a clean art style? what’s that?

Yk...lately I feel mentally overwhelmed. not that this is from a few days or weeks ago. It's been a long time since I've been satisfied with my art style or my painting. you can see this with my constant changing of little things in the drawings. some have more details than others. the painting changes frequently...I can't do something that makes me comfortable and that keeps me at it for a long time.

I feel like I need to change what is not good at my eyes. Whenever I finish a drawing and a little time passes, when I go back to look at it again, it's not as good as it was when I was still working on it. I wanted to change that...

I try to improve everything in my own way. adding little things here and there that I think are cute or sexy[???] but in the end it's not enough.

I wanted my painting to be as beautiful as Kawanocy's. I am inspired by the paintings in his drawings to create my own.

I wanted my lineart to be impeccable like that of many artists out there. but it never turns out perfectly the way I want. It seems like I'm always so close to achieving perfection but at the same time I'm so far away...

I don't know if I'm taking this "perfection" too high to the point that it's impossible for me to reach it at the level I'm at now or if it's because I really don't have the capacity to reach it.

In fact, I don't know if this is perfectionism or obsession...

I know it's a bit complicated to compare how much I know today with how much Kawanocy knows. all the years of study he needed to achieve the style he has today and everything. but it's so difficult not to compare myself... and I feel like I need to do that. I don't know why but I FEEL like I need to compare myself and be inspired by him and other artists so that, one day, I can leave where I am now.

but, why everything I study, all my effort. In the end, isn't enough?

I want to reach his level one day. I want to learn with him. learn with my mistakes and successes. with the mistakes and successes of others peoples too.

Something that really complicates me is that I want to do this in a short period of time. I know it's practically almost impossible to achieve something like this. even for someone who learns reasonably quickly like me and several other people who are also in this strange dilemma like me now.

I've been thinking about this for so long. I can't do something new. my creativity is acceptable. (To a certain point, I think?) You know... the slightly disturbed ideas I have sometimes. sometimes I think they are good. but they're not enough.

Perfection is something that's kind of difficult to talk about because the concept of perfection is individual and I think I have my own. but I can't verbalize or recreate anything that comes close to that perfection. the only thing I can do is feel whether or not I'm close to reaching it. this distorted thing that leaves me in a bad mood because I can't reach it lol.

But why do I only see that a drawing is "perfect" when I'm about to finish it but after a few hours the drawing is no longer "perfect"? It seems like a weird illusion. like those potion effects in Minecraft. All the magic you feel when you taste it disappears when the time is up. I feel like a child unable to make and enjoy something unique that they made themselves.

This feeling is strange... I make a sketch that, sometimes, is initially impeccable. but when I go to do the painting, rendering, those things. It's not as good as I expected. I know, I know that maybe I'm pushing myself too hard. that I shouldn't be... I don't know... creating too many expectations? but I can't. it's confuse.

Sorry for my strange way of expressing myself. communication is not one of my strong points :p

ugh... Anyway, this is just some weird girl's rant. ;3

I don't intend to give up on improving. of course. as much as I often wanted to.

In fact, I want to reach a level that I don't yet have the capacity to reach! I want to improve more every day. I want to get my basic skills to their maximum level!

I'm not going to give up on this so easily. I've already come so far...

Drawing is one of the only things I'm "good at". I just hope that my future self doesn't change the way I think today. I hope my future self isn't disappointed.

I just hope that all the effort I make today to learn and evolve, one day in the near or distant future, will not be all in vain...

Bonus Question Answers! (non-anime animated noms)

This was SO. FUCKING. HARD. This question went so much better than I expected, and I’m only sad I lack the artistic skills to make it all a reality.

Below, my PAINSTAKINGLY selected top answers, If yours is listed below, you’ve earned an entry in a random draw to win a GIFTENING liveblog OF YOUR CHOICE

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Q: The Senshi suddenly find themselves in a very different animated world. Which cartoon power (think Looney Tunes) do they each now possess?

*  Usagi can make literal rainbows happen when she smiles.  Rei can set anything on fire with her mind (she feels a bit cheated because she can do that at home too).  Ami can write down anything in her special notebook and it literally changes reality around her (she does not share this with her fellow Senshi, because she knows the full weight of this power.  She did, however, write Michiru having a bad hair day for just one day.  Just one.)  Makoto has the ability to pull out any ingredient she wants from any pantry/door/closet.  She usually uses this for cooking purposes, so she won't have to purchase groceries.  Minako has the ability to mimic any voice in the world, whether she has heard it or not.  Hijinks ensue.  The Outer Senshi sensibly escaped from the new animated world right after Michiru recovered from her bad hair day.  They don't speak of the experience. -- @amberlilly  [The whole thing was so solid, but what absolutely sent it over the top for me was Ami using her powers to fuck with Michiru in the most petty benign way, which is EVERYTHING.]

*  Usagi is definitely rocking the exaggerated tear gushers.  Ami can pull charts/diagrams out of nowhere at any time.  Rei combusts when she gets sufficiently mad.  Makoto has birds fly around when she sings while cooking or cleaning.  Minako breaks the fourth wall to make jokes and asides to the audience.  Chibi-Usa is somehow able to walk through ludicrous danger without getting touched, because the censors won't allow kids to be hurt in this show. Haruka can make girls melt into puddles of goo with her flirting.  Michiru can summon a servant at any time to take care of an unpleasant or potentially dirty task for her (including to take the slapstick comedy for her).  Setsuna has access to the script.  Hotaru just sort of appears sometimes, just standing there, silently and menacingly, but never does anything on-screen (though you may hear the occasional off-screen screaming).  Oh, and while I'd like to say Mamoru gains the power of inexplicable entrances... he kinda already has that one.  --Darkcloud k'California  [Again, I loved all these, but particularly Chibs saved by the censors, Michiru’s poor hapless slapstick avatar, and everything about Hotaru, thank you.]

*  Usagi: The power to be found charming by every character she encounters and somehow escape all consequences and damage by simply remaining oblivious, a la Tweety Bird.

Rei: The power to explode, reducing her surroundings to charred wasteland, but remain relatively unscathed (perhaps a bit singed)

Ami: The power to grow multiple arms, hands, and hundreds of fingers in order to do tech stuff

Makoto: The power to punch someone through a brick wall, possibly several, and into someone's family dinner. It's always some surprised-looking family's private event. Often the same family.

Minako: the power to, Bugs Bunny style, apply lipstick and seduce ANYTHING. Which, according to her, is a power she already has.

Haruka: The power to run off a cliff and keep going until she looks down. She never learns to not look down.

Michiru: The power to stick a pin into any other character and cause them to deflate like a balloon

Hotaru: She just gets to actually be used. It is thrilling.

Pluto: She will observe this strange planet from afar with her huge telescope and breathe the Martian air and look great in a kilt and Roman-style helmet. --  @incorrecttact  [Your set-up and punchline delivery style on all of these was perfection, and I legit lol’d at Mako and the poor family she continually interrupts.]

* to make dynamite go BOOM (Rei obviously); to have their opponent chase them to the point where they're floating in midair and then their opponent falls 5000 feet but they calmly walk back to land (like Wil E Coyote & the Roadrunner) (Usagi); the power to blow kisses to their opponent (which are clearly poisonous and end up killing the chap) (Minako); the power to have their opponent's entire arm shattered if they try to even punch them lightly on the arm (Makoto - this is canon anyways, but moreso exaggerated here hehe); to open a book and start reading it out loud and words start showing up on screen, confusing tf out of their opponent (Ami - also canon already)  --@midnightdrops  [Each of these were great, but Usagi and Mako as you described them totally sold me.]

* usagi: can now float on yummy aromas, so long as they lead her somewhere tasty! the others play a quick tournament of jun-ken-pon each time it happens to determine who will be responsible for steering her from blissfully drifting into traffic. again.

ami: is now possessed of x-ray vision! only she can neither turn it off, nor control its intensity. she is working on developing a set of goggles to dampen the effect, and secretly hopes they will make her look like geordi laforge.

rei: rei-chan is now blessed with the power of song! her heartfelt melodies soften the malice of even the most one-dimensional baddie, and influence public policy on a global scale. international success life, yo! i guess she's really a hard worker!

makoto: has become something of a cartoon cupid! in a poorly-ventilated room, her mere presence has bystanders declaring their love for one another within minutes*; and her decadent wedding cakes are the hit of second marriages across the country. *all of them so like her old senpai, and none of them falling for her, alas!

minako: employs her considerable powers of confidence and charm to convince the others she now has access to Plot Manipulation, mainly by engineering and taking ownership of a series of happy accidents. her real power is to literally jump out of her skin when she's startled*, and she has no intention of EVER letting the others know about it.  *minako discovered this new ability while she was changing a roll of toilet paper, and a spider dropped onto her hand. the leader of the inner senshi had never been so horrified. her bones were so slick and cold, her skin a hideous unwiped pile, and then THE SPIDER CRAWLED INTO THE PILE and she STILL doesn't know if it ever got out and sometimes her skin itches REALLY bad and you know what let's stop talking about this right now okay???

setsuna: can now manifest a giant pencil and erase the enemy! but doing so would be breaking The Greatest Taboo, and leave her impaled upon the pencil.

haruka: her new empathetic ability is remarkably similar to Ma-Ti's "heart" ring (Captain Planet and the Planeteers, 1990 - 1996). basically, she's just like really soft at you, and it inspires you to take more positive actions toward yourself and the world at large? she protests about wishing she'd received something tough and intimidating, but secretly is very moved by being made an instrument of kindness.

michiru: her intuition has mutated into fourth wall awareness, and the subtlety with which she makes this known to you is SO GODDAMN UNCOMFORTABLE OH MY GOD

hotaru: can now not only communicate with inanimate objects, but also render them permanently animate! you should have been there during the princess tutu crossover episode when she met lamp-chan - they're STILL inseparable, and chibiusa is SUPER jealous. speaking of which,

chibiusa: can now use hammerspace to store her endless series of magical geegaws and weird animal boyfriends.  -- @rasiqra-revulva  [Dude, you have got to stop making me snort laugh, it’s RUDE. Pure solid gold, every word, with a special nod to Haruka, MICHIRU, and Minako’s extended tragic cartoon backstory.]

* Usagi - like her name suggests, she is now Bunny. By which I mean she is now a very pink and blonde bunny (somewhere between Bugs and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit), but with super-elastic limbs to accompany her new form. Ami - Magical Science Powers up to and including ‘mix one brightly colored liquid in flask with another brightly colored liquid in flask, explosion, get hammer.’ Rei - An infinite supply of dynamite she can pull out of nowhere. This shouldn’t be as useful as it is. Mako - Literally suplexed a giant metallic youma not just untransformed, but before she has Senshi powers at all. I fully believe she could lift an anvil in canon. Minako - While Usagi looks like a rabbit, Mina now has the supernatural trickster abilities of Bugs Bunny. Implausibly effective bad disguises, persuasion, showing up out of nowhere. Chibs - Now that gun from her first appearance is a real gun, but it shoots anything from normal bullets to pies in the face to live birds. Pluto - The fourth wall is a real and tangible thing. Pluto can not just break it, but control it. If she wants to remove a layer of cel or suddenly turn things into sketch, she can do it. If she wants to teleport, she can skip in the animation. If she wants to suddenly appear as a Roger Rabbit-style cartoon in a live action field, or vice versa? Yeah, she can do that too. She basically uses this power to warp the layers of her cartoonish reality for pastry acquisition. Haruka - You’d think it would be Roadrunner speed. Haruka thinks it will be Roadrunner speed. But no, it isn’t. Space Jam is Looney Tunes, and Haruka’s power is Basketball. Michiru - Another power that’s just canonical: Wealth. Ridiculous, tremendous wealth. Hotaru - The funniest thing for Hotaru to be in a zany cartoon world is Even More Spooky. Nothing changes except the artstyle and a ridiculous supervillain cape.  -- Regalli  [Pluto, man. Fantastic and brilliant and I legit WANT THIS. Also though, Hotaru with a cape.]

*  Usagi gains the ability to eat anything and everything like the Tazmanian Devil, though she shares none of his aggressive personality; Minako enjoys fucking with people by bending reality (you know, diving into painted tunnels and stuff like that); Ami is able to utilize and test unreal technology without harm, like jet boots, massive bombs, tornado seeds, etc.; Mako uses body manipulations to change her size and shape--especially for blocking attacks to protect people or grabbing people (coupled with her immense strength); and Rei is the only one aware of the audience beyond the Fourth Wall... She tries not to talk to them but sometimes she just can't help it, especially when Usagi is getting on her nerves.  -- @thehubby  [I said pander to me, and you absolutely did. I can’t stop thinking about Rei trying not to make fourth wall eye contact, then just whirling around all “CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THIS SHIT??!?” and as it turns out, that IS precisely what I wanted.]

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I’ll be drawing for the bonus liveblog around the start of THE GIFTENING 2020 (currently looking to be Monday, 11 January 2021). Each bonus question is another chance to earn an entry, so keep those answers coming! I CAN ABSOLUTELY AND SHAMELESSLY BE BOUGHT.

Lava’s Art Masterpost

Hey, all!  Welcome to my art masterpost!  I have no idea if this is a thing that is done typically for art, but oh well, I like organizing things, so here we are!  What you’ll find here is mostly Dragon Age, with a few non-DA pieces in there, and there’s a range of styles I like to use, depending on my mood.  But a lot of what you’ll see will most likely combine lineart with some other form of coloring/shading.

Feel free to browse at your leisure, and I hope anyone who stumbles upon this enjoys what they find! :D And thank you to anyone who sees this and likes, or reblogs, or even just stops by to peruse a bit!  

All that said, away we go!

Digital Portraits:

1. Portrait of Nameless Woman, 2020 - This one is just an experiment with a watercolor brush that I did.  It’s not anatomically perfect, but I enjoyed playing around with shading.

2. Sketch of Aja Amell, 2020 - This one is basically sketch practice with my Amell~  Not really the most expressive pictures, but it’s a start toward drawing her more expressively.  Full disclosure: Aja is one of those OCs of mine that I have had trouble with deciding on a definitive appearance for several pictures, and I really want to work on upping my level of consistency when drawing her.

3. Long-Haired Fenris, 2020 - Exactly what it sounds like; this was for practice drawing Fenris’s features (I love how distinct they are), but with long hair because I am weak for it.  This one was a fun piece to shade, and mixing the stylized lineart that I normally use with a greyscale shading spectrum was really enjoyable.

4. Portrait of Ilorin Lavellan, 2016 - This is an oldie.  Basically practicing expressions, and it is technically a WIP, but I’m still very happy with how the shading turned out, especially because this is actually (aside from the unfinished hair) one of the more minimal pieces I’ve done in terms of lineart  It’s still there, and it still shapes the flow of the picture in some ways, but it also ends up flowing with the shading instead of standing out next to it, which I like.  (Both styles are good, though, and I love seeing other artists try both too.)

5. Old Portrait of Aja Amell, 2016 - Much older picture I did of Aja; she... honestly looks very little like the newer one, I think, and that consistency is something I’m still working on, but this one was the first picture of Aja with that particular hairstyle I drew.  What I like about this picture is how young she looks; it fits with her image as a fresh and sheltered Circle mage who’s only about 20 years old at the time of DAO.

6. Old Portrait of Trilyn, 2016 - They very first piece of art I posted to tumblr~ It’s not exactly how I envision Trilyn anymore, but it was still very fun to draw, and helped me get a feel for drawing him in the future. 

Dynamic Movement Pictures/”Moment’s in Time”:

1. Tabris in Arl’s Estate, 2020 - TW: blood.  I am super proud of this one.  My ultimate goal is to draw all of my Warden DAO OCs, and I could not believe I’ve never drawn my Tabris, and so here she is.  This was, in large part, practicing expressions because I absolutely love art that depicts characters in motion, or capturing some kind of expression.

2. Velyn in the Rain, 2017 - This one was actually based on some art that I saw in a Teen Wolf fic!  It was an experiment with a more expressive style (and one of the first pieces I did without lineart left in the finished version) and it was a huge step out of my comfort zone.  But overall, I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

3. Jem Nocking an Arrow, 2016 - And here is the lineart version.  This was entirely an excuse to draw my DAI baby, Jem, and to do a cool archer pose because archers are my fav, and I love characters in motion.

4. Solas Teaching Trilyn Fade Magic, 2016 - This one was a painterly picture that was also (like the Velyn picture) something which I tried to keep lineart out of.  Overall, I am proud of a lot of parts of the pic, but I think I would definitely go back over it and change a few things now if I had the patience.

5. Trilyn Closeup WIP, 2016 - TW: injury, blood, mention of abuse in the author’s note.  A lot of early pictures I have are of my OC, Trilyn, and this is one of my absolute favorites.  His entire upper body is technically in the picture, but I hadn’t finished rendering it yet, so this was what I posted.  And it was an experiment with a cross-hatching style with the pencil tool for some texture, with air brush shading and a blurring tool.  It’s a style I had fun playing around with!

6. Trilyn Blood Ritual, 2016 - TW: blood, injury (the slight cut used to supply the ritual with blood).  This one was definitely a sort of “captured moment” from a backstory I gave Trilyn, and I think what I was really going for was an atmospheric piece that could fit with any potential fic I wanted to write for Trilyn.  And then it ended up being practice for extreme lighting/shading techniques, and drawing the blood and the gross mass of demon ichor (or whatever the heck that is) turned out to be highlights of making the piece for me.

Art + Text:

1. Freedom and Control, 2020 - TW: scars, but very difficult to see.  This one was ambitious for me!  It started originally just as Solas and my Tal-Vashoth OC, Saara, facing each other, because I love the dynamic I’ve built for them in my head, but then it turned into an attempt at a tarot-esque background, and just sorta grew from there... Overall, I’m happy with how it turned out, especially with how Solas and Saara themselves turned out.  The version you can actually see a larger view is here.  

2. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 1, 2020 - I love writing my own codex entries, first off, and I love combining art with text to create a (hopefully) seamless work.  This work was an attempt to flesh out these OCs of mine with both art (because unique facial structures are hard for me to get down, but so important regardless) and text (because writing~).  I think it turned out well overall, but there are elements of the portraits that I might at some point touch up a bit.

3. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 2, 2020 - Part 2, with what I refer to as a “DAI Outfit Change” because I have always loved seeing fans show their own OCs as they look in DAO, DA2, and then finally DAI.  So I absolutely wanted to jump on that bandwagon myself.  The skin tones are a little off (and I’m sorry about that!) because I was playing with the watercolor brush at that point, and it dilutes the colors I use.  Still working to figure that out, but I was very happy with the overall lineart and structures of the faces.

4. Alistair/Aja Amell Picture with a Blurb, 2017 - Ooooold, old, old, old, OLD!  I still love the art, and I’m soooo happy with how the interaction between Alistair and Aja turned out (drawing kisses is extremely difficult for me; I always end up creating a distorted weird lip-creature, instead of realistically puckered lips...).  I’m not as happy with the blurb that went with it?  At that point, I was still very much figuring out my own DAO worldstate, and the characterization for everyone, so, eh.  Take it with a grain of salt!

Unfinished Costume Designs:

1. Ancient Elvhen Armor with Dwarven Influence, 2018 - People who do costume design work are amazing and mystical beings, and I wish I could do what they do.  This was an attempt at merging the Keeper robes from DAI with a more dwarven armor aesthetic, solely because I created an ancient elvhen character, Ceda, who was taken in by the Cad’halash dwarves mentioned in the Witch Hunt dlc, and I wanted this character to have a mix of the elven style of armor and the dwarven style.  I’m overall decently happy with it, but there’s still that persistent level of self-criticism present.

2. Herald of Andraste Outfit WIP, 2016 - This was a very old picture, not one I showed around a lot, but the idea for this was entirely born of my intense interest in how fashion and outfit designs could be used to create a symbolic image for the Herald of Andraste.  In general, I love the combination of ceremonial armor with long and flowing cloth, so that was what I went for here.  I’m still actually very proud of how this came out, and headcanon something similar for my Herald in my canon DAI worldstate.

Pencil Sketches:

1. Quick Saara Sketch, 2019 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  Exactly what it says; very quick sketch of Saara I did in a small notebook I carry around with me.  This was basically a test for myself to see if I could manage to draw Saara with the features and facial structure I envisioned for her without needing to use a lot of references.

2. Mass Effect Character Sketch; Jesse, 2018 - Similar reason for drawing this one as the above Saara sketch!  With these characters, I love sometimes the way they can turn out with the specific character creator used for them, and when I draw them, I enjoy trying to create a definitive look for them using what I get from the CC, and my own knowledge of Hooman Faces.

3. Saara Sketch, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A more detailed sketch of Saara than the one above, and one I definitely put more time into overall.  It’s currently the profile picture I’m using for ao3, and is the definitive go-to reference picture I use whenever imagining Saara in a fic, or for other Saara pics I make.  I am extremely proud of this picture, and feel like I should work in graphite more often.  It’s such fun, and the texture is so nice to look at.

4. Sketch of Nameless Alamarri Woman, 2017 - This was a sketch I did of what I envisioned some Alamarri tribes to look like; I used artistic depictions of Gaul tribes and hairstyles for inspiration, and have used this as a go-to reference for my version of Alamarri tribes.  Nothing super notable about this one, but I really liked the way the shape of her face turned out.

Events and Gifts:

1. Another Scar, 2020 - TW: blood, injuries, gore.  The most recent piece of art on the list, and a gift for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold; featuring sisterly love between Rica and fem!Brosca, which was her requested prompt.  This was a tough piece for me because of the difficulty with the lighting I dealt with.  For some reason, that one particular element of it gave me so much trouble.  Overall, I’m very happy with how it turned out, though, especially the skin tones of the sisters; Brosca I always sort of like as having this greyish, more gaunt look to her, while Rica I like seeing with a darker, richer, and warmer tone to her.  

2. A Very Cousland Christmas!, 2019 - This was for a holiday exchange for a server, and I drew a friend’s Cousland (Elissa, the girl on the left) with my Cousland (Gazza, the girl on the right).  I love kid-fic, and I love kid-art, and so I decided... baby Cousland art!  Drawing kid proportions was the toughest part, I recall, and I thiiiink it turned out well, and I’m still quite proud of it overall.  Elissa’s design came entirely from my friend, but I added the holly~

3. Exchange Gift with Dis Brosca and Mabari, 2018 - This was an exchange gift for @fanfoolishness, using her lovely Dis Brosca, and was my first real attempt at backgrounds... I struggled with the coherence of the foreground and background a bit, but I’m still very proud of how it turned out, especially with the colors I had to work with.  What I also really enjoyed working with was the lighting and the expression on Dis’s face.  Backlit subjects are always fun to play around with!

4. Inktober Picture, “Deep”, 2017 - TW: scars, injury, mentions of abuse in the author’s note/attached dialogue snippets.  This was for an Inktober prompt (the only one I’ve ever done, sadly... because I am bad with deadlines...), and again features Trilyn.  Trilyn’s backstory has him a former slave in Tevinter, and a lot of the early works I do for him are sort of deep-dives into his life there.  It’s all meant to be an exploration of the things he endures, and then those moments when he overcomes it all and takes back his own autonomy and self.  This art is definitely provocative, and I can understand if not everyone likes it, but to me, I just wanted to show just what he faces (without glorifying it) before showing the moment of his own triumph.

5. Christmas Holiday Picture with my Brosca and a Friend’s Amell, 2017 - This was a piece of art drawn first by a friend of mine, @nanahuatli~  She drew the Amell, the background, the mistletoe, etc.  All I did was add my Brosca to the mix to finish the image.  It was a lot of fun to do, 1) because it was fun trying to match her style so that the picture looked cohesive, 2) because I love doing collabs with friends, and 3) because it was just such a fun thing to imagine my surly short Brosca, looking at this weird plant/fungus/thing dangling over some puckering human!  It was an absolute joy to do this collab with her!  

6. OC Kiss Week Pic of Jem and Saara, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A spur-of-the-moment thing meant to demonstrate just what kind of dynamic my OC, Jem, has with my other OC, Saara (both of whom are members of Leliana’s network in DAI).  This was a very quick picture (deadlines...) and was mostly just to have fun drawing these two characters interacting, and to see if I could make them look like themselves.  I think I did a decent job with it overall, especially with Jem’s kissy-face!  (Again... drawing kisses are the bane of my existence, although hands and feet take a close second.)

DRABBLE: Sweet Tooth for Three

Rating: SFW

Words: 800

Characters: Beelzebub and Belphegor + MC / Gender-Neutral Reader

Notes:  In honor of the twins’ birthday, the attic sandwich club is here to make it all better and fun!  ❤ (ɔˆз(˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘)  ❤ 

“Luke.. can I ask you a favor, please?”

Shoving your notes into your bag before strapping it to your shoulders, your eyes darted downward to the little white boy, arms already crossed, shaking his head;

“You know that if you said please, whatever that favor is, it would be difficult to say no to it.”

“Well…” letting your classmates walk out from the room, you soon let out the secret; “Belphie and Beel’s birthday is tomorrow and I have not really bought anything yet to celebrate the occasion.”

“Their birthday? Demons celebrate their birthdays?”

You did not think of that..

“I do not know.. Do angels, do?”

Rendering only an awkward silence to a particular dim-witted question, Luke rolled his eyes, his arms loosing themselves from the knot as his little petite hand rubbed his chin.

“And now.. you want me to go shopping with you?”

“No..” Taking a seat, considering how looking down to a child-looking angel could be tiring for your neck, your voice soon lowered down similar to how a secret is shared;

“I was thinking if you could, perhaps.. help me in baking a cake for the twins..”

“Baking a cake?”

“It doesn’t have to be extravagant!” Your voice sending an alarming panic, in fear should the angel decline,  “It is just that I know so little about baking plus if I decided to bake on the house’s kitchen, Beel might sniff and eat my ingredients out before I could even start... Plus! I do not feel like buying since it does not seem sincere to me…”

Taking this moment to breathe in, somehow being with the little angel influencing you to talk too much, your eyes could only reflect a beaming smile;

“You really like my baking so much that you come to me to help you?~”

Nodding, the little man gleamed like the sun, his smile reaching both his ears with dilated eyes as he took hold of your hand, much to your confusion;

“Come on now! You’ll go shopping with me. We got some cake to bake!”

---

Like an infant, precious and fragile, the cake was sheltered in a box and secured by your hands as your toes walked like television in mute.

Yesterday’s challenge was fun and educational. And to think Luke would even go as far as sketching several ideas as to how the cake would be designed. The deliberation was proven difficult by your indecisiveness yet alas, both of you settled to the two-layered cake whose hues are similar to their room, ornated with stars with the sun and moon entwined as the cherry on top.

As for the candles.. Well..

Knowing so little about their age.. you just went on covering the topmost layer with candles that thinking of it now, would be problematic should you try to light them all up while they are still asleep.

Yes, you woke up early to set the whole surprise and it is now all coming to fruition.

---

“Surprise!”

Seeing their eyes widen and dilate with wonder as Luke truly did justice onto making the whole cake a bombshell, by the corner of your eye, you could see Beel drool like a mad man, his gluttony hindered as both twins marveled by how grand the gift was. Even Belphie, who would put anyone waking them to snooze, is definitely much more awake than when caffeinated.

And it is so hard to intervene.

Not to when they are all just so adorable. Like little children who just saw magic for its foremost time.

With three spoons clasped by your hand, you tried wiggling in between, handing over the silver utensil,

“Well.. let’s dig in!”

You could care less about the two digging in, since this is much more of a race with Beel definitely going to consume the gift in two bites, or one if he would share it equally with his twin, and went onto picking up the star-décor fondant by the side.

Chihuahua’s baking skills are heavenly.

“Say ahh!” Looking at your right, the Avatar of Gluttony’s eyes were on your lips, hand curled to catch whatever may fall at a giant heap or serving of cake he took with the silver spoon.

“Eh?”

“Come on. Say ahh.~”

Reluctant at first, considering you have taken a spoonful for yourself, only moments away from eating, your lips surrendered and parted and scooped in the treat, your cheeks warming up to be fed by Gluttony and to see his lips with a charming smile…

This is definitely my treat.

Suddenly, you felt weight put on to your other hand, making your glance over to the source, seeing Belphegor munch and flustered too from being fed with your own spoon.

“Now human,” Belphegor purred to your ears, “say ahh for me.~”

Feeling your hand, held by another, the Avatar of Gluttony added; “Feed me too, human.”

Ways To Advance Your Roleplaying Experience Pt. 3: Character Design - Finding a Visual

((It’s been ages since I did one of these - so here’s a link to the first two in this “series” - pt. 1: Backstory and pt.2: Character Look))

One of the most exciting parts of playing d&d is the fact that I get to play a character completely unique to me. Someone I designed from the ground up, determined ever aspect of their personality and being, and I get to experience a wondrous world as that character. 

But it’s hard to really imagine yourself as this character in these situations when you aren’t entirely sure what you look like. Sure, you spent plenty of time developing your appearance and designing the look of your character, but it’s hard to remember those details. And do you really want to take the time to explain to your fellow players in excruciating detail the exact shade of brown your character’s eyes are?

Knowing what your appearance is and your fellow players knowing adds a surprising amount of depth to the roleplaying experience.

Some people can expertly picture their character in full, glorious detail. But plenty of people struggle to imagine their characters, and because of this they either just imagine themselves or they imagine a basic stereotype. There’s nothing innately wrong with this - In fact it can sometimes be fun to just play a fantastical version of yourself or to play a standard rogue/thief elf with daggers that trusts no one. But if you have spent time making a new and unique character, you don’t want that work to go to waste simply because you struggle to picture them.

So we need a visual.

Sadly, not all of us have the skills to draw these characters ourselves. If you’re lucky and you do have those skills (or know someone else who does) then you can get a sketch of your character done. but for the rest of us... well, we need a little help.

Below are the best aides I have ever used to really try to show off my character visually. Peruse them, check them out, and see if maybe they help you!

Hero Machine

Hero Machine allows you to create your own personalized character from the ground up, from gender, body type, race, armor and clothing, facial features, you name it. I’ve made many of my characters through this program, and it’s 100% free. You can save your characters on their site or export them to save on your computer. You can keep them as blank line art to print them and add specific color yourself or color them through the program. It’s a little limited on stances and layering, but it can be a great start in giving you a visual representation of your character

Additionally, you can just make a sort of “blank template” by just creating a body outline and draw on top of it if you want more control and just need some handy guides/

FUSE

FUSE is a program that (last I checked at least) is completely free and available through Steam. it allows you to create well rendered 3D character models. It’s pretty user friendly, letting you create an almost professional looking character with very little work on your part. Some expansions and other pieces may cost, so depending on how advanced you want your character models to be depends on how much you’re willing to pay, but if you make a large number of characters this can be very worth the cost.

HeroForge

HeroForge is a company that allows you to make a specialized, custom miniature of your character. Specialize everything from the basic body types and general clothes to the details of your facial features and expressions and body sizes. It is deeply customizable, and the best part is that not only does it give you a visual for your character, but you can even order the actual miniature, giving you a physical mini to bring to games (which is an excellent aid if your group uses maps and minis in the game)

Fantasy Art

If the above options are just way too much work for you, you can also always look for general fantasy art to represent your characters on a number of websites

Deviantart

Wizards of the Coast art catalogue (D&D Collection or Magic the Gathering)

Your favorite artist’s portfolio

Even just googling your character!

Whenever you use art from somewhere else, BE SURE that you make it clear WHERE you got it from and that people know it isn’t your own. It’s important to credit artists, even if it’s something casual with your friends. (and even then, respect artist intent - don’t use things without permission, don’t use anything they’ve explicitly stated is not for use, etc...)

The reason a physical representation of your character is so incredibly important is because it helps turn your character into a “real person” for both you and your fellow players. Having a face to connect with helps you to visualize who you are in these adventures. That can help improve your roleplaying by leaps and bounds!

As with any other advice - this may not be for you. Maybe you don’t have the time to find or make a good representation of your character. Maybe knowing what your character looks like has never been an issue for you, or just doesn’t really help you roleplay any better. Stick around for the next part and maybe you’ll find something that does help you!

Business

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The ball-point pen remained still, tip touched to the paper but completely unmoving as its user was occupied, staring at the angelic specimen on the couch not far from his desk. Newt faced the same direction he sat, leaving him able to admire his delicate profile and the way he was fully absorbed in sketching in the leather journal on his lap. His concentration was evident in the way his eyebrows were drawn together, and Percival desperately wished he was the one biting at the lip that was being chewed on by the man. He’d been attempting to delve into his abundant paperwork, but he noticed the way the sliver of light from the window behind him fell onto Newt fifteen minutes earlier and his eyes had been stuck on him ever since. How could he possibly focus if this stunning sight displayed itself before him?

Fidgeting, Newt tried to concentrate on his new illustration of a Billywig mid-flight, but he kept having to redraw the wings as Percival’s staring rendered him a bit nervous, the nape of his neck seeming to burn under the gaze. He didn’t know why the Director was staring at him; perhaps he’d gotten a smidge of chocolate on his face from his breakfast and failed in wiping it off? Testing the theory, he lifted the back of his hand to his cheek and rubbed, only to bring it back clean. Unable to take it any longer, Newt met Percival’s eyes, skin turning pink at the odd expression in them. “I-Is there something wrong, Director?” The man, who had stuck the end of the pen in his mouth for he knew nothing was going to come out of his failed concentration, grunted and shook his head.

“Mmm, no. Forgive me, Newt. You’re just rather distracting. Also, I’ve told you to call me Percival at least nine times. ” Newt, drawing his eyes away, immediately felt bad at this, but he didn’t know why he’d be distracting; he was only sitting there, and he made sure the scratching sounds of his pencil weren’t too loud. Maybe he’d been tapping his foot on the floor and he didn’t notice--he actually tended to do that often, and it was a habit his brother despised.

“Sorry. I-I could leave if you want,” he proposed, already fastening his journal shut and tucking the pencil inside one of his pockets.

“I don’t want.” Now confused at the man’s contradicting actions, Newt stood and faced him with befuddlement written on his face.

“But…”

“You’re a lovely distraction, Mr. Scamander. I really don’t mind your presence.” Turning red at these words, Newt found the floor with his eyes and shifted his weight, still not totally understanding.

“I… I don’t--”

“Come here.” His I’m-The-Director-Of-The-Department-Of-Magical-Law-Enforcement voice was in full use and Newt, now rather anxious at not knowing what was going to happen, tentatively walked so that he stood on the other side of the desk, not lifting his whatsoever; instead noticing the way that one side of the bow tied in the lace of his right boot was slightly uneven. He thought Percival’s directions were clear enough to understand, but it seemed he hadn’t followed them to his standard. “Come next to me.” Sighing, Newt complied, moving around the mahogany desk that was so polished he could see his worried expression reflected in it and making sure to avoid the corners with his hip, because he really didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of the man.

Percival watched Newt where he now stood beside him, fringe covering the eyes he knew were two sapphires and hands tightly clasped around each other. Mouth cocking mischievously, he abruptly shot his two arms around Newt’s middle and tugged, bringing the taller man crashing into his lap with a loud squeak. Beginning to squirm, Percival tightened his grip and forced him to stay still. “I wouldn’t do that.” He ceased his moving, and Newt, shocked at his current position, looked at him again.

“Why… what are you--”

“Shh,” Percival whispered endearingly, trailing one of his hands up the length of Newt’s back and tangling his fingers in the red locks he’d always wanted to feel. They were as soft as he expected, and as he lightly tugged at them to lean Newt’s head back, the man in his lap groaned in a way that nearly made Percival devour him on the spot. Zeroing in on the man’s neck, he hungrily admired the never-ending freckles and he wondered if they covered his entire body; he wanted to ask, but he decided he’d rather discover that himself and instead tasted the milky skin, letting his tongue make a path up to his jaw, stopping to nibble along the way.

“Dir--” A harsher bite to his neck made him jump, but he closed his eyes in pleasure at the same time. “Percival, what…” Growling predatorily, Percival brought Newt’s head back down and ruthlessly invaded his mouth, Newt’s surprised moan egging him on.

Bringing his own hands up to the back of Percival’s head, Newt didn’t know fully what was going on, but he definitely wasn’t complaining about the situation. If he were to complain about one thing, it’d be the strong taste of coffee on the older man, but he supposed he could learn to enjoy the taste off of him. Percival’s hand, which had a mind of its own, slipped under Newt’s shirt and caressed his waist, making the magizoologist jump at his cold palm.

Percival nearly succeeded in reaching to tweak at one of his nipples, but a knock on the door drew Newt away, Percival greatly unpleased at the disruption. “What?!” He barked, and the man on his lap moved to rise off him, but he refused to let that happen and brought him back down. “No you don’t. You’re staying here for rest the day.” Newt’s face flamed, and the only thing he could do when the person entered the office was bury his face in the crook of the older man’s neck.

“Director, I brought you--” Great, just what Tina needs to see; me, in a rather intimate position with her boss. “Uh…”

“Get on with it, Tina,” He ordered, acting as if her friend being seated in his lap was an everyday thing (it wasn’t, but he planned on make it one).

“Oh… uh, here,” She replied, not even bothering to explain as she came to his desk and slipped the manila folder on top of it. “It’s about the trafficking case from last week.”

“Ah… thank you, Auror Goldstein,” he responded, reaching around Newt to lift the folder and sift through it. “You can leave now.” She stayed for a moment, eyes still transfixed on the man on his lap until Percival rose her eyebrows at her.

“Oh… right.” Spinning on her heels, she hurried out of the door and closed it a little too hard behind her.

“Did you know I like you?” A quiet voice asked from his neck, and Percival looked down at Newt and his more-than-flustered appearance, surprised at the question.

“No. I was just planning on having you either way,” he answered, smiling as Newt met his eyes. Whenever they made eye contact, something within him stirred because he knew the action didn’t come easy to him; whenever Newt tried to look at anyone else for too long, he grew awkward and nervous, but he remained calm--just a bit mystified--in this situation, and Percival’s stomach felt funny as Newt smiled in return, nuzzling his nose against his neck and closing his eyes.

“Well, since I have to stay here, I might as well take a nap.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Percival responded, and then, with an asleep Newt cuddled into him, he was finally able to get through most of the work needed to be done.

After that day, if Newt found himself anywhere near the Director and wanted to sit down, Percival would latch his hands onto the man’s torso and bring him down onto him no matter where they were, whether it be an important meeting (Seraphina would just shake her head at her Director’s antics and suppress an amused smile) or inside Jacob’s bakery. Oftentimes, Jacob would slyly smile at his friend from behind the counter and Newt would just blush in return, trying to fend off Percival’s hand that was trying to feed him one of his pastries.

One day, when Queenie joined her boyfriend to aid in baking on a particularly busy day, she couldn’t help but become a little flustered for Newt at the… unchaste imagination of his significant other, who had just wiped a bit of chocolate off Newt’s lip with the pad of his thumb and brought it into his own mouth rather sensually. Let’s just say, she couldn’t eat anything chocolate for a week afterward, but she was sure Director Graves indulged in plenty of the sweet substance after that. Later on, she really tried not to find out what occurred the next time she was in the presence of Director Graves, but she couldn’t restrain herself.

It turned out, Newt’s entire body was covered in freckles, and his boyfriend enjoyed running his tongue over all of them, not minding when the taste of chocolate accompanied the activity. She decided not to tell Jacob why the pair bought so many chocolate goods, for she knew people should just keep some things to themselves. Instead, like the innocent woman she was, she just continued wiping off the top of the display case and replied, “Maybe they just really like chocolate, honey.” The wink she served Newt and his vibrant blush both went unnoticed by Jacob, who just shrugged to himself while counting the money in the register.

“Hey, it’s business anyway.”

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- BelovedBey : )

TITLE: Vir'sul El'u Eolas RATING: Mature PAIRING: Fen’aslan x Solas (Sollavellan) TAGS: Post Corypheus, Post Trespasser DLC, Magical Amputation, Body Horror,  Flashbacks, Liberal use of Magic, Liberal use of  Elvhen, Magical Healing, Spirits are overpowered Link for AO3

This started out as a DADWC writing prompt, however, it quickly escalated into a full-fledged fic that demanded its own part of my canon universe. Reblogs, are always appreciated. As well as kudos and comments.

There was no pain; just a sudden nothing where her forearm should have been, and he was leaving. Walking away as if he hadn’t done that, as if it meant nothing to him.

As if she meant nothing to him.

Fen’aslan tried to stand up, stumbling forward in the numbness of system shock, crying out as her knees gave way and connected with the ancient stones that made up the broken, cobbled path. Panic seized her, keeping her from sobbing by stealing the breath she would have used as she realized she didn’t have the strength to keep herself upright let alone make it to the eluvian.

“Ma Vhenan!”

Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, full of anguish and pain she didn’t yet feel. He paused, turning just barely towards her. “Don’t, Solas! Don’t leave me, ma vhenan!” she begged, standing up on legs that felt like withered branches, liable to snap at any given moment. Without thinking, she pulled on the fade with her right hand. It was only natural; their most tender moments, the moments of greatest intimacy, had been in the fade. The mist began to form around her as she took a single, shaky step forward. A breath later, she disappeared into the fade, hoping with her aching heart that it would work, that it would distract him just enough for her to catch him.

She strolled through the doors of the Exalted Council, her bare toes and heels soundless against the mirror-like tile, light robes swishing against her legs with a faint whisper, like the summer breeze through the grass. Her passage through the crowds was marked only by the quiet jingling of the six tiny leaves adorning her collar and the quiet hush she left in her wake. On the Dias, Arl Tegan and the Orlaisian continued their heated debate around the Divine in ignorance, unaware of how rudely they were about to be interrupted.

That thought almost made Fen’aslan smile, but the book in her hands kept her thoughts anchored on the moment.

“The Herald of Andraste,” a woman whispered, reaching out to touch her like she was their savior. She wasn’t, though, and before she could react, the man next to the woman snatched her hand back.

“It is a Rabbit, Woman!” he hissed through his teeth. “She was not sent by Blessed Andraste! More likely one of the demons her people worship.” He spat towards her as she passed him, but he may as well been invisible for all the attention she paid him.

As Fen’aslan became visible to her former advisors, she could see Josephine’s aggravation melt into relief and smugness radiate from the Divine’s smile. Her plan had been shared, then. Good, this would not surprise Leliana. The effects of her sudden appearance effectively pulled the two lords from their argument, just as she hoped it would. She wanted their undivided attention.

“You all know what this is!” She raised the book above her head as she took the final steps toward the Dias, her voice ringing out in the newborn silence the way her footsteps hadn’t. Defiantly, she faced the men who would put her organization under their sway, who were even now attempting to position themselves as Judge, Jury, and Executioner over the ones whose strength had revealed their shortcomings. As Inquisitor, it was Fen’aslan’s place to pass and enact justice, not theirs.

Behind her, the crowd waited with bated breath for her next words. No one spoke, not even the man who had spit at her, and not a single rustle of fine silks hinted that anyone was stirring. They were all either enthralled with her brazen declaration or - more likely - frozen by her audacity. It was time to find out. Exhaling, she spun on her heel to face them.

“This is a writ from Divine Justinia, authorizing the formation of the Inquisition.” The sea of silent faces, both masked and not masked, raised their eyes to the book clearly visible in her hands, and she flipped open the cover showing the distinctive ink of the blood-red eye staining the parchment. “We pledged to close the breach, to find those responsible, and to restore order - with or without approval.” She turned her head slightly towards Arl Tegan, catching Cassandra’s smirk and nod of approval.

The silence held; no one dared do anything but breathe, afraid to break the tension that drew every eye to her. Fen’aslan drew in another breath to steady herself, torn between the fluttering uncertainty in her belly and the wild exultation howling in her blood. Would he be proud of her in this moment, her love? She discarded the thought to continue with her plan.

“It was not a formalized treaty that saved Ferelden or her people,” she declared, turning to hurl the words directly at Arl Tegan. Oh, how smug he looked. “The Inquisition saved them when you could not. We will not disband for you.”

She could hear a squeak as the Arl sat back in his chair, too stunned for a moment to form words. His expression said it all for her - how dare she have the gall? She clenched her jaw, keeping her smile trapped behind her teeth. She was a wolf among the sheep who thought they could tame her. Stepping along the Dias with the sharp grace of a sword slicing through the air, she moved so she was directly in front of the masked Orlaisian.

“The Inquisition will not submit to an Empress who failed to end your inane civil war, and only keeps her throne because of Inquisition support!” It spoke volumes that Celene, Gaspard, and Briala had not attended these talks and instead, sent this Lord who was not important enough for her to remember his name. The Arl had presented more of a threat, but she was done with both of these sheep now.

The silence tore with the soft sound of gasps ripped from the throats of Orlaisian women. With that intangible protection broken, men put hands on their swords and yelled, their voices colliding in the air and forming a single incoherent jumble of sound. It did not matter; she knew every insult they threw at her, but they shattered against the armor of her indifference.

“This was never just an organization!” Fen’aslan declared when the volley of words ended. “It is about people doing what is necessary. We will continue to support you as we have done in the past.” Her eyes finally met Leliana’s as the Divine bowed her head in quiet approval. “There is worse coming than anything you’ve yet seen. We will not be rendered defenseless and riddled with the bureaucracy and the so-called politics of The Game. The Inquisitions will bow - but it will not be to either of you. Now excuse me.” Her tone turned the plea into a command of respect and authority, her robes once more whispering against her legs as she strolled away from the Dais “I need to save the world again.” She thrust the book towards Josephine, giving her little time to collect it as she passed. “I will see you at Skyhold.”

Like a wolf returning from a successful hunt, she prowled through the divided crowd, gliding through the room while gasps of outrage and protests lapped at her. How dare a blasphemous Rabbit and the supposed herald of Andraste voice such insolence to her betters! She ignored it all, chin high, unable to hide her smirk. It wouldn’t be more than a handful of breaths before the muttering erupted into a storm of shouting - but she would be gone before that happened. Throwing open the doors to the chamber, she grabbed her staff from a page and handed the boy a Caprice coin. Then, with the doors swinging shut, she smiled at the mutters rising into furious protests. A muffled boom behind her was the doors closing, silencing the storm as it broke.

As she materialized out of the fade, she could see the eluvian starting to darken and she quickly pushed herself through. How dare he try to shut her out again! Once she’d stumbled forward into the crossroads, however, she couldn’t see him.

“Solas! Tel’tuaun min ea el’u i em!” She could see the mirror closing behind her as she moved away from it, and for a split second, she wanted to jump through – but she continued, away from home, away from a guaranteed future. “Lasa em’an dirth ma’lath,” she begged. They needed to talk. Each mirror she passed, she sketched and made a note of it in relation to her path. “Ma tel’isala dina sul min! Tamahn emen to ea vir!” She cried out to the emptiness, but there was no answer and she sank down to the ground, her eyes slipping closed. “Fen’aslan ma ane a felasil Fen’harel.” Tears staining her cheeks, her body beginning to shake as she curled forward, she sobbed. He had left her again.

“Ma ane las, Da’lan.”

She opened her bleary eyes at the unfamiliar voice, noting the vallaslin on an equally unfamiliar face. It was her own – Fen’harel’s eyes was what her clan named it. “Ma ane isa ghi’la,” the elvhen asserted, crouching down. “Ar ame Rashale. Las, ma ane naim; ar juhalani ma vena mar sal.” He offered his hand and she took it, standing with his help and letting him lead her over to a mirror. “Fen’harel Enasanal,” he spoke. The mirror sprang to life, and he pulled her through it.

“Rashale?” she glanced at him, and he turned back. “Do you understand me?” She asked in the common language. At his nod, she continued. “Can you speak like this?” Again he nodded, and her shoulders relaxed. “Where are we?”

“The ones who raise you call it the Tirashan,” he replied as he led her into the temple. “This was where Mythal sent you to protect you from the Veil going up.” He watched her as she ran her over the wards on the temple walls, tracing their shapes. As soon as she removed her hand, energy pulsed through them. “Temple of the Hoping Moon,” he offered as he guided her deeper into the temple. Statues of two wolves appeared everywhere.

It had been a week since she went into the Eluvian after Solas, a week since Rashale had found her and took her to this temple. If Rashale was to be believed, it had apparently been created for her. She wasn’t sure she believed any of what he’d told her, honestly. He claimed that she was as old as Solas - or rather, her soul was, and she had been put into uthenera sometime during the slave rebellion. She frowned as she wandered the moss- and vine-covered floors, letting her bare feet pick their own path while she mulled over this information.

As she walked, she reached out with her remaining hand, touching the faded mosaic wall absently. Ambient magic pulsed through the tiles as her fingers ghosted over them, strands of vivid green arcing along certain tiles, lighting them up. That caught her attention and she stared at the wall, walking back a few steps to see the design.

It was the dread wolf.

The green magic changed; this time, it was purple, and she watched as a dragon took shape. Her lips parted as the color changed to a pale silver to make the last image in the mosaic: a moon's glow lighting up a white wolf ahead of the dread wolf.

“I wondered, Las, how long it would take you to find this.”

Looking around, she couldn’t see anyone, but the voice almost sounded like-

Her eyes locked with the dragon. “Mythal?”

She watched in awe as the dragon turned its mosaic head to her. “Well done, young one. You have come a long way since we last met.”

Her brow furrowed; the sentinels had told her Mythal was dead.

“I am a fragment, placed here once you were ready for everything. I am dead, child. We both know I can not help your wolf on his path.”

She drifted forward a few steps until she could reach out and touch the moon. “I am supposed to be his guide,” she whispered before looking at the dragon. “How, though? I am not even sure any of this happened.” Exasperated, she rubbed her hand over her face.

“How did the wolf claim to known things? That path is open to you...and it is time you learn to hunt.”

An orange glow began to appear along the dragon’s throat. As it opened its mouth, mosaic flames shot out but left the wall to smash into her chest, making her scream. The dragon closed its mouth as she pulled her hand back to touch her robe-covered chest, but there was no burn. The sudden sensation that she had swallowed the fire made her drop to the ground, gasping, trying to breathe past the phantom flames in her throat.

“Child, I have nudged history and shoved it. You are being melodramatic. Take what is yours; you are Elvhen, and kin, and would be gods just like your wolf; act like it!”

At the words, a fit of burning anger formed in her stomach and for the first time since the loss of her forearm, she reached out with her left hand. Ignoring that her hand wasn’t there, she attempted to pull the fade. Magic began to course around her, creeping along what was left of her arm after her forearm had been disintegrated, sickly green magic of the fade beginning to burst through the scars and drawing a scream from her throat. Her knees threatened to buckle from the sudden influx of pain in her arm and tears streamed freely from her eyes, her skin starting to tingle as the veil strained against her crude pulling. The sickly green magic traveled up her arm, skin smoking in its wake as the scars ripped open, the wounds cauterized before even a single drop of blood could drip onto the stone floor. Blindly, she staggered forward, away from the mosaic, feeling draconic eyes watching her with interest.

Clenching her jaw, she reached out with her missing hand, her weak legs causing her to sway dangerously. The anchor spread further with each faltering step she took. As she pulled on the fade, she could feel it begin to tremble around her. Her eyes went to her vestigial arm, which was beginning to ooze green fade-magic, and a hollow laugh burst out of her. This not-even-formed plan of hers was working? It was hard to believe, but the smoking grew worse with each tremor of the fade as more and more of the ooze came bleeding out.

The fade trembled and quaked under her assault, and the anchor began to spread past her arm. Each inch it crawled - sometimes leaped - over her skin, she could feel it trying to claw her apart. A scream tore from her throat but it echoed off the stone oddly, the sound warping until to her ears, it sounded like a howl. Hunching forward, she continued to stagger down the hallway, her nose filled with the smell of burning flesh. The fade was bleeding into the temple; she stared at a distant image of Solas removing his vallaslin from her face and her right hand tightened into an angry fist. She had been blind, so blind, so many signs that he had been hiding something and she hadn’t seen them.

She tore her eyes away from the memory, her heart aching because, despite everything, she still loved him. “Ma vhenan.” she whispered, her voice rough.

Something deeper in the temple called to her, and she struggled to continue her journey towards it. Bit by bit, the oozing, burning, green magic of the fade was forming the shape of her missing forearm. Her foot hooked a branch as she approached a door frame and sent her stumbling forward, her right hand catching one side of the frame as her shoulder slammed into the ancient stone of the other side. Leaning against it, she tried desperately to slow her frantic breathing. Each pull, each spasm of the fade left her feeling emptier than the last, and the pain still tore at the fabric of her very being.

As she stared at the remnants of her forearm, she pushed off the door frame and staggered into the room. In the center was a massive statue of two wolves nestled together. The shock of seeing what could only be her and Solas made her legs give out, her next pull on the fade purely reflexive as her knees collided with the overgrown tiles. He had to know what was happening, had to know what she was doing. If he didn’t, he either was not even looking at the fade or...well, she couldn’t think past the pain to figure out an ‘or’. Fen’aslan half expected his footsteps to echo towards her down the hallway she’d followed, and she could almost hear him calling her name. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes.

It was nightfall when she opened her eyes again, one of them the sickly green of the fade. There had been no rest, no dreams for her. Breathing heavily, she stood up, her copper hair torn loose from its braid, and reached out with her left arm. There were still many missing pieces, and with soft exhale she attempted again to pull the fade, to tear the veil. She would have her arm back. Sweat dripped down from her forehead as she strained, splattering onto the tile. Another piece slipped through the fade, but there was not enough time to pull the rest of her arm through before something reached out and slammed into her.

Fen’aslan went flying backward, her head cracking against the wall as she hit it and crumpled to the floor. It felt like an eternity before she was aware of a groan slipping past her lips. Again she opened her eyes, but this time her green eye was met with a blue eye. The burning, clawing heat of the mosaic warred with the creeping chill of the glyphs as she climbed to her feet and realized she’d come face to face with herself.

A mirror.

“Inquisitor, you promised a price.”

Her eyes widened. The glyphs tightened on her face, attempting to spread to the left side. Another scream tore from her throat as the two ancient magics warred over her. The anchor pulsed angrily, and the only warning of it attempting open was the distinctively sickening popping noise. Her knees almost gave out again, every bit of her body aching and burning, leaving the fade scarred and bleeding even more heavily into the temple. It had already saturated the room, she realized as she looked up. There was no ceiling anymore, just the twin silver moons.

“Give in, Fen’aslan. This is our destiny: to serve the well. Fen’harel’s magic will kill us.”

Her mirror self spoke in a mocking voice, attempting to soothe her. Her reflection’s left hand was missing and her face was filled with unending sorrow and anguish, branded with the glyphs of the Well. Fen’aslan forced herself to keep her feet as she stepped away from the wall, her breathing heavy and ragged. Anger burned brighter than a star as the anchor flared along her left side, tearing into her further. Lighting, manifestations of her anger and pain, struck around the mirror.

“No,” she growled, her body shaking with her fury, and something began to change. The anchor had once been Fen’harel’s, but now she was making it was hers. It had been hers to claim all along. Slowly, at the tips of her sickly green fingers, silver magic began to emerge, spreading and clawing for each inch as it crept up her arm. The anchor fought back with violent pulses of magic that further assaulted the fade and clawed at her.

“Accept it, Inquisitor, and stop fighting. You will always be what you are now. Come home.”

She stared at the mirror, her heart hammering in her chest. Something in that phase had caused panic to seize her. Her left hand clenched into a fist as silver magic continued to bleed up her arm. Reaching out, she raised both her hands, attempting to pull the ceiling down on her mirror, only to stare in horrified when nothing happened; the mirror still stood in front of her and the ceiling remained intact.

“I told you, Inquisitor, you need to stop fighting this. You will never survive.” The image of herself in the mirror laughed. A wave appeared behind it, and the realization hit her: the woman in the Well had been her. Then the wave surged forward, smashing into her and tossing her back into the wall.

“I..I will never surrender…” As she struggled to stand up, ice spread from her feet, slowly creeping forward and freezing what it touched. Another wave smashed into her, trying to slide her back into the wall, but the ice held and her jaw tightened. Silver magic began to arc and hiss as it slowly overtook the green fade energy, bit by bit. It mended the skin that had torn, pulling her flesh together and quenching the burning pain. Slowly the green bled from her opaline eye, leaving only blue. She turned her gaze to the ceiling and pulled on it; the rubble tumbled down in a distraction as she began to walk towards the mirror, her legs trembling with each step. “I am no one’s slave. I paid the price of the well, now yield to me!” She commanded, throwing all of her strength into it. Every fiber of her body begged her to relent, to surrender to exhaustion.

The mirror shook violently as lightning began to arc between them. “We will not be commanded by a girl so foolish that she took what was not hers twice and would not pay the price!” Another wave began to raise up. “You will relent; in the end, they all do. Become what you are, child. It will not hurt, and you can rest.” The soothing mocking was back, each word casting a grapple of fade energy to entangle Fen’aslan.

This time, her anger was more precise, the lightning arcing around the mirror to entrap it. Each breath was focused on the glyphs, and her vision went black for a moment before she spoke.

“You dare command me?” Her voice was different to her ears; something had changed. The howl of a wolf echoed from somewhere as the two statues stepped off their base and began circling the mirror. “I am one Mythal calls kin. You will yield and become mine!”

Her magic lashed out towards the mirror as her skin began to ache and burn from the grapple she had been tangled in. Turning her eyes away from the mirror, she raised her now-silver magical hand toward the grapple, letting one finger claw at the grapple until it released her. The glyphs on her face began to change, silver magical energy coursing through them, turning both her eyes into pools of moonlight as another howl echoed through the room. Lightning flashed, the stone wolves growling before launching at the mirror. They savaged it with fang and claw and soon, silver magic began to ooze from it as it bled back to her. The Vir’abelsan had become hers; the mirror dissolved, and she could feel the voices fade from her mind.

Her knees buckled as exhaustion overtook her, silver eyes fading back into their normal, opaline mauve. The statues of the wolves were back on the base, nestled together as they had been, and as she kneeled there on the ground, Fen’aslan began laughing. Another voice joined her in laughing as the careful steps of armored boots approached, and when she looked up, there was Mythal.

“Well done, girl.” The woman’s amber eyes truly did seem pleased with her. “Now you can learn how to help him.” Mythal nodded, her lips curved into a slight smile. “Help him before he can no longer be helped, daughter.”

The warning chilled her. The goddess disappeared, the fade becoming less saturated in the room with each passing moment, and Fen’aslan staggered up onto her feet. She stared at her new arm admiring, magical energy substituting for the flesh that had been lost. Then a yawn distracted her, and she rubbed her eyes. Her body was exhausted and she could feel her stomach beginning to rumble and cramp with an increasingly-desperate need to find food. She needed to find Rashale. How long had she been in the fade?

As she hobbled out of the room, she noticed that the temple seemed to be repaired: the overgrowth was gone, the walls clean, the floors smooth with no ragged edges to catch her feet. She paused as she passed the mosaic and noticed the dragon’s absence. Was…it just a dream, she wondered? A glance at her left hand dispelled that; it was neither flesh nor missing, but a construct of her magic. It couldn’t have been a dream. Frowning, Fen’aslan limped gingerly out of the hallway and into the main thoroughfare of the temple.

“Las!” she jolted alert, her magic suddenly flaring to life at the sound of her name. Rashale seemed to appear out of nowhere, jogging up to her. “Thank Mythal I have found you.” His brows raised as he noticed her left hand, and he bowed. “My lady, pardon me. I was merely worried for you; you have been gone from the temple for a week,” he said, his voice formal and respectful.

“A week. I thought…” she whispered. She thought it had been less. Gone from the temple…Had she physically gone into the fade again? “Rashale, please. I am not a lady, and there is nothing to pardon.”

He shook his head firmly at her in disagreement. “You are a lady; your spirit has changed. You have found yourself, my lady.” It was his only explanation and while it was not enough for her, she was too hungry and too tired to worry about it for now. She yawned, swaying on her feet.

“My lady? Do you need refreshments?”

She stared at Rashale, blinking for a moment before his words finally made sense. Yawning again, she nodded. He offered his arm and, reluctantly, she took it and let him lead her to the kitchens.

The kitchens were rather large for the small temple. Carefully, Fen’aslan made her way around with a plate, gathering bits of fruits, jerkies and candied meats, hardened cheeses, and an glass of some kind of drink that smelled a bit like the wine Solas had introduced her to in Orlais. Lacking any sort of table or chair, she climbed up onto the counter where she perched with her plate of snacks, eating her fill and quenching her thirst. After her meal, she quietly made her way to her room.

Once the doors had shut behind her she looked around, closing her eye and trying to prepare herself. “Two weeks since I have dreamed…” she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her torso and squeezing in attempts to reassure herself. She made her tired way over to the bed and lay down, curling under the blankets, slowly letting herself drift off into the fade.

“Vhenan.” The word summoned her, and she found herself face to face with him. “Where are you?”

She stood up, and the images around them changed. He was trying to find her. “Where are you, vhenan?” she countered, shifting the fade on her own. “I will find you, vhenan. I told you I would not give up.” Around her, the fade stilled. Arlathan.

“I know you will not, Vhenan…” he seemed reluctant, looking around. “Allow me to show you these before we do not have time?”

She nodded, offering her hand. "Em ghi’lana,” she offered gently as he took her it, squeezing it gently. He lead her through the glass spires of the city and she watched the reflections, seeing multiple images of her and Solas. “In another time…” she smiled fondly; in another time, they had walked these streets just like this.

“Yes, Vhenan,” he added, turning and taking her- left hand? Her brows furrowed. “This is the fade,” he whispered. She realized they were in a grand ballroom just as Solas pressed close to her and began to dance. As they moved over the glass tiles, the room filled with people. “The Evanuris held such parties often. This was the night,” he started before spinning her. “The night everything I cared for was taken from me.” He growled, and the music took a deadly twist as she watched Mythal crumble to the floor. The young dreadwolf stared in horror at his kin, letting go of her. She recognized the figure in his arms. She tried to watch what happened to herself, but the scene focused on Solas lashing out at Elgar’nan.

“Wake up, Vhenan.” He leaned forward sadly and kissed her cheek. As her eyes opened, she sighed looking at the walls.

So it had begun.

Elvhen Translations

•Vir'sul el'u eolas (way to have secret knowledge) •Solas Tel’tuaun min ea el’u i em! (Solas don’t cause this to be a secret with me) •lasa em’an dirth ma’lath. (Let’s talk about it my love) •Ma tel’isala dina sul min! Tamahn emen to ea vir! (You dont need to die for this! There has to be another way!) •Fen’aslan ma ane a felasil Fen’harel. (You are a fool to chase Fen’harel) •Ma ane las. Da’lan. (You are hope. Young one) •Ma ane isa ghi’la. (You are his guide) •Ar ame Rashale. Las ma ane naim, ar juhalani ma vena mar sal. (I am Rashale. Hope you are lost, I will help you find your soul.) •em ghilana (guide me/ show me) •Vhenan (heart)

Cogito Ergo Sum

I think, therefore I exist 

A/N: A fanfic or something about Lakshmana, my own depiction of Great Tiger. I’m a terrible and inconsistent writer, English isn’t my first language, I didn’t proof-read this and it was written in a couple of hours without giving much thought, probably a bit unconclusive. If this was a pic, it’d be some sketch, not some polished full rendered illustration, you know? I just had to get this out somehow and I’ve been trying to make posts about Lakshmana’s backstory for almost two years without ever succeeding. This the nth attempt. Apologies for awkward wording, and I hope everything works! 

Lakshmana’s head and personality do seem kinda empty, he’s aware of it. He wonders whether he’s just like this or because he wasn’t born much time ago or because lots of memories between him, the Original and different universes always get mixed.

Humans are great. Lakshmana does like humans. He’s glad he can be one. It took him a while but he was so happy when it happened.

1.

The Original Great Tiger was a good old fellow. At the time Lakshmana started thinking, Great Tiger’s shows weren’t as magnificent as they used to be a couple of decades before. Lakshmana could watch old pictures, old recordings and see for himself how proficient the man was at regular stage magic and how everything could be improved with those magic gems he held. 

With time however people lost interest. The Original ran out of ideas. His shows stopped attracting people, besides the diehard fans and some one-timers who wanted to see something different for once. He wasn’t much happy, but Lakshmana was, he was just glad he could exist, he could be there to see.

The Original didn’t have a family. In Lakshmana’s memories, he knew what kinda curse the Original’s parents and grandparents went through. The Original wanted that to stop. All the gems and their power would be buried with him, he would have no offspring to keep it alive.

But Lakshmana wanted to exist. Once the Original and the gems were buried, would he still be there? Would he still be able to experience life and humans, or would he be force into that same Nothingness he was in, before he started thinking? He probably had more thinking to do about this. 

That’s how he went up to the Original one day. “You know, I was thinking”. Those exact words. The Original didn’t take it well. To him, Lakshmana wasn’t supposed to be thinking. Clones, copies, shadows, the Original called them in many ways, and Lakshmana knew he was one of those. He didn’t know he started thinking, he just did, and the Original didn’t like it at first.

It took him a year or so, but the Original started enjoying Lakshmana’s company. Lakshmana shared the Original memories, but since he started thinking, he was able to retain his own, albeit he’d mix them up sometimes. The Original started seeing him as family, a brother maybe, or a son he never had. 

Lakshmana liked the Original’s magic shows, but he wasn’t much interested in doing them himself. While he was happy he could help, it saddened him to see how easy the Original had been forgotten, how few people remembered him and his shows, how no one would recall his name. Lakshmana didn’t really want that for himself. He started thinking, and he wanted others to know he was doing it. 

Lakshmana’s favourite part of the Original’s shows were the swordfighters. They abandoned him long ago, but in the old recordings, he enjoyed greatly seeing them, swiftly moving and dodging hits, stabbing the air and retreating and fighting. Lakshmana wanted to fight. 

2.

They went to a boxing match once. The Bald Bull from Turkey, at his prime, was fighting the current Champion from India in Mumbai. Lakshmana doesn’t remember who the Indian Champion was, but he knew he wanted to know the Bald Bull. It’s like he was struck by lightning, he wanted to get into that world.

“You know, I was thinking,” he said one day. This time, the Original listened. Lakshmana wanted to boxe and the Original wasn’t going to stop him. Then again, that wasn’t the first thing Lakshmana had wanted to do. Music, painting, chess, Lakshmana had tried many things before, and somehow abandoned everything. The Original wasn’t going to stop him, but he also thought Lakshmana wasn’t going to make it, like with everything else.

Imagine his surprise when, year after year, Lakshmana trained and fought, until he was contacted by the WVBA. The American Division would greatly accept him. The Original felt proud and again, wasn’t going to stop him.

What he wasn’t going to do, however, was follow him. Lakshmana had to leave Mumbai, and the Original felt too old to travel so far. That was probably the first time Lakshmana realized it. The Original was more than 70 years old at this point, but Lakshmana hadn’t aged one bit. The Original couldn’t explain it, but he speculated it was something about the gems. Surely, Lakshmana could never live and keep going without those.

While the Original encouraged him greatly, Lakshmana still wasn’t sure he wanted to leave. He had memories of the outside world, of travelling to other countries and continents, but none of those were actually his. Since he started thinking, he and the Original had never left Mumbai. And now, he was expected to leave and travel by himself. How could he do that?

Passion was the thing that had to drive him, the Original was saying so. Passion for living, passion for boxing. That was how he climbed the ranks, how he could start thinking. Lakshmana could stay anyway. He had a place, he had his local boxing matches. Leaving for the US, signing the WVBA contract would, however, ensure that one thing Lakshmana wanted. Not being forgotten.

Lakshmana eventually convinced himself to leave, with the Original’s gems and his good blessings. The gems were kept in a small chest in his drawer, except for one, the one Lakshmana felt more connected to. If that gem is to be away from him for too long, or was to be destroyed, he has no idea what could happen to him.

In the WVBA in the US, Lakshmana went on doing exactly what he wanted. He climbed ranks, became famous and, much to his surprise, even made friends. The more he interacts with humans, the more he feels like them. It’s truly a good feeling.

3.

The subject of his own mortality never hit him until news of the Original dying reached him. Is Lakshmana even mortal? He doesn’t grow old after all. He can get ill, he can be hurt, he can pass out. Could he die by accident, but not of old age? Or will he just, one day, stop existing, much like the Original did, too old to keep living, peacefully in his bed?

Thinking to Lakshmana always seemed like a good thing, but these thoughts aren’t something he likes. Along this, he also started thinking about another subject he had never really thought of: other people, and in particular, his friends.

Will they grow old and notice he won’t? Will they realize he wasn’t born human, that he’s not really like them? Will they still accept him and care for him, if this was ever to come out? Will they just forget him, his greatest fear, if he was to suddenly lose the gem and just stop existing?

These are thoughts Lakshmana had never had, and he wants to keep them away. He gets more matches, he lets other people talk about themselves, he sleeps the more he can, so he can keep his mind away from this kind of thoughts. Lakshmana realizes he’s scared to die. Death seems like the Ultimate End that will make people definitely forget you.

The day he visits the Original, he goes alone. He thinks he shouldn’t have, because all the thoughts he’s been trying so hard to avoid are catching up to him. Mortality, being forgotten, are the two things that keep haunting him. 

He doesn’t expect the news to acknowledge this. He sees a small special about the Original in tv. They talk about him. They remember him, even in death. He feels relieved. Watching the special, he realizes that the only thing he can do is just keep on existing, and his actions will be the thing that truly will make people remember him. 

4.

He’ll realize one day it’s not important that the whole world remember you, as long as those close to you do. He’ll build friendships and relationships and those people will never forget him, much like he’ll never forget the Original. It’ll take a while, but he’ll get there eventually. For now, he’ll just keep thinking and fighting, looking for popularity and feeling human.

Those Who Remain review – a torturous exercise in mediocrity • Eurogamer.net

I almost gave up on Those Who Remain halfway through. It was the lions, you see. A first-person blunderfest for horror obsessives only, the game’s setting is split between a menacing night-time reality and a weed-choked, oceanic otherworld in which objects float and the puzzles are more, well, videogamey. One such puzzle is a labyrinth dotted with lion statues. The idea is to carry the statues to candlelit plinths. The problem is that there’s a monster in your path, an oily personification of buried guilt and suffering. There’s a lot of that kind of thing in Those Who Remain – accusing messages on walls, silver-masked demons chortling about sin and forgiveness – but for the most part, the emotions you’re repressing are boredom and frustration.

The main character has no means of defending himself, so you must take winding routes to those plinths while lugging chunks of Umbrella Mansion Surplus stoneware that prevent you from sprinting, block the view and have a habit of jumping out of your hands. These burdens create tension, of course, but only for the few seconds it takes you to realise that you’re playing a mandatory-stealth McGuffin-fetching puzzle with instadeath. After my eighth try I decided that life was too short. But I came back the next morning and beat the area, thanks partly to bloody-mindedness and partly (I speculate) to a developer update that prevents the monster from chasing you endlessly once alerted. Let me tell you: I wish I’d stopped at the lions.

Those Who Remain does have some neat ideas, but all of them are squashed beneath a great steaming heap of mediocrity. The premise is Silent Hill as rewritten by an Alan Wake who has run out of coffee, and possibly self-respect. Leading man Edward is drinking and monologuing himself into an early grave over the loss of his family, as leading men in horror games often do. As the curtain goes up, he’s driven to a motel to break off a torrid affair, only for somebody (Wake?) to steal his car and maroon him outside Dormont – a spookily abandoned, predictably metaphysical town whose shadows are filled with knife-wielding spectres, their eyes flickering in the depths of closets and cornfields. Turn on a light and the spectres vanish, rendering the area safe for traversal.

The immediate question is: why not carry a light source with you? And Edward does – for the first few minutes, brandishing a cigarette lighter as he hurries after his car. But he soon loses the lighter and declines to replace it, even as the game’s tedious psychodrama drags you to malls, toolsheds and police stations filled with, at the very least, burning chair-legs and candles. There’s something loveable about this unwillingness to spoil the game’s core concept. It fills me with nostalgia for those perversely specific lock-and-key puzzles in older Silent Hills. And the spectres are eerie enough to begin with, especially when encountered inside. One dependable source of heeby-jeebies is reaching around a door frame to flip a light switch, inches from death.

The fear lies partly with how the spectres turn Those Who Remain’s shortage of actual character animations into an advantage, and partly with the sense that they are still there when the lights are on – that you are walking through them, kept from their blades by a single parameter in a game where objects occasionally glitch themselves invisible. But that fear soon turns to familiarity and – when you’re scratching your head over an obtuse item puzzle – annoyance. I started throwing things at the watchers, trying to recreate the exploit from Skyrim where you could blind shopkeepers to your thievery by putting baskets over their heads. Even disregarding the point about mobile light sources, the perils of darkness are inconsistently applied: there are pools of deep shadow in the game that are somehow safe to walk through, which means that you always think of the light/dark conceit as a designer’s gimmick.

Still, all that’s small potatoes next to the irritation conjured by the game’s handful of mobile threats. These include a Frankensteiny blur of body parts with a searchlight for a face, whose approach is heralded by the dopplering wail of an ambulance siren. The Frankenstein creature stars in many of the stealth bits, fidgeting around as you try to solve puzzles that take you back and forth across the area. She’s not difficult to avoid, but she’s more of a meddler than an adversary. You kind of wish you could just usher her to a chair and give her a book to read, while you figure things out.

And then there’s the major antagonist of sorts, one of those flapping-head harridans familiar from Jacob’s Ladder who screams and sobs in your ear as you flee down corridors packed with dead ends and moving obstacles. These gauntlet runs throw the game’s lousy checkpointing into sharper relief – die, and you’ll often have to re-complete puzzles and re-experience scares that were pretty unconvincing to begin with.

The areas themselves are charmless and indistinct, not in an exciting, feeling-along-wall-with-danger-nearby way, but in an annoying, stepped-in-dogfood-while-fumbling-for-the-doorhandle way. The game’s buildings are, in theory, iconic chunks of Americana, the kind of thing Remedy revels in, but they all feel interchangeable thanks to furniture-showroom scene composition. The spirit realm is appealing mostly because it’s relatively well-lit, and has a wider colour palette. It’s accessed via magic doors, and creates some fleeting intrigue as you ponder what the differences between realities suggests about the characters and premise.

The puzzles run more of a gamut, quality-wise. Some are inoffensive but insipid, such as turning valves in the right order to activate fire sprinklers and clear a route. Others are slightly more involving. In one later section, the setting flicks rhythmically between realities, giving you a window to hurry past barriers or hazards that don’t exist in the other world. The spirit world conundrums incline towards the goofy – there’s a frightfully unwieldy specimen that has you covering runes with barrels to move blocks around. And some puzzles, like the item hunts, are an absolute chore. At intervals Edward is required to condemn or forgive some local sinner to progress, a series of choices that shapes his own fate. Before you can do this you need to learn everything you can about said unfortunate, which involves picking through dozens of lockers and drawers for backstory documents, often while hiding from Searchlight Lady.

Those Who Remain hints at being a serious exploration of mental illness, but in practice, Edward is just the same old Sad/Mad Dad the horror genre can’t seem to wash its hands of, growling things like “your life feels like a movie” as he lumbers towards the final accounting. The misbehaving men and boys he’s asked to pass judgement on are just as clumsily sketched – I felt nothing towards them, positive or negative. I can’t say the same for the game they’re a part of. If Those Who Remain is a purgatory for wayward souls, its true victim is the player.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/05/those-who-remain-review-a-torturous-exercise-in-mediocrity-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=those-who-remain-review-a-torturous-exercise-in-mediocrity-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

A Beginner’s Guide to Drawing

Anyone can learn to draw and any artist you look up to. Whether it’s your favorite Italian renaissance man Or your favorite Japanese anime man They were not bestowed some great divine gift of talent. No, they worked for it Never really was anyone just born magically knowing how to draw a portrait Knowing how to paint, knowing how to draw. No, they worked for it and they worked really really hard. They studied every single day of their lives. So whether you want to be the next Michelangelo or you want to draw cute anime girls, Let’s get into what it takes to make a good picture Everything has its basis in “The Fundamentals of Art” (What the hell are the fundamentals?) Well, does your art look like this? Then yeah, you need fundamentals. The fundamentals are like the basis to drawing your picture. You could compare it to needing a foundation before you construct a building.

And in drawing, your sketch is your foundation The fundamentals are often said to consist out of these things: Construction, perception, perspective, composition, anatomy, gesture, color theory, and rendering. Does that sound like a lot? Well just, sit down and listen because once you have learned this stuff, you don’t have to relearn it. Let’s go through the three most important things as a beginner, and then we can quickly go through the rest Perception: When you draw hands, do they look like this? Well, that’s because you’re not actually drawing what you see in front of you You’re drawing the symbols that you see in your head This is called symbol drawing. It means that you need to let go of what you see in your head when someone tells you to draw a hand, An eye or a human being. Instead draw what you actually see in front of you with your own eyes Next time you draw an eye, try to let go of all preconceived ideas of what an eye looks like because it’s not a ball inside another ball.

It’s a…”thing”. Construction: A lot of people start drawing by drawing the outlines but that’s not very helpful. When you instead construct things using shapes, by using construction you will understand the structure of what you are drawing, and it will be easier for you to draw the same thing again from memory. Whether you want to draw a car, or a cool guy with a sword Everything can be built up using construction. If you can draw a square, a ball, and a cylinder then you can basically draw anything that exists Gesture: If you want to draw a character then the gesture will make or break whether the character actually looks alive or not If you draw characters who stand up straight like robots, then it will just look odd. Real people don’t actually stand like this So by practicing gesture and figure drawing, you will be able to, overtime, instinctively capture how humans act or interact with each other. Now a quick summary of the rest! Anatomy: By using what you have previously learned from construction, perception, and gesture, you will be able to draw a human body. Maybe it won’t look good but as long as you push yourself, you will be able to better yourself.

Color Theory: Color theory can be quickly summarized as understanding how color combination works. As you started painting or maybe doing master studies of great works of art, you might find that colors are not always how we perceive them to be. You can get better at color theory by observing nature or studying your favorite art, or your favorite photos. Rendering: This is commonly called shading. This is the act of painting and making something look like a form. You can get a bit lost and just start painting things over and over again hoping something will happen. Mindlessly drawing, mindlessly painting. Instead try to think through each stroke you do Perspective: Perspective is being able to represent a three-dimensional object. Everything is perspective and it isn’t just being able to draw the depth of a building or a landscape. Perspective should also be applied to any character in that space as well Composition: Composition is the arrangement of the image.

It’s organizing how the viewer sees the painting or drawing. The flow of how the viewers eye moves from object to object or Immediately sees the focal point. The object that is meant to draw attention. Composition is also arranging the image So if things aren’t too close or too far apart, and making sure there aren’t tangents that stick out or are too distracting. Hey, what do you know, you actually know all of the fundamentals of the art now. Isn’t that weird? I understand all of this can be really hard to take in at first. You don’t need to attack everything at the same time And you don’t need to practice all of this stuff at the same time. You can take one by one. One thing, practice one thing And then move on to the next. There’s no hurry. A lot of people just jump into drawing without understanding these fundamentals. A lot of people don’t even know about the fundamentals. I didn’t know for the longest time. Now you are ahead of all of those people Even if you have never picked up a pencil before, now you know better than some people who already have.

So while we’re at it. I’m gonna throw in some advice You want to draw a duck? Go ahead, draw a duck. Draw this duck right here. Whoops! Now it’s gone, draw it from imagination. I’m waiting for you to draw the duck. Oh, you’re not doing it? Well, guess what, you failed. You failed at drawing the duck, good job. Wouldn’t it be unreasonable for me to expect you to draw a duck completely from imagination? That’s why you need to use references as much as possible This way, you can draw whatever you feel like. You can put your own spin to it But in order to do that You need to understand the structure of what a real duck looks like. A lot of advanced artists are able to draw ducks completely from imagination but only because they’ve drawn so many before from reference. Also, no, references are not cheating. Don’t draw lines like this It looks very insecure and makes your drawing look chicken scratchy.

Take your time and learn how to do confident lines in one stroke Practice just drawing straight lines over and over again because in time, that practice will pay off Don’t get too caught up with details If you start off a drawing and immediately jump into details then you might find later that “Oh no, the rest of the drawing doesn’t work anymore and I’ve spent all this time doing this thing that I now have to erase.” Along with that, detail is probably the least important thing of your drawing A well-constructed drawing with a lot of good fundamentals but no detail is a good drawing nonetheless On the other hand, a bad drawing with a lot of detail is just a polished turd Now you know a good portion of what you need in order to start drawing But maybe you don’t even know what to use to draw so start off with pen and paper. It’s the cheapest option or a basic tablet. Size small, or size medium.

I find that large size is often too big. Along with that, getting expensive equipment won’t make you a better artist Art skills transfer from medium to medium but there is no magical thing that will make your art better How long it takes until you get good depends entirely on how much effort you put in. You could sit and draw for an hour every day, And that would be 30 hours of effort that you put in every month. On the other hand this guy over here He is drawing 3 hours a day, and he’s getting 90 hours a month. You can go at your own pace But the time and effort that he put in is what you get You can start drawing at any age. You could be 10 years old, you could be 60 It’s a skill that you learn It’s not a magic age that you start from. If you need a reason to draw then the reason is it’s fun and that is enough. But along with that. It’s also very rewarding and in the long run It’s a bit more meaningful than say, playing a video game and raking up imaginary points to get a level or something.

You can make money from art, a lot of people use it as an extra thing to get extra cash as a hobby. Plenty of people make their living from art. If you’re a complete beginner, Then I would recommend that you pick up a pen and paper and draw whatever is on your desk. Draw whatever you feel like You will fail, it will look bad. It’s okay. You will learn from your mistake Once you want to move on from that, you can start with gesture drawings.

At least that’s what I would recommend. And I’m going to link a bunch of sites in the description and videos and stuff like that All of what I said might seem like a lot to take in. You might feel confused, you might feel like you already just want to hand yourself in and give up. Well almost everyone who has ever drawn has felt the same way, and all of the great artists you look up to have made thousands and thousands of mistakes, and thousands of bad drawings But because they were able to push themselves and do better, They did better.

Don’t get too attached to what you’re drawing right now because you’re still learning and things will get easier the more you try it. You will meet new art friends, you will get critique And it will help you and you will push yourself further. Thank you for watching this video! If you are a beginner with any questions or struggles, or maybe you’re an artist who wants to share his beginner experience, go ahead and comment below. Like, when I was starting drawing, I would take a break every hour just so I could sit for a while and think through if I was wasting my time or not. And then weeks later, I realized, “Hey, I haven’t thought about giving up for like a week!” And that was a big accomplishment for me…[Laughs] Like the video if you found it helpful and if you didn’t then please do leave a comment on why, if maybe you would like to add something.

Again, thank you for watching and keep up the good work. Bye bye!.

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We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On: Cemetery of Splendour (Rak Ti Khon Kaen / รักที่ขอนแก่น 2015)

Last night, my sleep was filled with a series of vivid dreams, featuring the appearance of abundantly metaphorical imagery and almost-forgotten figures from my past. It was a deep and continuous sleep, and long. The evening prior, I finished myriad small but important tasks that I’d either forgotten or been putting off, and I did so with a vigorous energy previously hidden by layers of lethargy and procrastination. That afternoon, I watched Apichatpong “Joe” Weerasethakul’s Cemetery of Splendour (Rak Ti Khon Kaen / รักที่ขอนแก่น 2015). There’s a certain kind of film that reminds me of something Richard Brody once wrote, a sort of peek into his critical psyche, in a piece on the state of independent film in 2016:

"In any case, movies, and art over all, don’t help, can’t help, aren’t meant to help—in the short term or in specific terms. The good they do reaches deep into the marrow of the soul of a relatively few people and does so spontaneously, unexpectedly, irresistibly, decisively, and sometimes even unconsciously. The changes that the best movies wreak may not be perceptible in any reasoned public discourse close to the time of their release. But, for just that reason, these movies are all the more essential and enduring—they bring about changes in mood, tone, emotional tenor or temperature, changes in the inner life, in the inner inner life."

Most of the time, the film that reminds me of this quote is by Terrence Malick, or Andrei Tarkovsky, or even Shane Carruth (Upstream Color (2013)), whose images are often objects of delirious beauty. But Apichatpong here conjures another form of beauty, one less indebted to the realm of painting and photography and, thus, one that is more cinematic. Cemetery of Splendour moved me ineffably, and to try to render it less ineffable (more effable?) feels like an act of violence. Somehow, the best thing I can say about it is that it renewed my sense of the life force both within and surrounding me, motivating me from a within that’s outside of me, as it were. But since that’s way too vague, let’s get violent. Let’s say that what distinguishes the moving picture from the regular ol’ picture is the fact that the moving picture, um, moves. Yet this simple fact can sometimes be lost on cinemagoers and even filmmakers. The most common form of film “movement” is the cut, and when done well it evokes all the thoughts and emotions a good montage is supposed to. But that’s really less a movement and more a juxtaposition, a forcing of contrasts. Another common form of movement in film is the movement of the camera, most notoriously in the “shaky cam” cinematography that apparently only Paul Greengrass can do well. Usually, though, camera movements are tracking something within the frame, or emphasizing a character’s frame of mind, or even attempting to induce a frame of mind in the viewer (think of the camera placement in horror films). These are movements in the service of something else, and it can appear also in the manipulations of form in great works of literature, among other artistic media. No, what I have in mind, what this film showed me for the first time, is the kind of movement that’s in itself unexpected, radical, miraculous. It can happen in everyday life at any moment. The true magic of cinema is in capturing movement of this kind along with whatever it is that makes it astounding. Apichatpong’s camera is static, and his shots are long. But unlike the images of some of the aforementioned filmmakers, his images and compositions aren’t centered on beauty, natural or otherwise; in fact, some lingering shots are objectively ugly. What they do, and what Apichatpong wants them to do, is capture some kind of human action: a woman hanging laundry, the soldiers’ digging machines going at it, a man taking a shit among bushes and low trees. These actions are mundane, but the emphasis on their banality gathers the emotional, even sublime strength that’s non-cathartically released near the end of the film. That is the movement I have in mind: a single action both mundane and sublime. Cemetery of Splendour is about Thai soldiers who succumb to an inexplicable sleeping illness while digging a foundation for a secret government project (one character notes: And yet they dig out in the open!). Jen (Jenjira Pongpas) volunteers at the local “hospital” (an old schoolhouse) where the soldiers are taken care of, and there she befriends Keng (Jarinpattra Rueangram), a young woman who uses her powers as a psychic medium to assuage worried family members that their sons are doing okay. This is the first hint that the film is more than it appears to be, not only because everyone treats her with respect, including the doctors and nurses, but even more because psychics, of course, usually communicate with the dead. The soldiers seem to be having bad dreams, so the doctors bring in machines that employ light therapy to help calm them. Each machine has a long, curving LED tube (“They look like funerary urns,” one characters says) that changes color in tandem with the other machines as if each color were rising from the ground. The film has numerous scenes of the room and its furiously spinning ceiling fans slowly changing color in the dark of night, and this otherworldly imagery becomes a motif, a theme, and even a symbol for the film as a whole, reinforced by the sound effects of more significant scenes (ceiling fans, digging machines, night sounds) bleeding into the preceding and subsequent scenes. Jen, who has a bad leg, often prays at a Laotian shrine. One day as she’s enjoying some longgan at a picnic table, two beautiful women walk up to chat. Turns out, they’re the goddesses to whom she prays, and they come to thank her and to tell her that the sleeping sickness is caused by the still-warring ancient kings buried in the palace ruins beneath the school, who siphon off the soldiers’ energy. Here I should point out that, as talk of soldiers, kings, and Thailand should’ve hinted at by now, Cemetery of Splendour is on one level a political allegory, but it’s “about” politics the same way that Moby-Dick is “about” whaling: Yes, you can learn a whole frickin’ lot about whaling from reading it, but it’s so much more than a whaling manual. And Cemetery of Splendour is at one remove from even that—good luck learning much from the film about Thailand’s political troubles. Jen takes particular care of a soldier named Itt (Banlop Lomnoi), whose family doesn’t come to visit. For the viewer, he’s the stand-in for all the sleeping soldiers; for Jen, he’s the conduit to a unique perspective on life. One day, he suddenly wakes up and tells the surprised Jen that he could hear and understand everything around him while asleep. (Later at a night market stall, he adds that he can hear, smell, and perceive the heat of everything around them to an extended distance.) They and the other awakened soldiers go to the canteen for a meal. One soldier falls asleep, and the film implies that the rest of them do as well. Thus is the pattern of the film established: When Itt is awake, we follow his interactions and conversations with Jen; when he’s asleep, the film is free to do other things—follow Jen around, yes, but also give us haunting imagery of the sleeping soldiers and, in one mesmerizing sequence, of various nighttime scenes around town. There is never the sense of being haunted in the Western sense, as if unseen spirits were following people around, attempting to communicate or effect changes—the scariest scene is probably when Jen discovers that Itt’s notebook is filled with sketches that seem to depict the underground palace. The existence of something more than this empirical world is simply presumed, and when events are attributed to its influence, they and it are adapted to quickly and naturally. For instance, when the goddesses reveal themselves to Jen, she’s at first understandably shocked, but then they share the longgans together. And when Jen relates the explanation of the warring ancient kings to Keng and head nurse Tet (Petcharat Chaiburi), one of them jokes that at least the soldiers are kept useful in their sleep. Ingeniously, this attitude is forced on us by the film’s very premise: If we tried to explain the sleeping sickness, we would immediately get stuck, and the rest of the film would become meaningless. Only by taking it on its own terms, as it takes the lived-in mystery of its world, can we appreciate the artistry before our eyes. (I dare you to try to explain the scene, almost repeated later in the film, of pondside parkgoers rotating among benches as if playing a silent game of musical chairs.) The final main sequence intimately and powerfully brings together the two dimensions that Apichatpong toys with throughout the film. Jen and Itt are having a picnic when he falls asleep again. It’s a beautiful day, so she’s in no rush to get him back; who knows, he might wake up again. Keng passes by and offers to help them communicate. Itt (through Keng) asks Jen if she’d like to see what he sees, and she says yes. So he inhabits Keng’s mind (“possesses” would be too strong, since she’s still in control and can use her earthly perceptive faculties), and Keng and Jen take a walk through a park, which turns out to be a real-life famous religious park dotted with religious mantras and sculptures, some of them in ruins. Itt describes through Keng the ancient palace they’re walking through, pointing out thresholds and low ceilings, mirrors and thrones. Jen obligingly directs her gaze, and sometimes points out worldly things for Itt/Keng to look at, too: trees, leaves, sculptures, and flowers that she helps cultivate. They come across a pair of sculptures—a loving couple on a bench, holding hands, and beside that the same couple, now skeletons—and sit on a bench nearby. Jen shows Itt/Keng (but really Itt) her bad leg, rolling up her trouser to reveal its elephantine deformity. She offers Itt a homemade remedy to keep him awake, but instead he takes it from her, pours it onto Jen’s bad leg, and starts kissing it where the liquid has flowed. Amazingly, this scene works if we understand Itt/Keng to be either Keng or Itt: the psychic attuned to the other world, or the sleeping soldier inhabiting it. Itt/Keng’s ablutions and intimate blessings bring Jen to tears, and we too feel the full force of the connection between this world and the other world that ensconces it. But the film has one last surprise in store. Jen asks Itt/Keng to open her vision, and Keng stares into Jen’s eyes, telling her to open them wider, wider. And then: done. We don’t see any change, either directly, or indirectly through Jen’s actions, but by this point we’re far beyond doubting. The penultimate scene pairs a morning dance-aerobics session in the park with a soundtrack of an oracular French spoken song about a brick wall pretending to be soft and welcoming. And as if we, too, see this wondrous flowering brick wall, the final scene is a shot of Jen, staring in the direction of some boys playing soccer in the dug-up field, but really staring into the other world, wide-eyed. The soldiers’ plight is never resolved, as the goddesses foretell, but it’s rumored that the government will be moving them soon.

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Welcome to our monthly interview series, #buffaloiscreative, introducing stellar members of our CMbuf community. Make sure to update your profile for an opportunity to be featured on our blog, newsletter and social media accounts!

Meet Eric Foster, a Infographics Designer and Owner at EF Creative. He believes that visual information is more powerful than we give it credit for and has taken it on as his mission to communicate visually.

What is your special creative force?

I would have to say my special creative force is sketching.  I’ve been drawing ever since I was a child.  I got really into colored pencil renderings in high school and even pursued quite a bit of drawing throughout College. Unfortunately I don’t take the time to draw like I used to, but I do find time to sketch almost every day.  Sketching helps me develop ideas that I later digitally interpret in Adobe Illustrator.

In general, I will sketch alongside notes as I plan out each week and what needs to be accomplished.  Being able to scribble something on a piece of paper or in an app and then letting that idea marinate or incubate in my mind for a few days can be really powerful.  I think this can really lend itself to not only coming up with creative ways to problem solve, but also can lend itself to coming up with a better solutions for Graphic Design as well as when I am building an infographic.  

In the spirit of July 2017’s theme, #CMequality, can you share your ideas on how design can promote equality and togetherness?

I think design can be used to make the “Third Place” more inviting on some small levels.  But I think design in the sense of how an event is composed, is where the true power resides. I really like the idea of a third space, like a bar, art opening, barber shop or the Creative Mornings Talks. These spaces and events really lend themselves to bringing together people with different values, socio-economic backgrounds and different belief systems.  Getting a wide range of people in a room chatting over a beverage can just facilitate human interaction.  I believe this human interaction can lead to Equality, mostly by humanizing all people across the spectrum, from the janitor to the judge.

Where do you feel most inspired in Buffalo?

I’m not sure if I feel the most inspired, happy or just peaceful at this place, but “Hunter’s Creek”!  It is one of my favorite places to go for a Hike.  There’s something magical about it to me.  I try to go once a week and spend some hours there, hiking, chatting with friends and just taking in the beautiful scenery while snapping a few photos.  Sometimes I even use a color app to capture the colors that I photograph.  Most times I just leave my phone in my pocket and enjoy a peaceful hike.

What project are you working on right now that we should all know about?

I am very excited to be working with Sam Insalaco on turning the theBREWROOM’s Process into an infographic!  Next up, I’ll be collaborating with my friend Val Grigoriou on an infographic series about basic Bicycle repair. Besides those, there are some Infographics on Health, Visual Information and Star Wars in the EF Creative incubator.  And even though the project I’m about to mention has been completed, I can’t help but acknowledge that I was honored to be able to create an infographic for the one and only CreativeMornings/Buffalo chapter!

Thanks, Eric!

The great big ball of fear

‘You’re afraid you have no talent. You’re afraid you’ll be rejected or criticized or ridiculed or misunderstood or- worst of all- ignored’, Elizabeth Gilbert.

 Reading these words from Elizabeth Gilberts ‘Big Magic’ reaffirmed for my 22 year old self that fear amongst creative people is a very real thing, but what we forget is that young people are fear mongered very early on in their adolescence. If you didn’t make good grades, you might have a fear of letting your family down. If you were not a social butterfly you might have feared that no one would ever like you. As you grow up these fears adapt and change and more often than not dissipate entirely; your popularity might not matter as much, but your success and progression as a functioning adult human can become a daily weight on your mind.

Although having a cool job in a bookshop and renting a flat paints a picture of what society might see as ‘life goals’, it still renders the question ‘ what’s next?’. There may be a lot of people that, by this point are happy to sit back and live life one day to the next. That said, it is difficult to sustain being completely content when your success is challenged by the number likes of another friend has on a Facebook status because their newborn ate their first solid food.

The generalised fear that expectations of our success coupled with the censored version of event we allow our peers to see often makes me think, why the hell do we do this to ourselves?

Whether you’re creatively trained or not, the real fear of not being a true success is hidden somewhere in all of us. We may not want to admit it, but it’s there. Such trends on social media are a great example, take the ‘no make-up selfie challenge’, which trended back in 2014 and saw thousands of women go bare faced in aid of cancer research.  If it had not been to raise awareness for charity could we not question this as an act of affirmation of self-worth by our peers by effectively baring all? I question this because all women at some stage in their day will go without make up and they will (in spite of what their insecurities will tell them) are as flawless as a warrior princess. And yet it takes a ‘challenge’ marketed by celebrities and popular culture for people to validate overcoming this fear.

 There is a multitude of fears young people have to face, all with a lack of confidence that any older generation will offer support and reassurance that things will be okay. It’s an odd time in our lives, which as a child was the point I thought I would have my shit together; yet as I sit here at the age of 22, it’s very clear that you’re still effectively growing up in your 20s. There is only a small number of my peers who can afford to rent a flat, an even smaller number who can yet afford a mortgage for a house.

Our generation sadly is one that will live with their parents for much longer, or until such time as when they can afford to move out to live with their partners as was my case. However, there is still that sense that my generation still have sparks of ambition here and there. They still pursue the careers they want, with admirable optimism.  Those that want to pursue their dreams still have an innate sense of fear that what they are doing isn’t good enough. This is where the fear really, really sets in. Of course, speaking to people in the same boat or indeed even those who have been there and done it will say the same thing – your 20s are a weird and pretty messed up at times. If you’re single you might find yourself pressured into dating for the sake of it. If you’re in a relationship and have been for some time certain social pressures start to take root. Personally myself and my partner have been adamant from the word go that the social norms of engagement, marriage etc. would be done in our own time (and when we could afford it).  

What validates these fears, and the analogy I like to use is that you are playing a game of squash with these big balls of fear. You have the ability and the strength to hit these balls square in the face knowing that once you have done it once, you’ll probably be capable of doing it a further 50 times. Whilst with each hit it may get faster and sharper, you too will become better at responding and coping with that fear.

Coming back to the big ball of fear in a creative sense, there are methods of dealing with the fear of failure whilst also working on your productivity as an artist. For myself I work in a bookshop as a barista and bookseller. Whilst I’m not directly involved with anything creative, I am exercising my networking skills e.g. speaking to colleagues who are too pursuing involvement in the arts. Talking to people who are likeminded is a big factor. If you can push yourself to reach out to more professionally based resources, even better. For me it’s simply expressing that it is scary and that we are trying extremely hard, but also if you whimsically mention an audition you want to go for, apply for it! If you have friends with any creative background- tell them! These are the people who are most likely to support your ambition. You may not think this works, but simply applying for these things, filling out the casting agents form and starting that first chapter is a start. It could come to absolutely zilch yes, but deep down you might know that your past you will appreciate your efforts in trying anyway.  

Now cast your mind back to the squash analogy, if you have done one casting call, written one chapter, or sketched out the outlines to an illustration would you not thank yourself for trying in spite of said fear?

If then  you really get on a roll with it would you not thank yourself for trying again and again with these balls of fear, trying to hit back harder each time to build strength and resilience?

 Of course we all come to a plateau, a time when there’s just too much on to work on or we’ve just hit a wall with it all. Much like with New Year’s resolutions- you hit the gym for 4 weeks then spend an entire month afterwards coming in from work and necking the nearest bottle of wine. This is reasonable, and it’s probably unreasonable to think that any normal person can maintain their work life, social life and pursuing other ambitions without regularly burning out. Allow yourself a break, but use this time to reset and make adjustments to make things more manageable. But don’t ever stop, your ambitions may adjust themselves and you may have to adjust the game plan accordingly. And if you’re stuck for ideas, immerse yourself in as much as you can of other people work as a means of recharging. The big balls of fear will always be ready to attack, but you’ll be ready.

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ANY IDIOT CAN LEARN TO DRAW – A Beginner’s Guide to Drawing

Anyone can learn to draw and any artist you look up to whether it’s your favorite Italian renaissance man Or your favorite Japanese anime man They were not bestowed some great divine gift of talents now be worked for it Never really was anyone is born magically knowing how to draw a portrait Knowing how to paint knowing how to draw nobody worked for it and we worked really really hard they studied every single day of her Lives so ever you want to be the next Michelangelo or you want to draw cute anime girls? Let’s get into what it takes to make a good picture Everything has its basis in the fundamentals of art what the hell [are] fundamentals? Well does your art look like this then yeah you need fundamentals the [fundamental] basis to drawing your picture you could compare it to needing a Foundation before you construct a building and enjoying your sketch is your foundation the fundamentals are often said consist out of these things construction perception perspective composition anatomy Gesture color theory and rendering that sound like a lot well just sit down and listen because once you have learned this stuff You don’t have to relearn [it] Let’s go through the three most important things as a beginner, and then we can quickly go [through] the rest Perception when you draw hands do they look like this Well, that’s because you’re not actually drawing what you see in front of you [you’re] drawing the symbols that you see in your head This is called symbol drawing it means that you need to let go of what you see in your head when someone tells you to draw hand an Eye or a human being instead draw what you actually see in front of you with your own eyes Next time you draw an eye try to let go of all preconceived Ideas of what an eye looks like because it’s not [a] ball inside another ball It’s a thing construction a lot of people start drawing by drawing the outlines But that’s not very helpful when you instead construct things using shapes by using construction you will Understand the structure of what you are drawing, and it will be easier for you to draw the same thing again from memory [whether] you want to draw a car, or a cool guy with a sword Everything can be built up using construction if you can draw a square a ball and a cylinder then you can basically draw anything that exists Yes, [sure] if you want to draw a character then the gesture will make or break whether the character actually looks alive or not If you draw characters who stand up straight like robots, but it will [just] look odd real people don’t actually stand like this So by practicing gesture and figure drawing you will be able to over time instinctively capture how humans act or interact with each other and Now a quick summary of the rest Anatomy by using what you have previously learned from construction Perception and yester you will be able to draw a human body and maybe it won’t look [good] but as long as you push yourself you will be able to better yourself color theory color theory can be quickly summarized as understanding how color Combination works as you started painting during may be due master studies of great works of art you might find that colors are not always How [we] perceive them to be you can get better at Color theory by Observing Nature or studying your favorite art or your favorite photos? Rendering this is commonly called shading This is the act of painting and making something look like a form you can get a bit lost and you start painting things over And over again hoping something will happen Mindlessly drawing mindlessly painting instead try to think through each stroke you do perspective Perspective is being able to represent a free dimensional object everything is perspective And it isn’t just being able to jog [depth] [up] the building or a landscape Perspective should also be applied to any character in that space as well composition Composition is the arrangement of the image its organizing how the viewer sees for painting or drawing the flow of how the viewers eye moves from objects to object or Immediately sees with focal points the object that is meant to draw attention Composition is also arranging the image So if things aren’t too close or too far apart and making sure they’re on tangents that stick out or too distracting hey What do you know you actually know all of the fundamentals of the art now isn’t that weird? I understand all of this can be really hard to take in at first you don’t need to Attack everything at the same And you don’t need to practice all of this stuff at the same time you can take one by one one thing practice one thing And then move on [to] the next there’s no hurry a lot of people just jump into drawing without understanding these Fundamentals a lot of people don’t even know about the fundamentals.

[I] didn’t know for [a] longest time now You are ahead of all of those people Even if you have never picked up a pencil before now you know better than some people who already have So while we’re at it. I’m gonna throw in some advice You want to draw a duck go ahead draw a duck draw this duck right here whoops now It’s gone start from imagination. I’m waiting for you to draw the duck. [oh], you’re not doing it Well, well, guess what you [failed] you fail at drawing, but duck good job Wouldn’t be unreasonable for me to expect you to draw a duck completely from imagination [that’s] why you need to use reference as much as possible [this] way you can draw whatever you feel like you can put your own spin to it But in order to do that You need to understand the structure [of] what a real duck looks like a lot of advanced artists are able to draw ducks Completely from imagination, but only because [they’ve] drawn so many ducks before from reference also No reference is not cheating don’t draw lines like this It looks very insecure and makes your drawing a look chicken [scratchy] take your time and learn how to do confident lines in one stroke Practice just drawing straight lines over and over again because in time that practice will pay off Don’t get too caught up with details If you start off a drawing and immediately jump into details then you might find later that oh No the rest of the drawing doesn’t work anymore, and I’ve spent all this time doing this thing that I now have to erase along with that detail is probably even least important thing of your drawing a well-constructed drawing with a lot of good fundamentals But no detail is a good drawing nonetheless on The other hand a bad drawing with a lot of detail is [just] a polished turd now You know a good portion of what you need in order to start drawing but maybe you don’t even know what to use to draw so start off with pen and paper of its cheapest option or a Basic tablet size small or size medium I find that large size is often too big along with that getting expensive Equipment won’t make you a better artist Art skills transfer from medium to medium but there is no magical thing that will make your art better How long it takes until you get good depends entirely on how much effort you put in you could sit and draw for an hour? Every day, and that would be 30 hours of effort that you put in every month on the other hand this guy over here He is drawing [3] hours a day, and he’s getting 90 hours a month.

You can go at your own pace But the time and effort that he put in is what you get You can start drawing at any age [you] could be 10 years old you could be 60 It’s a skill that you [learn] It’s not a magic age that you start from if you need a reason to draw then the reason is it’s fun and that is Enough but along with that. It’s also very rewarding and in the long run it’s a bit more meaningful [than] say playing a video game and raking up imaginary Points to get a level or something you can make money from art a lot of people use it as an extra thing to get Extra cash as Hobby plenty of people make their [living] from art if you’re a complete beginner Then I would recommend [that] you pick up pen and paper and draw whatever is on your desk draw whatever you feel like You will fail it will look bad.

It’s okay You will learn from your mistake Once you want to move on from that you can start with gesture drawings at least that’s what I would recommend And I’m going to link a bunch of sites in the description [and] videos and stuff like that All of what I said might seem like a lot to take in you might feel Confused you might feel like you already [knew] just want to hand yourself in and give up well almost everyone who has ever drawn has felt the same way and all of the great artists you look up to have made thousands of Thousands of mistakes and thousands of bad drawings, but because they were able to push themselves and do better they did better don’t get too attached to what you’re drawing right now because you’re still learning and Things will get easier the more you try it you will meet new [art] friends you will get critique And it will help you and you will push yourself further well Thank you for watching [this] video If you have if you [are] a beginner and with any questions Or struggles or maybe you’re an artist who wants to share his beginner experience go ahead and comment like when I was starting drawing I would take a break every hour [just] so I could sit for a while and think through it I was wasting my time or not and then weeks later.

I realized hey I haven’t thought [about] giving up for like a week, and that was like a big accomplishment for me Like the video if you [found] it helpful And if you didn’t then please do leave a comment on why what maybe you would like to add something again? Thank you for watching and keep up the good work. Bye. Bye you you.

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