#i need to buy it

[villanellecter]

can't express how bad I need one of those "I <3 my boyfriend" shirts but with boygenius

[thommi-tomate]

Bayern third kit, an absolute beuty 🙂‍↕️

[albatris]

I need a new plushie. I yearn I crave etc etc

[curearcade]

OH MY GOD???

[charliethinks]

i need him.

[christadeguchi]

if nothing else can save america this zero-year-old fairy baby otter with no gender can. chiitan's platform is love. and chaos.

[yugiohz]

rewarding yourself has kind of become a silly joke like everything is "a little treat" but you really have to reward yourself for your accomplishments, gratification crisis is a serious problem please do better <3

[yahooo-official]

10k notes and ill post a picture of myself in a skirt with cat ears

[lovelyghst]

ghost who just loves playing with your precious cunt with his hand stuffed down your pretty panties. seeing how his knuckles stretch the cotton as it fights to fit his large hand, watching the fabric gradually soak with the mess he’s making you make. coaxing orgasm after fucking orgasm from your trembling body as he coos sweet praises in your ear and listens to your babbling of pleads along with his name, before leaning back to watch as you claw and scratch at his wrist and tumble over the edge of euphoria for the nth time.

he works your poor cunny ‘til your thighs are clamping around his arm on their own volition, and his fingers are pruned and his knuckles are locking up, but even then he still wants to continue! :(

and afterwards he cleans you up so, so gently. peeling your sticky panties from your shaky legs, tossing them in the hamper in case they’re salvageable (they aren’t). kissing your temple and forehead and the tip of your nose as your teeth buzz in aftershocks, totally not brushing your swollen nerves lightly with the warm rag on purpose just to hear you whimper and jolt one last time before you knock out.

he coddles and holds you tight as you nap soundly on his chest, now kissing the crown of your skull as he murmurs quiet remarks about how well you did for him, just how proud he is of his princess <3

[neosatsuma]

[esr10]

DEVASTATING! Woman does task she's been putting off for weeks, finds out it's pretty easy

[maikamaika-art]

He's so normal, guys. I promise. He's sooooo normal. Normalest guy ever. (Lying)

[saintforan]

I think this lil guy reminds him of someone

ignore how messy it is, its like 5 am here n i needed 2 get this out of my system

[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.

[dkettchen]

cursed construction core hi vis bra that came to me in a dream

In the dream I saw it in the window display of a hardware/DIY/trade shop, implying it was meant to be a practical garment designed for actual female constructions workers in a Female Armour level missed-the-brief attempt at gender inclusion

The practical support from the visible underwire combined with the hi vis implying it’s not meant to be worn as an undergarment, I just-

I blame my binge-reading ND Stevenson’s gender comics talking abt masculinity and femininity incl the one abt Victoria’s Secret lingerie yesterday for this monstrosity x’D

[christadeguchi]

"You can tell that there was a wealth of love that went into making this film so I hope people can take just a little bit of that love out with them." - Eugene Lee Yang | Go Behind The Animation for Nimona