#his name is rotary

[1m-dirty-dan]

look at his dumb lil face

[rollforjackass]

while i'm thinking about my favorite parts of different versions of good omens, there's also the part in the radio drama when aziraphale knows it's crowley calling when he picks up the phone, smugly claims it's because he's been anticipating crowley for thousands of years, and then admits to having caller ID

[thepatchworksys]

i crave rhe attention but with the attention cometh Guilt

[fortunegrins]

His name is Tellie Phone… because he’s a telephone

ID under the cut

[ID: A collage featuring three separate drawings of Tellie Phone, who is a red dog-like creature with a round rotary phone for a head and a cartoonish face made up of simple shapes. His tail is a black electrical wire that loops three times before ending with a plug. His paw pads and the buttons on his head are also white.

The leftmost drawing is a monotone red pen drawing on yellow graph paper. It features Tellie sitting down, facing the viewer. One of his eyes is drifting outwards. There are small flowers doodled around him.

To the right of that, and taking up most of the page, there is a much larger, fully coloured drawing of Tellie leaping into the air. He is looking at the viewer and smiling.

Beneath the big Tellie, there is a tiny monotone red doodle on yellow graph paper of Tellie leaping and looking at the viewer with a surprised expression.

The collage features: white and red checked masking tape, red masking tape with various desserts on it, a strip of red cardboard that reads “Apollo” in Japanese, a piece of a red candy wrapper with yellow stars on it, and many assorted stickers which are mostly in shades of red and green. End ID]

[wonderjanga]

Kid Marvel

Freddy was having a pretty good day. He’d been wandering around Fawcett because he was bored. Though, that was normal. He was always bored whenever he wasn’t in his Marvel form or when he wasn’t with Billy. He passed by an alley when he saw something glinting from the trash. He walked over and knelt down to see what it was. Lo and behold it was a camera! He wondered if it still worked. So, he went and showed it to Billy cause Billy was his bestie. Thats what people call their closest friends nowadays, right?

Together, they ventured to a camera shop, the only one in the town actually.

Billy: “Mister, can you see if this camera we found still works?” *puts it on the store counter*

Store Clerk: “Of course, boys!” *picks it up to inspect it* “How’d you both just find this thing?”

Freddy: *shrugs* “I dunno. It was in the trash so I grabbed it.”

Store Clerk: “Well, it was a good find. It seems all good. Why don’t you two have some film? I’ll discount it?”

Billy and Freddy: *share a look* “Sure! Thanks!”

Thats how they spent the rest of the day fooling around, taking photos with it of random objects. When they were on their last piece of film…

Freddy: “Wanna try something?” *looking at Billy through the camera lense*

Billy: “Sure? What is it?”

Freddy: *gestures for him to move next to him* “So, you know how I joined the Titans?”

Billy: “Yeah?”

Freddy: “Well, Impulse was talking about a selfie? And I was like what is that? And he was like it’s when you take your phone-”

Billy: “Like… A rotary phone?”

Freddy: “No, phones are weird nowadays. They’re now these little boxes that can also take photos. Anyways, so he said it was when you point the camera this way.” *turns the camera to face them* “And smile!” *smiles*

Billy: *confused but smiles anyways*

Freddy: *takes the photo*

Billy: “So it’s just a photo of us?”

Freddy: “Yup!” *grabs the photo as it comes out* “It’s gonna look awesome! Trust me!”

The two both cherished the photo but Freddy is the one who kept it was Freddy. Freddy was one day looking at the photo in the Titan’s tower.

Junior: *looking at the photo*

Impulse: *speds behind him* “Who’s that?” *points to Billy*

Junior: “Thats uhm… Marvel?” *doesn’t really know where he’s going with this*

Impulse: *sounds surprised* “Marvel? That’s Cap? Who’s the dude next to him?” *points to Freddy*

Junior: “That’s uh… Freddy.” *still doesn’t know where he’s going with this*

Impulse: “Huh. You know, you look more like that guy than Cap.”

Junior: “Well, I mean, me and Freddy are technically related.” *

Impulse: “What…? Is he your dad?? But I thought Cap was your dad???”

Junior: *sounds horrified* “What made you think that? Also, Freddy isn’t my dad!”

Later…

Flash: *trying to sound inconspicuous* “Sooooo… Cap, Junior told Impulse who told me about one of your friends.” *extremely curious*

Marvel: “Which one?”

Flash: “Freddy, I think his name was?”

Marvel: *pauses whatever he’s doing to slowly looks over to him with the most horrified expression*

Flash: *notices his horrification and is worried now* “Did something uh- happen to him?”

Marvel: “No, I’m still friends with him till this day.”

Flash: “Oh, phew.” *relaxes slightly* “The expression you gave us made me think he died or something.”

Marvel: “No…? He’s still kicking.”

[setmeatopthepyre]

♠ for Bucktommy pls?

coming right up!

♠ One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/etc. [bucktommy | 944 words]

“Evan?”

Buck looked over his shoulder, caught sight of Tommy’s puzzled frown, gave the sauce another stir and then turned down the heat. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“What are you wearing?”

Buck glanced down at his apron. It was… just an apron. One of the aprons he usually wore when cooking. “An apron?”

“No, I mean-” Tommy stepped in close and Buck’s hands automatically drifted down to Tommy’s hips, settling there, warm and familiar, feeling the muscle below shift with each breath. Tommy’s hands came up and Buck leaned in, ready for those big hands to cradle his face, drag him into a kiss. Maybe this was some pick-up line from a movie Buck didn’t know and, honestly, he didn’t care as long as he got kisses out of it.

But Tommy didn’t kiss him. Instead, his fingers traced along Buck’s throat, sending goosebumps down his arms and spine, and that’s when Buck remembered.

“Oh! Right. I, uh, washed your flight suit? This was in the pocket and I didn’t want to forget where I put it-”

He fumbled the silver chain out from under the collar of his shirt, the tag dangling from it still skin-warm. Scrunching his chin down to look at the embossed letters, he wondered if they’d left their mirror-image mark on his skin, wondered if he’d been temporarily branded with Kinard, Thomas somewhere on his chest. He was tempted to check. “So, you’re O positive, huh?” he said instead, deciding that was probably a little less weird.

“Yep,” Tommy said, popping the ‘p’. He tapped the metal tag. “And now you know my Social Security number, too.”

“And that you’re, uh-” he angled the tag. “NO PREF? What's that?”

“No religious preference.”

“Why? I get blood type, but...”

“Same reason it’s got my name. In case I can’t tell them and arrangements need to be made.”

“Arrangements?” Then it dawned on Buck. Right. Oh. “Like-- Like for a funeral?” Just thinking about it made him want to grab hold of Tommy again and never let go.

“H-hm,” Tommy hummed, apparently not as bothered by the thought as Buck was, and that just wouldn’t do. Buck let the tag fall back against his chest to free up his hands so that he could tangle his fingers into Tommy’s shirt, his sides, pulling him closer. Tommy went easily, squirming just a little when Buck’s fingers traced over his ribs. “Menace,” he chided with a soft little smile.

“That’s me,” Buck grinned. Then glanced down again. “So you wear this when you’re flying? I don’t remember seeing it before.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t really wear it. Never did, honestly.” He frowned a little, thoughtful, and Buck wondered if this was one of those army things he didn’t want to talk about, but he seemed OK for now and Buck would happily take whatever Tommy facts he could get. After a moment of Tommy tracing his thumb over the letters of his name, he continued, “I laced them into my boots most of the time, back then. Don’t want the chain getting caught in anything when you’re doing maintenance.” He said it with a little what can you do?-shrug that felt like an understatement to the gruesome mental images Buck’s mind was helpfully conjuring up for him from a sprawling selection of calls. People got jewelry caught in spectacularly stupid ways sometimes.

“Yeah, makes sense,” Buck said, blinking away the memory of the guy with all the pendants who’d gotten himself stuck in a rotary saw. “And now?”

“I just keep it in my pocket,” Tommy says. “Right where you found it. Though I usually remember to take it out, too.”

“You also usually don’t wash your flight suits at home, so...”

“That’s a great point,” Tommy said, eyes scrunching at the way Buck knew his face was lighting up with the praise. He knew it was kind of stupid, but it was the way Tommy complimented him, like it was the most natural thing in the world, that really did it for him.

Still, a thought nagged at him.

“S-So you have it on you in case you, uh, crash?”

Tommy shrugged again. “No, it’s more of a…” He looked a little embarrassed, all of a sudden, and Buck was immediately intrigued. Tommy didn’t really get embarrassed much. He knew what he liked and what he wanted and if anything, he got defensive instead of embarrassed about his guilty pleasures if he felt like he was being judged. But this didn’t feel like that. Buck desperately wanted to know more. If he could, he'd open up Tommy's brain and examine every last cell of it under a microscope. But he couldn't, at least not in a way that would be at all good for anyone.

“More of a…?” he prompted instead.

Tommy sighed, met his eyes with an exasperated look. “I just figured, I survived the army with it on me, so, I might as well have it on me now.”

Buck grinned, absolutely delighted, and draped his arms over Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him closer still. “Kinard comma Thomas, are you telling me you have a good luck charm?”

“No. Maybe. Fine.” Tommy huffed a laugh and pulled him in by the waist. “What, jealous?”

Buck pulled back a little. “Why would I be jealous?”

Tommy wasted no time closing the distance, said into his ear, “Well, because that would mean you’re not my only good luck charm, Evan.”

Warmth bloomed in his face, across his chest, where the tag was pressed between them now, and Buck laughed.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous. I’d maim its ankles if it had any.”

[sargeteen]

𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌 ! ᶜˡ¹⁶

in the name of someone i no longer know ⋆˚࿔

𝓬harles leclerc x 𝓶ale reader synopsis: reader and charles haven’t spoken since greece and reader goes off the hook, resulting in lewis hamilton having to pick him up a police station. charles gets worried and y/n gets mad. (somebody else pt. 2)

genre: angst, smau, slightly suggestive warnings: reader gets drunk + detained

author's note: kind of forgot that i made reader a driver in the first part so i kind if wrote him as someone who’s on the ferrari team. lewis and y/n are bsfs iktr!!

masterlist. part one.

HE SAT THERE, silent, as the dial tone rang in his ear like an annoying fly that couldn't get the hint. The cord to the phone was wrapped around his left pointer finger like a teenage girl talking to her crush in the 90s with her rotary phone, but he was far from happy. He wasn't as drunk as he usually is these days, but his head pounded as he stared at the white brick wall opposite him, the metal of handcuffs making his skin cold and his under eye and chin stung.

"Kid?" The officer asked, his brows furrowed as he moved to catch y/n's eyes. "You alright?"

Y/n brought the phone away from his ear and looked down at it as if it had personally offended him, not the person he called. Probably caught up with his girlfriend, he scoffed in his head. He cursed Charles and grunted in response.

"He didn't pick up," y/n blinked. His brows were furrowed, and his thumb ran alongside the dated phone. When the police took him in, they confiscated his phone, wallet, and everything else he had in his pockets, including a small picture of him and Charles from when they were younger. "That fucker," y/n laughed as he shook his head. "Of course he didn't, why would he?" He asked himself.

The officers who detained y/n looked at each other with furrowed brows. “Sorry about that, man,” one of the officers mumbled as he shook his head. It wasn’t the first time someone’s emergency call didn’t pick up, but y/n seemed genuinely frantic as he punched in the familiar numbers into the phone.

Y/n sighed, “It’s alright.”

Eventually, after getting no text response and seeing that his phone location was at the police station, Lewis came and pulled him out of the cell. He tried not to be shocked and worried at the bruises that decorated the small sections of y/n’s face. Y/n wasn’t in a drunken haze anymore, but he leaned against Lewis as the older man signed different papers and took back all of y/n’s belongings.

Lewis’s thumb ran over the small photo of y/n and Charles. He shook his head and sighed. Since joining Ferrari, he’s become close with both Charles and y/n and has unceremoniously become the mediator between the two after their wreck of a Greece trip.

“C’mon,” Lewis heaved y/n’s arm over his shoulder and helped him out of the police station—after thanking the officers—and he brought y/n to his car and helped him into the passenger seat. “You need help?” Lewis gestured toward the seatbelt, but his question was left unanswered as y/n reached over his shoulder and grabbed the seatbelt on his own.

Lewis nodded and made his way over to the driver's side. They sat there in silence for a minute, both unable to find the words to start a conversation. Y/n’s hands were wrung together, and his fingers tugged at different parts of his opposite hand to ground himself while Lewis watched from the driver's seat.

“What happened?” Lewis was the one to break the ice. His question was gentle, and his eyes remained on y/n’s hands, which seemed to falter at the question, but his hand vaguely gestured towards y/n’s face.

Y/n swallowed hard. “I was at a bar,” y/n mumbled out, “and it was a popular sports bar, and they were showing clips of Charles. Some dude made a comment about him, so I punched him, and he fought back.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I was drunk; I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t want to keep throwing punches for someone I don’t know anymore,” his voice quiet as he looked down at his hands, which rested in his lap.

Lewis nodded, and his eyes held empathy. “I get it,” he starts, “it sucks. Losing someone like that, but you can’t let it get you down. You’ve been spiraling since Greece; you need to show him that you don’t care anymore. You’re better than this, y/n.”

Y/n turned to look at Lewis. There were tears in his eyes, but they had yet to fall and stain his cheeks. His eyes were red and stung. “What if I don’t feel better than this? What if I feel like this is what I’m supposed to do: mourn the relationship I could’ve had?” He was one blink away from sending his brewing tears cascading down his red cheeks.

The older man scoffs a laugh and he looked away and at the parking lot. He shook his head as he smiled. Lewis turned back to y/n, “You are better than this; I know it. You are Y/n L/n, the best best friend someone could ask for, alright?”

A small smile graced y/n’s face—at least it was something.

“Okay,” Lewis turned suddenly and turned the car on, “we are going to get you some sweet treats from the station and we are going to watch a movie tonight. You start thinking while I drive, okay?”

Y/n sniffed and wiped his brewing tears away with the sleeve of his shirt. He laughed smally, “Okay.”

liked by scuderiaferrari, lando, lewishamilton, and others tagged: lewishamilton

youruser woke up hungover asf just for lewis to tell me that i got detained last night??

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lewishamilton nurse he’s awake ⤷ youruser can’t afford getting detained twice in less than 24 hours 💔

userone why am i not surprised?

usertwo at least you look hot ?? ⤷ youruser pls i always look hot

userthree omg is that friends 🙏🙏 ⤷ youruser lewis told me to put on a movie so i put on friends

userfour nah i ship these two ⤷ userfive FREAK!!!!! of nature!!!! that’s like a 20 year age gap my brother in christ

lando how did you even manage that?? ⤷ youruser apparently by punching a guy in a bar ??? ⤷ lando did he deserve it? ⤷ youruser eh not really but it was fun ⤷ lando then that’s all that matters 🤍

usersix i miss charyn 💔💔 ⤷ userseven yeah well i don’t FUCK that mofo he didn’t care for y/n’s feelings and just dropped him out of nowhere

"WHAT WERE YOU even thinking?!" Y/n wasn't sure what he did to be yelled at by Charles in Charles's living room in his Monaco home. There was a quiet and occasional rumble of cars that passed by the apartment window while y/n sat on the piano bench, dejected. His fingers pulled at the skin of his hands, a nervous tick that he had just recently recognized.

Shortly after y/n posted on Instagram, Charles texted him. It was the first time they'd talked since Greece, and while y/n didn't want to show up at Charles's apartment, he knew he was starting to reach his breaking point, and it was quite obvious.

So, here he was, sitting in front of Charles like a scolded child while Charles pulled at his hair in frustration and Leo, Charles's dog, ran around Charles's feet with a toy larger than him in his mouth.

"Do you know what will happen to you because you got arrested?" Charles asked, his legs moving quick back and forth in a line. If he paced any more, he would burn a hole in the floor; y/n was sure of it. "They'll reprimand you, merde; they might even fire you, y/n!"

Y/n just shrugged. "Why do you care?" He asked, and he watched from the corner of his eyes as Charles stopped pacing and turned to face him. Y/n's eyes remained on his hands despite the air around the two of them stilling; no cars drove past, and Leo stilled by Charles's planted feet.

"Why do I care?" Charles scoffed a laugh as he repeated y/n's question. He pointed at himself and shook his head. "Y/n, why do I care? Y/n I've been your best friend for years! I quite literally helped you get your job at Ferrari. What do you mean: why do I care?"

It was y/n's turn to laugh. His hands fell out of his view as he moved his head to look up at Charles, who only stood a couple of steps away from the piano bench where y/n sat. Y/n's chin stung as he smirked, "Yeah, why do you care?" He leaned forward, "You stopped talking to me and interacting with me after Greece. When Lewis became involved with Ferrari, he had to be our little messenger pigeon because you can't seem to look past the fact that I had a small crush on you.”

Charles stood there speechless, his jaw dropped like y/n had said something wrong. But, y/n wasn’t done.

“I have been going through hell the past couple of months because of it,” y/n grumbles. He stands from the piano bench and steps forward toward Charles. One more step, and they would be too close for comfort. “You didn’t seem to care then when I was struggling to do my job right because I just lost my best friend, but no, you were doing perfectly fine. You didn’t need me.”

Unbeknownst to y/n, Charles glances down at y/n's lips quickly. Just a glance, nothing more.

Y/n took another step, a finger pointing in Charles’s face as he got closer until their chests were almost touching. “You might not be the same, but I would still die for you, Charles. Even after you acted like I didn’t exist after Greece, I would die for you, Charles. I would die a fucking drunkard, because apparently that’s what I am now,” y/n shrugs and scoffs a laugh. “I’m done with you, Charles. Done, alright?” Y/n takes a step back as he shakes his head.

Without a word from Charles, y/n walks toward the door with Leo following after him. Y/n slams the door shut before Leo even has the chance to run out with y/n. Charles stands still in his apartment as a loud car drives past; the sound of the car slamming its breaks to weave through the tight and winding roads of Monaco overwhelms his ears. It was how he felt in the moment; he believed everything was going to go smoothly with bringing y/n over, but his breaks were slammed down to the floor. Yet, he still ran into the barrier.

Charles purses his lips as Leo comes running back over to him, his toy falling out of his mouth. Charles sighed and bent down, bringing the small dog into his arms. He held the dog close, even as Leo tried to squirm out of his arms. “Mon amour”, Charles presses a kiss to Leo’s head with closed eyes. Leo slips out of his grasp and runs, and falls, over to his toy. Charles scoffed a laugh and raised his brows. Y/n and Leo running away from him; maybe it was a sign.

weeks later…

♫ walking on a dream, empire of the sun

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and others tagged: lewishamilton

youruser proper name, place name, backstory stuff 🌊☀️

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usereight me when i look at lewis hamilton ⤷ youruser me when lewis hamilton tries to explain something to me liked by lewishamilton

usernine sorry did i miss something??? why is lewyn becoming the new charyn ⤷ userten im lowkey kind of here for it!! charles pissed me off when he dropped y/n

lewishamilton this was the caption you were worrying over for 10 minutes? ⤷ youruser what king of instagram do you not like it ⤷ lewishamilton no, i like it. i just don't get it. ⤷ youruser you don't need to get it babygirl 🤍 ⤷ lewishamilton again with the babygirl...

userten charles where are you come get your mans

danielricciardo where was my invitation boys? ⤷ youruser sorry, only dilfs were allowed ⤷ danielricciardo and you think i'm not a dilf? (you're not one either) ⤷ youruser do you have a child? no. (i claimed roscoe for the weekend so yes i'm a step dilf)

usereleven i kind of ship lewyn ⤷ usertwelve alright someone detain me like y/n. GTFO OF HERE BROTHER THIS WAS NOT MADE FOR YOU YOU FREAK!! ⤷ userthirteen speak on it

userfourteen living for this lewis and y/n friendship actually

lando sexy as always brother ⤷ youruser don't call me brother when you call me sexy, it turns me off ⤷ lando annoying as always idiot

charles_leclerc looking good boys!! ❤️ ⤷ userfifteen is this doomed yaoi

usersixteen CHARLES GET UPPPPP ����😭😭😭😭

CHARLES’S FINGERS TIGHTENED around his phone. Y/n’s Instagram post with Lewis on full display and at full brightness. He sat in his kitchen, his other hand holding his chin as his nose scrunched at the post and comments. Y/n’s comment about Lewis made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure why, but it did. He felt like throwing his phone across the room and throwing up at the same time.

“What is this feeling?” Charles grumbled as he dropped his phone onto the table and hid his face, that started to heat up, in his empty hands. He groaned to himself and shook his head. Charles dropped his hands and picked his phone back up. He swiped between the two photos; one of Lewis and one of y/n. It took him a couple of minutes of looking at other photos that Lewis and y/n shared before he realized.

Jealousy.

It was like a wave crashing into Charles as he held his head in his hands once more. He tried to hide from the world as he came up with his idea, one that he didn’t think he’d ever had to deal with. “Merde,” he mumbled into his hands.

His cheeks were on fire as he thought about y/n; it was so sudden. Sure, in the past couple of years he could recognize that y/n was a good looking guy, but becoming jealous because he was close with Lewis and not him? That was a new one.

Without thinking, Charles pulls up his texts with y/n and sends him a text.

Two days later, Charles Leclerc finds himself sitting in front of the Nice airport in his Ferrari. He wore a red Ferrari hoodie and his favorite white pants and he looked down at his phone constantly to see if there was any update from y/n. Soon enough, he gets a text from y/n saying that he got his bag from the baggage claim and was coming out the front door.

Charles steps out of the car and leans against the passenger door as he looks for y/n. A smile found its way on his face when he noticed y/n from a while away. He raises his hand in greeting toward y/n, and to mostly get his attention. Y/n’s eyes lock onto Charles and he sighs.

After a long drive, y/n finds himself back in Charles’s living room and back on that godforsaken piano bench. They didn’t talk much during the drive, the silence being taken over by music on the radio. Charles leans against the top of the piano, a purse in his lips as the silence ate them alive.

“So,” they both start into the uncomfortable silence. Then c they both gestured for the other to go first with polite, but forced, smiles.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks first, his hands resting on the fallboard (key cover) of the piano. “There are some ideas I could think about.”

Charles hummed as his fingers tapped onto the top of the piano. “Your post with Lewis,” his voice was quiet and calculated as he tapped lightly on the piano.

“What about it?” Y/n asked, his brows furrowed.

Charles sighs, his confidence withering away as he felt as nervous as a high schooler asking out a date to the prom. “You just. You seem close with him,” he shrugs, “that’s all.”

Y/n’s brows furrow. It takes him a minute before he realizes, and he laughs. “Oh, you’re jealous, aren’t you?” He hums, weirdly feeling content at the thought of Charles being jealous of his friendship with Lewis. “Interesting,” he stands from the piano bench and leans the small of his back against the piano next to Charles. “You just had to say so,” y/n shrugs with a smug smile.

Charles looks over at y/n and scoffs. “You’re annoying, you know that?” He straightens his posture and his eyes glance down at y/n lips quickly. This time, though, y/n catches him and smiles.

“No, I don’t.”

After a beat, a piece of lightning striking between the two as they maintain eye contact, they both lunge forward, their lips connecting feverishly. They move, and y/n has Charles trapped against the side of the piano. They pull away from his other after a couple of seconds to catch their breath.

“You’re still not dating that girl, right?” Y/n asks through heavy breaths, his forehead resting on Charles’s.

“You’re really asking me that?” Charles laughs and connects their lips again. “I still hate you, by the way,” he mumbles through kisses.”

“Believe me, I do too.”

a/n: writing fell to mid at the end but fuck it we ball

tags: @milessunflowers @lokisen @kevinlolwife @op-81-lvr-reblogs @kazanskied @481rosier

[mikomikumi]

Guys I was on the plane and got bored. I wrote y’all some milkman smut~

Plz enjoy

Francis mosses x reader SMUT

Warnings; Penetration (PinV), orgasm denial, dom! Francis. sub! Reader. afab! Reader.

——————���—————————————————

This day couldn’t be any more boring than it already is. The Doorman is slumped in their seat, bored out of their mind.

They heard footsteps coming up to the window. It appears to be Francis Mosses. “Mmm, hello”. The usual greeting. Nothing seems off. “ID and Entry card please?”, asks the Doorman. Francis slips the paper under.

Appearance? Normal

Description? On point.

ID? One number is off.

“Hmm, your ID doesn’t fully match the correct one we have here.” The doppelgänger that stood in front of him started to panic. “I-I think you just need to re-read it. That’s m-my ID.” Unusual, he never speaks this much. “I saw your roommate Y/N come home earlier. Let me just give your room a call”. The doorman grabs the rotary phone and rings up Francis’s room, in hopes either you or the real Francis would answer.

The day was about to get just a little less boring.

————————————————————————

“Ngh~ fuck, so tight~” Francis moaned. The second you had come home from the bakery, Francis snuck up behind you and tried to strip you. He had been so horny all day. His one day off and you had to go to work. The milkman needed to give someone his milk~

“Take it, Y/N. Please~ Let me fill you with my milk~ Francis moaned and begged. He pounded your pussy like it was his last day on earth. He had filled you with cream about 3 times already. Yet his cock stayed hard, throbbing for more. He gripped your plush thigh, with the other hand on your chin. Francis's tongue fucked your mouth with passion. “Mmh~ good girl”.

Your tight little cunt didn’t mind. Your legs stayed open and welcome for each thrust of his hips, for each slap of his balls against your ass. You loved him. The way he fucked you gave you life. “Francis~”, you moaned his name for the hundredth time that day. You rubbed your clit as you were on the edge of another climax. It drove his cock wild. It throbbed as he was about to cum again-

“Ring ring!” The rotary phone on the bedside locker buzzed. You reached your hand over to it when all of a sudden it was pinned to the bed. “Don’t, we’re busy”. Francis demanded, getting ready to thrust inside you again. “Francis, if they let a doppelgänger in, the building is dead!” You argued. This annoyed the milkman. He let go of your wrist. “Mmm…Fine, but make it quick. I still have more cum to pump you full with”.

Your body turns away from the milkman. His cock leaves your hole as you pick up the phone. Francis, despite the orgasm denial, had an idea. He wasn’t a huge fan of that doorman, always looking at his Y/N. Maybe he could put him in their place.

“Hello? Ah hi there Mx. Doorma-ah!”. The milkman cheekily slapped your thigh, and your body shivered. “S-sorry. Yes I’m in my apartment. My roomma-”. Francis was sick of you calling him his ‘roommate’ instead of boyfriend. The only reason you did was that it was muscle memory. Francis grabbed the phone from your hand. He used his other hand to pin you down and he started thrusting himself back into you. You let out a scream, which you quickly muffled with your hand along with the other moans.

“Mmm…yes. I’m in my apartment with Y/N”. The clapping of skin could be heard in the background. “Is that all?” The milkman asked. He pounded into you faster, as payback for not letting him finish earlier. “…yes…”. The doorman eventually answered. Francis almost threw the phone back down into its place before gripping both your thighs tight. “Now, you owe me”. He shows no mercy, holds your thighs up and full-on pounds your pussy in.

“You’re…you’re gonna take my cum inside again?…right Y/N?…you’re gonna be a good girl and cum on this cock…?”. You know it’s not a question. It’s a demand.

“Yes Francis….fuuuck~”. Your eyes roll to the back of your head while you release yourself for the 4th time today. Your body sinks into the cum-soaked sheets as you let your boyfriend take over.

“Cumming…fucking…take it” he lets out a massive groan, this cock throbs and twitches as white ropes spew into your cunt. “Yeah…good girl”. Francis slowly continued to thrust, helping ride out his and your orgasm. He almost collapses on top of you when he finishes. He lies on your chest, his cock still buried deep in your womb as he snuggles.

“Always a cuddle bug after sex” You stroked his head and placed a kiss on his forehead. Francis is now completely drained. His baggy eyes stare into yours. “So…tired…”…the milkman mumbles, drifting into a deep slumber. You decide to join him, closing your eyes. You couldn’t ask for a better way to sleep other than having your boyfriend in your arms.

————————————————————————

The Doorman stares at the phone in mortified awe after the real Francis hangs up. They turn to look at the doppelgänger, who is now sweating profusely. “Sorry buddy, you ain’t coming in”. The doorman lifts the clear cover of the red button and pushes it.

[actuallybarb]

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

[seat-safety-switch]

"Get in the fucking car, loser. My name is Detective Tina Clownhater, I came from Upper Precinct, and we're going to the fucking circus. One of the clowns was found dead in among about 72 others stuffed into a tiny car, and we think it's Japanese."

"The car?"

"The clown."

I'd heard of Detective Clownhater before. Read some of her reports when they came around the inter-office mail. Circus division. She also did carnivals, which people think is the same thing, but really it isn't. As we rode in silence to the Carny District, I decided I wasn't going to like her. Mostly, it was because she still clung to an outmoded, indulgent, and inefficient mode of transportation known as the 2003 detective-issue Crown Victoria. My own City II Turbo would have been a much more enjoyable ride, but I didn't want to press the issue. Chief was already getting on my case about racking up the mileage per diem anyway.

Maybe I should introduce myself, too. My name is Archibald Shitpope, and I'm a detective for the city police. Every detective here specializes in something – they figured it was more efficient than having us all fight over the same books in detective school – and for me, my passion carried me to Japanese-made economy cars. You'd be surprised how often they crop up in my cases. This was going to be a bit outside of my remit, being a Japanese-made economy clown, but I'm a professional. I'd do the job.

I regretted that promise as soon as we stepped onto the crime scene. Besides the copious amount of blood and viscera thrown about the scene ("explosive decompression," explained Todd the CSI, in between Instagram updates of the most grotesque parts,) the clowns had been stuffed into a Fiat. An Italian-made shitbox. It's amazing they weren't burned alive. From what we could tell from interviews, the clown used to be Takenobu Unchipiero, a famous clown actor in his home country. Top of the industry, I was assured. After a series of gambling scandals, he was forced to retreat to North America, where our standards for clowns are much lower.

I was about to ask Detective Clownhater to buy some business-class tickets to Tokyo so we could "chase up some leads" – I wanted to buy an S660 while the auction market was still soft – but the amount of boiling rage behind her eyes indicated to me that she had already assumed I was going to do that. Instead, I returned to my work of checking the crime scene and interviewing witnesses, only intermittently pausing to take a look at the latest wheels posted to Up Garage's terrible website.

That's when Todd cracked it for us. While mopping up what was left of poor Takenobu, an artificial heart fell out. I couldn't help but notice its unique design: a triangular pump that spun eccentrically in a housing. A rotary engine, in other words. No normal person would have such a heart. Mr. Unchipiero was up to his neck in debt with the Wankel Mafia.

[cogentranting]

I've been very negative to Umbrella Academy season 4 so far, and overall I didn't like it BUT here are the things I DID like (spoilers)

Lila and Diego naming their daughter Grace

Klaus and Allison looking out for each other at the start and Klaus being close with Claire

Luther's general happy-go-lucky attitude, bless his heart

Five as a CIA agent

Sparrow Ben being a crypto scammer (especially in a world that still has rotary phones)

Diego's one really cool moment of flipping through the air and pulling the hail of bullets around him and then shooting them off in different directions

Luther's hair. Very floofy.

Ben and Jennifer's meet-cute

Diego and Luther's excitement over beating up the CIA team

"Obviously we're meant to be together. Me with my tentacles. You, the miracle squid girl." 10/10. One of the greatest lines of dialogue ever written.

Diego's realization about taking his family for granted and coming home and embracing his in-laws and being enthusiastic about his wife and kids. Far too short, but a good place for him.

Diego somehow managing to hold onto those 3 reindeer through everything.

The suggestion that Tom Holland exists in this universe

The moment of Allison saving Klaus and them hugging with him saying "you came for me"

The reveal of how original Ben died and the reaction of all the siblings to it. Genuinely very shocking and emotional.

the timeline subway concept was cool

Baby shark

the happy ending for the side characters, especially Hazel and Agnes.

the cats in the CIA office

Luther's little elevator fight scene

Validation for Luther's moon mission

the ending use of "I think we're alone now"

[xxstaticontheradioxx]

Techy Promo

"Heh, look, old man. Your old camera works, after all. Albeit poorly. Get better taste in cameras, dementia-haver."

A demon with sharp blue teeth, red eyes with one having black hypnotic circles within it, and a TV screen for a head.

"Get better taste in technology, teenybopper! It was you who suggested I attempt this newfangled application of a cellular device. And just who needs a handheld telephone? Rotary dials work perfectly fine."

This demon had fluffy red deer ears, small black antlers, and perhaps most prominent of all, a grisly yellow sharp-toothed smile on his ashen gray face.

"Maybe if you're a dinosaur. Ahem!"

The TV demon turns back to you, taking a bow.

"The name's Vox, Overlord of Television and other electronics! Though if you weren't living under a rock, you already knew that. And this here is my boyf-"

"Acquaintance. This is a courtship, my dear, nothing is official yet."

His smile widens, but his expression remains stoic.

"This is your Radio Demon, the one and only Alastor~."

"Aww, you'll give in~. They always do."

He winks at Alastor, who simply rolls his eyes in response.

"In your miserable dreams. Now then! May we ask of you a promo, darling? I promise we don't bite... much~."

@kamon-of-hope @i-spy-with-my-lethal-eye @pizza-for-my-friends @candy-cocktail and anyone else~. Enemies to lovers is my Achilles heel. ;w;

[theprongspotter]

Directory - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 11 - 716 words

James stretches out on his bed, propping himself up on his elbows just enough to flip through the phone book. He uses a finger to track down his friend’s name and a small smile graces his lips. He really needs to talk to Lily right now. He’s terrible at memorizing numbers, though, so he’s stuck hunting through the book every night.

He reaches over and picks up the red phone off the rotary. His eyes fall back to the page and he slowly dials each number. As it rings, he kicks his feet and twirls the phone cord around his finger. It rings for a while. James frowns. Lily never leaves him hanging for this long. But then the faintest of clicks and a tired voice talks on the other side.

“House of Black.” The voice sounds annoyed, and it’s probably because of how late it is.

James’ frown deepens. Unless Lily transitioned over night, something was terribly wrong. “You’re not Lily.”

The boy sighs again. “Well, aren’t you smart? What do you want?”

James contemplates hanging up. It’d be easy to ignore him, but he can’t. Something about this stranger is so… enticing. “I’m James Potter.”

“Okay?”

Now his lips twitch up into a smile. “Usually when people say their names, you’re supposed to say yours back.”

James can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Regulus Black.”

“That’s a beautiful name.” James grins. He’s being honest. It’s very unique.

Regulus doesn’t appear to find the situation very amusing, though. “Can I help you or what?”

“Oh, um, no. I just meant to call my friend Lily, but I guess I dialed the wrong number.” James admits sheepishly, glancing over at the directory.

“You don’t say,” Regulus deadpans.

James feels a pang of embarrassment but tries to keep the conversation alive. "So, what are you doing up this late?" he asks, leaning back against the headboard.

There’s a pause on the other end, and James wonders if Regulus is going to hang up. But then the voice returns, sounding slightly less annoyed and more curious. "Couldn't sleep. And you?"

James laughs softly. "Same. Too much on my mind, I guess. Thought talking to Lily would help, but… well, here we are."

"Yeah, here we are," Regulus echoes, his tone more neutral now. There's a brief silence, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable. Instead, it’s like they’re both waiting to see what will happen next.

"So, what’s keeping you up?" James asks, trying to sound casual. "Not that it’s any of my business."

There’s a soft exhale from the other side, like Regulus is weighing whether to answer or not. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, almost reluctant. "Just… family stuff."

James nods, even though Regulus can’t see him. He hasn’t really had too much trouble with his parents, but they aren’t exactly perfect. “Yeah, I suppose I get that. Family can be… complicated."

"You have no idea," Regulus mutters, but there’s a hint of something in his voice—maybe relief that someone understands, even a little.

James decides to push a bit further, feeling oddly drawn to this stranger on the other end of the line. "You want to talk about it?"

There’s another long pause, and James wonders if he’s crossed a line. But then Regulus surprises him.

"Maybe… maybe I do." His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. "But not right now."

James smiles, even though he knows Regulus can’t see it. "That’s okay. I’ll give you a rain check."

Regulus actually chuckles, and it’s a warm sound that catches James off guard. "A rain check, huh? Alright, Potter. I’ll hold you to that."

"Looking forward to it, Black," James replies, feeling a strange sense of excitement. "Guess I’ll try calling Lily again tomorrow night."

"Yeah, you do that," Regulus says, but there’s something lighter in his tone now, like maybe he doesn’t mind the idea of James accidentally calling again.

"Goodnight, Regulus," James says, almost reluctantly.

"Goodnight, James," Regulus replies, and the line goes dead.

James stares at the phone for a moment, then sets it down beside him. He’s not sure why, but he feels like something significant just happened. Something he can’t quite put into words. All he knows is that he’s looking forward to tomorrow night more than he ever expected.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 144 (Meeting Emit Relevart)

When Felix and Lilith arrived at Willow Creek Park after the wedding, they looked around for a sign of Emit Relevart. Though the park was dotted with patrons playing chess or laughing on the children's playground, no one in the park had blue hair.

Felix gazed across the magnolia-dotted landscape, smiling at a nearby roller skating rink. He'd been a ghost for the roller skating craze of the past and had never been on wheels. "Did you want to rent a pair and go for a spin?"

Lilith grinned. "I haven't been on roller skates since Ange and I were kids."

The lovers hit the wooden platform, wobbling until they got the hang of it. "There he is! By the chess tables!" Lilith shouted.

The bright, turquoise-coloured hair of Emit Relevart was visible as far away as the roller rink, and the couple quickly moved to change back into their shoes.

But once they were back on their feet, they moved cautiously. As they approached, Felix cleared his throat. "Mr. Relevart?"

"Mr. Relevart was - will be - my father. Please, call me Emit."

"I'm Felix Psyded, Esquire, and this is my partner, Miss Lilith Pleasant," he said proudly. "She has the top rated alternative podcast on Simplify."

"It's wild to meet a real time traveler!" Lilith gushed. "What year did you come from?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you that," Emit said.

"We just met another time traveler," said Felix, and Emit's interest piqued. "He tried to kidnap a young boy and take him a decade into the future. I don't suppose you've heard of a Ximena Bonilla or a Marco Peralta."

Emit glanced up from the chess table in confusion. "Never heard of 'em, but I'm from a bit farther into the future than ten years. If they came back in time to kidnap a kid, it wouldn't surprise me. Where I come from, a lot of sims use time travel for nefarious gains."

"What is it you're doing here in 2059?"

"Have you seen any strange items turn up lately?"

"Ash - that's the little boy we know - found an old rotary phone under the statue of Sophie the Snail in Henford-on-Bagley," Lilith recalled. Emit recorded a note onto his gloves.

"My wristboard deduces someone's stealing items from the past and dropping them through time. I don't know if it's a game of if they have something more dangerous to prove, but I've been chasing them through centuries. When I landed here in the middle of a senior's tai chi class, I scared a few of the elders. They called police and now my cover's blown. Too many people are watching me; I need help to recover the missing items and find the thief. My wristboard won't let me return to my time until my mission is complete."

"We want to help, and learn everything you know about time travel," said Lilith eagerly, and Felix nodded with her. "What do you need us to do?"

"I think there are clues to the whereabouts of the missing items in The Sims Archives. There's no wi-fi in this park, so can you look around for me? Let me know if you find anything interesting, but if you'll excuse me, I need to use the portholes."

Emit stood and they waved him off, still unsure whether to believe his story. Sure, he had weird names for things like the toilet, and his clothing came equipped with futuristic lights and gadgets, but that alone wasn't proof he was from the future. With a strange mix of caution and excitement running through their veins, they returned home.

Back in Britechester, Felix and Lilith headed to the Laurel Library - large enough to service two robust universities - including the one Felix founded before his death, the University of Britechester. But the library was open to anyone in town. Lilith loved exploring the shelves to learn niche subjects most people knew nothing about.

She pulled out her old laptop and downloaded the game she hadn't played since middle school, finding a time capsule on the lawn next to the in-game university library. It felt so meta, but a chill ran down her spine when Felix reported the librarian mentioned students burying a time capsule on the grounds of Laurel Library in 1999. "They were supposed to open it in 2024 but they forgot where it was buried, so it's still under there."

"I think we can find it," Lilith insisted. "I know it's still here. I can feel it."

Sure enough, a rock glistened on the commons outside the library, and Felix grabbed some tools to chisel it away. The mound hid the university's time capsule, just as Lilith suspected, but when they cracked it open, they were disappointed. Whatever treasure had been buried had been stolen, replaced with an I.O.U. and two unique milk cartons.

"We can't wait for them to return the items," Lilith moaned. "They could have taken them through time and gotten lost like Marco did with Ash."

"Let's take the note back to Emit and see what he has to say."

As Felix suspected, Emit's ideas involved the two of them learning how to time travel so they might help him retrieve the items. Felix would do anything to make Lilith happy, but time travel was dangerous. He didn't eat ambrosia to die in a twisted timeline, and he wanted to get some advice from their friends.

They arrived in Brindleton Bay less than a week after Heather and Conrad's wedding, finding a busy home and numerous happy pets in the yard. Conrad worked with Lavender to stack blocks and Heather continued to work away at her video game. Thinking back to how they bonded taking on the Ambrosia Society's challenge, Heather and Conrad encouraged them to move forward - with caution.

Felix was easily swayed by the thought of the experience bringing him closer to Lilith, and before they left, he gifted the milk cartons to Ash. One featured a terrifying pit beast, the other a pirate sheriff named Ginny, and Ash studied them carefully.

"If I had been missing for longer than I was, would I have ended up on a milk carton, too?"

Felix sighed. "You might have, once upon a time, but the important thing is you're safe now."

Ash nodded quietly, as though there was something else he wouldn't say, but any questions hanging in the air faded when Ash challenged Felix to a game of chess.

The attorney agreed, only to have the young genius trap his queen before the game was done. As it got late and the Gordons got their household ready for bed, Felix and Lilith headed to Deadgrass Isle to visit the historical museum before heading home. "If there are stolen historical items floating through time, maybe the curators have seen someone who might be the thief," Lilith reasoned.

Inside the museum, they wandered the exhibits but nothing looked out of place. In the upstairs hall hung a portrait with burnt edges along the gilded frame, and Felix stopped to admire it. "Is that Miss Mimsy Alcorn?"

Lilith read the plaque beneath the painting. "Lady Mimsy Alcorn Shallot in the Garden," she read, and Felix' face fell.

"Oh dear," he sighed. "This was painted after her wedding to that man who set their home on fire and killed them both."

Lilith frowned. "I thought the Von Haunt Estate fire was an accident."

Felix shook his head. "Her younger sister never thought so. Maude was convinced Lord Bernard Shallot was jealous enough to ensure his wife would be with no one but him for all eternity."

Lilith frowned, shaking her head in disgust at the murderous lord before excusing herself to use the restrooms. Old memories flooded into Felix's mind as he looked at the painting - he never knew Lady Mimsy before her death, but her younger sister spoke of her so often, it felt like a false memory that the two had never met.

He heard a sound and looked away quickly. Seeing nothing, he turned back to the painting, but his jaw dropped. What was a portrait of Lady Mimsy standing alone in her garden was now a romantic pose - the ghostly arms of Lord Bernard Shallot wrapped lovingly around his wife for eternity.

"Lil!" called Felix through the bathroom door, his heart pumping through his skin. "The painting just moved! What do you say we head back to Britechester before anyone tries to jump out?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Made up lore alert! Felix's bethrothed in his original timeline was a younger sister of Lady Mimsy Alcorn Shallot, Maude Alcorn. This painting came with the Reaper Rewards event and wasn't Heather and Conrad's vibe, much too big for their house! But when I read about what the painting does if you view it a few times, I had to have it and hung it in the local museum. In my headcanon, Heather and Conrad got the painting as a reward from the Ambrosia Society and donated it.

I worked out the connection to Mimsy through Maude in Felix' backstory when Felix entered the save, and when the week 2 task for Blast From the Past sent them to a museum, it was finally the perfect time to play with the haunted painting! (But they had to study a different item to get the quest points since this can't be studied for historical insights.)

In a nutshell, Maude was Mimsy's sister but quite a bit younger. When Mimsy and Bernard died in 1898, Maude was nine, Mimsy was 20, so Felix never met her, but Maude was the source of all Felix knows about her and Bernard. I don't know how deep I'll go on Mimsy/Bernard lore since they're not directly connected to the main household, I really just wanted to play with the painting, and it will make Felix think about some things!

[ariheartsmatt]

⠀⠀── HOTLINEWORKER!READER HEADCANNONS ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

꒰ ☏ ꒱ honey grew up with two older sisters, and they would watch old romcoms religiously. honey spent almost every weekend of her childhood watching movies like two weeks notice, just like heaven, what a girl wants and that’s when her obsession with everything lovey dovey began.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ when honey was little, she got a pink rotary phone toy for her birthday and would “take calls” from her teddy bears. the toy phone is still on a shelf in her childhood bedroom.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ in elementary school, honey ran a “crush hotline” during recess. she gave other kids advice from behind the monkey bars. she charged anything pretty — a fruity lollipop, a scented eraser, a picked wildflower. she took her little business very seriously.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ her first heartbreak happened in sixth grade when her crush told her he didn’t believe in soulmates. she was really sad until she realized his best friend was way cuter.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ honey swears she saw a shooting star the night she got accepted into her college’s communications program. she took it as a divine sign that she’s meant to be a voice for others.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ her voicemail greeting is upbeat, slightly too long, and ends with “leave something sweet after the beep!”

꒰ ☏ ꒱ she has a teddy bear named ( for obvious reasons ) romeo that’s been with her since she was five. now, he sits, buckled up, in the passenger seat of her car.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ honey has a theory that people’s coffee orders reveal everything about their love life — she can and will read yours like a horoscope.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ every valentine’s, she dresses as cupid and bakes sugar cookies for her coworkers, decorates them with glittery icing, and adds a personal compliment on each one.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ she once completely sobbed during a call because the caller’s story was so sweet — her manager found her dabbing at her running mascara like, “this is why i’m meant for this job.”

꒰ ☏ ꒱ sometimes she doodles little hearts or kiss marks on her call logs when she hears a particularly cute love story, she calls it her “fluff-o-meter.”

꒰ ☏ ꒱ she has a collection of cheap heart-shaped sunnies that she bought to remember certain memories. each pair has a story — first kiss, first date, first “oh, i like him, like him” moment.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ her older sisters still tease her because she once wrote a love letter to hugh grant when she was seven and mailed it with a ring pop inside.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ honey has a rotating roster of signature scents, but her favorite is something that makes her smell like a sugary, vanilla cupcake.

꒰ ☏ ꒱ she carries around a tiny, sparkly notebook for “signs from the universe,” like overheard song lyrics or weird coincidences.

hope everybody enjoyed <3 pizzaboy!chris headcannons coming soon !

tags: @bluestriips @joanakaulitz @theyluvivi @mattsstarlet @bells-sturn @milo-the-dog @sturnssmuts @izzylovesmatt @fratbrochrisgf @eeyoresturnz @angelic-sturniolos111 @anil-4sturnx @sweeethrt @slvtf0rchr1s @loser41ifee @zenithsturniolo @rubychriss @courta13 @corspebridedelrey @r0set0y @chrxsprettygirl @nixizz @sturns-mermaid @bbgirlmatt @summersturni @sturniologirl03 @oopsiedaisydeer

[sgiandubh]

2023 or last week

That's not really matters', what is interesting is that Caitríona has a very high level of privacy in her movements or travels

She has a private life that is completely away from notice and attention, no press, no ordinary people, no fan who meets her by chance

Wow.. as if she had the invisibility power since 2019.

Dear Privacy Level Anon,

We're going to do things a bit differently, this time, with an audio answer. Nice to meet you, by the way:

For those who need a transcript, here goes:

'Your charade has very simple answers:

No Press? The Press would have to actually care or be sold a juicy tip/story, about that elusive B-lister who is such a compelling Claire Fraser (huh?) from Outlander ('wait a minute, that nice, secksay series around 2016, right?'). Press interest is, however, likely to immediately jump up, the minute she lands a better PR team and/or a part in a really relevant cinema project. Let's see what those two next movies bring, Anon.

No Ordinary People? Imagine you're Jane Doe (aka, an Ordinary Person), traveling from 🛫 London to 🛬Bangkok. Upon arrival at 🏯Suvarnabhumi Airport , while waiting in line for the notoriously looooong passport control (full profile pic included), you spot C (or S, or C and S, or C and S and Boos 1, 2, 3... 554). They vaguely remind you of someone. That someone could be anyone from a) your cousin Matilda's co-worker you have been briefly introduced to, three years ago; b) someone who looks like your homeland's host of 'Who Wants To Be a Millionaire' TV show (totally random example, here); c) someone who looks like that actress you once saw in that TV series which name you can't really remember. Ultimately, the fact that you are unable to put a name on that face really irritates you. Your feet hurt, you are sleepy, grumpy and you need to go to the bathroom ASAP (🚨🚨🚨🚨). Meanwhile, S and C kiss, Boo #456 is as unhappy as you and wants his blankie. Did I mention you need to use the 🚻 (somewhere far away from 🛃) ASAP? S and C 💋💋💋💋 some more. YOU NEED TO USE THAT TOILET AND YOU'RE STUCK IN THAT STUPID LINE. Boo #433 wants their mommy's attention NOW (🥹🍼🤦‍♀️), so you sympathize a bit ('what a cute 👶, just like his/her parents') but you are really focused on your 🧻problem. By the time you dragged your 🧳to the 🚕 area, in the thick, humid heat at Arrivals, you'd have forgotten everything about it, but remember every single second of your Passport Control Ordeal.

No Fan? Outside of these Tumblr/X/Instagram jihadist pockets, no casual 🪭 would probably ask for a pic, provided they remember the name of the series (it is really poor taste to go for it and candidly tell her/them something like ' oooh, I remember you from The Last Kingdom, such a wonderful series'). Out of those who still go for it, I bet the farm:

85% keep The Nice Pic tucked in their iPhones and just randomly share at the next school bake sale/corporate teambuilding/ Rotary Club meeting with random people saying random things like 'oooh, she's nice, wait a minute, wasn't she in The Last Kingdom'?

10% foolishly post on X or Instagram, to be immediately greeted by The Fandom Vigilantes, courtesy of alerts installed on their own iPhones: 'where was it/ when was it/was she alone/yes? why?/no? why and with whom/ what did she say/ did she say anything/ why didn't she say anything'. If, by a very probable misfortune, what you have to dish out does not click with the Greeting Committee's agenda, expect to be: a) treated like a 5 year old idiot or a tortured POW ('was she alone...? was she alone...? are you sure she wasn't alone...? ARE YOU SURE SHE WASN'T ALONE? ANSWER ME, WAS SHE ALONE?'); b) Caitsplained she is married to someone else and what you saw is an optical illusion; c) perhaps even forced to adjust your own narrative (maybe that 6′ 3" Viking was Tony McGill, after all? 😵). You immediately regret posting it on your public Social Media accounts, erase the pic and go private. By the time you do it (12 hours from posting), it would have been dutifully screencapped, in a middle of a full blown Fandom Skirmish.

5% know what Tumblr actually is (at a minimum) and/or are actively involved in its Fandom Subset. The minute they post is the start of just another Nagasaki episode. The DM inbox will explode with a rich array of pleas/insults/more Caitsplaining. Comments will range from the ecstatic to the revoltingly vulgar. And remember (LOL for weeks):

The Fandom will eventually never forgive you for sharing.'