#dance team emote

[brav0-6]

#midlife crisis

[xxplastic-cubexx]

chat he follows where you look ........

bonus erik's lil smile with his Magnetic Steps emote ....

[nezuchuuko]

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia: Season 13, Episode 10 - Mac Finds his Pride. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

“You don’t know what’s going on inside of me.” “I mean the struggle to be who I am.” “There’s like this storm inside of me and it’s been raging my whole life, and I’m down on my knees, and I’m looking for answers, and then God comes down to me and it’s a very hot chick and she pulls me up and we start dancing.”

“Wait, wait, wait…you’re gay, but you’re dancing with a hot chick, and she’s God?”

“Yes.”

“The Catholics really fucked you up.”

[woe-is-tuli]

ATEEZ(에이티즈) - 'Youth (윤호,민기)': YunHo

[secondstar-acorn]

in the club sitting in the back watching meredith’s vhs christmas carol vlogs with tears streaming down my face

[maeo-png]

i think eli and kleiner are owed at least one, uninterrupted slow dance.

[sparkles-oflight]

Do you ever just think about the most iconic moment in all ice dance history? me too

[watch-out-it-bites]

[tutuandscoot]

It’s less than an hour till the 20th for me so here is my 5 year anniversary video a little bit early. I actually made this initially about 8 months ago but decided to save it for this special day. I put a lot of work into this one (as I do all my videos) so if you all could please share this around I’d really appreciate it 💜

[leahthedreamer]

Why must we be subjected to Johnny Weir’s commentary on ice dance

[local-soda-can]

me: wowie! my friend wants to make more endings for the tgwdlm rp! surely they’ll be happy :3

-a little while later-

[dulcewrites]

I’m writing this…. Thing lmao, and I hope I’m not horribly mischaracterizing Helaena. Idk I find her difficult to characterize at times.

Also trying to describe her dragon dreams… bc they it is barely touched on nor explained for her.

Edit: oouuu the way I really want to write hotd Alicent and Helaena related stuff bc I do feel like I could bring some new dynamics to their characters. But it’s come to the point where I just prefer writing them in a modern setting bc I feel like I can get them out of their situation 😭😭 I don’t want them to suffer

[inamindfarfaraway]

I had to do Team Batgirl. Babs is Oracle, Cass is Black Bat and Steph is Batgirl as per pre-New 52. Remember, the core drive of each emotion is benevolent, no matter how bad they feel. Sadness is responsible for empathy, sympathy and asking for help; Fear wants to keep us and what we care about safe; Anger wants things to be fair; and Disgust wants to protect us from physical, social or moral contamination. They're all the basis for more complex emotions and processes, e.g. Fear enables forethought and common sense for risk evaluation, Anger inspires courage and bold, direct action and Disgust is highly involved in meeting social expectations.

[Babs's Headquarters have a similar professional atmosphere to Bruce's. The walls are dark grey. In the background of the immaculate main office, a few closed doors partition off other spaces, probably more personal ones; the memory shelves are longer than average and have additional walled channels beneath them to store memory orbs that fall from overflow, and the memories glow unusually bright; there are no windows and the room is lit by overhead office lights, the sight screen and the memory orbs. Her emotions are also in wheelchairs and wear glasses, with individual styles and decorations. Her console is a large, angular, intricate control panel of polished silver metal, elegant and futuristic, at which sit Fear at the helm, Anger at her right hand and Joy at her left, then Sadness and Disgust next to them.]

Fear: We’re scanning our entire surveillance network, but the Joker is still unaccounted for. We should check in with Cassandra and Stephanie.

Joy: I’m so proud of them. Permission to verbalize that to them, ma’am?

Fear: Don’t know if we’ll have time.

Anger: Yeah, expressing vulnerability takes a lot of energy, and we all agreed to divert 75% of it to single-minded fixation on justice until Joker is back in Arkham. Preferably via ambulance.

Fear: I’ll schedule a tight smile for when the girls get back, but no guarantee Babs will remember it then. Our short-term memory bank is already full to bursting.

Disgust: (under her breath, annoyed) As always.

Sadness: So, um… Dick hasn't called us back yet, but I think he wants to. Maybe we should call him.

Fear: No, we’re both busy. We can catch up tommorow.

[Cass's Headquarters are largely a fusion of a dojo and a gym, a wide open space with mats, punching bags and other exercise and martial arts equipment. The walls and floor are wooden boards. A set of floor-to-ceiling windows at the back and sides shaped like bat symbols make the space light and airy. The background has a corridor leading off to the left and a staircase going up at the right that look straight out of Wayne Manor. There is no console. Rather, an elevated black stage with yellow curtains is before the screen. Sadness is centre-stage, flanked by Anger and Fear, then Joy and Disgust. The black surface lights up with squares of the emotions’ respective colours under their feet as they dance in a graceful, perfectly coordinated ballet routine to classical music. Until Fear makes a different move to the others. An alarm beeps, cutting off the music, and everyone freezes. The others stare at Fear. Anger is offended, Sadness and Joy intrigued and Disgust confused.]

Anger: (folds her arms, raises an eyebrow and puffs out her chest at Fear challengingly)

Sadness: (gently holds Anger in place with a hand on her shoulder and nods to Fear)

Fear: (cringes, but cautiously makes the move again)

Anger: (clenches her fists and gestures in outrage to Sadness)

Joy: (steps forward and holds Fear’s hand in support, making unintimidated eye contact with Anger)

Disgust: (looks ahead through Cass’s eyes, unlike any of the others are, due to boredom with the dispute)

Disgust: Ugh. More henchmen.

Sadness: You handle it.

Disgust: Fiiiine.

[The emotions reshuffle so that Disgust is centre-stage. She dances alone to simpler music with only one instrument. The others retreat upstage, Sadness between Anger and Fear and Joy as she tries to mediate.]

Joy: (stands protectively in front of Fear and beckons for Anger to bring it on, balancing her weight)

Sadness: (shakes her head disapprovingly, unseen by anyone)

Anger: (yells wordlessly and punches Joy)

[The four break into a fight, tumbling offstage onto the mats. Disgust rolls her eyes.]

[Steph's Headquarters are furnished much like a mundane living room, with white walls, a plush purple sofa, cluttered coffee table, lamps emitting warm light, windows to one side and a comfortable atmosphere. The doors to ancillary rooms are open. Tucked away by the memory orb shelves, two cardboard boxes of purple, blue, red and green memory orbs marked ‘Trauma - FRAGILE’ remain unpacked. Her console resembles a video game controller, being white plastic, rounded and having colourful buttons, switches and joysticks. It has a single chair, a spinning one made of black plastic and purple cushions. Joy is seated, gleefully wiggling a joystick. Anger is on her right, excitedly watching the mission, and Sadness is on her left, concerned. Disgust is hovering at the side of the console, not very interested. Fear is on the sofa quietly writing in a puzzle book.]

Joy: We’ve got this in the bag. None of these bozos even know we’re here.

[She reaches to press a yellow button. Disgust notices, abruptly invested, and pushes past Sadness to grab Joy’s hand.]

Disgust: But they will if you quip from so near them. And then we’re gonna fail and Babs is gonna make her disappointed face and, like, never trust Steph with a stealth mission again.

Joy: Good point.

Anger: There’s the ringleader! Aw, Cass is already beating him up.

Sadness: (sighs and leans on the console, turning it partially blue) She was a way better Batgirl, we’ll never come close and everyone knows it.

Joy: (batting her arm away) Sadness, we’ve talked about this. Steph earned her place and has nothing to prove. Everything's gonna be fine. Okay, let’s just sneak past and get out with the intel -

Fear: Hey, guys, do you ever think about how Steph’s daughter could die at any moment and we wouldn’t even know?

[The others tense and flinch. The console lights up purple and fades to blue.]

Joy: SHUT UP, FEAR!

Disgust: So not the time!

Sadness: (crying) I am now!

Anger: This is why we never listen to you!

[thebigqueer]

honestly i knew going into a serious relationship before summer was going to be a bad idea because i knew something would go wrong with long distnace. i even wanted to go official AFTER summer but its also like theres no win-win because theres no tellin gwhere wed have been in our 'situationship' by the end of summer. but in a way maybe it wouldve been better if we never dated either because then i wouldnt have to be this fuckign devastated about it

[thefage]

This may be a controversial take, but I don't thing they should allow singers on those got-talent shows. There is already some version of the X-factor or idol show in every country that has one, to my knowledge, there are already so many places you can show off your ability to sing. Got-talent shows should be a place to show off unique talents you can't really see anywhere else. There seems to be a bias towards them and dancers, too, when you look at the results from the past competitions.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Touch Starved

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Summary: This was inspired by a tweet and his gif I saw on twitter. You accidentally walk in on Bucky touching himself when he thinks he is alone. Turns out he is thinking about you. A/N: Unbeta'ed, so sorry for the mistakes! Warnings: NSFW but not that explicit. Word count: 1,379 words

The team had made a last minute decision to go out, but you weren’t in the mood to join them. It has been quite a while since you’d had some time to yourself, and you happily retreated to your quarters with a bag full of late-night snacks in tow.

The thought of having the living area all to yourself was oddly comforting. There was something incredibly liberating about walking through the quiet corridors alone. After carefully stashing your snacks in the kitchen, you glanced around the hallway to ensure no one was around. Satisfied that the coast was clear, you stepped out of your room wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks.

The polished floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights and begged you to indulge in one of your guilty pleasures: dancing and sliding across the freshly waxed surface. You were mid-slide, grinning to yourself like the Cheshire cat, when an unexpected groan pierced the silence.

The sound startled you, nearly making you lose your balance as you skidded to a stop. You scanned the corridor, heart pounding in our ears, as you tried to pin point the source of the noise.

You were met with silence for a few moments. Just as you had convinced yourself that your imagination was getting the best of you, you heard it again. Only this time, it was unmistakable— it sounded like your name.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of a crack in one of the doors. Immediately, you knew that it was the source of the sound. Approaching slowly, you realized that it was Bucky’s room.

Shit! You thought back to earlier, replaying the moment you watched the others leave. Had Bucky gone with them? You didn’t remember seeing him head out. Could he still be here?

A soft, almost pained whimper reached your ears, followed again by your name.

Without hesitation, you pushed open the door, a growing sense of dread and concern rising inside you. Bucky often had nightmares— you’d heard his anguished cries echoing in the dead of night. You didn’t want to let him suffer for a minute longer than necessary— not if you could help it.

But as you silently pushed open the door, the sight before you stopped you in your tracks, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the super soldier, sprawled out on the bed. He was shirtless. You could see the muscles in his abdomen rippling like waves as he writhed around on the mattress.

Another muffled groan escaped him and your eyes were drawn to the pillow he had clamped over his face. It would have been an alarming image, if it wasn’t for the fact that his pants were undone and his flesh hand was wrapped firmly around his cock.

You froze. Every single coherent thought vanished from your head in an instant. You stood in the doorway, mouth parted in silent shock as a flush of heat rushed to your face as your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing.

This is not what you had expected. At all.

Your instincts told you to turn around, to leave and grant him the privacy he so clearly thought he had. But for some reason, your feet refused to move. You stayed rooted to the spot as a cocktail of emotions swirled inside you— shock, embarrassment and lastly desire.

Only when he groaned your name again, the sound muffled by the pillow but clear enough to send a shiver down your spine and a flood of heat between your legs. Your heart raced as you realized that he wasn’t just lost in the moment— he was lost in the thought of you.

Your instincts finally kicked in, belatedly propelling you to turn on your heels and leave as quickly and quietly as possible. But your socks betrayed you, letting out a squeak against the polished floor.

Bucky’s movements stilled.

“Shit,” you heard him mutter under his breath, his voice low and filled with mortification. There was a rustle of sheets and before you could fully escape, his voice called out.

“Who’s there?” His words came out sharp and panicked.

You came to a halt outside his room, cursing your hesitation. You glanced around the corner just in time to see him sit up, clutching the tiny pillow against his lap, as though it could shield him from the situation he had found himself in. HIs face was flushed, his chest heaved and his wide blue eyes locked onto yours.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice cracking, overwhelmed by shame. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his vibranium hand. “I… I didn’t know anyone was—”

“I’m so sorry!” you blurted out. “I—I mean to, I shouldn’t have—” Words failed you, and you swiftly darted out into the hallway, hiding around the edge of the doorway.

But you didn’t go far.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest and for some reason, your legs felt like lead, stopping you from running away. You pressed your back against the wall, taking a shaky inhale to calm your thundering heart and trying to process what had just happened.

You needed to keep walking. You should be retreating to your room where you could pretend none of this ever happened. You should. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Something was pulling at your strings, master of puppetry controlling your actions, refusing to let you leave. It was desire. The way he had said your name— with so much longing— played in your mind on a loop. You hadn’t missed the way his body moved, the vulnerability he’d displayed on his flushed face. And then there was the way his eyes had widened with shock when he realized it was you.

Before you could truly think about your actions, your feet had started carrying you back to the door. You hesitated for a second but the pull inside you— the part of you that craved him— propelled you forwards.

You stepped back inside.

His face was crimson, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Was it anger? Embarrassment? Or… something else entirely?

You couldn’t decipher the expression on his face but the tension in the room weighed down on both of you.

Wordlessly, you approached him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and he immediately curled in on himself, clutching the pillow tighter to his chest. His body was angled away from you, his gaze fixed on the wall, refusing to meet yours.

You shuffled closer, moving carefully, unsure if he wanted you to stay or to leave. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t give you any indication that he was aware of your presence. But you could feel the tension radiating from him like a forcefield. His knuckles were white against the fabric of the pillow, and he sat so rigidly it was as if his body didn’t know how to relax anymore.

“Bucky,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with kindness and affection.

Still, he didn’t respond. He seemed paralyzed, trapped in this moment of shame and uncertainty.

Slowly, you reached out, unable to control the tremble of your hand as you cradled his cheek. He flinched at first, his body stiffening, but he didn’t pull away. You kept your touch gentle but deliberate, and when he didn’t resist, you applied the lightest pressure to turn his head toward you.

At long last, his eyes met yours— his pupils dilated, unfocused and vulnerable.

You held his gaze, letting the air between you grow heavy with meaning. Your thumb brushed fondly against the stubble on his jaw, and you leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving him every chance to pull away.

He didn’t.

When your lips first met his, they moved slowly, with tenderness, almost searching. You gave him the opportunity to object… he didn’t. And suddenly the heat building inside you made it impossible for you to hold back. You deepened the kiss— conveying your longing— leaving no room for doubt, no room for misinterpretation. You wanted him.

And as his lips began to respond to yours, the pillow slipped from his grasp, forgotten as he surrendered to the intensity of your connection.