#contortion handstand

[josephinesjewels]

[animeacro]

And here's an assortment of panels from Excuse me, Dentist!

Mostly chapter 25, as per the ask, with a single panel in 15 and 30 as well.

[coffeenuts]

Aftermarket spoiler by pluckphotography https://flic.kr/p/2knvRPw

[solinastkd-blog]

If you are interested in improving your flexibility and kicking techniques, contact me at valentino.solinas@gmail.com for some private online or in person classes. London based 🇬🇧 #contortion #flexibility #flexible #contortionist #yoga #circus #backbend #gymnastics #handstand #dance #stretching #bendy #contortiontraining #dancer #flexibilitytraining #splits #acro #circuslife #acrobatics #contortionistsofinstagram #circuseverydamnday #split #fitness #gymnast #cirque #people #ballet #training #stretch #acrobat (presso Udine, Italy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnfGA1cIEEh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[onboardsorasora]

I woke up this morning with a song in my heart and that song was reversed age gap maxiel with a lil scumbag Max in the bridge. I've had an ask in my inbox for months now about reversed aged gap maxiel and I thought this was the same vibe but sadly it isn't. Oh wells, this is what I wrote this morning. thank you @chaosinstigator for being an amazing cheerleader <3

1172 wrds. There is a part 2 apparently lol

Something something four-time world champion Max Verstappen looks across the garage at his new teammate, the 18yr old they dragged up from VCarb to replace Checo. 

Daniel Ricciardo was a fast driver, he'd only spent a fraction of the year in F2 before he was called up. And even though the car wasn't good, he was. Which is what mattered.

Helmut had been puffing chest out in pride ever since Daniel proved him right. 

Now the kid– because that's what he was, a kid– was talking to the old man, nodding periodically while Helmut spoke. Like a good boy.

They'd already met, had time to break the ice as teammates and Max could hardly ignore how his light brown eyes had shone with worship and awe. Or how Daniel’s voice had cracked when he promised to be a good challenge for Max this year. His lips pulled into an almost-but-not-quite-there cocky smirk over the brackets of his braces, and Max idly wondered what other ‘challenges’ Daniel would pose this year.

In the weeks since that, Max couldn’t help but notice Daniel. How could he not? He was cute, in a dorky way. He listened to loud music, loudly. Unlike Checo who kept his tunes to a reasonable volume for someone sharing a wall. Daniel was always giggling and joking around, trying to rile people up to play. 

Max was already riled up in a different way.

What with Daniel’s continued teasing and jokes, walking around in tiny shorts and showing his new thigh tattoo to anyone with eyes. He was flexible too, contorting his scrawny body into yoga poses while they waited for engineering to start, doing handstands in the hallway. He was loud when he got massaged. Max could hear him talking through the thin wall and then his voice would hitch and he would groan when Jon apparently hit a particularly deep knot. It drove Max up the wall.

Max knocked twice before opening the door– his usual standard– then froze in the doorway. Daniel looked at him wide eyed, dressed only in his underwear and clearly about to get dressed in his tight white fireproofs. Max hadn’t ever seen him so underdressed, even with all of the random activities they’d been doing for marketing. He was scrawny yes, but still lithe with corded muscles. Dotted with freckles and sunspots. Max gripped the handle of the door when Daniel’s big eyes lost their surprise and settled into upturned curiosity. His heart shaped lips dropped open a little, enough for Max to see his tongue pressing against his braces. Max wanted to smear his come in the brackets.

“Max?” Daniel’s voice pitched upwards.

Max mentally stepped away from the visuals of him debauching this kid. “Your music.” He got out.

“Oh jeepers, my bad. Sorry!” Daniel rushed to the table to lower the volume on his speakers. Max watched his ass in his tight briefs. How his thighs bunched as he moved, thick with dark wiry hair.

“Lovely, thank you Daniel.” Max smiled and Daniel’s face darkened with a pleased flush and he bit his lip. Max forced himself to close the door and go back to his own room.

— - —

They were changing after a gokart race for marketing, Daniel sat shirtless on the bench. Max looked over to see him already watching him. After spending the last twenty minutes with Daniel practically sat in his lap while Max gripped his tiny waist, Max would appreciate it if he got dressed already.

“I can hear your brain from here.” Max teased and Daniel’s lips pulled into an unconscious smile even as he looked away. 

“Sorry I just– you don’t like me, do you?” Daniel blurted and Max froze.

“What?”

“It’s just– you didn’t–I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have like said that.” Daniel shook his head and stood. Max watched him tuck his long sweaty curls behind his ear. 

“Why would you think that?” Max was confused as to why Daniel would assume that he hated him, and wondered what made him think that way. As far as Max was concerned, he hadn’t treated him any differently than anyone else. Unless Daniel was expecting special treatment? If anything, Daniel was getting special treatment. Max wasn’t going out of his way to be a dick to him, he wouldn’t do that to his young teammate.

“Uhm, I– everyone says you were nicer to Checo, warmer. I-I don’t think you’ve been bad– you’ve been great. But I’m not Checo and I dunno if you like resent me for replacing him.”

“Checo was my teammate for five years, I am not going to, of course, automatically treat you like him.” Max pointed out, “and you shouldn’t listen to the media, they are talking out of their asses most of the time.”

Daniel blushed and ducked his head, chastised. 

“Was that it?” Max asked kindly. He would rather get this all out in the open now.

“I'm sorry.” Daniel apologized, his upturned eyes looked glassy as if he was holding back tears. “I just want us to be friends I guess.” He shrugged.

“You don’t have to be friends with your teammate.”

“I know but.. You were friends with all of yours. Like Carlos.”

Max scoffed, he hadn’t been friends with Carlos when they were teammates– they fucked out their frustrations.

Daniel’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in a small o. Max shrugged and tugged his shirt over his head. He repacked his bag and tugged on a cap, turning to see Daniel squirming where he stood, a deep blush on his cheeks. And oh. Well this was interesting. 

Max crossed the room and stood over him, using the few centimeters he had on Daniel to his advantage. Daniel’s head tipped up trustingly and Max cupped his smooth chin in his big hand. Daniel let out a breathy exhale that had Max’s blood surging. 

Max leaned in closely, so close their noses touched. Daniel’s breath hitched. It would be so easy to take. To give in and do what he wanted to Daniel, clearly what Daniel wanted him to do to him. It would be so easy to ruin him entirely. Too easy. 

“You have no idea what you’re asking.” Max whispered against pink lips. Daniel whined in response.

“I– please. I can take it”

“Have you ever?” Max wanted to know, needed to know just how corrupt his little jailbait was. Daniel’s eyes widened and Max bit back his groan. Fuck.

“W-with girls.” Daniel admitted in a whisper, he grabbed at Max’s arm as if he were afraid that his admission would make him less desirable. As if Max hadn’t already been fantasising about fucking him seven ways to Sunday every fucking weekend. His cock stirred at the thought of being the first in the undoubtable tight clench of Daniel’s untried hole. Of being the first to have him writhing and screaming at the discovery of his prostate. 

Would he beg? Max quirked a smirk at the thought, Daniel was already begging right now. 

[hobiebrownismygod]

Yayyy asks r open! Could you write a one shot of Hobie with an insanely flexible spider reader? Like a drops-into-splits-like-it’s-nothing, can hold a scorpion pose for an almost unnatural amount of time, almost contortionist-level Spider-person. Whether they’re dating, one of them are catching feelings, or they’re just meeting for the first time is completely up to you!

omg I love this!!

I headcanon that Hobie is probably the least flexible person you’ll ever meet. Like his bones crack when he walks. I doubt the guy can even touch his toes.

Sorry this took me so long to write, I was pretty busy :/

I hope you like it <3

Hobie Brown x Flexible!Spider-PersonReader

Can be read platonically or romantically!

____________________________________________________________

"AAH!"

Hobie let out a screech and stumbled back, falling onto his bottom and looking over at you with a terrified look on his face. His expression slowly morphed from completely horrified to a look of amusement as he realized what he was looking at.

You were hanging off the ceiling and looking at him, your limbs contorted into what could only be described as a jumble of body parts, your hand holding on the web that was keeping you from falling flat on your face.

"How do y'even do that?" he asked incredulously, ignoring the annoyed look on your face as you twirled around, returning to your normal position and hopping down onto the floor with a little jump.

"Do what?"

He pointed his finger at you, waving it around as if he was gesturing to all of you.

"The whole Eldritch Horror kind f'thing."

You tilted your head at him, rolling your eyes and scoffing. "You mean this?" You asked, bringing your leg up and pulling it up to your head, straightening it out and balancing yourself on the tip toes of your single leg. He looked at you in awe, a grin spreading across his face. "Thas' bloody terrifying"

Feeling a bit proud of yourself, you went back into a bridge position, then into a handstand, looking up at him from your position, your legs in the splits. "You're telling me you can't do this?" You asked cockily, tilting your head to the side slightly. "Aww bloody hell no. Can't even touch my toes" he said with a grin, reaching down and showing you. His fingertips just barely touched his ankles and he let out a small groan as he straightened himself back up again, clutching his lower back like an old man. It was a funny sight, and his annoyed smirk let you know that your amusement was quite obvious.

"Maybe you should stretch more. Its not good for your joints to be so stiff" You giggled out, putting your hands on your hips as you watched him approach you. "S'not my fault. I was born like this"

You shook your head at him, trying not to laugh at his sheepish expression. "I can do this though" he said, his eyes lighting up as he motioned toward his knees. He straightened his leg out and then bent it, eliciting a quiet pop noise to come from his joints. You winced at the noise. "Yeah...that isn't normal" You said, suppressing a giggle. He did it again with his elbow, straightening it out and then quickly bending it, another pop noise coming from it. "Really? 've been doing it for ages, mate"

As he reached toward his other leg to do the same, you stopped him. "Yeah, let's not do that anymore." You said, grabbing his arm before he tried to pop another joint, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face as he looked down at you. "Aww, y'scared I'll hurt myself?" he teased, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes. You gave his arm a smart smack and he winced. "Ow!"

You rolled your eyes at his reaction. "That hurt more than you popping your joints? Drama queen."

"Popping 'em doesn't hurt!" He retorted. He feigned a stab to his heart, mockingly staggering backwards before he looked back at you. "You not believing me hurts more"

"Do you want me to hit you again?"

"No thanks."

____________________________________________________________

This was really short, but I didn't know what else to add 😭

I hope you liked it!!

[c---crow]

u lay stomach down on ur bed and lower urself until ur elbows are on the ground like mine are, keeping them still relatively close to the bed. then scoot so ur knees are on the edge of the bed and ur butt is in the air, then arch ur back

u need to be able to hold ur body weight on ur elbows to do this!! or u will fall on ur face!! don’t arch ur back more than ur own flexibility allows bc u will hurt urself!!!!

this is my new favorite pose to do

[confessions-sm]

nother headcanon yaya

dexter's limbs nd body being quite flexible

once it contorted its body to look like an clam

also did cartwheels, handstands, and just stretched A Lot

not even that active just feels the need to fidget

will casually just fit through anything like an octopus

.

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked Pt9

I am SO SORRY! I swear I'm not dead, life got INSANE at work. Drama and sabotage at EVERY turn I SWEAR! I have been meaning to post! Not quite satisfied with the ending of this one, but I wanted to get this post out for you guys! Again, I am SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

The morning found her in a secluded room, perhaps an old ballroom given how spacious it was. The attack on the mansion had been a week ago, and Hank McCoy had finally given her the all clear after she was able to spend more than a couple of hours awake at a time and her migraines had subsided; at least until their normally scheduled program of once a month. So she had decided to take advantage of a quiet, pain-free, morning and sneak off. She glanced around the room, taking in the fact that there was no furniture, and nodded to herself before she set up a portable speaker and turned on her iPod. Once her music was going, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the familiar rhythm.

She allowed her feet to slip along the floor, spreading them farther and farther apart, until she smoothly transitioned into a split flat on the floor. She made sure her toes were pointed up, towards the ceiling, for maximum stretch; then lifted an arm above her head. Slowly, she twisted her body to lay her torso against her leg while her arm lay flat parallel to her leg on the ground. Then, she repeated the step going the opposite direction. Then, while still in a split, she stretched her arms out in front of herself, laying them flat on the ground as she stretched as far as she could go. She felt a twinge and heard a satisfying ‘pop’ sound that had her letting out a sigh of relief as pressure was released in her hips. After a few more warm-up stretches, she felt she was ready.

She closed her eyes, letting the music flow through her as her body fell into a familiar routine. Her hands went above her head, fingers splayed in something almost resembling bird wings; one leg was straight beneath her to support her weight, the other was bent at an angle, supported only on her toes. When the next song began, she flew into her routine. She danced and shimmied to the beat, feet sure and confident with every step. After a few moments of falling into the rhythm, she fell into a tumble that ended in a split. She planted her hands on the ground and used her core muscles to pull herself into a handstand where she dropped her legs into a split; so that her body made a ‘T’ shape. She drew her legs back together over her head, then ‘walked’ them back down to the ground while bending her arms to lower her upper body back to the floor. Once her chest and feet were both flat on the floor, with her feet in front of her head, she put her palms on the floor and ‘walked’ herself backwards. This caused her upper body to flip, under and then over, her lower body until she was standing once again.

The music guided her through flips, cartwheels, handsprings, back handsprings, splits and several other skills she had learned over the years, until the routine came to its natural end. It began with a running leap that led into a series of cartwheels and handsprings, one right after the other. These then culminated into a jump into the air, contorting her body into a twist and flip combo that ended with her landing on one foot, the other grasped in her hand, held high above her head. It was something far more similar to an ice-skater’s triple axel than a gymnastic move, but she had adopted it into her floor routine as a challenge to herself. Her chest was heaving, and she could feel how red her face was from all her exertion. Sweat was pouring down her face into her eyes, but she had a bright smile on her face. She held the pose for a moment, the same as she would have in a competition, then dropped her leg to the floor and went searching for something to wipe her face off with. Only to jump what felt like a mile in the air when she was met with clapping and smirking red-on-black eyes.

“Dat was damn impressive, Petite. Gambit di’n’ know you was dat flexible. He have ta keep dat in min’, oui?” He dropped a hand into the pocket of his usual trench coat as he walked closer to her. When he reached her, he pulled out a handkerchief, a gift from Jean when she had been attempting to learn sewing if her memory was correct. He took the square of soft cloth and gently dabbed sweat from her eyes, “Ain’t ne’er seen no one move li’ dat, outside da Guild, Belle. No’ e’en da ‘Sassins. Ya got skill. Woulda made a damn fine tief. Mebbe ol’ Gambit take ya ta da Dang’r Room and run ya t’rough some paces, yeah?”

She flushed from her face all the way down her neck, she hadn’t been expecting anyone to find her. But really, she should have known that Gambit would go looking for her if she up and disappeared. Ever since the attack on the mansion, Gambit had been especially attentive to anything she needed or wanted. At first, she had been worried he felt obligated or something. And his emotions had felt a little like that, an earthy musty taste on her tongue; like mushrooms or green tea. It had taken some convincing to get him to admit that he felt responsible for her injury. She had thrown half of her stuffed animals at him in retaliation for that one. But in the end, he had admitted that he cared too much about her, that seeing her injured had set his teeth on edge in all the worst ways, which was why he was so paranoid about her being out of his sight for too long. He had tried to not be too overwhelming for her, but he had admitted that it was difficult fighting his own instincts.

She shook her head at him, giving him a small, shy, smile, “I haven’t performed that routine in a long time. Actually, I haven’t performed any real routine in a long time. I’ve kept up some practice, but I am far from being on par with assassins or any of you X-Men.” She pointed out to him. It still felt strange, being able to speak freely without fear. She could still feel her power working, each and every time she vocalized anything the strange humming vibration that accompanied each sound and syllable roared to life. But once more, Gambit did not fall victim to her Song. It was the best kind of odd.

At her words, Gambit smiled, “Don’ t’ink Remy’ll e’er git use’ta dat. Hearin’ dat jolie voix.” She huffed, but he saw the smile she tried to hide. He took her hand in his, twining their fingers together, “Ya missed breakfast an’ lunch, Petite. Now, Remy’s tryin’ ta be good. He’s tryin’ ta give ya some space, le’ ya do yer own t’ing. But ya need ta eat. So, Remy’s gonna take ya ta da kitchen an’ he gonna make ya som’in so good ya ain’t gonna be able ta go wit’out, yeah?” She blinked. She hadn’t realized she had forgotten to eat, but now that Gambit had brought her attention to it, her stomach began to growl. She sheepishly rubbed at the back of her neck, “Oops. I didn’t realize. Food does sound nice though.”

“Good food, and e’en bet’r comp’ny. Sounds like a great day to ol’Remy.” He said with a smile, “An’ some good music, eh Petite?” He scooped up her speaker and turned it off as she grabbed her iPod.

“Not sure how good you’ll think it is when you hear how random it is. Think my playlist has everything from Disney to Country to Rock and Metal. ‘Bout the only thing you won’t find is Rap. Outside of Eminem anyway.” She mentioned. Once they made it to the door, however, she fell into her customary silence.

Once in the kitchen Remy put his hands on her shoulders and sweetly, but firmly, directed her to sit down on one of the barstools. She pouted slightly and typed away at her phone, “I can help you know.” “Oh, Remy know’s ya can, Petite. But ‘e promised to feed’ja. And feed’ja ‘e will. So jus’ sit dere ‘n look pretty, Petite.” She flushed, nearly dropping her phone in her embarrassment. She buried her face in her hands, hiding her face from Remy. But just because she couldn’t see him, didn’t mean she couldn’t hear him. His laugh was infectious, loud and a little wild, just like the man himself. But the joy and affection that filled the air tasted of oranges and cotton candy. It made a smile stretch across her lips against her will as his emotions influenced hers.

Remy had a cutting board and knife out in the blink of an eye. Before long, he had all the fixings required to make a couple of po’boys. Seeing all that gave her an idea and she hopped up from her stool, she held up a hand when Remy protested. She made her way to the pantry where she fund what she was looking for, home grown from her own little garden that Storm had helped her set up. She grabbed a handful of them and made her way over to the sink. She grabbed a mandolin and then washed the potatoes. Once everything was prepped, she grabbed a pit and filled it with oil, normally she used canola but all she found was sunflower so she just shrugged and went with it. She put the pot on the stove to heat, then began to slice the potatoes into paper-thin rounds, dropping them into a bowl of water to prevent them from browning.

Once the oil was hot enough, she took the potatoes and began to dry them. Once dried, she carefully dropped small handfuls into the oil. She fried them until they were cooked, but had no color on them, then pulled them from the oil and drained them on a plate covered with some paper towels to absorb the oil. She repeated the process until all the potatoes were cooked, then increased the temperature of the oil. Once that was done, she dropped the potatoes into the oil once more. This time she let them get crispy before she pulled them from the oil and seasoned them with salt, garlic powder and parmesan cheese. She turned to Remy, who was finishing up his own portion of their meal, and smiled. He looked over and let out a whistle, “Look damn good, Petite. Like ta cook, hm? Remy’ll have ta pull ya in ‘ere to ‘elp out when ‘e cooks sometime, yeah? ‘Ere, homemade po’boy, jus’ like maman use ta make.” He plated up their sandwiches with a flourish, letting her add her homemade chips to the plates. He then sat next to her at the breakfast bar, hip to hip, and they shared a quiet, peaceful, meal.

[raeflora]

What do you think Chuck & Blair's least favourite position is?✨

hi!! ur asking the real difficult questions here anon... ur making me think and I respect it I appreciate it 🙏🏻🙏🏻 so truthfully I think they like most positions sksfjkdk bc they're so into each other and love having sex so much. that being said I think for chuck he definitely likes being able to see blair's face and watch her expressions, so although he loves her being on top he probably wouldn't like something like reverse cowgirl bc he can't see her (she only does it to punish him 😌) for blair I think she wouldn't like the super ridiculous contortion ones where u have to do a handstand or something bc she doesn't see the point of them (although she's perfectly capable of trying them)

[aroaceleovaldez]

more Nico with EDS headcanons:

He’s one of those people who folds into a pretzel any time he’s just chillin’. he sits down and immediately contorts his legs into what looks like the least comfortable position possible but he swears up and down he’s just comfier like that

He can’t do handstands. He is physically incapable of doing handstands.

x4 food problem combo - ADHD (forgets to eat), autism (can’t register when he’s hungry + sensory problems) + EDS (digestive problems) + eating disorder (picked up from training with Minos). He’s working on it.

Part of why he has such a desensitized sense of pain is because he’s constantly dislocating everything. it’s fine.

He unconsciously uses his powers to help keep himself steadier. eventually he gets a pair of crutches and realizes he can stop relying so heavily on his powers and suddenly he has So Much More Energy, It’s A Miracle

Of course he also tries to figure out if he can get a weapon that disguises as crutches, because if Percy can have a pen-sword he can have sword-crutches or whatever

The skinny jeans are tactical. They’re compressive so they keep his legs from dislocating as much. He also tends to prefer boots because they help keep his ankles from dislocating.

Walking hurts? Dislocated legs? Shadow-travel. Life hacks. Can’t shadow-travel? No problem when your dog is literally larger than a car.

He gets headaches/migraines a lot! That + his autism = bright lights are a no-go. He’ll stick happily to his shadows, thank you very much.

His hands are always cold. Just in general he’s always kinda cold. Every presumes this is a Hades kid thing but it’s actually just cause his circulation is garbage.

Low blood pressure babeyyy. He already has problems with it and then shadow-traveling makes it drop worse.

He bruises like a peach. He presumes that his bruises are just from monster fights until he’s spent like a solid month at CHB on bedrest and still keeps finding new bruises. His new theory is that ghosts are beating him up in his sleep. He’s actually just clumsy.

[solinastkd-blog]

If you are interested in improving your flexibility, kicking techniques or conditioning your body feel free to contact me at valentino.solinas@gmail.com for some private online or in person classes. London based 🇬🇧 +44 7732 054201 Si está interesado en mejorar su flexibilidad, técnicas de patadas o acondicionamiento de cuerpo, no dude en ponerse en contacto conmigo a valentino.solinas@gmail.com para clases privadas virtuales o en persona. Basado en Londres 🇬🇧 +44 7732 054201 #flexibility #yoga #flexible #fitness #dance #gymnastics #workout #stretching #mobility #strength #dancer #training #balance #yogapractice #stretch #yogainspiration #handstand #ballet #gym #contortion #flexibilitytraining #motivation #poledance #fitnessmotivation #circus #yogi #splits #fit #acrobatics #split (presso Bologna, Italy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpA7QiyINhh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[baura-bear]

Circus au thoughts because I can 😈

The circus is originally run by Pulitzer (although he isn’t on the scene it’s Wiesel who is backstage “running the show”)

The Delanceys are the brawn of Wiesels show and help move equipment, handle animals (when they’re not on stage), and just basically do anything that requires muscle.

Davey does trapeze and contortion is one of the main attractions for the show. His main trapeze partner is Sarah they have like a wonder twins kind of act all their outfits are matching and they do a bunch of duo tricks.

Buttons and Romeo are tight rope walkers together (Buttons also does a lot of backstage work with costuming and such)

Stray works with the animals and trains them to do cool tricks (elephants and big cats)

Les, Albert, and Race have a clown act together. Race is the whiteface clown, Albert the Auguste, and Les the character clown. Most of their acts involve Race playing tricks on Albert, Albert getting mad, and Les playing along with either of them trying to decide which side to take. Albert’s make up is a very dramatic frown and grumpy eyebrows, Les looks kinda like a raggedy Ann with two big red circles for blush, bottom lashes and freckles drawn on with a big dimpled smile. Race is a classic friendly looking smiley clown.

Katherine does equestrian acts like riding on horses standing on them and doing handstands and stuff and like shooting bow and arrow while riding. (Toying with the idea that she’s also the ring master??)

Idk what the proper name for it is but Spot is like a miraculously strong woman and does all kinds of crazy weight lifting that wows the audience.

Jack has been hard to place. While I think it would be fun to have him doing freak show acts like sword swallowing and fire tricks and close up magic to warm the audience I think it would be more fun and more conducive to the Javey aspects of this to have him working backstage. He helps put up and bring down the circus as well as artistic aspects like planning out sets, painting and assembling. He also helps the clowns out with makeup. Between acts he does any set changes that need to happen.

Ok so those are all the acts that I have strong opinions about but obviously all the other newsies are sprinkled in there (feel free to comment if you have any strong feelings).

Basically Wiesel is running the circus and he’s obviously not kind to any of the performers and it kind of sucks. They all joined because of their love of the strange and peculiar but quickly become trapped in terrible contracts. They try to make the best of it with the friendships they create throughout performing but it’s pretty dismal at points. Because Davey and Sarah are the main event he’s particularly hard on them. They have to eat well, but not too much because he wants them slim. They have to practice and work out but not to the point that they’re too muscly and “unattractive” they have to get rest so that they perform their best but he keeps them up practicing and running new routines. They’re pretty isolated from the rest of the company because of their strict schedule and all the rules. It’s not until one day David runs into Jack backstage, maybe when he’s helping Les with makeup. David is checking up on Les like he usually does right before he goes on it’s usually a quick in and out so he’s not expecting to run into any delays. Jack has seen David perform but they’ve never spoken up close so of course Jack tries to talk to him (he’s completely enraptured) David runs off so he doesn’t miss his entrance but later that night he visits Davey in his dressing room. David is worried because of Wiesel’s strict rules he tells Jack he should leave so they don’t both get in trouble. Jack knows Wiesel is corrupt but doesn’t realize how bad it is until he starts interacting with Davey. He can tell how tired and overworked David is. He starts sneaking food to him and Sarah and they slowly become friends.

At some point Jack and David kiss and Wiesel finds out. He absolutely flips, blaming Jack for Davey’s incompetence in performance (he claims Jack is a distraction) he keeps Davey even more isolated and he basically doesn’t leave his dressing room unless his act is on.

Eventually somehow the circus ownership is transferred from Pulitzer to Roosevelt. This leads to the firing of Wiesel who is replaced by Medda (She takes over the role of ring master[or mistress I suppose?]) Overall conditions improve wildly and it becomes a light hearted experience for everyone once again. People have the chance to experiment more with their acts and what they do and of course Sarah and David become much more involved with the company.

And for you Delancey lovers I’ll say they get a little act after Wiesel leaves (whatever that is is up to you)

[cleromancy]

dont go and make this all flat nuclear family bats on me but i just saw this image and snorted thinking of. bats who have to Be Up and normally youd think dick but heres the thing. to me dick is all about being upside down if hes not actually trying to swing or flip around... his ambient nonsense is more like contorting himself and generally doing handstands on furniture its unwise to do handstands on. and damian likes to Be Up less for the sake of Being Up and more because of the vantage point. and launching point as in he likes to launch himself off of high places either at or in front of people. and tim and cass liking to Be Up and Perch and Observe just because they like it up tjere. up is where you Go.

and jasons just like. Can none of you people ever be normal

[rylandfalkov]

Ryland's Glitter & Ghouls show 2024 TW: blood/violence

Ryland struts out onto the stage wearing a snazzy, all-white suit and looking like a billion gold, per usual if you ask him. He flashes the audience one of those dazzling smirks from beneath his hooded cloak as he stops front and center, smoothing a hand down that pristine collar and pushing the hood back far enough so the audience could see the devilishly handsome mug.

“No creepy contortion tonight to give you all nightmares, folks, have no worries. Wouldn’t wanna ruin the suit!” Gloved fingers give a tantalizing brush along his collarbone which is nicely on display from beneath the halfway unbuttoned shirt. “No, no, I’ve got something much different for you all tonight.” Eyebrows bobble playfully.

“At least different from my–” His words are cut short as a dark figure appears out of thin air and full-on tackles Ryland halfway across the stage. Ryland lands with a *THUD*, struggling against the black-clad figure but it’s no use, this entity is too strong. The large figure looms over its victim with its back to the audience and viciously bites down on Ryland’s neck!

Is this a part of the show!? The terrified and shocked expression seen on Ryland’s features suggests it is not. There’s no screaming, only sickening gurgling noises can be heard as Ryland’s body spasms occasionally while his attacker continues to hover over him, blocking whatever was happening. One can assume.

In an instant, the dark figure vanishes into the night and Ryland is left on stage by himself. The immaculate white suit now stained red at his neckline, seeping down further into the material as blood seems to slowly pool outwards from his lifeless form.

His eyes slowly gloss over. Everything is quiet and still for just a brief moment before his entire body begins to convulse! He gasps repeatedly which is quickly intermingled with a hacking cough, almost as if he’s attempting to breathe in air but is unable. He writhes on the stage in his own blood, feet flat on the ground as he pushes up onto his head until he’s a bridge position, arms now flailing out to the sides.

Ryland's head turns at a grotesque angle in this position, making it almost appear like his neck has broken before he collapses onto his side and claws at his chest, still attempting to breathe. Bloodied suit jacket and shirt are ripped open revealing the muscular torso beneath (eyyyy) before rolling onto his stomach. His upper torso suddenly and severely arches up and backwards, arms stretching to reach for his ankles until he’s nearly bent in half, -backwards-. 

Just as quickly as it happened, he flops back down and rolls onto his side, facing the audience. There’s a few slight tremors in his body before he stops moving completely, and now looks quite dead.

The change is quicker than expected. His tanned flesh pales beneath the moonlight until it nearly matches the white of his suit. Eyes lose their death gloss and sharpen into a deep red glow, and as he slowly sits up, lips part and he runs the tip of his tongue along the extra sharp canines and incisors. Nimbly rising to his feet, there’s more curiosity than fear there as he shrugs off his stained cape and suit jacket before kicking off his shoes. Manicured, pointed nails skim over his face and down his neck in an exploratory manner while his inquisitive gaze flits about, trying to look at everything all at once.

He glides to the front of the stage, his footfalls light and gentle, almost as if he’s floating. Crouching at the lip of the stage, that sanguine gaze searches around those gathered as nostrils flare to sniff at the air. A wicked little grin tugs at the edges of plush lips, flashing those pearly fangs beneath. He rolls backwards and pushes up into a handstand mid-way through, parting legs to both sides into a center split - and then deepens it further until legs are in an upside-down V position. Should bodies be able to do this? He sure makes it look easy and painless!

Ryland raises both legs and points his toes towards the sky and then drops one leg forward and one back into a front split, again allowing legs to drop past the point of ‘extreme flexibility’ and of what seems possible. Elbows bend and he lowers his body using the strength in his arms until toes brush the stage. Eventually he pushes back up and brings both legs together, touching down and pivoting to face the audience. Even he seems surprised with his own strength and extra flexibility!

He plants one foot in front of the other with an obvious ballet turnout and gracefully sweeps his arms overhead as he leans his torso back. With barely any prep, he’s up on the toes of one foot, with his other leg extended behind him in an over-exaggerated attitude, elegantly spinning in place. There’s something slightly unnatural about this over-extended position: The way he’s able to hold it for so long, and continue to rotate without assistance. Peculiar, but beautiful; one almost forgets that his white clothing is saturated in his own blood. 

His back leg now extends all the way up until he’s in a full split with his leg touching the back of his head. Arms extend up to grip his ankle and he ceases his spins, suddenly bending the leg at his knee. It almost looks painful, but Ryland looks completely unfazed.

Ryland returns both feet to the ground and immediately goes into full ballet mode; beginning with the highest flying grand jeté he’s ever performed on stage, one leg stretched forward and the other back in a split, followed almost immediately by an equally high tour jeté, adding a little twist mid-air in his high-flying leap. He lands center stage and preps into continuous pirouettes, accompanied by fouettés, a quick whipping movement of the raised leg, to assist him in maintaining the constant spin. It’s impossible to count how many times he rotates, only gaining momentum as he goes. He could keep this up all night!

Most that have seen his previous shows know him to be an excellent dancer, but the way he’s moving tonight is exceptional, if not unusual at the same time. He’s almost too light on his feet, staying in the air for just a little bit too long, spinning slightly too fast. Gradually, he does allow his body to flow out of the almost too rapid spins. In the blink of an eye, he’s moved from center stage to just before the audience, red gaze fully focused on Sana. A hand is offered to her, tempting her, entrancing her, making him impossible to deny.

He pulls her up onto stage with him and presses a kiss to her knuckles before bringing them both into a delicate waltz. It’s uncertain if his partner has ever danced before, but with his expert lead they look as if they’ve been doing this together for millennia. He twirls her outwards and pulls her back in before dipping her low. Ryland’s lips part in a wicked smirk, flashing those sharpened fangs before sinking them into his partner’s neck!

Now with his back to the audience, they are witness to his victim’s horrified expression and gurgling SCREEEEEEAAAaaamsssss before they go limp. He carelessly drops her to the stage into a pool of her own blood and turns to the crowd, face and bare chest now absolutely coated in fresh blood, his manner one of complete elation. It’s disturbing, yet there’s something very erotic in the way he fervidly wipes the life fluid away from his mouth and flicks both hands out to the sides. 

The euphoric expression is blatantly obvious as he whips around the stage in fervorous dance, executing a variety of complex ballet leaps and turns including barrel turns, switch leaps, cabrioles, and another high-soaring split leap over top of Sana’s dead body. Dropping to his knees, he peels away the red-coated shirt, tossing it aside to reveal more of that flawless, pallid flesh beneath. Blood clings to the contours of heavily pronounced muscles, glistening gruesomely yet exquisitely beneath the spotlights. He prowls towards the edge of the stage on all fours, eyes blazing red as he searches for his next victim. 

There’s a sense of danger, yet the pull of temptation is overwhelming and undeniable. With a curl of his finger and charming grin, he beckons anyone willing. He spreads his knees and leans back against his heels, sliding and groping those bloodied hands up his muscular torso and over his chest; teasing, seducing, inviting. Clawed fingers creep up the front of his neck and over his face before sliding through dark hair, slicking the shiny strands back with blood and smearing it everywhere. Disconcerting, yet exceedingly sensual. Fingertips press to his lips, blowing a kiss to the audience before he vanishes from sight with an unspoken promise.

[c---crow]

ftm here. my shoulders and my ribcage is really narrow. im on T for almost a year now. im scared that if i gain weight (I'm 5'9, 120lbs) it'll all just go to my hips and thighs. your upper body is like a brick and very very broad. is that natural, or is there something i can do to fix my situation? thank you.

hi!! long answer under the cut

my shoulders being broad is partially natural bone structure, but also partially because i have an extensive athletic background in aerial trapeze, contortion, and hand balancing, which all require a lot of shoulder strength and training.

if you gain weight, yes you may gain weight on your lower body. however because you’ve been on T for this long, it’s much more likely you will also gain mass in your shoulders and may not gain much at all in your lower body. personally my ass got fatter but my muscle mass also increased (probably actually why my ass got fatter)

if your goal is to try and actively make your silhouette more top heavy, would highly recommend getting into sports/hobbies (weight lifting, rock climbing, handstands, etc) that have you working your back and shoulders a lot. no matter if you gain weight on your hips/thighs, if your back and shoulders are broad enough, your hips won’t look as wide. my rib cage actually also tapers down to a pretty narrow spot and my hips are wide so i’m relatively curvy. below is an older photo where i was a little leaner with my upper body cropped out and u can rly see it. for reference i’m currently 5’4 and i think about 180lbs