what is shading and drawing hands

Commissions will be open from now until September.

Email Quetzalcactus@gmail.com if you want to commission me.

For clarification: Sketchy drawings would be messier, less refined, and quicker to do than painterly drawings. The lines are visible and the shading is only slightly smoothed. Think of the first example (grif and locus) of being the most accurate to what you would get.

Terms and Conditions

I will not draw sexually-explicit or hateful work.

Particularly complex backgrounds may cost more than specified on the sheet. This will be discussed with the commissioner before the invoice is sent. On the other hand, particularly simple backgrounds (i.e just a sofa) may be cheaper.

Check out my blog for more examples of my work :)

whovianerisa  asked:

Hello Mr gaiman. How old were you when you started writing stories ? I'm 14 and I try and try but they are all awful. I always give up in the middle and I can never finish what I wanted to write.

I know. I found a pile of papers of mine from my teen years and into my early twenties recently, and there were so many stories begun, so many first pages of novels never written. I’d start them, and then I’d give up because they weren’t as brilliant as Ursula K Le Guin, or Roger Zelazny, or Samuel R Delany, and anyway I wasn’t actually sure what happened next.

I was around 22 when I started finishing things. They weren’t actually very good, and they all sounded like other people, but the finishing was the important bit. I kept going. A dozen stories and a book, and then I sold one (it wasn’t very good, and I had to cut it from 8,000 words to 4,000 to sell it, but I sold it). I probably wrote another half-dozen stories over the next year, and sold three. But now they were starting to sound like me. 

Think of it this way: if you wanted to become a juggler, or a painter, you wouldn’t start jugggling, drop something and give up because you couldn’t juggle broken bottles like Penn Jillette, or start a few paintings then give up because the thing in your head was better than what your hands were getting onto the paper. You carry on. You learn. You drop things. You learn about form and shape and shade and colour and how to draw hands without the fingers looking like noodles. You finish things, learn from what you got right and what you got wrong, and then you do the next thing.


And one day you realise you got good. It takes as long as it takes. So keep writing. And all you need to do right now is try to finish things.

Parts of the Body Asks!
  • Head: How do you like to wear your hair? What hairstyles do you find attractive? Have you ever wanted to do something drastic to your face/hair? What's your favorite part of your face?
  • Ears: What's your favorite music genre? Do you have any piercings? Favorite non musical sound?
  • Eyes: What's your favorite color? Time of day, aesthetically? Animal you find the prettiest? What do you find attractive in a person?
  • Nose: What's your favorite smell? Least favorite? What scent do you find comforting? Is there an outdoorsy smell that appeals to you? (beaches, pine trees, sand, ect.) Boop? Y/N
  • Mouth: Do you have a favorite taste? Least? Do you like kisses? How do you feel about teeth? Do wear lipstick? What's your favorite shade?
  • Neck: Where are you most sensitive? How deep is your voice? Do you like your voice? Can you sing?
  • Shoulders: Do you consider yourself to be easily stressed out?
  • Arms: Are you strong, physically? Do you think you give good hugs?
  • Wrists: Do you wear a lot of jewelry? What kind? Is there a certain type of jewelry that you just can't stop getting?
  • Hands: Are you artsy? Do you play any sort of instrument? Do you draw? Do you write? Do you have soft hands? Do your hands ever idle or do you always have to be doing something with them?
  • Fingers: Do you paint your nails? Are they painted now? What color?
  • Chest: Where do you feel safest? What comforts you the most? How do you usually calm down?
  • Stomach: What's your favorite thing to eat? What gives you butterflies? Have you ever been on a roller coaster? Do you have any food allergies?
  • Hips: Do you put your hands on your hips a lot? Do you close doors and things with your hips? Can you dance? Have you tried?
  • Back: What position do you sleep in? Got any tattoos?
  • Butt: Ever really hurt yourself slipping on something? Ever accidentally sit on something you really wish you hadn't?
  • Legs: Are you a strong runner? How flexible are you? Do you consider yourself to be a clumsy person? Have you ever broken a bone?
  • Ankles: Do you feel like you have enough support? What would you consider a weak spot, physical or mental? Have you ever broken something on purpose? (Smashed a window, knocked over a lamp, ect.)
  • Feet: Do you ever go outside barefoot? Do you like slippers? Have you ever stepped on a lego or something similarly bad?
  • Toes: Are you a risk taker? How tall are you? What's the worst thing you've ever stubbed your toe on? Can you pick things up with your feet?

For a second, he had forgotten she was even there. Everything she had said came rushing back now. Danny looked away, muttering, “Are you going to yell at me and storm off, too? If so, now’s your chance.”

Morosely, Danny slumped into the floor next to one of the supply shelves, ignoring the grime caked on the floor of what was a surprisingly filthy cleaning closet. He propped his elbows against his knees, hung his head, and clasped his hands over the back of his neck.

Sam crouched down across from him. “I’m not going to yell at you.”

Danny raised his head. “You’re not?”

The girl smiled wryly. “That would feel too much like kicking a puppy.”

Excerpt from Treading Water by The Full Catastrophe


Decided to try my hand with more moody shading and such. A-lister Sam is SO much fun to draw.

"I'm not your blind date but you came over and I was eating alone so I went with it and now you're calling me by a different name" AU

I found this prompt on a Tumblr blog but I accidentally deleted the post and now I can’t find the prompt anymore

Lena was sitting alone. She twirled the neck of the wine glass in her left hand, her phone in her right as she responded to work emails. Jess kicked her out of the office almost an hour ago, going on about how she shouldn’t be working on her birthday and she deserved one day off for herself. Problem is Lena always had days to herself. Her days were always “her” days if she didn’t have anyone to share them with. She looked down at the red rose on the table before her, Jess’ gift to her, and let herself smile slightly. Jess was a good assistant, she meant well, and she seemed to care when no one else did.

So that’s why she listened and came here to this restaurant when she really wanted to finish responding to her emails and get a head start on tomorrow’s project. The place wasn’t the fanciest she’s been, but she wasn’t about to go to one of the high-class places she frequented when she didn’t have a date. It was nice enough: low lighting, decent wine selection, and she got a small booth in the back so no one would bother her. Her plan was to come out, grab a quick bite, and then finish work at home.

She was so focused on her phone that she hadn’t noticed the woman walk up to her booth. There was a small tap on her shoulder then, and she was slightly annoyed that anyone would interrupt her when she purposely picked this booth to avoid being bothered. She turned to look up quickly, an annoyed “Can I help you?” on the tip of her tongue, when she came face-to-face with a literal angel, the words dying before they formed. Her jaw went slack as she took in the stunning being before her.

The woman had the bluest eyes Lena had ever seen, even under the minimal lighting of the place and the black rimmed glasses she wore. Her hair fell in soft golden waves, across the shoulders of her beige jacket and blue top. She had a pair of black pants that hugged her hips and a nice pair of boots to match. She looked dressed up, yet still casual, and it suddenly made Lena feel self-conscious about the tight fitting black dress and tight ponytail she wore.

“It was supposed to be yellow,” the woman said, pointing at the flower on the table.

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its in the blood

oh me…..back at it again with random religious symbolism for things that have nothing to do with religion. i cant help it. you can pry my symbolism from my perpetually cold, corpse-like hands 〆(・∀・@)

Yuri snorted, trying to keep from laughing. Otabek looked up from his book curiously.
“What’s so funny?” He asked.
It took Yuri far longer than it should’ve to respond, breaking out into full on laughter. He rolled closer to Otabek, the comfort of the bed suddenly forgotten.
“I found fan art,” Yuri replied in between giggles.
“Of?”
“You. But you’re completely naked.”
Otabek’s face turned approximately six shades of red. “W- what?!”
“…I’m responding to it.”
“What are you saying?” Otabek made a grab for the phone in his boyfriend’s hand, but Yuri was quick to dodge.
“I’m only pointing out the inaccuracies!” He insisted. He hummed thoughtfully, examining the drawing. He began typing, speaking every word as he went, “Good, but inaccurate. His six-pack is not that defined, neither is his v-line.”
Otabek looked as if he were about to self destruct. Yuri reveled in this newfound side of the older boy. He smirked mischievously before adding, “Also, his dick is bigger-”
“YURA!”
This time, the Kazakh boy managed to grab the phone, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.
“Oops,” Yuri said in a way that definitely held no apologetic tones. Otabek groaned, embarrassed beyond belief. “I’m sorry, Beka, but they needed these details for future drawings.”
“How would you feel if you found a naked drawing of you online?” Otabek challenged.
“How would you?” Yuri shot back defiantly.
The older boy had no idea how to respond. He was finished.

@eh-meh-heh submitted: Can’t draw hands?! Better put them behind the head. My contribution to the Crop Top Yuuri Movement

**if you have any advice regarding shapes, proportions, shades etc. please tell me, because I’m self taught and I need some criticism. Kisses**

!!!

4

premise: rick is jealous that morty is paying more attention to his new phone than him lol

oh boy… >//// is it super obvious i’m still figuring out how to draw these guys ??? (and in general…its been abt 10 years since i posted my art online(idk what’s happening w/ the shading here, that really got away from me)) 



  forgive me

Handy Dandy. [Connor Murphy Oneshot].

Title: Handy Dandy.
Pairing: Implied! - Connor Murphy x Reader.
Words: 1,593.
Fandom/Musical: Dear Evan Hansen.
Rating: T. (Language).


“Are you fucking kidding me?” Connor whispered aggressively, more to himself than to you. Though the words came out roughly you knew that they didn’t actually hold any hostility. Tucking back a piece of his hair behind his ear which simultaneously curled around his fingers as he did so, Connor found himself slightly bent over to analyze the extensive amount of nail polishes you actually owned. Funny enough though, he had only seen to wear maybe two of the colors and if he took his time, he could find the bottles because they’d had a lot less polish inside. Picking up a shade of yellow, that was honestly more leaning towards an ugly construction yellow and burned his eyes, he looked back at you.

Connor mumbled, “Really, (Name)? Dehydrated piss color?”

You held your hands up in defense and walked towards him with a gentle, “Sometimes I need the happy colors.”

Connor sat the bottle back where he picked it up from and laughed bitterly, “Happy color? Piss is not a happy color. A happy color is like… Like…” He scanned the polishes before picking up what he’d describe as a ‘cotton candy’ pink. “This.”

Snapping the bottle out of his hand, you chuckled and said, “I don’t think I’ve never worn this color before.” You raised your eyebrows, “Wanna try?” Waving the bottle in front of his face, he pushed your hand back with a small scowl before it slowly turned into a smile.

 “Fuck off.” He bent forward a bit, looking for a specific color. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him and the way that he moved. It was interesting, to say the least. Connor pushed people away, both figuratively and literally in instances where he feels that physically pushing someone is the best for his own safety. Even his own movements, as slightly graceful as they appeared, also pushed people away. He moved roughly but with a sense of hesitance behind every move of his muscles. A warning that getting too close would end terribly for both parties.

 Taking a deep breath in, Connor straightened up and picked up a small bottle of nail polish off of your dresser, the sound drawing you back to reality. “Why are there like twenty shades of black?” He asked you, tilting the bottle to the side so he could read what funky name the polish had, “I thought black was black, you know? What the fuck is…” He squinted at the small letters, “Envious Fury?”

Laughing, you plucked the bottle out of his hand and informed him gently, “Obviously, it’s the color of jealousy and anger, can’t you read?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that those emotions included goddamn glitter.” He took the bottle back out of your hands, letting his fingers linger upon yours for a moment too long before quickly drawing them back in. A technique he had learned to keep people away, to make them assume that he was really unobtainable emotionally.

 It wasn’t as if the two of you were friends and it sure as hell wasn’t as if Connor could actually spill his secrets to you, things that people assumed about him, but weren’t really true. You were just a convenience to him, or so he tried to convince himself constantly. A convenience friend, he would say. Not really friends all the time but friends when he got into fights with his parents and had nowhere else to go, or a friend when you were lost and couldn’t find your way out.

 Visits were becoming much more frequent, or so you noticed. Connor was sneaking over to your house more often, later in the evening. He’d even found a way into your bedroom without going through the front door and alerting your parents that you had someone over, and when first executed, it was painful to say that he ended up with a few rose thorns on his fingertips, palms and thighs from the rose bushes in the front of your parents yard.

He’d come over, sneak in, and the two of you would sit there. Nothing had to be said, and if you asked him what was wrong, more often than not, Connor would find himself building up the security wall around his personality and mind so you couldn’t pry your way inside. It wasn’t a matter of wanting to talk about anything with Connor, it was just a sense of some sort of stability. Someone who wouldn’t yell at him for doing bad, someone who wouldn’t get mad at him for not wanting to talk, and someone who could actually maybe, in one way or another, understand what he was going through even if it wasn’t spoken out-loud.

 Catching yourself staring at him once again, you plucked the bottle of black nail polish off your dresser, the one that Connor usually went after and sat down on your bed in an eager attempt to push back any sort of thoughts of an actual friendship. This happened every couple of weeks, or whenever the nail polish would fade from his nails. He quite liked the way it looked, and with his long fingers, you had to admit that he pulled off polish a lot better than most of the people you knew. “I want this one.” He said, holding up the glittering black nail polish.

 “Are you su-”

 “If I want to be a sparkling fucker, why not?” He shrugged his slender shoulders, sitting down on the bed across from you. The meager fact that your bed was only a twin size meant that there wasn’t much space between the two of you. Crossing your legs and laughing at his previous statement, Connor shimmed out of his usual grey jacket to reveal a darker grey t-shirt under that clung slightly to his slim frame. He handed you the bottle and held out his right hand without a word. Managing to balance the bottle on a library book you forgot to return god knows how many years ago, you cupped his fingers and began brushing the dark polish on.

 There was silence between the two of you as you brushed gentle onto his thumb and then pointer finger. Mid-way through his middle finger, he began speaking to you. The tone was the same, but the words were somewhat of a surprise and when you gazed up at his face, you found his eyes fixated on your expression rather than on the nail polish brush like they usually were, “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you.” 

Connor swallowed softly, brushing back a few stray hairs on his forehead with his free hand, “I know, we’ve been doing this for like…” He thought, trying to vaguely guess, “I don’t know, three, four months now and you don’t have to do it but you do anyway.” He laughed to himself, “Not everyone would help a guy who threw a goddamn printer at a teacher when he was in the 2nd grade because he was having a fucking hissy fit.”

 “Being line leader was really important back then.” You dipped the brush back into the bottle, “I’d have been pissed too, having been denied the pleasure.”

 “I didn’t really want to be,” He explained, “It was just… “ Connor stopped talking for a moment and thought over his words. Why was he telling you this? “Everyone else had been line leader that year and I guess I felt… Left out. Like, how shitty sad is that? Such a sob fest.” He joked, but you could tell that it was running much deeper than that by how his voiced cracked near the end. 

You couldn’t find any words inside of your mind that would be a good reply to Connor actually telling you something personal, and so, you rested the brush back inside of the bottle and let go of his right hand, gesturing that you were ready for his left. He stared down at his fingers for a moment, admiring the luminescence that the glitter gave the black. It was like the stars, coating the dark sky with what one could see as hope. Hope, that out there, there’s someone or something that understands.

 “Whatever,” He clenched his jaw and lifted his left hand for you, “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for… Not seeing me as a fuck up like everyone else does. For not saying, ‘there goes that psycho kid, Connor Murphy’ in the halls at school.”

 “They don’t see what I see.” You said to him, furrowing your eyebrows as you began painting his left hand. “They don’t see…” You couldn’t think of what to say, though there were indeed a million ideas running wild inside of your head. With your mouth agape, you had hope that perhaps words would just start flowing out instead of you having to force yourself to speak. “They don’t see this.” You gestured between the two of you with your free hand. “They don’t see you like this, they don’t see you as a human who you know, maybe has feelings like the rest of us do… Maybe, it’s just beyond their reach, maybe they refuse to see because then that would make you just like the rest of them and maybe they can’t handle that sort of truth.”

 Connor sat quietly in front of you for a few seconds, soaking up your words and the way that they spilled from your mouth. Almost as if you… You genuinely cared about what people thought about him.

 “Fuck, that’s some deep shit, (Name).”


holy bullpoop i hope that was good and i really hope that you guys like it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated! Lemme know what you think! -Em

Savior Ink

Every artist has their signature and hers, it’s cover-ups. Sometimes it’s to mask a now unwanted tat but her favorite is to cover a scar, or as she likes to explain to her clients, honor it. She gets a rush at taking something unwanted and turning into something to cherish.“ 

(Modern AU / Rated T / 3200 words / AO3


The heels of her boots are loud against the poured concrete floor of the hallway, the last quiet spot before reaching the constant swarm beyond the double swinging doors. Ten years in and she still quickens her pace to enter the one place she’s ever felt it in her heart to call home. The buzzing hits her like a lover’s embrace, melting the tension from her shoulders brought on by a restless night’s sleep.

Ruby’s client’s tongue is trapped between her red tipped fingers, slightly swollen from the shiny new  barbell piercing she’s securing with a sultry wink. Emma can practically feel the pheromones pulsing around the pair as the beautiful asian owner of said tongue blushes furiously as Ruby’s thumb brushes against her bottom lip. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Ruby will be offering to show this new client how to really make use of that piercing, with hands and tongue on demonstration devoid of any clothes.

Emma catches Belle’s eye from behind the counter and they share a knowing smile, both of them used to Ruby’s sexual adventures thanks to her love for giving the entire shop a very detailed play by play.

“Hey Ems, there’s coffee on your station.”

Ah, salvation. Belle is seriously the best, keeping this pack of lady tattoo artists organized and as drama free as possible, considering they’ve all gotten on the same damn cycle.

“What would I do without you?”

Belle just waves her off and goes back to adding to the schedule of appointments on the computer. There’s already three people waiting on the sunken leather couch in the front corner and Emma starts the process of getting her station set up for the day. Other than the appointment with Anton later on tonight to finally finish the intricate beanstalk tattoo on his back, she’s free for the rest of the day for walk-ins.

“I call dibs on stubbled and broody in the armchair, darling. He’s just this side of smarmy and I need the eye candy to help me wake up.”

“Whatever.”

Emma doesn’t even look up from her prep as Crue slinks by on wispy limbs towards her prey. Here’s hoping the guy wants a dog tattoo, cause that’s just about the only thing that woman is good at.

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Missed Shots

Request: hello!!!!! i was the anon that requested have you ever seen a heart shatter and oh my word i am blown away!! i couldn’t stop crying after reading it!! anyways, i would love to request another newt x reader where the reader is a legilimens and she reads newts mind and finds out he’s in love with tina or leta (which ever one you can choose who you like i guess) and she just breaks i guess?? pure angst as always haha. please and thank you!!!

Word Count: 2,779

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in


August 1st, 1903

Sploosh. You shriek with laughter. Mud flies every which way. It lands on your cheeks. It sprinkles the front porch. You don’t care that your mother will be mad. You look at the next puddle and bend your knees.

A little boy suddenly bursts into your yard. He shouts, hands out in front of him, as a bunny darts by. Another boy, a little bigger with darker hair, tears into your yard, too. He stops when he sees you. He marches over, calling the other one, too.

“Who’re you?”

You scowl. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Theseus Scamander. This is Newt.” He prods the other boy in the back.

“Why’re you in my backyard?”

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sugar, i’m going down

Originally posted by celes-tae


request: overstimulated taemin smut?

author’s response: thank you so much for requesting and i hope you like it!


otp(s): lee taemin x reader

genre: smut

word count: 1,147

synopsis: the one where taemin nearly broke a fucking limb.


“f-fuck…”
the sound shuddered through the breeze, traveling like a sharp whip through the silent wood. anyone who had happened to wander by would’ve thought a local hunter had missed a chance of prey or that someone had accidentally trodden in a pile of smelly, damp manure staining the grass.
they would’ve been wrong, of course.

Keep reading

2

whew! guess the rust on my hand is gone. i can draw better again. :D
soo.. i have been lookin’ at my sketchdump for a while just for some inspiration… and later i feel like wanted to draw EnderGlitch Frisk again (Endertale & Glitchtale) :>
well.. not really much changes… its just Endertale Frisk with a sword shield… plus with fire magic. (which is way cooler) i’m just messing up the ideas…
lol. i wasn’t really plannin’ on fully shading this at first… but after i colored it… it kinda feels plain to me… so eh what the heck… btw… this took me 2 days to finish… :P worth it. :3


Endertale Frisk by: @xxtc-96xx

Glitchtale by: Camila Cuevas (i don’t wanna bother.)

and yeah. i have tumblr now. (still dunno how to use it :’D )

Sleepless Nights - Ten (M)

Ft. Hansol

A/N: Okay, good-bye
[This was a Jimin smut of mine via the side blog, butttt…]
- Admin Finn

**WARNING: smut ahead! Also, themes of gore and rough sex, including extremely sadistic Ten**

Originally posted by nakamots

Word Count: 1,048



He had dreamt of it, the gleaming blade caressing your warm skin, the dark blood trickling along the soft ridges of your figure staining the pale satin sheets endlessly.
Your vulnerable figure lay beside him, your soft skin illuminated by the dim lights filtering through the billowing curtains. Ten listened intently to the sounds of the city below, picturing the damp allies with neon signs hanging themselves above the lonesome souls wandering through the night.
Shadows crept through the night, consuming his conscious as his gaze fell upon your neck. His fingers itched to grasp your lithe neck, constricting until you’re crying and thrashing frantically; his mind yearning to see the life leave your bleary gaze.

Stirring gently, your tired gaze fell upon your husband. You smiled gently, snuggling close, idly tracing the defined ridges of his chest with your gaze.

“Can’t sleep?”

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The signs as artist problems

Aries: THAT ON E GOD DAmN LINE!

Taurus: o mg this design is too simple but if i add anything it will be too much fml

Gemini: i need to pee rn but i’m in thE ZON E

Cancer: there is something off about these eyes but I DON’T KNOW WHAT FU-

Leo: this arm is too skinny *draws line futher out* this arm is too fat *draws lin-*

Virgo: i swear to god if i’m sat on my pen aGAIN

Libra: is this shade better or is this shade better?

Scorpio: H0W D0 B00B?!

Sagittarius: those hands look like they belong on a yoai manga  h o l y  f u c k !

Capricorn: I DREW ON THE WRONG FUCKING LAYER!

Aquarius: wow this sketch looks great! Time to ruin it with my lineart skills!

Pisces: *realising all your mistakes after you’ve uploaded it*

Infatuation — Peter Parker

idea: peter is completely infatuated with the new, artsy girl 
words: 1k
warning: n/a
note: feel free to request bc im quickly going to run out of ideas :-)
     — (part two)

He remembered the first time he saw her. She’d been wearing a pair of blue overalls and beat-up sneakers, various colors of paint splatters along the straps and pockets. The striped t-shirt she wore underneath was a stark difference, as there wasn’t a speck of color on it.

Ned had nudged him, still prattling on about the new Star Wars movie that was coming out next month. Peter had barely noticed, focusing every bit of his attention on the way her teeth worried at her bottom lip as Principal Morita jabbered on about the school. He turned as the pair walked past them, the smell of strawberry and vanilla chasing after her.

His infatuation had only grown as time went on.

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