Weavercat is a 24 yr-old female thing who doesn't know what she wants to do in life. A current art-student who has rediscovered her love of prehistoric critters. I'd like to work as scientific/medical illustrator someday.
  • a-writers-littlethings:


    advice for artists
    (quote found via:toddahh)

    I think this can be advice for writers, too. We’re artists as well.

    (via carnivaldog)

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  • dagurthederanged:




    I don’t get help because I am the helper.

    I’m sure I’m not the only person who can relate to this. You’re the friend who helps everyone, gives them advice when they need it, tells them they’re perfect when they feel ugly, and help them with their relationships even though you’ve never been in one yourself. But then the time comes around for you to be sad, for you to need help, and they’re not there to give it. Sure, sometimes you may not tell people you need help when you need it, but when you do tell everyone just ignores the fact and continues on with their lives like you don’t matter. And then the next day they come to you for more help.

    I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even care if I get their help or not. I wouldn’t even know what to do if they did offer help, I’ve never been on the other side of the relationship and I would feel out of place if I was. I’ve become better at dealing with my feelings and problems myself rather than telling anyone or even anything.

    This is literally my life everyday, everyday god damn day. I’m so used to helping other people I forgot how to help myself. It’s gotten to the point where I listen to everyone’s problems and try to help them with so much effort that I make their problems mine, completely oblivious to the fact that they’re not.

    I… kind of thought i was the only one. Asking for help, even when it’s presented me with a pretty little bow on it, just feels wrong. There are so many others that need it, that I would be taking from it just never felt right. I would much rather make sure those around me are happy, they deserve to be.

    It’s depressing how true this is; I helped out a friend today, despite being in a shitty mood. But I put them before my own problems because I care for them more than I do for my own life, oddly enough. I just wish that sometimes people could notice when I’m down and offer a hand… although, simultaneously, I don’t want to seem like an attention whore (because I have been called that in the past for sulking over something)

    I am the helper. I will do everything for my friends and then… when I’m done helping (it never ends) they leave feeling better or more okay with the world and I have to try and deal with my own issues on my own. I love helping. I really do. I think I’m good at it but sometimes, I worry. I worry that this is all I’m good at. That this is the only reason people want to be my friend. I neglect myself just to make others feel good. They deserve to feel good. They really do. I try my hardest to make them feel better about the world and that yes, I am there for them always. To just talk or to ask for vindication for a decision. Even if they don’t take me up on the offer. If they don’t feel good, I feel guilty for the good-things in my life. I help for, everything. The big-things, the little-things, the trivial-things, and the things-not-worth-worrying-about. Then, when folks try to repay me for it, I turn them down. It’s what I do. I don’t want to have things in exchange for a few words.

    Yeah, so, I am a Helper. The world needs those friends who are Helpers but sometimes we need Helpers too. 

    (via siffieleafy)

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  • crispyfishsticks:

    AZ belongs to Weavercat!  

    I.. I think I’m terrified of Az now. Those claws. Those sharp hooves. That tail. Oh cripes. That mane is so, I feel as if I could reach out and stroke it and it would feel  like shaggy hair. Thank you so much Crispy and I will get those snuggly arts to you tomorrow afternoon. 

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  • illustratedweaver:

    “Bush-Crowned Moor (R. svarte) stag fleeing a Leomas (L. aenigmae)”

    Started as a study for one of the illustrations I want to do in the Libre Vultibeastiae (Book of Expressive Beasts) but it kinda got away from me. I had some trouble uping the contrast so that it looks like it should but oh well. I have more under here including a fallen tree and rocks. Stag needs his antlers but I am liking the gouche for these things. I’ll make more soon. <3 Relearning that high-contrast typically means something is closer and low contrast means that something is farther and atmosphere is getting in the way. I swear it doesn’t look as terrible in reality as it does here. D:

    Libre Vultibeastiae/Species and FaceBeasts (c) Liz Smith/Weavercat/Weavrrcat 2012.

    I reblog myself. XD

    (Source: smitheeart)

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  • "1) Amateur Artists wait for Inspiration
    While a professional artist will make a point sit down and work on their art every day, an amateur only works on their art when the “mood” is right."

    The 9 warning signs of an amateur artist

    Also see Tchaikovsky and Jack White on not waiting for “inspiration”

    (via explore-blog)

    In our Art Career Orientation class we talk about what we want from the school and from a future career. What I expect to learn from the school is how to counteract my biggest flaw: A lack of discipline. I am relearning to just do it. Not wait. Don’t flip-flop. Keep schedules and STICK TO THEM. It’s a neat class and I’m already taking bits from it for my use. I have a non-distracting big pad of a calender that is keeping me on track. 

    (Source: , via pupkisser)

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