#tacking

[el-ffej]

xkcd 3090

[tetrachromate]

O the men are called horsemen (And I'm no horseman)

[officialspec]

spec. spec. spec youve changed the game. i never realized your pointer finger and your wrist artery are the same. holy shit. im going to draw hands thank you

aasdjsd its not really an artery but its a useful landmark to facilitate the Flow of a pose imo

[shyaringan]

time travel fix-it but make it Spooky (based on my monster!jon post)

[inkskinned]

i. there's this video of a guy dancing on his tiptoes. i will begrudgingly admit the song is kind of catchy actually. i don't think it's the worst song i've ever heard. he seems passionate about it. but it is embarrassing, how he's dancing.

ii. you know where this story is going, unfortunately, and so do i.

iii. three weeks ago i had to drag half a dead rabbit out of my dog's mouth. i was just recently discussing how cruel things feel lately. that the way the world is shifting feels mean. three days ago, a random woman rolled down her window to snap at me because she missed her turn. this is now routine.

iv. 11 years ago in october, i made a post about how we shouldn't make fun of people for doing brave, vulnerable things. it has over 400k notes. people - at the time - seemed to generally agree with me. we have all felt shy and insecure when we share an intimate part of ourselves. we have heard someone at a concert say "that's fucking embarrassing" and said to ourselves - oh, this person is unsafe to be vulnerable in front of. we have said i can't act like that in public. we have left our art and passion in the dark. i think there will never be enough graveyard space for the art we have killed because what if others shame me for it.

v. the thing i was bullied for in high school was because i was a "predatory lesbian." a popular girl i'd literally never spoken to just decided she didn't like me and announced i was "stalking" her. to this day i have no idea what motivated this - i think i was just shy and poor and awkward and ugly. the perfect target. what they don't really ever show in movies is how quickly it moves, how suddenly strange people in the hallways are attacking you about it. they also don't show you that the bullies get this strange ... glee out of it. like, it's fun for them. it's enrichment. everyone else is in on the joke. suck it up, kid.

vi. so far, from what i have seen, creators that stand up for the musician all seem to have the same story: when i asked why we're bullying a random guy, people actually got mad that i asked. i've had similar things happen to me when i ask for us to be less comfortable with our anonymous cruelty. when an internet stranger says "be kind, it saves lives" - people find it funny to say fuck you i hope everyone kills themselves. pages and pages of people saying the same bullshit. sitting in their little caves, eating their own humor. it's just genuinely exhausting. the natural endpoint of "cringe culture" is that even kindness is cringe-worthy.

vii. loneliness is an epidemic. but where are you going to make your community? call your representative. go back to bed about it.

viii. due to how i was raised, i am always confused by cruelty. i understand the american isolationist belief "i can do whatever i want" - sure. but why wouldn't you want to be kind? i have lived too many bad things. i cannot be the epicenter of someone else's bad dream.

ix. it's just that if we were going to bully someone relentlessly, why is it never the healthcare CEOs. why isn't it the fascists. why isn't it, like, someone who you could at least argue "deserves" it. why is it always just some guy in socks singing a pretty mid song? or a person that doesn't look like you, just, like existing.

x. it's just that i think people enjoy doing it. they want to do it because they get some kind of masturbatory release from it - like a shrug or a splinter, they all seem to say the same thing - come on, it's funny.

xi. the world is sometimes beautiful, and sometimes you make something. the world is sometimes terrible, and you are worried they won't accept what your hands can wring. you open the instagram comments and they're still saying all sorts of shit to just - like - a normal guy. and some part of you thinks: if that was me. good lord. if that was me i'd -

xii. somewhere there is a graveyard. someone is already burying their hopes and dreams.

[falmarindecarme]

No idea if this has been done already. Anyway, dinner is served.

[pansylair]

tinkering around with an abelisaur-esque fictional creature!

[ofhoovesandheart]

japanese racehorse blinders 🍀

[backroad-life]

Credit: Backroad-life

[lascvitae]

TICK-TACK ✵ SOPHIA LAFORTEZA.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. MM, THE MORE I GET TO KNOW YOU

THE MORE I LIKE YOU .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ the last thing you expect is for sophia to come to your family’s surf shop. she can’t surf. she won’t listen. you’re just trying to do your job, but she clearly has other plans.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. richgirl!sophia x surf instructor!reader (no gendered terms) ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff (suggestive if you squint) ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s). none 🙂‍↔️

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 700

ᝰ.ᐟ katty had to give yall smth cute bc i have so many smut requests

masterlist.

THE SUN'S JUST STRETCHING OVER the horizon when you slide the storage shed open, sand already warm beneath your feet. early mornings are your favorite. it’s before the tourists clog the water and you’re alone with peace and quiet. just you, the salt breeze, and the steady rhythm of waves crashing in the distance.

you wax your board with muscle memory, watching the shoreline roll in and out. you’ve got a full schedule today — mostly beginners, mostly foreigners who think they’ll master surfing in one lesson because they did yoga twice. you’ve got patience, though.

you’re flipping through the day’s roster when you hear it. laughter, loud and glittery, cutting through the morning silence. then, the unmistakable click of designer sandals on wooden planks.

you look over.

she’s got long legs and longer hair, dark and somehow untouched by the wind. she’s in a bikini that probably cost more than your entire paycheck for this week, designer sunglasses, and a cover up that flows like she’s modeling for a victoria's secret ad.

you glance back down at your clipboard and one name stands out.

sophia.

no last name. no equipment rented. notes: “never surfed, very excited.”

“hi. i’m here for my surf lesson?” she says with effortless charm.

you nod once, pen tapping the paper. “never surfed before?”

“not even once. but i’ve been told i have incredible balance. pilates, y’know?” she beams.

you don’t, actually. but you gesture to the board propped nearby anyway. “grab that one. we’ll start on the sand.”

she eyes it like it might bite her. “that one?”

“that one.”

you don’t offer to carry it and she doesn’t ask. she manages, barely, dragging it over with a slight pout and some quiet struggles. you wait.

“okay. we’re gonna start with the basics.” you say once she’s kneeling beside it awkwardly.

“i love basics.” she says, flashing you a smile that’s probably made hundreds of people fold.

you kneel beside her and demonstrate hand placement, how to pop up, foot position. she nods slow and serious like she’s listening. she isn’t.

when you ask her to try, she steps onto the board and sticks her ass up like she’s arching her back for someone. you squint at her.

“that’s not what i showed you.”

“it’s what you should’ve shown me. ten times more flattering.” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

you don’t smile, but your eyes linger a little longer than they should before you stand.

“let’s get in the water.”

the ocean is calm which is perfect for beginners. still, she eats it on the first wave. and the second. and the third. she’s not even trying to stand by the fourth, just floating there, kicking lazily like she’s tanning.

you paddle over.

“you’re not standing.”

she tilts her head, looking at you through her wet lashes. “maybe i like the view better down here.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what, the seaweed?”

“no. you.” she says, flashing that smug little grin.

you pause.

then you shift your stance slightly, water coming up at your waist as you lean one forearm onto her board. not flustered, but close enough that her teasing falters for half a second.

“you know, most people at least pretend they want to learn before trying to flirt with their instructor.” you murmur dryly.

her smile widens. “but you’re smiling.”

“am i?”

“mhm. right there. barely. but it’s cute.” she pokes your shoulder.

you hum under your breath and shift back to steady her board.

“alright, flirt later. try to stand now.”

she lets out a dramatic sigh. “fine. but only because you asked nicely.”

“i didn’t.” you deadpan.

she smiles again and props herself up like she’s about to finally try — before looking back at you with a wink. “don’t forget to hold my waist.”

you do.

only to adjust her form.

mostly.

and when she falls again, splashing and laughing, you’re the one who reaches out, palm steady under her elbow.

you realize as she flops dramatically back onto her board that this girl is either going to quit in thirty minutes… or book another lesson just to keep flirting with you.

you’re betting on the latter.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

wake up wintersberg nation

[shyaringan]

redraw of my Lyfrassir Eda design from my old blog almost a year and a half ago waoh

once again, Lyf gets to be blue because I said so

[stdismas]

Gale Dekarios in Baldur's Gate 3 (2023).

[hadaldemon-nsft]

tw: suggestive faces(?), sussy shadow milk, mdni

Here is 4 shadow milk faces I doodled some time ago (when I was feeling... funky *cough*) that I like/find funny. I really don't know what to do with them so I thought I could share them here?

[lylahammar]

Zorella, the centaur pop queen ✨

Thank you to everyone who helped me by voting on her final design in the poll from last week! I'm so so so happy with how she turned out 🥰

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was in grade school I utterly adored sticky tack. You know, the kind that goes on posters in classrooms?

I generally loved all the silly putty adjacent textures and they were banned at home because every time I was given silly putty I’d promise to be so so careful and then I’d look down and somehow every time I’d have ground it into the carpet after looking away for one second.

Stealing was obviously wrong but I loved sticky tack so damn much that I’d sneak my horrible little raccoon fingers behind the posters to nip off little chunks here and there. I collected these into a much bigger chunk that I delightedly fidgeted with during story time, reveling in the pull and stretch of the forbidden substance. All my memories of story time involve my enjoyment of touching sticky tack.

I kept the same monstrosity glob of dirty sticky tack even when I moved from first to second grade, a heroic feat for my little squirrel brain.

Alas it met its end on the migration to third grade when the joyless husk of a teacher kept no posters, told no stories, and confiscated it promptly when she saw my hands moving over its lint covered majesty.