ANN LOWE ONE of a KIND TULLE and VELVET BALLGOWN, 1950s.
tulle with appliqued red velvet trim and oversized bows, fitted cap
sleeve bodice and voluminous layered skirt, interior corset and stiff
under-skirt. Labeled. Ann Cole Lowe was the first successful African
American fashion designer, creating Jackie Kennedy’s wedding gown in
I imagine Adam going off to college and being exposed to new tv shows, movies, music, culture; just everything.
He dislikes the pop music that some of his friends listen to, but he’s really come to love the 90s era rock that his roommate blasts when he’s in the shower.
Homework keeps him from binge-watching films and shows like everyone suggests, but after a lot of complaining and guilt tripping, Adam finally takes the time to watch Game of Thrones. He texts Ronan at 4am one morning, to tell him to get caught up so they can watch it together when he comes to visit. He gets a middle finger emoji in response.
His clothing changes too. His loose jeans and oversized t-shirts are fitted now. He even wears pink on Wednesdays, though he hasn’t seen the movie the campus tradition comes from.
A classmate of his is a hair stylist on the weekends and gives him a modern trim she says his boyfriend will love. She says something about a taper fade, but Adam doesn’t know what that means, so he trusts her to do what she thinks looks good. It can’t be any worse than the mess he already has and he’s right; it looks great. He sends a photo to Ronan and almost instantly there’s an incoming text that has heat rushing to Adam’s cheeks.
College changes a lot of things about Adam.
But when he goes back to the Barns, goes back to Ronan and Opal, none of that matters. Ronan still kisses him stupid any chance he gets, they still go on late-night drives in the BMW, they still talk about Gansey and Blue and Henry and Noah, and they still spend a lot of time doing absolutely nothing in each other’s company.
Ronan embraces Adam’s changes, loves them with the ease that always came with loving Adam Parrish.
“Ronan,” Adam starts. He’s laying on the couch in nothing but a pair of sleeping pants, head on his boyfriend’s lap. “Did you get caught up on Game of Thrones?”
Ronan puts down his magazine.
“I’m going to be honest with you,” he sighs. “I did. I’m actually a season ahead.”
Summary: Phil’s a little shy with his newfound friend during a school field trip.
Genre: High School AU, flower boy!pastel!Phil, punk!Dan
A/N: So I wrote this instead of doing my astronomy homework. It’s short and sweet, not much editing, but I love it. I’m a huge sucker for pastel!phil and punk!dan, though. This is dedicated to the anon that said they’d love to read this and @dooloonoo since this is her favorite trope. Hope you guys enjoy! Also, a new chapter of Sugar on Top will be out soon. I promise.
could you do 52 "i don't think he loves me anymore" with some angst? + andreil
Dan gets home late from her coaching gig on Tuesday night, and they eat thai takeaway over styrofoam containers and cheap wine.
The TV’s the only light in the room, and it’s almost like the flicker of a fireplace, if they don’t look at it directly. Dan’s laughing and smooching stray noodle off of Matt’s cheek when there’s a knock on the door.
They make faces at each other. “It’s 10 pm,” Dan says. “This had better be life or death.”
Matt groans. “Don’t tempt fate.” He struggles out of the couch and passes his ginger beef off to Dan. “5 bucks says it’s Allison back from Guadala-whatever. Timezones mean nothing to her.”
“Bet denied. You know gambling isn’t the same when we have a joint bank account,” Dan complains and Matt laughs, dodging their side table and heading for the front door. He busily cracks open all of their locks and rattles the door until it unsticks.
“Hey!” he says, surprised. Neil’s scuffing their doormat with the toe of his shoe, dressed in old PSU colours. “A house call from Neil Josten, what an honour,” he jokes. Half-jokes. A visit from Neil is a confession that he missed you enough to actually do something about it.
Neil looks up at him blankly, and something is so obviously wrong that it shakes Matt. He takes silent note of the bag slung over his shoulder, the mottled redness of his eyes and face.
“Allison?” Dan calls, and Matt shakes his head without thinking.
“Neil,” he replies softly.
“Get out of town,” Dan says, voice getting louder as she floats towards them. She appears at Matt’s shoulder and grins. “Well if it isn’t our favourite competition.”
Neil usually says something obnoxious about Matt’s team not even counting as competition, but this time his mouth stays thin and snapped shut. Matt and Dan exchange a loaded glance.
“I need to ask you a favour,” Neil says finally.
“Anything,” Matt says.
“I need to stay somewhere,” Neil says, and Matt watches him gather himself like he’s finding his balance on a slick of ice.
“Where’s Andrew,” Dan says slowly. Neil looks at her, and then at Matt. He hasn’t seemed quite this small since he first showed up at the foxhole court with all his lies clenched between his teeth.
“I can find somewhere else,” Neil says, already turning to go. Matt catches him by the strap of his duffel.
“Oh no you don’t. We’ve got a couch with your name on it.”
“If Matt hasn’t destroyed it with peanut sauce,” Dan chirps. Neil looks back and forth between them again, his face in knots. Matt bodily pulls him over the threshold.
“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. We get how it is.” He looks over at Dan and she’s already nodding.
“Thanks,” Neil says, and he drops his bag heavily just inside the door. He eyes the TV. “What were you watching?”
“Not exy,” Dan replies. “You might have heard of it.” She flops back onto her side of the couch and tucks her feet under herself. Matt settles down opposite and watches Neil perch on the armchair like it’s made of something sharp.
“We can change it?”
Neil shakes his head, and his eyes drop. Matt feels metaphorical eggshells crunching under his heels. It’s never been this uneasy with Neil, even when they first met.
Neil picks at his armbands until he seems to realize what he’s doing, and he reaches under the sleeves of his hoodie to peel them off altogether. Dan shoots Matt a frantic look.
“Not to pry,” Dan starts, “but do you need us to call anyone?”
He looks up. “Like who?”
“Like…” she looks at Matt. “Your coach? Nicky, maybe? Kevin?”
“How would they help me?” Neil says flatly.
“Man, your Andrew impression is killer,” Matt grits, nerves pricking with frustration. Neil’s expression goes tight, distorted like canvas stretched to fit an oversized frame.
Massive thanks to the lovely @rtarara for filling in so many gaps and fixing my errors (and being a “full service beta”). Oh, and @spaceshipsarecool for basically outlining the entire plot.
Cat let out a surprised exclamation when she turned around, bumping into an equally surprised Kara. The glass of bourbon in Cat’s hand collided with Kara’s chest and splashed all over the both of them. Slipping out of Cat’s hand, the tumbler shattered on the balcony floor.
“Ms. Grant, I’m so sorry!” Kara immediately scrambled, looking for something to help dry them. She set aside the folder in her hand, the article in need of review forgotten. Kara pulled off her cardigan. Her shirt was wet with the sweet smelling liquid, but her open sweater had managed to avoid the splash.
relationship – the reader shows Castiel what it means to fly. This drabble is
(not my GIF)
You woke in an empty bed, finding only cold rumpled sheets
where hours before a blue-eyed angel snuggled you near as you drifted contentedly
to sleep. His absence did not alarm you. Rubbing bleary eyes, you squinted at
the red digital numbers on the clock – 4:51 AM. Sam would be up already, many miles
into a run. Dean would stir soon, roused by the scent of coffee set on
automatic drip. You stifled the desire to pray for Castiel to return. He
would, of course, return – he always came when you called. Although, with
clipped wings, these days he often phoned first to advise you of delay if he
was not in the bunker or its immediate vicinity. Swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, your toes hesitatingly
tapped at the cold tile floor. You had an innate sense as to where you might
find the brooding angel this morning. You also had a strong disinclination to
venture out of the cozy bed. But if you dallied any longer, Dean would most
certainly catch you creeping past the kitchen threshold and coerce you into
sharing a deliciously greasy breakfast. You liked bacon as much as the next
person, but something inkling deep within your being compelled you to seek out the
angel you loved. Jeans haphazardly tugged over pajama shorts, sock-less feet
jammed into untied boots, you threw on an oversized sweater, fit a beanie over
your unkempt hair, and slipped outside into the dewy dawn.
Wow, I can’t believe that Alec is so tall and lanky that the sleeves of his jackets and shirts in season 1 rarely reached his wrists. I hope at some point in season 2 he gets a nice oversized sweater that fits and keeps him warm and makes him happy.
donald trump wears a poorly fitted oversized suit with a giant red tie. he has an orange face and possibly fake hair and he has literal catchphrases. meanwhile justin trudeau has a seemingly permanent five oclock shadow that looks like it was drawn on and does like handstand pushups and can competently discuss theoretical computation
these are literal cartoon characters. like are we sure this isn’t some truman show shit. are we in the matrix. these are like the characters for some bad 80s sitcom.
“How can you not manage to do one simple fucking task.” You sewed Anthony’s buttons back on his coat.
“Well with an incompetent costume designer it’s possible.” He pretty much spit out. You rolled your eyes, finishing the last of his coat buttons.
“I’m not incompetent, you’re just a careless douchebag.” You shot back.
“I try” He smirked. You opened your mouth to fire another insult but instead got cut off by Lin barging into the room to tell Anthony “it’s showtime.”
Anthony walked out the room purposely nudging you. You looked back to a Lin giving you a sincere face. The cast has noticed you and Anthony’s extreme hatred for each other. You rubbed your eyes and rubbed at your neck.
Before you knew it, you were pushed and almost tripped over a box of thread. “What the fuck Ramos.” You snarled at him. He being the dick that he is pretend he didn’t do anything. He always seemed to push you in some way even if you didn’t do anything to piss him off. “What do you mean y/l/n?” He was beaming, you could feel it behind your back.
“You know what I fucking mean Ramos, you being a complete dick for no reason.” Fuming,You were fuming at this point. Both of you were darting insults at each other. It was all fun and games till he hit where it hurts.
“If you weren’t such a idiot maybe you’re father would’ve still been alive.”
What would you say that are the essentials for a style like bella?
x. This is a very broad and kind of in-detail at the same time link.
So if I had to say top 5 rules to have a style like Bella:
Lots of accessories/jewelry. Especially chokers, sunglasses, and baseball/conductor hats. One, if not two, of these things should be in every look. Earnings are usually hoops, if she’s wearing rings, she’s wearing ten, and very rarely wears bracelets.
Shirts are always cropped or sheer or a bodysuit. A lot of times she’s not even wearing a crop top, too, she has it tied behind her back to expose her midriff. But really this isn’t even general, she never wears a top that hangs over her jeans.
Jackets or long sleeves. I dare you to find a look where Bella doesn’t have long sleeves and a jacket on/with her. I dare you. She usually wears leather or jean jackets, sometimes fur, and the occasionally hoodies or bombers. Matching denim jackets with denim bottoms and leather jackets with leather bottoms is very Bella.
Boots or sneakers only. For boots, she typically mid-calf (fitted or leather- not cowboy styled) or combat styled. For sneakers, she’ll typically wear Nike, and sometimes Puma or Adidas. No flats or flip flops, very rarely wears heels outside of events, though boots can have a heel.
Minimal color and print. Her outfits are typically black based, denim based, or white based (though usually black or denim) and she’ll occasionally wear red. The only print I ever see her wear is animal print; not a lot of graphic designs or patterns, usually her clothes have texture though.
Top 5 items for a style like Bella:
Black boots: combat and leather mid-calf (with a little heel)
Leather and or jean jacket: jean jacket would be slightly oversized, leather fitted well. Wear boots the most, and sometimes sneakers, no flats or flip-flops.
Funky jeans: uneven hemming, torn up, splattered, acid wash, patches, stripped, two-toned/patchwork denim, leather, ect. Plain jeans are a god staple in general, but make sure you have some odd ones.
Caps: usually baseball and sometimes conductor, almost always in black and baseball caps don’t have to be plain, they can have words/a design on them but no patterns.
Crop tops and body suits: don’t ever let your shirt hang over your jeans, tuck it in or tie it back, own a few crop tops and body suits (usually in black and/or sheer).