this is my first time coloring real people

anonymous asked:

Sterek Prompt Number 47 Please!

AHHH I LOVE THIS!!!! Here is #47: “I thought it was a one-night stand…but now we’re married…”


Stiles woke up with a headache and a small groan, eyes adjusting to the sunlight coming from the wall of windows he was facing. It was weird…his and Scotty’s motel room didn’t have a wall of windows let alone a killer view of the Vegas strip.

Oh God this wasn’t the motel.

Stiles suddenly was hyper aware of the body pressed against his back and the arm hooked around his bare chest. He swallowed so hard it hurt as he glanced down to see the sheet barely covering their undoubtedly bare lower halves. Then his eyes caught sight of the body behind him and holy shit he was ninety nine point two percent sure he was sleeping with a GQ model.

He turned his head back to the windows trying to think of a way out of this, except then there was movement and stubble ran across the nape of his neck and there was a hard cock pressed against his ass–

With that he slithered ungracefully out of the man’s grip until he rolled off the bed and took half the sheets with him. There was a groan from the bed when he fell to the floor with a thud, and somehow he managed to hit his funny bone.

“Ow, fuck,” Stiles whined, sitting up to see the GQ model awake and naked in all his very sexy glory. Man for a one night stand he really got lucky, but terribly so he can’t remember a fucking thing.

No more alcohol. Ever.

“Um, hi,” the guy said, face pinched up.

Stiles felt like drooling because man those eyebrows could murder someone, but those green-blue eyes were to die for. Jesus those cheekbones couldn’t be real either, they looked so sharp and angular. This guy is photoshopped for sure.

“Well I’m pretty sad I can’t remember what I would assume to be awesome sex, but this was nice, gotta go,” Stiles blurted out and stood up, wrapping the sheet around his lower half just now noticing the marks all across his torso.

Oh the sex must’ve been amazing.

“Hey–”

“No seriously man I gotta go, my best friend is probably worried sick,” Stiles pressed, grabbing his boxers.

“Wait–”

“Look dude I don’t know–”

“We have rings on our fingers!” The model blurted out and Stiles paused looking at his hands only to see his ring finger with a gold band on it. His vision spiraled a bit as he stood up on shaky legs. He twisted the band on his finger, slipping it off to look at the rather expensive piece of jewelry. On the inside of the band he read a tiny engraving “drunk married is the best married”.

Holy hell.

“I thought it was a one-night stand…but now we’re married…,” he trailed off looking to the other man, stark naked and honestly still looking hotter than the sun. From his toned body to his bunny like teeth that poked from his slightly parted lips.

“I’m Derek,” the guy -Derek- said suddenly.

“Stiles–and yes, it’s a nickname,” he answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the sheet. The silence lingered, sitting between them and festering until Derek pulled off his own ring and looked inside it.

“It’s says “his name his Mieczyslaw”…I think I remember you told me last night when we bought the rings,” Derek said and Stiles paled with a low groan, shoving his face in his hands. He doesn’t know where Scott is, he’s slept with the world’s hottest man alive, and he’s married to said man who knows his atrocity of a first name.

Great. Fucking great.

“I don’t think this is how a honeymoon is supposed to go.”

“Seriously, Stiles?”

“What? I heard they were much better than this– I mean most people know their husbands.”

Derek was quiet for a long time after that before finally saying, “…my favorite color is green.”

Stiles couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

So two years later at their real wedding the color theme was white and green, both of them wearing the same rings that started this beautiful perfect mess.


ASK ME A PROMPT FOR THE DRABBLE CHALLENGE!

anonymous asked:

At the first time you joined Tumblr, did you cope with the situation that no one ever noticed your work for once? How did you deal with it?

Actually if you look around you can still see that Im not that popular because my disadvantage is because Im only doing black & white. I think Im the only artist in this fandom that sucked big time at coloring, and somehow people still follow me.

When I first started here I just know that I need to be persistent and determined, because I know I have what it takes. I had reputation before in Vietnam’s comic community, so I know my story can charm people. So the real question should be from the time I was literally unknown to everyone, which tracked back to 10 years ago, when I first started drawing comic.

How to cope with it? Easy, I don’t care if anyone see it, I just love what I do and the story I want to tell. I just draw what my mind tells me to, and somehow I gained reputation back then. Until I WANT TO HAVE MORE FANS, I suddenly saw that I don’t have that many and may be my story was shit, so I quited. IT WAS SO STUPID YOU KNOW. Looking back, I realized how stupid I was, I should just do what I love without caring what others like or dislike, if I continue on I propably more famous than I’m now. So now I just draw for me, for what I love and worrying about people’s like or dislike can only come second. To be honest, I adore my fans, but I learnt that only when I do what I love, do people will love me. So the crowd will always come second, passion comes first.

You have to be persistent, determined and most of all, let passion guide you, because it’s the only thing that matter. 

No one famous by their own from the start, that’s the gist of it. 

Originally posted by mathias-strato

Creepypasta #1170: Black Hat

Length: Medium

“Congratulations, Mr Castillo! Your project proposal had just been approved.”

My boss shook my hand. My colleagues clapped and gave me taps on the back. I called my wife to tell her about the news. She was ecstatic.

I’m 32. An architect working in one of the top firms in the area. Married to a lovely wife with a wonderful daughter. I’ve got good friends. I feel very blessed. Life is good.

But it hasn’t always been that way. Once upon a time, I was an entirely different person. One without direction. I never thought I would make it this far. I had a pretty rough upbringing. I was rebellious and anti-social.

Then one night changed it all. The night that basically gave me a new lease on life so to speak.

The night I felt lucky to be alive.

I was 16. I was raised in a dysfunctional family. Money was not the problem. My father was a manager at the local bank. But he was rarely home. Eventually my mother found out why – he was having an affair. Since then, my mother became an alcoholic. I became neglected at a very young age. They hated each other, and I hated them both. Three people who couldn’t stand each one’s presence, living under one roof.

I often get into trouble at school. I steal things. I break noses. Violence has become my way of releasing frustration and anger.

Friday night. They’re arguing again, yelling at each other like the bitterest of enemies. I grabbed my backpack and ran out of the house. I needed to get as far away as possible from that hellhole. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that.

It’s been dripping. I opened my bag and checked what’s inside. A couple of shirts, a bottle of water, and a toy gun. Ah, my favorite toy gun. I got it on my 11th birthday from a godfather. It used to be bright red in color, but I painted it black to make it look real. I had even managed to rob a couple of people with it.

But tonight, I want to up the ante.

I want to steal a car.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello! Sorry to bother, I just want to say that I love this blog, and if you maybe know what his time in prison and after was like for lafayette cause I found some fairly contradicting texts and I'm confused. Thank you for your time!

Hello, Nony. 

Gilbert’s imprisonment always grieves my heart. It’s a story very few people know about. I’ll try to make some sense of it here from what I’ve gathered from multiple books and sources. Part of the miscommunication lies in the fact that Lafayette’s captors moved him to different prisons to prevent possible friends of the Frenchman from discovering his location. Lafayette didn’t write about his own experience until much later and his first-hand account is not only subject to his age, but is touched on with such brevity that it made me wonder if it was a topic he wanted to avoid discussing in great length. Lafayette, when remembering later, often went into painful amounts of detail…down to what colors people were wearing. The account of his imprisonment in his memoirs touch more on episodes within that time that broke up the monotony: his escape attempt, his wife’s arrival, etc. All that to say, I’ll do my best and as I do more research, I may have to go back and edit later.

  • From bad to worse. – The first real prison stay for Lafayette was at Wesel. Better treatment was offered if he would swear to renounced republicanism. Lafayette ardently refused. His Prussian captors also plied him for any information they could get regarding French military secrets and tactics. Again, he was silent. The authorities then transferred Lafayette to Magdeburg where he was imprisoned for about a year. Here, he later described being ‘doomed to moral and bodily decay.’ By one account, the cell he was held in was about 4 ft. wide and 8 ft. tall. He suffered in the cold, dark, and damp. There was no sunlight in the cell, and guards stood on constant watch. His spirits dampened, Lafayette nonetheless continued to refuse offers of better treatment in exchange for abandoning his principles. 
  • Losing hope. After his time in Magdeburg, he was briefly moved to Neisse, still under Prussian supervision. His friends and family were completely in the dark as to his fate. No one had been told where he was being kept. It was as if he’d fallen off the face of the earth and he was left to fear for his family without word. To add to his misery, he contracted a fever that nearly killed him. In Unger’s book, Lafayette (which I haven’t read in full yet), he describes how Lafayette gradually grew dangerously despondent. “Lafayette believed his captors were planning his secret execution–that he would simply disappear and no one would know where or when. He found a sliver of wood, moistened it, and dipped it in soot to write his last words: ‘Adieu, then, my dear wife, my children, my aunt…whom I shall cherish to my last breath.’”
  • Hell.  Olmütz, where Lafayette spent four years incarcerated, was situated in Austrian held territory. He arrived on May 17, 1794. It was not a prison, but a dungeon equal to anything you’ve seen on TV. Once again, Unger paints a pretty dismal picture. “The prison was part of the city wall over the Morawa River, which carried the city sewerage and filled the prison above it with a suffocating stench and swarms of disease-carrying mosquitoes and flies. Lafayette…[was] chained in solitary confinement…forbidden to talk, in rags, and with no personal possessions.” They gave him and the two other French officers with him numbers and did not address them by name. If memory serves, Lafayette was State Prisoner #2. He was not given a chamber pot and had to eat with his hands in such filth. Bathing was also prohibited.
  • Escape? The fever Lafayette had spawned in Magdeburg had not left him by the time he moved to Olmütz and gradually grew worse. As his health deteriorated, a doctor was finally called for. This doctor, as luck would have it, was a part of an escape organized by many friends of the ailing Frenchman, including Angelica Church (formerly Schuyler). The doctor brought with him a note detailing the scheme. Lafayette used his own blood to write a reply and sent the physician on his way. The doctor demanded that Lafayette be allowed outside from time to time and the authorities eventually complied. During one of these outings, two of the conspirators burst from the woods. A skirmish broke out. One of the guards tackled Lafayette and bit his finger so badly that he nearly lost it. He managed to scramble away, hopped on a horse, and took off. Adorably (and unfortunately), he misunderstood his accomplices’ English and went to the wrong town. Believing himself to be in friendly territory, he announced his identity and need to a farmer…who promptly sold him out to the authorities. Lafayette was immediately arrested and dragged back to prison.
  • Lockdown. Lafayette’s memoirs describe the punishment for his escape best. “Lafayette was put in irons, and suffered the most excruciating torture. He was in a feeble state, overcome by fatigue, and suffering greatly from the bruises and wounds received in his late attempt to escape. His anxieties, his anguish (and despair we may almost say,) at finding himself again in the power of his unrelenting jailor, so affected his nerves, that his fever returned with increased and alarming violence. In this state he was allowed nothing but a little damp and mouldy straw; irons were put round his feet, and round his waist was a chain, fastened to the wall, which barely permitted him to turn from one side to the other. No light was admitted into his cell; and he was refused even the smallest allowance of linen.” “Worn down by disease and the rigour of the season, his hair fell from his head, and he was emaciated to the last degree. To these physical distresses were soon super added those mental anxieties, which perhaps, were still more difficult to endure.” After some time–and influence from friends abroad–he was unchained from the wall and allowed to walk one hour a day. No one was allowed to speak to him.
  • Adrienne saves his life. Two years in, Adrienne arrived with their daughters, Virginie and Anastasie, and refused to leave during her husband’s confinement. One of his girls wrote later: "We got out at the house of the commandant of the city. We did not see him. He sent the officer who was charged with keeping the prison, to conduct us. After we had gone through the first gate we passed down long corridors to two padlocked doors that opened into my father’s room. ‘I don’t know,’ my mother said the night before, ‘how I can support what we are going to feel.’ My father had not been notified of our coming. He had been given no letter at all from my mother. Three years of imprisonment, the last passed in complete solitude (for since his attempt at escape he had not seen his servant), anxiety for all he loved, sufferings of all kinds, had deeply affected his health. The change in his looks was frightening. My mother was hard hit by it; but nothing could diminish the delirium of her joy except the bitterness of her irreparable losses. My father, after the first happiness of reunion, did not dare to ask any questions. He knew of the reign of terror in France, but he did not know the names of the victims. The day passed without his daring to question her concerning his fears or her being able to muster strength to tell him. Only in the evening, after my sister and I had been shut into the next room, not connected, did she tell my father that she had lost on the scaffold, her grandmother, her mother, and her sister.’

Lafayette and his family were released on September 19, 1797. What happened afterwards will have to be a post for another time. I’ll try to get that together as soon as possible. As to the conflicting reports you might have gone over, it’s because very few people were actually able to contact Lafayette or his family. I hope this shed some light on things. I’m crying now. Dear me. 

Seeing Red.

Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. It’s a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.

I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.

A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say.

The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a walking stoplight. Those are the ones who get murdered or kill themselves. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.

With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who walked in was basically radiating red. I chuckled to myself. Too damn bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.

First Day of School

Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. It’s a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.

I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.

A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say.

The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a walking stoplight. Those are the ones who get murdered or kill themselves. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.

With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who walked in was basically radiating red. I chuckled to myself. Too damn bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.

anonymous asked:

I really like that Wallace's natural hair color is blue. That's really neat, and something you don't usually see on other ocs that people have made.

All of those guys that I’ve posted with reference are the humanizations of my belongings and Wallace is a human version of my shower so when I first drew him in 2014 or so I thought it was pretty logical to give him blue hair :D Then I was like shit but all of them are like real people but Wallace has blue hair?? how??? and I was looking for reasoning for a long time. But then I just decided “eh for the sake of design design is my passion” hahah

Glad people liked it and don’t get triggered bc of it! Thanks! (☞゚∀゚)☞

i just? love when people acknowledge my sexuality without me bringing it up first or making terrible puns

like the other day i was sad bc one of my friends at work is quitting and she was like “you never know they could replace me with a cute guy who falls in love w you. or girl. or anyone really” and it was so casual and i loved it??? it made me feel Real

or how i just got home to find a sign on my door made by my roommate with rainbow colors in a word cloud for being bisexual

it’s just such a feeling of love and support and idk i’m just really grateful and lucky to have these people in my life

Yara Shahidi by Sean Thomas for Teen Vogue, December 2016

“On a personal level, even though I was always hyperaware of our history, I didn’t put race in a real physical context until I hit my teens. Being mixed—I’m half Iranian and half black—even has its strange amalgamation of problems. The first instance that really rubbed me the wrong way was when somebody called me whitewashed. I couldn’t process what that meant. In theory, I’d heard all the stereotypes. But it was my first time seeing, Oh, wow, people still believe in a black stereotype. What was conflicting was that I was surrounded by successful women and people of color who were—by society’s view—the anomaly. All around me, there were examples of excellence and excelling. But because I carried myself a certain way, I wasn’t a “believable” black person to them. That was the strangest moment.”

HELLO! I’ve returned! AND……. I watched the Doctor Who Season Finale AND CRIED MY BLOODY EYES OUT

So prepare yourself. SPOILERS BELOW

I have a few words.

FIRST: I LOVED BILL

She was feisty, she was brave, she had a heart of damn gold, and she was vulnerable, a person of color, an LGBTQ+ member, and SHE DID NOT GET ENOUGH FUCKING SCREEN TIME. Listen, she probably provided a relatable person for a lot of people. As a POC, I’m happy to say that I really enjoyed having a POC companion that was 1, a main companion unlike Danny, and two, was not Martha Jones. Sorry not sorry. Martha was not my cup of tea. Bill, was relatable guys, and she had real people problems like student loans and a love life, which were problems that were not too far from the everyday, annoying ones we experience everyday. Also, Bill’s character was fantastic. BITCH, let me tell you about Pearl Mackie, the actress for Bill. THE EMOTION 👏🏾SHE HAD 👏🏾in this last episode 👏🏾when she was a Cyberman made me cry, like tears were streaming down my face and my dad was laughing. In the end, when Bill made the choice to leave the doctor, to move on is really iconic because she was ready to do that the entire season, and yes, traveling with the Doctor seems like enough, but it wasn’t. We all know what she wanted, and she got enough, even if sometimes she didn’t know that she wanted it so bad. To end, Pearl Mackie and Bill played and I wish they could have stayed for another season.

SECOND: TA-DA The Doctor doesn’t want to go,

Now I’mma try to make this short, but I don’t know how I feel about this one. Recap, the Doctor is in this semi-regeneration state and he doesn’t want to go. Now it wasn’t like Ten who was not ready to go in a sort of vain way, really No, this was a lot sadder and I don’t think folks are going to realize or knowledge it very much because of the fact that Twelve is not Ten. Guys, he is trying not to regenerate because he is finally happy with being himself. He is finally happy with the person he’s become, and he fears that a physical change will bring about a character change as well, and that’s a little heartbreaking, so I want you all to think about that.

THIRD:

Sorry, and I know this is not the end of of the Doctor, but tbh, I think the end of Missy and the Master was better than the Doctor’s, and it pained me to say that

Seeing Red (The First Day of School)

credit to- Zenryhao

Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. It’s a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.


I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.


A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say.


The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a walking stoplight. Those are the ones who get murdered or kill themselves. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.


With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who walked in was basically radiating red. I chuckled to myself. Too damn bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.

4. Rutee Katrea from Tales of Destiny

About theme: I always loved Rutee and coud not understand why so many people hate her, while she is cool and cares about children so much. The same time people love Leon way too much. So, here is the picture of Rutee completely overshadowing Leon!

About execution/critique: ok, this is my first real failure of this challenge! This fuchsia color is too bright, too strong, I can’t tame it! It’s, like yelling on you from this picture! Which is sad, because I quite liked how lineart came out. But the fuchsia killed it. Challenge status: failed.

6

I know some people have problems with this show, but this is why I love it. In my mind, Magnus Bane is a character with layers. Though he likes being loud and colorful, he often uses that loudness as a cover, a shield to keep himself from getting hurt. He pretends that the glitter is all he is. Magnus has lived for centuries. He’s seen people he loves die, time after time. It’s easier for him to put up the peacock front when meeting people because, if they never know the real, complex him, they can’t hurt him. Though it may not work completely , that’s how he lives his life. 

But in his first moment with Alec, he leaves all his pretending behind, if only for a few seconds. He is simply stunned by this beautiful man who saved his life. He doesn’t drop an outrageous line, he doesn’t hide behind his colorful clothes and jewelry. He stares at Alec as if he is something so new and brilliant, something that he hasn’t seen before, because he is. Then he says “who are you” because he has to know who this man in, this man who’s shaken him so much. It doesn’t matter that Valentine’s men have found him, or that he might be in danger. All that matters is this Shadowhunter that, while monochrome on the outside, shines as brilliantly as Magus on the inside. And that is the essence of Malec, and why I love the show.

credit for the gifs goes to  @aleclightwoodd 

5

Hello! I’m doing speedy commissions to fund my move coming up next week! All Commissions will be done by Thursday morning, February 2nd! I’ll be having 3 slots open for now, and see where it goes from there! 

This is my first time offering simple fullbody commissions, which are $12. I’m also offering colored busts for $15. The commission would resemble the examples above (in either style), with a simple colored background and slight shading. 

    All prices are in USD! I’ll only accept payments through paypal, and I require payment before I start the commission! (If a problem with the art arises, I will happily alter it for you)    

I’ll happily draw gore (light or heavy), furries, fanart, or original characters! The only thing I won’t draw is actors/real people
 
    Please email me at dororo175@gmail.com if you’re interested, or have questions!
Thank you for reading this, and signal boosting is greatly appreciated !!

"I don't care if your white, red, or blue with yellow polkadots...you're all the same to me."

The number one thing I hear people say when they’re trying to defend themselves against being called racist is this.

“I don’t care if you’re white, red, or blue with yellow polkadots…you’re all the same to me.”

First off, where are these blue or red people? The only time I’ve seen people with coloring like that is when I watched those old 90s cartoons from my childhood. And they were always from outer galactic space.

So the question is, why are you comparing real people with brown and black and yellow skin tones to people you wouldn’t normally see unless you were watching something like Sailor Moon or Transformers?

It’s because you see white people as the norm in this country and everyone else as being an alien-like presence. This means that in your eyes, our various appearances are irregular and foreign compared to the appearances of white people.

anonymous asked:

Thank you so much for the thorough response. It's so frustrating to see them use "intersectionality" and "colonialism" as silencing trump cards, particularly when it also obscures ACTUAL intersectionality and ACTUAL colonialism. Your point that white patriarchy has been exported is so good and so important. Please continue rocking the entire universe with your intellect. <3

I spent a lot of years in academia.  A lot.  And this issue is one of the reasons I left it for law, which felt concrete.  Like I could actually make change for real people suffering from real problems. 

I have always thought that postmodernism, this belief that reality is constructed as the mind tries to understand its own particular and personal reality, was sketchy.  Because everything in my life indicated that reality was constructed outside of me and so much of my ability to understand the world was reactive to those stimuli, not the sense of who I was to myself.  I didn’t get to have beliefs that were my own.

I always thought that it is no coincidence that the huge rise of postmodernist thought in academia in the late 80s and early 90s was in reaction to the class based analysis that was–for the first time–entering graduate classrooms in the 70s and early 80s.  That is women (of all colors), people of color pushing for materialist analyses.

Postmodernism was a way to shut that shit down real quick and to once again center the white male experience.  Because interpretation is everything, not experience; reality means only what the world means to each person individually. Concrete experience of oneself trumps concrete experience of the class.

That only works in one direction.

Dark Souls III and Trans-inclusivity.

Dark Souls has been out for a good while in Japan and even for certain reviewers and beta testers, though for the rest of us normal consumers, it has just dropped since midnight of April 12th. Many players are taking their first dive into what I’m noticing is a far more sinister, hopeless and deadly world, but it’s no less beautifully crafted and incredibly full of strange beings and bosses. Some might have taken the plunge into the Abyss as their own iteration of the ‘Ashen One’ early, but it still serves to say that while things are quite bleak in the world of Lothric, it’s clear that there’s a certain beauty in the grotesque creatures and landscapes it’s already shown me in just the world’s first two areas.

However, that isn’t exactly what I’m going to be writing about. With the backlash of the inclusion of a trans character in the game known as ‘Balder’s Gate’, many have noticed that games could be shown to have some horrific reprimands from very annoyed, even starkly angry people regarding something that doesn’t even have any real repercussions upon their own experiences in the game. Single  NPCs will obviously completely ruin an entire game, yes?

Dark Souls III has very slyly slipped in a work-around to this issue. I took notice of this when I went into the character creation screen for the first time and took notice of the menagerie of new customization options available to me. I went with my typical go-to gal-pal of the Soulsborne series, Adrian, and took my sweet time tweaking her skin color, hair color, brow shape and even her pupils (they added in blind eye-types and cataracts!) while making sure she looked and sounded how I imagined my favorite deadly girl would. And then I took a closer look out of pure curiosity.

Body hair? Oh my, you can have a hairy woman or a cleanly-shaven man! How nice. Musculature? Ooooh, a scrawny male or a toned female… now we’re getting somewhere. Beards? A cleanly shaven male is obviously an option, but for females, what would you expect but nothing.

Nothing but every option a male would have. Mustaches. Beards. Side-burns. And not just thin ones. Full sets. Big, bushy beards and ‘staches. Peach-fuzz. And so many varied sets of hair as well! It doesn’t even stop there. If you go into the facial options, you can even have a male have a traditionally feminine facial structure and vice versa with a female being born looking a bit more masculine.

It’s a very subtle, yet incredibly effective tactic in slipping in trans-inclusivity. Many may not even notice, some may play around with it as a joke (because making some of the strangest-looking people with bright green skin and a jawline that looks to be trying to eat the rest of their face), but for the people that something like that matters for? This is, while not as open as many would like, a step forward.

You can make someone truly in your image, voice and all. A traditionally masculine man… with a young, feminine voice. Or even an elder woman with a thick, gruff tone. The possibilities are there, and they’re almost limitless.

I will admit that it’s faintly depressing that it had to be something as simple as this to pass by the sight of the typical crowd that would be completely up in arms about something that doesn’t even relate to them in any way, shape or form (why include something in a game if it isn’t tailor-made for me specifically?), but the sheer fact that it’s there is incredibly hopeful.

Before you mention it could’ve been an oversight on the part of From Software… this is the first game they’ve done it in, and they explicitly placed these options there. Bloodborne didn’t even have this level of customization. And yet Dark Souls III does.

It’s certainly a step in the right direction.

Years ago, I had a weird conversation.

I was explaining to someone the history of left-handedness in America, the ways that left-handed people were treated, it was considered okay to beat us until we became right-handed, and other things like that.

And instead of listening to me, the person’s only response was to roll her eyes and say “Oh God, please tell me they’re not trying to claim to be an oppressed minority.”

Which, no, I’ve never heard a left-hander claim that.  But at the time in question, we were part of an oppressed minority:  disability.  Because left-handedness was literally, in and of itself, considered to be a learning disability with symptoms that went well beyond using your left hand for things (there was an entire list of symptoms from clumsiness to language problems).  My mother grew up in that time and she was definitely considered disabled just for being left-handed.  The fact that things have changed and now left-handers are not disabled, does not mean we weren’t disabled then.

But I found that person’s response really obnoxious.  She basically had this worldview where there were “real” oppressed minorities, mostly people of color, and that everyone else was just “copying people of color” and not really oppressed, or not really very oppressed, when she’d grudgingly acknowledge oppression existed.  So her very first worry when hearing about brutality towards an entire kind of person wasn’t what happened to the people in question, it was whether they’d try and “steal” oppressed minority status from those who really deserved it.

Which, as a left-handed person very grateful to grow up in a time and place where left-handedness is not a disability?  Rubbed me the wrong way.

And yes, my view of what is and isn’t a disability is that it’s heavily depending on society.  I’ve gotten in trouble before for saying that for a long time, gay people were disabled because of our inclusion in the DSM and our treatment by psychiatry.  But it’s true.  We were disabled at that point.  We managed to climb our way out of that category, just as left-handers and some other people have managed to climb out of that category.  But it doesn’t mean that we weren’t disabled at some point in time.  Because whether you’re disabled isn’t just about your body – that’s one part of it, but social status as disabled is equally as important as physical or cognitive status.  And it’s perfectly possible to be disabled entirely because you’re put in the social category of disabled people, even if you have no particular bodily or cognitive impairments.

But whenever I try to explain that, I get someone who flips out on me and insists that I’m trying to bring back the idea of gay people as disabled under the DSM.  Which, just, no.  I’m saying that when we were in the DSM, we were disabled because we were in the DSM and faced ableism, especially psychiatric ableism, the same as everyone else in the DSM.  So don’t bother flipping out, it’s been done, it doesn’t do anything except cause aggravation.

anonymous asked:

Hi Sunmin, I am a great fan of your art! I'm studying concept art. I just wonder how you study digital painting.I think you have an amazing sense of color and light. The way of using lighting (shadows and highlights in right place) and choosing colors are very hard for me. I want to educate myself about digital painting and found it quite difficult. I wonder how a beginner like me start to study painting in effective ways. Thanks!

Its you again Anon! 

First of all thank you so much for the kind words. It really means a lot to me to know people enjoy my work. I get discouraged all the time working around a lot of talented people haha. ANYWAY lets get to your main question!


Originally posted by jaimelagrenadine

I have to tell you though, I still think of myself of more of a draftsman than a painter. During my years in art school, I avoided color like the plague until I realized that there was no way I could survive working in the real world with just drawing. So this means, I’m still struggling with making decisions on color and light and it takes me some time to come to a finish.

BUT maybe it was a good thing that I avoided color so, so much because that meant that I focused on value all the time! I would always make sure my value grouping is simple and easy to read in a glance. 

Originally posted by thelucidnation

When I started pushing myself into color, I started panicking and lost my sense of value. Because of this, my first paintings turned out absolutely horrible. I actually have them with me, but they are deadly to the human eye so I will never show them to you haha. I occasionally look at them either when I’m really bored and I want to make my eyes feel like I dropped lemon juice on them, or to feel how much I improved since then. The two kinda go hand in hand.

Quickly I realized, if the value isn’t right, then the whole image isn’t going to work anyway. Make sure you have a value grouping in mind and keep that until the very finish of your painting.

When it comes to color, I’m just going to have to tell you that its going to take practice. I personally have a secret stash tumblr of my color inspirations. I usually just scroll through and look at them just to be inspired. Sometimes I’ll come across color combos that I would have never thought of myself and memorize them to use later. Usually the more you paint, the more you’ll understand what kinds of combos work well. 

Originally posted by animeismywhore

When it comes to lighting, I’d say to observe the things around you. Usually i’d be walking around maybe on the way to work, or going to get lunch looking around for cool lighting. I think the more you literally see and observe things, the better you will get at it. A lot of the times when i’m painting lighting situations, Id think about the story first and think ‘Oh hey! That lighting I saw that one time would totally emphasize the story point of this piece’ and try to emulate it as much as I can.

You can watch movies, but theres something about seeing certain lighting with your own eyes, feeling the warmth or the coolness of the air. You get this magical feeling that adds that extra umph to when you paint it into a piece.

Its a bit hypocritical for me to give this kind of advice since I’m pretty much working all day and then some more that I never really get to see the outside world, but you have to go out and experience whats out there. 

I… really should do that more.

Originally posted by fuckyesdamejulieandrews

The last thing i’m going to say is a bit hippie-ish, but this is what i rely on the most.

When I’m painting in color and light, I put myself inside my painting. I think of the smell, the air, the vibe of the situaiton. I really try to think of what it FEELS like. I try to put myself in this emotion so that when people see it, they will feel it too.

You always see so many paintings that are extremely well painted that its pretty much flawless, but it sparks no emotion, and there are also paintings that may look like they lack in foundation, but makes you feel so many feels. 

Originally posted by olivia-the-jock

Anywho, I hope that was helpful.

Hopefully i’ll talk to you again soon Anon!

Originally posted by timetravlin13