#AWS Tutorial Videos

[alexandraprivet]

It's my 9 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

Thanks for sticking around this long! 🫶

Currently nursing a cold so now I have an excuse to sit in bed and learn how to properly photoshop gifs. Have been itching to make better quality gifs but haven’t had the time until I got sick lol. I cannot believe how grainy my old ones are.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I'm making a custom Richarlyson Figma

[xiaberryy]

“i look like i got beat up, Caleb.” she deadpanned as she looked at her reflection.

adolescence comes with the joyful but difficult journey of self-discovery. they observe, learn, and mimic their surroundings. she wasn’t an exception from her peers who are obsessing over their looks, wanting to enhance their beauty with make up products.

however, she still lacks skill in that department and who else she’d go to if not the jack of all trades?

“i just followed the tutorial, Pip-squeak..”

however, it seemed like the jack hasn’t mastered this trade yet. after all, her soft cheek was dabbed too thickly with an awful shade of red and her eyelids were painted with poorly blended pink eyeshadow.

both teens sighed in unison. in the background, the youtube video continued to play but none of them wanted to pay attention to this woman who they deemed terrible at giving tutorials.

“don’t worry, i’ll figure this out somehow, okay?” Caleb smiled reassuringly while patting the younger girl’s head.

he never once let her down. so, with eyes glimmering with trust and hope, she nodded, “okay!”

the next day rolled around and he’s ready to tackle this top mission. he spent yesterday noon to night, surfing the internet for makeup tutorials, best makeup type for different face shapes, etc.

“you seem confident,” she smiled at him as she sat down.

Caleb took a hair tie and grabbed a handful of her hair, “well, confidence comes from skill,”

“oooh, are you a professional makeup artist now?” a cheeky grin was plastered on her face as she stared at his reflection in the mirror.

after he tied her hair with the right amount of tightness, he grabbed hair clips to make sure no hair covered her pretty face in the process, “i’m pretty sure i got the basics down but you can be the judge of it later, Pip-squeak,”

the first thing Caleb did was gently prep her skin. as he did, he couldn’t help but notice how incredibly soft her skin was and how delicate her facial features were.

it didn’t take long for it to dry. he began dabbing cushion foundation over her skin. seeing her face in such close proximity, his heart began to race.

she’s already so perfect, does she really need this? a frown appeared on his face without him noticing.

the girl stared at him through her long eyelashes before letting out a stifled giggle. he huffed softly while smiling, “what got you all giggly, hm?”

she teasingly poked his lower lip, “you’re frowning,”

her touch made his movements halt. he raised his eyebrows and pulled the corner of his lips into a lopsided smile. the chair creaked lightly as he rested his hands on the armrests and leaned closer.

“can’t promise i’ll stay professional if you keep poking me like that, dear client,”

she giggled while backing away, “oh no, that’s unacceptable. please continue with the service,”

a soft amused huff left him. he grabbed a brow pencil and twirled it around his slender fingers, “close your eyes for me,”

she tilted her head, “why? you’re doing my brows, not my eyes,”

his hand caressed the side of her face. it was an instinct of hers to press her cheek closer to feel the warmth better. “can’t focus with those pretty eyes lookin’ at me, y’know,” he chuckled.

a knowing smile spread on her face before she complied, “okay, then,”

Caleb filled in her eyebrows while admiring the sight of her face. he was glad she had her eyes closed, otherwise she’d see the lovestruck expression he had.

“what are we doing after my brows? my lips perhaps?” she playfully pursed those plump lips of hers.

it was an innocent question, but she had no idea how he almost leaned down and gave her a big fat smooch.

how could anyone blame him? she had her eyes closed and lips pursed, his sweet girl needed to be kissed!

when she felt the lack of movement on her face, she took it as a sign to open her eyes. the sight which greeted her was his back facing her.

she blinked in confusion, “Caleb? are we done?”

meanwhile, Caleb was pressing his palm over his heated face, trying to calm his racing heart which was ready to burst.

he dragged his hand across his face and sighed deeply, “i..need to go to the bathroom. hold on.”

without waiting for her response, he bolted to the bathroom with a speed that got her scratching her head in wonder if he really needed to pee that badly.

unknown to her, Caleb was literally dumping his head into a bucket full of water to cool down. it seems like there’s another victim of adolescence hardships aside from her.

[aleksatia]

Unnatural Terrain for a Natural Thing

CW/TW: emotional birth content, graphic childbirth (natural/emergency), blood, pain, implied nudity, medical stress, fear of complications, strong emotional reactions, vulnerability, soft!Xavier, forest birth, wilderness setting, temporary communication loss, pregnancy in danger, protective partner, trauma-adjacent intensity, one (1) terrified man doing his best. Pairing: Xavier x Pregnant!You (established relationship) Genre: Emotional intensity meets survival-mode devotion. A birth story set far from sterile walls, where instinct, love, and sheer will carry the moment. Hurt/comfort turned reverent awe. Domesticity cracked open under pressure. Summary: You said you'd stay home. But you didn’t. Now Xavier’s running through the forest, chasing a signal that won’t answer and praying he’s not too late. He’s trained for every scenario — except the one where you’re bleeding and breathless and still managing to smirk at him through the worst pain of your life. A story about trust, blood, one white shirt, and the moment love becomes something holy. Word Count: 3.6K More: same birth scenario (give or take), different men, drabble-style.

You kissed him that morning. Just a brush of lips above the collarbone, warm and lazy. He hadn’t looked up from the monitor—too focused on the glitch in the west perimeter readings. You told him you were staying in. That you’d rest. That you’d be good.

He believed you.

He even smiled a little, hand trailing across your swollen belly in silent promise. His world, right there. Home, heart, purpose.

And then you were gone.

He found out from Simone. She cornered him outside Ops, biting her lip so hard she bled.

“She said it was nothing—just to check a reading—I didn’t think she’d—Xavier, please—”

But he was already moving. His blood had gone cold.

The coordinates were dead. No signal. No comms. No teleportation. The anomaly had killed everything.

He couldn’t reach you.

And so he ran. Boots pounding the moss and root-laced dirt, trees slicing past in green and gold. He hadn’t been through this forest in years — but his feet knew the shape of it. Memory blurred into instinct. He expected to find you lost. Angry. Turned around. But nothing—nothing—prepared him for what he found.

You were curled at the base of a tree, half-collapsed. Pale. Breathless. One hand white-knuckled in the soil, the other clenched over your belly.

And blood. A dark line streaked down your thighs.

His breath stopped.

He had studied birth.

He had read every godsforsaken guide. Natural deliveries, complication charts, premature signs, maternal distress indexes. All of it. He knew, on paper, exactly what to do. Timing contractions. Supporting the perineum. Assessing dilation.

But this—this was you.

You, gasping. You, crying out. You, blinking up at him through pain so deep it cracked something in his ribs.

He dropped to his knees beside you.

Not Lumière. Not legend. Not even soldier. Just a man—your man—terrified out of his mind.

“Gods,” he whispered, throat tight. “No—no, no, no—”

You tried to sit up. Another contraction slammed through you, and you bent double, screaming. He caught you. Arms around your body, shielding you from the world.

He’d studied the graphs. He’d watched the tutorial videos. He could recite the stages of labour in six languages. But none of them mentioned what it would feel like to see you in this kind of pain. None of them told him what to do with the way his heart was breaking open in his chest.

Still—he moved. He had to.

He pulled off his coat, laid it down. Positioned you on your side, cradling your head in one hand, the other stroking your spine in the slow, anchoring rhythm he'd read about. You were shivering. Muttering broken syllables.

“You’re doing fine,” he told you. It was a lie. You were doing the impossible. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

His voice shook. He bit down on it. Hard.

You looked up at him. Your face was wet with sweat, eyes glassy, but you were still there—you. Breathing. Thinking. Glaring, even. Gods, how were you still glaring?

And somehow—smirking.

That undid him more than any of the blood.

“I’ve read everything,” he murmured, brushing your hair off your forehead with a hand that definitely wasn’t trembling. “Everything. Diagrams. Protocols. Tactical field delivery guides. But I’ve never—” He hesitated. “Not with you. Not like this.”

You hissed as another contraction flared, teeth gritted. “Cats do this in bushes.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Cats,” you repeated, voice cracking around the pain. “No gloves. No comms. No Evol.” You sucked in a breath, eyes narrowing. “So you can—damn well manage.”

His mouth twitched. Gods. Of course you’d throw zoology at him during labour. Of course you would.

“Right,” he said. “Noted. Next time we’re in crisis, I’ll consult a tabby.”

You didn’t laugh. Not really. But something in your chest hitched, and your hand found his shirt, bunched it in your fist.

His heart was pounding. Not from the running. Not from the forest.

From this—you, in pain, clutching at him like he was the only fixed point in a world gone to chaos.

He lowered his head slightly, resting his cheek against your temple for just a moment. You were so warm. Too warm.

“Alright,” he murmured. “We’re okay. You’re okay. We’ve got time.”

You gave a weak, disbelieving snort. “Feels like being stabbed every four minutes.”

He gave a breath of something almost like a laugh. “Yes, well. We… expected that.”

Sheer understatement. The books had used words like waves, pressure, discomfort. None of them had mentioned the way your whole body convulsed like it was trying to tear itself in half.

Another tremor passed through you. Short. Not a full contraction. But enough.

He adjusted behind you, sitting straighter, bringing you with him so your back rested fully against his chest. You sagged into him.

His arms tightened around you instinctively. Shielding. Anchoring.

“You don’t need to push yet,” he said gently. “Right now, you just breathe. That’s your only job.”

Your fingers gripped his wrist. “How do I know when it’s time?”

His throat worked before he answered. That part wasn’t in the books. Not really.

He cleared his throat. “Technically, you’ll feel pressure. Downward. Like—like you need to use the toilet.”

You were silent a moment. Then: “That’s deeply undignified.”

He exhaled, half amused, half wrecked. “You’re telling me?”

He paused, swallowed hard. Then, softly:

“Before that… I should check for dilation.”

There. It was out. Clean. Clinical. But it still landed like something heavy.

You stiffened almost immediately. He felt it in the way your back straightened, in the way your fingers stilled on his forearm.

“No.”

His heart pulled.

“Love,” he said gently, “I won’t—not unless you say yes. But if you think we’re getting close—”

“No,” you said again, voice shaking now. “You’re not going to see me like that.”

And that—that landed like a blade. Not because you said no. But because of why. Because underneath the pain, underneath the fear, there was shame.

You, who’d walked through fire with him. Slept under broken skies. Faced Wanderers with a pulse of steel and a half-loaded blaster. You were ashamed to be seen—by him—like this.

It gutted him. But his voice didn’t shake. It couldn’t. Not for your sake.

“Alright,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Alright. Then we wait.”

No judgement. No pressure. Just quiet, certain presence.

He settled back again, supporting you more fully now, your spine curved into him, your breath ragged.

His fingers traced calming patterns along your arm, light as wind. He focused on the rhythm of your breathing, trying to sync his own with yours. Trying to lend you his steadiness.

“You’re doing everything right,” he murmured. “You’re breathing. You’re listening to your body. That’s what matters.”

You let out a noise between a groan and a whisper. “What if we don’t make it? What if I can’t do it? What if something’s wrong and we don’t know because you’re not allowed to look—”

“Hey. Hey—” He turned your face gently toward his. His forehead touched yours, grounding you. “Look at me.”

You did.

“We had the scan last week,” he said. “Head down. Perfect alignment. No signs of complications. No warning flags. And you—” his voice caught, but he steadied it, “you are doing this exactly as you should. She’s just taking her time.”

“She?”

He blinked. “I didn’t mean—just… the baby. Sorry.”

But you didn’t protest. You were too tired.

He kissed your cheek again. “I will be here for every breath. Every second. You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

There was a pause. Then—quiet, small:

“If… if it gets worse. If I feel like I need to push. Will you…”

“I’ll help,” he said instantly. “Only then. Only if you want me to. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

You nodded. Once. He felt it.

And then you sagged into him again. Not surrender—just trust.

He held you tighter, but gently, as if afraid you might shatter.

Inside, his mind kept running—measuring minutes between contractions, tracking signs, remembering every medical note, every diagram, every scenario from those long, sleepless nights when he studied for this moment and prayed he’d never have to use any of it in the middle of a godsdamned forest.

But outside?

Outside, he was steady as the roots beneath you. Because you needed him to be.

The next contraction hit like a thunderclap—violent, full-bodied, and merciless.

You twisted against him with a sound that wasn’t a scream, wasn’t even human—just raw, desperate pressure breaking free.

He held you as you arched, gritted his teeth as you clawed at his arm.

Your voice came in fragments now. Shattered glass.

“Xav… it’s… Gods— it’s too much—I can’t— I can’t—”

“You can,” he said, though his own breath was starting to shake. “You are.”

You slumped forward. Your body had no more room for words. Just breath. Just heat. Just fire from the inside out.

Then you whispered—so small, so hoarse it barely registered:

“Pushing. Want to—push—can’t stop—”

His entire body went still.

That was it.

That was transition.

He closed his eyes for half a second. Felt the cold edge of panic knock once—just once—on the door of his chest.

He didn’t let it in.

But when he opened his eyes again, they burned.

“I need to check,” he said quietly. “Just once. Then we’ll know.”

You didn’t answer. Another spasm wracked you. You doubled over with a broken sob. And then—your hand weakly gripped his wrist.

“Okay,” you rasped. “Do it. Just—don’t say anything. Don’t react. Just—do it.”

His throat was dry. He nodded.

“I won’t see you,” he promised, voice stripped down to the core. “Not like that. I’ll see what needs seeing. Nothing else.”

He moved quickly, precisely, laying you back just enough, bracing your hips with one arm, reaching with the other—slow, clinical, careful.

He had to separate it. You—the woman he loved—

And this: the medical necessity.  Function. Anatomy. Nothing more.

His fingers found you. Not clumsy. Not invasive. Just precise. Controlled.

He had no clinical experience. Only theory. Diagrams burned into memory. Models. Sketches. Silhouettes.

He remembered the spacing—two fingers across, then three. The depth. The softness of the rim when it was ready. The slight give under pressure.

He measured with his own hand, adjusting, confirming what he hoped he already knew—

And what your body had already told him. Pressure low. The baby was descending.

And then—

No rim.

His breath caught.

You were fully dilated. Ten. Complete. The cervix had disappeared under his touch. It was just you now—you and the child between.

And the next contraction came on like a thunderclap. He was barely back behind you before you surged forward with a sob.

“Push— I have to push—”

His arm wrapped around your waist, catching you, steadying.

“It’s time,” he whispered, breath hitching. “You’re ready. She’s ready.”

He didn’t let you see the way his eyes burned. He didn’t let you hear the part of him that was shaking, not from fear—no.

From awe.

From the unbearable, quiet truth that the woman he loved was about to bring his child into the world. Right here. In his arms. And all he could do was catch her. Hold her. Witness you become divine.

Your cry tore through the trees.

It wasn’t loud—not really. But it was final. Elemental. A sound ripped from the deepest part of you.

Xavier braced you gently, one hand supporting your thigh, the other steady at your lower back, guiding your body as it arched into the next wave.

“Push,” he said, voice low, calm, anchored. “Now. With the contraction. Just this one.”

You bore down with a guttural sob, and he felt it — all of it. The power. The resistance. The moment everything began to give way.

Then silence. A breath.

And it was starting.

He shifted slightly on his knees, closer, reverent. The forest around you didn’t exist anymore. Time didn’t exist. There was only this clearing, this woman, this child — and him.

He needed something clean.

His gaze flicked to the ground—his coat. Already beneath you, soaked through with dirt, sweat, and blood. It wouldn’t do. Couldn’t.

He cursed under his breath.

Then—his hands went to his collar.

The shirt. White. Crisp. Still dry. It would have to be enough.

He stripped it without hesitation, fumbling only once with the buttons, skin prickling with cold as he peeled it off. The air hit his back like ice, but he didn’t care. He folded the shirt quickly, then spread it across his lap—his thighs just beneath where your body rested against him.

That’s where she’ll land, he thought. She deserves something clean.

His hands moved before his mind could catch up. He reached for his belt—unfastened the sheathed knife he always carried. A weapon, once. Now, a tool.

The blade caught what little light there was. Forest-dark steel.

He flicked the lighter open, held the flame to the edge of the knife until it hissed, glowed dull orange. His palm burned from the heat, but he held it steady. The acrid scent of scorched metal twisted into the night air—earth and sweat and blood and fire.

Once done, he laid the knife on the clean white fabric beside him, far from you but within reach. Handle turned just so. Ready.

Only then did he look up at you. And everything else disappeared.

You cried out — a sound pulled from the centre of the earth. Your body curled forward, shaking. He reached — one hand bracing your thigh, the other steady beneath to guide.

You pushed.

And the world cracked open.

A slick weight slipped into his hands.

She was here.

He caught her. Gently. As if she might fall through the world if he wasn’t careful.

She was warm. Heavy. Unbelievably small.

For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

She let out a wail that startled birds from the trees.

High. Piercing. Demanding.

Alive.

His lips parted, but no words came—just a choked sound, part laugh, part sob.

He turned her slightly in his hands, instinct leading action: checking her chest—rising. Good. Legs flexing. Strong. The cry—forceful. No retraction, no dusky colour, no silence.

She’s breathing. She’s breathing on her own.

He pressed her to his chest, skin to skin, the heat of her sinking into him like something sacred.

Then, with trained precision, he laid her down briefly on the shirt across his thighs. His hands moved without hesitation: found the cord, still pulsing faintly. He tied it carefully with a strip of thread from his own seam—double-knot, firm but not tight. Just as the manual had said. Two fingers from the belly.

He reached for the sterilised knife. No shaking now. Only purpose.

A clean slice. The cord slackened. She was fully in the world now.

He scooped her back up, bundled her gently in the folds of his shirt, and turned to you.

You were half-conscious, panting, eyes glassy—but they locked with his the moment you heard her.

“She’s here,” he whispered. His voice broke. “She’s alright. You did it. Gods, you did it.”

Your hand found his wrist. Weak. Wet with sweat. But real.

He returned to you immediately, settling behind you once more, your back folding into his chest, his arms wrapping around you both. Warmth. Shelter. The world narrowed to the circle of his embrace.

He moved gently, reverently, unbuttoning your blouse with one hand, baring the curve of your chest. You didn’t stop him. Didn’t need to.

He laid the baby on your skin. And everything fell silent.

Her cries softened. Her mouth turned instinctively, nuzzling, searching. You curled your arm around her—slow, protective, shaking.

Xavier stared.

Not at the blood. Not at the mess. At you. And her. And what you had both become in this moment.

And then you groaned again.

His whole body tensed.

“What is it? What’s—”

“Still,” you managed. “One more…”

Of course. The placenta.

“Okay,” he said quickly, his arms tightening around you, helping you lean forward just enough. “It’s alright. Let it happen. Don’t fight it. Just breathe.”

You pushed once—twice—and then the soft, wet mass slid free. Heavy. Intact.

He gave a ragged exhale. It was over.

You collapsed back into him, hollowed out but whole.

The baby shifted on your chest. Still now. Warm. Real.

And for the first time, Xavier let go—just a little. He pressed his forehead to the side of your head, eyes closed, breath catching in his throat.

You were safe. She was alive. And he—

He was undone.

The forest had never been this quiet.

You were limp in his arms, the baby bundled tight against your chest beneath the folds of his ruined coat and his dirt-streaked shirt. He’d covered your hips as best he could—your legs, trembling and bare, now wrapped in everything warm he had left. His body heat did the rest.

He looked down once—just once.

You. Her. Breathing in the same rhythm. Your cheek against her forehead.

His family.

“I’m carrying you,” he said softly. “We need to get you to a hospital. I’ll run if I have to.”

You didn’t answer. Just stirred faintly. Trusted him.

Of course you did.

He gathered you both into his arms and stood—slowly, carefully, making sure her head was cradled between you, that your spine aligned with his chest. One step. Another. The weight didn’t matter.

He’d carry you to the end of the world.

But he didn’t have to.

Light glinted through the trees. Voices. Boots. Flashlights cutting through the fog.

Medics.

Simone had sent them. He knew it instantly. They rushed forward—soft chaos, hands outstretched, voices sharp and gentle at once.

He didn’t speak. Just surrendered you both into capable arms with a kind of silent reverence. He stayed close. Never let you out of his line of sight. Never let her out of his hands.

The hospital was white. Quiet. Sterile in a way that made the memory of forest moss and blood feel like a fever dream.

You lay on a low cot, pale but stable, a drip in your arm, your heartbeat steady under layers of warm linen. Antibiotics. Fluids. Everything under control.

“She’s perfect,” the doctor said after checking her over. “Strong lungs. No sign of distress. You did everything right.”

Xavier hadn’t sat down since they brought you in.

He paced. Slowly. Back and forth. The baby in his arms, bundled in the softest blanket they could find. She was sleeping now, one hand curled like a tiny fist near her mouth.

He looked down at her like she was made of glass.

Or starlight.

He had seen her come into this world. Had felt the weight of her as life began. Had watched blood turn into breath, watched pain become existence. Nothing—nothing—had prepared him for that.

She stirred, and he stopped pacing.

You were awake now, watching him through half-lidded eyes, drug-heavy but calm.

He came to your side. Sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

“She’s yours,” he said, and there was something cracked in his voice he didn’t bother to hide.

He placed her gently into your arms, guiding your hands with his, still beneath hers. You cradled her awkwardly—your arm stiff from the IV line.

“She wants to feed,” you murmured. “I can’t… not yet.”

He shook his head. “She’s fine. Just hold her. That’s all she needs.”

You both watched her sleep.

So small. So utterly here.

Her hair—soft and pale, almost silver-gold—shone faintly under the hospital light.

You smiled. “She has your eyes.”

Xavier was quiet a long time. Then—his voice, low, fragile, certain:

“I didn’t know I could love you more than I already did.”

You turned your head. He was still looking at the baby.

“But I watched you carry her. For months. Every discomfort. Every fear. Every impossible day.”

He swallowed hard.

“And then I saw you bring her into the world. With your body. With your pain. With your strength.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, they were sea-glass clear.

“And I realised,” he said, almost a whisper, “I’ve only ever loved the surface of you.”

Your breath caught.

“Everything deeper,” he said, “everything you never let me see until tonight—that’s where the real love lives.”

The baby stirred.

Just a small twitch—her fingers unfurling like petals, her lips parting in a dream. She shifted closer against your chest, seeking warmth she already knew by heart.

The monitors hummed softly. Footsteps passed far down the hall. But here—in this corner of sterile light and borrowed linen—everything was still.

Xavier's hand found yours, fingers threading together without thought, without effort.

You turned your head, your voice barely a breath.

“I want another.”

He blinked, startled.

“A boy,” you added, eyes never leaving the baby’s face. “Next time.”

He stared at you a moment. And then—he smiled. Quiet. Wrecked. Entirely in love.

“Yes,” he said. “Next time. And I’ll be with you again. From the very start to the very end. Always.”

[jussstlovely]

Money Pull Up

Learning the Money Pull-Up Dance with Bf! Enhypen

More info: how the members of Enhypen would react to you asking them if they wanted to do the “Money Pull Up” dance on TikTok. 

All fluff! Wc: About 200-350 words for each member 

AN: I’ve wanted to write this for a while now and finally finished, hope you enjoy!

NSFW acc DNI please

희승-

While scrolling through TikTok, a dance you wanted to learn kept showing up, so, you decided to ask your boyfriend, Heeseung.

You heard him tell you once that he has a background in dancing so hopefully, he would agree to dance with you.

Opening the door to his room you called him, 

“hey hee?” 

“yes?” 

“Would you like to learn a TikTok dance with me?” 

“Sure!” It took him a few moments to respond but he steps away from his computer and follows you to the living room. 

Once you’re done showing the dance, you start teaching him.

“Okay, so first it goes, money pull-up action we ah turn it up,” you said as you started demonstrating the twerk motion. 

He looks at you in disbelief. 

“Babe, when did you learn to move like that…?”

You look back at him with confusion but also hold back a smile as he genuinely looks shocked at the move that you just made. 

“Uhm I’ve always known how to do this?” “Anyways let’s get back to it”

“oh…okay”

He finally got the dance down 15 minutes after teaching him but it needs cleaning.

“Okay let’s run that again, you got it?”

“Yea” 

At this point, both of you are tired out even though you guys still need to record…

“Okay, we will run it one last time and then record,” you said sort of out of breath. 

“Okay,” he said, agreeing with you, he was also sort of out of breath.

“Okay, 5,6,7,8…”

Once you guys finally finished cleaning it up it was time to record, and you both ended up doing a great job.

“Oh my gosh look at us,” he said in awe

“Yea we look pretty good,” you said proudly. 

Once you uploaded the dance, the comments were flooded with compliments of the dance. 

Needless to say, you and Heeseung killed it and now you better believe that he’s going to go find more dances for you guys to learn together. 

제이-

The same scenario as Heeseung, you were the one who found the dance and wanted to learn it. But knowing Jay, he was pretty conservative on what he posts online so it took a little bit more convincing.

“Please!!! Just this once” you begged. 

“I'm not sure baby” 

“I’ll cook your favorite meal tonight~,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Jay contemplated for a second, “…Deal” 

“Ahh yay!”

Once you showed Jay a video of the dance and a short tutorial you began to teach him the steps more in depth.

“Okay so, do you know how to twerk?”

Your question baffled him.

“D-do I know how to do what?” he responded, still shocked by your question. 

You repeat yourself.

“I-Honey, I mean I never tried it but if you teach me maybe…” 

So, you taught him how to twerk, and surprisingly, he was good at it, almost better than you. 

Twenty minutes passed and you both were ready to record, so you set up your phone and got ready.

“Okay Jay, you ready?”

“Mhm let’s go”

“Alright we got this” 

In the end, you and Jay devoured that, the dynamic and chemistry between you both can easily be seen through the screen, and the people who liked and commented also agreed with that as they left comments filled with compliments for both of you. 

After that, Jay also found his new interest, which was learning dances with you. 

제이크-

Jake was the one who showed you the dance and asked you to teach him so that you could dance together.

Of course, you agreed, excited to learn and dance with each other.

After you studied the dance and what the dancers were doing in the video you began to teach him. 

To be honest, Jake was not listening to anything you were saying, too mesmerized by the way you danced and demonstrated the moves. 

Once you were done teaching him you asked if he understood what to do. 

“Hm? Oh yea I totally got that” 

Feeling a little skeptical about his response, you asked him to show the dance to you, by himself. To which he surprisingly did knowing that he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. 

His demonstration was so bad that you had to stop him halfway.

“Jake, you asked me to teach you this, why aren’t you paying attention.”

“I’m sorry babe, but you just looked so mesmerizing…” 

Failing to hide your smile after his compliment you thanked him but also told him that he needed to start focusing or else you wouldn’t dance with him. 

He quickly complied and began to focus on what you were saying. 

By the end of your lesson, he understood what to do, and now you guys were ready to record!

“Okay, just remember to twerk to the beat” 

“Okay yes, got it, I’m ready” 

Forgot to mention, that Jake is doing the twerking since you wanted to do the fan kick. 

“Okay 5,6,7,8…”

After you guys finished the dance you both spent 5 minutes looking over it, still not satisfied with the way it came out so you both danced again, and again, and again until you guys were finally satisfied with the end product. 

Once you uploaded it, so many people liked and commented on it. To say that you guys did a good job was an understatement, you both did such a great job that even you couldn’t stop watching. 

The way that you both danced in sync while also doing different moves was so satisfying, you also uploaded another video of you teaching Jake and the comments were also very positive as many found your teaching helpful even using it as examples to learn the dance. 

Now, you and Jake have made a pact to learn a dance together at least once a month. 

성훈-

Jake was the one who showed Sunghoon the dance and convinced him to ask you. 

He knew that you took some dance classes when you were in high school but for some reason, he was nervous to ask you. 

So, it took a week of Jake’s bickering, teasing, and convincing until he finally asked you.

“Hey babe…” When he asked you, you were sitting on the couch looking at your phone. 

“Yes, hoon?” you answered.

“I was wondering if you would like to learn a TikTok dance with me,” he mumbled. 

“Huh?”

“I was wondering if…you would like to learn a TikTok dance with me,” he mumbled again. 

“Sunghoon, I can’t hear you-”

“Iwaswonderingifyouwouldliketolearnatiktokdancewithme!” he rambled with a louder voice. 

“Oh, yeah sure! Which dance?” you replied.

Surprised by your answer because he was expecting immediate rejection, caused him to stare at you with shock on his face.

“Sunghoon?” he snapped out of it.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Which dance do you want to learn?” 

He replied by showing you the Money Pull-Up Dance. Although you agreed to this, he still wasn’t convinced and kept on asking you if you wanted to learn this, which you always reassured him that you did.

After 20 minutes of teaching him the dance, you felt that it was time to record.

“Okay I think we got it, are you ready to record?” he agreed.

15 minutes pass by fairly quickly due to you both messing up multiple times and wanting to redo the dance whenever you watch it. Because of that, you guys did not end up posting the finalized version of the dance, and instead the video of where you both forgot the last part and ended up laughing near the end. You and Sunghoon did not expect to get so much love in that video so to show your gratitude you both decided to film and post the finalized dance for your new fans and friends, and they loved it even more. Also, Jake made various comments about how it was all his idea and how he deserved a shoutout. 

선우-

Sunoo was the one who showed you the dance, due to his fyp being filled with multiple dance covers of this song he saved the dance and made a note in his head to ask you when you came home. 

But when you got home, you looked so tired, and he didn’t have the chance to ask you. 

The next day, you got a day off from work, making it a perfect opportunity for him to ask you about the dance. 

“Hey, sweetie~”

“Hm? Oh hi baby”

“Heyyy” he replied.

“What’s up Sunoo?” you replied, a little suspicious of him.

“Oh!, I was wondering if you would like to learn a TikTok dance with me?” 

“Oh, yeah sure!”

“Ahh really-”

“But it depends on what it is…”

So, he shows you, though it takes a little bit more convincing for you since you have never tried this kind of dance before. But you finally agreed. 

He ended up teaching you how to twerk, how to fan kick, and how to do the body roll which you did a pretty good job on all of them.

“Okay now that you understand those parts let's watch a tutorial to start learning,” he said showing you a detailed tutorial on how to dance. 

About 20 minutes later you finished learning the dance with him and felt that you were ready to film. Sunoo was also surprised by your commitment and dance skills, he has never seen this side of you. 

“I’m ready to start filming!” you said, excited to dance now.

“Okay! We can do this.”

To both of your surprise, it only took one take to film the dance perfectly so Sunoo uploaded the dance, and very quickly, it ended up going viral, there were so many comments complimenting your dynamic with him and both of your skills that can easily be seen from the screen.

After that Sunoo booked a dance lesson for both of you, and you found a new passion for something outside of work.

정원-

Same scenario as Heeseung and Jay. You were the one who found the dance and wanted to learn it. But it took a lot of convincing due to Jungwon being shocked that you want to learn this dance style. Most of the dances that you show Jungwon are cuter and take less skill to execute. But, you are determined to make Jungwon do this dance with you. 

“Please Jungwon, I promise I will do the dishes for a month,” you said hoping that he would finally say yes. 

“Hmm, no”

After multiple attempts at trying to convince him you gave up and decided to not talk to him for the rest of the day, although it was your idea, it still hurt that your boyfriend didn’t want to dance with you. 

It was now nine at night and Jungwon couldn’t take the silence anymore. Throughout the day he tried talking to you but you would always walk away or find a way to leave him mid-sentence. 

This resulted in him apologizing, and when he apologized, he also told you that he wanted to learn the dance with you. Which brought a huge smile to your face.

"Wait really? You want to learn it with me?" you asked, trying hard to contain your excitement.

He nodded with a bright smile on his face. So, you guys moved to the living room and started learning.

25 minutes later you guys finally finished the dance and you understood most of it, now it was time to record. Jungwon set up his phone and about 5 minutes after he was getting ready to upload it, it took you both about 3 takes until you got the perfect one. 

After Jungwon posted it, the video was already getting so many likes, and the comments were filled with compliments. They talked about how great your dynamic was, how the execution was done well and some comments were also made by your friends.

Needless to say, you and Jungwon had so much fun, and he is always hoping that you will ask him to do another dance like that with you. 

니키-

You were the one who showed Ni-ki the dance and to your surprise, he said yes. 

But while you were getting ready to teach him the dance, he couldn’t stop laughing, and you couldn’t understand why. 

“Ni-ki! Stop laughing, why are you laughing?” you asked, failing to hide a smile on your face.

He laughed even harder in reply,

“Ah I’m sorry, I’ll focus,” he said trying to keep a straight face. 

With that you continued to teach him, the first two dance steps went well until he broke out in laughter again. 

So here you were, looking at him with a straight face while he was dying of laughter on the floor. 

“Ni-ki, I'm serious, what is so funny? I’m trying to teach you something…” slightly hurt by this.

He finally stopped laughing, “I’m sorry babe, I’ll focus, for real this time” 

“No Ni-ki I want to know what’s so funny? Do you not want to do this?” 

He quickly disagreed with you, the actual reason why he kept laughing was because he was nervous but he didn’t want to tell you that…

“No no, I do! it’s just…” 

“It’s just what?” 

“I’m nervous…” he replied.

“You’re nervous?”

He nodded his head,

“Why are you nervous, Riki?” 

“I don’t know. I mean it’s the first time I’m dancing with you, and I don’t want to let you down…”

You reassured him, “You’re not letting me down Riki, I’m just glad you agreed to this but if you don’t want to dance then that’s okay too”

“No I want to do this dance with you, I promise I will focus this time” 

After that, it only took 10 minutes to learn the whole thing because Ni-ki learned the dance instantly. 

Once you finished learning the dance you moved on to filming. That didn’t take long either, and on your second take you both felt satisfied with the result, so you posted it. 

Most of the first comments and likes were from your friends hyping you up but then an hour later your phone started blowing up with so many more comments and likes complimenting you both with how your energy is and dynamic and chemistry that was consistent throughout the whole dance. 

All in all you and Ni-ki had such a fun time together learning a dance. Even though you guys have been dating for only 3 months, he hopes that this will last forever. 

Hope you enjoyed it! If you did please like and comment, reblogs are appreciated. 💕

[befemininenow]

Read this if you're interested in preserving anything feminization or femme related!

With the inevitable ban of TikTok and the elimination of LGBTQ+ protection on Meta apps like Facebook and Instagram, never mind the awful moderation on Twitter, there's really not much sites where LGBTQ+ people can express themselves without being harassed by anyone hateful. Bluesky is an alternative that seems ethical. YouTube is good to use for actual feminization tutorials. As much as I despise the API decision, Reddit is one of the few sites where trans spaces have really good moderation and has a lot of useful info regarding transition. It's only a matter of time before these sites go down the gutter. That includes Tumblr.

Speaking of which, Tumblr seems to be a safe space for a lot of us. Unfortunately, a lot of blogs have also been target of termination and their posts have been nuked, even with reblogs and shares. Since feminization captions seem to be one of the more difficult pieces of NSFW posts to preserve, there's only one thing you can do continue that scene: repost.

While we have survived constant purges and flagging in the past, the future of feminization blogs and captions is looking more bleak as we speak. Sure, a lot of p0rn blogs have been deleted, but even the more SFW blogs like VikkiPNK have faced termination, probably due to so much flagging. It was so bad, I got instantly flagged 8 times myself! (plus a "copyright" strike)

So how can you help with this problem? Reblog your favorite captions! Hell, save all your favorite captions in a folder and repost them here or outside Tumblr in case the original gets deleted! It doesn't even have to be my captions. It can be another caption creator or some old legacy creator that no longer exists. Some of us don't even have Twitter or other sites, yet I see some of my captions being posted there. It's a sign of relief and I lowkey do get happy when I see other blogs sharing my posts.

And while we're at it, save your favorite TikTok videos as well! A lot of feminization caption creators use TikTok to make their captions and it will be a huge loss for a lot of them. The site is closing this Sunday and unless you live outside the US, it will be gone for good. You will see less Brooke Monk, Tate McRae, Neekolul, Pamibabyy, Peachybunn, and other creators, so save those too!

If you reached this far, thank you for reading and please reblog this post so that we can preserve as many captions for years to come!

[marciavalance]

modern outsiders headcanons!! (the fourth installment)

• Bob drives a tesla cybertruck

• Johnny has a god awful screen time (12 hours a day)

• Marcia has invisalign

• Sodapop makes recipes off of pinterest (they look somewhat close to the pictures)

• Marcia buys all of her makeup, skincare and clothes off of yesstyle

• Cherry went to the eras tour, Marcia went to the sweat tour and Bev went to the short n sweet tour

• Dally broke into a travis scott concert

• Steve believes the onion is real news

• Johnny LOVES papas freezeria

• Bob and Randy play COD and Two-Bit plays fortnite (he says it’s a joke. but it isn’t)

• Ponyboy is best friends with every teacher from the english department

• Bev has that AWFUL basic girl laugh

• Darry loves instagram reels. his whole fyp is just nfl memes and workout videos

• Dally’s reels fyp is car crashes and Two-Bit’s is just brainrot

• Johnny, Sodapop and Marcia would LOVE la la land

• Sodapop uses the a thousand wishes body lotion

• Cherry and Marcia were girl scouts, and Sodapop, Steve and Johnny were boy scouts

• Marcia buys alcohol from Johnny (he just steals it from Dally or his parents)

• Ponyboy’s a theatre kid (duh) and he has to watch shows from slime tutorials

• Johnny playing just dance to lady gaga songs while his parents try to kill each other in the living room

• Johnny works at chick fil a

(i’ve got a list of all my headcanons here!)

[batsybat91]

Heyyy bestieee *slides in with cool shades on, almost trips but catches self* I got a lil somethin somethin for your beautiful brain to munch on tehe

I talk to myself a lot (like everyone else) but instead of speaking normally, I whisper cuz I feel awkward if I don't. But I have to let those thoughts out y'know? The inner monologue in my head isn't enough 💀

Sooo, how about a reader who also whispers to themself and Simon catches them

- Biscuits 🌺

Hello, Biscuits, you gorgeous, big-brained genius!! I also talk to myself a lot - usually when I'm playing video games. Occasionally will be talking to myself at work, too. So I totally get you!!

--

You have been cleaning your husband's (you love calling him your husband!) guns all day. He left you a note on the fridge asking you to do it, and of course, you had to look up a tutorial on how to do it. The last gun you have to clean is a very expensive-looking Winchester rifle, with a wooden stock and a bolt action. It's a hunting gun, you know that much. It has a damn fine scope, so you ensure the covers are on and secured.

"Okay," you whisper. "You can do this. It's just a rifle. You cleaned all his other guns. Pistols... rifles. This one is just. Expensive. More expensive than you, probably."

You pick the rifle up gently. It's a .308 caliber, so it's a pretty big gun. It's heavy, too. Maybe not to Simon, who can pick you up and put you on his shoulders without breaking a sweat. But to you? It's fucking heavy. Your arms shake as you carry it from the safe to the kitchen table.

"Okay. Okay. Don't worry. If you fuck this up, Simon will kill you and bury you in his grave," you mutter. "No biggie. No, no, no. We are so chill about this."

You glance at the instructions you wrote for yourself. First, open chamber. Ensure it's not loaded.

"Check."

"Next, remove action from gun, if possible."

You gently turn the rifle in your hands, propping it on the kitchen chair. You point the muzzle up, just like Simon taught you. "Gently," you whisper as you pull the bolt action out. "Gently!"

You get the action out safely. A sigh of relief floods over you.

"Okay, next," you mumble, setting the gun with the muzzle facing opposite of the door.

Simon has just come home, but you don't hear him open the door. You are locked the fuck in on cleaning this gun without hurting it. He sets his gear on a nearby chair and tosses his mask on the end table. He hears you talking in the kitchen, and moves to investigate. Simon assumes you're on the phone with someone, but no.

There you are, hair pulled out of your face with a headband. You are holding his favorite rifle, examining it with precision.

"Take the rod thingy, then the paper towel," you whisper, "Then you thread it through the rod just like that. And then you dip it in some of that..."

He smiles, watching you from the shadows. There's something adorable in how much care you're putting into taking care of his guns. He didn't actually expect you to learn how to clean them. He expected you to call Johnny or Gaz for help.

"And then you put the thingamabob in the doohickey up here," you say, gently pushing the rod into the top of the gun. He can tell you're being very careful with it, wincing any time you even tap the scope.

"Jam it in and out at a real nice pace," you mutter. Then, even quieter, you say, "He better jam it in me when he sees I've cleaned all his guns."

Simon can't help the snort that escapes him. You look up from the rifle, and you positively beam when you see him. "Simon, baby!" you exclaim. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Long enough," he says, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest.

You frown. "Aw man, I bet you think I'm fucking 'daft,' talking to myself like that."

"Not at all," he assures you. "I think it's cute, luvie."

"Well, you hang tight right there, mister," you command, pointing the cleaning rod at him. Then, doing a horrible, horrible impression of his British accent, you say, "I'll clean this musket of yours and shine your shoes for a smacker."

"Real funny," he growls, though there's a smile on his face.

"I'm hilarious," you agree.

You put the bolt back inside the rifle after you're done cleaning it and keep the action open. Simon saunters behind you and rests his chin on your head. "Oh, that's bloody good work, darlin'."

"Thank you, my lord," you giggle. "Now, help me put them all back in your safe."

He presses a quick kiss to your forehead and pats your ass affectionately. "Not a problem, Queen Riley."

You snort, a very unladylike sound. "Queens don't talk to themselves."

"My queen does," he replies, kissing your cheek before padding off to grab a gun.

[ch6sos]

a/n: this is mainly for black gender neutral readers or those with coily/curly hair but anyone can read :)

Whenever Kento wants to learn something new, he devotes his entire time to it. No, seriously. People around him often ask how he manages to master so many skills, or they gape in awe when they see him in action, because it always looks like he’s a natural. But the truth is, Kento practices—endlessly.

Take cooking, for example. He wasn’t always good at it. His parents were the first to teach him about the importance of basic household skills—especially cooking. They told him, "If you want to survive in the real world, you need to know how to take care of yourself, and cooking is essential."

But his first attempts weren’t smooth at all. He didn’t master stegt flæsk on the first try, nor could he bake the perfect rye bread, or make udon from scratch. In fact, when he first attempted cooking, even the boxed mac and cheese stuck to the pan.

Frustrated but determined, Kento began watching his family closely. He'd observe his mother in the kitchen, occasionally passing her ingredients or awkwardly chopping vegetables. He read cookbooks, borrowed recipes from his grandmother—learning both Japanese and Danish dishes, and followed each step carefully—getting the right ingredients, measurements, and temperatures just right.

That’s how Kento approached every skill he became interested in—whether it was fencing, archery, learning to play the violin, or pottery. He would buy all the necessary equipment, immerse himself in content about it, and fixate on it until he was satisfied with his skill level—like a Sim locked into a single task.

So, when Kento started dating someone with coily hair, he applied the same method.

He noticed how much time they spent on their hair—the hours dedicated to braiding, curling, and washing. He wasn’t the type of partner to just sit back and watch, especially when they were feeling tired.

He went into research mode: watching videos, reading articles, and practicing. Whenever he had time off from work, he’d be on his couch, blue light glasses perched on his nose, eyes glued to YouTube tutorials explaining how to care for coily hair—the products to use, the best protective hairstyles, and the time required for proper maintenance.

He’d search on his Samsung, scrolling through article after article written by people with coily hair, trying to understand how he could help make their routine a bit easier.

One day, his partner caught him with a mannequin head in his lap, his legs crossed on the couch, glasses slipping down his nose, fingers moving as he tried to braid from the scalp down. His brows were furrowed in concentration, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Kento, what are you doing?” they chuckled, glancing at the mannequin on his lap.

He let out a small huff, not annoyed but a little sheepish. “I’m trying to learn how to braid, or at least take care of hair.”

They laughed softly, seeing his frustration as he undid yet another braid that wasn’t quite right. “Why don’t you practice on me?”

“I don’t want to ruin your hair,” he replied, frowning as he started over again, still a bit clumsy but improving.

“I’ll teach you,” they offered, amusement in their voice, touched by how much he wanted to get it right.

Kento’s eyes lit up in excitement, as if he’d forgotten that watching them take care of their own hair was the best lesson he could get. "That’d be great," he said with a lazy grin, pushing his glasses up.

For the next few weeks, they taught him everything—how they followed their daily hair routine, how they carefully braided and styled their hair, and how long it took to recreate certain looks. Kento watched intently, always hesitating before touching their hair, afraid he might mess something up. But with gentle encouragement, he grew more confident.

Eventually, he learned enough to help out. On days when they were tired, Kento would sit them down, placing pillows beneath them, and take over. He’d part their hair with a comb, splitting it into neat sections, his hands gentle as he worked, always mindful not to tug too hard. They’d both watch a silly reality show on TV while he braided or styled their hair.

He even learned how to wash it delicately, stepping into the shower with them to help massage their scalp and rinse out the conditioner. He bought the right products, ensuring they always had what they needed. Sometimes, he’d try new hairstyles on them—ones even they hadn’t thought of—just to keep things interesting.

For Kento, it wasn’t just about learning a new skill. He loved spending that quality time together, knowing that every effort he made to help them made a difference. And in those quiet, intimate moments, he felt truly happy.

[codeonedigest]

(via Amazon Relation Database Service RDS Explained for Cloud Developers) Full Video Link -          https://youtube.com/shorts/zBv6Tcw6zrUHi, a new #video #tutorial on #amazonrds #aws #rds #relationaldatabaseservice is published on #codeonedigest #youtube channel.  @java @awscloud @AWSCloudIndia @YouTube #youtube @codeonedigest #codeonedigest #aws   #amazonwebservices #aws #awscloud #cloudcomputing #amazonrdsvsaurora #amazonrdsbackupandrestore #amazonrdssnapshotexporttos3 #amazonrdsbackup #amazonrdsaurora #amazonrdsautomatedbackup #amazonrdsaccessfromoutside #amazonrdsguide #awsrdsauroratutorial #awsrdsvsaurora #awsrdsperformanceinsights #awsrdsexplained #awsrdstutorial #awsrdsengine #relationaldatabaseservice #relationaldatabasemanagementsystem #relationaldatabase #rdbms 

[neigepomme]

omg i NEED to know what kind of tiktoks caleb sends to mc because i feel like his fyp would be so messy...like some lame lego tutorials, those long ass videos of dogs acting cute, how to be an alpha male tips and a bunch of brainrot. i just know his ass is sending the most random videos to her.......

CRACKING MY KNUCKLES i had to scour through my dms with some of my guy friends for this one.. i understand the man experience now (i don't. they fascinate me truly)

so here are some tiktoks caleb sends over! his fyp is in fact a mess but hey that's just the guy experience.. HIT THE LINKS TO WATCH 'EM!!

basketball related tiktoks — caleb? he plays ball. you know who also plays ball? lebron james. anyways so for context a tiktok trend popularized this app called bronify where guys literally make parodies of songs but they're glazing lebron. it is honestly insanely funny and a bunch of these covers are crazy good

basketball related tiktoks pt. 2 — remember the luka doncic trade that had all the men of america freaked out and they were explaining to their girlfriends why it was nefarious? yeah so that event canonically happens with caleb and you and he sees a tiktok about it and sends it over to you with the caption "us"

lame corny pickup lines — a friend of mine actually sent this to me and i cringed out but it was funny in a really corny way and i think that's just peak caleb. big strong man being a loser.. sighs dreamily

cute dog vids — bonus points if it's a bernese mountain dog!! caleb quite literally reminds you of a dog and you let him know that, so logically: you like him = you associate him with dogs = if he sends you dog vids you'll be reminded of him. ez math!! also because they're cute and they make you happy so that makes him happy

silly comedy sketches — for this one specifically, he sends it to you and captions it "me when i cook something new for you :P". yeah. he's confident in his cooking skills but also the idea of you hating a dish he prepared? awful. externalizing that concern through a funny tiktok

couple tiktoks — this is what caleb sends the most often!! there's a trend that you two haven't done yet? he's begging you to do it with him. the romantic ones where kisses are involved or you two have to match outfits are his favorites of all time.. oh my loverboy

these are the ones i have links for!! other than that, he probably enjoys listening in to the reddit aita videos he hears from your phone when he's cooking!! there's also a lot of lego/model building and probably some "i love my girlfriend" adjacent tiktoks..

HE'S A LOSER!!! HE'S SUCH A LAME CORNY LOVESICK LOSERRRR OH MY BABY.......

[krystalsturns]

even line my lips just to match my nipples - c.s.

fem!reader x friend!chris

smut

-

“even line my lips just to match my nipples, leave me alone bitch i wanna have fun,” the sound spills from your phone as you replay the tiktok you just posted for the third time, maybe fourth. you’re lounging in front of your vanity, lips parted slightly as you admire the way you moved. slow, confident, a little teasing, while tracing that deep mauve liner around your mouth. the color did match your nipples, and the smug little smirk you flashed at the end of the video made it very clear you knew exactly what you were doing.

your phone keeps buzzing. likes, comments, reposts. the video’s blowing up faster than you expected. a few girls are asking for the lip liner shade. a few guys are clearly not watching for the makeup tutorial.

you toss your phone onto the vanity with a grin, leaning in to blend out your highlighter, still glowing from the reaction. but then, a new buzz. different vibration. not tiktok. you glance over.

chris sent you a message.

you open it, curious.

he sent you your own video.

and under it:

chris

i would do insane things to find out if it actually matched.

you snort, covering your mouth with your hand. there’s no way. no way that message was meant for you. it’s bold. too bold. your fingers type quickly, giggling.

y/n

wrong person? 😭

he replies almost instantly.

chris

oh my god.

you laugh even harder, heat blooming on your cheeks. poor chris. he must be mortified. and yet… you feel that familiar little thrill in your chest. you’ve always had a tiny, inconvenient crush on him. never acted on it. but now? now he’s basically handed you the perfect opening.

you bite your lip, rereading his message, then type out a response before you can talk yourself out of it.

y/n

it does match btw.

find out for yourself ;)

a pause. then:

chris

you’re fucking with me.

y/n

nopee 🙃

chris

i’m coming over rn.

your heart stutters. you drop your phone, suddenly very aware of how little time you have. you finish your makeup in record speed, lashes curled, glossed lips perfect. then you scramble to your closet, tugging on a soft little outfit. something cute, easy to take off. you smooth it down with a shaky breath just as there’s a knock at the door. three, firm and fast.

you open it.

chris is standing there, hair a mess like he ran a hand through it a thousand times on the way over. eyes locked on yours, burning with curiosity and something heavier.

you lean against the doorframe, cocking your head. “sooo… who was that text really for?” you ask, voice lilting, playful.

he rolls his eyes and steps inside like he owns the place. “matt,” he mutters.

you blink. “matt?!”

he shrugs, looking suddenly sheepish. “yeah. but… now i really wanna know.”

his gaze drops, lingering at your lips. and lower.

you smile slow, “guess you’ll have to work for it.”

he takes one slow, deliberate step toward you, eyes locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. his hands find your waist, fingers pressing in as he pulls you flush against him, bodies fitting together like they were meant to. his voice drops, thick with something between awe and lust.

“i would’ve never fucking guessed i ever had any chance with you.”

he looks at you like you’re some kind of forbidden treasure he’s finally allowed to touch. it sends a little spark down your spine. you tilt your head, lips quirking in a teasing smile, eyes glittering.

“so…” you purr softly, dragging a finger along his chest, “you gonna show me those insane things you’d do to find out?”

his pupils blow wide, that look in his eyes turning dark and dangerous in the best way. before you can blink, he’s leaning in fast, crashing his mouth against yours. the kiss is hot, unfiltered, a little messy. all teeth and tongue and want. like he’s been starving for you and finally got a taste.

you let out a quiet, breathy moan as he walks you backward without breaking the kiss, every step sending you deeper into the moment. then your back hits the wall. hard enough to feel it, not enough to hurt. your gasp escapes into his mouth, and he smiles into the kiss like he loves it, like he needs to hear that again.

one of his hands slides up, rough and sure, until he’s gripping your jaw, fingers holding you in place as he tilts your head back. and then he’s moving. his lips trailing along your jaw, then down your neck, kissing and sucking, his breath hot against your skin. he’s careful, but just barely. no marks, but you feel every second of it.

you arch into him, hips twitching forward like your body’s got its own agenda. your hands find the hem of his shirt, tugging with a silent question he answers instantly. he pulls back just long enough to yank it over his head and toss it aside.

your fingers barely get a second to explore the warm skin of his chest before he’s reaching for you too. eyes asking permission, but his hands already at the edge of your top. you nod, heart pounding, and then it’s gone too.

you stand there for a second, chest rising and falling fast, both of you half-dressed and completely breathless.

his gaze drops, shameless and slow, drinking in the sight of your bare chest. his eyes linger on your nipples. hard, needy from the cool air and the heat rolling off him. he bites down on his bottom lip, teeth sinking in as his hand grazes lightly down your side, stopping just short of touching.

then his eyes flick back up to your face, full of something warm and wicked. they pause at your lips. still perfectly lined, just a little smudged from kissing. he smirks.

“you didn’t lie,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, like a secret meant just for you. his smile is lazy, pleased, a little smug.

you giggle, soft and breathless, heat crawling up your neck. “told you it matched,” you whisper, biting your own lip now, playful.

he leans in, lips hovering close, nose brushing yours, fingers finally brushing over your nipple like he’s testing the truth for himself. “yeah,” he murmurs, barely audible, “i can see that.”

you shiver at his touch, and the way he looks at you makes it feel like your whole body’s under a spotlight. admired, wanted, devoured slowly with his eyes.

he crashes into your lips again, hungrier this time, like kissing you is the only thing that matters. his hands roam, greedy and firm, like he’s still trying to convince himself this is real. he shifts, sliding one leg between yours, pressing his thigh right against your heat. firm, deliberate. the friction sends a soft gasp tumbling from your mouth, and he swallows it eagerly, deepening the kiss.

“fuck, y/n,” he mutters against your lips, voice thick and strained like he’s holding back. like he’s on the edge and you’re the one keeping him there.

your hands are already working at the button of his jeans, fumbling just a little from how badly you want this. want him. you push his jeans and boxers down in one motion, and when his length springs free, your breath catches in your throat. he’s bigger than you expected. thick, hard, flushed at the tip. you don’t even try to hide the way you stare.

his lips pull into a smug, crooked grin. “like what you see?”

you hum, eyes flicking up to meet his, playful. “guess i underestimated you.”

he lets out a low, dark chuckle as his hands move to your waistband, yanking your pants and underwear down in one quick tug. then he grabs the back of your thighs, hoisting you up effortlessly. “jump,” he says, voice dripping confidence.

you do, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses you against the wall. the cold of it makes you shiver, but he’s so warm, so solid, you barely notice. your arms loop around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

you reach between your bodies, guiding his length to your folds. your touch is slow, teasing, slick with anticipation. he watches you, wide-eyed and dazed, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. he groans low as the head of his cock slides against you, then gently pushes inside, inch by inch.

he never looks away.

his eyes stay locked on yours, watching every flicker of your expression, every soft gasp that falls from your lips as he fills you up completely. the stretch is deep, intense, toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming. but you take it. you want it.

once he’s all the way in, buried to the hilt, he stills for a beat. just enough for the two of you to breathe, to feel. then he starts to move, slow at first, but with purpose. each thrust sending your body gently into the wall, each roll of his hips pulling a quiet moan from your throat.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groans, pressing his forehead to yours, sweat already starting to gather at his temple.

your nails dig into his back just a little, dragging downward as he picks up the pace. steady, deep, relentless. your whole body is wrapped around him, clinging to him like he’s the only thing holding you together.

because right now, he kind of is.

it doesn’t take long before that familiar heat coils low in your belly, winding tighter with every deep thrust. your breath starts to hitch, soft little moans spilling from your lips as your body begins to tremble.

“chris.. fuck, i… i’m so close,” you gasp, voice barely a whisper against his skin. “faster.”

he doesn’t even pause. his grip on your thighs tightens, and he starts to fuck into you harder, faster. each thrust hitting deeper, rougher, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. your head falls forward onto his shoulder, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck, lips parted, eyes rolling back.

you can’t even think straight, words spilling out of you in broken, breathy sounds, none of them making any sense. it hits you hard, sharp and sweet all at once. your body spasming around him as you reach your peak, legs shaking, nails digging into his back.

“oh my god,” you whimper, voice barely audible, completely wrecked.

he groans low in your ear, breath hot and ragged. “fuck, y/n… i’m gonna cum,” he chokes out. and then it happens, just as the words leave his mouth. his hips jerk forward with one last thrust, deep and desperate, and he moans loudly into your neck, fingers digging into your thighs like he needs to anchor himself to reality.

he stays inside you for a moment, still moving just a little slower now, more tender. riding out the last few pulses of pleasure. then finally, with a shaky breath, he pulls out, chest rising and falling fast.

his forehead rests against your shoulder, his whole weight leaning into you, pressing your back deeper into the wall. he lets out a breathy little laugh, still catching his breath.

“that was…” you start, voice dazed and warm, “fucking amazing.”

he lifts his head, lips brushing your cheek as he grins. “to say the least,” he murmurs, laughing softly, still breathless. his hands slide gently down your sides, no rush, like he’s not quite ready to let go.

neither are you.

-

inspired by: @delilahsturniolo

(this is all my original work. all characters and actions are fictional. don’t steal, copy, or repost this work without my knowledge and consent. reblogs and love is appreciated.)

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | dating the gamer girl who’s also a streamer

Synopsis ✰ head cannons about how the boys react to finding out that your a well-known twitch streamer

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw!, innocent content of the boys being supportive and shocked boyfriends

★ this is heavily inspired by my gamer girlfriend post consider this the sequel★

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ he has no idea what twitch is or what being a streamer even means

✧₊⁺ he only finds out because you got recognized in public by a very hyper/excited fan

✧₊⁺ almost sucker punches tf out of your fan because he thinks it’s some person trying to harass you

✧₊⁺ you have to hold him back

✧₊⁺ “wait wait, i’m sorry! i came off too strong, i just really love your streams!” the fan apologizes after Sakura completely got the wrong idea

✧₊⁺ “what videos? what’s a stream?”

✧₊⁺ you gave him a brief explanation and left it at that, you were very shy about your streaming career

✧₊⁺ detective sakura mode unlocked!

✧₊⁺ he’s very surprised to see that you have roughly around 50k followers from only uploading minecraft content

✧₊⁺ you stream hardcore minecraft challenges along with building tutorials which your fans love

✧₊⁺ he creates a secret account where he argues with all your haters

✧₊⁺ “you’re builds aren’t even cute” “your face isn’t cute, i wouldn’t talk if i were you”

✧₊⁺ you secretly knew the account was his but found it cute that he was so protective by your media presence

✧₊⁺ watches your streams in secret whenever he has the chance at school

✧₊⁺ “what are you doing on your phone Sakura?” “nothing! don’t worry about it, shut up.”

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ gets extremely over protective when he finds out

✧₊⁺ he doesn’t like your fanboys

✧₊⁺ he cringes whenever you get comments like “can you be my mercy pocket?” “i can carry you”

✧₊⁺ he will respond back by saying “she doesn’t need to get carried by a bronze”

✧₊⁺ he only found your account by accident when he downloaded twitch

✧₊⁺ he’s a little sad you didn’t tell him

✧₊⁺ “why would you hide it from me?” “i wasn’t hiding it, i was just embarrassed”

✧₊⁺ he doesn’t mind whenever some fans come up to you in public

✧₊⁺ he does mind when it’s some weird guy, although they never come up to you since his presence alone scared them off

✧₊⁺ he’s very proud of your accomplishments

✧₊⁺ always congratulates you when you reach a new milestone

✧₊⁺ he becomes one of your twitch mods and blocks every weirdo account whenever he has the chance to watch your streams

✧₊⁺ he never misses one of your competitive streams

✧₊⁺ you participate in some tournaments and he’s literally your biggest hype man

✧₊⁺ “don’t be nervous, you’ll totally win.”

✧₊⁺ has the biggest smile on his face whenever you do win

✧₊⁺ he’s highkey your biggest fan boy and supporter

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ you’re super embarrassed of your streaming career since you have about 5k followers that just love your aesthetic animal crossing content

✧₊⁺ who knew animal crossing would be such a hit for streaming content

✧₊⁺ you’re also a youtuber and you post some mini tutorials on how to create aesthetic shaped ponds

✧₊⁺ he only found out because someone else came to up to you in public in front of him

✧₊⁺ he was geeking the whole time watching you be so nice to a supporter

✧₊⁺ you made him promise he wont watch your streams

✧₊⁺ he keeps that promise but that doesn’t stop him from watching your youtube videos

✧₊⁺ to be fair, you did only say streams and didn’t mention youtube

✧₊⁺ he’s in awe by the cute and nice way you interact with your chat

✧₊⁺ he falls asleep listening to your voice during some of the tutorials

✧₊⁺ doesn’t like your haters

✧₊⁺ he gets annoyed whenever he sees a comment saying “animal crossing isn’t that fun, play a new game”

✧₊⁺ he gets the urge to want to argue back but respects your wishes and doesn’t

✧₊⁺ he does watch some your streaming clips if they get uploaded onto a different platform

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ please you’re kidding yourself if you think he doesn’t know

✧₊⁺ have you met him? he knows everything

✧₊⁺ he found out from the first moment he met you

✧₊⁺ he asked about you along with googling you and found out that you were streamer

✧₊⁺ finds the way you laugh and talk to an online audience with ease to be enchanting

✧₊⁺ he’s incredibly impressed by your ability to be so likeable even through a screen

✧₊⁺ he’s mainly surprised that you don’t stream the sims since that’s a game you two always play together

✧₊⁺ he asks you about it and you explained how it’s just because the sims is a comfort game to you that you rather not “exploit” for views

✧₊⁺ you’re a multi game player so you stream different content and gameplays on a regular basis

✧₊⁺ he’s impressed to see that you’re good at fps games and different styles of games

✧₊⁺ you’re not really shy about your streaming profile

✧₊⁺ you answer any questions he asks while he jots down whatever you said into his note book

✧₊⁺ what he scribbles into his notebook: “my girlfriend is so cool.”

✧₊⁺ you don’t mind if he watches some of your streams which he does

✧₊⁺ he’s an internal fanboy but hides it from you because he doesn’t want to come off as geeky

✧₊⁺ he didn’t watch your streams until you gave him permission and let him know you’re 100% okay with it

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ you told him shortly after the two of you started gaming together

✧₊⁺ he thinks it’s a little funny (in a harmless way) that your a fortnite streamer in general

✧₊⁺ finds your 1v1 streams to be very impressive

✧₊⁺ he loves how happy gaming and streaming makes you

✧₊⁺ gets violent if anyone ever dares or tries to make a joke about you streaming or your gaming

✧₊⁺ he has smacked the back of the Choji’s head after Choji called you a fortnite try-hard loser

✧₊⁺ thinks it’s funny when you openly humble other players who think they’re better than you

✧₊⁺ you don’t do face cam which he’s grateful for since he wants you all for himself

✧₊⁺ it’s game over for him once you do the face reveal post

✧₊⁺ he secretly and silently sulks in a corner after seeing how many online men tried to get at you

✧₊⁺ he uses it as motivation to get better at fortnite (LMAOO you can’t tell me he wouldnt)

✧₊⁺ his logic is that if he’s simply better than every other guy trying to talk you up he’s won

✧₊⁺ despite his little jealousy episodes he’s very confident and secure in your relationship

✧₊⁺ he knows you’d never leave him for some loser in a twitch chat

✧₊⁺ he makes small guest star appearances in your streams

✧₊⁺ your female side audience love him (maybe a little too much sometimes)

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ he was already impressed by your gaming skills in general, he’s even more impressed by your streaming content

✧₊⁺ yeah he saw you play in person but seeing a full screen gameplay from your perspective was mesmerizing to him

✧₊⁺ he loved to tune into your content

✧₊⁺ he would also argue with your haters online

✧₊⁺ he especially argued with the sexist comments

✧₊⁺ he 100% got more mad than you did when it came to guys in the comments/chat shit talking you for being a girl

✧₊⁺ “who cares if you’re a girl, they’re just mad you’d still kick their ass.”

✧₊⁺ “wtv man, keep yapping. she’ll definitely smoke you in a 1v1”

✧₊⁺ he’ll leave hate comments on every guys posts who have ever insulted you

✧₊⁺ be glad he happens to also have hands in person to back up what his mouth runs

✧₊⁺ he fully supports your choices

✧₊⁺ you actually started streaming after you two started dating

✧₊⁺ he was the one who talked you into uploading your content and to start live streaming it

[heph]

TLDR: Got any drawing exercises to recommend?

I’m in loooove with the way you use lines, shapes and colors/shading to show form in your art. The way you draw bodies shows a lot of understanding of the shapes that go into them, and that’s something I often personally struggle with. I’m familiar with the shapes of a face, but when it comes to connecting them to the shapes of the body and so on, I get frustrated that it’s jumbled instead of cohesive.

I was wondering, when you’re looking to practice, whether that’s anatomy, line-making, still life shapes or whatever, do you have any exercises you’ve done and would be willing to share? I’ve been trying to crawl out of the no-art-depression-hole for a bit and want to start with things that don’t take much willpower but help me improve

I might be the worst person to ask this! My relationship with art is not typical and I do not practice mindfully! (I just draw whatever I want and that's my practice, y'know?

Anyways, here's my progress of how I learnt to draw :3

Step 1 is proportions - breaking up the human body into manageable blocks and pieces. And step 2 is learning the muscles that build up the body, and from there you can simplify as needed... Or do that thing anime art kids do and skip directly to the simplified bit! (You probably shouldn't do that but if it's a hobby who cares!)

For specific tutorials, I find that proko is probably the best mix of entertaining/educational content you can find, but aside from that I watch a lot of speedpaints.

As a sort of get rich quick scheme, I think the absolute easiest way to get stupidly good at art is studying perspective - but you at least need a basic understanding of proportions and anatomy before you can draw someone in a funky perspective.

Everything in life is in perspective, and every piece of work you will ever make will have perspective in it. Perspective is sort of like an all-encompassing thing in our reality that you don't realise is there, and maybe even not realise is missing in your work (just that something feels... Wrong) AND LIKE NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT IT! WHAT THE FLIP!!!

I don't really have a specific source for learning perspective, because I've been on-and-off trying to wrap my head around it for a few years (I'm still awful at it but I'm getting there...!) here's a video!

I do think that drawing with progression in mind might help, but I think with art (as a hobby) the most important thing is probably love for a special guy and joy of creation. You have to love what you're drawing and the simple act of creating, or it just won't work out. If you're in a depression hole maybe just try creating for the sake of it, and don't give yourself too many expectations :)

[tvgals]

OH MY GOD

THIS VIDEO IS SO GIRL DAD ONY

this is the saga of ony and his daughter growing together

-

age: newborn.

ony sat next to you in a brown chair while you rested with your newborn daughter on your chest. “she’s so pretty.” ony says in awe. you smile a bit, turning to him. “wanna hold her for a while? i’m getting tired..” you offer. your husbands face lights up in excitement. he gently takes chlóe from your chest and hold her against his own. you grin and eventually fall asleep.

-

age: 12 months

you’re in the kitchen fixing chlóe’s plate, she’s giggling and babbling at whatever ony is doing. soon he gets a little closer, deciding to have a heart to heart with his baby.

“you’re gonna grow up to do beautiful things, baby. i’ll be here to support you and love you, no matter what, okay?” he asks, his daughter cocking her head to the side, her big brown eyes filled with curiosity. “i love you, chlóe.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “i lub you!” she repeats smiling.

you turn to face chlóe and ony to make sure you two heard the same thing. onyankopon’s face is filled with shock and happiness. “good job! you’re such a smart girl!” you grin, rushing over to chlóe to engulf her in a hug. you notice ony’s been quiet, you turn to face him and his eyes start to well with tears. “are you okay?” you ask, pulling a chair up to sit next to him.

“i’m more than okay.” ony says, tears falling out his brown eyes, almost identical to his daughters. “jesus, we have a fucking family, y/n.” ony sniffles, rubbing his eyes. “we do.” you grin.

-

age: 4

chlóe was in her room pouting. she had a dance recital in an hour and ony just couldn’t get her puff right. he tried slicking it back with water, that didn’t work, then he tried using a rubber band which just popped. “baby, daddy’s trying his best.” ony says, walking into her room. “i want mommy to do it!” chlóe kicks her feet in rebellion.

“mommy’s not here, you know that. now are you gone be a big girl and let daddy try to help you or are you gonna miss your recital?” ony asks, his hands on his hip. “i’ll let daddy help me.” chlóe mumbles.

“good.”

although it took only many tutorials and a few popped hair ties, he finally did it. chlóe’s smile was a perfect reflection on how she was feeling. “i love it daddy!”

-

age: 8

it’s chlóe’s first day of 3rd grade and she has on a fresh pair of j’s along with a freshly braided ponytail. at first, you were afraid of what she was gonna think in a new environment, but what you really should’ve been worried about was your husband.

“and don’t get into no trouble, ya heard me?” ony lists off the rules and regulations chlóe must follow while at school. you can tell she never takes them seriously, but serious enough to know he wasn’t playing.

“yes sir!” chlóe nods her head. “well, have a good first day, baby.” you smile, giving your daughter a kiss on her forehead before she got out the car. ony stepped out and smiled, picking her up and engulfing her in a hug. “have a good day, you’re smart and loved.” ony reminds his daughter. “bye daddy!” chloe smiles, waving and running to her friends.

-

age: 12

“jesus…” ony groaned. he looked at chlóes report card, filled with c’s and very low b’s. he knew his daughter was capable of better, so why isn’t she doing so?

“chlóe! get yo ass down here!” ony called from the kitchen where he was sat with her report card. chlóe came downstairs and sat in front of him. “yes?” she asks.

“what’s going on?” he asks, sliding the paper towards her. there’s a few minutes of silence, chlóes head hanging low. she just shrugs her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it.

“my teacher is so rude…” chlóe whispers, fiddling with her pajama shirt. “oh? how so.” ony asks, wanting a real answer by his standards. “everytime i ask her a question about the work she just goes, ‘ask yo daddy since he know everything’ chlóe frowns. “and i thought i could do it by myself because i didn’t wanna bother you and momma…”

ony sighs, rubbing his face. “baby, if you need help it ain’t nun to ask. it’s okay to ask questions, you’re never bothering me and your mom.” ony comforts his daughter. “so tomorrow, i’m gonna talk to her after school, yeah?” ony asks, knowing if chlóe said no he was gonna do it anyways.

-

age: 16

it’s chlóes 16th birthday and she decided she wanted to do something cute. all she wanted was to hang out with you two for a while, then go out with her friends just to reunite with you guys for hibachi.

“i’m glad everyone’s here!” chlóe smiles, taking pictures with her friends. “okay, okay, i think it’s appropriate to open gifts now?” she asks, turning to you. “do whatever you want.” you smile, knowing the gift her father got her was gonna top everything else.

“hmmm….” chlóe taps her chin. she eventually settles on a big pink bag, bringing it into her lap. she goes through all her gifts through random selection until ony comes up to her with a smaller box. “happy birthday.” he smiles. “thank you daddy!” she grins. chlóe opens the box up and almost passes out at the sight of car keys. “y’all!” she almost screams at the top of her lungs.

“i got a car! i got a car!” chlóe says, jumping up and down. all her friends laugh at her reaction, following her to her car outside. it was a beautiful aston martain db9, white with pink interior like she asked. chlóe’s name was spelt out on the hood with pink balloons. chlóe turns around to meet you and onys eyes. she pushes past everyone to give you two a big hug. “thank you, thank you!” she chants, crying. “you deserve it baby! gone ahead and take it for a test drive.” you say. chlóe nods and invites her friends into the car with her.

“we’ll be back!” and that’s exactly what she said when she left for college two years later.

-

sorry the ending is BOOKIE i didn’t feel like writing anymore