#needs hard fucking

[lingerieloversworld]

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[saragrosie]

Sketching while streaming s5...

Jonathan Sims I will learn to draw you (this is my doing. I could draw him however I want and I choose to stick with an image of him in my brain that is difficult for me to draw. Masochism.)

Not s5 Mahtins below I enjoyed drawing cuz hes neat:

(Edit: I yassified Martin in the do not separate cuz I wanted his hair fluffier)

[iwieldthesword]

I need to talk about this because it's making me feel insane.

Last week, my white leftist goyisch friends sat me, a wholeass antizionist Jew, down for a "talk" because they "needed to check in about Palestine" and make sure "our values aligned before we hung out again". They apparently needed to "suss out" where I stood on Palestinian rights, despite having had several conversations about Palestine and them being some of my closest friends. They needed to check, to search for and uncover my true values, because I had said some "disturbing things" that had made them "suspicious".

Disturbing things included:

Supporting IfNotNow which is a "liberal zionist organization" because it normalizes Jewish heritage in the Levant

Not bringing Palestine up enough, despite them also not bringing it up (this was apparently a test)

Mentioning that the Houthi's flag talks about cursing all Jews

Saying Stalin was antisemitic because of the "all the paw-grihms"

...and apparently other things they wouldn't specify, but had been tracking for months.

To clarify, I am an antizionist Jew from three generations of antizionist Jews. I have been vocal in my support of Palestinian liberation and in my condemnation both of Israel's actions and its violent founding as a state, and of zionism in many of its forms. I am a regular donor to Palestinian and Jewish NGOs and advocate for Jewish antizionism in person, at temple, and online. I have been talking about Palestinian liberation before they could point to Gaza on a map. But they needed to make sure, they needed to "suss out", they needed to check. And it's notable that the majority of moments that made them suspicious of me were times where I talked about antisemitism: not about Palestinian liberation, not about Israeli decolonization, not about anything actually relevant to Palestine. It was talking about antisemitism that made them check to see if I was a cryptozionist.

One of the most pervasive and insidious forms of antisemitism is the idea that Jews are inherently untrustworthy and suspicious. You have to constantly be on guard, track what they say and do, "suss out" the real truth. You have to keep them in line and and watch them carefully because they're liars and sneaks, and if you're not looking closely they'll return to their real values (and drag you down with them). This is where the idea of "cryptozionist" comes from and what it's directly building off of: the inherent untrustworthiness of Jews and the need to check. Because no matter how close you become you can't actually trust them, and any upstanding gentile should make sure to avoid associating with Jews before "sussing out" their real allegiances and intentions. You have to make them turn out their pockets, just in case.

I'm the first and only Jew they actually were friends with; I know because they've told me (strangely proud of it in the way white Americans are proud of that kind of thing). They've asked me questions about Judaism and fawned over how beautiful and unique it was for me to be connected to my community and culture. Pre-October 7th, one of them had even mentioned being interested in coming to services at my temple. She still has my copy of our siddur. But now she needed to "check" before she could be seen with me in public. Which is what it was: it wasn't a "you're my friend and I need to give you some feedback because you're fucking up" kind of intervention (which is normal and important to have), it was a trial. It was a last chance for me to prove to them that I'm clean-enough that they could afford to risk being seen with me in public, just in case someone noticed them fraternizing with a hypothetical Enemy and their leftism was compromised. It was a test to make sure that I behave properly when required to, that I'd play along and do what I'm told and turn out my pockets if asked (because any refusal would validate the notion of having something to hide). And above all it was an opportunity for them to reaffirm their own cleanliness by putting my imagined immorality in its place.

I did what I needed to do: I smiled. I apologized. I "didn't know that". I "appreciated the feedback". I turned out my pockets because what else could I do? They'd decided who I was and what I believed, regardless of what I said or did, so there was no point in explaining that they were wrong about me. If I had told them they were being antisemitic, it would just have been proof that they were right. Caring about antisemitism is a dogwhistle in the spaces they've chosen: it's not a real form of oppression, it's a tactic for sneaky, lying Jews to weasel out of admitting their true alliances. There was nothing I could say.

Nothing's really changed for me. I'm going to continue my activism for Palestinian liberation rooted in my culture and my faith. Antizionism is still not antisemitism. But I got a reminder that many white goyisch leftists fundamentally just don't trust Jews, and that the activist spaces they're in not only exacerbate their antisemitism in an increasingly insular echo chamber, but also allow them to finally vent their internalized bigotry in a socially-acceptable way. In my former friends' eyes, what they did was activism—disavowing a Jew (and making me feel humiliated, scared, and unclean in the process) as a cathartic stand-in for doing fucking anything for actual Palestinian liberation—but for me it was a grief that I'll be feeling for a long time: not only over losing friends I loved and trusted, but also over my sense of belonging and security in leftist spaces.

[flowing-between-space]

The way your pussy tightens around my fingers makes me fucking feral. I never want to take them out.

[heartorbit]

searching for a star that's still unknown to anyone!

[theonewhowails]

cult trait: good die young

[trumanbluee]

you're the one that i want - deadpool / wade wilson

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

based on this request! <3

content: three words, baby! the honda odyssey!

word count: 2.5k

warnings: established relationship, no mention of condom (wrap it b4 u tap it!), petnames galore, deadpool is a warning in of himself lol.

a/n: the deadpool brainrot has been so strong recently so thank u guys so much for all ur requests! my return to my deadpool era couldn't have come at a worse time with my exams happening rn but i will try and write as much as i can! love you!

You'd been sitting in the backseat of the "fuck-ass Honda Odyssey", as Wade had described it, arm resting on the centre console, your head propped up on your palm lamely as you turn it left to right, half-listening to Wade and Logan argue like you're at a tennis match.

You'd almost flown forward into the front of the car when it came to an abrupt stop, tyres screeching as you let out a soft yelp in surprise. Wade hears you, and wordlessly pushes you back softly. You'd heard something spat out from Logan, along the lines of "You'll never save the fucking world!", followed by Wade's voice saying, "I'm gonna fight you now." and then the sound of a sickening crunch as he punches Logan in the nose.

It's milliseconds before you see your boyfriend's arm reach back and open your door, gently ushering you out with a soft, "Why don't you go for a walk, pretty girl?"

You know better than to argue, especially with Logan seething in the front seat, so you hop out of the car, shutting the door behind you as you trudge off into the trees, half grateful for being kicked out of the car so you didn't have to listen to Logan's grumbles when you inevitably had to ask him to pull over so you could pee.

You could hear the yelling and grunting in the distance, shaking your head as you hear the faint shatter of glass, followed by a - less than masculine - squeal from your boyfriend. You laughed to yourself, not worried in the slightest as you hear the fighting between the two, Logan's growls echoing through the trees as he squelches his claws into your boyfriend's stomach.

You'd told Wade to give Logan a break, and that eventually he would find out about his 'educated wish', but he hadn't listened, instead continuing to push and push and push Logan until, expectedly, he reached his breaking point.

You wandered around amongst the trees for a while, before slumping against a tree not too far from the car, your eyes growing heavy as you listened to the soft rustle of the leaves above you.

You wake up groggily, looking around the room as you rub sleep from your eyes. You startle when a red suit appears in front of you, but it's not the Deadpool suit that you're all too familiar with.

"I'm Elektra, that's Gambit," the woman points to a man in a helmet, who's stood in the corner, playing with cards, "and that's Blade," she points over her shoulder with her thumb to the man in a long, leather trench-coat.

"I.. uhm.. Hi?" you say, taken aback by this sudden bombardment of strangers.

"We're helping you and your friends get out of the void." Elektra explains, offering her hand to help you stand up. You take it gratefully.

"...Oh, cool..." you say, still groggy from being asleep for so long. "..are.. are they around?"

Elektra nods, pointing outside with her head, "Yellow's by the fire, Red's... around here somewhere."

You nod, thanking her and smiling awkwardly at Blade and Gambit as you walk outside, the smoke from the fire consuming your nostrils as you step out. You spot Logan by the fire, but see that he's sitting with someone.

'She looks an awful lot like that X-23 girl we saw at the TVA.' you think, not ruling out the possibility that it is her with the level of weirdness that had already occurred during your short time in the void. You tread on, looking around before you spot the Honda Odyssey. You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you walk to the drivers door of the car, opening it to reveal your boyfriend in the back-seat, pulling his katana's out of the passenger's seat next to you as you plop into the driver's seat.

He looks up when he hears the car door open, and the white eyes of his mask visible soften as he sees you.

"Hey baby," he coos, scooching forward in the back-seat to press a soft kiss to your cheek through his mask as you sit in the driver's seat, peeking over the headrest to look back at him, "was wonderin' when you were gonna wake up, sleepy head."

You smile softly, before taking a moment to look around at the damage done to the car. Your eyes go wide and your hand flies to your mouth, the other reaching back to swat at Wade's shoulder.

"Wade! What the fuck did you two get up to in here? Jesus Christ!"

You hear a whisper of 'Baby Knife!' followed by a soft grunt as Wade pockets another one of his knives.

"Just some good ol' fashioned fightin', baby! I'm kinda sad you missed it, that shit got good!"

You tut, leaning around the driver's seat to look at him as he's hunched over, digging for another one of his knives beneath the seat.

You hear him mumble something along the lines of 'Hate this fuckin' car' before he shoots up, and you can sense his smile through the mask. He leans back in the seats that are in the very back of the car, right leg thrown over one seat, with his other leg spread, suit-clad knee pressing into the fabric of the other. His eyes sharpen as he looks at you, before groaning softly, throwing his head back in a circle, and sighing.

"Fuck, princess, that fightin's gotten me all worked up," he groans, chin pressed to the top of his chest as he looks at you, eyes narrowed.

You feel your thighs rub together at the way he looks at you, the manspreading the cherry on top of a very, very, delicious looking dessert. He chuckles, gesturing to your thighs with his head.

"Saw that, baby." He laughs to himself before he lifts his hand, beckoning you to him with two fingers, his other hand resting on the headrest of the seat in front of him, twiddling Baby Knife between his fingers.

You squirm in your seat before not so agilely climbing over the centre console, crawling over the seat and onto Wade’s lap. He pockets Baby Knife, bringing a hand up to pull the bottom of his mask up, the other settling on your ass as you straddle his waist. 

“Hey doll-face,” he murmurs, smiling and giving your ass a playful squeeze, pulling his mask fully off before placing his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you into a kiss. 

You moan against his lips as you kiss back, his gloved hand giving your ass a firmer squeeze. Wade uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips as you gasp into his mouth. Your hips grind down subconsciously and he pulls away from the kiss, both of your chests rising quickly as you both try and regain your breath from the heated kiss. 

Wade smirks up at you, moving both of his hands to your hips, squeezing softly, pulling a giggle from your lips before he’s engulfing them in another breathless kiss. He moves your hips with his hands, grinding you down on his boner as it tents in his suit, causing him to buck up absentmindedly as he groans into your mouth. Your breathy whimpers vibrate against his lips, and he pulls away, leaning his head back against the headrest behind him. 

“…Fuck, doll-face,” he groans, looking up at you, “ look what you're fuckin’ do to me, baby.” 

He nods down to his dick, almost bursting out of his suit, and your mouth nearly drops open. Wade thinks to himself that if you were in an animé, you’d have heart emojis bulging from your eyes. 

He takes his hands off your hips, crossing his arms behind his head in faux-laziness as he watches you undo the buckle of his belt, slapping the sides of his legs softly, signalling for him to lift his hips. 

“Watch it, doll-face.” Wade warns, half-joking, “Ask me nicely, please.” 

You groan, giving him your ‘are-you-fucking-serious-right-now’ glare as you tug at his belt. He’d been on the receiving end of this look many times in the past, so he’s unfazed as he chuckles dryly, planting his hips down.

 “I can wait, Princess.” 

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Please, Wade,” you glare at him, “Will you please lift your hips up so I can get your dick out?” 

You add a pout and a flutter of your lashes at the end, and his resolve noticeably crumbles. He huffs, lifting his hips up off the car seat just enough for you to pull down his pants slightly. You dip your hand into his underwear, giving his dick a soft tug before freeing it from the tight pants of his Deadpool suit. 

You gather some spit in your mouth, looking at your boyfriend through your lashes before spitting onto the tip of his cock, using your hand to spread it along his length, squeezing softly around the base. Wade groans from below you, his hips bucking into your hand.

“Fuck, hotstuff, ya’ killin’ me here.” 

Wade hisses as you squeeze a bit harder around his dick, the pretty ring he’d proposed to you with cold against his skin. 

He almost whines, stopping himself by biting his lip, “Oh, c’mon baby, what’d I do to deserve this teasin’, huh? I fought so valiantly against ol’ Wolvie, didn’t I, princess? Don’t I deserve to be treated nicely?” 

Something about the whiny-ness of his tone sends a pang to your heart, and pussy, and you grind down against his thigh absentmindedly before putting both your hands on his shoulders. 

“Help me out, would ya’, Wadey?” you ask sweetly, shimmying your hips slightly to gain his attention. 

His hands fly to your tights, tugging them down your thighs, lifting your legs softly, one by one, and peeling your pants off, leaving you hovering above him in your prettiest pair of panties. You’d been wearing them as a birthday surprise for him, but you’d both been snagged by the TVA before you could put them to good use… until now. 

Wade’s breath hitches from beneath you as his eyes land on your panties, his lower lip bitten between his teeth as his chest heaves. 

“Fuck, doll-face, what’re you all dressed up for?” he says, tracing a gloved hand over the lacy hem of your white panties, pressing a soft kiss to the little blue bow in the middle, before blowing a puff of cool air onto the damp spot beneath it. 

Your legs wobble softly and a shiver runs up your spine, leaving you grateful for your hands planted on your boyfriend's broad shoulders. 

You muster the breath to say, “They’re for you, baby… Well, they were for your birthday…”

He groans softly, pressing a soft kiss to your mound before pushing the thin fabric to the side, swiping a gloved finger through your slick. 

“Shit, baby.. Y’so wet f’me,” he says, voice breathless. “Fuck those stupid fucking day players, keeping my beautiful fiance, and her beautiful fucking panties from me on my birthday. What assholes, hey baby?” He says, pressing his thumb to your clit harshly as he blows another puff of air onto your slick pussy, causing your hips to buck into the air. 

You whine softly, bringing a hand to pump Wade’s cock once again, nodding mindlessly at his question that he knows you didn’t even hear. 

Wade chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest and shooting straight to your cunt, your thighs squeezing around his hand as he thumbs your clit lazily. 

You shuffle yourself forward on his lap, holding onto Wade’s strong shoulder with your hand, the other slowly pumping his cock as you lift yourself up, breathing hitching as you push yourself down onto the tip of Wade’s dick. 

His breath hitches beneath you, rubbing soothing circles on your hips through his gloves as you sink down onto him. His hands grip your hips tighter as he bottoms out, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamp down on his length. 

“Shit, baby, I could blow my load right now.” Wade gasps, head thrown back as his grip tightens on your hips, moving you up and down on his cock. You follow suit with his movements, digging your nails into the fabric of his suit as you leverage yourself on his shoulders, pushing yourself up and slamming yourself down on his cock, a moan slipping from your lips at every drag of his dick along your walls. 

Your hips stutter slightly, and Wade takes this as his cue, moving his hands from your hips to gain a strong grip on your ass, lifting you up and slamming his hips to meet yours. You whine softly, eyebrows knitting together and biting your lip as the soft squelch of your wetness reverberates around the car, your chest heaving with exertion, skin dewy with a thin sheen of sweat. 

You throw your head back, moaning wantonly, one hand coming off of Wade’s shoulder and pressing against the roof of the car. 

“...Shit…Wade!” you stammer as he moves one hand to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing harshly on your clit through his glove.

You slam your hips down to meet Wade's quicker, chasing your high as Wade slams his hips up to meet yours, his head thrown back against the head-rest behind him, eyes closed, as he groans softly.

"C'mon, doll-face," Wade grunts from beneath you, rubbing cruel circles on your clit as he bucks into you, "...y'gonna cum? Can feel you squeezing around me, princess."

You moan softly, babbling something like a 'uh-huh' as your eyebrows knit together, eyes shutting tight as you feel the coil building in your lower belly, threatening to snap any moment.

Wade feels you clamping around him, looking up and watching as you throw your head back, your grip on his shoulder tightening.

"That's it, baby," he groans from under you, pinching at your clit meanly causing you to whimper softly, your head coming forward, forehead resting against his as you grind down onto his cock.

"C'mon, hotstuff, give it to me..." he grunts, feeling his own orgasm coming as you clench down on him like a vice, a string of curse words sputtering from your lips as he feels you gush around him.

"...Shit, baby... Good girl," he coos, fucking you through your orgasm as he cums, soft grunts sounding in your ear as he bucks into you before stilling, stopping the movements of his thumb on your clit, as he lifts you up gently and pulls out. He pulls his hand away from your clit, but not before collecting a part of the mixture of yours and his cum on his gloved fingers, pushing it slowly back in to your drooling pussy. You whine, overstimulated, and he tuts, pushing your panties back into place and pulling your pants back up your legs, leaning back in the seat as you slump against his chest.

He smiles, giving your bum a soft pat and pressing a kiss to your hairline, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I lied, doll-face, the Honda Odyssey fucks, hard.”

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

[crows-home]

more funny things that happened on my first watch of nimona

ID by @peachygos

[ID: A comic juxtaposing screenshots from Nimona 2023 and drawn panels of two people on a couch, one wearing a cap and the other glasses. First is Ballister kneeling in front of the Queen, as she says "Congratulations, Sir Boldheart." Cap says, "OK!! Calling it right now! Queen's gonna die & they're gonna think he did it." Glasses says, "You think?" Cap continues, "Yup! Said in the summary that he's accused of a tragedy. They're gonna find her stabbed w/ his sword by the morning. Maybe during a party or smth." Glasses says, "Hm... Maybe-"

The second image shows just the two on the couch, washed in green light from the screen as the Queen dies. They look at the screen in gaping shock, then at each other.

The next screenshot is of Ballister clutching at his shoulder with a grunt of pain. Both people lean forward in focus. Glasses says, "Wait- did he cut off his whole arm-?" Cap says, "No! Nah, he just knocked the sword out of his hand, I think. Maybe his shoulder got hurt & he's holding his arm back?" Glasses says, "Dude I don't think-"

The final screenshot is a continuation of the previous shot, the camera zooming out to show Ballister clutching his shoulder, and his severed arm laying in the foreground. Both characters silently watch the screen in shock. Glasses gasps and covers their mouth with their hand. /end ID]

[whimsicalgoose]

thinking about spock being too human for vulcan, and too vulcan for most humans... and then there's kirk who looks at him with huge homosexual eyes and trusts spock with his life time and time again. and compliments his mind. and compliments the glimpses of his emotions. THEY MAKE ME ILL!!!!

[pegginghim]

i want to dig my hands into his pretty hips forcing the strap to go deeper and deeper while he begs mommy to please slow down

[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.

[jangmi-latte]

wait if he was a first year here and vil said he bulked up/grew bigger during the latest beanfest then...then what is this. is this not bulky enough what h..how big did he grow now that he's a third year..h-he grew bigger???? h-he gained more muscle now that he's older??? a-and he's still working out???? w-what do you mean wha..what i..i like...like he GREW BIGGER????????

BIGGER!??!??!??!?!!?!!??

[rendevok]

step into the light

what do you see?

my sun,

my stars

shining on me

[benevolenterrancy]

I'm on chpt20 and I want to study SQQ like a bug. My man is flushed, hair down, robes literally falling off his shoulders, LBH on his lap playing with his hair and kissing him... and he finally cottons on to the fact that maybe this isn't how you have a platonic and important discussion. Enforces it for all of five seconds at which point LBH starts massaging his waist and SQQ is back to being like "yeah this is fine and normal". Amazing. Can't believe he insults the IQ of SQH's characters.

[saragrosie]

I have been sketching. So much tma. Here's some expansions on my Jon and Martin designs I've been doing.

Another note I forgor to mention is I love how after hearing Simon go "it's enough to make your hair turn white" about Martin's office in s4 many of us collectively agreed his hair turned white because of his association with the Lonely. The shared consciousness is real and we use it to play hot potato with the communal brain cell dedicated to the sillies.

Closeup of apocalypse boyfriends (also to the person who said they love my s5 Jon's fancy white girl updo: I think about that every day)