waterlining

Yet Nolan’s film chooses to ignore tales such as that of the Medway Queen, a paddle steamer that brought home 7,000 troops in seven round trips and shot down three German planes, or the Royal Daffodil, which returned 9,500 soldiers after blocking a hole below the waterline with a mattress. Instead, we encounter just one boat, skippered by a saintly Mark Rylance, comically attired in his Sunday best.

So, in spite of his film’s $150m budget, the Royal Air Force seems to consist of three Spitfires, although real-life pilots flew 3,500 sorties at Dunkirk. The Luftwaffe, which Hitler made solely responsible for wiping out the beached Brits, seems able to summon up little more than a couple of Messerschmitts, three Stukas and one bomber. The Royal Navy appears to comprise just two destroyers; in fact, it deployed 39 destroyers and 309 other craft.

Women are excluded from the action by being confined to stereotypical roles, such as providing tea for the homecoming menfolk. In real life, female Auxiliary Territorial Service telephonists – who received two-thirds of a male soldier’s pay – were some of the last military personnel to leave the beach. The evacuees also included female civilians, including girls, caught up in the turmoil.
— 

David Cox, Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk left me cold

There’s a lot of interesting points in this review, one that I think could’ve really fleshed out what Nolan did with Dunkirk. I do disagree though with this reviewer wanting the bloody aspect of combat to be showcased, I think a lot of that is gratuitous and unnecessary when it comes to war films. You can imply and still have a film feel visceral and horrific without doing that. 

I also DO appreciate Nolan’s decision in not showcasing the Germans and keeping the enemy faceless. I thought that was a smart decision, so some of  what David Cox is mentioning fails to take into account that Dunkirk’s theme of survival is the sole focus, it’s not what happens to the soldiers at Dunkirk, but how they respond. 

Cox does bring up good points however on elements that could’ve enhanced the narrative. I would’ve loved to see more of the above.

I’m so here for “vain” girls. Girls who dab at their waterline because crying could mess up their make up. Girls who spend a lot of time looking in the mirror. Girls who worry about breaking their nails. Girls who worry if they don’t have exfoliating wash or lotion for a day. Girls who contour and girls who do face masks and girls who worry about missing a spot shaving and girls who get their eyebrows done. You’re capable of caring a lot about your appearance and other things, and caring a lot about your appearance does not make you bad, or shallow, or less deserving of respect.

3

A drought in southern Mexico has caused water levels to fall so much that the remains of a long-abandoned, 16th-century church are now visible above the waterline. The Temple of Santiago, also known as the Temple of Quechula, normally rests under nearly 100 feet of water since the completion of a dam in 1966 created the Nezahualcoyotl reservoir in Chiapas. (Source)

vampireweekend2017  asked:

How can I keep eyeliner on my upper waterline without it transferring onto the lower part of my eyes and underneath them

Picture this: you decide to waterline (or tightline) your upper lashline with a dark eyeliner in order to make your lashes look thicker, but whoops you blinked and now the eyeliner is mainly on your lower waterline makes you look like a hot mess and like a wannabe emo girl circa 2008.

Apply two coats

When applying eyeliner to your waterline, more often than not it will smudge, transfer and fade. Instead of applying just one coat and going on about your day I recommend applying two. Apply your first coat and let it set (if you can help it don’t blink) then apply another coat to lock it in, (and again let it set and try not blink) you obviously want to be using an eyeliner which sets very quickly and has great staying power on your waterline, in which case I recommend the Marc Jacobs Matte Highliner Gel Eye Crayons.

Clean it off

If you’ve got eyeliner that has transferred onto your lower waterline, quickly take a cotton tip with a small amount of gentle, non-oily makeup remover before it sets into place (I recommend micellar water) only do this on the lower waterline and try not to irritate the area too much.

Apply a Nude

If you’ve got transferring and have tried to remove it, there is a good chance your lower lashline has gone a little red. Try using a nude coloured eyeliner on your lower waterline to help neutralize any redness and hide any of the residue from the upper lash line.

If your main issue is smudging, I recommend that you set your concealer underneath your eyes (eyeliner and mascara is often attracted to creamy concealers)

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I hope I helped you and if you need anything else feel free to ask.

If any product you use irritates you discontinue use immediately.

*Affiliate links. Please view Makeup Tips disclosure policies regarding information and products mentioned on this blog.

my entire life i was told that boys are violent but girls are worse because we’re “catty.” i was told that a catty girl was my enemy, that they used whip tongues in place of fists to start things i couldn’t erase of out my skin. i saw this cattiness wherever i was told it would live. it was in pretty girls with nice lipstick and it was in the girls who studied too much to ever come to the parties and it was in my own group of friends. when i came home crying about something, i was often reminded that girls are catty bitches and if we were boys we’d just punch each other and be done with it. 

but it was boys who first started making fun of how i looked, of what mess my face was like, of the fat on my thighs. and it was girls who showed me how to apply makeup, patiently waiting with me in the bathroom mirror to show how not to cry while i applied it to the waterline. they agreed to go on diets with me even when they hated salad. they agreed to scoop buckets of ice cream into our bellies at midnight when i was upset about something minor.

it was boys who were snippy about my grades, it was a man who first said that because i was a girl i was bad at math and i’d stay that way. it was boys who started making fun of the one time i got a 34 on a math test when my mother had been in the hospital the night before. it was girls who held my hand during this, who stayed with me through hours of library studies, who explained over and over in gel pens and pretty handwriting exactly what i was missing. it was girls who taught me to color-code and to highlight and how to stay up all night, it was girls who cheered with me when i got nothing lower than a B. 

it was a boy who taught my friend that she could talk down to me like i was trash. it was a boy who started drama between us. it was a boy who wouldn’t listen or talk it out or find a solution. he’d say angry hurtful things and expect us to listen. it was girls who fixed me after this. they taught me how to make good and positive friends. how to stay away from the girls who really are toxic ones. how to be proud of others and not competitive. how to give genuine compliments, how to accept them, how to be comfortable with who i am and what has happened.

i was told all my life that there was a “type” of girl to avoid. she was probably wearing ugg boots and shorts or drinking a latte or picking out lush products or doing literally anything that girls like to do for themselves, she was catty. girls are catty. when they fight, it’s a catfight. (we were many animals besides this. vixen. pig. fox. bitch. cow. mother hen. whale. but always, for some reason: feline and both sex kitten and dangerous weapon).

girls, i find, are defensive. we wear our hands up, waiting for the hit. girls who are sick of getting hit get “bitchy.” they are fierce, they take what they want, they’ll mess you up for saying the wrong thing about their friend. and girls, who are unwilling to simply take insults without lashing back with something: they’re catty. and when boys bully others and spread nasty gossip and start drama: well, they’re just boys. they’ll fight it out, or something. 

how much i regret believing that girls weren’t my safety net. how many friends i was scared to make because i was intimated by them. so many loving people. out of fear of what? of a tongue someone else has tattooed on them? 

A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):

  • In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan.
    “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen.
    “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.”
    They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
  • Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is.
    Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov.
    “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks.
    Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
  • Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old.
    Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already.
    “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!”
    “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!”
    “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!”
    “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.”
    Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him.
    Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye.
    “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!”
    Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly.
    Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold.
    He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed.
    “About time,” is the general consensus to that.
    They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him.
    “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?”
    Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
  • Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying.
    “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!”
    “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.”
    It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful.
    “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town.
    Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
  • Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. 
    “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses.
    “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.”
    “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?”
    “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.”
    Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets.
    “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.”
    And he does.
  • Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother.
    On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines.
    “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no.
    “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. 
    They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing.
    Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him.
    “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–”
    “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. 
    “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams.
    “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. 
    It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run.
    They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other.
    “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.”
    “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams.
    “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!”
    It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony.
    In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.”
    Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? 
    “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t.
    Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
2

hard times 💗💜💙
gonna make you wonder why you even try ✨

Hoe Tips: Makeup Ed.

1. BUY YOUR SKIN TONE. Whether you have pink undertones or yellow, buy the product that balances your undertones and evens out your facial color.
2. Never highlight in the center of your forehead; instead, highlight just above your brow to ensure your forehead doesnt like like a four-and-a-half head.
3. Follow your natural eyebrow shape. Not every brow has to look ig fleaky. Also, when filling in, draw your hairs in fine, controlled movements in the direction of hair growth.
4. Always always always moisturize and prime before putting on makeup to make it last, and to protect your skin.
5. When doing eyeshadow, always do your transition shade first, then your crease, and then your lid color.
6. When doing a cut crease look, apply and blend your transition shade and crease. Then, trace ONLY your physical lid with concealer. Pat the concealer to blend, and before applying any shadow to your lid, APPLY TRANSLUCENT POWDER TO THE LID. This will make your color stick and last longer.
7. Wait a few minutes for your foundation to dry before applying any concealer or powder. This ensures a smoother finish, and makes the look last longer.
8. There are 2 types of concealers you need: one with an illuminating finish, for highlighting, and one with a matte finish, for coverage. Use the illuminating one on your T Zone, and use the matte one on undereye bags and blemishes.
9. Apply setting spray between doing your brows, face, and eyes instead of just one spray at the end. Itll make your face last a lot longer.
10. To avoid fallout, and to guide your eyeliner wing and creater a sharper look, apply a line of translucent powder at the outer corner of your eye in the direction of where you want your shadow or wing to go before you apply any eye makeup.
11. Curl your lashes before mascara.
12. Have a separate blending brush for your eyeshadow. This keeps colors from being overly pigmented and makes for a cleaner blend. I recommend ths BH Cosmetics eyeshadow brush kit ($9.99 on their site).
13. Wait until your mascara is completely dry before applying a separate coat to avoid any clumping or spider lashes.
14. Applying a thin layer of transluceny powdet between coats of lipstick helps to keep it on and pigmented (it also makes any lipstick look matte).
15. Use a colored eyeshadow as your inner corner highlight if you want a subtle colored look.
16. Let your face breathe; makeup is lit and I love wearing a full face, but you need to let your skin relax and regroup to avoid clogging your pores.
17. Applying a small amount of petroleum jelly or moisturizer to your cheekbones before adding highlight will give you a fuckin blinding glo✨
18. Never ever ever sleep with makeup on 19. If you want a more natural finish, or you want to lighten the shade of your foundation, mix your foundation with some moisturizer before applying.
20. Always use a slightly lighter contour shade on your jawline than on your cheeks/nose/forehead. If your jawline is contoured too dark, it can make your face look extremely unnatural.
21. Always wet your beauty blender before using it for an easier blend.
22. Always blend your foundation into your neck and your ears to make the shade look more uniform and natural.
23. The whole concealer vs. foundation comes first debate is still a thing, but what works best for me is this order: color correcting and spot treatment concealer (for dark spots, undereye circles, pimples, etc), then foundation, then highlighting concealer.
24. If you use eyeliner on your lower waterline, apply some black eyeshadow with an eyeliner brush onto your waterline after applying pencil to make it last longer.
25. If you’re ever in a pinch, or want a monochromatic look, use a pink/red toned eyeshadow as your blush.
26. Sort of the same as number 25, but you can also use a light, shimmery eyeshadow as a highlight.
27. Everyone’s face is different; theres a look for everyone. Experiment with different shades and shapes to find the look that you think suits you best.
28. Remember, practice makes perfect!!

Have fun with your beat faces, y'all❤

Chewbacca And Han Solo (Jughead Jones Imagine)

Originally posted by riverrdxle

Word Count : 3728

A/N: A small disagreement escalates into something Jughead regrets from the minute he says it. But in the time of need, good will always win.

Warnings: Swearing


“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Again…no.”

“What about- “

“Nah-uh.”

“Y/N I AM BEGGING YOU!”

You put your hand on you hip, “There is actually no way in hell am I wearing that.”

Jughead sighed, “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“You want me to tell you what’s wrong with wanting me to wear a Chewbacca outfit to a party that our whole year will be at?” You asked with raised eyebrows, not understanding where the hell your dumbass boyfriend got that idea from.

“Well, we can’t both be Han Solo!” He defended, throwing his hands in the air as if it was obvious.

You scoffed. This was the biggest party in your whole social life, you looked forward to it every year. It was hosted by the one and only Cheryl Blossom and the rule was: no fancy dress = no entrance. The past years you had outdone yourself, staring off with Jasmine from Aladdin, followed by a hippie with the full flower-power theme the next, and last year you topped it off with dressing as Bellatrix Lestrange. Now this time around, you had to do even better, which meant definitely not wearing the Chewbacca costume that Jughead wanted you to.

He had brought up the idea moments ago, you were currently at lunch in the student common room, surrounded by the usual group of Archie, Betty, Veronica, Kevin, Jughead and yourself. The people you called your “best friends” all had different reactions to Jugheads couple costume idea. Veronica was looking shocked at the thought of you wearing a furry-onesie to the highest social class event of the year, Kevin nodding and agreeing with her argument that she was loudly spreading to the rest of the group. Archie was in deep conversation with Jughead about the style of his costume and planning a trip the town costume shop for a plastic gun to take royal place as Han Solos weapon. And Betty was in awe at the ‘adorable’ thought of a couple-costume.

You on the other hand, thought it was preposterous.

“Sorry to burst your bubble Juggie,” you shrugged sarcastically, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but I would rather get a sticky maple from Chuck than wear a Chewbacca costume in public…or ever.”

Little did you know, that once you had said your final word and started to have a conversation with Veronica about your actual costume, Jugheads’ heart sunk. He was excited about this, the first time he wanted to do something publicly to show that you were his, and you had turned down his idea.

All he wanted to do was show the other guys that nobody was to touch you.

Looking up from your conversation with Ronnie, you noticed your boyfriend’s sunken eyes that were focused on the floor. He couldn’t be that affected by a simple costume, could he? It was just a costume, a silly outfit that he was taking way to personally to heart.

Jughead looked up and met your loving eyes with a cold stare.
“Fine, you would rather have a fun time with Chuck, then he can take you to the party.” Jughead stated
aggressively.

You were stunned, and as were the others it seemed because they suddenly fell quiet from their various conversations.

“What are you talking about, Juggie?” You laughed lightly, confused with the sudden turn of events.

He scoffed, “Well you obviously don’t care about me, so Chuck can take you. I’m not going.”

Archie place a hand on his elbow, “Jug don’t be an idiot- “

Jughead shrugged him away and stared accusingly at you. You started to felt your blood boil at his sudden accusations and rudeness.

“Where is, this coming from?” You asked with pure shock laced in your tone.

Of course, you cared about him, he was the one person you loved more than life for god’s sake!

“You always have to have your own way! Nothing nice for anyone else,” Jughead accused, his words becoming harsher than expected.

The way he stared at you with a cold, hard glare hurt inside and you could see the tears start to form at the bottom of your waterline, but there was no way you were going to start crying here in front of all the people.

“Fine,” you shouted back, “I will go with Chuck.”

Veronica started to say your name in a rushed tone to make you see reason, but you ignored it.

“I will go with Chuck, because I don’t want to go with someone who overreacts about a costume party and starts making accusations!” You furiously said with the anger you felt being clear in your face.

But Jugheads expression only grew angrier and suddenly, you were frightened of losing him forever.

“Well that’s good then because I don’t want to go with someone who doesn’t care about anyone but herself and acts like goddamn royalty and superior, but is actually just a fake and never gets anything right. Because guess, what I hate people like that, and guess what again, that is a definition of you.”

He spat out the words like poison, and the way they stung your heart certainly felt like it. Your stomach felt heavy, as if all the broken pieces of you heart and fallen. A single tear rolled down your cheek and the vison of Jughead was blurred.

But when he saw how much damage his words caused and how he had just destroyed anything the two of you had, the anger inside his bones was washed away and instead, he was filled with regret.
He hated the fact he had hurt you, the way he has just broken the person he loved and needed to get by.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I did-“He began to stutter with remorse obvious in his voice. His eyes met yours but you looked away. It hurt to do so.

“No, it’s ok, you made your feelings pretty clear,” you spoke clearly, brushing the tears way with the palm of your hand and picking your back up from the couch. Without another word, you left the room.

You were closely followed by Veronica and Betty after they both started at Jughead with confusion and frustration plastered on their face and left the room, running after you to make sure you were ok. Kev left behind them, but not before putting a hand on Jugs shoulder to show he cared for him, but the fact he left to come after you showed he was concerned for you more than Jughead. Archie was still sat on the couch, just staring at his best friend as he had a mental battle with himself.

Jughead was furious with himself at the way he had overreacted and hurt you so deeply. He never meant for it to go that far, and his heart hurt at the idea of you crying somewhere feeling damaged and defeated.

Archie rose to his feet and looked Jughead straight in the eyes. No matter how much he wanted to say something to make his best friend feel better, to make him ok and tell him that there was a light at the tunnel. Archie desperately wanted to tell him that you two would make up and you would forgive him, but he couldn’t. Instead he picked up his back and made an exit for the door.

Jug’s eyes followed him out, and when Archie stopped he was hopeful that his best friend was going to be there for him in the time of need.

But all that came from Archie’s mouth was:

“You really fucked up this time, mate.”

And he left.

Jughead just sighed.

“Yeah,” he mumbled to himself. “I know.”

The tears in your eyes started to fall quicker and quicker as you stormed down the school corridors, looking for one person in particular. And when you saw him, you knew exactly what to do.

“Hey, Chuck!” You yelled down to him. Chuck was standing next to Reggie, and when he heard his named called, he turned around quickly. Your eyes met each other’s and you felt a sickening felling grow in your stomach.

“Hey, babe,” he smirked, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “what’s up?”

You shrugged his arm off – it wasn’t the same loving feeling as Jugheads. Chucks simple gesture felt dangerous, and you suddenly wanted to back out from making a mistake.

But there was no way you could go back to Jughead, not after he had hurt you like that.

So, gathering up courage, you managed to force out the words.

“Do you want to go to Cheryl’s party with me?” You spoke through gritted teeth, trying not to think about the fact you should be doing this with Jughead and not a play boy like Chuck.

You heard running from behind you and saw Betty and Veronica nearing where you were.

Betty placed a heartfelt hand on your elbow, trying to pull you away from Chuck, but your shrugged her off, “Don’t do this Y/N, you know Jughead didn’t mean it- “

“Shut up, Betty!” You spat out, not intending for it to come out quite so rude, “Sorry, it’s just that Jughead has made his feelings clear, so I’m going to take his advice.” You said, looking them in their eyes and trying to show them that you knew what you were doing.

Chuck pulled you back into his side and smirked down at you, “Yeah baby, we can go together, and after we can have a little fun.” He laughed and whispered in your ear.

Your stomach grew tighter as you felt your breakfast almost making a re-appearance. You forced a smile and just nodded at Chuck, pulling yourself out of his arms and walking towards a worried looking
Betty and a confused looking Ronnie.

“Jughead made up his mind,” you defended yourself, biting back the tears that were ready to be unleashed, “and now so have I.”

But of course, your heart took over and the tears began to spill once more. Veronica quickly pulled you into her arms, the comforting smell of her Yves Saint Laurent perfume making you feel safe for the moment. Betty joined in, and the three of you remained silently hugging in the middle of the hallway. Unbeknownst to you, Kevin and Archie has witnessed the entire matter, and when they noticed what was happening between you all, rushed over to be part of the group hug.

‘These people are here for me’ you thought to yourself. But no matter how much you wanted to be happy at that moment, you couldn’t.

Because your heart was shattered, and unfortunately, the only person who could fix it was the person who destroyed it in the first place.

And little did you know, that very same person was watching all his friends comfort you in the middle of the hallway, whilst you cried quietly because of something he did.

And he was determined to make it right.

—3 DAYS LATER—–

Saturday night. Party night.

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The Painting

Hi babes!💘 this is a smutty oneshot about the reader ignoring Tom when she gets an idea for a new painting, and Tom only wanting to gain her attention more! A small argument and sexy time ensues! I hope that you guys like it!👼🏻

The Painting

When Tom had come home, he’d found her with her hair tossed messily into a bun, stains of color smeared across her skin, and standing in front of a rather large canvas dressed in an imbrued art smock. The smock in which his girlfriend sported was backless, and Tom was delighted to find that she was wearing nothing but a pair of sheer, pink panties and bobby socks beneath it. He not only had a clear view of her legs, but her bum as well, and there was absolutely no way Tom thought that he would be complaining about anything when she was in such a state, but, there he was, complaining.
“Baby,” Tom whined, flopping into the nearest chair to her, “pay attention to me. I’ve spent my entire day missing you and now you’re barely even speaking to me.”
She sighed, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips, scrutinizing the piece of art in front of her. Crossing the room to mix together a concoction of red, pink, silver and white paint to create the perfect rosy tint, she answered Tom. “You know that I’m not trying to ignore you, I love you. It’s just that I think I may finally be breaking through the weird mental block I’ve had for a while.”
Tom nodded, understanding that she supported his artistic expressions, so he would have to buck up and support hers. It wasn’t as if he was unhappy with her painting, in fact, he was the exact opposite. He was thrilled to see her final product, and he loved seeing the spark of imagination light up her eyes, but as Tom said before, he missed her so much. Their time together had always been limited and he was jealous that her painting was receiving more attention than he was, considering that she could spend a million and one hours with her painting at her leisure, but she had maybe 90 something hours with him .
She plopped down into Tom’s lap and kissed him on the cheek, “you can mix the paints if you wanna.”
Tom held the spatula that his girlfriend had handed over to him, and did his best to focus on following her directions, while defying the feeling of his girlfriend in basically squirming around on his lap while she glided her soft, warm lips up and down the base of his throat in between her orders.
“Can I see what you’ve done so far?” Tom asked, curious as to what she was even painting.
Her kisses paused briefly, and then started up again between the words she said, “No! You can only see once I’m finished. I want it to be a surprise.”
Tom groaned, “is this good?” he motioned the colors he’d mixed. When she nodded, she made sure to turn her head to press a heavy, hot kiss to Tom’s lips before she hopped off of him. Sliding a hand down his face, Tom got up to leave the room. If he’d stayed there any longer, the images of her bending over in next to nothing would make him too hard to bare, so he decided that while she painted, he would busy himself with whatever nonsense that he came into contact with.
It had been a day and a half since her art project began, and since then, Tom had learned how assemble both a dresser and a cabinet, fixed every leaky faucet and broken appliance in her apartment, and had perfected a few random recipes he’d stumbled across on the internet. He was going out of his mind.
As time went on, she became even more and more appetizing to him. She was passionate and focused and Tom was, at that point, hard. No matter how many hot showers, cold showers, or even baths he’d taken, it wasn’t enough for him. Tom felt that if he didn’t have the real her soon, he’d burst into flames or melt into a puddle of sticky goo that would stain her carpet.
A few hours later, he heard the pitter patter of her socked feet rushing to meet him in the bedroom. Laying across her bed, Tom rolled over onto his side and peered at her smiling face when she entered the room.
“Tom, I need you.” She said, a blissful expression warming her features.
He quirked a brow at her, “oh yeah? What for, my darling, little love?” He looked her up and down, taking in the paint soils splashed all over her body, the exposed skin of her legs, her lack of bra, and hoped her response would indicate that she needed him to take her.
She rushed forward and knelt down by his bedside, taking his hand in hers, “help me with the painting, I’m just about finished.” She kissed his knuckles and laid her head onto her mattress.
“I thought that I wasn’t allowed to see it until it was all done?” Tom said confusedly.
“I know what I said, but I’ve changed my mind. The painting needs your special touch!” As she got up off the floor, still holding his hand, Tom could think of more than a few things that could use his special touch.
When she finally brought him to a stop in front of her painting, Tom understood why she hasn’t allowed him near it. He could tell that the figures trapped within her canvas were lovers, even though they appeared to be more similar to florets than people. All the colors were soft and romantic, and he could see that she had added a tinge of shimmer to particular images, so the painting looked mystical and otherworldly. Truth be told, if he’d gotten anywhere close to it earlier in the day, he would’ve messed it up.
“Darling,” Tom breathed out, desperately trying to figure out how to express the level of his admiration to her, “I just don’t know how you manage to be so fucking magical all the time. It’s beautiful, I love it, but I’m afraid that me just standing this close to it will ruin it. Unless you need me to lift it, I don’t know how to help you.” Tom bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead, moving to tuck some of her untamed fringe back behind her ear, where he couldn’t help himself but press a kiss to her earlobe as well.
Tugging his mouth back down onto hers, she mumbled in between long kisses, “help me just fill in a few spots, then it’s yours. I read somewhere that if someone helps you complete a task, the task, or in this case, the painting, will make that person think of you.” She broke away from Tom for a brief moment, and Tom heard her airly whisper into the crook of his neck, “I wanna make you think of me.”
Tom’s eyes opened and he guided her body away from his, “what are you talking about?” He was so genuinely puzzled that his confusion took the place of his desire to have her until the sun came up. “I always think of you. Literally, always. Ask anyone I work with, I never shut up about you.”
“Okay,” she said, disbelief laced firmly into her tone. Grabbing a paintbrush, she leaned into Tom to kiss him again.
“No, no, baby. Honestly, do you not believe me?” Tom was growing so perplexed that he was starting to get angry. “I love you, do I not tell you enough or something?” He knew that he was being abrasive and slightly over sensitive, but he didn’t know why she was playing as if Tom didn’t care for her.
Groaning, she walked out of Tom’s reach and back to where she stored her varying paints. “Tom, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Uhm, nope. I’m going to worry about this because I’m pretty sure that this is something most couples in a healthy relationship would speak about.” Tom said, moving to stand in front of her.
“Let’s not do this,” she said, pushing her art smock’s strap back up to it’s proper place on her shoulder.
“No, no, let’s!” Tom declared.
“Tom, no! There is literally no point to this argument, if you don’t want to help, it’s cool.” She stood onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of Tom’s unprepared lips. “See? It’s all good,” she said, going around Tom and back to her mostly filled in canvas.
“Please, can you just talk to me, darling?” Tom wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her body to him as tightly as he could without crushing her. “I love you and what’s important to you is what’s important to me. So please, please clue me in.”
The girl didn’t even need to turn around to feel his puppy dog eyes burning a hole into her back. “Fine,” she said shortly, “when ‘Homecoming’ drops, you’re going to be huge, bigger than you already are. Like you’ve said before, life is going to change and nobody can say for sure what will and will not change, only that there will be changes, and if life makes you go away, at least you’ll have this painting. At least I’ll be remembered as the girl who painted you the weirdly rosy painting.”
Tom was so stunned that he couldn’t think of one appropriate thing to say. “Are you serious? Sounds like you’re pretty sure you know what’s going to happen with us, huh, smart girl?” He knew that getting mad wasn’t going to help the situation, but his feelings were hurt that she thought he’d drop her just like that.
Removing his hands from her body, Tom turned, “fuck it, that is so irritating. I am not leaving you, and unless you plan on ditching me, I think that we’re going to be together for more than a long while, darling.” He sneered, pacing back and forth across the limited space her living room provided. “This is ridiculous, you’re so intelligent, so why you’ve gotten that into your head, I have no idea. I’ve made sure to factor you into nearly all aspects of literally everything I do, now why do you think that is?”
She knew that she was being dumb, but she couldn’t help it. She was so paranoid that Tom would be out one day and he would come across someone shiny and new, and then he’d realize that being with her was not what he wanted anymore. When she started her painting, her only goal had been to give Tom something that would leave an imprint of her in his mind, so that no matter what happened with them in the future, she would still be apart of him.
Her eyes grew glassy and tears threatened to boil over her waterline and smudge her mascara. She was mad at herself for being so insecure, and for possibly ruining her relationship with the one thing she’d meant to sort of bandage over her issues, and she couldn’t come up with a statement to justify herself to Tom.
Tom looked over to her figure, standing in front of the pink canvas, frilled bobby socks and lacy blue panties in all. Even though he was both pissed off and taken aback by her behavior, Tom couldn’t deny the urge to just slam himself into and make her understand she was the only person on the planet for him. Muttering, “oh, for fucks sake,” Tom marched purposefully over to her and smashed his lips roughly down onto hers.
Yanking her hair out of it’s rubber confinement, he broke away from her to watch it tumble down in waves to frame her face. Forcing her to look into his eyes by pressing a finger beneath her chin, Tom practically growled, “I am not going anywhere without you in my life. It’s like they say on that one soap opera that never seems to end, you’re my person. Couldn’t leave you to save my life, I’d come back to you forever.” He looked into her eyes, trying to find better words to make her understand that he was completely and utterly dead serious. “Get it?”
Her lips were puffy and her skin was still soft, despite being nearly every color of the rainbow and Tom was going to rip that smock off her body if it was the last thing he did. He could tell that she was humiliated that she let her paranoia get the best of her, and Tom, for a brief thought thought that she deserved it for thinking so lowly of their relationship. He only stopped once he took into account that if the roles were reversed, he’d be a snivelling mess of a human being because she was an angel among humans. He didn’t deserve her, but then again, surely no one else did either.
Tom’s grip on her calmed and he lovingly pried the paintbrush out of her hand and shuffled her around in his arms so that she too faced her masterpiece. “We’re going to paint this together,” Tom said, as his hands began softly untying the knot of her smock. “I’m going to continue thinking of you always and forever, even though you’re still going to be my girl and I’ll still be undeniably yours. Got it?”
Her eyes fell shut and she gasped when she felt Tom’s mouth press adoringly wet kisses to her exposed shoulders. She arched her back as one of Tom’s hands moved to the front of her body to knead her breasts. Blinking her eyes open, she saw that Tom’s other hand was still clutching the paintbrush and that he was currently dipping its tip into a circle of paint. “Answer me,” Tom ordered, sinking his teeth into her skin.
“Got it, got it, got it,” she rambled out dreamily. “Gonna be your girl forever.”
Maneuvering her slightly so that his view of the canvas would be clearer, Tom began to paint the little empty spaces she’d left for him with long brushstrokes. “That’s right sweetheart, my girl forever.” Switching hands, Tom held her to him with the hand that was also holding the paintbrush, and yanked the closest chair in arm’s reach over to where they stood. Sitting down, Tom guided her around to face him before pulling her onto his lap.
Her cheeks were rosy from a mix of blush and paint and her lips were parted and her chest was heaving. Her gaze flicked up and down Tom’s body so obviously that he had to smirk. Forcing her closer, Tom brought his hips closer to hers and watched as she subconsciously leaned into him, bracing her hands on his chest.
She shuffled a bit further onto his lap, so that she was aligned perfectly with the bulge in his jeans. Letting out a gasp, her hips bucked against him and she bit down on her lip to prevent another louder gasp from escaping.
Tom’s arms constricted themselves around her, one went around her waist and the other tangled itself into her hair. “I think the painting is finished.”
Not even turning to look, she nodded, breathing out a response so faint that Tom couldn’t even make it out. She slid a hand under Tom’s shirt to trace over the lines of defined muscle on his stomach. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I don’t know why my head makes me think things like that.”
Tom kissed her tenderly on both cheeks before placing an even softer kiss to her mouth, “it’s alright, darling. I don’t know why I got so mad before. I honestly don’t know how my head would make me think if our roles were reversed.”
“I’ll love you forever,” she said, rolling her hips onto Tom’s lap.
“I’ll love you for some time after that,” Tom chuckled, his hips beginning to meet hers. “But don’t take my word for it,” Tom began to litter kisses up and down her throat while he reached up to untie her smock, “let me show you how fucking much I love you.”
“Okay,” she said, her lips covering Tom’s as his hands tore the art smock from her body. Their hips collided as their clothes became one with her floor, and the rosy painting in front of them was to be hung and framed in the apartment that they came to share.

This Life Will Have To Do

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (Ages 18+), Unprotected Sex (WRAP IT!!), Mentions of Abuse

Summary: You’re a maiden being forced into marriage with a wealthy tradesman, Brock Rumlow, but a group of criminals crash your wedding, led by the long-lost love of your life.

A/N: I know that Alexander Pierce isn’t Brock’s father, but for the sake of this story, he is. Sorry ‘bout that inaccuracy!

Word Count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

Originally posted by fandomnationwhore

“Oh, please, Y/N, I’ve heard enough whining to last a lifetime. Now turn around and let me zip up your dress.” Your mother rolled her eyes yet again in response to your protests.

“Mother, you’re throwing away my entire life! How do you expect me to respond?” You exclaimed, trying to keep the tears at bay before you fully lost your composure.

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EA Base Game Eye Shadow, Waterliner Removed!

I always thought it was a shame that this EA eye shadow had crazy colored waterliner attached, so I removed it!

I’ve attached two different versions of this shadow - one with all of the original EA swatches and another with recolored swatches, using a few of @wildlyminiaturesandwich‘s natural & neutral sandwich colors.

I think that these look best with @pickypikachu‘s lower waterliners (not pictured above), which you can grab here if you don’t already have them.

Download Original EA Colors || Download WMS Recolors

Sound the Alarms: 02

Sound the Alarms: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08
Ship: Jungkook | Reader ~ Jungkook | Seulgi
Description: You were in love with Jeon Jungkook since you were 14, but made the mistake of introducing him to your best friend at 16. Now you’ve slept with him at 19, and it appears that fate isn’t done screwing you over when it comes to your two best friends.
Warning: Cheating, Hella Angst, Intercourse, Masturbating, Dry Humping, Handjob, Blowjob, Spanking, Slight Overstimulation
Word Count: 5,654

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