Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

getting really into women's thighs lately

but not between them...

forgive me your honour, but she's gorgeous af

character who;s doomed form the start but not because of tragedy or anything but because they're a woman and their writer is a misogynist

saying “can u not” to inanimate objects that are just following the laws of physics but in, like, inconvenient ways

something falls on the floor and I say ‘first of all how dare you’

the way being employed keeps you from video games and other various activities is so sick. genuinely demonic

“oh just do it when you come home” i am dead. “oh just do it on your days off” i am bearing with getting reanimated. after being dead throughout the week.

Mistle-toeing

Warnings: fluff, a really annoying "i-don't-know-limits" man.

Word count: 4.5k

Disclaimer: this was the first lil thing I wrote about Angie. I do hope you enjoy it <3

Morning came and you groaned as your alarm rang and pulled you out of dreamland. You pulled your arm from under the covers and slapped it off, proceeding to stretch and swing your legs to the side of the bed, putting one foot in front of the other before opening the curtains and getting hit by the morning light. 

You rubbed your eyes and blinked repeatedly as they adjusted to the light, getting ready for a much needed shower that’d finally wake you up. It was going to be a long, long, day, you thought, before stepping under the stream of warm water and letting your dreams wash away with it.

As you walked through the streets of Collinsport, you pulled on the brown, thick coat you wore, trying - and failing - to hide your nose from the cold so it wouldn’t turn rudolph red. 

Quickly, you entered the building and shuddered at the change of temperature, ruffling your hair to get rid of the snow that had collected in it, and running your hands along your coat to clean it up from the little white particles that had stuck to it. Rubbing your hands together to warm them up a little bit, your eyes scanned the place.The sight was not the usual; and the energy felt different. A good kind of different.

The office was decorated all around, giving the usually white, clean, serious and cold surrounding, a cozier feeling. An elegantly decorated tree sat next to the coffee machine, which now had an addition of delicious ginger cookies on the counter, along with garlands up on the walls and some wreaths hanging in between them, finished with lights adorning the cubicles, everything strategically placed so it was a harmonious look. Funnily enough, everyone seemed just as surprised as you were. In the few months you’d been around, you had never heard of the office celebrating any kind of festivity, but, well… Here you were, with decorations along the office boxes, Christmas music playing in the background (you recognized Sinatra’s Let it Snow) and Nancy, Angie’s secretary (and your confidante) wearing a Santa hat. You guessed this was her making, and you couldn’t fathom how she had convinced Angie Bouchard to let this happen. 

As you walked by Nancy, you waved shyly at her, mouthing a “Good morning, Nance” and receiving a big smile in return, followed by a wink - you didn’t get the reason for the last gesture, but you knew she always knew things you didn’t. To be honest… you were quite oblivious.

Absentmindedly walking towards your desk, the decorations distracted you from the pair of cobalt eyes following your every move, like a predator stalking its prey, silently, meticulously, and waiting until you had reached your designed space, still staring and assessing your reaction to the changes.

You dropped your leather bag on the desk unceremoniously and hung your coat on the chair, starting your computer to check for the new mails - but something felt off. A glimpse of red showed up on the corner of your eye, and you rapidly turned your head towards the salient colour. There was a gift sitting on your desk. You stared suspiciously at the neatly wrapped box that sported a ruby red colour, finished with a golden bow. No one in the office was too close to you, so this was quite the surprise. Carefully lifting the box while looking for the tag, you instead found a neat card that had your name elegantly written on it, alongside a small message;

“Y/N,

A little birdie told me you had been staring at these for quite some time.

I do hope you enjoy them thoroughly.

P.S., I see you’ve got good taste. Very nice choices.”

Rick Moranis in Ghostbusters (1984) turning up his tv real loud to try and save Sigourney Weaver from being branded a noisy neighbour is honestly an og move that's a real one right fucking there