inner elbow

8

i just found myself using this random trick that one of my art professors taught me and i thought other people might like it!

other tips:
-at rest, the elbow hits the bottom of the ribcage, and the wrist hits the bottom of the crotch
-the distance from your inner elbow to your wrist is about the same length as your foot
-the length of your hand (from wrist to the tip of your middle finger) is about the same length as the distance between the bottom of your chin and your hairline

so, if you have a feeling that proportions are wrong on something, those work as quick gauges. like, if a character’s forearm looks too long, try to visualize their foot being the same size and see if that works. if the hands look too big, look at their size in relation to the face.

hope this helps someone!

solo and pair

Yuuri!!! On Ice || Victor Nikiforov/Yuuri Katsuki || Hasetsu, Part I
notes: this is so self-indulgent, i am so sorry
warnings: anxiety

.

By the time Yuuri is eight, he has only seen four soul marks up close.

The first soul mark he sees is his mother’s. It is a purple and red spot on her left forearm, high on the soft flesh towards her inner elbow, and an exact replica of his father’s. Like many matches, his parents do not mind if their mark is exposed; they do not flaunt it, because they are not the kind of people to do so, but neither do they flinch when they absently roll up the maroon sleeves of their yukata.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Yuuri asks when he is young, long before puberty hit and his mark manifests. He does not like the look of his mother’s unique mark; it looks like a day old bruise, if bruises were permanent and perfectly circular.

“No,” Hiroko laughs, her eyes crinkled in the corners. “At least, not in the way you think it does.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

OK BUT LISTEN about very soft tickles on the inner arm and elbow (that's something that personally drives me crazy) they're the worst, because for 1-2 seconds it feels like you can take it, it just tingles a lot, but then it becomes torture ok? The longer it lasts the worst it gets. Now, imagine the Paladins sitting around a table or something else that hide their arms, and Keith is just so freaking gently running his fingers up and down (and up and down and up and down~) Lance's arm and goodbye

and lance twitches and tries super hard to stay still and he’s like clenching his fingers open and closed and keith is just quietly smirking and lance tries to move his arm away but keith just holds his wrist with one hand and uses his other to drag his nails up his inner arm, up to his elbow and back down, and lance Full Body Shivers and jumps and his knees knocks against the table and he’s tingly and squirmy and oh god its torture

and later keith traps lance against the bed and tickles at his inner elbow until lance finally lets himself giggle and keith just grins becuz lance is cute and entirely too ticklish for his own good ok ahh

The moon curves up under my inner elbow skin, I do not want to be so possessed by a woman I cannot quite be or touch,
but she is here, quiet
angry
she runs her hands over the grooves I have created of my skin and sneers at how soft
“so very soft”
I have become.
Love made me this still and raw and imperfect
I was a harder marble person before I opened up.
Love made me imperfect rather than whole, it broke me down into a material rather than mold.
Crescent and full and waning we meld and we create this shell to occupy and cultivate, we create a moony girl and an enraged mad woman.
We create a we and in that is our safety.

Persephone sleeps on.

anonymous asked:

as someone who also cares for my skin way too much and moisturizes religiously,,, i pray for my boy lance, how is he holding up ,,, mf probably smells like strawberries but that boy must get wrecked every time shiro n Keith tickle him wtf

he smells rly good all the time and his skin is soft and sensitive and he didn’t realize how much more ticklish everything would be with his skin care routine he does. thats why lance, out of all three of them, is the most sensitive to gentle tickles because even just the barest brush of a finger along his inner elbow makes him giggle omg

Word of the Week: Musikantenknochen

When you accidentally smash your inner elbow into a table or a door, you might scream in pain because the impact affected your Musikantenknochen - your so-called “musician’s bone”. But what exactly is that?

In English, you might have heard the term “funny bone” used to describe a sensitive location in your arm. In German, this is called your Musikantenknochen, which comes from the words Musik (“music”) and Knochen (“bone”). It describes the part of your arm that is especially sensitive when you hit it against a hard surface. But what does this have to do with music?

Originally posted by littlepawz

Well, the term can be deceiving because your Musikatentenknochen has nothing to do with music and it is not even a bone! In reality, it is the ulnar nerve - a nerve that runs along the ulna bone and is the largest unprotected nerve in your body (meaning it is just under the surface of your skin). That means it is highly sensitive and prone to injury. Some describe the feeling of hitting your Musikantenknochen against a hard surface as a sensation similar to a small electric shock. That’s sure to cause some people to cry out in pain.

It is unclear why Germans call this nerve the “musician’s bone”, but some believe it has to do with the perceived vibrations that arise when impacting the area. Others say it has to do with the cries people make when they hurt their Musikantenknochen.

But one thing’s for sure: most of us are not going to sing to the sound of that music! If we hurt our Musikantenknochen, it’s best not to talk to us until we come back to our senses.

pomrania  asked:

How does blood get taken (like to have a blood sample available or what) in the 'verse? Do they use needles?

A hypospray, hypo-syringe or just hypo is the in-universe equivalent of a syringe, which is an option in the real world to take a blood sample. A tourniquet is tied around the upper arm, the skin (usually on the inner elbow or back of the wrist) is cleaned, in this case with a disinfectant pad or spray, and then the needle is inserted into a prominent vein. While it’s not specified whether those injectors actually use needles, needles are canonical objects and there are really no other normal ways to draw blood.

As a sidenote, the most widely used diagnostic equipment would be forms of a medisensor or a mediscan unit, which don’t need blood samples to operate. Even toxin detectors don’t actually need a sample, they just scan the subject. You may not even need to draw blood for whatever purpose you’re asking for.

Hope that helps!

~ Jacen

bliss

summary: dan is your typical teenage artist. he draws on anything and everything thats blank. especially his arms. or the one where dan decides to draw on himself instead of cutting himself and phil is a tattoo artist to make dans drawings stay forever.

warnings: implied self harm, (tattoo) needles into skin,,,cussing

genre: fluffy fluff, v v v v v slight angst

a/n: i wrote this over a span of like 5 days,,,
i give you, ‘bliss’

third pov

it was the last period of the day in edward’s high school. this is where you could find a teenage boy sitting in the back of his class drawing.

his name was dan. he drew on anything and everything, as long as it wasnt important. he was currently drawing a flower on his left wrist. the petals were exquisitely defined and the stem stretched from his wrist, to his inner elbow.

normally, teenagers dans age would draw on themselves to rebel against rules, or simply their homework assignments.

but dan was different.

you see, he would draw something on his arms, thighs and stomach whenever he felt depressed and he wanted to hurt himself. he figured getting ink poisoning would be better than people constantly agonizing him about his 'scars’.

the bell signifying the end of school rang and everyone jumped out of their seats and ran out the door to get home. but dan slowly got out of his seat. he put his books away into his rucksack, put his pen in his front pocket, and swiftly left the classroom.

as he was walking down the corridor, everyone stopped talking, and stared at him. well, maybe not him, but his best friend who was running up behind him.

“dan! wait up!” the voice called. dan turned around to see his best friend phil running towards him. “hey phil,” dan replied smoothly. phil. he was an interesting one. he wore leather-clad boots and jackets, tight black skinny jeans, and piercings and tattoos littered his body. well, maybe not littered, but uniquely placed. for instance, he had tattoo sleeves, a neck tattoo of a dragon, and an unfinished chest tattoo. phil said he just wants to leave it the way it is, but dan knows that phil just doesnt want to finish it because it hurt too much. and thats ok, even tough people have a pain break.

“hey dan, i know i tell you this a lot, but you should let me make those drawings actual tattoos for you.” phil is also a tattoo artist. dan remembers the first time phil told him about it.

~flash back~

“hey dan? i have to tell you something, but hear me out before you say anything about it, ok?”

“yeah sure, just tell me.” dan had replied. he knew it probably wont be as important as the time when phil came out to him as gay. he had felt very special that day considering dan was the first one phil had told. so dan decided to come out to him as pan as well.

“dan, im a tattoo artist.” phil stated.

“phil thats ver-” dan started but was cut off by phil. “dan let me finish. i know you wont approve because that can be a dangerous job, and if i mess up i can get sued and everything. but you also know that ive wanted to be a tattoo artist since we were both very little. i had seen the application in the window for it, and the sign said no experience required just art skill. and i had to dan, i just had too. and i really want to do this so please acce-”

“phil, i dont care. i know youve wanted this, so do it. go for it.” the next thing dan knew was he was being tackled to the ground by one of phils amazing hugs. he hugged him back and said, “phil, youre my best friend, tattoo artist or not, youre still my phil, and thats all that matters.”

phil kisses dans cheek and said, “thanks dan.” dan buried his head into phils shoulder and held him there for the rest of the night.

~end of flashback~

“i dont know phil, i like the idea of turning them into tattoos, but, i also like the way the ink disappears in a couple of days and then i have a new blank canvas to work with,” dan said ducking his head slightly.

“dan,” phil whispered, “look at me.” phil put his finger under dans chin and lifted his head up enough to look dan right in his eyes.

“dan, just think about it, ok? i honestly believe youll be as beautiful with tattoos as you are without,” phil said and smiled.

dan chuckled and gave in, “ok, as long as i draw the design, pick the place, and that y-youre the artist for it.” he said. he trusts phil with every fiber of his being. he knows phil would be careful, but he was unsure with everything.

phil kissed his cheek, grabbed his hand and ran to the tattoo parlor.

whilst they were running, dan wasnt really focusing on where he was going or his surroundings. he was rather focusing on his and phils hands interlocked. it might be cheesy, but they moulded and fit perfectly together, naturally.

they soon were inside the parlor. “ok dan, just have a seat on the, well seat, and ill get started on this tattoo for ya,” phil stated. he had started up the tattooing gun and got to work on the flower on his wrist. all of a sudden, he stopped. he put the gun on the table looked dan straight in the eyes and said, “are you sure you want to do this? tattoos last forever.” dan thought it over quickly. he does want it done. although hes quite afraid of the pain itll bring, but that should subside. after thinking it over, he replies with, “yeah, im actually excited, so start.” phil smiled, “yes sir,” he saluted and went to work.

about 2 hours later the tattoo was done, with a minimal pain, swolleness, and a red arm. but, the tattoo look amazing. dan stared at it in awe, “oh my god! phil!” dan shrieked. “what? did i mess it up? oh no, i knew i wouldnt do good, im so sorry dan please i-” phil was interrupted by a tackle hug. “no phil!! its so fucking amazing!! i love it!” he exclaimed. phil hugged him back with the same force.

they both started to pull away slowly. they gazed into each others eyes with such love and passion. they slowly started to lean in, getting closer and closer to each other. then, they kissed.

after years and years of waiting, they kissed with such force. every emotion was mixing together, creating one.

they pulled apart and rested their foreheads together, looking into each others eyes with love and admiration. phil decided to speak first. “you have no idea how long ive been waiting for that,” he stated. “im pretty sure i do,” dan replied and connected their lips together once more, bliss.

it was the last period of the day in edward’s high school. this is where you could find a teenage boy sitting in the back of his class.

his name was dan. he drew on anything and everything, as long as it wasnt important. he was currently tracing a flower on his left wrist. the petals were exquisitely defined and the stem stretched from his wrist, to his inner elbow.

this really is bliss.

@thievinggentleman

“Bourbon?” Cecilia tipped her head to the side, procuring up a bottle of said alcohol. “Here, try it,” she poured a bit it before she turned her head away, coughing into her inner elbow.

“So…up, what’s been goin’ on? Been a while,” she commented, holding the bottle a bit tighter than she needed to.

Bucking out her hip, she took a little sip striaght from the bottle before rubbing the top of it off.

Missing Words by Peter Boyle

I don’t know how many things there are in this world that have no name. The soft inner side of the elbow, webbed skin between the fingers, a day that wanders out beyond the tidal limits and no longer knows how to summon the moon it has lost, my firstborn who gazes about himself when the TV dies and there is a strange absence in his world. I was looking for a great encyclopaedia, the secret dictionary of all the missing words. I wanted to consult its index and find out what I could have become. The sound the clock makes when it is disconnected and taken down from the wall but can’t lose the habit of trying to jerk itself forward. The look of old socks drying on a rack in the kitchen all through a winter night, hanging starched and sad opposite the wedding photographs. A word for your face when you know you can’t love but would almost like to try. The blurred point of merger between fresh storm damage to a house and the deep fissures that have always been there. Walking down the corridor to the front door with inexplicable elation in my chest as if everything was about to start, as if my love had just arrived, escaped from a burning world, and at the same time clenched in my taut wrists, my hands, the thin bones of my arms, the certainty that everything has long been over.