#but you’re just gonna have to deal Jean Luc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hookingminor · 4 years

Text

certified freak - pierre-luc dubois

a/n: there’s some whores in this house (it’s me, I'm the whore for pld) this is pure smut just imagine that covid isn’t a thing ok sorry it’s also not proofread hope u enjoy! like always feel free to leave me comments and lmk ur thoughts! yes this is loosely based on wap (bc that song was written for him)

word count: 2.7k

warnings (18+): slight daddy kink, light bdsm/choking, pld spitting in your mouth (god I fucking wish)

The deal was this: if Pierre got a hat trick, you allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you (not that this was much different from any other time.) In the rare event of a dick trick, he was allowed to do whatever he wanted for a week.

Tonight he’d had a hat trick. And during the qualifying round for playoffs. And for the game winning goal. To say he was excited to come home to you after the game was an understatement.

In fact, it was all he could think about as he changed out of his pads and got ready for the post-game interviews. It was also all you could think about as you watched him score in overtime.

Knowing he would be busy for a little while after the game considering he was the First Star of the night, Pierre sent you a text as he got dressed.

I want you in nothing but my jersey when I get home

Your pussy fluttered at the message, your cheeks heating instantly when you read it. A few other girls asked if you were going out with them afterwards, but they all knew what you really meant when you said you just planned on celebrating alone with Pierre.

You left the arena soon after the game ended, and it took you nearly forty-five minutes just to get out of the parking garages. When you got back to your apartment, you checked your phone for Blue Jackets updates and watched a few of Pierre’s videos.

A lot of the questions centered around him, being as performed so well, but you were shocked at his coy replies to reporters.

“You’re now one game away from clinching a spot in the playoffs. Are you going to celebrate tonight or wait until you win that final game?” One man asked.

“I’ll probably just have a quiet night in tonight,” he chuckled with a smirk, and you knew immediately what he was thinking, “I’ll save the celebrating for afterwards.”

Maybe you were being a little impatient, but you took off your jeans and panties about half an hour before he said he’d be home. You unhooked your bra and tore it off immediately after removing your bottoms.

You let your hands drift lower on your body, slipping your fingers underneath the hem of Pierre’s large jersey. You’d been wet since leaving the arena, and now you were practically dripping onto your fingers as you waited in anticipation. Pierre wasn’t supposed to be home for another fifteen minutes, you had plenty of time to have a little bit of fun.

You spread your fingers through your folds, eyes shutting as you began to focus on the pleasure building in your body.

“Starting without me?” You heard a voice say. Your eyes snapped open, and you retracted your hand from your core in an instant.

Pierre stood in the doorway as he dropped his duffel bag to the ground. He stalked across the room over to the bed, looming over you as he tugged you closer by your ankles. You leaned up on your elbows and met his heated gaze.

“I thought the deal was I get to do whatever I want?” He asked, “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself.”

“Sorry, Luc,” you breathed out, “I didn’t think you’d be home this early.”

The look he gave you told you that was the wrong thing to say.

“So you thought you could get yourself off without me knowing?” He raised his brow. You shook your head vigorously, hoping to backtrack.

“No, I—,” you began to apologize, but Pierre lifted his hand to grip your chin. He cut off your sentence by pressing his thumb against your lips to silence you. Slipping his thumb into your mouth, you instinctively closed your lips around them.

“I think you’ve done enough talking,” he replied, “Suck.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked against his tongue and pressed your tongue to the pad of his thumb. Pierre’s eyes darkened as he gazed down at you. He pulled his thumb from your mouth, which sounded with an audible ‘pop.’

“On your knees,” he commanded, stepping back from the bed so he could unbuckle his belt. Eagerly, you lowered yourself onto the floor in front of him and placed your hands behind your back just the way he liked. On nights like these, all he wanted to do was take. And you were more than willing to give.

Pierre pulled down his dress pants along with his boxers before kicking them off to the side. His shirt was quick to follow and soon he was bunching your hair into one hand and tapping your chin with the other. You understood the signal. You opened your mouth at his indication and let your tongue roll out as you awaited his next move.

“Remember what to do if it gets to be too much?” He asked finally. In times like these, it wasn’t possible for you to use your safe word. So, since you weren’t able to touch him anyway, all you had to do was dig your nails into the back of his calves if it became too much for you to take.

You nodded your head in agreement.

“I need your words, baby,” he said tenderly as his fingers brushed against your cheek, contrasting the way he was about to completely destroy you.

“Yes,” you replied.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Pierre’s hand tightened its hold in your hair before he slid into your mouth. He brought his other hand to grip at the base of your neck to help push himself deeper. Your tongue met the underside of his dick, and you closed your lips around his throbbing length.

He began with a few slow, deep thrusts, getting you accustomed to his size. You sucked harshly around his tip when he pulled back, and you felt his abs tighten at your movement.

“You good?” He checked in, staring into your dilated pupils. You nodded the best you could and punctuated it with another long suck.

Taking your answer as a green light, he gave you a dark look before increasing his pace. Pierre’s hips thrusted faster now, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each snap of his hips before he retreated.

He fucked your face with force, and you felt yourself gag around him every time he thrusted back a little further than the last time. Tears welled your eyes as you made eye contact with Pierre, and he felt his balls tighten as he gazed down at the mascara running down your cheeks.

Pierre’s jaw dropped in a low groan as he watched his cock disappear into your mouth and down your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted as your doe-like eyes met his.

His thrusts became a bit more erratic, and you tightened your lips even further against him as you knew he was about to hit his high.

“Gonna swallow for me?” He asked, shoving his cock deeper. You didn’t even want to think about how badly your makeup had run by now, but you gave him a pleading look to keep going.

Reaching his high, Pierre paused his hips mid-thrust, stopping as you swallowed around him. He pulled back a couple inches before his head fell back in pleasure and you felt his cum hit your tongue.

You swallowed as much as you could but felt a little bit dribble out of the corner of your mouth. Pierre pulled out of your mouth completely, and you brought your finger up to wipe the remaining cum before sucking it off.

“God, you are so fucking hot,” he praised, affectionately wiping away your smeared mascara.

Helping you up onto your feet, Pierre pulled you into his arms and dipped his head down to kiss you roughly.

“Congrats on your hat trick,” you congratulated between breaths. Picking you up with his large hands, he lightly tossed you back onto the bed before crawling over you.

“If only I could’ve scored one more,” he said wistfully, his mind imagining all the things he could do to you in a week.

“Maybe try a little harder next time,” you teased, bringing him back down to meet your lips.

He chuckled at your joke as he dipped his head to your neck to place open mouthed kisses against the skin there.

Pierre’s hands trailed up underneath his jersey and squeezed around your breast. Your mouth opened in a small gasp, and he twisted one nipple between his fingers as he bit at your neck.

He pulled back for a moment to slide further down your body. He pushed up the bottom of the jersey to bunch around your waist to reveal your dripping pussy.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he commented in awe, “This all for me?”

“Always for you,” you moaned as he ducked down to bite at the inside of your thigh.

“Is this pussy mine?” He asked, meeting your gaze from between your legs. His tongue licked up your thighs until he stopped just outside of your folds.

“Yes,” you let out a shaky breath, “Only yours.”

Content with your answer, he licked a strong stripe up from your entrance to your clit. Your hand immediately flew down to grip at his hair that was beginning to curl with its extra length. His beard rubbed against your cunt, and your back arched off the bed with the added friction.

One arm reached out to keep you pressed into the mattress and your attempts to grind into his face were halted.

His tongue circled around your clit before he closed his lips around it. Sucking at your sensitive nub, you gasped in pleasure. Pierre ate you out fervently, you hadn’t even noticed he’d brought his fingers to your cunt until he’d slipped two inside of you.

He fucked you gently with his fingers as his tongue worked wonders on your clit. With his beard scraping against your folds, you felt your climax hit you suddenly and intensely.

Your toes curled as the white-hot pleasure ripped through your body. Pierre eased you through it, keeping his tongue light on your pussy until the shockwaves were over.

Before you’d gotten a chance to catch your breath, Pierre moved back up your body and engulfed you in a hot kiss.

You felt your wetness in his beard as his tongue entered your mouth to tangle with yours. You could taste yourself on him and you moaned at the feeling.

One of your hands snaked down between your bodies to grasp at Pierre’s cock, which was already starting to stiffen again. You pumped him a couple times in your hand until his grabbed your wrist to stop your movements. He removed your hand from him and moved it above your head. He took hold of your free hand to join the one trapped in his grip to immobilize you completely.

“Keep them there,” he stated before removing his hands.

You followed his orders obediently, and he rewarded you with a quick kiss. Pulling back, Pierre lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you sharply.

Your hands clutched onto the sheets beneath them as he began fucking you at a relentless pace. One hand rested by your head to steady himself as his other pressed fingertip-shaped bruises into your hips.

Pierre busied himself by sucking hickies into your neck as you bit your lip in ecstasy.

Your eyes flittered open as he moved his hand to your jaw. Squishing your cheeks together slightly, your mouth opened in a small “O” at the force, and something went unspoken between you two.

You let your tongue fall and relax as you stared into Pierre’s eyes. His grip changed so your chin was held between his thumb and pointer finger, and he took a second to gather some spit before he let it drop into your open mouth and onto your tongue.

“Jesus, fuck,” Pierre cursed, admiring the way you looked under him. His lips were back on yours almost immediately after, moaning into you.

When he pulled back, he pulled out of you in a quick motion. Pierre flipped you over onto your stomach and was piledriving back into you before you could complain.

Your face smushed into the mattress and Pierre’s arm stretched out to use your back as leverage while he pounded into you.

“I love seeing my name across your back,” he grunted out, his hands briefly moving to trace over the number ‘18.’

“Please, Luc,” you moaned into the sheets, “I’m so close.”

“What was that, baby?” He questioned, moving your hair aside to nip at your ear. You knew he heard you the first time, but he loved to hear you beg for it.

“Please let me come, daddy,” you whimpered, about to bubble over from pleasure, “I need it so badly.”

Pierre pulled your back against his chest, and his hand wandered up to your neck. He closed it around your neck lightly, applying just the right amount of pressure to push you over the edge. The fingers on his other hand snaked down, and he rubbed tight circles onto your clit.

It didn’t take long before you fell over that familiar edge for the second time that night. Your head fell back onto his shoulder, and Pierre released unsteady breaths against your neck. His hand tightened around your throat for a few seconds as he thrusted up into your cunt, chasing his own high.

He let out a loud groan of relief as he released into you. You felt his warmth spread throughout your pussy.

Pierre went still beneath you and his hand loosened his grip on your throat. You both panted as you tried to catch your breaths.

Slowly, Pierre lifted you off of his dick, and you felt some of his cum drip out of you and onto his thighs. His eyes fell down to the sight of you dripping onto him, and he let out another low moan.

Before he decided to flip you back around and fuck you again, he removed himself from you altogether. Gently, he laid you down on the bed and retreated to the bathroom.

In your blissed out state, you hadn’t even noticed his absence until you felt Pierre spreading your legs again. You flinched at the feeling of the washcloth between your folds as he cleaned you up.

He tossed the washcloth somewhere on the ground, making a note to throw it in the laundry later. You still laid on the bed with your eyes closed as your breath finally began to even out.

Pierre joined you and rested on his forearm as he watched you regain your composure. His fingers darted out to trail over the skin on your stomach from where your jersey had ridden up.

“God, I wish I scored hat tricks more often,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“Oh please,” you chuckled, “You know you can do this almost any time you want.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You hummed in agreement as you rolled yourself onto your side to face him. Your hand reached up to rub at the beard covering his chin. Normally, he didn’t grow it out this much, so you were thankful playoffs were still ahead.

“You should keep this,” you said, letting the hair scratch at your fingers.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. You nodded your head before leaning in to kiss him. Different from before, his lips sensually caressed yours, conveying all the love he had for you.

“Night’s not over just yet,” he said when you pulled back. You furrowed your brows in confusion at his statement.

“I think I can fit in one more round in the shower,” he suggested cockily as his fingers brushed over your hips, the indentations of bruises already beginning to form.

“Well, you did score a hat trick,” you concurred, “Can you get it done in twenty minutes?”

Pierre’s eyes flew to the alarm clock on your nightstand, and it was indeed 11:40. It wasn’t a rule that his celebrations ended at midnight, but you’d just challenged Pierre and he was not about to back down now.

“I only need ten,” he teased, tugging you off the bed and into the bathroom.

#pierre luc dubois #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl smut #my writing #yeah I wanna get rawed by pld #what about it #jets13

892 notes · View notes

peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

Text

chapter 22.5

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

chapter 22

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @skaming-myself @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway @howlingsaturn @menamesniall

again this isn’t proofread so, sorry for any mistakes!

~^~

Sander was apprehensive as he answered Robbe’s call, and when, after some incoherent mumbles and background music, it wasn’t Robbe’s voice on the other line, he realised he was right to worry.

“Sander?” Lucas asked.

“Luc?”

“I don’t have time to question this. Robbe’s asking for you. He’s drunk and we need to take him home and he won’t budge. Listen, can you just come here? You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

Sander was already pulling on a hoodie to go with his sweats. “Yeah, I’m coming, but is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just,” Lucas paused, and Sander could hear his muffled voice along with what sounded like Jens, and then Robbe—saying his name. Calling it towards the phone. There was more fumbling, and then Lucas was back. “Fuck, he’s just an annoying drunk. Why’d I never know he was this clingy?”

“Send me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He only took a few seconds to wait for Lucas’s affirmative response before hanging up. He was sure if he let the conversation go beyond the apparent urgent need to get him there, Lucas would have moved on to a much more unwanted subject.

Plus, he was in a hurry.

It took time to slip out of his room and shut the door quietly behind him, and then longer to creep over the creaks in the hallway. The keys jingled too loud when he picked them up and he froze, waiting a moment in the silence, before continuing on and collecting his shoes and jacket from the hallway. He stepped outside before putting any of them on, and he had to quickly stuff his arms into the sleeves and pull the jacket tight around his chest against the bite of the night air. He stuffed his feet into his shoes—sneakers instead of his Docs—and checked his phone to find Lucas had sent him their location, this time on his own mobile.

Nerves quickened his step as the realisation set in that Robbe had been looking for him, to the extent he’d asked Lucas and then tried to call. To the extent that he’d forgotten no one was supposed to know that he even knew Sander.

He wasn’t ready for the earful he was sure to get from Lucas, but he needed to get to Robbe.

Thankfully, the club wasn’t far from his own house. Well within walking distance and through main streets, bright enough under the standing lights that Sander didn’t worry so much about what might be hiding around corners. He was glad, because he wasn’t paying quite as much attention as he probably should have. His mind was already a few streets ahead, waiting for him with Robbe.

He realised about a block away that he didn’t even know how to get inside, and then he caught sight of a raven-haired head already outside and almost sighed in relief. Jens. Beyond him was Lucas, and then…

Robbe noticed Sander before Sander could even see him, and he’d already barreled into his arms by the time Lucas and Jens saw him.

Sander wrapped his arms around Robbe automatically, heart clenching at how uncharacteristic it was. Robbe was clingy, but Sander had never seen him be openly emotional. It seemed that’s how he was, now, as he clung tightly to Sander’s shoulders and breathed out a relieved sigh against his neck.

“Hey,” Sander started softly. “Hey, Robbe, you okay?”

Robbe took a while to respond, and even then it was simply, “You came.”

“Of course.”

Sander looked up to find Lucas and Jens hadn’t moved, but they were watching them. Jens seemed surprised, but not disapproving. Lucas...it was impossible to decipher how Lucas was feeling. His face was carefully blank, and he did nothing in response to Sander’s gaze other than nod at Robbe pointedly and mouth ‘home’.

“Hey,” Sander prodded Robbe’s side, making him jerk. “Will you let me take you home?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, I’m taking you. Me and Jens and Lucas are all going to be with you. Okay?”

Robbe made a soft whine of protest. “Just take me back with you.”

“I can’t, Robbe. My parents are there, and they don’t even know I’m here.”

That only worked to perk Robbe up, and he tilted his head back to grin up at Sander. “So you snuck out. You can sneak us back in.”

“Don’t you want to sleep in your own bed though? Then you won’t have to worry about slipping out tomorrow either.”

Robbe still didn’t look convinced.

Sander pouted at him while simultaneously softening his gaze, and then he added a small, “Please?”

It didn’t even take a second for Sander to know he got him. Robbe’s stern expression melted and he was tilting forward on his toes to smile drunkenly at him. Sander could smell the alcohol on his breath. It left him torn between wanting to cringe away and wanting to kiss him into further oblivion.

“Okay,” Robbe said simply, swaying forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Sander’s lips. It wouldn’t have been chaste, however, if Sander hadn’t carefully pushed him away, disguising the move by tucking Robbe under his arm immediately after. Robbe, thankfully, made no protest, cuddling closely into Sander’s side and leaving Sander to deal with their friends.

Sander drew him forward and carefully avoided looking at Lucas, choosing to watch Jens instead. He still didn’t seem angry, or anything like that, but there was something more calculating about his gaze as he ran his eyes over his friend before settling them on Sander. “I’m not going to question it,” Jens said simply. “Because we don’t have time right now. But I have a lot of questions.”

It was worrying that Robbe didn’t react in the slightest to what should have been the most familiar voice of the three. He just tucked his arm around Sander’s waist and nuzzled his face into his shoulder and let himself be guided along.

Sander chanced asking, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Lucas muttered. “Are you sure you can manage him the whole way?”

“I can walk,” Robbe grumbled, and Sander was glad that he was right. He was leaning on Sander, of course, but he wasn’t giving him all of his weight. Sander mostly offered him some extra balance.

“Why is he so drunk, though?” Sander tried again.

“It’s Robbe,” Jens shrugged. “He knows his limits. He hasn’t thrown up or fallen flat on his face or passed out.”

“And as long as you can say that, he meets your standard of acceptable, right?” Lucas said. There was an undertone of scorn in his voice that Sander had heard before, his certain level of sarcasm, though he’d never imagined it would be directed at Jens.

Jens shook his head and passed an arm around his shoulders. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying, he could be worse. But I agree he usually...still has some level of control.”

Robbe lifted his head to mumble, “Can you stop fucking talking about me like I’m not here? Jesus, this is why I didn’t want to go home with you in the first place.”

“Hey,” Sander soothed. “Sorry. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, then?”

Robbe dropped his head back down on his shoulder. “No.”

Jens snorted, unsurprised, and Sander bit back a sigh. He could see Lucas stealing glances at him from the corner of his eye as they walked. Sander didn’t look at him, but kept Robbe close to his side, leaning down occasionally to kiss the top of his head or whisper a short reassurance. Robbe seemed to melt back into himself with every step, easing up under Sander’s touch as Lucas seemed to be with Jens. Despite the irritation he’d appeared to harbour at the beginning of the night, he was smiling now as Jens grinned down at him, mumbling something, bumping their heads together until Lucas was huffing a small laugh.

Then he would steal another glance at Sander over Robbe’s head, and his smile would slip.

Lucas let them into the apartment after a slightly more difficult trudge up the stairs, and Sander escaped easily with the excuse of taking Robbe to his room.

Robbe had tensed up as they returned, but his shoulders drooped the instant the door shut behind them. Sander helped him slip out of his coat, and then averted his eyes as Robbe carelessly stripped out of his jeans and crawled into his bed.

Sander watched him, half-expecting him to shut his eyes instantly and go to sleep. But he stared at Sander instead, eyes half-lidded, and then held out a hand. Sander couldn’t help but smile as he moved to sit next to him, one leg tucked up and the other over the edge of the bed, foot just brushing the floor. Robbe continued watching him, pupils dilated and worried, and Sander passed a hand through his hair in comfort.

“What’s wrong, Robbe?” Sander asked gently.

Robbe licked his lips, looking up at him through fluttering lashes. He let out a whispered, “Are you mad?”

“No? I was worried when you stopped messaging me. I’m still worried. But I’m not mad.”

“But they weren’t supposed to know.”

Sander gave his hair a light tug. “No. But we were going to tell them tomorrow anyway. It’s okay. But Robbe, what happened? Why did you stop replying to me?”

Robbe dragged himself closer by curling an arm around Sander’s waist. He pressed his face to Sander’s hip before offering an answer. “You weren’t going to come. So I went to ask Lucas to ask you.”

Sander closed his eyes and dragged a hand down his face, sighing in relief. That wasn’t ideal—none of this was—but it was better than what he’d expected. Robbe was known for his less-than-safe ‘party tricks’. Sander was glad he’d just spent the missing half an hour arguing with Lucas and giving them away.

He was glad that, instead of turning to his usual thrills, Robbe had gone looking for him.

“I’m sorry. I should have known when you were asking so much that something was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Robbe mumbled.

Sander twirled his hair around his fingers and scratched lightly at his scalp and didn’t sigh. “Okay.”

“Can you stay? Please, Sander.”

Sander gazed down at him for a moment. His skin was flushed from the alcohol, cheeks a rosy red, but he was still pressing close and stealing into Sander’s warmth. His breaths came heavier than usual, but still easy, still even, and his lashes fluttered with each one, spread delicately even as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sander slipped away from him and heard his sharp inhale before ducking down to pull off his shoes. Then he lay down next to Robbe and pulled him towards his chest, where the older boy settled with a shaky sigh.

“I’ll have to go home before my parents notice I’m gone. But I can stay until you go to sleep.”

Robbe curled his fingers tightly into the fabric of his hoodie and nodded. Sander moved a hand back into his hair, letting it drift absentmindedly through the curls as Robbe’s warmth seeped through him. Even with the thick duvet separating them, Sander could feel the length of the boy pressed up against him, knees pressing into his thigh and then toes poking his ankles as Robbe stretched himself out and cuddled closer.

Sander had known Robbe was fairly free with his affection when it came to touch, that he could be clingy, but this seemed different. Robbe was holding onto him tightly, but he was quiet. Reserved. He appeared at once more vulnerable and more inaccessible than Sander had seen him before.

“I’d always come if you called, Robbe.” Sander released the words into the dark as he trailed his fingers down Robbe’s neck. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Robbe swallowed and snuggled closer and didn’t respond. Sander didn’t mind. He was content to hold him to his heart and reassure himself that he was safe. He’d been scared, genuinely worried, when Robbe had gone radio silent on him. He’d been seconds away from calling Lucas himself, to order him to find the boy and make sure he was safe.

“You’re like my star,” Robbe mumbled, after Sander had thought he’d already fallen asleep, startling him into more silence. “Do you know that? You’re the brightest person I’ve ever met.”

Sander stared at the ceiling and searched for a response. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. There was nothing but darkness surrounding Sander. Swallowing him, consuming him from the inside out. Sander had been worried nothing could break through it, until Robbe had touched him. Robbe was the bright one. Not him.

“You’re an actual good star,” Robbe continued.

At that, Sander finally looked down at him. “Like you?”

Robbe made a sound of protest. “No. You know like, when you go camping, and the sky is really dark but really clear and all the stars are extra bright. You’re one of those stars. You’re not polluted.”

Oh, Robbe.

If only he knew.

“You’re not polluted, Robbe,” Sander argued. “Well, you might not be the cleanest right now, what with the alcohol and sweat and weed…”

Robbe huffed, and it was close enough to a laugh for Sander to relax, to exhale in relief. “You’re too good for me, Sander. Everything’s too good for me. I don’t want to pollute you.”

Sander shifted around, ignoring Robbe’s protest as he had to move from his chest. He lay on his side and cupped Robbe’s cheek, forcing him to face him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eye. “Robbe. Nothing is too good for you. You’re the best thing in my life. I swear.”

Robbe’s gaze immediately dropped, and his cheeks flushed further. He leaned closer, until his forehead pressed to the bridge of Sander’s nose, and then he slowly dragged his face up once more. Sander breathed out as their noses brushed together and Robbe leaned in to kiss him softly, hand moving to his cheek. Sander allowed it, this time, under the privacy of the dark, but pulled away as Robbe parted his lips and attempted to get closer.

“You’re still super drunk,” Sander reminded him. But it was nothing more than a whisper, not enough to pop the intimate bubble they’d created.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Robbe protested, and Sander huffed, but allowed himself to be kissed again, close-lipped and slow. Robbe was the one to move away this time, just enough to tuck his face into Sander’s neck and press a kiss to the skin there. “I don’t want to wake up without you.”

Sander kissed his forehead and hugged him closer. “Someday you won’t have to. Soon. I promise.”

Robbe nodded, and didn’t argue, and Sander lay and held him until his breath evened out and he was sound asleep.

Even then, he waited a few moments, making sure Robbe wouldn’t wake up the instant he moved. He extracted himself carefully, slipping his arm out from under him and sitting up to stuff his feet back into his shoes. He turned back to watch him for another minute, but he hadn’t twitched. His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, and his expression was one of peace. It only made Sander’s chest ache more. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay.

He found a small pad of sticky notes on Robbe’s desk and scribbled a note on the top one.

I wish I could stay, too. You look beautiful when you sleep.

He peeled the note off and stuck it to the top of Robbe’s locker.

He’d forgotten all about Lucas until he found him waiting in the kitchen.

He looked up at Sander as he stepped through the door, and stared at him for a moment.

“You’re sleeping with him.”

It wasn’t a question. Lucas said it almost as if he was rhyming off a fact.

“No,” Sander denied immediately. “We’ve never even done anything more than kiss. We’re dating.”

“Robbe doesn’t date, Sander.”

“Okay, well is it so hard to believe I might be different?”

Lucas tilted his head disbelieving. Disapprovingly.

“I thought you liked Robbe,” Sander said. “You know him even better than some of the others, don’t you? You know he’s not a bad person.”

Lucas softened. “Of course I know that. I love Robbe. But that doesn’t mean he’s a good person for you.”

Sander closed his eyes, curling his hands into fists at his sides. He knew this would be Lucas’s stance, and he’d told himself over and over that he wouldn’t jump to defense in the face of it. It would only work to make Lucas more sure he was right. The best way for Sander to go about it was to slip through the gaps in Lucas’s defensive armour and appeal to the heart underneath.

“Even you said the other day,” he said lowly. “You said I’ve seemed better, lately. I’ve been with Robbe. That’s what’s making me better. That’s what’s making me happy. And I knew that you would feel this way. I’ve had the doubts myself, okay? That’s why I didn’t want to tell you right away. Until I was sure.”

It seemed to work, slightly. A wider gap appeared in the armour. “And that’s now?”

“Well, it was going to be tomorrow when we were supposed to meet up. Or….later today I guess. I wasn’t going to keep it from you much longer.”

“How long have you even known him?”

Sander thought, mind shifting back. “He first messaged me about three weeks ago?”

“You’ve only known him three weeks? And you’re dating?”

“I know, okay? I know what you’re thinking. But why is it any different to you and Jens and all the ‘love at first sight’ you preached about? We’ve known of each other for longer. We just only started getting to know each other a few weeks ago.”

Lucas considered him, then sighed. “I trust you. I do. And I even trust Robbe. But it worries me. Sander, does he even know? About any of it?”

Sander looked down.

“That’s what I thought,” Lucas sighed again. “You know you’re going to have to tell him. If it’s really going to be a serious thing, he has to know, Sander. It won’t be like finding out he doesn’t know your favourite colour a few months down the line.”

“You think I like feeling like I’m lying to him? I hate this, Lucas. I’ve hated all of it for months. Robbe is the only thing that’s made me feel normal in months. Please, Luc, just try to understand it from my perspective.”

Lucas stood up and came towards him, setting two soothing hands on his shoulders. “I do understand. Okay? I get it. I didn’t mean to push.”

Sander ducked his head, then nodded, and Lucas pulled him into a tight hug.

“I told you I’m always here and I meant it. I’m proud of you, Sander. And I am happy for you. I’m really happy you’re happy.”

Sander wound his arms around his waist and clung to him for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

Lucas gave him another squeeze before letting him go and then letting out a sigh, retrieving his glass of water from the table and nodding towards the door. “Okay. Are you okay to get home? I can give you some money for a taxi.”

Sander shook his head. “I can’t take that.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, mumbling a soft ‘wait’ before moving towards the counter and pulling a cookie jar towards the edge. He opened it and retrieved a twenty-euro note before returning to press it into Sander’s hand.

“It won’t be that much,” Sander protested.

“Just in case,” Lucas waved him away. “It’s late, and I want to believe I’m not failing you completely.”

Sander rolled his eyes, but he lurched forward to squeeze him into a hug again, and Lucas responded easily, and Sander finally felt at ease.

~^~

chapter 23

#sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #wtfock #sobbe social media au #the stars look very different #tslvd #this was one of the first scenes I imagined that made me want to write this #and i’m not sure i did it justice #but i hope you like it

139 notes · View notes

davidpastrsnack · 3 years

Note

PLD and you having sex after a game in the locker room when no one is around

a dream (smut below)

so pld had been joking about wanting to do this for a while, but you always laughed it off because hello is he crazy

but finally you agree that if he gets a gordie howe hat trick, you’ll reconsider

you didn’t think it would happen really, but then a few months later of course, he does it

you wondering if he forgot about your promise, but as soon as he’s back on the bench after the fight you see him smirking to himself

he remembers

he takes the quickest shower of his life and is practically running out to meet you, even though you’re in no rush because he has to be sure that everyone is out first

“well?” he whispers in your ear as he hugs you

“a deal’s a deal,” you respond, laughing at his reaction

after sitting in the car for an hour, you finally think it’s safe and you head back into the arena

your hand is in his as he eagerly leads you, asking if you’re really okay with this one last time before he opens the door

the blue jackets logo in the center of the room is staring at you and the scent of freshly worn equipment is making your nose scrunch, but you follow pierre to his stall

he does one last sweep before finally sitting down, pulling you on his lap

you guys aren’t risking taking your time, instead moving fast just in case

your lips are attached in a rough kiss, pierre sighing into your mouth as you unzip his pants and pull him out just enough

you separate and stand so you can slide your jeans down half way, finally sinking down on him

you’re holding the shelf of his stall for leverage, staring at the 18: Pierre-Luc Dubois tag in front of you

he knows he isn’t going to last long between the way you’re moving your hips and the fact that he’s living out his biggest fantasy, so he slips his hand down to rub tight circles on your clit

you’re falling apart on top of him within seconds, his groans filling the air as he releases inside you

he cleans you up with one of the team towels, the shame of what you just did hitting you when you see the logo on the white fabric

“what?” pierre laughs as you shake your head

“i can’t believe i just did that” you groan into his neck

“just think, baby, i'm never gonna look at this stall the same again”

you roll your eyes at his words, giggling as you try to sneak out of the building together

#pierre luc dubois #hcs

61 notes · View notes

azozzoni · 4 years

Text

restless & wreckless | Ch 5 | VDS |

Warning: there’s a bit of adult content ahead

“Where’s your phone?”

Lucas looked up as the bedroom door swung open and his dad stood there, the vein Lucas had come to know very well these past few months pulsing in his forehead as he strode in and grabbed the phone off Lucas’ bed.

“Hey!” he protested as his dad moved over to his laptop and unplugged the charger.

“As of now, you’re grounded,” his dad said, waving the laptop at him. “You’ll get it back for homework.”

Sliding off the bed, Lucas glared at his dad, his phone clutched in his fist. “Why?”

“Why?” his dad repeated, as though the question was ridiculous. “Skipping class, talking back, and how many detentions have you had in the last month?”

Lucas didn’t think he actually wanted an answer to that. He didn’t know the number anyway. “What the fuck do you care?” he demanded instead. “You can’t just take my phone. I need it.”

“I survived without a cell phone for years,” his dad said bluntly, ruffling his shoulders, his ugly plaid shirt rumpled, thinning hair sticking up in places as though he had spent the last few minutes running frustrated hands through it. Lucas was sure he had, building up his anger enough to storm into his room like this. “You can last a week.”

“A week!”

“Be glad it’s not a month, Lucas!” his dad snapped, turning on Lucas as he reached the door. “I’m tired of this acting out. I don’t deserve it. Katelijn doesn’t deserve it. From now on, you go to class and you do your homework and I don’t get any more calls from the headmaster, understand?”

“This is bullshit!” Lucas said, pulse pounding in his veins as he stood there, utterly useless to stop his dad from doing any of this.

“Yes, it is bullshit,” his dad repeated, sounding just as annoyed. “Now go do your readings then I want you to put away the dishes. And I expect you to be polite to your step-mother.”

As his dad left, Lucas slammed the door behind him, growling as he turned to his room, kicking a pair of shoes out of his way, pressing his hands to his face.

Anger coursed through his veins as Lucas shoved textbooks off his desk, tumbling to the floor with bent pages, and flumped down in the chair, glaring at The Strokes poster tacked crookedly on the wall behind his bed, dark covers unmade from this morning. There was no way he was going out into the living room with his dad and Katelijn, not to do some pointless chores as a punishment. Wasn’t living in Antwerp with his dad punishment enough for everything wrong he would ever do?

Fidgeting, Lucas pushed himself up from the chair, pacing his room, blood pumping, antsy as he tried to think. He wasn’t staying there. He wasn’t going to wait for his dad to come yell at him again.

His eyes landed on the window and he actually laughed. Grabbing his jacket, he wasted no time pushing the window open. Cold air hit him in the face and he shivered as he slid a leg out. It was more than a few feet up off the ground, and though Lucas had no idea how he’d get back in, it didn’t stop him from dropping to the wet grass and brushing off his hands as he ducked around the corner of the house to the street.

Fuck. Where could he go? Lucas thought as he headed down the street, streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement, a stray car splashing past. It was late, dark, cold, and it wasn’t like Lucas had a ton of friends he could go crash with. The trains probably weren’t even running, so any thought of simply leaving Antwerp and going to Utrecht was out of the question. Not that he could have called Kes to give him a heads-up anyway.

Sighing, Lucas stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked, kicking an empty soda can off the sidewalk. It tumbled into the road and landed in a puddle.

He knew why his dad had wanted to move here, and it wasn’t because of some amazing new job, or that Katelijn was from Belgium. It was that Lucas’ mom was now far away, a distant memory, a problem he no longer had to deal with.

Glaring at the quivering leaves of the trees dotting the street, glistening with rain in the yellow street lamps, Lucas kept walking. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, and he barely realized where he was until he turned on a familiar street.

It was Jens’ street. Lucas had seen him walk home this way before, heard Jens joke about his room being easy to sneak out of because of the roofline and the tree leading up to it.

Jens’ house was in the middle of the row, the one with a pink barbie car in the front lawn. The front lights were off, the whole house dark, and for a minute, Lucas paused as he gazed up at the windows. A tree grew up from the lawn, just over where the roof jutted out over the front steps, a window dark and quiet.

What was he doing here? What exactly was he going to do? Climb up on the tree, knock on Jens’ window and tell him all his problems? No, he wasn’t going to do that, Lucas told himself firmly. That wasn’t what he and Jens did. What he and Jens did was something else entirely, something that could still involve Lucas climbing up the tree and knocking on his window anyway.

Lucas shivered as a chill breeze swept down his neck. He couldn’t stay out here all night no matter what, and he wasn’t ready to go home.

So he crossed the lawn in three steps, hauling himself up on the tree and twigs catching his jeans as he crawled onto the roofline and tapped on the window.

He couldn’t see anything through the window as he knocked again, louder, relieved as a lamp clicked on and the curtains were pushed apart to reveal a sleep-rumpled Jens, blinking at Lucas through the window.

“Luc?” Jens asked as he swung open the window. “What are you doing?”

“Out for a walk,” Lucas replied, and Jens still frowned, rubbing at his eyes.

“On my roof?”

Lucas shrugged instead of answering. “It’s cold. You gonna let me in?”

For a second, he wasn’t sure Jens would, but then Jens stepped back, opening the window wider for Lucas to slide inside. It was warmer inside, and Lucas took in Jens’ bedroom as Jens closed the window behind him.

The bed covers were thrown back as though Jens had been asleep, clothes scattered over the floor, a poster of a woman in a swimsuit on the back of the door, corners peeling, school textbooks piled haphazardly in the corner along with his backpack and a bunch of shoes tumbling out of the closet.

“You can’t be loud,” Jens said, voice lower now as Lucas turned to him. “My sisters are light sleepers. And they always want to know everything.”

“Sisters,” Lucas repeated slowly. He hadn’t known that, but he supposed, there was a lot he didn’t know about Jens.

“They’re younger,” Jens explained, moving over to the door and clicking the lock. As he returned to Lucas, he paused and Lucas took a moment to appreciate Jens in only a pair of boxers and an old tee shirt, smiling at his bare thighs. “Why didn’t you text?”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Lucas lied, backing Jens up until he could push him down on the bed, a soft flump on the comforter, the headboard knocking back as Lucas climbed on after him.

“Shh!” Jens hissed, freezing, and Lucas waited a second, listening with Jens, but he heard nothing from outside the door. After a second, Jens exhaled, hands coming up to Lucas’ hips. “Be careful.”

“Oh, I’ll be careful,” Lucas assured him, straddling Jens’ hips as he kissed him, lips warm and soft.

Jens’ hands slid up his sides, pushing at Lucas’ jacket as the kiss grew more heated, panted breath between them, rushed and needy as Lucas sat up to shove his jacket off, tossing it carelessly on the floor as he got his mouth back on Jens’, chasing his tongue, the easy slide of wet lips against his own. This was usually where most guys freaked out, as if anything past kissing was too much, too gay.

Jens didn’t, though, breath hot against Lucas’ ear as Lucas pressed kisses down his jaw instead, fingers curling into Lucas’ hair as he tilted his neck back. It was Jens’ hands under Lucas’ shirt, gliding up his back, that made Lucas pause, just for a second.

Pushing away the sudden hesitation, Lucas shoved Jens’ shirt up his chest instead, leaving burning kisses against his skin as he slid down, hooked his fingers under the waistband of Jens’ boxers and tugged.

When he looked up, Jens was staring down at him, mouth open, gaze intense, nodding when Lucas met his eyes.

Jens was hard as Lucas slid his boxers down his thighs, swallowing as he leaned in, taking his time and listening to the curse Jens breathed out above him, barely audible, fingers clenched in the sheets as Lucas moved.

He knew Jens was trying to be quiet, biting down on his lip, harsh breaths through his nose as Lucas took him in, slid his tongue along the length and sucked.

Jens was hard and heavy in his mouth, a bitter taste that made Lucas moan softly, cut short as Jens gripped his hair.

“Quiet, quiet,” Jens gasped, eyes closed, head tilted back, throat working as he swallowed.

Hands sliding up Jens’ legs, Lucas didn’t slow down, face buried in his thighs, skin hot against him, velvety soft and pulsing as Lucas pulled away, climbing back up to sprawl on top of Jens and reach down with his hand to finish the job.

“Fuck,” Jens cursed, pulling Lucas’ mouth to his, kiss messy and desperate, his whole body pressing to Lucas’, a leg wrapping around Lucas’ as he bit back his noise. “Fuck, Luc, I’m gonna—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, taking a sharp breath against his cheek instead, body going stiff against Lucas.

Lucas stroked him through it, sucking a mark on Jens’ neck just because he could, enjoying the heat rising on his skin as he pushed his hips against Jens’. He knew better than to expect reciprocation, rocking into him instead.

“Jesus,” Jens breathed into Lucas’ hair, a hand tight on his lower back, biting down on his lower lip, pulling Lucas in closer.

It surprised Lucas somehow, that Jens wasn’t pulling away, ushering Lucas out of his room and pretending this never happened. Instead, Jens rolled them over, pressing Lucas into the mattress, brushing his hair from his eyes as he reached down.

“I’ve never done this before with another guy, so be nice,” Jens muttered, and even though Lucas opened his mouth, he didn’t get any words out as Jens’ hand undid the zipper on his jeans and pushed underneath.

Lucas didn’t have to be nice as he snapped his mouth shut to stop any noises coming out, a slight whimper escaping as Jens jerked his wrist and his body pulsed with pressure, a tightness building deep in his gut.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled shakily against Jens’ chin as the flush crept over his skin, fingers digging into Jens’ neck as the tightness built within him, a clench in his stomach seconds before he came, lips pressed to Jens’ cheek as he took a breath, sated and relaxed for a minute.

“Another first,” Lucas hummed, content, as Jens rolled off him with a sigh, lying side by side on the small bed.

“Don’t be so smug,” Jens replied, but he smiled as Lucas glanced over at him. He looked just as content as Lucas felt, pulling his boxers back up and settling in with his arm behind his head on the pillow.

As Lucas lay there, the warmth fading from his skin, the momentary elation of sex draining away, he couldn’t help thinking of his dad, of what was waiting for him at home.

“You gonna tell me what you were really doing on my roof?” Jens asked after a long, quiet moment, and Lucas rolled his head to watch Jens next to him, his soft, mussed hair, lips red, flush fading on his cheeks.

“No,” Lucas said finally, and Jens laughed, rolling into him, pressing a kiss to his lips that Lucas closed his eyes at.

“You’re a jerk,” he breathed, and Lucas didn’t argue. “Come on, give me something.”

As Jens settled back in beside him, Lucas bit back his sigh. He didn’t owe Jens anything, any explanation for why he did the things he did, but somehow, that didn’t stop him from shaking his head.

“I’m grounded. My dad took my phone.”

“I see that worked out well,” Jens said, a smile in his voice, and Lucas tilted his head to watch him, the grin on his face.

“Completely,” Lucas agreed after a second, rolling his eyes even as he smiled.

He wasn’t looking forward to going home, his dad’s anger that would surely be waiting. Another week of grounding or worse. He didn’t want to think about it—there was no point in considering what might happen in the future. For the moment, he was fine staying right here.

“You can hide out here,” Jens said a minute later, and Lucas blinked at him, the soft smile on his face, the way Jens reached over to brush his curls aside. Something nervous clenched in his stomach at the gesture, so simple. Too simple. “As long as my mom doesn’t see you.”

That made Lucas feel better somehow, knowing Jens didn’t want his mom to find him, and he shrugged instead of answering, hands on his stomach as he turned to stare at Jens’ ceiling instead of the easy way Jens watched him. He’d hide out here for a minute.

#van der stoffels #wtfock #skam nl #my fic #happy holiday weekend

48 notes · View notes

spookygrantaire · 3 years

Text

Of Heroes and Thieves

Part 3

Notes/Warnings: shitty written accents and French, swearing here and there. Places I’ve mentioned here are places I’ve actually been and they’re actually AMAZING 10/10 go if you ever get a chance. NOLA is literally my favorite city on earth and I had to force myself to stop writing about it. But any who, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It’s a decently long one.

CLINT POV

She’d dropped him off in the French Quarter, right near Jackson Square. “If you go half a block that way,” she pointed, “you’ll get to Cafe Du Monde. Get some coffee and a couple beignets. I’d take you somewhere less touristy, but for obvious reasons I can’t. And from here you’ll be able to find your footing fast. I guess I’m also just assuming you’ve never been here, huh?”

He grinned. “Once, a long time ago. And it was not a vacation.”

“Hence how you know who my famille is, huh?” she guessed, slipping into the accent she’d mostly lost.

His smile grew. “Yeah, babe. You gonna keep that accent for a while?”

His girl rolled her eyes. “Shut up. I’ll call you when I can. One way or another. I gotta go. Ride’s here,” she nodded toward a tall man leaning against a motorcycle. “I’ll pay for the parking,” she pulled out a twenty and handed it to him.

With that, he sighed as she walked away after kissing his cheek, watching to see her hug the man and get on the back of his bike. He caught a whiff of fried dough and coffee; time to follow his nose. He needed the distraction anyways.

The famous beignets were just as delicious as everyone said they were, he had to hand it to them. The coffee was perfect. It was a beautiful evening out as well. He just wished he could be exploring the city with Y/N. He finished the coffee and started heading off in a random direction. The idea came to him to get some souvenirs for both the team and his girl. Something that would scream home to her whenever she missed it. That’s when he found a street artist putting his stuff away for the night. “Are these paintings for sale?”

The man looked up in surprise. “Yes, sir! New to town?”

“Just passing through for the night,” Clint mused, looking at the artwork. One painting of the architecture of the Quarter in particular caught his eye, then the man also had something that showed the rows of graves in one of the cemeteries. A little dark, but quite beautiful. “How much for these two?”

“Thirty for both, sir. Why only here for the night, might I ask?” the man got the paintings together for Clint as he handed the money over.

“Gir--uh, my friend has some family drama. I’m here for moral support in a way. She sent me to roam around. What’s a good place to eat a quick dinner?”

“Ah, now son, you’re in New Orleans! Everywhere is good to eat! But just around the corner you got a great place for some po’ boys, there’s a few bars on Bourbon Street that have great jambalaya. Whatever you’re in the mood for, there’s something good. You like pizza? Find any of the daiquiri bars. They got deals on the booze and have great pizza. Oh, a burger! Esplanade Avenue, Port Of Call. Best burgers in the city. Cooked however you like to perfection, and you will not regret it.”

“Burger does sound good. Thanks!”

“Thank you, sir. Have a lovely visit.”

With that, Clint first took a detour to drop the art off at the car, then ventured off for this famous burger. Taking in the sights and sounds of the city on the way, he definitely could see how Y/N was going to be sad to leave. It was a beautiful city and so inviting. When he finally made it to his destination, he was mildly surprised how dark it was inside, but it was true to the old ship theme. He ordered himself a beer and a burger, the menu being only a few items. Once he took a bit, he almost moaned. It was indeed, cooked to perfection. After he left, he decided to follow the music. On the way to the restaurant he’d seen a parade and some street dancers and what appeared to be shows. Time to find one. Maybe he should take one of the haunted tours?

READER POV

She’d missed Remy more than she’d realized and it was a shame that this was one of the last rides she’d ever take with him. The man was like a brother to her her whole life and when her older sister had married his older brother, it only became official. He’d protected her from Julien and Belle’s bullying often enough when they were kids, and she knew he was upset he couldn’t help now.

“‘M sorry dis is happenin’ ta yo’, Chere,” he said when they parked at the big family mansion.

She took her helmet off and looked up at him, staring into those sunglasses he always wore in public. “It’s not on you, Rem. It’s on me. I’m the one who chose to get involved.”

“Yo’ really mus’ have it bad for de bird man, non?”

She elbowed him lightly. “That’s entirely none of your business, LeBeau.”

“It’s my business, though!” rang a voice behind them.

Shock rolled through her body when she turned and saw her big sister, round belly and all the sass in the world. Tears stung at her eyes upon the realization that she wouldn’t be around for the birth of her nephew. “Mercy!” she ran over and hugged the blonde woman. “I’m so sorry, Merc,” she cried into her sister’s shoulder.

“Hush, sug. Nothin’ ta be done now. We’ll come visit yo’, soon we can. ‘S all gonna be alright, Y/N,” Mercy soothed.

A cough came from behind Mercy and Y/N looked up to see her brother in law. “Lemme hug you, ‘fore I have ta take yo’ to pere,” he smiled.

“Missed ya too, Henri. You best be the one responsible for knockin’ up my sister,” she laughed.

“All night long, Chere,” he laughed.

“Gross,” Y/N wrinkled her nose. She glanced around as the group entered the house. “Where’s Tante Mattie?”

“Righ’ here, chil’!” came a shout. “Ain’t no one r’spect Mattie no mo’. Who tol’ me yo’ were back? Not a soul. Who told me about ev’ryt’in only jus’ dis morn’? Mercy. Chil’ gets slack b’cause she’s givin’ Jean Luc a grandbaby, but wait til she pops,” the old woman shook her head. “Now come here, an’ hug me.”

Y/N obliged, a smile on her face. It really had been too long since she’d been home. And now it was too late to plan future visits. She pulled back and smiled sadly. “Guess I bes’ get this over with. If it is a death sentence, Merc,” tears now rolling down both sister’s faces as they locked eyes, “you better tell my nephew all about me.”

“It won’ be. I tol’ Jean Luc he’d never see his grandbaby if it is.” Y/N laughed, knowing it was a serious, yet idle threat.

“Take me to your leader, Henri,” she said, jokingly holding out her wrists for cuffs.

“Stop that,” he rolled his eyes. “Now,” he led her away toward the large room they used for council meetings. “It’s the whole council here, and Marius Boudreaux is here to make sure the sentence is actually given,” he frowned.

She nodded. “Wouldn’t expect any less, truth be told.”

He nodded before opening the doors, and gesturing for her to enter first.

“Y/N, Chere, I really wish yo’ were home under better circumstances,” Jean Luc greeted sadly. “All de same, nice t’ see yo’.”

“You too, Jean Luc,” she glanced around at the council members. “May I say, I am sorry for the trouble my actions have caused?”

“Yo’ ain’ sorry for yo’ actions though, are yo’?” Marius spoke up from the side of the room, standing up straight. “Gettin’ involved in things dat don’ concern you. Bes’ we can say is leas’ you were alone.”

The statement shocked her. They didn’t know she’d led the Avengers to the warehouse. How did they not know? Julien must have left as soon as he knocked her out.

“I’ve been working long enough I know better not to get involved in Assassin business. I just couldn’t resist some action, I suppose. I’m sorry,” Y/N lied through her teeth. She was a good liar though and could only hope Marius was slipping in his age. She knew Jean Luc could see right through her, however.

Marius scoffed. “Yo’ always were a hothead.” He leaned against the wall once more. “Le’s get dis over wit’.”

Jean Luc nodded. “We decided yo’ punishment is yo’ done t’ievin’. Fo’ de Guild, leas’. And,” he glanced at Marius, who nodded once. “Yo’ officially b’trot’ed t’ Julien Boudreaux.”

#Of Heroes and Thieves #Clint Barton fic #Clint x reader #marvel imagines #Hawkeye x reader #part three

5 notes · View notes

smallblueandloud · 4 years

Note

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 for the writing ask- I AM SO SORRY I COULDNT STOP!!! xoxo

aaaah these questions look SO GOOD thank you so much <3 <3 for this ask meme, which will be open all weekend!

1. tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

i pulled open all of my WIP google docs for this and my laptop started whirring ominously, lmao. this is going to be a Little Long but i love talking about my wips so who cares!! (under the cut because EXCERPTS)

guys and dolls but gay - very, very casual rewrite of guys and dolls if sky masterson was a woman. i’m loving how chill i’m being about this one because it’s so much fun to not have to worry how i’m going to write lyrics in a not-weird way and just focus on the story. this one’s first because it’s theoretically closest to being finished.

sky, laughing: “oh? people. all the people you turn down every day. well, i imagine there’s someone out there that’ll catch your eye.”

sarah, stiffening: “...yes, there will be.”

sky: “and what might this person be like?”

sarah: “he will not be a gambler, for one.”

sky does not miss the pointed pronoun. “i’m not interested in what he won’t be, i’m interested in what he will be.” she sits down on the desk, in a pointedly masculine pose, and sets her fedora next to her - at her most Hot Queer, basically. “how will you know when he gets to you?”

my fic for the aos rarepair fic exchange - i can’t give any plot or ship details, for obvious reasons, but it’s 1.3k and i’m having fun with it!

steven roadtrip of destiny - canon divergent fic set at the end of steven universe future where steven goes on a roadtrip instead of... canon. it deals with some heavy emotions and it’s also a character study so it’s tentatively shelved until i get around to rewatching suf. but i am projecting on steven like crazy and it’s really, really cathartic. it’s taught me a lot about myself too lmao.

He’s never been anonymous before. He kind of likes it. It means he can fold his arms on the table and put his head down without Pearl worrying about his posture, or someone asking him if something’s okay.

In the last few months, he’s grown to hate people asking him how he’s doing, or if he’s okay. He always ends up lying, because he doesn’t want to worry them, and he ends up feeling worse.

Probably because it’s more of him supporting other people without supporting himself.

He should have told someone how he was feeling. He should have reached out. Sadie could’ve helped him. Lars would’ve listened. Connie would have hugged him and then found him the appropriate mental health professional.

(God, Steven wants a hug. Also the appropriate mental health professional? Whoever that would be.)

untitled aos fic - i don’t want to give a lot of details because :eye emoji: and also i don’t know much about what the plot of this is going to be anyway, lmao. but here’s an excerpt:

daisy “that actor who doesn’t shut up about data harvesting” johnson (@daisyquake) tweeted: two weeks :eyes emoji:

Elena Rodriguez | Seven Cents S2 Streaming On Netflix Now! (@yoyorodriguez) retweeted and added: the problem with being friends with daisy is that you SHOULD have some insight into what her tweets mean but you still have no idea

Fitz (@justfitz) retweeted and added: Try being married to her

untitled star wars twins fic - because i am a total and massive nerd. i’m just kind of stuffing everything i have feels about from the post-anh era into this and planning on figuring it out later? i’m really loving talking about the culture of alderaan (and the culture of the survivors) and also i just love writing luke and leia’s relationship... so much......

(no excerpt for that one because i’ve basically posted all of it in various posts lmao)

aos ds9 au - i’ve posted a LOT about this already and i want to keep the plot a surprise but fsk is in this and married and half the cast is aliens, what else do you need in life.

“Good morning,” says Jemma, coming into the room with her hair wet and her uniform crooked. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi,” says Daisy, turning her face up for a kiss. Jemma obliges absently as she walks past, looking around the room.

“Has anyone seen my hair clip?”

“No,” say Fitz and Daisy in unison.

and of course, last but never least in my heart, chapter 3 of the magnum opus - writing this is on hold until my brain decides to stop hitting me over the head at every possible moment, but there’s like... 2k written so far? it’s. it’s going.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Coulson, and makes quick work of the right gauntlet. It’s only halfway through the left one that his fingers slow and he says, quietly, “Simmons designed these, didn’t she?”

She lets out a quick breath. “Yeah.”

He stays quiet for a few more seconds, finishing up the last of the straps, making sure they’re tight enough. Finally, he says, “She should be helping you with these.”

Daisy pulls her arms back and swallows down some words, or maybe a couple of feelings, or maybe a sob. “Yeah, well.”

2. tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

the last sentence of the magnum opus!!!!!!!!!!

no, lmao, i’m gonna try to be serious. i really, really want to write some librarians fic in the near future? also MORE OF THE SENSE8 AU. i’m DYING to write some stuff about that. especially sam’s cluster, for some reason? Let’s Make Him Suffer (Comedically)! one day i’m gonna finish that list of what cluster/situation each song is about and then it’ll be over for all of us!

3. what is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

i spent about eight months imagining a scene where riza hawkeye was really injured and mustang was holding her in his arms (basically the promised day scene but with more privacy) so does that count?

hmm, just for some other possibilities: glinda telling dorothy about elphaba, laura somehow seeing or speaking to natasha during catws, a good omens au of the good place (specifically the ”i don’t even like you!” / “you doooooooo” scene), kencyrath au of star wars (ESPECIALLY THIS ONE, except setting up the first scene alone would take 7k, but i want to talk about leia and luke and their MESSED UP TRUST ISSUES in this au).

oh, also, something about star trek tng where jean-luc and beverly and jack were in love and then jack died and picard left. more specifically a scene set during the pilot episode where jean-luc very cordially offers beverly the option to transfer off the enterprise, that he wouldn’t dream of holding it against her, and beverly very cordially telling jean-luc to go fuck himself. i want to write 30k of that broken triad. i want it so bad. i dream of that fic. maybe one day when i find myself with a completely empty month or two, i’ll binge all of tng and Write Some Stuff.

4. share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

since you and i have tww in common, i’m gonna do a tww fic! otherwise i’d have to reread literally every fic i’ve ever written, lmao.

(this is long but i put this post under the cut so i have RIGHTS. also consider this a sneak peek for the j/d fic in the sense8 au?)

“It’s okay,” says Helen. She sits for a moment in silence, seeming thoughtful. “The Congressman and I are in the same cluster,” she says eventually. “I’d- I supposed that’s easier on the Secret Service?”

“Yes,” says Donna. “The-”

She stops herself from saying anything further. President Bartlet and the First Lady aren’t exactly quiet about who’s in their cluster, especially with senior staff, but that doesn’t mean she should go talking about it in an unsecured room in LA, of all places.

To cover for her blunder, she gives up something else: “The same with Josh. They got really lucky with him, actually. It’s just him and me, so they won’t have to worry about anyone threatening the Chief of Staff through the barista in the local Starbucks.”

Helen looks up from the Ohio numbers she’d drifted back to, a slow smile creeping up on her face. “Josh is in your cluster?”

“Uh-” says Donna, feeling like national security wasn’t worth whatever she’s just blundered into. Oops. “Josh- Josh is my cluster, ma’am.”

She catches her mistake the second it’s out of her mouth, but Helen doesn’t call her on it, more focused on other revelations. “No wonder you two look at each other the way you do!” she says, sounding delighted. Donna shuts her eyes, praying for this to go away. It’s not that she’s ashamed of Josh - it’s just so, so complicated, and other people never think about how difficult it was. Still is.

i’m just... i really liked the idea of donna fumbling and having to reveal this to cover up for what else she was going to say? i don’t know why i’m so charmed by this. i think it’s because it would be impossible in the show - you can’t show what someone was going to say on television, not without a lot of setup and very careful scripting. it’s just a really fun situation to write about and i’m really proud of this conversation in general.

also helen santos was a dream to write and i love her a lot. i kind of want to write one of the fics in the series about her and her cluster solely because like... look at her. she’s a delight in literally every scene. i love her.

5. what character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

daisy johnson!!! i love writing daisy johnson!!!! she is the most adhd character i’ve ever written and i literally just have to transcribe my own inner monologue and it works perfectly!!!!!

Swing shift: 1600 hours to 2400 hours. Daisy always ends up getting back to her quarters at like 0030 hours, when Jemma is asleep and Fitz is reading some kind of technical journal. Then she has to eat replicated pizza, alone, and freshly replicated pizza is actually pretty hot but it feels cold at that time of night, like, spiritually.

6. what character do you have the most fun writing?

...whoops i literally just answered that lmao. uh. i also really love writing sky masterson in the guys and dolls fic? she’s just weaponized hot queerness in a suit and i love her for it. she is intentionally trying to seduce this repressed lesbian and it’s really funny and also really hot of her and it’s so much fun to write.

also, i wrote chidi for the tgp fic and it was possibly the most fun i’ve ever had with a pov, although that was also because i was purposefully trying to mimic the tone of the show. i still think that line about michael and a grenade is, like, the funniest i have ever been in my life. but chidi’s panic was surprisingly easy to write? all of tgp’s characters have such STRONG voices, it makes writing fic ridiculously easy as long as you don’t get stuck on a plot for six months.

7. what do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? would others agree?

oof, this one is ALWAYS tricky. uh? uhh?? i’m going to ruin everything by saying this but i basically alternate between the same two sentence structures and i am really frustrated about it. i also alternate between the same two styles of endings and i always use the same beginning (set scene, main character pov, thoughts-as-exposition, back to scene).

BUT ON A MORE POSITIVE NOTE i like to talk about emotions and relationships and character development!! i have my “queer subtext goggles” superglued to my face, lmao. i like to think about how characters must have felt about things in canon and how it must’ve influenced them. i like making people deal with the consequences of their actions, especially how it’s influenced they themself. i also just really, really like writing people who love each other, whether it’s romantic or platonic or anything in between. i just want them to be happy! i just want them to stick together! doesn’t matter what fandom, i stand by it.

#loudwithlaughter #sb and l rambles #sb and l answers #sb and l is writing #thank you for sending this in!!!!!#now for literally All The Tags lmao #aos ds9 au #verse: fitzskimmons thingy #fic: you're a candle in the window #verse: and it's golden #mcu ideas #tgp ideas #st ideas #fic: help me hold on to you #fic: on that bumpy road to love #jesus CHRIST that was a lot of tags #okay okay i'm pressing post now #this was such a delight thank you SO much for sending it!#the steven roadtrip of self discovery fic

8 notes · View notes

whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

Text

We Do This to Live Ch. 5

Chapter Five

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Pairings: Rogue x Remy, Marie x Shuri (eventually), Geneva x Bucky (eventually)

Word Count: 3475 words

Warnings: Violence? Cussing? That sort of thing?

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works

Previous Chapter

---

“Y’the only t’ief crazy ‘nough t’steal more than is asked o’ya.”

Geneva shrugged from her spot on Marie’s bed. She had come home only a handful of hours ago and while she knew she should rest, her powers were matching her emotions. A constant hum was in the back of her ears and her nerves felt particularly prickly. Until she found out what all of this new information meant, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. “T’anks for takin’ a look.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Marie was impressed that in the last twenty-four hours, Geneva had not only caught Jean-Luc up on everything that had happened, but she’d duplicated the contents of the flash drive. It was sneaky…underhanded…and absolutely something Marie was proud of. “Don’t t’ank moi yet.” She clicked on a file. Lab results, videos, photos – everything one could ever hope to find – popped up over the multiple screens. Marie raised a brow, finding a particularly interesting piece of information. “This project was terminated ‘cause the mutant escaped.”

Geneva bit her lip, taking in the x-rays that showed a metal skeleton. A shiver ran down her spine. “What was his name?”

Marie glanced back at the redhead. She knew Geneva had always been hesitant to learn about more of her kind, but it seemed like she was shedding that fear as she got older. “Uh…” She looked back at the information, eyes flitting from each piece of the puzzle until she pulled up the patient’s name. There was a small photo with it. “James Logan Howlett.” Shock washed over her as she told Geneva, “He was military. Part o’that Cap’n America’s Howling Commandos.” A couple lines further down and she realized why this guy was so important. “His mutation was enhanced healin’. No way o’knowin’ ‘ow old the homme really is.”

The familiar creak of her bed let Marie know that Geneva had moved, no doubt standing behind her. The two stared at the sleeping face. A patient used for experimentation and yet…he looked so peaceful in that single image. Who knew what drugs were in his system?

“Ca va,” Geneva muttered, resting her arms on the back of Marie’s chair. “What else?”

Marie exited out of the Weapon X file. “T’ought y’said there were five files.” She glanced at Geneva. “There’s only four.”

“One o’them needed voice recognition t’even move the damn t’ing,” Geneva admitted, running a hand through her hair. “Was called the Sentinel Program.”

Marie’s nose scrunched. “Weird.” She clicked on the Avenger file. Scrolling through the files, her eyes widened. “Oh, mon dieu.”

“What?”

“Shush.” Marie kept scrolling, utterly amazed at the amount of information Geneva had gotten her hands on. “Gen, y’managed t’get the file on all the Avengers and what happened to ‘em. Not the bullshit the media gave us. The real story.”

“Sonovabitch…” Geneva’s eyes sparked a little brighter, excitement coursing through her at the idea of such important information. And she was the one who found it.

A knock came from the door, earning two sets of curious eyes as it opened. Rogue peeked her head inside, leaning against the doorframe. If she had opened it even half a second earlier, she would have caught sight of all the information the pair had been looking at.

Instead, she saw the inner workings of Essex Industries.

Closing her eyes, Rogue took a slow breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marie…”

“Technically not a government organization.” The excuse tumbled from Marie’s lips effortlessly, as if well practiced and thought out.

They had a deal. Marie could hack away to her heart’s content – but she had to stay out of government business. It wasn’t that Rogue and Remy weren’t proud of her capabilities. They just didn’t want to bring unwanted attention their way.

Rogue forced her shoulders to relax as she looked at the girls. “Just be careful.”

Marie threw a thumb’s up her way as Rogue stepped inside. Geneva, ruffling the tween’s hair, looked at her mom. “Somethin’ up, Mama?”

“Your grandfather told Rem and I how your first mission went. Wanted to congratulate ya.”

Geneva grinned, her powers shimmering under her cheekbones. “Merci.”

Rogue chuckled as she sat on the foot of Marie’s bed. “He also told us how Marie helped.”

Marie tensed, looking over her shoulder. It wasn’t a secret that Geneva and Marie hadn’t been seeing eye to eye. If she didn’t know better, Rogue would comment about how much she loved to see them spending time together once again.

But Rogue was a very smart woman. She knew to keep her mouth shut. At least regarding their mended friendship.

“I wanted to talk to you two ‘bout that,” Rogue told them, bouncing her leg as Marie spun in her chair. “Your dad knows that you’re talented, Gen. We’re not doubtin’ that,” she assured her daughter. Just like she had been at Geneva’s age, the teenager was still self-conscious about her own talents. “But where ya might not think everythin’ through, Marie does.”

Marie shrugged. “What’s your point? ‘M a phone call away. She’ll be fine.”

“We don’t want it to have to be a phone call, Marie.” Rogue sighed, looking between the girls before settling her gaze back on Marie. “I know bein’ a part of the Guild isn’t what ya want. And I don’t blame ya at all. This won’t require you to do anythin’ you don’t already. But when Geneva goes on assignments, we’d like it if ya worked together. Someone needs to have Gen’s back and know what to look for.”

Silence fell in the room. Rogue knew it was a hard sell and understood why. With what had happened to Henri, Marie didn’t trust Jean-Luc or the Guilds. She hardly trusted her uncle, Remy.

But…

“I don’t want anyt’in’ t’happen t’Gen. If my ‘elp can benefit ‘er then…” Marie shrugged. “Ca va. ‘M in.”

Rogue looked at her daughter. Geneva simply shrugged. “Sounds like fun t’moi.”

That night, the two were in Geneva’s small house. Her projector illuminated a blank wall, showing them the videos she had stolen.

There was Dr. Strange’s arrest. The Eye of Agamotto had been glowing so brightly against his chest, refusing to leave its owner. They took his cloak though, no matter how feisty it had tried to be.

Charles Xavier’s students being arrested, despite their age. The school being shut down. Xavier being injected with so many needles, so much medicine, that he looked like a husk of the brilliant telepath he had been.

There was a clip of Natasha standing trial, being asked questions she refused to answer.

Another with Stark in the same predicament except…he spoke too much. His confidence screamed arrogance to those deciding his fate. They couldn’t trust him.

Both walked out in cuffs.

Geneva remembered learning about them in school. Photos of the infamous Black Widow and Ironman, teachings of how they were traitors to humans.

“We should show this to Pere ‘n’ Mama,” she whispered, absentmindedly drawing circles on her inner knee.

Marie looked back at her. Her cousin, the mutant, looked so terrified. Curled against the wall as if everything she had been taught was a lie. The media had told so many stories about the evils of mutant-kind. Of the Avengers. It was easy to lose track of what you were supposed to believe. Marie remembered a time where Geneva refused to believe heroes even existed. As far as she knew, the redhead still clung to that belief. To her, the only ones that were good were her own parents.

“We can’t, Genny,” Marie told her, smiling at the annoyance that flashed across her face. It was better than the fear. “Y’pere wouldn’t let y’go on more missions. Y’know that.” Pausing the clips, Marie turned to face her entirely. Geneva’s eyes, staring so intently at the pale images, finally looked at Marie. “’M gonna be helpin’ now. Y’know that too. This way, we can keep learnin’ the truth. If we get enough, we can stop SHIELD.” She took Geneva’s hand in her own, not bothered by the slight shock that tingled her palm. “We gonna do this toget’er. Y’not alone.”

Geneva blinked, her eyes finding their hands. “’M not a hero, petite. Not tryin’ t’be one eit’er.”

Marie nodded. “I know.” She gently squeezed her hand. “And y’don’t ‘ave t’be. Just gotta promise that we do this together. Just us.”

Bringing Marie in to help Geneva provided an almost-guarantee that their daughter was going to be safe. Where Geneva didn’t naturally over-think, Marie did. She knew the security guards’ schedules. She anticipated changes whether they occurred or not. While Geneva was smart in her abilities, there were cracks that Marie managed to fill in.

They worked well together. Naturally performing like a well-oiled machine.

Knowing and seeing that, Jean-Luc sent Geneva on more missions. Bigger and higher stakes that made stealing a few files look like nothing. Not that Jean-Luc believed so. A single promise to Marie had Geneva gathering as much information as she could, sidelining it and keeping it under wraps from the man in charge of it all.

He had no idea that any inkling of HYDRA existed.

Or that he kept sending her in the middle of it.

“This ‘as t’be the stupidest idea,” Geneva muttered, knowing Marie was listening on the comm.

“Jeez, tell moi ‘ow y’really feel.”

Geneva snorted as she stepped into the service elevator, janitorial clothes hanging loosely off her figure. Her hair, tucked behind her ears and hidden well under the company hat, was kept out of sight and mind. It was a fair enough disguise. People were leaving to go home at about this hour. It meant less disturbances. On paper? It totally made sense.

In person? Dressing as a janitor to slip in and out of Pym Technologies? It was slightly more terrifying. A single ding came from above and she stepped out. Just ahead, two workers were hanging a new sign.

Trask Industries.

Nodding to the boys, she kept walking until she came across the janitorial closet. The ID card deftly slipped between her fingers as she asked, subtle accent perfectly intact, “Didn’t think to tell me Trask bought this place?”

Silence.

Geneva opened the door as she asked, “Marie?”

“I didn’t know.”

She hesitated, barely able to gather any sense before she was tugging that blasted janitorial cart out of the closet and down the hall. Her nerves were going haywire as she trudged along. This hadn’t been a part of the plan. Breaking into Pym’s was one thing, but Trask? Alexander Pierce’s best friend?

“Breathe, Genny. It’s gonna be okay.”

Geneva snorted. “Easy for you to say.” She visibly relaxed when that sign was finally out of sight. From here, she could at least pretend it didn’t exist. She could act as if she wasn’t walking into a warzone entirely unprepared.

The doors opened with a hiss. She slipped inside, the doors closing behind her. Metal walls surrounded her, long labs stretching here and there. A quick glance to the last specialist was enough for Geneva to focus on taking out the trash.

“T’ink this is the most I’ve seen y’clean after someone else.”

Geneva wanted to snap at that, but she knew better. Each table had a small trash can next to it and by the time she had gotten to the fourth, the dweeby scientist was finally leaving. She set the bin down. As she looked up, a loose strand of hair fell free. She was alone.

Well, sort of.

“What’s the passcode,” she asked as she walked to the back of the room. There was a second door made of heavy metal. A keypad too. On the other side, something that might help them with sneaking just a little bit more. Geneva glanced through the window. No doubt it was thick glass. Probably bullet-proof.

“135081965.”

The keypad beeped with every input, followed by a much longer one as the door unlocked itself. “Any tricks I should know ‘bout?”

“Shouldn’t be, non. The glass’ll be thick, but y’powers should be able to handle that.”

Geneva chuckled as she took the hat off, shoving it in one of her many pockets. “Should bein’ th’key word, right,” she muttered, almost closing the door before stepping further inside.

The room was massive, bigger than the one before. It made no sense to her. The glass bubble, thick glass secured by metal, was the only thing in the room. And its contents were the smallest thing she’d ever seen.

“There’s no way that’s an actual suit.” Geneva circled the glass.

“It’s called the Yellow Jacket.”

Geneva looked up, bright eyes sparking a little brighter. But... Who the hell? There was no one in the room. “Marie? T’ought y’said no tricks.”

“I got nothin’.”

“Oh! Sorry. Uh…give me a second.”

Geneva’s jaw ticked, fingers crackling with electricity. A static filled the air and prickled her skin before a figure appeared in front of her. A red suit, silver helmet and red lenses, and…was he just small?

“I’m Ant-man.”

“What’s happenin’, Genny?”

Geneva didn’t say anything to Marie. This was the first time she had ever really crossed paths with someone that wasn’t…normal. “I – I’m Geneva.”

“Gen, what’s goin’ on?”

He tilted his head. “That’s your alter-ego name?”

Geneva’s brow furrowed. She shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Oh!” He pressed a button and Geneva curled her fist. She couldn’t help it. It was simply instinct. But seeing the helmet disappear, she was met with a…surprisingly kind face. Well, there was no way the guy was a thief or assassin. “I’m Scott.”

Definitely not an assassin.

“Geneva, be careful. You don’t – “

“Guessing we’re after the same thing?” He pointed to the suit between them. Something so small and so protected. Just how powerful was the thing?

Geneva took the comm out of her ear. She could hardly think with that thing in her ear. Shoving it in her pocket, she dropped the fake accent and told Scott, “’Fraid y’not the one that’s goin’ t’walk away with it.”

Scott huffed. “Look, we’re both thieves, right?”

She shrugged. “Eh. Maybe not on the same level.”

And with that – the lights flickered off.

Geneva’s eyes lit up, glowing in the new darkness. She recognized the whizz that came from Scott’s helmet, but paid him little attention. He wasn’t where her focus was needed. Fingers brushing against the glass, she watched it tremble.

But before it could shatter – something small and heavy hit her stomach.

Geneva’s back slammed into the wall. Fluorescents shattered above as Scott reappeared. Now – between her and her prize.

A hand pressed to her abdomen, she asked, “Were y’just petite?”

“Did you do that?” Scott’s hand pointed to the ceiling.

It seemed to dawn on them at the same time. Maybe this wasn’t going to be an easy assignment for either of them.

Geneva dropped low. Her staff extended. Swiping at his legs, she smirked when he landed on his ass.

Scott groaned. “You’re not a normal janitor, are you?”

“What clued y’in?” Her eyes sparked a little brighter and her staff lit up, crackling with her powers.

She swung for his head. He rolled, shrinking down to an impossibly small size. Geneva hopped to her feet. “Where the fuck…?” She looked around, desperate to catch sight of any sort of movement.

Something.

Anything.

She felt the tug at her wrist. A twist and jerk forced her hand behind her back. Pinned between her shoulders. Geneva hissed. She stumbled towards the wall, her hand pressing against the metal before her jaw could.

“Sonova…” She growled. Electricity shimmered over her hair, flying towards the lights. They burned ever so bright.

“Ah, fuck!”

There he was.

Her power surged through her pinned arm and –

ZzZzAP

Scott flew through the air. She spun, watching a small dent appear in the metal protecting the yellowjacket’s case. He grew in size, twitching here and there. The sparks of electricity still dancing on his suit zapped through the air, seeping once more into her skin.

Her veins and scars lit up as she threw a punch. There was too much going wrong with this assignment. She needed to wrap it up. Marie’s warning now long forgotten, Geneva aimed for his head. He dropped, vanishing once more as her fist, and her powers, shattered the metal and glass.

An alarm rang.

Scott reappeared behind her as the door swung shut. Locked.

With no way out.

“Ya sonova – “ Geneva turned towards him, eyes wide and panicked as Scott’s helmet vanished.

“I didn’t do it! You did!”

“Y’coulda let moi hit ya!”

Scott huffed, crossing his arms as if waiting for her to realize how ridiculous that sounded.

“I know ‘ow it sounds and ‘m not takin’ it back.” She turned away from him. Pressing a hand to the door, she focused on her abilities.

That was when the room’s light went red.

“Whoa.”

Geneva looked over her shoulder. Scott’s attention was still focused on her, staring at her appearance. “What?”

“Well, when the lights went red, it…” He pointed to her skin.

Geneva followed his gaze. Her skin, once glowing brilliantly, looked as normal as it possibly could. Her brow furrowed. The familiar buzz in her ears…the tingle to her skin…Those things she had grown so used to…

It was all gone.

She stumbled then, exhaustion tugging at the corners of her eyes. Scott stepped forward, offering her a hand. “Hey, careful.” He helped her lean against the wall, oblivious to the gas that was appearing through skinny vents. “Are you okay?”

Geneva blinked slowly, looking around. Her comm link. She needed – Her eyes drifted to the gas. Squeezing his hand, she nodded towards it. Their fight forgotten, survival seemed far more important. “’M powers make moi so…”

“It’s okay. I understand. You’re a little battery, aren’t you?” It was a lighthearted joke, something to make her laugh and hopefully wake her up a bit. He glanced at the gas, noticing how it started to fill the room. His helmet appeared, a barrier for him though he couldn’t do anything for her.

“Y’should…” She coughed, resting her head against the wall. “Go. S’meone is bound t’show up and there’s…” Another cough, this time followed by a yawn. “No point in us both getting’ caught.”

“You were ready to kick my ass a minute ago.”

Geneva shrugged, offering a weak smile. She saw his eyes through those weird red lenses. He was concerned and she appreciated it. “That was a minute ago. Sil vous plait, go.”

Another minute passed. A part of Scott didn’t want to leave her. It seemed inhumane. If this was still Hank’s building, he might consider it, but the whole reason he was here was because of Trask. The man was changing everything. He had a plan. He had power. And he had had enough of both to push Hank out of his own company.

But if he stayed…what would happen to Cassie?

“I’m sorry. I – “

She shook her head, pushing his hand away. It was then he noticed how green her eyes were. Like pretty jewels. “Don’t. Jus’ go.”

Scott took a step back, shrinking just in time for the door to open. He stumbled back, feet brushing against the vent just as the door opened. Geneva seemed to be drifting between consciousness and sleep, eyes barely able to stay open. With one last apology, Scott stepped through the vent, making his escape.

Geneva allowed herself to smile, relieved that at least both of them wouldn’t be caught. Competition was one thing, but prison? No, she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. She looked up, nodding slightly as masked guards came in. And right behind them, someone much smaller stepped inside.

Trask.

She grinned. “Y’lot shorter than I ‘magined.”

“And you,” he told her, voice muffled by his own mask. “Were almost smarter than I anticipated.”

Marie sat in her chair, curled up to look as small as possible. The shouting down the hall did nothing to ease the tears slipping down her cheeks. Sniffling, she wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked to the News.

“After apprehending a mutant thief, Boliver Trask has looked to SHIELD in hopes of fast-tracking his newest creation. With long-time friend Alexander Pierce holding office as Secretary of SHIELD, it appears this mutant’s actions were all that was needed to fast track what they are now calling the Sentinel Program. SHIELD officials have plans to introduce these creations to our larger cities first and - ”

She turned the screen off. Head hitting the chair behind her, Marie listened to Remy and Rogue screaming at each other. Shouting blame. Shouting worries.

Another sniffle as Marie stared at the ceiling.

What was going to happen to them now?

Permanent Tags:

@butcherofblackwater

#marvel au #xmen au #mutant ofc #marvel ofc #xmen ofc #original female characters #geneva lebeau #marie lebeau #oc x canon #canon x canon #oc x cc

10 notes · View notes

morgansmornings · 6 years

Note

ship meme Jayden and Beth

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor:

It was hard to tell who’s clothes belonged to who. Red, greens, and blues clashed with pastel and paisley. Skirts and jeans tossed about being left where they landed. Fabrics of all sorts scattered and making a collage of colour across the dark brown floor that was standard within the dorms of the campus.

“Beth…. Have you seen my green shirt?”

Wha kine?

“The green spaghetti strap. I want to wear it for my date tonight.”

A pause, the shift of an over sized sweater being pulled around tawny slender shoulders.

Nooo…

“Are you lying?”

Nooo…

“Are you lying about lying.”

Mebbe…

A sigh.

“Blue one it is then.”

forgets to run the dish washer:Neat freak. Organized. Dishwasher always running both us stairs and down stairs to keep up with the health standards.

At least that was how it usually was.

But there were times that the Janissary couldn’t be assed to use Forces or Correspondence to poke one stupid button. It was usually after covert missions where she had the hardest time having the will to do much of anything but breathe. During those times she had given Beth permission to make sure that the mountains of leftovers found homes in the bellies of those that needed it most.

On this night however, Jay was not as bad off as she usually was. No, this night she was just tired. Prue was off digging into a rumor to see if it was something that she could deal with at a later date or not. So she had the brownstone to herself. Finally a moment to unwind. To come down from the soul crushing pain that was both inflicted to her prey and that she received herself.

She pulled the dishwasher open, taking a cup from the top rack and poured herself a healthy amount of cold coffee. She reached up and scratched the back of her feeling the grime clinging to her skin. Taking a long pull she immediately turned and spit the mouthful out.

“God… Damnit.” She held back the sudden urge to gag as the taste of dish soap.

“I love her… I love her so much Andy…” Jay whipped the back of her hand across her lips. “One of these days, I might strangle her.”

Though it wasn’t Beth’s fault. She did wash the dishes. She just forgot that the dishwasher was there to make things easier. pumps gas for the car:“Onna d’ese days, I’m gonna do it.” Beth said curling her legs under herself to rearrange the knitting supplies she had brought with her.

“I’ll let you pump gas into the Caddy the day you can see over the wheel kid.” A ball of yarn bounced off the door. Jay couldn’t help but chuckle. With all the powers Beth had it was a miracle she was still the same sweet tiny and innocent soul in the world. Jay was certain that Beth could achieve peace among the others and bring the Wyrm to heel and purify whatever had driven it off the deep end.

There was some mumbling that Jay chose not to make out because they wee already behind their, her, schedule. It was going to be a long drive to the east coast. Sure Jay could have gotten tickets, but there was not enough tranquilizers to put Beth to sleep long enough to fly that distance. Which is why there was a cruise bound for Hawai’i waiting for them in California. drives when they’re going somewhere:

“And then when we get there… Beth are you even listening to me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” That was the moment Jayden pulled over into a parking lot. She knew Beth wasn’t paying attention. That much was obvious by how she was leaned against the passenger door with her chin propped on a delicate palm. Green-hazel eyes were glazed over not yet realizing that they had stopped. Jay reached over and took Beth’s hand in hers, tugging gently.

“Hey Tiny Dancer?”

“Huh?” The Hawaiian turned to look at her best friend over many lifetimes. “Did we stop?”

“Figured we could stretch our legs. And after…” Jay shrugged a shoulder and pulled her hand away leaving the keys in Beth’s hand.

“But ya alw-”

“I’m tired.” She wasn’t. “Not safe for me to be behind the wheel Tiny Dancer.”

A light began burning that settled whatever worry had come over the Janissary.

“Copy d’at Rubba Ducky.”

rearranges the furniture:It was mapped out clearly in her mind. To the point that she could walk around with her eyes closed and not once drop, trip, kick, or stumble over anything. Every item had a place and every item was kept just so. Even when she cleaned. Some called it obsession. Other called it a well maintained lifestyle.

So when Jayden opened the door and dropped her keys to the floor she knew something was wrong. Looking around her living room, pool table, and most of the bedding from her guest and master bedroom was strewn about. Cushions and fabrics lay draped up over each other and her staircase leading up to the master bedroom floor had been turned into a keep of sorts.

“Beth?”

“D’e no be a Beth. Bu’ Lady WiggleWag an’ her fai’ful sworn hound Bitestwice.”

“Don’‘t forget me!”

“An’ Lord Noah of da far off lands to the South.”

“Beth.”

“Have ya tribute ta lay before mah noble feet?”

“Beth!”

“Wha?!”

“Next time, just text me when you plan on babysitting.” Jay shook her head shrugging out of the leather coat she was wearing. Next came the heeled boot. “But if the Lady, Noble Knight, and High guard dog would allow, the council hath sent me, a humble peasant to bring tribute of cake and cocoa.”

There was a moment of muttering, hushed giggles, and the soft bouf of Prue before she was answered.

“Da lord bide ya welcome, stranger. As long as d’ere be ice cream.”

“But of course.”

falls asleep with the TV on:Beth had always had a hard time sleeping. The Sandman kept away from her and when he did come, so did the Night terrors. Which is why Beth was always working strange hours at the hospital. Or going on late night ride alongs with Luc. But on occasion there was a movie night.

And this time, the soft sounds of Beth’s little voice spoke along with Inigo Montoya as he advanced upon the six fingered man. She mimicked his elegant moves with her own hands. Thrust. Parry. Block, slash, parry. Her slender form twisting on the recliner only once nudging the familiar once.

She turned to take Jay’s hand to find the younger woman asleep on the other recliner. one foot thrown over the arm, her head lolled off to the side and one hand still in the mixing bowl of Popcorn and M&Ms.

“Good Night Jay. I mos’ likely kill you in da mornin’.” gets to use the bathroom first:Pulling herself up and out of the chair every joint she had creaked and popped as protest. Shuffling more in the style of a zombie rather then a human being she headed upstairs for the master bathroom. One hand ran through her hair to push it from her face. She could already smell the coffee which meant Prue had set it up before the sleep over ended.

Rounding over the last step she could hear her shower going. A raised brow, a deep frown, and one arm crossing over her chest to scratch the back of her shoulder. The Janissary pushed the door open with a yawn. Sitting on the counter, a toothbrush moving with far more vigor than was humanly possible at this early time of the morning. “Dude, did you even sleep?”

“MMM!!”

“Sorry. Knock first I know. But you’re dressed and a nurse. This isn’t the first time another woman has walked in on you.” “Mmm!” A finger waved way too close to Jay’s face for comfort.

“Alright downstairs it is. But I’ll remember that the next time you have to piss.” Jay moved just fast enough to dodge the tube of toothpaste. But not the bar of soap that came right after. decides the temperature for the ac/heater:“Beth… it is 89 degrees. How can you be cold?”

“Please?”

“Oh.. My Gods okay! Fine!” Jayden flipped the switch for the seats heating coils built into the Cadillac. “Now flip the vents on your side so I can run the AC.”

“But d’at doesn’t..”

“Ah! Tch!” A hand puppet came up from the steering wheel. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m hot. Driver gets control that was the deal.”

“Okay, but ya have any kine blanket?”

A pause. A sigh.

“For the last time… NO!” sets up holiday decorations:When Christmas comes to town

The lights were strung over all the windows. Garland hung from the banister and the pegs for the stair case. Gingerbread wafted through the air. The Polar Express was playing just loud enough that the girls could sing along.

And all the dreams of the children

Flour coated the front of Jay’s apron, while steady hand folded the shortbread batter together. Small feet galumphed around chasing the clicking of sharp nails. The youngest chuckled at the panicked look in betrayed dark eyes.

“Don’t look at me, you promised.”

Once lost will all be found

“Traitor!” A pathetic whine came as the Hawaiian grabbed Prue from behind, with the over sized sweater.

“Gotcha!”

It took several moments for Beth to bend in ways that would have been painful to others to get the familiar into the human made sweater. It was just this side of Ugly Christmas sweater. The soft fabric all hand woven from well kept and happy Angora Rabbits.

That’s all I want when Christmas comes to town

leaves the lights on:Prue panted hard and heavy. She was struggling to stay up right but it was hard to do with a gaping hole that the burglar left as a parting gift. The storm raged outside and had knocked the power out a few minutes before hand. Limping across the wooden floor she collapsed not but three feet from the entrance.

“Jay!” Beth’s voice echoed down the hall from the stairwell. At least that is what Prue assumed as she let out a whine.

“Beth! Hurry! She’s been shot!” Jay all but sobbed as she dropped to her knees and began petting the dog’s head.

“I..”

“Beth please!”

“Get da flashlights!” Jay nodded and turned on her phone’s light. She was speaking in half words and muted cries of heartbreak. Soon she started getting the mag lights to help illuminate the apartment. Soft but firm hands covered in some kind of gloves started prodding at the wound. Prue whimpered and yowled, but was not willing to snap out.

“Jay, ya need for get me some candles.” Beth’s voice was a salve to adrenaline fried nerves.

Minutes, hours it was hard to tell but the power came back on and Both Beth and Jay were sitting on the floor near the couch. Jay’s eyes were bloodshot while Beth’s were sympathetic. Even though all the lights were on, neither moved to turn off the flashlights or put out the candles.

uses the bathroom with the door open:Beth always had the door closed when she went to the bathroom. It was habit. In through the door, turn, close, lock. When she was done it was unlock, open, and leave. Between the Admiral and her brother it was just a habit that had been instilled into her at a young age.

So imagine the heart attach she had the first time that she came back from class to find their shared bathroom wide open. And a nude Jayden backside pointed towards her. One strong leg propped on the bathroom ledge with razor in hand.

“I’m sorry!:

“Oh hey kid. Was wondering where you ran off too. Can you do me a favor and grab me my underwear. I left them on the dresser.”

“I…” Beth learned and then made Jayden promise to never again, leave the bathroom door open after that. fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber):

Beth reached as far as she could while keeping Jayden pinned onto the couch. It would be the best, fastest, and the least amount of explaining needed. Jay however was of the opinion that He was a last resort call. Plus it wasn’t like he wasn’t already there. Watching and waiting for the right moment to interrupt the squabbling.

“I said no.”

“But he’s good.”

“No. I am not letting that happen.”

“But d’ats my phone.” Jay put her hand in Beth’s face to try and push her away.

“Ow! Stop with the biting!”

“Den gimme da phone.”

“No! I’m not calling Clint!”

“Good thing I’m standing right here then. Things would get a little awkward if the pipe keeps leaking and you both fall on the floor. Might give the next person the wrong impression.”

“HOW?!”

“I texted him before ya took my phone.” Beth said with a victorious tone as she gave a sun-bright smile.

This Meme: Accepting.Honorable Mention: @brooklynislandgirl and @multi-mused

#answers from a goat.#Dear Anonymous #Danke Anon!#brooklynislandgirl #Honorable Mention:#multi-mused #Crossing the Streams l Crossover

4 notes · View notes

jax-writes · 6 years

Text

In A Romantic Sort of Way

Note: This used to be a rough draft for a different story, but here it is now, existing as a one shot. I always like writing something with my boy Remy involved but if I start writing him actively in the story, he tends to take over. Boy likes to talk. And I was determined to make this a Clint story for my Tumblr readers. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this. Warnings: Swearing is about it. Word Count: 1705 AO3

"You know what's hard, Wands?" I spoke from my position on the floor, tossing a piece of popcorn in the air and letting gravity do the work as I stared at the ceiling and hoped the popcorn would make it in my mouth; it didn't. It bounced off my forehead and landed on the floor next to my head. "That popcorn game you're playing?" she asked. I could feel the smirk on her face from across the room and sat up to throw a handful at her. "No, smart ass. I'm trying to be serious here, thank you very much." "Oh I'm sorry. But you know you are cleaning my room for me now, right?" she launched a piece back at me with her powers. "Cheater. You can just use those powers of yours and get it all at once, no problem." "But your cleaning my room will build character," she waved off, before returning to her guitar strumming. "What's hard, Y/N?" I sighed and flopped back down and stretched out my limbs before speaking. "Being here. You know, I'm not 'enhanced'," I said using air quotes. "I don't exactly have the best resume to be working on this team. Like, I get my options are limited, but really those options are probably more realistic for me than being here. You all have all these powers and skills. I'm just like. An extra." I shrugged and munched on more popcorn before speaking again. "And do you realize how hard it is to be in love with a teammate? Rhetorical question, babe. I know you do. But like. Why does Clint have to make it so difficult?" "Y/N, you are not an extra. You bring a lot to the team. Natasha is a spy, so she's good at putting on a face, but even she isn't as light on her feet as you. You can sneak up on Bucky. That's pretty light footed. As for your Clint situation. Just tell him." "Yeah, that's the good ol' Guild training coming in handy," I sighed. "I don't know. I just kinda feel useless these days. And I can't tell him for a very long list of reasons." "Did you hear that your old boss is living with the X-Men now?" she asked, veering the topic away from depressing subjects. I wrinkled my nose in a grimace. "Jean-Luc is working with the mutants?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "His son, Y/N." Duh. I face palmed and sat up. "Remy's with the X-Men?" She gave me a knowing look. "I have a friend there I keep meaning to visit if you want to see him when I go." I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice. I haven't seen him since I left," I pondered, staring into the distance. Wanda glanced over at her clock. "Er, don't you have training with Bucky in five minutes?" "Shit! Sure do! Thanks, Sugar. Tell your brother that once I'm done it's his turn to buy the pizza." I heard her laughing as I bolted from her room to head to the training room. A good stretch and a few punches to the bag later, and I was sparring with the man who'd become like an older brother to me. I swiped his feet from under him and knocked him on his butt before doing a quick move to trap him that he'd taught me before. "Good job, Y/N. Now let me up," he grinned. "Sorry," I smiled sheepishly before untangling myself from him. "Any big plans tonight?" I asked as we began circling the ring again. "Nah. Nat and I are gonna grab dinner and she wants to introduce me to movies from the last decade, but nothing too exciting," he said, dodging one of my punches. "You two gonna make it official yet?" I smirked, jumping up to avoid his kick. "Did you ask out Birdbrain yet?" he threw back. "Aw, Buck, you know Sam and I are just friends," I laughed. "Hey now, leave me out of your dirty scheming!" speak of the devil, the man himself was walking past us on his way to the treadmills. "Sorry, Handsome," I laughed. Bucky tackled me to the ground in my moment of distraction, unfortunately, and I huffed, trapped. "Okay you win, Buck." He jumped up and held out his hand, which I took, jumping up from the mat. "I think that's it for the day. It's that attention span you need to work on," he grinned, tapping my forehead. "Hey, I'm focused as shit when it's a real fight, and you know it." "You sure are. Oh hey, Barton," he nodded, glancing behind me. I froze and turned around, seeing the object of my infatuation sitting on the bench next to the ring. "H-hey, Clint. Oh would you look at the time? I have to go Pietro and I have. Thing. Bye!" I zipped out the training room as fast as I could. Why couldn't I behave like a normal person around him?

Clint's eyes followed Y/N's as she left the room. "Is it something I said?" Bucky rolled his eyes, and patted the archer's shoulder. "Nah man, I think she just hates you." Clint nodded. "That adds up."

"FRIDAY, can you play my I Prevail playlist?" "Certainly." I'd showered after training, and wanted something to tide me over until the twins and I had our pizza tonight. As the opening notes to My Heart I Surrender played, and I began to sing along as I grabbed the stuff I needed for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Will our stars ever align? Will two hearts beat in time? These words you should always remember, to you my heart I surrender." "You know, kid, instead of singing out your feelings, you could. You know, tell the guy you like him." At the sound of Tony's voice, I jumped, dropping the jar of peanut butter. "Jesus, Tony! Warn a girl before you sneak up on her." I paused my music and picked up the peanut butter and started making my sandwich. "Mm. Guess you need more lessons with our resident super spies. Fine tune those senses of yours. Speak of the devil, Hey Legolas. Help Y/N out here." "She looks like she's doing alright. What's going on?" "Kid needs to work on fine tuning those skills. Sharpening her senses. So she doesn't get scared whenever I walk into the room." I scoffed as I picked up my sandwich and turned around. "You're a different kind of scary, Tony." I bit into my sandwich and hopped up on the counter, winking at Tony as Clint started chuckling. "She's got you there, Stark. Anyway," he turned to me. "Y/N is exactly who I've been looking for all day." I swallowed the bite of sandwich I had just taken and blinked in surprise. "Me?" I glanced over at Tony as he gave a salute and left, leaving the two of us alone. "Did I, you know, do something to offend you?" he began. "What? No! Why would you think that?" "Well to be honest, I was in the vents earlier, don't ask why. But I was passing through and. Well, I didn't mean to overhear. In fact I only heard the one sentence. But I heard that I make things hard? And well. What did I do? What can I do to help? I know I'm difficult to be around sometimes, but if there's something I can do to make things easier for you," he sighed and met my shocked expression. "No no no, you didn't do anything! You're just. You're perfect, okay?" I huffed and sent my sandwich down. "Then why do I make things hard for you? If you need me to keep a distance I can do that. It'll suck for me but if that's what you need. I don't need to stay here so often. I do have an apartment of my own. And I'm sure Kate would like a break from taking Lucky on walks," he rambled. "Clint you make it hard because I have feelings for you, you giant nerd!" I exclaimed, before clamping my hands over my mouth in shock. "You--You have feelings for me?" I sigh and hop down from my seat on the counter and looked up at him. "Yeah. I do." "You know I use humor to cover up basically every serious feeling every, and I'm addicted to coffee right?" I nodded. "Yeah. And I'm addicted to Monster. So what?" "You know my only actual skill is archery, right? You know that me playing those dart games is basically cheating the system right?" "Not your only skill," I argued. "You're a great fighter, and you're a great spy. SHIELD relies on you for a lot. You're a great friend. You're like another brother to Wanda." "You know that I sometimes don't use my hearing aids because I just don't want to deal with people, right?" Clint asked, a tilt of his head. I began moving my hands, signing, "Tough shit, Robin Hood. I've been fluent in sign language since I was thirteen." I smirked upon seeing his dumbfounded expression. "You know I'm not good enough for you, right?" "I was raised in the Thieves Guild, Barton. I was engaged to a literal assassin. You're a saint compared to ninety percent of the people I grew up around," I shrugged. "Plus, you try to make things better." "Okay well. Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked, rubbing his neck. "I was supposed to have drunk movie night with Wanda and Pietro, if you wanted to join us," I said, tilting my head. "I'd like that. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?" he grinned. I smiled up at him and nodded. "Yes!" "Oh uh. In case you were wondering. I uh, I like you in a romantic kind of way too. So I--" I cut him off with a quick kiss. "I got the idea," I smiled before backing away. "Now I'm going to finish this sandwich, and then we're gonna grab the booze before we grab the twins. I think we're starting with Shrek tonight."

#reader insert #Clint Barton x reader #Hawkeye x reader #Marvel imagine #avengers imagine

42 notes · View notes

bluering8 · 6 years

Text

TNG S01

I’m done with TNG S01! I’ve gotta watch some other stuff before I launch into S02, so have a quick round-up of my Very Important opinions on various characters/episodes:

Data - I love Data!! Holy shit do I love Data!! He is precious to me and perfect in every way and I want to hollow him out and wear his skin like a suit. That... possibly sounds creepier than I meant? Look, he’s my perfect wish-fulfilment character, okay. He’s earnest and awkward and he never quite Gets It, but he wants to Get It so badly, and he tries so hard, and whenever he talks people are constantly cutting him off partway through because they’ve decided he’s saying too much or saying it wrong, and he sort of... exemplifies what has been my perspective of the Autistic Experience. And despite all that, he has a career he enjoys and friends who care about him and I want to be him so much that it kind of hurts.

Also, Data has feelings. I will fight anyone to the death on this issue, I sincerely can’t see how anyone could look at Data and not come to the conclusion that he has feelings. Data has so many feelings! He might not have feelings the way humans have feelings, but he unmistakably has his own opinions and his own way of relating to the world. It’s heartbreaking that he doesn’t recognise the value of his own experiences in favour of desperately trying to live up to some arbitrary “correct” way of existing.

Deanna Troi - I hate Troi. I do not want to hate Troi, because empaths are way cooler than they usually get credit for, but she’s so fucking annoying. All she ever does is say things which were already completely fucking obvious. She’s a walking violation of show-don’t-tell and every time she opens her mouth I groan because I know whatever she’s about to say is going to ruin my enjoyment of a scene. About the nicest thing I can say about her is that she’s still a better character then Wesley, being merely irritating rather than universe-warpingly terrible.

Jean-Luc Picard - Picard’s such a dad, holy shit. I never noticed this when I watched TNG before, but now I’m picking up on it as, like, the major facet of his personality. I mean, he also drinks Earl Grey and LARPs as a detective and discusses philosophy with aliens, but mostly he’s just Space Dad now and forever. Somehow I also forgot the LARPing as a detective part of his character? Picard’s just a huge fucking nerd isn’t he.

Q - I have very mixed feelings about Q. On the one hand I always love arrogant, capricious, petulant trickster gods, especially when they have Q’s flair for the theatrical, but on the other hand I think when it comes to Q I maybe love him more in concept than in execution? I spend a lot of time thinking about trickster-god entities and how a nigh-omnipotent creature unbound by linear time and the laws of physics might relate to the universe, and Q’s a very mundane example of the character type. On the gripping hand, Q’s super fun and whenever he shows up I know I’m in for a good time. I strongly suspect that if I were a Q I would also spend an obnoxious amount of time trolling Picard. He’s just so delightfully trollable!

Tasha Yar - Yar falls into a lot of tropes which I absolutely hate, but despite that I kind of... love her anyway?? I just don’t get enough masculine female characters to not love them even when they have rape-y backstories and secret desires to be more feminine and Issues feat. their emotional vulnerabilities, I guess. She was kind of frustrating at first because she kept randomly attacking people, but in the later episodes she seemed to mellow out a lot and started acting the way I’d expect of a security chief, ie 101% willing to solve problems with violence but no longer functioning on a hairtrigger. I’m sad that she died, I would’ve loved to see what she could have grown into as the show developed.

Also she was bros with Worf! Somehow I completely forgot about that, but I love it. This is an extra layer of tragedy in her death, Yar&Worf is a delightful friendship and if it’d had space to develop I sincerely believe it could have toppled Data&Geordi as my most beloved Trek brotp. This is what fanfiction is for, I suppose.

Wesley Crusher - I know it’s kind of Trek cliché to loathe Wesley but boy do I ever loathe Wesley!! The funny thing is that I actually liked him for the first two or three episodes: he was a bright and enthusiastic kid who was transparently desperate for Picard to be his father figure (and Picard was transparently disinterested in being his father figure, which is hilarious), but then he was allowed on the bridge despite not being part of Starfleet or even an acting-cadet at the time, and then the action paused in the middle of an episode so Picard could get lectured on how Wesley is the bestest most wonderfulest, and then... you get the point.

I’m not here to shit on wish-fulfilment characters (I mean, that’d be hypocritical as fuck considering my feelings about Data), I’m here to shit on wish-fulfilment characters who are so devoted to wish-fulfilment that they stop functioning adequately as a character. The universe warps itself into a pretzel so that Wesley can be the bestest most wonderfulest and it really really pisses me off.

S01E01E02 Encounter at Farpoint - You know, for a nigh-omnipotent weird space being, Q is amazingly fucking dumb. Like, who agrees to judge people based on a test without realising that if you tell people you’re testing them they’ll go out of their way to be on their best behaviour? You’re not gonna be getting any kind of reliable data here, Q.

S01E07 Lonely Among Us - What the fuck was this episode, I mean seriously. Okay, so we open with two groups of diplomats who super super hate each other and the Enterprise has to transport them to a meeting, so you’d assume that the episode would revolve around dealing with the conflict between the two groups right? Except no, that’s like the d-plot, the a-plot is there’s a weird space thing and the b-plot is Data has a crush on Sherlock Holmes. The c-plot is Wesley does his homework. And then the episode ends with the news that one group of diplomats has cooked and eaten a member of the other group and Picard’s like “lmao I don’t give a shit, Riker you deal with this I’m gonna go take a nap.” What the fuck, basically.

In other news, spacefuture meat is all cruelty-free synthesised magic apparently. I wonder if vegetarians still exist? Other than vulcans, I guess. I don’t know enough about the philosophy behind not shoving delicious chunks of animal corpse into your face to work out the answer here.

S01E08 Justice - I talked about this episode already and honestly that’s all you really need to know. People try to talk to Picard about Wesley’s impending death and Picard immediately changes the topic to talking about the weird space thing, rinse and repeat.

Anyway I was recently reading about a guy who was transporting prisoners when some of the prisoners escaped. The punishment for letting prisoners escape was death, so he released the rest of the prisoners then ran off to be an outlaw because it wasn’t like they could kill him any more then they were already going to. Then he became Emperor! Anyway the moral of the story is that Light Yagami is a moron escalating punishments are important and if someone knows you’re gonna kill them for something they did then they have basically no reason not to go and do a bunch of other crimes also.

S01E10 Hide and Q - Hey, quick quiz: you encounter a nigh-omnipotent entity who has previously mocked your species for being savage and violent. Said entity dumps you on a planet with a bunch of weird monsters. Do you: a) attempt to communicate with these monsters in the hopes of reaching a peaceful solution, or b) savagely resort to violence by shooting them with your space guns? If you picked option b, then congratulations! You are the crew of the Enterprise. This technically wasn’t the point of the episode, but come on! Step up your mind-game game, Q.

Also Picard yells at Q for constantly changing his costume and it’s like, Picard, dude, you’re aware the thing you’re yelling at isn’t actually Q? Q isn’t a human with superpowers, he’s an incomprehensible entity who occasionally puppets around a meatsack so you can have something convenient to yell at. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from Greek mythology and also Lovecraft, it’s that you super super do not want to see the incomprehensible entity’s true form.

S01E13 Datalore - I LOVE DATA AND I LOVE HIS HORRIBLE BROTHER!! but also, fuck Wesley. I hate Wesley. He’s immediately suspicious of Lore-as-Data purely on the basis of he sees “Data” doing Lore’s facial tic despite the fact that at the beginning of the episode he walked in on Data attempting to mimic sneezing, and despite the fact that there are several other characters with much better reasons to find Lore-as-Data suspicious.

Actually, you know what my dream rewrite for this episode would be? Someone becoming suspicious of Lore-as-Data, not because they think he’s Lore, but because they think he’s Data. The crew had previously been discussing whether or not they could trust Data now that he’d found links outside of Starfleet, so having that issue play out onscreen would’ve been fantastic. (Especially if it influenced their behaviour towards Data and Lore tried to take advantage of that as a “your friends are dicks, betray them and join me” kind of thing. I’m Here(tm) 24/7 for manipulation and corruption, my dude.)

S01E17 When the Bough Breaks - You know, this entire episode could’ve been solved with cloning. I mean actually it couldn’t, but the problem they thought they were having could’ve been solved with cloning. Ask the Enterprise for some unfucked genetic material and you can make your own kids! As many kids as you want!! More than six kids because seriously I don’t know what you were expecting to achieve with that, that’s not enough people to keep your planet alive.

S01E19 Coming of Age - This episode is an excellent example of What’s Wrong With Wesley. Wesley does an exam, and he loses some points in order to help another person with the exam, and at the end he’s told the other person passed but he didn’t, and the other person’s like “oh but that only happened because Wesley lost points by helping me!!”, because Wesley is so bestest most wonderfulest that the only reason he fails is because he sacrificed himself to help someone else to succeed. There’s a vague attempt at suggesting “oh, but there were other reasons Wesley failed!!” but like, fuck you, you don’t get to show me nothing but Wesley succeeding and then attempt to salvage this mess by telling me there were other factors at play, especially not when there’s so much attention devoted to Wesley helping the other person.

S01E22 Symbiosis - Everyone spends this episode focusing on the wrong thing. See, the Brekkians are selling medicine to the Ornarans, except actually it’s not medicine it’s addictive drugs, and this is bad because... drugs are bad? Don’t do drugs kids!! Why are you all focusing on the part where there are drugs and not the part where the Brekkians are lying shitbags taking relentless advantage of the Ornarans so that they can live like parasite kings in a capitalist hellscape castle?

“Golly gosh I sure can’t understand why anyone would voluntarily become dependent on a drug!!” says FUCKING WESLEY, THE WORST CHARACTER, completely missing the part where the drug actually is medicine and the Ornarans are entirely unaware that they no longer have the plague the drug is medicine for and thus believe that they have literally no other choice than to take the drug if they want to live. There is nothing “voluntary” about this at all, Wesley you absolute fuckwad!! Somebody shove this kid into a locker already.

S01E23 Skin of Evil - There are no pockets in Starfleet uniforms so everyone spends this episode wandering around with stuff awkwardly glued to their sides and it’s terrible and hilarious. I’m pretty sure this is true of other episodes but this is the one where I found it really really noticeable and couldn’t stop laughing.

...this episode was just obnoxiously funny in general actually, Goo Man is trying so hard to be super evil and scary and grimdark but nobody really gives a fuck about it, he’s more just like majorly inconvenient and kind of irritating than he is actually threatening at any point. “You don’t understand! I don’t serve evil, I am evil!!” the Goo Man wails. Picard categorically does not give any kind of a shit in response.

tl;dr: Data is precious and perfect and every time he’s onscreen I start weeping. YOU’RE DOING GREAT, DATA! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!

#star trek #star trek tng

3 notes · View notes

fereality-indy · 7 years

Text

Wendip Week 2017 5+1

5+1

Friday June 14th, 2019 Dipper Pines residence 412, Gopher Road, Gravity Falls, Oregon

“Alright, well let’s see.” Dipper said as he looked around his converted warehouse loft, “Picnic basket, cooler, six pack of Pitt, blanket, bug spray and…”

Dipper began patting his pockets, searching the basket, the cooler, and he finally found the green velvet box in the fridge. He must have set it down when he pulled out the ice for the cooler. He was just about to start taking everything out to the El Diablo when his phone went off.

Seeing it was Wendy he answered, “Hey Wendy, I’ll be over in fifteen, just need to get the supplies in the car and I’ll be on my way”

From the other end of the line he heard, “The picnic is gonna have to wait Dip. Lil Seth just showed up at my door all battered and bruised. Apparently dad, Rudy, and Lucas got into a row with a group of Manotaurs. Seth was able to get away because he was in a different clearing when it started. I’m about to head out and save my family.”

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in five. Wait for me.” He said as he say the little green box down on the kitchen island and rushed out of the door. He spent the rest of the day explaining to two groups of walking testosterone that fighting was not always the best answer.

Thursday June 27th, 2019 Poseidon’s Gravity Falls, OR

‘Ok, this might be a better idea,’ Dipper thought as he and Wendy were led by Jean Luc to a corner table. Thanks to some of Gideon’s contacts preparations were made, the staff knew what he was planning to do, a bottle of sparkling cider is waiting at the table, Wendy’s favorite desert was waiting to be brought out after dinner, and he had the little green velvet box in his pocket. Nothing could go wrong.

About half way through their salads it did. In a flash of pink and purple the Pines twins favorite blonde rushed into the restaurant. Pausing only long enough to hand Jean Luc a small stack of bills, Pacifica rushed over to the couple’s table.

“Hey Pacifica, what’s wrong?” Wendy asked as Mabel’s girlfriend made it to the table.

“No time to talk. Mabel’s in trouble,” Pacifica stated as she grabbed her two friends and started heading towards the door.

It turns out that a rogue group of gnomes decided that Geoff had been to lenient in his earlier dealings with the Pines twins and decided to claim Mabel as their own queen. The rest of the night was spent lugging two battery powered leaf blowers through the woods to rescue Mabel.

Tuesday July 9th, 2019 On State Highway 245 Heading Baker City, OR

'Well this trip is already not going the way it was supposed to be going.’ Dipper thought as drove up towards north east Oregon.

Over the weekend Ford learned from a former colleague/renewed acquaintance that the Baker City Oregon Trail Museum had received a donation of collection that had some pieces that carried a certain set of symbols. Ford asked Dipper to go check it out as he due back on land for another week. Dipper in turn asked Wendy if she wanted to come along.

They had planned on staying two or three days, mostly in order for them to get some 'them time’ without any of the townsfolk coming to them asking for help. He had just finished up packing his suitcase, including the green velvet box, and his testing equipment, when he heard his front door close.

“Hey man you in here?” Wendy called as she navigated the converted warehouse.

“In the bedroom,” he called out.

“I have some great news. I just got off of the phone with gentleman from the State Forestry Department and I have an interview for the Ranger position that opened up just outside of town.” She called back as she headed up the stairs to the bedroom.

“That’s great. You’ll be perfect for the job.” Dipper replied as he zipped his suitcase closed. As he turned around he saw her standing in the doorway looking crestfallen. He rushed over to her, “Wendy, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry man. I got so excited about the job interview that I forgot about the trip,” she said as she fidgeted with the keys still in her hands.

“That’s ok, we’ll just do a light diner and you can go home and pack.” He said as he gently kissed her on the tip of her nose.

“That’s just it Dip, I don’t even have time for dinner. The interview is tomorrow morning in Salem. I’m heading out once I’m done here so I can hopefully get a hotel room for the night.” Wendy said as she looked into his chocolate brown eyes. “I’m sorry Dipper, I know you wanted this so we’d have some time to ourselves.”

Dipper pulled her into a hug and said, “Go to your interview, this is the job you’ve wanted since even Gideon could stop ordering from the kids menu. So go do your interview, nail it, and we’ll take a weekend to go celebrate when you get the job.”

“You’re right,” Wendy said as she hugged him even deeper. As she pulled back she gave him a quick kiss. “Well I better get going.”

“And remember you can nail this interview and get this job cause you’re a flippin Corduroy!”, he said as he was walking out to her truck with her.

As she sat down in the driver’s seat Dipper leaned in and gave her another kiss, “Be safe out there. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She said as closed the door and started the engine. She then rolled down the window and said, “You be safe too. Call me if it starts to get hairy up there.”

“I will.” He said just before she pulled out of the driveway and headed to the main road out of town.

And this is why he spent two days meticulously going through the Baker City Oregon Trail Museum’s donations and only found an Incan coin with a pyramid relief on it and an earthenware dish that carbon dated as being somewhere between forty and forty- five years old and what the curator thought may have been Cipher emblem looked more like Floyd’s 'Dark Side of the Moon’. It was probably some stoner’s attempt at an earthenware dish.

Wednesday July 17th, 2019 Mystery Shack Gravity Falls, OR

Dipper looked around after the 'Welcome Home Stans’ party had died down and most of the town had went home. Still around were Wendy, Soos, Melody, the Stans, Mabel, Pacifica, McGuket, Robbie, Tambry, Candy, and Wendy’s family. Maybe this is what the universe was wanting him to wait form everybody they cared for to be in one place.

As he walked into the room where everyone had gathered, he saw Robbie and Tambry had sequestered themselves in a corner enjoying a night without little May. Pacifica and Mabel seemed to be in world of their own after one two many glasses of Mabeljuice. Stan and Soos were playing with little Let while his mother Melody was trying to get him to settle down for the night. Ford and McGuket were going over the result of the testing Dipper has done in Baker City. Surprisingly Candy and Wendy’s middle brother Lucas were dancing to the music that was still playing in the background. Manly Dan and the other brothers were watching Lucas in the act. He felt his pocket to make sure the velvet box was still there. Because finally there was the beauty that is Wendy Corduroy, who was walking straight towards him. He was so distracted by her He failed to notice the ice bucket had been spilled. He stepped onto the loose and melting ice. Like something out of an eighties comedy movie he kept sliding till he finally fell at the base of the Sascrotch, which the fell right on top of him. After a couple of moments under it the only plan he had remaining was to go home embarrassed.

Friday July 26th, 2019 Route 2 Heading Out Of Town

Dipper had his bag packed as soon as he returned from Baker City. He knew Wendy would get the job, heck she could probably teach the other Rangers a thing or three about working in the woods. So when she got the call on the 19th? He was ready to head out then but she decided to wait till the following weekend as she had told Soos she would cover a day so he and Melody could have a day off with the kids.

The velvet box say snugly in his pants pocket as he drove on out of town with Wendy by his side. They were on there way out of town.

“Alright I’ve got us a hotel room for two nights, tickets to see 'Purple Moon” the band Robbie’s old drummer is in, and directions to Portland’s best hamburger joint.“ Dipper said as they headed towards the canyon pathway out of town.

"Cool, I’ve been wanting to check them out since Robbie told me she joined a band while in college. I mean she was the best…” Wendy was saying when the car started making a loud noise and then the engine just died. “Whoa, what happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Dipper said as he tried to start the engine to no avail, “I just had it serviced last month.”

He reached down and put the car in neutral, “Can you scoot over and I’ll push use on to the side of the road.”

As soon as Wendy got in the driver’s seat, Dipper began pushing. After a couple of minutes they had the Diablo on the side of the road.

He walked on up to the window and asked, “Can you pop the hood, maybe it’ll be something one of us can figure out.”

Wendy did as asked and then got out to help her dork look under the hood. While she’s no greasemonkeyn she has learned the basics. After about fifteen minutes they both threw up their hands in defeat.

“Alright I can’t figure it out. You?”, Dipper asked as he put a hand on the good.

“Sorry Dip, not a clue.” Wendy said as she pulled back and let Dipper shut the hood.

“Well we can still reach Soos and ask him to come tow us. And then we can still make it to the hotel and the show if we get your truck.” Dipper said as he leaned against the hood. He saw Wendy’s face drop, “What’s wrong?”

“Well we hadn’t planned on being in town so I loaned my truck to Lucas she he could run Candy to a tech show down across the state lines. They seem to have really hit it off.”

“Man, let’s just get picked up and call it a night.” Dipper said as he laid back on the hood. Looking up at the sky Dipper thought, 'Man. Maybe I should just give up. Someone or something just doesn’t want me to get this done.’

After her call was done and Soos was on his way she leaned back and laid her head across his chest. She had nearly fallen asleep to the rhythm of his heart beat when they both heard the unmistakable sound of Soos’ old truck.

“You doods ok?” Soos asked through the lowered passenger side window.

“Yeah, just a little frustrated.” Dipper said as he slid off of the hood.

Wendy helped guide Soos so that he was lined up with the front of car and then they set about hooking the town cables.

“Alright Dipper, you steer the Diablo and Wendy you hop in the truck with me. I’ll tow it on over to the Shack, Hank knows the way there and can come get it easier for you.” Soos said as he was walking around to the driver’s side.

“Sounds good. Then you can drop me off before you take Wendy back to her apartment.” Dipper said as he started to get into the car.

“But…”, Wendy started before she was cut off.

“Wendy honey, I know this was all my idea and we both want to spend the weekend together. But this mess here has given me a massive headache and right now all I want to do is go to bed and get the day over with,” He said with a wane smile, “We’ll get together tomorrow and figure out what to do with the rest of the weekend.”

And despite a protest when they got to his converted warehouse, he still went in alone.

(Still) Friday July 26th, 2019 Dipper Pines residence 412, Gopher Road, Gravity Falls, OR

“…and let Jackie know that we’re not going to make it to the concert so there’s no need to go ahead with the plan. Thank her again for me for trying and thanks again Robbie for setting this up.” Dipper said into the phone. He was sitting alone on his bed in the dark, “I dunno man, I beginning to wonder if someone out there doesn’t want this to happen. This was the fifth time my plans were shish kebabed.”

And from the doorway he heard, “Ya know man, if want to do something with me it’s best to just do it.”

“Wait, what?” he said as he jerked around and saw Wendy standing in the doorway.

Misinterpreting his reaction she blushes, “I don’t mean it like that.”

Into the phone Dipper said, “Look I need to go Wendy’s here. Yeah, yeah smartalec. Alright, talk at you later.”

“Well, so you were talking to Robbie? And you guys had something planned for this weekend?” Wendy askes as she walked into the darkened bedroom. Reaching over she turned the dimmer switch on so there was a faint glow of light in the room.

“No, no it was nothing.” Dipper said as he got up and started towards her, “What are you even doing here? I said we’ll get together tomorrow.”

“Well maybe I decided that I didn’t want my boyfriend to suffer alone. Maybe I decided that I would be here so whatever we decided to do tomorrow we could get right to it.” she started out sounding a little upset. but then with a smirk she added, “Maybe I caught my brother and his new girlfriend on my couch in flagrante delicto and wanted to let you know we have the truck again.”

“Wait a minute, Lucas…” Dipper asked almost completely forgetting the previous part of the conversation.

“Uh, huh.” Wendy nodded as she wrapped and arm around her boyfriend.

“and Candy?”, He continues. Still trying to wrap his head around it.

“Both had their shirts off and she had a strap down when I coughed to let them know I was there.” she said with a chuckle. “I suggested that he take her home and that next time they find somewhere other than my apartment to have their fling. They were both redder than his hair.”

“Man that would have been fun to see.” He said returning her smirk.

Raising an eyebrow she said “Really? So you want to see Candy topless?”

“No, no. I didn’t mean that I wanted to see Candy topless,” He said defending himself, “I just meant the whole embarrassed situation.”

“Chill Dip, I knew what meant I was just busting your chops.” She said as she kissed him on his forehead.

“So what were you and Robbie planning for this weekend?” She smiled as he started to cluster at the question.

“What? Nothing.” he tried saying before she shot him down with a 'I was standing here for a good moment’ look. Resigned be started, “Ok, for over a month now I kept making some plans to do something and it always seems like something comes up and ruins my plans. Your family getting into a fight with the Manotaurs, the gnomes kidnapping Mabel again, my clumsiness, and tonight the car breaking down. It’s like someone doesn’t want me to carry out my plans.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t go that far. Remember when it comes to what we have here, plans don’t work for us. We work better going by the seat of our pants. Remember that whole scheme that ended up with us dating. And remember the dance that first summer? I know you had a twelve step plan to ask me to dance, Mabel told me about it, but as you found out all you had to do was just ask.” she said as she let him go and turned back to brighten the dimmer switch. She heard him say “You’re right!” and as she turned back around she saw he was down on one knee.

As Wendy brought her hands up the her face, Dipper pulled the green velvet box out of his pocket. As he opened the box holding the cut emerald ring he asked, “Wendy Berble Corduroy, would you make me the happiest guy alive?”

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a passionate kiss. As they separated Dipper asked, “So is that a yes?”

“Of course it is you dork,” Wendy said before she kissed him again.

“Well at least I’m your dork,” he said as he placed to ring on her finger.

“Yes you are.”

#wendip week #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #day 3 #wendip #5+1 fic #WendipWeek2017

18 notes · View notes

networkingdefinition · 5 years

Text

T-Shirt Quotes

Official Website: T-Shirt Quotes

• A clothing company is making T-shirts inspired by Bernie Sanders with messages like ‘Feel the Bern.’ They were gonna make them for Lincoln Chafee too, but no one wants to wear a shirt that says ‘Feel the Chafee.’ – Jimmy Fallon • Alice was scrutinizing my boring jeans-and-a-T-shirt outfit in a way that made me self-conscious. Probably plotting another makeover. I sighed. My indifferent attitude to fashion was a constant thorn in her side. If I’d allow it, she’d love to dress me everyday―perhaps several times a day―like some oversized three-dimensional paper doll. – Stephenie Meyer • All fashion brands are about looking good. Being Human is also about doing good. And you can do good by the simple act of slipping into a t-shirt or a pair of jeans. – Salman Khan • All of my life, actually, I had a real strong relationship with God, but I was always in the closet about it. The only distance out of the closet I really want to come there is having my tattoo or wearing my t-shirt. – Sinead O’Connor • All true wisdom is found on T-shirts. – Abraham Lincoln • And of course there is nothing better than wearing the same T-shirt for days and not brushing my hair for weeks. – Daria Werbowy • And, the sets that they built are just so beautiful. It’s like going to a completely foreign country and experiencing a new culture that you’ve never seen before, especially at Camelot. It’s just so magical. Personally, it’s just so much more interesting than wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and walking around somebody else’s house. – Tamsin Egerton • Anormal day looks like, you know, shower, put on the same jeans, the same tattered Gucci loafers I got at the thrift store, white socks, and my t-shirt and my very beat-up Helmut Lang blazer. Im in the exact same outfit every day. – Natasha Lyonne • Antarctica, one of the things that was so remarkable about it was that the ice itself is a kind of pure geometry, so say, for example, if I was facing someone wearing I don’t know, a Joy Division t-shirt with the mountains on it or something like that. – DJ Spooky • At home, a T-shirt and something loose like harem pants would do. If I’m stepping out, a pair of blue jeans and a white tee are just fine. – Genelia D’Souza • At the beginning of my career I was going through a really weird phase of dressing in boys clothes. I would only wear one American Apparel T-shirt and shorts and brogues the whole year round. Not the same T-shirt, obviously, but one style of American Apparel T-shirt. I think I was going through a tomboy stage. – Florence Welch (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Shirt', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_shirt').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_shirt img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

• Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. – Steig Larsson • Being a good Hans Haacke student, part of his influence on me is that there’s no difference between a gallery show and a film – or even an ad and a T-shirt-in terms of cultural legitimacy. They’re just different contexts in which to have some sort of communication. – Mike Mills • Britney Spears became my talisman. I became obsessed with wearing Britney T-shirts. I felt it would bring me luck. And it did. – Madonna Ciccone • But in some ways, I’m like an old woman – lived it, seen it, done it, been there, have the T-shirt. – Drew Barrymore Cassandra Clare • Christian stretched out beside her and pulled her close. ʺBut for what itʹs worth, I think youʹd be a great queen too, Princess Dragomir.ʺ ʺYouʹre going to get dirty,ʺ she warned. ʺAlready am. Oh, you mean from your clothes?ʺ He wrapped his arms around her, heedless of her damp and muddy state. ʺI spent most of my childhood hiding in a dusty attic and own exactly one dress shirt. You really think I care about this T-shirt?ʺ – Richelle Mead • Come on, Ella. Sleep green.’ Ignoring him, I got into bed wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts printed with penguins. I reached over to the nightstand and flipped off the lamp. A moment of silence, and then I heard a lecherous murmur. ‘I like your penguins. – Lisa Kleypas • Dammit, Michael, get out of my room, you pervert!” Could you even be a pervert if you were dead? She supposed you could, if you had a working body half the time. “I swear, I’m going to start taking my clothes off!” The cold spot stayed resolutely put until she got the hem of her T-shirt all the way up to her bra line, and then faded away. “Chicken,” she said, and paced the room, back and forth. – Rachel Caine • Elegance is always in style for men. There are all different kinds of elegance. It can be silk, it can be a T-shirt. – Donatella Versace • Europe has memories, America has t-shirts. – Jean-Luc Godard • Even though I’m resting I’m accomplishing something by sewing that shirt that I’ve been meaning to sew for weeks. And it’s relaxing. It’s so very meditative and quiet and enjoyable. But at least I’m producing something. I’m being productive in some way. I have a very hard time being completely idle. – Evangeline Lilly • Every band sells t-shirts and plays certain auditoriums, but I’m sick of being like everyone else, because I’m not. – Justin Vernon • First there was a young guy sitting in front of television in a T-shirt drinking beer with his mother, then there was an older fatter person sitting in front of television in a T-shirt drinking beer with his mother. – William S. Burroughs • For Christmas one year I bought my son a BB gun. He bought me a t-shirt with a bulls eye on the back. – Rodney Dangerfield • Forget trendy designer labels. Jeans, a sweater or a t-shirt worn under a jacket that seems welded to you. When it’s just right, when you don’t see the effort, it’s irresistible. – Emmanuelle Alt • From the season I did the butterfly faux tattoos on the models on the runway, every collection we do has to have a butterfly t-shirt or trim or print. People come to me for butterflies! – Anna Sui • Generally speaking, I’m a jeans, T-shirt and boots man but I do own an Armani suit, which gets a regular outing. It’s nothing fancy – just a classic, well-cut suit with clean lines and beautiful tailoring. It’s timeless and you can mix and match it with anything to dress up or dress down. – Matthew Rhys • Green business is not about tie-dyed T-shirts. It’s about transforming the industrial system itself into one that looks at all the connections. – Paul Hawken • He also knows what king of protein I like, what T-shirts I like, how I like my dry cleaning to be done. He also knows how I like my stuff folded and put away into drawers. – The Miz • He’d changed since the last summer. Instead of Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt, he wore a button-down shirt, khaki pants, and leather loafers. His sandy hair, which used to be so unruly, was now clipped short. He look like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year. – Rick Riordan • Here’s a newsflash from the only High Preistess you have left at this dang school: Zoey isn’t dead. And believe me, I know dead. I’ve been there, done that, and got the frickin’ T-shirt.” – Stevie Rae – P. C. Cast • I also was a huge ‘Dukes of Hazzard’ fan. I used to have T-shirts that said ‘Dierks of Hazzard’ custom-made.- Dierks Bentley • I always find it difficult to dress in between seasons, but I quite like putting T-shirts on with a vest over the top and another layer so you can peel them back as the day goes on. – Poppy Delevingne • I am inspired by anything beautiful. Sometime it’s a pair of eyes or flowing gorgeous hair, other times it’s the sky or a sunset. I’ve been inspired by supple skin or the texture of a soft shirt. – Nadine Velazquez • I am of the generation of segregation. Black Lives Matter is post. I said today, and I will say all the time, “If Nina [Simone] were here, she’d have her Black Lives Matter [T-shirt] on.” I think they’re great kids. They don’t need me or anybody else to tell them what to do. – Nikki Giovanni • I borrowed this from Kyle. My other shirt was pretty filthy.” “Wow, you’re wearing each other’s clothes now. That’s, like, best friend stuff.” “Feeling left out?” said Kyle. “I suppose you want to borrow a black T-shirt too.” “As long as everyone’s wearing their own pants.” “I see have come in on a fascinating moment in the conversation.” Eric poked his head through the curtain. – Cassandra Clare • I could get a T-shirt that says ‘All in for Week 4 of the Preseason.’ That’s not quite as catchy, and I don’t have an endorsement deal with an apparel company. Maybe someone will sign me now. I don’t make enough money to get fined. Maybe I’ll get a deal with some off-brand or something that sells at Walmart or something. – Kirk Cousins • I didn’t really play dress up when I was a kid, and I’m really T-shirt and jeans-y. – Ellen Page • I do California casual a little bit better than really small European cut, tight apparel But I can rock some Gucci when I need to. I say this as I’m wearing Adidas sweatpants and a ten-year-old Chrome Hearts T-shirt. – Carson Daly • I do not mean to suggest for a moment that all it takes to be a top executive is a custom-tailored European suit. You also need the correct shirt and tie. – Dave Barry • I do think there is a completely different notion to glamour today. I think modern glamour is more effortless, easy, and real. Moreover, I think it’s about constantly challenging classical ideas by bringing in unexpected and different elements; for example a long, elegant evening skirt paired with a simple t-shirt on the red carpet. I think this approach is the future. – Roksanda Ilincic • I don’t believe in cancer walks. Well, I believe in them because they exist but I’d rather just give money straight up and save my Saturday afternoon. I can make my own t-shirt, that’s not incentive. Plus I don’t think cancer responds to how far people walk. I don’t think cancer’s sitting at home, ‘What? How many people walked how far? How many people walked how far wearing the same shirt? That’s crazy! I’m out of here!’ Remission. – Hannibal Buress • I don’t want to be carried out of a club wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and a cap on the wrong way around when I am 70, but I would like to settle down a bit. Maybe with a partner. – Rupert Everett • I even like when girls wear printed Minnie Mouse T-shirts with a cool ball gown skirt, or a ripped up pair of jeans – it’s all about how you style it. – Christian Siriano • I feel like I need to start wearing a T-shirt saying ‘This is not a photo opportunity’. People are so lovely but you do find that when you’re out you spend 40% of your time posing for photographs. – Chris O’Dowd • I go from a full working day to making sure I am home for dinner with my kids. I couldn’t do that in a 10cm mini skirt but I am not going to resort to sweatpants and an old t-shirt. – Donatella Versace • I go outside, and I’m wearing a funky T-shirt and my hair is dirty, and people say, ‘What’s wrong with her? She needs to invest in a hairbrush.’ – Kristen Stewart • I got into music by happenchance and luck and wearing a t-shirt with “I hate Pink Floyd” on it. The irony has never failed to amuse me ever since because I didn’t hate Pink Floyd at all! And yet you have an entire range of people out there believing that the best thing you can do in life is to hate Pink Floyd. Come on, It’s because it’s the world I live in! – John Lydon • I hate formal stuff. I love looking like a doll and all that stuff and playing dress up, but when I’m home, sweat pants, t-shirt. When I’m in the studio, sweat pants, t-shirt. – Nicki Minaj • I hate ready-made suits, button-down collars, and sports shirts. – Bobby Fischer • I hate short hair on men – the ‘real’ man is something I don’t know. My dad was always playing with hairbands, making rings, while the women were wearing jeans, white T-shirts and Converse. That was the uniform at home. – Lou Doillon • I have a few girlfriends, but nearly all my friends are guys. I don’t think I ever wore girl clothes. I wore baggy jeans, baggy T-shirts, sweaters, just to avoid the looks that everyone gives you when you’re a young female in the world. – Katharine Isabelle • I have always loved sneakers and sweaters, and I wear a lot of them. And a good t-shirt or a pair of jeans can make you feel so good. – Garance Dore • I have always loved sneakers and sweaters, and I wear a lot of them. And a good t-shirt or a pair of jeans can make you feel so good. And then I love great coats, and I pay a lot of attention to them and own a lot of them. I think a great piece of outerwear can really make you stand out. – Garance Dore • I have been doing merch’ since I was 15 and in bands when I was a teenager – silk-screening shirts, making the emulsion in my mom’s closet I converted into a dark room, through college. That’s essentially how us bands survived was selling homemade t-shirts. – Steve Aoki • I have so much freedom to put whatever I want on a t-shirt, and it’s cool because I get a lot of fan feedback so I like to see what kids like to wear and I like to use some of their ideas to make t-shirts. – Jack Barakat • I have to be honest, I am a true jeans and t-shirt girl. – Emmanuelle Chriqui • I have to wear a new T-shirt every night. I throw them into the audience. One day I’m going to go around the world and reclaim all my T-shirts – Damon Albarn • I know dead. I’ve been there, done that and got the freakin’ T-shirt. – P. C. Cast • I know that’s an endorsement I’ve been waiting for,” Skye added. “Perfectly adequate in bed. They should make that into a T-shirt – Susan Mallery • I like fashion because it’s sort of my job, so I’m into it when I have to be. But when I’m not working, I wear jeans and T-shirts. I go to vintage stores all the time to find funky T-shirts. – Kristen Stewart • I like guys who wear nice clothes, nice jeans, nice trainers – I hate skinny jeans and those T-shirts that are really low-cut. – Georgia Salpa • I like rock and roll t-shirts, tight jeans, and sneakers or boots. Really just laid back, sort of rock and roll. I’m a sneaker person. I don’t really like to wear high heels. I’m always really paranoid when I’m on stage playing guitar that I’m going to trip over one of the cords when I’m prancing around so I have on wedges or shoes that are not too high. – Orianthi • I live in jeans and own a lot of them. I’m much more comfortable in trousers and T-shirts, and I don’t often wear dresses. – Hayley Mills • I love challenging the notion that, in order to be a tech founder, you have to be holed up in a dark room wearing a T-shirt and baggy jeans. – Kevin Systrom • I love jeans, T-shirts, boots, and tennis shoes. – Ashley Benson • I love shopping; I’m a jeans and a T-shirt kind of girl, but I go classy when I dress up – with a little bit of sexy. – Adrianne Palicki • I love sportswear in my own weird way. Fashion is such a personal journey for me. I’m much more of a girl that’s a T-shirt, legging, layering kind of thing, and outerwear. – Vera Wang • I might not wear chains or I may just wear a watch or I may not wear any jewelry at all or I may just go all out on an outfit or just rock some basic s*** just a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and ones. But, I still standout more than a lot of people in the room so I can’t really describe it but I know from the outside looking in people can explain better than I can. – Lil Herb • I myself identify as a recovering Blockhead. You’d be surprised how many twenty- and thirty-something hipster chicks have the NKOTB skeleton in their closet, albeit artfully concealed by stacks of Ksubi skinny jeans and ironic Judas Priest T-shirts. – Diablo Cody • I noticed that difference early on, like if you were successful in rock ‘n’ roll, that was a really bad thing, you almost had to hide it. You had these guys selling 200 million records with dirty T-shirts on. I was like, ‘Come on, man. Come on. We know you’re successful.’ Hip-hop is more about attaining wealth. People respect success. They respect big. They don’t even have to like your music. If you’re big enough, people are drawn to you. – Jay-Z • I really like the idea of being utilitarian. My dream is to edit down my wardrobe and be very Japanese, where you have one rolling rack and it’s like your four T-shirts, your five dresses, your two pairs of jeans. – Erin Wasson • I remember from when I use to be a dancer, there is an expression among dancers, I had a T-shirt that said: SHUT UP AND DANCE. – Christopher Walken • I remember getting a Phoenix Suns T-shirt. I had that Phoenix Suns T-shirt forever. It’s the funny things you remember as a kid, but it was a blast. – Jonathan Lipnicki • I remember going foraging for breakfast in St. Louis once. I saw this one girl sitting in front of the venue, and she made this pink T-shirt with a big heart in the middle of it and a misty picture of our guitarist Mark [Potter]. She was so embarrassed when she saw me. And I was trying desperately not to laugh. – Guy Garvey • I remember watching Mike [Michael Jordan]. I remember him having a royal blue blazer and all black t-shirt and he came out of a blue Corvette. That was dope to us. We were like, ‘Yo, Michael killed today.’ He didn’t even talk to the media and walked straight into the arena. Everyday’s like Mike. – Iman Shumpert • I sat up in bed. My T-shirt was soaking wet. My pillow was wet. My hair was wet. And my room was sticky and humid. – Kami Garcia • I saw a transvestite wearing a T-shirt that said ‘Guess’. – Demetri Martin • I saw School of Rock, and I was like, why haven’t I worked with Richard Linklater already? Then by the time I got him I was like, I’m really pissed off I feel like you owe me some retroactive swag. He gave me the 10-year anniversary “Dazed and Confused” T-shirt, which I still wear with relish. – Robert Downey, Jr. • I simply adore ‘The Simpsons.’ I go to bed in a ‘Simpsons’ T-shirt. – Steven Spielberg • I stop writing the poem to fold the clothes. No matter who lives or who dies, I’m still a woman. I’ll always have plenty to do. I bring the arms of his shirt together. Nothing can stop our tenderness. I’ll get back to the poem. I’ll get back to being a woman. But for now there’s a shirt, a giant shirt in my hands, and somewhere a small girl standing next to her mother watching to see how it’s done. – Tess Gallagher • I tend not to wear ties very often. I’m usually in old stuff: Hermes or Marc Jacobs boots and jeans and a T-shirt and a leather jacket or a jean jacket. – Nate Berkus • I think for a lot of people, bowling is sort of a joke. But I love it, and it means a lot to me, so any chance to help promote it or celebrate it or not make the hackiest jokes – ‘Bowlers are like plumbers and they wear the craziest shirts!’ – I’m way into. – Chris Hardwick • I think somebody like Wes [Anderson] has a very good sense of style and is original. I think my sense of style got a little bit better after I was exposed to you guys at Valentino. Because I’m just in Hawaii and Malibu; it’s just kind of T-shirts and surfing-type stuff. – Owen Wilson • I think someone’s biggest competition is themselves. I stand out as a ‘fashion’ designer and not to be confused with, (people who call themselves ‘clothing’ designers, who just print designs or logos on pre-existing t-shirts), because what I have created is custom fashions that are a personal extension of myself and my personality. It’s pretty unique since there is only one of me. – Ashley Purdy • I think the first thing we need to talk about is you not running around in tight T-shirts and yoga pants.” “Fine. I’ll stop doing that as soon as you shave.” Jack ran his hand along his jaw and grinned. “You like the scruff, huh?” Did she ever. – Julie James • I think the worst professional advice I’ve received… I feel I’ve been lucky in that I’ve gotten a lot of wonderful guidance, but I remember – and I would never do this to someone – I remember going into a manager’s office, the manager I had in New York, and this was way back when. And she said to me, immediately, “You should never wear striped T-shirts. You look much bigger than you are.” – June Diane Raphael • I think there’s a percentage [of the audience] that don’t realize, that don’t know that [standup] is how everything began. We planned it, we work hard, rehearsals to get this. It’s more of a … it’s not just coming in there in a T-shirt and holding a microphone. – Tim Allen • I think we were promoting New Moon just as I was finishing The Runaways, and I remember going to Comic-Con with a Minor Threat T-shirt on. I was really happy and excited to be there, but I was so defensive and crazy. – Kristen Stewart • I used to wear sleeveless T-shirts all the time on court, but now I’ve got a brand new look – I’ve moved on to polo shirts. Sleeveless T-shirts give you real freedom of movement and they keep you cooler in matches, but I just thought it was time for a change. – Rafael Nadal • I want to prove that he’s wrong – he’s wearing a t-shirt that says he won the last two fights. – Manny Pacquiao • I want young people to be able to buy into what I design. When I was young, I wanted to buy designer brands even if all I could afford was the cheapest wallet, the cheapest pen, the cheapest T-shirt because I wanted to be a part of it. – Nicola Formichetti • I wanted to go on the red carpet with a baseball cap, t-shirt, and jeans. And I still do. Because that’s really who I am. – Missy Peregrym • I wanted to start a menswear line of slim-fitting, luxury cashmere jumpers in a range of great colors. I know these jumpers will become season-less staples in my own wardrobe. Cashmere and silk printed scarves and hand-beaded T-shirts compliment the line and form a solid foundation for the collection to grow next season. – Matthew Williamson • I was in New York last Christmas – it’s snowing; there’s a guy in a t-shirt. I’m like, ‘Dude, aren’t you cold?’ ‘No, I’m from New York. I don’t get cold.’ Just ’cause you’re from a cold place doesn’t mean you’re genetically predisposed to not feeling cold. You’re not a penguin. I was like, ‘In fact, sir, you’re Puerto Rican, so if anything, you should be more cold. – Iliza Shlesinger • I was so involved in my boy-rhythms that I never came to grips with the fact that I was a girl. I was twelve years old when my mother took me inside and said, “You can’t be outside wrestling without a T-shirt on.” It was a trauma. – Patti Smith • I watched him pull his t-shirt over his head. I could put hin on replay doing that and watch it all day. – Tammara Webber • I wear jeans and a T-shirt sometimes. I just like clothes – since the first time I can remember, like age ten or eleven; I was just obsessed with music and clothes. Just like a lot of people in England from my generation. – Paul Weller • I wear my Peggy Fleming T-shirt when I go to sleep every night before I compete, and for the past four years, it’s brought me incredible good luck. – Sarah Hughes • I would never talk to a girl in a bar, like a pick-up thing. But I could talk to anyone if they wore a t-shirt of a band I like. – Craig Finn • If I ever wear a Chelsea shirt, you have permission to kill me. – Cesc Fabregas • If I haven’t put that on a T-shirt, I’m going to. Actually, I really don’t want to write anything that can’t be put on a T-shirt. Actually I’d like to write only on T-shirts. Actually, I’d like to write whole novels on T-shirts. So you guys could say, ‘I’m wearing chapter 8 of Lestat’s new book, that’s my favorite; oh I see you’re wearing chapter 6- – Anne Rice • If I was left to my own devices, you would see about ten T-shirts in rotation with maybe a few nice pairs of jeans – but I also like to look good. I like feeling really well put together, I just don’t have the aptitude and the knowledge to do that. – Daniel Radcliffe • If I were Osama, and the United States government were actually looking for me, I’d be clean-shaven by now, crewcutted, wearing jeans and a ZZ Top T-shirt, and living in a nice little house in Lincoln, Nebraska. – L. Neil Smith • If life hands you lemons,keep them. Because, hey, free lemons.-T-Shirt – Darynda Jones • If you have a counterculture band, you put a name on it, you call them beatniks, and you can sell something – books or bebop. Or you label them as hippies and you can sell tie-dyed T-shirts. – Jim Jarmusch • If you two were going to be that obvious about it, why didn’t you guys come down in your Team Daniel and Team Miles T-shirts?” “We should order those,” Shelby said. “Mine’s in the laundry,” Arriane said. – Lauren Kate • If you want to write what the world is about, you have to write details…real life is in the dishes. Real life is pushing strollers up the street, folding T-shirts, the alarm clock going off early and you dropping into bed exhausted every night. That’s real life. – Anna Quindlen • If you’re a man and you have big tits, don’t wear a tight T-shirt, okay? It confuses the children! – Dennis Miller • If you’ve got a bloodstain on your T-shirt, maybe dirty laundry isn’t your biggest problem. – Jerry Seinfeld • I’ll look through ‘Us Weekly’ and I’ll see a picture of Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston. And I’m like, ‘Wow, they just… they look so good. Even if they’re like just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, they still look great.’ – Moby • I’ll wear little dresses for a look and then it’ll become only shorts for a while or only t-shirts for a while. So I go through different phases but I combine different things. I don’t like things that draw too much attention. It’s usually just things that complement me and aren’t too loud. – Odeya Rush • Ill-fitted T-shirts stretched over a gut are my pet hate. And if the colour’s faded – ugh. – Joanne Froggatt • I’m a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. – Cameron Diaz • I’m a jeans and t-shirt type of girl. – Nicole Richie • I’m a T-shirt-and-jeans-with-combat-boots guy. And if I don’t have to shave, I don’t. – Gabriel Macht • I’m a T-shirt-and-Levi’s type of a guy. – Norman Reedus • I’m a T-shirts, sweatpants and jeans kind of gal, I dress really simply and comfortably. – Sutton Foster • I’m an athlete, so I can dress down with the best of them. I can throw on t-shirts and sweats with the best of them. – Dwyane Wade • I’m into classic games like Donkey Kong, and also collect vintage tour t-shirts – everything from Olivia Newton-John to Duran Duran. I’ve got a Chicago one worth $100. – Michael Rosenbaum • I’m just saying, ‘Hey, throw me a bone. How about a smile, cute t-shirt? Look at me.’ Nothing – unless it’s a turn to their friends to go, ‘Hey, why is that weird guy looking at us?’ – Marc Maron • I’m most comfortable in T-shirts, but they have to have some style to them. – Giada De Laurentiis • I’m not going to be able to make things that I can call Kanye West just by making T-shirts. – Kanye West • I’m not interested in thinking up the name of a band and a logo and all that. Been there, done that, sold a million T-shirts. – Sebastian Bach • I’m pretty low-key; you’ll often find me in jeans, a T-shirt and sweatshirt. – Olivia Wilde • I’m quite tactile, so I like fabrics that feel good. I try to avoid fabrics that crease – especially with my son. When you have a child, that’s important. A great pair of a jeans, a t-shirt and some loafers, that’s what I always wear. – Miranda Kerr • I’m really more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of a girl. – Katharine McPhee • I’m the one person who wears the words ‘hustle, loyalty, respect’ on my T-shirts and merchandise. My audience is children. It’s very flattering to see a kid wear your T-shirt; it’s even more flattering to have a dad come up to you and say, ‘I watch you with my kid. Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re a role model for my son.’ – John Cena • I’m tight with Zack Ryder so I’ve had a Zack Ryder t-shirt for quite some time. – Josh Mathews • I’m usually all about the tight jeans and little T-shirt, but sometimes I want to put on a black, sequined dress and be a freaking girl – Britney Spears • Imagine what our culture would be like if Americans sold ideas, words, and books with the same creativity we use to sell designer jeans, shampoo, and rock stars. Why, we might end up with people whos attention span for the printed word is longer than the time it takes to read a T-shirt. – Jim Trelease • In 2056, I think you’ll be able to buy T-shirts on which are printed equations describing the unified laws of our universe. – Max Tegmark • In a relationship, it’s so important that a man knows how much you physically desire him. When he wears that shirt that makes him look sexy, tell him he’s sexy! If he wears a cologne you like, say “I can’t resist that smell on you”. – Matthew Hussey • In retrospect, I think a lot of ’80s fashion shoots are the ones that look the most modern. The fitness-based ones that are really minimal. It’s clean, healthy, t-shirt, beach hair… it’s athleisure. – Christy Turlington • Is it to be imagined … that women were made for no other purpose than to fabricate sweetmeats and gingerbread, construct shirts, darn stockings, and become mothers of possible presidents? Assuredly not. Should the women of America ever discover what their power might be, and compare it with what it is, much improvement might be hoped for. – Frances Trollope • It seems women are expected to be so much more than men, which means we have to work that much harder. We’re the ones under the microscope. We’re expected to sound perfect. We’re expected to look perfect all the time. We’re expected to be style-setters, whereas the boys roll onto the stage in their jeans, T-shirts and baseball caps. – Carrie Underwood • It sounds like something on a very trite T-shirt, but life is what happens. – Nigella Lawson • It’s an honour to wear the shirt and the badge, and to be part of such an illustrious club is gonna be exciting, and putting that shirt on will be pretty special. Well, my message to Chelsea fans is that I can promise that I’ll work hard and give my all for this club. Hopefully we can build up a good relationship over the next few years. And I’m just excited to be part of this whole club and organisation and bringing as much success to it as possible. – Asmir Begovic • It’s true, I don’t like the whole cutoff-shorts-and-T-shirt look, but I think you can look fantastic in casual clothes. – Catherine Zeta-Jones • I’ve always been someone who’s extremely relaxed in my everyday life. I’m not the girl who can wear awful seven-inch heels all night. I keep it simple – I consider myself to be a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl who just accessorizes a lot. – Nicole Richie • Jay-Z’s a guy that wears the Che Guevara t-shirt and he doesn’t realize Che Guevara was a racist. Che Guevara was a murderer and a killer. So look, he’s an entertainer, obviously. He’s not in the middle of any public discourse here. But I think it’s important to point out when people take stances like this that are absurd. – Marco Rubio • Jesus said that they will know we are Christians – not by our bumper stickers and T-shirts – but by our love. – Shane Claiborne • Kate Moss. She looks good in anything. She would look good in one of your t-shirts, in her t-shirt, in a man’s suit, in a huge gown. She looks amazing naked. She even makes nude look stylish. That, to me, is a style icon. She could put a barrel on and it would be some sort of statement. – Justin Timberlake • Let us find the dam snack bar, Zoe said. “We should eat while we can.” Grover cracked a smile. “The dam snack bar?” Zoe blinked. “Yes. What is funny?” “Nothing,” Grover said, trying to keep a straight face. “I could use some dam French fries.” Even Thalia smiled at that. “And I need to use the dam restroom.”… I started cracking up, and Thalia and Grover joined in, while Zoe just looked at us “I do not understand.” “I want to use the dam water fountain,” Grover said. “And…” Thalia tried to catch her breath. “I want to buy a dam T-shirt.” – Rick Riordan • Looking at the elementary schoolers in their colorful T-shirts from various day camps, Percy felt a twinge of sadness. He should be at Camp Half-Blood right now, settling into his cabin for the summer, teaching sword-fighting lessons in the arena, playing pranks on the other counselors. These kids had no idea just how crazy a summer camp could be. – Rick Riordan • Men always look smart in a well-fitted, tailored suit. Conversely, they can be incredibly handsome in jeans combined with a cashmere jumper or a beaten-up leather jacket or even just a cotton T-shirt. – Tamara Mellon • Modernized by tin roofs and T-shirts, Third World poverty is no longer picturesque. – Mason Cooley • Most nights I end up wearing a wife beater T-shirt and boxers. – Jessica Alba • My dad has totally taken my Cat Stevens T-shirt, but it’s OK; I have his Black Flag one, and that’s amazing. – Zoe Kravitz • My daughter made me a Jerry Springer-watching kit, with crackers, Cheez Whiz, polyester stretch pants and a T-shirt with two fat women fighting over a skinny guy. – Roseanne Barr • My label is just “good farming”, which isn’t something you can put on a t-shirt. – Wendell Berry • My style during the day is very casual – boyfriend jeans, T-shirts, Converse, Uggs, whatever. At night, I love heels and thigh-highs, I like something fresh and new, and I’m not afraid to push the envelope. – Katie Cassidy • My style when I was 17 was very low-key with jeans, T-shirts, and Converse. I was signed to a major record label by then, so I had stylists helping me. – Michelle Branch • My uniform is sweatpants, so crusted over with dried paint that they’re as hard as a table. I wear T-shirts that are also covered in paint, and Crocs. – Caio Fonseca • My wildest tipping point moment came when I was introduced to Clint Eastwood. He was sitting there, typical Clint Eastwood, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, holding a Budweiser. He looks at me and says, “I watch your show from time to time.” I just stopped. I was like, “I can’t even think about that. I’m not even sure if I’m happy about that.” – Chris Harrison • NASA has to approve whatever we wear, so there are clothes to choose from, like space shorts – we wear those a lot – and NASA T-shirts. – Sally Ride • Never knock on death’s door. Ring the doorbell then run. He totally hates that. – T-shirt – Darynda Jones • Next thing you know she’ll be on the bus and selling T-shirts in the parking lot, showing off her boobs to get in the stage door.” “At least she has boobs to show,” Jess said. “I have boobs,” Chloe said, pointing to her chest. “Just because they’re not weighing me down doesn’t mean they’re not substantial.” “Okay, B cup,” Jess said, taking a sip of her drink. “I have boobs!” Chloe said again, a bit too loudly–she’d already had a couple of minibottles at the Spot. “My boobs are great, goddammit. You know that? They’re fantastic! My boobs are amazing. – Sarah Dessen • Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong. -T-Shirt – Darynda Jones • Oh my God, you’re serious. Honey, I am a six time Women’s Champion, if you get into the ring with me it will not be for a Lingerie Pillow Fight, it will not be to shoot t-shirts. If you get into the ring with me I will end your career just like that. Are you sure that’s what you want? – Trish Stratus • Oh yeah, the heartbreak diet…. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. – Alexandra Potter • On a daily basis, jeans and t-shirt is still sexy, but it doesn’t look like you’re trying too hard. – Tila Tequila • On the board was a list of words and phrases which her mother considered not suitable for use in college T-shirt design. She had been asked about them so often that in the end she had started a blacklist of banned words to which everyone could refer. Every time someone thought of a new one, she unflinchingly wrote it down… Rose read through the list, and turned back to her letter. These are the words I learned to spell in Mummy’s art class today, she wrote, and sighed a little as she began the tedious job of copying from the board. – Hilary McKay • On the morning in question, she wore white shorts and a pink T-shirt that featured a green dragon breathing a fire of orange glitter. It is difficult to explain how awesome I found this T-shirt at the time. – John Green • One of my favorite facts about Jason [Benjamin] is that he collects shirts from tattoo parlors. He has a bunch of tattoo parlor T-shirts, but no tattoos. And then he wears, like, vans and jeans. My boyfriend said he looks like a modern Bruce Springsteen, which is a pretty high compliment. – Lena Dunham • One of the coolest things to me about going to a show is you look over, and the guy next to you is sitting there drinking a beer and he’s wearing a Donkeys t-shirt. And you’re like, “Dude, I love The Donkeys.” – Craig Finn • One time, the homie Venus[-X] read me; we were on the phone and she was like, “Girl, you keep wearing jeans and t-shirts at your shows, but the music doesn’t give that.” I was like, “You’re right, I need to be the person that I am at school, making dance and choreography. I should think about the whole performance.” That’s when I put the 1 in my name and started dressing for the occasion. – Le1f • Only Jace, Clary thought, could look cool in pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt, but he pulled it off, probably through sheer force of will. -pg. 329- – Cassandra Clare • Piper rushed to get dressed. By the time she got up on deck, the others had already gathered—all hastily dressed except for Coach Hedge, who had pulled the night watch. Frank’s Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Percy wore pajama pants and a bronze breastplate, which was an interesting fashion statement. Hazel’s hair was all blown to one side as though she’d walked through a cyclone; and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking. – Rick Riordan • Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev can no longer attend concerts by his favorite group Deep Purple without having to fear that the musicians will wear T-shirts with Pussy Riot written on them. – Alexei Navalny • ‘Princess’ is a good word, as is ‘girlish’, ‘pixie-like’ and all these other things. I personally find it a bit boring, it’s all been done before. The amount of times you read reviews of bands and it’s an all-girl four-piece, and they talk about what the women are wearing… you’ll never read a review that’s like: “Male singer Thom Yorke, who was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans…” You would never read that about a man. – Lauren Mayberry • Rae burned me. She has matches or something. Look, look…” Tori pulled down the collar of her T-shirt. “Leave your cloths on, Tori,” Simon said, raising his hands to his eyes. “Please. – Kelley Armstrong • Rowdy, hopped-up college kids pass us in an endless, noisy blur like they’re being mass produced or squeezed out of a tube – guys skulking in their T-shirts and cargo shorts, girls in low-slung jeans and flip-flops, pimples and breasts and tattoos and lipstick and legs and bra straps, and cigarettes; a colorful, sexy melange. I feel old and tired and I just want to be them again, want to be young and stupid, filled with angst and attitude and unbridled lust. Can I have a do-over, please? I swear to God I’ll make a real go of it this time. – Jonathan Tropper • Rule number one of anime,” Simon said. He sat propped up against a pile of pillows at the foot of his bed, a bag of potato chips in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He was wearing a black T-shirt that said I BLOGGED YOUR MOM and a pair of jeans that were ripped in one knee. “Never screw with a blind monk. • Sailing is the closest I can get to nature – it’s adrenaline, fear, a constant challenge and learning experience, an adventure into the unknown. And of course there is nothing better than wearing the same T-shirt for days and not brushing my hair for weeks. – Daria Werbowy • Sejal had not thought of her home, or of India as a whole, as cool. She was dimly aware, however, of a white Westerner habit of wearing other cultures like T-shirts—the sticker bindis on club kids, sindoor in the hair of an unmarried pop star, Hindi characters inked carelessly on tight tank tops and pale flesh. She knew Americans liked to flash a little Indian or Japanese or African. They were always looking for a little pepper to put in their dish. – Adam Rex • Shirt collars are very important to me. Putting a very soft shirt collar with a formal suit doesn’t work for me at all. – Ozwald Boateng • Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside. – Josh Lanyon • So how was Christmas for you guys? Did you all get lots of nice black t-shirts? – Gerard Way • So, what did you get for me?” Angeline paused for a beat. “Jeans.” “What?” croaked Artemis. “And a T-shirt. – Eoin Colfer • Sometimes I feel like putting on a blazer with just a T-shirt. – Big Sean • Sometimes I’m so tired, I look down at what I’m wearing, and if it’s comfortable enough to sleep in, I don’t even make it into my pajamas. I’m looking down, and I’m like, ‘T-shirt and stretchy pants? Yup, that’s fine. It’s pajama-y, good night.’ – Rebecca Romijn • Speaking of stage freight. I was terrified! It was in NOLA at an all ages show. I was wearing Jeans, a Van Halen t-shirt, and a bandana on my neck. Once I gripped that microphone stand, I did not let go! I plugged my microphone into a guitar FX pedal. Then at the end of the a Black Sabbath song we were covering, I hit the guitar pedal. It was horrific! – Phil Anselmo • Start your own revolution, cut out the middleman In a perfect world we’d all sing in tune But this is reality so give me some room So join the struggle while you may The Revolution is just a t-shirt away – Billy Bragg • Tailored jackets with jeans is a great look for all ages. Dress up with a heel and pretty shirt, or just wear a smart T-shirt under the jacket. – Twiggy • The Army, as usual, are without pay; and a great part of the soldiery without shirts; and though the patience of them is equally threadbare, the States seem perfectly indifferent to their cries. – George Washington • The average age in the U.S. is now thirty-three, whereas Mexico gets younger and younger, retreats deeper and deeper into adolescence. Mexico is fifteen. Mexico is wearing a Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt and wandering around Tijuana looking for a job, for a date, for something to put on her face to take care of the acne. – Richard Rodriguez • The Beatles exist apart from my Self. I am not really Beatle George. Beatle George is like a suit or shirt that I once wore on occasion and until the end of my life people may see that shirt and mistake it for me. – George Harrison • The biggest enemy of an artist is apathy… A kid gets killed by the police and I buy a T-shirt and before I can wear that one, there’s another kid (killed) and I’m running out of closet space. – Dave Chappelle • The comma, if it’s left out, sometimes can be a problem. There’s a slogan on a T-shirt going around that “Let’s Eat, Grandma,” and “Let’s Eat Grandma.” – Mary Norris • The Confederate flag is one of those things that should only be seen on t-shirts, belt buckles and bumper stickers to help the rest of us identify the worst people in the world. – John Oliver • The door opened, and we were met by a fifty-something man with a grizzled blond beard. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt. Also, he had an eye patch. “This is incredible,” I heard Adrian murmur. “Beyond my wildest dreams. – Richelle Mead • The last time I wore an animal hide; but this time I settled for this.” Eric had been wearing a long trench coat. Now he threw it off dramatically, and I could only stand and stare. Normally, Eric was a blue-jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy. Tonight, he wore a pink tank top and Lycra leggings[…]They were pink and aqua, like the swirls down the side of Jason’s truck. – Charlaine Harris • The paparazzi were outside the theatre every single night, but we came up with a cunning ruse. I would wear the same outfit every time – a different T-shirt underneath, but I’d wear the same jacket and zip it up so they couldn’t see what I was wearing underneath, and the same hat. So they could take pictures for six months, but it would look like the same day, so they became unpublishable. Which was hilarious, because there’s nothing better than seeing paparazzi getting really frustrated. – Daniel Radcliffe • The photoshoot glitz and TV studio make-up isn’t the real me. I spend most days at home in Bristol in jeans and a T-shirt running around after the kids or shopping in the Co-op. – Carol Vorderman • The police never find it as funny as you do.-T-Shirt – Darynda Jones • The way I see it, life is a jelly doughnut. You don’t really know what it’s about until you bite into it. And then, just when you decided it’s good, you drop a big glob of jelly on your best T-shirt. – Janet Evanovich • The weirdest moments for me are in Los Angeles when I go to a mall that I’ve shopped at since I was 12, and now there’s like, massive pictures of our faces everywhere, at my local coffee shops now there’s these billboards of people wearing the T-shirts and stuff. It’s very strange, but it’s really exciting. – Lily Collins • The world expected girls to pluck and primp and put on heels. Meanwhile, boys dressed in rumpled T-shirts and baggy pants and misplace their combs, and yet you were suppose to fall at their feet? Unacceptable. – Libba Bray • The worst is when men try too hard, because it’s not very masculine. Your outfit has to look like ‘Oh, I just grabbed that.’ Not too calculated. Jeans, a t-shirt: the simpler the better. – Eva Green • Theatrically, you are aware of every part of you in acting; every component of your surroundings, including the clothes you wear. Eh…in voiceover, shorts and a t-shirt and badaboom…done. – Atticus Shaffer • There are times when you need to step back and realize that movie studios today are not necessarily the same things that they were many years ago. Many movie studios are international conglomerates now. They own everything from theme parks to toy companies to T-shirt companies to video companies. There’s a lot of different wheels to be greased. – Michael Uslan • There comes a moment when you know you just aren’t going to do anything esle productive for the rest of the day.-T-Shirt – Darynda Jones • There’s this unspoken thing that you have to wear a tux and some kind of nice dress. There are all these ethical rules, but I’m sure if you came to the Oscars in ripped jeans and a t-shirt they wouldn’t throw you out. You would just look like a fool. – Glen Hansard • This is very much part of my style, I work a lot on the back ¬ – I love the back of clothes for men. I love even T-shirts printed behind. I think, “Why do you want to show only the front?” – Riccardo Tisci • T-shirt and jeans style now is where I’m at. Maybe a little rock ‘n’ roll T-shirt and jeans. – Josh Hutcherson • T-shirts and long pants make me easier to find in a crowd, but also easy to disappear in a crowd because if I am wearing this and suddenly I am not, it’s like a Harry Potter invisibility cloak. – Kevin Smith • T-shirts create a sense of “We”. Food says, “We don’t mind spending money on you.” – Andy Stanley • Two primary ways to keep volunteers motivated – Food and T-shirts. – Andy Stanley • Usually you’d do the summer scenes in the winter. So you’re out there with a T-shirt and hope nobody sees your air that you’re breathing out. We put ice cubes in our mouth to stop that from happening. – Jamie Farr • Vaclav Havel was a really popular leader. He couldn’t believe that he was really there. I mean, he still dressed in black T-shirts and jeans and was very kind of ’60s. And he began to realize the seriousness of it. And he knew how to strategize. And he had a very keen political sense, but he didn’t want to be like the old communist leaders. – Judy Woodruff • Very quietly, I heard a voice in my ear.It said, in a weird, cheesy, right-out-of-one-of-my-mother’s-novels way, “Ah. Wemeet again.” I turned my head, just slightly, and right there, practically on top of me, was theguy from the car dealership. He was wearing a red Mountain Fresh Detergent T-shirt – not just fresh: mountain fresh! – it proclaimed, and was smiling at me. “Oh,God,” I said. “No, it’s Dexter. – Sarah Dessen • Virtually the second I get home, I change into my “home” clothes – yoga pants and a T-shirt. – Karen Walker • Was I wearing my ‘I’m done with my virginity, please get rid of it for me’ T-shirt? – Rachel Vincent • We always need to have a smart black blazer in our closets. It’s just a nice clean way to dress up even something as simple as jeans and a t-shirt. And something I always have in my closet, I always have a vintage headscarf with me, to tie around my bag or protect my hair from the sun, it depends but I always find a use for it. – Nicole Richie • We don’t have any changes in the movie [Pineapple Express] and so picking the right outfit was fairly important. So I wasn’t a fan of the Guatemalan pants, but I was convinced that I should wear that. Then the T-shirt is a special creation by David Gordon Green. It’s a kitten sitting in a shark’s mouth, but he’s happy about it. – Seth Rogen • We having nothing to fear but fear itself. That, and maybe getting mugged by someone wearing a “No Fear” t-shirt. – Lev L. Spiro • We stink more of the world than we stink of sack cloth and ashes. A lot of contemporary churches today would feel more at home in a movie house rather than in a house of prayer, more afraid of holy living than of sinning, know more about money than magnifying Christ in our bodies. It is so compromised that holiness and living a sin-free life is heresy to the modern church. The modern church is, quite simply, just the world with a Christian T-shirt on! – Nicky Cruz • We want to keep extending our brand into different places, into movies and soundtracks and our music will live on through licensing and our brand lives on through merchandise and new generations will get to wear our clothing and our T-shirts and stuff that’s associated with us. – Nikki Sixx • We’re the ones causing global warming. In fact, what we ought to be saying is population growth is a major cause of it, so I hope to have a T-shirt out very, very soon: Stop global warming, use condoms. – Mechai Viravaidya • What exactly did you find in Atlanta?” Frank unzipped his backpack and started bringing out souvenirs. “Some peach preserves. A couple of T-shirts. A snow globe. And, um, these not-really-Chinese handcuffs.” Annabeth forced herself to stay calm. “How about you start from the top—of the story, not the backpack. – Rick Riordan • What I’ve always loved to do is build a brand that’s so cool that you want to wear their T-shirt. – Lee Clow • What was Dionysus going to go? Send him back to his hellish isolation? He’d been there, done that, and had the Ozzy T-shirt to prove it.’ (Styxx) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • What, are you like Buffy or something? A vampire slayer?” I wish. “No, but my sister is. And my boyfriend’s a vampire so I know a lot about their kind.” Jayden shrinks back from me, wide-eyed. “No, no. He’s one of the good ones. Not all vampires are evil,” I assure him. “So…you’re dating…Edward Cullen.” “Sure, if you have to relate it all to a Stephenie Meyer book,” I grudgingly agree. “But don’t say that to Magnus’s face. He’s a card-carrying member of Team Jacob. Even has the T-shirt. – Mari Mancusi • When a pastor continually makes light of the character of our Lord by speaking in scatological tones about the Son of Man’s bodily functions in incarnation or wearing T-Shirts that rather mock the King of Righteousness rather than glorify Him, then something is terribly awry. – Steve Camp • When I dress up, I have to have a lot of help. I was in a T-shirt until a few minutes ago. – Kristen Stewart • When I say ‘Clean water was only served to the fairer skin,’ what I’m saying is we’re making product with chitlins. T-shirts! That’s the most we can make. – Kanye West • When I see hipsters wearing Mao hats or Lenin T-shirts, I’m grateful. It’s like truth-in-labeling. For now I know you are: Woefully ignorant, morally stunted, purposively asinine, or all three. – Jonah Goldberg • When I started in the league, I went to a tailor and told him I wanted long t-shirts. But they were like, “You know, you don’t know what the trend is.” I was like, “Look dog, I don’t care about trends or your fashion sense. If I’m going to pay you money, this is where the shirt is going to end.” – Iman Shumpert • When I was fourteen and first started going out, I always wanted to be the opposite of everyone else. So I would go to the club in a polo T-shirt and pants and sneakers and a hat on backward, just so I would not be dressed like other girls. – Rihanna • When I’m wandering around the Himalayas, most of the people that I see are Westerners from Germany, California, or the Netherlands, who are wearing sandals, Indian smocks, and are in search of enlightenment, antiquity, peace, and all the things they can’t get in the west. Most of the people they meet are Nepali villagers in Lee jeans, Reeboks, and Madonna T-shirts who are looking for the paradise that they associate with Los Angeles – a paradise of material prosperity and abundance. – Pico Iyer • When our mothers are alive and healthy, they do extraordinary things… like the mothers of Plaza de Mayo, who marched in Argentinean plazas, defying the military junta dictatorship and demanding the whereabouts of their abducted children… or the Liberian mothers who faced down civil war armed only with T-shirts and courage. – Liya Kebede • Whenever I go to Germany I find that my readers have T-shirts with my book covers printed on them. They come to all the events, they have gifts and they come with their families. They are always very open to sharing their personal stories. – Cecelia Ahern • Willow nestled against him. He smoothed her long hair down the back of her T-shirt, feeling its softness. In a few moments she fell asleep again, her breathing warm and regular against his chest. Alex kissed her head, his arms tightening around her. As he drifted back to sleep himself, he saw a brief flash of the thousands of angels streaming in, but right then it seemed distant, almost unimportant. The only thing that mattered was that he was lying in a bed holding Willow, their bare legs entwined. It was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. – L.A. Weatherly • With the first kid, you micromanage it, making sure there’s no hair out of place when it goes off to school. But by the third kid, it’s more like, “Oh, you want to wear a splatter-painted, Hard Rock Café T-shirt for seven days in a row and not brush your hair? Go for it. Be who you want to be.” – Annie E. Clark • Women show off their personality and character through accessories more than with low-cut shirts and skirts with huge slits. – Sarah Lafleur • Worldwide, most people dress more casually these days, don’t they? They have done for the last 20 or 30 years, I suppose. So, every place that I go to, the majority of people really wear jeans, trainers, T-shirt – everybody seems to dress more for comfort. Whereas, even in my lifetime, even up to the early-’70s, there was still that thing of dressing up. – Paul Weller • You can be the chicest thing in the world in a T-shirt and jeans – it’s up to you. – Karl Lagerfeld • You can’t fix stupid, but you can numb it was a 2 by 4.–T-SHIRT • You can’t take life for granted. I am lucky to have everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve got a beautiful wife, a job I’ve always dreamed of…and my face on my own t-shirts. – Kevin Harvick • You could have the best suit in the world, but if you haven’t got the right shirt and tie with it you could look like a bag of rubbish. I think the shirt is the most important thing – you need a nice collar with it so that you can make it look good. – Jamie Redknapp • You do know it cost money to put a t-shirt on your back? You do know it cost money have a house? You do know it cost money to eat? Get money, don’t let these people fool you. – DJ Khaled • You know, being in a rock band, you can’t overdo the costume changes too much because everyone thinks, oh, that’s not a real rock band. Look how many times he changes costumes. That’s not rock. Rock’s about going on in a T-shirt and staying in it and getting it all dirty. But that’s not really my approach. – Mick Jagger • You might be a redneck if your favorite T-shirt is offensive in thirteen states. – Jeff Foxworthy • You should’ve gone to China, you know, ’cause I hear they give away babies like free iPods. You know, they pretty much just put them in those t-shirt guns and shoot them out at sporting events. – Ellen Page • You wouldn’t know a clue if it danced in front of you with a T-Shirt that read ‘I’m a clue – Eoin Colfer • Your best T-shirt should be like your bed, it just feels like you are home when you are in it. – Ashton Kutcher • You’re nothing but an apple, a silly t-shirt, a catchphrase and a stupid haircut. – Randy Orton • You’ve never told me about your love life, Scarlett. You’re a very pretty girl. You must have a boy shacked up somewhere for your personal delights. I’d bet it’s a booky one, overtones of Harry Potter and a lot of black T-shirts.- Maureen Johnson

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'y', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_y').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_y img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

0 notes

equitiesstocks · 5 years

Text

T-Shirt Quotes

Official Website: T-Shirt Quotes

0 notes