suite pea

10

Leonardo DiCaprio suit porn!!!

  1. Jay Gatsby 
  2. Jack Dawson 
  3. Howard Hughes
  4. Dom Cobb
  5. Jordan Belfort
  6. Jay Gatsby - 
  7. Jay Gatsby - 
  8. Fank Abagnale
  9. Frank Wheeler
  10. J. Edgar Hoover
in this comedy of manners, we play like fools

yes, this is the AU based on this post i made yesterday, for reasons. one-shot. fluff. tagging @peggyyswan, @tobsjpalfrey, and @46andtwo because they asked for it.

Emma Swan had had this job for just about four years now, and she was fairly sure there was nothing more it could do to surprise her. She had stopped being gobsmacked around the time, after just having taught a roomful of household staff that the proper way to store caviar was in a champagne glass (because clearly, a champagne glass) one of them raised their hand and asked what brand of glassware it should be, because if there was a wrong brand and they used it, their employer would be Very Unhappy at this dereliction of duty. Or when she saw sixteen-year-olds who had as many therapists as they did extracurricular activities, pouring into the International Young Achiever program to mingle with their serried peers, so they’d be the better prepared to go straight from Oxbridge to the Fortune 500 board room. The thought of working a starter job at Primark or Caffè Nero was a fate worse than death, and one which these people never had to consider anyway. On the unlikely chance that they couldn’t get one of their daddy’s rich friends to take them on, daddy himself would provide a monthly allowance equal to the deposit on most middle-class homes.

For that matter, Emma had no idea how she’d ended up here. Debrett’s was the oldest and most prestigious etiquette school in London – or at least that was how it had started out. It had now evolved into a full-service boutique firm for the really, obnoxiously, you-are-the-reason-the-economy-sucks stupid rich. From teaching the subtle nuances between white tie and black tie dress codes, how to properly address the Queen when she invited you to the state dinner at Buckingham Palace, to arranging your personal shopping experience in Paris (minimum one day) or Milan (minimum two days), to weddings (you can only imagine how those went) to the events of the Social Season and who would be at each, to dealing with nepotism at the office (really, that would be a problem? Who could have seen that coming?) – she, Emma Swan, had done it all. None of her clients knew she was actually American, as she had perfected her Received Pronunciation, and of course it would never do to have a Yank instructing them in these time-honored rituals of expensive snobbery. Privileged bubble did not begin to describe it.

Thus, Emma had a certain cynical outsider’s perspective on the whole thing. She had not been born into money – quite the opposite, in fact. Didn’t see this job as much different from a long-term acting gig, having gotten hired despite her disgracefully un-pedigreed background by working hard, being willing to put up with their shit as long as it kept the paychecks coming, having a certain Look (here meaning thin, blonde, and pretty) and allowing the bosses to feel as if they were doing a good deed and being demographically diverse, down-to-earth, and relatable to the plight of the common man by employing her. Besides, she was a living success story. If an American ex-foster kid, who had never tasted champagne in her life until her first day on the job when she was supposed to be advising a client which one to buy for her society wedding, could learn how to do this, anyone could.

This, however. This might prove to be her white whale, the final quest to trip her up just before the finish. Sir Brennan Jones was one of the billionaires who turned up in the news for buying a private island or being busted for tax evasion (once more, who could have seen that coming?) or appearing at various red-carpet events with his equally handsome sons (they were a good-looking family, she’d give them that) or writing self-righteous newspaper editorials about how they needed to fix the country, apparently with zero awareness that he and his dipshit oligarch buddies were a big part of the problem with it in the first place. That Brennan Jones. He had just engaged Debrett’s to give his two sons a crash course in being successful rich people, as that was different from just being rich people, so they could follow him into the family business.

And Emma was the lucky, lucky woman chosen for the job.

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Baby’s Breath

summary: Tiny breaths and a beating heart. She is the representation of innocence and purity and the reason for everlasting love.  

pairing: Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura

i. Daffodil | ii. Moonflower | iii. Rose | iv. Cherry Blossom | v. Forget-me-not | vi. Baby’s Breath

Sakura watched the slow rise of her baby’s chest. It rose in a calm wave like the ocean waters coming in at low tide. Watching her was hypnotizing and almost enchanting. Sakura couldn’t tear her eyes away. But she did because Sasuke had walked in with a blanket for Sarada and her as well. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Sakura murmured to him. Sasuke smiles because she had been repeating the same thing over and over for the past hour. 

“We’ll be able to leave the hospital soon. We have to sign a few papers and then I’ll take you two home,” Sasuke said. 

Sakura nodded as she took the baby blanket and wrapped it around their daughter. They walked down to the lobby of the hospital as Shizune presented them with the papers. Sasuke took out a seal from his pocket as he stamped the Uchiha crest onto each paper and then his own seal with his name on it. Sakura followed with her seal as well.

The walk home was a quiet one as Sasuke did not speak at all. Sakura wondered if something was on his mind but she didn’t dare speak in fear of waking Sarada in her arms. 

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STYLE ICON OF THE WEEK-ALEX TURNER

The transformation of Arctic Monkey frontman Alex Turner is truly something to behold. From his shaggy-haired, indie-rock beginnings to his emergence into true greaser/rock style icon that can also work a preppy button up and sunnies look (re photo above) he truly embodies the constant transforming fashion world while managing to somehow staunchly stick to a style very much his own. Although, for a man with such charisma and confidence (read: super cool and opinionated in a good way, but can come off as a bit of a cocky bastard) it isn’t too surprising that he works the pomade-soaked quiff and leather jacket look like he’s the first to do so. From his collection of skinny jeans, plain white shirts and ever present jackets (strangely reminiscent of Harry Styles, but the man are very clearly in opposite ends of the music spectrum, despite being nominated for the same award at the Brits and both being supremely attractive in a very British/musician way) …we can learn a lot.

Alex Turner in The Leather Jacket is the image of satan. Seriously. He is the boy you were warned about. While he already has his “Do I look like I care?” thing going on, the Leather Jacket (yes, it does deserve capitalisation) brings out his bad boy. True Greaser Style. 

While I am abso-fucking-lutely loving loving 2014 Alex Turner, I do have a bit of a thing for 2012 Alex Turner. His cute mop top, one that only he could rock, was the signature mark on his era of polo’s, two piece suits and pea coats (although he does still don the occasional black pea coat, it no longer has its original preppy feel.) He no longer wears the once omnipresent chain around the neck, but rather than feel nostalgic, I feel I should embrace 2014 rocker/greaser Alex Turner before he turns his back on it and begins once again. With his track record (re: polo + chinos and sneakers to plain tee’s, shaggy hair and jeans to leather jackets and greased up hair) who knows what we’ll be seeing next.

‘We want to do things our way, and people think that’s arrogance, so it’s inevitable people will get tired of us.’

All in all, I really respect the Arctic Monkeys and Alex Turner for not only producing some damn fine music, but doing it by themselves. They don’t have a managing team sitting behind them telling them what to do and how to do it and who they should be doing it for. 

anonymous asked:

*waits outside of his building, obnoxiously early and dressed nicely in a three piece suit and a pea coat on top* -Robert Owen

*shows up a few minutes early to make sure he’s on time, smiling widely when he sees him* *runs over, beaming* Hey, you. You look stunning…