damn why is there a limit

Why you’re not improving your art

Have you ever felt like your art is on the same level for a long time? Have you ever felt like you can’t grow your skills. Have you ever felt like everyone around you grows in rapid speed and you are just like a snail at the end of the race?

I was thinking about that and trying to pinpoint the reasons why you might feel that way. I figured out some solutions that helped me and some other artists I know.

1. Not looking for critique/feedback

‘You can’t yourself pinpoint things you need to focus on because your eye still isn’t trained enough to pinpoint exact problems.’

This is number one problem I see and many professional artists will tell you about that. You can’t be too shy to show your work to people who can give you good critique. Look for professionals who are willing to help you and use that. Critiquing is mistaken to be something hurtful for young artists BUT in reality people giving feedback are trying to help you grow. I know how hard it is to hear that you are still not good enough, that your art is lacking something. Maybe you know that yourself but you can’t yourself pinpoint things you need to focus on because your eye still isn’t trained enough to pinpoint exact problems. The best person to go to would be professional with trained eyes who is able to say by flipping through your portfolio what it lacks and what you can do to make it look better. Don’t be afraid and seek that help. Don’t be too attached to your own art and accept that it isn’t perfect and you need a fresh pair of eyes to look at it.

2.  Not implementing the feedback

'Implementing is the key step in the process of growing.’

After you have done first step from my list and you finally found a professional willing to give you feedback try to implement feedback. Don’t just listen to it, nod few times pretending you understand what it being said. Don’t defend your art and don’t give excuses if the critique is genuine. Implementing is the key step in the process of growing. There is no use in feedback without you actually trying out the tips you were given. The whole point of that is to change your work. You are not being better artists by collecting thoughts about your art. Now it is time to do the work. It actually requires to put time and effort . Usually what people do,after receiving feedback, is  they pat themselves on back like it was 'job well done’ and being lazy. They are not willing to actually put in the work to implement feedback. It is time consuming and you need to put a lot of effort. Although without that there is not any point in seeking feedback.

3. Not trying/not failing enough

'Embrace failures as a valuable lessons.’

Yes! There is lesson in failure! As hard as it is to understand. Once you collect experience you grow from it and become wiser. You know what path to choose to avoid next time failure. Successful people are the ones that can try something many times before they finally succeed. When they finally succeed it’s just a result of many attempts they have made before. No one is born ready for challenge. People are scared to lose because for our psyche it hurts more than a win feels good. People will try avoid at any cost losing so at some point they give up and stop trying. You can’t say for sure you will be successful artist after you did it for a year and don’t see result. You are not the one deciding how long it takes. It will be done some day. some day you will meet your artistic goals. But you will only meet them by trying and failing probably hundred times on a way. Just don’t be afraid. Those mistakes on a way are path that differentiate you and a professional. They already failed many times to get to where they are now. When you understand that you will embrace failures as a valuable lessons.

4. Doing things that are not  challenging you.

'Feel uncomfortable and pick up this damn pencil and draw like no one else is watching!’

Don’t settle in your comfort zone. You’ve heard that already many times right? That is why. You limit your skillset. Good things come out of comfort zone. If you feel like you have problems drawing something you are probably right. The reason is you don’t challenge yourself enough to draw things that are difficult for you. For example if you are only drawing a boy in front view standing with hands straight it doesn’t sound like the most exciting art right? But what if it’s the only thing you can draw and it looks somewhat decent? Well then, solution for that is easy - experiment with different angles, experiment with expressions, with composition, with different species. Be brave here and discover topics you don’t draw. You art will become more interesting and you will be more confident drawing. Personally I know that this is the hardest part for artists. It is hard to let go of what we know and discover unknown. We feel vulnerable and  like we can’t really draw. This feeling sucks. As much as this feeling sucks you know what else sucks? Sucks that your skills are stagnating. Feel uncomfortable and pick up this damn pencil and draw like no one else is watching! I guarantee that after some time you will be surprised with what you created and how your art have changed.

Good luck to everyone who is on path of improvement!

4
Every Fandom Ever
  • first off, screaming. why do we scream so much? no one will truly know
  • sHIPPING EVERYTHING. THERE ARE NO LIMITS. also, ship wars
  • headcanon where everything’s the same except everyone’s gay
  • crying and sobbing to an intense level (we have no chill, i swear)
  • oh the references… so many references. and MEMES. WHY ARE THERE SO MANY MEMES
  • “I NEED THE NEXT SEASON/BOOK/ALBUM/GAME/ETC.”
  • fanfiction… we’ve all been there
  • having a tumblr obviously
  • your husband/wife not being real (why are fictional people so hot??) also i’ve adopted multiple sons?? *sees a smol bean* “I’m adopting it”
  • super protective about your fandom
  • i want merch. but it’s so damn expensive??
  • “lolol im trash”
  • knowing all of the words
  • wanting to go to conventions and concerts but CAN’T
  • scaring our non-fandom friends…
  • being broke.
  • desperately wanting to be with them (as in fictional characters, celebs,and etc.)
  • having pride. just being really proud of this weird ass community
  • giving yourself weird titles (Examples: a Trekkie, phan)
  • having this huge loving family on the internet. honestly, i think it’s the sweetest thing, that we’re able to bond over this thing that we find meaningful. 

Originally posted by stitchholdsmyheart

Note: i’m not trying to be rude, just poking at my own fandoms. i also understand different fandoms have their own quirks. Hope you found this amusing~ admin daria

Humans Are Weird - Language

Crew Recreation Room, SSV Eternal Grace

“Hey, toss the remote over here, will ya?” Chief Jesse’s accented voice was barely audible over the rabble created by the rest of the crew in the packed rec room of the spacecraft. His outstretched hand was waiting for a remote, which was thrown his direction by one of the human engineers across the room. “Cheers mate. Now, if I can get everyone’s attention!” He waited for a few moments to be acknowledged and rolled his eyes, not surprised that he was ignored. He stood up on one of the tables and slammed his left boot down onto it, the impact creating a loud enough bang that turned a few heads. “I said shut the bloody hell up!” That got everyone’s attention, and Jesse nodded with approval as he pulled his datapad from a pouch on his duty belt and held it up for him to read.

“Alright-y, ladies, bastards, and the rest of you lot, I’ve got a few words from our ever-so-lovely captain regarding a few security concerns they’ve raised with me. Firstly: Op-Sec! That’s short for “Operational Security” for those that can’t understand acronyms. While we aren’t a part of the IMSF, we are contracted to the Intergalactic Governing Council, meaning that we do have a level of secrecy that we need to abide by. That means when talking to your folks back home about how things are going, you need to be more mindful about what you are telling them. Please don’t tell them about where our next few ports of call are, or the areas we’re operating in at the current time unless you are on a secure channel or it is a matter of dire emergency. Last thing we all need is a bunch of pirate pricks to raid us all because one of us had a loose pie-trap, you got me?”

Jesse listened to a murmur of agreement before nodding approvingly and consulting his notes. “Sweet! Second: It’s come to my attention by some of the guards that some of you horny buggers are sneaking off to secluded areas to do the do, if you get my drift? Now, because I’m a decent bastard - yes, hard to believe that, but I am decent,” he had to wait a moment for a few chuckles to settle down before continuing on, “I won’t be naming names or shaming people. Honestly, I don’t care who or what you decide to fuck, as long as it’s in your own time. What I do care about is the use of protection and the locations where I’m hearing people are being caught in the act.”

Zan’via and another member of the crew, a human medical staffer by the name of Kelly Jean, were standing towards the back of the room listening to him remind the group that areas like the engine rooms and storage bays weren’t conductive to ‘safe sex’. Zan’via noted that every once in a while Kelly would chuckle at a few words and phrases that the security chief would use, and once the man had finished his announcements, Zan’via decided to see what exactly caused Kelly to find they’re friends speech humorous.

“Excuse me, Doctor Jean, if I may have a moment of your time?” Zan’via spoke up before the woman could leave and return back to the medical wards.

“Certainly, Zan’via. What’s the problem?” She replied, gesturing towards an empty table nearby.

“Well, I found it a slight bit concerning that you were quietly laughing during Chief Lynn-Michael’s announcements on what I believe were fairly serious subjects.” They started, leveling a neutral expression towards the doctor.

“Oh? You noticed that? I’m sorry, I just find the way the Chief speaks to be amusing, that’s all.” Kelly said, blushing slightly at how she’d been caught out.

“The way the Chief speaks?”

“You have to admit, he does have a way with words, right?” Kelly prodded, now curious as to how Zan’via, and by extension the rest of the Gal’eth race, would interpret the Chief’s speaking patterns and mannerisms. There was a moment of silence before Zan’via emitted what could be interpreted as a ‘groan’ and shook their head.

“I would, if I could understand some of the terms and phrases he uses on a frequent basis.” They admitted with a small sigh, rubbing their face in irritation. “I’ve been meaning to ask him about it, but every chance I get he’s either busy or something comes up that needs his attention.”

“Maybe I can help. Granted, I’m not fluent in Australian English, but I’ve been around him long enough to pick a few things up.” The classifier that Kelly used before the name of the adopted universal language piqued Zan’via’s interest.

“Australian English? You mean there is more than one form of the language?”

“Well, yes and no. English as a whole is one language, but there are different versions or dialects of it, and each differ by region. The three major versions I’ve encountered in my life are American English, British English, and Australian English. The differences are subtle between them, like spelling and how there are different names between the three for the same object. Australian English, which is what our wonderful Chief of Security is quite fluent in, is actually an interesting blend of both the American and English systems, with some unique terminology and rules thrown in for fun.”

“For fun?” Zan’via asked with a surprised expression.

“Yes, for fun. There are a few ways that Australian English, or ‘Aussie’ as it’s referred to sometimes, is easily distinguished against the others. And that’s one right there: shortened versions of words.” Kelly said with a smile.

“I do not quite follow.”

“It’s a joke, both to Australians and to foreigners, that they are a lazy bunch and will shorten anything that can be shortened. Australian becomes Aussie, service center becomes ‘serve-o’, names like Bermingham, Wilson and McDonald are turned into ‘Birm-o’, ‘Wils-o’ and ‘Macca’ respectively. That brings me to a second trait: nicknames.”

“Nicknames?”

“The Chief’s full name and title is Head of Security Jesse Lynn-Michaels. When he was in the IMSF, he was Special Operations Chief Petty Officer Jesse Lynn-Michaels. That’s where he has his current ship’s nickname, Chief. It was a shorter way of calling his rank. The same carries across to any name or title if you’re an Australian, even if your name is relatively short. Occasionally he’ll call me Doc or ‘Kel’, or the Captain ‘Boss’. I’m sure he’s even shortened your own name from time to time.”

“You would be right on that regard, he constantly calls either me ‘Zan’ or ‘Zany’.” They said with what could be called a soft smile.

“See? It also serves as a benefit to tell when he’s being serious with you or not. If you hear him yell ‘Zany, get over here’, then you’re less likely to be in trouble than if he addresses you as ‘Zan’via’ or ‘Engineer’s Mate Third Class Zan’via Top’hei’.” Kelly stifled a chuckle as she saw the large alien being visibly shudder at the use of their full rank and title. “I guess some things are universal, right?”

“Agreed, and I see your point.”

“Good. Another classic hallmark which I’m sure you’ve noticed is the excessive swearing and use of rather frank terms and phrases.” Kelly said with a slight frown.

“That I have noticed; both him and his security team do sound more profane than other members of the crew.”

“Mhm. It’s another joke that Aussies don’t have a filter, and will often say what needs to be said at the expense of themselves and others. On one hand, this can be a benefit as you can safely assume that they are being genuine in their remarks. On the other, that same trait can get them into serious trouble. Do you think the Captain would have made those announcements in the same fashion, and with the same phrases?”

“I do not, it is safe to say that our Captain would have been much more formal and polite about the entire ordeal.” Zan’via said resolutely, their trust in the Captain surpassing everything else.

“Would you have paid attention through the whole thing?” The follow up caught them off guard.

“I beg your pardon?”

“If the Captain was the one speaking, would you have paid attention and remembered everything they would have said?”

Zan’via had to stop and think for a moment, recalling some of the longer briefings they’ve had to attend with the rest of the engineering department. The Captain was no doubt a good speaker, but they could admit that some of the time the Captain spoke could have been better spent on moving along with the subject matter.

“I do not like admitting this, but it is likely that I would forget some topics that they would cover.”

“You aren’t the only one, and that’s most likely why the Chief speaks so frankly and casually. It keeps the audience relaxed yet alert at the same time, and it also helps deflate any tension and unease when topics like sexual relationships are brought up. That said, Chief knows the limit, and if he started swearing and cursing with every second or third word he knows that he’ll lose his audience and risk getting himself in trouble.” Kelly’s datapad chimed at her from her pocket, and she quickly glanced at a clock on a nearby wall. “Oh, damn. Zan’via, I’ll be happy to continue this conversation later. I’ve got a patient in the Eye-See-You that I need to attend to.”

“Very well, ‘Doc’.” Zan’via said with a smile as the doctor stood up and hurried away.

‘I’ll have to ask her what certain words mean, next time…’

3

1 / 25 / 50

Critical Role Episode Intro Evolution (6/9) - Liam O’Brien as Vax’ildan, Half-Elf Rogue

“I tell you, we will have the finest furniture in all of Ferelden.”

He had to admit he had zoned out of much of the chatter as they drank. Pointless small talk about drapery, and carpets and-

“Particularly the desks.”

“Oh, the desks are good, so I hear.”



“Sturdy is what I have heard.”



“Mh. Well, Cullen has the largest out of us all…desk that is. Perhaps we should ask for his consideration?”

He glanced up, suddenly aware of a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It’s, er…a desk? A fine desk? No complaints.”

“But Commander, do tell.” Dorian’s smirk grew to a positively mammoth grin, curling at the edges as he leant forward. “Tell us your thoughts on just how sturdy a desk should be.”



And he froze. 

Maker, how could they possibly know…

He couldn’t help the colour that had started to rush to his cheeks, deliberately refusing to meet the eyes he knew were locked on him, awaiting his response. A quick, sideways glance to Dorian once more confirmed his worst fears - the smug bastard knew.

Andraste, preserve me.

“You’ve gone a very adorable shade of magenta, Commander. Something you’d like to impart upon us?”

“N-No!” He managed to splutter, forcing himself to look at the assembled parties around him. “I have n-no idea what you are…to suggest…nonsense!”



“Really?” Bull’s deep voice cut in. “I heard some most interesting news floating around camp this week.”

“Did you really? Why, I wonder if it was the same news that managed to reach my ears too?”

There was a chorus of sniggering, and Cullen began to twitch, starting to rise to his feet.

“I should really get back to-“



Bull’s hand on his back caught his armour, pushing him back down in his seat. “No, no, Commander. Five more minutes. Indulge us.”

“Would someone like to tell me what I am missing here?” Cassandra was staring over her flagon, an eyebrow raised, and Dorian’s shit-eating grin grew wider.

“Yeah, Curly. It’s rude to leave the lady out of our discussion.” Of course Varric would be supporting this.

“I do not think it is gossip that the Lady Seeker would be even remotely interested in!”

Gossip? Are you saying there is no truth to it, Commander?” Smug bastard.

“Would someone care to explain to what exactly is going on?” Cassandra’s patience was wearing thin.

“My Lady Seeker, we were simply passing through the barracks earlier this week when we happened upon some interesting information. A scout by the name of Jim-“

Jim?!”  That damned scout. He would swing him from the tower when he saw him next.

“Happened to be passing along the ramparts when he saw a most flabbergasting proposition…Imagine, the dear Commander and the Herald of Andraste…testing out the very limits of our fine desks…”

“Perhaps that is why…“ Holy preserve him, not Josephine too. “There was a most interesting comment from our dear Inquisitor, enquiring as to why Commander Rutherford had a very large hole in the roof of his personal quarters that had not been repaired.”

There was silence, and Cullen wholeheartedly agreed that if a rift were to open above him, and a demon to seize him, he would have gone willingly into the Void.

“Curly? Anything to add to that, or have we got the story covered? I do like to be thorough. Remember, the Maker is watching and knows your heart, and all that jazz, so no lying.”

He saw the dawn in Cassandra’s eyes as they shifted to him, and he felt the sweat on his palms under her scrutiny. Maker, he hadn’t been this embarrassed since he was a mere boy, and damned Mia had told his parents about…

You and the Inquisitor?”

It was a fruitless endeavour to continue to pretend now, and he gave in with a heaving sigh, mumbling into his flagon as he drained it.

Sweet Maker, I need more wine.”

The table erupted into a roar of laughter and shouts, and he laid his head against the table, burying it beneath an armoured arm, Dorian’s slap to the back stinging even through the armour.

It was going to be a long, long night.

A Little Like Whiplash

(based on this, part two of this, Russian translations under the story itself) 



Jonathan isn’t generally a judgemental person. He likes to think that he sees the best in most people, even if they don’t deserve it.

For some reason, he’s never been able to do that with Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian bombshell that nobody knows or cares to know because he’s terrifying and has a tendency to be an asshole.

He has the distinct impression that Yuri, despite clearly not being a scholarship kid (he’s wearing designer everything, and he drives a Maserati; there’s no way that he came to Portland State for any reason other than that he wanted to), would rather be anywhere but here. He sleeps through the two classes that he shares with Jonathan, and for some reason, the professors allow it. If he was a bit less of an antisocial shit, though, Jonathan would probably have a crush; for all his faults, Yuri is one the most attractive person that he’s ever seen outside of magazines with his immaculately braided, waist-length hair and pouty lips and perfect eyeliner (Jonathan is sure he’s the only one that’s noticed that last bit; the subtlety of it is the reason it’s so damn perfect).

The first time he ever actually says anything, it’s one of those days that the professor decides, for whatever reason, not to show up for class. Until the fifteen minute limit passes, the class hums with a low buzz of noise. Yuri, predictably, is asleep.

Jonathan has a few friends in this class, Anthony and Thomas, and they’re chatting quietly about the baseball game on Saturday. Somehow, the topic shifts to that one asshole that’s always sleeping through class.

“Fifteen minutes!” The girl by the door calls out, and the class gets up.

“I’m just saying, why pay for the classes if you’re just gonna sleep through them?” Anthony says, shouldering his bag and heading for the door.

There’s a snort from behind them. Veronica. Jonathan really doesn’t want to deal with her right now; she’s even worse than Yuri, if only because she isn’t quiet about her disdain for the rest of them. “You know they only accept applications from people like him because he’s part of a minority, right?”

When she sees Jonathan’s raised eyebrows, she mistakes his irritation for curiosity. “Come on, don’t tell me you can’t tell. He’s a goddamn fairy.”

He’s wondering if outing himself here and now would make the situation better or worse when there’s an angry “Huh?” from behind them. The loud bang that follows terrifies all of them, but particularly Jonathan, Veronica, and the other two. Jonathan hadn’t even noticed that Yuri was awake, much less that he was nearby. Now his foot is against the wall, not even an inch from Veronica’s head (flexible, Jonathan can’t help but think). The look on his face pumps shards of ice through Jonathan’s veins.

“There is nothing wrong with being gay,” he growls.

His voice is different than Jonathan would have expected; maybe it’s a bit stereotypical, but he’d expected a low tenor, rather than a mezzo baritone, and his accent is there, but not nearly as thick as Jonathan expected. He stalks out of the room dangerously, and the entire class just stands there in shock for a moment.

Next week, when Veronica stops coming to class and he hears that she’s been expelled, Jonathan is sure that it has everything to do with the rich guy sleeping two seats behind him.

“Jonathan, there are only three people in your group for the upcoming term paper,” the professor says, jolting Jonathan out of his thoughts. It’s true; he, Anthony, and Thomas are planning on working together, since there were an odd number of people in the class. Now that Veronica is gone, that’s not true anymore. “I’m assigning Yuri to your group.”

Fantastic, Jonathan thinks, glancing at Yuri.

He looks up blearily and mutters something in the most snide, sarcastic voice Jonathan has ever heard– yoroshiku onegaishimasu –before dropping his head back on his arms. That didn’t sound like Russian, Jonathan thinks, packing up to leave.

Thomas nudges him. “Dude!” he whispers. “He speaks Japanese? What the hell? And I think that was supposed to be polite, but it sounded like an insult.”

“He can also hear you,” comes from behind them. Yuri has apparently given up on sleep since class is over, and has his phone in his hand. The one that isn’t texting reaches behind him and tugs on something that releases the bun he’s sporting today, letting the waist-length braid fall down his back. He leans his face in one hand and stares at his phone boredly. “You three aren’t the most oblivious people I know, but you’re definitely in the top twenty.”

Jonathan doesn’t know what to say, really. The hottest, laziest guy in class is in a group with him for a paper that’s worth twenty percent of their grade, and their first conversation has gotten off to the worst start possible.

“So,” Anthony says awkwardly. “When do you guys want to meet up?”

“I’m only free on Tuesdays. Yuri, I’m pretty sure you only have class twice a week? Maybe we can meet up for lunch,” Thomas says, trying a friendly approach.

“I can’t meet up on my days off. I have training. It’s a paper on the Japan’s involvement in World War II and how it affects today, right?” Yuri asks, still looking bored.

“Yeah. What do you mean? Do you practice all day on every one of your days off or something?” Anthony sounds mildly teasing, but there’s an undertone of disbelief there.

Yuri looks at Anthony, as if he can’t believe he would ask such a stupid question. “Um, yes? What else would I be doing?”

None of them really has a response for that. Yuri doesn’t look like the athletic type, really. He’s lean, almost willowy; not skinny by any means, since there’s definitely muscle there, but it’s not the build Jonathan would expect from an athlete who practices as much as Yuri claims to.

“Anyway, I’ll deal with the history part,” Yuri says, standing up and stretching. Jonathan tries not to stare at the thin strip of skin that appears when he does. What? He may be an asshole, but Yuri is gorgeous. He’d have to be dead not to notice. “I’ll have it to you by… Tuesday, right?”

“I can do Tuesday,” Jonathan says, not really sure what’s happening anymore.

“So can I.”

Yuri blinks and glances at the table searchingly. “Right,” he says, picking up a sticky note he’d left there and scribbling something down. “Here’s my number. Text me your emails and I’ll send you my part of the project. Bye.”

He walks out of the room, phone already at his ear. “Beka! Vy prikhodite na obed segodnya?

Jonathan looks at Anthony and Thomas, not totally sure what just happened. “So who’s going to pick up the slack on his part?”

That’s not actually necessary, it turns out. Jonathan sent Yuri his email out of courtesy, but when he rolls out of bed on Saturday morning, he finds four pages of 12 point Times New Roman font on Japan’s involvement in World War II, complete with instructions to let Yuri know if there’s anything else that they want him to do (but he won’t be doing the whole damn thing, he doesn’t have time for that).

Except for a few grammatical errors, there’s almost nothing wrong with the work. Jonathan is floored. Maybe this is why the professors let Yuri sleep through class. It’s disrespectful as all hell, but from the way he writes, it’s almost like he doesn’t need to be there at all.

When he’s awake and recovered enough to send a reply, he does. He lets Yuri that there’s nothing wrong with the work, and that he’s looking forward to class on Wednesday. He’s not, but it’s the polite thing to do.

Apparently, Yuri doesn’t planning on extending the same courtesy. “Can’t make it,” he says again, looking bored as he taps away on his phone.

This time, Jonathan actually speaks up. “We could meet up after you’re done with practice or something. It actually works out better for me and Anthony, since we have class on Tuesday.”

“That would work, I guess, but I’m going to be in Japan on Tuesday.” The tone of Yuri’s voice doesn’t change, despite the bomb he’s just dropped.

Why the hell would anyone just up and leave for Japan in the middle of the semester? No matter how rich Yuri is (and he’s definitely rich; they may not know anything about him, but he’s definitely a rich Russian of some sort) it makes no sense. He’s going to miss at least three days of class even if he’s only going to be in Japan for one day, which Jonathan highly doubts. He doesn’t care how pretty or smart this kid thinks he is, there’s no way for him to pass his classes with the way he acts.

“Then cancel it.” He doesn’t even realize that he’s saying the words until they’re out of his mouth, and by then it’s too late.

The look that Yuri fixes on him is as dangerous as it was that day with Veronica. “Fuck you.”

Jonathan backpedals. “I didn’t mean–”

Yuri’s phone rings, cutting him off. The ringtone in itself is enough to cause all three jaws to drop; it’s some classical thing with a boys’ choir singing in what sounds like Latin. Yuri sneers at them, and Jonathan can’t help but think he may have fucked up pretty bad. “Just send me whatever part you want me to handle for the presentation and I’ll do it. Tell me to cancel my trip again, and I won’t do my bit. I’ll still pass without this stupid project.”

He gets up and stalks toward the door, picking up the phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way to the parking lot now. Shit! Would it kill you to wait a minute and a half, Dad? I said I’ll be there in a minute! Katsudon, get your husband off the goddamn phone when he’s driving. Do you want to die?”

Yet again, there’s this feeling of not really knowing what’s happening by the time Yuri is out of sight. I’ll still pass without this stupid project, he said. That’s almost impossible, unless he has an A in the class. Which he shouldn’t, because he sleeps through it. His participation grade alone should have dropped him to a B unless he’s gotten A’s on every single assignment. There’s no way.

“I need a drink,” Jonathan mutters, and there are murmured agreements from Anthony and Thomas both. “You guys want to go to Shizuku?”

“I’m down.” Anthony says. “Hell, I’ll pay. My treat, after all of that bullshit.”

It’s not even ten minutes to their favorite restaurant by car, but they figure it’ll be easier to walk. There’s no point in driving three cars to get to one place, and none of them are keen on getting their cars out of the student lot right now, since it’s nearly rush hour.

It takes them about thirty minutes to get there, and it’s blessedly empty when they do. There are only a few occupied tables. Still, it seems louder than it usually does, Jonathan notices as they’re waiting to be seated. There’s one table in particular that seems to be making more noise than the rest of the restaurant combined. That makes sense, he thinks, eyeing the back of a silver-haired man’s head. There are a lot of them. At least six, it looks like.

Posmotrite na kotenke, Beka! Eto tak milo! Posmotrite na svoikh malen'kikh lapakh i khvoste.” That voice… it sounds way too happy to be him, but given how the day has gone, Jonathan wouldn’t be surprised.

The silver haired guy moves slightly. It looks like he leaned his face on his hand. “Yurio, don’t be rude. You and your friend aren’t the only people at this table, you know. Richard and Estephania are here too, and they don’t speak Russian.”

“It’s fine,” the person on silver haired’s left says. She has long, dark hair that swishes when she shakes her head. “It’s funny to see Yuri so excited about something for once.”

Jonathan gets a partial view of someone with dark hair and a very serious face. It’s almost scary how quickly he realises that he’s being looked at, and he looks Jonathan dead in the eye. The man nods once, then looks away without acknowledging him further.

“Beka? What are you looking at?” A head of blond hair comes into view, and Jonathan finds himself looking directly into the eyes of Yuri Plisetsky.

I fucked up, Jonathan thinks immediately, watching the mirth drain out of Yuri’s eyes almost instantly, replaced with irritation.

“Johnny? What is it– Oh, shit.” Anthony hides behind a menu.

“If you’re stalking me, I swear to god I will shove my silverware up your respective asses,” Yuri says, looking dead serious. “I have more than enough stalkers.”

That’s cause enough for Jonathan to pause and wonder what he means, but then the strangest thing happens. Instead of looking even remotely alarmed, the way any normal person would, the three people with their backs facing toward Jonathan, Anthony, and Thomas all turn at a totally normal, unhurried pace. Two of them, the silver haired man and the Asian looking man next to him, are even smiling.

“Hello!” the silver haired man says, waving. “Are you Yurio’s friends? Here, come sit with us! We’ve never met any of his friends from school before.”

Who the hell says something like that after hearing him call us stalkers? Jonathan thinks, feeling out of his element and way too overwhelmed. There’s really nothing to do but accept, so the three of them walk to the table as a group.

“Ya dumal, chto u vas ne bylo druzey v Amerike,” the serious man says to Yuri quietly, probably trying not to be heard.

Yuri looks murderous. “Ya ne.”

There’s a split second war between Thomas, Jonathan, and Anthony as to who is going to sit next to the scary serious guy. Jonathan loses. It’s fine. He’ll take scary serious guy over angry Yuri Plisetsky any day.

“My name is Otabek. Yuri is my best friend,” scary serious guy says, holding out a hand.

Jonathan takes it hesitantly, but Otabek’s grip isn’t anything but polite. “Jonathan. That’s Thomas, and that’s Anthony. We take American History with Yuri.”

“My name is Victor, and this is my husband Yuuri! Not your Yuri, we call him Yurio,” the silver haired man says. The Japanese man next to him blushes, and Jonathan supposes that he’s the other Yuuri.

“I will shove my knife shoes so far up your ass, Nikiforov, that you won’t be able to sit for a year,” Yuri warns.

“Yurio is our son. We’re so glad Yuri is actually making friends at school, I was worried for a while. I’m sure you know how tricky he can be sometimes,” Victor continues, ignoring the incredibly violent threat as if it happens every day. What the hell did Yuri even mean by knife shoes, anyway?

“You shut the fuck up, old man!”

It doesn’t surprise Jonathan in the slightest that Yuri has two dads; it explains a lot about the whole incident with Veronica earlier this year. What he is surprised about is the fact that Yuri’s dads seem so… nice.

Jonathan isn’t sure if that’s pleasant or terrifying.

“Victor and Yuuri are my figure skating coaches,” Yuri mutters, sounding like he’d rather be doing anything but this.

“Wait, you’re a figure skater?” Thomas asks, looking intrigued; seriously, how that guy manages to be so laid back all the time is– wait, what?

“Is that what you keep missing meetings to practice?” Jonathan asks. Suddenly it all makes sense: the lean muscle, the crazy flexibility and precision it would require to nearly kick someone in the head, the whole random flight to Japan.

The entire table erupts into laughter, even the Hispanic woman and the other man that they haven’t been introduced to yet.

Yuri turns bright red, looking both flustered and annoyed. “Oh, fuck off, all of you. Especially you, Katsudon! You have no right to laugh after what happened with these two.” He points aggressively at the two people Jonathan and the others don’t know.

The Japanese man, Yuuri, is the first one to manage to stop laughing. “I’m sorry, Yura. I’m laughing because I know how you feel.” He turns to Jonathan, Thomas, and Anthony, still smiling brightly. “He actually medalled at the Olympics last year. He’s won gold for Russia several times, as well.”

Jonathan isn’t the only person at the table with his jaw dropped. The waitress comes by and sets waters in front of the three of them. Even when she leaves, he still can’t figure out what he’s supposed to say. He’s pretty sure that earlier today, he just told an Olympian medalist to cancel a trip to what was probably a competition at the last minute. He wants to die of embarrassment, even if he had good reason.

“He probably didn’t mention it because he’s too angry that he let that Canadian get gold and he only got bronze,” Victor teases. He slings an arm around his husband. “Still, my son and my husband on the podium at the same time! It’s any man’s dream. I’m so proud!”

There’s a scraping noise on the table. When Jonathan looks down, he sees that Otabek slid over a phone with the screen open to a news article about men’s figure skating and yep, there’s Yuuri. And that’s definitely Yuri, but he looks… different. Happy. Jonathan looks from Otabek to Yuri to the article, then back to Otabek. He knows he’s panicking, because there’s nothing he can really say to make himself feel less awkward but maybe someone calm like Otabek can help him out.

Otabek gives him a thumbs up.




Translations (let me know if I need to fix any, I don’t speak Russian) 

yoroshiku onegaishimasu - Japanese - I look forward to working with you (yes, he’s being a sarcastic little shit here)

Vy prikhodite na obed segodnya? - Russian - roughly translates to “we’re still on for lunch today?”

Posmotrite na kotenke, Beka! Eto tak milo! Posmotrite na svoikh malen'kikh lapakh i khvoste. - Russian - Look at the kitten, Beka! It’s so cute! Look at its little paws and tail.

Ya dumal, chto u vas ne bylo druzey v Amerike - Russian - I thought you said you don’t have friends in America.

Ya ne. - Russian - I don’t.

anonymous asked:

Sanvers reunion after Alex almost got launched into fucking space!!

She didn’t go with Alex because she knows Alex.

She knows Alex will be more focused if Maggie is safe. Knows she will be less likely to get herself killed if Maggie is safe.

She hates it.

But she knows her.

And anyway, there are other refugees to keep safe.

And that’s the point of a power couple, right? Stronger together, but sometimes ride or die means riding solo on different parts of the same mission.

So she kisses her like she loves her – because she does, god, how she does – and she tries not to think about the kind of danger Alex is strutting into while she makes rounds on every alien in National City she knows, warning them, smuggling them out when necessary.

She has a few bruises of her own by the end of the day, but that pales in comparison to the pain that shoots through her core when Susan Vasquez calls her with a tight voice and shaking hands.

“Maggie, it’s Cadmus. They’re launching a ship with the refugees into space. Alex… Alex is on the ship.”

She doesn’t hang up the phone so much as she drops it, and she only bothers with her helmet because of muscle memory, and she only pays attention to red lights so she can swerve away from creating four-way crashes, and she forgets what speed limits are because Alex, Alex, goddammit how could she have ever let her go alone, Alex.

“What’s happening?” she demands, and Vasquez won’t let her into the control room. She takes Maggie around the waist and she holds her and she pins her arms to her sides and she rocks her when she breaks.

“Supergirl’s up there with her. She’ll save her, Maggie. They’ll both save everyone.”

“Then why won’t you let me into the damn control room?” she chokes with a wet rage she hasn’t felt since the massacre at the bar.

“I – “

But a cheer rises up, then, and Vasquez chokes out a dry laugh and lets Maggie run out of her arms.

“They’re okay? She’s okay?”

J’onn’s face is in his hands but he nods at the sound of her voice, and she takes Winn into her arms and doesn’t complain when he lifts her off her feet and spins her around.

She does complain a little when he damn near drops her, and Susan has to run over to stabilize them both.

But only a little.

She doesn’t let go of Winn’s hand until the troops return.

The troops, of course, being Supergirl, Alex, and a ship full of refugees, brutalized for being their very selves, abducted and maimed and hunted to satisfy the agenda of xenophobic supremacists who would surely add Winn and Maggie to the list of deportees, gladly, after finding that both of them had dated, had loved, aliens.

Only Supergirl and Alex come back to the DEO, of course, and Winn kisses Maggie’s cheek, hard, before sprinting off the moment he gets a text from Lyra telling him to meet her at the bar.

When a cheer erupts from the agents in the hall, Maggie sprints, too.

Straight into Alex’s arms, and Alex lifts her off her feet – more effectively than Winn – and pulls her in for a deep, breathless kiss that has J’onn averting his wet eyes and Susan whooping and all the agents clapping and Kara somehow laughing and crying at the same time.

Maggie pulls back first and starts checking over Alex’s body with worried hands before Alex has even put her down yet.

“Are you hurt, are you – you – fucking space, Alex!”

Because suddenly the laughter, the relief, is gone from her eyes, and only sheer terror fills them. Alex splutters and Maggie shakes her head and yanks Alex down for another hard, long, desperate kiss.

She’s the first to pull back. Again.

Space, Danvers! That wasn’t part of our deal!”

“Deal was, you help me save everyone – “

“Alex – “

“They needed me, Maggie, my father – “

“Yeah, I know, I’m proud of you, babe, and I’m in love with you for exactly that, but damnmit, Danvers, I need you too!”

Her voice is thick with tears and her eyes are shining with them, her face a map of defiance, of rage, of relief, of agony, of love, of loss, of fear, of hope, and the agents who were laughing and cheering moments before are now being shooed away by Supergirl and Susan, because the kissing was fun, but the confessions are private.

“You… Maggie you’re… you’re…”

“Not exactly how I wanted to tell you,” Maggie chokes, not meeting Alex’s eyes, her arms wrapped around her chest now, her jaw set, now, her heart shredded with feeling an infinity of different things at once, now.

Alex stares at Maggie’s downturned face for what feels like a millennium – which is how far away she could have been from her, forever, if her sister hadn’t saved them all – and when she can’t bear it anymore, she touches her index finger to Maggie’s chin and gently – gently, so gently, and god she’d almost forgotten what a gentle touch feels like in the last few hours – lifts Maggie’s face up to meet her eyes.

“I’m in love with you, too, Maggie. I… If Kara hadn’t saved us, I… my only regret would’ve been… I’m in love with you, too, Maggie.”

For a long moment, neither of them moves, and for a long moment, neither of them breathes.

“Ally,” Maggie breaks the silence, and this time, her kiss is soft, her kiss is open, her kiss is tender and firm and healing.

Her kiss is forever.

“Alex. When you get a moment to disentangle from Detective Sawyer, I need to speak with you upstairs.”

J’onn’s voice makes them jump apart, but they stay in each other’s arms.

“Acknowledged, sir,” Alex’s voice trembles, but her eyes keep locked in Maggie’s.

“They’ll want to question me, too, I imagine. It might be a few hours.”

“I’ll be here. Always.”

Alex smiles softly and squeezes Maggie’s hands and starts to walk away, though it makes her body ache.

But Maggie pulls her back, and Alex hears her breath hitch.

“I’m home, Maggie. I’m home. I’ll only be upstairs.”

“Not in space.”

“No, not that far upstairs.”

They share a watery laugh.

“Nerd.”

“Your nerd.”

“No one else’s, Danvers. No one else’s.”

“The fuck are you wearing ?” - Wolverine x Reader

I saw a deleted scene from Reel Steel where Hugh Jackman is shirtless and then puts on a shirt, and besides the fact that he’s incredibly sexy, I couldn’t help but think…”What the fuck is he wearing ?” cause that shirt is…I don’t know I just find it funny. So…Here we go with a short and shitty Wolverine thing, because…Yeah. Boom, here, hope you’ll like it

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

_____________________________________________________________________

It was still rather early in the morning when you felt Logan’s side of the bed shift, and you groan as he slipped the arm that was under your head away, and stood up. You slowly opened one eye. In the light of the rising sun, you could see his naked silhouette gathering some clothes from his wardrobe. Damn he looked good. You wanted him to come back to bed…

-Logan, honey, it’s like - you quickly looked at your alarm clock- 6 am…Oh my god it’s 6 fucking am ! It’s Sunday, and you’re up at 6 am. The Hell is wrong with you ? 

You heard him chuckle as he put on some boxers and pants. You gave him a disappointed pout, because you wanted to check him out some more, and he just smiled at you, giving you one of his sexy wink he reserved for you only.

-I promised Cap’ we’d go on a motorcycle ride today, road trip you know. So we can talk about old times and such. 

You rolled your eyes to the sky, but couldn’t help the smile creeping on your face. To the surprise of many, the Wolverine was actually a great friend. Once you went threw his layers of being a bit rough and broody and a “lone wolf”, he was great to be around. He was always there for his close one, and if someone needed him, wether it was to talk, get drunk, or just hang out…He was up for it. Still, you sometime had trouble sharing. 

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A little break.

It’s been a while since i wrote about omegaverse. And i wanted to wirte about someone who wasn’t lance for a change, lol.

I give you a soft Shiro, because i love him.

Some OoC, but i don’t care.

Archive of our own. 


When Shiro’s suppressants wore off and the truth about his dynamic was revealed, he expected all kinds of reactions. Anger, disappointment. He thought his teammates weren’t going to feel comfortable having an omega as a leader. He also expected the princess to throw him out of the team, or at least give the black lion to someone else.

Of course, none of this happened.

His friends were surprised but truly understanding. Even the princess and Coran were kind and everyone reassured him that he had nothing to worry about.

Things didn’t change, well, not much.

Shiro was glad to be able to be in contact with his omega side again. In no time he took over the position of the pack omega (he was the only one, anyways) and started taking care of everyone.

He started with Pidge and Keith. He knew the betas for a long time, so it was easier to deal with them. He just had to remind to eat and rest more. They could lose track of time working, or training in Keith’s case, so he always make sure they didn’t stay up late. 

It took a bit more of effort with Hunk and Lance, they were good, but he didn’t know them enough. It wasn’t a problem, though. Hunk was an adorable beta who just needed someone to talk to once in a while. He also liked having company while cooking. He was sweet, and Shiro enjoyed being with him. 

Now, Lance was a bit more… Complicated. He and Allura were the only alphas on the ship, and Allura was alpha prime. It was normal for them to fight once in a while and when this didn’t surprise any of them, Shiro noticed how much it affected Lance to be reminded that he wasn’t the leader of his own pack anymore. Hell, he wasn’t even the second in comand, Shiro was. 

Since everyone else were betas, Shiro was the only one who could truly notice (apart from Allura) how much Lance was struggling. 

It took him forever to completely earn the blue paladin’s trust. Alphas had big egos, and didn’t like to show vulnerability because they associate it with weakness. Shiro felt incredibly happy when Lance hugged him for the first time and scent him, after finanlly telling him about his feelings. 

Yes, Shiro was a bit tired. He still had his nightmares and own demons to deal with, but he was happy. His team was happier now, healthier. So ignoring his problems was worth it. 


(movile users there’s a cut right here)

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anonymous asked:

How would RFA and Saeran react if MC is the one not paying attention to them, because she's too preoccupied or upset that they were too busy for her? If this is accepted????

How can anyone not pay attention to these precious beans(for extended period of time, at least). Hope you like these ^_^

Yoosung

  • He had an important tournament in LOLOL
  • Which lasted a whole week, resulting in him completely ignoring MC
  • Needless to say, they are not pleased
  • They just want to cuddle ffs
  • Well, if he likes this damn game so much, he can date it
  • MC is not going to deal with this
  • Well, at least Yoosung’s team won
  • So he finally leaves his gaming area to share this news with MC
  • Yeah, MC is not really impressed
  • Gives him the silent treatment
  • Yoosung starts tearing up 
  • “MC, did I do something wrong?” – no answer
  • Try to guess, you game junkie
  • It took him some time to figure out why MC is upset
  • -“Oh.. honey, I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll limit my gaming! D-don’t be angry with me, please?
  • MC is determined to keep their composure but he has this irresistible puppy look his face
  • It’s impossible to stay mad at him
  • Yoosung actually doesn’t game for a whole week after that
  • Instead he does little things for MC, like cooking them dinner or giving them flowers

Zen

  • MC was drowning in work for their finals 
  • They completely shut themselves away so nothing would bother them
  • So Zen was feeling a bit lonely
  • His text messages were left unanswered, and even the selfies he sent them didn’t get any reaction
  • He knew that MC was using one of those social media blocking apps but he was still upset
  • Then he started to worry
  • “But what if something happened to them? Even if it didn’t, they still should take breaks from time to time, I should go check up on them”
  • So he goes to their house
  • MC is glad to see him but too busy to entertain guests right now
  • “Help yourself to something from the fridge, but please don’t distract me, I have an essay due tomorrow and I need to focus”
  • Zen is very understanding
  • Turns out MC’s fridge is even emptier than Zen’s so he goes out to buy groceries and he also tidies up the apartment a little bit
  • All while giving MC space to study
  • Doesn’t stay the night, otherwise the beast will come out (and distract MC from their essay)
  • He made sure that MC is fine so he’s not very upset now
  • He will definitely catch up on their attention as soon as their finals are over

Jaehee

  • She has a gazillion of cat projects to work on
  • The poor girl runs solely on coffee and energy drinks
  • Naturally, she has no time for MC
  • They don’t even see her: she leaves for work when they’re still sleeping and comes home when they’ve already gone to bed
  • So MC thinks she doesn’t care about them anymore
  • Until one day she somehow gets home from work early
  • But MC completely ignores her
  • She sighs: “I know you must be upset that I have been very busy lately but you know that I have a lot of work”
  • Well, quit your job then – snaps MC
  • Jaehee is taken aback for a moment
  • “I can’t just.. do that… or can I?”
  • Why the hell not?
  • And that’s how jealous MC made Jaehee quit the job she didn’t enjoy and use her abilities for something more rewarding

Jumin

  • He’s a very busy workaholic, and MC is quite used to that
  • But lately it’s been too much; all these business trips, countless meetings, staying late at the office late far too often
  • MC was actually starting to suspect he was having an affair
  • So MC did the most logical thing imaginable – start being distant
  • Which puzzled Jumin a great deal because to him it seemed they were being irrational
  • “Go cuddle with your cat. Or with that girl you go to see when you claim you do extra paperwork late at the office..”
  • “MC, I’m not interested in women. Except for you, I mean. Things just have been hectic at the company. I’ll make it up to you”
  • Takes a couple of unplanned days off to spend them solely with MC

Seven

  • He was having one of his “I don’t deserve to be with them. I’ll ignore them until they lose interest and leave me” episodes
  • Well, two can play that game
  • If he doesn’t want that, MC is not going to bother him
  • Seeing them grow distant, Luciel starts to regret his choices
  • Suddenly completely changes his attitude and starts being super clingy
  • Which annoys MC
  • Until he opens up about how he really feels
  • That he doesn’t deserve them and that’s why he was ignoring them but would like to be with them, if they want it too
  • How could anyone be cross with him after this sentiment?
  • MC forgives him and they make up

Saeran

  • MC was busy with work and didn’t have much to pay attention to him
  • He claims he doesn’t care
  • He does
  • Saeran needs his daily dose of MC’s attention
  • Makes sure to be in the same room with them while completely avoiding contact
  • Just like a cat
  • A lot of hugs happen after MC is done
  • He craves that bodily contact even if he says he doesn’t need it

I’d only been sent to this damn Meathead camp on a fluke decision by the court judge. He decided to “make an example” of me, after I’d been “caught” smuggling booze into a party. I was the one who REPORTED the damn party in the first place! But none of the other guys would fess up, and because I “looked the part” of a badboy, wearing my leather jacket and tight jeans, they slammed the book on me. 6 months At the Reform Camp that seemed to crop up out of nowhere a good while back, and I’d be free. Whatever, I can handle it!

Well, fuck! I told you I could handle this shit! It’s already been 3 months! Sure, whatever they seem to be doing here with the fucked-up classes, the enforced workouts and disciplinary labor, the massive canteen portions and mandatory vitamin supplements did kinda have an effect on me, just a bit. But I swear, I’ll be out before they manage to do whatever they did to those big disgusting brutes in the upperclassman buildings! God, it’s like their brains drained out of their heads or something!

4 months on, I was definitely fit. No, you know what, fuck it, I’m hot! Whatever they keep giving us underclassman seems to have widened out our shoulders, beefed us up a little. Hell, even our bulges seem to pack tighter into the uniform jockstraps and dark green gymshorts. I ain’t complaining! Even if I did have to start showering 3 times a day to hide the funk I’m sweating up. But hey, I’m no meathead! I’ve already seen a few of my “grade” jock out. It’s like… like their brains leaked down into their balls… B… Brains in your balls…. More… more cum… more dumb… Massive, manly… manly bulge… FUCK! No! Fuck, I should say things like that, it’s what they’d WANT me to say!

Damn it! I’ve managed to keep the weight off… I’ve limited my meals, limited my, my workouts… Even stopped jackin’ it in the showers like all the other Br… bro… damn it, BOYS! Fuck I don’t know why I keep slippin’ up like this! They’re gettin’ in everyone's’ heads! No, not mine! I’m smarter than that!!! I plug my ears at night to stop the white noise hissing over the speakers…

But… But it feels so good to listen and obey dude… Listen, and leak…. Leak and obey… FUUUUCK! I gotta cum! Just once!! But… Last time I creamed, I woke up and smelled my fuckin pits reeking like those massi…. Massive… Manly…. Manly men… Stinkin’ swole…. Sweat is power… powerful penis… brains in your balls bro…. Uuuugh! No, No stop it! I can fight this! One more month and I’m OUT!

***

No! Dudes!? Where’re you taking me!! Come on! Fuuuck put me down! Woah! Hey!! NO! Not there!!! That’s the cesspool! Come’on bro!! Not there!!! Fuuuck NO! *splash*

Everything went dark, silent. The warm goopy mass engulfed me as I squirmed and flailed to get back out. I could feel the grimy, gritty muck coating every inch of me, from head to toe, scraping at my skin, sliding between my toes, encasing me. I panicked, screamed, but my voice caught in my throat as it burned suddenly, cracked, I hiccupped, then a deep, rumbling dim bellow echoed across the open area as the dudes watched me scramble up out of the mud pit.

I was coughing, clutching my throat, feeing the lump form under my hand, as my palm made a sickening crunch, and expanded. I held it in front of me, watching it full out, looking rough and calloused, not the same nimble-fingered hand I’d used for playing guitar. I yelled out again, hearing my voice crack embarrassingly once more, then settle down into a deep timbre, the tone I’d heard countless times from the upperclassman, and from the dumb jocks at school.

I felt my entire body tremble, tensing up like piano wire. Every muscle feeling like it was trying to tear my bones apart. A few squelching pops alerted me to my shoulders and chest breaking apart, snapping and widening in a virile explosion of muscle, filling in suddenly with corded bulk.

It traveled down my arms, stretching and lengthening, bulging large thick muscle filling in, the weight was a shock, and the sudden strength made me flex involuntarily. My body went into forced poses, while my torso broke, snapped, squelched and filled in with heavy, thickly built muscle the likes I’d only seen on the biggest of the Meatheads here.

I was hit with an obnoxious reeking stench, worse than ever, as hair filled in under my hefty arms, smelling like pure testosterone induced BO. I huffed it and shuddered as the effects traveled down my torso to my waist, my hips synching inward, forming that ever sought-after V-Taper shape from shoulder to hip. Then, I felt as if I’d been kicked in the balls!

My cock lurched up, pointing upward, throbbing hard as precum started to spew in short spurts, my balls churning up and bulging, enlarging from large grapes, to chicken eggs. Dropping low in their sack as a new scent engulfed my senses. Balls. Sweaty musky balls. I humped the air involuntarily, the hormone rush too much, as my cock became a veritable salami, thick, long, powerful. It’d fill my jock to bursting. I needed to cum so bad! My meaty hand grabbed hold of my rod and squeezed, then started jacking, rough and hard, long strokes as my legs lurched upward, gaining length, I was taller now. So tall… so big.. so manly…. Fuuuuck! I had to cum!

My legs became powerfully built told for running, jumping, kicking. Thick thighs and football sized calves lead down to tiny feet, that cracked and popped menacingly. I fell onto my thick bubble ass as they expanded, toes splayed as they became massive boats, capable of carrying my new weight! Size 18, the uniform building workers would later tell me.

After the changes seemed to settle, my bones snapping into place, I was left on the ground, humping my fist, grunting like an animal covered in mud, my sweat washing it off me as the guy’s who threw me in cheered and teased me. Apparently, they knew I was only a short time away from being freed, and didn’t think I deserved to go without having the full benefits of the Camp bestowed on me. They were jealous that I’d been able to fight, and stay relatively small, fit as fuck, but not a huge meathead like them. They saw to it that I’d be leaving in an xl graduation uniform. Tank and gym shorts, sneakers and a jock.

I came like a rocket, spewing a load a Clydesdale would be envious of. Then, I passed out. I woke up hours later in the infirmary, with an IV in my beefy forearm. I was dehydrated, I guess. I couldn’t understand what the Nurse Dudes were saying. I was dizzy, sore, felt like a train had hit me. They told me to take one of the Camp Cellphones and text my Dad to pick me up, that I’d been freed early.

I typed out, “Dad, gotta come get me, I got out early cus I’m a fuckin beast yo!” I flexed in the mirror and sent him the pic. When I had, the big bossman came down to see me. I… don’t remember what he said… only that, I’ve got a …. A massive manly… bulge…. Brains… in my balls…. Big… dumb, full of…cum… fuuuuuck dude!! FUCK YAH!

When my dad came to get me, he nearly passed out. Had to roll down the windows in the car cus they didn’t let me shower up before leaving. The judge at my last hearing smiled down and reached to shake my hand. He winced when I gave it a good squeeze and thanked him for “goin’ easy on me”

The Temp

Letha has been Idol Im Jaebum’s temporary makeup artist for the past two years and after years of him toying with her, things finally reach a breaking point between them.

Originally posted by saranghaeyojw

[song inspiration: Ed Sheeran - Shape of you]

info: Jaebum x oc
genre: smut, oral, fingering, dirty talk, light choking, slight dom!
word count: 5.1k


For two years, two insanely long years I have been Idol, Im Jaebum’s “temporary” makeup artist. Two years of endless awful pick up lines, suggestive comments, devious looks, “harmless” touches and just straight up eye-fucking me. Part of me honestly thinks I’m still around because he doesn’t want another artist anymore. I mean, who would let him get away with those things, if not me? Probably no one.

I was older than him by a few years and was technically his elder, even though my culture didn’t do honorifics. I respected it and always used it with people older than I, unless directed otherwise. I gave all the boys the choice of using it if they chose to and they all always referred to me as Letha noona or simply noona. But not Jaebum, he never did if he couldn’t help it. I was either Princess, Kitten, Leth or on rare occasions, Letha. Of course, he only used Kitten or Princess in whispers, when no one was listening or we were alone.

He was good looking and charming, there was no denying that. I had a hard time not getting beat red when he’d use one of his nicknames on me or shamelessly teased me. And he obviously knew that it affected me or he wouldn’t continue to do it.

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Attic notes, post-bomb blast:

Hi, everyone. Yeesh.

We’ve been through it, huh? I’ve missed you. I think we’ve all missed each other.

Despite the difficulty we’ve had these past few months—and despite my sudden and untimely disappearance (sorry… where tf did the time go?)—the Johnlock conspirators remain the most dedicated, passionate, interesting, smart, diverse, and brave group of individuals I have ever encountered, and never would have encountered without the power of the internet. We live in a terrible, horrifying, dystopian future, but it is also beautiful, because we have the technology to connect to each other and come together to share, think, and create… like this.

When wondering how the Sherlock fandom could lead me to such a perfect storm of people who understood how I related the world, it wasn’t difficult to figure out why. Sherlock is a story of an intelligent, isolated outcast whose heart wants to help individuals out of compassion for their lives, despite his social ineptitude. He is a character with his own sense of justice, a disregard for public opinion, and a love for his work that protects him from the vulnerability of opening up to others. We are, after all, what we eat. And the message that unites everyone in TJLC is not that Johnlock was going to happen in series four, but that love is the center of the story. Love will conquer all.

And they do mean ALL.

At the BFI & Radio Times Television Festival on April 9th, Mark Gatiss said of the fourth series, “The only heretical thing is modernizing it, the rest we try to go along with the stories.”

We all know how they really feel about these stories. So what is he talking about?

The closet.

Series four is inconsistent, confusing, jarring, illogical, contradictory, genre-reliant, chock full of lies, and timeline-fucked because so is canon. To create an entirely faithful adaptation, Watson’s unreliable frame narration, which serves to obfuscate his relationship with Holmes, (and as Moff often brings up in regards to HLV, to protect the liberty of a guilty party) must be faithfully adapted, too. In doing so, Sherlock itself becomes a thesis on the true nature of canon that, let’s face it, currently doesn’t exist outside of our oft-ignored echo chamber. And our compulsory-hetero society is such that Mark and Moff have the opportunity to play out the exact same social masquerade ACD played all over again, but finally, finally, with a groundbreaking rug pull that ensures Sherlock Holmes goes down in history as a gay icon, always has been always will be, make no mistake.

As much as Sherlock is a love story about a kiss that will leave all others behind, its supervillain-sized obstacles represent the supersized figures that have stood against the homosexuality of Sherlock Holmes for over a century: CAM (Mass media and surveillance), Mary (heteronormativity), Mycroft (The British Government), Moriarty (Cultural anxieties that gay love is dark/salacious/perverse). M, The Black Lotus, and The Spider signify the different ways in which they interconnect… and there’s much more to say on this subject. But let’s get some of the water out of this living room.

We were wrong. That’s it! We were wrong. I have issues with how series four was handled, and am infuriated by some of the choices that have been made. But in the end, part of the reason why the devastation was so devastating was that we weren’t prepared to be wrong. Not even wrong about the conspiracy! Just about January! This show takes too! Fucking! Long! To air!

Come to think of it, that probably should have been one of our central tenets:

  1. They lie.
  2. The show is gay.
  3. Sherlock has been imprisoned for 100 fucking years and this has been planned for 7 so shut the fuck up because all hope and suffering are relative when you simply surrender to the relentless march of time and the cruel indifference of the universe.

Series four was way, way, lower caliber than what we’re used to from the show we love. But our reading of the narrative still makes sense. I don’t care what anybody says—it does! It makes perfect sense! It makes better sense than the mess casual viewers just swallow like warm paste—like so much other television these days! TJLC is a community full of active viewers, who are able to really see what’s happening on screen, what it means, and pick it apart. We’re attuned to picking up these messages and are practiced at it. Though we definitely honed our skills with our elephant glasses, the ability to look at media with a critical eye and understand what is being said to us is more important than ever in the digital age.

Keep reading

4

@wackosayshello​ and I have been chatting about Paul and Hugh for the last few weeks and it’s been a tonne of fun! Recently we decided that Hugh grew up as part of a biking gang full of nerds and aliens who all love and support each other. Hugh’s the type who rides his motorbike on a mountain trail in short shorts and a leather jacket while blasting his favourite opera out loud. And his buddies love him for it. 

When Paul first meets his friends Paul is fairly nervous, but all of Hugh’s friends are cheerful and enjoy how rude Paul is, how quickly he’s willing to shut down a conversation he’s not interested in. They also like how he smiles and scuffs his feet whenever Hugh winks at him. 

After the third time they meet Paul (the meetings are an entire afternoon, evening, and most of a night at the local bar), Paul just about gives Hugh a lap dance before been carried off home by a cheerful Hugh (lots of alcohol). A month later a leather jacket covered in personalised patches arrives for Paul in the mail, a blatantly clear sign that he has been accepted and embraced into the family Hugh grew up with. Hugh thinks it’s kind of hilarious cos Paul still wears his tan slacks and 24th century equivalent of a polo shirt while in this perfectly tailored leather jacket, but the overall effect is hot enough that he encourages Paul to wear it. Also cos of this:

One of Hughs mates is hanging at the bar with Paul. “We were kind of expecting more flak from Hugh over the jacket”

“Yeah, I brought him around to liking it" 

"How?" 

Paul kinda studies the guy for a minute, considering if this is sharing too much. He decides that Hugh will likely be ok with it. "I fucked him in it" 

 *cue spit take and doubled respect for Paul*

“Well I’m just glad you’re fitting in to the squad. You’re also the first person to be that honest about it. Dani and Jenna implied it when Sherry joined but damn man you don’t fuck around”

One of Hughs oldest mates brings it up with him that Paul has told people and Hugh’s just like "Oh yeah, that’s fine, he knows my limits there. Besides, I’m pretty sure everyone heard us fucking in the bathrooms last month" 

"You fucked in the bathroom?" 

”…so you lot don’t know? What did you think we were doing out back for 30 min?“ 

"Honestly, we thought you were fighting, you’d been squabbling over something for like 20 min before that" 

"Ohhhh I can see why you’d think that, yeah. That was foreplay." 

"Y'all are nasty”

Stress

Originally posted by scartic

You’ve been overloaded with work and have been quite distant with Yoongi lately…

Genre: Smut

Word count: 2.5k

It was another boring day at the office and you could feel your blood vessels folding with the amount of silence that filled the room for the past hour. You were carefully yet eagerly watching the hour hand on the clock to turn 6 and as soon as it did, you didn’t think twice to announce your goodbyes and leave the damned place. Although it was a boring day, you still had tons of work to do when you got home. You had to fill in patient forms, discharge forms and even write out 9 patient evaluations. But at least you had someone to go home to, to help you take your mind off of some things.

The stench of disinfectant wafted through the hospital, and as you were walking you felt your butt buzzing. You reached for your phone and pressed the home button as you were taking it out of your pocket.

Ugh. Now I won’t even have him to keep me occupied you thought. You wanted to reply to him but you were sick and tired of him coming late home every day. You stared at the screen for a second but then realised its better if you just left it. He’d know you had read it and he’d know you’re pissed.

                                                 ~~~~~

You reached your front door after the cab had dropped you off and were searching for your keys in the midst of all your folders and paperwork, when you felt someones hand on your shoulder. You immediately knew who it was and pressed your tongue against your cheek to stop yourself from saying anything.

‘Hey…It was only a joke. I wanted to see what your reaction was’

‘Well, well done, you got a reaction’ you replied while finally finding your house keys. You opened the front door and stepped in. You took your shoes off and slipped your slippers on. He silently followed you behind to the kitchen.

‘Not replying to my text is barely a reaction babe’

‘Look, I’m really not in the mood right now. I’ve got shit tons of paperwork to finish and I haven’t even finished filing up half the forms. Why don’t you go and play your videogames for a bit and I’ll see you in bed’

‘Well maybe I don’t want to go and play games. Maybe I want to join YOU in bed. You’ve been really distant with me recently. And it’s because of this damn job’ he sighed

‘Well at least now you know how I felt when you were away on tour’ and you immediately regretted mentioning that. You both know how tiring the tour was for both of you. It was really testing the limits in your relationship as the only concert where you were able to see him was the Tokyo one where you flew out for 2 days.

‘Oi, that’s not something that I could control’

You ignored him and walked over to the fridge. You could feel his eyes watching you in anger and you again found yourself with your tongue pressed against your cheek. As soon as you went to open the fridge door, you felt his hand and he immediately swivelled you around and pushed you lightly against the fridge. Both of his hands were above your head and he gazed into your eyes, intensely. He lifted one hand off of the fridge and he placed it on your hip.

‘I’m hungry’ he grunted

‘I-I was just making us some dinner’ you were startled by his touch. You blinked rapidly and he noticed straight away. You didn’t want to give in just yet, so you composed yourself immediately and ducked under his arm and walked towards the living room. ‘We’ll just order takeaway then’ you said, half smirking as you walked away knowing you dented his ego a bit. Yoongi was always the type of person to get what he wanted. Even with his past relationships, they’d never say no to his wants. It was probably his eyes or the way he spoke. Those deep, dark, brown eyes that looked like anyone else’s brown eyes, but once you took a careful look at it, you’d get lost in it forever.

You heard Yoongi sigh deeply in the backround and again he started following you but this time he took loud stomps, making sure you knew that you’d pissed him off.

You slouched yourself onto the sofa and grabbed your phone to call the local kebab shop to order yourself some chicken and chips and, of course for Yoongi, kebabs on sticks and chips. He placed himself next to you and slid your legs over his. You were wearing a pencil skirt that was fairly tight around your thighs, but that didn’t stop him from sliding them up a bit, as though he was trying to tease you. The kebab shop picked up, ’Yes…Hello. I’d like to order 2 pieces of chicken and chips for one please-‘ when you suddenly felt his fingers making his way up your thigh. You took a sharp inhale of breathe and quickly collected yourself and immediately carried on your order while looking at him in surprise ‘sorry and uhm…2 kebabs on sticks with medium sized portioned chips please.’

You then heard him whisper ‘make that a large portion of chips, we’re gonna be burning a lot of calories off later anyways’ you playfully slapped his hand, gave the address and thanked the man on the phone and set your phone down to the side.

You and Yoongi had previously been ‘friends-with-benefits’ and unfortunately it ended with both of you catching immense feelings for one and other. You remember he confessed it to you behind their company building after rehearsals when you went over for a casual fuck in his car.

While the TV was playing in the backround, you could feel his cold fingers sliding, once again, up your thighs and as your skirt was being pulled upwards, your skin was being revealed more and more. He leaned in towards your ear and whispered ‘I’m sick and tired of these games. You will NOT protest today. And you will NOT say no to whatever I say. Comprende?’ You felt your tongue against your lips, licking it gently. You couldn’t help yourself but let out a shaky exhale. He tightened his grip a bit on your thigh and that sent a jerk of sensation throughout your body. ‘Understand?’ You loved it when he took charge. ‘I understand,’ you said….shakily.

And slowly he lifted your skirt up even more until he was left with just your knickers to overcome. You could already sense that he was a bit horny as you saw a tent in his pants that you knew he wanted to get rid of.

‘Ah, we can’t do this here. It would be much more comfortable if we went upstairs’ And immediately he swung you onto his lap and stood up. Your legs gripped onto his waist tightly and as he kissed your neck, you let out a small moan. At the moment, you two lived in an apartment so you didn’t have stairs to get to your room, so the trip there was much easier. As soon as you two reached your bedroom, he half chucked, half put you down onto the bed. You couldn’t resist biting your lips and the thought of seeing his beautifully sculpted body sent your head into a happy spin. You felt the room suddenly go warm when you saw him unbuckling his belt. He threw it onto the floor and let out a quiet growl.

‘You’ve been really distant with me lately, and you know how much I despise distance’ and as soon as he said that, he climbed onto you and started to slide your skirt and knickers off at the same time. He stared in awe at your amazing body. Your pussy on show for him and nothing could stop the both of you getting the release you wanted.

‘Lets start off with something simple’ and he delved right in with no hesitation, and dug his tongue straight in and started swirling it in circles. Your legs were around him, but they felt so weak. He had his fingers around your entrance, slowly playing with your skin. ‘Mmh, someone’s tasty tonight’ you felt his wet tongue drawing circles and other shapes inside of you and couldn’t wait to feel even more release knowing what was yet to come.

‘Ah…Daddy’ you moaned, as it was the only thing that wanted to leave your mouth.

‘Do you want me to stop…baby girl?’

You immediately shook your head. He smirked, and carried on tongue fucking you. His fingers were also pressing against your folds and your whole body started to give up as the sensation was taking over. You really couldn’t take it anymore, and he sensed it straight away. He got up from his position and wiped his mouth in a cocky sense.

He licked his lips and started to make his way closer to your face. Closer to his lips being on yours. And seconds later, you felt his smooth, soft lips taking its place upon yours and he instantly slipped his tongue into your mouth. Boy, he knew how to work that tongue. Wherever it went it took its electrifying sensation with it. You could feel it swirling around and it sent you into a deep heat. While he was sending you into paradise with his tingling tongue, he quickly, but smoothly, slid off his boxers, and as he did so you felt his lips leave yours and he laid next to you, only to pull you on top of him and onto his dick.  You were so ready to put his dick inside of you, to feel his big thick cock erect inside of you, but this is not what he wanted. Not yet anyways. You went to reach for his cock, but he grabbed your hands and put them on top of his head. There was no doubt that he could feel your wet pussy on his cock. You placed yourself ontop of him comfortably and he put his hands on your waist. You started rocking yourself against it and he let out a gentle moan. ‘Fuck Y/N…’ he had his hungry eyes fixated onto you. You were so ready to feel him inside of you but you know he wasn’t going to let you have that just yet. Your pussy was getting really wet and there was no way that Yoongi wasn’t feeling that. ‘Oh my goodness’ you groaned as you bit onto your lip, to suppress anything louder coming out. He lifted one hand off of your waist that was helping you glide on his cock and reached into your pussy to help you cum even quicker.

‘mmh…fuck’ was all you could let out and you could feel the muscles in your thighs both tightening but shaking at this same time. He swirled two fingers inside and you never knew you could feel this type of sensation without his dick in you, until now. Yoongi had previously slept with tons of girls, so he knew what he was doing.

Yoongi’s eyes were still fixated on you as you were rocking back and forth across his dick and you could feel your entrance tightening before anything really started. ‘Fuck me, you are really are good’ he mumbled. He shut his eyes for a second and sucked in and bit down on his bottom lip as he did so. He felt your pre cum inside your pussy, ‘I’m gonna cum soon’ you mumbled.

‘Not yet, not until I say so’ You loved this dominant side of him. It always turned you on. You always try to hide the fact that it turns you on, but right now, you couldn’t give a fuck if he knows that him being dominant contributes towards you being turned on.

But now you couldn’t take it anymore, you slowly took his fingers out of you and slid his cock inside your pussy. Watching his cock slowly making its way in you sent Yoongi into overdrive and even he let out a groan that resembled an animal. You slowly let your hips thrust back and forth and as you were working up a sweat, you took your hands off of the bed and started unbuttoning your shirt. You maintained eye contact with him the entire time, and just as your breasts were revealed he could see them bouncing and he wanted to suck on them straight away. Mid way of unbuttoning your shirt, he pulled you in closer and started biting onto your neck. He was groaning like fuck and the blood in your body rushed to your head. You were so close to cumming, all you needed was the command and you’d know you’d let go as soon as.

‘How close,’  he half whispered, half groaned.

‘Soo fucking close’ you whimpered under your breath. You looked weak to him but you couldn’t care less.

But then, he flipped you onto the bed, so now he was on top of you while you were underneath. And he set the pace…to wild. Rocking in and out of you in a fast pace, made your walls tighten around his wet cock and he could instantly feel it. He knew what he was doing to you, but he was feeling the same sensation. He bucked his hips into yours and it really sent your head into a wild daze. He finally reached your g-spot and you let out an orgasm that really told him he did his job. You dug your nails into his shoulders and you both let out an orgasm simultaneously while he still rocked his hips back and forth past your g spot. And as soon as the thrusts got harder and harder, Yoongi finally let you to release.

‘Let it go…’ and as soon as he said so, you could feel all your juices flowing and his cock getting even wetter.

‘Mmmh, that’s the way I like it baby…’ he grunted. You tilted your head backwards a bit into the pillow and the whole world felt like it was tilting in the wrong way. You both finally got your release…when suddenly…*DING DONG*

‘Shit the food,’ You whispered, as though the delivery man could hear you.

He chuckled and replied, ‘don’t you worry, I’ll go get it. You’re too wet to even get off the bed right now. If you went in front of the delivery man, he’d definitely know what’s up’

‘Well something was definitely up tonight’ and you hinted towards his dick that had finally settled.

‘Huh! Well hopefully, some of that hospital stress is off your shoulders now. Maybe if you go wash yourself off, after dinner, we could play with the left over mint sauce.’

You both chuckled and as he grabbed his gown off the dressing table chair, you admired his beautiful body and all you could think was ‘Fuck, that’s all mine.’