oversized tunic

"I love you too, by the way"

1k, Belle and Adam One-Shot, ff.net
A one-shot of the scene (and conversation) that must have occurred between the kiss and the reunion with the servants. Set after the 2017 film, but it really applies to the original also.

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anonymous asked:

History teacher Bellamy Blake has a globe on his desk and books galore. There's a map of the Pacific on one wall, with the flag of the Philippines hanging on the other. He wears glasses, a button-up with the sleeves rolled, and a smile everyday. His classroom is a little cramped with 20 desks, but it's worth it for being five steps away from the sculpting studio. It has definitely nothing to do with the pretty blonde art teacher, who has the colors pink, blue, and purple dyed into her hair.

he’s either the absolute best or the worst depending on who you ask; his rep of being engaging and mostly laid back precedes him which is why a lot of people come in thinking it’s gonna be an easy a and then they’re shocked when he assigns an essay on the effects of neocolonialism on the first day. still, he’s mostly loved by everyone because he may be a bit of hardass when it comes to work, but he knows what he’s doing; he has a way of having seemingly normal conversations in class and then when you leave you realise you know almost everything about the war of 1812

and then there’s his thing with the new art teacher.

(they firmly deny that it’s not a thing but it’s to no avail; highschoolers believe what they want to believe)

it starts when clarke- ahem, ms griffin-wink-you-can-call-me-clarke-wink- shows up on the first day. it’s a small town and no one has ever seen or heard of this woman, the one with as much colours splashed in her hair as there are on her skin. she’s from the northeast, her degree from harvard and somehow she ends up here in virginia, teaching in art in sleepy old ark. it’s a mystery that nancy drew probably couldn’t solve.

their feud starts of small, a terse whispered conversation in the hallway watched by almost two dozen eager eyes. clarke likes to play music while her students work, claiming that it helps nurture creativity, and mr blake does not appreciate the noise. she agrees to turn it down a bit and he goes back to his class.

but ark’s walls are thin and he can still hear the muffled sounds of pink floyd while he’s trying to teach the civil war.

and that’s how it starts.

they’re always unerringly polite, throwing compliments like knives at each other in the hallways, but sometimes when there’s the odd student lurking around after school they hear the real conversations about how mr blake is a stick in the mud with a hard on for the civil rights movement and how clarke wouldn’t know professionalism if it punched her in the face.

it’s the most interesting part of the school year and when it comes to sort out timetables for the new term, almost half the school wants in on art and history classes.

(admin offers bellamy blake a bigger classroom in the new wing on the other side of the school. it can hold up to forty students, has one of those smart board things, and the air con doesn’t take a good a fifteen minutes to kick in.)

(he declines and when asked why, he just shrugs. ‘i like smaller classes,’ he says, and then goes back grading essays.)

that might be a reason, but more than a handful of people notice the quirky comic style drawings that he’s pinned to the bulletin board at the front, and clarke is far less subtle, telling one of her seniors, ‘oh, bellamy bought it for me,’ when they asked where she got her ‘if ain’t baroque, don’t fix it’ mug.

and then if that wasn’t enough, it turns out that mr blake sometimes gives clarke a lift home because she only lives a block away from him with her cat, frida. it’s practically too much for a bunch of teenagers to handle, and almost all the freshmen believe that they’re going to get married.

‘oh please, actual human emotions are far too complex for me to achieve,’ she says when questioned about it in class one day. unlike mr blake who just glares them into silence anytime someone dares broach the topic, clarke chatters away freely, uncaring of who’s listening.

‘don’t stop at that,’ bellamy says, leaning against the doorway. his sleeves are rolled up as usual and his hair doesn’t look like it’s been combed in three days. he flashes them all a hint of a smirk, once again reminding them why clarke and mr griffin are the most frustrating couple in school for a number of reasons. ‘a lot of things are too complex for you. like remembering to pack lunch.’

he throws a brown bag at her which she catches singlehandedly. ‘turkey on rye. something that has more sustenance than peanut butter ritz crackers.’

‘hey, it has all major food groups covered: carbs, fats, and protein,’ she says

bellamy just twists his face and pushes off the wall, heading back to his class, and clarke calls after him, ‘thanks for lunch hunny!’ causing the tips of his ears to turn red.

honestly, they’re both terrible at keeping this…. whatever a secret, and far too good at it since there’s no concrete evidence.

(of course, jasper jordan insists that he caught them making out in a janitor’s closet one time, but first of all, jasper has a reputation of being sneaking out of class to get high most times, and secondly, why would they make out in a janitor’s closet when mr blake has a car?)

so that’s how mr blake and clarke became one of ark’s biggest won’t they/ will they couples while continuing to flaunt their relationship in everyone’s face. is that one of bellamy’s dress shirts she’s wearing with leggings, or is it just an oversized tunic? is that lipstick smudged on mr blake’s collar, or is it a drop of ketchup from his lunch? did clarke lean in to mutter something in his ear about exams so their students wouldn’t have a chance of hearing or reading her lips, or did she brush a kiss to his cheek?

no one knows for sure, and no one probably will ever know, because clarke and mr blake don’t kiss and tell.

Thoughtful Impracticality

Title: Thoughtful Impracticality - Kidge Week Day 7 Prompt Fill
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Pairing: Keidge
Summary: They say the best gifts come from the heart, right?
Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.
AN: Just call me Chester, because I’m a filthy cheetah. Anyway, same forewarning for the other two fics; read through once for problems so be aware.

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llerynserathis  asked:

[ For the snapshot meme: Teenage Morry + scrib! <3 ]

“Oh, you little darling…!”

Ulenea paused, rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Mori, no.”

“Look at its little tail, though! It likes me!”

“Leave it alone, Mori– Oh, Three’s sakes, put it down.”

Moraelyn pouted a little, a chirring scrib hugged against his oversized tunic like a stuffed doll. “But it’s so cute… It’s only small…”

Ulenea fought a smile; her lanky little thirdborn hadn’t quite outgrown all trace of childhood. “Lords, it’s just like when you were a grub. Give it back, come on.”

The scrib’s legs waved in the air, clearly quite anxious at being off the ground. Moraelyn moaned in protest but grudgingly did as he was asked, setting the little creature back into the marketeer’s scrib-pen alongside its skittering, thumping clutchmates. “What do you mean?” he asked, sullen but curious, waving goodbye to the scribs as they walked away. “What did I do when I was little?”

“You don’t remember?” Ulenea shrugged. “Well, I suppose you were only small, after all. I think you were four… It was when your brothers had first gone off to Temple lessons in Ald'Ruhn for the summer.”

Moraelyn shrugged, kicking a stray pebble down an alleyway. It hit a planter-pot, making the scraggly trama branches shudder. “I think I remember them leaving. Not much, though. I remember being sad, that’s all.”

“Yes. Gods, yes, you were.” Ulenea’s eyes took on a distant, staring look, a warrior’s reverie. “You all but howled the house down. And when you tired of crying, you grew bored…” She cut eyes towards her thirdborn, a little humour to the curve of her mouth. “The greatest horror of my life without your brothers around.”

“How come?” Moraelyn bent to pluck up a feather, fidgeting with it as he listened, doing a poor job of feigning inattention.

Ulenea chuckled. “Because, sweetling, you were liable to find something to do. Like find Father’s inkwell and draw all over the walls near the Waiting Door with it.” And everything else, Ulenea added to herself. Ink all over the carpets, tiny black footprints all through the house; her little thirdborn up on the dining table, chubby hands black-stained like a miniature Mephala, reaching for hidden treats on the high shelves. “Or, more to the point, the scrib incidents…”

Moraelyn frowned, ruffling the feather in his fingers and straightening it out again. “So I drew scribs on things?”

She shook her head. “Family portraits, actually. And guar. But no, no, a completely different thing… These were real scribs. There was a neighbour who kept some to feed up. I’d put you down for a nap, or let you play in the courtyard for a moment, and by the time I returned to check on you, you’d be lugging a fat little scrib around and trying to hide it in your room amongst your toys.”

Moraelyn tucked the feather into his pocket, to take home for his collection. “Why did I do that?”

“Just missing your brothers’ company, I expect. You’d never been separated from them for so long before. Your father thought a pet of your own might settle you down, or at least stop you from rustling the neighbour’s livestock.” (This was not precisely what had been said, of course, not in so many words; Ulenea fought down a smile at the memory of her poor, weary Sadaryn lying awake beside her in the dark, woken yet again by the drumming and chirping of startled scribs, begging her in gravelly, defeated whispers. “Ule… Ule, please. Make it stop. Get the little thief a houndlet or something. I can’t arrest an infant.”) “And it just so happened, Melvura– you remember Sedura Arenim, don’t you?”

“From House Redoran’s census gathering,” Moraelyn nodded. He twisted at the hem of his tunic, his eyes trained studiously downward, trying to hide a faint blush. “With the fancy red hair. She’s really nice.”

“Mm. That she is.” Ulenea’s smile turned private for a moment. A golden summer evening came to mind: fine tea sets, music, pieces of bonemold left scattered on a divan. Long red hair in elaborate braids, unwoven one by one with great pleasure. Ah, to be a bold, young Ald'Ruhn bravo again… “Well, Melvura bred nix-hounds, just the finest creatures you could imagine. I suppose she might breed them still. One of her nix had dropped a brood, she was quite happy to help us…”

Moraelyn brightened, eartips twitching in the afternoon sun. “Is that where Aket came from?”

“Indeed, it is. The best of the litter. You stopped sulking immediately when I set Aket down and let it run to you. You simply could not stop hugging that little beast… And Aket loved you on sight, I’m sure, if a nix can feel love. Wouldn’t let you out of its sight. Your father had a mind to lay down the law, you know,” she added. affecting her husband’s forbidding rasp, “ ’Animals have no place in the house’…” She shrugged as they turned the corner, tucking a stray lock of escaped hair behind her ear. “But he relented so quickly. You cut such a darling figure together, he didn’t have the heart to really mean it.”

Moraelyn glanced slyly back towards the market, where the scrib-tender was closing one of his brood into a little wooden crate for an Argonian customer, who held a scrawled shopping list before her like a talisman. “And that was such a long time ago now…”

Ah, ah, ah. No scribs. He’s deathly serious about that. He still wakes in the night at times, swearing he heard one.“ She eyed him hard, more-or-less serious. “Don’t antagonise your father. Be happy with Aket.”

“Yes, Mother.” His deflation was almost comically swift. 

She slipped a couple of coppers from her beltpurse, tucking the gleaming coins into his pocket and between his fingers. “Here,” she relented, “spoiled little longhair. Go run down to the docks and fetch some of those dried fish, the peppered ones. See if any of the trader junks have come up from Mournhold, hm? They might have some new books for you.”

His entire demeanour changed with a speed to make any actor blush. His mouth twitched, fighting the urge to spread into a broad and childish grin. He nodded quick and tight, half a step towards the river. “Thank you!” His hand hastily brushed her forearm, as good as a kiss to the cheek for the purposes of public streets, and he was gone, sandals striking clay and stone.

Ulenea chuckled, turning towards home. Moraelyn would be back before nightfall, but to wait was a foolish idea, particularly if he happened to find too many enticing books at once and settled in to read a few. Time enough to relax a while, perhaps pour a draught of that crisp, sharp shein her brother had sent south for her…

Becoming Real - Part 3

PART 1  |  PART 2   |   PART 3  |   PART 4

Characters: Thorin, Company, Reader.
Setting:
Erebor after BOTFA (Everyone lives, fix-it).
Synopsis: Firmly ensconced in Erebor and fed up with the tedium of their daily duties, Thorin’s company tries to revive old times by going on a camping trip. Meanwhile, Thorin is reconsidering his choice of queen and trying to avoid the company’s well-intentioned meddling into his love life, with mixed success.
Warnings:
NSFW. Angsty. Hurt/Comfort with a lot of hurt.  
Notes:
This is the first sequel to THE LONG DARK. It will make a lot more sense if you read that story first. My thanks go out to my darlings @hardlyfatal ​, @fromthedeskoftheraven and @snugsbunnyfluff​ for listening to my interminable whining about this story, making excellent suggestions and slogging through my first (and n-th) drafts without a single complaint.
Words:
2737


it’s been
too many nights
    of being with

 to now be suddenly
without

           — Jewel

 

Where was he?

You’d thought you’d seen a dark-cloaked shadow a bit farther up the path, but it must have been a mirage. You were now in the spot you’d aimed at, and Thorin was nowhere to be seen. The mouth of the cave had long vanished behind the curtain of pelting rain. You felt like you were going to drown, which was ridiculous.

Luckily there was a path of sorts, or you would have never known where to go. You soldiered on, sloshing through the ankle-deep mud more out of stubbornness than any likelihood that you would actually find Thorin. You could barely see your hand in front of your face after all. A stone toppled away beneath your foot and you slipped, dislodging more stones in the process. Your butt hit the ground, starting a small mudslide. You slid down the small incline, gaining speed as more rocks joined the shifting earth beneath you.

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I love Monsta X, but I still laugh whenever I think about the “All In” outfits. I get that Shownu and Wonho are sexy, but those shirts with the giant back slits got more and more ridiculous over time. What Wonho was wearing in the dance video couldn’t actually be called a “shirt.” And the funniest part (to me) is that my bias/visual Hyungwon usually wore an oversized tunic or a trenchcoat for all of promotions, even for the time when most of the other members had those shirts with back slits.

Over the last several months Hawke had come to terms with the fact that Fenris was just not the type to stick around the day after. No amount of puppy eyes and pouty lips or promises of hotcakes in the morning could convince him to stay, and whenever he tried to discuss it with him, the subject only served to piss the warrior off further. So as Hawke yawned a great big first-breath-of-the-morning yawn and stretched, extending his arms and legs out so that his stiff joints cracked and he felt the weight of another body on the bed, he assumed the dog had invited himself for a snuggle and it was his faithful mabari fast asleep next to him. A lazy grin stretched over his face and he smacked his lips as he reached back to give the dog’s haunch a pat. 

“You’ll always keep me warm, won'tcha boy?” He asked, expecting to feel thick muscles and short bristly fur against his palm. Instead, his hand connected with the warm, smooth skin of a familiar arse, resulting in a fleshy smack. There was an annoyed grunt in response and Hawke startled fully awake, nearly flinging himself onto his side in his eagerness to roll over as he tried to sit upright in the tangle of sheets. 

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Zendaya's Menswear-Inspired London Look Is Total Style Goals

Real question: what can’t Zendaya do? The 20-year-old is an actress, singer, co-producer of her own show, activist, beauty guru, and a style maven. Seriously inspiring, in our opinion.

She’s in full-on promotional mode for her upcoming film Spider-Man: Homecoming, thus she’s jet-setting around the globe for press conferences, photo calls, and premieres. Her latest stop was across the pond in London, where she gave us a menswear-inspired look that was the definition of style goals.

For her day out, the beauty slipped into an on-trend newsboy cap with a cropped tuxedo jacket, oversized Burberry tunic, and destroyed denim. White pointed-toe pumps anchored her chic, yet cool ensemble. We’re always taking notes where Zendaya and her style are concerned.

Stealing hearts since 96’

A post shared by Zendaya (@zendaya) on Jun 14, 2017 at 6:56am PDT

RELATED: Zendaya Proves You Can Wear a Bumble Bee Top and Tutu At Any Age

WATCH: 10 of the Best Zendaya Instagrams

Spider-Man: Homecoming hits theaters on July 7th, so we anticipate there is a ton of looks in this vein on the horizon. We already have our calendars marked and our eyes peeled for Zendaya’s next getup.

Desi Summer Essentials 2016

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Unlike many, Summer isn’t an easy season for me. It’s icky, sweaty and overall just uncomfortable. So every year, I find myself looking for relaxed and breezy fashion options that not only make the heat a little more bearable but also keep things fashion forward. That is why I’m so excited for Pakistani summer trends this season because they manage to do just that and more! 

White Kurta

Trends come and go but every Summer there is one color and piece that remains constant; the little white kurta. 

Gharara

We’ve been talking about the revival of the gharara for the past couple of years now and the contemporary take on this classic piece is every bit casual. Brands like Generation and Rano’s Heirlooms are realizing that limiting ghararas to the formal category is unfair to a piece that could be perfect for the summer given it’s relaxed and comfy nature. Pairing it with a white kurta is a dream summer outfit and if I could wear this ensemble everyday, I would!

Tulip Shalwar, Bootcut Trousers, Culottes

To say that tulip shalwars are in right now is an understatement. Everryyyone is wearing them. However, in the sea of tulips, bootcut trousers and culottes are also managing to hold their ground. Brands are giving them their own ethnic touch to keep them culturally relevant.

Wraps and Boxy Tunics 

An easy flow of air is what anyone wants in the scorching heat so it’s not surprising that oversized boxy tunics would make their way into the popular trends this season!

Peshawari Sandals 

There is no denying that khusas will always be in. But this season, we see Peshawari sandals that are traditionally worn by men make their way into contemporary women’s fashion and why not.. they’re comfortable, chic and definitely on my must have Summer list!

In a crowded back lot in Toronto, the King of France is waiting for his close-up.

“I spend 10 months of the year here now,” said London native Toby Regbo, the 23-year-old lead actor who plays King Francis II in the CBS Corp. historical romantic drama “Reign,” currently shooting its third season in Canada’s biggest city.

Regbo, in an embroidered, crushed-velvet tunic and oversized ring on his finger, is standing outside his trailer while crew members scurry to put the finishing touches on a war room on a sound stage at Cinespace Film Studios.(x)

Cullen x Evie OTP Vignettes I

@foofyschmoofer sent 1-10 from OTP Questions! Here are the answers for 1-5.


1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Evie smiled brightly as she gazed down at the little golem statuette in her hands. It was perfect. Cullen had told her all the about the statue in Honneleth from his childhood and when she saw this in the shop window she couldn’t resist.

“You spent all your coin on that?” Dorian blanched.

“It’s adorable.” Evie gushed, running her thumb lovingly over the polished stone. “And it’s for Cullen…” She added with a blush as she tucked the little statuette in her empty coin purse. She was sure he was going to love it.


2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Cullen kept an arm wrapped securely around Evie’s waist as he worked. Her even breaths rustled the fur of his mantle with her every exhale, tickling his neck and making him shiver every few seconds.

She had dragged her weary body into his office only ten minutes prior, wanting to crawl into bed with him. However he still had a great deal of work to do so instead of collapsing into bed, she had settled in his lap and fell asleep in moments.

“Ser, I have the-” The messenger halted his words when he took in the sight of the Inquisitor curled up in the Commander’s lap.

“Just put them there.” Cullen whispered, gesturing to the already oversized stack of missives on his desk.

Once the messenger had given Cullen the reports and left, Cullen chanced a quick glance down at Evie. He would never tire of having her curled up in his lap while he worked. Her presence made everything easier for him.

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Sunstripes <3 I’m most definitely not one of those people who love dark and gloomy weather. Warm and sunny for me every day, thank you.

Thrifted oversized tunic, thrifted skirt, shoes from Din Sko, necklace a gift from my cousin.

2

Just finished my workout! And it stopped raining so I’m getting ready to go run some errands on foot! Wanted to share this side-by-side - I threw on this hoodie and remembered how tight it used to be. Looked up an old photo of me wearing it and I am so excited, but also want to share some thoughts I’ve been having all week:

Losing weight is weird. I’ve been on so many diets in my life, I’ve struggled with eating disorders and body dysmorphia. The past few weeks I’ve really been noticing my weight loss and it’s so thrilling. I’m so proud of myself and so happy that I’m losing weight in a healthy way that makes me feel strong and smart. I really feel like I am taking care of my body.

That said, it’s hard not to obsess over my progress and the number on the scale. It’s just what I’m accustomed to. I really want to get back in the habit of only weighing myself once per week. I want to focus on non-scale victories. Sharing this photo is me doing just that.

Weight loss is hard and it can take a mental toll on you. Even though I know I should feel confident and beautiful in my body, I still feel insecure. So few of my clothes fit me right. I keep wearing clothes that are too big for me that I wore last year - last year I was trying to hide my body under them and this year, I still feel afraid to come out. Clothes that do fit me make me feel self conscious because all of the sudden I feel like my body is worthwhile again and it’s weird to have clothes that are form fitting and flattering (seriously most of my wardrobe is oversized sweaters and tunics and leggings!).

It’s so much to process and take in!

The bottom line is though that I’ve been through so much with my body and my body image and I am SO proud of myself for being healthy and positive this go around. Remember: it’s a journey. Weight loss is a journey, self love is a journey, and they don’t always go hand in hand. One doesn’t come because of the other.

That’s all I’ve got. Thanks for reading if you did! Ok now to walk to Whole Foods to stock up on La Croix and see if they have the new Halo Top flavors!!

As Long as He Needs Me:  Part 2

Part 1 can be found here if you’d like to read it. :)


He follows her at a distance once they’re outside of the village, staying close enough to keep up but far enough away so he can make a run for it if he feels threatened. That’s what she assumes, anyway, and she can’t blame him for it. After all, he’s known her for all of a couple of hours, and he’s been forced to trust her—a bandit, a thief, simply because his mother had told him to do so.

His mother, a whore, who had died in an alley before her son’s very eyes.

“Are you alright back there?”

She stops and waits for him to catch up, but he remains three paces behind her, staring back at her in the moonlight, nodding unconvincingly. He’s so small, too small to have seen all that he has in his short life, but then again, she’d grown up the same way—alone, without parents, without any guarantees of a bed or food. There’s no way she can knowingly let this little fellow go hungry or leave him wondering where he’s going to sleep at night. She can’t bring his mother back, can’t right all the wrongs he’s already suffered, but she can make sure he has food and shelter. She can teach him to steal so he can get by on his own without starving or getting caught.

And she can make certain he doesn’t grow up alone.

She moves towards him and kneels down, reaching out slowly to take his hand. She refuses to force him to touch her, and he stares at her outstretched arm, looking back and forth from her palm to her face.

“You know, Roland,” she begins. “I grew up without a mother, too.”

“You did?”

He gazes up at her then, the slight quiver of his chin nearly breaking her in half.

“I did,” she continues, feeling his hand slide into her own. His skin is cold, his bones easily felt, and she is struck again by the realization of just how small he is, her heart creasing painfully under the weight of such knowledge. They begin to move forward, and she guides them carefully across the forest floor, picking him up once to help him over a particularly steep rock face.  He buries his head in her shoulder, almost as if he’s afraid to look down, and she notices that he seems to like sniffing her hair.

How different her hair must smell from his mothers.

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