I Really Wanna Believe That Whoever Is Behind This Post Is Paid To Do Tumblr Things Everyday.

No one wants to work anymore. All kids these days want is to physically transform into animals. Bones cracking, breaking, splintering apart, stitching together into exhilaratingly new shapes. Hair, all kinds hair, various fluids and oils and whatnot. Monstrous musk, hideous scents foreign to civilization. Ragged-lip maws dripping with alien teeth, crowning in teething agony like the birth of an infant god. Gore-streaked visages howling in pagan delight by the pale light of the moon, etc. No work ethic. He who makes a beast of himself takes away the pain of clocking in tomorrow

Losing my mind remembering that pic chelsea manning posted of the extremely undercover and not at all obvious fbi agent who was tailing her after her release

rb if you vote, i wanna see what tumblr thinks on this.

To piss or not to piss?

Your bladder reminds you to pick quickly and you dash down the tunnel smelling like your dad's musty spoon collection.

You notice after what seems like an agonizing minute of waddling through the tunnel that the tunnel never seems to get lighter. You keep your hand to the wall to guide you through the straight tunnel, the walls getting rougher with each passing second.

Eventually you find a line of light illuminating the ground, indicating a door frame, and you open it.

It opens up to a circular laboratory with gutted machinery, glowing tanks with strange shapes, and naked wires littering tables and floor.

In the middle of it, you find a toilet. Inside a a wire cage. Upon closer inspection, you see that it is a human sized snare trap.

Oohh my favourite one recently is this cello artist called Takénobu! He does improv sessions every Tuesday for an hour and he posts his sessions as podcasts on his website. Very steady tempo that's not too calming but slightly restless at a good pace. It's not quite classical tho, on Spotify I think they classify it as contemporary classical.

Youtube: https://youtube.com/channel/UCrguPgSvx7TNvMuNUAScIiA?feature=shared

Improv sessions: https://www.takenobumusic.com/mellow-cello-podcast

It’s literally that simple

Friend: “hey my son can’t concentrate on his homework. He chooses to do literally anything else everytime. He said his head doesn’t feel like it.”

Me: “Did you give him music?”

Friend: “No! No tech until he’s done! He doesn’t need more distracted.”

Me:

“k, bring me the child”

*Go to her house*

*points to the obviously ADHD boy struggling with his homework*

Me: “so your head doesn’t feel like doing homework?”

Son: “yeah. It would rather do ANYTHING else.”

Me: *unwrapping earbuds* here, listen to this for an hour while you do it.

French voice: 1hr later

Son: “k I’m done! :-)”

Friend: “wow, what’d you give him? Concentra, Adderall, Ritalin‽”

Me: “Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics” and some lo-fi.

Hello! I've rewritten this ask like five times so I'll just come out and say, you're one of my favorite artists, thank you for all the good stuff you put out, it's inspiring <3 I wanted to ask, what's your method of studying anatomy and expressions?

Thank you! <3 Ngl the last time I studied anatomy with effort, I was a kid in high-school. The only book I had on the subject was the Anatomy for the Artist from Jeno Barcsay. It was huge and detailed, literally muscle and bone deep, but I think my brain is wired more for the feel of things than the understanding 😅

I try to find nude or mostly nude pics for anatomy stuff. Adult photo sites rule as a source, people contort their bodies in all sorts of weird ways and I can usually find someone with the build I'm looking for.

When I sketch based on a ref, I try to pay attention to the silhouette, negative spaces and alignments. They help me correct mistakes.

And obviously I love to exaggarate things. (Evident on the waistline and pulled up leg here.)

Same with expressions, I guess. I try to push them but stay within the realm of believable. It's so easy to make a face look uncanny or creepy or w/e with a smile too wide. I have had a couple commissioners ask me before to tone down the initial expressions on their characters, and I think that was a nice reminder to pull me back to reality lol It can get especially weird with long narrow faces like Buttons'. I find it a bit tricky to make him have a large open smile while fitting it all on his head.

And speaking of scurvy, I am eternally amused by the thing where some ancient form of healing that was born in a time where people didn't know exactly how the human body works, or what causes it to stop working sometimes, that still somehow worked. Like how so many old folk medicinal plants were listed as a cure for various ailments that - from a modern view - are clearly just symptoms of scurvy, and the plant itself is rich in vitamin C.

I recall reading some story, no recollection of the exact time or place, where the king of a large empire suffered from constant horrible headaches and was incapable of falling asleep unless drugged or blackout drunk. Sick of taking temporary fixes to dull the pain and having to be sedated every night, he called up some old sage healer who was said to know how to fix things nobody else could explain, and the healer heard his symptoms and went

"Hmm. You spend too much time being a king. Your skull is packed so full of kingly thoughts that they don't all fit in there and that's why your head is in pain. You need to spend time not being a king." And prescribed him to schedule three days every month where he must go to a peasant village where nobody knows he's the king, live with a family there under a fake name and identity, work in the rice fields with them, eating the same food and sleeping on the same mats. Absolutely nobody is allowed to address him as the king, speak to him of any royal or political matters, and he himself is not allowed to think any kingly thoughts or think of himself as the king.

And naturally, this worked. Taking a regular scheduled break from a highly stressful office desk job to completely decompress, paired with physical exercise in the form of hard but simple physical labour, plain and simple food and Just Not Thinking About Your Fucking Job All The Time does help chronic stress, which here was worded as "spending too much time being a king clogs your brain."

Sometimes you do have ghosts in your blood, though I'm not entirely sure whether you should do cocaine about it.

most of us have heard of the red car game. you’re on a road trip, you’re bored, you start looking for red cars to do something.

and then they’re everywhere. you notice them nearly every few minutes.

there aren’t suddenly more red cars now, of course. you were seeing them already, but you weren’t noticing. you weren’t looking.

I am noticing things.

there is a plant I notice everywhere now, a small bushy plant in suburbs, along streets, by shops on the highways. dwarf umbrella bush is what the internet tells me when I look for it’s name. I did this because I wanted to know why,

every time I ever saw it, every place,

it was always dying. always the leaves turning yellow, the branches small and scraggly. inside out - nitrogen definitely. their soil drained.

I am noticing how many of these landscaping plants are yellowing, how small and sickly they look in just a few years. I am noticing how often the grass outside the house is replaced when it once again turns brown and dry, how the type never changes and the cycle starts again. I am noticing how the unmowed, unkempt spaces on lakesides and roadsides look more alive than this. how the preserve I grew up next to was miles of “messy” unmanicured nature and the ground was covered in leaves instead of grass and there was life.

I am noticing the birds that come by the lake. there was a flash of blue wings and red chest - eastern bluebird, male, relatively common. I had never seen one before. there is a family of ducks that appear every spring; i cannot say if it’s successive generations or different ducks, but I can always look forward to ducklings. there are little brown birds with white heads whose names I do not know - are they some kind of piper? why don’t I already know?

why is it so hard to learn about my native plants (accurately, that is)? why are so many gardening sites littered with people who think a plants value is based on how pretty or useful it is to them, who think a tree shedding leaves is “messy”?

why is knowing about the world we live in so… odd? why is it a hobby and not vital knowledge? I learned about polar equations. I taught myself about mycorrhizal networks and species of insects.

(did you know there are shiny green bees? a special species of wasp pollinating figs? that white flowers bloom at night for moths? do you know? have you looked?)

I cannot look at a lawn and see life anymore. it is a wasteland, devoid of life, dying slowly itself. everywhere is grass, grass, doused in water that runs over into storm drains, soaked in fertilizer and pesticides and a hundred other poisons and sending one clear message:

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

I do not think I could live in a city. too loud, yes, too busy, yes, too many people, yes, but the plants would bother me. a tree allotted only a convenient square, surrounded by dead stone and metal.

a forest cleared for this, for burning asphalt streets and racing cars and shops whose bathrooms are “for paying customers only”.

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

and now I am noticing.