#all week long

[histendercaress]

I can’t sit still, you thrill me, baby, be mine.

[atfisty]

BOWIE MENTIONED! I repeat Bowie was mentioned!

[gongyussy]

good thing from jp twitter this week is queen of old man yaoi michiru sonoo discovering the term old man yaoi

update: somehow it got impossibly more wholesome

quick translation: おかえり: welcome home あ 終わった 終わった: ahhh, it's over! it's done! コーヒー? お茶?: coffee? tea? コ~ヒ~ ありがと: coffee, thank you~ ネクタイレア★★ ネクタイ取るレア★★★★: seeing him with a tie on, rarity level ★★, seeing him take a tie off, rarity level ★★★★ にあうな~: it suits him~

also please do follow: AraigumaSha: sensei's twitter account marureviere: maru, who does such valuable work highlighting bl manga for an international audience

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Expertise can't help you here.

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

Also increasingly aware that a LOT of people "manage" getting through the 40+ hour work week by sleeping less than is healthy and relying on stimulants like coffee and energy drinks to keep them going.

For people who are unwilling or unable to do this...work really does just dominate your life. Like we really should not have to rely on unhealthy practices just to have a social life or keep on top of housework or whatever.

I know I post about this a lot but I'm so TIRED all the time and it's just so depressing that this is how we're expected to spend the one life we have.

[ciearcab]

gouache falin

[mohntilyet]

vora'shivan, your heart is a good heart. so trust it. i love you, bellara. and i'm proud to be your brother.

[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.

[bladesofaura13]

I understand why people like them

I think they're beautiful

But also as someone with chronic migranes, tonight sucks

I had to call off work because my head hurts enough I'm struggling to stay upright

Oof

quintessential "Teh Liberals Ruining Everyone's Fun" take but WHY CANT WE JUST BAN FIREWORKS :(

[lotus-pear]

i miss them......please come back........please come home :((

[dizzybizz]

FoM (fields of memes (pt1))

[nooskadraws]

a study of comfort 🌿✨💀

an illustration for a blanket available for preorder! (only open for two weeks!)

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[yikes-belly]

I love when we don’t acknowledge it. I make a pan of lasagna and we sit at the table with the nice tablecloth and candles lit and you chatter about your day. I serve you another slice. We talk about what we should do this weekend. I serve you another slice. Your cheeks look rosy in the candlelight and the wine is making me warm and affectionate. I serve you another slice. You’re complaining about the jerk at work but you’re also looking a little full. We’ve finished the lasagna and I bring out the cheesecake. We don’t acknowledge it but you look up at me with heavy, dark eyes as I put some down in front of you. I do most of the talking while we eat dessert. You’re concentrating now on finishing everything I give you, keeping up the charade that you’re not stuffed to the gills with most of the meal I’ve made for the two of us. I know you’re at your limit but I play oblivious and ask if you want more. My resolve almost breaks as I hear the faintest little whimper, but I keep playing the game, not letting you know yet how good you look, how full. I clear our dishes and I let you wait, heavy, bloated with food, probably unable to get up and help though we haven’t acknowledged that yet either. In a minute I’ll take mercy on you, maybe ask you innocently: is everything alright? You’ll deny it at first, because that’s fun for us; you know that I know that you’re packed tight and turned on about it, but you don’t want to admit it to me yet. And you’ll finally put a hand on your belly and look up at me pleadingly.

“I’m so full”

“Oh?”

“I ate too much”

“Aw, my poor baby”

“My tummy hurts”

And the dam breaks and I’m all over you. We held out long enough, and your sore tummy needs my attention. I did this to you, after all. We both know that you’ll eat anything I put in front of you, you just can’t help it, can you? It’s fun to pretend that I don’t notice how much you’re eating but the truth is, I watched you like a hawk. I saw the way you shifted uncomfortably in your chair when I got you thirds, I noticed the way your shirt clung to your belly after dessert, how your breathing got heavier and heavier as you got fuller and more turned on. You did so well for me, baby. Now let me take care of that full tummy of yours.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I know those eyes.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[snarkspawn]

I really enjoy playing through tnp again like hi it's been a while