#sir that ass-

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[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.

[musubiki]

balor 🥰

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Characters in different genres.

Physical touch has always been something that's exchanged through violence for Sir Huffman. As is expected of his job.

Then there comes Jack Desmond, a silly toon who's somehow managed to worm his way into the scary man's cold heart.

[AUDIO USED:] Pharrell Williams & Trey Parker - Hug Me

[booigi-boi]

Quick Ella drawing while waiting for the digital ticket ✨🐸🐭

Close up under cut

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

obsessed with the way they call each other doctor house and doctor wilson in this scene. husband behavior

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[betaminshitto]

doctor..my head hurts.. *they scan my brain and find out it's all cross guild yuri* what the fuc

[k-martins]

This is what I call historical reparation.

[lix-ables]

his fingers find their way to settle on your ass, giving it a squeeze. you're perched on his lap, his stomach to be exact, your fingers teasing his cock in front of you. you somehow managed to get free during the night to meet him, and he comes over, only to lay in your bed and suggest eating you out. nothing too out of the blue, you've been playing this game for a while now. the whole friends with benefits, him coming over to relieve his tension by getting you off, or you going back to his place with him ( where you don't even make it out of the car because of his oh so many thoughts of railing into you while his hands grip onto the steering wheel in front of him ).

"let me see you," he manages to let out between breaths, his voice getting low when your nail 'accidentally' scrapes along his length, making him groan – that delicious sound leaving his lips whenever he gets frustrated with your teasing. "fuck, let me see you, baby." his face is so dangerously close to your centre, and he can see you playing with yourself, teasing yourself and torturing him, while touching him slowly. every time he tries to lean forward to get a taste, either your sleep shorts are in the way, or you keep inching forward, rubbing yourself against his body, feeling his movements under you.

"do yourself a favour, and sit on my face yeah?" he calls out, and at the corner of your eye you can see his hand stroke circles onto your skin, while his other hand grips the sheets below. his hips buck up into your hand as you play with his tip, pre-cum ready to be licked off. "stop fucking with me, sweetheart."

"mmmmm, but look at how pretty your cock is in my hand," you whimper, stroking his length as your tongue darts out to lick a long stripe of his cock. "it's going to look a lot more prettier fucking your mouth," he grunts when you take in the tip of his length, while your fingers cover the rest of it, playing with his balls. "that's it, fuck that's good. do that again, baby." you pull away just when he's damn near close to letting his whole cock in your mouth, and his fingers land on your ass once again, grabbing it. "fucking brat."

note. we're ok 👍🏽👍🏽 this man is just ,, wrecking me and my brain left right and centre. also you're welcome, please SUFFER W ME — this is me calling all chan whores, hoes, enthusiasts, and anyone in between including myself

©lix-ables, reblogs are appreciated ‹33

[spankthegirl]

i’m bad at taking photos down there… but i tried. :p

[liixlabrat]

to the surprise of absolutely no one im extraordinarily normal about soncelot/lansoni

(insp by @/kiwi-the-bird-and-fruit) closeup under cut!

soncelot makes me look normal abt sonadow its actually a problem

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price and Carol Ohmart -

House on Haunted Hill (1959) dir. William Castle

[bigcatbulges]

Source - wuedti

(Artist's Bluesky FurAffinity and Plurk)

[mangyraccooon]

Luffy - Baba how long have you and dad been married

Crocodile - four years

Luffy - But I’m six..

[ananxiousgenz]

noel: *starts talking about the horrifying, manipulative ruler of the dreamlands, the Great Old One Who Will Drive You Mad*

arthur, john, and the entire audience: