it looks like he's a bobblehead


Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Mardi Gras shenanigans. It’s porn, plot is optional.

Word Count:1,976

Warnings: Language, Smoking, Dirty Talk, Oral (MR)

A/N: Are you ready for the longest blowjob in history… (I don’t own the gif)

“Did it hurt?” Sam approached you, a sly smirk on his lips. When you didn’t play along and simply shot him an unimpressed look, he snickered. “…when you fell from Heaven.”

Yeah, you were dressed as an angel.

Not your idea, though. As it turned out, Wanda was a big fan of Mardi Gras and begged until you all agreed to throw a costume party. Tuesday morning, she shoved a white dress into your arms and said you were an angel. You didn’t want to upset her, so you just rolled with it.

Sam laughed at his own joke before the smell of pancakes drew his attention away from you. You looked around the room and sighed, sipping your second glass of… whatever it was Natasha had given you. It was good, a bit fruity and bitter enough to match your mood.

Wanda, who was dressed as Violet from the Incredibles, was running around the living room, filling plates with pancakes. Loud music blasted through the speakers.

“Looking for someone?”

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The Pine Tree

A/N: Heyyy guys long time no see? Yes, writing this latest chapter was like wresting a rattlesnake while balancing a few ceramic plates on top of my head, but here it is! Plus I already started working on the new one, so hopefully it’ll be out relatively soon. In the meantime, enjoy this small detour before the plot rears its ugly head again. 

Au by @doodledrawsthings, based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

“Hey, who’s the new guy? He’s kinda cute.”

Dipper tore his eyes away from the book he was reading to stare at Wendy in mute horror. She was glancing from the corner of her eye at Bill, who had taken the opportunity to rearrange all the snow globes on the shelves as a petty way to spite Grunkle Stan. Why they even let Bill into the gift shop was anyone’s guess. So far, all he managed to do was to scare away customers and give everyone a headache. No one recognized him so far, which was a good thing, but most of these people were just passing through the town anyway, and had no idea about the disaster that took place last summer.

Wendy had just come back from a hiking vacation with her family, and since nobody expected her to be back so soon, they had no idea what to do with Bill. Dipper assumed they would have to tell her eventually, seeing how she was a regular employee, and was definitely smart enough to connect the dots by herself at some point. Better to warn her ahead of time than to wait until she dragged in an exorcist or something. Not that Dipper though it would work. At all.

But Hearing his past crush call the devil in disguise “cute” was something vaguely traumatic. And it showed, because Wendy suddenly looked concerned. “Hey Dipper, are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen Stan in his underwear again.”

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I learned to do gifs and made myself sad

He’s talking about how Ladybug is busy (WITHOUT HIM) and tells Marinette she gets to be Ladybug.  Then, dings his bell.  Like LB does when she flirts/compliments him.

Mari, give that boy the love and attention he deserves!  Look at his face!  His flirts say he’s fine, but his face says he’s not!

Also, can we talk about the split second Chat Noir became a bobblehead?

anonymous asked:

Wait until Yondu learns about Pop Funko Vinyls. ESPECIALLY the bobbleheads. 😏


anonymous asked:

How about Mike's reaction when Ginny gets her own Barbie doll (like Misty Copeland)?


I’m torn between Mike somehow sticking his nose into the process from step one (Ginny casually mentions one day that she has a pitch meeting with Mattel and she hopes that the prototype will look more like her than the first bobblehead. Which leads to Mike pumping Eliot for information: when is this doll coming out? How many press conferences will there be? Where are the promotional pictures being taken? How hard would it be to get a bunch of the cardboard cutouts that will inevitably take over toy aisles and leave them in her dressing room? That last one he definitely keeps to himself.)


The Ginny Baker Barbie is a runaway success (because of course it is) and the people at Mattel are interested in making a companion doll. A catcher. And Mike Lawson is not their first choice. No, that honor goes to Livan who does not take the win gracefully. Anyway, cue sulking Mike and Ginny trying to cheer him up. Potentially with a vaguely unsettling Mike Lawson doll prototype. But more likely with lots and lots of sex.

(also: I feel like I remember someone writing a fic where Ginny gets her own Barbie as a gift. It was Christmas-y, but I can’t remember who wrote it… Anyone remember?)

12. A Night Kiss (from this list)

(a request for @sarahcada, who wanted #12 with Ladynoir! hope you enjoy this! ( ゚ ▽゚)ノ♥)

(it’s a prequel to this fic, btw)

“Mission accomplished!”

As soon as their knuckles bumped, both Ladybug and Chat Noir doubled over, gasping.

“We-we did it,” Ladybug panted, wiping her forehead and staring over the edge of the strut they were standing on. “I think.”

“Y-yeah,” Chat wheezed, collapsing in a pile of long limbs and rough grace. “We did.”

That akuma had been a doozy. And on Bastille Day, of all days. The longer she was a superhero, the more Ladybug wanted holidays and pensions, especially when she ended up needing to explain to her family why she’d been missing from their traditional celebrations.

She was not looking forward to explaining why she hadn’t been at the parade. At all.

It was a pity she couldn’t just stay up here forever, she thought. Up here with Chat, side by side and facing the sky, no one but the two of them and whatever adventure they had in store for them next…

Ladybug thought… she thought that would be nice. To not have to go back.

Above them, the first of the fireworks went off with an ear-shattering bang.

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Hubby is changing units, luckily it’s a low-impact move on me and the kids since he’s just going from one office to another office 15 minutes away from his last one. However, it meant tonight was his going away shindig. His Marines made him this awesome plaque that will look great on his wall with his Squad of Stormtrooper bobbleheads.

What if after all of the invasion bullshit and taking down Cyberdemons etc., Doomguy finally has some down time to actually play with and display those odd collectible dolls he’s found on his journey. There’s no manufacturing stamp on any of them, and he’s got no clue on why they look JUST like him. Certainly this isn’t sheer coincidence……………… Nonetheless, he thinks they’re pretty neat and his favorite is of course is the ‘classic’ figure, followed closely by the two astronaut themed ones. (Eventually he meets up with another Bethesda mascot, Vault Boy, and they both bond well over their collection of collectibles that bear a resemblance to themselves, VB’s being the perk/skill bobbleheads)

Metal Torture - Chapter 23

AN: The response I got from the last chapter was just staggering and I’m blown away.  I’m not going to lie, I let out a really ugly evil laugh when I posted it, then I went to bed.  I woke up to so much stuff, it was great.  I love you, lovelies! 


My knees dug into the sand and pebbles, my arms wrapped around him, fingers digging into cold flesh, a shiver passing over my body as rain began to fall from the sky. I couldn’t let him go, couldn’t stop touching his skin, my tears freely falling onto him as I wept over him.

He looked peaceful, his face calm, his eyes closed to me. All anger and aggression was gone from his features, his face handsome, almost boyish, raindrops sticking to his long eyelashes. I kissed each eyelid, hiccuping around a sob that tore from my chest, my hands clutching at his face.

Lightening cracked loudly nearby, the landscape illuminated brightly, a bolt of the electricity striking close. Tiny hairs stood up on my body, my own internal white heat swirling and unsettled, like it sensed a distant relation with the natural current. 

Fingers dragged along skin, lips following in their wake as I tried to memorize every single inch of him, knowing he would eventually be gone, his physical form only fleeting. I never wanted to forget. I couldn’t remember much, but this, him, I wanted to remember forever.

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imaginesassemble  asked:

matchup w a guy please? :^) i'm an infp gemini! i'm a social person, and love to be around people! because of this, i joined the soccer n softball team solely to make new friends, so i'm p athletic as well aha! i love making people smile, so i like being the center of attention but when i'm not i feel left out kinda?? idk man,,, uhh i also like to write in my spare time and just Chill !! thanks in advance

I’m gonna match you up with Silas! He too is a pretty social person, and would love to meet all your friends. However, he is also exceedingly loyal and would always make you feel that all his attention was focused on you. He’d always be up for trying new sports with you, and would adore the way you make others smile. Free time between you would be sent relaxing together and just having fun!

Originally posted by cutieatsushi

“You’re the centre of my world, and I’ll gladly face all of life’s challenges by your side.”


BEAST’s “Ordinary Fan Meet & Concert” in Melbourne Fan Account.

(If anyone has fancams from the first game segment, could you send me them, please?)

Anyway, yesterday was BEAST’s Fan Meet in Melbourne. I attended with a girl I go to all my concerts with. We spent the day in the city and got dinner (It was amazing, if you’re in Melbourne, I recommend ‘Oppa’s Kitchen’ because the food, service and atmosphere was exceptional. Pretty cheap too.). So, after tea we went to where the Concert was to be held, we got our little lights for a fan project that was organised (props to the people who organize these things) and went inside. I got my lightstick and waited around for the doors to open. There was a staff member walking around asking for a half of our tickets, for the game segment with BEAST, so my friend put both of our stubs in. We eventually got to our seats, which weren’t great (I felt bad for my friend because I was the one who got the tickets) but they were still decent, we were just right at the back. We noticed that about four rows were empty, and eventually the three back rows got upgraded to those empty rows. My friend and I quickly dashed to the closer rows and sat down. The host eventually came out and started to do the draw. She picked out tickets and assigned a member to the lucky winners. Eventually it got to the last ticket, and to my utter shock my seat number was called.

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anonymous asked:

Can I request Steve/Tony and number 6? And if at all possible can it feature asexuality? <3 <3 <3

“if you really want to, i’ll let you go”


“Asexual,” Tony repeated and Steve made himself smile instead of clenching his hands into fists. 

“Yeah. It’s - I never really had a word for it before. But it’s accurate.”

Tony was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He was still dressed for work in a crisp charcoal suit and a sapphire blue shirt that was almost, but not quite as vivid as his eyes. He’d loosened his tie at some point and he’d run his fingers through his hair a few times - probably when he opened his bedroom door to find Steve saying we should talk.

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as shadowhunters draws closer, i’d like to use these next few weeks to relive some old memories of the tmi movie. day one has to go to the most ancient man ever to portray an 18 year old, mr kelvin zebras as alec lightwood 

here he looks like he just had bad prune juice 

here kelvin’s looking around for a better movie 

see he’s jealous because clary just won bingo

why does he look like a bobblehead 

look at his face here

nobody ever asked for alec in a bondage vest

here’s to you, mr zebras - the subject of many memes and the butt of many jokes. you gave the role your best shot and probably threw your back out during all 3 of your stunts and for that we will never forget you.

A Princess’s Summer Job

Summary: Working for Disney and dressing up as characters AU, because what could possibly be happier than working at the Happiest Place on Earth?..

The simple answer? Anything, anything at all.

Lucy just wanted to be a princess.

But, as she shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chair- her bare legs beginning to stick to the seat where her shorts didn’t cover, thanks to the poorly air-conditioned room- she was beginning to think she could find her perfect, fairy tale job elsewhere.

She was currently auditioning for the man in charge of all the Disney Park’s face characters, and it wasn’t going in her favor.

Lucy just wanted to be a princess, but her father had argued when she first brought up the idea of a summer job. He asked why on earth she felt compelled to work when their family fortune could already give her whatever she wanted. Besides, she was supposed to spend the summer interning for him, shadowing the CEO as he worked so that she could begin learning the ropes of running the family business.

A bit of a hypocritical expectation on his part, but that particular argument wasn’t worth the trouble.

In truth, the nineteen year old was desperate for even a sliver of independence from both her father and his fortune. She wanted the job so that she could begin saving to pay her own way through college, and not have to rely on daddy’s money anymore.

Except now, as she looked at the row of pitiful, Disney character bobbleheads that lined the man’s desk- some busted and some just flat out missing their head, poor Donald- Lucy was beginning to rethink her decision. She wrinkled her nose at the wadded up napkins that littered his workspace, along with the empty containers from various food stands found around the park.

If she got the job, she’d be working for a slob.

“So, Lacy-”  

“It’s Lucy, sir.”

The man huffed, rolling his eyes as he fanned himself with the folder that held her resumé. “Whatever, learn to write clearer. Your u looked like an a.”

Lucy had to bite her tongue to refrain from pointing out that she’d typed her application.

“Anyways, Lucinda. Who is your favorite Disney character? And don’t think I’m getting chummy with ya,” he warned, pointing his half-smoked cigarette in her direction. Lucy had to fight the urge to scrunch her nose as a cloud of smoke drifted over her face. “I’m required to ask that to all the applicants. I really don’t care who you like.”

The girl was beginning to think the World’s Best Boss mug on his desk was some sick joke given to him by past employees. Or, better yet, self-bought.

“Well,” she said, straightening her posture as they finally were getting to the job part of the interview. “I’ve always loved the princesses-”

“Daisy it is.”

Wait, images of white feathers and an orange bill flashed in her mind. Nothing like the pretty dresses and crowns that she’d envisioned. What?

“You can’t stick me in a suit!” She protested when it finally dawned on her what he meant. “My face is way too pretty to-”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man’s mouth curled into a malicious smirk as he drawled out the word, as if this was the most fun he’d had all day. “Am I hearing Pluto? You want to be Pluto?”

The dog… he was really threatening to make her the dog.

The girl steeled herself, taking a deep breath as she took a moment to swallow both her pride and dignity. Her voice was strained as she finally managed the words that would seal her fate. “D-Daisy it is.”

“Fantastic, Susan!” The girl groaned at the wrong name use. Not even close. The man leaned over the desk, pulling Lucy’s hand into a sticky handshake while his cigarette dangled, threatening to fall from his noticeably chapped lips. “Welcome to the Disney Family.”

Well, at least I’ll still be able to interact with the kids, she thought, but deflated once she remembered that actually speaking to them was a luxury only given to the face characters around the park. Not someone in a suit, like she would be.

“So, this is the locker room,” said a bored park worker, who had probably only volunteered to show Lucy around as an excuse to get out of the stifling heat. The girl couldn’t imagine how much hotter it was going to be inside the duck costume. “It’s pretty self-explanatory,” the worker continued, sounding bored as he waved his hand in the room’s direction while scrolling through his phone. “You’ll come here to change after clocking in for the day, and yada yada yada.”

He was too caught up in whatever it was he was reading to show Lucy inside, so he bid her a half-hearted ‘good luck’ over his shoulder as he left her there at the door.

“I’m sure there’s someone in there,” he called out, not bothering to look back, or even check to see if there was anyone inside. He kept walking farther and farther away, and Lucy was only able to still hear him thanks to his voice echoing in the empty hallway. “I’ve got, uh, an important call to make.. or something. Don’t worry, they’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Who is they?” She called after him, but received no answer as the man rounded the corner, leaving her completely alone.

The blonde’s posture deflated, and she sighed. Nice meeting you too.

So far, it was becoming apparent that the park’s well-known slogan, Happiest Place on Earth, only existed in the park itself.

Behind-the-scenes was only proving more and more depressing.

With a heavy heart, Lucy was beginning to wonder if shadowing her father for the summer would really be such a bad idea after all. The only thing that was keeping her going anymore was the thought of handing in her resignation would mean going back to Boss Man, and one visit was already too much for one day.

She would at least make it through the day, even if that apparently meant doing it alone.

Rolling her shoulders back, the girl mentally prepared herself as she stared at the door in front of her. It was painted a deep, forest green with a little whiteboard hung in the middle. On it, read Locker Room in thick, blue marker.

Underneath Room there was something written in black, but the handwriting was squished and cramped, as though the writer had been rushed and running out of space.

Lucy leaned in closer for a better look, trying to make out what it said.

No Pink Bastards Allowed In-

Ow! Dammit,” Lucy groaned, dropping her purse as her hands came up to clutch her nose where the door had just swung open and hit her. The person on the other side must not have been expecting anyone to be around, because it felt as though they had kicked the door open in their rush.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

Lucy had her eyes scrunched shut as she tried to wait for the pain to subside, so she couldn’t see who the new voice belonged to. All she could tell was that it sounded masculine as the person began apologizing profusely as he joined her out in the hall.

She finally managed to open one eye enough to see the newcomer’s face, and noticed how he seemed completely flustered as he kept repeating how sorry he was.

Well, at least he seems sincere, she thought, trying to remain optimistic about the place. Then, she noticed the way he kept nervously checking his watch as if he had somewhere to be, and she felt her hope draining.

Maybe not so sincere after all.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath as he checked his watch again, and Lucy found herself having to suppress her giggle. While the action may have jarred her sore nose, it was actually kind of funny hearing Flynn Ryder curse.

At least, she was pretty sure that’s who the guy was dressed as. It was sorta hard to tell, because she didn’t remember him having pink hair in the movie.

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Do I seem like the kinda guy who would know an Alex Hirsch? I mean, what do y'think I am, some kind'f social butterfly?!

Listen, kid, I’m not meanin’ to snap, but sales have been a bit'f a roller coaster recently and it really stresses an old guy out, get it?  No, y'know what?  All these pointless asks and “Alex Hirsch"es…how about you answer me a question, huh? There we go.

Yeah, help me figure out what the heck to do after yesterday’s nightmare of a customer:

So here’s the breakdown: Yesterday afternoon I was sittin’ there, mindin’ my own business and money and good looks and whatnot.  Suddenly, in walks this lunatic, outta the blue.

You shoulda seen ‘im: We’re talkin’ goatee, brown hair, kinda a scruffy older Dipper, if y'asked me.  And don’t even get me started on this guy’s flannel, yeesh. So glad Wendy wasn’t around t'see this, cause she woulda fallen head over heels…or whatever girls do, I dunno. But yeah. Tons'f flannel.

So this guy saunters over tryin’ to buy, I dunno, a bobblehead or somethin’, but here’s the thing–he’s got no cash.  This kid’s tryin’ to stiff me!  Well, I flat out turn 'im down, but his response just floors me.

He wants to pay in voices.

I mean, I dunno what the heck I shoulda been expecting, but I gave it a good laugh! Told 'im to give it his best shot.  After all, ventriloquy, impressions, you name it, I’ve seen it all.  But it certainly wasn’t gonna be worth a bobblehead. I mean, just my face alone makes it awful valuable!

But then he turns, looks me dead in the eye, and impersonates me.

Spot on.


Then to make matters worse, Soos wanders in. AND WHADDAYA KNOW, THIS JOKER STARTS DOIN’ HIS VOICE TOO!!! 

Well, of course this impresses Soos to the point where he flat out gives him the bobblehead, and all I can do is stand in shocked silence as this darn flannel wizard thanks Soos, takes my merchandise, and just flounces outta the store.

So here’s my dilemma for you.  Do I go after my obviously stolen bobblehead, or do I go after the sheer magical force of this creep’s otherworldly vocal abilities???

Witchcraft, kid. Always makes it a tough call.


P.S. Good luck trackin’ down your Alex Hearse or whatever his name is.

Prince’s Gift.

It was hard to decide to write and record this Outshot for Bullseye. It’s been a tough day, and by the time you hear this, it’ll be next week or ten days from now. But it was what was in my heart today. Sorry if it’s rough, it was rough to write.

My wife and I went to see Prince at the Fillmore. It was Valentine’s Day, maybe ten years ago.

We were lined up outside. We’d never been to one of his shows, and we were surrounded by the folks who’d gotten tickets through his fan club.

There was this tall guy, six six, maybe. Thin. Black, maybe forty something. Dressed in this wild outfit.

And he was walking down the line. And every person in line he’d stop, give them a rose, and tell them that he loved them.

I struggled to figure it out for a minute. Like: did this guy work for the promoter? Was it like getting a bobblehead at a baseball game? He didn’t look high. He didn’t seem crazy. He didn’t want money. He didn’t seem to want anything.

And by the time he got to us, it made sense to me. 

This was just a guy who wanted to share a feeling. Just share something beautiful with each person. Tell each person he loved them, as they were.

Look: Prince might have been the greatest pop musician of the last fifty years. He found #1 hits on his garbage pile and played every instrument and synthesized genres and danced his rear off and all of that stuff.

But it’s not just that music. What he left was an idea and an example. He was this skinny, short, shy, fey black kid from a rough neighborhood. And he lived in an America where there were all of these cultural expectations of him, All these ideas based on all of that. And he didn’t reject the categories people wanted to put him in. He transcended them. Made them completely irrelevant.

It wasn’t oppositional. It wasn’t negative. Prince said it, pretty simply. I am me. I am doing my thing. 

And he invited everyone to come visit Paisley Park and do theirs.

And so when I think of his leaving, I think of the people whose lives he helped define. I think of kids backed into corners in 1980s America. By circumstance of society or birth or whatever. Weird kids and queer kids and kids who were bad at doing whatever it was that was expected of them.

Prince didn’t show them to be Prince. He showed them they could be themselves. That they could live without apology. Love defiantly.

Prince gave them a rose.