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.
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When I first got Stan, I wasn't sure he'd make it more than a few days, but he did. When I first took him to the vet as a baby, they told me not to expect him to make it to maturity, but he did. The last time I took him to the vet, a different vet from his usual vet saw him and had to sort through the list of known health issues to get to what was wrong this time, and was impressed he was even alive, and that was over a year ago. He's beaten a lot of odds, he's gone farther than even the most hopeful of speculation.
Unfortunately, a line in the sand comes for any animal Time doesn't take. For us, that line was him losing his ability to walk, or his ability to see, and both have been slowly worsening over the last year. Today, it has finally come down to the latter, as his vision has gone completely in his remaining good eye. For peafowl, that's a hard-line quality of life factor- it affects their ability to get food and water (which would mean stressful and uncomfortable tube feeding sessions 3x a day), as well as their ability to move into or out of shelter, and their ability to socialize. As they are HIGHLY social creatures, feeling like he's constantly alone would be absolutely miserable for him. I can't put him through that and still call myself a responsible owner, so he'll be going in for his final vet appointment tomorrow afternoon.
I know a lot of you have loved Stan over the past 7 years, and I know you're going to miss him nearly as much as I will. He's been a Very Good Boy, and this place is just not going to be the same without him.
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daddy katsuki x bunny reader drabble. it’s longer than i expected it to be, but it’s been on my mind for a little while now. i’m still very new to piss play and i’ve never written pet play so? here’s smth new ig. idk. >.< have some daddy kats food. i’ll see you with the next one. ♡
this lovely little fic by @neon-gothicc came to mind when i went back for some editing, so i wanted to share it!
tw: f!reader, aged up characters, daddy kink, heavy pet play, piss play, d/s dynamics, olfactophilia, sex toys, humiliation, pet names: sweetie, bunny, baby bunny, little bun, etc., katsuki swears a lot (ig), being a top pro hero means a top tier private office, sry this one’s out there
thinkin abt daddy katsuki and his pretty pet he’s trained so well…. don’t be mistaken, you’re still a dumb bunny, you can’t do that much, being one so easily bored or distracted. but you’re obedient; he knows how how much his baby bun just wants to be good and please him.
instead of being on patrol, it’s a slow day in the office for him, and you’re lucky enough to be kneeling by his side. he’s been exceptionally generous today, giving you a soft princess pillow for your knees and kneeling stool to keep you comfortable as long as possible. your head is resting on his thigh as he types away, his hand drifting down to pet your head occasionally.
there was, however, one issue that had a cold sweat forming on your back. katsuki had you drinking water all morning with not a single chance to relieve yourself. you nudged his thigh with your nose. he looked down to see your pleading eyes.
“i told ya, after this report, daddy can take you to go potty. not til then,” he said.
the slightest whine left your throat.
“keep it up, and you’ll wait longer, bun.”
katsuki pushed his chair back. he gave a sweeping motion of two fingers toward the open space. you left the comfort of your stool and crawled under his desk. he pulled himself back in, legs spread.
“rest.”
despite the discomfort filling your body, you obeyed, fingers curling tightly around the hem of the short skirt flowing down from your waist, the bottoms of your feet pressing into the fat of your bare ass. you nuzzled your face into katsuki’s soft, warm bulge, resting in the space he created. even through his pants, his scent was overwhelming, intoxicating as you breathed him in. he watched your eyes roll and flutter shut as he reached down to pet your head.
“‘s a good girl. gimme just a little more time,” he said. “n’ don’t you dare make a mess on this damn floor. you’ll regret it.”
you nearly jolted as the vibrator he’d left in your cunt that morning turned on again. another whimper escaped your lips. but katsuki was gracious.
“what did i just say, hmm? you can wait.”
your body felt so full as your head swirled with pleasure, spinning from the pressure of the vibrator inside and the fight you had with your body to keep from relieving yourself. after what felt like ages but was really only ten minutes, katsuki closed his laptop and pulled back once more, met with the same sad, glossy eyes.
“don’t look so pathetic. you’re fine. ass up,” he said.
not one to hesitate with release in sight, you crawled out and put your ass in the air, face pressed into the pillow before you as your skirt fell forward, exposing yourself fully to him. katsuki administered a few painful smacks to your ass as your toes curled, and you swallowed hard. you mewled as he pulled out the slick covered vibrator and dropped it by your face, a string of arousal clinging to it before it hit the pillow. your cheeks grew hot.
“tch. can’t tell if you need to piss or cum.” katsuki slid two fingers into your heat.
you bit back a cry as he fingered your cunt hard, feeling you clench around him erratically.
“‘s this what ya really wanted? want me to make you cum?” he asked.
the rough pad of katsuki’s fingers rubbed circles into your aching clit. a small trickle of piss escaped as your orgasm drew closer.
katsuki gave your ass a harsh smack. “what did i fuckin’ say about makin’ a mess on the floor, huh? answer me.”
“daddy i'm sorry, i needa go so bad,” you cried. “please, i wanna be good.”
“cum without pissin’ everywhere n’ maybe you can be,” he sneered.
tears streamed across your face. a quiet moan slipped from you as katsuki’s fingers curled a little more. a shudder ran down your spine.
“you can do it, show me you can be a good girl,” he continued. you could hear the smirk in his tone. “i’ll even walk ya to the litter box n’ hold your hand.”
heat flooded your face. you whimpered. your legs shook when his thick, callous fingers pumped deep into your cunt as his pace increased.
“c’mon baby bunny, cum for me. cum on daddy’s hand. lemme see you fall apart,” katsuki said softly.
your mouth fell open in a pant as you clenched hard around his fingers, orgasm washing over your body in wave after wave with his encouragement.
"that's it, such good girl..." he cooed as he carried you through your climax. "fuck, you're so pretty when you cum, little bun."
katsuki pulled his hand from you, sucking his fingers clean with a small groan. "tch. you’re fuckin' lucky i got shit to get done today, or i'd be throwin' ya on that couch."
as the pressure in your bladder grew once more, you shifted uncomfortably.
"fine, fine." he gave you a playful swat on the ass. "go on."
you crawled across the floor of his office as katsuki trailed behind you, staring at your body on display, to an oversized, lined litter box next to his office bathroom. you looked back at him hesitantly.
"hop in. ya can't piss on the floor," katsuki said with a smirk.
you got in and faced him in a squat, body exposed. as promised, he knelt down and held your hands with a grin as your cheeks burned hot all over again.
"'s okay, sweetie. you can let go." he gave you a kiss on the hand, then on the knee. "you're doin' so well. let daddy see."
you willed your body to relax. relief hit as your warm stream hit the plastic beneath you. katsuki groaned as he watched and gave you a kiss on the forehead.
"that's my girl... my good little bunny."
gremlins: @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @levizonlywife @kxtsxkii @katsuslover @nuttyunknowndetective @yooxverse @jjamiee21 @pastelbakugou
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before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.
you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"
and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.
it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.
you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.
in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.
the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.
you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.
after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.
the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.
you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.
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