#How to Do side Plank Correctly?

[freeonlineworkouts]

Side Plank | How to Do side Plank Correctly?

#Side Plank #How to Do side Plank Correctly? #video #exercise #workout #fitness motivation #core workout

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Michael Gavey - NSFW Alphabet

warning : +18, It's getting steamy under the cut

Info : I needed more of this sweet crunchy bar lover so here we have a alphabet and I loved writing it. As always have fun reading ;)

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A = Aftercare (how they are after sex).

°After sex he is either very very affectionate has his hand on his sweetheart, on her breast, her cheek, her side. He just has to touch her to know that he wasn't dreaming that he actually had her next to him. He kissed her all over while offering her a crunchy bar and his eyes would just light up with love and devotion. Like a sweet golden retriever who just wants to adore her.

°,,You were everything...so wonderful...I love you"

°Or he's the "that never happened" kinda guy who doesn't know what to do with his feelings and it's almost like a scandalous relationship in his eyes. But then he would be rather awkward and wouldn't quite know what to do and lie there like a plank but he would still do the praising.

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B = Bodypart (his favorite part of you and them)

°Michael knows he's not an athlete or a rich kid from a family with not much money. But his shirt and khaki pants had their own style. When it comes to his body, it's next to his genius, which is unrivaled and he loves to show off, to see how he's better than his favorite or the other guy. But if he had to choose it would be his eyes and his silver tongue. He loved to watch his favorite, to pay close attention to her reactions when he slept with her. He also knew that she loved his eyes, she always said that she could see his love for her in his gaze every time. A compliment that made him blush. But especially when it came to the nightly bedtime activities with his favorite, it quickly turned out that his sayings also had action. He knew that even if he suffocated between her thighs, he could satisfy her.

°He loves everything. He loves everything about her, everything. He loved the way she looked at him, the way her emotions showed when he interacted with her, loved and adored her. Her hands that clasped his, stroking his cheek and praising his hair. Her soft, shapely breasts that he loved to massage, putting his hand on them or his face. The sounds of her voice, sometimes praising, sometimes arousing, sometimes warning. Her eyes that reflected his lust when they made love, that he saw light up when he made her compliments. When she did the tasks he gave her correctly. She was perfect...but if he had to choose perfectly, it would be her breasts and thighs. He just loves to see the soft skin pressed against the fabric. A short skirt that showed off her legs, a short top without a bra where her nipples pressed against the fabric. Leaving red stripes and kisses on her sensitive skin, all he had to do was touch her. Michael loved it and loved it just as much to take photos of it without her knowing he was her little personal photographer just to give her these photos as a gift in an album.

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C= Cum (anything to do with cum)

°Michael is a little pervert on the inside of course on the outside he is your sterotypical nerd with a weakness for math. But he would and will do anything to get inside her, of course only if his sweetheart lets him. But his imagination was always there when he jerked off to her picture at night, letting his imagination run wild. He almost came when his beloved allowed him to come inside her, he was completely mesmerized to see the viscous liquid running out of her.

°,,Thank you ma'm...that's-it's-it's just so pretty"

°When it comes to his darling's sperm, he's not above anything. He does everything and would do anything to satisfy her, always going to her center and using his silver tongue as often as his darling wants, of course. But even with cum play he doesn't really have a problem, it's just another erotic thing in the whole picture of eroticism for him.

°,,Can you please come again? Please darling I'll make it good yes?

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D = Dirty Secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

°He was the mysterious stalker who had the obsession with her when she came to university. Suddenly, photos of her always appeared in her room, whether in the middle of a lecture, in the cafeteria or outside. Within a few weeks, however, the initial photos of everyday life turned into erotic photos. A photo of her wrapped only in a towel, her breasts clearly visible while getting dressed. Her underwear and T-shirts were stolen, only for them to reappear a few days later with mysterious stains. Michael had almost built up a small shrine to her in his room. Every day, every afternoon and every evening he stalked her verses just to fuck his cock with her panty in the evening. Until all the stalking suddenly ended when the new student got together with the math nerd who stood by her side with math jokes, roses and new t-shirts?

°He would like to try out a role-playing game somehow. Above all, he can't get rid of the idea of the math professor and his student. He had often helped his darling with his homework, he knew math but he just loved to show off his genius. Having his favorite sitting in front of him at one of the desks just to bend her over it to fuck her over her mistakes just to get her to correct her failures knowing that she had done a sloppy job and she had to do the assignments again.

°,,You made a mess out of it...I guess if you want to get your grade back up you'll have to come to me again"

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E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

°He doesn't really have any experience apart from his imagination, his hand and his pillow which he has always humped. He has read hundreds of books and articles on the whole subject but has no real experience. He once thought of visiting a prostitute only to change his mind and lock himself back in his room and read more about it all. Inside he was just afraid of not being good enough for his partner.

°But just because he has no experience doesn't mean he doesn't know what to do. As awkward as he may seem at first glance, just so overwhelmed by his sweetheart, it turns out that his sharp tongue that always brings the comments home is a true silver tongue. He completely makes up for his excitement and awkwardness with this one and does it more than well.

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F = Favorite position (without saying you know what it's about)

°Cowgirl = He just loves having you in his complete gaze. Watching his heart move her hips, her hair tousled, her gaze full of arousal, her eyes closed and open at the same time, her hands running over his torso, holding on to him and leaving red streaks of ecstasy. It was an alternation of dominance as she either let go of him completely and he had to move his hips himself or she used her muscles to tease him. Or Michael would simply place his hands on her hips and set the tone, driving it on when she could take no more.

°Oral = Not an obvious position but something Michael especially loves to do is just kneel down under her table, between her thighs on the bed or right in the library behind the many bookshelves. He would do anything because he knows exactly how tempting it is for him and her. Michael loves just holding her, his fingers on her hips, pulling her back against him, hearing the sounds she makes before traveling back by his hair.

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G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? are they funny? etc.)

°Yes Michael is more the serious type which doesn't mean he isn't nervous every time or just overwhelmed by the thought of sleeping with his sweetheart. He just wants everything to be perfect for him and her like a math formula.

°Which doesn't mean he's not cute because his jokes here and there with his sayings make her laugh which lightens the mood and takes the seriousness out of it.

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H = Hair (how shaved is it? Does the trunk match the apple? ect.)

°Not only a math fanatic but also someone who pays attention to tidiness, Michael shaves his hair every time he goes to the shower, which is not every other day. On the other hand, he would give a completely biology and work-based answer if his sweetheart assured him that she didn't care if he shaved or not.

°Upstairs his light brown sometimes street dog blond hair is more of a dark brown when you look down but it doesn't really bother him and his partner either on the contrary it almost looks cute.

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I = Intimacy (how are they at the moment the romantic aspect)

°Michael is a great romantic, at least when it comes to memorizing and thinking up poems. He has read enough Goethe and Shakespear to know how to flatter a woman. He will adore you, shower his darling with poetic poems and emphasize it with gestures.

°Gestures like kisses, caresses, a light scratching of her skin as a little preview of the little romantic hint of more when he traced the lace of her underwear. Michael Gavey is a little romantic guy who is very keen on this more traditional way of courting and will show up with a rose every time.

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J = Jack off ( mastubation headcanon)

°He was her stalker, of course he would never hurt her, he couldn't. She had him in the palm of her hand without her even knowing it. But initially, before he got her heart, it was like an addiction. On MySpace he had already printed out every photo of her in the bikini theater or any other outfits that even pulled a little skin. He hung them on the wall and the ones that weren't double-sided simply served him as wank templates. He had cds full of her pictures, messages and recordings he had made which he listened to while looking at her picture on his screen, his cock in his hand imagining it was her cunt he was pounding.

°For him, all it took to masturbate was a look from you, a smile, a sagging bra, a short skirt. Michael escaped to the toilet as often as he could during this time to take care of his hardness. He was sure she knew he was doing it, that it only excited him more and that she was just waiting to see him again.

°But even after he gets together with his favorite, he won't be able to get rid of his habits. She still made him hard and this time she was aware of it and loved to use her own hand to tease him this time.

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Kink = (one or more of the kinks)

°Praise kink = Michael even if he knows he is the best needs reassurance in the one thing he is unsure about. Sex. He needs the validation of his favorite, needs to see how good he is when he used his tongue to bring her to orgasm after orgasm. He needs the confirmation that he is good for her his darling when he fucks her his cock is enough.

°,,You are perfect...ah-fuck so good for me my goddess"

°Mommy/Ma'm kink = Initially not wanting to admit that he had something like this, he knew deep inside that he had something like this. That he had two sides, the dominant one where he needed her validation, became her proud plaything and let himself go when she allowed it. As well as the submissive side he loved it when she pulled his hair and just used him because she was allowed to be his mommy's perfect darling.

°,,Ma'm I-I please I'll be good I promise I-I won't come without your permission please mommy"

°Degradation = side degradation is something he and his partner made use of. When she had him under her or he was between her thighs, these nasty side comments were stimulating for both of them. If it wasn't her, then it was Michael who always made his darling blush with his questions and statements.

°,,What's up doll? Mhhh is my schwnaz too much or are you just stupid? Extra stupid for me to discipline you, isn't that right?

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L = Location (favorite place to do it)

°The classic bedroom, at least the one room you all have at your disposal. Which is why it comes down to either his room or that of his favorite. The bed, which is wide enough for both of them, has always been perfect so far. Perfect for riding him so he fucks her in the pillows and sheets and he disappears under the covers to get between her legs.

°The less classic place but his favorite place to study and fuck is the library. The library is big, full of books, tables and chairs, the perfect place to have fun under the tables or in the evenings when no one was there anyway and they had every seat for her. Much to the chagrin of the librarian who suddenly found books on the floor every time.

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M = Motivation (what turns them on)

°Praise = Michael loves to be praised by his ma'm, his goddess, and to be told how good he is, how perfect he feels and how well-behaved he is. It only takes a few words to turn him into a needy pink-cheeked boy.

°,,Say I'm good please? Please ma'm I'm so good"

°Clothes = Michael knows almost every item of his favorite's clothing by heart. He knows every short and long skirt, every t-shirt and top as well as every shirt and dress. He loves it when his heart leaves the first two extra buttons undone to show him which bra he is wearing or not wearing. When he let his fingers wander over the soft fabric just to dive underneath.

°,,Did you put on the extra short skirt for me? Darling I love you"

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N = No (something they wouldn't do, dismissing)

°Threesome/Orgies = Share no. Michael, even if it doesn't look like it, is a pretty jealous person. And something he doesn't like and wouldn't like would be a threesome and/or an orgy. It wouldn't feel good and special to him anymore, he would want to have his sweetheart for himself, the togetherness, the perfection you have developed. He wants to be the one who gets your praise and not someone else.

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O = Oral (preference whether giving or receiving, skill, ect.)

°Michael always wants to give his favorite oral pleasure. He sometimes likes it more than sleeping with her when he can just kiss his way up her legs. He knows that he has a silver tongue knows that his sweetheart can always just use it and he enjoys it. Enjoys it when she pushes him down on his knees, strokes his hair in praise and tells him how good he is when she takes his glasses off his nose and kisses him gently. The smile on her lips made him whimper she was just so beautiful. There was nothing better for him than to serve her through this, because he could be closer to her than ever before and had everything he wanted.

°,,Just let me serve you darling I promise it will be worth it"

°When it comes to getting it, he is a little insecure at first, not because he doesn't want it but because he actually wants it the other way around. His darling kneeling in front of him, she had to tell him a thousand times that it was okay, that she would like to try it. Before the most whimpering and needy sounds escaped him that echoed in the room.

°,,My heart this is-ah fuck god this is unbelievable-I mean you are-fucking unbelievable".

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P = Pace (are they fast and hard? slow and sensitive? etc.)

°Michael will pretty much always go with what his favorite wants. By nature, he can't control himself very well and would rather go for a mix of the two, spoiling her slowly and intimately. Only to fuck her afterwards to pay attention to her words and give her what she wants.

°If his darling wants it differently, he directs her accordingly - it's a game of give and take between the two of them. He gave her what she wanted and she spoiled him with what he was entitled to.

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Q = Quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often etc)

°Michael is not the type for quickies, not that he wouldn't do it for his sweetheart, but for him it's something that has no real appeal. He wants to take his time to enjoy the game and not just do everything so quickly. However, if his darling wants it and he has nothing planned, he would try it at least a few times.

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R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

°Michael only really starts to experiment with his sweetheart when he gets together with her. Before that he only had himself and his fantasies, but with his girlfriend who was just as keen to experiment as he was and they both started to try out all sorts of things together it only sparked the love between them even further.

°Michael would risk everything if it came down to a moment of swearing. Not only would he give everything for her, but he would risk his entire reputation (which he doesn't really have) at the university to try something with her.

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S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long can they last?)

°Michael can go as long as his sweetheart wants in theory. But when it comes to a romantic evening, two or three rounds are possible if he has eaten his crunchy bar. But if he uses his tongue then the night can go on all the time he doesn't get tired of her pretty body he just wants to give her everything.

°,,One more time? Oh darling, I'll do anything for you"

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T = Toys (do they have toys? do they use them? on their partner or themselves?)

°Blindfold = He loves it when his sweetheart uses the fabric, puts the blindfold on him and he just gives himself to her. When she tells him to get between her thighs and he can only rely on his other senses. Her praise reaches his ears and he just wants to make her feel good even more. He is "at her mercy" and her hands run over his body caressing him, but it can also be the other way around. When he puts the blindfold on her to make her experience with him even better. When he kisses his way down her body and leaves light scratches. It's a night of pampering.

°Paddle/Ruler = The punishment if he was too naughty and didn't listen to his orders then it was time to pull the wood over his body, or he pulled it over her body depending on which of the two wanted what. But apart from hitting and taking care of the red sore skin, they used the toy with the blindfold together. Just more sensations in a more limited field of vision.

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U = Unfair (how they love to tease)

°Michael loves to tease his sweetheart of course this is all just a prelude to the evening but he also knows the more he teases the more his mommy will punish him for it. But when he teases it's usually light touches over her hand up to her breast it's so light it could have never happened. The eyes behind the glasses watching everything, the smirk on his lips when he saw her rubbing her thighs together, trying to get away from him just so he would follow her and not get away from her.

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V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make, etc.)

°Michael is relatively careful with his volume, especially when it's still daytime and he's always a bit afraid of being discovered. But when they are together in one of the two rooms with the door locked and the curtains closed, he lets out his whimpers, moans and praises. The longer the session between them goes on, the more needy and louder he becomes.

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W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

°He was completely afraid that his heart would leave him when she found out that he was her stalker. But as he waited with tears in his eyes for a slap or something, the last thing he expected was a gentle touch followed by a tug on his hair strands. It was that evening that they had spent the night

°He would blow all his fuses if he came into his room one day and found his darling there dressed in nothing but his shirts and one of his glasses. It would be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

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X = X-ray (let's look under the clothes)

°Under the dark happy trail when it's not shaved off, it's 16cm/6.29921in long and wide enough for her hand to close around it. The tip is definitely a light pink like his cheeks when he gets nervous. As well as some of the veins that are visible when he's aroused.

°He knows he's enough because even though he's not a top athlete, every time he made love to her her sounds, praise and touch were enough for him to know that his body was enough.

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Y = Yearning (how high is the sex drive?)

°Pretty high. The hand, fantasies and images he had were no longer enough. Which is why he was all the more grateful that he had his darling. Of course he respected her needs and praised her all the more and was all the more grateful when she responded to him, because he often wanted to.

°What usually began as daydreams and thoughts quickly turned into something when she saw the dreamy look on his face. When his glasses slipped slightly and his cheeks turned slightly pink. Before she coaxed what he wanted out of him and they both disappeared into the rooms.

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Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)

°Michael Gavey is a precise guy when it comes to times, when he studies and also when he sleeps. He usually falls asleep very quickly, but he will always always always always find time for his darling. He runs his fingers through her hair, takes her hand and kisses her goodnight. He takes time to enjoy even the last moments and make them as pleasant/romantic as possible.

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@ateliefloresdaprimavera , @ria-coolgirl , @valeskafics , @ammo23 , @a-song-of-fire-and-rain , @lady-slytherin-of-tarth , @palomam18

#saltburn #saltburn movie #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #smut alphabet

[stinkysam]

Eddie Brock - Alien

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : How about being Eddie and venom's new hot tall neighbor who just moved in and them having bi panic and simping over him

Reader : male (you/he)

A/N : bold is Venom talking // Part TWO

Their neighbor had quickly and quietly moved out.

Yeah, the one that played loud electric guitar. He's gone.

They didn't care when or why he left, even though Eddie had a little idea about it.

But now there's someone new that's moving in and despite being reluctant at first, Venom and Eddie quickly warmed up to the idea, especially after seeing you, the new neighbor, through their window.

You had moved in rather quickly before knocking on their door to present yourself. You shared your name and where you came from and exchanged a few more words, Venom silently listening in the back of Eddie's head.

"Holy shit." Venom said in his head.

Eddie said nothing, listening to you instead.

"He's hot !"

Instantly Eddie felt awkward, not knowing how to talk to you anymore. He didn't think of it, but Venom was right, you were kinda… hot.

"Eddie, tell him you like him."

Eddie coughed out a "No" discreetly enough for you to not notice it.

"Then invite him in !"

The inside of this flat flashed in Eddie's mind, showing his trashed kitchen and hanging car tires. He closed the door on himself more, so you could not see it, in a way that made you think you were taking too long and needed to end the discussion.

Which you did, quickly thanking him for his time and leaving to your side of the apartment.

"Good job he ran away !"

"That's your fault, V." Said Eddie, closing the door behind himself.

"How ?!"

He did not answer, feeling like it would be too complicated to explain and looked around. It truly looked like a fire hazard. Holes in the ceiling, claw marks on the walls, the cereals on the floor, ketchup on the walls along burn marks and so on…

"He is a tall one…"

Eddie said nothing, waiting.

"Was he taller than you ? I don't remember, I was lost in his eyes."

This made Eddie laugh. "You, lost in someone's eyes ?"

"Yes ! Beautiful [eye color] like… huh… I don't know."

To invite you in, he needed to clean up first and by the Gods he didn't want to. Especially since Venom would try to help but make things worse instead.

"Eddie. If we're looking for a human mate, it could be him."

"No." He said tiredly.

"Admit he was hot !"

"...No."

"Lies ! Lies ! Your pants are on fire, Eddie !"

"Alright !" He whisper-yelled, "He is hot ! Fucking handsome, even, happy ?!"

"No !! Because you made him leave ! He thinks we hate him !"

"No he doesn't."

Eddie sighed in annoyance "If you promise to help me clean up the place correctly, I promise to invite him in, alright ? Do we have a deal ?"

"Yes !"

And so they spent the next couple days cleaning up the flat and making it more comfortable and normal looking for a human, getting rid of the holes any way they could by hiding them with paint or wood planks.

During that time Eddie couldn't stop thinking of you. Wondering if you'd be happy to be invited. He began to wonder what your laugh sounded like and how big you could smile, trying to imagine it in his head while Venom was rambling.

"Do you think he's gonna like us ?"

"I don't know, Venom."

"He shall like the place ! We made it humanly welcoming !"

"I don't know if we should tell him about you yet. He might not react so well to an alien."

"When !?"

"I don't know…"

"Without me, your chances of attraction are low."

"Oh really ?"

Would it even work between the three of you ? What if he scared you ?

Once everything was cleaned up and replaced with better furniture, Eddie prepared himself. Showered, clean clothes, and freshly shaved to knock at your door.

When you opened, wind was knocked out of his lungs and Venom had to push him to make him say something. You were really something.

"I was- I was thinking, maybe you could come in for a beer or two ? I feel like we left on the wrong foot the other day." He said, looking you in the eyes. Even your eyes were beautiful to look at, Venom was right.

You agreed, closing the door behind you as you followed him to his apartment.

You spent a good hour there, drinking and laughing together until Venom had enough and decided to intervene.

"What is that !?" You yelled, jumping out of your seat and ready to throw your beer at the black gooey thing behind Eddie's back.

"Hello !"

"No ! [Name], don't !"

"I am Venom. Hello [Name]"

"It knows my name !"

"He's an alien, a symbiote. He's nice ! Please put your can down."

You slowly obeyed "Symbiote ? What is that ?"

"A living organism living in symbiosis with another species."

"An alien ?"

"You're the alien to me."

"Are you gonna eat me ?"

"No !"

"No ! Though humans are tasty."

"This doesn't help, V."

"I think I need another beer."

#male reader #m!reader #eddie brock x male reader #eddie brock #venom #venom x male reader #eddie brock imagine #marvel

[gabriellabowden]

Heyy i wanted to ask you something. I've been following you for years now and i remember your beautiful paintings, but im not sure if i remember correctly if you used a canvas or a wood/mdf panel, so my question is, which one did you use and if it was wood/mdf, did the painting changed with time? Would you recommend using wood or is a canvas better? Thank you

so I use mdf, because it’s smooth and that suits my sensibilities when it comes to my subject matter and how I like to paint it - it’s certainly not for everyone though! I had no formal introduction into painting (which is extremely evident) and I know very little beyond what worked for me. I didn’t like the textural qualities of canvas, or perhaps I didn’t have the skill to navigate the rugged surface without error, so MDF became my default almost immediately.

If you’re going to use MDF, getting panels thicker than a few centimetres is important because it warps/pringles easily - and make sure you prime it conscientiously, covering every part twice over.

These days though, as I’m tentatively getting back into making work after doing only 2 paintings in the last four years, I’ve been using leftover construction timber from building sites. In January I asked some builders if they were going to use the huge, long planks stacked by the side of the site, or if I could take them home and chop them up. They cut them up for me on the spot, I gave them a bunch of chocolate banana muffins, and since then, whenever I see a building site, I ask the people working on it if there’s any leftover or unusable lumber I can have for paintings.

Consequently I have nearly 100 beautiful rectangles of thick, primed timber lying around my tiny kitchen, and I trip every time I go to make a coffee in the morning, and by the end of the month I’m probably gonna have another hundred stacked up in my bedroom.

#I am going through my inbox after like two years of not really reading it and #I’m so sorry to anyone who’s asked me anything #there are thousands of messages and some of the questions are really interesting so I will be answering them as quickly as I can! #nice to be back #firmly ensconced in the arms of the only social media platform I’ve ever loved

[qvrcll]

kiri x human!girlfriend!reader. probably in a blurb or oneshot, I really don’t know how much this will take up.

where reader and kiri are secretly dating and sneak off for a cute date, with probably some kisses involved. maybe they get catch by one of kiri’s siblings (or maybe all/your choice) and they embarrass kiri in front of their sister’s girlfriend. kiri is embarrassed to say the least (her ears flop down in embarrassment) but reader is happy with getting along with her gf’s siblings and soon kiri notices that and falls in love with reader even more.

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — (𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✧

୫ hidden relationships are hard. but it’s harder for kiri to keep away.

cw. ࿐ fem bodied + non sully + human reader

auth notes. ࿐ hey, thanks for the ask back ! i really enjoy these fluffy asks about the sully children ^^ i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it ♡

warnings. ࿐ might contain spoilers !

✧    ﹒     ♡       ⁺      ៹    ﹒       ♡    ﹒       ✧      ₊ ✧    ﹒     ♡       ⁺

full of surprises, colours. freed into girlhood and love. ౨ৎ ࣪ .

kiri was a bloom of colours bursting to life right before your eyes — she was an epithet of “ooh’s” and “aah’s”, all drenched in synchronic beats of the one true mother. when you had first befriended her, you had mistaken her for reticent. shy. diffident to others. she liked to occupy her own space, neither imposing nor daunting. despite being almost as tall as her brothers, her voice was gentle, smooth and weighty. they reminded you of saturday clicks of rain descending the highest and heaviest clouds, clattering on dry mud. turning the land around. having it venerated, consecrated from the blessings of eywa.

but when you had truly unearthed the secrets of her heart when you had befriended her in that thick, lustrous forest. full of plump extraterrestrials. pumped with life throughout. the air felt alive, the ground slick with mud and rain. she had been sitting in the corner of the green fields, flicking through the mossy flowers, no doubt upset of the dirt trenching the poor petals.

you had been awkward and stiff, offering something like silent pleas of “hello? is there anyone here?” knowing damn well she could hear you in such close quarters. but she had still turned like a deer caught in headlights. she’d jumped, landed in a mossy part of the smut of the earth, bent her toes beneath the nippy slops of mud.

“what are you doing her” — she had spoken with such strength, she plants danced a second circle. they had spoken. flourished with life. you would’ve been distracted, tail whipping behind her large form thunderously.

i assume, with her trances with eywa, she’s barely conscious for a few minutes, always dwelling in and out of consciousness. trying to grasp the speech of another correctly. attempting to put up.

but she would falter. maybe stagger forward and fall onto your the top of your head. you could feel her abash, pulling herself up in strength and embarrassment. definitely tried to pick herself up with zero contact, but her hands would be all over your shoulders, hair, fingers full of it. it would be comical, her fingers stretching the sides of you as she tried to gather herself against you.

you’d be helpless. silent. stiff. a plank of wood against life. she’d eventually collect herself. and burst a vivid pink, almost staggering again. she’s not the type to flail her arms sort-of-embarrassment, more of the ‘keeping to herself, jump back and rub her arms’ embarrassed.

would be silent.

sileeeent.

but you would coax her out her shell, asking what she had been doing.

she would be doubtful but jittery, maybe slightly apprehensive as she tells you that “um… just… looking at these… oh, just come. i’ll show you.”

from then, it’s promises and the swelling share of girlhood in your heart.

she would invite you on dates — ‘friendly’ ones — to the very edge of pandora. you wouldn’t have recognised the mini undergrowth of mints and several herbs when she would point them out, on your own. it’d be anything but tedious. silent. intimate. the sanest and softest parts of her soul.

the landscape would be her, and she’d show you the deepest parts. simpers and smiles came quick, kisses quicker. it had been sunnier than usual, blades of grass within the gap in your thighs, her head resting on your right. she’d probably be messing with flowers or overgrown weeds out of pedestrian habit. it would die old. but she’d slip the silence away in a bag, telling you how “everyone makes me feel… weird. different. i mean, i know i am different. but… you make me feel somewhat guilty for liking the fact that i’m not normal”, a smile, “if that makes sense.”

and you’d pause. burst. clock the road of her words. figure the clockwork of her givings. you’d smile, she’d smile back. her fingers would interlock with yours and the air would turn into thick, sloppy breaths of marshy waters, lungs clogged and cheeks dustier. you would have leaned and softly pecked her, and she would squeal at the impact. you would pull back, obviously, thinking the worst. twisting your guts. but she’d grow resentful for the air for having the taste of your lips for eternity and she’d steal it all away with a harsh tug on your hand, and meld your lips together once more.

then, it’s solely girlfriends. soulmates. lovers.

she would overlook your differences — the height difference is what she digs best. she loves picking you up unexpectedly. sometimes, she rubs the top of your head for no real reason, just to feel top of your head. or maybe your face when she leans forward to steal your bashful expression. 100% pulls it everytime to have you reddddd.

she’d also teach you of her reactivity + tails + cord. lovessss explaining things to you. loves it even more when you explain things in turn — earth in comparison, your breathing patterns, limbs, hand shape. your life before pandora. encourages it with a smile + kiss if you’re lucky (which is every time, she’s a sucker for you)

i don’t think she’d be even remotely opposed to the idea of a human gf. cmon, look at her relationship with spider. loves you for who you are, small, soft limbs as you are. definitely needs some adjustments in terms of getting used to the difference but hey, she’d bend a thousand times over to make sure you’re kissing her regularly.

it’s secret endeavour. touches on the arm. blushes on the cheek. it’d be the intimate eye contact when you catch her pleasurably entertained with a plant — she’d shown you. but your eyes are locked with gold and ivy and blue and oh— she’d noticed your stare. she’d blush, murmur, embarrassed “hey… pay attention…” and then you would point enthusiastically at your cheek, 100% fucking overselling. but hey, she’d buy the price and smush her lips against your cheeks, all over your forehead and end it with the park of your lips.

you’d have said “i see you” once and she had gone berserk internally. tail whipped 100 times behind her. cheeks all red and violet. says it back, silent, hushed. or, after, she’d whisper it to the flowers. undergrowth. tendrils of ewya. it’s a way of letting everything know that she loves you. ^^

with the sullies, i’d say the perpetrator would be lo’ak. a silly boy, with his fast feet. almost never under sheets, always running. he’d be proving a bet to spider, swinging in between branches and barely circumventing a thick bush of leaves, cracks of branches grazing his thin arms, when he’d hear giggling. maybe a shuffle of the plants.

he’d shush spider. spider would accidentally step on his toes. they’d hiss. fall forward, when their feet lock in with a hefty branch on the ground and land on their teeth.

when they look up, they see kiri‘s head on your lap, grass dancing around her figure. a beat is heard. one, two, and then they clock. she’s kissing you.

it takes minutes to register but i think kiri would jump, not push you away. you’d stagger and falter against the grass. lo’ak would stare, wide eyed, and then bursssst into laughter.

“THE TWO OF YOU, ALONE IN THE WOODS!”

“SHUT IT, KNUCKLE HEAD”

her ears would trail back, heightened. angry. 100%. then, they’d flop in defeat. they’d also twitch relatively fast, once or twice. you’d notice and she’d would hardly stop.

but never once, would kiri leave your lap. and her hand would be slotted like gem stones in a jeweller’s grasp within yours, different but beautiful. hot, warm. and thumping with energy (ok maybe not when she attempts to beat lo’ak up)

then its a sequence of god forsaken events — you send a prayer for lo’ak to the great mother to survive kiri’s fists. they were small, soft and picked like dewy flowers amongst rough reeds, but when she clenched her fists, they were doubt their weight.

she’d notice your amusement and laughter and falter, letting lo’ak make an escape behind some tree.

and then her ears would 200% flick, tail flicking back and forth and everywhere, smile etched on her face. dusted again, as she falls in that blimey trap of yours again, with her heart melted beyond relief.

© 2022 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

#bam : writes ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. #avatar: twow fanfic #avatar 2 fanfic #avatar fanfic #avatar: twow #avatar #avatar 2 #kiri sully #kiri sully x reader #avatar x reader #reqs 𓂃୭̥ known

[sugolara]

𝘼𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚

ft. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

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The moment Izuku, F/n, and Katsuki made it into their home, Katsuki fell in the living room and passed out from tiredness. The other two were shocked and quickly made their way to Katsuki to make sure he was breathing. 

Izuku had let out a sigh of relief once his friend began to snore lightly. He then headed to a closet near the stairs and grabbed blankets for Katsuki in case he was cold during the night. 

While Izuku grabbed some blankets, he told F/n to check for any bites or scratches. Luckily, she had found nothing but dried blood and dirt. Katsuki was in good condition, aside from a scar near his wrist. 

She then removed his green bag, jacket, and shoes so he could rest comfortably. After that, she grabbed a pillow and rested his head on top of him and shortly after, Izuku arrived. 

The green-haired male laid a few blankets on top of his friend and sat next to him. He then sighed as he looked at his friends eyebags, “He must be exhausted.” 

F/n then sat down as well, her back against the wall, “The suns not even down yet.”

“Who knows how much he’s suffered out there. He was probably alone, and starving.” Izuku said with a frown. 

“Should we wake him up?” F/n said as Izuku looked at her, “If he’s starving then he must be hungry.”

Izuku shook his head and stood up, “No, we should let him rest. Tomorrow morning we’ll give him something to eat. For now, let's put away the food.”

Nodding, F/n followed Izuku and picked up the basket of food they had picked from the grocery store. They then headed to the basement where they stored all their supplies. While Katsuki slept soundly, the two downstairs talked in a quiet voice as to now wake the male up.

The sun's light on Katsuki’s eyes bothered him, he covered them with his blanket but the sun was still bright. He then grunted and turned in his sleeping position, but the sound of floorboards creaking interrupted his sleep. 

In a matter of seconds, Katsuki pounced on a figure, slamming them to the ground with his forearm around their throat and his other arm ready to spill blood, but he stopped when he realized who it was.

The h/c haired girl stared at Katsuki in shock, “...Woah.”

From the basement, Izuku quickly ran up the stairs as the commotion worried him. He stared at them both with his arms waving, “Kacchan! She’s not any threat! I asked her to check up on you!” 

Scoffing, Katsuki rolled his eyes and let F/n get up, “I know that, idiot!” 

F/n rubbed her neck, “You’re pretty strong. I almost thought you were going to kill me.” 

The blonde-hair crossed his arms, feeling a bit proud from her comment, “Then don’t sneak up on me.” 

Izuku let out a sigh, “She wasn’t sneaking up on you.”

“Nah.” F/n placed her hands on her neck and shrugged, “I kinda was.” 

Izuku shook his head at the girl and waved Katsuki to follow him out to the backyard and eat breakfast. All the while, Katsuki glared at F/n as she headed to the second floor of the house. He was curious and wondered what business she had to do instead of eating.

To say the least, Katsuki was impressed at how his friend and his companion secured the backyard. The gates entrance on the side of the house were boarded up, the gates had barbed wires on top to prevent anyone from jumping, and at the bottom next to the gates had wooden spikes in case someone managed to jump the fence.

But other than that, a garden of vegetables was placed at the back of the yard, in the center rested a campfire with bricks surrounding it and near the house's wall was a cart filled with wooden planks. 

“How long have you been here?” Katsuki asked.

Izuku hummed, “Three weeks, if I remember correctly.”

Katsuki crossed his arms and gave Izuku a look, “Staying in one place isn’t smart. You should know that, Deku.” 

“I know, but that’s now how you live.” Izuku let out a low sigh, “It tiring. Running. Making sure a place is safe. I just want to live comfortably for as long as I live.”

The blonde looks away and strikes up another conversation, “Who's that extra you're with.” 

“Ah!” Izuku smiles and hands Katsuki breakfast, “That’s F/n. We met on the road, about 3 and a half weeks ago. She’s kind, in her own way and can handle herself. Although, I don’t know that much about her, she’s very smart! She thought of the spikes herself!” 

Katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes, “She probably needs your help every time.” 

“Actually,” Izuku begins with a frown, “...the whole reason why I’m still alive is because of her.” 

“The hell you mean by that?” Katsuki says as he looks back at the house, staring at a second floor window where he sees F/n’s movement.

Izuku stares at Katsuki for a moment before responding, “A couple weeks ago, we ran into bad people. One of them tried to harm me but F/n prevented it before they could.” 

“What she do? Attack them with kind words.” Katsuki joked but Izuku’s frown made him a bit uneasy.

The green-haired shook his head, “She killed them. Got rid of them before they could get rid of me.” 

Katsuki’s eyes widened a bit, the thought of killing a human being has never crossed his mind. I mean, it’s a human being. Someone who's still alive, someone who thinks, eats, has emotions, a beating heart. Not something that drools and growls with an intent to eat people. 

But Katsuki understood F/n’s reason. If he were to choose to kill someone in order to protect his loved one, he would do it. Though, he did find it odd at how she presents herself. On the outside, the moment Katsuki had first met her, she seemed like an ordinary girl. Not a killer.

“Oh, I forgot!” Izuku exclaims and gives Katsuki a bright grin, “She went to the same school as us!” 

 Forgetting their previous conversation, Katsuki follows Izuku around as the green-haired male grabs a bin and heads to the garden. He watches as Izuku picks the vegetables that had already grown, “How long do we plan on staying here.” 

“For a long time if the world lets us.” F/n says as she holds a pocket knife.

The two males jump, starled from her presence. Izuku rises from his spot and gives her a smile, “We didn’t hear you.”

“You should wear a fucking bell.” Katsuki says.

F/n lets out a sigh, “I’d rather not, it can attract rotters.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Ditto.”

Izuku gives F/n an apologetic smile but she shrugs it off and instead gives Katsuki the pocketknife she held, “I notice you didn’t have any weapons, so here. Better safe than dead.”

The blonde doesn’t take it, he just glares at her, “I don’t need it. Besides, I can take care of myself once I’m out of here.” 

F/n smiles before chuckling, “What makes you think you’re going anywhere?” 

“The hell you just say to me?” He takes a step forward.

“Guys!” Izuku tries to get their attention before anything escalates, “Please don’t fight!”

Ignoring her friend, the h/c haired girl continues, “As long as Izuku’s here, you won’t go anywhere. Not after you just found each other. You mean something to him and as much as you hate to say it, he means something to you. You wanna take your chance and leave and never see Izuku again. Fine, be our guest.” 

A bit shocked by her statement, Katsuki takes a few steps towards her with a glare but before he had any chance to do something, Izuku places himself between, “Please! Let's not argue and fight! The last thing we need is for us to hate each other”

He then turns to his childhood friend, “Kacchan, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But, please, stay. We only have each other.”

His ruby eyes stared at Izuku, his eyes glistened and his heart hurt for a moment at his friend's words. He then looked away, we do only have each other.

Scoffing, Katsuki walks towards the house, “Whatever! Just don’t get on my nerves!” 

Smiling, Izuku nods his head at F/n, as if telling her that Katsuki wouldn’t be a problem. He then nervously told the girl to play nice as Katsuki is a bit short tempered. The girl only shrugs and nods before walking to Katsuki, presumingly to play nice with him.

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[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi MBTI-notes, I am an American masculine-presenting (potentially) enby in their early 20s trying to figure out my type so I can work on finding the right path. I have anxiety, depression, ADHD, a lack of socialization, and lack of life experience. I am confident that I am ISFJ or INFJ, and would like your insight into which seems more likely.

For ISFJ, I think I have immature dominant function Si because:

-I feel that I could be happy living a quiet life with my best friend as long as all my material needs are met without any stress. In other words, appreciating stability and quietly appreciating life. Feeling secure in life would give me confidence (on the flip side, I don’t often push my comfort zone because new = scary, though I’m working on it).

-I can be very insistent on following instructions to the letter. For example, even if doing step 4 before step 3 makes more sense, I will do step 3 and then step 4 because if someone wrote the instructions, then it must have worked that way in the past so I should do what has been proven to work/what I was told to do.

-I require a sense of familiarity to feel secure, and rely on past experience to make sense of things. For example, when I got a new job, despite receiving written instructions, I felt uncertain that I was going to the right place at the right time and doing things correctly until I had done it the same way multiple days in a row.

-I need to know the “proper” conduct or procedures to follow before feeling comfortable. For example, whether I should address my supervisor by their first or last name. I proceed very cautiously in new and unfamiliar situations, and don’t try new things because I am afraid of either failing or of being reprimanded.

-I am known for my attention to detail despite having ADHD. I make sure my work is typo-free and conforms to any relevant formats, such as APA, MLA, etc.

-I really dislike people who seem irresponsible, either by flippant attitude or failing to complete their work in the past.

-I easily conform to set ways of doing things and rely on authority figures. I feel directionless without being given explicit instructions or known procedures to follow. For example, I would require someone to tell me how they wanted me to put together a shelf in small steps (first go grab my tools from X location, then come back to the garage, then grab this wooden plank, etc).

-I ask redundant questions; even if I think I may know something, I often have to ask someone in authority or who knows the subject better than me before I am confident in that knowledge. For example, whether humans can lose 1 liter of blood and live or not.

-I like collecting facts, and feel confident when I can share once I know I have memorized correctly.

-I tend to ask a lot of “what” questions in conversation; clarifying basic facts as I try to keep up and trying to figure out what I can say for general responses. When I do talk, I can only really recite facts or things that happened. I don’t really have anything deep to say, or interesting insights, which I feel very self-conscious of. I’m worried people find me very simple.

-When I don’t want to do something, my sense of duty and sticking to my routine is often what makes it possible for me to follow through anyways, such as getting up for work when I dread going. However, this also makes it difficult for me to improve my situation. I find it much easier to keep doing things the way I’ve always done it, or at least accept the situation as-is, than try something new that might not work, and might even make things worse (such as moving somewhere new).

-I work hard, but I feel bad because it takes me twice as much effort to get half the results that other people can. I overwork myself because I feel like my time and effort are the only things of worth that I can offer, but also resent that fact.

-I have been criticized for being too unadventurous, inflexible, and oversensitive about minor physical discomforts.

For ISFJ, I think I have immature inferior function Ne because:

-I’m scared of unpredictable change. If something bad were to happen, like losing my house or job, I would struggle to figure out what to do.

-I feel trapped in my life, just going through the motions and checking off boxes, going from task to task understanding only the bare minimum and being forever stuck as who I am now, without the ability to improve myself or my situation.

For INFJ, I think I have immature dominant function Ni because:

-I am obsessed (negatively) with finding purpose; I feel empty and mannequin-esque without proper drive and direction. I know it’s unrealistic, but it feels like many of my personal issues would be solved by finding something that lights a fire in my soul. Until then, I have no hope for my future and daily life has no meaning. All I have are pleasant distractions, which I will look back on with regret because I will have not anything.

-I feel very detached from the world around me. This might just be the depression, though, since sometimes the feeling of detachment is a crippling feeling that I lack connection to anyone or anything.

-Nothing is ever good enough, especially myself. I can only ever see how I fail to live up to the person I want to be and have a hard time acknowledging what I do have. The fact that I have a place to live and plenty to eat isn’t good enough; I need to be smart, and charming, and talented to even think that I MIGHT be worth anything. The main thing that helps this is positive comparison to other people who are doing worse, which is not the right way to find self-confidence.

-One other thing that can help is being able to imagine myself as a character, at least when I can see myself positively. Would this scene be interesting, would it be meaningful? How would the audience react to me as a character? Would they like me?

-I am always worried about what comes next, though it doesn’t help me at all. Not being able to fully engage when things are happen means I don’t get the benefits of the experience, nor any sense of accomplishment.

-I think it’s important to delay gratification for the sake of the future, and see it as a failure when I indulge in momentary pleasures at the expense of my future self. For example, paying for an expensive meal now, or having more money for retirement.

-I am interested in speculating about potential implications (often people-based; such as whether X reaction means the person has Y or Z intentions, which means I can expect certain reactions from them later; or whether X behavior or thought means I’m a bad person), but I’m no good at it.

-I dislike people who are self-limiting, narrow-minded, shallow, and fickle. However, I'm trying not to be so judgmental, and have even started seeing some people who display these characteristics as better than me because they can function better socially and materially.

-I am scared of being called pretentious, demanding, unrealistic, and unfun. As a result, I have slowly eroded the quality of my personality and squandered my potential over the years by trying to be peppy, forgiving, approachable, and fun to be around. I never let myself express my interests in public (so I lost out on the preteen and teen experience of expressing and finding myself) and I sound stupid when I speak because I jettisoned my pretentious vocabulary.

-I’ve been criticized for being distant, overserious, and for overthinking too much.

-I have to re-process everything every time I recall it, especially if I need to recall a specific detail.

For INFJ, I think I have immature inferior Se because:

-I can be oblivious to my surroundings, which leads to me missing obvious details.

-I have a hard time adjusting to things in-the-moment; I need time to prepare. For example, I would need to know how to handle a bear attack ahead of time.

-I use sensory pleasures, such as overindulging in food, as a way of coping with stress.

-I used to envision my happiness as something that existed in the future, but as I get older and it fails to materialize (mainly because I 1) used unrealistic prerequisites to construct my imagined happiness and 2) never developed the necessary competencies to reach that future) I have started slipping into the trap of instant gratification. I want to try everything, meet people, be reckless, let loose, and actually have fun. I want to stop feeling like I need absolute control for life to go well.

For either stack, I have immature auxiliary Fe because:

-I rely on others for cues on how I’m supposed to feel or react to things. I find myself either empty or easily confused when trying to assess my own thoughts, opinions, or feelings about something even as small as whether something tastes good or not.

-I am overly influenced by others’ mannerisms, speech patterns, and moods.

-I hate how desperate I feel for connection and a sense of camaraderie. I often compromise my (already flimsy) sense of right and wrong in order to go along with what others want.

-I am paranoid about people disliking me and often hide/avoid when I feel like others have negative opinions of me.

-I find it uncomfortable bearing responsibility for things if it means people will have a negative opinion of me, though I recognize that one’s reaction to being blamed (rightly or wrongly) will also impact what others think of someone.

-I want to feel confident in my abilities, but I worry that I care more about being competent because it affects how others see me, and that I don’t care enough about it for “pure” reasons (ie. for my own sake) The same goes for wanting to help other people.

-I am deathly afraid of confrontation because it generates an unpleasant emotional atmosphere and I buckle under pressure. I allow myself to be pushed around and bullied because I can’t stand up. I’m torn between wanting to strive for my own goals (once I figure them out) and quietly carrying out the wishes of others.

For either stack, I have immature tertiary Ti because:

-When searching for an answer, I tend to skim articles to the relevant section, get my answer, and leave without trying to fully comprehend the subject matter.

-I am very lazy intellectually; I passively ingest things I enjoy and give up easily when something requires additional thought.

-I have trouble assigning priorities to different considerations, and am easily overwhelmed or confused by conflicting interests when weighing appropriate courses of action (ex. one person has a time-sensitive task they want completed, but another relevant party would be inconvenienced. The time-sensitive task has the potential for flexibility, but it would be better to complete it on time. Unsure how to proceed.)

-My thinking is generally very disorganized, and people can have a hard time understanding what I mean. In truth, I often lose track of my point or why I mentioned something or started on a certain topic.

[Addendum] One thing that I forgot to mention that probably impacted my development: my mother was extremely controlling. She insisted that I consult her before doing anything (even moving a chair to another room), that I do everything the way she prescribed, threatened to remove the bathroom locks if I ever used them (they were really only there for guests), and kept tabs on me through HS. Whenever I got hurt physically or upset emotionally—cue her dropping everything and rushing onto the scene as if it were a crisis. She tried to keep me happy and prepare me for the future, but she also took every opportunity to remind me how ignorant I was and how much I needed her. Even though she would say I was doing a good job, her constantly correcting minor ‘errors’, such as putting shoes on the "wrong way" or failing to laugh when I was "supposed to", told another story.

--------------------

I can see where the confusion comes from. If you're wondering why I highlighted some parts red, it's only to aid me when processing large amounts of text. I usually highlight any points that stick out to me as: weirdly off, out of place, illogical, contradictory, problematic, or requiring more attention. Afterwards, I can quickly review the points and put them together for analysis. The Fe and Ti sections are fine, so I'll focus mainly on the dominant and inferior.

One common obstacle I bump into during type analysis is "unreliable narration", when people make claims that don't quite add up. For example, you say: "I feel that I could be happy living a quiet life with my best friend as long as all my material needs are met without any stress." And then later on you also say: "The fact that I have a place to live and plenty to eat isn’t good enough; I need to be smart, and charming, and talented to even think that I MIGHT be worth anything." Which is it: Are you easily content or is it difficult for you to feel content? This is quite relevant to distinguishing Si and Ni. How can I get to the bottom of things when the truth remains unclear?

With regard to Si, you've done your best to make a case and it seems convincing, on the surface. However, one should always pause when the majority of examples add up to a very negative vibe that is more characteristic of a lower rather than higher function.

The evidence is trying to convince me that you are very "detail-oriented", yet I believe a more accurate description would be that you suffer from "detail anxiety". Generally speaking, a person who is naturally good with details not only has a deep appreciation of them but also doesn't tend to worry about them. Yet your relationship to details seems problematic rather than automatic, rooted in distrust/control rather than trust/mastery. Instead of using details in positive and life-affirming ways, you seem to merely use them as a means to some other end, such as avoiding mistakes that would garner you criticism. This defensiveness is atypical and reason to proceed more carefully in type assessment because it might be more indicative of Ti loop than healthy Si.

Would you agree that your approach to details is actually detail anxiety... and it perhaps stems from a deeper social anxiety… which perhaps stems from your mother constantly treating you as though you're not good enough? The part you added about your mother being very controlling is indeed crucial to the analysis. If you review everything you wrote through the lens of her parental influence, the bigger picture of your personality becomes more coherent.

You seem to have internalized her mindset to a troubling degree. The way she corrected and criticized you has led you to approach the world in an over-controlling way. The manner through which she exerts control seems to suggest some Si influence. Comparing hypotheticals, if you were both SJ, her way of educating you would resonate better than if you were high Ni bumping up against her high Si. Based on past cases I've seen, the relationship dynamic between you does seem to suggest some N versus S conflict, but more evidence is required to know for sure. Therefore, I think it is pertinent to know her type and flesh out exactly how her function expression influenced your function development.

As a reminder, people who haven't yet learned to use their dominant function appropriately tend to suffer from poor self-awareness (i.e. don't really know themselves and what they want) and low self-esteem (i.e. have difficulty believing in themselves). You exhibit both of these issues. One possibility is you've always wanted to use Ni but have been inhibited from doing so. The examples you gave for Ni don't exactly create a positive vibe either, but you seem to have a somewhat more innate understanding of how it operates than Si. Your mother's influence might have led you to believe that N is invalid or can't be trusted. Distrust of N among Ns is unfortunately quite a common affliction due to two facts: 1) Ns often suffer from minority status, and 2) intuition is much easier to cast doubt upon than sensing.

Let me pose this question: Which function, assuming you were to learn to use Si or Ni appropriately and optimally, would lead your personality development in the right direction and/or allow you to experience meaningful personal growth? I believe you have already answered: "I feel empty and mannequin-esque without proper drive and direction. I know it’s unrealistic, but it feels like many of my personal issues would be solved by finding something that lights a fire in my soul. Until then, I have no hope for my future and daily life has no meaning. All I have are pleasant distractions, which I will look back on with regret because I will have not anything."

Is there an unsilenceable force within you that wants more than what material life can offer? While this force is universal in humans and not exclusive to any one type, INFJ is the type that will experience the most pain and suffering from compromising it, whereas ISFJ is the type that most easily brushes it aside. This is one of the most glaring differences between the two types. However, the only way you can use this distinction to tell which type you are is to get in touch with who you really are, deep down. Perhaps you're not there yet.

ISFJs delight in what you somewhat derisively call "pleasant distractions". Pleasant experiences of concrete reality, especially when shared with loved ones and/or a larger community, lie at the heart of ISFJ fulfillment, which prompts them to build up elaborate routines and rituals to ensure their continuation. Hence, ISFJs are known to be "traditionalists" in the way they approach their routines and rituals as sacred. It seems you have very little understanding of this mindset given that there is no evidence of it provided.

The process of confirming the dominant function requires you to make an equally strong case for the corresponding inferior function. However, the case you've made for inferior Ne is particularly weak, with only two points, why is that? The first point you made is basically a non-point. Is it really unusual, abnormal, or unwarranted to fear big unexpected changes like losing a job or a house? I don't see how such a universal fear is indicative of inferior Ne. The second point, while arguably relevant to Ne, weirdly doesn't fit well with the inferior position. The evidence you gave for inferior Se, while also weak, is comparatively more convincing. Either you haven't understood the concept of inferior functions or you still haven't developed enough awareness of your inferior function to describe and explain its activities in detail.

For the sake of improving your self-awareness, I have to mention that an important stage in ego development is nurturing genuine adult independence. This often involves going through a difficult psychological process of differentiating oneself from parental, peer, and societal expectations. In other words, you need to learn what kind of person you really are apart from what your parents or society have inadvertently led you to believe you are. You don't seem to be there yet, though that's normal for your age bracket. It is my prediction that until you get there, you'll continue to suffer from the "detachment" you described.

You want to connect with the world better (i.e. use Fe appropriately), but how can that happen when it's unclear what it is inside you that the world should be connecting with? One vital aspect of personality development is learning about the gifts that come with your personality and not being afraid to express them. These gifts are what allow people to carve out a space in the world and find a sense of purpose that is well-matched to the core of their identity. Yet I struggle to get any sense of your gifts when reading your self-description. Your conscientiousness certainly shines through, but there should be more than that.

Generally, it seems you approach the world as though it is your mother, so you live in fear of its criticism - this is most likely the main reason you feel yourself and your life to be too small or too "simple". I suggest you take steps to overcome social anxiety in order to discover your true powers and express the more positive aspects of yourself, otherwise, you'll continue to feel uncertain about your type (regardless of how I or others type you) because you are not expressing the dominant function optimally. Maybe your mother simply doesn't recognize your gifts due to the blindspots of her personality type, or maybe the voice you've internalized from her has served to suppress the best parts of you, I don't know. In any case, it is never too late to try to get in touch with them.

At this point, I can't say for certain which type you are, though I lean more toward INFJ due to ISFJ having too many irregularities. I've highlighted some key points that need clarification or fleshing out, and I believe doing so should lead you toward the right conclusion in due time.

#typing #ask

[beachbabey]

ENOCH

Priest Rhett telling you to touch yourself in the confessional booth when you tell him about your impure thoughts 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

ROBYN COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT

the fact that i had to look up bible verses and psalms-

im never forgiving you for this

Playlist: / nwfmb - hozier / without you - lana del ray / little bit - lykke li

word count: 931

“Bless me, Father Abbott, for I have sinned…” 

He catches the shakiness in your voice, the way you mumble his name like that makes him shift on the wooden bench, black slacks beginning to get unbearably tight in the mere seconds you've been here. 

“It’s been…” he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence 

“Two months if I recall correctly? Since your last confession?” he forces a chirpy voice, biting his lip so hard he’s almost drawing blood at the small, breathless chuckle you give him

“Good memory, yes. Thank you, Father Abbott, I-”

“Rhett. You can call me Rhett. If you’d like. It's just you and me in here"

Your cheeks glow bright pink at his words

Father Rhett… 

If only he knew how many times that name left your lips in the middle of the night, back arching off of the damp bedsheets

“I- I have been struggling lately. I’ve been having these, feelings….and urges Father Rhett” The crotch of his pants grow tighter in wicked temptation at your confession. 

“Urges?” He prompts with a clipped tone, scrunching his face up in frustration and balling his hand up to keep it from straying to his zipper. 

“Yes…. well, you see,” You stop yourself, unsure of how much you’re willing to tell the man. Yes, the guilt had been making you lose sleep, swallowing you whole. 

But a part of you enjoyed it. Enjoyed it the way you wanted his fingers to replace yours. How you wanted him to lay you down on his bed, take you all over his church. 

“I’ve tried, Father Abb- Rhett, please believe me, but sometimes, I can’t help but act on them and sometimes I…” he can tell you’re nervous by the way your speech quickens, he can picture you on the other side of that thin plank of wood, rubbing your thighs together, canting your hips forward just enough to get enough relief to continue your confession

“God values, and admires your honesty, as do I, child” His calm, soothing voice eases you into your contrition.

He had to be teasing you, surely. He has to be

He’s seen the way you’d discreetly grind down on your own fingers during congregation, hiding your moans behind hymns and prayers. He’s felt the way your lips wrap around his finger ever so slightly when he placed the bread in your mouth, sticking your tongue out a little more than need be, looking up to him with those big round eyes. Sucking your spit off of the tip of his thumb as he went back up to the altar. 

He touched himself for hours after that day. Leaning against his bedroom wall, looking down at his own hand, pushing his hips forward, fucking into his palm and envisioning your mouth, those big, doe eyes looking up at him as he shoved his cock down your virgin throat. Feeling his pants fully tent as you contemplate your answer. 

“But it happens more often now, Father. And I’m ashamed, I think.”

“We all have shame, dear girl, the Lord knows this, and loves us anyways. Are you ready to say your act of contrition?”. You sigh shakily and give him an affirmative hum, stumbling half-heartedly through the prayer. 

“Good girl” Rhett croons as you finish, and catches the breath that gets lodged in your throat at his praise, he turns his head to look at the carved wood and mesh screen and he catches the silhouette of you from behind the flimsy partition, you have your head bowed. He can see your shoulders rocking back and forth slightly and he knows what you’re doing. And he wants nothing more than to press his lips to the delicate skin of your neck, just behind your ear, helping you make those unholy noises in his church. Defiling the sacrament he took all those years ago. 

“Tell me, Angel. What urges do these feelings provoke?” The alluring way he phrases the question catches you off guard

“I do…. unholy things” Your whimper as you confess, the flush crawling up your ears and down your neck.

“Why don't you tell me a little bit more about that?” You can all but see the smug grin on his lips as he asks you, biting his lip. 

“Like. Like….” You don’t even realise your eyes are closed as your fingers caress your thighs, your lower lip hiding a moan as your fingertips trail up your skirt, curling around the seam of your panties, letting your thumb fall over your throbbing clit, bucking your hips as inconspicuously as possible 

Are you being serious right now?

“Like what you’re doing right now?” 

Your hitches in your throat, your hips stilling as you’re caught. It takes a few seconds for him to speak again. You don't dare move, knowing he can probably see your profile through the screen.

“None of us are without sin” He continues nonchalantly, teasing you even more. You gather up the courage to start humping your hand again, a little harsher this time, even letting out a small gasp, the newfound confidence shooting down into your cunt, making you clench around nothing. 

“I, of all people should know that. Having to resist temptation. Every. Fucking. Sunday.” He groans. And you know he's talking about you, hearing his head softly hit the wall behind him. You hear a zipper and let out a small moan at the realisation that he's now touching himself. Because of you

“So I’m sure we can repent after. Now, let me hear you sin for me Angel”

#nobody talk to me about this #robyn <3 #priest!rhett #priest!rhett x reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x you

[twinklelilstarkey]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 {𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟖}

Words: 6.3k+

Summary: Stuff does not go according to plan and you're not ready to put everything at stake.

Warnings: No Spoilers! Rich people being their privileged selves. Fem!Reader [no descriptions of race or body type]. Bad family relationships. Mentions of smoking. Usage of the term "Y/N" (once). Pure angst.

Parts: Prologue,��One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine [Series Masterlist]

The tall glass twirls in your fingers elegantly. Your newly made nails match with the darkness of the red liquid inside - the wine your father chose with such care. You keep your eyes on your hand as you play with your glass, not wanting any kind of attention from your parents, who sit by you in soft conversation.

The family tradition continues with your weekly dinners. Your mother has supposedly found this new restaurant in the city. It is quite elegant and, interestingly, mostly kept to its outside. Which, you have to admit, is quite risky to do in such a rainy city as Gotham. Its tables and chairs, all areas of service really are outside in between all the nature that they offer.

The day was dry and the skies were clean for the most part, which works as total luck for tonight’s dinner. The night has been calm and only carries a nice breeze as well, which is actually the only thing that keeps you grounded as you daydream at any chance you get.

Your heels rest over the wooden flooring on top of the soft grass. Wooden planks are lined up and fill the rest of the outside, leaving only a few areas surrounding you, far from the tables, with the pure green cut grass. The garden also seems to be an essential part of the restaurant, as every plant and flower is well kept and well taken care of. All sorts of colors, and cut in ways that make all of it seem natural to the naked eye.

There are golden lights hung over your heads across the whole patio. They are attached to the trees and posts on the sides, leaving soft lighting over everyone’s tables. They make the food shine perfectly and leave a soft atmosphere around you all.

It has been 2 weeks since your night in the diner and the conversation with your mother. You have been fighting your mind as you promised yourself to do. But, as predicted, you have grown tired of making your mind wander to other things anytime his face appears. It always feels stronger than you. Even though you keep on fighting it, you find it constantly winning. 

You have come to a point of forcing yourself to stop looking into the darkness expecting him to be there, or be at dinners and looking around in hopes of finding him at all. He is not there, but if he is, you’re not expected to care. And even when you can very much always assume that it is, you act as if he is not. 

You sometimes wonder if Bruce would notice your somewhat distance. That question sets in the nights before bed when you’ve had enough of the constant fighting with your mind. In those nights that you let it win, in fact. And the truth is that it's not like you two have had much time together. Therefore, you can’t help but be curious to know if he would even notice how you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. And, if so… Would he even care?

You shake your head in dismissal of your own thoughts and raise your gaze, still waiting for your last course of the meal before dessert. You listen as your parents continue to share words in soft mumbles and notice their quite good-humored expressions.

Work has calmed down for the past 2 days, which has come as a great relief.

You had a few stressful days with the new business partners, who seemed to change their minds on everything every second since you signed the contract with them. So, after a much more stressful meeting with them, you didn’t hesitate on terminating their contract. 

Much to their shock, if you remember correctly. Your workers in the room didn’t blink an eye as they expected it to happen sooner or later; while the two CEOs fought for words out of their mouths. You can only assume their pride began to get stuck in their throats after all of it. And it was nothing but entertaining to watch at some point.

With this sudden change of plans, you got calls. A whole day and night in the office answering calls while pacing around the room and you got a new contract signed. It's with a company which was “happy to hear about your disconnection” from the previous one. This new company has been one of their rivals, of course.

That was all yesterday, just in time to get your parents in a good mood for tonight’s dinner.

You let go of your glass, tired of moving it around, and look around the tables. You wonder if your family has known about this restaurant for a long time because it seems quite packed. You don’t think you can see any table that is empty and for a restaurant as expensive as this one, you really can’t see it as new to the city.

Almost as if your father read your mind, you hear his question to your mother, asking about how she had found the place.

“I had some extra time during lunch today and began to research restaurants. I was growing tired of the last one.” She says before sipping some of her wine, “I found it quite easily, actually.”

“Strange.” Your father comments and you look at him, “Why would your assistant never mention it?”

“I asked her.” Your mother nods, “She said some nonsense about some people that ‘I might not be a fan of’ having a dinner here some months ago.”

“Months ago?” Your father says with a chuckle in between words.

“I know…” Your mother says with a bright smile, “Quite weird that one.”

Your father shakes his head humorously and looks over at you as a reflex. He offers you a smile when he sees you looking, to which you offer a short one in return. You look away, to not hold his stare for too long and have to begin a conversation, and notice some waitresses leaving the main building.

The main building is obviously connected to the patio part of the restaurant, yet it only serves the purpose of holding the queue of those that wait for tables without reservations, the kitchen, probably some staff rooms, and, of course, the grand entrance. One that with just a mere look, you could tell how many digits the dinner will end at. 

One of the waitresses you have seen walk out of the building gets to your table and with her bright smile, she begins to put down your next course in front of you. Everyone, even your mother, thanks the worker before she leaves and she is quick to go back to the kitchen.

Your parents eat happily, and it doesn’t go unnoticed to you how dinner is still empty from any negative critiques. Something that can only be a true sign of their absurdly good mood. 

“I heard the Hale’s are thinking of making an event.” Your mother says, breaking the silence.

“They must enjoy wasting money.” Your father tells her, making her smirk, “Didn’t they have a dinner just a few weeks ago?”

“They did.” You enter the conversation, getting their attention.

“Was it as bad as when I used to go?” Your father jokes and you smile at him.

“Lasted until 1, so you can only imagine.” You tell him and even your mother smiles at that.

The sight of the light air between everyone at the table makes it almost easier to breathe for you. It reminds you of your dinners with them when you were younger. They were always like this at that time. Light and fun.

It has been quite a while since you have felt like this with them. You can only assume that it is ever since business became a theme at the dinner table.

“Does she still have that horrible dining table?” Your mother asks you.

“Sure does.” You tell her, ignoring the way your heart sped up at her words, “She uhm…” You get lost a little in your thoughts, but you clear your throat to mask it, “She also apologizes for every time someone kicks another person.”

Your mother lets out a laugh at that and you smile down at your plate proudly.

“She is still the same, I see.” Your father says with a smile, influenced by your mother’s laughter, “Your mother gave me quite the bruises on my shins.”

“Oh, honey, please.” Your mother tells him, “I promised they were all accidents.”

Your father gives you a look as if for you not to believe her, and you laugh at him for it. Your mother notices and smacks his arm playfully to make him stop.

You three eat in peace and your parents continue to talk about their experiences in the long nights at Hale’s penthouse. Continuing the theme of conversation light and humorous.

“But what is that event about?” Your father asks, “Charity again?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Your mother tells him, “They haven’t told much to the media from what my assistant told me this morning... It should be in a couple weeks, I believe.”

You finish the small course after your father, and your parents fall back on a comfortable conversation. You listen to their voices, trying to keep your thoughts under control and away from you while in public. You don’t quite listen to their words, but the sounds on their own, just to work as background noise to your night.

A family walks past your table as they abandon theirs. Your eyes follow the group of workers, who are quick to appear, clean everything and arrange the tables back to perfection. They do it so quickly that you almost find yourself in a trance.

Your parents continue to speak and you open your mouth to speak to your mother, as you find their theme of conversation slowly becoming interesting. But, as you do it, you notice how your father is not looking at either of you and is quite distracted looking at the main building of the restaurant. His interest in the conversation has been completely washed away from his face. 

At first, you even chuckle thinking that he is simply waiting for his much-needed dessert, but your smile drops instantly at the sight of who he is staring at.

A waitress is walking out of the main building, menus in hand, and taking two men off to a vacant table. They follow her as she makes her way through the busy floor and one of those men is none other than Bruce Wayne. The other man, whom you’re not sure you’ve seen before, is much older.

Your mother is the next one to notice as soon as she sees that even her husband is looking. Her smile drops and her hold on her fork lessens. It is an immediate reaction as she feels the anger travel through her veins, consuming her.

The waitress continues to walk through the tables and she talks and smiles at the older man. Bruce stands beside him as he speaks, but he is silent. He seems to be listening in either way and you notice how he casually looks up once or twice to seem as if he’s still a part of the conversation that is happening around him.

You look away and look over at your mother, not wanting to seem too focused on him, but you find both your parents staring at him shamelessly. 

Both Bruce and the man continue to come closer to your table and everyone near, at other tables, follows them with their eyes, intrigued.

The waitress stops at a table tangent to yours, one in your complete field of view.

The older man thanks the waitress verbally and she leaves the menus at the center of the table while the men take their seats. You decide to take another look since your family still seems focused on him, and your breathing heavies at the sight of Bruce so close to you.

You watch him say something to the older man, a quick answer to something you assume he either asked or commented previously to your staring.

Bruce looks away from the man and his gaze lifts naturally to the tables near him. Everyone, from table to table, looks away. Some change their gazes back to their tables to stare at their cutlery, while others look elsewhere near them, to seem as if they were never staring in the first place.

His eyes meet yours and your heart jumps at how sudden the movement is. You look away, still determined to do as you intend to, and Bruce looks at you for a while longer as confusion meets his brain first.

He can tell from where he sits the way your firm and serious expression is mirroring how it was weeks prior to today. His eyes move from you to your parents and that seems to make them snap back to reality.

You don’t see it happen but you notice how your father and mother are suddenly looking back to your table. They automatically stare at you and you see how your mother’s shoulders relax at the sight of you staring at the other side of the garden instead.

As silence sets, you notice how the light air around you has thickened and no one dares to open their mouths to add anything to the conversation you were having before.

A waitress unexpectedly comes to your table and collects your plates. And this time, only you thanked her. Due to the silence, you find yourself going back to playing with your glass. There is no conversation for you to focus on, only at other tables near you, yet none of them helps you calm down.

You stiffen in your seat. You don’t want to be caught staring, it will only worsen everything further.

“You think this is who my assistant told me about?” Your mother asks your father.

Her voice almost comes as a surprise to you. You didn’t expect her to be the one to break the silence. Especially when, according to her tone alone, her previous good mood has evaporated and left her angrier than before.

“Might have been.” Your father answers, voice deep with his eyes also focused on his wine glass.

You look up at them, wanting to seem present in the conversation as they restart it. Yet you’re quick to notice how the two of them are going nowhere with their words. You stare at the two for a little bit longer, waiting and waiting for something, but nothing comes.

Your mother lifts her gaze from the napkin she was just adjusting over her lap, and her eyes meet yours. She doesn’t say anything or even expresses anything with the look on her face, and, due to your discomfort, you look away.

She didn’t like that.

“Did you know about this?” She asks.

You lift your eyes back to her and stop twirling the glass in your hand. A look of confusion washes over your face.

“Me?” You ask her, shock obviously thick on your tone.

“Yes.”

You give her a total look of disbelief and her eyes stare back into yours. In only a quick matter of time, you notice how her stare begins to turn into a glare. You look at your father for some sort of help, but he too is looking at you and not saying a thing.

“Of course not.” You say without hesitation. “How could I have known?”

Your mother doesn’t answer you but, in some way, the glare towards you worsens. You look helplessly at your father again, but he does and says nothing to help you. You are left to do nothing but stare back.

Frustration grows in your chest as you do not know what to do with the accusation. The reality is that you have done nothing that could lead to this. Your mother had been the one that heard her assistant’s warning and decided to ignore it, not you. If that conversation had happened with you, you would understand their side much more. But you had never heard of such a restaurant, for heaven’s sake.

The stares and silence continue and they seem to have no end. You break their gazes quite a few times but it leads to nothing, as they offer you even more silence from your parents.

As frustration grows, Bruce happens to look up at your table in the midst of conversation. He notices the lack of looks towards your parents on your part and the silence that presents itself at the center of your table.

He has stopped looking at you ever since he arrived. It had been right as he noticed you are in the presence of your family, therefore, he didn’t see it fit to continue. But he doesn’t remember seeing such stares.

Still not wanting to be involved, Bruce’s eyes don’t come back to you again and all you do is continue to look at your parents. Your hands by your lap have grown sweaty once more, and fear, as well as some sort of anger, appears underneath your skin.

“I didn’t know anything.” You tell your mother sincerely, “Why do you find it so hard to believe me?”

“I want to believe you.” Your mother tells you, “But you haven’t given me reasons to do it. The last thing our family needs on such a day of celebration is more rumors circling around.”

“And you think I want that?” You ask her, “The rumors hurt me as much as they do you, if not more.”

This is when your father sees fit to enter the conversation.

“It is a family business.” Your father decides to tell you.

You’re quick to answer him.

“A family business that I run.” You emphasize the word.

The two fall silent and you hold your own shaking hands as frustration continues to grow more and more. Your voices have been kept quiet the whole time and have not gathered any sort of attention from anyone around you, thankfully. 

You look away from them out to the garden beside you and that seems to break the glares of your mother and the looks of your father. The two of them notice how you do a slight shake of the head in disbelief and, at least your father, feels some sort of guilt forming in his chest.

(...)

As the bill finishes being paid by your father at the table, you keep silent and your eyes low. You and your mother rise from your chairs in the uninterrupted silence between the three of you.

You adjust the burgundy dress over your body and adjust the chair back into place. You look up to find your mother saying a few words to your father as he also begins the stand from his chair.

You start to walk around the table, following the waitress that will be taking you to the door, and you’re the first to notice how she begins to make her way towards Wayne's table. Your parents seem to follow after you silently, and you move along with the waitress.

Much to your own disappointment, your eyes move from the waitress to the table beside her, and, to no one’s surprise, your eyes automatically meet Bruce’s. His face doesn’t say anything, as it never does in public, and he stares back into you.

You’re not masking any of your emotions, and he isn’t even sure which one to look upon first.

You step into the building after much walking and you hold in your emotions for a bit longer. You see the (still) very long line of people waiting for their dinner and the waitress stops walking. Your parents are the ones to make conversation with her, but you’re not quite in the mood for it.

“I’m going home.” You whisper to your father.

He pulls out of the conversation to stare at you and give you a nod.

You don’t hesitate before turning your back without any kind of goodbyes and make your way through the long entrance. As you get to the doors, you almost want to laugh out loud because there is no way your day could be any worse. The media is here.

They must be around 7 paparazzi, if not less, but they’re all talking to security, some of them even looking apologetic.

You consider going back to ask to leave through the back door, but going back to where your parents stand isn’t on your list of plans for the rest of the night. Let alone in a few more days, you don’t even know if you’d like to see them then. 

You walk through the doors and you seem to gather some attention. Some of the paparazzi begin to snap pictures of you and others are simply filming. You do your best to ignore them as you try to find where your driver is.

“We were told Mr. Wayne is inside the restaurant! Is it true?”

“Did you speak to him?”

“Did you celebrate with him?”

Are you even surprised to hear any of these questions? No. Of course not. Not even the workers of a restaurant are able to escape any kind of possible drama. Sad that they don’t prefer to leave it to their eyes only and had to call reinforcements.

You find your driver just mere feet away from you. None of the men by the door seem to even try to get close to you, close in around you, and do anything remotely stupid in front of security. Much to your relief.

They continue to ask their bunch of questions as you walk to the car, and you keep your eyes focused on your driver. He’s just outside, leaning against the front with his two hands by his mouth. A sudden small flame illuminates his two palms as you continue to walk towards him.

At the sound of your heels, he turns to look over his shoulder and breathes out the smoke. He moves his hand around his face to try and hide it in the wind and does the motion to drop the cigarette to the floor, but you stop him. You outstretch a hand his way and shake your head before speaking.

“Please, finish it.” You tell him, “I’ll stay in the car.”

He thanks you and you open the door after he unlocks it quickly with his key. You sit in and shut the door beside you, leaving the people outside to stare at nothing but a blacked-out window in the night.

You let out a shaky breath as you look out of the window. Your frustration is getting the best of you. You stare as your parents walk out of the restaurant and are bombarded with questions as well while they walk hand in hand to their car.

You lean the side of your head on the cold glass and close your eyes, taking in various deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

Minutes go past and you enjoy the silence and lack of company in the car. You reopen your eyes and stare out to the entrance of the restaurant, where the camera-holders stay in conversation with each other.

The driver’s seat door swings open, causing you quite a fright that goes unnoticed by your driver. He sits in his seat and gives you a pleasant greeting, and an extra apology for being caught smoking. You dismiss it.

He says a few more words before starting the car and your eyes go back to the entrance, noticing the wave of flashes restarting. Bruce is walking out with the man he walked in with.

They keep walking, also being asked the questions, and, together, they walk to some of the cars parked to the left. 

Security intervenes as the paparazzi try to follow them in the direction of the cars, and you notice as they say a few words to each other and go separate ways. The older man walks to one car while Bruce to another.

Your driver begins to take the car out of the parking spot, and the moving headlights catch the attention of both of the men.

They cannot see anyone since your driver has every window tinged dark, but your heart still tightens at how Bruce’s eyes stay for a second longer before you’re out of sight and going in the direction of your home.

(...)

The drive to your home should not be longer than 20 minutes with traffic, but you didn’t fail to notice how, at the 5-minute mark, two headlights of a familiar car take the exact same exits as yours does.

You don’t say anything to your driver, as you do not want to worry him, but, for the rest of the ride, all you feel is anger.

“Could you leave me at the back, please?” You ask your driver.

“Of course, ma’am.”

The final turn is done, and you undo your seatbelt. You notice how Bruce does not seem to be stupid enough to take the turn right as you do, and, right as the car stops, you begin to make your way out.

With a quick wish of goodnight and a look of fake good humor on your face, you shut the door and your driver makes his own way home.

Almost 2 entire seconds later, Bruce’s car comes into view. You take a deep breath, wanting nothing but to scream as tonight has felt nothing but exhausting.

All of it was perfect and now all of it is completely destroyed for something you weren’t even at fault for doing.

Bruce shuts his door and he stands feet away from you. You ignore your urge to stare at him for just a second and remind yourself of your situation.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, annoyance more than noticeable in your tone.

“You seemed upset.” He explains, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“So you followed me home?”

“Yeah.” He nods, “It’s not like I have your number or I can exactly walk up to you and ask if you’re alright while in public.” He says with a shrug, not understanding where all your annoyance is coming from.

“I’m fine, Bruce. You can go now.” You decide to tell him, not wanting to talk to him.

There’s some silence between the two of you and you begin to turn to face the backdoor of the building. You’re about to start walking towards it but his voice stops you.

“Did I do something?” He asks you with a hint of confusion.

You turn back to face him, and he hasn’t moved. He stands right by his car.

He knows he hasn’t done anything wrong. He has been going through the last days like any other day for the past years. You two didn’t talk, but he never saw it as anything new or different since you don’t do it regularly. 

“Like what?” You ask, moving your hands by your sides.

“Something to annoy you. You definitely seem mad at me over something.” He tells you.

You stare at him and notice how, even without much movement, it’s almost as if your frustration has begun to rub off on him. He doesn’t seem as calm as when he made his way out of the car. He looks impatient.

“Just go home, Bruce.”

He doesn’t move, and neither do you. You sigh after much silence and look around for what is near you, almost as if to try to get a grip on yourself before continuing whatever is going on.

“You didn’t do anything. Now, can you go?” You ask him, pointing in the direction where he had just driven from. He still doesn’t move, almost as if not pleased with your answer, and senses that you are not telling him the truth. His lack of movement drives you further into your anger. “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

Your whispered words make Bruce’s heart skip a bit. He doesn’t know what he expected to hear, but he expected everything but that. You bring a hand over to your face as you say it, almost appearing as if it was supposed to be a comment to only yourself, and he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

“What did I do?” He asks.

“You need to go.” You simply tell him, taking the hand of your face and facing him, “You need to leave me alone.”

He takes a step towards you but he’s not sure why he does it. You take a step back in return. You don’t want to be near him and all he feels is confusion and guilt. Guilt over something he doesn’t even know he did.

“Why?” He finally asks.

“Because I cannot have you near me.” You reply, and outstretch your hand to point at him, “Every time you appear- Every time we’re together, everything falls apart. Everything good that I can have, that I built for myself, is always cut short because you are there.”

“Wha-”

“Bruce, just…” You bring your hands back to your face trying to keep yourself together, “Just go.”

“But I didn’t do anything.” He defends himself, “We haven’t even talked since last time.”

“And last time went so well, didn’t it?” You ask him, “Bruce we made it into the magazines, for fuck’s sake.”

“So what?” He asks confused, “They are magazines, no one important reads them, especially their rumors-”

“My family reads them.” You tell him, “They read everything that has my name on it, and I can’t have me being seen with you ever again.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt them.

“The story repeats itself, you know that. I’m having a lot of luck with my job right now. I don’t know why but I’ve been able to work and make advances in my work even after making a headline with you. I don’t know how long I have left until this luck runs out.” You continue, “It will happen again. People will see us and we will make it to the front page again. My business will be damaged. Just like the last time.”

“We were kids, last time.”

“They don’t care about that, Bruce.” You shake your head, “And it is not like now it’s any better… Do you know what could happen to me if people knew about what went on at Hale's house?”

He doesn’t answer.

“They will ruin me.” You tell him and you notice how your eyes begin to tear up, “I can’t have that happen. I need to work and focus on my work, and I can’t have you destroy that for me. Not again.”

“I didn’t fucking intent to do that on that last time.” He tells you with widened eyes and takes another step towards you, “We were kids. I didn’t want to talk to anyone-”

“I know tha-”

“Let me talk, for once!” He practically screams at you, “I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I hadn’t spoken to anyone for months, I didn’t like to be outside of the Manor. Y/N, I did not want to talk to people and, therefore, I wasn’t expecting you to come to me.”

You don’t say anything.

“I didn’t want to talk to anyone but I wanted to talk to you.” He tells you, much calmer now, “I just couldn’t do it. I tried to but I froze. I don’t know why but I wanted to talk to you and then, before I even realized it, you walked off.”

He takes another step towards you.

“I didn’t want any of that to happen.” He tells you softly, “I didn’t want you to walk off, or for anyone to make conclusions on what happened. I’m sorry for what happened after it, but I had no idea.”

You take a deep breath and stare him into his eyes.

“I get that, Bruce, truly, I do.” You tell him, “But I can’t let it happen again.” 

“But-”

“You just don’t get it, okay?” You pause, “It’s different for you and me. People treat me differently than they do you. We’re different. I could work double the hours, and it wouldn’t even take half the time to destroy me the way it would destroy you.”

“It is not fair-”

“Fucking tell me about it.” You tell him, “Now, go home.”

The expression on his face is one that someone could read off as sadness, but you don’t even dare to stare at him for too long. You take a step back and begin to turn around.

“Please-”

“Just go the fuck home!” You shout at him. “I am tired of this, please, Bruce. Leave me the fuck alone!”

Your heart sinks at your own words and, now that you face him once more, you can read the obvious sadness in his eyes.

You always open your mouth to take back what you said and make everything better between you two but this time you don’t. And silence sets.

Bruce stares as you open your mouth but close it right after. His heart is set to a quick rhythm, but he feels how his hands have begun to shake. He stares into you but he almost feels like he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t exactly feel anger or anything, all he feels is disappointment at how this ended.

“You don’t get to do that.” He tells you.

“Do what?” You ask, “Look out for myself?”

“Selfishly? Yeah.” He answers with still an annoyed tone, “What about me in all of this? Everything that I’ve told you until now, you just completely ignored it and moved along. You are not even considering me.”

“Of course I am considering you!” You say louder. “God forbid I look out for myself and my business. But what will happen to you in all of this? And don’t you dare say nothing.” You point a finger at him, “After I begin to be hated by all of those that gave me my life for wanting to be near you, will you still be by me? Because you will be dragged right down too.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Don’t you say those things!” You scream at him, “Bruce, our businesses are not compatible. Your partners will let you fall!”

“Is business all that you care about?”

“Bruce, just stop!” You tell him, and he steps closer, “Please, stop.”

“No.”

“Why do you care?!”

“Because I care about you!” He tells you, “I have cared about you so much, I can’t just stop doing it. Please, just let us try and find a way.”

“A way of what? A way of what, Bruce? We are nothing!” You dryly chuckle even when your heart continually aches, “All we’ve done was talk for 2 nights and sleep on 1. Nothing more. I don’t know why you care for me when there is nothing for you to care about.”

He stays silent, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Just, please, let me go now.”

“This is not just about business is it?” He asks.

“No.” You answer him, “Now, please, go home.”

He stares at you, and you fight the urge of letting all of your tears flow. You clench your jaw and turn away. He lets you, this time, and he doesn’t say anything, nor does he move.

You jump each step of the stairs to get to the backdoor. Hand on the handle, you find yourself waiting in silence for him to say something, even when you just asked him not to.

But he doesn’t say anything.

You open the door and pull it open, walking into the warm building.

Bruce stays back and he stares at the gray door for just a little longer, waiting for you to walk out again, even though you told him to leave. The door doesn’t move back no matter how much he hopes it does, yet Bruce just stands there.

You stand behind the door, unmoving, your hand still on the handle. You can’t understand why you do it as you were the one to rip your own heart out.

You find yourself reconsidering everything that you just told Bruce. You had to push him away. You had to. He will be fine.

The look on his face repeats in your mind time and time again, and your heart aches more with each second that passes. Your hand finally dips down, and you push the door open again. But as you face the street once more, he’s not there.

Bruce already drove away.

Did I break your heart? If so, I'm sorry. I'll put it back together eventually, promise <3

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#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #the batman #the batman x reader #battinson #battinson x reader #robert pattinson

[telemna-hyelle]

Zelink Week '22 Day One: One Last Look

WW and ST Zelink

@zelinkweekofficial

“What’s taking you so long? It better not be cold feet, because if it is I’ll have you keelhauled.”

Link managed to crack a grin despite himself—though he couldn’t quite drag his gaze away from the mirror.

“You wouldn’t keelhaul your own husband, now would you?”

“You’re not my husband yet,” Tetra said archly. “The ceremony will be starting soon, and if you aren’t there on time, you’ll be dragging those cold feet of yours along the plank.”

Link’s grinned widened. “Aw, Tetra, you wouldn’t make the only man who stole an engagement ring for you walk the plank, now would you?”

“Don’t test me,” Tetra replied, but an answering grin was in her tone. She rapped sharply on the door to his room. “Are you decent?”

Link frowned down at his coat, tugging it self-consciously. “Isn’t it bad luck to see each other before the wedding?”

Tetra correctly interpreted that as a yes and opened the door with a sharp kick. “I’m not afraid of bad luck,” She announced grandly, striding into the room with her head held high. “If anything, bad luck flees from me with it’s tail between it’s quivering legs—farore’s blistering winds.”

Link could see her in the mirror, paused half-way through a step, staring at him with wide eyes. He felt his gut clench and twist, tighter than a sailor’s knot. Heat crawled into his cheeks, and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “That bad?”

Tetra blinked, then her eyes shot wide open, and she snapped her head to one side,a flush crawling across her cheekbones. “Um. No. You’re… you’re good.”

That brought the grin back to Link’s face, and he sent Tetra a glance up and down of her own outfit.  “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Of course I don’t,” Tertra said confidently, before fixing the hero with a determined eye. “So what has you looking so glum over there?”

Link’s grin faded, and he turned back to the mirror, running a hand anxiously through his hair.

“Do… do you think he’d be proud?”

Tetra’s expression softened, but Link didn’t notice, too absorbed with examining his own reflection.

“I don’t know anything about being a King, and here I am, trying to follow in his footsteps. How could I possibly ever… measure up?”

Arms slid around his waist, and a chin came to rest on his shoulder; a warm, comforting weight.

“You just do as you’ve always done.”

Link blinked, meeting Tetra’s gaze in the mirror. For once, the pirate queen’s expression was almost solemn, with only a faint smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “King Daphnes isn’t the first figure of ancient history you’ve followed after, you know. This isn’t your first voyage, hero. You wanna make him proud? Set your own course and do your best. Besides, you have my own glorious self as Queen, so it’s not like you’re doing this alone.”

She squeezed a little tighter, leaning her head against his cheek, her smile deepening. “Don’t worry, he’s already proud of you.”

Link reached down, laying his hands over hers and squeezing gently. “You sure?”

Tetra sniffed. “Of course I’m sure. Triforce of wisdom, remember? I know everything.”

“Wisdom isn’t the same as knowing everything, you know.”

“Walking the plank is still an option, sailor.”

“You won’t make me walk the plank.” Link said confidently. Tetra narrowed her eyes, arching a dangerous eyebrow.

“What makes you so sure?”

With a quick movement, Link slipped around in her arms, bending down and stealing a kiss. After a long, enthusiastic moment, he pulled back, a satisfied smirk of his own on his face. “If I walk the plank, you won’t be getting any more of those.”

Tetra blinked, slightly dazed, which caused Link’s smirk to deepen. “…good point.”

There was a chime of bells, and they both jumped, shooting suddenly nervous gazes at each other.

“That’s our cue.” Tetra said, straightening her shoulders and patting down hairs Link had disturbed during their kiss a moment before.

“You’re just eager to have someone to delegate all the boring ruling stuff to.”

Tetra grinned, shrugging easily as she turned towards the door. “What can I say? Gotta be some perks in being Queen Regnant.” She put her hand on the knob, glancing back over her shoulder. “Coming, hero boy?”

Link cast one last look at the mirror. His coat was cut in lines reminiscent of a king he knew once, and yet the colors were his own, green edged with regal gold. He grinned, straightened his coat with a tug, and turned to his queen. “Let’s get this ship sailing.”

~.~.~.~.~

One Hundred Years Later~

“You can come in.”

The Hero of Spirits nervously poked his head around the door. The princess was standing in front of a mirror, frowning nervously at her reflection, so he took that as a cue to step into the room. “What’s wrong, your highness?”

The princess sent him a frown. “It’s Zelda, Link, we’ve talked about this.”

Link grinned. “Then, what’s wrong, Zelda? The coronation’s going to start soon.”

Zelda turned back to the mirror, fidgeting nervously with her hands. “Oh… I don’t know.” She shrugged helplessly. “Grandmama and Grandpapa were such great rulers… how am I supposed to live up to them?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “How can I know if they’d be proud of me?”

Link blinked. “Oh, is that all?”

Zelda shot him a glare. The hero paled, frantically waving his hands. “No, I didn’t mean it like that! I mean—It’s just… you’ve already been doing an amazing job. You’re only going to be even more amazing as a queen, I just know it! Of course they’d be proud of you.”

Zelda blinked at him, a bright smile slowly spreading across her face, like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. Link felt his heart skip a beat at the sight, and he prayed he wasn’t blushing too noticeably.

Then she bounced forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek, and any hopes of his blush fading went out the window. Zelda bounced on, however, energy and excitement replacing her earlier nervousness.

She stopped in front of the door however, glancing over her shoulder, biting her lip. “You’re sure they’d be proud?”

Link snuck one last look at the spirits that stood to one side, a pirate queen and her hero king, who smiling fondly and so, so proudly at their granddaughter.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Her answering smile was even more brilliant than before. “Then let’s get this train running.”

#zelink #zelink week 2022 #need to go to work tag this later #ww zelink #telink #st zelink #tellie writes stuff #my fanfics

[magalidragon]

priceless | a fic tease | 🤿 🏝 🌺 🔱🐉

As a “hey I’m sorry I’ve been gone and all that stuff”, here is a little tease to something I have been working on for the @snowxstormworld Jonerys Summer Event! I hope it will at least have one chapter done by then! And I actually posted the moodboard exactly one year ago 😂 It’s here

Jon gasped, eyes springing open, the water gone, the image of the girl he'd been swimming towards gone, and the person looking down at him happened to not be a person exactly, but the face of a scowling girl, with pinched silver brows and a wrinkled button nose. Her lips were in a tight line and if he was seeing correctly-- he might not have been as he blinked away sleep-- her eyes were a shade of violet he'd only ever seen in books or movies.

He flailed, gathering his bearings, and recognized the water around him wasn't water, but the salty morning air off the Narrow Sea, and he was asleep on a bench, with his backpack under his head for a pillow and the little wolf puppy he'd found abandoned in a tree stump near the Riverlands sitting atop his chest, licking his chin and waiting for breakfast scraps. He glared up at the girl, who had unceremoniously awoken him from his rather nice dream. "What the seven hells? Who are you?"

"Who are you?" she retorted. She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning back on her leg. It was a pose meant for an angry mother, not a little girl, and she snapped at him, "You're asleep on a bench outside my house. I get to ask the questions."

Who was this girl? He sat up carefully, holding the pup he'd named Ghost to his chest to keep from falling off, but the little traitor was scratching his chest, straining his neck towards this girl. She tried not to smile at the pup, keeping her face on him, pretending to be fierce. "I'm no one," he muttered. That's what they told him all the time in Winterfell.

She cocked her head, her face softening, lips pursing into concern rather than disdain. "How old are you?"

"What's it matter?" he demanded, immediately defensive. "You gonna' turn me in?"

"No. I've always wanted to meet a runaway." She held her hand out. "Dany."

"That's a boy's name."

"It's my name. Daenerys, if you prefer." She smirked, arms going across her chest again. "But something tells me that might be too hard for a Northern boy to say."

He glared, his gray eyes flashing silver in annoyance. "I can say it."

"So say it."

"Daenerys," he retorted, putting emphasis on each syllable, mocking her. She chuckled, shrugging as if to say 'well played.' He set Ghost on the ground and the pup scampered to her feet, licking her toes. She was barefoot on the pier's hot wooden planks. In fact, she was dressed only in a purple one-piece bathing suit and a pair of cutoff jean shorts, her hair-- indeed, silver-- knotted in braids behind her head. There were purple sunglasses holding the braids back from her face, perched atop her head. Another glance down at Ghost licking her feet and he noted purple was also the color of her nail polish.

Daenerys-- Dany-- cocked her head. "You shouldn't be sleeping on a bench," she chasisted. Her arms fell to her sides. "Come on."

"You're not turning me in?" He couldn't believe he hadn't been cuaght by security. Part of why he'd stowed away on the ferry from King's Landing to Dragonstone was because he wanted to get on a ship out to Essos, but on Dragonstone, well...he was as far away from the North as he could be and he knew no Northerner would dare set foot on an island purported to be inhabited by dragons. They were a superstitious untrustworthy lot. Not even Ned would come this far in looking for him, if he even gave a shit.

She waved her hand, snorting. "Naw, I don't care. But you're asleep in front of my house and I want you gone before my brother finds you. He might call you in."

"What if I'm a murderer?"

"You're not a murderer."

"How do you know?"

"You're like my age," she laughed. She picked up the puppy, cuddling him under her chin, squealing. "And you have this cute little thing! No way a murderer has a dog this cute."

He rolled his eyes; girls. "How old are you anyway?" he wondered, getting up and stretching out the kinks in his back from the bench. It was more comfortable than the ground, that was for sure, but not by much. He didn't fancy getting swept out to sea which was why he'd avoided the beach.

"Fifteen. You?"

"Sixteen."

A perverse shot of pleasure twisted his smile when she wrinkled her nose, obviously annoyed he had her beat. She pursed her lips. “What are you doing here?”

“None of your business.”

“Kinda is because I could report you for trespassing.”

“Dock is public.”

“Not this dock.” She pointed to a sign posted above the bench beside his. He read it, scowling.

BALERION PROPERTIES, LLC

NO TRESPASSING AFTER DARK

“Balerion?” he read. “That’s a dragon.”

Her ego, if possible, swelled. “The biggest dragon known to man. Aegon the Conqueror was his rider.” He knew all that, but still didn’t really answer his question. The girl stretched her arms around herself, jerking her head to the big building behind them. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He stiffened, voice soft. “You aren’t turning me in?”

She snorted. “No, not if you come with me.” She set off, marching towards a large stone building beside the dock, which as he approached behind her, was older than it initially appeared, with moss and water stains creeping through the uneven black brick.

He cocked his head, noting that there was an odd shimmer to the stone. The girl, Dany, puffed up again. “Dragon glass. It’s all over the island.”

“Cool.” He was fascinated by old things, especially ones that you had to dig out of the ground. At the top of the steps to the main entrance, he lightly touched the stone. It was cold. “Wow,” he murmured.

“Come on!”

Seven hells she was annoying. Jon ground his teeth and followed the little queen, lest she burn him alive or something.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #fic tease #the treasure hunters fic I finally started

[hannahhook7744]

She has a way with words (with her feet? Not so much);

Summary; Hannah Hook has always been a klutz.

Trigger Warning: Near Fatal clumsiness. Children in danger. Negligence. Rudeness. Swearing. Near death experience. Canon attempted self mutilation (aka Harry trying to get his hand bit off). Mentions of very brief (past) animal cruelty. Inaccurate use of sign language (I tried researching it but it differs so I don't know if I'm doing it entirely correctly. If I did it wrong, let me know the proper signing please).

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Anyone and everyone who had ever known little Hannah Hook could tell you that she had a phenomenal way with words.

She'd been telling stories ever since she learned sign language, after all. Taking seemingly unconnected plot points that got stuck in her little brain and mixing and matching them together until she had weaved a story so magnificent it had everyone sitting on the edge of their seats.

She could play innocent and dumb well, often tricking people into revealing the way they were able to cheat so well and start coming up with plans to cut said cheating attempts off within seconds.

She gave great threats that she rarely used and was often able to talk herself and others in and out of trouble on a good day.

It was one of the few things the majority of the isle could agree on:

Hannah Hook had a way with words.

Her feet, on the other hand...

Well, few people liked pointing it out but it was obvious who could see or hear that Hannah was a very clumsy person.

A klutz.

A walking train wreck.

Whatever you wanna call it.

Hannah Hook was undoubtedly it.

Almost to a fatal degree and Hannah been ever since she was a wee baby.

Much to the dismay of those around her.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Harriet heard a thud, thud, thud one day when she was trying to draw a map when she was 5 (almost) and went to investigate. Only to find her 8 month old sister, Hannah Hook, walking into a barrel.

The ravenette stared for a few minutes, absolutely baffled as the wee baby walked into it yet again as if not seeing it. Only to fall back on her butt, get back up, and do the same thing again while trying to get past it.

It was a werid sight to see indeed. Especially when one took into consideration that Hannah hadn't been walking that morning. But Harriet just brushed it off and waited to see if Hannah would figure out how to get around it on her own.

When it became apparent that, that wasn't going to happen the older girl sighed heavily and walked over. Causing her little sister to look in her direction, scrunching up her face up in confusion.

Harriet just picked her up and moved her to side, exasperated as the little girl stumbled off. Laughing gleefully, causing the ravenette to shake her head before she retreated back to her room.

'What a werid kid...'

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Hannah's clumsiness didn't get any better as she aged. She'd still bump into things and trip constantly-- getting bruises and cuts and bumps on the daily.

Which infuriated 3 year old, Cj Hook to no end because 'it ruined her wharf cred!'. Even though she had no idea what exactly that meant, having learnt the phrase from Harriet's friends.

But still, it sounded serious to her and one day, after Hannah tripped down the gang plank, the blonde snapped. Storming down after her down and signed at her furiously.

Her signing barely legibly as she quickly held up her dominant hand into the number five sign so that her palm was facing her and closed it. Before gesturing to her hand.

She repeated the action as the two year old squinted at her.

'Hold. Hand. Hold. Hand!'

Hannah held out her hand, furrowing her brows. Extremely confused as to what her older sister wanted from her.

Cj nearly growled in frustration, rolling her eyes as she yanked the smaller girl by the hand and dragged her off to the market place. Not releasing her hand until they were back on the Jolly.

Which continued for the next two years until she realized that being seen holding your younger sister's hand was even more embarrassing than them being a walking train wreck and promptly quit the tradition. Denying that it ever happened and that anyone who remembered her doing so was delusional.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

"Come on, you dumb, overgrown lizard!" 7 year old, Harry Hook griped, scowling as hung off of the dock. Dipping his hand in the water, trying to entice the ancient and aging Tick Tock to chomp off his hand already.

He just needed to get a Hook just like his dad!

Uma and Harriet had refused to assist him in his quest, so he wasn't having in any luck. And since it was his turn to watch his youngest sister, he was having even worse luck than he usually did.

And while Harry usually loved Hannah's excited, distracted chattering, in the moment it was making him irritable. Because all it was doing was scary to the other crocodiles off.

So, he did the only logical thing.

Signed for her to go play somewhere else, ignoring the sad look she gave him as he turned back to the thing that scared their dad the most.

Tempting fate and paying no mind to the fact that Tick-Tock's jaws were longer than he was as he shouted at it "TAKE A BITE ALREADY!"

The dastardly creature just opened one eye lazily and went back to sleep.

Harry scowled, tempted to throw a rock at it but knowing better after the last time. He shivered, remembering the tongue lashing Ginny, Harriet, and Uma had given him.

"Stupid bloody, overgrown--"

The young devil-may care buccaneer was cut off mid-rant when a loud splash and familiar cry rang out.

Harry spun around so quickly that he nearly got whiplash, eyes wide as he saw his little sister thrashing around in the murky water. Where she was barely, if at all, separated from all the dangerous creatures that lived in it.

"Oh sweet evil" was all he said as he bolted over to recuse her. Knowing that his parents were going to kill him.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

"Ginny! Ginny! Look how high up I am!" 9 year old, Hannah Hook, called out to her older sister who was trying her best to do her potions homework.

The 14 year old barely looked up from her book.

"That's nice squirit."

"You aren't looking!"

"I did look!"

"No you didn't!"

Ginny sighed, dog earring the page before looking in the direction of Hannah's voice-- nearly causing her to have a heart attack.

There, up in the bell tower-- hanging out of the window-- was her tiny, bumbling sister. Who slipped at the exact moment.

Luckily for them both, Claudine was up there about to ring the bell to signal that school was over and quickly caught her by her arm. Yankimg her back in.

Ginny buried her face in her hands, groaning and feeling faint "that kid is gonna be the death of me..."

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Hannah ran through the woods of Neverland, howling with laughter as Peter flew after her.

"Run run run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me, Peter Pan!"

The brunette sang out playfully, causing her brother to sped up. Both of them slapping tree branches out of their way.

"Yes I can!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

"No you can-- AHHHH!"

Hannah yelped as her foot connected with a sturdy root, causing her to tumble down the hill.

"Uh oh" Peter mumbled to himself, before zooming down after her in an attempt to catch her.

Which only earned both of them a bloody nose and a multitude of bruises, bumps, and cuts. But both of them had quite the laugh about it.

#descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #hannah artemis hook #hannah hook au #hannahhook7744 #hannahhook #captain hannah hook #my hannah hook verse #hannah hook verse #captain hannah artemis hook #captainhannahartemishook #captainhannahhook #the marvelous misadventures of hannah hook #disney descendants ocs #disney descendants oc #descendants ocs #descendants oc #descendants original characters #disney descendants original character #descendants au #disney descendants au #my disney descendants alternate universe #descendants aus #disney descendants aus #disney descendants alternate universe #descendants alternate universe #hannah hook is a klutz #hannah hook #hannah hook the adoptive daughter of captain hook and zarina

[xxradfemfairyxx]

You love i

MINORS/MEN DNI OR A WIZARD WILL CURSE YOU

Reader x Dina

Grief, trauma, mentions of drinking, TW slight mentions of SA, slight gore, angst, fluff, maybe smut eventually but i dont think it’s appropriate rn

Dina tries to help you process trauma of seeing your best friend get killed while on patrol as he tries to protect you from a gang of men.

Authors Notes:

I wanted to experiment and see if I could write something a tad bit darker based off the song you love i by Melanie Martinez

You love i,

You love i

You love i

Do i?

Do i?

Do i..?

You sat in the building on your knees, your breathing ragged. You looked down at your hands and they shook violently, blood covering them, one hand gripping the hilt of a large hunting knife. You drop it and it clangs on the ground. Not only your hands where covered in blood, but most of you was. Your face, your chest, your abdomen. You look around, your vision blurry trying to process what just happened. Bodies where sprawled around you. Most of them you had killed. They looked more like cavemen than civilized men, and acted the part.

“Jake?!” You cried out your best friends name. “Jake where are you?” You struggled to get up and cried out in pain as you fell back down. That bastard who had climbed on top of you had broken your leg to keep you from getting away.

You crawl over to a table, the old building you where in once being a diner. You got up using your upper body strength, gripping the chair, grunting in pain.

You sit in the chair you crawled up into and zip up your jacket. Your shirt had been cut open.

You get up and drag your broken leg behind you, you tried to not pass out, each step was hell.

But it wasn’t as bad as the hell you felt when you saw your best friend sprawled out on the ground, next to the body of someone who he presumably killed, before a bullet ripped his face into something nearly unrecognizable. You bent over and vomited, but for some reason you couldn’t cry. Your body and mind was intent on you surviving, and you had completely dissociated to everything except for climbing onto one of the horses you and Jake had tied to the side of the building so you and him could clear the building of potential infected, and get the fuck out of there.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and wipe your mouth, and grab a loose wooden plank leaning lazily against the wall next to his legs and use it as a crutch and hobble over to the horse. You climbed onto your horse, Rose Mary, screaming in pain as you did, and birds flew out of the tree line as the sunset. You had to get the fuck out of there.

You eventually climbed onto the horse correctly and you pull on her reigns and almost as if she knows what’s wrong, she gallops back to Jackson.

You enter the gates, barely conscious, your mind a slippery slope. When you finally do get to the stables, it was night time and the next patrol was readying themselves, It was Ellie and Dina. They saw you, and Dina screamed, and your mind goes black as your mind finally shuts down, unable to deal with the pain. You fall off your horse and hit the ground hard, the last thing you hear is Ellie running to get help and Dina screaming your name.

Tied a knot in my wedding dress,

You got down on one knee and you said

You love i

You groggily woke up in the infirmary, your leg completely wrapped up and elevated, and an IV strapped to your arm. You didn’t move a muscle. A single tear fell from your eye, and you sat there, remembering. You would be doing a lot of remembering the next coming months not just mentally but physically, your body would remember. What you assumed was a nurse came in to check your vitals and nearly dropped the clipboard seeing you awake.

“Y/N Y/N/L, your awake?”

You nod. “How long was I out?” You whisper back. You looked miserable, and you where.

“2 weeks. But your here now.” She says, going back to a professional tone, checking your vitals and leaving to report your awakening. Your quickly brought something to eat and you chew and swallow slowly, not tasting it as its fed to you, you where to sore to move an inch other than the forced movements the nurses had to do on you to make sure you didn’t get bed sores. Each time they moved you you cried.

After fitful light sleep, you awake to a soft familiar voice. “Hi baby.” It was Dina, before your patrol you had just made it official with her.

She grabbed your hand, and you flinched. You didn’t mean too. But she just held it tightly smiling, her eyes sad. Next to her stood Ellie and your only surviving family member, your Uncle Rob.

“Hey kiddo.” He says and kisses your forehead. He was basically your dad since the apocalypse started when you where but a toddler. But when he touches you, you cry, tears spilling over. “GET OFF, get the fuck off,” you yell at him; and Ellie grabs and pulls him away and gives him a sad look as he looks at you with surprise, hurt in his eyes. He was a gentle chubby guy with a salt and pepper beard, and a bald head. She whispers in his ear something you couldn’t hear, and you felt shame for reacting the way you did to the man who raised you. You wiped your face clean of the tears and Dina just looked at you, unmoved. Steady as if she was your anchor. After Ellie sets down the flowers she brang on your dresser next to you, Rob looked at you, and for the 2nd time in your whole life, you saw him cry. The strong man came undone, and said, “I’m sorry, Flower,” he uses your childhood nickname.

“No, I am.” You say simply.

Wonderful,

So, wonderful

You turned my heart into a

Puppet show

Eventually you healed from your wounds and had to do physical therapy. You had a permanent and to you, shameful limp. You where put on inventory duties, you could no longer go out on patrols. You had gone to work and back and refused to talk to anyone for weeks after your physical therapy ended. Every night you had nightmares. Sweaty anxious dreams. You attended Jake’s funeral, and thats the last time you talked to Dina, Ellie and Rob. The only person you spoke to was your boss out of necessity.

If you like me please let me know,

I

I

I..

Finally Dina could no longer put up with not seeing you, she gave you space, but it broke her heart to see you waste away. “I’m so fucking worried about Y/N,” Dina tapped her finger anxiously on the glass of beer she had, talking to Ellie at the bar in Jackson. “Me too, even if I cant articulate that well, It’s horrifying. I almost went through something that she did when I was younger and I still dream about it sometimes, I can’t imagine it.” Dina took a sip of her beer and her head dipped into her hand and she sighed. “I have to talk to her. The only time I see her is her dragging herself to work like a zombie. She’s my girlfriend and I can’t stand by anymore.” Dina says and Ellie takes a drink of her own beer. “I agree. I miss her.” “How have you been dealing with it though, Di?” Ellie says, gently rubbing Dina’s shoulder. “Ellie, I am trying to be who she needs but I have needs too… it’s so hard to deal with. It’s taking a toll on our relationship. Is that selfish?” She says turning to Ellie. Ellie’s hand drops back to her side. “No of course not. She’s not dealing well and it’s okay that you have needs. Your relationship is so young, I’m surprised this didn’t end it.” Ellie says giving Dina a sympathetic look. “I’m just not that type of person. I can’t just, leave.” She says sighing. “I love her, even if she’s different. I’m afraid I always will.”

You walk into the graveyard and sit on jakes grave. You open the bottle of whiskey you traded for a tattoo design you made for someone. You lean back on the grave as if it was actually Jake.

Do i,

Do i,

Do i?

You open the bottle and drink, gagging. You had only recently taken to drinking. “Hey bro.” You whisper out. No answer came. You kept on drinking and talking to him as if he where still there, laughing crying and begging, and getting angry. You eventually just go silent and shakily light a cigarette. You hear voices emerging from the other side of the graveyard. It was Dina and Ellie. They had been spending an awful lot of time together. Whatever, Ellie could have Dina you thought. After all, you where broken physically and mentally and she wasn’t. Someone must have seen your antics and tipped off the girls to come find you.

“Y/N,” Dina says calling your name. You take another swig of your drink and don’t respond. Just go away, you thought. You pleaded mentally.

Her and Ellie eventually find you leaning drunkenly against Jake’s grave. Ellie crosses her arms and huffs, seeing you this low was a brand new low. It was a stark contrast to who you where, confident, flirty, could never be serious to save your life. Dina quickly takes the bottle. “What the fuck, Y/N?” She says looking at the hard liquor. She had never seen you drink so heavily.

“I.. sorry,” you slur out.

That’s what happens when

You don’t

Try

“No, shut up, let’s just get you home.” She says, barely able to look at you. You felt shame as her and Ellie picked you up and one arm over both of their shoulders, they walked you home. They layed you in your bed, and Ellie speaks to Dina in another room, and you felt a pang of jealousy. You where a wreck and you couldn’t seem to fix it. It was better if they both just left you. Save you and them the pain of whatever had been broken inside of you that day; it was leaking out like black poison changing you into someone unrecognizable, and what you thought was unloveable. You felt like the only thing you could do was break anymore. Friendships, relationship, everything like shattered glass in your now gnarled hands.

You hear Ellie leave, and Dina comes into your room and climbs into your bed and holds you from behind. “You big fucking baby.” She says into your neck.

“Why don’t you just leave?” You say shamefully.

Her grip tightens on you and and she kisses your neck.

“I love you.”

I love you,

I love you

I love you

I do,

I do

I do

I do.

——————————————————————————————————————

Hi so it’s me, I wrote this and used my own personal experiences w/ PTSD and greif as a reference. I’m not so sure how I feel about this one, but I’m proud of myself for attempting to challenge my writing ablities.

Bye!

#dina tlou #reader insert #the last of us #dina x y/n #tw greif #tw sa implied

[freesia-writes]

The Bad Batch: Tech and Vel [Part 6]

A fun action/adventure/romance with Tech and an original character, set during the Clone Wars. Rated PG-13 for passion and peril. ;) And just a heads up -- so far, it's got about 27 parts, and I anticipate about 30-32. It kinda got away from me. ;)

Also, I did my best to keep a steady plot line and tried to think of all the potential plot holes or questions or whatnot, but ultimately, this was just an excuse to indulge in imagining a little romantic adventure for Tech. So forgive any inconsistencies or inaccuracies and enjoy the ride. ;)

(STORY STARTS BELOW THE PHOTO) Also, I'll publish the rest on Wattpad for those of you who want to read it all at once. But I probably won't finish it til the end of the month; want to see how Season 2 ends!

Vel was lounging on the bridge one day when she decided to go down to her quarters. As the door slid open, she noticed Tech on the opposite side, performing some incredibly procedural calisthenics in an open corner. At the whoosh of the door, Tech stood up, momentarily pausing his routine.

"Ah, excuse me," he said, wiping a light sheen of sweat from his brow, "I assumed you would be upstairs for a longer period of time." He bent to pick up his armor, wearing only his black base layer. "Sorry," she said, waving one hand in front of her dismissively, "Don't mind me, keep doing your thing." Pausing for a moment to discern between any possible self-consciousness at being observed and the importance of maintaining his fitness routine, Tech watched her walk to her bunk. Returning the armor to the ground near a crate, he moved slightly to place a tall cargo pile between himself and her before continuing.

Vel saw him drop down out of the corner of her eye and found herself unable to resist a surreptitious glance. Was he... hiding? She smirked, a mix of cynicism and a shocking bit of warmth, and turned down to her book. She read for a moment, listening halfheartedly to the various quiet rustling sounds and occasional grunts coming from the opposite corner.

Finally, she could resist no longer, her curiosity far outweighing her desire to read. She stowed the book and stood, moving sideways until she could see Tech through a gap in the cargo. He was swiftly moving back and forth in some strange crawling motion, holding his body in a rigid plank while bringing alternating knees up to his chest before flipping onto his back and performing a similarly complex routine. Entirely without her permission, she found herself noticing a surprising agility and strength she hadn't seen before. She marveled at the fluidity of his movement, not being familiar with this sort of exercise, when her unabashed assessment was interrupted by his awareness. "Unlike Wrecker, I do not enjoy being observed while exercising," Tech stated, pausing his movement and sitting up on his knees to look at her. "I can continue later."

"No, sorry," she said, wincing at her own obviousness, "I just..." Just what? She paused, hating the feeling of being exposed, but decided to admit her curiosity. "I just haven't seen anything like that before."

"Of course not," Tech replied, with a hint of pride in his voice, "It is an adaptation of Noghri combat forms, blended together to provide a challenge for every muscle group of the human body. Some may criticize its lack of bravado or showiness," he continued, and Vel mentally replaced the "some" with "Wrecker" as he spoke, "But it is highly effective when executed correctly." She found a small smile on her face as he rolled up his sleeves, adjusting his goggles and regarding her with patience. When she realized her expression, she quickly dropped the corners of her mouth to nonchalance. "It looks hard," was all she could say, lowering her eyes to his forearms, unremarkable yet indescribably pleasing to the eye. She followed them down to his hands, splayed on the tops of his thighs as he sat on his knees. He noticed her gaze, lifting a hand to the back of his neck for a quick rub that belied his discomfort. "Sorry," she said again, "I'll let you get back to it." But before she could decide her next move, their planetary arrival was announced. "Coming out of hyperspace," came the voice from the bridge, and Vel braced herself for the inevitable forward jolt. The ship lurched to a cruising speed and Kashyyyk came into view. The planet was impossibly green and dazzlingly blue, peppered with rich tones of brown and red. As they dropped low over the tree line, Vel pressed her face to the window, eyes wide. She had never seen such a place.

Canopies of trees stretched out as far as the eyes could see, interwoven with simple rope ladders that branched out like a spiderweb. Sparkling rivers flowed beneath, lined with reeds and bushes, weaving throughout the massive forest. The Marauder came to a smooth stop on a landing platform as Tech finished assembling his armor. Helmet under his arm, he moved toward the lift. 

He had seen her gaping at the scenery, and he understood her awe -- it was a fantastic ecosystem and unrivaled by most of the planets he had seen. It had been months of missions to Outer Rim deserts or greasy Core underworlds, and this was a disproportionately refreshing sight.

"Would you like to see Kashyyyk?" Tech asked, his hand hovering over the control panel for the lift. 

"What makes you think I haven't?" Vel replied, guarded and cocky by default.

"Your face," Tech answered bluntly, regarding her solemnly from his bespectacled helmet, "When we entered the atmosphere."

Vel laughed, caught off guard by his seemingly complete ignorance of her sarcasm. She felt herself let the walls down a little, surprised at his genuine honesty and intrigued by the invitation. "Sure," she shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant but feeling a growing sense of eagerness in her stomach. She joined him on the lift and the doors whooshed closed.

***

Their stay on Kashyyyk ended up stretching into days and then weeks as the team waited for their cargo to be ready. They coped with the extended stay in their own ways, from excessive exercise (Wrecker) to target practice with the locals (Crosshair). Tech found a local archive of the region, full of everything from mythology to botany, and set to work expanding and updating his own files.

Vel took some time to herself, meditating in the forest which was an entirely new experience. She tried to reach out to the Force but felt nothing but a dull ache. She strained to move a pebble, and it teetered onto its side after a valiant wobble. She let out a breath of frustration, flopping onto her back under the shady canopy of trees.

No wonder she had failed Jedi training. The only time she felt even remotely connected to the Force was in perfect moments like this, surrounded by lush nature that was an undeniably living, breathing entity on its own. When it came to the nuance, the precision, the rules, the complexity... She didn't have the focus. Once again, didn't have what it took.  Sunlight streamed through the boughs, casting little dancing reflections off of the bugs and dust that swirled through the air. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, folding her hands behind her head. She had no idea what she was doing. Was the plan to just cavort around the galaxy with this ragtag band of defective clones, like some kind of pathetic pit droid, fixing the ship and anything else that was needed? A crunch of leaves behind her startled her to her feet, and she swung a large stick toward the intruder without ever consciously picking it up. Holding it in front of her like a sword, she squinted as he stepped through the foliage. Even with both hands in the air, one of them still held a datapad, and Tech took another step closer.

"If you would be so kind as to postpone my impalement," he began, hands remaining in the air as he approached, waving the instrument, "I found something nearby that I thought would be interesting to you."

She lowered her arm, casting the stick off to the side. It landed among some bushes with a swish, "Sorry," she said, "Old habits. What did you find?" "There is a geological cache approximately two clicks east of here," he said, pulling his visor down as he continued to enter information for his scanner. "You told me about a part you used on the ion cannons of a cruiser that drew power from a particular mineral that is found on only two planets, of which this is one. I'm curious if the same process could be replicated on a smaller level to provide a boost to the hyperdrive when it begins to fail." "There's only one way to find out," Vel replied, brushing off her pants, "Lead the way."

***

The geological cache ended up being a fascinating wealth of history and information about hundreds of minerals and elements. Vel found herself feeling childishly giddy, an age-old love of learning awakening within her, a curiosity she hadn't felt since she was young. She was still young, technically, but her life experiences left her feeling a million years old, and the voracious delight of discovery had faded long ago.

But here, it was different. Somehow, being unable to do anything else and being forced into a world as captivating as Kashyyyk had brought back some old yearnings, and in the dusty third level of the geological cache, Vel was pressed close up against a glass case containing a variety of minerals and describing the possible reactions between them all.

"Tech!" she exclaimed, pressing a finger into the glass, "Look at this!" He sidled up behind her, raising his visor to examine the text she was indicating toward. After a quick skim of the words, his eyes squinted behind his goggles.

"I would have never guessed," he said simply, regarding both the glass case as well as Vel with a newfound curiosity. There was a different sense about her suddenly, a disarmingly genuine enthusiasm for the content of their exploration. It was a refreshing departure from her typically morose behavior and borderline annoying apathy, and he found himself intrigued.

"It says there is a botanical archive as well, a sister site that can be accessed here," Vel said, reading a map at the end of the exhibit. "Can we look?" she asked, turning to look at Tech and realizing her appearance. She stuffed down the girlish delight and set her mouth in a casual line, "I mean, it would be smart to check it out, since the Syren plant's fibers are worth a small fortune if we can extract the pheromones." Tech did not miss the sudden change of composure, but it didn't seem to invite conversation, so he simply nodded in agreement, entering new coordinates on the datapad and pointing to an exit.

***

As always, artists, please feel free to create any part of this story! <3

#tbb fanfiction #tech simp #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #the bad batch #tech #bad batch #the bad batch headcanons #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch fic #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fluff #the bad batch wrecker #star wars the bad batch #star wars fanfiction #star wars #slow burn #enemies to lovers

[fitnessgripperfg]

The Ultimate Guide to Push Ups: Which Muscles Do They Work?

Push ups are a classic exercise that has been around for decades, and for a good reason.

They are a great way to build strength, muscle, and endurance in the upper body, and can be done anywhere without any equipment.

But which muscles do push ups work?

In this article, we’ll explore the key muscles targeted by push ups, how to perform them correctly, and some variations to make them even more challenging.

Muscles Worked by Push Ups:

1. Chest

The primary muscle group targeted by push ups is the chest.

The pectoralis major and minor muscles are responsible for pushing movements and are essential for upper body strength.

When you perform a push up, your chest muscles contract to push your body away from the ground.

2. Shoulders

Push ups also work the muscles of the shoulders, specifically the deltoids.

The deltoids are responsible for raising your arms and rotating your shoulders.

During push ups, the anterior, middle, and posterior fibers of the deltoids are all activated to help stabilize and control the movement of the shoulder joint.

3. Triceps

The triceps are the muscles located at the back of the upper arm and are responsible for extending the elbow.

They are activated during push ups to help stabilize and extend the arms.

When you lower yourself toward the ground, your triceps work to control the movement and prevent your elbows from flaring out to the sides.

4. Abs

Push ups also engage the core muscles, specifically the rectus abdominis and transverse abdominis.

These muscles help stabilize the body and maintain proper form during the exercise.

To engage your abs during push ups, focus on keeping your body in a straight line from head to heels and engaging your core muscles throughout the movement.

5. Back

The muscles of the back, specifically the erector spinae and latissimus dorsi, are also engaged during push ups.

These muscles help maintain proper posture and stability during the exercise.

When you perform a push up, your back muscles contract to keep your body in a straight line and prevent your hips from sagging or lifting too high.

How to Perform Push Ups Correctly?

To perform push ups correctly and engage all the targeted muscles, follow these steps:

Start in a plank position with your hands shoulder-width apart and your feet together.

Lower your body towards the ground while keeping your core engaged and your elbows close to your body.

Pause when your chest is a few inches from the ground.

Push your body back up to the starting position while keeping your core engaged and your elbows close to your body.

Repeat for the desired number of reps.

Dos and Don’ts of Push Ups:

To get the most out of your push ups and avoid injury, follow these dos and don’ts:

Dos:

Keep your body in a straight line from head to heels.

Keep your core engaged throughout the exercise.

Keep your elbows close to your body.

Breathe in as you lower your body and breathe out as you push back up.

Don’ts:

Let your hips sag or lift too high.

Allow your elbows to flare out to the sides.

Hold your breath during the exercise.

Rush through the exercise or sacrifice form for speed.

Variations of Push Ups:

Once you have mastered the basic push up, you can make them more challenging and target different muscle groups with variations.

Here are a few examples:

1. Diamond Push Ups

Diamond push ups are a variation that targets the triceps more intensely than regular push ups.

To perform a diamond push up, place your hands close together in a diamond shape under your chest, with your thumbs and index fingers touching.

2. Wide Grip Push Ups

Wide grip push ups target the chest and outer shoulders more intensely than regular push ups.

To perform a wide grip push up, place your hands wider than shoulder-width apart.

3. Incline Push Ups

Incline push ups are a beginner-friendly variation that is easier to perform than regular push ups.

To perform an incline push up, place your hands on a raised surface such as a bench or step.

4. Decline Push Ups

Decline push ups are a more advanced variation that targets the upper chest more intensely than regular push ups.

To perform a decline push up, place your feet on a raised surface such as a bench or step.

Conclusion

By incorporating push ups into your workout routine and targeting the key muscles of the chest, shoulders, triceps, abs, and back, you can build strength, muscle, and endurance in your upper body.

With proper form, consistency, and progression, push ups can help you achieve your fitness goals and improve your overall health and well-being.

Subscribe to THIS LINK if you want to receive daily fitness tips and valuable information every day.

#health & fitness #fitness #workout #exercise #gym life #working out #workout tips #fitness tips #pushups #push ups #push up bra #push up challenge #muscles #muscle #muscle building

[thefoulbeast]

Sliding in to ask what ur workout routine is like 👀 if u wanna share. I'm interested in starting but kind of lost, some of the resources online kind of get confusing,,,but no pressure! U can delete this if u want!

im sorry i got very long winded and vague, talking more about theory than an actual regime hwhwhwhw also disclaimer that i am not a professional in any manner so there might be inaccuracies in what i say that im not aware of...

Prefacing this by saying I go to gym with a few other people as a group under a coach. So the routine isn't fixed - we do different exercises p much every time. But it's twice a week - once for full-body with some cardio and once for extremities - one week we do legs and the next arms. Of course doing smth with a coach is different from doing smth by yourself - there's a lot more pressure and a lot less guidance. If you can afford it / if it is plausible, i would suggest a coach even if its a couple of times (they can help you set up a routine taking goals into account) but of course for many people it is not a possibility.

I understand how it can be really confusing looking at information online, especially if you don't know much about exercise or anatomy. (As a med student, anatomy knowledge and which muscles are involved in which actions has helped me a lot when it comes to exercise.)

If I may impress into you one concept - when you look up any exercise, I want you to know what muscle groups you're supposed to be using, and when you do that exercise, you have to pay attention that you are doing the motion correctly so that u are using the muscle group u are supposed to. It sounds simple enough, but the body - it wants shortcuts, it wants to make the motion easier for itself. It will do the motion wrong if you are not paying attention. And if you do it wrong - best case is you use different muscles, worst case is you damage something and hurt yourself.

Exercise isn't supposed to hurt!! If a motion hurts you, it might be too difficult for you, and you need to do something simpler / with less weight.

Another thing I want to say is - most people at the gym have no idea what they're doing. Like, our coach says it all the time - a good 70% of the people are going the exercises wrong. Form matters, and it matters extremely if you do anything with big weights (i would not suggest trying a deadlift without a firm grasp of form or you would throw your back out, for instance)

But starting to go to the gym might be scary. And there are exercise you can do at home by yourself, using your own body weight or some simple equipment.

If systematising makes things easier for you, I will break down the three major parts of the body when we talk about exercise (i am open to more questions regarding these groups if you have them but i will put in some resources i like later on as well):

Arms: shoulder (this is v important, since its a relatively unstable joint and there are many exercises specifically to strengthen the rotator cuff which you should not ignore if you ever want to build up your upper body), arm (biceps, triceps), forearm (most so called 'grip' exercises are for forearm and its necesary to have a good grip if you ever wanna lift weights otherwise your hands will bail out when the rest of ur body could still lift it)

Legs: glutes, quadriceps, hamstrings, knee (another finicky joint!! easy to damage and a bitch once you've fucked it up. typically u can build up knee strength with different kind of squats), calves.

Torso/Core: abs (rectal abdominal muscles are what most people think, but the abdominal wall has a ton of muscles making it up!! you also have to use the oblique abdominal muscles and the transverse abdominal muscles! think like. russian twists and planking on the side not just crunches), pectorals, back (there are sooo many muscles in the back by the way. like the trapezoids, the latissimus, the erector spinae, not to mention all the muscles that start in the back and go to the extremitie)

...So, like you get that you should not focus on any particular thing exclusively but rather try and utilise everything. Because there is so much and it all connects!! If you want to make a routine for any particular segment of your body, you ought to know what makes that part up and add in exercises so that you get some action in most, if not all, the muscle groups!

But remember not to go too hard - pushing yourself beyond your limits might seem like a good idea at the start but it will make you hate exercise and you will not build up a habit.

As for resources - I would like to dissuage you from using resources made for bodybuilders specifically (that's professional exercise. unless you want to revolve your entire life around the gym it really isnt worth it and might do you harm). On the other hand - physical therapists or professional coaches might have more worthwhile stuff to say. Though not every one. My general approach would be - the more rigidly they talk about exercise, the less inclined I would be to listen. You need to listen to people who acknowledge individual limits and beginner-level exercise.

I had a youtube channel i was looking at when i had some joint pains. It's called Athlean-X and i liked it because the guy is a physical therapist and explains the moves very clearly, often with like an anatomical dummy. Been a while since I watched anything but it's stuck in my memory as an okay resource to look at.

And another that has shown up in my attention fairly recently is hybridcalisthenics (they're also on tumblr and tiktok under the same name btw) and the videos show a really nice progression of exercises increasing in difficulty so it's great for starting and plotting out a solid goal! I also love the way Hampton talks about exercise - it seems to me like a really healthy, non-judgemental approach, acknowledging how long it takes to build up before you can progress to harder movements.

These two to me seem like good starting points but if you want I can help hunt down more! Or if you still don't quite know which direction to approach exercise from feel free to shoot me a dm and I will try and help you out :D

I once again apologise for how long this got and I hope you find any of this useful whwhwhw

#ask