Hellooo!!! Do you have any tips for proportions? it's one of my biggest problems and I can't get it right
hi! i can't remember if i have already answered something similar or only meant to but here you go
face: eyes are in the middle of the head (not face!), nose is in the middle of eyebrows-chin area, lower lip is in the middle of nose-chin area, ears are somewhere in between brows and nose, between eyes another eye can be fit
there are exceptions in real people and you can stray away from those as your style develops OR you can distort them on purpose to make your faces more diverse
also hairline-brows being same length as brows-nose nose-chin is what looks "correct" and "proportional" but has the most exceptions irl
bodies: elbows and waist are on the same level, fingers end mid thigh, hand is around the size of the face. head is around 25cm long so if you want depict accurate height keep this in mind.
there's more but i think it just overcomplicates things, if you need something more advanced better get into anatomy books
(Tags by @veritablenonsense ) #this was originally going to just be about the use of healing potions in torture #due to that one beautiful terrible scene from chapter 354 #but actually this is also about using healing to cover up abuse #how easy access to healing can fuck up your sense of danger and pain #destroying your body through the overuse of healing and stamina potions #how healing magic isn't a replacement for rest and healthy living #how using that stuff too much can actually hasten your death #"magic healing is fucked up actually" is one of my all-time favorite things to explore in fantasy #thank you geunseo for my life #honestly that middle text could be almost anything and it'd still be accurate tho
i'm still fleshing out the body of it but i think it'll be a conglomeration of oneshots maybe, i suck at chaptered fics
----
The first time Neil made something out of clay he was on the run with his mother somewhere in the mountainous backwoods of North Georgia.
The dinky little motel they'd been staying in, while his mom recovered from a near miss seven states away, backed up to a creek caked in mud. Or at least he thought it was mud.
He spent the first day, while his mom slept off a concussion, making sculptures and cups and creatures out of pasty mud that was cool when he slathered it on his sunburnt shoulders.
He had to abandon his carefully crafted tiny army of mud creations when his mother called him back for the night, expecting them to be gone when he was able to sneak away again the following day.
Although some had washed away, the cups he'd made were exactly where he'd left them, hard and holding having been left to bake in the southern heat.
It fascinated him, he tried to make other shapes to see if they would do the same but before he could experiment further it was time for them to move on.
Everytime they stopped somehwere and he could convince his mom to let him perform elements of childhood, play in a creek or at the edge of a pond or even have his feet brushed by the rising tides of the ocean, he tried to find the material that had created those little cups.
He was rarely successful, having to move on too fast for him to even have the time to try.
In the few sparse moments they stayed somehwere long enough for him to be enrolled in a school or spend time in a public library, he searched for information
He learned about pottery, about different types of clay, saw pictures of famous peices, the difference between what he'd been doing and wheel throwing.
It was simultaneoulsy consuming and out of reach, just one expereince in a slew of others he knew he'd never have the chance to try.
When his mother died he floundered, struggling to adapt to life on the run by himself.
Although he had picked up as many survival skills from his mother as he could, and despite his best attempts at life on the run, he was not as adept at evasion and didn't have the same connections or resources.
It wasn't long before his father's people found him.
After hours of torture, an unexpected rescue, and what he hoped would be his last near death expereince, his uncle asked him what he wanted to do with this new found freedom.
Neil had sat there, every inch of his body radiating pain, with the a full life laid out at his fingertips, and all he could think about were those little cups baking in the Georgia sun.
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
vaporwave
pixelskylines
