboard—to name a few. mix media too!
  • scribble! be loose with whatever you’re drawing, don’t put too much thought into what it’s supposed to be. just let loose and let the form come to you.
  • challenge yourself! break out of your comfort zone a little bit. draw what you suck at. hands, feet, animals, backgrounds, whatever it might be.
  • goof around, play games! draw with your opposite hand, your mouth, your elbow, your foot. grab a friend or a few and take turns doodling on a piece of paper until you’ve got one big cohesive drawing, or take turns each drawing a panel of a silly comic. you’ll be surprised how much inspiration you find by playing.
  • draw and redraw. dig up old drawings from weeks or months or YEARS ago and draw it again! most effective way to measure your improvement.

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The serpopard has been defined as a cross between a serpent and a leopard and is supposed to feature the body of the latter, and a long neck and head representing the former. Depictions are found on cosmetic palettes from the Pre-Dynastic Period of Egypt, and more extensively, as design motifs on cylinder seals in the Protoliterate Period of Mesopotamia (circa 3500-3000 BC).

They are shown being led by ropes and harnesses, suggesting that they were a domestic creature.

Little is known about the original information surrounding the Serpopard, but is open to modern interpretation, as there are little to no ancient text revolving around it.

Description & Religious Significance 

The image generally is classified as a feline, and with close inspection resembles an unusually long-necked lioness. It bears the characteristic tuft of the species at the end of the tail, there are no spots, the round-eared head most closely resembles the lioness rather than a serpent, because serpents do not have ears, and there are no typical serpent features such as scales, tongue, or head shape.

Similarly to other ancient peoples, the Egyptians are known for their very accurate depictions of the creatures they observed. Their composite creatures, assembled for deities who had become merged in religious concepts, have very recognisable features of the animals originally representing those deities merged.

Lionesses played an important role in the religious concepts of both Upper and Lower Egypt, and are likely to have been designated as animals associated with protection and royalty. The long necks may be a simple exaggeration, used as a framing feature in an artistic motif, either forming the cosmetic mixing area as in the Narmer Palette, or surrounding it as in the Small Palette.

In Mesopotamia, the use of these “serpent-necked lions” and other animals and animal hybrids are thought to be “manifestations of the chthonic aspect of the god of natural vitality, who is manifest in all life breaking forth from the earth”.

In later periods, similar depictions of the creatures had been found in the art of Sumer and Elam.