#windblown hair

[whereifindsanity]

[90smisaki]

woman enchantingly strumming a sunburst and dark mahogany a caustic guitar.

[unkempthearing]

She's standing there, with the wind whipping through her hair like an afterthought. Eyes that have seen sunrises on peaks and valleys dipped in shadow. There's a trace of something in her gaze—half wonder, half weariness—as if the wind has been telling her stories all this while. Her backpack, a bulky companion worn by miles, looks almost a piece of her, strapped tight across her shoulders. Every line on her face whispers a tale of the dust and the distance; her skin has been kissed by the sun, but it's no gentle peck. It's the kiss of relentless days under an open sky that doesn't give a damn.

And yet, there's steel there, in the set of her jaw, a quiet defiance etched into the lines of her face. She's a testament—a living, breathing chronicle—that says more about life’s raw edges than a camera ever could. In the dimming light of the descending day, she's the narrative of every path she's trodden, the map of a journey that’s written in sinew and bone.

[blessmeultima00]

There she stood, at the threshold of dusk, her presence a poem written in the sand by the undulating sea. The woman's hair streamed behind her, a wild cascade of autumn leaves caught in the whispering wind, speaking of freedom and of life unbound. Her eyes, a striking melody of sky and forest, held the depth of the ocean's secrets, fierce and gentle all at once. The fading sun adorned her with warm coronas of gold, brushing her high cheekbones and vulnerable lips, as if nature itself was enamored by her visage.

She was draped in a garment that seemed to have been spun from the evening shadows themselves, its hue that of the earth and root — a garment not donned but rather a part of her essence, as natural as her breath in the salted air. In her gaze was the quiet strength of the ancient, yet unspoiled shoreline; the soft yet persistent call to embark upon horizons that quiver like a heartstring in the hush of twilight.

As the last whispers of daylight receded, the woman seemed not a separate entity from the world but rather a living verse within it — a singular, purposeful beauty unfettered by the constraints of time. Like a spirit of the shore, betwixt the land and the tides, she was the embodiment of every silent wish to ever skim along a shooting star's fleeting trail.

[more-than-ideas]

Autumn winds

[wyndsong]

My fav beach boys! Greg standing out in red, the look he is giving the camera, slightly devilish. Carl didn't like the pictures, but look at his smile! Keith is like why are we here, I can't look at the camera.

[spiribia]

the knight and the princess

[sentientsky]

bg3 is trending, so do you guys wanna see my tav? rhetorical question. here u go

[sbd-laytall]

Warrior Nun | 1.06 | "Isaiah 30:20-21"

[boyfeminism]

im really sorry for what im about to say however i yearn to draw people so i can draw hella with hot back / shoulder muscles just fully in pretty bondage but instead of ropes its strings of big ol pearls. i can see her in my mind all the time.

[whereifindsanity]

[fabledforestfox]

Glad to feel warm sunshine ♥️

[sandywindydays]

Drawings of a male character in the wind for a change. Here is mysterious Windknight, who loves chasing and experiencing intense windstorms. His face is always obscured by his long hair, extremely wide and high collars, and wide brimmed hat that gets blown away all the time.

[coffeenuts]

11.365 Windblown by jezikalyn https://flic.kr/p/jaaijN

[blazevillains]

why are you, as a man, holding on very tightly to your (male) "friend" as you sled down a mountain of slush off your pirate ship

[readmarkclippastecollage]