i've been working on this for like 2 weeks

anonymous asked:

Hello friend! Although I've been practicing in digital art for almost 3 years, I'm never completely satisfied by the result of my works. I usually never like the coloring. And from what I've seen you have the most unique and beautiful coloring style. So, I wanted to ask you, how did you find it? How did you expirement and settled in this style? Thank you for your time!

!!!! Thank you so much! ;v; 

We’ll start with ygo !!  because everything else before that is Dark Past and absolutely terrifying Never Again

early 2015, I used to try doing semirealistic art because artists like jiyu-kaze, artgerm, and sakimichan
the last piece took probably 2 weeks???? it was painful lmao

I used to do the thing where you painted everything in grayscale first and then used a bunch of layer modes to layer colors on top, inspired by this, and it carried over to my tg art. it would take maybe long time to finish anything because I didn’t really know how to use it correctly. 

 Then my style started off being inspired by sui-zakki  (the author of tg), especially these pieces xx, x

I switched to using base colors after a while and tried to paint the way ishida did. I really liked the way that his art wasn’t exactly smooth?? or that you could still see the edges of each color next to each other… the colors looked really sharp and abstract. You could say this is the start of the style I have right now <:
Along with base colors, I used a lot of lumi & shade layers to add highlights and shadows. My backgrounds were usually a lot softer and sort of random at the time (I think you can see my style improvement best through the way I drew/colored my backgrounds ‘v’ )

Around 2016ish, the colors I used were lighter because I used less lumi & shade and used more on overlay and multiply layers (this is what I do now) or by coloring with only changes in opacity (this was mostly influenced by ammeja). There’s the prominent geometric edges or whatever in my colors because I started using a more square-ish brush for everything and I really liked how it looked when the colors weren’t seamlessly blended together. (the victor in the center was my first yoi fan art, he looks so different now asjdfjgjgjgjf :’> )

I color in a more blocky/geometric style, and instead of painting my pieces and smoothing them out like the ones above, I just stuck with sketches/lineart (this old tg piece is the one that got me to stick to lineart).
My coloring was mainly influenced by barachan, lanxin, and seventypercentethanol, and their pieces like xx, x
yahoberries (I love her art so much you don’t understand) influenced my blue/white outlines as well as the stray blob of colors that I sometimes don’t erase around my art
I really like crystal/gem-looking colors, and having geometric shapes as highlights or shades looked pretty cool too, so that’s how my style happened <3


Another Star Trek portrait practice, haha.

I’m not super crazy about how this one turned out, and while I could work on it more, I’d rather just do a new better Spock portrait later. (I mostly just wanted to draw him in that outfit he wears when he first shows up on the Enterprise in The Motion Picture, ya know what I’m sayin’?)

anonymous asked:

May I please request Big Bang reacting to their younger sister falling asleep in front of a computer because she's on a deadline for a paper and was up late typing it? I'm sort of in that situation right now because I've been stuck at work. I just have 2 more pages to write and then I never want to hear the word "neoclassicism" ever again. Thank you very much! 💞💞

Yikes, i feel you. I feel like I’ve been studying for the same thing for weeks now. 


He’d sigh seeing you with your head in the crook of your elbow and walk into your room. He’d shake you awake and tell you to go to bed almost sternly. But when you shook your head and started to rustle through your notes again he’d gather them up, point to your bed and wouldn’t return the papers until you had crawled into bed. 

Originally posted by s-tttop


He’d feel bad for you, he saw first hand just how hard you had been working. He would battle with himself, let you sleep at your desk, or wake you up and possibly ruin the chances of you actually getting back to sleep. He’d decide on pulling the throw blanket from your bed and placing it around your shoulders before turning off your over head light and shutting your door.

Originally posted by fantastic--babies


He would have caught you just in time as your head slipped from your hand and was about to hit the table. It woke you up suddenly and while he did want you to go to sleep he understood that you just weren’t ready yet. He’d take it upon himself to then help you study. Quizzing you until you were answering the questions before he could even finish the question. 

Originally posted by theonlykings


He’d feel so bad for you. Knowing how you got around this time always made him feel like he needed to do something, but he never knew what. Seeing you passed out against your dest though would make him sigh and he’d walk in, waking you up and helping you to your bed. He’d ask you to get lost of rest and he’d promise that the next day he’d be there to help you if you needed it.

Originally posted by daesungindistress


He would have found you asleep while bringing you coffee, knowing that you would be trying to pull an all nighter. Him walking into your room while talking loudly would have woken you up and him seeing you all but drooling onto your notes would make his grin turn into a sigh as he handed you the coffee. He’d ask you if you were sure you couldn’t just hang it up for the night but when you insisted that now since you had fallen asleep for the hour you had, you needed to study even harder. He’d sit with you for a little while before heading home himself. 

Originally posted by fantastic--babies

In Morte, Sacrificium

Blood trickles down his forehead, pooling up in the hair of his dark eyebrows and streaking across his forehead when he wipes it away, leaving him flinching the slightest at the sting. But the pain is nothing compared to the pounding ache originating in his black and blue ankle or the bubbling burn that’s currently blistering up across his stomach. Sweat bites as it slides into the gashes lining his left side, and his panting is slow, a rib or three certainly broken.

He should quit, he knows as he kneels on bruised knees and feeds the grass with his blood, should toss the staff onto the ground and raise his arms as high as his weary muscles will allow. He should give up. He should.

But she’s behind him, fingers trembling around the jeweled hilt of the enemy’s dagger—a weapon worthless in the hands of someone with a leg so clearly bent in two. She’s behind him, defenseless, bloodied and bruised as badly as him, but she’s the one in danger, so he takes as deep a breath as his cracked ribs will allow and shoves himself to his feet, using the golden staff to drag himself up.

“What are you doing?” She calls from behind him, voice hoarse as it spills into a coughing fit at the end of her question. She shakes with each cough, body trembling, eyes squeezed shut.

He clenches his jaw. If anyone gets out of here, it’s her. Tightening his grip on the staff, he faces the enemy.

The enemy, covered in her own battle wounds, grins a wicked grin. “Aww, how adorable. You’re so in love you’re not going to leave her here, are you? How cute.” She flings an arm out, the silver blade of her second dagger stained crimson as blood leaks down and drips off. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind stepping over a few dead bodies to get to her. And watching the pain in her eyes,” Her grin widens, though faint fear tinges her every cautious move, “might just be worth one more scar.”

The woman behind him sucks in a harsh breath between her teeth. “Just go, please. It’s too late, we’ve lost. We’ve lost it all.”

He can hear her sob behind him as she begs him to leave the way she did only a month earlier. That night in the castle, when they’d been found after such a long break… he swallows, body reacting instinctively to the terror that had sent him running down the hall, dodging creature after creature, screaming her name, nearly losing an arm and his sanity when he burst into her room and found her levitating, already half-taken in the ritual.

His fingers drift to the deep scar etched across his face: a punishment for the interruption. The priests were right: the ancient ones aren’t forgiving.

Her. Everything he’s done: it’s all for her. He grips the staff tighter, raising it a few inches off the ground.

“So broken ribs and a concussion aren’t enough?” The enemy raises an eyebrow, laughing and cracking her neck. “Fine. I never thought I’d meet someone more masochistic than me, but if this is what you want, kid, who am I to stand in your way?”

He sucks in a shaky breath. He doesn’t want to die, but her. She needs to live, and if no one else will defend the woman he loves more than anything or anyone else, he will give himself up. She screams his name behind him.

The chant. He just needs to remember the chant.

The enemy in front of him crouches, preparing to attack, as the woman he loves shouts for him, pleading.

And he—he takes another breath, looks at the woman he loves, drinking her in, remembering her as she was when they first met—radiant but ornery, kind and strong but too confident in her lackluster abilities, proud and loving and occasionally irritating but, more than anything, beautifully herself—before he can think it through, before he lets himself imagine living the future she whispered to him that night in the keep, before he lets himself imagine holding her hand one final time, he slams the sacred staff over his bruised knees.

The end of the battle pauses before it has truly begun. The enemy halts her movements, staring with a dropped jaw and terror present in every plane of her face as she watches the dark clouds swirl around him. The woman he loves behind him screams and shouts and pounds her fists against the ground, stabbing the dagger into the dirt to drag her closer though she knows it is of no use—some things cannot be undone.

And he, he closes his eyes.

It doesn’t burn the way the priests said it would, doesn’t feel like he is being flayed alive or stuck on a spit like a roasted pig. It isn’t a prolonged torture meant to ravage his soul and send him streaming to the depths of hell. Instead, it’s more probing, then, to his woozy surprise, almost… mournful. Regretting. Like its seen the reason for its release and knows what love it is fragmenting and fading with its every step further into him.

It seems like the ancient one doesn’t want to take his place, but it’s too late. The staff is snapped, and the consequences must be paid.

But this one, Waesoth, grants him one mercy—a memory, a moment of peace for him to relive before he’s nudged fully from his body and sent to whatever afterlife awaits sinners like himself.

His smile, though he won’t live long enough to know, will be recorded, saved in numerous paintings and sculptures and writings; it will be spoken of every moment here after. Legends of his bravery will pass the lips of every human being, but in this moment, he does not think of any of that. No, he focuses instead on this final mercy—his favorite memory.

She sits in front of him, the woman he loves, eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between her teeth until he tells her to open her eyes. an excited laugh bubbling from her lips as she leaps to her feet, throwing her arms around his neck. She’s warm, she always is, and she’s pulling him against her, her nose tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder, on her tiptoes to yank him closer. “It’s okay, you know. You can hug me back.” She doesn’t flinch when he carefully wraps his arms around her waist and when she steps back, she grabs his hand. “This fort is sturdier than the one we’re in right now?”

He shrugs, “I’ll be there to protect you from the monsters, though I can’t say how much this blanket will do.”

She squeals in delight and tugs him forward behind her. “I think blanket forts are the safest forts there are. Especially,” she continues, eyes glimmering in mischief and amusement, “if you’re there.”

The first time he hugged her and held her hand, all in one memory. The first time he realized he loved her. The first time he realized she loved him.

A glorious memory to die with.

He opens his eyes—though they are hardly his anymore—and smiles at her one final time, whispering the words he never had the chance to say just before he fades away.

anonymous asked:

I'm a seasonal worker at my job because of school. But my manager likes me so he made it so I just stay on the schedule so I can work whenever I'm home without having to get rehired. I understand when some people think I'm new my first week or so cuz haven't been there for a while. But I literally had 3 people ask if I was new the same day after being there for like 2 months and wearing my new name tag they said I've been there since 2016. Like what?


waava week (2016) // day 4 · differences 

the difference between ‘like’, ‘love’ and ‘in love’
is the same as ‘for now’, ‘for a while’ and ‘forever’

Been on my healthy diet (cutting carbs and some dairy for stomach problems) and I've noticed a big change already! I'm overall happier more energetic and ready for the day! I work out about 1.5-2 hours everyday and feel like I'm starting to balance friends, studying, and getting enough sleep!

One of the best weeks I’ve had so far this semester! Not eating out (except on special occasions), no carbs, little/to no dairy (for stomach problems), everyday exercise, studying, hanging out with friends etc! Also exciting news I might join a sorority❤️

And it was all yellow.

Taking a break from work while watching gameplay walkthroughs o<-<

anonymous asked:

I'm 16 and was hired to work part time 3 months ago. Low and behold, I'm working 6, 6 hour shifts for the next 6 days... I'm the only teenager being scheduled with these crazy hours When they hired me they said I'd be working 2-3 shifts a week and I've been getting 4-6 the past few weeks.. I'm conflicted about whether or not to talk to my manager because I do like making money and I don't want her to cut my hours severely but at the same time this is getting out of hand!

anonymous asked:

I worked at an 🅱️olive 🅱️arden as a host, and I put in my 2 weeks. I've always been kinda meek, so my manager figured since I was leaving, it would be OK to use me as an example, and yell at me(actually yelling) in front of guests for something involving their cards (I do not interact with any money). I was taking it like I usually do, and then I realized I didn't have to, and I just told him while smiling "that is not my job. In fact, this is not my job" and I just fucking LEFT. still shaking

Wow. As much as I would love to applaud you, never burn your bridges.

anonymous asked:

I've been working at a new place for a month and a half now and the management feels like the kind of unorganized messy that starts to make itself apparent and fix itself with a company that's existed for 6 weeks and not the 5 years this one has, the first red flag should have been when it took them 2 weeks to tell me I was hired. The person who's worked there the longest besides the owner is a 17 year old who's been there for about a year. This place is a mess but at least the product's good.

Sherlolly Week 2017, Day 2: Season 1

Prompt: Season 1 (Canon Compliant)

Rating: G

A/N: Since the morgue moment in “The Blind Banker” made me a hardcore Sherlolly shipper, I decided to write something related to it. I also haven’t written Meena much, so I thought they’d have a little chat about that morgue moment. Hope y’all enjoy this one!

Molly had just taken a bite of her tuna sandwich, which she was forced to get after Sherlock interrupted her lunch-slash-dinner break, when Meena sat down at her table. She waved at her best friend as she chewed her food.

Meena stirred her pot of instant chicken-flavoured noodles with her fork. “So what’s the deal with you and Sherlock Holmes, eh?”

She almost choked at her question. “Deal? I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Are you sure about that, Molls?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

“Yes, I’m sure. He doesn’t feel the same way and only notices me when he needs something from me.” She took another bite. “Did you know that he complimented my hair earlier just so I’d wheel out two bodies for him?”

Keep reading

i just;;;; want my feet to be better; ; ;; ;//’/; ; ; ;;; ;; ; / /  ; 

anonymous asked:

Where all do you keep your projects updated. I've been trying to keep up with current work and look for past projects but I feel like the places in seeing are someone else uploading your work. I'm seriously obsessing, I want enduring as soon as it comes out. I'm freaking in love with Jealousy! and I need to obsessively refresh a release page.

Jealousy ch 5 will be released next week, plus extra. 
You can find our current statuses HERE or if you visit our tumblr with a browser, there is a side menu with all our projects. 
BUT I haven’t updated our page in about 2 weeks. I’m gonna do that on the weekend. 


anonymous asked:

I need some advice, I've been working at my job for 2 years and 3/4 months ago we got a new manager. He's brilliant at the job but a few members of staff left because he wasn't our old boss. I'd been thinking about changing jobs, but 2 weeks after he arrived he asked me about a promotion, so i said yes. Since then, when i ask he says he needs to talk to the AM about it but hes spoken with him multiple times since. I feel like he's makin a false promise to stop me from leaving, what should i do?

Ask him again and tell him he has a deadline to make a decision before you look for another job.


kotyonoksnz  asked:

for the 2-pov challenge!: sniffling, temp taking & "Are you sure you're all right?" for gingersnap c:

Oh man I’m so sorry it took me days to do this but I looove this combination. Thank you so much for the request!!

(Sickie’s pov)

Liam wished he hadn’t had work that day.  His head was pounding, a thing not helped by the din of the dining room or the clattering in the kitchens. What’s worse is that he’d sneezed once that morning and now couldn’t stop sniffling.

On every exhale, he struggled to keep his nose from running, and every inhale was a battle between being discreet and reigning in the moisture threatening to escape. It was all the worse when he was waiting tables, and couldn’t do anything about it at all. The shallow, careful breaths made him lightheaded, and he wanted more than anything be able to blow his nose.

He finally got his chance on his break, by which time he felt indescribably awful. He didn’t consider leaving early, especially as he was the only manager there and couldn’t leave anyway, but damn if he didn’t want to.

He slumped into a chair at the back of the break room, and rested his head on folded arms. He wasn’t hungry, even if he knew he should eat. He was exhausted, and he was sure he had a fever, if the chills coursing through him every few minutes were any indication. His eyelids drooped, and he was in danger of falling asleep right there, when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

He jumped and jolted upright. He’d been alone a moment ago, and he didn’t think he’d had his head down that long. But as he looked up, he saw Elliott, and his momentary panic melted away.

“What is it?” Liam asked, punctuating the question with yet another sniffle. Resting his head had done him no favors with his nose.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Elliott asked, brows knitted with concern. He’d advised Liam to stay home today, but Liam had maintained he could make it through his shift, that he was really and truly okay.

“Yeah,” Liam rasped, then cleared his throat. “I’ll be fide, ‘s lo’g as I go to bed whed I get hobe.”

In the next moment, Elliott’s hand was on Liam’s forehead, and Liam wanted more than anything to rest his head back on his arms. Instead, he settled for leaning ever so slightly into Elliott’s palm, letting the coolness permeate his skin and soothe its heat.

“You’re burning,” Elliott said, regrettably taking his hand away. “We don’t have a thermometer in the first aid kit, do we?”

“Ndoh,” Liam said, features contorting into a look of disgust. “A’d eved if we did, I woulded’t use it. You have ndoh idea what people use that stuff for.”

“First aid, I’d hope,” Elliott said, but straightened and made for the door. “Be careful, yeah? We’ll take your temperature at home later.”

(Caretaker’s pov)

Liam was supposed to go to bed when he got home. That was early in the evening, right after Bonnie showed up at Cassia to take over and shouted about how he looked like hell and he should’ve called her to cover for him. Later into the night, Elliott got home to find Liam still up, sitting on the couch, staring off into space.

“Hey,” Elliott said, taking off his shoes and moving to sit beside his boyfriend. “You okay?”

Liam blinked blearily at him, then sniffled and rubbed his eye. “Yeah. I’b good. Why?”

Elliott snorted. “I dunno, you’re just sitting here. Did you take anything yet? Did you take your temperature?”

Liam frowned as if he didn’t understand the questions, and it took him a few minutes to answer. “Yeah, I…I took sobe cold bedicide, but that’s it. I forgot to take by tebperature.” His statements were peppered with stunted sniffles, which sounded much more congested than they were a few hours before. Whatever cold medicine Liam had taken obviously hadn’t done much for him.

“In that case,” Elliott said, standing and heading for the bathroom. “We’re going to do that now.”

Liam groaned, and Elliott worried he would protest further when he returned with the thermometer, paracetamol, and a bottle of water in hand. Elliott still couldn’t fathom why Liam hadn’t gone to bed - unless of course, he was too tired to sleep. That happened a lot when he was especially ill. It was a thing Elliott didn’t understand. Whenever he was ill, he passed out for hours wherever he was. It didn’t matter if it was his bed, the couch, or the floor, and yet Liam sometimes couldn’t sleep no matter what he did. Even now, when Elliott took a longer look at him, his eyes were only half lidded, bloodshot and rimmed red. He looked like he could fall asleep at any moment.

“Open up,” Elliott said, and Liam, surprisingly, complied.

The two of them were silent as they listened to the rhythmic beeping of the thermometer. Liam held it in place, sniffling around it and parting his lips slightly so he could breathe for the next minute. His nostrils, moist and chapped, flared every so often, and Elliott wondered if he needed to sneeze or if it was just a subconscious effort at getting more oxygen.

When the thermometer finally signaled its finish, Elliott took it and read the numbers. “Thirty-eight point six,” he stated with a grimace. “No doubt thanks to rushing ‘round at work.”

Liam barely seemed to comprehend what Elliott was saying. His head bobbed forward, and though it snapped back up almost immediately, Elliott was sure the same thing would happen in a minute or so.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, and the question had Liam straightening in his seat with a barely perceptible and not very convincing nod. “Well, then, before you fall asleep, take these.”

He shook two paracetamol into his hand and offered them to Liam with the bottle of water. Liam downed the pills, but said nothing. Elliott supposed he should be pleased. Liam was hardly ever this docile when it came to being ill - or anything for that matter. And yet, it only served to worry Elliott further, the way Liam slumped into the arm of the couch and buried his face in his elbow.

Elliott let him have a moment, but then nudged him when he didn’t pick his head up. “C’mon,” he said. “Time for bed. Can’t have you falling asleep on the couch.”

Liam hauled himself to his feet, if reluctantly, and by the time they got to the bed, he’d shifted from so tired he couldn’t sleep to so tired he could barely walk. Elliott pulled the blanket up over his boyfriend and placed a gentle kiss to his hot temple.

“Sleep well, love,” he whispered, and turned out the light.