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#i guess you could call this a bad pun
k-quenouille · 4 months
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If you couldn't tell, I was quite sleep deprived when i first dreamed up this thing
More info on (very skeletal plan) Pasta Law AU
it's a separated AU bc why not
Raph and Leo w/ draxum, though, were mostly raised by Huginn and Muninn during the first few years (responsibilities?? Gasp.), draxum still tries to spend time with the turtles, but he's Oh So Sad that his lab was destroyed and his prisoner (platonic crush of some sort) ran away.
Donnie and Mikey w/ Splinter (big bro donatello for the win), donatello is the one forced into taking the lead, splinter is present during the first 5 years until he gets burned out and feels helpless, gives up, luckily, he has a smart son who can take on the adult roll for mikey! yippee, trauma.
•••
In this, mikey steals splinter's portal thing and throws donald in. plot-twist! they dont end up in the same place at all, oh no, where did sweet lil brother go??? vital organ tracker indicates that he seems alright. oh, hey, pasta shops! ah, but, that's not humans inside, let's go in to find out if they're a threat! Donald gets kicked out of the restaurant, oh, a turtle similar to him in build. Donnie gets introduced to the "No mutant can pasta law". why is it specifically about pastas??? (how did they know he was a mutant???) well, at least pizzas are still safe. Oh, here's mikey! he seems fine, he's asking for direction to an old goat with a large bodyguard. the goat seems impressed. the bodyguard is way too young for that job. Huh. also a turtle. weird.
i guess you could say donnie is the older twin cuz Raph and Leo being raised together makes Leo the youngest sibling, therefore he's got youngest sibling energy, sometimes even little shit energy yk.
Raph 🤝 donnie -> understanding the burden of being the oldest.
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coquelicoq · 23 days
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In talking about Chaucer (p. 74), I said that, in general, puns and verbal connections of sound were unimportant and not to be sought out; and now, you will say, I have been using them to explain cruces in Shakespeare. Alas, you have touched on a sore point; this is one of the less reputable aspects of our national poet. A quibble is to Shakespeare [Johnson could not but confess] what luminous vapours are to the traveller; he follows it at all adventures; it is sure to lead him out of his way and sure to engulf him in the mire. It has some malignant power over his mind.... A quibble was for him the fatal Cleopatra for whom he lost the world, and was content to lose it. Nor can I hold out against the Doctor, beyond saying that life ran very high in those days, and that he does not seem to have lost the world so completely after all. It shows lack of decision and will-power, a feminine pleasure in yielding to the mesmerism of language, in getting one's way, if at all, by deceit and flattery, for a poet to be so fearfully susceptible to puns. Many of us could wish the Bard had been more manly in his literary habits, and I am afraid the Sitwells are just as bad.
William Empson, 7 Types of Ambiguity, ch 2 pp 100-101
i'm sorry this is so fucking funny. that pathetic loser shakespeare who loved puns so much it cost him everything, except of course his status as the most famous, most read, most immortal english-language author of all time. but everything else, he lost and it's all because of how weak he was to resist a pun :/ pouring one out for my sad little girly man who could have had it all if only he was better at writing, the thing he is the most famous guy in the world for.
even empson, who disagrees with johnson that shakespeare "lost the world", is like, too bad our favorite poet is susceptible to the thing that made him famous :/ really tragic that the guy whose wordplay we've been talking about for 300 years likes wordplay :///
also i can't get over writing a book about the types of ambiguity and NOT INCLUDING PUNS?? sorry but puns are ambiguous! that's where their juice comes from! imagine liking ambiguity so much you write a book about it but never mention puns except to dunk on them. imagine being a POET and POETRY CRITIC who looks down on sound-based ambiguity! could not be me!!
#puns are a device just as much as any other kind of ambiguity! this value judgment is hilariously nonsensical to me#why are puns bad but other ambiguities aren't? you can't just call them feminine and expect me to be like oh okay in that case#next time my dad makes a pun i'm just going to sigh sadly about his lack of decision and willpower#what a feminine pleasure in yielding to the mesmerism of language i will say. not very manly of you dad :/#i'm annoyed too because one of the types of ambiguity he respects is when one word has multiple meanings possible#in the context of the text. but that is in a sense a kind of pun. he says puns are homophonic but guess what#when one word has multiple meanings another way of saying that is that those are different words that happen to be spelled the same#that is then homophonic ambiguity! aka a fucking pun!!!!#i'm not just quibbling over the exact definition of a pun. i'm saying the boundaries are THAT porous i don't see how you could possibly#like semantic ambiguity as long as the spelling is identical but suddenly think it's facile when the spelling/etymology is different#that's not at all based in rational thinking but he's over here like 'the mesmerism of language is for girls'#pot meet kettle much???#poetry#ambiguity#puns#shakespeare#my posts#there was one other thing i was gonna say what was it. OH YEAH. he also was saying a few pages back that spelling was completely#unstandardized in shakespeare's time...so then why does it matter???#okay and one more thing. he keeps trying to convince me that various verses are syntactically ambiguous if you ignore the punctuation#okay. if we're ignoring punctuation we must be hearing it orally. which means we also don't know what spelling was used!!!!#i think probably he would say he cares more about etymology than spelling. words with different meanings that are etymologically#related are allowed and manly but words with different meanings that came from different roots are a weakness to be avoided#like i'm sorry dude but that is so arbitrary. and you are just cutting yourself off from an immensely rich body of possible ambiguities#by disallowing that kind of wordplay. why would you want to do that????
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seventh-district · 4 days
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not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go
(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)
#today's gone Badly and i'm upset but instead of venting abt it i'm gonna channel that energy into doing a bit of tag rambling abt Boothill#well. less abt Him and more abt uh. self-analyzing my anxiety surrounding contributing to fandoms. he's just today's catalyst#like. i know it's mostly a me thing. i'm hypersensitive to criticism and very conflict avoidant + socially anxious + perfectionistic etc.#so I'm the one that keeps myself from posting more stuff out of fear of being criticized or called-out for what i've made#bc inevitably Someone's gonna see it and think its OOC or a problematic take or they'll misread my intent. etc etc what have you#but like. that's inevitable. there's no way to communicate every single thing with all of the nuance required to avoid misunderstandings#and other times it's not a misunderstanding it's just a difference of opinions and that's Fine!! there's no accounting for personal taste#there's no accounting for several things actually. taste‚ bias‚ lore-knowledge‚ differing levels of chronic-online-ness‚ etc#so this isn't me complaining abt the state of fandom culture (although i do think. sometimes. ppl take shit a bit too seriously)#but anyways all of this is mostly just anxiety-fueled. it's not like i very often actually even receive negative feedback or anything#if anything ppl tend to tell me that i'm overthinking it and killing my own fun and worried that my stuff is more OOC than it is#which like. yeah. Yeah u right :) but that's just the way that i am! always losing the idgaf war i suppose#anyways what's Boothill got to do w this ur wondering. well. i've been thinking abt the quickly emerging concept that he's illiterate.#and it just. has me feeling a lot of ways. and watching ppl disagree over it has me feeling some Bad ways. bc it's def a loaded topic!#if you'll pardon the pun there. and i don't rlly have anything new to add other than that i'm conflicted abt it.#like yeah i saw the leaks days ago. of him mentioning 'not hitting the books' much as a child when we ask him why he sends voice messages#or voice Transcriptions ig. ykwim. and like. *braces for impact* ...i liked it? like. it doesn't feel right to call it endearing#i'm not trying to infantilize him. ok that's not the right word either but ugh. you know? what i mean?? who am i kidding even i don't know#it's not quite right to say that it feels like Representation either. but it's something close i guess#as a southern person myself who didn't receive a 'complete' education due to factors that weren't to do with my intelligence#the concept of seeing him as a capable force to be reckoned with and respected who also happens to have not received much formal education#i like that. i do. but there's so many issues w it at the same time. like. as i said‚ being southern myself has me Wary of the way Hoyo is-#writing him. as well as of the way that the fandom is taking the bits of his lore and running away w them. and i'm Very aware of how ppl-#will see a southern character and be All Too Eager to agree that they're lacking intelligence based on our Redneck™ stereotype#sigh. and before we even go too far with this. it's not even confirmed that hes completely illiterate. which is a valid criticism i've seen#there's Multiple reasons that could make him prefer voice to text. but regardless. i'm just worried that ppl will misconstrue my intentions#like. example: that edit i made the other day of him saying 'no thanks i can't read'. wasn't me playing into the stereotype of-#'haha dumb country boy can't read!' it was. in my eyes. something he'd say as a joke to make light of a potential insecurity#like. i think there's far more depth to Boothill's character if ppl could look past the surface. and i dont wanna contribute to the problem#but sometimes ppl Will have stereotypical traits and i wish the same could apply to characters as long as it's done Thoughtfully.
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deadsetobsessions · 2 months
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“DIDJA SEE THAT, DANNY?!” Tim, a scrawny eleven year old now, excitedly smacked Danny’s arm.
“Ow. Yes, yes I did.”
“Oh, gosh, I have to tell Jazz about this!!” The kid waved his arms about wildly, grinning from ear to ear.
“Jaso- I mean, Robin, smiled at me! And said he liked my t-shirt!! Oh my god, he likes literature puns, he even laughed! And then he punched the bad guy in the face! Look! I even saved the tooth!”
“Okayyy, nope!” Danny plucked the tooth and tossed it, ignoring Tim’s betrayed face. “I’ll trade you that for this.”
Danny Held out a piece of paper with Robin’s and Batman’s sigil on it, from when he asked them to sign it after they “saved” the two brothers from the two-bit thugs trying to mug them.
“Oh. My. God. This is like the best day of my life!! I love you, Danny! You’re the best brother ever!! Oh my god! I have to get Nightwing’s signature!!!”
Danny felt a rush of warmth at Tim’s proclamation of affection. Ah, he should probably step in.
“Hey, wait, no, we’re not going to Blüdhaven for you to stalk another vigilante.”
“It’s not just any old vigilante-!” Tim ignored Danny’s dramatic clutching-pearls gesture of mock hurt. “It’s Nightwing. The original Robin! He gave me my first ever hug!”
Danny paused. God dammit.
“…Fine.”
“YESSSSSS!!!!”
——
Danny-
“I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”
-is so damn tired.
“Tim. I’m literally a vigilante ghost. What makes you think I’d be stupid enough to argue with a kid who runs around Gotham at night to take pictures of other vigilantes?”
Tim deflated. “Oh. Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight…”
Jazz laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair. “I definitely couldn’t stop Danny when he went out. He trusted me to support him and I trusted him to come to me if he was injured, though. Can you promise me that, Tim?”
“Yeah… okay, Jazz, I promise.” Tim promised, even if he was still pouty.
Danny chimed in.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally worried and I’m gonna hover like a mother hen when you go out, but again, I know how stubborn and crazy we vigilante types have to be.” Danny paused. “Do you want me to put up a token protest?”
Tim nodded, sulking. “Yes, please. I had a speech planned out.”
Jazz and Danny exchanged amused glances.
“Oh, okay, my bad, kiddo. Here, let’s start from the top.”
“Okay. Ahem,” Tim straightened his back, settling into his previous mulish expression once more. “I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”
Danny placed an appropriately disapproving frown on his face. “No, you can’t! It’s dangerous! You could get hurt! You’re just a child!”
Tim launched into his speech. “But I can’t stay still and do nothing when people are getting hurt! Even…!”
They were gonna be here for a while. There was definitely something about Batman going on a spiral because Jason wouldn’t be able to walk again after the Joker got to him. Danny wondered if ectoplasm could help. He might offer, if it actually had a change of getting Tim out of the vigilante business.
But that’s for later, because they had time. Jazz was on Spring Break… and they’re still staying here for free, after all of these years.
“So, how are you going to convince Robin to let you be Robin?” Jazz asked Tim.
Tim froze. “I… hadn’t thought of that yet.”
“Well, you could always remind him of the fact that we saved him from the Joker. He seemed pretty ready to leave the Robin mantle, the last time I saw him as Phantom.”
“I don’t want to blackmail him into it!” Tim whined.
“It’ll just be a suggestion, Tim.” Jazz smiled patiently.
“Besides,” Danny continued, smirking mischievously at his adopted little brother. “If you were actually blackmailing him, you’d pull out the photos where he ate dirt.”
“I guess that’s true…” Tim mumbled. “I know! I’ll have to follow them to see how I can best approach him!”
"I think that's called stalking," Jazz deadpanned.
"Well, it's not any worse than what he's already done." Danny shrugged at his older sister. "Sure, kid. Why not? Do whatever you want."
"I was planning to!" Tim bounced off to grab his photography gear. Jazz stared off after him.
"Should we be encouraging that?"
"More like can we actually stop him?" Danny leaned back, lazily completing his GED assignments. Jazz sighed.
"Guess not. Make sure he doesn't get in trouble."
"Do you even know how hard that is, Jazz?" Danny complained, dodging the whack Jazz sent at the back of his head. She smirked at him.
"Womp, womp, Danny. How does karma taste today?"
Danny flipped her off as he put the last punctuation on the paper. He heard a clatter and groaned.
“I’m gonna go watch Tim stalk Batman for the night. Want anything from the store?”
Jazz hummed. “Get me the specialty strawberry ice cream, from that one place?”
“The one that’s definitely a front for Falcone’s money laundering??”
“Yeah. They make good strawberry ice cream.”
“Sure.”
Danny went ghost and flew straight through the walls to catch Tim sneaking out by the scruff of his collar.
“No. Bad Tim.”
“Awww, come on Danny!”
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inkskinned · 1 year
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i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?
i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?
it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.
i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.
do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway
yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.
i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.
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hazelfoureyes · 2 months
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A Doe in Fall (part 2)
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I have a terrible case of the big bad sads so enjoy part 2 earlier than I planned
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦
Part 2 Liar
You not-stalk Alastor for weeks but don’t find anything blackmail worthy to grab ahold of. But luckily (?) for you, a chance encounter pulls you deeper into his hobbies and therefore his scope of fascination. Most importantly, do murderers go on dates?
「Warnings/Promises: Smut, HumanAlastor x FemBurlesquerReader, Alastor eats pussy like beignets (MESSY), dancing, shoe stress, murder, dead body, food metaphors, stalking, masturbation, Tommy is a bad dude, allusion to coerced prostitution, praise kink?, public sex acts, stage name is a fucking pun GOTCHU BITCHES, Gluttony」
minors dni please
The nights you didn’t work were spent casually looking for Alastor. Not stalking, just …. pursuing. 
You found over the course of several weeks what places he never attended, and a few that he did like clockwork. As much as you wanted to approach him, you knew you’d end up checkmated again. You just wanted to observe the man, surely you’d see something you could use against him, something tangible.
What was he doing? Knife carrying smooth talker who fingers ladies in the park? There was more to him than you anticipated. That addictive adrenaline rush was calling you to chase him. You’d catch him in the act of whatever men like him did, and—- well, you’d figure it out then. Was he a mugger, maybe? The knife would make sense. But he disposed of bodies so well, a month and no mention of a corpse anywhere. You didn’t want to even touch the thought bubbling up in the back of your skull. It was getting louder and louder, heavier than the other thoughts.
A repeat killer.
You decided, somewhat foolishly, if he was a killer it would be best to know that information. So you needed to continue even if the cards all read death. Right? 
Right.
For all his efforts, he hadn’t actually noticed you. While he tended to stay at the back of the room, you were always further back, on the balcony, at the bar. He went about enjoying his nightlife wholly unaware someone was watching. Because of this, he did things that were considered quite dangerous for a woman.
Many nights you found yourself alone in wooded areas. Well, “alone”. 
During your casual stalking you found him to be quite pretty, in a sense. He walked smoothly, always had pressed and tailored suits. Slender fingers, wide shoulders, small waist. Fingers.
Many more nights you buried your face into your pillow and thought about his hands on you, his breath at your ear. His “Shhh.” You couldn’t replicate the feeling. No matter how you tried.
If all else failed, no juicy blackmail available, maybe just endear yourself to him. Bed him. Get the conquest done and let him go on with his little crime spree or whatever it was he was doing when you weren’t watching. Because so far all you’ve seen is a man who loves to dance and enjoys whiskey. 
After another show done, body sore, you did your tour of the theatre. Tommy was snapping his fingers at you from the bar, his attempt to tell you to come over. Every day he seemed to become more and more brutish.
“What can I do for ya?” You tried to keep a bounce in your step, arches aching. 
“I want you to meet someone.” Tommy turned to a small man at the bar, hair thinning and combed forward. You guessed in his sixties. “Give Mr. Wilson a warm welcome. He’s one of your most generous benefactors.”
You nodded, smile slipping as you mind started to consider what was happening. You had heard some girls were taking dates, offering private shows, but you had been under the impression that was entirely of their own free will and desire. Had Tommy turned pimp? Your gaze flashed to Tommy, his stare cold, and then back to the man. “Well, thank you very much doll! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wilson.” Tommy saw someone walk by and followed, leaving you with the older man. 
“Your dance was something else, sweetheart.” You nodded, his hand coming to rest on your hip. “I bet those hips do more than dancing.”
Leaning in, you rested your hand on the hand he set on your hip and whispered into his ear, “Touch me again without my permission,” you lifted his tie, a flirtatious move to anyone watching, “And the next time you see this tacky tie, you’ll be shitting it out.” You patted his chest. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
You pushed through the crowd and out of the front doors of the theatre. The air chillier tonight than past weeks. Looking around, you balled your fists. You wanted to hit something, break something.
Without any destination you tore off down the street, angrily huffing to yourself. You looked both ways to cross the intersection when you saw a familiar silhouette. A car honked, your hands coming up in apology as you finished crossing the street to follow Alastor.
Was your luck miraculous? Or malignant? You made it several blocks before a man stepped in front of you. You weren’t listening, trying to look past him to see where Smiles was headed.
“Will you fuck off?!” You pushed him out the way only to have him pull you back by the arm. Before you could let out your frustration, a stranger walked up to you both. 
“Hands off, move along.” The stranger flashed his identification papers, making the offender leave quickly with his head down. “Miss you need to be careful out here. There’s been people missing from this ward. Pretty thing like you should be home.” 
Your mouth formed various shapes, no words fitting.
“Detective Brady.” He handed you a card.
I don’t want this.
“Sure, thanks.” You snatched it with two fingers and practically jogged away. No sign of him, no indication where Alastor went. Were there any forested areas? He often took strolls in shady parks but you couldn’t remember any nearby. Turning around you realized how far you’d wandered from the fanfare and lights. The area was dark and deserted, not just Alastor but no one was around anymore. You stashed the card in your bra and rushed past an alley, giving up and deciding to just go home, when your ears caught the sound of dragging fabric on pavement.
Ice. Your blood chilled. Taking a few steps backwards, you turned to look into the darkened side street. You saw nothing, but heard a familiar wet sound.
Would it matter? Death?
You lifted your heels, walking on the balls of your feet to not make any sound as you approached the black shadow blanketing the majority of the side street.
A glimpse of brown leather shoes peeked into the light, soon your eyes adjusted as you too entered the inky darkness.
“I don’t care for liars.” Alastor was in front of you before you could even shout from shock. You looked around him to see a crumpled body on the ground and a black car.
“Is there a problem?” His eyes scanned your face, his usual smile no longer so inviting but instead manic and wide. You don’t know what possessed you, the adrenaline was flowing again and drowning out your more sensible thoughts. 
Your eyes were locked on his golden brown stare, “Only… if you’re quite attached to his wallet.”
He burst into laughter, wiping tears with the back of his bloodied glove. A small smear of blood was left behind on his cheek.
“I have no need for it.” He reached down and fished it out of the man’s pocket, “And neither does he!”
You caught it with both hands, “Well doesn’t that make me the lucky lady of the evening.”
“Don’t speak too soon. I’m quite cross with you.” He gestured at you with the knife, “We had a deal.”
In what could best be described as an out of body experience you watched yourself rush to his side and lift the man’s legs, “In the trunk?”
Alastor stared at you, teeth showing as his smile grew, “I’ve seen films less entertaining than you.” A stifled laugh as he lifted the man from under his arms and you both carried him to the car. You dropped the legs with a loud thud, Alastor gently setting the man down and opening the trunk.
A waxed canvas was lining the inside, “Clever.” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He hummed happily at the compliment and you sank your teeth into the reaction. Everyone wants something; power, money, sex, praise. Find the right combination and even the toughest hearts would swing open. 
After he tossed the man, the knife, and the gloves into the back, you reached for his hand. “Your wife is going to be miffed. Blood is so difficult to get out of cotton.” You scratched at the bit of blood that had stained his cuff. “Spit works really well. But lemon juice and baking soda before any store bought cleaners will help.”
Alastor took his hand back, adjusting his sleeve to hide the red spot, “Oh she has much bigger issues to deal with.”
Your mind raced. A chauvinist? Abuser? A weight settled into your stomach; disappointment. “Is that so?”
Giggling, he leaned against the bumper, one leg crossing in front of the other, “Considering she doesn’t exist, she’s quite terrible at laundry. And I haven’t eaten a meal in years.” A giggle devolving into a full chest laugh. 
A terrible joke, you smacked his chest, “Cruel! Unfunny!” 
“Perhaps I should eat you?” He leaned close. 
“I hear I’m quite sweet.” You smirked, heart pounding in your chest with such force you were rocking slightly with each pulse.
Alastor felt his blood pressure rising. He should kill you. Just to be safe. But—- oh, this was so fun. You hid any fear you were feeling perfectly. He could be forgiven to think he was staring into a mirror. If he met himself in an alley, well, he would feel quite safe. Perhaps you we’re of a similar inclination?
He watched your throat as you gulped. You licked your thumb and wiped at his cheek, “You always make a mess, hun.”
Alastor felt the world spin as you then dragged your blood stained thumb over your lips, red lipstick smearing with it. “Sweet eno-,” he swallowed your words, hand coming to your neck and pulling you into the kiss. No patience, his tongue swiped over your mouth and plunged in at the smallest parting. 
Your mind was screaming, finally, yes. 
His tongue as soft as his hands rolled over your own, every time your mouths pulled away and drew back together was thinning your frontal cortex. Alastor could taste the faint metallic tinge of the man’s blood on your mouth, and he found his sleeping libido shiver awake. Always a fan of kissing, he now found his mind wandering to other parts of your body, other acts of affection, as he felt you’d call them.
No time. He pulled away, “Against the wall.”
You practically threw yourself into the bricks. Alastor pulled a gas tin from the trunk and began dousing the street. You frowned, body relaxing.
“You’re taking the food metaphor too far. Fire? Really?” You took a second to realize there was no odor.
A laugh in threes, “Water, dear.” You watched the blood thin and begin snaking down to the gutter. He set the can in the trunk and closed the hatch. After opening the drivers door he turned to you, “Do you trust me to drive you home?”
“Honestly, no.”
“That’s why I like you,” a wink. “Wear comfortable shoes tomorrow.” He flashed a smile, pushing his glasses up. Before you could question him he  hopped into the car and drove off out of the back of the side street.
Alastor found himself singing a little louder as he drove home. A thrilling evening becoming somehow more exciting. He realized that always seemed to happen when you stumbled into his plans. Still annoyed you had followed him, his thoughts shifted to possibilities. A kindred spirit could make things easier. More fun. Safer. But who were you? Much like himself you wore a mask. He could see it clearly as it always began to slip in his presence. 
He pulled his car behind his home, backed up against a large greenhouse. Still in the idling vehicle, his fingers came to his lips. What a peculiar creature you were. Killing the lights and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he considered what to do. The possibilities kept coming in waves. But he stopped himself, never one to live in fantasy. Helping toss a dead man into a car wasn’t the same as killing. Yes, you showed no outward concerns, but he couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t turn tail the second things got more intense. 
He always took his time, sensing out those who were good candidates. The abhorrent, the abusers, the cruel. There was something so satisfying, deep in his gut, to watch a person with power over others cower in fear. The same eyes that relished in the pain they gave to those under their thumb shaking in realization the were now the prey. Begging for mercy they didn’t afford others. Alastor sighed. He remembered your pained sob in the park, frustration and disappointment at his lack of reaction. Eyes fluttering closed, if you had gotten in the car you’d not be disappointed in him now. 
A deeper sigh. But you didn’t. Which was wise. He thought better of you for it. Opening his eyes and leaving the car, he went to the trunk to begin his work.
You couldn’t sleep. Not because of the dead man, you were getting used to that. It was the lack of information. Comfortable shoes? For what? He didn’t give you a time or place to meet.
Tomorrow was Sunday, you realized. Ah, the bar. That was the only place that would make sense. 
Sundays were big nights for your theatre, but you weren’t needed unless a girl was sick. You simply weren’t at that level of fame for your little company and this was fine for you suddenly. You spent your Sunday pacing your small one room apartment and changing shoes.
What did Alastor have planned? With the little you knew about him it a could be a capital crime or a walk in the park. You genuinely couldn’t imagine and it was exciting. A normal man asking you—- was this a date? Was it presumptive to call it a date? You couldn’t quite see Alastor dating. You let the question go. Most men would take you for a movie and perhaps a chaste kiss at the door of a cab. With Alastor it could be literally anything. How do you dress for anything? 
Your friend teased you, arriving early to her bar and chewing on your lip. 
“So, either you suddenly wanna look nice for my dive, or you’re expecting someone.” She was wiping down the counter.
“I adore your customers, Betty.” You hopped from the seat, needing to reapply your lipstick.
Your singing voice was strained, nerves keeping you tense. Looking into the modest crowd you couldn’t find him. A cornflower yellow dress, a little too tight around your waist but you didn’t let that stop you. The collar a loose and folding slit from shoulder to shoulder, you were positively cute, he decided. Leaning at the bar he couldn’t see your face, but under the small lights you were glowing nonetheless. A little ball of pride rose in his gut, noticing you clearly had put more care into your appearance tonight than most Sundays. 
Truth was he had enjoyed a whiskey and your songs for several months now, always at the seat closest to the door, out of sight and out of mind. His favorite of your casual dive bar digs were the trousers you occasionally wore. You looked so sharp.
When your set was done, you tried to be gracious as you left the piano’s side. Alastor watched you from his seat, letting your face light up once again when you recognized him. He gave a noticeable look to your shoes. 
“Those will do.” 
“Do what?” 
“You,” he leaned against the bar, “owe me a drink. And alcohol always pairs well with dance.”
Maybe a date, you thought. You offered him your arm, “Lead the way.”
As you walked, arm in arm, you found yourself not needing to speak much. His arm was so solid in yours. You felt like everyone was looking, the handsome man and the pretty young thing. Did you two look sweet? Like the cleanest cut kids in the neighborhood? Did you look like the kind of people who sat in pews once a week and clasped hands over dinner?
Did you look like the sort to toss bodies in cars? No, decidedly not. And it made you feel powerful. What a perfect act. The feeling of looking nothing like what you were was akin to the addicting rush of your cat and mouse game with most men. 
“Do you like those group dances? Like the Big Apple?” Alastor asked as he opened the doors for you. 
“Not particularly…”
“Perfect, neither do I.” He laughed. 
A small table in a small nook of a booth lining the small dance floor. You clinked your glasses together, no toast necessary, and watched the couples swing around the room. As the 20’s were fading from the rear view, you all hoped dance would be less stigmatized. But part of the fun was how scandalous it was. 
“How was your day? Made it home safe and sound?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned into the plush booth seat. 
Oh, this was going to be… normal? You choked a little on your drink, surprised. “Honestly?”
“Always.”
“I sat in my apartment changing my shoes repeatedly.”
Alastor’s laugh was loud and sharp, but you didn’t find it obnoxious. You liked it.
“That wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to risk you being unable to dance.”
You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip with your gaze on the dancers, “Ya know how to avoid that? Tell me to wear shoes for dancing.”
A snicker, “Perhaps I’m not quite as skilled with talking to women as I like to think.”
“Then talk to me like a man.” Your glass made a thud as it hit the table. Alastor’s eyes widened as they always did when you said something wildly amusing to him.
“Hmm, I don’t talk much to men.” He thought, “Not for long conversations, that is.” Your mind conjured up the two dead men. “I never asked your name. Is it too late now?”
“You saw it on the posters. Autumn.”
Alastor smirked, “Autumn Hind is not your real name. That is clearly a stage name.”
Swirling your drink in its crystal, you smiled, “It’s a good one though, you have to admit.” His brow cocked, not understanding. “Hind, a doe. And what do does do in the fall?” Your own brows rose suggestively. 
Alastor hit the table, “A deer pun?! Oh darling, we’re going to be fast friends.” He offered you his glass for another wordless toast.
“I thought it was pretty funny, for a burlesque dancer no less. A horny little deer prancing on stage. Better than Allie Way and Frosti Winters.” You grinned into the glass, proud of yourself.
You could see Alastor physically relax beside you, dancers moving about in front of you both. 
“And yours? Your day, that is.”
He hummed, “I slept late, stayed up late. Took care of our newly penniless friend.” 
You wanted to ask more, what did you do with him? Can I come next time? Is there a pool of gators somewhere eating well today?
He leaned in to you, “May I have this dance?”
Your smile was uncontained, all desire to control your outward appearance was lost in the fun of dancing with your newest partner. Was there anyone else in the room with you anymore? Who knows. The music kept playing and that was all you needed. 
Alastor was a marvelous dancer,  you noticed other women glancing his way, eye lashes fluttering but ignored as he focused on the movements. This was how you managed to not-stalk him so well, he was completely unaware of the interested gazes of those around him.
While he didn’t notice the individual stares, Alastor could feel the attention on him and it made his chest puff. He loved it, how he could feed an image to the masses and be seen as he saw fit. It was something you both had in common, even if neither of you had strong enough egos to vocalize it yet.
When the music wound down, a slow number for the lovers, you hadn’t expected Alastor to stay on the dance floor. A slow dance, one arm on your hip, hand in hand. 
Now close, you felt you could speak without risk of others eavesdropping. 
“Why did you invite me out? I have a distinct memory of you saying you had very little affection or time.” You were shorter than him, your shoes not very tall, so you had to speak up and at his neck.
“A man who says he has no time is a man unwilling to make any.” Alastor led you in a small sway along the floor.
“Oh so you just didn’t see me worth the effort before.” You said it half teasingly, half seriously.
He looked down now, eyes meeting yours again, “That was before I knew how entertaining you could be.”
You pouted, entertaining was not the word you wanted to hear. Enthralling, Enchanting, Endearing. 
“There’s that face again. What ever could it mean.” Alastor’s head cocked to the side.
“I’m entertaining at work. You don’t need to take me out to enjoy my entertainment value.” 
He laughed again, making you glare, “Darling, being entertaining is high praise. And you’re not entertaining at work. You’re bewitching.” He pulled you a little closer, “The way you make those men act a fool. Truly a sight. You wield a power many women just dabble in.”
You shimmied a little against his chest, “Well if we’re giving out compliments…” you remembered the satisfying hum from last night, “The canvas was clever, but the water in the cans was brilliant. Nothing suspicious about a little petrol in the trunk.”
His grin widened. “And your precision. One cut and that brute was down. It was remarkable.” The hand holding your waist began to tighten. It egged you on, whether he intended it to or not, “I can appreciate the way you carry yourself.” Your freehand ran across his vest, suit jacket left at the table, “I wish I could see more.”
Your chest pressed against his, trapping your hand. “Ooh, you are observant, little one. Why did you agree to come out? Still chasing my,” his hips pressed against yours, hand sliding down slightly to hold you close, “affection?”
Fingers playing with his buttons, “Hmm, debilitating fascination and your affection. Do you have any to spare?” You smiled sweetly up at him.
Your mouths were on each other before the bathroom door closed behind you. Alastor locking it without looking, one hand staying on your neck. The small room was just a single toilet and a bathroom cabinet with a built in sink. Little tulip shaped light sconces above the mirror made the room brighter than the dance hall. Your nails lightly grazed his scalp, him humming in return. His body was pressing yours against the wall, despite his thin frame he had a power to him. Hands on your hips, holding you firmly in place. Your hips tried to roll against his anyway.
“Is it praise? I’ll sing your song until I’m blue in the face, until my lungs give out just tell me what you need.” You whined. 
His head shook softly, thumb pulling down on your chin to open your mouth. “It isn’t that simple. It’s not something you can say.” 
His tongue swiped over your own, neither in your mouths. He tasted like whiskey, bitter and fragrant. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling his body against yours. You were vibrating; the way you always did when he was near you.
Kissing, tongues, body presses.  You were tangled together.
“This isn't… doing anything?” You asked, his lips coming to your neck. Sighing, your hand gripped his hair weakly. “That feels good.”
He shook his head into your skin, “I don’t see any desire to carry it further. But I enjoy it for what it is. And you seem to enjoy it. Is that enough for you?”
You wanted to scream, to argue, but as he pulled away and you stared up into his sharp honey brown eyes, you felt helpless to deny him anything. Did you need sex? Really? It’d been three months now without it and you were only recently clawing at the sheets with thoughts of Alastor. Being in his mouth was better than being strangers. Sliding fingers back into his hair and drawing him closer, your leg came up and hooked on his hip.
Alastor pulled you both from the wall and turned you, pressing your body into the sink. You were staring at your reflection, Alastor’s eyes meeting yours in the mirror, “I’m happy to do many things for you… just not exactly what you’re asking for; not right now. Not in this tiny dance hall bathroom.” 
His hand snaked up your chest and lightly held your neck, you fought back a moan.
“Well, if it’s good enough for your wife….” 
He laughed into your skin, other hand slipping down the front of your dress and cupping your crotch. “I’ve heard no complaints.” The way he anchored you, arms twisted and firm around such vital parts of you, made your whole body relax into his arms. A parachute safely secured around you as you fell. Mouth to your ear, hot and warm breath, “Turn around.”
Head spinning, you turned in his arms. Alastor lifted you up and onto the countertop of the sink, lips crashing back into yours.
The sound of music shook the thin walls of the room, heart erratic in your chest. His fingers slid up both thighs slowly, a familiar feeling for you now. His hands your favorite dance partner. 
His eyes didn’t leave yours as he dropped to his knees, your legs closing in embarrassment before he slid his hands between them. 
“Did you ask for more affection, dear?” He pushed your dress up around your waist, two fingers pulling the fabric of your panties to the side. You wanted to rip them off, damning your garters. You felt feverish as you watched him bury his face into your pussy. Your wetness was evident by how easily he glided through your folds. One hand gripped the counter, the other combing through his chestnut hair. Alastor kept his eyes on you, reading your face as he moved his tongue over your heat.
Mind racing for something clever to say, you opened your mouth but just gasped out his name as he sucked gently at your clit. One of your short heeled shoes you stressed over fell off as your knees came up around his head.
You were confident you made the right answer. With the music thumping along you didn’t feel any need to keep yourself quiet.
Your breathy moans and little hip rolls into his mouth made Alastor smile against your skin. He had learned many ways to keep people satiated. 
With a struggle, you opened your legs again allowing his tongue to drop down and into you. Nose rutting against your sensitive clit with every movement of his tongue in and out. 
A pounding on the door made you jump. 
“People are waiting!” Someone yelled.
Alastor pushed his tongue deeper, wriggling up and down against your twitching walls. Your head fell forward, “Alastor-,” you choked.
He buried his nose into your muff, eyes closing.
The door knob rattled, “Hello!”
“Alastor.”
So warm. Your body was so warm on his face. Your smell was making him feel feral. Gluttony. The way you were twitching and heaving under his tongue, groaning his name. Had he ever felt so powerful while on his knees? Had he ever enjoyed someone else’s body in such a bloodless way? No. Decidedly not.
“We’re gonna get the key!” The man at the door said.
“Okay, okay, affection received.” You patted his head, pushing him away by his forehead. “Don’t need to end the night in a paddy wagon.”
Alastor’s tongue was still out, eyes glossy as he looked up at you.
For the briefest second you considered wrapping your thighs back around his head and waiting for the key.
You hopped off, grabbing your shoe and leaning to get it back on. Crouching down you kissed Alastor’s nose and wiped his chin clean with your handkerchief before pushing it into his shirt pocket. “Up, up!” Hand in hand you barreled out of the door before the staff could see you and rushed to the furthest corner of the hall.
When you stopped and looked back you saw a staff member looking around annoyed, a man putting his hands up and entering the bathroom with a huff.
Before you could say anything, compliment or scolding, a woman was in front of Alastor. Your hand slid from his naturally. 
“I am so sorry. Are you the host of that jazz show?” The woman had her hands in front of her, nervously twisting the handle of her purse, “Sorry if you’re not! You just look like the description, tall… handsome… cute glasses.”
You turned around, partly acting like you didn’t know him at all and partly hiding the way your face twisted. Unsure what exactly you two were doing, you didn’t want to create hassle for either of you.  Alastor laughed, “The very same! Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your back turned you couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she made a barely audible squeak. 
While you were eavesdropping, a man offered you his arm. Your hand slipped to Alastor’s back, giving him a touch as you slid into the strangers arms for a dance.
He turned around to see you hit the floor and smiled, returning to the fan before him. After a few more compliments about his voice and his appearance, the woman shrunk a little, “Are you free tonight? I don’t have an escort home…”
A hum, soft smile, “Ah, I would love to see a fan safely home. But, alas, I am here with someone.”
What an easy excuse. It was nice to not need to lie.
“I see…. Oh, uh, your glasses… here, they’re a little smudged,” she offered him her handkerchief but he declined, pulling yours from his pocket.
“Danced too hard?” She chuckled, trying to elongate the conversation.
Alastor hummed, fogging the glasses before wiping them clear. “Eating, actually.”
“Oh you’re a messy eater, huh?”
“So I’ve been told.” He folded the square into a triangle and returned it to his pocket.
“What a… delicate handkerchief.” She looked at the soft yellow fabric and saw your yellow dress twirling behind him. “Ah. Well….It was a pleasure to meet you.” The woman sheepishly excused herself, letting him watch you dance around the floor with the stranger.
He’d never so explicitly told anyone his proclivities as he had done with you. Growing up he learned quickly his interests misaligned with other young men, but he didn’t really understand it well enough until he entered his early 20s and had to learn skills his peers didn’t. A man can only turn down so many offers for sex before people begin to question him. Certain rumors could be downright dangerous. 
Your eyes kept returning to him, your smile meeting you eyes as you twirled. 
While he had bed a number of partners, it was more often than not the result of physical reactions and what felt like necessity. The few times he genuinely felt he could enjoy in indulging in carnal pleasures he found himself utterly alone. He enjoyed dating, necking, kissing, but he could only keep some people so happy for so long. Quite a few women assumed marriage would solve the issue, and pushed him. Which made the inevitable break up easier. 
His reputation was that of a rake now. The popular host who rarely dates but often canoodles.
He laughed to himself, if rumors spread of his recent antics with you he’d be practically blacklisted from certain clubs. Alastor watched you graciously leave your dance partner and hop up to him. If he were any other man, you’d throw your arms around him and make him swoon for you. But he was Alastor. Your confusingly respectful killer. So you stopped yourself, instead offering him a smile.
“I wasn’t aware you were a radio host.”
“You never did ask my job.” You both walked back to the table where his jacket was lying in the booth seat.
“Honestly did not care. Which is unusual for me. Normally my first question to men is what they do for work.” You tried to avoid looking at the bathroom before settling back into your seat beside him.
He lifted his hand and gestured for another round, “Should I be flattered or insulted?”
“Oh definitely flattered. There were much more interesting aspects to you.” There was a little space between you, a foot or so of emptiness. 
You scooted closer, Alastor glancing to you before shifting his legs and closing the last few inches of distance. Thigh touching thigh, you sat silently while your drinks were poured and brought to your table. 
“To sinning,” you offered a real toast, Alastor laughing his signature laugh and raising his glass.
“To sinning!”
His hand came to rest on yours, both settled on your lap under the table. Your cheeks were hurting, desperately trying to keep your smile looking demure and not stupid-school-girl-in-love. His fingers folded into yours, and you entirely lost the plot, face melting into a lovesick grin.
Alastor leaned into you, “Are you alright? Liquor already gone to your head?”
You squeezed his hand, “Different kind of intoxication, doll.”
The evening was, in a word, divine. You danced with reckless abandon and enjoyed various degrees of affection. You were surprised to see Alastor so open, you had pegged him as less wanting to draw attention to himself. But no, he clearly relished in making heads turn.
He offered you a ride, and this time you took it. You didn’t live far, you just wanted a little more time. When he stopped the car, you jokingly turned around and looked into the trunk. 
“We’re very alone.” You mused. He hummed an agreement, getting out of the car and opening your door.  “Wow and a gentleman.”
“A testament to my mother. If you’re comfortable, give me a wave from the window when you get in.” He closed your door behind you. 
“I don’t mind if you know where I live, you’ll have easier opportunities to kill me, I’m sure of it.” Placing two hands on his chest, you leaned up, “Is a good night kiss too forward?”
Alastor stifled a laugh, “Quite! My image of you is shattered.” before leaning down to meet your lips.
When in the apartment you turned on a light and went straight to the window. Leaning against his car with both hands in his pockets, Alastor was smiling up at you. With a wave from you, he got back into his car and left.
To say you were on cloud nine would be an understatement. Clouds couldn’t carry the weight of your joy. You’d fall to the ground like lead, regardless of the cloud classification. And with that feeling you went to bed smiling, unaware of the dark catalyst barreling towards you.
༻Masterlist༺
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows
ADIF @multifandomfanatic02 ,
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions
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hotvintagepoll · 2 months
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Propaganda
Margaret Lindsay (Frisco Kid, The House of the Seven Gables, Scarlet Street)—she was born in Dubuque, Iowa, then moved to England to make her stage debut. She framed herself as a British actress and moved back to America to try Hollywood, then starred with James Cagney in a bunch of movies. She was in the Ellery Queen movie series and The House of the Seven Gables. She never married (I suspect lesbian stuff) but lived with her sisters. She dated Cesar Romero and Liberace (I told you. Lesbian stuff.) Please include the pic of her in the tie [included above]
Mae West (She Done Him Wrong, I'm No Angel)—She is an absolute icon, the OG sex symbol. Every word from her mouth was an innuendo and she was proud of it. I guess one could say she slayed. She got Cary Grant his first acting role, as well. How could you NOT vote for someone who says such iconic stuff as "I do all my writing in bed; everybody knows I do my best work there" or "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." SHE COINED THE PHRASE "IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET OR ARE YOU JUST HAPPY TO SEE ME?" I LOVE HER!!!
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Margaret Lindsay:
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Mae West:
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Her voice! Her body! She was thick as hell and SO confident.
Mae West is often called the queen of the sexual pun or innuendo, she was an early sex symbol and a comedy icon. She also has a quote saying "When I am good, I am very good. But when I am bad I am better!" which is possibly the peak of hot girl energy ever. (Including the clip here)
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for an era that didn't have much wiggle room when it came to women that studios wanted in their films, it's refreshing that she was in her late 30s when she skyrocketed to movie fame. she was also curvy and witty and raunchy, an absolute icon!
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Legendary sex symbol. Like 500 vintage iconic quotes and double entendres. "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? " "When I'm good, I'm very good. But when I'm bad, I'm better" / "It's not the men in your life that count, it's the life in your men" / "I feel like a million tonight. But one at a time." , "Marriage is a fine institution, but I'm not ready for an institution. " / " How tall are you without your horse? Six foot, seven inches. Never mind the six feet. Let's talk about the seven inches! " Look the pictures don't do her justice just watch a compilation and tell me that voice doesn't do it for you
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She was a SEX GODDESS at a time when that was an extremely scandalous thing to be, and she worked it! She was sardonic, sarcastic, funny...and stacked! Favorite quote (from Night After Night, 1933): Random woman: Goodness! What beautiful diamonds! Mae West: Goodness had nothin' to do with it, dearie.
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i personally love this silly production number from one of her lesser known movies
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She was arrested for indecency and chose to serve 10 days in prison instead of paying the fine for the publicity, and she claimed that she refused to wear the ugly prison outfits so she wore her silk lingerie the entire time. Also one of the first historybound vintage fashion icons (although vintage for her was the Victorian era)
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hotguycomiczine · 2 months
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[ START OF TRANSCRIPT ]
INTERVIEWER: So, Mr. Goodtimes... what exactly would you say is your greatest strength, in this wonderful world of vigilantes?
HOTGUY: Why, thank you for the question, [REDACTED]! Y'know, I'm just soaring through it all, just flying high above the clouds, breezing through foes, out-foxing the TCG— not that that's hard; they've got pretty bad equipment for an organization that's supposed to be government funded. Well, I guess that goes to show what happens when you try to interrupt the incredible Hotguy while he saves the citizens of sweet, sweet Hermitopia, right?
INTERVIEWER: Hm... that's a pretty surprising answer, Hotguy. And here I thought flyin' around was more your sidekick's job, not yours.
HOTGUY: What? Oh, oh! Well, you know Cuteguy, he's got— well, sure, he's the one that actually flies us around... sort of, at least. But me, though— well, [REDACTED], I guess you could say I'm more of a looker.
INTERVIEWER: ... I see. So are your dazzling good looks stunning the villains then?
HOTGUY: Well of course, we all know I'm the handsomest man around! Just look at this face! Cutting edge cheeks, I tell you, cutting edge. But no, actually, what I mean is— well, I'm an archer, so you've gotta see well, right? And me? I see loads. Just about everything there is to see, I'd imagine. Nothing can escape these ol' sharp eyes for long!
INTERVIEWER: I guess you could call it 20/20 vision then, ay?
HOTGUY: I'd call it more than that; 20/50, or— 50/20— oh, no, wait that's not— look, I don't do math, [REDACTED], numbers are just— ooh, they're tricky little things, aren't they? But ever since that water supply got contaminated, I've been seeing more and more, further and further, in way more detail. You ever seen a pigeon poop from three miles away?
INTERVIEWER: Can't say I have.
HOTGUY: I wouldn't recommend it.
INTERVIEWER: Ha! Okay, okay, I can see why that is— pun intended, of course. Well, I'll have to thank you for the interview good sir, it has been most enlightening.
HOTGUY: Not a problem at all! Always happy to answer some questions for the fans.
INTERVIEWER: Indeed, indeed.
[ END OF TRANSCRIPT ]
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guillotinna · 1 year
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I keep seeing these Gen z is task force 141 and I wanna join
Anytime you use a computer, you do that stupid movie hacker trope of exaggerated typing and say "I'm in"
Saying "POV" in front of sentences
In the group chat saying "1 like and I'll kms", liking your own message and then saying "damn guess I gotta"
I see a lot of these posts were Gaz and Soap would understand y/n....bffr, no those geezers would not
No one knows what the gen z kid is saying they just know it's probably not good
"You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?"
You have a small photo you keep tucked in your chest pocket and after enough times seeing you looking lovingly at it, one of the guys asks who it is. Is it a s/o from back home? 😏😏
You say no and pull out a photo card of your fave singer and they're like ??? Really
One time during a particularly physical scuffle with the enemy, you get thrown to the ground and huff out "one hop this time" only to promptly tackle tf outta your assailant while saying "take it back now yall"
Reads everyone's zodiac charts except ghost bc he won't tell his birthday let alone the time he was born so you just make one up
Price calls a 6 am meeting to which you say "double it and give to the next person"
*Alexa, play teenagers by MCR*
If you had time describe the base, you'd say it smells like ball sweat, blood and war crimes which everyone took offense to for different reasons
Would absolutely get soaps doodles tattooed
Actually speaking of which, imagine getting caught giving yourself stick and pokes with a pen and being banned from using pens period
You'd be in a meeting with a #2 pencil
Ofc a gen z member would be absolutely feral which very little regard for their own safety much to the dismay of the others
Quoting "Oh these aren't homemade, they were made in a factory....a bomb factory......they're bombs." All the time around soap even though he has no idea what you're talking about
You don't spent too much alone time with ghost bc he likes quiet and you can't be alone with your thoughts which is why you lean more towards spending time with soap or gaz
I just like puns so I'm gonna add this but gen z love borgs (a customized gallon jug of alcohol that is usually given a name) and yours is appropriately named taskforce 1-borg-1
this is mainly for my americans but i know pretty much the whole world got beef with engl*nd: before you met Soap, you thought the entire 141 was en*lish so when you finally did meet him, you said "oh thank god" with a sigh
americans 🤝 scotts
making fun of english "people"
"Pull up in the monster, automobile gangsta With a bad bitch that came fr-" "....sergeant, comms off please"
you show Ghost WAP and he has to take a walk
*price yelling at gaz and soap*: KYLE GARRICK AND JOHN MACTAVISH GET IN HERE- Y/n: oop not the government name
Another for my US baddies: if your'e ever arguing with any of the guys, the nail in the coffin would be "and it's called soccer"
"one more like and i'll-" "enough!"
you call Price "ms. girl" and he could not be more confused
someone asks "do you serve?" and u reply "yah, serve cunt"
when asked why you decided to join the military you said something like: "well i didnt think i'd live past 18 so when I did, i ended up here".....crickets from the rest of the team
"good thing we only have showers on base because i would have already taken a toaster bath by now"
ask Gaz "no bitches?🤨" one more time see what happens
price: the enemies have taken civvies hostage and blocked off all exits and entrances to the town-" y/n: "omg tea"
Also calling price "capt. Save-a-hoe"....I wanna be saaaavvveddd ;)
If you took a shot every time you said "rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, I dive in her cervix", you'd be dead lmao
When asked if they like the military they'd say "it was either this or the psych ward so yah, I'll take it"
Quoting MPGIS constantly and no one even sort of knows what that is ("Crack. Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?")
Some detainee being interrogated is spilling some nonsense, so you hit them with "oh brother this guy stinks!" And then with the butt of your gun
"Little bad trini bitch but she mixed with China, real thick vagina, smuggle bricks to-" "SARGENT ENOUGH"
Falling asleep on team mates (minus ghost's) shoulders mostly because the most peace they get is when you're unconscious
*when y/n hears any slightly suggestive/dirty phrase*: what are we talking about 😏 (iykyk)
Same energy as: " born next to a nuclear power plant, has an IQ of 2 and was hit in the head with several Rocks as a child"
Vine quotes out the wazoo, it's just awful for the rest of the team lmao
Replying to everything with "on god?"
soap: "what are you 6?" y/n: "yah 6 inches deep in your mom".....you did not walk away from that unscathed to say the least...worth it tho
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thesirencult · 7 months
Text
PAC READING: YOUR DIVINE FEMININE'S AURA
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Discussing your feminine's general aura and characteristics. Friendly for both men and girls/theys who like girls. You can also pick it to see how your aura is as a feminine ���️
Book your reading by sending me a private message xoxo S.
Pile 1
7 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 10 of swords
Your DF has the aura of a sweet herbal witch. She lives in her little cabin in the woods and like a fairy she works on perfecting her craft. Greens and purples look great on her.
This is a slow and steady energy. This is someone who loves taking their time. She loves learning and implementing her skills. Making coffee becomes a daily ritual and same goes as washing the dishes.
Her attention to detail is immaculate and that can drive you crazy sometimes but you know that with all that good comes some bad. Very well presented, you can take her anywhere and all eyes will be on her. Very earthy, stable and focused on building a foundation for all things practical before she jumps onto commitment.
Her steady "working on myself" attitude stems from getting backstabbed one too many times. She knows that she has to build herself up and after that all her dreams will manifest. She is into self development and may love going through that tag on Tumblr. She may even be a blogger herself.
She is investing in herself and doesn't shy away from learning about accounting or law. Nothing will stand on her way to that cute fairy cottage *aggressive cute walk* 😉.
Pile 2
9 of pentacles, queen of swords, the magician
Whoever has this DF as a counterpart or has that aura, WOW. Miss Independent. A handful. We love seeing that *sprinkle, sprinkle* here. CEO. That's C-Suite energy!
This woman is someone powerful and dominant. Like a race horse you will always bet on because you KNOW, it will always come first 😉 (pun intended). She works very very hard for what she wants and similar to pile 1 she can be in accounting, finance and law. Good with numbers and her hands. I bet she has a dirty sense of humour.
From the first moment you see her you will know she is the real deal. Others blend in the background while she power walks in the room. Penetrating stare and red bottom high heels, her allure is different. She doesn't have to show dominance, others feel that she is the boss. Mami energy. Ferocious when someone comes for her loved ones. She could even be in law enforcement.
Red and brown. Symbolising high energy that's still grounded and serious. Do not cross her.
Pile 3
King Of Swords, Knight Of Wands, Ace Of Swords
Now, this one? A handful ! Try to tie her down. You just can't. A brat.
This person is very fluid. They don't care about terms and conditions. They are highly intelligent and her mind walks a thin line between spirituality and logic. The most unconventional, they will find a solution no one sees yet it's right in front of them. Highly intellectual and well versed in philosophy and math.
This reminds of a movie with James Franco where he played a start up founder who was into spirituality. A crazy genius. A party is a party and they will be there.
Partying in Ibiza? They've done that. Phuket for a Muay Thai Camp? That did that last year! Eiffel tower to try a croissant with pistachio filling? They just got back yesterday and guess what? They hate pistachios.
This person is the type to run a start up company focused on clean energy and when shit hits the fun they will call an astrologer and ask for recommendations. They respect everyone. They will listen to your mom and dad when they talk about their days and take mental notes of great ideas. They know great ideas come from the most unconventional places and fields.
Pile 4
Page Of Cups, Page Of Swords, The Fool (5 Of Swords + 8 Of Swords + 5 Of Pentacles flew out)
This can be my age difference pile. They will run you to the ground lol.
This is someone with lots of mental capacity. You ask them about World War II and they will tell you how Nazis and Churchill used astrology and why the war happened and after 5 hours you will be listening to them about Ancient Mesopotamia. "How did we get here?" You will think.
Well, it doesn't matter cause you love listening to their voice and their warm heartfelt laugh. They look innocent and pure and even if they try to intimidate you you will let them think they can but in reality they look like a cinnamon roll and they are a cinnamon roll. Their life was not the best and they have lots of trust issues. They may look innocent but their eyes hide a painful past. Like a kitten thrown out and left out in the cold they feel lost and unappreciated.
You listening to them means the world and you will be shocked at how appreciative they are and how loving with you. They are very romantic and they may have great expectations and daydreams about their love life.
I get that you might start off as friends and meet in a very random way on a daily run or while getting groceries or a tire changed. You will immediately fall in love with them and they will seem like they don't suspect a thing. Let me tell you, they know, they are just too scared to show their feelings and until you grab them and kiss em you won't know how much passion is brewing underneath this innocent and clever facade. They might turn into pile number 2 in a few years lol.
Ready for everything, you will always be a warm embrace and their home when they come back from exploration. You will love how they yawn while reading a book and how they stretch when they wake up showing revealing their tummy. They are cute to you, even if everyone else sees them differently, that's how you view them. They might be a black mysterious cat but you think of them as a tired little kitten waiting for a safe home that will accept them as they are.
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Note
AITA for not flushing the toilet to prove a point to my partner, then calling him out for it?
my partner (24M) and i (24F) live together. he regularly forgets to flush the toilet after shitting. it goes like this: he takes his morning shit while the shower heats up -> he decides to flush after his shower bc he thinks it'll make the shower cold otherwise (it doesn't, i've tested this, but he doesn't believe me) -> i leave for work -> he promptly forgets to flush -> his smelly dump steeps in the toilet all day -> the whole apartment reeks when i get home -> i flush, turn on the bathroom fan, and febreeze -> the smell is gone when he gets home -> i remind him to please flush when he poops -> he insists he never forgets and it must've been me -> the cycle continues
today i had a doctor's appointment right after work. i was planning to go straight there after work, and told my partner as such so he wouldn't be concerned when i wasn't home when he got home. well, i forgot my wallet, so i ran home after work and decided to use the bathroom before leaving. as soon as i opened the front door i could tell that yet again he forgot to flush. i was tired of dealing with this so i peed, didn't flush, and left it for him to come home to for once. when i got home from my appointment the whole apartment REEKED of febreeze, lmao. i asked him what happened, and he said that one of the cats had a really smelly shit. i said "yeah, it was definitely the cats and not you forgetting to flush after shitting once again". he ripped off his headset (he was gaming) and snapped at me not to embarrass him like that when he was on voice chat with his friends (i didn't know). i don't feel bad about it, but i guess i did technically lie about going straight from work to the doctor's and omitting the part where i came home and didn't flush to prove a point to him. and maybe giving him shit for it (no pun intended) was an asshole move. AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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freedomfireflies · 1 year
Text
iFall For Harry
Part Two to this request!
Summary: Turns out, the stranger in your phone is kind of funny...
...and kind of sexy, too.
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Oh, my god. 
Harry, did you hear the news?
It takes exactly three and a half minutes for those familiar little bubbles to pop up.
Well hello to you, too. 
No, what happened?
You struggle to contain a rather giddy grin as you begin to type, A cheese factory exploded in France!
Wait, really? Shit, what happened?
I don’t know. But all that was left was…de brie.
Exactly sixty seconds pass before he begins to type.
Fuck.
I think I just snorted. 
That was…goddammit that was good.
You don’t even know what he looks like, but you chuckle at the idea of him laughing so hard he can’t help but snort.
Thank you, thank you. 
Took me two weeks to come up with that.
I’m impressed. 
Little offended, too.
Oh? Your heart sinks.
Yeah. 
Kept me on the edge of my seat for two fucking weeks wondering if I’d hear from you again.
Shit. 
You smirk to yourself as you flop down onto your sofa and think through a response.
Hey, it takes two to tango, pal. You could have texted me, too.
The bubbles make your heart pound.
Alright, that’s fair. 
In my defense, I didn’t have any more cheese puns.
Oh, is that all this is, then? 
You just use me for dad jokes?
Psh, nooooooo…
Then, another text.
Although, the jokes do make my days…cheddar.
 You laugh a little louder, suddenly very aware of the flush in your face over some stranger in your phone. 
No, wait. How do I erase a text?
I hated that. 
Seriously, how do I make it go away? 
My failure is staring me in the face, and I hate it.
You giggle under your breath.
Easy, Grandpa. 
Relax, just press down until the options pop up.
The conversation goes quiet for a brief moment before you watch his previous text vanish from the screen with a dramatic, poof!
Then, he begins typing again.
Hold on… 
Did you just call me Grandpa?
…psh, noooooooo
Oh, so that’s how it is?
That’s how it is.
Wow, and we had such a nice thing going, too.
To be fair, you never told me your age, and you don’t even know how to delete a text. 
What am I supposed to think?
First of all: rude. 
Respect your elders.
Second of all: this deleting shit is NEW, okay, and I just updated my phone, like…a week ago, so I never learned. 
Uh-huh. 
No, yeah, whatever you say, Grandps.
He responds with the emoji that’s rolling its eyes.
You smirk.
For your information, I’m 29.
Okay, which is a cool, hip, fun, and very fresh age.
Yes, I believe that’s the slogan for the retirement home, too. 
“We’re cool, we’re slick, and we might break a hip.”
There’s a longer pause between your text and his response. You hope it’s because he’s laughing. It’s not your best work, but you think it’s funny.
And then, you get the notification.
Dammit, that place sounds so much cooler than the retirement home I’m in now. 
Send me the address? I’ll wheel myself over.
You got it, Old Man. Will you need any help crossing the street?
How thoughtful of you. Yeah, that’d be great, and then you can finally earn your Girl Scout badge.
Oh, my God. How did you know it was the last one I needed?
Cause I’m old. And therefore wise.
Oh, right, right. No, that checks out.
Yeah. 
You lean back, forcing your eyes away from your phone to finally get a moment of reprieve from the excessive smiling. Why is this so fun?
I guess 29 isn’t so bad. Just…three years older than me.
Ah, another piece to the Cheese Girl puzzle. 
You’re 26.
Indeed.
26 was fun. 
I liked 26.
Yeah, it’s not too bad so far.
Just wait until your bones start to creak whenever you get out of bed.
I’ll keep a can of oil on my nightstand.
You grimace to yourself. Your worst joke to date, and you just hope you haven’t blown it.
Probably smart. 
My preferred method is lube, but…
Whatever works.
Your eyes widen.
Oh?
Yeah.
 My bones might creak but at least I can still fuck.
Well…shit.
You readjust your position on the sofa, desperately working to find a cool and relaxed and equally mysterious reply.
…so, no pressure.
Just be careful with all that lube. 
Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall.
Hope you’ve got Life Alert on speed dial.
Oh, I absolutely do. They love me over there.
You smirk to yourself, fighting yet another laugh. 
Yeah? Thank God.
Boy, I bet you’re a real stud with the ladies, huh?
Damn fucking right. 
This grandpa has moves.
I bet. Yeah, women love a man that squeaks when he thrusts.
They do, actually. I happen to squeak quite sensually.
Is that right?
It is.
Damn.
Might need to hear that for myself someday.
It was bold. Perhaps a little daring, and you don’t give yourself a chance to overthink it before turning your phone off and tossing it onto the other side of the sofa.
You give it five minutes before checking to see if he’s replied.
Thankfully, you have two notifications, delivered 3 minutes ago.
Yeah?
So what’s stopping you?
What is stopping you?
Probably a number of things, but instead of pointing out that he’s a complete stranger and could very well be a catfish (or even worse…that he might not even find you attractive) you decide to go with another joke.
All these Girl Scout cookies I gotta sell :/
Shit.
Yeah.
What if I bought a hundred boxes?
Then you’d have to hand deliver them to my door, right?
Your eyes roll playfully as you sigh.
That IS the Girl Scout policy, yes.
We pride ourselves on good service.
Fantastic, then I’ll take 100 boxes in the flavor of you.
Your lashes flutter as you reread the text, over, and over, and over. But before you can spiral…he’s sending another.
…shit, that was meant to be smooth.
Get it, cause…like, you know, get a taste of YOU. Like…if you were a cookie. 
Cause…I wanna taste you…
Explaining it makes it worse, doesn’t it?
 It should make it worse, but for some reason…he’s funny? And charming? And making your thighs squeeze together—
I think that can be arranged, yeah.
I’ll package them up nice and pretty, just for you.
Equally as cheesy, but apparently…cheese is where you both shine.
You hope he’s at least somewhat amused, and when he finally responds, your stomach flips.
This conversation is bad for my health.
Yeah?
Why’s that?
Because I’m in a meeting and I’m about to have a heart attack.
…why are you about to have a heart attack?
Oh, right. I forgot that happens at your old age.
Ha.
Funny.
Good thing you have Life Alert on speed dial.
Yeah, I don’t think Life Alert is gonna be able to help.
No? Why not?
Cause only one thing can save me now.
Cookies.
Your cookies.
To be exact.
See? Cheesy.
Wow, I was almost turned on and then…
Nope, there it goes.
Oh, is that what we’re doing? We’re trying to turn each other on?
Well, why didn’t you SAY so?
Hold on, I’ve got a few good ones.
Oh god.
Alright, here we go.
So…
What are you wearing?
…really? That’s all you’ve got?
Work with me please.
My gosh.
Clothes.
I have clothes on.
Yeah?
That’s a shame.
Two minutes go by without him adding anything else, and you can’t help but laugh when you realize that’s all he’s got.
Wowwwwww…
No, that was so good. I’m…holy shit, you just took my breath away. I’m so turned on right now.
I mean, my panties just FLEW across the room!
You’re THAT good!
Okay, very funny. 
I wasn’t done.
No, really. You gotta warn a girl before you just completely rock her world like that.
Honestly, I feel a little faint.
Where did you learn such a masterful technique? Really, you should teach a class on sexting, cause that was just…phew.
Listen, I was just trying to take it easy on you.
You know, ease you into my seduction before I gave it to you good and hard.
The last bit of his sentence has you stumbling over a gasp, but you simply clear your throat and work to find a response.
You have two options:
Either you tease him a bit more…
…or you ramp up the tension.
Well, by all means, Harry…
Give it to me good.
And hard.
He doesn’t respond for quite some time to this. And while you’d like to tell yourself that it’s because he’s just so turned on by your response…
…it’s more likely that you definitely fucked up and he wants nothing more to do with you.
But then…your phone dings.
Is that what you want then, hm?
Want it rough?
Shit, shit, shit.
Yeah.
If you think you can keep up.
Trust me, sweetheart, that won’t be a problem.
If you want it rough, I’m more than happy to oblige.
Is that why you texted me today?
Needed my help?
Truth be told, you don’t know why you texted him today, but you certainly aren’t upset with how things are going.
Me? Needing YOUR help?
Cute, but I think my fingers and I can manage just fine.
His response comes so fast, your head spins:
…fuck.
You smile.
Shit, okay now this conversation is REALLY bad for my health.
I might keel over right here in this meeting.
My death is on your hands, Cheese Girl.
Worth it.
You watch the bubbles float onto your screen for a good thirty seconds before they disappear.
Then, they appear again…just to dissipate before you can get your hopes up.
Finally—finally…a text.
Okay, listen, you don’t know me.
And I don’t know you.
I get that.
I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger.
But…
And hear me out…
What would you say to a phone call?
Your pulse stutters as you stare at his proposition, but he’s already sending his next text before you can decide if you’re really that stupid or not.
I know that’s asking a lot, but…
If you promise that you aren’t a 90-year-old man, and I promise I’m not some kid playing video games in his mom’s basement…
We could at least…have a real conversation.
And make sure that we really are who we say we are, you know?
And I could be assured that I didn’t just get a fucking boner in the middle of a busy boardroom cause of some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.
You hesitate.
Despite yourself, you are intrigued by the idea.
Worst-case scenario if he is some loser…you can just hang up and block his number.
And if he’s not…and he’s half as hot as you’re starting to hope he is…
You swallow.
Thickly.
I am not some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.
I’m just a regular creep that makes cheese jokes.
Promise.
And…yeah. 
I would be okay with a phone call.
As long as you do in fact promise I won’t regret it and that it won’t result in nightmares that haunt me for the rest of my life.
Ah, well…
Can’t say much for the regret…
But I do promise that I will try very hard not to give you nightmares.
God, are you really doing this?
Are you really doing this?
Alright, then…
Oh, so you’re doing it. You’re really that dumb. You really just let a complete stranger convince you to call him, even though he could be a serial killer, or a psycho, or—
Your phone rings.
You see his name pop up in large print as the cellphone just about flies out of your hand.
Scrambling to keep it steady, you lurch forward and collect a deep breath.
You can do this.
You can do this.
You’ll give him thirty seconds. And if he seems creepy…you’ll hang up, and you’ll move on.
And you’ll never get random boys in bars numbers again.
You press your thumb into the button on your screen and slide it to the right.
Here goes nothing.
“…hello?”
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~ iFall for Harry pt. 3 (the third part to this!)
~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist
~ More Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Tag List:
@tinyhrry @supersanelyromantic @lomlhstyles
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badnoahmens · 8 months
Text
I Took Your Keys, It Was Me - Part 2
Noah Sebastian x Reader
Words: 2.5kish
A/N: I’ve never had so many requests to make a part 2 to a fic before, so here’s this. Part 1 found here.
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Two weeks had passed now, your normal daily life routine had fallen back into rhythm. A swell of work, sleep, food somewhere in the mix. There was a slight adjustment though, and that was the odd text message from Noah. It wasn’t every day, and no deep, dark secrets were being shared, it was simply a meme, a photo of something mundane, or most of the time, a terrible, terrible, pun.
The communication between the two of you was effortless, like talking to a lifelong friend. There was no sense of urgency, no burdening, no feelings of dread whatsoever, which was unusual for you to feel like that.
Their tour was starting to wind up. Only 1 week left, and 3 cities to visit and perform at. To think back at the meeting you had 2 weeks ago seems like more time had passed than it actually had. It could be because of life going back to normal, or because of all the stories Noah had told you about touring, both old and new.
Your mind got lost in a memory, one of a late night. You were sitting on the couch, dirty dishes on the table in front of you, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly as the TV kept playing in the background.
The sudden vibrations in your hand and a change of screen distracted you from your doom scrolling, seeing Noah’s name flash up. It wasn’t often that he would call, this was only the second time, but there was a comfort in talking to him that didn’t seem to happen with anyone else, especially this quickly after meeting someone.
“You’ll never believe what just happened” he would say, not even letting you say hello. Immediately, he continued. “So, tonight, after the show, we went to get some food because the hungry boys deserved a feast, and then…”
Your mind started to wander. He was so excited about what had happened that he called you. You. Out of anyone in the world. It was something that you tried not to think too deep about, but boy was that hard. He was excited, and thought of your name, and wanted to tell you all about his exciting story.
It was his laugh that brought you back to the conversation, bringing you out of your own head and back to whatever epic tale he was recounting. Something about getting lost and then being chased by some rodent and needing to hide up a tree, then the rodent climbed the tree too… it was hard to follow along with what he as actually saying because of the wheezing and laughter mid-sentence. You couldn’t help but just smile. A big, goofy, toothy grin. He sounded so genuinely happy.
“So, as you can probably guess, I have a new fear of rats now” he finished.
“So what you’re saying is, that big, bad Noah, who wears a ski mask and wraps his hands like a boxer to perform, is scared of a mouse?” You tease.
“Did you not hear me! This rat was the size of a small dog! What if it bit me!” He was off again. Going into strangely specific detail about how big it’s teeth were and how hairless it’s tail was.
Snapping back to reality, you couldn’t help but scroll through your old conversations, giggling once again at some of the photos he chose to share with you. One in particular was a favourite.
It was a selfie, and wore a uniform black outfit of a shirt and beanie. It looked like it was night, the windows showed a dark sky. Although it was a selfie, the photo was aimed over his shoulder, a chaotic scene of arms flailing and frustrated expressions in the band and crews faces. Noah himself looked as though he was stifling a giggle with his eyes semi-closed and lips pursed together. What looked to be a Monopoly board and its game pieces were scattered over the floor, table, and lounge. What you could only imagine is an argument occurred where someone was wrong done by, egos were crushed and friendships were put to the test.
It was these kinds of photos, the casual insights into his life, that made you think more about him than what you probably should.
Almost as though he knew you were thinking of him, a new message from Noah dings in your phone.
“We’re in your town next week!” Is all it said, followed by a second message. “Still offering that tour of the best places to eat?”
Your heart skips a beat. The memory of the offer to show him around your city floods back and you cringe a little at the awkwardness of it all. After musing over a response for a few minutes, you respond.
“I’ve got just the right place in mind”.
————————————————————————
The next week had finally rolled around and you were on your way to the food truck you had told Noah all about. It was… quaint. Set up permanently in an old car park, with some rickety plastic chairs scattered around, it served some of the best food you’ve ever eaten. Throughout the morning, you had changed outfits 4 times, drank 3 coffees, turned the house upside down looking for a hat that you didn’t even wear, and then almost locked yourself out of the house, all thanks to the panic that was starting to set in.
Thoughts if doubt started to creep in, force of habit you guess. Your mind was not the kindest of places, especially to yourself. Some of the things you would say to yourself almost made you pull the plug and not go at all, but you were distracted once again by Noah sending a message confirming the address.
Right now, you were sitting in your car, around the corner from where you were supposedly meeting everyone. You had invited the whole band and crew along to try and ease the awkwardness, but now it has made the whole thing even more daunting.
You leg bounced in its place, nervously tapping a rhythmic and repetitive beat, almost like you were building up the courage to actually get out of the car. A very long 5 minutes passed, and you forced yourself to push open the door. Why was this so nerve-wracking? Was it because it had been building up for a week, or because you were seeing Noah in person for the first time since you last met? Was it because you had brought along the hoodie that he gave you last time to give back to him, but secretly you didn’t want to part with it?
One foot started to move, followed by the other, as you walked closer to the desired location of greasy burgers and fries. Your stomach rumbled fiercely at you, reprimanding your choice to skip breakfast and run only on a caffeine diet this morning. It distracted you enough, right up until you could hear a familiar voice, echoed by a band of laughter.
You stood at the corner, looking at the food truck, seeing all familiar faces crowded around the plastic chairs and tables. Folio was talking to Jolly, making strange expressions and wide arm movements, as though he was telling an age-old story of his, meanwhile Jolly looked as though he had heard it all before. They were the closest, a wall of bodies with their backs turned to you was behind them, a mix of people, of which you could vaguely make out Bryan, Matt, Ruffilo, Dakota, Tim, Steven, and even Miles.
Memories of their faces flash back in your mind, back to the night you met them, sitting around in a circle in the greenroom after their concert. They were so kind to give up their space, time, and drinks for a stranger, let alone a fan of theirs.
There was a shift in the crowd that stood around the plastic table, and then you could see Noah. He was sitting down at one of the chairs, glancing between his phone and his friends around him. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, along with a white graphic tee and some black shorts. He was a simple fashionista, but you’d be damned if you said it didn’t look good on him.
The 10 seconds that you stood there for felt like a lifetime as the bubbling of nerves in your stomach grew. They all seemed to happy and relaxed, and you could help but think, why ruin that?
The devil on your shoulder screamed at you to leave them alone.
They’re happy.
Don’t ruin it for them.
Look how well they’re doing without you there.
You could feel your eyes welling up, threatening to spill over tears at any moment, but you wouldn’t let that happen, especially with the threat of them seeing you like that.
You suck down a shaky breath, holding it in as you turn on your heels. In the end, that voice was right. Why would they need you to join them? A fan, nonetheless, that they met once, to hang out like they were childhood best friends? It was ignorant to think that it could have gone any other way than this.
You could see your car now, almost acting like a safe place. Your steps quickened as you impatiently headed towards your familiar haven to then let the tears fall. That was until you heard your name being called out from behind you. It makes you stop in your tracks. A feeling of panic rises inside your chest as you hear it called a second time.
It was Noah. It was his voice, undeniably, calling out to you.
Your eyes squeezed shut in an effort to fight back the feeling of despair, forcing the tears back. You couldn’t face him like that. You could hear him walking towards you, footfalls growing louder and the keys that jingled by his pocket rang like a warning bell.
Blinking back the fear you still had, you had no choice but to turn and face him. When you did, his face was full of confusion, slightly tilted to the side, eyebrows knitted together like he was trying to figure out what you were doing.
“The food place is this way” he says, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, glancing back in that direction. “Are you okay?”
“Just got lost, I guess” you lie. He knows. He can tell something is off.
“We’ve been waiting for you. Need some recommendations for this place!” He says enthusiastically. It’s clear as day to see he is trying to cheer you up. He’s reading your situation exactly as it’s playing out. He gives you a look, tilting his head down and raising his eyebrows almost as though to say ‘you coming or what?’
It was his calm demeanour that was the only thing that could have convinced you to stray from your path of heading to the car. The way his eyes pleaded in the gentlest of ways made it feel like it was all going to be okay.
“The burgers are greasy as, and you’ll regret it afterwards, but they’re the best thing I’ve ever eaten” you finally respond with a slightly shaky voice. There’s still an air of hesitancy as you start walking towards Noah, but you admit defeat and cave anyway.
As you step closer, one arm lifts and wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as he spins to face the rest of the band of friends. His arm drops and pulls out his phone, taking a quick snap of the food truck as he strides towards it. You need to quicken your pace because the fucker has long legs and walks fast as hell.
As you near the crowd, they turn and meet your gaze. A chorus of “Hey! Good to see you!” “Where have you been? I’m starving!” And “what’s new key-girl” welcomes you.
You throw out a wave, paired with a “good to see you guys again” and a side glance at Noah, who’s smile is beaming as he looks on at the menu hanging on the side of the truck.
The next hour that follows is one filled with jokes, good food, tales from the road and even a short walk down the Main Street of town. Framing each side of the road are buildings of all different architectural styles. Art-deco neighboured modern, which neighboured neoclassical. There was even a gothic-style library building that you walked past. It was something you admired about this small city, it wanted to be so much more than it was, but seemed like it never really got there.
You walked amongst the group, trailing more towards the back, looking up at how the sunlight danced through the buildings, the trees, and reflected on shop front windows. The sky was a picture perfect blue, letting the sun shine down a radiant warm that gently kissed your skin. It was mid-admiration of your surroundings that you see in your peripheral vision that Noah was looking your way. When you finally glanced at him, you were met with a sweet smile, one that was soft but warmed your heart. He looked away quickly, down at his feet, with his hands shoved into his pockets, along with a little giggle as he scuffed a rock with his shoe.
“Thanks for earlier” you say, looking up at him, squinting slightly as the sun was shining behind him, highlighting a glow around his hair, showing every whiff of the wind that tousled loose strands.
“Don’t mention it” he says, swerving to bump his elbow into your side. It took you aback seeing how comfortable he was being this casually playful.
“I wasn't going to come. I was on my way home”
“I know. I could tell. You had the fear of god in your eyes” he said with a smirk. You couldn’t help but notice how one side of his lips curled up a little more than the other when he smiled.
As terrifying as it was to admit, he was right. You were never that good at hiding your emotions, so why would this be any different?
“I’m glad I caught you, though” he continued, looking back at you, with that damn smile again.
“I’m glad too” you reply, looking away from his gaze in an attempt to hide the blushing in your cheeks. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, yet it was comfortable.
You look ahead, glancing between all of the friends, strolling down the Main Street of your town like it was nothing. Like they weren’t these recognisable figures adored by thousands, if not millions. Including you, you admired them. As artists, as people. They had brought you so much joy and yet here you were, just going for a walk with them.
It was only a few minutes later that you reached your destination, the bank of a lake, splitting off into river mouths and down into streams. It was a favourite of yours because of how tranquil it was, how calm it seemed and how it housed an entirely different world beneath the surface that just fascinated you.
There was a concrete wall that ran along the side where the group had started to sit, some propped up and some laying on their backs on the grass next to it.
But you and Noah decided to keep walking for now, continuing the conversation of small talk and banter.
“How long have you lived around here?” Noah asks.
“As long as I can remember. It’s changed a lot over the years. It’s kinda comforting, but it also gets old. I guess it’s different to what you’re used to” you reply, cautiously asking about him, but not wanting to pry.
“Yeah… I guess you could say that. I haven’t really stayed somewhere too long to really get that used to it. I’m at a good place now, though. Living with some of my closest friends” he says, looking ahead into the distance.
“I meant, with tour, you probably see some cool places.”
“Oh, for sure. We have been to some awesome cities, met awesome people. It’s quite a unique lifestyle that’s for sure.” He looks down at you to meet your eyes, “not for the faint of heart”, followed by a wink.
A wink? Dude, come on. You’re already confused about how you feel, and now he throws you a wink? This man.
“It’s a lot of temporary things. Temporary bed. Temporary city. Sometimes temporary people” he was looking out over the water now.
You admire the way he chose his words carefully. It was clear that he had been through some shit, but he was clever and never intentionally dragged up baggage for pity or for entertainment.
“I hope I’m not a temporary person” you say, almost too quiet. He looks at you and smiles, and you panic. Was that too forward? Would he think you’re clingy?
“So do I” he says, then looks away again.
Your heart starts pounding in your chest, and right on schedule, the overthinking-train arrives. What is that supposed to mean? Is he flirting with you? Is this a joke? Are there hidden cameras somewhere filming this whole prank?
Noah can see your mind racing, it might have been the jittery hands or the rapid eye movements to look anywhere but in his direction.
“I hope I haven’t freaked you out” he admits, and in a moment of confidence, you start to question him.
“Is this some kind of cruel prank you play on fans that you meet?” You ask, in an almost harsh tone. Noah is taken aback slightly, pausing his steps to come to a standstill.
“Why would you say that?” He asks sounded offended.
“You can’t blame me. Think about it. Fan meets band. Band and fan hang out. Fan and band become friends. Fan gets feelings for band. This stuff doesn’t happen in real life” you say with a sigh in defeat. Saying it out loud makes it seem more like a joke.
“It’s… it's not a joke. I rarely meet people that seem like good people.” He pauses, thinking of what words to use, carefully plucking them to try and not make you flee. “It’s different for me too, but you seem like someone I really want to get to know”.
There was sincerity in his voice. You looked at him, and there wasn’t an ounce of falsity to him.
“Plus, did you just say that you have feelings for the band?” He asks, cracking a smile.
You throw your head back, covering it with your hands and turn away from him to hide from the embarrassment. Why did you say that? You have feelings for him? What a way to fuck it up now!
“Yeah… I mean… you can’t blame me” you’re stalling. “I mean, have you seen Ruffilo? The man is beautiful”.
Noah smiles and let’s put a small laugh, but his eyes give away that he’s a little offended that you didn’t mention his name.
Fuck. Now does he have the wrong impression? Why is this so hard?
Now you were panicking, trying to think of a way to fix this.
“But really…” you start, trying to quickly think of the right words to say. “Think about it. Even us walking along here together, right now, seems like it’s a bit far-fetched.”
He nods, acknowledging the strange circumstance that led up to this point.
“I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I mean, I get to spend time with you. That’s something I never expected!” You say trying to change the mood, but Noah shifts and crosses his arms, avoiding eye contact.
“No, I get it. It’s to be expected, really. I guess I was a bit delusional for thinking that wouldn’t come up” he looks out over the water, past you, with a solemn expression. I guess you really did hurt his feelings. You internally kicked yourself for royally fucking this all up.
You stop walking, Noah takes one step more than you, then turns to finally meet your gaze. You take a big breath in, close your eyes, and then exhale. Noah looks at you quizzically. When you open your eyes, you give him a soft smile, and hold out your hand to him. He looks at your hand, then back at you.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you” you say kindly, then offering your name to him.
“Is… this… are you okay?” He asks.
You drop your hand and give him an exasperated look.
“I’m trying to start things over”.
“Oh.. oh okay. Hi, I’m Noah” he states, then holding his hand out. You shake it, feeling the warmth of his hands and noticing the calluses forming.
Noah’s phone pings at that moment, he takes a second to type out a response, then puts it back into his pocket.
“Everything okay?” You ask.
“Yeah. The guys said they’re heading back. I’ll meet up with them later.”
“If you need to go, I won’t be offended”
“We only just met! I can’t leave now, that would be rude” he says with a smirk.
You continue to wander, side by side, for the next 30 minutes, at some stage turning and beginning your walk back to your starting point.
“Are you staying locally?” You ask.
“Yeah, we have a hotel tonight. A nice break from the bus. That thing gets crowded and smells bad real quick.”
“I can drive you back there if you need. Your hoodie is in my car too.”
“I said you could keep that” he glances at you with a side eye smirk.
“I know, I feel bad keeping your stuff though”
“I have probably a million pieces of Bad Omens merch. I can even give you more if you want”
Your mind quickly flashed to the mound of merch for this band that you already own. “I don’t think that’s necessary, thank you for the offer though”
“Fine, suit yourself.” He shrugs. “But I will take you up on the offer to drive me to the hotel. Think of it as that driving tour you promised me last time.”
You smile down at your shoes remembering the interaction, the hoodie he gave you, him making sure you got back to your car safely. He did everything so right, and you were trying everything you could to not stuff this up even more.
By the time you got to your car. The sun was starting to set. You hadn't realized that you had spent half a day with Noah until you turned the headlights on.
Noah slipped into your passenger seat, legs so long that they almost needed to be folded over each other just to fit. He rummaged around for the mechanism to move the seat, and finally found it giving him more leg room as he slid back in the chair. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at the sight.
“What? Man needs his leg room!” He throws his hands forward, motioning to his long limbs, which we’re still bent just to fit. You shook your head a little, playfully, and then pulled the car out to start your journey.
Noah directed you to his hotel, saying it was about a 10 minute drive from here.
“For someone just passing through, you sure do know your way around” you joke, keeping your eyes on the road. Noah, however, was looking at you, like you were having a full conversation, only glancing ahead to point you directions.
He was a passionate talker when he got out of his shell, spoke with his hands a lot. The boy couldn’t keep them still at one point he was almost twisted completely around just to emphasize the story he was telling. He had you in stitches, the way he recounted events and waited for your response, then gave you time to recover from a laughing fit before he continued. He watched you react to his words, he paid attention to the small details, the crinkles by your eyes when you laughed hard, how you would glance at him throughout the conversation to tell him you were listening, even the way your grip would twist around the steering wheel when he was describing a scary part of the story. He noticed everything about you. And you noticed him noticing you.
You had a moment of realization that he was just a person. A person who laughed, who cried, who’s been through shit and now, is just sitting in your car. The sudden wash of relief, the pressure you were feeling, just gone.
The drive comes to an end and you pull up outside the hotel. Nothing too fancy, just to get them through the night. You look up at the building, half its lights were switched on in the three-storey building.
You turn and look at Noah then, the glowing of the lights bouncing off his face making him look as angelic as ever, so much, that it actually made your heart skip a beat. Trying to make sure he didn’t notice the hitch in your breath, you twist at an awkward angle, reaching for the black hoodie on the back seat.
You couldn’t help by notice Noah lean to look over too, your faces now only an inch apart. So close that you could even feel his warm breath each over your cheek. It didn’t help the state of admiration you were already in.
Your fingers graze the material, grabbing at it and finally twisting back into your position in the drivers seat.
“I believe this belongs to you” you say, handing over the garnet.
“I thought I said…” he spoke, pausing to take the hoodie in his hands and hold it out by its sleeves. He then leaned towards you, stretching his arms above you and wrapping the piece of clothing around your back and over your arms, twisting it into a knot on your chest. “You could keep it.” He finished, smiling triumphantly.
The closeness had you feeling a little lightheaded, maybe because you felt like you forgot to breathe around him, or maybe the low lighting made this interaction feel way more intimate than it was.
“I guess…. Thank you” you say, looking into his eyes. All you could see was a sweet dark chocolate brown staring back at you.
Noah’s hand then takes yours as he plants a light kiss on the back of it, placing it back down into his hands again. You couldn’t help but stare with your mouth ajar slightly at the gentlemanly gesture.
“It’s my pleasure.” He pauses again, looking outside then back to you. “If… if I asked you out on a date, would you hesitate to show up to that too?” He asked, sounding honest in his intention, his eyes looked in your hands together.
“A date?” You gawk, almost too quickly. He nods. “I, uh, no. I wouldn’t.”
“Because I’m still in town tomorrow if you’re free.”
“Tomorrow… tomorrow…? Uhh..Nothing on the agenda that comes to mind.” Honestly, you had no idea if you actually had anything in tomorrow.
“Great. It’s a date. I’ll meet you here at 10?” He asks excitedly, that sweet lopsided grin making a comeback.
Your heart was beating through your chest, it was a miracle that he couldn’t hear it.
“10. That works. I’ll be here.” You say, not sounding that convincing.
“I hope so” he replies, paired with another wink. With that, he opens the car door, stepping outside, and closes it with a gentle thud behind him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow” he says with a wave through the window. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, taking in the image of him gentle waving and glancing over his shoulder as he walks to the door. He enters safely, and on his way to his room.
That’s when the excitement hits. You grip the steering wheel tight and let out a squeal. That’s right, a squeal. You have never squealed before in your life, but this man has you feeling so giddy it’s unreal.
With a deep breath, you pull the car out again, heading home, already running through every possible scenario that could happen at 10am the next day.
Part 3
Masterlist
340 notes · View notes
falloutjuli · 7 months
Note
Hey I love your blog! That post that you wrote with y/n moving in with Chuuya had me kicking my feet and screaming it’s just *chefs kiss* perfect ❤️‍🔥 if your requests are open can I ask for Chuuya and Dazai with an artsy reader who loves to crochet and make them small clothing pieces/plushies? I’m so down bad for these men istg
Thank you so much for your nice words! It really means a lot to me to hear that you like it. Chuuyas part is shorter (no pun intended :D), since I struggled to write more. If I later come up with more ill come back to edit this post. For now, I hope you enjoy this! Dazais scenario was a lot of fun specifically!
_______________ Chuuya Nakahara/Dazai Osamu x artist!Reader!
Warnings: Dazai typical suicide mentions, Crack _______________
Requests are currently open!
Masterlist - Rules for Requests
Dazai:
Adores his plushie mini-me.
Definitely showed it around the ADA, asking everyone “You see this? They made it for me! Me! The similarity is striking, isn’t it?”
Requested a crocheted noose for his mini-me, so that “He can live the dream.”
Kunikida eventually got annoyed because instead of working Dazai kept playing with his plush, so he banished it to Dazais locker.
He now hangs it in there by the noose every time, not wanting Kunikida to potentially confiscate it.
You invited Dazai to make more mini plushies with you, which he did take you up on.
And while your skilled hands got Mini Ranpo, Atsushi, Yosano, Fukuzawa, Kyouka, Kenji and the Tanizaki siblings done, Dazai worked on Kunikidas mini me.
Definitely drew angry eyebrows on Kunikidas already rough looking doll, giggling like a madman.
“Hey there!”You called into the office, quickly slipping in with a giftbag and some baked goods. You were immediately greeted by the ADA staff who coincidentally were all gathered in the main room.
Dazai already knew why you were here, so he happily spun in his chair, his sly grin ever so present on his face. Before you could even set the plates of muffins down, Ranpo had already stolen two off it, peeking in the giftbag as he did. “As a thanks for helping me out last month, I made all of you something!” You proclaimed and started giving everyone their mini-me.
Fukuzawa thanked you wholeheartedly, unable to hide the big smile when he spotted the cat you made extra for him. Kenji and Yosano both inspected the cute plushes, marveling at the details, like Yosanos Butterfly accessories and chainsaw and Kenjis little hat and street sign.
Ranpos Mini-me was promptly placed on his desk, while he was busy eating the muffins you had brought along. Atsushi kept asking how you were able to do that and if he could learn it too and Kyouka just starred at hers with a blushing face, only able to mutter a quiet “Thank you!”when you passed her a muffin.
As you shuffled to Kunikida, you whispered your apologies to him, while Dazai presented Mini-Kunikida. The proportions looked off, it wasn’t as well made as the others and the big black marker made eyebrows had the ADA laugh as the blond took it from your boyfriend.
“Thank you..I’m guessing you made it, Dazai?”He asked, unsure what to say to the plush.
“Yes! One hundred percent handmade, with these Hands!”Dazais said, showing off his hands.
While everyone was talking, showing off their gifts to one another, Dazai pulled you close, hugging you from behind.
----
Chuuya:
His plushie sits on his work desk and if someone makes it fall off, he will pretend to not care, but he will softly pick it up to put it back on its place once they leave.
Normally not the kind of guy to integrate crotched clothing into his styles but he changes it a little so he can wear something you made when hes casually out and about.
Became a big fan of the socks you made for him, all with patterns to match him of course.
Tried crocheting with you once, but its not really his thing. He does like watching you though or helping you if you need it, while he sits next to you doing his own thing.
Offers you to buy anything you need. Need new materials? Well get ready to be taken shopping and if you as much as look at something, it’ll be put in your basket.
Would 100% ask for a crotched dog, made to look like the one from his favorite movie.
“Doll?”He asks, watching as you resumed your pattern, after taking a sip from your share of the wine. “Yes Chuu?”
”You think you could make me a dog plush? Like the one from ‘The boy and The Puppy’?”
You laughed, leaning onto his shoulder as you continued. “Sure! I’ll finish this one and then see what I can do.”
He pressed a kiss on top of your head, smiling already just thinking about the tiny plush.
It took a while until you had it ready, you did the final steps while enjoying a nice evening with him on the couch, watching said movie.
“There. It’s all done!” You finally proclaimed and sat your material down, before handing Chuuya the newly made plush.
You thought you had outdone youreself this time, it looked so much like the dog from the movie, so you hoped Chuuya would love it just as much.
The ginger spun it around looking at it in awe.
“I still can’t believe you can just create things like this. Thank you so much!”
He quickly gave you a kiss, pulling you close to cuddle with you, as his eyes kept darting from his plush to the movie template.
"I am so lucky to have you, doll." He mumbled, still not believing that his partner could make all these lovely presents for him.
From his mini-me plush, to the wine themed socks you made and now this plushie he will forever treasure all these little things you made specifically for him.
154 notes · View notes
theageofcaravel · 8 months
Text
Rose-Coloured Boy. - Jamie Tartt x F!reader
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┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
MASTERLIST
Chapter I: Reeling Through the Midnight Streets
Plot: Jamie Tartt and Y/N have been best friends since primary school. The pair had fallen out once graduation hit, both of them going their separate ways; Jamie finally kicking off (pun intended) his football career, and Y/N finally walking through the doors of her cinematographer career. One day, they cross paths in the corridors of Nelson Road, Y/N getting the assignment to make a mini docuseries of one of the football clubs in England, hers being AFC Richmond.
Set during season 2 and onward.
warnings: swearing, mentions of food and alcohol
word count: 3,7k
an: HELLOOOOOO!!! im excited to write this, I'm so late to the Ted Lasso wagon, but here I am. I got the idea for this story when I was sat on my couch looking through Pinterest and then I made a board for it. This has also taken me a few days to crank out because I've second guessed the plot a couple of times but anyway, I'm watching Cody and Noel's Love Island series and its reminding me of that one episode in season 2. LMAO, enjoy <3!!!!
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Breathing in deeply, you closed your notebook. Looking up at your professor, you gently rapped your manicured nails upon your desk and eagerly waited to see which football club you were going to be assigned to. The hope in your chest wanted to get your hometown's very own club, having a plausible excuse to visit your home, without your parents getting under your skin.. 
"Y/N L/N," Professor Loughty called out your name, you quickly stood from your desk and grabbed your belongings. "Yes, sir?" you asked, an eager glimmer in your eyes. "you're gonna be in charge of AFC Richmond, I've emailed Miss Welton and have gotten the approval for you to leave right after I dismiss you, there should be a cab right outside for you. you're going to have to find which one is yours." 
With a solemn nod, you breathed in, "is there any way that I could have Manchester City, perchance?" all Professor Loughty replied with a shake of his head, "sorry, Miss L/N, all final decisions have been made." 
"Alright, thank you, professor." you nodded again. 
"You are dismissed." 
Making your way out of the classroom, you sighed disappointedly. All you really wanted was to spend time with your sister, Libby. Your built-in best friend, the person who you call often to just ramble, vent, or see how life on the other side is. 
A chime of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. 
any updates?
Libby. So much for getting pulled out of your thoughts. 
yeah, got Richmond :/ BUT I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll visit soon. 
:( okayyy I love youu
"Y/N!" pocketing your phone, your attention was now averted from your patronising thoughts to that of your best friend. "Bee! Hey." you smiled and waited for your friend to fully approach you. 
"Who'd ya end up gettin'?" the Irish girl asked in her usual chipper tone. 
"Richmond, I wanted Man City." 
She scrunched her nose. "Mmm, ain't that the team with that American coach?" Bee added with a raise of her eyebrows. 
"Think so, so I guess it's not all bad.. could be interesting.." You spoke with a shrug which only earned you a light chuckle from the brunette. "Well, I'd certainly hope so. you have to be around him and the team for how long?" 
"'Til the end of the semester." 
Bee nodded at your reply. "sounds miserable." 
"Oh, piss off. Don't you have to write an album by the end of the semester?" you clapped back, causing Bee to only snicker with a shrug. 
"Yeah, but that's easy."
"Right, as if you haven't been in a song writing block for the past month or so." freezing in her place, Bee shook her head and glared playfully at the other. 
"Exactly. Anyway, I've gotta get going, gotta get my essentials." you said to Bee, embracing her in a hug. "See y'tomorrow?"
The taller girl nodded and walked away with a wave. "See ya, nugget." 
You shook her head, that nickname was never going to go away. Walking your merry way over to the line of cabs, you nervously talked to the first cabbie. "Um, which one is the one for Y/N L/N?" you asked and gripped your books close as if they were some sort of security blanket. The man behind the wheel grunted and pointed to the one behind him. 
"Should be that one down there, yeah." he replied and basically shooed the girl away. with a breath, you found the cab you were supposedly assigned and sat in the backseat. 
"Was ordered to head to your place, where to miss?" The driver asked with a kind smile in which you replied with your address.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Unlocking your door quickly, you ran into your living room and grabbed your bag full of all the necessities you needed for the months ahead of you; camera, clip in microphones, etcetera. Richmond was only 30 minutes away, which, in hindsight, was better than having to travel four hours per weekend. 
With no second thought, you grabbed your water bottle and slung your bag over your shoulder. Taking one last look around, you let out a satisfied huff and headed back outside to the car.
"Alright, Miss L/N, we're headed to Richmond. s'about a 30 minute drive from here." the cabbie, who you learned that his name was Franklin, 'frank for short,' is what he told you, said. He was a nice old man, probably in his early sixties. He was good at keeping up the small talk, asking you about what it is that you’re going to be doing with Richmond. Telling you that before he was a cab driver he was a guitarist in a band, a small one at that. You both bonded over music, You telling him that your best friend is a singer and that sometimes Bee'll get you together to mess around because you have been playing the guitar since you were little but never really pursued anything musically because it wasn't of interest. 
Eventually Frank had pulled into Nelson Road, the drive seemed a lot faster than it really was because of how easy it was to talk. 
"Thank you, Frank. I'll see you at 5, right?" You asked and the older man nodded. "Have a good rest of your day." You saluted him and walked up to the doors of the stadium. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you entered the building. 
Absentmindedly walking down the corridors, you looked around at the walls and folded your arms across your chest looking at the trophy wall; all the history and old photos of Richmond littered within it.
"Excuse me?" a voice spoke from behind you, startling you slightly. You were met with a grin from a lanky looking boy. "Are you lost?" he asked and you only shrugged.
"Guess you could say that." you chuckled awkwardly and lifted your shoulders. "Um, I'm looking for Miss Welton's office. Got lost in thought though." 
"Ohhhh, are you Y/N L/N?" the boy asked with a head tilt. In which you responded with a nod. "I can show ya where to go, follow me." he moved slightly before the other nodded and followed behind him. 
"Are you the.." you started, "kit... man?" knitting your eyebrows together and stuffing your hands into your jacket's pockets.
"Yeah, I am." he nodded and grinned and stopped at the door to Rebecca's office. "Well, this is it. I'm Will by the way." he said and stuck out his hand for you to shake. You took his hand thankfully. 
"Thank you, Will. It was nice to meet you. I'll see you around, yeah?" You waved him goodbye and gently knocked on the slightly open door. 
"Come in," a voice shouted, the nerves finally kicking in. Pushing the door open, you were greeted with a warm smile from probably the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. "Hello."
"Errr, hi." you awkwardly smiled, "I'm--"
"Y/N, I've been expecting you." Miss Welton cut the other off, that smile that she held never fading. "Come, sit." she gestured to the chair opposite from her desk. You nodded and set your bag on the floor. 
"Okay, um, hi." an awkward smile wavered over the girl's features. Rebecca leaned into her desk, automatically drawn to the way you were acting; that shell she knew she needed to crack.
"Promise I don't bite." the blonde jested which caused you to somewhat get comfortable. "Anyway, we're excited to have you. the boys have been raving about having a cinematographer here to film their every move." 
"Thank you for the opportunity, Miss Welton." 
"Call me Rebecca."
"Okay.. thank you for the opportunity, Rebecca." you corrected yourself which earned an approving nod and smile from the other. "I'll be here every other day after the school day, during the weekends, and during every game. Even travelling ones, I got the okay from my professors when we learned that this assignment existed."
Rebecca nodded, knowing said information but not wanting to interrupt the girl. "You don't have to start right away, if you want I can introduce you to the boys and everyone else." 
With a nod, you pushed herself up off the chair and reached for your bag. "you can leave that in here, we’ll be coming back in here to discuss everything needed.” 
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
"This is where the boys have physio, you shouldn't have to come here." The pair chuckled and then Rebecca stopped by a blue door where chatter could be heard inside. "and this is the kit room, where the boys change and where the coaches offices are." 
“It smells like sweaty ass in here, just warning you.” the blonde jested, causing you to scrunch her nose. "Shall we?" she asked and you nodded. With a gentle knock on the door Rebecca peeked in. "Everyone decent?" she asked, to which all the boys replied in unison with a 'yes'. smiling contently, the taller lady pushed the door open and pushed you in front of her. 
"OI." she announced, "everyone this is, Y/N L/N, our cinematographer from the University of London." everyone cheered happily, most just yelling what sounded like mixes of 'LETS GOOOO', 'FUCK YEAH', and 'WICKED'. 
At the sound of a familiar name being called, Jamie looked up and went wide eyed. Holy fuck.  
Quickly standing up from where he was sitting, you both made eye contact. Brows knitted together, your eyes looked above his head, the words, ‘TARTT’ in big bold letters made you realise that your suspicions were correct. “No way, Jamie?” you asked and breathed out. 
The entirety of the room suddenly went quiet, or so it seemed. You apprehensively walked toward him, Rebecca watching you with a look of confusion. Maybe you were just a fan that he’s seen from time to time? No, that wasn’t the case and she knew it the moment you guys both stared at each other with some form of intensity from you and an apologetic look from him. You looked like you wanted to walk over to him and smack him across his face and he looked like he wanted to wrap his arms around you and tell you how sorry he was. 
“I–” Jamie started and made his way closer to you, you dryly chuckled. 
“No, I just got here, we can talk later.” 
He nodded at your cross response and backed away. You introduced yourself and learned everyone’s names, the coaches were in their office in some sort of meeting and Rebecca told you that you’d be able to meet them later. 
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Back up in Rebecca’s office, you both went over how you were planning on filming. Going over recording some of the boys separately in their element, interviews, etcetera. You also learned that Rebecca was really easy to talk to, like a best friend. 
“Alright, Y/N, I must ask,” Rebecca started, handing you a cup of tea. “Back in the locker room, what was that with you and Jamie?” taking the cup and bringing it to your lips, you sighed. 
“We go way back, we met back in primary school and we were attached at the hip up until high school. There were moments when our close friends suspected we were a couple.” You trailed off, “but once we graduated everything just kind of.. Fell off, we both went our separate ways. I tried to get back into contact with him but he would say that he was busy or he’d just flat out ignore me.” you looked over at Rebecca to see her eyebrows raised. 
“Sorry, that’s kinda personal innit? Haven’t known each other much.” you said and she just shrugged. 
“It’s alright, we’re gonna be getting rather close these next few months, it's a good start for now.” she responded to you, the worry that was on your face was slowly replaced by a warm smile. 
“Guess you’re right.” 
“‘Course I am, Y/N. ‘Course I am.” 
You chuckled and shook your head, taking another sip of your tea. “On another note, I’m quite excited for all of this. Richmond is already so .. nice. I felt welcome the moment I walked in.”
“It does that to you, wait until you meet Ted though, you’ll feel even more welcome.”
As if on cue, there was a gentle knock on the door followed by a man with a moustache walking inside with a beaming grin, “well, howdy y’all.” he greeted. You smiled up at him and stood from your seat, placing your halfway finished mug down on the coffee table. 
“Y/N, this is Ted.” Rebecca said. You stuck your hand out for him to shake. 
“Nice to meet you, Ted.” You said and he only beamed at you. 
“Welcome to the family, Y/N/N.” he replied, your eyes went wide at the sudden nickname. “Its okay if I call you that right? Only seems right with your name.” He chuckled and you nodded. 
“Only if I get to call you ‘Teddy’ or somethin’. What's Ted short for anyway?” You asked him, the shift in your demeanour from earlier was like you’ve been here for weeks. “Theodore.” Rebecca chimed in and you grinned over at her and crossed your arms over your torso. “Hmm, then ‘Theo’ will have to do.” 
Ted, or Theo smiled from ear to ear. “Glad to hear it, I’ll see y’around.” 
You waved the man goodbye and sighed happily. Rebecca stood up from her spot on the sofa and brushed her dress out. “Alright, so, now that we’ve gone over everything, is there anything that you need before you head out for the rest of the day?” she asked you and you shook your head to look down at your watch. 
“Nah, I think I’m good.” You said and walked over to where your bag was. “Didn’t even need this today, came over prepared.” chuckling lightly, you leaned down to pick it up. 
“Thank you again for being so warm and welcome,” you looked at Rebecca and held your hand out for her to shake it. She took your hand happily, “I’ll see you next week then, to start your work process?” she asked you and you nodded. 
“Mhm, yep, and I’ll have everything we went over.” you smiled at her and then bid her farewell. 
Walking out of her office and down the stairs you were met with a waiting Jamie, his phone in his hands in a way to distract him. When he heard your footsteps hitting the stairs, he pocketed his device and looked up at you. 
“You waited for me.” you said with a raised brow and he nodded. 
“Yeah..” he started and you stood in front of him. “I just wanted to .. dunno, apologise?” 
“For what? Leaving me alone to think you forgot about me for six years? D’you think I’m just gonna walk right into your arms and accept your apology?” you spat and he took it in. you looked like a wounded puppy and he just wanted to fling forward and hold you. To tell you that everything was gonna be alright and that he wouldn’t dream of doing that to you again. 
“Right, right. Yeah, m’sorry ‘bout that.” he looked down at his trainers and nervously gripped his body bag’s strap. “D’ya think we could.. Dunno, go for a walk and talk ‘bout it all?” he asked you, a plea in his eyes. 
“I can’t. I have to go back to London, my cabbie is waiting for me.” you replied and rocked on your heels.
“What about when you come back?”
“Dunno, I don’t think I wanna hear some bullshit excuse as to why you left me in the dust.”
“Please, Y/N.” he pleaded, “we don’t even have to talk for long. If you decide that you don’t want anything to do with me or listen then you can walk away.” 
You sighed in defeat, “fine.”
He nodded, trying to hide the victorious smile on his lips but failing. 
“Wipe that smug grin off your ugly mug before I do it for you.” 
“Aye aye.” Jamie responded, that was the Y/N he knew all those years back, and you walked away with a sigh and a shake of your head. 
God this was so fucking weird. 
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Once the next week rolled around, you told Bee how you bumped into Jamie, whom you might’ve told her about once or twice.. Or a few times whilst drunk. Telling her stories about how you were, “sooooooo mad at him for ghosting me like that. I loved him ssooooo much and he goes and does that.”
At 10am, Frank pulled into the car park of Nelson Road and you bid him farewell when gathering your belongings. You walked inside, instantly greeted with that family-like haze. A smile wafted on your features, nodding in acknowledgement at whomever passed by. 
“Good morning, Y/N/N!” Ted said when you walked by him on your way up to Rebecca’s office. “Mornin, Theo.” you smiled at him and gave him a high five. 
The rest of the morning went pretty well – You and blondie, new nickname (Ted approved),  going over what you guys went over on your first day, you setting up everything you needed, using one of the meeting rooms as a place to have special interviews for the boys when the time came and making a makeshift desk of one of the tables for when you needed to edit or when you when you weren’t filming. 
When lunch time approached, Rebecca asked if you wanted to join her, but you told her that you wanted to make sure that everything was working properly because once everyone was back from the lunch break you were going to record the first of many parts of the boys’ training. She gave you a thumbs up and you were on your merry way to set up a camera outside. 
“Headed outside?” a familiar Mancunian accent asked you, you stopped in your tracks and turned toward the voice. 
“Mhm, yep.” You said, your change in demeanour going from steadfast wanting to get the hell out.
“Need help?” he asked you, a pleading look in his eyes. You looked down at the gadgets you had in your hands. Setting said things up on your own would not be easy, especially when you don’t have a whole crew to help you with lighting and every other necessity that came with filming.
With a defeated sigh, there was really no point in doing it on your own when the other offered help, you looked at him. “That would.. Be nice,” you started, trailing off, “but aren’t you supposed to be at lunch with the guys or somethin’? Don’t wanna be a bother or anythin’, I’m sure I can manage on my own.”
“Nah, s’no problem. Promise.” he placed his hand on his chest, “Not really hungry anyhow.” he nodded and stepped in front of you to open the door out to the pitch. 
“Thanks.” You said and smiled at him thankfully. He nodded and you looked around. 
“Hmm, hey, Jamie?” you asked, and he turned to you with his eyebrows up. “Where d’ya reckon would be the best spot to film?” 
He pointed to a spot beside where he said that Ted and Beard usually stand and watch, “You can practically see everything from here, but you might have to change directions of the camera every now and then.” 
You shrugged and leaned down to unpack your best camera for the outdoors, “that’s fine, its my job anyway.” you set up your tripod and turned your camera on. Looking into the lens, you adjusted the lighting. 
“So, Y/N..” Jamie said and stood in front of your camera with some sort of lopsided grin, “D’ya think we could do that talk right now?” 
You looked up and huffed, “dunno, are you gonna get out of my way?” he shrugged and moved from the focus. “What is there to really talk about anyway? You ghosted me for years. You didn’t even wish me a happy birthday, or send christmas cards.” With one final twist of your lens you stepped away and looked at Jamie who scratched his neck. 
“Yeah, don’t really have an excuse for that. Other than being a professional footballer ‘n all.”
“Yeah, but you still could’ve said something, that's not really a valid excuse.” you replied and gave him a stern look. “Remember what I said about bullshit excuses, Tartt?”
“Wait, no,” he looked at you with a panicked look. “There's really nothin’ that excuses me actions, but please know that I am sorry. I haven’t forgotten about you all these years, y’know.”
“Then why the fuck did you stay silent for so many years? I gave up trying to reach out to you after my twenty - first birthday. Tried seein’ if you wanted to come celebrate and maybe catch up and you NEVER responded.” you placed your hands on your hips and you could see the guilt written all over his face. 
“Yeah.” you responded, “but I’m an adult and I ended up forgiving and forgetting until the universe decided to have us cross paths again.” you half jested, Jamie’s lips curling upward just a tinge. “How about I make you a deal?” 
He quirked his brows up and you responded with a sigh. “I will forgive you.” you said and watched as his face changed from curious to excited. “If,” you paused, only egging him on, “you promise that it won't happen again, even after this project is done and over with.” 
Looking at him expectedly, the brunet stepped forward and engulfed you in a bone crushing hug, the only kind he’d give you after something good happened or after you had a meltdown in front of him. “Cross me heart, Y/N.” 
You smiled against his shoulder and hugged him back briefly, only to pull away and stick out your pinky. “Pinky promise me, James.” you said, the full name throwing him off slightly. He intertwined your fingers and you both leaned down to press kisses to your thumbs, sealing the deal. 
“Pinky promise.”
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Alright, STINKIES!!!!!! Let me know if you wanna be on the tag list n stuff!! I'll try to get a few more chapters out this week! They'll probably be a bit shorter, some fillers, some not, etcetera!! ANYWAY!! Thank you for reading <3
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queen-of-reptiles · 5 months
Text
𝙷𝙰𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴
description: In which dagný's girlfriend surprises her with a sudden move and wonders how she didn't pick up on all the hints previously
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dagný brynjarsdóttir x female reader
disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously, i am in no way saying Dagny is bi-sexual!
warnings: language, bad google translation, cuteness and so much fluff - so much
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y/n just posted
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liked by, dagnybrynjars, alexandraj18, and 198, 390 others
y/n blár hefur alltaf verið minn litur, hver vissi að tárin væri það líka?
blue has always been my colour, who knew claret was too?
view 6283 comments
username1: JESUSSSSSSS 😍😍😍😍😍
username2: HOW????? 🔥🔥
username3: I feel like she is too hot to be a footballer?!?!?!!! 😱
username4: UGGHHHHHH 🔥🔥🔥
dagnybrynjars: Ég er heppin kona 😍😍
i'm a lucky woman
^
y/n: Ég er heppnari elskan 😘
I am luckier baby
clarewheeler: OMG!
^
y/n: hehe my new fav dress!
^
karen_holmgaard: I don't blame you! Beautiful!
^
y/n: xoxo
alexandraj18: móðir! 🔥🥺
mother!
^
y/n: barnið mitt! 😊
child of mine!
^
dagnybrynjars: okkar!
of ours
^
y/n: okkar, afsakið elskan 😚😚
of ours, apologies baby
^
username5: omg this is so cute! ☺️
^
username6: what did they say???
^
username5: Alex called y/n mother and y/n called her 'child of mine' and dagny corrected her saying 'of ours' and y/n responded with 'of ours of sorry baby!'
^
username6: omg they are the cutest!!!!
^
username7: AWWWWWWWW 🥹🥹🥹
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y/n just posted on their story
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dagnybrynjars just posted on her story
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y/n just posted on their close friends story
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y/n just posted
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liked by, mackenziearnold, dagnybrynjars and 203, 822 others
y/n hammer time!
(Vil taka það fram að ég á mjög erfitt með að vera DIY kærasta.)
(Would like to point out I am very much struggling being a DIY girlfriend.)
view 6088 comments
username1: I love her so much 🥺🥺
username2: I am loving all of her west ham puns atm!! 😂
^
username3: RIGHT?! but they are making me wonder...
^
username4: omg do you think?? 😶😶
username5: HAHAHAHA
dagnybrynjars: þú gerðir frábært starf elskan! ❤️
you did a wonderful job baby!
^
y/n: Ég grét þrisvar og fékk mér tveggja tíma lúr - bölvaðu aukaæfingunni þinni! Elska þig tho! ❤️
I cried three times and had a two hour nap - curse your extra training session! love you tho!
mackenziearnold: DIY SOS - proud of you!
^
y/n: awwww thanks Mac! ☺️
hawacissoko23: Go on y/n!! Stick it to the mrs! 👏
^
y/n: no ring no Mrs ! 🤷‍♀️
^
kirstysmith.11: @dagnybrynjars
^
dagnybrynjars: not mrs yet... 😏
^
username6: 😱😱😱
^
username7: omg omg OMGOMG
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Dagny waited for their new arrivals with the rest of the girls, some of them were passing a ball between them while Dagny watched her phone, confused her girlfriend hadn't texted her.
A vibration makes the skipper look down and Dagny sighs when she sees it is just a new post from West Ham women, welcoming their new signing.
Flicking her phone open, Dagny lets out a call of shock at her girlfriend's face staring back at her, Mackenzie laughs, having known about the transfer and spins her skipper to face her girlfriend.
y/n was lent against the tunnel entrance, the new signings of Riko already talking to others with her translator. y/n looked fantastic in the hammer's shirt and Dagny could feel the breath leave her.
How hadn't she known, how hadn't she'd guessed? All the hints obvious now, her Hammer puns, her change in colour for her wardrobe.
"Ertu búin að ná þér, ástin mín?" y/n asked her girlfriend with a chuckle.
caught up have you, my love?
"Ég er þvílíkur hálfviti." Dagny gasps.
I am such an idiot
"Hálfvitinn minn." y/n hums making Dagny smile softly.
my idiot
The skipper sighs at her girlfriend and moves forward the two meeting in a soft kiss, still aware they were in public. The sound of gagging echoes.
The two pull away and turn to the team who are all mock gagging and y/n rolls her eyes before Mackenzie grins widely and runs at her happily.
"Macca!" y/n laughs as the woman scoops her up tightly and spins.
"Skipper's mrs!" Mackenzie yells and there is an echo of laughter.
"No ring no mrs!" y/n yells back as she is finally placed back on her feet the rest of the team coming to greet her.
Dagny only smiles softly at her lover before the group are called away ready for training.
"You're here." Dagny hums as she takes her girlfriend's hand softly.
"I'm here." y/n reassures as they join the group.
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y/n just posted
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liked by hawacissoko23, mackenziearnold and 218, 276 others
tagged dagnybrynjars
y/n think she finally caught on...
view 12, 281 comments
username1: COME ON YOU IRONS ⚒️⚒️⚒️
username2: so excited to have her omggggg!!!
username3: allll the puns make sense now! 😂
^
username4: how did we not see the hints???? 🤨
dagnybrynjars: Took me a while, but I'm there!
^
y/n: xoxo
mackenziearnold: I KNEW ABOUT IT HA 😁😁
^
kirstysmith.11: So did I kenzie, you're not special
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mackenziearnold: :(
username5: AGHHHHHHHH ❤️❤️❤️
username6: she does look good in claret tbf
^
username7: HOT! 😛
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dagnybrynjars just posted
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liked by y/n, alexandraj18 and 289, 182 others
tagged y/n
dagnybrynjars she does look good in claret
view 10, 222 comments
username1: 🥹🥹🥹🥹
username2: Yes she does...
mackenziearnold: you two are so cute it makes me feel sick!
^
kirstysmith.11: icky
^
y/n: you want me to hand out receipts ??? 🤨
^
mackenziearnold: omg you guys are so cute! 😅
^
kirtsysmith.11: I agree so cuteeee! 😊
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y/n: that's what I thought 😏
^
username3: hahahahahahahahah 😂😂
westhamwomen: Happy to have you y/n!!
^
y/n: ❤️
^
dagnybrynjars: happy to have her too honestly!
username4: I love her so much omg!! 🥺
username5: I miss her already (everton fan here!) 😭
^
username6: I know she was so lovely and so good! We are going to go down without her! 😭
^
username7: she's a snake for leaving Everton honestly 🖕🖕
^
username8: why???? because she wanted to be with her girlfriend of 8 years? because she was offered a massive contract with West Ham for great money and better exposure?? She gave six years to Everton, she is allowed to move! 🙄
^
username9: 👏👏👏
username10: loving the fact this is black and white lmao 🤣
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END
love this woman
AND LOVE THIS FCKING TEAM xoxox
-
Queenie xx
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