Drew this for my mom and then she gets it wet. What are the odds.
I'm a little bit of all of them except for sweatpants.
tag yourself!
socks: confused about the future, messy buns, bad sleeping habits, loves fantasy, bad dad jokes, ambivert, underappreciated
hoodie: loves winter, indecisive, good at comforting friends, very self-conscious, just wants to cuddle, movie critic
sweatpants: the type to blast music in headphones, dislikes children, klutz, long video calls, the friend whose laugh is funnier than the joke
turtlenecks: philosophical conversations, social anxiety, close circle of friends, spends more time home than outside, thoughtful
skirts: online shopping, probably has a sketchbook, draws “tattoos” on skin with pen, big dreams and big goals, afraid of failure, likes attention
Aragorn
Legolas
Gimli
Gandalf
Boromir
Frodo
Sam
Merry
Pippin
I’ve been thinking about this all day
I'm not good at coloring with markers... Or shading. So why not practice both at once?
When they talk about the tortured genius, somebody always brings up Van Gogh— how he swallowed yellow paint because he wanted to put the sunshine inside himself. How his psychosis was probably the result of lead poisoning. They call him a miracle, but what I see is a man who was so sad, he found a beautiful way to kill himself. They say, “it’s awful isn’t it?” They say, “It’s always the talented ones who go before their time.” And me, a nine year old kid who’s always been told they were so talented wonders when I am going to die. We study them in school, the tortured artists. Look at all the poets who killed themselves what would their work have been without their depression? It’s it beautiful, isn’t it sad? As if depression is a parlor trick— pull it out at parties, impress all your friends. As if depression isn’t seeing how long you can go between showers before somebody notices or pizza rolls for dinner three nights in a row and then nothing the night after, because going to the store is an impossibility that you have not yet gathered the courage to conquer. It is the least beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and we call it the mark of an artist to stand in the center of an ocean and see nothing but desert. To be seated at a feast, but still swallowing sand. Depression is the yellow paint, the yellow paint, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT— Art is a coping mechanism. Van Gogh is good because when he had nothing, he had paint. When he was empty, he had paint. When the world was awful, he had paint. When he hated himself, he didn’t hate the paint. He whitewashed over his own masterpieces, because it was never about being famous, it was about doing the one thing that made sense when everything else didn’t. And they say, “without his illness, we never would have gotten all—this.” because they value his art more than his sanity because god forbid you lead a happy life and leave nothing to remember you by.
VINCENT, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
"I'M ALICE ANGEL!!!" -- Inktober Day 7 Tried my hand at drawing Alice for the first time. I'd say it turned out alright considering I didn't have a good reference pic.
Asked my friends for colors and I did a few more drawings.
I made my sister's birthday cake again. From start to finish. Love you baby sis!
I am not a lawyer, but I can decently interpret legalese and, being as I also suffer from tl;dr syndrome and assume others may as well, I took one for the team and went through the updated TOS for the post+ accounts and highlighted (what I understand to be) the most pertinent information, which ultimately comes down to this:
If anyone is a lawyer and knows I've gotten any of this wrong, please do not hesitate to correct me/this post.
Screenshots taken from Tumblr's TOS (updated 7-21-21), Stripe's Account Agreement, and the post+ FAQs.