this has been an experiment with colouring

10

Inktober days 2 to 6! All coloured digitally (because I like colours and I do what I want :P) which may not entirely be true to the spirit of the challenge? That said, inking with an actual pen on actual paper has been a tricky yet satisfying experience for me, I feel like I’m learning a lot :)

Also here’s day one, separate from the rest because it would’ve messed with the layout:

Days 1 and 2 are Tang dynasty Chinese fashion, days 3 and 4 are 18th Century American fashion and days 5 and 6 are Taisho era Japanese fashion. They are sort of historically accurate, but not really (whoops.)

Fury Road: when there are enough women

When there are enough women in your cast, not every woman has to represent all women and they can have individual flaws and strengths.

When there are enough women, some can fall apart and others can hold things together.

When there are enough women, you can literally name a character Cheedo The Fragile without making a statement about feminine fragility.

When there are enough women, you know the action movie doesn’t have to preserve the one woman in order to ensure you have one woman left in your cast at the end, so women might die, just like men, and the stakes are high and real and the plot is not predictable.

When there are enough women, you can cast women with different ages and looks and body types based on what makes sense for the story - beautiful women who were selected for beauty by a character who valued women’s bodies more than their whole selves, wiry muscular women of middle and older age, built to survive, mothers who were used for the things that come with their fertility and have the fat to show for it, old fragile women who took care of others while rarely stepping outside, disabled women affected by their environment and experiences.

When there are enough women, the world feels real.

EDIT: This post has been validly critiqued a lot for the lack of mention of women of colour and Fury Road’s relative lack of them. I should have mentioned that. Here is something I wrote about the issue and the critiques: http://weareallfromearth.tumblr.com/post/120314203804/weareallfromearth-general-point-of-importance-if

breath of the wild horse tips

so i just caught this real good horse

and i thought i’d write out everything ive learnt since i started wrt horses??


catching a horse

catching horses is very simple, either drop down on it from above or sneak up on it. dont stand directly behind it incase it kicks.

you can run at a group of horse to split them up so its easier to sneak up on the individual horse when its calmed down, as when theyre in a group if one horse spots you they will all run away.

finding a good horse

there’s like lots of theories about horse colour and relation to stats but personally i dont find that a very practical way of identifying if a horse is good or not.

heres my advice:

- my general experience has been that solid coloured horses have wild personalities and the ones with the patchy butts are mild

- the harder it is to break the horse (soothe it into letting you ride) the higher its level.
if you don’t have much stamina, cook up some stamina restoration/boosts

- generally, the higher level the area, the higher level the horse.

That is to say, if the surrounding monsters are Extremely Dangerous, the horse will probably have more stars. I found Franziska beyond two lynels.

- If you want to find a fast horse, get on the nearest horse and chase some of the others around for a bit (dont boost!).

Wild horses wont gallop at full speed so if you have to hammer A to keep up, dismount and sneak up on it cause that horse is much faster than yours! Otherwise, you’ve found the fastest horse already. 

increasing your bond

there are a few specific moments where you can soothe your horse to raise its bond. you’ll need to get the timing right, but these are the triggers:

- when you get on your horse and tell it to move, you can soothe it.

- when your horse slows down and regains a spur, you can soothe it.

- new horses will sometimes toss their heads, you can soothe them then

- additionally a new horse will occasionally veer in a different direction. Redirect it back to the path, and you can soothe it

- as well as this, if you tell your horse to leave the path (turning sharply after leaving it on autopilot) you can soothe it

- if your horse doesn’t move at the speed you tell it to, you can soothe it and then boost

- if your horse rears back, you can soothe it

- if your horse jumps over something, you can soothe it

- if your horse gets hit, you can soothe it providing you’re still on it.

your horse will misbehave occasionally until you register it even if you max its bond

riding your horse

so in games like ocarina of time and twilight princess, the most efficient way to ride epona is to use between 1-4 boosts and leave the last boost so she doesnt get tired and recovers the boosts faster

not so in breath of the wild. there’s no slowdown penalty for using up all your spurs, it’s more efficient to use all the spurs and then soothe your horse when they slow down, and repeat.


trust your horse to know the best path, and only direct it when the path forks. if you’re riding a wild horse be alert for your horse running into walls, but otherwise let your horse pick the path.

you can climb most hills on your horse, but stick to cantering & non-boosted gallops, or you’ll not be able to direct your horse.

bonus: catching deer

to catch a deer easily, consume something that gives you speed up, or drop onto it from above.

If you want to sneak up on it like a horse, you’ll want level 3 stealth, their hearing is very sensitive.

I find it’s easier to just chase them, they’re not too difficult to catch with a bit of practice as theyre not as fast as horses.

Filipina-British-American Immigrant

Hey everyone! I’ve been following this tumblr for a while and I love it. Not only has it addressed problematic representations of Asian people in the past, I have also learned a lot on portraying other non-Asian people of colour. I’m currently working on an alternate universe-dystopian novel where the Cold War turned “hot” but with people of colour as the main characters. I have come across novels that portray this, but it’s often from a white person’s perspective.

While I am fully Filipina by blood, I identify as a Fil-Brit-Am: born in the Philippines, lived in England for 12 years and currently live in America. Below is what I have experienced and/or observed.

Beauty Standards

Just like what some people have said on here, whiter = more attractive. In the Philippines, walk into any beauty store and you’ll instantly see tons of skin-whitening products. With women, pale skin was a beauty staple; with men, being handsome meant being “tall and dark”, but not “too dark”. In England, it was such a double standard. I went to a mainly white secondary/high school where for white girls, it was attractive to have tanned skin (the more tan = more attractive) while girls of colour were seen as the opposite. In America, you were “exotic” (my situation) or shamed.

Daily Struggles/Culture

Oh man. Balancing conservative Filipino values with those of the less conservative English was a struggle, especially going through puberty. While it was normal for my friends to hang out in the park after school everyday, date who they wanted and just get home before it was dark, my parents gave me a strict curfew (always way earlier than when my friends would go home) and pressured me to not date until finishing college. Back then, I resented my parents for what I saw as my lack of freedom. Looking back now, I understand why. We lived in a neighbourhood where crime was relatively high and during the time, it was also where a surge of immigrants from East Asia flowed into the UK. As you can imagine, our presence wasn’t welcomed. My parents were simply trying to protect me.

Dating and Relationships

For a lot of immigrants, education was THE way to progress to a more secure future. During my teenage years, my parents emphasized this with the whole “no dating until you finish college and have at least some form of a stable job”. They mellowed out after some time. In some talks with my mother, she said that my dad and her would prefer me to marry a Filipino because they would have a better understanding of our culture. However, if he is a good man, loving etc, the race wouldn’t matter. 

Food

In England, I discovered staples such as the “English breakfast”, cake with custard, scones, fish and chips, Indian curry while keeping to Filipino dishes at home (adobo, pancit anyone?). Even though I had the option to bring lunch to school, I decided to have meals from the cafeteria. Whether that was from a moment of other children thinking my lunch food was weird or I feared of being seen as different, I can’t remember. In America (with more diverse communities anyway), they’re more open to food of other cultures.

History Repeating in the Workplace

Philippines - you’ve guessed it: colonialism. From beauty standards to power, whiteness is seen as the best. Just like another poster has said, it makes me sad that Filipino culture has been eradicated through the ages and that I never got to experience it.

England and America - Having benefited from colonialism, there is a lot of colonial mentality (though subtle). From stories I’ve been told from my parents and their generation, this is common in workplaces. White people are fine working with people of colour until they hear that a person of colour is applying to be their manager. Then they suddenly have a problem (with the whole mentality of “people of colour can’t be leaders” crap). 

Identity Issues

With three cultures part of my identity, I never really knew what my identity was or even how to identify myself. I always had the feeling of “belonging everywhere and nowhere” at the same time. it was only until last year that I discovered a term for it: third culture kid (or fourth for me I guess). Third culture kids are people who have developed multiple cultures from having lived in multiple places: one from their parents’ culture, one they grew up in and the third being a combination of the two. It has helped me with my depression, as it stemmed from the fact that I had no label to call myself while everybody else seemed to. If you are like me, I would suggest the book Third Culture Kids: Growing Up Among Worlds by Ruth E. Van Reken and David C. Pollock. It helped me a lot.

Misconception/Micro-aggression/Religion

In England, discrimination was more towards the Asian community (in particular, the Muslim community despite living there for a long time). In secondary school (high school), I had the typical comments of “chink” and talking to me in a mocking Chinese accent. I remember one time when a guy asked me where I was from - I answered “Philippines” and he immediately said, “so basically Japan?” *rolls eyes* 

As I was raised Catholic, the family went to church every Sunday. After some time, due to some pressure from my mother, I became an altar server. We became pretty close to the church community. What I didn’t remember is when we first attended mass, (as my parents told me later) they had openly looked at us with disgust. This shocked me as I couldn’t imagine the church goers being so mean. Talk about “loving your neighbour”. Makes me wonder what would have happened if I didn’t become an altar server…

Things I’d like to see less of

- Asian women being portrayed as submissive, shy, petite or as the Dragon Lady

- Asian women only being seen as scientists (with the whole smart, nerdy Asian trope). What about writers? Mechanics? Musicians? Leaders even?! One of my characters is an Asian woman who is an investigative journalist.

Thing’s I’d like to see more of 

- Asian people being friends with or at least, being respectful towards non-Asian people of colour (in particular, black people). It’s my hope that my generation and the ones after ours will bridge that gap.

- That writers of colour get more representation. 

I look forward to learning more from y'all!!

Read more POC Profiles here or submit your own.

ok but….damian wayne is my grumpy bird son.

ive been experimenting with comic book styles and colouring! this is one of many doodles

hey

gnc bi women aren’t just cis skinny white girls with undercuts trying to look cute for men

bi women aren’t less gender nonconforming for being bi

bi women are not rewarded for being gender nonconforming

if your mental imagine of gnc bi women has no room for women of colour, trans women, disabled women, fat women, muscular women, and just straight-up hard-faced take-no-shit “ugly” women, and any combination thereof, your perception of us has been tainted by misogyny and you need to seriously re-evaluate what you think you know of us and our experiences

Stitching Up the Seams

Summary: Phil can’t help but notice the boy with dead eyes who wears baggy jumpers all the time and barely talks anymore. Not being able to stand how sad he looks, Phil begins to slip notes into Dan’s locker in hopes of raising his spirits.
Word Count: 2216
Warnings: Implied self harm (doesn’t describe it at all, just implied), cussing, depression
Title Credit: Such Small Hands - La Dispute

-
There is a boy with mocha hair and caramel eyes that turn slightly mahogany in the sun who has a dimple in his pale cheek and has long fingers that shake slightly whenever he talks or even when he reaches for things or writes. There is a boy with dark circles under his eyes who comes to school sometimes with curly hair and wears baggy sweaters that he constantly pulls over his hands like he’s nervous about something.

Phil didn’t know what he was nervous about.

Keep reading

6

star wars rule 63: prequel trilogy

This has been lying around my harddrive for way too long, but I finally got around to colouring it! (just experimenting with a bunch of different things and inspired by SW concept art books :))

…. sometimes I suspect the reason for all these AUs is partly an excuse to draw the Mustafar duel a million times in marginally different ways.

Visual snow

Visual snow, visual static, or persistent visual snow is a transitory or persisting medical disorder in which sufferers see snow or television-like static in parts or the whole of their visual fields, constantly in all light conditions, even visible in daylight, darkness and with closed eyelids. The severity or density of the “snow” differs from one person to the next. 

Visual snow is now regarded as a unique syndrome—usually presenting with other symptoms, such as persistent afterimages, photophobia, enhanced blue field entoptic phenomenon and tinnitus. There is no established treatment for visual snow.

In addition to visual snow, many of those affected have other types of visual disturbances:

Closed-eye hallucination -  these types of hallucinations generally only occur when one’s eyes are closed or when one is in a darkened room. Those who suffer from closed-eyes hallucinations may see: visual snow, light/dark flashes, patterns, motion, and colours, objects and things.

Blue field entoptic phenomenon -  is the appearance of tiny bright dots moving quickly along squiggly lines in the visual field, especially when looking into bright blue light such as the sky. The dots are white blood cells moving in the capillaries in front of the retina of the eye.

Palinopsia -  is a visual disturbance defined as the persistent recurrence of a visual image after the stimulus has been removed.

Phosphene -  is a phenomenon characterized by the experience of seeing light without light actually entering the eye.

Floater -  are deposits of various size, shape, consistency, refractive index, and motility within the eye’s vitreous humour, which is normally transparent.

Visual snow syndrome is often connected to Tinnitus. Tinnitus is the hearing of sound when no external sound is present. While often described as a ringing, it may also sound like a clicking, hiss or roaring. Rarely, unclear voices or music are heard. The sound may be soft or loud, low pitched or high pitched and appear to be coming from one ear or both. 

Some say that Visual Snow and Tinnutis are connected to the ability to see or hear energy and auras.

Source.

Friendship is a difficult thing to put into words, no less so than love is (and, really, sometimes the two flow into one another, with the boundaries growing smudged and hazy). But many of those that, in a multitude of different timelines and alternative realities, have been Marked by the Anchor, and ended up leading the Inquisition, still do try. And sometimes, they even succeed - for they have a treasure trove of memories at their disposal; a whole wondrous archive to choose from, leafing through the cherished entries and juxtaposing them against this curious word. Friendship.


Friendship is when the Iron Bull looks away from the smoking wreckage of the dreadnought, before the frothing grey jaws of the sea are quite finished munching it up, and his boss, Issala Adaar, rests her hand over his thick, pale-scarred arm, and does not let go throughout his conversation with Gatt; this one last talk with one who was once his brother, which dooms him to a life of an outcast, unwanted and despised, a Tal-Vashoth like her. She does not let go - and he knows why. He has looked into her background (because of course he has, being a Ben-Ha… being who he once was). She used to be a junior Tamassran, this big, soft woman with a huge burn mark on her cheek and Antivan-made adornments on her horns. She defied the Qun when the Arvaraad came to chain one of her favourite students, a little girl who turned out to be a Saar… a mage. The girl died, in an explosion of magic that warped Issala’s skin - but she still defended her to the last, choosing her over the Qun. Because that girl was family - just like the Chargers are family. Just like the Inquisition is family. This is what Bull thinks of, when Issala holds on to him - and glancing up at her, he reads an affirmation of this in her eyes, bright-yellow and speckled with Fade green, and brimming over with silent tears. Breathing in the powdery drizzle, he grunts a brisk ‘Thanks, boss’ - which would seem weird to an outsider, for sure (thanking her for touching him? for getting weepy?), but is not weird to them. Because this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Varric settles more comfortably on the makeshift bench by the side of a roaring fire and flaps his hand against the splintering wood, as a welcoming gesture to the Herald, Nakamoa Lavellan, nicknamed Nana by the children she would often baby-sit back in her clan, before a herb-gathering mission gone wrong resulted in her stumbling on the Conclave and being appointed by a bunch of shemlen as their goddess… or something. She accepts the invitation eagerly, crackling her joins and stretching her throbbing weary limbs, as she fire’s warmth swaddles her in a fuzzy, protective blanket. And suddenly, it strikes her that this is what a hahren would do - an older elf, weary and perhaps a little downcast after seeing too many years rustle by, like dry leaves carried by the sad, grey autumn wind. After that thought, comes a second one: she not only acts like a hahren, she feels like one. Mournful over something she has lost but can never regain. Which… Which is not like her at all. She used to be so cheerful, so full of jokes and songs to amuse and delight and soothe her precious little da'len flock; and now, she is oddly empty on the inside, with a drab veil cast over her eyes and draining the world around her of half its colour; even the supposedly dazzling golden fire somehow looks faded, muted to her, more like a picture of a fire in an old book than an actual cheerfully crackling blaze. Startled by this change within herself, she cannot help frowning - and when Varric asks her what’s wrong, she explains it to him as best she can, though not as much for the sake of informing the dwarf of her troubles (she does not expect him to care, to be honest) as for helping herself figure out her feelings by putting them into words. But, to her astonishment, the dwarf does care; he gives her an earnest, sincere nod, and lifts his short arm to pat her on the back. 'Yeah,’ he says gravely. 'It’s hard to be all sunshine and sparkles when the world is drowning in demon shit and your old friends are scattered all over the place, putting themselves in Maker alone knows what kind of crazy danger… But you know what - sometimes you gotta pretend that you are still the same, still with a roguish twinkle in your eye and a smug smirk on your lips… Because if you don’t… You might just fall apart’. And after she is finished talking, Nana edges closer to him and silently squeezes his hand, a tiny voice in her mind murmuring that she just might find all this Fade-induced insanity a little bit more bearable with this dwarf around. And that this - this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Saarath Adaar, a blue-eyed, unsettlingly rake-thin Qunari with sawn-off horns and stitching scars around her mouth, glides like a wraith among the creaking cots where the wounded soldiers toss and turn, their breaths like gusts of scorching summer wind. She kneels next to each of them, whipping back the long silvery braid that keeps dangling down and getting in the way, and gloves her hands in gently chiming healing magic - a refreshing autumn rain that brings an end to the sweltering heat. Very often, far more often than she could possibly have hoped, her spellcraft does take effect, and the soldier opens their heavy, swollen eyelids, the dim feverish glaze lifted off their eyes, and, fingering weakly at the gnarled stretch of healed-up skin that once used to burn like a splash of lava, mumbles a husky thank-you. This always makes Saarath tear up with joy, while a disembodied voice chants rhythmically somewhere from behind her back, 'Whole, healthy, happy, all by my hand. The hand that used to be stiff and cold and wilted, drowning in icy chains like a nest of snakes. They bound my hands because they thought I was going to do harm, to hiss curses and hurtle magic and hurt, hurt, hurt people unless I was stopped. But I have learned that, apart from hurting, I can undo the hurt caused by others. I am not a dangerous thing any more’. And every time it speaks to her - of her, but also of itself - Saarath looks up and opens her palm, beckoning the voice’s owner to hold her hand. And he always comes to her, stepping out of nothingness, the rim of his oversized hat flapping in the breeze like the sail of a ship, and slips her fingers into his. He is not quite sure what it means, but it helps her do her helping, so he is only too glad to oblige. And they complete the rest of their round side by side, a former Saarebas and an odd spirit boy, seldom speaking but feeling wonderfully soothed by each other’s presence. Because this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Vivienne strides through the merchant galleries of Val Royeaux, arm in arm with a lanky, blonde, tattooed elf, and shoots a petrifying icy glare at any masked gossiper who, not having recognized her companion as Arryn Lavellan, the chosen of Andraste, starts whispering that the high-class clothing stores are not the proper place to bring a knife-ear to. With an impeccably refined smile and a carefully balanced dose of honey and venom poured into her words, the Imperial Enchantress navigates the world of Orlesian fashion, having the traders roll out their finest fabrics, puff small roseate clouds of their sweetest perfumes, and even fish out a coveted little box of dazzling glitter (with actual gold dust mixed in), because 'darling, surely you have not forgotten the favour you owe me’. And when she is done, when the series of dives into dressing rooms is complete, Arryn emerges transformed, with his wiry frame swathed in glimmering silks, a fluffy weather from his dashingly cocked hat curling round his shoulders, and just a few dashes of make-up highlighting his pale eyes… But not hiding his ritual markings, oh no - he is going to flaunt them proudly in the face of every Orlesian he comes across! His poor old Keeper and mentor would probably have a heart attack if she saw him like this, dressed up more lavishly than all shems she has seen in her lifetime combined; but her reaction would be nothing compared to the outraged hisses of the same faceless dolls they passed on their way in. A rabbit - and a godless mage, no less! - walking among humans as an equal! Spending his gold on the things he likes, like a normal person! How dare he! How dare he! Yes, he dares - he dares to enjoy himself, to treat himself to the little pleasures of luxury, without cowering fearfully away from human clothing, as though he had touched that does not belong to him. He dares to mingle with the 'proper society’, and to challenge the shemlen, one and all, to a match of their own Game, which he will win with flying colours. Because he has been taught by the best, by the master of rising above the people who despise you for what you are, and making them bow in respect instead. By Vivienne. Who is now watching him saunter triumphantly through Val Royeaux with a little smirk of pride. Because this is what friendship is, is it not?


Friendship is when Solas catches himself smiling when he watches a swarm of curious spirits flutter round Kulak Cadash, the Dwarven Herald who, after accidentally tapping into the power of the Fade, has gained an ability to experience dreams, utterly unexpected, and thoroughly baffling, if you were to judge by the blank, loose-jawed, bulgy-eyed face he made when he first saw 'sodding pictures in his head’. But that was long ago; now, with Solas’ help, the child of the Stone has begun to adjust to the journeys along the winding path of visions. And sometimes, he actually enjoys dreaming, especially when, after pestering Solas with demands to 'introduce him to this joint’s good crowd’, he gets to meet friendly spirits, which, in turn, are irresistibly drawn to someone so alien to their native realm (even the most passive ones cannot but stir at the approach of someone so bafflingly solid). Given Kulak’s gruff, pointedly rude demeanour, and his tendency to flaunt his physical strength and past feats of violence, Solas has to admit to being briefly concerned that interacting with him would twist the spirits’ nature, and turn them into malevolent, demonic entities that would reflect the dwarf’s key negative traits (which have so very often infuriated his elven companion). Like the flaring, lava-like Rage, and its many-faced varieties: Cruelty, Aggression, Bloodlust… But, as it turns out, he needn’t have worried: no matter how much time this brutish Carta thug spends around spirits, they remain unchanged. They are still the same Kindness and Faith and Hope; their aura is still pure and untainted, and they allow the dwarf to bask in its tingling radiance, raining white and green sparks over his outstretched arms, while he grins happily and listens with reverent attention to the stories they choose go tell him, sometimes using his imagination to crown the spirits’ heads with flower chains, because this delights him so. He is less loud in the Fade, less brash and short-tempered - less like the roughly chiselled image of his kind that Solas has had in his mind. And frankly, he is uncertain how to feel about this; he is uncertain that it is a good thing, this smile that touches his lips when he hears Kulak chuckle and call the spirits 'you cute little green ghost children’. Things will be more difficult now, once he regains his stolen Focus and prepares to use it for its true purpose; this discomforts him greatly - but as this hour has not yet come, for now at least he can allow himself a brief moment of idyll, teaching the Marked dwarf the ways of the Fade and looking on fondly at his games with spirits. After all, this is what friendship is - or so he heard.


Friendship is when Maaras Adaar, a hornless Vashothari mercenary who has spent most of his life with a full-faced helmet concealing his features, so as to fit in better among humans, tosses that protective metal mask aside, earning himself an approving hoot from Sera. Inhaling deeply, he tilts his head back, and lets the fresh evening breeze caress his skin, while his eyes travel with a content idleness over the rooftops of Skyhold, which are bathed in the the liquid gold river streaming from the setting sun. His mouth is still full of lumpy, half-raw, half-charred cookie dough, which he just holds over his tongue, not quite ready to bring himself to swallow. But even though this lump in his mouth is far from savoury, it does not ruin the moment for him. Because the cookies’ taste does not really matter - what matters is the little figure of the one who tried to bake there ridiculous things for him, cross-legged and rocking back and forth precariously on the roof’s very edge. Maaras knows about Sera’s history with the baker and the woman who raised her; he knows that, like him, she has been taught to hate herself for what she is, to squeeze out every last bit of 'elfiness’ out of herself, just like he has been trying to squeeze out all of his… 'Qunariness’, to pass himself as an exceptionally tall human, to keep a distance from his horned, glaringly grey-skinned family members - who, even as Vashoth, still clung on to some remnants of Qunari culture and customs, and were the ones that tossed the nickname Maaras after him when he left, as an insult and a warning. A weighted word that means both 'alone’ and 'no-one’. And for the longest time, he has, indeed, felt that he is no-one, racked on the inside by guilt over being born the way he is; just the way Sera has, he suspects. She does not like to stop and think about things, this impatient little girl, never the quietest, never the gentlest - but if she did, she would have discovered that she and Maaras are very much alike. For her, baking cookies again, going from 'pride cookies’ to 'Inquisition cookies’, is the same as embracing his Qunari name (after years of going under 'Martin’) has been for him - along with taking off his helmet and showing his face. His true face. He still cannot swallow the cookies - but he nods enthusiastically when Sera remarks, 'It’s good, innit? We’re good!’ and ponders to himself if this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Maedhros Lavellan, a stern, reticent Dalish mage with deep lines etched into his weather-worn skin and threads of silver glinting in his long ginger hair, comes down to the stables, carving tools under his arm, and spends the afternoon in the company of the man he has come to know as Blackwall. They both work their craft in silence - and for them, it is not the least bit awkward or constraining or boring. For it is not a tense silence - not the same kind of silence that they used like a heavy pall to shroud their past regrets, the shameful tales of a Keeper whose negligence resulted in the death of his whole clan, and a fugitive soldier for hire who once looked upon his men as they chopped through the doors of a carriage to reach for the children that hid quivering inside, their morbidly cheerful song about a bird that sees dead people cut to an abrupt, bloody end. No - this silence is not like a concealing pall; it is more like a pillar, for it supports them both, and bolsters their strength for the next day, which they will likely face in battle side by side. Two grizzled, world-weary men who shall be forever tainted by the unwashable splatters of blood - and yet still press on, fighting for the good of the whole world, always coming to each other’s aid should their quest turn too dangerous. And this silence of theirs is a pact that reaffirms this. Their silence is friendship.


Friendship is when Naali Adaar, a brawny, rough-voiced Vashoth woman who used to run a mercenary company (inherited from her mother, or so Leliana’s files say) prior to getting 'roped into’ the Inquisition, works together with Cassandra to pitch up the tents for a brief reprieve on their journey through the blighted wastelands, stripped down almost to their smalls in order not to completely melt away in the fiery maw of the desert - while the men in their adventuring party look on at them from afar, dazedly admiring their sculpted muscles and the bold dashes of scars across their sweating flesh. When their task is complete, they shake each other’s hand with a wordless nod of appreciation, and lower themselves on a not-so-scathingly-hot boulder in the shade, leaving the men to complete the rest of the work around the campsite. Slanting her eyes in distaste at the damp spot under her arm, Naali grouses, 'All these waterfall thingies are well and good, but I am so pestering Josie to arrange one of them proper baths when we get back home…’ - and then claps her mouth shut, stunned by her own choice of words. 'Home’… She has never been at home anywhere, not really; more like, floated about all sorts of weird far-off place where her work took her, shunned and pointed at with fear and disgust whenever she went. And from what she can gather, Cassandra - who is an absolute bloody delight to carve shit up with, honest! - has been feeling this way too. Like Naali, she has known little in life apart from her work, not taking root anywhere like a stern-faced tumbleweed. Which is why Naali is ready to let out the stupidest, the most shameful girlish scream when Cassandra holds her stupefied gaze and says in agreement, 'Yes, I suppose Skyhold has become rather like a home to us, hasn’t it? Books… Books always say that home is where one’s friends are, and it… it could be true’. Well, Naali is not a fan of mushy fluttering nonsense (the only difference between herself and Cassandra that she can think of) - but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t agree this once. Home is where your friends are. And this thing they have going right here - it’s friendship.


Friendship is when Dorian, on the way to the tavern, to both shock and dull his senses with the slurpy swill they call mead, stops in his tracks and comes over to offer a comforting embrace to young Cassia, a small, short-sighted, bushy-eyebrowed Laetan that apparently travelled south as an unobtrusive junior scribe in Erimond’s entourage, only to wake up - quite in a storybook fashion - after a mysterious blackout with her hand ripped up by the glowing Anchor that her boss’s master covets so much. She is very weepy, the poor child - and, while Dorian gets more than mildly annoyed by it on occasion, he can understand why her tear ducts are so easy to disturb. Sneered at for her origins and pushed out of the way by her 'betters’ all her life, Cassia is finding the weight of her lofty mission far too much for her fragile shoulders. And add to that the insults she has to endure on a daily basis, for being an 'evil Tevinter’. Dorian can shrug those off with his enviable, effortless elegance - but he cannot pretend that they do not sting. This is why, whenever he sees Cassia crying, he abandons whatever he has been doing, and offers that tactile comfort that seems to be a bit of a tradition among the lower classes. 'Hush now, puella,’ he murmurs to her, playfully ruffling her clumsily cut hair (not quite as much a disaster as Sera’s, but still pretty close). 'These hilarious bumpkins may seriously believe that you and I drink the blood of the infants for breakfast, but we both know it isn’t true. So why don’t we go on with this marvellous day, our heads held high with the thought that we are better than all those cardboard cut-out magisters they scare their children with?’. And when Cassia repeats breathlessly after him 'We are better’, he finds himself thinking how splendid it would have been if Felix had lived long enough to get to know this silly sniffling child better, and what an incredible world-saving Tevinter crew they would all have made… And there is a soft pang in his heart that knocks the wind out of him for a fleeting moment - a shot of pain that is both bitter and yet strangely sweet. Which, he supposes, is what friendship is in general. Bittersweet.

Why were you "experimenting"?

Gryffindor: *covered in coal dust and hair seemingly changing colours *
Because I thought it would be fun? Okay, fine, I was dared - but I’m pretty sure I’ve scorched half my eyebrow off and broken my finger so surely that should be punishment enough?? But nooooo now my broom has been confiscated for 2 weeks which is totally unfair but anyway are you up for it again tonight?

Hufflepuff: *covered in sticky glue and smelling of a burning bakery*
It wasn’t an experiment!! It was an act of friendship which slowly got out of hand! Look, all I was trying to do was cheer my friend up, they were having a bad day and I was attempting to make something for them, but then I fell asleep because I stayed up all night and not only did I miss class but I kinda set part of the kitchen on fire… but at least it made my friend laugh again??

Ravenclaw: *bags under their eyes and ink all over their fingertips*
Well, I was doing homework but then my thoughts drifted to something interesting I read yesterday and I decided to try it - yes, I know that book was from the restricted section but this was all for educational purposes - so it backfired and I accidentally ended up temporarily locking our house out of the common room, but at least now I have an excuse for not having my homework??

Slytherin: *buzzed on too much coffee and faintly smelling of chemicals*
Let me be blunt - no one died, and I had good intentions so I really do not see the issue here. I was trying to help my friend gain some guts to confess their feelings and may or may not have slipped some Felix Felicis into their morning pumpkin juice? But thanks to me now they’re together and honestly it’s totally worth the 4 weeks of detention from stealing from the potions store and blowing up the bathroom

anonymous asked:

Hey! idk if you normally use a filter or not but either way would you be ok with posting a pic of your new hair colour in natural light? I have brown hair too and I've been thinking of dyeing it a fun colour but I don't wanna bleach it, & I was wondering how well Manic Panic shows up on natural hair owo

It completely depends on your natural hair colour and hair type, sometimes the colour is nothing more than a tint. With my hair it starts as quite bright but after a few washes it’s sometimes only a tint and after a few more washes it’s gone. Dark tones tend to work better on brown hair than let’s say yellows and neons but don’t let that stop you from experimenting!

This is pretty much what my hair looked like the day I dyed it. (This wasn’t taken in natural light but it shows the colour as it is. I’d take a new photo outdoors but my hair needs washing and that would fade the colour which in turn would defeat the purpose of taking the photo in the first place.) It has since turned into a slightly deeper purple with a hint of red but it’s still very noticeably purple.

Manic Panic has been around for so long that there’s loads of discussion and pictures on Google on what the different colours are like on natural hair. Obviously, the lighter your hair is the better the colours show. There’s also loads of other semi-permanent colours you can use on virgin hair if Manic Panic doesn’t work for you, but I just tend to go for Manic Panic because it’s the only one that actually stays in my hair. (For example, Directions made a huge mess and just kept coming off on everything all the time and Stargazer washed off immediately.) If you have trouble finding info on the best ways to dye natural hair with whichever brand you end up using, try doing a Google and Google Images searches with terms like “Manic Panic on virgin hair” and “Manic Panic unbleached hair” for the best results.
Also: Did you know you can dye your hair with Kool Aid? I’ve never tried it but it seems to work quite well.

Hope this helps and good luck! (:

Soulmates AU (9)

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight

as small as a world (ao3) - justanoverobessivefangirl

Summary:  prompt: “there are tattoos of plants, gardens, forests, that are a part of us, growing, changing and when we meet the one, everything seems to bloom more beautifully”

Bittersweet (ao3) - ToLazehToLiveLife

Summary: “Do you believe that there’s another world at the other side of the mirror where everyone is opposite?”“No.”“Watch out"

Blank (ao3) - LeRein

Summary: “He, Dan Howell a.k.a. Danisnotonfire, was kissing Phil Lester, also known as AmazingPhil.
It felt nice. Dan’s heart plummeted. He had secretly hoped that kissing Phil would feel different than kissing someone else. Not necessarily overwhelming but different. But it just felt… nice. Exciting too. But desperately similar to his previous kissing experiences.“In a universe when everyone is born with a mark on his wrist, indicating who their soulmate is, Dan’s wrist is desperately blank. But does it really matter?

Everything Is Blue (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary:  Soulmate AU where you can only see shades of your soulmates eye color until you kiss them. (1.4k words)

Favorite Record (ao3) - jfcmartin

Summary:  Phil’s most treasured memories are the times he had spent with his childhood best friend, Dan. Unfortunately, Dan doesn’t remember it just as much because of an accident two months after he moved away. Phil is determined to help him bring back his memories, winding up making new ones in the process.

foulmates (ao3) - indemnis

Summary:  Dan finds soulmates in too many people and maybe the most important one is one you create for yourself.

Growth of Plastic Flowers (ao3) - nightowlhowell

Summary: The story of a boy who feared love and the other whom he accidentally fell for.(Or, the one where Dan’s a famous (pastel) musician, 2009 never happened, and Dan’s totally a crazy cat lady.)

Love in the Time of the Dragons (ao3) - fandom_trash

Summary:  Dan Howell is the most dangerously feared assassin and swiftest thief in the kingdom. He silently kills in the night under the name, Dark Silence. Taken in as a young boy by a man named Vexx Grimsbane, he grew up at the secret Grimsbane Institute where he learned to fight and kill with precision. He quickly rose to the top and became the institute’s most skilled assassin. Over time Dan became hesitant to kill & Vexx began to force him to by controlling him with magic. One day when he is assigned a mission to steal a precious magical jewel that’s locked away in a dungeon of an old castle, Dan plans to take the jewel for himself and use this as an excuse to run away. Upon entering the dungeon, Dan unexpectedly finds Phil Lester, the prince of the kingdom who was kidnapped 10 years ago and locked in the dungeon by an evil sorceress. Dan helps get Phil out of the castle and learns that the only way he was able to enter the dungeon was by breaking a spell put on the door that could only be broken by Phil’s soulmate. Even though Dan is skeptical of the idea of soulmates, Phil bets Dan that they will fall in love before the five day journey to return Phil home comes to an end.

Maybe We Were Meant To Fall (ao3) - silentwriterx

Summary:  Dan’s name was expected to be the one inked on Phil’s wrist, but what if it’s not?

Music (ao3) - Cat

Summary:  Everyone is born into this world deaf- that is, until age eighteen. At eighteen, something rather magical- excuse the cliche- happens. You can hear what your soulmate is hearing- except, it’s just background noise until you meet them. So what happens when Dan can hear certain noises perfectly? Specifically, the band Aesop’s Fables?

Of Hidden Memories and Kitchen Adventures (ao3) - SillyLittleStoryteller

Summary: Whenever they reincarnated, it would always take some time before they would regain their memories. And as always, trying to explain will never not be a challenge.“What was that!!??”
“What was what? I mean, nothing, that was nothing, I mean maybe? Do you remember? Anything?”
“Remember!?” Sputtered Dan. “What is there to remember? There was a freaking pot flying in the air!"I don’t know what my mind was thinking, but this is the result. Written at about one AM. Enjoy.

Piano of Dreams (ao3) - Star4545

Summary:  Phil dreams of Dan, each time with a new scenario and he can never actually get to Dan, but the underlying classical music leads the way to Phil slowly escaping the dreams to try and find Dan in real life.

That Awkward Moment (ao3) - Turner_Kate

Summary:  Dan is depressed, not only because the universe has got him down (again), but because he hasn’t yet met his soulmate. PJ and Chris decide that a night out is the perfect way to get a smile back on their friends face, and even try to further help by inviting another friend along. This new guy is everything and more, he might even be Dan’s soulmate! Only problem is, neither Dan, nor this new man, know that they’re destined to be together yet.

The Anatomy of Your Umbrella (ao3) - KittyCatriona

Summary:  Phil starts meeting Dan in his dreams, and Dan misses the way the rain used to make him feel.

The clumsy phil gets his self into another sticky situation (ao3) - Nightcoreday_parade

Summary:  Phil the clumsy always trips over air and is able to stumble on the last step on the stairs. and when he ends up staying up all night without much sleep he decides to look up random stuff and comes across red strings of fate. Phil starts to experiment with stuff with Dan.

The Theory of Colour (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary:  Dan has always seen in black and white, he’s always been told that once you find your soulmate you’ll see in colour. Though he’s never really sure if he’s believed in it, regardless of what people had said it’s just a theory to him. Though one night at a house party he meets Phil Lester and it changes everything. This is a story of the theory of colour, and falling in love for the first time.

We Keep This Love In A Photograph (ao3) - ChristinMKay

Summary:  Dan and Phil meet in a world in which you stop again when you turn 18 and only continue ageing when you have found your soulmate. While Phil does not particularly care about soulmates, Dan hates that he is not ageain. However, as the years pass it seems like he and Phil are, but that can’t be, they are not soulmates, right? It doesn’t help that every one thinks to know better than Dan and Phil, and that Dan has a crush on Phil.

You Look So Beautiful Today (ao3) - sodagiraffe

Summary:  Dan has been living life in black and white, like every lonely soul around, until he finally meets him.
With Phil, he can enjoy life in full color.

Yugen (ao3) - FlyAndDontLookBack

Summary:  Prompt idea from tumblr user limerenceforphan. Soulmate AU in which Person A shoots Person B because of a job and finds out that they were their soulmate later. phan. chara death. angst. one-shot.

[TRANS] haru*hana (vol. 44) - Star Gravure, B.A.P

Releasing their latest Japanese single including tracks released in the same month in Korea!

B.A.P have released their 8th Japanese single “HONEYMOON”! The tracks 
“HONEYMOON” and “ALL THE WAY UP” are also included in their newest Korean album “BLUE”, making this a same-month release. 

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Why do I always feel so stupid when talking about my race to white people?

I’m having a discussion with someone about my own race and the experiences I’ve had, and someone who is white, who has never been through what I have, says something that, while is valid in another argument, completely belittles the point I was making and I come away feeling like my point is moot.

Why is it white people always seem to think they know more than me?

Or somehow manage to get themselves on top or in the right?

You can research all you want.

I’m living it.

I’ve taken some time to think over and process recent criticisms that people have made of me. Thank you to everyone for being patient while I took this time to reflect–I think that a brief review of my behaviour in the past has shown that I often respond poorly and clumsily in the heat of the moment, and these conversations benefit when I give them the thought and effort they deserve.

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Oil Portrait Tutorial ft. Martin Freeman

For @sherrkey who asked for oil painting tips and to whom I said I would make a tutorial but never did. Until now. Sorry about that.

Firstly, tools!

What you see here is essentially everything I use to paint, minus my palette and the canvas. From top left to bottom right, those are:

  • dirty cloth, for cleaning up odds and ends and wiping brushes
  • turpentine, for diluting paint for the first layer of painting and cleaning brushes. Never use water with oil paints.
  • linseed oil, for diluting paint for the last layer of painting.
  • paint, top row: zinc titanium white, chrome yellow, lemon yellow, chrome orange yellow, scarlet, crimson red, vermilion, rose, purple, ultramarine
  • paint, bottom row: cobalt blue, emerald green, viridian, chrome green, olive green, yellow ocre, burnt sienna, burnt umber, raw umber, lamp black
  • brushes, size 20, 10, and ½
  • palette knife, size 3 (I personally don’t use this very often, usually only to scrape mistakes off where I can’t wipe them)

The painting:

I’m going to use my progress shots from this painting I did a couple months ago

1. The reference picture - I used this photo of Martin Freeman as Richard III here:

2. The initial sketch:

  • I used a brown because it’s close to skin colour and isn’t too glaring.
  • Dilute the paint with turpentine a lot so that it’s quite wet and the lines are light. This gives you more room to fix errors. If you make a mistake, get your dirty cloth, dip it in turpentine, and wipe the mistake off. Cloth+turpentine acts as an eraser of sorts at this stage.
  • Don’t worry if the first sketch looks bad. Mine looked real bad. Keep fixing it until you you’re happy with what you have.
  • Try to get in as much of the tonal values as you can here, because it’ll help a lot to have values sorted before you get onto painting. If it isn’t sorted, when you come to paint you’ll have an extra thing to worry about on top of your hues and saturations and whatnot. Use more turpentine for lighter tones, less turpentine for darker tones.

3. Base colours:

  • Start with the background, then move on to the darkest areas of the person and work your way lighter.
  • Don’t worry too much about details. At this stage you’re just laying down the basic colours and filling in all the area.
  • Focus on getting your overall colour right.
  • Use turpentine to dilute the paint a little, so the paint isn’t too thick, but make sure it’s not transparent like the initial sketch.

4. Middle layers and details:

  • On the basis of your first layer, now you can start working on the details.
  • Do not use turpentine here, just pure paint. Don’t be afraid to make it thick, texture is an inherent part of oils and it makes the picture more interesting to look at.
  • Don’t try to do everything at once. This is the section that will take the longest and the most effort. Split up your work, pick something to focus on for one session, and just do that part. The first thing I worked on was the hand:
  • then the head:
  • then the coat:

5. final touches

  • This is where you do your refinements and extra small details and go back and fix things you didn’t spot before.
  • Because we’re just fixing things, there’s no need to go too thick, use linseed oil to dilute your paint if you need to, especially for details like hair where you wouldn’t be able to get fine lines with thick paint.
  • I added more detail to the hair and beard, and fixed the nose:
  • Then I redid the background just because it had gone dirty, did a final layer on the coat to tidy it up, put in the shadow of the tassel I’d forgotten before, and added highlights on the hair, badges, buttons, eye, and sleeve:

And that’s it!

Here are some tips just about oil painting in general:

  • Oil painting takes a long time. Don’t expect to get everything right the first time. You’ll be working with multiple layers, so be patient, and take it a step at a time.
  • Make sure a layer has thoroughly dried before painting over it. This does not mean touch-dry. Oils can touch-dry in two days depending on humidity, but don’t dry enough for you to paint over until at least a week. While you’re waiting for a layer to dry, work on a different area, then go back. If you paint over a layer before it’s dried properly, the oil in the new layer get soaked into the bottom layer and your colours go dull.
  • Use turpentine for the bottom layer, linseed oil for the final top layer.
  • Clean and keep brushes in turpentine after painting. This keeps them soft for your next session, otherwise the paint will dry. If you’re waiting a long time until your next session, keep them in turpentine for a day or two, then wipe them and put them away.

Finally, as I like to say in all my other tutorials, this is never an exhaustive or definitive method. Everything in here has either been taught to me or been from my experience. I don’t claim to know everything, and others will experience things differently as well. There shouldn’t be absolute rules in art, only guidelines. Some guidelines are more important than others, of course but the best way to learn is to try something yourself.

Hopefully this has been helpful, and thanks for reading!

Omgcp Fic Idea #6

Eric bleaches his hair and then proceeds to experiment with different pastel colours with the top of his hair (like Tyler Oakley). Jack loves it because it feels like Eric is a fairy/pixie that has been able to bewitch him and he’s under love’s spell. Not that he wants to be broken from it. He loves running his fingers through the pink hair that looks like candy floss. Twirling light blue flicks and locks between his fingers feels like he has the sky brushing against his palm. The lavender he combs through feels as if he’s running his hands through fields of real lavender. He gives cowlick kisses every time he plays with Eric’s hair and Jack receives kisses in return on his fingers and beneath his chin.

Okay, so the most frequently asked question I get is what apps/softwares/techniques I use.
The short answer is: it varies. A lot. 

I thought I’d give you guys a bit of a run down of what I use. 

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