#hisfeet

[myfriendsstinkyfeet]

"My old Caterpillars on my feet for months, with the same double pair of socks, you can't imagine the stink they contain!😈😏"

Tom was returning from a long week at work. I was sitting on the floor, listening to music and lost in thought. I hadn't heard him arrive despite the heavy footsteps caused by his Caterpillars.

I barely had time to turn my head when Tom was facing me, first of all I saw his Caterpillars.

"It's been weeks, I work non-stop with these shoes, I know that you love my Caterpillars and especially the socks that I have had on my feet all day for weeks! They are damp, sweaty, and steamy as you like them!" 😈

He made me take off his shoes. A hot, fragrant cloud escaped, penetrating my nostrils. The smell was exceptional!

This color was really wonderful, he had worked for many weeks with this pair, the color was more revealing. I could feel the heat radiating from his feet. It was a real torture to wait!

"My socks are so dirty, full of sweat, they stink! Real guy socks! Go ahead and stick your nose in! You're dying for it!

You can't live without this smell! These socks have never been washed! Every day for almost two months I have worn them all day in my safety shoes which change all my socks into the real essence of male feet!"

"Come on! Lie down!" Tom's stinky feet on my face, the smell was really strong, it was a truly unique moment, I was beside myself. His hot feet on my face, I had no chance to resist. He rubbed his stinky, steamy feet across my cheeks and lingered on my nose. "That's it! I want you to take a huge whiff! Take a deep breath! Your only oxygen is the smell of my stinky feet!"

After a few minutes, he ordered me to take off his socks! "Go ahead! Take them off! You won't be disappointed with the surprise that awaits you!"

I could not believe my eyes ! He had been wearing a double pair of socks for weeks! "These socks are soaked with my sweat, I know you have a weakness for worn socks and those have become expensive! In less than a week they were already in this state. You know that my feet don't give socks a chance that I wear!” 😈

It’s true that these kinds of socks get me all excited 😅 It’s so sexy and hot!

The smell was even stronger, a mixture of sweat, worn shoes, dirty socks with a slight earthy smell which made it all very hypnotizing. I couldn't hide the reaction below my belt. Tom stuck his two stinking, steaming feet in my face and started rubbing them against my cheeks.

After over 10 minutes of rubbing his feet on my face while focusing on the nose, he decided to take his socks off.

They were so hot, he stuck them on my face without waiting a second!

"Yes! That's it! Take a deep breath of air! I want to feel your breath under my feet, worship them as you should!"

I was beside myself, I was no longer in control of my body, it was Tom who decided for me. I couldn't hide the natural reaction below my belt, which he quickly saw!

“It’s time to give a little of yourself to my feet, they need a little offering from you! I know you’re dying for it, give them a nice fireworks to thank them!”

I was not prepared for this, my offering was not long in coming and his soles were quickly covered in lotion.

"Wow! Very nice! I know my feet would cause this effect on you! The next one won't be long in coming, you can be sure of that Mon Chéri!"

#Tom's Feet

[gimmick-spy]

……I’d like that.

...

*he eyed you from your window, than knocked on it.*

@the-gimmick-artist

*Rushing to the window, Spy looked out and made a face of concern at the person, before opening it*

WHO THE HELL ARE YOU??

[gnarliest-phone-dude]

has your dad ever giggled abd kicked hisfeet like a highschool girl before

“Prolly. Haven’t heard or seen it myself though.”

[waybackwanderer]

hisfeet's Home Page Oct 1996 Archived Web Page 🏳️‍🌈

[toes-r-us]

His FEET are so CREAMY looking, like MILK for a baby!!!!🍼

[pausingtoshare]

Pausing to remind you to BE INTENTIONAL & DELIBERATE about being a blessing to someone today! #Hishands #Hisfeet #ForHisglory https://www.instagram.com/p/CLjjENugUOw/?igshid=olrizq73ntem

[angelthesis]

chiqui grabbing kyo by the neck and holding him w so much strength hisfeet arent touching the floor

[onewaytawheed114]

------- •• ✦4 Promises ALLAAH ✦ •• -------

4 Promises from ALLAH That you should never forget.

Here are 4 promised ALLAH mentioned in the Quran:

So remember me;I will remember you

“QURAN 2:152”

the Prophet (ﷺ) said:“ALLAH says: …If my slaves remembers me in himself, I too remember him in Myself; and if he remembers Me in group of people, I remember him in a group that is better than they.

“Sahih al-Bukhari 7405

if you are grateful, I will surely increase you [in favours]. Quran 14:7

Aishah (r.a) said:“When the Messenger of ALLAH (ﷺ) prayed, he would stand for so long that hisfeet became swollen…“O Messenger of Allah,Are you doing this when ALLAH has forgiven your past and future sins?

He (ﷺ) said:“O Aishah, should I not be a thankful slave?” “Saheeh Bukhari book 65, 4837”

“Call upon Me, I will respond to you…”

“Quran 40:60”

The prophet (ﷺ) said: “Indeed the supplication is worship.” “ibn Majah 3828”

“And ALLAH will not punish them , while they seek forgiveness…” Qur'an 8:33”

Shaytan said:“ By Your Glory O Lord, I will misguide Your slaves as long as their souls are in their bodies.”

👉So ALLAH said:“By My Glory & Majesty, I will continue to forgive them as long as they ask My Forgiveness!”. “Musnad Ahmad 27627”

[andromenon]

@canonhawke uhhh YEAH. sara, outgoing and confident, kissing whoever she pleases, thinking scripted romance is overdone and embarrassing. more embarrassing is her brother can’t get enough of it. “scott. come on. you can fall in love any day. how often do you get to see zombies?” (she realizes, shortly after, that scott doesn’t fall in love every day, but still can’t wrap her head around the fact that he’d rather watch the same x-meets-y, x-loses-y, x-reunites-with-y story in a thousand different formats than watch zombies. zombies, scott.)

cue liam, 600-some years later, standing outside scott’s quarters holding an old-school boombox over his head while peter gabriel’s ‘in your eyes’ plays a la say anything while scott’s standing there with wet eyes, wondering if, as captain of the tempest, he can marry himself

[buddahkat]

Backup style on point. #hisfeet 😍😍 #RedfordLynne

[lasertreatmentindia]

Everything To Know About Varicose Veins Laser Treatment Cost

Varicose veins need to betreated else it became impossible for the patient to stand properly on hisfeet. The varicose veins laser treatment cost does not involve too much with the assured result.

[ffxvfacts]

prompto only wears glass crocs

they shatter when he runs and he hurts hisfeet and everyones like, “why did you wear glass crocs prompto!!” and he says, “to match my glass balls!!”

[hancass]

can we pls talk about how grey and blue are his favorite colors? he has no qualms about silvermoon red and gold in fact, he is PROUD to wear them, proud of what it means to be a blood elf, but he secretly cant get enough of blue 

he always walks along the sides of the road. hates walking in the middle of it. his shoes (or hisfeet if hes barefoot) are always grass stained bc he is always walking along the edge of the road 

[hamelott]

Can you write something where Ezekiel has nightmares and ends up super sleep deprived and Eve has to mom him?

okay so I think we both know how many apologies I owe you, but let’s just get past that and get right to the fic, yeah? 

Please enjoy :)

Eve noticed it the day after theirfirst mission since Apep. Ezekiel looked exhausted, and she wasn’t entirelysure it was just because of the stressful few days they’d just endured either.He had dark shadows under his eyes, and his usual wit was nearly nonexistent.At one point, Stone had taken a particularly clever jab at him, but Ezekiel hadjust frowned and not said anything.

At the time, she’d brushed it asideas an off-day. Even Ezekiel Jones could be down in the dumps occasionally. Shereally wasn’t worried. He’d get out of this whateverit was mood and then he’d be fine, no worries. Her team would be in tip-topshape in no time.

Except, then it got worse. Ezekielkept showing up to the Library later and later, and each time he’d look evenmore tired than the day before. He no longer took care of his hair, and hisvoice lacked its usual bright tone and slyness. To say Eve was worried would bean understatement.

Knowing going directly to the sourcewould get her nowhere, Eve decided to do some ‘around the edges’ investigating.She asked Cassandra and Jenkins if either of them had noticed something up withEzekiel. They’d both nodded and expressed their own worry for him, but neitherhad a definitive answer as to what could possibly be going on. It wasn’t untilshe talked to Stone that she started getting somewhere.

“So,” she tried asking as casuallyas possible. She and Stone were sparring. He was sweaty and out of breath; she,of course, was fine. “Noticed anything up with Jones recently?”

Stone’s left jab faltered so badthat, had Eve wanted to, she could’ve easily broken his wrist with a quick graband twist. He backed away from her a little bit. His mouth was a stern frown,but his eyes betrayed him. He looked worried, but he also looked like he washiding a secret.

“Uh, no,” he said quickly. He shookhis head swiftly. “Not much. Why do you ask?”

“You know, Stone,” Eve said, gettinga solid kick to his chest, “for a man who created multiple identities forhimself, you’re a terrible liar.”

“I’ve been told,” Stone grumbled. Heducked away from a right hook from Eve and took a few more steps back. “Look,it’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing?” Eve repeatedskeptically. “Or you’ve been told to tell everybody else that it’s nothing?”

Stone sighed and stopped moving. Hecrossed his arms over his chest, and Eve gave him a sharp look. “Alright,alright, but I’m warnin’ you now, he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. I tried mybest, but he won’t listen to me.”

“C’mon, Stone,” Eve said. “Tell me whatyou know.”

~~~

Eve found Ezekiel an hour laterslumped over a table, eyes staring listlessly at his phone. She walked up,grabbed him by the back of the shirt, and pulled him into a standing position,ignoring his loud squawk of surprise.

“Baird, what the hell!?” he said asshe started dragging him through the Library.

Eve didn’t say anything and keptdragging him until they reached a room. She opened the door and pushed him in,guiding him towards the single, twin bed that sat in there. She sat him downand walked back to the door, but, instead of walking out, she stood in thedoorway, grabbed her gun, and leant against the doorframe. Over her shouldershe said, “Sleep.”

“So, Jake told you about thenightmares,” Ezekiel said with a sigh, seemingly unsurprised. He got to hisfeet, beginning to step towards the doorway. “Look, Baird, you don’t need toworry about it. I’m fine, don’t-.”

Eve’s head snapping around to look athim stopped him in his tracks. She nodded towards the bed. “I wasn’t kidding.Sleep. I’ll keep watch over you.”

“You really, really don’t have to do that, Baird,” Ezekiel protested.

“Ezekiel Jones if you don’t sit yourass in that bed right this minute and get some sleep, I will get Stone down here and have him bearhug you to the bed,” Evesaid, and Ezekiel could see she was not joking.

He let out a long breath and satback down on the bed. It was a supercomfy mattress…and Eve with her gun and glares did make him feel pretty safe.Maybe he could get some good sleep for once.

He rolled his eyes to himself andgot underneath the covers. He huffed out, “Wanna check for monsters under mybed?”

He could hear Eve’s smirk when shesaid, “Already did.”

“Gonna tuck me in too?” Ezekielasked. And, despite his annoyed tone, he had a small smile on his face.

“I will if you want me too,” Evesaid, voice teasing.

It only took two minutes before she heard Ezekiel’s muffledsnores and smiled softly to herself.

[angryarthurgang]

#druck #anxious #softboy #look@hisfeet

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: A New Performance Art Festival in Martinique Is Refreshingly Themeless

Henri Tauliaut (left) and Annabel Guérédrat (right), the organizers of FIAP (all photos by Jean Baptiste Barret and courtesy Artincidence)

FORT-DE-FRANCE, Martinique — It is the official opening day of the first International Festival of Performance Art (FIAP) organized by Artincidence, and everyone is still wearing their clothes. Being familiar with several of the artists who have been specifically selected by the festival organizers — Artincidence founders Annabel Guérédrat and Henri Tauliaut — I imagine that this situation will not last long. (The very next day I would be proven right about this.)

Annabel Guérédrat during the performance workshop that took place on April 20

I had arrived two days early for FIAP, which runs April 17–23 in the southern end of Martinique, in Fort-de-France. During my first night in the hotel, the terrace on the floor below held a very fire-and-brimstone church service that was well attended. A few days later, this same space would be used by the artists who invoked raucous and wild practices, using their bodies as vehicles for their ideas.

Guérédrat, who is a performance artist and was born in Martinique, invited the participating performers to do what they want without thematic direction or much curatorial oversight. Though over tea at the hotel L’Impératrice, where I and most of the 13 artists are staying (along with a few other academics and members of the press), it becomes clear that Guérédrat has politics in mind — particularly those that shape and condition Martinique, an overseas region of the French republic.

Nyugen Smith at the performance workshop

In her performance work, Guérédrat has found a younger and more open energy in the Americas — away from the stodgy, traditionalist French culture that, according to her, has consistently questioned her legitimacy as an artist. In France, she said, she encountered the critique that her work “was too sexual, too bestial.” Partly because of this experience, she said, she became interested in bringing a performance program to Martinique that was more open and free, grounded in the work of artists living in the Americas — of which she stresses Martinique is a part. Performance art, according to Guérédrat and Tauliaut, is still a burgeoning art form in Martinique, where theater or dance are more common. (Indeed, Guérédrat began her artistic training as a dancer.) I also spoke with Tauliaut, who said the couple alternatively found that performance artists in New York, particularly those they connected with at Grace Exhibition Space in Brooklyn “shared a common language” of performance. To that end, most of the performers, writers, and academics who accepted Guérédrat and Tauliaut’s personal invitations are from New York City and nearby (such as Nyugen Smith and Ayana Evans), and others have traveled from the Caribbean (Audrey Phibel, Marsha Pearce). There are local Martinique performers as well, such as Ange Bonello.

Erik Hokanson experimenting during the workshop

From what I’ve seen, the performers here tend not to be theatrical, but rather conceptual. There are no spectacular light shows or hypnotic soundtracks, but instead the performers deal with rare and odd states of being — states that are not easily explained by verbal language. In his performance on Thursday, Hector Canonge appeared with his feet stained by ash, slowly unwrapping himself from a costume of black cloth and leaves, chewing the dead leaves like some penitent awoke from a long slumber, finding himself suddenly alive when he did not expect to be, and shedding his clothing to remember who he is.

Earlier in the day we had all packed into small vans and were driven to a remote beach for a performance workshop where we dressed in various costumes (I ended up wearing a black, polyester full-body suit to pose with Evans who was wearing a horse mask). The artists were experimenting with movement and personas, donning and shedding clothing to enter into a different relation with each other, with the coastal land, and the sea water.

A second view of Hector Canonge performing

What makes this festival a true adventure is that it is decidedly not thematic. FIAP in its structure is a model of artistic freedom: allowing artists the liberty to find their own way in the spaces they are given to work in (though I find out that Canonge’s original plans for his performance had to be revised, because the administration didn’t permit him to swing from a rope suspended from a high balcony).

Guérédrat would like for the people of Martinique who attend the festival to gain or heighten their critical consciousness through their experiences there. This hope is certainly a projection of her own concerns with forging a post-colonial identity that is not in thrall to the French Republic. As she says, she hopes the audiences “can identify themselves, by their own black bodies and say, ‘yes, we can do it; yes, we can emancipate ourselves.’” However, the artists will undoubtedly bring a wide variety of concerns. Despite there being an official program and schedule, I have little idea what will happen later today and tomorrow as all the performers present their work. It may be that the artists surprise her, and me, and even themselves.

The first edition of the International Festival of Performance Art (FIAP) continues at the Hôtel L’Impératrice (15 Rue De La Liberté, Fort-de-France, Martinique) through April 23.

The post A New Performance Art Festival in Martinique Is Refreshingly Themeless appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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