The ONLY WAY To Combat The Lack Of Funding In Arts Education Is For Professionals To Take A Few Hours

The ONLY WAY to combat the lack of funding in arts education is for professionals to take a few hours a week to share their skills for FREE, to empower and encourage the next generation of artists. THIS IS WHAT THE INTERNET IS FOR. Here’s 200 tutorials:

How to draw ANGRY EXPRESSIONS How to draw BATTLE DAMAGE How to draw BIRD HEADS How to draw BOOKS How to draw BOTTLES and GLASSES How to draw BOXES How to draw BREAKING GLASS How to draw BRICKWORK How to draw CABLES and WIRES How to draw CAR CHASES How to draw CATERPILLAR TRACKS How to draw CAVES How to draw CHARACTERS (3-SHAPES) How to draw CHARACTERS (FLIPPED-SHAPES) How to draw CHARACTER SHAPES How to draw CITYSCAPES How to draw COMIC COVERS How to draw COMPOSITION   How to draw CONTRAST How to draw CONVERSATIONS How to draw CREATURE TEETH How to draw CROSS-CONTOURS How to draw DETAIL AT DISTANCE How to draw EARS How to draw FABRIC How to draw FEET & SHOES How to draw FEMALE HANDS PART ONE How to draw FEMALE HANDS PART TWO How to draw FLAGS How to draw FOOD TRUCKS How to draw FOREGROUND MIDGROUND BACKGROUND How to draw GAME BUILDINGS How to draw GEMS and CRYSTALS How to draw GHOSTS How to draw GIRL’S HAIR How to draw GOLD How to draw GRASS How to draw HAIR (1940s styles) How to draw HAIR IN MOTION How to draw HAPPY EXPRESSIONS How to draw HEAD ANGLES How to draw HOOVES How to draw HORNS How to draw HORSE HEADS How to draw IMPACT DEBRIS How to draw IN 3D How to draw INTEGRATING LOGOS How to draw INTERIOR BASICS How to draw IN-WORLD TYPOGRAPHY How to draw JUMPS How to draw JUNGLE PLANT CLUSTERS How to draw JUNK HOUSES How to draw LAMP POSTS How to draw LAVA How to draw LIGHTNING and ELECTRICITY How to draw MECHANICAL DETAILS How to draw MUSHROOMS and FUNGUS How to draw MONSTER HEADS How to draw MONSTER TENTACLES How to draw MONSTER TRUCKS How to draw MOUNTAINS How to draw NEGATIVE SPACE How to draw NEWSPAPERS How to draw NOSES How to draw OVERGROWN VEGETATION How to draw PEBBLES AND GRAVEL How to draw PERSPECTIVE BOXES How to draw PIGS How to draw PILLOWS and CUSHIONS How to draw POD HOUSES How to draw POURING LIQUID How to draw ROBOT ARMS How to draw ROCK FORMATIONS How to draw RUNNING FIGURES How to draw SAND How to draw SAUSAGE DOGS How to draw SEA WEED   How to draw SHADOW COMPOSITION How to draw SHOULDER ARMOUR How to draw SIEGE WEAPONS How to draw SILHOUETTE THUMBNAILS How to draw SMALL FLAMES How to draw SMALL, MEDIUM, LARGE How to draw SMOKE EFFECTS How to draw SNOW How to draw SPACE BIKES How to draw SQUIRRELS How to draw STICK FIGURES How to draw SWORD FIGHTS How to draw THE HORIZON How to draw TIKI STATUES How to draw TREASURE CHESTS How to draw TREE BARK How to draw TREE ROOTS How to draw USING THE SHATTER TECHNIQUE How to draw VEHICLE STANCE How to draw VINES How to draw VINTAGE PLANES How to draw WATER How to draw WOODEN HOUSES

Cabin Feeder: chapter 3

Dean makes a big decision for the both of them, regarding retirement. And there were pies. A couple days late a dollar short, here’s the final chapter for my @get-beached lake vacation! I did half-assedly try to “Cram It in”, so I touched on these prompts in this chapter: sitting by the campfire, s’mores or weenie roast, soaking up the sun, too much of a good thing (again, lol) and finally, an eating contest. 5744 words, posted on AO3

Bottoms up!

How the event is going to run:

Similar to how last year’s even ran, we will be having mini-challenges every week of the event, ramping up from 100 word drabbles and quick sketches, to 5,000 word stories and fully inked artwork that combines as many prompts as you can squeeze into them!

Schedule of Events:

• July 1-3 - Snag a ‘Mallow

A taste of things to come. 100 word drabbles, quick sketches, use one mini-prompt.

• July 4-10 - Original S’more

The Old Reliable. 100-500 words, simple drawings, Use one mini-prompt.

• July 11-17 - A Little Extra

Maybe try a tiny bit…s’more? 500-1,000 words, and inked drawing, use at least two mini-prompts.

• July 18-24 - Pile It On

Really gearing up. 1,000-2,500 words, colored drawings, use 3-4 mini-prompts

• July 25-31 - Cram It In

Everything you can fit in! 2,500+ words, full art pieces, use 5+ mini-prompts.

Do you have to participate in all the challenges?

Of course not! You can participate in one challenge, in one part of a challenge, or not participate in a challenge at all! The idea is to celebrate everything Chubby!kink during the summer! Feel free to participate as much or as little as you like!

Please tag and submit your Entries!

While we are following the get-beached tag, tumblr Is tumblr and we don’t always see every post, so if you make a post as part of the event, please message us so we can reblog it for everyone to see!

WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?

Australia. Because beaches and weird animals and I could listen to the accent all day.

Cabin Fever, chapter 2

Sam advances his retirement plans, makes a Dutch baby, and spills a few beans...

(Of course I take forever to get to the point. Slow belly burn, I guess?

This is my second installment for Get Beached!, the A Little Extra week, with these two mini-prompts: tubing/rafting and too-fat-for-last-year's-swimsuit, which I took a few liberties with. And didn't really focus on. Because I forgot which prompts I was using and it got to be a hot mess and feelier than I planned, but yeah. Enjoy, anyways? :D) Also on AO3...

June meandered into July. The weather got more sultry, and Sam found himself working in the cabin's kitchen to be an increasingly sweaty challenge. But he was also dedicated to the cause, and frankly, the temporary discomfort made for rewards that were obvious and visible. He knew he was on the right track.

They'd fallen into an easy pattern. Dean was starting to expect being fed three squares a day, navigating around a mid-afternoon siesta and fishing or leisurely canoeing or some other casual hobby, like making fancy lures. (The fastidiousness with which Dean could fashion an artificial fly was a marvel to behold, truly.) He'd putter around the cabin, doing odd jobs or the laundry or the dishes, while Sam planned next week's menu from old cookbooks left laying around the place. They'd met a few guys from the nearby village and had already gotten invited to their monthly poker game, which Sam was actually looking forward to. It was next Friday, in fact.

But for now, Sam was occupied with figuring out how to bake a Dutch baby, which was not, in truth, as grim as the name might've implied. It was some sort of hybrid pancake/crepe/popover thing, and Sam had sent Dean out in search of thimbleberries for the topping. Sam found the perfect, rounded cast iron skillet for the pastry among the eclectic array of pots and pans accumulated by the owners over the years, and he was just putting the experiment in the oven when Dean came in the door, the hem of his t-shirt lifted up to form a handy dandy thimbleberry sack.

He grinned a little sheepishly when Sam looked up. “Forgot a bag. So much for the shirt.” Which was true on more than one front: yes, the berries were staining the gray fabric purple, but also, the shirt was getting small … as witnessed by the distinct paunch Dean displayed over the tight pinch of his jeans. It was probably time to retire those, too, given the way his flanks squeezed over the top of the waistband. No need for a belt anymore.

He'd probably put on a good ten-fifteen pounds, if Sam had to guess. But it looked fitting on Dean. It smoothed his hard edges. He'd never seen Dean so laid-back, except that one time when he'd eaten the Leviathan-tainted turducken, and that sure as hell didn't count. This was genuine mellow. His cheeks were pink and his belly was soft and all was right with the world.

“There's a bowl on the table.” Sam pointed. “Brunch is in twenty. I hope.”

“What is this again? A <i>baby</i>?”

“That's what the book says.”

“Made with real babies?”

“Funny. Go change your shirt.”

Dean had just dumped the berries when his phone buzzed. Sam hoisted brows and Dean shrugged.

“Donna,” he said, after checking the caller ID. “Hey, D-light, gonna put you on speaker. Sam's here.” He hit a button and set the phone on the table.

“Heya, boys,” came her bright voice. “Got a question fer ya. Skunk apes. Whadya know?”

“Aren't they in Florida?” Dean noted, licking berry juice off his fingers.

“You don't think one could wander this far up north? From sightings, it's big and it's hairy and smells bad.”

“That there's a sasquatch spin-off. Sam's department.”

To which Sam gave Dean a look and wandered towards the table, wiping his hands on a towel. “Bipedal?”

“Yep.” “Sure it's not just some stoned hippie?”

Dean snorted and punched Sam in the shoulder.

“Yeah, smartypants,” Donna chuckled. “Terrified a whole 4-H camp last week. The parents are in a tizzy.”

“Okay, okay, serious business,” Sam continued, “well, the good part is, if it really is a skunk ape, they're easy to take out. Nothing special. Shotgun'll do the trick. They're scavengers, like to eat roadkill and carcasses and that sort of thing, so leave out some expired meat and … wait?”

“From a distance,” Dean volunteered.

“Ha ha, thanks, Captain Obvious,” Donna said.

“Why don't you tell Claire to tackle the fucker? Leave it to the noobs.”

“Y'know what? That's a great idea.”

Dean preened and Sam rolled his eyes. “Good luck, Donna.”

“Yeah, call us, let us know how it goes,” Dean added.

“You betcha. How you boys doing anyway? Enjoying your summer off?” Sam tried to be surreptitious, glancing sidelong at Dean. The proof was going to be in the pudding, as they say, and he left space for Dean to field the question. To Sam's relief, Dean didn't seem the wiser, and answered Donna with hardly a pause.

“It's pretty damned amazing. Hate to admit it, but I could get used to this. You should come over and visit some weekend.” And then he flashed a smile at Sam.

Sam wasn't sure how to read that. Did Dean … know? Or was this an earnest realization? Did it matter, either way? Sam returned the gesture on the bite of a lip. “Yeah, we've got an empty loft and enough beer to serve a small army. We'd love to have you.”

“Maybe I will! Be good, you guys.”

After Donna hung up, Dean lingered at the table, picking at the berries.

“You should maybe wash them? Could have bear pee—”

Dean immediately abandoned snacking and went to the sink with the bowl.

“So, Dean … ”

“Hmm?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. Sam plunged forward. “Did you mean that? You could get used to this? Because …”

Dean threw a glimpse to Sam, over his shoulder. “Yeah, dude. We should make this an annual thing!”

“Oh. Um, yeah.” “Like the Vegas trip, right?” “Right.”

Dean shook the berries into a colander and continued nibbling, offering Sam a handful.

“Thanks.” But really, what Sam meant was, 'Hey, we could move here and leave the biz and this could be our forever thing.' Guess he still had a little more coercing to do.

The timer on the oven buzzed and Dean perked up. When Sam took the pancake out of the oven, it was perhaps the most glorious thing he'd ever seen, short of the living, swirling iridescence of the human soul.

“Holy crap, Sam, that's … quite a baby.”

And it was. Once covered in berries and a sprinkle of powdered sugar per the recipe, Sam had every right to brag. It was rich as sin too, and while he managed to stuff down a goodly slice, Dean easily polished off the rest. And a big glass of milk. And the last of the berries. One Dutch baby: success.

Meanwhile, the sun had reached its apex, heating up the cabin to a fair swelter.

“You know what I want?” Sam said lazily, hands behind his head at the table.

“A poster of Vince Vincente for over your bed?”

“Well, apart from that. A swim.”

Dean looked vaguely surprised, rubbing the soft swell of his middle. “Aren't we supposed to wait an hour?”

“Not if we're just tubing.”

The surprise turned to appreciation. “I like the way you think, Sammy!”

Sam owned swim trunks, because of course he did, but Dean defiantly rebuked anything that resembled shorts. Until today.

At first he made noises about cutting off jeans, but Sam asserted the wise observation that they just didn't look comfortable, especially sopping wet. Dean couldn't argue.

“Try a pair of my trunks.” And he tossed his spare pair at Dean's head. “No one's gonna care if they've got flowers on 'em.”

“Gimme the striped ones.”

“Nope. I'm already wearing them. Too late. They've got my germs.”

Again, Dean couldn't argue. So he huffed a sigh and went off to the bedroom to change, mumbling something like, “Yeah, you're (something something) germs (something) …”

When he returned, he looked none too pleased, a beach towel wrapped around his waist and tucked under his belly.

“What?” Sam demanded, at Dean's stinkface.

“You gave me the small ones.”

“I did not! Why would I do that? They're the same size.”

“Liar.”

“DEAN.”

Dean sighed and flipped off the towel. The trunks pinched tautly around his waist and just barely covered his ass.

For the most part, they used to wear a similar size pants because of Sam's stupidly long torso, but there was no denying that Dean had gotten a good couple sizes stouter. He palmed his robust belly grimly, giving it a jiggle that rippled all the way to the doughy lovehandles on his sides. There were even a few tiny stretchmarks growing around his navel.

“Dean.” Sam softened. “Dude, who cares?”

“What if I care,” Dean said with a touch of petulance.

“Do you?”

“I dunno—”

“Look. Okay. Hear me out. You're happy, right? You're enjoying yourself. You're … on vacation. We're supposed to indulge and not worry about all the crap that fucks us up, on the regular,” Sam said, feeling his heart leak out of his mouth in the form of pleading. “We don't have to run away from some weird cryptid. Squeeze through sewer drains, climb fences. Do any of that shit anymore if we don't wanna. Just … let's grab some beers and a couple inner tubes and hit the lake and … drift. If only for today.”

Dean blinked, his towel curled in one hand. He might've even seemed a bit alarmed at the degree of Sam's sincerity. Hell, Sam was alarmed by it, for that matter. He might've gone and jumped the gun with this whole revelation that he didn't so much as ask Dean about. Sam just started cooking and sneakily appealing to Dean's hedonistic side and chose a direction <i>for them</i>. It wasn't exactly fair. But they could always turn it around again, and if Dean decided as much? Sam would follow.

For a few clumsy moments, they stared at each other. Sam pressed his lips tightly, probably wasn't even breathing.

Finally, Dean let himself consider the here-and-now, and shrugged. Slinging his towel across his shoulders, he shot Sam a crooked, thoroughly rakish grin.

“Alrighty then. Let's float these sonofabitches.” (to be continued!)