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attackofthekillermexisaurusrex:
I’m just looking at my gifs,
And I’ve realized that Sam has some of the funniest lines ever in the show
Like, I have so many of these gifs that I don’t know whether or not this isn’t funny or not
And then I started looking at Jared’s outtakes
And realized most of them are my favorite outtakes
I just felt like I should point that out. For Science and stuff.
I guess I’m pleased with what I can do, but I’m also aware of my limitations and where I struggle, so I feel like there is a lot I can still improve on. I don’t think you can have a solid goal when it comes to art, since it’s such a long, evolving process; I notice something I’m lacking, I work on it, I improve that thing, move on to the next thing. The things can be anything from overall color palettes to how I draw eyelashes. Becoming “good” at art is a long process full of many small goals, no single large one, and it doesn’t end until you quit or you die. That’s the beautiful thing about art. You never know everything. You can become skilled, even masterful, but you’re never done.
Getting discouraged or being unhappy with your work makes the process a chore, and more difficult to continue working at it and improving. I’m always pleased with what I draw even if it could be better, because the act of creating it is pleasure for me, and I also know that if I keep doing it, I’ll be better in a month and a year and in ten years. I don’t really mind waiting.
I hope you don’t mind me publishing this :)) This is something I feel pretty strongly about the art process so I wanted to share it.
This also applies to writing
So i was checking out TeamBarrowman’s witter when I came across this
Well whatever can it be? I mean it is John Barrowman’s twitter:
Wow, thank you twitter, from protecting me from possibly sensitive material…
And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to say a few words about escapism. I hear the term bandied about as if it’s a bad thing. As if “escapist” fiction is a cheap opiate used by the muddled and the foolish and the deluded, and the only fiction that is worthy, for adults or for children, is mimetic fiction, mirroring the worst of the world the reader finds herself in.
If you were trapped in an impossible situation, in an unpleasant place, with people who meant you ill, and someone offered you a temporary escape, why wouldn’t you take it? And escapist fiction is just that: fiction that opens a door, shows the sunlight outside, gives you a place to go where you are in control, are with people you want to be with (and books are real places, make no mistake about that); and more importantly, during your escape, books can also give you knowledge about the world and your predicament, give you weapons, give you armour: real things you can take back into your prison. Skills and knowledge and tools you can use to escape for real.
As JRR Tolkien reminded us, the only people who inveigh against escape are jailers.
Stitchy inspired me to write a prostitute John story, and it looks like this is going to be another mulit-chapter fic. Not sure where it’s going quite yet.
Ilium – When John was injured and sent home, he found the only work he could do was the oldest profession. That was where Sherlock stumbled into his life. Now leaving that life behind may be the most difficult challenge yet.
teaser below the cut
John watched as the slender man came into the parlor. Dark tousled hair, pale eyes. A man like that sure didn’t need to pay for sex. But well, all kinds came in here. He looked around with eyes that seemed to take in everything. At least he was looking at more than just the men who worked here. The man met his eyes. John stopped breathing a moment, then put on his smile and moved closer. Probably kinky as hell if he was here. Either way, long as he paid, he’d do his best. And his best was damn good.
“Evening,” he said.
He looked John over in a way that felt like he was finding every fault and flaw. John stiffened his back and met the scrutiny. The stranger raised an eyebrow.
“Afghanistan or Iraq?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a soldier. Not home very long. But working here.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve all got reasons. Promise I can still make it worth your while. Name’s John.”
He shifted. “Sherlock.”
