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anonymous asked:

Do you have any spare time in your life to help curious learners give some lessons on art? I mean, however bad you think you are in teaching others, you can still be some aid, at least by sharing what you experience during creating art

I dont really have time to do that, im sorry…  im not an art teacher, and i feel my experiences are of little value. so instead i hope this list of resources made by others can help you more than i can:

Art Youtube Channels:

Free Online Courses on a ton of subjects (including art!)


Inspiration & Stories:

Archives & Free Resources:






*“Art of” Books:

Remember, a resource post is nothing if you dont use it. You can watch videos and click links all day, but nothing replaces putting the time in to draw. You get best at what you do most. Draw the most, and you will get good at it. I promise.

good luck!!!

11x11 Coda


Sam texts her even before they’re back to the bunker.

He hesitates over his words as Dean drives, typing and deleting until finally he sends Thanks again for today. A second later he hurriedly sends a second text: This is Sam. He sighs at his own incompetence and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

He doesn’t hear anything back until the following afternoon when he’s sitting and half-reading with his phone on the table alongside his book.

Glad I could help.

He could play it cool. Let her message sit there for a few hours or days. He could, but instead he responds the moment the text comes through, before he loses his nerve.

We have a huge Men of Letters archive if you want to come see if you can find anything about your parents.

There’s a long pause. He sees the little chat bubble by her name fill with dots then stop and start again. It stops a second time and he’s sure he’s pushed her too hard, opened too many wounds, when a new message appears.

I’d like that.


He’s waiting outside when she pulls up in a white, nondescript sedan. A dog is sitting calmly in the front seat. It’s medium-sized with shaggy tan fur. Black fur all around its muzzle makes it look like it’s been eating dirt. The dog eyes Sam but makes no move to get out of the car when Eileen does.

It’s unexpected enough to jolt him out of his nervousness.

“You have a dog?” he blurts as soon as she rounds the car to face him.

Eileen looks up at him as she explains. “She’s a service dog.”

Sam frowns. “Are you going to leave her in the car?”

“She’s fine there.”

Sam looks at the dog again. Her ears perk up. “You can bring her inside. I mean, if you want.”

Eileen looks at Bonnie who has her front paws on the window as her tail wags enthusiastically. She looks again at Sam who is working hard to give the appearance that whatever she wants to do is fine, even though he can’t keep his eyes off the dog. “Okay.”

The dog sits until Eileen clips on the leash and gives her a command. She leaps from the car to get to Sam, who immediately bends down to pet her. Now Sam can see her pronounced underbite, a row of white teeth starkly visible against the black fur.

“Her name is Bonnie. It’s short for Bronwen.”

Sam solemnly shakes one small paw. “My name is Sam. It’s short for Samuel.”

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