phillips shirts

One time Fry races into his and Bender’s apartment, sneakers skidding on the floor as he runs into the bathroom, and hastily opens the door only to almost pee himself (he’s already painfully held it in for hours now) as Bender shrieks and slams the door so harshly it falls off of it’s hinges at the top.

Neither of them make a sound for a moment, and after checking that he didn’t actually pee his pants, Fry tentatively opens the door. And there is Bender, trying to struggle out of one of his spare red jackets , wearing a similar face to the one he wears when the police are about to get him. Fry knows that face to usually mean he needs to run, but he doesn’t think he needs to run right now.

Bender looks up at Fry from between the buttons (which are askew) with wide optics and his arms tangled in the red sleeves over his head. They both pause, and Fry thinks that if Bender needed to breath he would have stopped then, either out of shock or want to die of embarrassment. Fry isn’t really sure what he should be feeling in this moment, but finds himself some place in-between really really happy to find Bender in his jacket for whatever reason and really really blushy. Also he really really has to pee.

He settles for praying that his face isn’t as red as his hair and slowly walking over to the still still - Ha, still still - robot, vaguely wondering if Bender could malfunction and if he’d have to carry him somewhere to get fixed. Fry honestly couldn’t carry Bender, he’d have to call Leela, she’s probably the only one that was strong enough, her biceps are huge. Fry wishes his biceps were that huge, then he could give Bender piggy back rides and hold him in his arms. Fry shakes his head, that was beside the point, whatever the point was.

Fry coughs awkwardly, looking at the dirty shower curtain behind them - Oh, there’s the pepperoni he thought fall in the drain when he was eating pizza in the shower, he’ll have to eat that later - as he gently pulls Bender’s arms down and idly rebuttons the shirt for him. His hands end up resting on Bender’s chest, fingers pitter-pattering in a nervous and stuttered rhythm. Fry hums, this feels nice.

Fry looks up to the mirror to find Bender looking intensely at him and jumps a little, pulls his hands back to rest by his sides. Fry doesn’t really know what’s he’s doing, but he never knows what he’s doing or supposed to be doing, so he doesn’t really care anyway.

Fry bounces on the balls of his feet and watches the lines of Bender’s mouth guard move listlessly, no sound coming out, and suddenly feels an urgent need to reassure Bender that they were cool.

Fry coughs again and steps back, one hand tangling in his bright hair and the other shoved deep into his pocket, fingers playing with the lint there. He looks away from Bender,

“You can, uh,” Fry scratches his head and tries again, says too loudly and too rushed, “Feel free to keep the jacket, Bender! I have, like, twenty hundred of them, so…”

Fry trails off, thinking that was probably a good point to end the conversation. He nods to himself in congratulations, happy he didn’t say anything weird or stupid, and reaches behind himself around to open the door behind him. He fumbles a bit with the doorknob, its a little lower then he’s used to with the door being off a hinge as it was, and looks over his shoulder to see Bender still has his optics locked on his. The robot still hasn’t made a sound.

“Um…” Fry’s breath catches a bit and he gives Bender a once over without thinking, eyes lingering over the way his jacket stretches over Bender’s round shoulders. They kind of makes Fry think of a trashcan, but an attractive one. Not that Bender’s a trashcan, or that Fry’s attracted to trashcans, because he’s not, Bender just- looks really good all the time. If he was a trashcan Fry’s sure he would be an attractive one, Bender could probably be an attractive anything if he tried. Again, not that Fry’s attracted to trashcans. Fry shakes his head and starts over,

“You look really good in it, too! The red really brings out your, uh, metal or something.”

Fry falters and turns back around quickly, hand rattling the doorknob, “Anyway, I’m just gonna-” he bolts before Bender can respond.

Fry groans as he runs, why did he have to go and say something weird? He was doing so good! Now he has to find somewhere else to pee before his bladder erupts.

Fry runs past the kitchen before skidding to a stop, turning around, and looks from the kitchen sink, to the direction of the bathroom, and back again… Are there laws in the future against peeing in the kitchen sink?



Reviewing an album from a band I wouldn’t usually listen to…find out what my thoughts and opinions are!

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

After seeing The Witch I was so inspired by it’s arresting visuals, crazy soundtrack and breakout star: Black Phillip. I didn’t see much merch for the film so I decided to draw up my own design to make available on shirts, mugs, bags, etc – inspired by 19th century etchings but injected with fresh, bold color.

Go see the movie! If you’re a fan, please share! 

Christmas Eve

Pairing: Philip Hamilton x reader
Word Count: 1,561ish
T/W: Legit fluff
A/N: For @justfangirlingaround’s request: “college Philip ~can you one where they’re both starting college and they accidentally bump into each other and they fall for each other at first sight and then he asks the reader to a date where he’s acting all cute stutters, awkward & sweet?~~Or they’re in Christmas break and they’re stay at the college(idk if that’s possible irl😂)and they sleep in the same dorm celebrating Christmas together with movies, cuddles and a ring?” 
Mmmm, Yes! I did the second one, I know Christmas in July ♡
Tags: @justfangirlingaround​ ✨

“Have fun, be safe, call me when you get there!” you told your friend Theo in a motherly tone. 

“I will be fine,” she tilted her head, “will you? The weather is supposed to get pretty crazy. Thank God the apartment is on campus so you won’t have to go anywhere for food or anything.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be okay,” you rubbed the side of your arm, “if i get too anxious, I’m sure I can find someone to room with me-”

You stopped mid sentence, looking over to a group of guys saying bye for the holiday. You bit your lip, specifically seeing Philip. Even though he was and had been your boyfriend for sometime now, you still got butterflies when you saw him, it reminded you of when you were in high school, the way he would glance at you from across the room. Theo looked between the two of you for a moment. 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Theo suggested. 

“Wh-what?” you looked back to her, “Ask him what?”

“If he’ll stay with you at the apartment,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“You- you’d be okay with that?” a smile appeared on your face. 

“Of course!…Just don’t have sex on my bed-”

“Theo!” you squeaked, beginning to blush.

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Tripping Over the Blue Line (17/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature
Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence
AN: This chapter is rated “F” for feelz - of the sports and romantic type variety. Ariel, meanwhile, continues to be the real MVP. I can’t thank y’all enough for every click, comment, message or flail. It means the world. As always @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan are heroes. 
Also on Ao3, & tag’ed up on Tumblr

The cup was going to burn her hand. She should have gotten one of those gripper things. What were they called? The cardboard things that made sure the cup wouldn’t burn her hands. They had a name.

Emma was certain of it.

It didn’t matter.

She’d forgotten them anyway. And now she was going to burn her hand.

There was a metaphor in there somewhere.

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