#those were real fun

[bunnymadeofstardust]

it would be 100 times easier if we we're young again, but as it is, and it is...

@moons-among-distant-stars YOU. thank you :D, I had fun making this :]

it didn't come out exactly how I wanted, a bit warm for the song but I digress, love feels warm, and stars are too so

[hinamie]

oversaturate

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] A tender moment.

[Animation timelapse here!]

[AUDIO USED:] Chet Baker - Almost Blue Sound Effects edited by me!

[nightcatssketchbook]

I was hitting some art block so I felt like drawing some fanart of @abd-illustrates’ Heartless characters!

I realized I never actually watched the final installment of the Concept Corner series, so that’s what I had playing when sketching these. It’s just so fun listening to the brainstorming and cool character connections

[llitchilitchi]

happy pride! no matter your gender or sexual orientation, I hope you can find happiness in your life, even if it seems impossible right now

i really wanted to paint this since about march, but haven't really found the time to do so. at last, i finished it before the end of pride month.

the two girls are dressed in traditional Slovak folk dress, or kroj (traditional folk formalwear) from Piešťany region. Piešťany and the nearby village of Krakovany have one of the most gorgeous forms of kroj in the entire country and for a long time, dolls dressed in this style of dress were gifted to foreign delegations to represent my country. the same country that won't represent people like me

it is a form of reclamation, in a way, to depict sapphic love in this dress. we're here, and have always been here, even if the rest of the people will deny us our existence. this is for all my fellow queers living through being a hot point of debate during elections. you are seen and you are loved. you are part of this country, and you are part of our culture, and the culture belongs to you just as much as to everyone else

i love you, and stay safe

[glazedcroissant]

It's not over yet!

Speedpaint for your viewing pleasure

Time elapsed: 5:30 h

[newtzii]

THE ONLY WEEK THAT EXISTS CAW LESBIANS CAW🦅🦅🦅🦅

[art-from-the-juice-box]

wonderlust stuff :]

[joshuamj]

Been artblocked lately, so i decided to sorta reset by trying out other styles, so here's EoW!Zelda in my style and 3 others!

+ some style/process notes

[hinamie]

shows up a day early with a nobara birthday tribute

[niccolites]

promise i have not disappeared off the face of the earth, just am writing an android!price au and it is KICKING my ass rn

general plot is fem!reader is married and price is their new android that her military husband gets her so someone is in the house to keep her safe while he's away. and it's dubcon bc ofc it it. excerpt below while i try to wrangle it into something salvageable lol

-

The night before Arthur comes home, you try to sort yourself out. Routine is only another day away and you crave it so bad that your mouth waters with it. You decide you’re going to speak with Arthur when he gets back, tell him that you understand why he has left John with you, but it’s just not working out.

Standing at the kitchen sink, washing clean cups again, let John stand to the side of you. You’re feeling petty, the thought of being rid of him soon filling you with a specific type of bravery. It’s like he knows, you tell yourself. That’s why he’s being so quiet. Waiting for you to speak first rather than the usual, where he lets you know what he’s going to do, as if to forewarn you to not even try.

You hear him stand, turn around just to see him adjust himself in his trousers. You frown, confused. Perhaps stare a bit too intently at his crotch. He looks back at you, amused in the way that you imagine hunters are when they hear an animal yowl in pain from a shot. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks.

You flush but refuse to look away from him. “Is that just something to make you seem human? I can’t imagine you actually have -” Cut yourself off. Filthy words that have never been spoken in this house. Only the sweet back and forth of you and Arthur’s routine. Would feel like a betrayal of some kind, as if Arthur will come home and hear the echoing of your foul mouth hours after, bouncing off of the walls and settling into the grain of the wood.

“You asking if I have a cock, sweetheart?” John asks, steps closer. Slippery hands clench around glass. He looks like he’s scented blood, like he wants to dart forward and finally catch you in this elaborate game that you’ve been playing that only he knows the rules to.

“Why would you? What purpose would that have?” you return, frowning at him. Disapproving, a familiar role for you, even if it is relatively passive compared to how you feel now. You feel the absurd urge to hiss at him, poison in your mouth. Feel how it burns your gums.

“Most likely a function for bored housewives,” he drawls, dark eyes intent on you.

You freeze, stare at him. You know that he isn’t supposed to speak to you like that. Know that backchat must not be some certain part of his hardwiring. He seems to be challenging you as well, watching you with that half-smirk, half-scowl of his. You tilt your hand under the hot water, let the snapping burn of your skin pull your focus away.

He clicks his tongue, as if disappointed. Feel the point of his stare on the sink. You twist your hand, the squeak of flesh against glass, grating.

Your skin turns red under the water, the flow shattering against the nerves on the back of your palm before it is suddenly stopped. You startle, heat at your side suddenly as he pulls your hands out of the sink, dries them with a gentleness that quiets you.

The hair across his knuckles tickles against the smooth of your own. He holds them, as if he just wants to. Function done, the gap between one order and the next. You stay quiet, watch him. Study him for once.

He’s openly frowning now, thumb against the blotches of red. “Be careful,” he says, suddenly, as if the temperature reading he has just read on you is not to his liking. Body twisting with displeasure. Feel him run it through his synthetic surface and into your skin, running through wiring and into your blood vessels, becomes your own.

Open your mouth to snark back, silenced when he gives you a firm look. “It’s only water,” you mutter, sullen.

“Doesn’t matter,” he barks back. Culls you. “I don’t want you near the sink.” You bristle. “Or will you wear gloves next time?” He looms over you, a threat in the size of him. The urge to behave for someone bigger than you. The way he doesn’t have to throw you around, the shift of his bicep is implicit enough.

“I’ll wear gloves,” you give in, mullish. Desperate not to be banned from the sink in your own home.

He settles with that, one last smooth over the back of your hand, leaves you feeling like static. “Good girl,” he murmurs. You hear it like a gunshot, and spend the rest of the day with music blaring in the kitchen, hoping to drown that sound out before your husband comes home and finds it in the metal of the sink.

Or worse, hears the intake of breath you emitted. Guilty.

[faunandfloraas]

The Nobleman or 양반 (yangban): The smiling face represents the bluff and composure that an aristocrat is often known to have. The chin is a separate piece from the top of the mask, and the actors can lean forward and back to make the mask smile or frown as needed.

This monk who abandons his doctrines, or 취발이 (chwibari): Chwibari was originally a monk, but he had no intention of joining the monastic order, so he came down to the world and wanders. Represented with a forehead full of wrinkles and spots.

The widow or, 부네 (Punae/bune): represented to be a widow, or a kisaeng ( a woman who sang, danced, or played an instrument to provide entertainment for company at a drinking party), or a mistress of the Yangban. She has a very small mouth, round cheeks and forehead- giving a general look of happiness good-humor.

[gunsatthaphan]

give them their romcom you cowards 😤

[thisbrilliantsky]

When I was ten and visiting my abuelo in Utuado, he took my sisters and I to a recreated Taíno village. He had Taíno ancestry through his mother, and he wanted us to know something about his heritage. Papi Papi’s dark brown skin looked golden under the sun, and the tour guide gave me eucalyptus leaves to chew for my car sickness. They tasted bitter, green and medicinal. At some point my sisters and I were given necklaces. Each was a simple black cord upon which a clay pendant of a sun was clasped, a calm smile carved into its face. Theirs were each deep blue; mine was a pale, yellowy green. The tour guide told us the huts’ doorways were built low not because the Taíno were short, but so that any enemy entering the home would be at a momentary disadvantage. He mimed hitting someone on the head with a frying pan and we all laughed.  I wore my necklace every day for almost two years. I liked how its smooth face and rounded edges felt between my fingers. I liked its peaceful smile. Then somehow without my noticing it, the clasp broke. It’s gone. In college, I learned that Columbus wrote to the Spanish King and Queen that the Taíno were “wondrously timorous,” “artless and generous.” He noted that they had no weapons at all and would give the Spanish anything they asked for without expecting payment; therefore, he promised the Spanish Crown “slaves as many as they shall order to be shipped.” The day we discussed the massacres and the rapes and the tortures in class, I felt ill. Of particular interest to the class was how the Spanish had demanded a gold tax from each Taíno person, and if they failed to bring it, their hands were cut off. Thousands died slow, painful deaths this way. I couldn’t get a word out. I sat there like a stone as my classmates tsked over the issue of the statues of Columbus all over the country. I knew what had happened. I had known beforehand. But this was the first time I realized that was my family. I left the classroom shaking. For centuries, everyone assumed the ten million Taíno who were alive in 1493 were completely wiped out. Now we know that is not the case. Sixty years after the murderer arrived, there were five hundred Taíno left. Today, thousands of people from the Caribbean can trace their ancestry to those last five hundred souls. I wish I still had my clay sun.

—excerpt from my lyric essay, Clay Sun: A Collection

[puddii-ng]

unicorn mika 😊🤍 how whimsical

[wewerebornsextuplets]

everyone should think too deeply about small oc details forever btw. it makes life better