#curve hugging

[my-outfitisamasterpiece]

Kylie Jenner in Los Angeles wearing her KYE Clothing Collection 24'

[janedoeoreo]

Maybe I'll just let them hang out awhile

Follow My Socials

[indorak]

No art but look at this dress i tried the other day... It fit perfectly dkkfk I couldnt afford it but i want it so badlyyyy

[mac-lilly]

This band is back never fails so make me smile. It's silly. It's wholesome. I adore every second. Also ... THE HARMONIES!!!!

[rafayelsgf]

razor dance card is the canon sylus fic with angst & hurt/comfort tags in it

[catalisst]

[doverstardoodles]

who you callin' boy band

[indigoire]

By the way, who the fuck decided all women's t-shirts had to be cap sleeves? The babydoll cut is bad enough, thank christ that's starting to go away, but the cap sleeves persist and I hate them. No one over a size seven wants to show off their upper arms, I promise.

In conclusion:

[late-night-street-light]

Istg one day I will make a blog of shame where I'll reblog all reader inserts I come across that have blatantly wrong tags

Like, you can't seriously tag something as a *GN reader* and then it's a fem oc insert???

I get it, other sites have popularized using tags for reach or whatever, but please let me enjoy the (sometimes very few) GN or male reader stories without constantly having to check for false advertising first,

[icezansky]

we don't talk enough about how tight mav's pants are at the beginning of this movie

[cubesugarss]

i hope u all understand aira is hamsterpilled. I hope i draw her hamsterpilled enough. I hope i have fulfilled my purpose in this world

[nerdierholler]

Mountainous peaks? What? Why?

[altschmerzes]

🌹🌹🌹 Can we see a little snippet of one of those cuddles Jamie gets in wriggle up please please please? :D

one THOUSAND percent. this is more than a 'little' lmao but. we know how i work around here.

this is from the fallout of the 2x08 debacle in wriggle up on dry land, after they've taken jamie home from the hospital.

cw for direct references to injuries caused by abuse.

Despite the late hour and despite the exhaustion making him feel like he’s been coated in lead, Ted doesn’t go to sleep right away. He changes into his pyjamas and then sits up on top of his still-made bed, leaning against the headboard and reading a book. Well. ‘Reading a book,’ insofar as ‘staring at the same page and not remotely processing any of the words on it for minutes at a time, occasionally flipping a page out of pure instinct’ can be considered reading. At this point, Ted doesn’t even remember what the book is, just that it had been sitting next to his lamp and it was better than grabbing his phone, what with all the anxiety-inducing crap that thing tended to contain at any given moment. It’s because of this avoidance of actual sleep that Ted notices immediately when the door down the hall opens.

Closing his book and setting it off to the side, Ted watches with a light frown as Jamie exits the spare room - his room, and starts down the hall. His posture is reluctant and closed-off, moving like he’s coated in the same lead that Ted is, and he makes the trip slowly. It’s hard to tell if the lethargic pace is due to pain or something else, and the thought makes Ted’s heart skip a beat.

When he reaches the doorway to Ted’s room, Jamie hesitates outside of it. The pause only lasts for a moment and then the boy is walking across the threshold and directly over to the side of the bed. Jamie is silent as he crawls up onto the mattress to Ted’s right, laying down facing the wall with his arms folded over his chest and going very, very still.

Book now entirely forgotten, Ted looks at Jamie and waits for him to say something, to reveal what it is he came here for, what he needs or wants. Nothing of the sort happens. Jamie doesn’t do anything at all. He doesn’t get up and leave but he doesn’t move any closer to Ted either. He doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t make a sound. Jamie just lays there, facing the wall, curled in on himself and motionless - and putting all the pressure squarely on his bad shoulder, too. It has to ache something fierce, even with the painkillers the doctors sent him home with.

Ted’s heart hurts in his chest looking at him - literally. It literally, physically hurts. He watches the boy for a while, unsure what to do, his sternum throbbing and worry heavy and thick in his lungs. Jamie still doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything or move at all, though he’s too rigid to have fallen asleep. His arms are tucked tight against his chest, giving the impression of someone who is holding himself in a mimicry of someone else doing so.

That’s the thought that finally prompts Ted to take some kind of action. He can’t bear it any longer, watching the boy there and knowing that he needs something but not knowing what, and so he reaches out. The hand that he settles on the stiff crest of Jamie’s shoulder is slow and cautious, not wanting to do the wrong thing and spook or hurt the kid. All Ted gets in response is a muted, suffocated flinch - one he knows by now is far from an actual indication on its own that Jamie doesn’t want to be touched. There’s a subtle pressure against Ted’s palm that confirms the suspicion, even as Jamie’s body shudders with a laboured, tremulous breath - Jamie is leaning back against the hand on his shoulder.

Doing his best not to jostle either of them, Ted slides down the headboard a bit, pillow bunching behind him to create a support for the new, no longer upright angle. With gentle pressure and an abundance of care, Ted slips his hand from Jamie’s upper shoulder down to the other one, the one jammed into the mattress. He pulls at Jamie gingerly, guiding the kid around to face him and cross the gap between them, ever mindful of the pain he must be in, even still. Ted can’t stop seeing it in his mind: the permanent mental image of Jamie’s whipped back, the wounds now hidden by his shirt. The inescapable and acute awareness of the welts, the broken skin, leaves Ted as cautious as if he is handling spun glass as he curls an arm around Jamie, settling the boy in against his chest.

Jamie goes readily and without a hint of a fight. He leans himself fully into Ted’s side, his forehead pressed against Ted’s collarbone, though his hands stay tucked up in fists between them, not reaching out or holding on. Ted can feel the fabric of his shirt warm with Jamie’s heavy, ragged breaths. He isn’t crying but he is shaking, trembling all over and breathing like he’s just run a marathon as he lays, boneless and almost desperate, against Ted.

Normally, it’s a struggle for Ted to keep quiet. He doesn’t handle silences well and he never has, but this is an exception. It’s not that he enjoys the silence, really, he finds it just as disconcerting as he always does, but his brain is empty of things to say. So, because he can’t think of anything and because Jamie isn’t talking either, he doesn’t say anything at all. Ted just cradles him, holding the kid as tight as he dares to when the increase in pressure only prompts Jamie to press closer in turn, and thinks about how still he’d been when he first laid down - still and silent, facing the wall.

Jamie had not asked for this. He hadn’t reached out to be hugged, or asked to cuddle, or anything of the sort - and of course he didn’t. He had just laid there on the bedspread next to Ted, getting as close and taking as much as he dared.

It’s devastating to think about. He’s a kid. He’s just a kid, just sixteen years old, and Ted remembers being that age with a sharp and vivid clarity. Sometimes he wishes that he didn’t, but he remembers, and when you’re sixteen and something terrible happens to you, something annihilating happens to you, sometimes you need your mom or dad to hold you. And isn’t that something that Jamie probably has all but no experience with, huh. Not when his mom’s been gone for years and his dad- Well. Suffice to say it’s no shock he hadn’t been able to ask for what he needed, ask to be held.

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[rkvils]

can't stop thinking about viiilllll aaaaa him dressing up pretty in the way he knows you like it with the sole purpose of having you undress him and fuck him stupid later on

[protectcosette]

not to put too much weight in external validation but there really is something about knowing in an observable way that you are desirable to the people you desire that makes you start to see yourself more kindly