bouncier

i loved the animation in this part, before he turns to look at max his eyes move around very slightly, you can almost tell exactly what he’s thinking and feeling in that moment just by looking at him, it’s a small detail but i feel like it says a lot, it’s nice to camp camp be animated at a slower pace in these scenes since it’s usually animated really fast and bouncy (especially with a character like david whose movements are constantly being exaggerated) also the head turn looks so smooth and natural it’s satisfying to watch

I'm so much happier 😊😊😊 now that I'm dead😵💀. Technically 🤔missing🕵. Soon to be presumed dead😵💀. Gone👋🏻. And my lazy 💤 lying 😈 shitting 💩 oblivious 🙄husband 💑 will go to prison 🚓 for my murder 🔪🔪🔪. Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money💰. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That's murder🔪🔪🔪. Let the punishment fit the crime. To fake a convincing murder 🔪🔪🔪 you have to have discipline💪. You befriend a local idiot💁. Harvest the details 👀📝 of her hundrum life and cram her with stories 📚 about your husband's 💑 violent temper 😡😡😡. Secretly create some money 💰 troubles: credit cards 💳, perhaps online gambling💻♠️♣️♥️♦️. With the help of the unwitting👱🏻, bump up⬆️⬆️ your life insurance💵. Purchase getaway car🚘. Craigslist. Generic. Cheap. Pay cash💵. You need to package 🎁 yourself so that people will truly mourn 😭😭😭 your loss. And America 🇺🇸 loves ♥️ pregnant 👶women 🚺. As if it's so hard to spread your legs. You know what's hard? Faking a pregnancy 👶. First, drain your toilet🚽. Invite pregnant 👶 idiot 💁 into your home 🏠 and ply her with lemonade 🍋🍋🍋. Steal 🤗 pregnant 👶 idiot's 💁 urine 🚽. Voilà! 🎉 A pregnany is now part of your legal medical record 🗃. Happy Aniversary💑🎉. Wait for your clueless ❔ husband 💑 to start his day 📆. Off he goes... 👋🏻 and the clock is ticking ⏱. Meticulously stage 🎭 your crime scene 🕵 with just enough mistakes to raise the specter of doubt 🤔. You need to bleed 💉. A lot💉💉. A lot, a lot💉💉💉💉💉. The head wound 🤕 kind of bleed 💉. A crime scene 🕵 kind of bleed 💉. You need to clean; poorly👎, like he 💑 would. Clean and bleed 💉, bleed 💉 and clean. And leave a Little something behind: a fire 🔥in July📆? And because you're you👸🏼, you don't 🚫 stop there. You need a diary 📒. Minimum three hundred 3️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ entries 📝 on the Nick and Amy 💑 story 💭. Start with the fairy-tale early days: those are true, and they're crucial. You want Nick and Amy to be likable💖. After that, you invent. The spending💸, the abuse👊🏻💥, the fear😱, the threat of violence🔪. And Nick thought he was the writer📝... burn it🔥, just the right amount. Make sure the cops 👮 will find it 🕵. Finally, honor tradition with a very special treasure 💎 hunt. And if I get everything right ➡️, the world 🌎🌍🌏 will hate 😡 Nick for killing 🔪🔪🔪 his beautiful 😇, pregnant 👶 wife 💑. And after all the outrage 😡😡😡, when I'm ready, I'll go out on the water 🌊 with a handful ✋🏻 of pills 💊💊💊 and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body 💆🏼, they'll know: Nick Dunne 👱🏻 dumped his beloved 💑 like garbage 🚮, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women 🚺🚺🚺. Then Nick 👱🏻 will die 😵💀 too. Nick 👱🏻 and Amy 👸🏼 will be gone 👋🏻, but then we never really existed. Nick 👱🏻 loved a girl 🚺 I was pretending to be. "Cool 😎 girl 🚺". Men 🚹 always use that, don't they? As their defining compliment: "She's a cool 😎 girl 🚺". Cool 😎 girl 🚺 is hot 🔥. Cool 😎 girl 🚺 is game 🎲🎮. Cool 😎 girl 🚺 is fun 🎉. Cool 😎 girl 🚺 never 🚫🚫🚫 gets angry 😡 at her man 🚹. She only smiles ☺️ in a chagrined, loving 💕 manner. And then presents her mouth 👄 for fucking 👉👌. She likes 👍 what he likes 👍, so evidently he's a vinyl hipster 👨👓 who loves ❤️ fetish Manga 📚. If he likes girls gone wild 👙, she's a mall 🛍 babe who talks football 🏈 and endures buffalo wings 🍗 at Hooters 🍈🍈. When I met Nick Dunne 👱🏻 I knew he wanted "Cool 😎 girl 🚺". And for him, I'll admit: I was willing to try. I wax🕯-stripped my pussy 😽 raw. I drank canned beer 🍺 watching Adam Sandler 💩 movies 📼. I ate cold ❄️ pizza 🍕 and remained a size 👗 two 2️⃣. I blew him 🍆👄, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game 🎲🎮. I can't say I didn't enjoy some of it. Nick 👱🏻 teased out in me things I didn't know existed. A lightness ☀️, a humor😂, an ease. But I made him smarter 🤓. Sharper. I inspired him to rise ⬆️ to my level. I forged the man 🚹 of my dreams 💭. We were happy 😊 pretending to be other people. We were the happiest 😊😊😊 couple 👫 we knew. And what's the point of being together if you're not 🚫🚫🚫 the happiest 😊😊😊😊? But Nick 👱🏻 got lazy 💤. He became someone I did not 🚫🚫🚫 agree to marry 👰🏼. He actually expected me to love ❤️ him unconditionally. Then he dragged me, penniless 💵🚫, to the navel of this great country 🇺🇸 and found himself a newer, younger 👧🏼, bouncier cool 😎 girl 🚺. You think I'd let him destroy 👎👎👎 me and end up happier 😊😊😊 than ever? No 🚫🚫🚫🚫fucking way. He doesn't ❌ get to win 🏆. My cute ☺️, charming 😉, salt-of-the-earth Missouri guy. He needed to learn 📝📚. Grown-ups 👱👴 work 💪 for things. Grown-ups 👱👴 pay 💵💵💵. Grown-ups 👱👴 suffer consequences 😖.
music from pixar movies
  • toy story: Randy Newman™️
  • a bug's life: Still Randy Newman™️
  • toy story 2: Randy Newman™️ but more depressing
  • monsters inc.: still fucking randy newman
  • finding nemo: way too upbeat and swingy for the movie
  • the incredibles: hype
  • cars: you can say you hate country music but this movie will physically transform you into samuel timothy mcgraw
  • ratatouille: so pretty you don't even care that you have no idea what she's saying
  • wall-e: cures my anxiety
  • up: 40s aesthetic but without the overt racism
  • toy story 3: Randy Newman but bouncier
  • cars 2: literally just listing american and british stereotypes
  • brave: daughter of a mumford
  • monsters university: roar isn't gonna be dated nope not one bit
  • inside out: elevator music that makes me cry
  • the good dinosaur: i haven't heard any of it recently so i don't have a joke but it'll probably make you cry
  • finding dory: sia made a funny
  • cars 3: a 90 minute funeral march probably
The Thing About Love

Originally posted by mvssmedia

Characters: Kim Taehyung. ft bestfriend!Jeon Jungkook. 
Type: College AU.
Genre: Fluff and a smidgen of angst.
Word count: 7.1k


The thing about love is that you’ll never know when it’ll hit you right in the face until it does and you’re tumbling into a downward spiral of mishaps –and in the process, embarrass yourself to the point of social disgrace– still, even then you’ll wonder what the fuck just happened?

“Hey, you okay over there?”

The first thing you should have noticed is the person calling for your concern but you’re too busy being in pain from the akin-to bitch slap that landed smack dab on your face and the throbbing of your butt from the fall which also happen to be caused by the bitch slap. You wince at the stinging sensation when your index finger brushes your nose and realize it’s bleeding –most definitely broken too.

“Let me see.” Along with the voice comes a callous hand pulling yours out of your face then god, you don’t think a bitch slap could kill but no other explanation could make sense because you’re looking at an angel –a damn good looking one at that.

His face is shadowed by the halo bathing his beautiful sun kissed skin but from this distance –oh boy, from this distance– you can very well tell what emotion flashes across that attractive face.

“I think your nose is broken, might not wanna touch that.” He grimaces at the damage and swiftly pulls you up to your feet, strong –but not too buff– arm around your waist and your own arm around his broad shoulder.

You think he said something about going to the nurse’s office and some other thing you can’t be bothered to listen to because you’re too busy being in awe of his long lashes, soft, deep brown strands and just the perfect shade of tan.

Then he calls your name –he knows your name.

“Huh? What?” You snap out, blinking, dazed.

“I’m sorry I broke your nose with a football.”

So Kim Taehyung broke your nose with a football, that is what the fuck happened.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you please make a tutorial on how you did the gifs in the spine breaker comic? The bouncy heads!

Yes no probl♥ tbh if it’s not difficult to do ahah

I work on sai and pcs6 

If you never made gifs on pcs6 I know it can be pretty confusing so I’ll try to make it very detailed!

First of all the drawings. Draw your character(s) and create two different files. One for the head and the other for the body+backround etc

Save the head as png – >(32bpp ARBG) meaning that the head will be transparent (there will be no white backround around it) and the body as png – > (24bpp RBG).

For the next steps I work on PCS6! We will start the animation!

Open the two files on PCS6. Paste the head.png on the body png. So you have this

Then go on the timeline window (if you don’t have it go on window — timeline) this is where we are going to make the animation! And click on create an animation (mine is in french so I don’t know what’s the exact name)

So you have this

(1. I put the frame at 0.1 s and instead of 1 time I choose always, but it’s up to you!)

Create a new frame in the timeline (2.) and lower the head (only on the frame 2)

Then create a third frame and raise the head a bit. And again and again until the head is at the the same height as the first frame, I created 3 other frames.

Now play the aimation, it should like this!

It looks great and you can stop here if you want! 

But if you want to make it even more bouncier (*-*) go back to the frame 2. And create another layer of the “head” (ctrl j)

Click on the eye of the “head layer” (still on frame 2) to unsee it. Go on “head 2″ — (ctrl t) and transform the head so it looks like this (kinda like a crêpe)

(note: if you go on frame 1 and you can see “head” and “head 2″: click on the eye of the “head 2″ to unsee it (still on frame 1)  then go on frame 2 and click again on the eye to make it reappear.

)

Play the animation and ayyyy bouncy head!

To save the gif go on Files - Save for web - Save

And tada you’re done, good job :^DD If it’s still not clear don’t hesitate to send me a message!

Kiwi

Originally posted by elizabethccoper

Read “Ever Since New York” first

Check my series masterlist for updates!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: (Y/N) drags Jughead along to the “club with shitty security.”

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2,176

A/N: here is the first “drabble” for this series, which will eventually all build up to a dramatic part 2!! Hope you enjoy, I had so much fun writing this one!


She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes
Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect
And all the boys, they were saying they were into it
Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck

“Jesus,” (Y/N) moaned as she flopped onto Jughead’s bed.  “That was a fucking long week.”

“Who knew a writing internship could be this physically exhausting?” Jughead agreed, sitting next to her.  “At least we have the weekend to relax.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, rubbing the white hotel sheets between her fingers.  “How would you like to unwind this weekend, Mr. Jones?”

“Well, Ms. (Y/L/N),” Jughead smiles coyly, “last week I got to choose, and we ended up at Central Park. I believe it’s your turn to choose.”

“Okay,” (Y/N) responded, then fell into silence as she debated what to do.  Jughead watched her with a smile as she bit her lip, eyes furrowed in concentration.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” he noted, laughing at her intense facial expression.  

Her face loosened from its focused state.  “This is serious business, Jug,” she stated as seriously as she could.  “If this ends up being not being relaxing enough, we’ll go back on Monday feeling like absolute shit.  And then it’ll make next week even longer and more exhausting.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jughead raised his hands in mock surrender.  “This is a matter of life and death.”

“Exactly,” (Y/N) said. She retreated back into silence as she contemplated how they would spend their weekend.  “I got it!” she exclaimed after a few minutes of thought.  

Jughead raised an eyebrow. “What are we gonna do?” he asked, a small smirk forming on his face.

(Y/N)’s face exploded into a giant grin.  “We’re gonna go clubbing.”

She’s driving me crazy, but I’m into it, but I’m into it
I’m kind of into it

“Are you serious?” Jughead demanded, eyes widening.  

(Y/N) nodded, not showing any signs of joking around.  “Of course I’m serious.  What better way to unwind than to get some alcohol in your system?”

“What if we get caught?” he questioned.  “(Y/N), this could fuck up our internship.”

If we get caught,” she winked.  “Jug, it’ll be fine.  I went there once before you arrived here.  It’s really not too bad, and there’s no way that anyone will find out.”

“How do you know that?” Jughead pressed.  “How do you know someone from the building won’t be there and see us?  Or maybe a bar fight will break out and the cops will show up, and they’ll notice we’re there.  How do you know it’ll be okay?”

“Jughead Jones,” (Y/N) placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, ending his tangent, “it will be okay. Listen, if you don’t wanna go, that’s fine.  I can go on my own.”  She stood up from the bed and grabbed her phone.  “I’m gonna go get ready.  Just text me if you change your mind.”  She exited his hotel room, leaving Jughead alone with his doubts.

Of course he didn’t want to go clubbing.  He was, after all, an antisocial weirdo who didn’t even like going to clubs.  Putting his internship as risk was just the cherry on top.  But then he started thinking about (Y/N) on her own, and he grew worried about the kind of people who lurk out in the New York streets on Friday nights.  If he wasn’t with her, who knew what could happen.

That, Jughead decided, was worth risking his internship for.  He quickly picked up his phone, and his thumbs tapped out a text.  He read it aloud right before he hit send: “Fuck it, let’s go clubbing.”

It’s getting crazy, I think I’m losing it, I think I’m losing it
Oh, I think she said, “I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business (it’s none of your, it’s none of your).
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your, it’s none of your.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind.”  (Y/N) stood at his door an hour later, sporting a little black dress.  She looked him up and down, evaluating the clothes he changed into.  “Nice outfit.”

“You as well,” Jughead returned the compliment, slowly closing the door behind him.  “Shall we go?”  He offered his arm to her, which she gladly accepted.  

The New York streets were equally, if not more, busy during the nighttime.  There were crowds of people maneuvering past each other on the sidewalks, some of the tipsier people practically dancing to the song of blaring car horns.  (Y/N)’s steps grew bouncier as they neared the club.

“I know this isn’t your scene,” she whispered to Jughead, “so thank you for coming.”  

Jughead looked down at her, shocked.  “How do you know it’s not my scene?” he asked indignantly.  “Maybe I actually love clubbing.”

(Y/N) burst out into laughter.  “Yeah sure, and maybe I actually love running marathons,” she sarcastically retorted. Then she became serious.  “Listen, Jug, I know you.  You’re my friend.  I figured that it wasn’t just the risk underage drinking imposes on our internship that turned you off from clubbing.  So thank you for coming with me.”

“In my defense,” Jughead stated, “the only reason I came is so that you won’t get mugged.”

“Well thanks for that,” (Y/N) bent her head back with laughter, “but I could totally handle myself.”

“You could not!”

“Yeah I could!” she defended herself.  “I could totally beat up someone.”

“No you wouldn’t,” he scoffed.  “You’re way too weak.  You get tired at a writing internship.”

“Touché.”

It’s New York, baby, always jacked up
Holland Tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up
When she’s alone, she goes home to a cactus
In a black dress, she’s such an actress

(Y/N) batted her eyelashes at the doubtful bouncer.  

“You two don’t look twenty-one,” he stated, his voice low and gruff.  

“And you don’t look a day over thirty,” she winked at the obviously in-his-forties man.  

He only rolled his eyes. “Look, miss, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but drinking under the age of twenty-one is illegal,” he sarcastically explained.

“I’m not a ditz,” she snapped.  “Besides, we’re not here to drink, we’re here to dance.”  She glanced over at Jughead and nudged him in the side.  “Right, Jug?”

“Right,” he immediately replied.  Satisfied, (Y/N) put her hands on her hips as she turned to face the bouncer.

“See?” she said. “Just here to dance.”

“Fine,” the bouncer huffed. “But only for this one time. You’re not getting in here again until you both turn twenty-one.”

“Thank you, sir,” (Y/N) cooed, sending him a smile.  She grabbed Jughead’s hand as she led him inside, the music growing louder.  “I told you it’d be fine,” she yelled over the music.

Jughead shook his head. “We almost got caught,” he yelled back.

“But we didn’t!” she reminded him.

“I’m starting to second guess this decision,” he groaned, but still allowed (Y/N) to yank him over to the bar.  “I thought we weren’t getting any alcohol.”

“Oh, sweetie, you believed me?” (Y/N) giggled.  “I came here to get tipsy, Jug.  I’m not stupid, so I’m obviously not gonna order my drinks here at the bar.  Wait for them to start sending waitresses out onto the dance floor.  You just drop some cash on their tray and take a drink.  It’s simple.”

“This is insane!”

(Y/N) laughed loudly and winked.  “But don’t lie, you like it!”

Driving me crazy, but I’m into it, but I’m into it
I’m kind of into it
It’s getting crazy, I think I’m losing it, I think I’m losing it
Oh, I think she said, “I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business (it’s none of your, it’s none of your).
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.
I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your, it’s none of your.”

“Take a shot,” (Y/N) commanded, holding up two shot glasses, one further towards Jughead.  

He furiously shook his head. “No way,” he replied, swatting it away. “It’s bad enough you dragged me here. You’re not getting me drunk.”

“First of all, Jug, you dragged yourself here,” (Y/N) reminded him.  She quickly took her shot.  “And second, lighten up.  If you’re having such a bad time here, then you can either leave, or,” she inched the second shot glass a little closer to him, “you can get tipsy and actually have a good time.”

Jughead rolled his eyes and shook his head again.  “No,” he refused.  “No way.”

“Aw come on, Jug,” she whined, sticking out her lower lip.  “Just one shot?”

Jughead hesitated for a moment, eyeing the shot glass.  “No.”

“You hesitated,” (Y/N) pointed out.

“No I didn’t,” he argued. “I’m not drinking anything except soda and water here, (Y/N).  Think of me as your designated driver.”

“Jughead, we walked here.”

“Then I’m your designated walker,” he shrugged.  “You and I both know you’ll be too drunk to walk properly.”

“One shot is barely gonna get you tipsy,” she countered, still holding the glass out towards him. “Come on, Jug, let loose.  Have a bit of fun.”

“I am plenty fun when I’m sober,” he defended himself.  

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Sure you are.”

“You know what? Fine.”  Jughead snatched the shot glass out of (Y/N)’s hand, ignoring the growing smirk on her face.  “Just one shot, though.”  He quickly took the shot and handed the empty glass back to (Y/N).  “Happy?”

(Y/N) laughed as she walked towards the dance floor, “Very!”

She sits beside me like a silhouette
Hard candy dripping on me ‘til my feet are wet
And now she’s all over me, it’s like I paid for it
It’s like I paid for it, I’m gonna pay for this

Two hours into the night, (Y/N) was drunkenly dancing with strangers.  She, with her magical powers of persuasion, managed to convince Jughead to have a few drinks.  He wasn’t nearly as drunk as (Y/N) was, but he was definitely tipsier than he expected. However tipsy he was, though, there was no way (Y/N) would be able to drag Jughead onto the dance floor.

He watched from the sidelines as she danced with some guy who was definitely older than her.  She, in her joyously drunken state, didn’t seem to mind.  His hands were on her waist, and Jughead watched as they slowly inched down towards her ass.

“Hey!” he yelled, storming onto the dance floor.  (Y/N) and the man’s heads snapped to look at him.  “Hands off of her, buddy.”  The guy rolled his eyes as he held up his hands in mock-surrender.

“Whatever, dude,” he scoffed as he walked off.  

(Y/N) grinned at Jughead, causing him to send her a confused glance.  “You’re on the dancefloor,” she noted.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Only to protect you.”

“How sweet,” she cooed, grabbing his hand.  “Since you’re here, let’s dance.”  

Jughead tried to pull her in the opposite direction.  “Let’s not.”

“Aw come on, Jug,” she pouted, too drunk to resist his tugs.  “You haven’t danced with me all night.”

Jughead glanced at the exit, and then he turned to face a moping (Y/N).  He rolled his eyes as he sighed, “Fine, but only one song and then we’re leaving.”

(Y/N)’s grin returned as she led him to the dance floor.  “It’s a deal.”

It’s none of your, it’s none of your
“I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business.”
“I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business” (it’s none of your, it’s none of your)
“I’m having your baby (hey), it’s none of your business”
“I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business” (it’s none of your, it’s none of your)

“Come on, (Y/N), we’re almost there,” Jughead had his arm wrapped around her waist, her arm slung around his shoulders.  “I thought you’d be able to hold your alcohol better than that.”

“Maybe I just like it when you hold me like this,” (Y/N) flirtatiously whispered with a smirk.  Jughead ignored the butterflies in his stomach as he continued to trudge towards the hotel.

“Just a little bit further,” he muttered, practically dragging (Y/N) along next to him.  When they reached the hotel, they both stumbled into the elevator.  Jughead kept his arm firmly wrapped around her waist until they stood in front of her door.  “Can you make it into your room alright?” Jughead jokingly asked, but there was a bit of concern behind it.

“I’ll be fine, thank you, Jug,” (Y/N) laughed as she unwrapped her arm from around his shoulders. She walked into her room in a perfectly sober manner, causing Jughead to question if she really meant it when she said she liked it when he wrapped his arm around her waist.  Right before she shut her door, she winked at him, leaving a flabbergasted Jughead standing alone in the hotel hallway.

Keep reading

Me, working on art with music VS. Me, working on art in silence

Originally posted by gif87a-com

My personal favourite omo things:

  • Characters who have small bladders and get desperate from little amounts of liquid in their bladder (when it’s only like half full)
  • And they get so worried they wet and so insist and beg to use the bathroom
  • The opposing big bladder characters who are ok until they suddenly feel desperate and boy there’s a lot of piss in there
  • Especially when they’re polite and prefer using their own bathroom so they keep their predicament quiet
  • When characters make snarky internal comments about their dignity/pride being lost
  • Those internal thoughts: ‘Come on you’ve been worse’, or 'You’re X years old, you can hold it for a while!’
  • The wobble of their lip whenever they feel a wave
  • The small whines that escape their throat with no control
  • Characters who get red-faced from the effort of holding or the intensity of their desperation
  • I like those little cheek flushes too
  • Fake tying their laces even if they look secure enough as an excuse to dig their heel into their crotch
  • Leg jiggling
  • Pressing their hand against their crotch/holding themselves through jacket or coat pockets (what I dub 'the pocket hold’)
  • Grinding into the seat if they’re sitting down as a method of relief
  • Shifting/swaying of their hips as a method of holding (ff god I like it when the movement of hips are mentioned)
  • Covering up said act by kicking a stone on the ground or stretching
  • Basically if they’re trying to keep it inconspicuous
  • Their walking for some reason (c;) being a little bouncier than usual
  • When they’re laughing hard and suddenly stop because their bladder is jostling too much and they get worried for a moment they’ll lose control
  • Cute pee dancing
  • Desperate character making it sound casual that they want to go somewhere with facilities, so like “Ah, we should head home.” or “Let’s go back now.”
  • Second character being overly worried about the desperate one whether or not they’re dating them
  • Especially if second character who usual arguing with them and considered a rival suddenly shows concern for their rival
  • Kudos if they’re oddly chill/nice/sweet about the wetting and attempt to help
  • Assisted peeing - this could be like one character holding the other’s waist while they stand or grasping their arms while they crouch.
  • Someone steadying the male’s aim because it’s so shaky and off
  • If they’re on a toilet, characters who are trying to muffle the noise of their stream e.g by talking loudly or stuffing loads of bog roll on top of the water while dying of embarrassment because they think it’s really loud and the other(s) can blatantly hear it
  • AFTERCARE - cleaning legs/crotch/sheets/clothes 
  • Bonus if the character’s boyfriend or girlfriend is helping them wash and they’re reassuring them throughout the shower/bath

Yep I’m religious, why do you ask..?

8

Infinite List of Movies: [42/??] Gone Girl (2014)
↳ “Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently he’s a vinyl hipster who loves fetish Manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she’s a mall babe who talks for football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted "Cool girl”. And for him, I’ll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-strippe my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it. Nick teased out in me things I didn’t know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. And what’s the point of being together if you’re not the happiest? But Nick got lazy. He became someone I did not agree to marry. He actually expected me to love him unconditionally. Then he dragged me, penniless, to the navel of this great country and found himself a newer, younger, bouncier cool girl. You think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? No fucking way. He doesn’t get to win. My cute, charming, salt-of-the-earth Missouri guy. He needed to learn. Grown-ups work for things. Grown-ups pay. Grown-ups suffer consequences.“

I’m so much happier now that I’m dead. Technically missing. Soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying shitting oblivious husband will go to the black cells for my murder. Rhaegar Targaryen took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That’s murder. Let the punishment fit the crime. To fake a convincing murder you have to have discipline. You befriend a local idiot. Harvest the details of her hundrum life and cram her with stories about your husband’s violent temper. Secretly create some money troubles: loans from Essos, perhaps gambling. With the help of the unwitting, bump up your life insurance. Purchase getaway vessel. Flaebottom. Generic. Cheap. Pay cash. You need to package yourself so that people will truly mourn your loss. And Westeros loves pregnant women. As if it’s so hard to spread your legs. You know what’s hard? Faking a pregnancy. First, drain your privy. Invite pregnant idiot into your chambers and ply her with lemonade. Steal pregnant idiot’s urine. Voilà! A pregnany is now part of the maesters’ records. Happy Aniversary. Wait for your clueless husband to start his day. Off he goes… and the clock is ticking. Meticulously stage your crime scene with just enough mistakes to raise the specter of doubt. You need to bleed. A lot. A lot, a lot. The head wound kind of bleed. A crime scene kind of bleed. You need to clean; poorly, like he would. Clean and bleed, bleed and clean. And leave a little something behind: a fire in the Long Summer? And because you’re you, you don’t stop there. You need a diary. Mínimum three hundred entries on the Rhaegar and Elia story. Start with the fairy-tale early days: those are true, and they’re crucial. You want Rhaegar and Elia to be likable. After that, you invent. The spending, the abuse, the fear, the threat of violence. And Rhaegar thought he was the writer… burn it, just the right amount. Make sure the guards will find it. Finally, honor tradition with a very special treasure hunt. And if I get everything right, the world will hate Rhaegar for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I’m ready, I’ll go out on the water with a handful of poison and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they’ll know: Rhaegar Targaryen dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women. Then Rhaegar will die too. Rhaegar and Elia will be gone, but then we never really existed. Rhaegar loved a girl I was pretending to be. “Cool girl”. Men always use that, don’t they? As their defining compliment: “She’s a cool girl”. Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently he’s a cultured sailor who loves Lyseni courtesans. If he likes local brothels, she’s a sassy kitchen wench who talks for swordplay and endures rabbit stew. When I met Rhaegar Targaryen I knew he wanted “Cool girl”. And for him, I’ll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-stripped my pussy raw. I drank cheap ale watching slapstick jesters. I ate cold pastry and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it. Rhaegar teased out in me things I didn’t know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. And what’s the point of being together if you’re not the happiest? But Rhaegar got lazy. He became someone I did not agree to marry. He actually expected me to love him unconditionally. Then he dragged me, penniless, to the Tourney of Harrenhal and found himself a newer, younger, bouncier cool girl. You think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? No fucking way. He doesn’t get to win. My cute, charming, salt-of-the-earth Dragonstone Prince. He needed to learn. Grown-ups work for things. Grown-ups pay. Grown-ups suffer consequences.

I’m so much happier now that I’m dead. Technically missing. Soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying shitting oblivious husband will go to prison for my murder. Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That’s murder. Let the punishment fit the crime. To fake a convincing murder you have to have discipline. You befriend a local idiot. Harvest the details of her hundrum life and cram her with stories about your husband’s violent temper. Secretly create some money troubles: credit cards, perhaps online gambling. With the help of the unwitting, bump up your life insurance. Purchase getaway car. Craigslist. Generic. Cheap. Pay cash. You need to package yourself so that people will truly mourn your loss. And America loves pregnant women. As if it’s so hard to spread your legs. You know what’s hard? Faking a pregnancy. First, drain your toilet. Invite pregnant idiot into your home and ply her with lemonade. Steal pregnant idiot’s urine. Voilà! A pregnany is now part of your legal medical record. Happy Aniversary. Wait for your clueless husband to start his day. Off he goes… and the clock is ticking. Meticulously stage your crime scene with just enough mistakes to raise the specter of doubt. You need to bleed. A lot. A lot, a lot. The head wound kind of bleed. A crime scene kind of bleed. You need to clean; poorly, like he would. Clean and bleed, bleed and clean. And leave a Little something behind: a fire in July? And because you’re you, you don’t stop there. You need a diary. Mínimum three hundred entries on the Nick and Amy story. Start with the fairy-tale early days: those are true, and they’re crucial. You want Nick and Amy to be likable. After that, you invent. The spending, the abuse, the fear, the threat of violence. And Nick thought he was the writer… burn it, just the right amount. Make sure the cops will find it. Finally, honor tradition with a very special treasure hunt. And if I get everything right, the world will hate Nick for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I’m ready, I’ll go out on the water with a handful of pills and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they’ll know: Nick Dunne dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women. Then Nick will die too. Nick and Amy will be gone, but then we never really existed. Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. “Cool girl”. Men always use that, don’t they? As their defining compliment: “She’s a cool girl”. Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently he’s a vinyl hipster who loves fetish Manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she’s a mall babe who talks for football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted “Cool girl”. And for him, I’ll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-strippe my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it. Nick teased out in me things I didn’t know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. And what’s the point of being together if you’re not the happiest? But Nick got lazy. He became someone I did not agree to marry. He actually expected me to love him unconditionally. Then he dragged me, penniless, to the navel of this great country and found himself a newer, younger, bouncier cool girl. You think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? No fucking way. He doesn’t get to win. My cute, charming, salt-of-the-earth Missouri guy. He needed to learn. Grown-ups work for things. Grown-ups pay. Grown-ups suffer consequences.

Mirror of the Soul: Part 4 (Loki x Reader)

Note: Jam sandwiches are the best and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. Anyway, this is a bit of an angsty chapter but I promise the next few are better! As always, please let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged in anything.

Words: 1783

You can find the other chapters here: Loki Masterlist


The first thought that went through your head when you woke up was how much you wanted a sandwich. Ham and cheese. Or maybe tuna mayo. No. Jam. A good, old fashioned jam sandwich on crappy, processed white bread. It was pretty much all you could think of so you jumped out of bed, tripping over something on the floor, and headed towards the kitchen.

Sandwich made, you practically flipped onto the biggest sofa, stretching out in the darkness to enjoy your breakfast. For the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt truly peaceful and you held on to that feeling, knowing it wouldn’t last. It was much easier to be positive in the dead of night when you couldn’t see your problems.

Finishing the first half of your sandwich, you suddenly felt a warm buzz nearby. “Hello?” you whispered, into the pitch black room. “Is someone there?”

               "It’s alright, Y/N. It’s only me.“

               "Where are you, Doctor Banner?” You were almost frantically scanning the room, looking for some tell tale sign of a soul, to place him but it was like he was invisible. “You’re freaking me out a little bit…”

Suddenly, you saw a dim brown light in the corner of the room and you let out a deep, deep sigh of relief. You were still confused though so, against your better judgement, you fumbled around the room until you sat in the nearest chair to him, breakfast long forgotten. “What you doing up so late, Bruce?”

               "I couldn’t sleep so came up here to think. I’m sorry I scared you.“

               "It’s fine,” you said, watching the faint glow intently. Obviously in the dark you couldn’t see his face, but you suspected that the light was concentrated around his chest. The harder you studied it, the more detail you saw. Amidst the brown were thin strands of purple, which occasionally flickered red. “What are you thinking about?”

               "Many things,“ Bruce answered vaguely.

You could hear him shuffling in the darkness and guessed the source of his nerves. "It’s okay. I’m not going to run out screaming or anything like that. Your soul is different. It’s… No, never mind.”

Most people would have demanded to know more about what you could see but Bruce didn’t. He simply reached backwards towards where you sat and gently squeezed your arm. Almost having read your thoughts, he told you, “Of course I’m intrigued but you don’t have to tell me. Your health is too important to risk for my curiosity.”

Placing your hand on top of his, you tried to find the words to explain what you were seeing. “You keep a tight hold on your soul. I can see it but it’s more like an echo. It looks distant, pretty much out of my reach, actually. I can feel it though. Almost like touching electricity; my fingertips are buzzing and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck tremble. I’m sorry, this probably makes me sound like a mad hippy…”

When Bruce assured you otherwise, in a voice so calm that you knew he couldn’t possibly be lying, you continued, “These visions or manifestations or whatever it is that I see, they tell me a lot about a person. The colours. The way they ebb and flow or protect a person like a shell. Constantly changing. Even when they are dim, I feel the life of a person. You… You have one of the strongest souls I’ve ever crossed.”

A few heavy moments passed between you before Bruce asked, “Is that how you see the world all the time?”

               "Yeah,“ you said, turning your head away from him. While you couldn’t see his gaze, you could feel it on your face. "It’s taken a long time to understand what the souls are telling me and most of the time it’s just overwhelming. To know so much about a person just by looking at them… And that’s without their souls trying to physically attack me.”

               "It must be beautiful.“

               "It can be. Bruce, what is it that you aren’t telling me?”

He let out a humourless laugh. “You’re very perceptive, Y/N. I should admit that I’ve been having JARVIS take extra scans of you for the past few weeks. Tony doesn’t know. He hasn’t seen them yet and I don’t want him to, either.”

Forcing the muscles in your hand to relax, you asked, already suspecting the answer, “What do the scans show?”

               "I’m so sorry, Y/N, but it’s not good. There’s severe degradation in the neural pathways of your brain and it’s only going to get worse. For now, your body is managing to redirect the pathways away from the damaged areas but there will come a point when irreversible damage has been done. Are you okay, Y/N?“

               "How long?” you asked, swallowing back the bile that was rising in your throat. You couldn’t bear to answer his question, knowing that acknowledging your feelings would push you over the edge.

               "I don’t know. I’m trying to work on a temporary solution in case Tony can’t make something to help control your powers but this isn’t my area of expertise…“

You gave him a sad smile despite knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see it. As stealthily as you could, you wiped away the tear that rolled down your cheek. "I appreciate that, Bruce. I really do. I’ve known for a while that this would happen eventually. Is there a way to slow it down?”

               "Honestly? I don’t know. I’d say avoidance but that’s no life worth living.“

               "You’re right,” you agreed. For years, you had locked yourself away from the rest of society, pushing everyone aside for fear of what would happen when you got too close. Since coming to live in the Tower, you’d loosened up and found that actually being around other people was a far better way to live. The enjoyment of being around those you loved increasingly outweighed the danger.  "I also think you’re right to keep this away from my uncle. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already am.“

               "He adores you. I’ve never seen him this determined. He will keep trying, Y/N.”

               "I know. I don’t doubt him. Not for a single second.“

Shortly after, you headed back to bed, once again tripping over whatever was on your floor. You made a mental note to clean it up in the morning.

***

               "What time is it?” you groaned as a pair of hands shook your shoulders. Even through closed eyes you could see the sun shining brightly outside and it just made you long for the darkness again. “Let me sleep…”

               "Shove over, kiddo. My back hurts.“

Doing as you were told, you shuffled over to one side of your huge bed to make room for your uncle. Head still under the quilt, you mumbled, "Why? Did you fall over something?”

               "More like something fell over me. Twice.“

You stiffened under the covers, mortified when you realised what Tony was saying. Peaking your head just out of your quilt, hiding the grin on your face, you whispered, "I’m so sorry…”

Tony placed a kiss on the back of your head. “Liar. How do you feel? I’m pretty sure we slept through all of yesterday.”

               "Been worse,“ you mumbled back noncommittally. Crawling out of bed, you shuffled over to your wardrobe and threw on a thick, oversized hoodie. You pulled it over your curled up legs as you perched yourself on the window seat. "What about you?”

               "Don’t you worry about me. I’m quite content to lay here all day.“

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, which earned you a pillow to the face. Throwing your hands in the air, smirking as you looked down on the city below, you said, "Don’t kid yourself; you don’t know how to relax. Go back to your precious lab and be a genius. Make sure you grab some breakfast on your way, though.”

               "Yes, Sir,“ he said, giving you a mock salute as he jumped off your bed. For all his joking, you knew that he would follow your suggestion even if he only ended up with a cup of coffee. In your mind that was better than nothing and you couldn’t bear the thought of Tony missing meals because he was working on a project for you. "Come down and check on me later? If you need anything… Anything at all…”

               "I’ll know where to find you. Now, go!“

Once you were alone, having finally shooed him from your room, you let out a sigh as the weight of the world hit you. Tears rolled silently down your cheeks, the reality of your situation smothering you. Despite the outer show of emotion, inside you felt empty. That small spark of life was dwindling once again. What was the use in fighting a battle you could not win?

               "You should tell your uncle to close the door behind him. It’ll cause a draught.”

Fighting to keep your voice level, you muttered, “If it’s all the same to you, Loki, I’d rather not have company right now.”

               "You should never be alone when you feel like that,“ he said, suddenly standing right behind you. His chest was so close to your back that you could feel it rise and fall with every breath he took.

               "I really don’t want to talk right now.” You heard your voice crack as you held back the tears but refused to turn to face him. You didn’t want Loki to see you like this.

Hesitantly, Loki stepped away and for a moment you thought he’d actually left you - and that made you inexplicably angry. However, you then heard the bed creak as he stretched out across it, saying, “I like this bed. It’s a lot bouncier than mine. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to chat. I brought a book with me so I’m quite content to sit here all day waiting.”

Unlike Tony, you knew that Loki actually would sit around all day without complaining. He would, however, spend all that time looking over the top of his book to check that you were okay. The god wouldn’t ask out right, though. He was far too intelligent to risk doing that.

And so, knowing that it had to be better to face him now, you swung off the window seat and crawled back onto your bed. Loki immediately put his book down and opened his arms, wordlessly inviting you into a hug that you gratefully accepted. Your head buried in his chest, you silently sobbed until there were no more tears to shed.


@naniky  @justonemore-fic @aekr @marvel-fanfiction  @archy3001 @imboredsueme

Past Lovers, New Comers

Requested by anon: Can I get a shameless imagine and carl Gallagher.The reader is like 2 yrs older than him and 5 mons. B4 he goes to juvie they have sex and she find out she’s pregnant and when he comes back she has a 1mon. Old baby girl and he’s really soft when it comes to the baby like he calls the baby princess and stuff but other than that he’s really tough. (Can it be a mixed girl plz I’m Puerto Rican and black and have really curly hair and a Beyoncé skin tone) And after Dom cheats on him him and the reader get together.

Pairing: Carl Gallagher x Reader (OC)

Word count: 1.342

Warnings: It’s been a while, I’m rusty.

A/N: I literally wrote this based on clips and fan edits because there is no fudging website where I can watch this show smh. Anyway, my worry here is that I’m rusty so… FEEDBACK IS SUPER ULTRA DUPER HIGHLY APPRECIATED. <3

Enjoy!

Originally posted by gallavichlovies

(This gif is so cute omg)

-

“Don’t worry, I will make juvie my bitch.” He had said, and (Y/N) was confident he would kick ass like usual, care-free and badass like only he could be. However, the things he left behind were too much to let go as easily as he had done.

But he had no idea.

She could still remember their last night together; his plump lips over her soft skin, his groans every time he thrusted in, and the tight grip he held on her hips. She remembered the drops of sweat that formed on his forehead, the contrast between his white skin mixed with her bronzed one, and the way his eyes shut when he came in.

He came in.

Carl always said that she was his golden girl and he had promised to stay safe for her, and to always protect her no matter in how many dangerous messes he got involved in. So far, he had kept half of that promise.

She had to leave after finding out about her consequences. They hadn’t been careful, they hadn’t thought it through. They had left the heat of the moment to take control over their bodies, falling for their primitive instincts and ignoring logic.

And now she had to carry another live.

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