i got sick of how hard it is to find good fashion pics & reference images of fat/plus size people on pinterest, both as art reference and for my silly little character aesthetic boards, so i started just making a whole board of plus size fashion for the sake of my own mental health, including a whole section thats just vintage & historical pics of fat people and now im feeling better about my body
Jun 13, 2022 - Only drawing/using references of skinny people is ruining my body image. Hereās some refs and aesthetic images of people who
I was hesitant to reblog this since Pinterest is famous for almost never having any credit and being stolen works, but this is a seriously great reference from what I looked at for anyone wanting to draw fat people. There are numerous sections for different fashion styles, and that's usually impossible to find. So I'm making an exception this single time and reblogging this.
These are a few of the photo categories for an example:
There's not a lot of content of fat men, but there is some. There are also pictures of queer couples, drag queens, historical photos, etc.
Another art reference for poses with fat bodies is the website FatPhotoRef run by @lawlesslagomorph who carefully vets the people who ask for access to the website in order to ensure that none of the fat people who have volunteered photos of themselves will be abused. Donations help keep the website running too!
Thank you for the tag (100 years ago) @graysparrowao3!! ā„ļø and Iāll tag in @lewd-rude-attitude @ladystephaniesduck @the-twilight-queen!
time has lost all meaning for me since I somewhat on a whim moved back to the (american) southwest and have been learning how much actually goes into moving states ever since š
BUT I finished the one shot I was working on (shameless plug) and am now working through edits on jadder ghost AU! Here's some conflict:
Adder thumps slowly down the stairs with the trash at the end of the night, and stands a second at the bottom in the dark lower floor with the night coming in through the windows. He stares at the soft glow of the kitchen lights shining out into the shadow downstairs.
All he wantsāand he wants it so badly his chest achesāis to go into the kitchen, and say, āHey, Janosh,ā and hop up on the counter with the radio playing and spend those couple of hours talking and laughing with his friend.
He drops the trash bag at the bottom of the stairs and walks into the kitchen. A tense little glow of hope persists in him that heāll step through the doorway and there will be Janosh again, and theyāll fight, and Adder will call him a prick, and Janosh will call him stupid fucker, and theyāll laugh and everything will be fine.
But instead the kitchen is empty.
(more below)
Adder draws in a long breath, holds it, and blows it out.
āYou fucking prick,ā he mutters. His soft, pained frown deepens, and he scowls hard into the empty kitchen. āYou fucking prick!ā
Anger spikes straight through him and Adder turns and smacks a rack of drying silverware off the counter. It crashes to the floor and spills across the tile. His breath heaves in his chest now. He pauses a second, his hands clenching into fists, and then storms forward and grabs a plastic bottle of olive oil off the counter and throws it hard at the floor. It bursts open and coats the tile.
Itās not enough. Almost blind with rage he strides forward to the radio and half reaches for it before stopping. He canāt bring himself to destroy it. But his gaze fixes past it on the dark wooden knife block sitting where heād placed it at the end of the counter.
He huffs a scornful laugh and goes to it. He hovers his hand over the handle of one of the knives.
āKatherine told me nobody touches your knives. Even when you were alive,ā he says. āYou just going to let me fuck with them now?ā
He waits for a response and receives none. The silence of the kitchen needles him like a taunt. He breathes another sharp breath through his nostrils and wraps his hand around the knife. He yanks it from the block and stands there brandishing it against the empty kitchen.
Nothing happens. Adder grits his teeth, panting hard. He wraps his hand tighter around the handle and glances at the floor. His breath comes harder. He lifts the knife and holds it over his shoulder on the very tight edge of hurling it at the ground, too.
But moment by moment his breath slows and the thumping fog of anger recedes from his mind. He lowers the knife. The guilt for even considering what heād been about to do constricts his throat and chest.
Adderās scowl softens. He slides the knife carefully back into the block. He puts a hand over his face and releases a single hard, shaking breath, right on the edge of a sob. He steps back and slumps backwards against the counter, then slides down it to the floor.
āIām sorry, Janosh,ā he says. He leans forward with his hands on his knees and sinks his face into them. āIām sorry. Please come back.ā
But nothing happens. And after a while, exhausted by his outburst, he falls asleep.
