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#George and Ginger
auldcine · 9 months
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I just want to wish you good luck... and all that. And all what? What ever you want. FRED ASTAIRE and GINGER ROGERS in SWING TIME (1936)
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marypickfords · 8 months
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Finishing School (Wanda Tuchock & George Nichols Jr., 1934)
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citizenscreen · 6 months
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George and Ira Gershwin's musical “Girl Crazy” opened at the Alvin Theatre in New York on October 14, 1930. The show starred Ginger Rogers and Ethel Merman in her stage debut. The two are pictured with George Gershwin.
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clover-simp · 1 year
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Y'all look-
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wisteriagoesvroom · 2 months
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my first foray into galex - thank you for the prompt from the f1 wild side discord!
a galex drabble written from the following prompts: morning, window and cat. with the tone: content
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Alex wakes to a terrible screech. It sounds like someone’s dying, or losing a tooth, or both. Bleary eyed, he drags himself out of the bed, kicking off half the covers off as he goes. When he makes his way to the hallway, George stands there, shoulders hunched. His morose expression is a jarring contrast to his fluffy bathrobe.
“What happened?” 
“Gucci.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Alright. Gucci, as in resident menace, knocked the plates over.” 
Alex surveys the damage. It doesn’t look too bad, though whatever was on the plates - pancakes, from the looks of things, seem to be splashed halfway across the floor. 
His partner seems worse for wear.
“Typical ginger cat behaviour. Are you fine, though?” Alex asks. 
George nods, eyes all watery. Mouth pinched in a straight line, perfectly English of him, barely held together by his own tightly wound composure. He’s always been this way, since the days they’d been karting. Heart on his sleeve, feelings like rainclouds at the end of races.
Alex has seen him at his best and his worst, been there to hug him close or listen to him babble on about mechanical failures that were perfectly avoidable. Even let George drone for two hours with a PowerPoint on ways he could reform the GPDA for better driver solidarity until Alex had cut him off with a “you’re kind of sexy when you’re mansplaining to me. Even if I’m a man, and all”. Which had stopped George so short that he didn’t have anything to say for almost an entire minute.  
What happened after that was just natural, really. They'd clambred into each other's drivers rooms, held hands furtively at afterparties, kissed in the shadows of locations as exotic as Monaco and mundane as Milton Keynes. This was to none of the grid’s surprise, having seen their friendship blossom over the years, now into something else. Friends, however distant, who helped to guard their secret until they were ready.
“Today was supposed to be perfect.” George says, tugging Alex back to the present. It’s been two years since. Two good ones. 
George pinches his nose . “Christ, this is a disaster."
“We talked about this. No self-flagellating in the new year.”
“Right. Yeah. It’s just–”
Alex takes the other man’s hands. They’re large, and warm. Slender fingers roughened with callouses from gripping the wheel, capable hands for a capable man.
This close, George smells faintly like berries. Affection flutters in Alex’s stomach.
“We'll just start it over. It'll be fine, Georgie."
"I just wanted it to be perfect."
"Hey. This is my perfect. This is it, mate. You know that, right?”
George nods, softening under Alex’s touch. 
“Besides.” Alex continues. “It’s a little hard to take you seriously when your apron says do I look delicious. Which for the record, you do.”
George wipes his nose with the back of his hand, eyes darting down and up again. “You bought this, mind you.”
“I did.”
“And you love it. And me.”
“Yeah. I do.”
Alex pokes George in the side playfully, and George rolls his eyes. Attention diverted for the moment, smile finally back and starting to warm his eyes.
"Such an arsehole." George says, glancing at Gucci, who is walking calmy across the kitchen counter. Happily acting as if nothing has happened.
"I know. But he's our arsehole."
"Never say those words in that combination again."
"Our arsehole." Alex adds, emphatically.
To that, George only emits a long sigh.
And there is cleanup to come. Breakfast to be made again. But just for a moment, it’s the two of them. Spilled pancakes. Patience. tender love.
A miscreant tabby that happily suns itself under the window. 
Two of their hands perfectly intertwined. Room perfectly incandescent.
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call-me-casual · 11 days
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Cursed image:
Washington with his real hair colour
@sarahhillips @salmonthecat @tricornonthecob @that-gal-kay
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naurimastaur · 8 months
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A prank a day keeps Severus Snape away!
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Summary: in which Fred and George introduce y/n to her very first prank, and Snape into a life of eternal regret.
Pairing: slightly Fred x fem!reader
Note: the twins might be a little ooc as I haven’t read much of them in a while!
Warning: this probably needs heavily edited but I’m lazy so!
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Y/n peacefully walked down the corridor before a twin appeared at each side, linking an arm with hers.
“ Do you know what day it is?” Fred questioned. She shook her head in confusion. It was astounding if Fred remembered what year they were living in never mind what day it was. This could only mean one thing; a weasley scheme.
“should I know, or is it just something you’ve made up to entertain yourself?” She mocked.
“ It’s only the most important day of your life,” George piped in, face moving uncomfortably closer to hers. A Cheshire cats smile overcoming his features.
“ If this is another product of yours you want to test on me, do you mind getting me a lawyer first?” She groaned. “Or a legal contract that promises if I turn into an actual test Guinea pig, that you’ll buy me a pink sparkly cage to rot in?” She said batting her eyelashes at them both.
“Of course not, you know if that happened we’d stuff you down Percy’s trousers.” Fred replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“What a twit,” George replied, unhelpful.
“Besides, today you are the grand master behind the prank rather than, well being the prank.” Fred replied, believing this to be a flattering position to bestow upon someone.
“Wow! Upgrades! How lucky am I?” She exclaimed.
George choosing to ignore this, immediately jumped into the plan. “We need you to tell moaning myrtle that Snape’s caught a fancy for her.”
“You want me to tell the ghost of a fourteen year old that a grown man is in love with her?”
“Precisely! See George, I told you she’d get on board in no time!” Fred beamed.
George continued, “And while you girly talk with mytrle we’ll cause a distraction forcing Snape into the bathroom and into his phantom lover’s hands.” He smiled accomplished.
“ If only you two put this much thought into school, imagine the outcome.”
“ To end up as greasy and alone as Snape?” Fred replied, grinning.
“ Letting your emo haircut from adolescence follow you twenty years into adulthood?” George added.
“ Having your only friends be your empty chemistry beakers?” Fred continued.
“ The last and only interaction with a woman being your own mother?” George added, for good measure.
Y/n shook her head in plain disappointment, knowing that the real shame was coming from her eagerness to agree with the plan. To join in on the fun for once.
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“Oh wow I seemed to have dropped this strange unfolded note from Professor Snape’s diary.” Y/n called out, pacing the girl’s bathroom. “It would be really such a shame if anyone were to read it!”
“Professor Snape has a diary?” Myrtle said suspiciously, popping out of one of the near toilets. Is that still unhygienic even if she’s a ghost and technically doesn’t touch anything?
“Hey don’t judge we all have our own coping mechanisms.” Y/n replied with a hand on her heart and a solemn look on her face. “Look I’d really appreciate if you gave that note back before I get in trouble,” she said, adding a slight quiver to her lip.
Myrtle, forever the drama seeking ghost teen took it into her grip, ignoring y/n’s pleas and gleefully giggling at her misfortune. However, all her giddiness was ceased the moment she read the note.
“Professor Snape, likes… me?” She questioned, unsure of herself and even more unsure of the paper before her.
“Well,” y/n replied hesitantly, “ I really wasn’t supposed to say.” She mustered the most shame filled look she could imagine, it wasn’t difficult as it naturally seemed to appear whenever the twins were around. “But you didn’t hear it from me!”
She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps and panicked shouts from the corridor. “HIDE!”
“Sorry got to go!” She ran, following the familiar voice of Fred, leaving myrtle in a more petrified state than the basilisk attack fifty years ago.
“Into the closet quickly!” Fred urged shoving her in. Wasn’t chivalry just alive and thriving amongst young men today? Peeking out of the slight crack in the doors frame they saw Snape approach, his raggedy cloak cascading behind him, before his path was blocked by a semi- transparent creature.
“Why hello handsome.”
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“How does Myrtle of All people have a better love life than me?” Y/n moaned, throwing her head back against Fred’s chest in despair, forced into his embrace due to the lack of space.
Fred smiled to himself looking down at her, letting out a lighthearted chuckle.
“Are you teasing me?” She questioned, humour laced in her tone paired with a scolding look in her eyes.
“Course not, wouldn’t imagine it love.” Fred held up his hands in mock surrender. “Besides,” he continued on, wrapping his arms around her frame, “I think you’re just looking at the wrong people is all.”
Y/n froze, catching the suggestion in his tone. Before she could fully process however, the door of their hidden sanctuary was thrown open, a steaming Snape stood in front of them.
Well shit.
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A/n: Hello I’m unsure if this’ll get any attention but my first post did well so I’m back again! Lmk if I should stick to x fem!reader or nb!reader.
@thescrunkler just for you babes xx (if you hate it close your eyes).
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davidhudson · 2 years
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Ginger Rogers, July 16, 1911 – April 25, 1995.
1936 portrait by George Hoyningen-Huene.
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tagy489 · 3 months
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i wrote a poem about my ginger cat.
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evetokio · 6 months
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I FUCKING LOVE THE PRODIGY
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framesdump · 3 months
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Ginger Rogers in Swing Time (George Stevens, 1936)
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marypickfords · 8 months
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Finishing School (Wanda Tuchock & George Nichols Jr., 1934)
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fleursfairies · 6 months
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why are people always saying that bonnie wright looks so old??? in EVERY SINGLE comment section on something with older bonnie, there are comments saying she looks like shes pushing 50. NO SHE DOESNT???? she's literally so beautiful and i dont know why everyone is saying these things.
i dont think you guys have met a redhead in real life. we have different wrinkles than non redheads do. they are very very small and they happen young. i've noticed this pattern. my mom and my cousins have all have the same redhead wrinkles opposed to my brunette dad and other family members bigger smoother wrinkles
even if bonnie looks slightly older, she is still beautiful and aging is not ugly its a gift
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citizenscreen · 17 days
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At the 25th Academy Awards in 1953: Bobby Driscoll, Dean Jagger, Ginger Rogers, Ray Milland, Olivia de Havilland, Charles Coburn, Broderick Crawford, and George Murphy #Oscars
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rroaddkill · 8 days
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please draw more of charlie
Yes!! Yes :)
Charlie and one with her sister, Anna too. Also I'm tweaking my style which is why she looks a Lil different in each one. Sorry 💚!
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P.S this is literally how I imagine her coming home after that possession kicks in and she gets her first kill 😭😭:
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natequarter · 23 days
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maybe i've just been burnt too many times by tudor media but i'm impressed they managed to cast someone who actually looks like james i
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