how would u dress to achieve the style of a Sofia Coppola character who is a french girl living in LA? :-)
Probably a color palette of poppy red, black and olive green. She would dress a little 70s, like in bell bottoms and baby tshirts, or very tight turtlenecks, or shrunken camel wool sweaters with a jean jacket and smoking pants. She would carry leather or canvas bags only, accessorize with lipstick, be very tan, often wear her hair in braids, sometimes wear hats, and always dress down her outfits with off white converse sneakers or keds
The rest of my birthday gifts ^^ The bag was from my brother, who apparently took one of his girl friends with him to help him choose…xD The artbook is from my dad: Chain Chronicle 1st season and it’s honestly such a treat - the artwork and quality is top notch! *o*
10 Questions to Ask Canadians:
Is the name mounties an innuendo?
Is your blood really maple syrup?
Where’s the beaver army hiding?
Which state is Canada again?
What the hell is ice hockey?
How big is your igloo, and how do you accessorize it?
Why is bagged milk a thing?
Have you ever seen the sun before?
Are you afraid of the dark?
Canada is a country???
You should do one where you and calum are in the process of getting a divorce but you have a little girl together and in between dropping her off at each other's houses and meeting to go over the details of the divorce you fall back in love :(
if i start crying in the middle of the technology building on campus, i want you to know, anon, that I AM BLAMING THIS ON YOU. (p.s. please don’t take offense to that, i love you xx)
she was only a five-year-old and knew something wasn’t entirely right - daddy didn’t love you the same way he used to and the two of you never held hands with one another with your fingers interlocked or kissed each other with wide smiles like it was your first time all over again - and calum staying with uncle ashton for the time being while you were at home with puffy, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes from your late night sobs surrounded by clusters of used tissues when you expected your little girl to be nicely tucked in bed who instead waited behind your closed door was more than enough of a sign that something wasn’t exactly okay. sometimes you would get to see him - though his once round cheeks would be slightly sunken and accessorized with drooping bags and dark circles beneath his eyes and his skin would be absolutely flushed from the stress of the entire process you and him were about to take part in: getting a divorce. you never understood why people treated the whole ordeal like some untouchable, unspeakable taboo because it was something plenty of families dealt with - bitter arguments leading to “i don’t know why i’m even with you”’s to a bunch of paperwork and arguments over who gets what - but nevertheless, each of your friends did their best to remain out of the situation, aside from helping take care of your little girl when necessary, because they didn’t find it their place to discuss how you two should fix something that you were convinced was broken beyond repair. you and calum had a good run and he was a good dad - an unbelievably perfect father to your daughter - but maybe you weren’t meant for each other. maybe marriage just wasn’t something meant for either of you - together or apart - and you accepted that awhile ago; but the longer you sat staring at his fiddling fingers with the list of your shared agreements and a black ink pen sat in front of him, you felt yourself suck in a deep breath of air. this was it. you were officially terminating your relationship; you silently thanked god your little girl was spending the day with her uncle michael at the movies rather than walking in on this. the memories of sitting on his lap while he brushed over your fingers so you got the right chords on the bass were in the past. the feeling of his lips tentatively against yours - unsure of where the boundaries were set - during your first kiss and the little twinge of electricity was no more. the surprise when he dropped to one knee with a silver band between his sore fingertips amidst the instruments of the recording studio where he penned up a song especially written for you, about you, was gone. but as he was ready to push the paperwork in your direction, you felt your hands briefly brush against one another’s and felt it again - that electricity from your first kiss, from your proposal, from the day you welcomed your daughter into the world with him by your side - and let out a small, barely audible gasp before pushing yourself away from the situation. you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t leave him. because, god, you still loved him and you were still in love with him. and with a soft “i’m sorry” you did exactly that - burying yourself in what used to be your shared room and shared bed and hid beneath the covers like it was all just a bad dream - while he just waited on the outside of the door with similar thoughts but lost words.
Don’t let the cat out of the bag! That’s Belle, and she loves cuddling in purses, backpacks and whatever bag you might have around the house.
She also loves people! She’s a leg-rubbing, friendly, purr-a-lot cat. She’s not too fond of other kitties, but gets along so well with humans that she’s the official greeter cat for the Martin County Humane Society in Loogootee, IN.
She hasn’t found the perfect bag to accessorize with yet, but she’s hoping that one day soon, the right human with the perfect bag will pop in and carry her home. Maybe that human is you? If so, Call 812-295-5900 or email firstname.lastname@example.org!