#<- as in art for said writing

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[capyclara]

the end. the beginning.

my very first louis study im slipping into psychosis

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[almadelsur]

Art Donaldson is a titty man and you CANNOT convince me otherwise. !! 18+ Below !!

(Also I envisioned this during Stanford era but both work 🤷‍♀️)

Thinking about teasing art for being such a perv as you sink down on him after he takes you out on an expensive dinner date.

Thinking about how turned on he gets feeling your hot and heavy pants in his ear as you twitch and struggle to fit him in all the way, your tits practically spilling out of the dress that now bunches up at your hips as you ride him in the driver's seat of his jeep.

“You’ve been doing that all night you know,” You gasp out but it sounds so much more like a moan than actual english words that it takes art a few seconds to register what you had said. “Staring at my tits all goddamn night,” your breath hitches as you begin to move up and down on his aching rigid cock, but your words are relentless. “Fuck art, you didn’t even look away when the waiter took our order”

“That’s not true.” His words are futile. You both know it’s true. But you like working for it. You like breaking his sweetheart resolve and unearthing that animalistic perverted side of him that he works so hard to repress.

“No?” you tilt your head in faux innocence and he knows what’s coming. As you slow your movements and reach under the neckline of your dress to free your tits, he realises you’re testing him. He’d never really had patience for tests.

Once more you begin a rhythmic bounce on his cock, the one that has his ears burning red and his thighs tensing. He’s practically salivating at the sight of your tits bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down, right in front of his face. Your perky pink nipples begging to be sucked on. He looks like a dog being trained to wait for his treat. Your gaze drifts to his face, his eyes glued to your tits and tongue all but wagging out of his drooling mouth, he’d probably even bark if you told him to.

But you don’t embarrass him. And despite the fact that he’d probably like it regardless, you decide to be nice tonight. He put so much effort into your date night and it really wasn’t his fault that you decided to wear the lowest cut dress ever made.

“Go on puppy, get your treat.” You tease, pushing your tits even closer to his face. Art lets out a guttural groan beneath you and, although he tries to mask it as annoyance, you know it's all pleasure. Any remaining semblance of composure snapping inside him as he latches on to your nipples, taking turns to suckle between tits. He’s so messy and wet that his spit trails down your chest and leaves wet splotches on the fabric of your dress. Both of you ignore how, despite teasing him for being such a perv, it's you that leaks all around his cock at the thought of your little lapdog being so so so good for you.

Send me challengers thoughts pls pls pls !! I feel inspired to write again !!

[rapidhighway]

[k1tty5]

another design for the au i’m working on (cough cough thinking about)

[ladyblackbirdart]

Totally almost forgot to post this one today whoops

BONUS

INKTOBER DAY 21: Selfie

So erm, this took a dark turn 🔥 been there, Dina. Been there. Anyways, can’t believe I’m writing the caption for day 21! It feels surreal. I’m team “Ellie goes back to Jackson and tries to reconcile with Dina” 😅 wbu? ALSO I tried to study Ellie’s handwriting for this 👀

[glupblorbo]

HOLY HELL IM SCREAMING THESE ARE SO AHHHH im sobbinf these are. so so so great im. oh my fuckkkkkkk im literally yelling im so excited i scared my dog LMAO

i just. LOVE your art style omfg and you draw samah so cute and hunter HUNTER ohhh my fuck. dude's expression in the scene with samah before and then. after. omfgggggg OMFG. its killing me. and. his expression mirroring that when flapjack chooses him i'm. it's literally exactly how i pictured that breakdown lmao it's PERFECT like ohhhhh my fuck oh my fuck. it's just....so so so good.

thank you so SO fucking much for this i genuinely teared up seeing the notification preview and like ,,,,,,i'm so so glad that you've been loving it so far!!! it means so much to me that this silly goofy brainrot fic has connected to so many people and that others enjoy this world i've been using to put hunter through it lmao <3

I just binge-read saw the devil walking in the daylight (but he didn't see me) on AO3 by @glupblorbo and had to very quickly doodle some scenes from chapters 10 and 15 because holy crap if it didn't completely possess my brain for the past few hours please go read it, it's so good

[geekylled]

Ken Sato, outfielder for the Yomiuri Giants, comes clean about giant spending habits!

In a recent interview, All-Star player Kenji Sato confessed to spending absurd amounts of money on grossly large sports memorabilia— mostly his own.

“I have a good, totally plausible reason for it,” Sato had plead, unconvincingly.

Sato bat an average of .420 last season, which puts him among the best. “It’s— ugh. Hm. Erm. It’s.” Unfortunately, he struck out severely in attempting to explain his spending habits.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it!” Sato swore, but then refused to give exact numbers in terms of pricing for those who may want to “try it”.

For the readers not in the know, a 15-foot recreation of Sato’s jersey recently went viral when commission details were leaked to the public. Our interviewer asked for a comment concerning the jersey, to which Sato is quoted to have said: “Well. I guess you can say I have a pretty big fan.”

[spookberry]

Just imagine spectra vondergeist watching on youtube or tiktok normies making true crime content about her family death. She will go insane and balistic. She didn't deserve it but god timing si right, she taste her own medicine

I've been holding onto this ask for so long, sorry bout that lol

[the-meme-monarch]

I’m a big proporter of “k_k isn’t stupid he just likes to act like it bc he thinks it funny to make people mad or confused”. and other such doodles of him

if you ship scc go away👍

references for the last one under the cut

[mee1414]

Solar farmer

Day 11 - Pearlescentmoon

[dirtbagcore]

the brainrot is extreme. heres another silly doodle (ノ≧▽≦)ノΞ●~*

+ obligatory close up of the cute little faces lol

[batbabydamian]

Batman and Robin (2023) #10

DAMIAN’S BIG BABY AND BESTIE 😭

[funkle420]

Turbo Granny blunt rotation WIP