(Okay so to be honest this is a challenge for me. I never really saw Pennywise going into heat cause he isn’t really an animal. He is basically a narcissistic shape shifting god. I don’t know. However! I will write almost anything y’all ask for so here you go. I hope I justify what you like.)
Pennywise was either in one of two moods. A fucking dick or oddly submissive.
He wasn’t submissive physically, but more to get you to stop asking questions or to make you leave him alone.
Yet you knew something was up. He stopped eating as much and just loomed through his lair.
The attitude was getting to you as well. He was snippy and rude and it was starting to piss you off.
He would get upset over little things.
One day you walked in wearing something that he said “reeked” and he didn’t like it. The shirt was brand new. You had only worn it with a small group of friends. That was it.
You had to put the pieces together on your own as to why he was like this.
You began to test your boundaries.
You would get closer. Try to kiss him like you used to. Sometimes he would let you and other times he would jerk away.
His actions were stiff and uncomfortable and he grew more uneasy the closer you got.
By then you had suspicions and theories in your head. Yet you needed to be sure.
He was sitting with his back propped up against the wall. His arms resting on his bent knees. His face seemed to be constantly contorted in discomfort these days.
You walked up to him and kneeled down, scooting yourself in between his legs.
Pennywise’s eyes immediately flash open and look at you. His hands grabbing your arms to push you away if needed.
With a quick thrash you forced him to let go. His eyes showing he was nervous.
“Penny…” you say softly and move even closer, your chest pressed up against his.
His body tensing under you.
“Y/N, I can hurt you like this.” His voice was a throaty growl. Like he was trying his damned hardest to keep control.
You nodded in acknowledgment and placed a kiss on his lips, then his chin and his neck. Stopping there to drag your tongue up his flesh.
His body wracking in a violent shudder. “Y/N, StOp….”
You shake your head and bite at the curve of his neck “I won’t break. I can handle you. Even like this.”
Before you knew it, large hands had grabbed your thighs, forcing you onto your back and your legs being wrapped around his waist. Then you were pulled back up, in his lap. His fingers digging painfully into your legs.
“I can take it, let me help you. Please.” You whisper and kiss him on his lips again. His mouth slightly agape as he tried to regain his senses.
There was a tear behind you. Your bottoms splitting and the stitches ripping. His claws ripping them off. Yet you could tell he was still trying to be calm.
Finally you huffed impatiently and raised your voice “Penny, fuck me.”
That was it. His eyes snapped to lock with yours and drool slid down his bottom lip and onto your shirt. You could see in his eyes he was gone. Something much more animalistic in his place.
“Do as I say or I may end up breaking your legs.” He snarled and ripped your shirt off.
It wasn’t a threat, but a warning. You could feel he was stronger with his hold and movements. With your permission, he wasn’t holding back.
pairing: Yoongi x reader genre: Smut, fluff if you squint warning: M for my undying thirst word count: 3756
You finally work up the courage to bring your cute new neighbor home after some liquid courage, you get what you’ve been pinning for since you saw him in the mail room.
sure if it was the gin and tonic in your hand or your excruciating dry spell
that made him so attractive. Through your hazy vision you attempted to trace
the outline of the man who stood two inches too close to you, his choice of
poison intoxicating you further. His elbow, steady against the bar, supported
his lithe frame as his gaze found yours through locks of blonde hair.
to your cheeks, turning your pink glow into a deep shade of crimson, and you
pray that the bar’s dim lighting would shield you from the embarrassment. You
flash your new neighbor a stupidly wide smile only to receive a smirk in
return, why the fuck did liquid courage make you look like a fool instead of
seductress? You’ve done nothing but solidify the fact that you haven’t gotten
dicked down in a year at this welcoming party by freezing up whenever a male so
much as looked your direction. Why did you agree to come to this gathering where
you knew no one anyways? It was your ex-boyfriend who played the friendly
neighbor with this apartment’s college inhabitants, and you didn’t bother to
follow up with any of the friendships since you kicked the bastard out all
those nights ago.
Request from @emfrodo: hey love! i was hoping I could get a Harry Styles x Shy Reader request where the reader is super shy and anxious and she works on the dunkirk set with him (she’s a techie) and they are the same age and she can’t stop laughing during a scene in the background because Harry is trying to make her laugh when he’s floating in the water with the other crew?? and like the entire crew knows they like each other and it’s just so cute and fluffy!!! thank you!!
Ever since Y/N was a kid, she always thought it would be so cool to have a job in being part of a technical crew for a movie production. It was interesting to see how specific people would be in charge of creating sounds and making sure the lighting for scenes are perfect along with dozens of other jobs in the different departments. So Y/N had followed up a career to become a technician and she was quite happy with her job.
However, never did Y/N think that she would be working for a Christopher Nolan movie. One of the most well-known Directors for his movies: The Dark Knight, Instellar, and Inception. The list goes on. So when Y/N was asked to become part of this movie production, she jumped at the offer.
Her job was quite simple. She was one of the sound technicians who would make sure all unnecessary sound is blocked out.
Working on the set of the movie Dunkirk has been a great experience for her so far. From the moment she started, she was given a very warm welcome from Chris. Him and his wife made her feel comfortable in her job and she didn’t feel any pressure like she would when she worked in a her past productions.
Another thing Y/N didn’t see coming were the actors on the set. One in particular. It was his first ever movie and from what she has seen, he was pretty damn good. He was currently on hiatus from a very famous boy band and Y/N very much knew him from one of her friends who was non-stop crying about them.
His name was Harry Styles. He was a very cute guy, she thought. And from what she has seen, polite and goofy too. He would immediately become serious when there is something serious going on or when he is being told specific instructions. He was tall and very buff. He had brown hair that was shaved from the sides but left on top. She knew he had long hair before according to her friend and pictures because quite a big deal since it was all over the news.
Y/N noticed him on the second day of shooting but he didn’t notice her. Or at least, she thinks he didn’t notice her. She found Harry quite the sight with his very prominent dimples that would display anytime he laughed or joked around with the other crew or cast.
She usually kept her distance from the other people, not wanting to budge in when she wasn’t needed. She wanted things to run smoothly since this was one of the largest productions she was working on. Not only because of that, but also because she is an extremely shy person. It’s not like she wants to be quiet all the time but for some reason, when she’s around other people, words just don’t seem to come out of her mouth unless someone asks her a question.
So Y/N kept her distance from the goofy, British boy but admired him from afar. Little did she know that this boy had noticed her on the first day of shooting and immediately felt an attraction towards her. Harry admired her too. He thought she would look super adorable when she was so into her job Her brows would furrow and lips would set into a firm line when she would have a serious look on her face when doing her job. He even noticed her laughing once with one of the crew members and he instantly noted that her smile was his favorite feature of her. He also noticed how quiet the girl would be. While the camera is rolling, she would stand from a certain distance and just watch.
Harry thought she didn’t notice him either.
He asked one of the crew members who she was and in reply he said, “Her name is Y/N. One of the sound technicians. Great gal but doesn’t talk much.”
But Harry really wanted to talk to her. He thought the whole crew was amazing and that every one of their jobs are significant for this production. He admired all of them for their hard work. And he thought, maybe he should introduce himself to Y/N too and let her know that she was doing a fantastic job.
So on one of the days of shooting, when there was a lunch break, Harry builds the courage to walk up to her and talk. Usually, he doesn’t have a problem with it, but for some reason he felt slightly nervous.
He sees Y/N sitting on one of the wooden boxes, sandwich in hand, courtesy of Chris.
Y/N feels him in her peripheral vision, wondering if he’s looking at her since he’s so close and when she looks up, she sees him looking at her. Her heart lodges in her throat and her eyes slightly widen when he gives her warm smile. She gives him a timid smile back, not wanting to be rude. He walks towards her with his sandwich and water bottle in hand.
“’S this seat taken?” He asks, pointing his arm towards the wooden box next to her.
She quickly shakes her head no, scooting over a bit to make room for him. She couldn’t believe he wanted to sit next to her. Or maybe he had no other place to sit. She doesn’t really know.
Harry gives her a thankful smile, sitting down on the box. He unwraps his sandwich, taking a large bite out of it because he was so hungry. He looks at Y/N, who was sat beside him quietly eating her sandwich.
He finishes chewing before speaking, “M’name is Harry,” He introduces, taking you by surprise.
Holy fuck, he was going to talk to her too? She silently thought.
“Y/N,” She introduces back, giving him a small smile.
“Wha’ kind of sandwich have yeh got there?” He asks her, not knowing what else to say. Idiot.
Y/N looks down at her sandwich before looking back at him with a slightly amused face.
“It’s chicken,” She tells him.
Harry narrows his eyes at her playfully, “Dammit, so yeh’re one of ‘em who took tha’! ‘M stuck with tuna. Now m’breath is gonna stink the whole the day.” He sighs dramatically.
Y/N slightly laughs before apologizing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was going to finish. Would you like some?” She offers, holding the other half of her sandwich out to him and he shakes his head no, laughing.
“No no. Was just messin’ with yeh, love,” Y/N’s heart flutters when he says the last word. Damn British people and their terms of endearment.
She pulls it back towards her, looking away but not before catching his cute dimpled smile. Gosh, he was so darn cute.
“Great job by the way,” He compliments before taking a bite of his sandwich again.
Y/N arches an eyebrow at him, confused at what he means.
Harry notices, quickly chewing and swallowing before he clarifies, “For the movie.”
Y/N’s cheeks tint red, not use to getting compliments or praises on her job, “Oh, thank you. I think you’re pretty great too,” She tells him shyly. The man could really act.
Harry smiles, “Why thank you very much.” Y/N nods as if saying you’re welcome.
“Think ‘ve swallowed lots o’ seawater by accident though. Might puke it out later,” He tells her, making her nose scrunch up in distaste. Real smooth Harry, real smooth.
Y/N laughs nonetheless, making Harry feel giddy because he got to make her smile.
And for the rest of the lunch break, they share small talk and heart fluttering smiles.
It’s been a few weeks since Harry and Y/N’s first encounter. Things have really changed between the two. Y/N has become more comfortable around Harry, feeling less nervous talking to him. She’s been starting to talk more on set and people have started to notice the special bond between the two. Harry would always goof around and make her laugh. The two would constantly exchange smiles from afar, Harry winking at her and making her blush and look away from him. They’ve started to develop feelings for each other, too afraid to admit it to each other.
Y/N would still be a bit shy around Harry but that’s only when he says something that would totally make her face turn red.
The pair would always hang out when there was a lunch break. Y/N would grab herself a chicken sandwich and one for Harry as well while he finishes up a scene. When he would finish, he walks to their seating spot, Harry giving her a grateful smile and peck on the forehead without thinking, making Y/N blush to herself at the sweet gesture. Sometimes he would give her a quick squeeze to her shoulder when walking by or his cute dimpled smile when she would just sit and watch him.
Y/N would watch Harry laugh with the cast and crew, her lips involuntarily pulling into a smile when she sees his face light up or when she hears his ridiculously cute cackle. Her feelings for him grew each day.
Whenever they would sit together at lunch, Harry would always tell her his really lame jokes. Sometimes she’d think about it and smile at certain memories of them.
“Why can’ the flower ride his bike?” He’d ask her, taking a bite out of the chicken sandwich she had brought him.
Y/N would roll her eyes playful, letting out a dramatic annoyed sigh, “I don’t know, Harry. Why can’t he ride his bike?” She’d ask him in a fake wondering tone.
“S’cos his petals fell off, pet.” He cackles and so does Y/N but not because of his joke–cause that was a really dumb joke–but because of his laugh and smile after he tells her the joke. She would laugh nonetheless because she finds it so funny and endearing when his nose scrunches up in his cute obnoxious laugh.
“Gosh, you’re such a dork,” She’d tell him, laughing at him.
Harry would look at her with offence, “Oi! ‘M no dork! Yeh still like hangin’ out with this dork everyday but wouldn’ like to admit it now would yeh?” He’d shoot back.
Y/N would sigh and pretend to think with a hand on her chin, “You’re right. I’m just too afraid to admit that I don’t like hanging out with you. Would much rather hang out with Fionn or Tom,” She lies, her lips slightly curved up, breaking her serious look.
Harry narrowed his eyes at her, lips set into a firm line. A look of what she thinks is determination is set on his face. He leaned in close, making her heart slightly race. His intense green eyes, staring into hers.They might have been the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen. Bright green with specks of gold and grey. His eyes were so hypnotizing that she didn’t notice Harry snatch her sandwich out of her hand.
“Harry!” She slightly yelled, trying to take her sandwich back but her arms were too short and his were too long.
“Nope,” Harry shakes his head. “Tha’s it. Tha’ was the last straw for yeh. Can’t believe yeh would do tha’ to me.” She stands up, taking advantage of him sitting down but he quickly mirrors her raising it above his head, too high for her to reach.
“Harry, please! I’m hungry,” She’d complain but he’d still shake his head no with a fake look of betrayal.
“Take back what yeh said,” She was about to open her mouth to speak but Harry presses his forefinger against her lips. “Nuh uh, wasn’ finished speakin’, love.” And she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Also have t’admit tha’ yeh like spendin’ time with me,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw drops.
“What? No!” She declines.
“Right then,” He says, looking at her as if he has no other. “Can’t get your lunch back. ‘M really hungry today. Second sandwich would be nice,” He whistles casually before opening his mouth wide and slowly bringing her sandwich to his mouth but before he could bite it, she grabs his arm and stops him.
“Fine,” She groans. “I take back what I said,” Harry nods, giving her an expectant look.
Y/N rolls her eyes, “And I like it,” is all she says. Not wanting to admit that she really enjoys spending time with Harry.
Harry smirks, playing dumb, “And wha’?”
“Ugh, you know what I mean!” She says in annoyance.
His expression turns clueless, “Don’ know wha’ yeh mean, pet.” Y/N rolls her eyes again.
“Careful, love. Gonna keep rollin’ yeh eyes at me and they’re gonna fall out,” She scoffs.
“Wouldn’t have to see your ugly mug,” She speaks without thinking. Her eyes widening when she realizes what she just said. “I-I mean–””
Harry shakes his head, a look of pretense hurt on his face. “See how yeh feel ‘bout me.”
Y/N shakes her head, “Didn’t mean that!”
“Sure yeh didn’,” He says with a sad look. Drama queen.
“I didn’t!” She exasperates.
“Want an apology then,” He mumbles. Such an idiot too.
“Fine. I’m sorry.” She apologizes because the guy was far from ugly. She just wasn’t going to tell him that to boost his ego even more, knowing him.
“And…wha’ were yeh goin’ to say befo’ tha’?” Great, he still wants her to say that too.
“ThatIlikespendingtimewithyou.” She speaks so quickly and he smirks at the flustered look on her face. He still loves how shy she gets around him.
“Wha’ was tha’? Couldn’ understand yeh. Slow down there, love,” He says in fake innocence, enjoying the flustered look on her face.
“Nope, I won’t say it again,” She says, harshly pinching his side and he involuntarily brings his arm down. She successfully grabs the sandwich, sticking her tongue out at him.
“Oi! Yeh menace!” He shouts, rubbing at his side and Y/N laughs. He picks her off the floor, throwing her over his shoulder and she squeals, smacking his bum. He carries them towards the end of the dock and pretends he’s about to throw her in the water, Y/N begging him not to. The both of them cause a scene, making the people around them watch with knowing looks, laughing at the two.
It was the last day of shooting in the waters before they head off to L.A. One of the most intense scenes where the men have to swim around in the water with oil on their faces, waiting for help from the rescue boats.
Y/N stood on one of the boats, watching all the men swim towards the boats. She hears Chris say cut in between, stopping the camera and explaining a few things to the other cast members. While they wait, Y/N notices Harry’s “oil” covered face making faces at her from where he floats in the water. She chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully and looks away.
She still feels his eyes on her figure and she can tell from her peripheral vision. She looks back at him, noticing his green eyes solely staring at her and she couldn’t depict the look on his face. She raises her eyebrow at him as if saying what? But he just shakes his head giving her another smile. She smiles back at him, blushing when he gives her a wink.
The two were so busy communicating with their eyes that they didn’t notice Fionn notice the whole exchange.
“Someone’s got a crush,” He teases Harry.
Harry looks at him and shoves his shoulder, “Shut up.”
“C’mon, mate. We all know yeh two like each other. Just ask her out yeah?”
Harry sighs, “S’not that easy. Yeh don’ know if she likes me back and I–”
“Oh please. Here I’ll do you a favor,” Fionn says.
Harry’s eyebrow furrow in confusion, not knowing what he means. “Wha’ do yeh-?”
“Hey Y/N!” Fionn calls, making her turn head and look at them. Harry’s eyes quickly widen. Oh fuck.
“Harry here has something to tell–” And before he could finish, he feels Harry dunk his face under water. No way was he letting her find out this way.
Y/N’s eyes widen, wondering what’s going on. “What?” She says, blushing a bit when people look her way.
The sound techie beside her gives her a knowing look. “If it isn’t more obvious.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She tells him honestly. What was going on? What made Harry dunk Fionn’s head underwater to stop him from saying whatever it was? Were they talking about her?
The techie parts his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, a deep raspy voice interrupts them. “Hey pet.”
They both turn their head to look at the person, Y/N immediately knowing who it was. She notices the look on Harry’s oil covered face. It was a look she’s never seen before and from what it looks like, it seemed serious.
“Hey…?” She says, unsure. Since when did he get out of the water?
“Got a minute t’talk?” He wonders and she nods.
Y/N looks back at the techie who only gives her a wink. Okay really, what is going on?
“Walk with me then,” He says, holding his arm out and gesturing his other hand towards the part of the dock where there was no people.
She doesn’t say anything, walking towards where he stood. He places his hand on the small of her back, the both of them walking side by side with their arms brushing against each other. The air smelt of seawater and the wind whistled, making it more breezy.
Harry was silent which was usually rare because whenever they were together, he would be the first to initiate the conversation and talk non stop. Y/N never minds though. She loves the sound of his voice. It’s deep and slow. Harry taking his time when speaking. Although sometimes she has no idea what he’s talking about but nods nonetheless.
So why was he so quiet? What did he want to tell her? Was it about the fact that shooting for the movie was going to end soon and they weren’t going to see each other as often as they did? It was something that is inevitable. What was going to happen to their friendship? What if Harry might forget about her? Forget about what they had? She surely wouldn’t.
“So what was that back there?” She asks him.
“Wha’ was wha’?” He pretends to act clueless.
“With Fionn. Why’d you stop him from speaking?”
“S’nothing,” He brushes off, staring down at his feet while they walk.
“Really? Seemed like something since you dunked his head under water.”
“Oi! Was jus’ helpin’ him out. Seein’ how long he could hold his breath underwater,” He lies. There was no going back from this. He had to tell her.
“Mhm,” She hums sarcastically. “Right after he calls my name,” She nudges at his shoulder.
Harry lets out an exaggerated sigh, “There’s no runnin’ from this is there?”
Y/N raises an eyebrow in question, “Running from what?
Harry clears his throat, halting in his steps and Y/N mirrors him. He grabs her hands in his and Y/N looks down at them in surprise, liking how her small hand fits in his large one. She looks back up at him, noticing him looking at her with his pale green eyes.
“Runnin’ from the fact tha’ I have feelings fo’ yeh,” Y/N looks at him stunned, not expecting this at all. Holy fuck, he likes her back!
“W-What?” She stutters.
“I like yeh, Y/N.” He admits, cupping her face. “Ever since I saw yeh on the first day of shooting. ‘ve noticed how quiet yeh were but I was attracted to yeh,” He admits, his nerves slightly easing with each word. “An’ yeh know, we’ve been spendin’ time together and my feelings for yeh just keeps growin and s’okay ‘f yeh don’ feel the same way but–” Y/N cuts him off with the shake of her head.
“I like you too,” She mutters shyly looking down at her feet. She feels both of his hands cup her face, bringing her face up to look at him. They lock eyes, Harry staring at her with a surprised look.
“Yeh like me too yeah?” He says like he couldn’t believe it.
Y/N nods, red tinting her cheeks. “It’s kind of hard not to,” She admits. “Even if your dorky self tells horrible jokes.” She adds.
An offensive look takes over his face, “Oi! Yeh love m’jokes!” He squishes her cheeks together, her lips puckering and she holds his wrists, trying to pry them off her face.
“Nuh uh,” She tries to say through squished cheeks.
Harry smiles, leaning his face closer to hers and Y/N felt her heart rate increase. She looks deeply into his green eyes. Never had she seen them so close. She looks down at his raspberry colored lips that were slightly smudged with the black paint that was suppose to imitate as oil.
“Shut up yeh menace,” He tells her playfully. “Now back to where we were,” He says, still holding her cheeks. “How ‘bout a date? S’time yeah? Think we’ve kept our feelings long ‘nough from each other.”
Y/N nods, keeping her hands around his wrists. “Mhm.”
Harry gives her a happy grin, leaning in close to kiss her but she quickly presses her finger against his lips.
“Nuh uh. You‘ve got a dirty face.” She says, squirming in his hold.
Harry drops his jaw, “Oh c’mon, pet. S’just a kiss.” She shakes her head and he huffs. “Fine. A hug then?” She shakes her again.
“What?!” He shouts in fake anger. “Why not?”
“You’re wet!” She says in an obvious tone. “I’m gonna be soaked!”
Harry smirks at her words, wiggling his eyebrows. “Like yeh already aren’t.” He teases.
It takes a moment for Y/N to understand what he meant by that and when she does, she glares at him, hitting his shoulder while blushing really hard.
“Oi! See what I mean,” He rubs the area where she hit him. “Call yeh a menace fo’ a reason! Always like abusin’ me.” He grumbles like a child.
Y/N chuckles, gathering the courage to stand on her tippy toes and hold his arms to balance herself, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips and quickly pulling back before Harry could process it. His small frown instantly lifts up into a happy grin.
“Thought yeh said m’mouth was dirty.”
Y/N smiles, blushing again. “Couldn’t help myself. Now shut up.”
Harry pulls her close to him, this time pressing his chest against hers, ignoring the huff that emits from her mouth because his soaked clothes were touching her. “Not until yeh gimme ‘nother kiss. Proper one this time,” He demands softly, an expectant look on his face.
Y/N rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless, leaning in to kiss him again but this time she felt a spark surge throughout her body, shocking every nerve. Her eyes involuntarily close, enjoying the kiss as it lasts for another five seconds. They let go, Harry pecking her bottom lip one more time before breathing out deeply.
Man, he’s been waiting to do that for so long.
Their attention from each other breaks when they hear a whistle and they turn their heads to see Fionn and some of the crew and cast looking at them with smiles on their faces.
“Finally! Took you guys long enough.” Fionn exasperates.
“They knew?” Y/N asks with a blush on her face because of the amount of attention of them, wondering if they’ve been watching the whole time.
Harry chuckles, squeezing her close to his body and she groans, feeling her shirt soak. “Think they knew fo’ a while now, pet. An’ I think we both knew too. Just been too ‘fraid t’admit it yeah?”
Y/N nods, pressing at his chest to push him off. “Now let go. You’ve got me all wet!”
Harry smirks dirtily, “Sure s’not from the kiss?”
She narrows her eyes at him, pushing at his shoulders harder to get him off of her.
“You’re such an idiot!” Her face was a light shade a pink. He always makes her blush dammit. He just has to be so dirty.
“Yeah but yeh like this idiot,” He grins largely, stealing another kiss from her lips before running away back to the other side of the dock where everyone else was stood. Not before turning his head back to give her another goofy smile.
Gosh, she really does like that idiot. And it makes her smile uncontrollably.
This was longer than it should’ve been lmao. But i enjoyed writing it! Hope y’all liked it! I might’ve skimmed through it so there might be a few typos. I’ll fix them later tho. Some feedback would be nice :)
Hey guys *cheerful wave* Wimbledon is over so my tennis obligation is done with and now I’ll resume my full-time figure skating follower status. I’ll kick things off with the second part of this turns and steps explanation. This post will touch on a couple of concepts we’ve discussed in the first part so you might want to check that one out before diving in: here it is.
The ISU technical handbook defines 6 types of steps: toe step, chassé, mohawk, choctaw, change of edge, and cross roll. Out of these 6, the only step that is considered difficult is the choctaw. Now if you recall from the previous post, the ISU also defines 6 types of turns (twizzle, bracket, loop, counter, rocker, three-turn). Among these 6, only the three-turn is considered basic, the other 5 are all counted as difficult. At this point I guess you’re naturally wondering why there is such an imbalance between turns and steps. Well, that is because a turn, by definition, must be done on one foot, while a step would normally involve two-footed skating, and that is something we don’t want to see too much of. In fact, the ratio of one-footed to two-footed movements is one of the most reliable indicators of a skater’s skating skills.
That said, let us check out what each of the 6 types of steps looks like. This time, to switch things up a bit, I’m going to use Seimei as illustration.
Summary: Matt Murdock was an insanely great kisser. And he absolutely loved to put his lips to use. Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, minor character death (just a mention), implied sexy times 1,752 words
Notes: While I finish the requests I have in my askbox, I decided to post this Matty one because I’m on his mood. <3 Just a silly one-shot without all his Daredevil drama (sort of). And also because I rewatched the kiss scene between Claire and Matt. Too many times. For my own good. Remember that italic parts are flashbacks. SO…I hope you enjoy it! ^_^
If there was something in your life that you just couldn’t
deny, was that being Matt Murdock’s girlfriend had its fair amount of
In an overall, you were always safe, knowing he’d step up
into the situation whenever something could happen. Sometimes it had some
downfalls, but his senses were another great thing since he’d always know when
and how to help you when you needed.
And the list could go on and on, but there was one little
thing that you completely loved the most and would always drive you crazy:
This started as a headcanon, but got a little long for bullet-points, so here we go. A little meandering from my tired brain on Flintwood. I don’t do Valentine’s Day, so this is belatedly in lieu. Dedicated to the lovely Flintwood squad at large.
Premise: Marcus uses numbers to manage anxiety. He keeps count of their kisses. One day, he slips, and he says the number out loud.
Kissing Oliver is always different each time for Marcus. He
keeps count, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he doesn’t know how else to cope, or if it’s because each one bears remembering. It might well be both. Numbers help him to keep the chaos in his head ordered in the same way that Quidditch strategy does. He’s never told anyone. He never plans to.
There’s the first time, when their blood is boiling
mid-argument; there’s a cut on Oliver’s lip and Marcus’ eye is swollen from
where the other punched him. Oliver’s mouth tastes like blood when he closes in,
firstly just wanting him to shut up,
to stop talking, to stop being so tempting and beyond reach, to just stop, but then Oliver yanks his head
back and bites his lower lip, turns what should have conquered him into silence
into yet another challenge. Marcus is really, really bad at resisting
challenges. As it turns out, he’s even worse at resisting them when they come
in the form of a Gryffindor Quidditch captain, whose hair is always a mess and
who, as it turns out, makes not
kissing him seem like a sin.
so i saw @nipuni ’s absolutely gorgeous art and got inspired, because i just really love angst, apparently.
His transformation is unwelcome, but not
The first orb he had found had been Dirthamen’s,
buried deep underground, in one of his lost temples. When he had taken its
power with the Anchor, fueling himself, he had woken the next morning to
crystalline, snowy irises that reflected the light. There had been two sets of
slits on his forehead, connected by thin, shadowy lines, resembling the closed
eyes of his mosaics.
He reaches into himself, and finds what he had
feared most. The ancient being within his soul, the first spark that had shaped
his nature, is stirring, feeding on the power he gorges like a glutton yet
needing more still. There is no Mythal, no Inquisitor to calm that part of him,
now, to soothe and humble, and shrink back into himself.
His attention makes it stir, and its stirring
There is nothing he can do, save watch, as his
skin turns grey, as hard nodules of scales begin to creep along his elbows, the
back of his neck, over his scalp. He watches, despairing, and remembers words
he’d once spoken to her, so long ago: I would not have you see what I
Do you have any tips on drawing cats? Btw I love your art! :)
(HEADS UP THIS IS A LONG ONE. I’m also adding a disclaimer right now that this is assuming you want to draw cats as accurately as possible, and is not meant to put down anyone’s art style for not being 100% anatomically accurate. Stylization can definitely break the rules, but it’s best to know the rules before you break them, imo. Okay, on to the real answer.)
My number one piece of advice: I know I always say this but…Always use photo references. No matter what, this WILL be the best, fastest, most accurate way to learn to draw cats (and everything else)
But aside from that, let’s see…
-Cat tails move in ways you wouldn’t really intuit or expect. They’re very rarely held in an elegant curve or swoopy, swishy “S” shape how people often draw them. (it’s fine to draw them that way if that’s what you’re going for. Nice swoopy tails can be a great way to accentuate a line of action if you’ve got one going, so don’t shy away from it just because it’s not 100% accurate to the anatomy) But if you ARE looking to be as accurate to life as possible, take a look at a bunch of cat pictures. You’ll notice the tails will often sort of resemble old, low-poly 3D models. Kinda like sticks with a couple breaks/joints. They curve and kink in really weird ways sometimes. I find this most noticeable in action shots, particularly jumping/leaping.
-Cats have surprisingly simple chests. (This one is… hard to explain) I find when drawing cats from the side or at a ¾ angle, cats have this really elegant, easy to draw sort of “soft L” shape starting from the bottom at the chin and ending where the front leg intercepts it. I find it most noticeable on photos of sitting or crouching cats. I hope that makes at least some sense???
-The length from the hock/ankle to the toes is a LOT shorter than many artists seem to realize. I see a lot of artists draw cats’ rear legs with almost deer-like proportions, their femurs/fibulas/tibulas will be super short and their metatarsals are SUPER LONG. (Sometimes I even see people draw cats with their hocks practically level with their elbows! That’s about where their knees should be!) Photos of cats just walking or standing are good references for this detail.
-The general shape of a cat is a rectangle. A long rectangle with little leggies underneath it, a head/neck sticking out one end and a tail sticking out the other. Sometimes you’ll see people draw cats with a really deep ribcage and a really pronounced “tuck” (slope from the ribcage up to the crotch) but I find that to be a far more canine type feature than feline. Real cats, even the skinny oriental types, have really rectangular guts. When standing in a natural position the line from the elbow to the knee is practically straight. The elbow and the knee very nearly always line right up with the belly.
-When a cat sits down, its hind legs kind of disappear. So back to that rectangle shape, right? One of the reasons they appear that way (aside from needing somewhere to put their guts) is that they have this really weird flap of skin that runs from roughly the back of the ribcage to the knee. This is difficult to see on photos of house cats because their fur is so thick, but it’s VERY noticeable on photos of lions.I’m not honestly sure exactly what the function of this flap of skin is (I don’t believe it contains any muscle) but when a cat sits down that flap kind of lays over the knees almost like a blanket, creating this near seamless space between body and leg. Just Google “sitting cat” and try to draw an imaginary line around the hind leg. It’s more difficult than you’d think!
I think that’s all I’ve got for now! I hope those are useful to you! They sound really complex and scary now, but if you go through some images on Google and just try to draw what you see it’ll all start making sense. :)
Dan stood in front of the expanse of the bathroom mirror and lightly tugged the collar of his t-shirt off-center. He admired the deep blue, almost black bruises on his collarbones and up his neck, turning his head to be met with a faint blue strip of a bruise pigmenting his cheekbone as well. He passed a thumb over the healing of his split bottom lip feeling oddly.. triumphant. Regal, almost.
Dan liked it rough. Like, really rough. It had been quite the challenge getting Phil to comply with his desires at first, the older man insisting that “It’s abuse, Dan. Spanking you’s one thing, even choking you, sure; but I’m not gonna damn well punch you in the face.” To which Dan retorted “It’s not abuse if I’m literally asking you to do it, Phil. We’re two consenting adults, we can do what we like.” Phil simply shook his head and urged to walk out of the room, and Dan grabbed at the older man’s wrist before tugging at the front of his shirt, grossly whining “Phil Lester.. hurt me” which incited this back and forth between the two of Phil’s “Dan-.. I-, c'mon knock it off, love. Stop.” and Dan’s “Philly, pleeease… please Phil I need it.”
Dan lifted up the bottom of his shirt to be met with almost identical deep purple marks that littered his hips on either side, angry red scratches trailing from the dark spots on his right.
Phil’s resolve only lasted so long. He shook his head frustratedly before rolling his eyes and and slamming Dan against the closed door of their lounge, a hand firmly on the younger man’s neck, but not squeezing. “Daniel,” Phil began, voice low. “There is a difference between me getting passionate and me getting angry. You keep this up and my actions toward you aren’t gonna come from a kind heart, alright?” Dan smirked, and like the cheeky fuck he was.. spat right in Phil’s face.
Part IV – “It’s only the air you took and the breath
I rose from bed, avoiding to look at
Laoghaire’s naked form next to me, as I covered her with the sheet, blindingly
white in the shadows of my room. She was curled on her side, her face so serene
and peaceful that vomit came up my gullet, sour and acrid against my tongue.
I hustled to the bathroom, were I quietly and thoroughly
vomited shame and regret mixed with the few contents of my stomach. Afterwards
I sat next to the toilet on the cold floor, soothing and reviving like welcome
water, my body aching from retching – and the struggle to exorcise the deep
feeling of being tainted. With the back of my hand I wiped my mouth and dragged
myself to the sink, where I wished I could plunge to drown everything into oblivion.
Laoghaire was a good company, a caring and
bonny lass – clearly in love with me from the very start, when we had met at a
pub in the Royal Mile. We had been
going out intermittently for the last few months - more from a feeling of defeat
than true interest on my part.
My body had responded to hers, as she kissed me
and whispered words of adoration – for some time, I had allowed myself to
believe in the fantasy that, in time, I would be able to love her. But each day
she demanded more with her body and her doe eyes – and I increasingly withdrew
from her. Even sex – a bridge that we had used in the start to serve as common
ground – was becoming mechanical and, from my part, heartless. I felt irrationally
angry when I kissed her and guilty when her body rose to mine – my hands were
rough on her hips, as I punished her with blind kisses. I couldn’t love her, as
much as I tried to force myself – but I couldn’t let go, a drunkard addicted on
company, fearing a relapse of loneliness.
And now I was acutely aware that it was not her
fair hair I sought when waking up. The eyes I searched for when I was
spiralling towards release, had been gone from my sight for two years. When I cradled
her against my chest, I longed for another crystalline laugh, always on the
verge of shattering, of breaking me. The curve of her waist didn’t fit my hand –
didn’t invite me to dance against it.
Sometimes when I was inside Laoghaire, too lost
in the explosions of millions of synapses, I had to swallow a moan that formed
with another name. I called out to her silently,
thrusting against a woman that left me homeless. Afterwards, I felt a traitor,
a dirty man with no honour, promising redemption but failing to really pursue
I got out of the bathroom and padded to the big
window, where cascades of water streamed down the glass, nameless rivers
destined to die before reaching the sea. Outside, the world seemed to dwell
only in darkness and water – and I belonged there, with the wicked things that
bore no light.
I had seen Claire three times – that I could
feel so strongly about her, so irrevocably certain, sounded like the ravings of
a mad man. Still, her eyes had a spell that talked of my name and her lips
harboured the secret of my fate. I desired her body alright – but truly burned for her soul, for the mind-blowing
connection we had formed when innocence still allowed us to be unrestrained.
I knew she had likely married – a golden band
on her finger, that didn’t speak of her nature, where the absurd diamond had
been – and moved away to America, where I’d never find her. Most likely, she
would never belong to me – and yet, I was hers.
That she may never claim me, made no difference whatsoever – I’d belong to
Claire Beauchamp as long as I drew breath.
Laoghaire sighed and rolled over, her body
searching mine in the quiet hours of night, yearning for closeness. I wouldn’t
return to bed – to her - instead I’d lay awake on the couch until sunrise. I
had no solace to offer her, when I was tormented with the absence of the one I
I darkly contemplated the words I’d use to tell
her in the morning – how her eyes would open in shock, discovering that our
last kiss had arrived unannounced. Perhaps she’d hit me – I honestly couldn’t
disagree with her entitlement to do so. She would try to bargain, to ask for a
little less – incredulous at the thought of us parting. But I couldn’t rob her
anymore of what was not mine to take – I couldn’t offer her more meaningless
promises, mere scraps of the love I’d give to Claire so willingly.
“Where are ye?” I whispered against the misted
glass, towards the woman I loved so senselessly, hidden outside my view, somewhere
in the haze.
I saw Claire two weeks after ending my
relationship with Laoghaire, as I walked home after teaching the last class of
the day. For a moment, as I glared at her - hurriedly walking on the sidewalk
across the street - I believed I was having a hallucination. A welcoming trick constructed
by my mind, playing on the edge of madness.
I called her, but my voice was strangled,
barely a whisper escaping my lips. I was paralyzed, struck by how lovely she
looked with her hair escaping from a half dismantled ponytail, her casual
clothes enough to highlight the delicate forms of her body.
Before I could think any further I was
following her down the street, set on an unavoidable course by my life’s
singular linchpin. I’d get glimpses of her amongst the crowd, avoiding a hazardous
cyclist or glancing at a window display – mainly of book stores. But she
carried on, following her invisible path, clearly decided to quickly achieve
I pursued her, numb to occasional shoves and elbow
collisions, deaf to imprecations by other bystanders – my whole being fixed on
Eventually she entered a residential building
and I followed her – thanking God for the door left open, the latch slightly
rusty - arriving in time to watch the elevator stopping on the fourth floor.
I chose to slowly climb up the stairs, allowing
myself some time to think of what I’d say – everything that came to mind
sounded creepy or ridiculous, even without actual words. I still hadn’t formed
a coherent idea when I reached the landing.
There were two doors there – both old but
reassuringly solid, with no visible identifications. I was breathing fast – not
so much from the physical effort, but from the insane rhythm of my heart.
I stood there, undecided, until I heard a soft
mew inside the apartment on the right. Not knowing why, I approached and
knocked on the door.
She opened the door almost immediately, as if
she had been waiting someone. Her alluring face seemed tired – with deep dark
circles around her inquisitive eyes – and there was a sadness there that hadn’t
been present before, a cloud covering the moon of her wit, her flame smothered
to a quiet spark. The wedding ring of my nightmares was there – real as punch
in my wame, an extravagant fetter someone had placed to imprison a white raven.
“Claire.” I breathed out – almost sobbed.
“Jamie.” She whispered, her eyes wide open. I
noticed her nails were short, as if she had bitten them until blood ran, while
she nervously pulled at the sleeves of her blue sweater. A slender cat sat near
her feet, looking curiously – amiably? - at me.
“I’m sorry, I -” I tried to explain, but slowly
– tentatively – she walked to me and her body went almost slack, relaxed, her
forehead leaning against the curve of my neck. I instinctively held her,
shielding her with my arms - her body was trembling against mine, her barely
supressed devastation propagating through me like an earthquake. I noticed she
was scrawny as a starved bird.
“You found me.” Claire said in a husky voice,
opening a secret window to whisper into my heart. “I think…I had been calling
out for you.”
I regret giving up ballet
giving up the chance to learn how to dance
now that the music is finally here,
walked in and broke my silence
and my ribs
my ribs, they started playing like a vintage piano
grand but humble
their ivories tickling my side just enough
to remind me I can still feel love
smitten and soft
like that sincere hello
I havent spoken in years
taped on the roof of my mouth,
my tongue beginning to learn how to write
the letters that I actually mean to give to you
the truth my chicken scratch penmanship will unveil
behind every ending sentence I held on the side of my cheek
because these days I find myself in search of a better word
a better sound, and my body
all she wants to do is paint the air with gestures,
as if the way our movement fills every empty space, writes our names in cursive on the face of time so much that astronauts call home
Just to say they can see how happy you’ve made me
all the way from Space
And not even space is enough distance to cover how long I promise to
keep you safe in the wells of my collarbones
out of two hundred and six, the bone I am most afraid to break
Lies above my chest
And just beneath my head,
afraid because somedays I find my fingers tracing its curve
and I realize how eager I am to break it for absolutely no reason at all,
Afraid because if I do, I’d know what it’s like to collapse like a marionnette
unable to breathe, to stand,
to bend myself into a shape that looks like me
I wonder how you see me
I know I dont look much like a dancer,
some days I imagine I resemble flowers more than people,
like Snowdrops swaying in some secret garden,
some unknown patch of good, tucked away only for people like you to find
but I know not everyone choose to step off the trail
and I wonder if I’m any good at all
There is a German legend, about Snowdrops
Where god sent snow to find flowers and ask them to share their colours
One by one they all said no, except for her, little pearlescent thing,
She agreed and in exchange Snow decided only she could bloom
in His prescence, first in every cold spring,
Cheerful and warm
Wrapped in his white blanket
Sometimes snowdrops and snow reminds me of us
They day you asked me to watch them fall in love
on our lunch break and you held the door for me
and asked if I was cold
For a moment I felt like the snowdrop,
cared for, loved
in the presences of my snow
smiling next to me,
Then I felt like the snow,
Relieved to have found someone willing to share with me
their heart, their favorite season
and this moment,
in vivid colours
I never knew winter could be anything but bleak
but here you are proving to me the colour
white is anything but blank
that it has veins that carries endless hues
I can compare my blushes to
I regret giving up ballet
because here the snow is falling
in sync to the melody the snowdrop is swaying to
If you listen close enough
there is music in the air, a song
Winter is playing just for us
I wonder if I should ask you to dance
If we do, I’d let you lead,
but only if you’ll let me fall in love with you
Request from anon:Hey, do you think you could write a Bucky x Reader based on the line “ I lost myself between your legs, your medicine is in my head ” from Jaymes Young’s song “ Habits of my heart ” please ? It’d be awesome ! :)
Note: I hadn’t heard this song before so I read the lyrics and also listened to it too and if I am perfectly honest this piece is actually probably based on the whole song but the line that was given in the request helped to open the piece. I hope this is what you were looking for and I apologise a) if it wasn’t and b) for being a dick to Bucky in this *strokes him* I don’t mean to be so mean :(
Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Smut. Oral foreplay, slight dominance, language, angst and heartbreak.
Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their wonderful creators <3 ….and obviously the lyrics in the request are not my own.