#somersalt

[nonbinary-morro]

HOW in the world did RWBY make Sun Wukong look like a surfer bro AND NOT INCLUDE THE CLOUD SOMERSALT

You hate the cloud 🥺??? The cloud that goes zip through the sky real fast 🥺😭???

[o-sachi]

Do a Somersalt ! ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars. (Request)

ଳ how would the blue lock boys react to a gymnast s/o who is muscular? ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, chigiri hyoma, michael kaiser, shidou ryusei ଳ tags; floof, afab reader, no y/n

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

"You're going to the gym? Can I come too?"

The man is absolutely mesmerized by you. The way you look alone never fails to amaze him. But when you're in your element? He's definitely somewhere—melting into a puddle after witnessing your moves.

An absolute sucker for your muscles, especially the thighs. He'll poke at 'em, squish 'em, and lay his head on 'em.

He will always always always ask to watch your competitions. It's only fair that he provide moral support for you since you do the same for his football games. Hell—even if it's just practice, he'll try to come and watch you anyway.

He loves the way you look, but a small part of him wants to be more muscular as well because he thinks he'd embarrass you if he wasn't as lean as you :(

"Hey, what would you think if I were more muscular?" / "Hmm, I'd be pretty proud, but you look great as you are." / "Be for real." / "I am being for real though?"

Doesn't really dwell on that thought. It's more of a fleeting one if anything. He's more preoccupied about admiring you anyway.

ᯓ Bachira Meguru

"How the fuck did you flip like that? I wanna do it too."

Expect him to hound you about teaching him all your "cool" moves. He'll ask about the complicated ones even though both of you know that he won't be doing that with just an explanation, a demo, and a prayer.

Bachira's quite flexible though, so you do manage to teach him some stuff. He was SO ecstatic the first time he was able to do a move that you two had been going over for an hour.

"Babe, I think I'm ready to do a double back salto tucked with a triple twist." / "Okay, first of all, even I can't do that... and two, how do you know that?" / "There's this little thing called 'the internet'?"

He's not really one to be too observant of what body type his s/o has, but he'll always compliment your muscles.

The way his face lights up when both of you find out you can lift him up like a baby is priceless. It may or may not be the reason why he loves your muscles so much...

ᯓ Nagi Seishiro

"Ah... can you carry me back? What? I'm not that heavy..."

Nagi loves your muscles. They're firm, but they make good pillows. He says he falls asleep faster when he's in your arms or when his head is resting on your lap.

Another reason is because you can give him piggyback rides. Sure, he's more than 6 feet tall and still weighs more than you, but you suck it up and try to lift him anyway.

He's so in awe of all the moves that you do on the bars or on the floor. If he's watching you compete, he's most likely thinking about how much of a hassle those moves are.

"Don't you get tired of swinging around like that? Looks tough." / "You know that football matches are 90 minutes long, right?" / "...I know and I hate running for that long."

After both of your trainings, he'll invite you to take a long ass nap in the ac and under the comfiest blanket ever. It's impossible to say no to him.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

"Hey, your video got 500 likes already—as expected."

He pretty much has documented your entire career with how many pictures and videos he has taken of you training or performing. He has his own archive for your competitions too.

"Baby, there is no such thing as too much when it comes to you." / "Um... actually—" / "Shhh... shh..."

You two have the same trainer, nutritionist, manager—everything. He'll introduce you to his team that keeps him in tip-top shape for football so that you can be your best self in gymnastics too.

If he's unable to attend a competition of yours, he'll send someone to watch and record it for him.

Of course, he'll make it up by throwing an epic celebration for you regardless if you won or not. Reo will shower you with endless praise.

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma

"The judges don't know what the fuck they're doing, honestly."

He's like... such a mom when he comes to watch your competitions. He'll be sitting in the audience—both amazed and a bit worried when you do risky moves.

When the judges score lower than what he expects, he'll start muttering under his breath about how stupid they are and that you deserve WAAAY higher.

The biggest hype man ever. It doesn't matter if you won or lost—he'll always express his admiration for you. If you did win, he'll celebrate the heck out of it with you. But if you lost, he'll reassure you and still celebrate for the effort you put in.

He likes choosing your leotard and hairstyle for you. When you give him the liberty to do so, the biggest smile appears on his face.

"Hmm... this purple one looks good, but I like the red one too." / "Hyoma, you know I'm only going to practice, right?" / "I know, I know."

ᯓ Michael Kaiser

"I only got into it because of you, y'know?"

He will shamelessly ogle your muscles. It's one thing that they look great. But it's another to know that you put in tons of hard work and discipline into building that kind of body. And he respects that quite a lot.

His knowledge of gymnastics when you first started dating was little to none. But suddenly he's so into it now. He watches other gymnasts' routines and learns the common moves and rules in competitions.

Mihya acts lowkey about it, but he feels a sense of pride seeing you happy when the two of you get to talk about the thing you love the most. It'll start of with him initiating the topic, then you'll just rant until you're tired. He won't complain though.

He felt like his heart was sucked right out of his chest when he saw your outfit for a certain competition. It was a black and blue leotard with blue roses on it. You swore his eyes watered a bit, but apparently it was just the wind...

"Well... you look great." / "Are you crying?" / "Huh? Crying? Psh. You're literally seeing things." / "Okay, Gaslighter3000."

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei

"Heh, wanna bet who can do more flips in a minute?"

He's actually glad that you're strong and muscular because it means he doesn't have to hold back as much. Also, he's just into the whole muscle mommy thing. Yes, he's that guy.

Shidou knows you can do pretty amazing things which, of course, leads to the most bizarre hypotheticals and bets ever.

"Babe, do you think you could flip off of that ledge?" / "Seriously. Look at it. It's like twice your height and it's all cement." / "Oh so then you're lame? I bet I could do that."

As much as you'd love to bring him to competitions... he just gets too excited (not that kind of excited). He'll start shouting and cheering you to the point that everyone will be looking at him.

His phone's storage is like 70% videos of you performing moves or you training. He finds it adorable when you're putting in work and doing things that can blow people away.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[wannab-urs]

You Have Me In a Chokehold | Mr. Ben (SNL) x teacher!reader | 18+

Summary: You’re a teacher at Mr. Ben’s school and you’re sitting in the ��No More Fancams” assembly freaking out because he just showed your fancam on screen… Do you think he knows it was you? (AU where he’s not in love with Ms. Jenny, the assembly just ends with him being like “please don’t do this anymore, thanks”)

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: MDNI | 18+ | SMUT | no ages implied (all legal obvi), hair pulling, sir kink, very mild degrading language, fingering, unprotected PiV (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) (also y’all are teachers, you should know better), rough-ish sex but no one gets hurt, Mr. Ben is girthy (Big Ben ;) ), brief mention of the picture of dorian gray, which deserves its own warning if you’ve ever tried to teach that book to teenagers, extreme cringe in the first half. Gets weirdly fluffy at the end so if that kills your vibe just stop reading after the uhhhh climax of the story (if you catch my drift). Sorry we support aftercare in this house. I think that’s it, love y’all, enjoy! 

It’s 8 in the morning, supposed to be first period, and the principal has called for some technology assembly. You’re unlucky enough to have first period planning, you have essays to grade, and you won’t have a spare minute for the rest of the day. But sure, let’s all go sit in the gym so the boomers can lecture the zoomers about technology use. This is a great use of everyone’s time. 

You slip into the auditorium with 5 minutes to spare, hoping to go unnoticed in the back row. You’re just about to subtly put in your airpods and watch TikToks like 90% of the students, when you hear the principal introduce Mr. Ben. This assembly suddenly became worth paying attention to. 

Ben is by far the prettiest thing to look at in this school. He’s ridiculously broad chested, always wearing these just-shy-of-too-tight button ups that he pairs with definitely-a-little-too-tight pants, accentuating his cute butt. He has toned forearms, usually peeking out of rolled up sleeves, and huge hands that he waves around in the air or clasps in front of him when he speaks. And then, despite being this big, broad, powerful looking man, he has the sweetest face. 

His eyes are soft brown, hooded and turned down a little, so he’s basically making puppy dog eyes constantly. His nose is prominent and curved and sitting above the most adorably pouty lips. His facial hair is sparse and a little patchy, but honestly it just makes him even more charming. God, you have it so bad for this man. 

Your internal drooling over Ben is interrupted by the sound of a freshman at the front of the room yelling, “Come on guuurrrrl, eat it up!” Your eyes flick to the screen beside Ben. There are two very vague tech rules followed by… Shit. 

“Do not make fancams of school staff, such as this,” says Ben, gesturing at the screen. And your stomach does a somersalt. Shit! There’s a TikTok playing on the screen, and though you can’t quite make out the username, you definitely recognize the video. That’s your fancam. And Ben looks… mortified. He looks extremely uncomfortable. 

“You have made thousands of fancams of me and i’m not sure what they mean, but I know it has to stop,” he pleads. And fuck is he looking at you? He can’t know can he? There’s absolutely no way he knows. He’s just looking out toward the back of the auditorium. Yeah. You wouldn’t want to make eye contact with a bunch of 14 years olds while pictures of you flash on the screen either. That makes perfect sense. 

“We make them because you’re our beloved and you have us a in a chokehold,” screams another student toward the front. You wish he would put you in a chokehold. GOD what is wrong with you. Pull yourself together.

“Okay, don’t say that,” Ben says, wringing his hands together in front of him. You can see that he’s clearly uncomfortable. You should delete your account. Ban him from your thoughts. You’ve crossed the line big time.

“I just don’t understand. Why do you make sparkly fast romantic montages of me every single day?” he asks. Another fancam, thankfully not yours, begins playing on the screen. You have to get out of here. 

You stand up and try to sneak out as inconspicuously as possible, whispering “Bathroom,” in response to a disapproving look from another, older teacher. 

You break into a run as soon as you get into the hall and only slow down when you’re safely locked in the handicap stall of the teacher bathroom. You slide down the wall to the floor and press your face into your hands. You are so stupid. Of course making fancams of school staff is a bad idea. It’s bad when the kids do it… and really weird because they’re kids… but when another teacher does it? He could have you fired for this. 

But he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. 

You manage to make it through the rest of the day, somehow facing your classes and teaching them about nouns and reading a bit more of The Picture of Dorian Gray aloud. 

It’s finally the end of the day, but you still have those essays to grade, so you decide to set a timer for one hour and power through as many as you can. The school is so weirdly silent this long after final bell. The custodians won’t be in for another couple hours and pretty much every teacher and student has long gone home. 

You finish packing your tote bag and start shrugging on your coat when you hear a knock at the door. “Come in!” 

You freeze when the door opens. Shit.

“Ben! Hi! How can I help you? I was just leaving, but-” the sharp sound of the door slamming shut cuts off your nervous rambling. Ben stands with his hands behind his back, puffing his very broad chest out. 

“I was wondering if you could tell me something, sweetheart.” His voice is low, gravelly, and you feel like you’re being raked over hot coals. He knows. 

“Um. Sure?” you squeak out. Your face is on fire and you have no idea what to do with your hands. He takes a step toward you, looking for all the world like a predator stalking it’s pray. His eyes are dark, brow lowered, lips set in a hard line. He looks nothing like the shy, uncomfortable man from the assembly. 

Your bag drops to the floor and you take a stuttering step back toward your desk. 

“What’s your TikTok username?” he asks slowly, taking another step toward you. 

You gulp and fall back another step, thighs pressing against your desk now. Your shake your head and glue your eyes to the floor. 

“Don’t make me ask again.” And oh god he’s right in front of you now. He hooks a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his. His pupils are blown so wide, you can barely see his usually warm brown irises. Wait is he turned on right now? 

“It’s- uh… I don’t have one!” you stammer out. You try to look away, but his fingers hold your chin in place. He leans a bit closer, his breath ghosting over your face, and presses his other palm into the desk beside you. He tsks and presses his thumb to your bottom lip.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls out, and oh that went straight to your core. You squirm in his hold and that’s when you truly realize how close he is. His body is nearly pressed against yours. 

“It’s- it’s… fuck. It’s MrBensLittleSlut…” you stammer out. You feel like you’re on fire, ashamed of your actions, but also incredibly fucking turned on. The object of your not-so-innocent crush has you pressed against your desk like some school girl fantasy. 

“And do you really want to be my little slut, sweetheart?” Holy. Shit. Did he really just ask you that? Your heart actually stops beating in your chest for a second. You nod. 

“Aloud, please.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. 

He brings one hand to the back of your head and wraps your hair around his fingers, pulling your head back slightly. You whimper and he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. And you think you’ll melt into puddle on the spot. His hands slide to your hips and he lifts you up onto the edge of the desk. You instinctively part your legs and he presses himself flush against you. He keeps one hand on your waist to steady you and slides the other back up into your hair and suddenly his lips are on yours. 

It’s sloppy and open mouthed and greedy. He licks into your mouth, curling his tongue around yours. Your hands find purchase around his biceps and you hold on for dear life. His fist tightens in your hair and you moan wantonly, throwing your head back and pushing your hips up into his, chasing friction. 

His lips trail down your jaw and he nips at your earlobe before sucking a kiss to the spot where your jaw meets your throat. You dig your nails into his muscular arms and choke on a gasp. 

“Please,” you whine, shifting your hips against him again.

“Please what, sweetheart?” you can feel him smirking into the skin of your throat. He loves how riled up you are. Loves watching you try and fail to grind yourself on him. 

“Please- please touch me, sir,” he rolls his hips into yours, finally giving you something. Anything to ease the burning desire between your legs.

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” he growls in your ear. Then you feel his right hand leave your waist and pull up your skirt. He drags his fingertips up the inside of your left thigh, featherlight. Finally, he hooks two fingers into the soaked crotch of your panties and drags his knuckles across your clit. 

You suck in a gasp and a little “Oh” falls from your lips. He pulls back, keeping his left hand in your hair and watches as he slowly sinks two fingers into your cunt, down to the knuckle. Your hands ball up into fists, twisting the sleeves of his shirt and you let out a long, breathy moan. 

“You’re so wet for me already, sweetheart. Really are a little slut, aren’t you?” Your pussy clenches around his thick fingers at his words.

“Yes! Yes, I’m your little slut!” you gasp out.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, hooking them just right so that he hits the spongy spot inside you every time. You’re holding onto his shirt so tight you think you might rip the sleeves off. You can hear how wet you are, the sound echoing off the cinderblock walls. You start moving your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers inside you, chasing your orgasm. 

“I’m-- I’m gonna--” you clench hard around his fingers, so close to tipping over the edge.

And then his touch is gone. He’s pulled his fingers out of you and let go of you completely, taking a step back. You let out an actual scream of frustration. “No!” you shout, slumping back until your head hits your desk. You actually pout at him.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Want you to come on my cock.” His voice is so low, you almost can’t hear him over the sound of your heaving breaths. “Sit up, pretty girl.”

You push yourself back up and take in his appearance. Other than his rumpled shirt, he looks completely unbothered. His hair is still effortlessly tousled, his face is set into a teasing smirk. The fucker didn’t even break a sweat and you’re gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Pretty girl. He called you pretty.

“Bend over the desk, sweetheart.” 

You scramble to obey his request, standing up and bending over, pushing your ass into the air. You press your forehead into the desk and try to calm your fluttering heart rate. 

Suddenly… finally… you feel his hands on you. He grabs your skirt and bunches it up around your waist. His fingertips slide into the waistband of your panties and he pushes them down, letting them settle around your ankles. You hear the clink of a belt buckle, the tug of a zipper, and then you feel him. 

He slides his cock between your clenched thighs, through the wet folds of your pussy and oh god. You can’t see him, but you can feel that he’s thick. The head of his cock presses against your clit and you moan. 

“Such a pretty little pussy… I’m going to ruin it.” You gasp, but before you can respond, he’s moving. In one fluid motion, he pulls back, kicks your feet apart, and pushes all the way into you. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out. You might pass out from pleasure. His cock is thick, filling you up and stretching you out more than you ever have been before. He holds still inside you while you clench and unclench around his girth, trying to get used to it. “So big.” you gasp into the desk. 

“I know, baby.” And then he moves, pulling all the way out to the tip and thrusting hard, all the way back in. The force of his hips smacking against your ass jolts you into the desk, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain and sprawl forward on the desk. 

Ben grabs your shoulder with one hand, tightens his grip on your hip with the other, and resumes fucking into you at an absolutely brutal pace. 

Some part of you is scared you’ll get caught, but that part is overpowered by the euphoria you feel. You’re moaning and babbling incoherently as his cock hits that sweet spot deep inside you and grinds into it with every thrust. 

“Is my. Little. Slut. Gonna. Come. on my. Cock?” Ben grits out between thrusts. 

You cry out a garbled response. Your cunt is fluttering around his thick length and your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and there’s no way you can form words right now. 

Ben wraps his arm around your chest and pulls you back against him. His cock hits something deep inside you and you come with an agonizing cry, gushing around his cock and soaking him to the base. 

Your whole body goes limp with the force of your orgasm, but he holds you up and continues fucking up into you. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out and covers your ass and thighs in his release, letting out a low groan as the thick ropes hit your skin. 

You’re lying on the desk on your stomach, naked ass still in the air. It’s a ridiculous position to lay in, but you’re still riding the high of your orgasm and too blissed out to care. You jolt as you feel silk move across your over-sensitive skin. 

“What’re you doing?” You’re so drunk on his cock, it comes out slurred.

“Cleaning you up, sweetheart,” Ben says. Is he- he’s cleaning you up with his tie. Fuck that’s hot. And sweet? 

“Thank you…” you sigh into the desk. He pulls your panties back up for you and settles your skirt back down around your legs.

“Can you sit up for me, baby?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to your feet, nestling your head into the curve of his shoulder.

It’s not fair for him to fuck you that good and go right to being the sweet, bashful man you thought you knew. 

He brushes your hair out of your face and presses a soft, almost tender, kiss to your nose. You giggle and the sound makes him break out into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his dimple peeking out behind a 5 o’clock shadow. 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ll walk you to your car.” 

He grabs your coat and your tote bag, slips his hand into yours, and leads you out to the parking lot.

a/n: I’m so sorry. This is ridiculous and I apologize for the no plot snl character porn fic. 

Tags: @beskarandblasters @meveispunk

[supposedlysecretlysapphic]

[Helen] learns forward slowly and my eyes flutter shut and this time when she kisses me it is not a roaring fire but a gently flickering flame, tender and wistful and filled with longing so deep it might never be fulfilled.

I feel her smile against my lips and my heart lurches in giddy somersalts.

She draws away, biting her lip, almost bashful.

"You make me so happy, Cassandra."

-The End Crowns All by Bea Fitzgerald

[a-miles-a-day]

Posting a day in the life of plushie Miles until Beyond the Spiderverse comes out:

Day 12

Miles decides to do some parkour

Bonus CapCut edit for fun and profit:

[Video ID: a CapCut edit with soft star transitions between several pictures of Miles somersalting, and one standing behind a flower, and another sitting with a bottle keychain] Template credit

Alt text/image description writer wanted!!! See this post ★

[openphrase123]

scrolling thru your top posts and this is NOT isat relevant but i wanna hear the story where you literally broke a leg on stage if youre ok talking about it. obviously it sucks awful and i hope you're okay but it is a LITTLE funny to think about everyone saying "break a leg" before your performance and you being like. well. i am good at following instruction at least

LOL yeah it happened like. oh god more than a decade ago. so it's not traumatic or anything, i am more than healed.

anyway my big leg breaking story under the cut:

basically. uh. so i wear these big honkin epilepsy glasses, right? always have, they stop me from having seizures. but i got cast as a protean in a production of a funny thing happened on the way to the forum and the drama teacher was like "well there weren't glasses in ancient greece so you gotta take those off" DURING DRESS REHEARSAL. she did not bring this up UNTIL TWO DAYS BEFORE OPENING NIGHT.

and past the epilepsy i also. have bad eyesight. so i'm like... clown juggling fake babies and doing cartwheels and somersalts with no eyesight, now.

now. this is a big deal as far as disability stuff goes. a teacher should not say that to a student. however i had eight years character ballet performance under my belt so i can do a lot of athletic feats with very little eyesight. so i THOUGHT i'd be fine. i'd been on stage a million times without glasses and lived, as long as i'm not on stage during a strobe effect i'm good to go

and i was :) i was throwing people in the air and getting thrown and hitting all my marks, no problem.

opening night happens, performance goes great. teacher is so glad that i wasn't wearing giant ugly blue glasses the whole time. i leave the after-performance cast meetup to go backstage to retrieve my glasses

you know the little half-stairs at both ends of a stage? i walk up those to get backstage, it's the only way from the audience to get up there

and i absolutely rip ass on the stairs and trip and fall on my face and leg

next morning my mom is like "hey your foot is super swollen" and it turns out i have a hairline fracture running down the entire length of my fourth toe bone. i am pulled out of every performance and i had to go to junior prom in a cast

(yes i know. Technically not my leg. foot is connected to the leg though)

anyway. it's been over a decade. it's Fine. that teacher was such a bitch though i'll never forget her, at least she wasn't the substitute teacher that tried to tell me epilepsy didn't exist tho

[boo-berry-gremlin]

How many consecutive backflips can you do? I can do .5 😌

beterr than me!!! i can so hella somersalts but no backflips!!!!!

[la-deee-da]

Man, I hate being mentally ill. Literally nothing has changed or even happened and I'm just doing somersalts in my brain, inventing shit to be sad and anxious about. And I'm aware of it and can't make it fucking stop.

Like bitch just go take a shower and get your allergy shots and go to work. Why are you depressed about NOTHING?!

[mysterymirrors]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Cottonworld Cotton Wide Leg Culotte Linen Pants - Navy Floral - XS.

[o-sachi]

ᯓ Blue Lock Masterlist

— Headcanons

Isagi Yoichi Headcanons

Niko Ikki Relationship Headcanons Shidou Ryusei Relationship Headcanons Oliver Aiku Relationship Headcanons

Cowboy, Pirate, or Samurai? Pt. 1 Cowboy, Pirate, or Samurai? Pt. 2

You're Just My Type Pt. 1

Dress to Impress Headcanons

Hope They Caught Us

Fell First & Fell Harder Pt. 1 Fell First & Fell Harder Pt. 2

Training Camp

Do a Somersalt!

Can't Handle My Liquor

— Drabbles

Blue By You - M. Kaiser

Back to Me (Bachira Meguru Ver.)

Sk8r Boi - S. Ryusei

— One Shots

Every Single Thing I Have - M. Kaiser My Golden Girl - M. Kaiser Roses and Thorns - M. Kaiser

Kintsuba - I. Yoichi

— Series

Bridges (Childhood Friends Series) - K. Tabito Summer Festival (Childhood Friends Series) - K. Tabito

Rose Colored Boy (Punk Rock Band AU) - M. Kaiser

[marzipanandminutiae]

there are some situations where people assume it's Type 1 but it's actually Type 2

for example, Kate Winslet's famous lack of wetsuit during the sinking scene in Titanic, that gave her pneumonia? that was, incredibly, her idea. over her dresser's strong recommendations. source, from her onset journal (Cameron did want the dress to be clingy, but as far as I can tell, he never denied her the suit. now, it WAS his fault that the water was ice-cold For Real)

while Ginger Rogers was of course subject to all the usual studio abuses of Hollywood's Golden Age, she designed many of her often heavy and cumbersome costumes herself. I recall one post on here describing her dress from a scene in Follow The Fleet as "so heavy it was like a third person in the dance" without explaining that Astaire made that complaint about a dress Rogers had designed (source). nobody forced her to wear that. in fact, studios as well as costars often struggled to work with her designs, which included at times a mirrored dress and a dress literally made of granite that she had to be cemented into (source; neither ever made it to the screen). another incident, where her feet started bleeding after hours of filming for Never Gonna Dance but she kept going anyway, was also her own doing- the choreographer actually told her to go home and rest, but she refused (source)

people can do some deeply unwise things for their art

(in my own favorite movie, Crimson Peak, Jessica Chastain insisted on having her character's prosthetic scars applied to her back even when in full costume, to stay in character, and only stopped when she began developing a severe skin reaction to the glue. she also opted to wear 7" platforms while running around in trailing Victorian gowns, to be closer to Tom Hiddleston in height, and Mia Wasikowska insisted on doing a stunt where her character falls off a balcony, hits a lower balcony causing her to somersalt, and lands on the ground, herself.)

Movies where the lead actor did their own stunts are always either "the director forced them to stand in freezing water for fourteen hours a day while periodically throwing rocks at their head for the sake of 'authenticity' and they got PTSD and almost died" or "they insisted over the explicit objections of the production's insurance company that they be set on fire for real because it would 'help [them] understand the character's motivation'" – there's absolutely no middle ground.

[andrewkagis]

The breaker zone . #northbondi #somersalt #northbondibeach #surfer #surfergirl #surfing #thebreakerzone #biglenslittlelens #andrewkagis #underwater #burnmyeye #dave_kelly_water_housings #documentary #sydneylocal #everydayaustralia #bondibeach #bondi #thalasophile #thalasa #australiansummer (at Bondi Beach) https://www.instagram.com/p/CYYhYdUFsqH/?utm_medium=tumblr

[emmettspeakz]

You: Tyrus

Me, an intellectual: Somersalt

[supersmentaz]

Could you do like a Summer-Salt aesthetic for Tyrus, please?! P.S. you're amazing and I love it!

&&. I certainly can!!

"It's an inside joke."

[soulcheri]

It's the way he doesn't quit or let her go which makes her explode with flavor like a gusher in his mouth. God. How did she get so lucky to have found him? And why did it take them THIS long to exert themselves in each other? "Agreed," Brooke nods as she collapses against the hood of his car and melts in his arms. She refuses to let him go, keeping her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as they linger there for a few more minutes. Her hands eventually find his hair and she runs her fingers through the matted strands. "I feel one thousand times better. I've missed you so much."

It doesn't matter that they've seen each other almost every day since France. There's a big difference between seeing each other and really SEEING each other the way they are now. Stripped down, vulnerable, and sated after their passionate high. "This was all I wanted at the party. You like this... in all your hot glory." Brooke loved when Tyler was naked. She enjoyed running her hands over his chest, above his tattoos and over the little patch of hair that led her fingertips toward his now softening cock. He was so beautiful, it physically hurt to look at him sometimes. It made her heart ache with love and her pussy swell with desire.

"Okay," Brooke agrees after a long moment. She doesn't want to leave this spot or disband just yet but she also doesn't want to get caught there naked by police or someone else driving by. She doesn't trust anyone else to see her like this. In rare form, where she's wholeheartedly exposed, right down to her bones. The emotions she feels for him are so raw, they bleed. "Wait---" although the sound of him fucking her for hours until she winds up pregnant sounds sexy ( and the pretty eyes, pretty girl nickname makes her stomach do somersalts ) --- there is one last order of business they need to take care of.

Sitting up on the hood of his car, Brooke keeps Tyler trapped between her legs while she reaches across for the phone he abandoned. With him leaning over her screen, Brooke shamelessly finds their sextape in her camera roll and shares it with him. Then, while he's still observing her, Brooke opens her text messages with Seth and attaches the video before pressing SEND.

Once the text responds with a final swooshing sound to prove it had been delivered does Brooke lean in to capture Tyler's lips in a kiss, silencing whatever protests or comments may come out in spite of it. "I want him to know I'm yours. And even if he wants me, he can't have me. Not like you do." And never the way Tyler does. Brooke was doomed, quite frankly, to love and be obsessed with Tyler for the rest of her life.

"You're mine. I'm yours. I want us to always remember that."

Beneath the dull light of the street lamp, Tyler's hazel eyes are peering up, looking past Brooke's swollen tits as his tongue swirls around her sensitive clit. He was addicted to her like this, fighting against every ounce of pleasure as his sinful mouth sucks and licks at the throbbing ache between her legs, lapping at the juices that squeeze out and trickles down the back of his throat. "Fuck baby," he drags his nails down her mountainous breasts, hands gripping at her waist as she slides up and down the rough patches of his facial hair.

"You're so fucking mine." He gasps before detaching his slobbering mouth from her exhausted cunt and the hot filmy release that streams down his chin over the tattoos covering his throat. "God damn baby." He stands to his feet and delivers a possessive slap across her buttcheek. If they would have succeeded in trying anal in France, he would have taken her ass next. Her jaw might be sore from going down on him twice tonight and he didn't hold back on giving her pussy a relentless pounding, but her ass could take another round if she wasn't so tight and he wasn't so big.

"I feel so much better. Do you?" He sighed, bringing his arms around her waist to hold her. He's completely naked standing out in the middle of nowhere. If either of them wanted to be with anyone else after tonight it would be impossible. His hips were bruised and his abs were covered in scratches from her nails. He also made sure to leave hickeys on her stomach and thighs between fucking and eating out her pussy.

"Lets make a pact. We never go that long without sex again? Its too dangerous." He was insatiable. Like a wolf who'd been separated from its pack and lost in the woods without food. If their bodies weren't so humanly fragile he wouldn't stop. They would still be on (or in) his car with their limbs entwined, fucking to whatever's on the radio. "And you don't have to send the video to Seth unless you want to. As fucked up as he is for showing up, this means more to me than revenge. I want you like this all the time, pretty eyes, pretty girl. Which is why I should drive your sexy ass home before I get you pregnant."

[mysterymirrors]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Altru Made For Good Straw Tote Bag - Tan/Straw/Beige.