#most of them are rendering practices

[xyl4-4444]

Here are some Pokemon doodles on the cobblemon discord sever to end off April, I you know you know

[deelavis]

whenever a fanfic says that Mello is wearing a t-shirt I know they probably mean something like this:

but all I can imagine is this or this

Bonus Comic:

Bonus Bonus Shirtless Mello:

[deoidesign]

Doing master studies the only way I know how: Stealing them and making them my guys.

(Barberini Faun)

(The Fallen Angel - Alexandre Cabanel)

(Covent Garden - William Bruce Ellis Rankin)

[imorphemi]

The thing in the cargo hold

Based off of this lil ficlet by @theminecraftbee

[kyo-hiki]

some random stuff :))

[anexplosionofchaos]

finished the wip 🫶

[neptunym]

ms paint doodles for @post-it-notes7 's fic series, heart and soul. i highly recommend it to anyone that either likes the kirby anime or meta knight bc it's a delight to read :]

[martyryo]

man that joins your breast cancer club and then asks you to check if he has any testicular tumors.

[i-really-like-phrogs]

My Latest Painting Study!

Based on a blank Monster high base posted by @strangegutz over on X! (Rip, you will always be Twitter in my heart)

I painted over it, and used it as reference. Make sure to go check out @strangeguts’s page for super awesome art and doll related content!

[gibberishquestion]

going on a fucking heros journey rn trying to sketch every fighter on the smash ultimate roster

[coquexari]

So for the Banished!Athena AU, this is just an idea but I think maybe in order to better blend in with the humans and y’know… survive, Athena would basically become the head royal guard (both so Penelope and Telemachus can actually convince the darn goddess to come inside) but also to better fend off the suitors and explain why she’s always around the royal family or training Telemachus.

Well, the more I thought about it it COULD work, but it'll be more of a personal guard than a head guard, after all with her condition she wouldn't be able to properly lead or train anyone for too long [her arms were practically rendered useless for the most part, it hurts whenever she moves them too much or too swiftly.] HOWEVER, it would be easier for her to be a more, personal guard, only needing to be close to Penelope and Telemachus. She CAN still fight, but, she'd need the assistance of Ares for that.. And he's more than happy to help, keep her in shape, keep that warrior aspect of her even if she isn't as strong as she used to be.

Ares, instead of using quick thought, has the ability to almost silence the pain for a short period of time until Athena's body cant take it anymore, think of it as a more destructive form of adrenaline, though it has to be used sparingly, she's still advised not to return to fighting unless truly necessary.

[vetyr]

hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT

Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.

When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.

I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.

Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.

For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.

Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.

The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!

It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.

I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).

Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)

[prokopetz]

Let's consider the sampling bias of a classic polling method: the telephone survey.

In many jurisdictions, robo-calling cell phone numbers is illegal, so right off the jump, our sample is limited to people with landlines.

Second, our survey's calling centre probably doesn't operate 24/7, and you can only answer a home landline when you're at home, so we're also selecting for people who tend to be at home during our calling centre's office hours.

Third, most people who have landlines probably also have answering services and caller ID, so we're additionally selecting for people who answer unknown numbers rather than letting them go to the machine.

Fourth, our recipient needs to be able to participate in the survey, so we're also selecting for people who speak the language(s) in which the survey is being administered.

Finally, after all this, most people will just hang up once they figure out they're being polled, so in sum, we're selecting for people who:

have landlines;

are usually at home during our calling centre's office hours;

customarily answer unknown numbers;

speak the language(s) in which the survey is administered; and

are actually interested in responding to surveys.

Any one of these factors is likely to introduce very serious bias into our results; all of them taken together are going to render our data practically meaningless for most purposes.

Now, understand that this still represents less selection bias than trying to do demographic surveys by reblogging Tumblr polls.

[taylor-titmouse]

methods of binding a wizard

figure 1: anti-magic cuffs. the most expensive--but most dignified--method of binding a wizard. their exact alchemical makeup is difficult to replicate, and so they are usually only found in the possession of powerful magic-users who can construct them themselves, and royalty who can afford to commission them. there are several lost pairs floating around in various black markets. any magic-user bound in the cuffs is rendered completely magically inert*, unable to perform even basic cantrips. such cuffs are most frequently used in trials by the wizard's consent. they are, after all, less humiliating than the more practical options.

figure 2: iron and leather. this is the most common way to bind a wizard, used largely by mercenaries, law enforcement, and anyone else with experience dealing with them. the hands are forced into fists within tight leather mittens, and the mouth is kept gagged with either a leather belt or metal bit. this prevents him from making hand gestures, tracing seals, or speaking spells. binding his ankles prevents an especially wily wizard from drawing seals on the ground with his feet. the collar is to remind him he's a little bitch.

figure 3: cloth, rope, and a sack. the most accessible way to bind a wizard, and by far the most degrading. the preferred method of peasants and angry mobs, it takes a 'better safe than sorry' approach by stripping and blindfolding the wizard. one can never know what enchantments he's sewn into his garments, and what curses he can cast with a look. the sack should be filled with a thick material, like flour, horse-feed, or mud. anything to keep his hands still. this method is also frequently employed by other wizards, the humiliation being the point.

*this includes tattooed seals. cadogan, bound this way, would regain his breasts, higher voice, and the function of his uterus. he would still prefer cuffs to being bound any other way.

[chrisissobabygirl]

☆ summer nights - c.s

c/w: fluff, making out, smut without plot ig, oral (f recieving), p in v, fingering, creampie, softdom!chris?? i think, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it y'all), etc etc

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

the moon was full and low that night, it's light slipping through the window and onto chris's bed. the air conditioning and the sound of his lips meeting yours in a frenzy filled the room like a sultry soundtrack.

you both were lost in ecstasy, in the taste of each other's lips, the warmth of each other's bodies, the friction and the sounds you created together. it had been a while since you had last seen your boyfriend and been alone with him, your busy schedules keeping you apart. but today, you were finally able to pick him, nick, and matt up from the airport after their trip to boston. as much as you loved his brothers, you couldn't wait to be alone with chris.

your nails grazed chris's chest, which was clad in his favorite pirate-girl sleeveless t-shirt—the one you liked best. you were straddling him, your legs on either side of his. his hands were sliding up and down your tank top, the one that drove him absolutely crazy, as he urgently explored your mouth with his tongue.

you let out a small whimper, as his clothed cock rubbed against your core for what felt like the millionth time. "chris," you tugged on his hair as you moaned out his name between kisses. "please."

"fuck, ma, what do you want?" chris let out a low groan, trying to control himself. if it were upto him, he would have flipped you over, buried your face into his pillow and taken you from behind hours ago, but no. you had been playing hard to get all day long, teasing him in that godforsaken top, rendering him helpless as they were around matt and nick the entire day. his cock was so hard it was painful.

"you want my cock, huh?" he mumbled from your lips. you nodded frantically as you continued to grind in his lap, the tugs on his hair getting stronger with every rock of your hips against his.

his lips travelled from your mouth to your neck. "words, baby. use your pretty little mouth." he smirked against your skin, waiting for your consent.

"chris," you whined out, stopping your movements altogether. "please fuck me, i need...need your cock... need your mouth so bad." you took his face in your hands, panting heavily.

"get up. now." he demanded, tapping your ass twice, motioning for you to do what he asked. your legs shook as you got up from his lap, now a wet patch in the centre of his plaid pyjamas, right on his cock—your arousal.

you settled down on the bed, your back lying against the headboard, as he shifted himself in front of you, the tent in his pyjamas very evident, and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your skimpy shorts, pulling them down with ease, filling his sight with nothing except your dripping cunt.

"no underwear? so you're telling me, all day long, the only thing that's been seperating me from your sweet pussy is one fucking layer? you fucking tease." chris hissed as his cock got painfully harder, if that was even possible. in one swift motion, he spread your legs, ready to absolutely devour you.

he lowered himself, his lips tracing a slow and torturous path along your inner thighs, the heat of his breath sending a shiver through you, your clit throbbing.

that's it. you couldn't take it anymore. you grabbed the back of your boyfriend's head, and tried to guide him to where you needed him most, but he easily overpowered your attempt. he chuckled lowly, a teasing smile on his face. "so fucking needy, hm?"

"chris, please," you were practically begging now, but you didn't care. you wanted him—you needed him. you craved his touch, his lips, his cock, his everything.

chris looked up, his lustful eyes meeting your half-lidded once, and that was it. he lunged between your legs like a madman, his tongue swiping from the bottom of your slit to the very top.

a moan escaped your swollen, puffy lips as your head rolled back, your back arching off the headboard. his tongue circled your clit—once, twice, thrice—before he thrusted his tongue inside you, fucking you like it was his cock. his name fell from your lips like a chant, as you begged him not to stop.

"you're drenched." his tongue left your pussy, and without a warning, he replaced his tongue with his middle and ring finger. you let out a high-pitched whine at the sudden intrusion, his long fingers reaching all the right places inside you. his fingers curled upwards, hitting your g-spot with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

chris was like a man on a mission, his tongue returning to your sensitive clit, alternating between long licks and sucking it in his mouth at a relentless pace. your thighs squeezed around his head, hands tangled in his hair, as you felt your orgasm approaching. you let out a frustrated sob, a tear running down your cheek, when he suddenly stopped, pulling his mouth and fingers away from you. his tongue came out and licked his lips clean, the taste of you making his cock twitch.

"wha-why'd you stop?" you cried. chris chuckled and brought you closer to him, his body now hovering right above yours. "as much as i love eating you out, i need you to come around my cock tonight, baby. s'that okay?" he bent down and kissed you softly.

"mhm," you nodded slowly, still recovering from the intensity of his mouth. you got up into a sitting position, and pulled your tank top off with shaky hands, along with your bra, now completely bare for him. chris groaned at the sight of his perfect girlfriend. he couldn't wait to be inside you again.

chris frantically undressed himself as well, pulling his sleeveless t-shirt up in one swift motion, and tugging his boxers down until his hard dick sprung out, slapping against his stomach. your clit throbbed at the sight, waiting to be claimed by him. he was big and thick, his head swollen and leaking precum already.

he climbed back on top of you, and his large frame enveloped yours completely, the warmth of his skin sending goosebumps down your body. he reached down, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. he reached your breasts, enveloping your right nipple in his mouth, while he brought his hand up to play with the left one. he stopped his movements and looked down, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance.

"god, i missed this." he breathed in your ear. and with that, he pushed himself inside you with one deep thrust. he waited for a moment, letting you readjust to his size, feeling your walls stretch around his cock. his hips rocked, retreating and sliding back with more force now, elicting a cry of pleasure from you.

"fuck, you're so big, chris." you mumbled out. the thrusts kept on coming, each one harder and faster. he grabbed one of your legs, draping it over his shoulder as you locked the other one around his waist, the position giving him a better and deeper angle. one of his hands reached between your legs, rubbing your clit, as the other one held your leg up.

a loud moan escaped from your lips as chris pounded into you, hitting your g-spot, making your spongy walls clench around him. "you like when i fuck you hard? takin' me so fuckin' well, ma," he grunted, nearly out of breath. the bed frame slammed against the wall in rhythm with his pounding, filling the room with creaks.

you screamed his name out again and again, only fueling his energy further. your head spun and your back arched off the bed as his thrusts became rougher. your moans filled the room, the slapping of his skin on yours becoming louder, the both of you getting closer and closer to your orgasm.

chris clenched his jaw in effort, holding back his orgasm as his cock slammed into your cervix mercilessly. "c-chris, i think i-i'm about to.." you moaned, so overstimulated that you couldn't complete your sentence. "fuck, me too, kid," he gritted through his teeth, flicking your clit faster.

a loud cry escaped from your lips as the knot in your stomach finally snapped, thighs trembling as you spasmed around his cock. pornographic moans left your mouth as he shot his load inside you, coating your walls with his release. his movements slowed as he fucked you through your and his orgasm.

his movements stopped as he slowly pulled out, collapsing next to you, heavy pants filling the air. your chest rose and fell in a quick pace, heart beating fast.

after a few seconds, you rolled to your side, capturing chris's lips into a sweet kiss, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "i missed you so much."

"me too, kid. i love you." he whispered, brushing a few strands out of your face.

"i love you too, chris." you smiled, pecking your boyfriends lips once more.

and that's how you two fell asleep, tangled up in each other, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

a/n: this is my first smut so please be nice or i might cry! also ilysm HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHES RAHHH (its like 2:30 am and i CANNOT sleep)

wc: 1546

[serpentface]

The pylidaigh, a type of vampiric snow ghost, as imagined in folklore in and around the Highlands.

This is a ghost believed to come into being when a person dies in the snow and their body is not found before their soul (still trapped without its funeral rites) 'freezes' inside of it. The body then reanimates into a pylidaigh's twisted form. It looks like someone who slowly died of starvation, just a thin layer of flesh over bones. Its skin is as white as the snow itself, so pale it can blend seamlessly into a blizzard. Most of its body appears subtly stretched and lanky, save for its exceptionally unsubtle long, skinny arms, which drag on the ground behind it when it walks. After a big meal of blood, its belly swells like the abdomen of a tick.

A pylidaigh can only tread across snow and ice, and so doorways and windows are best kept clear of snowfall during the winter in order to prevent it from reaching inside. It mostly comes out to hunt during blizzards when there is little that can prevent it from catching its victims.

In spite of its fragile appearance, a pylidaigh is supernaturally strong, and can run at great speeds when it wants to. No mortal weapons can pierce its body, nor can any bonds known to craftsmen hold it in place. It is usually said that chains forged like iron but made out of ice can bind a pylidaigh and render it immobile, but this smithing technique remains tragically elusive to the average joe.

This ghost is either cast as a wildly dangerous but tragic figure, or one that is more simply malicious. In either case, it is described as experiencing nothing but bitter cold. It shivers endlessly. It retains distant memories of what it was to be alive, and it is motivated by a futile desperation to experience the feeling of warmth again.

In more sympathetic framings, it is described as using its freaky gibbon arms to capture its victims and pull them into an embrace, rather innocently trying to warm itself against their body. This inevitably fails, and the embrace becomes a bone crushing squeeze. When that too fails to warm the ghost, it rips out the person's throat and drinks their blood until the victim is as cold and drained as the pylidaigh itself.

In other cases, this more pitiable narrative of a ghost seeking warmth with no comprehension of its actions is discarded in favor of making it purely monstrous. Here it is a type of vampire with an insatiable thirst, practically a physical manifestation of the worst of winter itself. Some tales acknowledge both variants, suggesting a pylidaigh's violent attempts to warm itself may be initially devoid of malice, but turns into an act of furious jealousy of the warmth of the living after years of suffering.

The only (more or less) surefire method to permanently kill a roaming pylidaigh involves trapping it with fire. They are attracted to any source of heat, and will attempt to warm themselves with the flames (if not tempted away by a juicy living human body). The fire itself cannot kill them (as the sheer cold of their body is more powerful even than flame) but they can be trapped if kept near the fire long enough for the snow it depends upon to melt. This does not kill the pylidaigh either. The monster will remain in stuck in place (and potentially become a threat again if it snows more) for the duration of the winter. Only when the spring comes and all the snow melts does it revert into a normal human carcass (though mysteriously invulnerable to decay), at which point it can be cremated.

Pylidaigh in the wilds also revert to a human corpse during the snowless seasons, but will roam again each following winter unless it is burnt in the interim. It is of critical importance that any human corpse found in high mountain pasture is cremated- not only out of respect for the poor soul trapped as an earthbound ghost, but to prevent the threat of the possible dormant pylidaigh emerging next winter.