Went to a low key meetup in a casual old school inspired coord. The skirt is old school with a basic built in pannier and can’t fit a modern petti without looking ridiculous.
Skirt: Baby the Stars Shine Bright
Cardigan: Metamorphose Temps de Fille
UTKs: Innocent World
Beret: The Black Ribbon
I went to the local cat cafe today, but this old fluff is still my favorite kitty. Coming home to him is always the best part of my day.
Blouse: Baby the Stars Shine Bright
Cardigan: Alice and the Pirates
Beret: The Black Ribbon
Brooch: Mulberry Chronicles
Everyone knows this. Family, friends, the guy who always delivers their pizza.
(When Kara jokes that she’s an alien to the waitress at Noonan’s constantly, she always stops. Confusion clear on her face, because Kara doesn’t laugh or stutter like she usually does whenever Kara tells something that’s clearly untrue.
Critics are quick to label David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001) as a neo-noir (a fitting homage to the noir style that also modernizes its concepts). Classifying Mulholland Drive as such is an oversimplification, however, because it minimizes the importance of the broader, conceptual messages that Lynch was attempting to incorporate into his narrative. Mulholland Drive is, in essence, a cautionary tale about the power of projection and the psyche. The way we daydream and imagine a bright future for ourselves can heavily affect how we lead our lives. How we imagine ourselves in this “ideal future” factors into the decisions we make for ourselves. This film is a commentary on how such idealistic dreams can be broken and how we sometimes must escape from reality to cope with the concrete nature of the world around us.
As this film’s 15th anniversary quickly approaches, I thought it might be fun to analyze the film by segmenting the different aspects into letters of the alphabet, with each section dedicated to a different argument about a specific aspect of the film. These sections orbit around the theme just discussed; that while David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive may possess easily identifiably noir conventions, upon closer interrogation the codes of the noir fall at the wayside in favor of a deeper message about the psychological nature of movies and acting and how an internalized fantasy can manifest itself in psychological torture and mental betrayal.
People were running around, their conversations echoing through the halls.
The first person to make eye contact with me would be the victim of the probably most asked freshman question.
A girl with brown hair and a bright blue cardigan walked pass her and smiled at her.
That’s the one.
“Excuse me, where is a306” she asked confident.
“It’s right down the hall.” the girl answers friendly. She had green eyes with a spatter of brown.
“Freshman?” the girl asked with a hidden smile.
“Well, I’m Madison.” she holds out her hand. Her smile did not fade. “I’m Ava.” she reaches out her hand as well. “Nice to meet you, Ava.” she pauses a second and then continues “I’m gonna go to lunch with some friends after this period. Since it is your first day I assume you don’t know anyone here?” Madison waits a second for Ava to react.
Ava shook her head.
“Would you like to join us? I know the best pizza place on campus.”
Ava hesitated to accept that offer because she did not have any classes after this period. All she wanted to do was go to her dorm room and call her best friend from home. Wouldn’t hurt to make any friends though. She thought to herself.
“Sure. Where should we meet?”
“My class is right next to yours. I’ll just wait for you.”
Ava nodded again and smiled back at her.
They both walked to their classes.
Madison’s hand was touching the doorknob. “See you later.” she said before she disappeared into her lecture hall.
“They should be here any second.” Madison said as she held her hand up to her temple, shielding her eyes from the sun. She sounded distracted.
“Mad, what are you waiting for?” someone yelled out of a black range rover. It was a male voice.
“Where are jack and Johnson?” Madison asked as she got into the passenger seat. Ava was in the back.
“They overslept.” the guy replied. It’s 12.48. How the hell did they overslept.
“And you are Ava?” he turned around and smiled at Ava. His jaw was out of this world and even though he was wearing sunglasses she could see his big, intense eyes.
“I’m Matt.” he turns back around and starts the engine.
About an hour later they walked out of the air conditioned pizza place.
“Was I right or was I right?” Madison asked sarcastically.
“Ava where is your next class? So I know where to drop you off. ”
Madison and Matt both looked at her expectant.
“I don’t have any classes anymore today.”
“Ok so we’ll drive Madison back to UCLA and I’ll drive you home.”
Ava immediately shook her head. “No, no. You don’t have to do that.” but Matt just smiled at her in the rear view mirror and started the car.
They dropped Madison off and Matt drove Ava to her dorm room on Rieber Hall.
“So what are you doing the rest of this beautiful day?” Matt asked. He leaned against the wall right next to Ava’s room.
Ava shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Sit in my dorm. Maybe I’m lucky and my roommate is there.” she answered but it sounded more like a question.
Matt looked at her confused.
“No you’re not.” he demanded.
“I’m not really a outdoorsy person.”
Ava opened the door.
“There you finally are.” her roommate greeted her.
She walked towards the door with a IKEA catalog.
As soon as her roommate saw Matt standing next to our door she froze.
“Matt, that’s my roommate Kayla. Kayla, this is.. ”
“Matt!” she squealed.
Ava was confused. She looked back and forth at Matt and Kayla.
Did they know each other? What was going on?
Kayla cleared her throat. “Matt. It’s nice to meet you.” she said a lot more casual than before.
Matt had a huge grin on his face. “Nice to meet you too, Kayla. Hey, do me a favor. Make sure Ava doesn’t sit in her dorm all day long, ok?”
Before Kayla could answer he walked off.
Ava watched him walk away. His walk was confident, almost cocky.
His hair was bouncing with every step he took.
“How the hell do you know Matthew Espinosa?” Kayla whispered as she pulled Ava into the dorm and closed the door behind them.
Ava took off her shoes and sat down at her desk.
“Who?” she laughed confused as she turned on her laptop.
“Matthew Esp.. Ugh, just scoot over.” Kayla pushed Ava to the side and googled Matt.
Images popped up but Ava still had no idea who that was.
“You have no idea who that is?” her roommate asked desperate. Ava shrugged her shoulders. “No clue. But he sure is cute”
Meetings with other mobs happened once in a blue moon. Only held for emergencies or dire circumstances. Well, this is one. You just got the clear to go home and while Barry is really happy, he is also pissed. He didn’t tell you he is pissed yet you know something’s up because he called a meeting. And he let you come… He never does that.
When you enter the dining room, there’s a whole crew of people sitting around the long table. You only recognize one; Oliver, the guy from the restaurant. Barry’s hand is nuzzled in the small of your back, guiding you to the head of the table. You think he’s going to sit, until he pulls the chair out, “Here, babydoll.” he hums, motioning; you blush, pecking his cheek and playing with the hem of your oversized shirt as you sit.
Barry clears his throat, making everyone pay attention, and rolls his light gray button down sleeves to his elbows. “Thanks for coming.” he starts, thinking over his words. “Now, I know a few of you have no idea what’s goin’ on…” he flicks his wrists, pressing his palms against the edge of the table, fingers curling underneath. “As of recently… Zolomon… declared war on The Flash…” he sighs, leaning forward, hazel eyes peering through long lashes. Everyone suddenly begins talking at once. “Hey, hey, quiet!” he screams.
“But Barry, what did Zolomon even do?” Kara asks, folding her hands on the table, bright purple cardigan scrunching at her wrists. Beside her, Alex nods, urging silently for a better explanation. You gulp, mindlessly rubbing your bump through your shirt. “If we’re going to help, we need to know what we’re fighting about.” she reasons, earning a curt ‘mhm’ from Sara.
Rip props his chin on his knuckles, dark brown scruff scratching the pale skin. “Legends will help too…” he mutters in his british accent, eyebrow raising to look down the table.
Sighing, Barry glances at you, asking you if it’s okay with his expression. You nod, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together, his rings bouncing on your skin. “You may remember Y/N, yes? My sweet, sweet babydoll…” he muses, bringing his other hand to brush back your hair, revealing the bandage on your forehead. “Well, Zolomon put her, Cisco and…” he pauses, licking his lips while blinking, “and my unborn son in the hospital days ago.” he explains with his mouth in a thin line. You squeeze his hand, snapping him back to reality. “Yes. And he did it to cause me pain… I ain’t lettin’ him get away with this, so either ya with me or…” he trails off, glaring at everyone.
“Wait, sh- you’re pregnant! Oh my god!” Felicity beams, grabbing Oliver’s arm as she leans forward on the table, blonde curled hair dangling in front of her glasses. Grinning brightly, you nod, swaying Barry’s hand slightly. You don’t really feel comfortable talking in front of this many people.
Sara puckers her lips in an impressed way, nodding as she folds her arms over her tight blue sweater. “So you finally knocked up a girl, Allen… It’s about time!” she snorts as Barry frowns at her. Sighing, she sits up straighter in her chair, “Okay, okay, jokes aside.” she pats Rip’s elbow with the back of her hand, “How’re we gonna fight ‘im?” she asks seriously, waving her hands at everyone.
“He started a Civil War between the mobs…” Nate mutters, making Mick growl next to Jax and Ray.
Barry nods slowly, breathing a huff. One of his hands card through his chestnut locks, messing them up slightly. “Yes, he did.” he confirms, pacing behind you, “Zolomon has his allies at his fingers, guys. I mean, Thwane, Savage, Merlyn, Darhk, possibly Lex Luther… every known mafia, guys.” he says, flinging a hand out; the other placed firmly above his sleek black belt. Jax’s eyes widen. “We need to prepare for a full out war.” he mumbles.
Oliver glances back at Diggle, talking with his eyes; Dig’s jaw clenches. “Green Arrow’s in, Barry. I’ll let the other recruits know ASAP.” the blond straightens his black suit jacket.
“Thank you, Oliver.” Barry whispers, squatting next to you, dress slacks scrunching. His eyes are glazed over and he has your hand in a death grip. You rake your fingers through his hair, trying to calm him down.
After a quick discussion with Alex and J’onn, Kara readjusts her glasses on her slender nose, blue eyes wide. “Of course I’m with you, Barry.” she says solemnly, shaking her head. “Supergirl is in, too.”
Barry swallows, nodding as he presses his palms together in front of his mouth, eyes still in a daze. A breath of air leaves Sara’s pale lips and she glances at all of her mob family; they all nod. “Legend’s are ready to kick some ass.” she grumbles nonchalantly, standing up, “When do we start a game plan, boss?” she quips, thumbs on her thighs.
“Tomorrow.” Barry informs, eyes snapping to your face. “We’ll start tomorrow, a’ight?”
“Barr…” you whisper into the darkness. “Barr…” you repeat, reaching your arm out to wrap around his naked torso. The silky dark velvet sheets move with your touch, embracing your body in smoothness.
His hand catches yours, neck bent so he’s staring at you. “What? What is it, babydoll?” he questions; voice rocky from sleep, just like in the morning. His emerald eyes squint in attempt to see your face.
You nibble on your lip, “I’m…scared.” you admit, mind drifting off to the accident.
His hand cradles your stomach and he frowns, thumb rubbing stray circles on your stretched skin. “Shh, baby, there’s no need - there’s no need for that. I’m gonna protect ya, okay?” he mutters through silent tears, kissing you deeply. “And you too, little man…” he hums, feeling the baby kick under his palm, “Daddy’s gonna protect the both of ya. Don’t you worry…”
Loves the color red, laughs often. Sometimes wear the same pair of jeans two days in a row. Favorite food is anything spicy. Can groove to a good jam.
Good natured heart. Only fights when it is not started by them. Never leaves their phone behind. Enjoys cool colors like greens, blues, and greys. Favorite food is pizza.
Cold weather is their natural habitat. Never tries to ruin anyone’s day. Dresses well. Shy and keeps to oneself. Prefers the color blue. Favorite food is any icecream.
Sweet natured, often playing with their hair. Quiet and held back, but can be rude. Sociable when they find comfort among their peers. Pink or orange are their colors. Loves to eat fruity stuff.
Everything they love is yellow, that’s their spirit color. Committed and pride bound. They love to read or just sit and think. Emotional most often. Likes to munch on sandwiches or crackers.
Can be intimidating. Push them over the limit and they will show no emotion, but rather they just talk endlessly about how they feel. Fruity alcoholic beverages are their thing. Light green and purple are their colors.
Flirtatious and caring. Bad temper and loses friends because of it. Food of any kind makes a Libra happy. Enjoys the colors red, black, and magenta.
Learning is what they love. Try as they may, they are not very athletic. Vanilla anything—they want it. Contagious smile and laugh. Always a good time, but can be overpoweringly happy at times. Hopelessly dreaming about their desires.
Quaint traits, excitable at heart, and passionate about love. Never have they not loved something or someone. Warm weather is what they want—that, and burgers. Lazy dressers, but they don’t give a crap.
Sunsets, tulips, crunchy dead leaves. Wears the glasses with no frame wire on the bottom of the lenses. Sports, even though they may not enjoy them entirely. Grey and green are their favorite colors. Chinese takeout, they could eat for days.
Love to kiss and tell. Attention and laughter is what they seek most. Glittery binder, bright colored cardigans, bubble baths with music turned up loud. Loves pink and blue. Sweet food is their daily obsession.
Family comes first with these hardy beings. Could sleep for days, but they want to shop more. Quirky on the inside, bland on the outside. Wears a lot of black. Loves citrus soda and hot pockets. Fuchsia and Aqua are their spirit colors.
Stiles looked up from his paperwork, meeting Deputy Boyd’s
gaze. Surprise shot through him at the
other man’s words, but Boyd just gazed steadily back, a slight curl to his
mouth, and for a second, Stiles almost, almost
let himself hope that maybe his attraction to his colleague hadn’t gone
unnoticed and was maybe even reciprocated.
Then realization hit.
“Yeah, nice try,” he said with a snort, looking back at his
computer and hoping Boyd didn’t notice the flush on his cheeks. Boyd made a quiet, inquisitive sound and
Stiles shot him a fleeting glance before focusing intently on the cursor. “You
know I got Erica in the Secret Santa and you wanna swap with me.”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Boyd step closer,
leaning his hip against Stiles’ desk. “Stiles…”
“Normally, flattery would get you anywhere -.”
“I’ve heard.” Boyd’s tone was dry and Stiles couldn’t help
but flash a quick grin.
“But not this time. I hit the jackpot pulling Erica out of
the hat, there’s no way I’m giving that up. Sorry but not sorry, bud.” Stiles
offered a winning smile, spinning in his chair to face Boyd again.
The other man had his hip jutted ever so slightly to balance
against Stiles’ desk, arms folded over his chest so his uniform fit snugly over
his biceps, and Stiles had to drag his gaze away to look at Boyd’s face. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly, the
same quiet, stoic look he got whenever the station was working on a tricky
case, and he kept his gaze on Stiles. It
wasn’t something Stiles was used to, having Boyd’s focus on him for this long;
generally, it was him staring at Boyd
and trying not to get caught, and normally Boyd rarely talked to him unless it
was work related.
“Who’d you get, anyway?” Stiles asked, distracting
himself. He tapped his pen against the
edge of the desk.
Moana was set for one thirty in the afternoon on the friday before Thanksgiving sunday. Sophia’s day had started as usual: she got up and took her meds, had her breakfast with Willa, and then started her therapies. When she got into her individual therapy, she was so excited she was nearly bouncing off the walls. She was excited to put on her normal clothes, she was excited to get out of this place, she was excited to go on an adventure to the cinema. Her doctor took note of this right off the bat, how every other day she was sluggish and quiet in their sessions, but today she was talkative with Teddy and bouncing in her seat. She made sure to stress to Sophia though that if this didn’t go well, she wouldn’t be allowed out for an afternoon for a long time; they didn’t want her attempting to run away, or refusing to leave Santana when they got back, or not wanting to change out of her normal clothes. Soph already knew this from Santana and Mami, so she nodded along and promised to be good and nearly ran out the door when the session was over.
It took her twenty minutes to speed through her lunch, and then she was up again, running through the halls and back to her room to change her clothes. She was supposed to be getting picked up at half past noon, so as soon as the clock struck 12:25, she made sure she and Teddy were downstairs in the visiting centre, waiting for Santana to appear to sign her out. They had permission to be gone all afternoon, until six in the evening, which would give them time to see the movie and have dinner before Soph would be brought back. The previous day, one of the nurses had given Santana a call to tell her a couple general rules and bits of advice: to record what Sophia ate, so they could keep it in their records; to not let her go home because she wouldn’t want to come back and it would be a little too hard for her right now; things like that. This was either going to be really good for her, or really bad, and they had their fingers crossed that she wouldn’t try to run away or squirm her way out of eating. It was like a test for both Santana and Sophia: Soph, to see if she could handle it, and San, to see if she could abide by the rules and keep the hospital informed of her moods and eating habits, especially. If it was a longer stay, or an overnight one, they would have had to have an entirely different conversation about medications and the nutrient rich drinks Soph had to drink, but because it was only an afternoon, a first afternoon, they were cutting them some slack. “Sissy!” Sophia squealed as soon as she saw her sister in the doorway. Finally, she looked like herself, with her hair in a french braid, her bright dress and cardigan on, Teddy in her hand and life-filled eyes instead of sad ones.
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The Family Plan
Beatrice opened her eyes at the beep of her phone. Sitting
up, she refrained from squealing at the picture message since it was still
early and she was sure that Dylan and her Dad were still asleep.
‘Rise and shine, sis
Just above her morning greeting from Ramona was a photo of
her Mom and Peeta asleep—fully-clothed, thank
God—in his bed. They looked happy and content to be wrapped in one another’s
embrace. Not to mention, in that sweet morning light, her mother looked younger
than Beatrice had ever seen her.
Daryl doesn't like Carol's new clothes so he takes them off, please?
“It was a real kitchen,” Carol mused aloud asDaryl followed her idly into the house that night. “I got to use an oven today.
An electric oven.” She snorted.
She couldn’t see his face behind her, but she
just knew that he was making a sour face. If any of the others had caught onto
her façade, they were keeping it to themselves, which she appreciated. All the
easier for her to maintain it. Daryl was the only one who seemed genuinely
rankled by the act, but he had to know that it was just that: an act.
Cardigans, pressed clothes, buttoned up collars:
that wasn’t who she was anymore. The constant smiling and damn near
simple-minded manner: she was a little startled that the people of Alexandria
had fallen for it so easily. Their naivete was alarming sometimes.
“That s’posed to be impressive?” he grunted,
leaning against the doorframe of the second floor bedroom.
Carol pouted her lips and turned, propping her
foot on a hope chest to untie the shoe. “It’s nice.”
“Nice,” he repeated in a low mumble, casting his
eyes around the room and back to her. “You still look ridiculous. Cain’t be
“Oh, it’s not.” She pushed out of one shoe and
started to untie the other. “Here’s hoping that after we all get used to each
“What? You’ll be yourself again?” he finished for
Carol took off her other shoe and straightened,
looking at him. “I’m still me, Daryl. This is just…” She looked down at her
disguise, her costume. “Call it a first impression.”
He huffed, folding his arms and eying her. “I don’t
“Well, then thank goodness you don’t have to wear
it,” Carol tutted, shrugging out of the bright blue cardigan and setting it on
“You don’t have to either,” he argued. “Y’look
like a housewife.”
Carol paused, turning back to face him. “And you
look disgusting.” She put her hands on her hips.
He glared, but the heat sapped out of his
shoulders as he deflated. “Just…when you ain’t out there…makin’ impressions and
shit…can you just be…the real Carol?”
“You mean ‘your’ Carol?” She smirked.
Pink flushed his cheeks. “Didn’t say that.”
“Hm, didn’t have to.” She chuckled and glanced
around the room. The curtains and blinds were all lowered, effectively blocking
them from the view of outsiders. “Y’know…I’m not out there now…I can be your
Carol right now.”
“You said I looked like a housewife,” she
chirped, rolling her shoulders to push her chest out just enough to get his
attention. Her eyes dropped to his lips. “What do housewives look like behind
closed bedroom doors?”
It would have taken just a nudge to close the gap
between them, but it wasn’t a nudge that Daryl delivered. Instead, without
moving his eyes from her face, she felt his hands at her waistline, tugging the
shirt tail from her pants. Then his fingers were tracing up, unbuttoning the
shirt all the way to her collar.
She exhaled at the cool night air finally
reaching her skin after being covered up all day, and she inclined her neck as
he pushed the material aside, opening her chest for full access. As his hands
moved around her back to undo the clasp of her bra, she leaned in and pressed
her lips against his.
His hands worked the blouse away from her torso,
and while he was working on that, she got to unbuttoning his shirt and pants,
backing toward the shower in the adjoining bathroom and tugging him after her.
“If you’re the housewife,” he grunted as she
discarded his belt and vest. “What’s that make me?”
She looked up at him devilishly and slid her
hands past the waistband of his pants. “Mine.”