#herringbone shoes

[noob-priest-rising]

Eclectic Entry Inspiration for a sizable eclectic mudroom remodel with white walls and a dark wood floor.

[dirkdarmstaedter]

Omaha Flat Panel a sizable transitional image of a women's dressing room with a light wood floor and flat-panel cabinets and white cabinets.

[psychoslave]

Austin Mudroom Mudroom

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {7}

Summary: The first night at Charles’ house is almost ruined before it can even begin. Warnings: angst, light smut WC: 3.2k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight Taglist: RETIRED Head over to my dedicated library blog @dilemmaslibrary and opt to get notifications from there.

The paper bag in your hands crinkled as you opened it to see what Charles had asked you to carry. “What is this?” 

“Dinner.”

You raised a brow and closed it back up. “Those are ingredients,” you corrected, placing it on the kitchen bench in his apartment. “I hope you aren’t expecting me to cook because you will be bitterly disappointed.”

He laughed as he closed the front door and kicked his shoes off. “It’s all prepared, the pasta just needs boiling but I can do that. Why don’t you take a look around?”

You already planned on being nosey when he wasn’t looking but now you could openly snoop and happily left him to his own devices. Like most apartments in Monaco, it was smaller than you were used to but it was more than enough for a man living on his own. 

You circled the living room and tried not to be envious of all the photos he had hung in frames around the room. Faces you recognised held carefree smiles that they never had in your presence and Charles was no exception. You thought you had seen his real smile but even that was strained compared to what was captured when he was with his friends and family.

“I’m starting to think that frown is just your resting face,” Charles commented as he stepped out of the galley kitchen to see your progress. 

You schooled your face until the lines evened out and a mild look of boredom hid your thoughts as you turned away from the photos and found something that made your heart nearly stop. The manuscript was plain and unassuming on the shelf, the title print small and barely legible on the bare sewn spine, but you knew that book.

“You stole it.”

Charles’ confused gaze followed you to the bookshelf. “What?”

“It wasn’t enough to take him from me but you took our book too,” you muttered as you tugged it from the shelf and ran your fingers across the faded purple inscription in the corner: For Jules. A hint of the berry scented ink still clung to the page and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you opened it to the dog eared page you left behind.

“This was a mistake,” you said as you closed the book and shoved it back on the shelf. If it wasn’t this, it would just be something else- there was too much history to think this could ever work. “I can’t do this, Charles.”

He intercepted your exit, blocking the door with pleading eyes. “Wait, please. I didn’t know it was yours. You can have it back.” 

“I don’t want it back! I want to finish reading it to him but I’ll never get that chance because of you.” You took a step closer, ready to go through him to get out the door but he surprised you by sliding down the white panel until his ass planted on the floor. Charles pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them as he looked down to hide in shame.

The moment of silence dragged on as his breath grew as ragged as yours and you both relived that day in the hospital.

“I’m sorry,” he stressed as he threw his head back, the thud heavy against the wood. “I’m fucking sorry! For all of it. I didn’t deserve the time I got with him, I don’t deserve this career - it should have been his, like you. I definitely don’t deserve you.”

You slumped to the floor too with your back to the kitchen cabinets. This was not how you imagined your evening going. The plan had been simple; stay the night with Charles and arrive at the paddock for his first practice together - hard launching the relationship and confirming all the rumours that you had both started.

“When did this become your pity party?” you asked as you studied the herringbone tile floor instead of the enigma sitting opposite you.

Charles’ jaw dropped and he shook his head as he stammered over his words. “It’s not…I’m not…that’s not what…”

“How do you make it through interviews? One question and you’re a blithering mess.” You rolled your eyes and stretched your leg out to nudge his foot. “You are wrong by the way. I wasn’t meant to be Jules’ either.”

“I know.” He nodded and sighed, wiping his nose that had turned pink. “It probably doesn’t change anything but I finished it. I read him that book before he…before he died.”

You pushed yourself up to your feet and offered him your hand. His palm was clammy against your skin and you barely made any effort to pull him up as he did the work himself, rising to his full height in front of you. “You’re right, it doesn’t change anything,” you admitted, watching his shoulders deflate. 

“Figured as much.”

“But,” you said as you held a finger up when he went to move away and he froze, “that was a proper apology that actually felt real.”

“So you forgive me?”

“No, I don’t even know how to do that, but I’m not going to leave.”

He smiled like it was a small victory and enveloped you in one of his spontaneous hugs that you were slowly growing used to. “I don’t know how, but I am going to make it up to you one day. I promise.”

“How about you start with just making dinner?” You stepped out of his embrace and looked around the room with weary eyes. “I’m not going to find any more surprises, am I?”

He chewed his lip as he thought for a moment. “I have his helmet in my office but the door is closed.”

You swallowed deeply and nodded. You were going to avoid that room at all costs. “Keep it that way.”

Panic gripped you as the bike started to wobble. Your feet tangled in the pedals and your fingers slipped from the brakes before the gravel driveway rapidly came up to meet you. The skin on your knees stung with the dozens of little stones that grazed them and your elbows were in a similar state as you lay sprawled beneath the summer sun. 

“Up you get,” Jules said as he dusted the stones off and picked you up. 

Your bottom lip began to tremble and he shook his head. “There’s no use crying, lapinette, might as well laugh and learn.”

“I don’t want to laugh,” you grumbled, kicking the bike to emphasise your displeasure.

Jules shrugged and picked the bike up, holding it out for you to try once more. “Well, that’s usually when you need to the most.”

You accepted the bike and looked longingly at the trainer wheels he had taken off. The plastic wheels were beside his kart that was propped up on a stand, some of the parts in pieces for him to finish cleaning before he rebuilt it for the race. “Do you think you can win?”

“Absolutely, just like I know you can ride that bike.”

“I fell off.”

He laughed at your attitude and knew you would be a handful when you grew up. Pointing to the driveway he said, “Then you better try again, no? Because if you don’t ride it then I can’t win!” 

You laughed at the stupidity of the statement but rose to the challenge, throwing a leg over the pastel pink bike and ringing the little bell on the handle for good luck. “You better win, Jules.”

You took a deep breath and pushed the pedal down, slowly building momentum. The wind blew your hair back and you laughed as you realised you were doing it. You were biking…straight towards the wrought iron gates.

You jolted awake in the unfamiliar bedroom and found Charles sleeping soundly. Though you had woken before the impact came you knew Jules had saved you. The lanky teen had sprinted after the bike and grabbed you from the seat before it careened into the metal, buckling the front wheel. You hadn’t quite mastered bike riding that week but Jules still won his karting race.

Sleep was as distant as the memory that had resurfaced so you quietly slipped from the room and found yourself at the bookshelf. Sometimes you wished you had no memory, then you couldn’t be reminded of how happy you had been. But, on the flipside, if you didn’t have the memory you feared you would never know what happiness was at all. 

When Charles woke to an empty bed he wondered if you had left after all despite watching you fall asleep beside him. It was only the sound of the balcony door sliding open that let him breathe a sigh of relief and he climbed out of the bed to check on you. A cool breeze left a chill in the air of the living room and Charles grabbed the blanket that hung from the back of the sofa before he stepped outside.

“You’ll catch a cold like that,” he whispered to the night. The Ferrari shirt you wore fell halfway down your thighs but curled up on the outdoor settee had the red material barely covering your underwear and Charles covered the bare skin with the blanket.

“Bad dream?” he asked as he took a seat beside you and noticed the book in your hands. 

“Worse,” you replied. “A good memory.”

Charles draped his arm over the back of your seat, his fingers softly touching your shoulder, and he tucked his legs under the blanket too. “Want to talk about it?”

You gave him a look that made him chuckle before turning your attention back to the page. You were halfway through the story and you could finally appreciate the action thriller now that you understood the vengeance Jack Reacher felt and the way he fought but even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the dream. With an irritated sign, you closed the book and took to searching the stars instead. 

“Charles?” He hummed quietly and you looked across to see his relaxed state watching the dark sky too. “If I ask you something, can you just do it without reading too much into it?”

He tore his eyes away from the brightest star in the sky and frowned. “Uh, I guess it depends on what you ask me.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

His lips curled up in a slow smile and his fingers danced across your collar to the base of your throat as he leaned in. “You don’t have to ask me.”

“It’s not because I like you, I just need something to stop me thinking,” you clarified. 

“Again, you don’t have to ask me.” His lips brushed against yours before they teased your jawline and his breath warmed your ear. “You can use me however you want.”

It was already a messy situation and adding sex to the mix was only going to end badly but you needed it. You needed to forget the thoughts racing through your head and you needed the high of an orgasm. Charles was more than willing to give you both when he carried you back to his bed.

The next time you woke you were in a far better headspace.

You felt the ghost of a kiss on your cheek before Charles left to get ready for the day but you buried your head deeper in the pillow and tried to ignore the sweet ache in your body. It was impossible. Your core throbbed with the memory of how he had filled it and your thighs pressed together in search of friction only to feel the beard burn he had left between them. 

“Fuck,” you groaned as you realised you would not be getting back to sleep.

“Regretting your life choices?” Charles asked from the doorway, two mugs of coffee in his hands and not a lick of clothing to be seen.

“On the list of my regrets, this doesn’t even register,” you said as you sat up and accepted the hot cup, your state of undress not much better. “But it would have been easier if you sucked in bed.”

“How’s that?” He lifted his pillow up against the headboard and took a seat with an amused grin at the compliment.

“For starters, I wouldn’t want to do it again. Things are already complicated enough and now I have technically been fucked by my boss.”

“If you want to get technical, you fucked me,” he pointed out with a smirk. “You were in control, babe.”

You took a deep breath and told yourself it was too early for violence, even if he was right. Charles had been quite clear on the fact you were in control, especially when he sat in much the same position against the headboard and let you ride him into oblivion. “Maybe it will make it on my list of regrets after all.”

“You can worry about them later,” he said after a few mouthfuls of his coffee. “We should start getting ready to head to the track and your hair screams ‘sex’. Bathroom is across the hall, there’s a new toothbrush in the top drawer if you need.”

“Wow, a spare toothbrush? That screams manwhore.”

“I’m just being a gentleman, you’re the one that swallowed.”

You nearly spilled the coffee with the laugh that bubbled out of your mouth unexpectedly. “Ah, there’s the regret. I knew I should have snowballed you.”

His nose wrinkled with the idea and you laughed darkly. Next time he would probably hesitate and remember this conversation. You froze. You were already thinking about the next time you would fuck and that was enough to stun you silent so you busied your mouth finishing the drink. 

It was hard not to fall in love with the atmosphere of race week in Monaco. Arriving hand in hand with Charles had the desired effect and you were still feeling the ripples of it as the day ended. 

“I’m exhausted and I didn’t even do anything,” you admitted through the headset as the private helicopter whisked you back to Nice. 

Charles flexed his hand that had furiously signed autographs right up until the moment he stepped inside the helicopter. “It gets like that sometimes but I only feel it after everything goes quiet.”

“Are you sure you want to come to this dinner? You can go home and rest. Jacques can fly you back.”

Charles reached across the seat and took your hand even though there was no audience to witness the touch. “And leave you alone with your parents?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I have managed to survive 25 years on my own.”

“That’s a miracle in itself. I probably wouldn’t be trusted with the steak knife if that was me.”

You grinned at the joke and rested your head on his shoulder. “I like this dark side of you.”

“I suppose that’s a start.”

Your good mood was brought down the moment you spotted the mansion before landing. Too many cars lined the driveway for the simple family dinner your mother planned and you fell quiet as the helicopter touched down in the backyard. 

“What is this?” Charles asked, looking down at his casual jeans and sweatshirt.

“The tenth circle of hell,” you muttered.

Veronica was practically vibrating with excitement when you arrived at the patio door and she held out two tickets for the opera tomorrow night, as requested. “Silly girl. You have dinner with Prince Albert, you can’t even go.”

Charles knew better after seeing the many masks you had adorned to hide your thoughts but it still amazed him how quickly you could become a woman he didn’t recognise. A sneer grew, twisting your smile into a cruel mockery of the one he knew and your eyes narrowed as you swiped the tickets from her hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“I tried, but that’s what you get for being a spoiled little brat.”

“Alicia! My room, now!” Your voice carried through the mansion and you stormed up the stairs with Charles following behind, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. The maid was already waiting outside your bedroom door when you arrived and you barrelled inside, slamming the door shut in Veronica’s smirking face.

The dress hanging in the closet was still wrapped in the garment bag and you took it off the hanger, holding it out to Alicia. “Get this dress out of my sight! I never want to see it again.”

Alicia looked a little shocked at the outburst you needed to be heard through the door. “But it is McQueen.”

“I don’t care!” You lowered your voice to a whisper and reached into your pocket. “Here’s two tickets to La Bohème, take the dress and go with Javier. You didn’t think I forgot your anniversary, did you? Go.”

Tears filled Alicia’s eyes and she threw her arms around you. “Thank you.”

You shook your head and sincerely said, “You deserve more than this.”

Alicia dipped at the waist and delicately hung the dress over her arm as she walked to the door. Veronica saw the tears in Alicia’s eyes and shook her head as the quiet maid rushed down the stairwell.

“Your father will hear about this tantrum.”

You tipped your nose up and crossed your arms smugly. “I’m his only child, that makes me his favourite by default. Now run along and tell him.”

Veronica turned on her heel with a scoff and you closed the door before sighing heavily. You would probably pay for the insolence in one way or another but it was worth it.

“Why did you do that?” Charles asked as he reached past your hip and locked the door.

“I couldn’t pay for the tickets myself and they already think the worst of me, might as well play the fool for a good cause.”

Charles opened his arms and you stepped into the embrace. He could see how draining the act was and couldn’t wait until the day you left Nice. “You’re a good person,” he said quietly before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t think the guests downstairs would agree with you. I don’t even know why they are here.”

You found out soon enough when you emerged from your room dressed in more appropriate attire. Just as you suspected, it was punishment and you would play the fool once again for your mother’s entertainment. You felt sick seeing the grand piano in the dining hall and your fingers stiffened at the thought of sitting in front of the guests to play at her whim.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked as he saw your pallor fade.

Forcing the discontent away, you smiled in time for the first guest to spot your entrance into the room. “Just peachy, Charles. Ready to act lovesick?”

He didn’t need to act, and you found it all too easy that maybe it wasn’t acting either. Your body fit perfectly into the curve of his arm and you moved together through the room making introductions. But all too soon your mother dragged you away and snapped her finger at the piano.

“The Economy Minister favours Beethoven,” she whispered with a look to the man your father was for lack of a better word, schmoozing. “Don’t fuck this up.”

Click here for next part.

[seungkw1]

office hours — bsk

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: college au, nonidol!au ♡ wc: ~6.2k ♡ warnings: swearing, smut, reader is gender neutral but wears a skirt, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, petnames (f. receiving - baby), fluff at the end if you squint ♡ a/n: this whole thing is a highly self-indulgent fic so if reader is down horrendous for bsk… u know why

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

You fucking hate Tuesdays. 

There’s nothing actually wrong with your Tuesday schedule - on the contrary it’s probably the best day of the week in terms of lectures and extracurriculars. Your first class of the day, Developmental Psychology, doesn’t start til 11am, so you get to sleep in - always a win in your book. Afterwards you have an hour and a half break, usually spent by eating lunch in the student center and then a visit to the campus library to get some studying done. Then your 2pm Discussion for your Intro to Fiction class, followed by yoga at the gym - and since your work-study job at the Cognitive Research Lab doesn’t have you scheduled for Tuesdays, you get to go home right after. All in all, a pretty laid-back day in your hectic college life.

Except for that stupid 2pm Discussion. 

As a Psychology major you didn’t anticipate having to take any Literature courses, but you needed to fill an elective and Intro to Fiction had a reputation for being a fun, low-stakes course. It also fit conveniently into your Fall Semester schedule, so you signed up. Professor Mendoza turned out to be super nice and never gives any bullshit extra homework, and the assigned books have been surprisingly enjoyable. No, none of that is the problem. 

The problem is the hot TA you’ve inadvertently fallen in love with. 

Your first encounter with Seungkwan had been a bit embarrassing - the first week of the semester you somehow went to the completely wrong building, and even with speed walking you arrived to Discussion about five minutes late. You tried to sneak in quietly but the loud, creaky door hinge had other plans. Twenty-some pairs of eyes turned to stare at the idiot latecomer, but the pair you locked onto were the soft brown ones surrounded by long dark eyelashes, belonging to the blazer-wearing grad student standing at the front of the classroom. 

You would’ve been embarrassed in this situation anyway, but the unexpected eye contact made your stomach drop and your face turn hot. You stood there for a few moments too long, before muttering a feeble “sorry” under your breath as you made your way to the only empty seat in the room - which of course was located at the very front, immediately before the TA. You quickly took your seat and pulled out a notebook (not even the right one, but you were too frazzled to notice). The TA, whose name you missed due to being late, resumed his lecture. You started writing down everything he was saying - definitely not necessary, but you were doing your best to focus without looking up. 

Your face eventually stopped burning up, but this classroom was particularly warm and stuffy. You set down your pen and took your cardigan off, hanging it over the back of the chair. Mindlessly looking up, you look at the TA for the first time since sitting down. He too had discarded his outerwear - the muted brown herringbone blazer now laying aside on the teacher’s desk upon which he was leaning. His dark brown shoes matched his dark pants - which weren’t tight but certainly hugged his thighs nicely, but you tried not to think about that - and he was currently rolling up the sleeves of his medium gray button down - and you definitely tried not to think about that. You put your head back down and focused on your note-taking, transcribing everything without actually processing any of what he said. This was all very strange for you - sure some of your past TAs had been nice looking, but why was this particular one making you this flustered? 

The clock ticked on at an unbearably slow pace. You took your notes and paid no attention, not joining in on the conversation even once. You just have to make it through the hour, you kept telling yourself. But the hour seemed to never end. 

You snap out of it as the TA finally wraps up the class. 

“Don’t forget to read through chapter 5,” he reminds everyone. You realize you don’t even know which book you’re supposed to be reading, but it’s too late to ask now - you’ve looked like enough of a fool today already. Quickly packing your bag, you try to make your escape but as you are heading toward the door the TA calls out to you. Shit.  

“I just need to get your name - for attendance,” he tells you as you turn back around. 

“Oh… yeah,” you reply. You silently curse yourself for how stupid you sound. You tell him your name and he makes note of your attendance in his notes. You try to escape again but not before he sticks his hand out to you. 

“Seungkwan,” he introduces himself. You make the mistake of looking into those big round doe eyes again. He was even more beautiful up close. SHIT. 

You shake his hand, trying to do so as quickly as possible, but he has a very strong grip. 

“Nice to have you in class,” he says warmly. 

“Nicetomeetyoutoo!” you reply, taking your hand back and turning to dart out the door before he can get another word in. 

You don’t look back, so you don’t see how his eyes are glued to you as you hurriedly exit the classroom. 

—

You thought after a few classes you’d get over your dumb little crush on your TA, but four weeks into the semester and it’s only gotten worse. Now that you know where the stupid building is, you always make sure to arrive to Discussion early so you can snag a seat in the very back - as far away from him as you can manage - but this only allows your mind to wander. Watching him from the back of the class, you’ve unintentionally memorized his subtle habits: the way he takes his glasses case out of his bag at the beginning of each class, opening it and wiping the lenses clean with a cloth before placing them on his face with two hands, delicately moving his hair off to the side as not to obscure his vision; the way he leans against the desk, resting his weight on his palms as he listens to the students engage in conversation about the current book; the way he holds his well-worn copy in his left hand when referencing the text, flipping through the dog-eared pages filled with highlights and notes written in ink in the margins, laying the book on the desk pages-down to preserve his place when he goes to write important points on the chalkboard; the way he carefully erases the board as not to create a cloud of dust, wiping his hands together away from his body as not to get chalk on his perfectly pressed clothes; the way he focuses so intently when somebody is speaking, maintaining eye contact and nodding his head slightly, giving them his full attention.

That last one is why you never say a word in that class. You’re pretty sure you would combust on the spot.

Unfortunately, your entire grade for the Discussion portion of the course is based on actually engaging in the discussion - and based on your participation thus far you were right on track for getting an entire zero. I’ll say something next week, you tell yourself - then next week rolls around and you don’t say a damn thing. And repeat. You just hope Seungkwan doesn’t say anything to you. 

But he does. 

You freeze upon hearing your name as you’re gathering your belongings at the end of session. You look up and meet his gaze, doing your best to maintain a relaxed demeanor. It’s only a little eye contact, just chill. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” you respond nonchalantly. He gives you a bit of an inquisitive look, so you add on a polite smile.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t participated at all during discussion so far - you know that’s what I have to grade you on, right?”

“Oh yeah, um- I’ve been… I’ll work on that.”

The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. “I graded your first essay - you showed exemplary comprehension and your analysis was one of the best ones I’ve read.”

You feel your stomach do a flip. The sudden praise caught you off guard. 

“Oh uh, thank you,” you stammer, trying not to display how flustered you are but undoubtedly failing. 

You make the mistake (again) of making direct eye contact with Seungkwan. It lasts maybe two seconds, but feels like time has slowed; the world has stopped; nothing matters but you and him, standing alone in this room together. You’ve never wanted to impulsively kiss somebody this bad in your life. 

You force yourself back to reality. 

Seungkwan continues. “But, if you’re having some trouble with this particular novel,” he says as he holds up his book, “you can always stop by my office hours with any questions.”

You glance at his copy of Dracula. It’s a standard size paperback, but it looks small in his hand - a hand so strong and defined, yet elegant, fingers long and graceful…

Nope. Not gonna think about that right now. 

“I hold them every Thursday from 3-5pm - in this building, room 430. Top floor - all the way at the end of the hallway.” 

You nod - looking at him without making direct eye contact. “Cool cool. I’ll uh… Thanks, I might take you up on that.”

“Of course,” he replies matter-of-factly. He pauses, then adds with a slight smile, “It is my job after all.” 

Picking up his coat, he heads toward the door, and you follow. He holds the door open for you; as you pass by him you catch the scent of his cologne: woody but fresh, notes of patchouli and bergamot. You utter a soft “Thank you”. He nods chivalrously. 

Exiting the discussion room, he starts heading in the opposite direction as you. “See ya around!” you blurt out suddenly. He pauses - turning over his shoulder, he nods once more at you. “Have a good one,” he responds cordially. Maybe you’re seeing things, but his eyes seem to linger on you for a split second longer than one would expect. 

You watch him walk away for as long as you can get away with without being detected. 

As you make your way to the gym you ruminate over what he told you. Office hours. You didn’t really see a need to go - you weren’t actually having any trouble with the book. And of course office hours are open to all students, but the chance that you might be alone in a room with him again, having a one-on-one conversation…

You try to push the thought aside. You arrive to yoga, prepared to clear your head - but you spend the whole class thinking about Seungkwan. You head home after class, sitting on the bus with your headphones in, blasting your favorite album - but still your mind dwells on your TA. You get home and sit down to continue the novel, reading the next chapter - but you quickly give up. You’re absorbing none of the story, so you’d have to reread it anyway. 

Maybe you will go to office hours after all. 

—

Thursday. You’ve been trying not to think about Seungkwan’s office hours, but of course it’s just the white bear experiment all over again - the harder you tried, the more you ended up thinking about it. Your last class - Statistics - ends at 3:30pm, so you have all day to debate whether to go or not. Damn him for holding them so late in the day. 

Your Stats professor could not be a more uninteresting lecturer if he tried. You spend most of the class stifling your yawns as you do your best to pay attention, to no avail. Finally, the clock hits 3:30 and class is dismissed. You have to make your decision now - so naturally you end up going to the library to procrastinate said decision and mull it over some more. 

After many wasted minutes trying (and failing) to get some homework done, you check the time: 4:19pm. With a sigh you open up your book to leaf through the pages, looking for something you could make up some bullshit question about. Nothing. Mildly peeved, you open your laptop and pull up trusty sparknotes.com. All the discussion questions seem too juvenile, and you’re pretty sure you’d manage to make a fool of yourself if you tried to ask a question you already knew the answer to. 

You decide to abandon your plan to drop by with specific questions and instead just hope and pray there will be other students there so you can simply join in on their conversations. If there aren’t… you’ll just have to figure that out when you get there. 

You make your way to the Literature Studies building, realizing upon your arrival there is no elevator - and your destination is on the top floor. Cursing the building for being old, you trek up the stairs in search of room 430, which - as he mentioned - appears to be at the very end of the hallway. Nearly there, you abruptly decide to backtrack to the restroom you passed to check yourself in the mirror real quick, which turns out to be a mistake because now you’re hyperaware of how anxious (and for some reason, frumpy) you look right now. Nice going you idiot. 

Doing your best to make yourself presentable, you tussle your hair a bit and fix the collar of your shirt back to its proper position. You decide it’s good enough and go to exit the bathroom, pausing when you remember that you have a tinted lip balm you threw in your bag last minute. Rummaging through your bag for a solid 20 seconds, you find the tube at the very bottom and hastily apply it to your lips. Taking a step back, you take a final glance at your reflection - the balm is neutral-colored and fairly subtle, but makes you look slightly less dead. You’ll take the W. 

You make your way back down the hallway toward room 430. Approaching the end of the hall, you hear voices engaged in conversation. You pull out your phone to quickly check the time: 22 minutes of office hours remaining. Good enough, I guess. You’re three steps away from the doorway when you hear a familiar voice chime in - a voice soft and soothing, confident without being cocky. You proceed to enter the office before you have a chance to process how it’s making you feel. 

You find yourself in a room small yet cozy - bookshelves built into the wall that go all the way up to the ceiling, stacked with endless literature: many classics you’ve heard of, many others you haven’t. There’s no overhead lighting, but two antique-ish looking floor lamps illuminate the room with a warm-toned glow. An old, large mahogany desk fills nearly half the room, its accompanying chair vacant. Two fellow classmates are seated in the two smaller chairs facing the dark leather loveseat upon which your TA is currently sitting - reclined, one leg over the other knee, hand on the open book laying face down on the couch next to him. The three faces turn to look at you as you enter, bringing their conversation to a halt. You fucking hate being collectively perceived in any circumstance, but something about the intimacy of the room makes this particular situation even worse than usual. You feel your face start to turn warm but you quickly shove the embarrassment back down. Not today. 

Seungkwan greets you amiably, your name sounding sweet in his mellow voice. “Glad you could make it! Come on in, have a seat.” He picks up the paperback by his side and sets it on his lap, motioning for you to sit next to him. 

Right. Next. To. Him. 

Ignoring the million panic alarms going off in your head, you force a small smile and take your seat. The couch is even smaller than it seemed - there’s maybe two feet between you and him. You’re greeted with the inviting scent of his cologne. 

The two students resume their discussion. You sit there mostly in silence, nodding along, trying not to fixate on Seungkwan’s closeness. But it’s hard to focus on anything other than that - like, really hard.

The twenty-ish minutes pass rather quickly, and the conversation that you’ve contributed nothing to starts to wrap up. The two other students begin packing their bags. You pull out your phone to check the time - 4:57pm. A sense of relief washes over you as you’ll be forced to leave now - no more sitting there anxiously not knowing what to say - but you’re also feeling a little sulky about leaving so soon. You politely say goodbye back to your classmates, who are already on their way out the door. You go to put on your jacket only to discover you never took it off (no wonder it felt so warm in here). Grabbing your book and tossing it in your backpack, you hurry to leave as well before you manage to do or say something to embarrass yourself. 

“Bye! Thank you!” you say cheerily as you step out the door.

“Y/n?”

You stop in your tracks. You turn around to face Seungkwan, who is still sitting on the couch, reclined, with his arm now laying across the back where you just were. That makes you feel a lot of things, which you promptly ignore.

“Yeah?” you reply, hoping a smile will cover your nervousness.

“I believe you took my book.”

You stand there for a moment, confused, before you realize you never took your own copy out. The one you hastily threw into your bag was his. So much for not embarrassing yourself.

“Oh my god I’m SO sorry!!” you blurt out, swinging your backpack around and hurrying to retrieve it.

“It’s alright,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I did set it right next to you.”

You grab his copy out of your bag and hold it out to him sheepishly. He stands up and takes the book in his hand, his fingers brushing yours slightly. You’ve never been electrocuted, but you’re pretty sure what just jolted through your body was a similar sensation.

“Did you have any questions about the book?” he asks before you can bolt out the door. “You didn’t say much in our discussion today-” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he gently puts his hand up to stop you. “I just want to make sure I can help you if you came here with something specific in mind.” 

“Oh, um…” You hesitate, fiddling with your coat sleeve. You decide to tell the truth.  

“Honestly, not really. I kinda just came here to get an idea of how I can participate during class. Cuz, y’know. Don’t really want a zero.”

Seungkwan nods. “Your essays have been very good, I know you’re a highly capable student.” 

You try not to blush. You know he’s just talking about your coursework, but accepting compliments is not your forté. 

“I’m just… not a literature student, so I’m not used to taking classes like these. I guess I just get a little nervous that I’m gonna say something stupid.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him all this. 

“As long as you’ve read and understood the text, you won’t sound stupid - I promise.” 

You look down at the floor. Maybe these are normal things for TAs to say to students, but the fact that you’re kind of in love with him is not helping right now. 

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m the one grading you. I assure you you’ll get a good grade as long as you participate.”

“Well, that’s good news,” you say with a contented smile. You do feel reassured by his words. “Thanks again,” you say, as you turn to leave. 

“Oh, and y/n?”

You lock eyes with him, a recurring habit you seem to be unable to quit. 

“If you ever can’t make my office hours, feel free to email me. I’m sure we can find another time to meet one-on-one.”

One-on-one???

“Oh cool, I… appreciate that.” Does he say that to all his students?? He must, right? Don’t be delusional…

He nods courteously. “See you in class.”

“You too!” you add brightly as you finally head out the door. This time you do look back to see him still looking at you, with an ambiguous look on his face that you cannot decipher.

For the rest of the week, for once, you find yourself looking forward to Tuesday.

—

Tuesday. You resume your usual very-back-of-the-room spot for Discussion - but this time you finally engage in the class’ conversation. You still feel kinda dumb about it, but your TA’s promise of giving you a good grade so long as you participate sticks with you. Besides, who gives a shit what the other students think of you. There is only one person in that room whose opinion you care about, and you seem to have his approval, for reasons unclear to you. Maybe you are just a decent student. But the fact that there’s maybe something else there… You don’t let yourself develop delusions of grandeur, but there’s no crime in being cautiously optimistic. 

On Thursday you find yourself back at office hours, this time arriving a bit earlier - though much to your chagrin the two other students from last time are there again. You’re not sure exactly what you were hoping for if it was just you alone, especially considering you still don’t have any specific questions about the book, but you were kind of hoping it would happen anyway. But alas, you partake in office hours with company. You actually find yourself enjoying these literary discussions a bit, now that you (sort of) know how to engage with them properly.

And so you become a regular at Seungkwan’s office hours - Thursday afternoons quickly becoming the highlight of your week. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens between you two - and there’s always other students there whenever you attend - but you don’t see any harm in enjoying your time spent with him. 

Per usual, though, as finals approach more and more students start attending as well. One week you show up at 3pm sharp, only to find five students already there asking questions about their essays. You acknowledge that it’s probably just wishful thinking, but he does seem genuinely pleased to see you - pausing his conversation briefly to greet you, your name spoken warmly with a smile on his face. You make a mental note that he doesn’t greet anyone else who enters by name.

Seungkwan maintains a very patient and polite composure, but you get the sense that he is rather irked at the several students who are more or less trying to get him to write part of their essays for them. You chat for a few minutes with a friendly classmate you’ve become acquainted with, but ultimately you both give up on trying to talk to the TA and decide to leave. You sneak a quick glance back as you exit, catching Seungkwan’s eye right before you’re out of his line of sight. Though perhaps you weren’t so sneaky, because once you’re in the hallway your classmate nudges you with her elbow and teases, “Ooooh you have a crush on him don’t you?”

You scoff. “Oh please.”

“No seriously, he looked like a sad puppy seeing you go. You should ask him out.”

You roll your eyes and give her a “Yeah, right,” before casually changing the subject. But her comment sticks with you, and for days your mind keeps coming back to it. You’re hesitant to jump to conclusions, but the fact that she noticed it too… Perhaps you will shoot your shot after all. 

—

Taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t get a chance to speak with him during his regular office hours, you decide to take Seungkwan up on his offer. You did rewrite the email about 15 times, erase it repeatedly, and almost give up entirely, but in the end you came up with a message you deemed solidly good enough:

Hi Seungkwan, I was wondering if you have any availability to meet to discuss the current essay. I have a few questions that I feel would be easier to convey in person. I understand finals are a very busy time though, so if you aren’t available I completely understand. Thank you.

You hit send at 11:57pm on Sunday night, so you figure you’ll get a response the next morning. Before you can even close your laptop, you get an email notification.

Hi y/n, I’d be happy to meet with you. Are you available Tuesday evening after 6pm? I apologize for the odd hours, but that would be the most ideal time for me. However, if that does not work for you I’m sure we can figure something out.  Seungkwan

You sit and stare at your screen rereading it for a good five minutes. You hit the reply button.

Sure, that works for me! Thank you - I really appreciate it.

The light ping of a notification returns within seconds.

Of course, y/n. See you then.

You shut your laptop, your hand resting on top of it as your mind races, rapidly cycling between excited and anxious. You keep telling yourself to lower your expectations: you’re simply meeting with your TA to discuss your essay - which, you don’t actually have any questions about, so now you’ll have to make some shit up. But that can be a tomorrow problem. Tonight, you go to bed, half-coherent thoughts of literature, exams, and a certain pair of soft brown eyes floating around in your mind as you drift off to sleep. 

—

You wake up on Tuesday and immediately enter into panic mode. You can’t seem to focus on anything other than your date meeting with Seungkwan later - which of course you expected, but it’s pretty inconvenient considering you have so much to do with finals rapidly drawing near. Your Discussion class is finished for the semester, so you won’t be seeing him until evening - you’re not sure if this makes things better or worse, but it is what it is. You spend the entire afternoon in the library, sitting amongst the stacks, sort of studying but mostly doing a whole fucking lot of daydreaming instead.

After several hours of minimal productivity, you check the time: 5:36pm. You feel your heart start to beat faster. Since you’re clearly not going to get anything else done, you pack up your belongings and make your way to the Literature building. Might as well get there a little early.

You climb the four flights of stairs to the top floor, the building strangely empty. Making your way down to the very end of the hallway you wonder if Seungkwan will even be there yet or if you’ve arrived early for nothing - but as you approach you notice the door is ajar, the unexpected sound of alt rock music greeting your ears. You knock lightly on the doorframe as you poke your head into the office. Seungkwan, seated behind the large mahogany desk, seemingly absorbed in something on his laptop, looks up - you’ve clearly caught him a bit off guard.

“Hi, sorry - I’m a little early,” you apologize.

His face lights up in a warm smile. “No, uh - that’s alright!” he replies cheerfully. “Go ahead, take a seat,” he says as he gestures to the couch. 

You plop your backpack down on the ground and remove your coat, carefully tucking your skirt (a rare choice of clothing for you, but you figured fuck it, why not) under yourself as you take a seat on the comfy sofa. Seungkwan turns the music down to a faintly audible volume and rises from his desk chair, making his way over to you. You expected him to sit in the armchair across from you, but he comes and joins you on the couch instead. You can practically hear the rapid thumpthumpthumpthump of your heartbeat. 

“So, tell me about your essay,” he starts. His eyes linger on yours.  “What did you have questions about?”

Nonchalantly taking a deep breath, you take out your laptop and open it, pulling up your draft file. You basically had your paper planned out already, but you made up some questions to ask so as not to give away the fact that you literally had no academic reason to be here. You begin to explain your first question, which turns out to be an extremely difficult feat with him not only sitting so close to you, but also gazing at you softly, listening intently. You decide to avoid eye contact almost entirely. 

You chat about your essay topic for what feels like an eternity (you glance at the clock on your computer - it’s been 14 minutes). You’re in the middle of discussing the second point of your thesis when he interjects.

“Y/n, why are you really here?”

You feel the blood drain from your face. He’s onto me. It’s over.

“It’s very clear that you understand the book perfectly well. I really don’t think you need my help.”

You slowly look up at him, hesitating before opening your mouth to try and bullshit some response, but nothing comes out. 

“You know, I don’t normally schedule one-on-one office hours with students outside of my usual times.”

The blood comes rushing back to your cheeks. You feel like a fucking idiot.

“I’msosorry,” you blurt out. “I really wasn’t trying to waste your time I-”

“That’s not what I mean, y/n.”

You freeze. Does he mean…

Before you can even finish that thought he kisses you.

His hand cradles your face gently, drawing you closer to him as he presses his lips onto yours, electricity pulsing through your entire body - all you can think about is the way his lips feel, the way he softly brushes your cheek with his thumb, the way you want to throw your laptop across the room and throw yourself onto him so you can kiss him even more. 

As if he read your mind, he reaches down (still kissing you) and closes your laptop, picking it up and setting it aside carefully. You lap now vacant, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his, his soft kiss becoming more fervent. Your hand rests on his chest as you kiss him back - you feel the energy of his heart beating, at the same pace as yours, through the cozy sweater he has on. After several seconds (minutes? hours?) his lips part from yours, the sudden lack of sensation leaving you immediately longing for more; they linger mere inches from your face as your eyes meet his sensuous gaze. 

“Just one second,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper.

Seungkwan gets up and swiftly shuts the door - you hear the deep, satisfying thunk of the old door closing, followed by the subtle click of the lock. He then walks over to the desk to turn the music up to a decent volume before making his way back over to the couch. He barely resumes his seat before grasping onto you desperately, his face buried as he begins to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh at the unexpected sensation, wrapping your arms around his torso and drawing him in even tighter. His large hands caress your back as if trying to commit your shape to memory, as your hand slowly makes its way down his side - stopping when you reach his belt, resting on the waistline of his jeans which are very obviously becoming tighter by the second. 

You hesitate at first, but eventually your hand continues downward; Seungkwan sharply inhales as it lands on his growing bulge, his body tensing up against yours. He pulls his face from the crook of your neck, his lips immediately finding yours again, indulging in another kiss as he pulls you over onto his lap. You begin making out with him, your hand holding his warm, flushed cheek; your core, now exposed aside from the barrier of your underwear, presses against the hardness in his pants, causing soft moans to escape from the both of you. Before long, your hips begin to rock back and forth, grinding on his clothed cock - lightly at first, but with increasing intensity. You break away from his kiss; he looks at you, his eyelids heavy.

“Y/n…” he breathes out as he starts to kiss you again, “you don’t know how… wanted you so bad…”

“Me too,” you mutter.

He slides his hand under your skirt, finding your clit and beginning to circle it gently through your soaked underwear, causing you to whine softly.

“Oh fuck, you’re so wet,” he says in a low, husky voice, his fingertips increasing their pace against the sensitive bud. He then slips his finger under the hem of your panties, pulling them aside to expose your already-swollen cunt, the sharpness of the cool air hitting its wetness. You cry out as he slides one finger into you, followed by another, his thumb continuing to caress your clit. Your hips begin to rock again, fucking yourself against his perfectly-curled fingers that are hitting you in all the right spots, your speed quickly increasing with the overwhelming pleasure that has taken over your entire body. You feel it welling in your stomach, your orgasm growing nearer with each movement. You’re about to lose it when he slows your pace, looking at you with lust-filled eyes - you can tell what it is he wants. 

You reach down and undo his belt, unfastening his button and drawing down the zipper. His jeans out of the way, you pull the band of his underwear down, freeing his hardened cock - he lets out a groan as you begin to stroke its length. Precum has already begun to form, your fingers taking the wetness and gliding it over the head. 

“Please… wanna fuck you so bad…” He’s practically whimpering at this point.

You slide your pussy up and down his length a few times, causing him to recline his head against the couch as he breathes heavily. Finally you take his cock in your hand, placing it at your entrance and lowering yourself onto him, crying out at the sudden sensation of fullness. He groans as you slowly begin to ride him, his length hitting you in the perfect spot; you have to bite your lip to control yourself from becoming too loud - it feels even better than you’d ever imagined.

You begin to pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock as the sensation in your stomach begins to build again, even stronger now with him inside you. Your cries involuntarily become louder, prompting him to place his other hand over your mouth.

“Shhh, baby - don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You nod, tears welling in your eyes.

His soft grunts become more frequent - you can tell he’s getting close. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as you’re also nearing orgasm. He drops his hand from your mouth so he can grab onto your hips with both hands, holding you tight as he thrusts into you, full of vigor. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he says, his voice low and gruff.

“Want you to cum in me,” you reply breathily. He nods eagerly. You’re nearly there yourself. You cling to his face, giving him one more kiss before you can’t hold it in any longer.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,” you manage to get out before the white-hot sensation takes over your whole body. You cry out, your walls clenching around him, immediately sending him over the edge - his cock pulses as you feel his cum release inside you. 

As you come down from your high your body melts into his as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in. He plants a few soft kisses on your cheek as you sink into him, his cock still inside you. You lay there peacefully for an unknown amount of minutes, the rock music still playing in the background as he rubs your back gently. Eventually you sit up, pressing your nose against his.

“Does this mean I get an A?” you ask jokingly.

He laughs, his nose crinkling as he smiles. “You were going to get one anyway, I assure you the fact that I just had the best sex of my life will have no impact on your grade.”

You break out into laughter. You pause, then ask hesitantly, “Soooo, what does this mean?”

His brown eyes rest on yours. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to figure that out later,” he says pragmatically. A slight tinge of sadness comes across your face, but before you can say anything he continues.

“How does tonight over dinner sound?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“I think that sounds perfect.”

[end]

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Elvis Presley In Concert In Las Vegas D/S At The International Hotel On August 26th, In 1969.

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 26th Of August In 1969.

Known for a powerful stage presence Elvis Presley in total command of every room he has ever worked. But backstage at the International Hotel on July 31, 1969, Elvis Presley was pacing back and forth like a panther. In a few minutes, he would march out into what was then the largest showroom in Las Vegas, holding 2.000 people.rare candid photos of Elvis Presley wearing the white herringbone jumpsuit at this awesome show performance taken by fans and audience members who were at this show.

Track Listing | Dinner Show 26th, August 1969.

01  Blue Suede Shoes 3:06 (Carl Perkins) 02  I Got A Woman 2:44 (Ray Charles) 03  All Shook Up 3:50 (Otis Blackwell/Elvis Presley) 04  Love Me Tender 3:04 (Vera Matson/Elvis Presley) 05  Jailhouse Rock / Don't Be Cruel  2:23 (Jerry Leiber/Mike Stoller) / (Otis Blackwell/Elvis Presley) 06  Heartbreak Hotel 4:56 (Mae Boren Axton/Tommy Durden/Elvis Presley) 07  Hound Dog 1:35 (Jerry Leiber/Mike Stoller) 08  Memories 2:42 (Billy Strange/Mac Davis) 09  My Babe 4:23 (Willie Dixon) 10  Mystery Train / Tiger Man 3:39 (Junior Parker/Sam Phillips) / (Joe Hill Louis/Sam Burns) 11 Monologue 8:39 12  Baby, What You Want Me To Do 3:29 (Jimmy Reed) 13  Runaway 2:58 (Max Crook/Del Shannon) 14  Inherit The Wind 3:06 (Eddie Rabbitt) 15  Yesterday / Hey Jude 4:35 (John Lennon/Paul McCartney) 16 Introductions 4:35 17  In The Ghetto 3:04 (Scott 'Mac' Davis) 18  Suspicious Minds 7:48 (Mark James) 19  Can't Help Falling In Love 2:10 (Hugo Peretti/Luigi Creatore/George Weiss)

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue September 1, 1964

Yvonne Presser wears straight-leg trousers, a camisole with suspenders and a perfectly proportioned overcoat in grey herringbone haberdashery wool. By Norman Norell. Gloves by Lanolav. Sturdy, almost flat shoes by Debusschère.

Yvonne Presser porte un pantalon droit, caraco à bretelles et pardessus parfaitement proportionné en laine de mercerie à chevrons gris. Par Norman Norell. Gants par Lanolav. Chaussures robustes, presque plates, par Debusschère.

Photo David Bailey vogue archive

[revacholianpizzaagenda]

Sacred and Terrible Air ch1+2 summary

Chapters index

1. CHARLOTTESJÄL

Maj (5), Anni-Elin (12), Målin (13) and Charlotte Lund (14) are the daughters of education minister Ann-Margaret Lund and paper industrialist Karl Lund. On the 20th anniversary of the girls’ historic disappearance in a vacation area outside Vaasa, the narration goes through their last known movements, as told by the last people who saw them: the bus ride to the Charlottesjäl beach, the ice creams they always bought, the three meat piroshkis they splurged on.

On that day, three boys are discussing whether to call the girls or to wait some more when a super deep paleness fills the room.

2. CLASS REUNION

We are introduced to the three boys in the present time (72, Vaasa, end of September).

Inayat Khan is an unemployed Iilmaraan living with his mother and a collector of disappearances-related memorabilia. Badly dressed, fat, bespectacled, unshaven, big sad eyes. Jesper de la Guardie is a high concept interior designer whose shoes alone are worth 3k reál. Blond, blue eyes, rich, empty inside. Tereesz Machejek is a Zsiemski International Collaboration Police agent. Potato-haired skrunkled beanpole in a herringbone coat. We begin to see how their lives are still tragically wrapped around the girls’ disappearance, to the point of fetishizing a scrunchie. The trio meets again on the occasion of a class reunion. Reconnecting past a falling out with Khan a few years back, Jesper has news and invites the others to a certain cafe to share them – he will need to use the projector there. As they leave, distant sleigh bells are heard.

La Puta Madre is name-dropped in passing in 64, still going strong as an interisolary drug lord, if anyone asked.

[super-pink-a-palouza]

Building a Sim look but with only links (the sims resource addition)

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 1 INFO

Round 1 will be posted between Friday, November 10th and Thursday, November 16th. It will be split between 4 sets, each set being posted on a different day. There will be a total of 128 participants (32 participants in each individual set) divided in 64 polls (16 polls in each individual set). By the end of Round 1, 64 participants will make it to Round 2 while the rest will be sent to the Shadow Realm where their souls will be tormented for eternity. Each poll will last a week. As the sets are posted, I will link them below.

ROUND 1A

Cinderella (Disney's Cinderella Animated) vs. Ella (Disney's Cinderella Live-Action Remake)

Hatsune Miku as Cinderella (Various Songs) (Vocaloid) vs. Hello Kitty as Cinderella (Hello Kitty no Cinderella)

Cinderella/Aschenputtel/Cendrillon (German/General European Fairytale Variant) vs. Vasilisa the Beautiful (Russian/East European Fairytale Variant)

Rhodopis (Greek Fairytale Variant) vs. Ye Xian (Chinese Fairytale Variant)

Hamupipőke (Hungarian Fairytale Variant) vs. Eun Ha Won (Cinderella with Four Knights)

Mireleh (The Way Meat Loves Salt by Nina Jaffe/Louise August) vs. Settarah (The Persian Cinderella by Shirley Climo/Robert Florczak)

Cendrillon (Otogi-Juushi Akazukin) vs. Leila Takashiro (Hime Chen! Otogi Chikku Idol Lilpri)

Hoshizora Miyuki / "Cure Happy" as Cinderella (Smile PreCure/Glitter Force) vs. Mofurun as "Mofurella" (Mahou Tsukai PreCure)

Giselle Lai (Cinderelle) vs. Isabell Heartwell (Cinder's Ball)

Cinderella (Grimms Notes) vs. Cinderella Mary Skelter)

Queen Cinderella Charming (The Land of Stories by Chris Colfer) vs. Ella of Maidenvale / Cinderella (The School for Good and Evil by Soman Chainani)

Eleanor / Cinderella (The Wide-Awake Princess by E.D. Baker) vs. Elegant "Ella" Herringbone Coach (Disenchanted: The Trials of Cinderella by Megan Morrison)

Vassa (Vassa in the Night by Sarah Porter) vs. Vasilisa "Vasya" Petrovna (The Winternight trilogy by Katherine Arden)

Cinderella (Fables) vs. Cinderella "Cindy" Baxter (The Sisters Grimm)

Mia Basile (Cinderella the Cat) vs. Rose Cinderella (Regal Academy)

Maria Aparecida "Cida" dos Santos Souza (Cheias de Charme) vs. La Cenerentola (La Cenerento Laossia La Bontà in Trionfo)

ROUND 1B

Ella of Frell (Ella Enchanted book by Gail Carson Levine) vs. Ella of Frell (Ella Enchanted movie)

Cinderellis (Cinderellis and the Glass Hill by Gail Carson Levine) vs. Danielle Whiteshore (nee de Glas) (Princess series by Jim C. Hines)

Imogen Keegan (Damsel Distressed by Kelsey Macke) vs. Jess Parker (The Cinderella Society by Kay Cassidy)

Cinderella/Prinzessin (Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters & Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG) vs. Fairy Tail - Rella (Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG)

Cindy (How to Save Your Tail by Mary Elizabeth Hanson) vs. Cinderumpelstiltskin (The Stinky Cheese Man by Jon Scieszka/Lane Smith)

Cinder Edna (Cinder Edna by Ellen Jackson) vs. Cinderella (Cinderella Penguin, or, the Little Glass Flipper by Janet Perlman)

Cindy (If the Shoe Fits by Julie Murphy) vs. Elle Wittimer (Geekerella by Ashley Poston)

Bronwyn Murdoch (The Prince Who Loved Me by Karen Hawkins) vs. Sophie Beckett (An Offer From a Gentleman by Julia Quinn)

Ella (Cinder Ella by S.T. Lynn) vs. Cynthia "Cyn" Robinson (Cinders) (Sapphic Fairy Tales by Cara Malone)

Lucinda Jarvis (Grimm) vs. Queen Cinderella (10th Kingdom)

Sam Montgomery (A Cinderella Story) vs. Mary Santiago (Another Cinderella Story)

Katie Gibbs (A Cinderella Story: Once Upon a Song) vs. Cinderella (Cinderella 2021)

Cinderella (Bad Cinderella) vs. Ella (Happily N'Ever After)

Ella (The Glass Slipper) vs. Cinderella (The Slipper and the Rose)

Ashlynn Ella (Ever After High) vs. Threadarella (Monster High: Scarily Ever After)

Danielle de Barbarac (Ever After) vs. Popelka (Three Wishes for Cinderella)

ROUND 1C

Miss Piggy as "Lady Holiday" (The Great Muppet Caper) vs. CinderElmo (Sesame Street: CinderElmo)

Minnie Mouse as "Minnie-rella" (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse) vs. Baby Gonzo as "Gonzo-rella" (Muppet Babies 2018)

Brittany Miller as Cinderella (Alvin and the Chipmunks) vs. Scrooge McDuck as "Scroogerello" (Ducktales)

Chuckie Finster as "Finsterella" (Rugrats) vs. Cinderella (Sabrina: The Animated Series)

Fella (Cinderfella) vs. Popeye the Sailor Man as "Cinderfella" (Popeye the Sailor man: Ancient Fishtory)

Betty Boop as Cinderella (Betty Boop: Poor Cinderella) vs. Cinderella (Swing Shift Cinderella)

Barbie as Cinderella (Barbie Dolls) vs. Yasmin as Cinderella (Bratz: Kids Fairy Tales)

Cinderella (Collector Plates) vs. Ella (Total Drama: Pahkitew Island)

Touya Kinomoto as Cinderella (Cardcaptor Sakura) vs. Saki Hanajima as "Cinderella-ish" (Fruits Basket)

Reki Kyan as "Cindereki" (Sk8 the Infinity) vs. Mettaton as Cinderella (Undertale)

Cinderella (Stand of Aya Tsuji) (Jojo's Biazzre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable) vs. Cendrillon (Persona of Sumi Yoshizawa/Violet) (Persona 5)

Cinderella (Once Upon a Crime) vs. Dulcie Hastings (nee Duveen) aka Cinderella (Murder on the Links) (Hercule Poirot series by Agatha Christie)

Scarecrow as "Scarecrowella" (D'Ocon Mumfie) vs. Ella Brown (Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix)

Princess Petra / Spinstress as "Spinderella" (Earth-423) (Marvel Comics) vs. Cinderella (Girl Genius Fairytale Theater Break: Cinderella)

Cendrillon (Cendrillon by Telephone) vs. Cinderella (Cinderella by The Cheetah Girls)

Harper Finkle as "Harperella" (Wizards of Waverly Place) vs. Morgan Philip (Disenchanted)

ROUND 1D

Cinderella (Dimension 20: Neverafter) vs. Cinders (Once Upon a Time in Space by the Mechanisms)

Linh Cinder / Selene Blackburn (The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer) vs. Cinderella (Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella 1997)

Carrie White (Carrie by Stephen King) vs. Cinder Fall (RWBY)

Cinderella (Into the Woods) vs. Cinderella / Princess Ella / Ashley Boyd (Once Upon a Time)

Cinderella (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Cinderella (Shrek series)

Cinders (Cinders) vs. Lucette Riella Britton (Cinderella Phenomenon)

Cinderella (SINoALICE) vs. Cinderella (TAISHO x ALICE)

Cinderella (Sid Story) vs. Rin Hoshiora as Cinderella (Love Live)

Aisling "Ash" (Ash by Malinda Lo) vs. Xing Xing (Bound by Donna Jo Napoli)

Clara (Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire) vs. Ella Saturday (Witches Abroad) (Discworld series by Terry Pratchett)

Euphemia "Effie" Reeves (Ten Thousand Stitches by Olivia Atwater) vs. Kate Kassell / Nate Ganymede (After the Ball)

Cinderella (Burn the Witch) vs. Shindou Rei (Boku wa Ohime-sama ni Narenai)

Cinderella (Cinderella Monogatari) vs. Haine Otomiya / "Seashore Cinderella" (The Gentleman's Alliance Cross)

Ghauri (Azure Striker Gunvolt) vs. Miyo Saimori (My Happy Marriage)

Ashley Vans (A Wicked Tale of Cinderella's Stepmom / I Raised Cinderella Preciously) vs. Cinciarell Winchestion (Don't Call Javotte an Evil Stepsister)

Cinderella (Blood Bank) vs. Itsumi Tachibana (You Are My Princess)

[kicksaddictny]

Unveiling the Air Jordan XXXIX: A New Era in Performance and Style

In a breathtaking display of athleticism, Michael Jordan once again demonstrates his prowess on the court. Positioned on the left wing, Jordan sizes up his defender, executes a deft rocker step, and explodes off his left foot towards the hoop. With a seamless blend of skill and grace, he dribbles between his legs, switches the ball to his left hand, and crosses over his defender, leaving him rooted to the spot. Jordan then ascends effortlessly for a flawless jump shot, sinking the basket with aplomb.

This iconic move inspired the creation of the Air Jordan XXXIX, the latest release in the illustrious Air Jordan line. Designed to encapsulate the essence of Jordan’s game, the XXXIX is engineered for the modern player committed to mastering the sport’s most dynamic movements.

At the heart of the Air Jordan XXXIX is an innovative cushioning system, featuring a groundbreaking combination of full-length ZoomX foam and full-length Air Zoom. This marks the first time these two technologies have been used together in a basketball shoe. The ZoomX foam, renowned for its lightweight and responsive properties, has powered some of the most impressive performances in running. The Air Zoom, a staple in the Jordan Brand’s legacy, delivers enhanced responsiveness and comfort, having been a key component in models like the Air Jordan XII and XXIII. In the XXXIX, the Air Zoom unit is seamlessly integrated within the ZoomX foam, offering a cushioned yet agile feel that conforms to your foot’s natural movement. An innovative cup sole design further stabilizes the foot, enhancing performance during high-intensity plays.

Joël Greenspan, Senior Design Director for Jordan Brand Performance Footwear, notes that the Air Jordan XXXIX might appear more understated compared to its predecessors. “Our focus was on shape, proportion, and stance,” says Greenspan. “We wanted the shoe to prioritize performance over flashy aesthetics. Our goal was to ensure that athletes immediately recognize they’re getting the most advanced performance system available.”

Every aspect of the Air Jordan XXXIX reflects a meticulous attention to detail, driven by a commitment to optimizing directional changes and responsiveness. The shoe’s upper features an embroidered textile with a computational design, derived from extensive testing at the Nike Sport Research Lab (NSRL). By analyzing the mechanics of Jordan’s cross-step in slow motion, designers crafted a unique pattern that flexes in tandem with the shoe’s movement. Natural leather overlays provide added support in high-stress areas, while the herringbone traction pattern on the outsole is engineered for superior grip during sharp turns. The shoe’s tongue height and heel contours have been precisely calibrated to minimize chafing, ensuring a comfortable fit.

“This is Michael Jordan’s signature shoe,” Greenspan adds. “From the cushioning to the materials to the construction, every element of the Air Jordan XXXIX represents the pinnacle of performance.”

The Air Jordan XXXIX will be available for purchase on July 23 at jordan.com and select retailers.

[romanticfatale]

hi! i don’t usually send asks but i have to say that i LOVE your fashion/style so much. i’m also a goth transman with long hair so it’s really nice to feel represented with your posts! also if you’re ok with sharing,where do you get your clothes from mostly? or do you make them? i find it really hard to find gothic/alt clothing that’s more masculine so anything helps!

Thanks!

A combination of things. Thrift stores, eBay, Poshmark, Macy’s, a few pieces from taobao Lolita shops, and I tailor some my clothes to fit better.

I try to buy non-US shoe sizes since my shoe size is more common overseas for men or unisex unless I look at boy’s shoes. Women’s shoes in the US are sadly inferior quality much of the time.

My style heavily leans towards aristocratic and corporate goth. With that in mind:

Tommy Hillfiger, Ted Baker, Bar III, Nick Graham, Robert Graham, and Paul Jones have some of my favorite trousers, dress shirts, and waistcoats. They’re not brands you look to for alt or goth, but my black lace trousers, floral dress shirts, print vests and sports coats, and many other favorite pieces come from them. Styling right is part of the effort. They have fun pieces if you wade through 30 pages of bland-and-average menswear.

Buy winter clothes in the summer. Buy summer clothes in the winter. I’ve bought $300+ stuff marked down to $30~$50 because they’re “out of season” or low on stock.

Ross and thrift for some interesting but cheap items. I sadly passed up a studded long sleeve fish net shirt last week.

International Lolita shops like LolitaWardrobe and My-Lolita-Dress for blouses, coats, hats. Lolita, Aristocrat, and Ouji are luxury fashion so they are more expensive. I dislike Lolita trousers, honestly just buy actual men’s trousers from known menswear stores.

alice auaa, Madaraningen, Milkboy, and Lad Musician are some nice brands with unique items. They’re also expensive however, but even getting ideas from them is helpful to recreate. Lad Musicusn inspired me into more masculine florals.

eBay and local thrift for unique vintage jewelry. Vintage coats and accessories go a long way to style a contemporary outfit.

60s and 70s had more frills on men’s clothes. Women’s 70s~80s tops and coats have shoulder padding and were made to look more masculine.

Prints, patterns, and textures are great. Straight bright red on black can be jarring if not look costumey so corduroy, houndstooth, or herringbone can tone it down while still looking either alt or professional (or both).

Multi purpose wardrobe pieces. A herringbone red vest can be alt or job interview depending on how it’s accessorized.

Be specific. Don’t just look for “goth rings” look for “anatomical heart ring with dagger” or “spider with eyeball body” or whatever your idea will be. Someone somewhere Will have it, give or take price. This also helps you look more unique. Everyone and their goth mothers have the same dagger earrings by now because every Etsy and eBay jeweler uses the same charms from the same retailers.

If you Don’t want to spend a lot of money, learning tools of trade for cheap helps. Use sandpaper to distress clothes, learn embroidery, braid scrap cloth. Bed sheets and curtains are a good source of cheap swaths of fabric. I used scraps from tailored leather trousers to make a braided hat band. My other trouser trimmings I made into masks. Cut holes into a shirt in a spider web pattern. Cut off the sleeves of a shirt and reattach them with a zipper. Creative endeavors add a unique touch.

I’ve had the luxury of a brief stint at a couple well paid jobs, ten ish years to build up my wardrobe, and another 3 ish years to get explicitly masc pieces so don’t feel like you have to rush right now. Focus on adding to your current wardrobe. If you ever think “this would look better if I had red shoes” save for the red shoes. It adds up over the years.

[yozakurabae]

i forgot to post this in here >.<

point is…

i drew my boruto faves, deciding to give them a more high-end look to them since for some reason their time skip designs seems to look more like modern outfits compared to the outfits in naruto

HAUNT COUTURE CODE AND SARADA !!!!

- a stylish take to code’s vampiric fashion and a ghastly look for sarada’s haunting beauty

do not repost !!

it was really fun drawing and designing them !!

under the cut i included the details for each of their outfits in case anyone is curious :3

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Code

- dress shirt - a sheer (see through) dress shirt with one sleeve since he’s always covered up, thought we could have something different for a change

- sleeveless crop top - covering his chest so not everything is shown due to the sheer shirt but cropped so it’s still seen

- tie - tied into a large bow for a more dressy look

- belt - around his torso to replicate a corset [was gonna give him a corset but thought it’d be too similar to Sarada] and ties at the back

- metal chains - herringbone chains hanging off his belt loops. his original triangle earrings are used as charms to decorate

- pants - a unique take to men’s pants by incorporating lace in a pattern of spiderwebs to keep the gothic elements

- shoes - anti gravity (heel-less) dress shoes inspired by his claw marks

- earrings - mismatched earrings. his left earring has a skull hanging to represent his goal in carrying out Isshiki’s will resulting in the worst possible future, his right earring was inspired by the claw-like shape his hands take during battle

- glove - gave him a short glove on his left hand to add an extra accessory

- metal armor with cape - the armor’s chain has a diamond shape to represent his karma. a lot of code’s canon look appears to be heavily inspired by Dracula so i took it for a more modern take. the armor has a shape inspired by a bat’s wings. it wraps around his back and covers the left side of his chest to protect the heart (vampire’s are killed with a stake through the heart). a cape was added since Dracula is depicted with one and for a more regal appearance as Isshiki’s heir, giving the impression of being the “Kara Prince”

Sarada

- dress - long sheer dress to replicate a ghastly appearance

- bodysuit - worn under her dress to preserve her modesty

- corset - added to accessorize and accentuate her slim waist

- cape - a sheer cape with laced trimming. the lace pattern replicates the Sharingan. as the Uchiha Princess, it was added to give her a more princess-y look and feel

- choker with chain necklace - a choker to keep an element of her original time skip design and the herringbone chains that go down her are done in a way to replicate a skeleton’s torso

- garter - a thorn garter to hold her kunai knife. in the shape of thorns to keep the spooky factor

- shoes - heeled boots with skull platforms. a skeletal forearm and hand act as the heel. the Uchiha Clan are dead, so this is done to show that. has chains for decor and hanging off each are her original earrings from her time skip design

- earrings - heart shaped spiderwebbed earrings since Uchihas are the clan who treasure love the most

- handbag - in the shape of a tombstone with the Uchiha crest on it to pay homage to the Uchiha Clan Massacre

- headpiece - is around her head and veil hangs over her face in place of her glasses. Sarada is often seen accessorized with a camellia flower, so it was included to add a touch of cuteness to her gothic look

[seungkw1]

office hours – bsk {TEASER}

full fic out now!!

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: college au, nonidol!au ♡ teaser wc: 0.8k ♡ warnings: none for the teaser but there will be smut in the full thing :) ♡ a/n: this whole thing is a highly self-indulgent fic so if reader is down horrendous for bsk… u know why

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

You fucking hate Tuesdays. 

There’s nothing actually wrong with your Tuesday schedule - on the contrary it’s probably the best day of the week in terms of lectures and extracurriculars. Your first class of the day, Developmental Psychology, doesn’t start til 11am, so you get to sleep in - always a win in your book. Afterwards you have an hour and a half break, usually spent by eating lunch in the student center and then a visit to the campus library to get some studying done. Then your 2pm Discussion for your Intro to Fiction class, followed by yoga at the gym - and since your work-study job at the Cognitive Research Lab doesn’t have you scheduled for Tuesdays, you get to go home right after. All in all, a pretty laid-back day in your hectic college life.

Except for that stupid 2pm Discussion. 

As a Psychology major you didn’t anticipate having to take any Literature courses, but you needed to fill an elective and Intro to Fiction had a reputation for being a fun, low-stakes course. It also fit conveniently into your Fall Semester schedule, so you signed up. Professor Mendoza turned out to be super nice and never gives any bullshit extra homework, and the assigned books have been surprisingly enjoyable. No, none of that is the problem. 

The problem is the hot TA you’ve inadvertently fallen in love with. 

Your first encounter with Seungkwan had been a bit embarrassing - the first week of the semester you somehow went to the completely wrong building, and even with speed walking you arrived to Discussion about 5 minutes late. You tried to sneak in quietly but the loud, creaky door hinge had other plans. Twenty-some pairs of eyes turned to stare at the idiot latecomer, but the pair you locked onto were the soft brown ones surrounded by long dark eyelashes, belonging to the blazer-wearing grad student standing at the front of the classroom. 

You would’ve been embarrassed in this situation anyway, but the unexpected eye contact made your stomach drop and your face turn hot. You stood there for a few moments too long, before muttering a feeble “sorry” under your breath as you made your way to the only empty seat in the room - which of course was located at the very front, immediately before the TA. You quickly took your seat and pulled out a notebook (not even the right one, but you were too frazzled to notice). The TA, whose name you missed due to being late, resumed his lecture. You started writing down everything he was saying - definitely not necessary, but you were doing your best to focus without looking up. 

Your face eventually stopped burning up, but this classroom was particularly warm and stuffy. You set down your pen and took your cardigan off, hanging it over the back of the chair. Mindlessly looking up, you look at the TA for the first time since sitting down. He too had discarded his outerwear - the muted brown herringbone blazer now laying aside on the teacher’s desk upon which he was leaning. His dark brown shoes matched his dark brown pants - which weren’t tight but certainly hugged his thighs nicely, but you tried not to think about that - and he was currently rolling up the sleeves of his medium gray button down - and you definitely tried not to think about that. You put your head back down and focused on your note-taking, transcribing everything without actually processing any of what he said. This was all very strange for you - sure some of your past TAs had been nice looking, but why was this particular one making you this flustered? 

The clock ticked on at an unbearably slow pace. You took your notes and paid no attention, not joining in on the conversation even once. You just have to make it through the hour, you kept telling yourself. But the hour seemed to never end. 

You snap out of it as the TA finally wraps up the class. 

“Don’t forget to read through chapter 5,” he reminds everyone. You realize you don’t even know which book you’re supposed to be reading, but it’s too late to ask now - you’ve looked like enough of a fool today already. Quickly packing your bag, you try to make your escape but as you are heading toward the door the TA calls out to you. Shit.  

“I just need to get your name - for attendance,” he tells you as you turn back around. 

“Oh… yeah,” you reply. You silently curse yourself for how stupid you sound. You tell him your name and he makes note of your attendance in his notes. You try to escape again but not before he sticks his hand out to you. 

“Seungkwan,” he introduces himself. You make the mistake of looking into those big round doe eyes again. He was even more beautiful up close. SHIT. 

You shake his hand, trying to do so as quickly as possible, but he has a very strong grip. 

“Nice to have you in class,” he says warmly. 

“Nicetomeetyoutoo!” you reply, taking your hand back and turning to dart out the door before he can get another word in. 

You don’t look back, so you don’t see how his eyes are glued to you as you hurriedly exit the classroom. 

{to be continued...}

—

likes & reblogs much appreciated ♡

[patcaps]

if you had to imagine pat and cap (or anyone else) in different outfits to the ones they died in, what outfits would you give them?

pat - shirt and jumper because he clearly wore them a lot, or perhaps a chunky cardi with big buttons, some soft trousers or light jeans, a brown duffel coat with toggles / sandy tan jacket (leather or sheepskin) with a borg collar / oversized tan mac, sturdy brown shoes like his canon ones or equally sturdy boots. i also really want him in a flatcap for personal reasons

cap - fawny coloured thick trousers (belted or with suspenders) with a light shirt tucked, wool waistcoat or knitted vest (red please), double breasted coat (maybe tweed with a fur collar, or a houndstooth or herringbone stripe) / shearling leather trench coat, and smart shoes or sturdy boots again like his canon ones