#Controversial Writing

[sweettalkertime]

Don't Ignore The Problem

“Ignore it. It’ll go away.” Has anyone else been subjected to this line or a similar one in their lifetime? We’ve been conditioned to ignore problems in the hope that they will take care of themselves, thus allowing us to focus on better things. But you should never ignore the problem. Here’s why: 1: Problems Fester When you leave a cut alone, does it stop bleeding? “Oh, but those are…

[francesderwent]

we think pining is romantic because fidelity is romantic. the reason it pulls at our heartstrings is less the idea of a longing that can never be satisfied and more the idea of someone being faithful to their love even when they’re not getting anything from it

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

purity and cancel culture make people think artists who write, draw, sing or make things about subjects that are (rightfully) considered disturbing and socially unacceptable — as well as fans who like fictional things that are (rightfully) considered disturbing and socially unacceptable — are “red flags”, “predators”, “deserving of having their hard drives checked”, etc, when in reality people can like or make fictional things about subjects that are (rightfully) considered disturbing and socially unacceptable without condoning these things in real life.

artists who create (fictional) contents about triggering subjects aren’t automatically “predators who condone these terrible things in real life”. artists who create (fictional) contents about triggering subjects are just artists who create (fictional) contents about triggering subjects.

people who like (fictional) contents about triggering subjects aren’t automatically “predators who condone these terrible things in real life”. people who like (fictional) contents about triggering subjects are just normal people who like (fictional) contents about triggering subjects. for reasons that aren’t nobody’s business but their own.

(as long as they don’t act out these things in real life and hurt real people, they’re normal people like you and me, and 99.99% of people who like fucked up fictional things are normal people who don’t hurt anyone in real life.

if someone watched a fucked up movie and acted out the antagonist’s crimes in real life, then it still meant that this individual was already fucked up and a predator, and they would have done terrible things whether or not they watched a fucked up film; the art itself don’t make people do terrible things.)

art has never been restricted to only rainbow and sunshine and unicorns.

art is also about the depiction of macabre, things that are disgusting, unpleasant, violent and unacceptable. (as long as nobody in real life actually gets hurt.)

you can’t claim to “accept art and artists” and then say “but if you write fics about (X) or if you like this movie then you’re a red flag and are disgusting 🤢”

it’s absolutely okay if you personally hate these types of fictional works that revolve around triggering subjects that are (rightfully) disgusting and socially unacceptable, it’s okay because it just means these types of works are not for you (no one forces you to watch, read or listen to them), but it’s not okay if you start harassing artists who create or people who enjoy art you personally hate, just because you hate them and therefore you believe other people must hate them too or else they’re terrible people.

you are a terrible person if you harass anybody in real life over fictional things that aren’t real.

you are the one who aren’t able to separate fiction from reality.

[sha-brytols]

cannot be stressed enough the horribly shady way bioware did their damndest to keep the shitty worldstate for veilguard a secret. like there's a reason why during those hype streams there was literally only one person who showed the inquisitor screen and it was an Accident. the guy that leaked the 4 choices thing said himself he thought it was actually abysmal of them to keep it from the public because of how much everyones hype was dependent on certain plot threads being resolved and he felt like it would have been too unfair and dishonest not to tell people. this was less than a month before the game was set to come out btw

[visionsofcarnality]

Dirty Old Man ! Joel Headcanons NSFW!!

Part two!

Dirty Old Man Joel who’s never tried digital p0rn, only his old magazines that are yellow with age.

Dirty Old Man Joel who’s never googled p0rn before until he’s typing you features after the word and burying himself in the results.

Dirty Old Man Joel who offers to do your laundry when you’re busy so he can sneak a peek at what undies you wear.

Dirty Old Man Joel who tells you that, no, he didn’t see your favorite black silky pair in the wash… They must’ve gotten eaten by the dryer or something.

Dirty Old Man Joel who jerks off into those same panties that night. The first time he’s been able to cum twice in the same night since his divorce.

Dirty Old Man Joel who hears your vibrator through the thin apartment walls of your shared building and fists his cock to your barely audible moans.

Dirty Old Man Joel who, when you come home from a filling, fakes shock that you had a cavity. “I hear your toothbrush every night. You go to town with that thing.” And enjoys watching you blush and splutter in embarrassment.

Dirty Old Man Joel who smirks to himself when his one night stand makes a comment about his “grouchy neighbor giving me a dirty look”

Dirty Old Man Joel who opens the door dripping wet from his shower because he heard you pounding on his door.

Dirty Old Man Joel who thanks you for picking his wallet up off the hallway floor and returning it to him.

Dirty Old Man Joel who dropped it on purpose so he could answer the door fresh from the shower.

Dirty Old Man Joel who clutches his towel tighter around his waist to hide his hard-on when he watches you blatantly check him out.

Dirty Old Man Joel who knows through the wall when you’re faking an orgasm for the sake of your shitty boyfriend and dreams about making you cum for real.

Dirty Old Man Joel who bakes you cookies after you tell him in passing that your boyfriend was cheating on you.

Dirty Old Man Joel who hugs you while you cry and totally doesn’t offer his apartment if you get lonely and want to watch a movie.

Dirty Old Man Joel who fucks you on the sofa when you inevitably come over, having to push your face into one of his old throw pillows to muffle your sounds.

Dirty Old Man Joel who makes you cum twice on his face and once on his fingers before he gives you his cock because he just popped a viagra and it hasn’t kicked in yet.

Dirty Old Man Joel who then uses the power of Viagra to fuck you into oblivion for several hours until you’re certain you can’t speak.

Dirty Old Man Joel who cums inside you every time because he got a vasectomy after his divorce and you’re both clean.

Dirty Old Man Joel who laughs at you when your legs start shaking as he’s plowing into you and smacks your face “You alive in there, kiddo?” while he’s balls deep in your cunt.

Dirty Old Man Joel who knows just how to grind against you to have you screaming even after you’ve already just cum.

Dirty Old Man Joel who hasn’t used his phone to take a picture in months but now he’s putting on his glasses and figuring out the buttons because he wants to take a picture of his cum leaking out of your pussy.

Dirty Old Man Joel who, despite his perviness, comes to clean you up with a warm washcloth and cuddles you into his chest after you’re thoroughly fucked dumb on his cock and drooling in pleasure.

Dirty Old Man Joel who only lets you go back to your apartment when he’s sure you’re ready and drops off breakfast the next morning because “you must’ve worked up an appetite.”

Dirty Old Man Joel who tells you to come over any time you want.

You and Dirty Old Man Joel who set up ‘movie nights’ and even go through the trouble of making popcorn.

Before you ask, no, he doesn’t remember what movie you put on.

[acklesarchives]

Miss possessive - Dean W

Dean x female!Reader

Seeing a girl flirt with Dean at a bar is insulting. You can only take enough of watching it before going over and dragging to the backseat of the impala.

Content warnings ; smut, sex in the impala, slight handjob, unprotected sex (don’t follow their example queens), eating out, lowkey sub!dean

Word count ; 1,901

Minors PLEASE do not interact!!

The bar is buzzing with low conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. You and Dean are tucked into a booth with Sam, unwinding after a long hunt. Everything is fine—until she shows up.

She’s pretty, you’ll give her that. Blonde hair, easy smile, and confidence radiating off of her as she leans against the bar right next to Dean. The first time she touches his arm, you tell yourself to let it go. The second time, when she giggles at something he says—something that wasn’t even that funny—your grip tightens around your glass.

Dean, oblivious as ever, just smirks, giving her that stupid, charming grin you know way too well.

You can’t hear everything over the music, but you don’t need to. You see the way she presses just a little too close, the way her hand lingers on his forearm, nails tracing the edge of his sleeve. She wants him, and what’s worse? She doesn’t even care that you’re sitting right there.

“Be right back,” you mutter to Sam, sliding out of the booth before he can stop you.

You don’t hesitate. You stride over, slipping right between Dean and the girl with a too-sweet smile. You place a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly before wrapping your other arm around his waist.

“Hey, honey,” you purr, eyes locking onto his. “You were gone too long.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but the second he registers the sharpness in your gaze, the tension in your grip, the way your body is pressed flush against his—oh, he gets it.

His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his expression. “Was I?”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else before pulling him down into a kiss—one that isn’t just for show. It’s deep, possessive, a clear statement for everyone watching. Your fingers tangle in the fabric of his jacket, making damn sure he feels just how much he belongs to you.

When you finally pull away, Dean looks dazed for a second before a slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. “Damn,” he murmurs. “What was that for?”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you turn your gaze to the blonde, who’s now looking anywhere but at you. “Sorry,” you say with a saccharine smile. “Were you saying something?”

She stammers out an excuse before grabbing her drink and retreating fast. You watch her go, satisfaction thrumming in your chest.

Dean chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Jealous, sweetheart?”

You huff, tugging him closer by the belt loops. “You’re mine, Winchester.”

Dean leans in, voice dropping to something rough and teasing. “Yeah? Maybe you should remind me.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Dean barely has time to react before you’re gripping his jacket, pulling him toward the door. He doesn’t resist—not even a little. In fact, he chuckles under his breath, like he’s enjoying this way too much.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you push open the bar door and step into the cool night air. “Didn’t know you liked an audience.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you march straight to the Impala, yanking the back door open before shoving him inside. Dean lands on the leather with a grunt, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and something darker, something needy.

You climb in after him, slamming the door shut. The second you’re alone, you straddle his lap, gripping his jaw and making him look at you. His hands settle on your waist, firm and warm, but you don’t give him the chance to take control.

“Mine,” you breathe, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Say it.”

Dean swallows, his smirk faltering for just a second before his voice drops, rough and sure. “Yours.”

That’s all you need. You crash your lips against his, pouring every bit of jealousy, every ounce of possession, into the kiss. It’s all-consuming, heat coiling between you as Dean groans into your mouth, hands sliding under your jacket, gripping tight like he never wants to let go.

“You get off on this, don’t you?” he murmurs between kisses, voice teasing but breathless.

“Shut up.” You tug at his collar, exposing the line of his throat, and nip at the skin there, hard enough to leave a mark.

Dean lets out a low, pleased growl, fingers digging into your hips. “That’s my girl.”

Damn right, you are.

And before the night is over, he won’t have any doubt about who he belongs to.

You grind down against him, a low, breathy gasp escaping your lips as you feel the pressure of him beneath you. The backseat of the Impala feels too small for the heat building between you, but you don’t care. You can’t—because all that matters right now is him, and the way you can’t stop wanting him.

Dean’s hands are everywhere, sliding under your shirt, pulling at your clothes as he pulls you even closer, his chest rising and falling beneath you with each breath. He groans at the friction, his grip tightening around your waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of your hips. The heat between you is suffocating, but it only makes you press closer, matching your movements with his.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice ragged, a low growl beneath the words. “You want me this bad, huh?”

You smirk against his neck, dragging your lips along his jawline, sucking softly at the sensitive skin just beneath his ear. “I always want you, Dean,” you whisper, grinding down against him again, slow and deliberate this time, drawing out the sensation.

His breath hitches, and you feel the way his pulse quickens under your fingertips. But still, he doesn’t take control. Not yet. Not until you’ve had your fill of him. His hands slip under your shirt, skin on skin, sending shivers down your spine as he pulls you in deeper, closer.

“Say it,” you breathe, your hands trailing down his chest, fingers brushing against the waistband of his jeans before pulling them and his underwear down and off him. “Say you want me, Dean.”

For a second, he hesitates, but only for a second. Then, with a rough exhale, he grabs your face, pulling you close. “I want you,” he growls, eyes locked on yours with a fire you know all too well. “I fucking want you, I’m yours,

And that’s all it takes. You slide your hands up his chest, and you’re moving against him, slow at first. Teasing. The tension thickens, your pulse thrumming as you feel the heat between you rise, every inch of him pressing against you.

You can feel the way he’s holding back—holding onto whatever little self-control he has left. But you won’t let him. Not now. You’re the one in control, and you’re going to make sure he knows it. You push him back against the leather seat, leaning down to kiss him, all fire, all heat.

Dean’s hands slide to your hips, but this time, he’s not guiding you. He’s holding on, letting you set the pace, watching you with that look in his eyes—the same one he always gets when he’s completely lost in you. His thumb brushes against your skin, tracing patterns that make your heart race.

“You’re mine,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper as you pull back to look at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

Dean’s chest heaves beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you down closer. He’s losing it, but he’s still trying to hold on, still trying to give you what you want—but you won’t let him.

You press down, and he gasps, his hands gripping the seat beneath him as his eyes squeeze shut. “God,” he growls, his voice low, guttural. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. “You like it,” you murmur, fingers moving to his aching cock.

Dean’s breath catches. “Fuck, yeah,” he groans, his hands finally snapping to your back, pressing you even harder against him, thrusting up into your hands even more, the friction too much to ignore.

You kiss him harder, every movement slow and deliberate. You move against him, your body sinking down on him just a little bit more each time, every inch of him filling you, stretching you in the best way possible, while you continue ti lazily stroke his base.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Dean mutters, his voice shaking as you start to move faster, pulling him in, making him feel every inch of your need. His hands are now on your back, guiding you, but it’s not enough for you. You want to be closer, deeper.

“I want you so badly,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you press down against him again, feeling the way his grip tightens on you, pulling you down harder.

Dean’s hand grip your hips harder, hid other hand going to the one on his cock yo grab ahold of and hold down on his chest. His control snapping as he slams up into you, a sound between a growl and a moan escaping his lips. You match his rhythm, desperate, frantic, the heat of him almost overwhelming.

He’s possessing you now, every thrust bringing him deeper, harder, until the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, tangled in a whirlwind of heat and desire. His name falls from your lips in a desperate whisper, and that’s when everything snaps—when the tension reaches its peak, and you both break together.

You collapse against him, breathless and shaking, but he doesn’t let you go. His hands are still on you, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your forehead as you both try to catch your breath.

He helps you off of him, the way both of your fluids spill out of you back into deans skin is like a watching a waterfall. He taps your back, signaling you to move up him, which you do after a few more seconds of catching your breath.

With you hovering over his face, he had the perfect view of you, your glistening cunt from both of your come. He waisted no time, pulling you down by your hips onto his mouth groaning into you.

“Of fuck Dean, just like that, yes!” You moan out dropping your head behind you squeezing your eyes shut as you can feel his tongue swiping up through your leaking folds.

He groans into you, the vibrations coursing through your body drawing you closer to your second orgasm. You move your hips against his mouth, the feeling too good not to.

All you could get out was broken moans mixed in with barely there yelps of his name.

Once you come again, Dean works your way through it continuing to drag his tongue through you until he made sure you were clean of come

Once getting off and falling back onto his chest once again Dean’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he holds you close, the scent of leather and sweat surrounding you both. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice raw.

The moment is broken a few moments later though with a knock in the widow, jolting both of you up, dean making sure to cover you.

“Guys seriously? This is a shared car.” You hear sam scoff, before retreating back into the shared bar.

Liz talks : all I’ve been doing my entire spring break has been writing and working LMAO so two posts in two days, I hope yall like this fun little dean smut, inspired by miss possessive by Tate McRae. I also came to the conclusion that I CAN write smut I just can’t write smut dialogue so! Whatevs! I will not be looking at it after this out of sight out of mind! Let me know what yall think any kind of interaction is great <3

Tags : @deansbbyx , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel

To be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post !!

[eowynstwin]

What do you think the 141 lads sound like in bed?

Soap - I hope you know what I mean when I say Leon Kennedy levels of vocal. Soap is shameless and downright animalistic. The kind of noise he makes can be anywhere from deep and rumbling to high and breathy, and if it's hitting just right he'll whimper and moan like a bitch in heat. Sex, for him, is an opportunity to express himself without reservation. He growls and pants when he comes like the slut he is.

Ghost - Groans the way one might when sinking into a hot bath. Low-pitched, humming, like every knot in his back is being massaged out. You might expect him out of everyone to be the most quiet, but no—if you get him into bed, you will find him at his most uninhibited. He finds a lot of relief in sex; it makes him feel very present and in the moment. When he comes, though, he's dead silent, mostly because the pleasure takes his breath away.

Gaz - Kind of quiet, but not on purpose. He isn't embarrassed about making noise, moreso that he just naturally doesn't—it's mostly because he's so focused on what he's doing. He moans very low and quiet, and the tenor of his breathing increases in pitch the closer he is to orgasm. After he comes he'll let out a long, drawn-out breath, and then he'll start laughing, because he gets a post-nut high like nothing else.

Price - Silent most of the time. For him, it’s a little bit of embarrassment, machismo intruding on his ability to really enjoy the moment. His breath is very audible, however. It's deep and rough in his chest, like a beast trying to escape, and really the only way you're going to hear him make any noise in bed is if you coax him into letting it out. Then he grunts and groans and snorts like a rutting animal, and purrs loud and long when he comes.

[erinwantstowrite]

seeing a lot of people complaining about the fics they don't see, and not enough people picking up a pen to write it themselves 🤨

[dukeofthomas]

Here's my controversial opinion; if you're trying to write Bruce as a non-abusive, good parent, you should also write him respecting his kids' privacy, boundaries, and not stalking&surveying them.

[loredrinker]

Walking the Din'anshiral: Inquisitor Lavellan 

Days ago, I wrote about Solas invoking the din'anshiral in Trespasser. But Solas is not the only one who walks it. Inquisitor Lavellan, left in the aftermath of Trespasser, begins her own long journey on it. However, unlike Solas, the path doesn't destroy her - it reveals instead her resilience and inner strength and that she's redefined the meaning of the path itself. 

To understand her arc, we return to the moment Solas first names the din’anshiral: 

Lavellan: Let me help you, Solas.  Solas: I cannot do that to you, vhenan.  Lavellan: But you would do it to yourself? I cannot bear to think of you alone.  Solas: I walk the din’anshiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become. 

Many have interpreted Lavellan’s ‘let me help you” as a willingness to join Solas’s cause, but I see a different interpretation. This dialogue sets a foundation for the Lavellan we meet in Veilguard - the one who has not ended the relationship and who ‘vows to save Solas from himself’. Let’s call this Lavellan Atonement Lavellan. This specific dialogue reflects a lot about this character’s written core – how she sees Solas and instinctively refuses to abandon someone to suffering. 

If you are playing Atonement Lavellan - or choose to have any high approval Inquisitor in the atonement ending - I believe you are playing a character oriented toward connection.

Atonement Lavellan instinctively understands that Solas’s weakness isn’t his pride or arrogance - it’s his isolation. Her offer to walk beside him is a quiet act of resistance against the ideological death march he's committed himself to. She isn’t offering agreement with his plans - she’s offering her presence. I'm not certain at this point Lavellan has a plan, she's winging it (she's just found out he's the Dread Wolf after all), but all she knows is that she can't bear to think of him alone, meaning she intuitively knows that him cutting himself off from connection is not good.

Replaying Veilguard and returning to this moment in Trespasser, I saw this Lavellan symbolizing connection as a response to suffering. This is consistent with the kind of Inquisitor who helps Cole find his way, who hugs Varric after losing Hawke, who checks in on Cullen during his withdrawals and who offers Blackwall another chance. This is an Inquisitor who meets pain with presence and that doesn’t believe pain should be carried alone.

This dialogue choice also reveals something about Atonement Lavellan’s character framework in this narrative. She's not operating from wounded pride, nor seeking affirmation of his love as a salve for her own pain. Her instinct tells her this isn’t about her - it’s about the internal war Solas is fighting against himself. She swallows her own pride and heartbreak (heartbreak that would have been justified) to reach for something higher – something Solas is unable to do. Her true opponent in that moment isn’t actually Solas. It’s the din’anshiral itself. 

What I love about Atonement Lavellan is how she balances two seemingly irreconcilable truths: she is the Inquisitor, a symbol of political leadership and martial consequence - and she is also someone who loves a man now prepared to destroy the world. Her narrative doesn’t resolve that tension – it lives in it. It is her din'anshiral.  

Lavellan’s Own Din’anshiral 

"I am here, walking the din'anshiral with you." 

A quiet evolution takes place for Atonement Lavellan between Trespasser and Veilguard - one we don’t witness directly in the game, but which becomes clear in these words to Solas. In the years since Trespasser, she has walked her own road of sorrow and loss. All Inquisitors bear the heavy responsibilities of consequence, but for this elven Inquisitor, the din’anshiral resonates on an ancestral level. It connects her to the ancient Elvhen world, becoming a journey she walks to understand Solas more deeply, to understand that world. Somewhere in those intervening years, I believe Atonement Lavellan made a conscious choice to walk the path. But where Solas walks the din’anshiral in service of destruction, Inquisitor Lavellan walks in resistance to it.

By Veilguard, we see a romanced Atonement Lavellan who has paid a steep personal price for her choices. Her clan has been harmed or killed due to war table decisions. Learned revelations that have shaken her understanding of her gods and culture. She's a Dalish elf forced into the role of a religious symbol in a Chantry-dominated South and has either disbanded the Inquisition or surrendered it to the very systems that once oppressed her people. The Venatori still hunt her. The Grey Wardens don’t trust her. Varric is dead - killed by Solas. The title of Inquisitor, regardless of their background, is marked by compromise, impossible choices, and death. 

Despite the collapse of the Inquisition and years of political fallout, it is still the Inquisitor the people look to when the South begins to weaken under the failed ritual's chaos. That tells us something fundamental about who the character of Atonement Lavellan has become through the din'anshiral lens. The path includes defending a world that both mistrusts and depends on her. And in this new war, she may well die before ever facing Solas again. No promise of reward, no expectation of reunion. Even stripped of title and institution, she stands at the center of the fight, holding the truth that she leads Southern Thedas’s survival because of him. 

And this is the contrast to her walking the path as opposed to Solas. She's reclaiming the din’anshiral, transforming it from a path of death into a journey of survival. She doesn't give in to despair, though it might have tried to claim her many times.

So when Lavellan stands before Solas at the end of Veilguard, her words carry all of that. "I am here, walking the din'anshiral with you" - is a declaration forged through lived experience. She’s a woman who has known her own darkness and has chosen, again and again, not to let it define her. In my eyes, she is a hero of Thedas, standing beside a broken god, offering not salvation, but presence. Oh, what the history books will say of her 100 years from now! 

Whether the din’anshiral began as a vow of exile among the ancient elvhen or is simply a metaphor of ruin, there’s a quiet symmetry in Lavellan telling Solas that she, too, has walked it - not in opposition, but in parallel - their two paths finally merging.

Is the din’anshiral over for them? Not yet. Lavellan’s words in the present tense make that clear. For the Atonement Lavellan who leaves with Solas, it's the continuation of that path - perhaps shadowed and uncertain at first - but no longer walked alone. 

[boredomsbonedeep]

headcanons for albus severus potter!!!

i originally posted this on tiktok, but i've decided to post them on tumblr as well :) more are on the way for each character

[captainkirkk]

After Cuddy and House get together, every single scene with them involves House lying, manipulating, tricking, or insulting her. Which has been their exact dynamic since the start of the show, but it's especially gross because it's now punctuated with "House has to trick/outsmart Cuddy so he can get his way AND keep fucking her". Aside from the sex, they both seem totally miserable

[specialagentartemis]

Murderbot is canonically sex-repulsed and romance-repulsed and that is how it is consistently portrayed in the books. I don’t know what books some of you are reading tbh

[fuckyeahstufficareabout-temp]

Better Call Saul is even better than Breaking Bad

[shoplifting]

Your silent protagonist doesn't have to use sign language btw. They don't have to write things down, either. They don't have to use language at all. Not every single person who doesn't talk can use words the same as you, or use them at all, so your favorite silent character shouldn't have to use what you consider a grammatical language to communicate in your fanart and fics. AAC exists. Drawing exists. Gestures and body language exist. Btw.

[azuree1733]

OK JASON HIT HIM WHERE IT HURTS