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wheelsup · 3 years

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the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches.

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now.

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

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Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.”

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years

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Did You Get the Sensation Today? (Flirting in Walmart, Pt. 3); Calum Hood

a/n: yeah❤️

description: you’re the opening act for 5sos and your boyfriend is the bass player. just cute and fluffy.

“Y/N! How’s the metronome in your ear?”

You fumbled with your earpiece, only looking up from where your eyes were boring into the floor because of the voice resounding around the room. Your eyes lifted to glance in the general area of the sound technician and your ears began to focus on the beeping in your left ear.

“Good!” You mumbled into your microphone. “Little more, like 1 notch.”

He turned it up and you nodded. “Thanks!”

You went back to twisting the wire around the ear piece, struggling to get it to stay out of the curve of your lobe. You jumped when you felt warm hands move yours away and adjust the wire.

“Hey, love, s’just me,” Cal spoke through a soft smile, “did I scare ya?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know you’d gotten here yet,” you grinned, looking to him. You tossed your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your level.

He kissed you gently, fingers moving to cradle your jaw and waist carefully. You tugged yourself away and removed your hands, not wanting to make any of the crew uncomfortable with your affection. Cal reached to squeeze your hand before walking away, most likely to the dressing room.

You wrapped up with the sound guy, sang through a portion of your songs, and were sent away to retrieve the boys for their turn. You giddily pranced down the hallway, reaching their door quickly.

You knocked before shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. You waited three seconds before Michael opened the door. Moose ran out and circled around your feet.

You cooed at him as you moved into the room. Nickelback was, of course, playing, and Ashton was drumming his heart on his drum pads. He stopped to wave at you before wiping away a beat of sweat on his forehead and jumping back in.

Luke was sat in front of a mirror, examining his eyes, which Sierra had been helping him learn to put makeup on. She sat next to him, giggling at something he said. Crystal wasn’t here, most likely catching up on sleep, and Calum was on the couch. His leg was tucked under the other, Converse-clad foot tapping against carpeted floor. You hadn’t even noticed his outfit earlier, but now you were pleased with the black skinny jeans and green Empathy hoodie.

You moved to him, grinning wider now, and plopped beside him. He looked up from his phone and smiled at you. “Hey, lovie.”

He reached out a hand, cupping your cheek. Calum kissed you as your hand balanced against his forearm.

“Hey,” you separated, bit your lip as a blush painted your expression. “How was press?”

“Good. The same old, but today we actually played a fun game with reading Tweets from fans,” he began.

You moved so you were facing him, hugging your knees to your chest. Nonchalantly, he pulled your legs over his lap; “Someone asked if we were dating. And then in another interview, the lady asked if I was still single.”

You tilted your head as it leaned against your palm. “Did you tell them?”

“Slightly,” he scrunched up his face. “I said that I was seeing someone. But I didn’t wanna violate your privacy without your permission.”

You shrugged, and tugged one of his hands into your lap, “I think you should. Honestly, let’s post an Instagram photo right now.”

“Yeah?” He said, excitedly.

“Mhm,” you flicked your brows up with assurance.

He picked his phone up again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Calum flushed your side against his, pressing his cheek to yours. You didn’t even have to smile because one was already grinning on your lips. Calum took one like that, then kissed your cheek. In the third, his fingers pushed up your tshirt and tickled the skin. You laughed loudly, shoving your face into his neck. He texted the photos to you, then opened Instagram.

“sending love from my girl and i”

You opened the tag notification and automatically liked it. The caption made your heart swoon. You grabbed his face by the chin and kissed him again.

“Go to sound check, you absolute sweetheart.”

The boys all left you and Sierra to a silent room, Luke having turned off Nickelback for the time being. She sunk into the couch next to you with a sigh.

“How ya doing?” She asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

You breathed deeply and responded, “Falling. Fast.”

She laughed, “I noticed. You okay with it?”

“Ya know, I think I am,” you looked her straight in the eye and nodded. “Wanna come help me get ready?”

“Yes!”

You abandoned the boys’ room for your own, slightly smaller dressing room. It was right next door, fit with a small couch, a vanity, and a an unopened rack of your clothing. You took a seat at the vanity, Sierra plopping into the couch again. “Helping” you get ready meant choosing music, curling the pieces of hair you couldn’t reach, and picking out shoes that matched your belt.

Tonight’s outfit was red fishnets, a black corduroy skirt, and a shirt which you still hadn’t figured out. You were half dressed, even in your platform combat boots, tearing through the rack in search of a shirt. Nothing was fitting your taste, and you were slightly frustrated. Sierra had long since left to find water, which you had drank the last of in your dressing room.

You pulled on your other tshirt and walked to the boys’ dressing room. They had just gotten back, though Ashton and Michael were apparently still doing something onstage. Luke was picking through his rack and Calum was at his own things, shirtless, still in his black skinny jeans.

“Hey, again,” Luke laughed at your appearance. “You ready?”

“Always!” You grinned. “I love doing smaller crowds.”

“Same,” Luke replied before going back to his things.

Calum sent you a wave while continuing to go through his rack. “You look cute tonight. I love the fishnets.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, “they’re new.”

“What’s wrong?” He turned to you, leaning against the crate with his arm.

You stuck your hands on your hips, “I didn’t buy a shirt to go with it.”

Calum hummed in response. He looked you up and down, tapped his chin, and turned back to his things. He flicked through hangers before pulling out your favorite shirt of his.

“Wanna borrow this?” He held it out to you.

Your eyes widened, along with your lips. You hesitantly reached for the hanger, “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. It matches pretty well. And you look good in my things, so. It might be big, but if you tie it in a knot at the front, it’ll work.”

You took it from him before launching forward to give him a big kiss. “Thanks so much. Love you.”

You were out the door before he could respond or you could process what you just said. Luke grinned at his hands, tossing his head over to look at Cal.

“You good?”

Calum was bright red, from the tips of his tattoos to the curve of his ears, his skin was warm and his stomach tingley.

“I-“ he held up his hands in question. “I just...I would’ve said it back. But she...” he whistled. Calum shook his head and returned to finding a shirt.

You didn’t see Calum again until after your set. You could tell the vast majority of the fans recognized the shirt- it was a small show- and you enjoyed getting to tease their minds with the idea. In general, you felt so confident in his shirt, smelling of his cigarettes and cologne and your own coconut perfume.

You knew he was watching, swung your hips more during the curves of your songs. At the end, you thanked everyone and strutted off. You b-lined for Calum once your mic was given to a stage hand.

He covered you in his hands, kisses, the silk of his button up all you saw as his lips molded into your own.

“I love you, too. Oh, and please wear my shirt more often.”

TAG LIST: @dinosaursandsocks @everydayimfangirling @truly-charmed @wallows-spring @oopsiedoopsie23 @cuddlyklaus @mantlereid , @boxofteenageideas , @ashhdaniellee95 @stephaniemelville-blog @zhangyixingxing1

#5sos fanfic #5sos fluff #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood fluff #calum hood blurb #calum hood fic

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parkersharthook · 4 years

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Fashion Headcanon

the fashion hc that no one asked for... (think college age)

Aang

Aang is all about comfort mixed with practicality and a hint of fashion/trendiness

Most days you’ll find him in athletic shorts or sweatpants in neutral tones like gray or white, with a plain tee

He also lives in his yellow high tops that are more dirt than yellow at this point. They’re super worn in and comfortable for him now, but it’s unusual to see him without them

But when he needs to dress up for events or dates or whatever, he likes to look nice but still casual

His idea of dressing up would be khaki pants (maybe joggers for casual dates) with a white button down/polo

One time he showed up to an event in his yellow converse so Katara got him some nice brown dress boots so he has /options/

You’ll also never find him in any cool tones, he loves warm colors (yellows, oranges, reds)

He’s overall a pretty happy and chill guy and that reflects in his clothing but he still has a grasp on what is acceptable in certain situations and definitely dresses appropriately

For the most part he just looks really snuggly and soft

Katara

Katara also really values comfort but she takes a little more pride in her appearance

For everyday wear she’ll usually wear jeans of some kind (usually distressed and mom style) but she’ll still look put together

If she’s wearing her blue jeans, she’ll pair them with a loose band tee that’s either cropped, tied in the front, or tucked in precisely (she loves showing the waist of her pants)

If she’s wearing black/white jeans, she’ll wear a blue shirt. She prefers navy and darker tones of blue but she has a quite a few in pastel as well

Sometimes the shirts are just tshirts, but sometimes they’re a little tighter and trendier to help her dress up the outfit

For the most part she lives in her doc martens, and she finds them to be both practical and adorable

However for fancier events she pops off

She’ll dress up in satin dresses that are navy and fall just below her knee or will wear white corduroy skirts with cute flowy tops

She has platform sneakers for when it’s not too fancy but she also has a lot of heels and sandals in neutral colors

Even though Katara does like to look good, because it makes her feel good, she isn’t too overly worried about her appearance

However in most people’s eyes, she never looks bad and walks with an effortless beauty that makes all her outfits look great

Sokka

Sokka lives for practical clothing

He wears basketball shorts almost every day (unless it’s cold and then he wears sweatpants) with a hoodie or plain tee

While he’s not out naked, he definitely doesn’t really put that much effort into his day to day look

But honestly he doesn’t really need to because Sokka is a hottie who wows everyone he meets

But he also works out a lot and works with his hands, so practical clothing is generally the only thing he thinks is appropriate

When he’s working on something a little more hands on, he’ll wear denim to protect his skin and he doesn’t really care if they get ruined, because they’re his work pants

However when he dresses up… he is a stunner

He’ll wear form fitting pants that show off his toned thighs and butt. They’ll usually be either dark blue or black dress pants

He pairs that with a usually white (occasionally a lighter blue or black) dress shirt that is typically rolled up to his elbows but that’s good because his forearms

Despite the fact that he usually wears sneakers or boots every day, his shoe collection is pretty impressive because he’s a prepared man. So he wears nicer polo shoes or low cut brown boots to pull together the look

People never really expect Sokka to look as fine as he does at those events, because they’re used to seeing him very casual and comfy

But even though people think Sokka doesn’t care about his appearance, he does… he just doesn’t like to waste time on work/school days when he could sleep a little more

But when he can actually get dressed up, he kinda lives for it

For the most part, Sokka dresses how he pleases and doesn’t let others tell him what to do with himself

But he’s comfortable in his style and in his skin which makes him confident

Toph

Toph grew up with overbearing parents who dictated how she dressed, and so when she began to live on her own she really wanted to explore other styles and options

For a while she experimented with casual fancy styles like sundresses and skirts and such. And honestly she really likes them and thinks they’re cute, but not for day to day

She then evolved into more of a skater, tomboy look which she really rocks

She has a wide range of jean, khaki, and athletic shorts that she pairs with simple shirts

Her shirts are usually band tees, or plain colors and she really likes earth tones

She has likes oversized outerwear, like big flannels, hoodies, or bombers that kind of swallow her frame

She prefers shorts but when she wears pants, it’s usually sweatpants or yoga pants. She doesn’t like her bottoms to be too tight and restricting because she likes to have full range of motion, so if they’re tight they have to be stretchy

Also she kicks the bottom of all her shoes out so she can see (yes bending exists here and she’s blind bc I say so), but she mainly wears canvas sneakers like vans or low converses

Because she experimented early on with her outfits, when she has to dress up she really likes casual sundresses

Sometimes she’ll wear a jean skirt, but none of her dresses or skirts will be tight

She’s not necessarily trying to hid her body/curves but she’s just so much more comfortable in loose/flowy clothing and it still looks really good on her

Even at fancier events, she’ll wear sneakers because sandals don’t really work without bottoms and heels are a fat no

She has “nicer” sneakers that she keeps clean for those events but for the most part she has an excuse and a comeback to anyone who tries to diss her shoes

Like Sokka, she’s pretty comfortable in her clothing and doesn’t put too much effort into it

However, because of all the years she spent with her parents where she had zero options, it isn’t uncommon to see Toph trying the newest trends as soon as they come out, to see if she vibes with them or not

Zuko

Like Toph, Zuko was also forced to dress in a certain way due to his familial upbringing

In contrast though, he found a way to express himself through his clothes while still fitting into the expectations placed on him

Zuko lives in dark clothes. The only sense of color he has are dark red shirts/hoodies, one pair of grey sweatpants, and a deep navy shirt he stole from Sokka

Everything else is black

But that doesn’t mean they’re all boring and the same

A lot of his clothing has small details woven into the seams which shows that Zuko puts a lot of effort into the clothing he puts on

He mostly wears black jeans but he has a huge range of styles including skinny, distressed, boyfriend, baggy, and straight legged

He tends to focus on the bottom half more, styling his outfit around his pants and then pairing a simple tee

Kinda imagine an eboy vibe but more chill

He wears converses, vans, or other flat sneakers for the most part

When he needs to dress up, he still sticks to dark tones

His go to is black dress pants that are pretty tight and either a black or red button up

He has a few suits from growing up but he loathes them with a passion and prefers to look casual when dressing up

Zuko likes to put effort into his appearance because it helps channel his energy and he thinks that if he looks presentable, people will be less likely to judge him on his past or his scar

He gets pretty self-conscious and insecure when he tries new things, and it’ll take him a while to expand his closet into other styles

He’s comfortable with his look and he isn’t too keen on trying new things but he isn’t completely opposed

Suki

Suki, much like Katara, has this look of effortless beauty

However for her, she does put effort into her outfit pretty much everyday

She also wears earth tones for the most part, but her closet does have a large variety

On the day to day she’ll wear skinny jeans, yoga pants, or athletic shorts with a cute top

Though her clothes aren’t that fancy, she matches them all really well and her makeup is always impeccable

Her top selection is bigger and is made up of mostly cropped tees and tighter crop tops

However, her guilty pleasure is large sweaters and hoodies that she’s stolen from her guy friends and it’s pretty common to find her styling those with jeans and cute shoes

She also has a pair of red high tops, that much like Aang, she has worn down to the point where they’re more dirt than anything

And while she doesn’t wear them every day, they’re definitely a staple in her closet

But suki honestly lives for platform sneakers, they don’t have to be super tall but anything that gives her a little lift makes her that much more confident

When she dresses up, she shares a lot of the same styles with Toph

She really likes sundresses with sneakers, or rompers with sandals

However when she really has to get fancy, she’ll wear longer dresses that fall below her knee or all the way to the floor with a pair of heels and she’ll be feeling herself

Suki is overall pretty adventurous with her outfits, but she also knows what she likes

She’ll try the new trends and take suggestions from her friends, but she’s also not scared to say no and go comfy yet put together for a day

She’s one of those girls that kinda looks great in everything and people really wish they had her closet but half the time she’s borrowing things from friends to piece together outfits

Yue

Yue loves clothes

Simple as that

She grew up with money, but without the overbearing parents and she’s always had an affinity for dressing up and following the new trends as well as the older ones

She finds that waking up and making herself look good, gets her ready for the day and helps put her into the right headspace

She also lives for light pastels, typically of the cooler hues but sometimes she’ll venture into the pinks and reds

On the day to day she’ll wear either light blue or white bottoms (you name it: skirts, shorts, pants, whatever) and a plain shirt

A lot of her clothing has lace on it, it’s just something that Yue really likes

And all the light colors look amazing against her dark skin

She wears chunky sneakers or flats mostly, because they’re cute but also comfortable to walk in

She also usually has an accessory, whether it be a purse, sunglasses, or a cute bandana, she likes to add little things that pull her outfit together

She definitely looks better than most on the day to day because she really enjoys looking nice

However she still has the skill of not looking overdressed

When she dresses up, she looks ethereal

Like Katara, she likes satin and silk a lot because it’s comfy and soft and often falls effortlessly

She tends to wear dresses that are just at her knee or are tea length, and doesn’t really like floor length dresses

The only really short stuff she wears are her skirts and shorts

She also really likes heels when she’s dressing up, and a slit in her dress to show off her legs

She’s super confident in her style and definitely loves finding inspiration from her friends, strangers, magazines and wherever she can find it

She also always looks amazing, even when she is dressed casually

Azula

Surprisingly, Azula isn’t really that flamboyant with her style

She likes simple looks like jeans and tshirts or a simple dress

She, like Zuko, wears darker colors but has a plethora of pink in her wardrobe because of TyLee

On the day to day she’s often wearing simple black jeans, a band tee or just a hoodie with doc martens

People find it surprising because Azula comes across as a big personality, and she definitely is around her friends, but she just isn’t that interested in fashion

She prefers to focus her energy and time on self-care like her nails, hair, and skin

Both Mai and TyLee are into fashion so Azula does let them dress her up and down for fun, but for the most part she’s pretty simple

For dressing up, she’s very simple

She’ll wear either a black or red dress, usually that falls just above or just below her knee

She likes a straight neckline but has few options (strapless, halter, etc)

And she’ll pair the dress with a simple black heel, not too many straps

She does like tall heels, it helps with her confidence, but they aren’t very flashy

Despite her basic style, she does understand the importance of looking presentable and doesn’t usually wear baggy clothing

She’s found a pretty good balance between casual, basic, but still presentable

basically she doesn’t need a boisterous closet because she is very talkative and loud with her friends, so she doesn’t feel the need to overcompensate with her clothing or anything

Mai

in complete opposite to Azula, Mai LOVES showing her personality through her clothes

she isn’t very talkative and instead likes to show her mood with her outfits

though she does wear dark colors, she’ll experiment with others

when she’s feeling sad, she covers up. She likes long sleeves, even if they are mesh or transparent, and long jeans with boots

She’s a slut for peasant sleeves (but I mean… me too)

when she’s happy, she’ll wear red or pink. She’ll stick with either jeans or a jean skirt that’s dark but she’ll pair it with a baggy dusty pink or vibrant red shirt that she tucks in. she’ll also wear trendier sneakers on those days (but they’ll probably still be boots)

when’s she’s feeling really good or adventurous she’ll dress more colorful. The style itself is pretty basic: jeans and a shirt, but she’ll wear her blue mom jeans. She’ll pair it with her purple doc martens and a white shirt with a different colored jacket

however it’s the days that she wears sweats, leggings and hoodies that she receives the most attention. The attention is always from her friends because on those days, she’s either feeling very comfortable in her surroundings and they want to talk to her, or she’s had a shit day and they want to help her feel better

when dressing up, she likes to wear black with fun accents like buckles or ribbons or fun sleeves or zippers or lace or anything like that

she’s pretty tall, so she doesn’t often wear heels but she’ll wear fishnet tights and tuck them into some boots or she’ll wear flats

she does tend to wear clothes that are tighter and then pair them with baggy outerwear to offset the outfit

she does wear a lot of boots but she has them in a bunch of different colors for every emotion and outfit

people are pretty envious of her wardrobe and while she doesn’t really talk and isn’t that confident in herself, she’s always been sure of her style

she also really enjoys dressing her friends up and swapping styles to try to make new outfits

TyLee

TyLee also loves clothes

she’s pretty girly and used clothing from an early age to set herself apart from not only her sisters but also from society

in today’s terms she’d be a soft girl with a hint of vsco

there’s a lot of pinks, reds, purples, whites, and other pastels in her wardrobe

she tries to avoid dark tones because she thinks they wash her out

she’s also very bubbly and upbeat for the most part and likes to convey that in her outfits

she wears a lot of tennis skirts, plaid skirts, paper bag shorts, and other stuff that kinda looks like it came from a teen movie

she doesn’t really like pants but if she does wear them, they’ll be loose and typically have a paper bag waistline

and they’ll definitely be high waisted no matter what

her tops are typically crop top tanks or fuzzy sweaters that are just a tad too big

she also really likes to wear long cardigans and sweaters that fall below her hemline

every day she wears a white shoe

they’ll either be chunky sneakers, vans, sandals, high tops, or something else but they’ll definitely be white

people really don’t know how she keeps them clean

when she dresses up, she’ll wear tighter clothes but then offset them with a long or bigger jacket and sneakers

she hates heels

she thinks they are so uncomfortable and prefers sneakers or sandals

TyLee does like trying new stuff but she’s also really comfortable with her current style and isn’t that interested in trying a whole ton of new stuff

she also really likes dressing other people up, both in her own style and in theirs

she’s pretty confident in her clothes but her insecurities definitely bleed through sometimes, but she always tries to be happy no matter what and that definitely comes through in her clothes

hehe that’s it :)

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stylesinthewild · 3 years

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That Late Late Show velvet suit was a definite 10. I think trousers like those and from his suit at the Dunkirk UK premier are the most flattering on him. You know what look I loved? There's a pic of him in Japan walking away in a yellow Travis Scott hoodie and black rolled-up pants that I thought was such a cool casual look. He can toss all the bell-bottom trousers like the one he wore to Jeff's wedding. They make his legs look short and stumpy.

I actually loved the fit of his suit for Jeff’s wedding. But I do remember the Japan look you’re talking about and I agree. I love Harry in a cuffed trouser. He wore similar pants while recording his Calm sleep story, I loved that look (who didn’t?)!! I’ve always been a massive fan of the tight skinny jeans but I definitely love the Statement Sue bell bottoms! All the flared corduroys were so fun! I loooooooooove the lilac one’s, and the mustard color ones he wore on Valentine’s Day at BBCR2. So good.

I’m never gonna be the person who dislikes what he wears, I’m usually obsessed with everything. The only thing I’ll say is that sometimes..........usually on tour (but that’s because he needs to be able to move or his pants will literally rip) his pants are too loose??? He’s always hiking up his pants! Sometimes a better fit is/was needed, but maybe he just wants to be comfortable. But I love when he’s out and about wearing something ridiculous, like the green striped shirt and dad jeans when he was in Italy, the mustache completed the look perfectly. I also love how he wears a lot of his weirdo merch, and that he keeps and continuously wears a lot of clothing that he’s had for years :’)

#really i just love his thighs #and anything he wears that accentuates them #but YES the late late green velvet suit was amaze!!!!!!!#he needs to wear dark green MORE #also loved the high waisted trouser and braces look 10/10 always #anon

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knit-wear-it · 4 years

Text

Abnormal Psychology II

Joan Leland’s Two Greatest Disappointments

PhD student!Crane, Undergrad!Harley, Narrator!Joan Leland / Writing exercise to help me work through backstories. Which includes rewriting the first part of this. Because it was terrible.

Read Abnormal Psychology I Here

**Reminder: Harley killed her college boyfriend.

Abnormal Psychology II

2. Joan Leland's Two Greatest Failures

Eight years before Harley meets the Joker.

Joan Leland had been teaching Psychology at Gotham University for over twenty-five years, the tenured head of the department for nearly ten. During those years, she’d seen many precocious PhD candidates, but few of them stood out like Jonathan Crane.

She first met Jonathan when he was twenty-two years old, freshly graduated from a southern university known for its football team rather than its academics. With a bachelor’s in clinical psychology, and a minor in chemistry, his grades had been excellent, and his tutors called him ‘brilliant’ in their referrals. He was an obvious choice for an interview.

The young man Joan met had been caustic, bordering on rude, and she immediately suspected he was either on the spectrum or suffering some other mental health ailment. That wasn’t a mark against him - so many students of psychology were drawn to the field because of their own struggles. But Crane had a unique interest - obsession if the intensity in his pale eyes was any indication - in fear that hinted at PTSD more than intellectual curiosity. Still, despite Joan’s reservations, Crane was invited to join that year’s group of post-graduate students.

He hadn’t fit in, making numerous enemies amongst his cohort, fellow twenty-somethings who submitted complaints about his rudeness and inflexibility. Then there were Crane’s complaints - of which there had been many - accusing his peers of being lazy and holding him back. In the end, Crane spent the collaborative early years of his PhD working alone.

It was in Crane’s third year that Joan became well acquainted with him. As head of the department, she had the final say in allocating budgets to research projects. Predictably, Jonathan believed his doctorate thesis to be of paramount importance above his fellow graduate students, and he spent an increasing amount of time lobbying Joan for more money, and issuing empty threats about going to the dean if she didn’t agree.

“Twenty-thousand dollars?” Joan asked warily, raising her eyebrows at Crane over the top of the proposal he’d just handed her. He was a skinny, pale young man at twenty-five, with an untidy flop of black hair and striking pale blue eyes. His clothes were always neat and tidy, his preference for gray slacks, black oxfords, and ties beneath wool vests separating him from his peers, who tended towards more childish versions of professional dressing. He might have been handsome if it weren’t for the way he carried himself - arrogant, impatient, full of disdain.

Joan felt sorry for him.

“I require a larger pool of test subjects,” Crane explained stiffly, his top lip curling. “The volunteers aren’t good enough.”

“Why aren’t they enough?” Joan frowned as she removed her spectacles. “Your peers have no problem with the volunteers.”

Crane closed his eyes and inhaled sharply like he was rallying his patience, or maybe he found being asked to explain himself deeply offensive.

“I require a certain kind of subject,” he forced a bitter smile that made Joan’s eyes widen. “I need to vet them myself. It’s essential to my research.”

“I understand, Jonathan,” Joan offered him a sympathetic smile and set his proposal aside. “I’m afraid twenty-thousand is out of the question. I may be able to free up five for you.”

“Ten,” Crane insisted sourly. “Dr Leland, I’m sure you’re aware that it would be generous to call the department’s psychopharmacology resources lacking.”

“I’m sorry, Jonathan, this isn’t a negotiation,” Joan sighed as she got to her feet, adjusting her pastel suit jacket. “You’ll have to make do with five-thousand. Now, please excuse me, I have a meeting.”

She gestured to the door when an idea occurred to her - perhaps a creative solution. Crane isolated himself from his peers, and he never spoke about friends or family. He was missing empathy in his life, with no one to care for, and no one to show him compassion in return.

“Actually,” Joan’s smile brightened. “Have you thought about signing up for the free therapy program the student union set up?”

Crane’s pale eyes widened incredulously.

“Dr Leland… are you suggesting I need therapy?” he demanded indignantly.

“Well, no,” Joan admitted, though it was abundantly clear Crane needed to talk to someone about his past. “You are a licensed therapist, Jonathan. I’m suggesting you volunteer your time to help these students. It would be good for you to practice outside of your research.”

Crane squinted at her owlishly for a moment, then quite abruptly, he snorted out a laugh.

“I don’t think so,” he said smugly. “Children with eating disorders don’t interest me.”

“Most of them are there for depression or anxiety, or trauma they need to work through,” Joan pointed out, feeling a swell of pity for him. “Psychology isn’t just research and test subjects. We’re here to help people too.”

“Mm,” he sneered, disagreeing but apparently not feeling the need to make his case. He wasn’t holding himself back because he held an unpopular opinion - Joan had heard plenty of complaints about his outright disdain for patient welfare. But this time it seemed he didn’t feel it was an argument worth having. An argument that was beneath him as he found so many things to be.

“How are you finding the lectures?” Joan asked hesitantly, shouldering her bag as she followed him out of her office.

“Most of them are morons,” he shot her a withering look that could have stripped paint off the wall. “I’ll also be lobbying the dean to remove the teaching requirement for students in their fourth year,” he informed Joan crisply. “Some of us have more important work to be doing.”

Then he turned on his heel and stomped down the hallway without a word of farewell.

Joan sighed, feeling another surge of pity for Jonathan Crane as she locked her office door and headed in the opposite direction.

Gotham University’s campus was covered in snow, a treat for students returning from their Christmas breaks. Joan smiled at colleagues and a few students she knew or recognized as she walked toward the student union building, struggling with the question of how she might help Jonathan Crane.

The student union was a modern building painted yellow and red, and it hadn’t aged well since it was constructed in the late seventies. Joan took the lift to the third floor, where she’d been given a small office to assess the students assigned to her. Four or five other members of staff from the psychology department volunteered their free time there too, with patients dolled out to them in a kind of raffle. Students wanting therapy would be added to a waitlist and scheduled with whoever was available whenever they were available. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing.

“Hi, Dr Leland,” the volunteer behind a receptionist’s desk greeted Joan brightly, handing her a file.

“Hi Sarah,” Joan smiled back at her. “How is everything?”

“It’s pretty dead,” Sarah observed affably. “I guess the kids are feeling pretty good after the break. No finals to stress them out.”

“Sure,” Joan agreed politely, inwardly thinking that many of these young people would likely be in need of more therapy after the holidays, not less. “Who am I seeing today?” she opened the file, her eyes widening when she found a police report inside.

“Ah, she’s kind of a special case,” Sarah sighed. “Her boyfriend was Guy Kopski, you know, the boy who committed suicide before the holidays?” She cringed, which made Joan frown, deeming a cringe to be a particularly inappropriate response from someone working closely with students requiring support and compassion. “Anyway, the financial aid office insisted she either take time off from school or get some form of therapy. She’s waiting in your office.”

“The FA office is involved? That seems heavy-handed,” Joan mused, scanning the police report before she turned the page. “Oh,” she nodded, understanding.

Harleen Quinzel was on a full-ride scholarship, and she was an orphan. The financial aid office wanted to make sure their investment paid off.

Sad stories were something you got used to working in psychology. It was important to empathize with your patients, and that never got easier or less painful, but the longer you did the job, the more you accepted those stories as part of life. Joan would never feel numb toward the people she helped, but their stories did become less shocking to her. Including Guy Kopski’s violent suicide.

To jump off a building, one truly had to want to die.

Joan knocked on her office door before pushing it open, her lips curving into a patient smile, which came naturally to her after years and years of listening to sad stories.

“Harleen?” she asked the girl waiting for her, keeping her voice soft.

Harleen Quinzel sat at one end of a pale green corduroy couch, looking out the window. She had long, honey blonde hair that fell in soft, messy waves around her shoulders, and she wore the typical GU-girl winter uniform of leggings, a collegiate sweatshirt, and snow boots. She turned her head when Joan said her name, her sober expression inspiring an almost painful pang of sympathy in Joan. Harleen looked strained and pale, her blue eyes overly-large like she’d lost a lot of weight quickly, with bruise-like smudges beneath. It had been about three weeks since Guy Kopski’s suicide, and Joan realized that Harleen probably hadn’t had anyone to talk to about how she was feeling in that span of time.

In fact, if she had no family to speak of, she would have spent most of that time alone in Gotham while her friends went back to their family’s homes.

“Dr Leland,” Harleen greeted Joan warily.

Joan lowered herself onto the other end of the couch; she should have taken the chair, but Harleen was so… alone, it seemed more natural to sit beside her. To be closer to her.

“I’ve been filled in about Guy and the financial aid office,” Joan explained kindly while Harleen nodded. “This may be a very general way to open, but would you like to tell me how you’re feeling today?”

Harleen took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, her eyes on one of the many ferns populating the room.

“Numb,” she said eventually, not looking away from the fern. “Like it didn’t happen.”

“Acceptance is the final stage of grief,” Joan replied kindly. “It’s only been three weeks. It makes sense that you haven’t fully processed Guy's death.”

“No,” Harleen caught Joan’s eye. Her eyes were glacial, like an icy arctic sea. “I’ve accepted that he’s gone,” she said softly. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it.”

“There isn’t one way you should feel about it,” Joan said patiently. “It’s not about what you decide you should feel - you’ll feel whatever you feel. That’s one of the things we’re here to talk about so you can understand and cope with those feelings.”

“I know that. I meant I don’t know what I’m feeling, or if I’m even feeling anything at all,” Harleen explained, her gaze shifting back to the fern. She blinked at it a few times, her face placid as she searched her feelings, trying to understand them. “It’s like it didn’t happen to me, but someone else…” she murmured to herself.

Joan was about to jump in, not wanting to push her too hard in the first five minutes when Harleen spoke up again.

“Everyone knows green is a soothing color,” she observed, running her hand over the corduroy couch cushion. “Doesn’t it seem a little patronizing to use it so liberally?”

“I’m not sure everyone knows that,” Joan offered her a wry smile. “You’re a psych major, aren’t you?”

“You’re the head of the psychology department, aren’t you?” Harleen countered tartly, imitating Joan’s tone perfectly. Then she shifted back into moroseness, almost more intensely than she had been before, and she took a deep breath like she was bracing herself.

Joan felt a startling thread of dread roll through her gut - some sixth sense waving a flag that there was something wrong with this young woman. The way she flipped on a dime, from depressed to… whatever that was, and back again. It made Joan wonder if there wasn’t something ingenuine about her grief.

But, Joan reminded herself, there was nothing wrong with anyone. No matter what their pathology, no matter what their circumstances. There was a diagnosis to contend with, but no human being could be wrong.

Aside from, perhaps, some of the most vicious psychopaths.

What made a person human if not empathy?

“I’m hoping to get into the PhD program after I graduate,” Harleen said, giving Joan a hopeful smile that looked forced.

“That’s wonderful,” Joan beamed at her, shrugging off her unease. “There’s pretty stiff competition, but you’ve certainly got the grades for it. What are you interested in?”

Harleen licked her lips, eyeing the fern thoughtfully as she considered Joan’s question. Or, perhaps she was considering how to answer Joan’s question. The longer the silence stretched on, the more Joan came to feel she was trying to craft an answer for Joan’s sake, rather than telling the truth. But that was ludicrous, there was nothing she could say that Joan would judge her for.

Then Harleen looked at Joan, and there was a faint gleam in her eyes, something dark that sent an uneasy shiver rolling over Joan’s shoulders.

“Psychopaths,” Harleen announced grimly, the word seeming to hang in the air between them. “I want to understand the way they feel,” she added, sounding more subdued.

Joan raised her eyebrows. Psychopaths were frequent favorites for the younger students, no doubt because they were one of the more exciting pathologies. Not to mention the many movies featuring glamorized versions of them - Hannibal Lector, Patrick Batement, Frank Booth, and nearly every other villain created by Hollywood.

But there was something… certain about Harleen's words.

Something personal.

“Psychopaths don’t feel very much,” Joan pointed out cautiously, watching Harleen turn her attention to the corduroy couch, stroking the ribbed fabric slowly. “They have almost zero emotional intelligence. Everything they do is driven by impulse, trying to feed the pleasure center of their brain for immediate gratification.”

“Really?” Harleen frowned as she looked up at Joan. “All of them?”

“Generally speaking,” Joan said hesitantly, holding Harleen’s gaze, which was intense and made her feel somehow… exposed.

Harleen sighed and looked down at the pale green couch cushion.

“I wonder if psychopaths find green soothing,” she mused, sounding genuinely curious.

That brought a smile to Joan’s lips. Curiosity was one of her most prized qualities in a student.

After that first meeting, Joan met Harleen every other week for the rest of the semester, getting to know her sad story and her curious mind. There was something about her that made Joan feel protective of her, almost like she owed it to Harleen to give her what she needed to succeed.

There was also something about Harleen that reminded Joan of Jonathan Crane. Something a shade too ambitious, something a fraction too disinterested in the people around her. They both had sad stories, but while Jonathan’s seemed to drag him down, Harleen seemed to exist separately from hers, as if none of it had really happened to her.

Joan was dismayed but not surprised when the world found out what Jonathan Crane turned Arkham Asylum into. His fear toxin, torturing his patients, working with the mob, the Scarecrow moniker, all of it seemed like an inevitable conclusion.

But she could have never predicted how Harleen’s story panned out.

Joan had always worried about the way Harleen monitored herself in front of other people. Over the years that followed their first meeting, she could never understand why her most talented student felt the need to hide her thoughts and feelings, and there was always something decidedly… clenched about how she carried herself. As if there was a weight on her shoulders she couldn’t shake off, something constantly holding her back from being herself, something she was constantly fighting against.

It wasn’t until the world was introduced to Harley Quinn that Joan understood what that something was.

And all it had taken was the Joker to unlock it.

A/N: Again, just a little writing exercise with some throwbacks to the Harlequin, but nothing revolutionary or spoilery.

Now time to write what I’m supposed to be writing...

#joan leland #harley quinn #jonathan crane #writing

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uncloseted · 4 years

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How would you describe Noora (from all Skams) styles ? like in each different country,

I haven’t seen all of them (only OG, France, Germany, Austin, and Netherlands so far) so take this with a grain of salt, but here’s what I’ve got. Apologies in advance for the janky collages, but I wanted to give an idea of each character’s style. Also, if you feel like I’m missing anything, please feel free to add!

Noora (Skam OG) - OG Noora has a very classic Scandi style. She wears a lot of oversized sweaters and coats, mom jeans, and boxy/masculine cut tops. She wears a lot of black, white, and primary colors, button up shirts, turtlenecks, and stripes. A lot of her clothes are from Monki and Bikbok. She always wears a red lipstick (Smashbox Be Legendary in Infrared Matte, Artdeco’s 12.208 Cream Red Muse, Clinique High Impact Lip Color in 12 Red-y To Wear and IsaDora Perfect Matt Lipstick in 05 Femme Fatale). This blog breaks down Noora’s looks the same way that I do for Effy’s looks.

Manon (Skam France) - I actually have a Manon style blog here (that I don’t update as frequently as I should). Her look is one that I really like. Like OG Noora, she wears a lot of oversized coats (the two she wears the most are the Mango Prince of Wales wool-blend blazer and the Mango Unstructured Wool-Blend Coat) and sweaters (particularly a chunky mustard yellow turtleneck from Camaieu), but her other clothes are a bit more fitted. Unlike Noora’s mom jeans, Manon tends to wear the Monki “Oki” skinny jeans in dark blue or black. Manon frequently wears horizontal striped tee shirts and a white cardigan. She also wears a lot of sneakers and occasionally a beret. Like OG Noora, her color palette is typically primary colors, black, white, and grey. Also like Noora, she always wears a red lip. Manon wears a lot of items from Monki and Mango.

Mia (Druck/Skam Germany) - Mia’s style is a little more casual than Noora or Manon’s. She typically wears a sporty tee shirt, hoodie, blue beanie, and a puffer jacket with mom jeans. Sometimes she’ll swap out the puffer jacket for a checked blazer coat. She wears a lot of blue. Occasionally we’ll see her in a more “Noora” outfit, with a cream or white sweater. She sometimes wears the Noora red lipstick, but not as frequently as other Nooras.

Grace (Skam Austin) - Grace’s style is primarily solid colored tees, both long sleeve and short sleeve, in a casual, stretchy fabric. Usually the shirts are crew necks, but we also see her wearing polos, turtlenecks, v-necks, and off the shoulder shirts. Typically she pairs them with straight leg or wide leg high waisted trousers or skinny jeans. Her color palette is more diverse than many of the other Nooras. She wears a lot of blue, cream, pink, red, and mustard yellow. Like Mia, she doesn’t wear red lipstick as much as OG Noora, but she will wear it when she dresses up.

Liv (Skam NL/Netherlands) - Like OG Noora, Liv’s style plays with oversized items and masculine influences. She typically wears high waisted mom jeans, usually distressed. She also really loves tops and coats with a collar. Like OG Noora, she wears an oversized white button down top. She wears a lot of jackets in soft materials like corduroy. Tee shirts are also a big part of her wardrobe, either short or long sleeved. For shoes, she wears a lot of chunky boots, like black Doc Martens. The thing that makes Liv’s style unique is she can often be seen wearing headpieces. She wears a lot of headbands, and also a lot of hats. Liv doesn’t typically wear lipstick, but when she does she opts for a more purple-red as opposed to Noora, who often wears a true red.

Eleonora (Skam Italia) - Eleonora’s look is a little more tailored and structured than Noora’s. For example, she wears a pair of tailored shorts and a black jumper dress (is that what it’s called?), and her shirts tend to be more structured and body-hugging. Like OG Noora, she wears cream turtlenecks, white button up shirts, and vertical striped button up shirts. Her coat is also more structured than some of the other Nooras’. Like Mia, Eleonora’s clothes are primarily shades of blue.

Nora (Skam Espana) - Nora’s style is a bit cuter and more twee than some of her counterparts. She wears a lot of Peter Pan collared shirts (white, light blue, polka dot, vertical stripes, and sleeveless). She also wears a lot of graphic tees. I think she wears mostly jeans, either blue mom jeans or black skinnies, but she also has a really cool pair of black and white vertically striped jeans. Like all of her counterparts, she wears a cream turtleneck under a coat, and like OG Noora, she wears the red lipstick.

Zoe (wtFOCK/Skam Belgium) - From what I can tell (having not seen the show) Zoe’s style seems a lot like OG Noora’s. Lots of coats, button up shirts, chunky knits, mom jeans, and red lipstick. If you’ve seen the show and you feel like her style has some unique factors, let me know.

In general, all the Nooras have a style that’s functional and utilitarian. They tend to like solid colors or stripes, and pieces that aren’t too fitted or sexy. Most of them wear some version of jeans, a tee shirt/button up shirt/chunky sweater, and a coat. I think all of them wear some version of the cream sweater + coat outfit:

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mirclealignr · 4 years

Text

Home?

(Perspective of cecilia)

My Novel - Chapter 2

Any and all feed back welcome <3

A/N: I’d love to know what you think (theories and feedback) about this and whether I should continue with it <3 likes, comments or reblogs or anything really are super appreciated 🤍

Word Count: 1899

My train arrived in the city at around midday. I wasn’t hungry, I’d eaten a little on the journey. And besides, I was so nervous to see Daisy and Albert again that I couldn’t have eaten anything. I barely ate what I bought for myself. I had half of my sandwich and picked at the crisps, the remnants of which were on the seat next to me which hadn’t been booked. I was glad for that, I was very fidgety, and anyone next to me would have become very frustrated with me. After everyone in my coach had stood up and retrieved their luggage, I too did the same. I collected my sandwich and crisps and put them neatly into my bag, careful not to spill any of it. I stood up and walked to the end of the carriage and pulled my two suitcases from the second shelf of the rack. I rolled each of them to the door and set them down on the platform in front of me before stepping onto it myself.

I looked around for Daisy and Albert but I couldn’t find them. No doubt they had managed to get themselves lost. They were both terrible with directions. Nearly five years ago when they were taking me to the train station instead of away from it, we got so lost that I nearly missed my train. I walked to one of the benches lined upon the platform and sat down, pulling my possessions close into me.

I turn to look at the clock, ten minutes has gone by. Perhaps they got the time wrong. I reach into my bag, and pull out my book. I attempt to read it, but none of the words are going in. I’m so nervous. I glance up from my book and see a woman, frantically looking around on the platform. She has shoulder length, golden brown hair, and it’s swaying behind her as she moves. She’s wearing a wonderful dress, it’s vintage, yellow, with a brown belt wrapped around her waist, and a blue denim jacket about her shoulders. It’s Daisy.

I stand up, anxious at what she might think of me. When I was younger, and living with her, my hair was very long and a dark brown, almost black. I had very pale skin and I was very skinny. Now, I had very short, light brown hair. Where I lived in Germany was always very sunny, so I was naturally tanned. I had grown into myself, my hips had broadened and I wasn’t so skinny anymore. I was slender, I had a fit physique. I was wearing a corduroy pink skirt with tights and a white Tee-shirt underneath my oversized leather jacket. We locked eyes, she saw me. She knew it was me. I looked a lot like her now. I looked a lot like my mother.

She rushed over to me, and crashed into my body, wrapping her arms around me. Oh how I have missed daisy. Her embrace was so intense, I thought I might cry, but I held it in. She was crying. She pulled away and took a good long look at me.

“You look so beautiful. You look exactly like your mother,” she says, tears in her eyes.

“Thank you. You look wonderful as well, you haven’t changed,” I say. I’m glad she hasn't changed. She’s still my Daisy. The Daisy I always remembered.

She doesn’t know what to say, I can see it. I don’t know what to do either. But it doesn’t last long, Albert comes running in after her and as soon as he sees me, his eyes widen. He walks over to me, he’s not running but he’s walking at a pace. He stops in front of me and takes me in, and then leans forward with his arms out. I lean into his embrace. Albert has been Daisy’s partner since she was nineteen. They married shortly after I turned eleven, putting them at twenty-one. And here we all are, nearly six years later.

“Hello Albert,” I say, smiling.

“Hello, Cecilia. You look great,” he says to me, patting my shoulder. I nod my head. Daisy begins to babble, all about my old room, the house, the village. I love her voice, I love hearing her talk. I almost forgot how it sounded. The voice in her letters gradually faded into my own. I’ve missed Daisy.

I don’t look out the window much in the car journey. I want to see it all for myself when I walk. I walk a lot, it’s one of my favourite things to do. The scenery in Germany where I lived was wonderful, but it held no memories for me. Walking here, back home, that would be different. Daisy asked me lots of questions about how I had been, what Germany was like and all sorts of extras. I had talked about a lot of it in my letters but I knew it wasn’t the same. So I answered them all. When we arrive at the house, I step out of the car and look at it. It’s the same. Made from stone, it stands tall and proud, the large windows allowing you to see into the wonderful interior. The garden was lovely as well, Daisy must have kept it up. It was a wild garden, tamed to her liking. There were dozens of buttercups and forget-me-nots and little bluebells. It was quite a sight to see. Towards the back she was growing three sunflowers. I always remembered telling her that I wanted sunflowers. I suppose she eventually got around to it. The bay windows were lined with fairy lights and the shutters had been repainted a lovely pale green. My bedroom was in the back of the house, so I couldn’t see whether any of it looked the same. I’m sure it did.

Albert took my suitcases from the back of the car.

“Bloody hell, what have you got in here?” He says, straining to lift them up.

“About the last five years of my life. I couldn’t leave anything behind,” I say. Daisy rushes over in front of me to unlock the door. She opens it and beckons me in. I was right, nothing had changed. It was still all very modern looking. All very sleek. There were photos and paintings on the wall in the landing and the living room. The cream sofa had been kept very clean over the years, as well as their cream chair. The kitchen was bigger than I remembered. The countertops matched the sofas, but the cupboards were a dark brown, contrasting very nicely.

“Are you hungry? No I suppose not. Would you like to see your room? Well I mean nothing has changed,” she gushes.

“Yes, actually I’d love to see my room,” I say. I can remember it as clear as day, but that’s not the same as seeing it. She leads me up the stairs, the wall beside them is filled with photos of her and Albert, me and her friends. And my mother and father. I hesitate next to their photo, but quickly regain my composure and continue up the stairs behind Daisy. She opens the door to my room and waits in the landing.

“I’ll leave you alone for a while, Albert will bring you your things,” she says smiling, and leaves. Just like that. I would imagine that she doesn’t know how to talk to me anymore. Talking to an eleven year old is very different to talking to someone who is nearly seventeen. I’ll admit, I’m not sure how to talk to her either. So, we don’t.

I look at my room. The walls are painted white and filled with posters, art and photos from my eleven year old life. The bed is barely two feet from the ground. I sit on it and it creeks under my body weight. I think a new one is in order. I gaze at my room, all the stickers on the furniture, all the childish books scattered across the room and and on the white bookcase. The little TV with a curved screen. I was not getting rid of that, it looked amazing. My vanity desk, made to look vintage. That would stay too.

Though it was my first day here, and I had only been back in the country a few hours, (including the train journeys) I wanted to clear it out and make it new. I wouldn’t be able to sleep with all these memories starring me in the face and suffocating me. It had to go. I start by ripping the posters of Olly Murs and JLS off of the walls. I hadn’t listened to them in a long time. I much preferred older music, or very unpopular modern music that no one had heard of. The wall stickers had to go too, and all the old art. I leave the pictures of me and my family up, they were staying exactly where they were. I walk up to a chest of drawers and open it. It’s full of all my old clothes. I pick out a few items I want to keep for sentimental reasons, and put the rest of them in a pile. A charity shop could make very good use of them. I walk over to the vanity and get rid of some of the brick-o-brack I had on top of it. In the drawer were old brushes and combs and hair ties. They would probably all go, I had all of that in my suitcase. I gather all my books and go through them. I decide to keep the Harry Potter series and The Lord Of The Rings. The rest would go. I should probably get The Hobbit as well, I’ve never read it.

I’d managed to keep much of my feelings in check since I arrived back at the house. But all that came crumbling down. I sit on my bed looking at old photos of me and my friends. Tears are streaming down my face, remembering them, remembering us and how happy we were. Who would’ve known that it would all come to end, and so soon after many of these photos were taken. There’s one picture of all of us down by the river that we used to go to all the time. It’s heartbreaking. There we all are, Alex, me, David, Evan and Bailey. I run my fingers across the print and linger on the figure of David. Poor poor David.

It was the summer of 2015 when David died. It was right before his twelfth birthday. They said he’d ‘had an accident’, and fallen into the river, banged his head and drowned. But we never went to the river alone. We never did that. We agreed never to do that, it was our place. We would never go alone, especially at night. And we were eleven, the thought of going to the river alone at night scared the living daylights out of us. We tried one summer to sneak out and go, but we got too scared and ended up turning around. We were all grounded for nearly a month. He would never have gone alone. They said the time of death was around midnight. He definitely wasn’t alone.

I wanted to go back. I wanted to see it.

Tag list: @chaotic-fae-queen @teenagereadersciencenerd @reallyreading

#lena story #my writing #my novel #original writing #original post #original work #original character #trying my best

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is0gild · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 15

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 10,487

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

So... last time on The Burning Wreckage That Is My Life (please excuse the working title).

I had a crush on a guy. Well, maybe… I mean, I think I did? But I couldn't let him know that I had a crush on him. And just to make things extra complicated, I now had to act like we were dating when we really weren't. So basically… I like-liked him but had to pretend that I didn't like-like him while at the same time pretending that I did like-like him.

Confused yet? I know I was.

Also, I really needed to stop using the word like-like.

Ugh, what had I been thinking? This was a terrible plan. A disaster just waiting to happen. There was no possible way it could end well. And yet, here I sat in my apartment, watching the clock as I waited for my fake boyfriend to come pick me up. What was the matter with me? What had possessed to ever say yes to this… this insanity?

I had gotten off work not too long ago and had come straight home to prepare for my meetup with Father. This was Lea's day off, so I hadn't had to start this whole farce of a relationship around the mall today, which at least was one small comfort. My fingers as per usual were fidgeting with my freshly washed and plaited hair as I watched the seconds slowly tick by, my stomach twisting into tighter and tighter knots.

Sighing, I forced my hands to stop fussing with the braid and they complied… only to start picking at the flaps of the empty cardboard box Rayne had scrounged up for me to put things from my old place into. With a tiny scowl, I shoved my hands into my lap, demanding they be still. That lasted maybe all of two seconds before they started fiddling and twisting at the buttons that ran all the way down the front my navy corduroy overalls dress. The long sleeved shirt I wore underneath it was off the shoulder and white with blue horizontal stripes. The dress itself fell all the way down to my ankles, with a slit up to the knee on one side, giving a peek of my snowflake-patterned tights.

Yes, I was a full grown adult who still liked cutesy prints on my socks and stockings. So sue me.

Erg, where was he? As much as I was dreading seeing Father again and wished I didn't have to deal with it at all, the wait was killing me. And I couldn't put it off forever so I'd rather just get this awfulness over with already. I-

"Hello, Lea?" I heard Rayne's voice and I whipped my head around to spot her stepping out of her bedroom, smartphone pressed to one ear. She shot me a grin but then it faded as she glanced away with a squint. "Whaddya mean you're down in the parking lot? Get your ass up here and knock on the door like a goddamn gentleman, you-"

In the space of a heartbeat, I'd zoomed across the room to snatch the phone from her. "I'll be right down, see you in a sec!" I said quickly into it and, not waiting for a reply, hung up the call before Rayne could steal her phone back.

"Hey!" she huffed, fumbling to catch the device as I tossed to her. Then she gave a tiny whine, "But sweetpea, that's no way for him to treat a lady! I expected better of him!"

I rolled my eyes as I returned to the table to grab the box by one of its flaps. "I told him to just call up when he got here."

Rayne followed behind me with a tiny pout. "But I wanted to practice my whole 'What are your intentions towards my daughter' speech on him!"

"And that," I smirked, tapping her on the nose with my free hand, "is exactly why I told him to call."

Puffing out her cheeks, she crossed her arms. "You're no fun!"

"Ouch. Your words, they wound me. But somehow, someway… I think I'll live," I deadpanned, making my way over to open the front door.

"Oh! Curfew's at ten! Not one minute later, missy, not one second or you're grounded!"

I paused to turn back and droop my eyelids at her. "...too far, Rayne. Too far." Then I left, slamming the door shut behind me.

That woman, I swear. Loved her to pieces, but the sooner that baby was out of her, the better. Then she could focus all of that crazy on her new bundle of joy instead of me.

As I hurried down the steps, I went over the game plan in my head again. It'd been another sleepless night last night as I'd mentally prepared myself for Operation Boyfriend But Shh Not Really. That's right, I'd named it. Come on, it's me, how could I not? It was the only way I could feel like I had any sort of control over this whole situation. Which I one hundred percent did not. But I needed to try and trick myself into believing that I did if I had any chance of staying sane through all of this.

This being Lea and me. Pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend. And boyfriends and girlfriends did… things. No, not that! Definitely not that, that would be going well above and beyond the call of duty! Yeesh, get your mind out of the gutter! I only meant like, ya know… holding hands, hugging… other various public displays of affection that shall remain nameless because I quite simply could not deal with even the mere thought of such things without my face bursting into flames.

But I was going to have to deal if I had any hope of getting through this. And to deal, I needed to face facts. Lea only saw me as a friend. He was only playing along to help me… as a friend. Whatever I was or wasn't feeling towards him, he did not feel the same way. Doing all those aforementioned boyfriend-girlfriend things? Wasn't going to threaten to make his heart explode like it would mine. So if I was going to survive long enough to make it out the other side of this little fiasco, my heart needed to take a chill pill.

Conceal, don't feel. That was going to be my mantra. It was one I was actually already very familiar with and had put to good practice regularly over the years. Rayne had been right. Growing up in my family, feelings had been a luxury. And as the eldest heir to the Fryse fortune, I'd had an image to maintain, the family name to uphold. I hadn't gotten to enjoy the same freedoms Anna had since she'd been born second. Not that I think I could have ever been such a… shall we say, free spirit like her. I'd always been the bundle of nerves on legs that I am. Conceal, don't feel… that'd been the only way I'd been able to maintain the calm, cool mask in front of high society and not be a walking, talking spazz of an embarrassment to my parents.

And now that little motto was what was going to get me through all this.

At least, I hoped so.

Reaching the bottom floor of my building, I stopped just short of the exit, taking a slow deep breath. Then I smoothed my dress, swept my braid forward over one shoulder and gave myself a reassuring nod.

I got this.

With my box still firmly in hand, I pushed open the door and stepped outside into the parking lot where I immediately spotted Lea. He was looking down at his phone, his thumb swiping across its screen every so often while he leaned against what was presumably his car. A (what looked to be) few decades old yet well taken care of muscle car, black and sleek and one of the types named after an animal like viper or cougar or stingray, you know, just to let you know how cool this vehicle really was. It seemed Lea had decided to color coordinate with his ride, for he was dressed in head-to-toe black himself. Beneath the leather jacket that he wore was a fitted tee that simply read Straight Fire in cracked and faded script. His skinny jeans were ripped at the knees and tucked into a pair of tall, combat boots. If possible, his crimson locks seemed even wilder than usual today and he was also sporting a pair of aviator sunglasses.

...I don't got this.

Also, I was staring.

Also, I'd dropped my box.

Jeez, Elsa, get a grip. So what if the guy was gorgeous? We already knew that. Had established it from day one. It wasn't any sort of definitive proof you'd caught feelings or anything. Anyone, anything, even a corpse, even a frigging lamppost would be susceptible to his, er… his charms.

Giving myself a quick shake, I retrieved my box from the ground and walked towards him. His head lifted at the sound of my footsteps and I could feel his gaze on me. Pocketing his phone as I came to a stop in front of him, he then hunched to my eye level, bringing his face closer to mine as he tipped down his shades, revealing his all but trademark winged eyeliner with a wink and a smirk. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

...okay. There was a slight chance I'd caught feelings.

But psssh, that little flutter in my rib cage could have been anything. Maybe my last meal was disagreeing with me. Yeah, that had to be it.

Remember. Conceal, don't feel.

Squelching the foreign sensation in my chest, I fixed him with a blank stare. "...wow, that the best you got? You really have been out of the game for a while, haven't you?"

With a snerk, he used a foot to push himself up off the car as he straightened up and opened the passenger side door for me. "Nah, s'not that. I'm just going easy on you. Couldn't have you going all weak in the knees on me right before our big date with your dad."

"I think my knees have nothing to worry about," one corner of my lips turned up as I took a seat.

"You say that now, but trust me," he bent towards me, propping an elbow atop the door window and jerking a thumb towards his face, "if I really turned it on, you wouldn't stand a chance, sweet thang, it'd be straight to Swoon City for you!"

I quirked an eyebrow at him, "Did you really just use the terms 'sweet thang' and 'Swoon City' in the same sentence?"

"...yeah, not my proudest moment. Can we forget that ever happened?"

Biting back a grin, I nodded. "I think that'd be in both our best interests. Mostly yours."

"Smart ass," he shook his head with a chuckle, shutting my door and making his way around to the other side of the car.

Okay. Good. This was going well. He didn't suspect a thing. Elsa, Queen of Evasion. Now I only needed to keep up the act for the duration of the ride. A mere one hour road trip to the city of Arendelle. A measly sixty minutes. And really, what was sixty minutes in the grand scheme of things? Hardly a blip in time. This shouldn't be too hard, right?

...then of course there would be when we actually got there and Lea and I'd have to put on a whole other kind of act for Father. Then the hour long trip back. Then the-

Easy there, girl. Just focus on the immediate task before you. One step at a time.

I heard his door open and glanced over, watching him take a seat and buckle himself in. My lips pursed to one side. "...so Halloween come early this year?"

"Huh?" his hand froze just as he'd been about to turn the key in the ignition, head turning my way, eyebrows shooting high above his aviators. Then he looked down at himself, patting at his shirt and jacket. "You don't like it? Crap, do I look like trash?"

I blinked.

Had I really… just made Lea self-conscious? Lea? The guy who'd dragged me up to do karaoke with him? The guy who'd been dancing around like a doofus atop food court tables while lip-syncing to corny glam metal? That Lea? I wouldn't have even thought the word to exist in his vocabulary.

Oh gosh, I must have taken it too far in the other direction. It's 'Conceal, don't feel,' not 'Demean, be mean.'

Hastily, I said, "No, it's not that. I… you look… good." Like, real good… ahem, down girl. I averted my gaze, hoping my face didn't look as warm as it felt. "I just… wasn't expecting it, is all."

"Oh!" he perked up, a tiny smile pulling at his lips now. "Well, I'm supposed to be your dark, bad boy lover, right? Just wanted to make sure I played up the part. Whaddya think, do I look like your parents' worst nightmare or what?"

"That getup is going to leave an impression, that's for sure."

He started up the engine and it roared to life. "Hell yeah! This is how you pick me out of a crowd. I make myself easy to remember. No way your padre's forgetting me anytime soon."

"I doubt anyone's forgetting you anytime soon. Don't think they could even if they wanted to," I snorted, resting my elbow on the window sill and propping my head against my knuckles.

"Never really could just blend and fade into the background. Side effect of being so majestic," his tongue clicked twice and pretty sure there was a wink behind those shades. Then he nodded to the box in my lap as he reversed the car out of its space, "You can just toss that in the back with the others."

"Others?" I looked over my shoulder to the backseat to discover a few just like mine packed in there. "You brought more?"

He shrugged, exiting the lot and turning us out onto the main road. "Well yeah! Just wanted to help in whatever small way I could."

Small way? The guy was already throwing his whole friggin' life out of whack just to basically be my rent-a-boyfriend, for Pete's sake! I hadn't thought it possible for him to help me even more than he already was. And yet, he'd found a way. To be fair, I hadn't planned to take much back from my old condo, so really, the extra boxes weren't totally necessary. But still…

"Thanks, Lea," I gave him a tiny smile as I put mine with the rest of the herd, "you're very thoughtful."

His fingers ruffled his hair as he gave a sheepish laugh. "Nah, it's nothing."

Alright. Two minutes down. Only fifty-eight more to go.

Lord help me.

Remember when I was more hermity? Yeah, those were the days. I wonder whatever happened to those?

Oh, that's right. My sister and my roommate happened.

Brats.

"So…" I began, racking my brain for the next thing to talk about. Ah, small talk. Bane of my existence. "...nice ride. Please tell me you didn't get it just to complete this whole look you're going for."

"Shit, should I have not?" I just stared at him and he snerked, breaking out into a grin, "Nah, I'm just messing with ya. It was my old man's car. Only thing he left me when he kicked the bucket. Well, that and massive debt. Thankfully, the state took that second one off my hands."

That's right. Lea'd been brought up in the foster system. So this now explained why one of his parents had been out of the picture. I frowned, tucking in my bottom lip. "...I'm sorry."

"Why? Got no reason to be," he chuckled, shaking his head. "It was ages ago, I've long since made my peace with it. I'm not broken up about it, trust me."

My eyes drifted from the buildings blurring past us over to him. "What was he like?"

His head shifted slightly towards me for a second before pointing straight ahead again. "Well… he wasn't ever gonna be winning father of the year, that's for sure. Not even runner up or one of those cruddy lil participation ribbons. The guy ODed out when I was six, so take from that what you will." He paused, tapping an index finger to the steering wheel a few times. "...but he did care. Did his best to do right by me. Saïx too, even though he wasn't his kid. The man wasn't a bad guy… he just didn't have his shit together and never really was meant to be a father."

The downward tug at my lips deepened as I lowered my gaze to my hands, folded neatly in my lap. "...can I ask, ah… your mother..."

"Where she fits into all this?" he ventured and I gave a slow nod. "Oh, she makes Pops look like he was a goddamn saint. She's a leech. Just hopping from one sugar daddy to the next, popping out kids she never wanted. Same day we buried our old man, she took Saïx and me out for ice cream after. Handed us some munny and told us to go order and pay while she snagged us a table to sit at. When we turned around a few minutes later, she'd split. Haven't seen her since."

My heart squeezed as I regarded him with wide eyes. "Wow, that… that's just awful. You have no idea where she is at all?"

"Didn't say that now. We actually did some digging into it a few years ago. Turns out she's just a couple states over, shacked up with some new sucker. An orthodontist or something. They're living up the suburbia life with the white picket fence, two-point-five kids, the whole shebang. Guess Saïx and I were just her practice run rejects before she went off and started her real family." He shrugged, "Though maybe she'll eventually skip out on this one too, who knows?"

I tipped my head to one side. "How do you know all that if you haven't seen her?"

"I haven't. Saïx has." He stopped at a red light, flicking on his turn signal. Then his hand was rubbing at the nape of his neck. "...she did try to reach out to me once. Last year. Left a voicemail saying something about wanting to reconnect or some bullshit. I deleted it. Couldn't of been all that serious 'bout it, seeing as how she hasn't tried again since. Probably just a halfhearted attempt to ease her pathetic excuse for a conscience before washing her hands of it and calling it a day."

My eyebrows met in a peak before I looked away again, fingers absently toying with my braid. He was talking so calmly about it all, so casually. As if he were discussing nothing more interesting than the weather. It made it harder for me to figure out an appropriate response in a situation that I was already so completely socially ill-equipped to deal with in the first place. Should I be just as laid back about it as he was? No, that felt insensitive. Should I express pity? Absolutely not, he'd probably hate that…

Seriously, what do?

How do you people?

"Alright," his voice broke through my thoughts, "you're up for sharing time." The light changed green and he pressed down on the gas pedal, turning us onto the highway entrance. "Why'd you do it? Go all Runaway Bride on your big day?"

I was relieved that he (whether knowingly or not) had saved me from having to come up with something to say to his tragic backstory. Even if this did mean I had to now talk about myself, which usually would have been just as anxiety-inducing of an experience. But somehow, right here, right now, talking to Lea... the idea didn't seem as uncomfortable as I normally would've expected it to be.

Twisting the tip of my braid around one finger, I mulled over it for a few silent seconds. Finally, I said, "It… he and I… we just weren't… right. I thought we were. He thought we were. My parents and his parents certainly thought we were. And I didn't want to disappoint them, so I just kept telling myself that everything was as it should be. That he and I made sense. But we didn't. Not really, not… in my heart. We just…"

"You didn't love him," he said simply, and I winced. As if I'd done something wrong. Then I nodded. "And it took you getting within a stone's throw of saying 'I do' to realize that?"

"Well," I frowned up at the ceiling, "...I'd always heard that love takes time. So I think a part of me was just waiting for it to happen. Waiting for… I don't know… that moment where it'd just hit me, that moment of just… 'oh wow! So that's what this is supposed to feel like' or something. I thought maybe… maybe our first kiss. Or maybe by our first anniversary. Or maybe when he proposed to me. Or maybe when I was trying on gowns or looking at venues with him. But then, suddenly, it was our wedding day and it struck me that still… nothing. And if it I wasn't feeling it after being together for five years, that I probably was never going to. That's when the panic set in and… well…"

"Let me guess. That's when the legendary Phonebook Heist occurred," one corner of his lips twitched up.

I breathed a soft laugh. "Yeah. Had to ditch the big poofy dress. And I used the phonebook to track Rayne down, since she wasn't listed under her full name in it."

A snort escaped him. "Ever thought of this crazy lil thing all the kids are doing nowadays called writing things down on a post-it? I know, wild right? It's new, maybe ya haven't heard of it."

"I was a bit stressed and not exactly thinking clearly in that moment," I bit back a grin, giving his arm a gentle shove.

"Gee, I wonder why," he said wryly as he shifted lanes. "Still curious as to why you felt like you had to run away. Couldn't you have just called the wedding off?"

"You make it sound so easy," my lips twisted sourly. "If it were, do you think I would have let Rayne rope us into going along with this crazy plan of Anna's and hers? You don't know my parents. They… have a way of getting what they want. No one says no to them. In their world, things are done a certain way. Always have been, always will be, end of discussion."

"Their world?" one of his eyebrows arched. Then something clicked. "That's right, you're loaded."

I shook my head, "My parents are, not me. Not anymore, anyway. Not unless you think I'm scooping mall ice cream at minimum wage just for kicks."

"What, you don't have a trust fund or something?"

"No, I do. Or rather… I did. I'm not sure anymore, really, not after everything I've done. Mother and Father control it and can make sure I never see a cent of it now. Not that I think I even want it anymore," I sighed, eyes downcast as I rubbed my elbow. "I really… have no idea what to expect at this point. How this whole meeting with Father will go. What he'll say or do or… I'm just… terrified."

I felt an unexpected warmth on my shoulder and I glanced over to find Lea's hand resting there. He gave it a small squeeze and smiled, "It'll be okay, El. Everything'll work out, you'll see. You'll get through this. And I'll be there to help any way I can, capisce? Now buck up," he lightly nicked my chin with his knuckle before gripping the steering wheel again. "Gonna need you to bring your A-game here if we're gonna fool your old man. Do a real good job and there's an ice cream with your name on it when we get back to Twilight Town."

One side of my mouth tugged up. "Don't you still owe me ice cream for helping you study?"

"And I still plan to make good on that once I've finally nailed down your fave. Speaking of," he paused with a low hum. "...Aloha Ohana?" My lips parted but he was already shaking his head, "Nope, too chunky. You like your desserts like you like your men," he waggled his eyebrows, "smooth."

My grin twitched wider. "Oh, really? And how would you know?"

"Isn't it obvious? Cuz I'm yo man," he jabbed a thumb into his chest.

"...and you think you're smooth?"

"As silk, baby!"

I hid my growing smile behind my fingers. "You're a dork is what you are… but a sweet dork."

He chuckled. "Maybe. But don't tell anyone. I got my bad boy reputation to maintain."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Somehow I was now getting the feeling that this little road trip of ours?

Maybe wasn't going to be as bad as I'd originally thought.

"Whatcha think? Too much?"

I glanced over at Lea. Sunglasses now perched atop his head, he returned my gaze, looking away from using his rear view mirror to help him up his guyliner game. The makeup pencil in his hand lifted from his cheek where he'd been applying what looked to be an upside down teardrop mark just beneath his right eye.

I snerked and wrinkled my nose slightly.

Lea huffed out a tiny laugh. "Say no more," he reached over, pulling some tissue from the glove compartment and wiping off his cheek.

We'd arrived just a moment ago and had parked on Fjord Boulevard, right in front of my old condominium building. I'd been using that minute to gather myself and work up the nerve to actually get out of the car. If it hadn't already been made abundantly clear, Lea had been using that same minute just as wisely himself.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly one last time, I finally unbuckled my seatbelt, opened my door and stepped onto the sidewalk.

The building before me was tall, imposing, and screamed munny and decadence. I'd never really noticed the sheer air of grandeur about it before, but now it all but smacked me in the face. Gosh, had it really only been about a month since I'd last been here? It felt like eons ago. A whole other lifetime. That girl who'd lived here once upon a time… she hadn't been me. Not really. It almost felt wrong coming back here now. Like I was an imposter. Some sort of usurper. It made my insides shrivel up and it took everything I had not to just jump back into the car and speed away without so much as a backwards glance.

Spotting movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned my head to find Lea standing next to me now, a couple of the smaller cardboard boxes wedged between his arm and side. My hands went to take one from him but he pivoted back a step, shifting them out of my reach as he wagged a finger in my face, "Ah ah! Don't worry about it, I got 'em. Makes me feel all buff and manly." He flexed his free arm.

I gave him a dull look. "...they're empty."

"Shush, let me have this."

My eyelids drooped. "Fine. You're the manliest man to ever man."

"Thank you." Then he gave a tiny mock bow, sweeping one hand out wide towards the building before us, "Lady's first."

Shaking my head, I walked towards the doorman standing in wait beneath the long awning leading to the entrance.

That's right. Doorman. As if this place weren't fancy enough already.

"Welcome back, Miss Fryse," he greeted, pulling the door open for me. "Or, if I may be so bold, Mrs W-"

"No!" I blurted out quickly, eyes wide, palms blurring up in a stop gesture.

Oh gosh, he had no idea I'd ran out on the wedding.

...well of course he didn't! Why would he?

...awkwaaaaard.

"Th-thank you, Cliff," I shakily lowered my hands to clasp in front of me, averting my gaze. "Ah… Fryse, please… if you would."

The man seemed unperturbed. In fact, his face brightened, "Oh, how modern! My missus will be thrilled to hear it. I trust you had a lovely honeymoon?"

And the awkward just kept on coming.

"It… er… " I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm actually in a small bit of a hurry. I have plans to meet with Father here shortly."

"Ah yes, so he said as well," he nodded before looking past me with a delicate frown. "And would this be the, uh… guest he mentioned would be accompanying you?"

I followed his gaze, glancing over my shoulder to where Lea stood behind me, hooligan incarnate. He clicked his tongue, shooting a finger gun at the doorman. I said, "Yes, I suppose he would b-" the words caught in my throat and I quickly looked back at Cliff. "Wait, so he said?" I echoed. "...is my father here already?"

"Why yes, ma'am, I let him in but a few moments ago."

My heart plummeted into my stomach.

I hadn't expected him to be here before us. I'd thought we would still have a little more time.

But he was here now.

This was happening now.

Like... now now.

And I was so very…

...very…

...NOT ready!

Somehow, I kept it together enough to manage a thanks to Cliff before stepping inside, feeling my knees start to go numb. And somehow, I kept it together while crossing the gilded, marble foyer to the elevators, ignoring the clamminess of my palms. I even somehow kept it together long enough to exchange pleasantries with the lobby attendant there who called the lift down for us before Lea and I stepped onto it and I, with only a slight tremor to my limbs, pushed the button for the top floor.

But the nanosecond those mechanized, mirrored doors slid shut…

"I can't!" My hands shot up, fingers digging into my scalp as I started hyperventilating and pacing, feeling the elevator begin to rise. "I can't go through with this! I can't, I just can't do it! This is crazy, this, this is nuts! How the heck did I ever let them talk me into this?! How?! There's just… just no way! It's not possible, I can't! I can't, I can't, I-"

Lea was suddenly in front of me, gently grabbing my arms and bringing me to an abrupt stop. "Woah now, slow down, El, breathe," he bent down to look me in the eye with concern. "It'll be okay. Trust me on this, you can do this. We can. You just gotta take it one step at a time and breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"But how?! How will it be okay? I have to lie to him! I can't lie, I don't know how! I have no chill! You hear me? None! Zip! Absolutely zero chill! I couldn't even lie to Anna about the Easter Bunny when she was only four years old! Four, Lea. Four!"

"Okay, alright, then just don't think about it as lying. Think about it as…" his lips pursed to the left as his eyes shifted about. Then his face lit up, "...as one of those musicals you like so much!"

"Ah! We should break out into song and dance!" I said excitedly if somewhat desperately.

This is my brain. This is my brain on panic attack.

"...let's call that plan B. But no, I meant more like we're… between numbers right now and that we're acting. You like acting, right? Told me you used to do it all the time at camp, remember?"

"Acting…" I repeated slowly, turning the word over in my mind as some of the tension started to ease from my body.

Yes, acting. Acting technically, technically wasn't lying. Acting I could do.

...maybe.

I frowned at him. "I need a script."

"A script," he blinked. Then he straightened up, tapping a knuckle to his chin. "What about instead… guidelines?"

"Guidelines?" I echoed flatly.

"Yeah, for… ya know…" he pointed back and forth between him and me, "...this. Us. When we're in front of your folks and around the mall. Stuff like, uh..." he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head, "...PDAs? Do's and don'ts. What's okay and what isn't. Boundaries and whatnot."

...oh.

Oh fudge.

"...you're kidding me… this is only coming up now?!" Recommencing pacing forthwith, now with added braid yanking action. "What's wrong with me, what was I thinking?! We had that whole friggin' car ride here, no, the whole last twenty-four hours and somehow we didn't discuss this already?! Not even once?!"

"El, El, it's okay, we can figure all that stuff out now."

His hand tried to close around my arm again, but I jerked it free. "How? There's no time! Any second, the elevator with chime and those doors will part and we'll have to face him and I'll crack and he'll know and, and, and that's it! Done! Finito! Curtains! It'll all be over before it's even begun and-"

This time he did manage to grab hold of my arm, pulling me to him and wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. "Shh," he murmured, lightly stroking my hair and resting his chin on my head. He felt so warm as I took shallow, rapid breaths against his chest, inhaling that cinnamon scent of his combined with the oddly soothing smell of leather from his jacket that I was tightly gripping onto. My eyes slowly fluttered shut, my muscles starting to relax again, my panicked heart rate beginning to calm.

This was actually somewhat… kind of nice...

And then it happened.

The elevator chimed. Those doors parted. My eyes snapped open to discover standing there waiting for us on the other side was-

"F-Father!" I gasped, shoving Lea away. "Hi! I mean," I stood up straighter, stepped out onto the new floor, folded one hand over the other just below my waist, and ducked my head slightly, "H-Hello."

...wait.

Did I just…?

Instant mental replay.

-shoving Lea away-

Crud.

Not five seconds in and I was already acting in a most ungirlfriendlike fashion towards my alleged boyfriend.

What'd I tell you? Zero chill. Zilch.

"Elsa," I heard my father say, drawing my attention back to him. He was a tall man with hair the same auburn as Anna's. He looked stiff and rigid in the expensive dark blue suit he was wearing, lips set into a stoic line beneath his thin mustache and green eyes stern as he regarded me. The air felt heavy around us, the long stretch of silence deafening. I was convinced there was no possible way he couldn't hear the jackhammering of my heart against my ribcage while I tried to maintain a cool exterior under his scrutiny. Then finally after what felt like an eternity, he said evenly, "You look well."

I bit down on my lip as I lowered my gaze once more, eyes darting about. "...as do you."

Insert uncomfortably drawn-out pause. Then, "And I presume this would be…?"

He was looking at Lea, standing beside me now with boxes once more lazily propped on his jutted hip. My heart jolted and I started wringing my hands. "Ah… yes… this… this is…"

Just spit it out already!

"...this is boy. He is friend."

I word good.

Alright, take two.

Suppressing my wince, I tried again, "Er, that is to say, this is…" I clenched and unclenched my hands at my sides. "...this is my… my-"

"Lea," he rescued me, introducing himself and offering his hand.

My father just stared at it, expression unreadable, and there was a second - one very long second - where I thought he might not take it. But at last he did, if a touch gingerly, and gave it a curt shake. "A... pleasure, I'm sure."

"Likewise, Pops." He grinned now, "It's fine to call you Pops, right? Might as well get all friendly cuz we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other, no doubt."

Father didn't so much as yank his hand back as retrieve it as quickly as was politely and socially acceptable, his lips tight. "...Mr Fryse will suffice."

Lea just shrugged and grinned wider, taking his own hand back.

And slid it into mine, interlacing our fingers together.

Heart.

Flatlined.

Okay, sure, this really shouldn't have been all that big of a deal. After all, Lea had held my hand before. But that had just been when he'd needed to drag me somewhere. It'd been incidental. This? This was hand holding with purpose. This hand holding was a declaration. This hand holding was up on the metaphorical soapbox with a megaphone and would not be ignored. This hand holding was making a goddamn statement.

This hand holding was causing me to burn bright red.

Conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel!

Luckily, Father's narrowed gaze was too focused on said hand holding to notice my face trying to give the plush, deep crimson carpet beneath our feet a run for its munny. After another excruciatingly long second (of which I was beginning to suspect this little visit would be in no short supply of), he whipped around and strode off down the hallway, back ramrod straight and voice taut as he said, "Let's step into your condo now."

"Let's," Lea chirped, following after him.

Still holding my hand.

I stumbled into awkward step beside him, glancing out of the corner of my eye down at where my tingling fingers were intertwined with his. This was no longer necessary… right? I mean, Father wasn't looking at us anymore. So I should just let go, shouldn't I? Yes… yes, I absolutely should. Okay, here we go… letting go now… in three… two… one...

...I wasn't letting go.

I shot my hand a tiny scowl. Fine, you win. Five more seconds, bucko, but that's it.

It remained stubbornly fastened to his. Fifteen seconds.

I rolled my eyes. Ten seconds, but that's as high as I'm willing to go.

...was I seriously haggling with my hand just now?

I'm in desperate need of having my head examined.

It wasn't long before we came to a stop where the hall turned at a corner, Father using a key already in hand to open the door located there. My door. Or rather… what was now formerly my door, I suppose. He walked in first with Lea not too far behind him and me in tow, my hand still in his.

To say the condo we'd stepped into was spacious would be an understatement. The living room alone probably could have fit Rayne's and Riku's apartment in it twice over. It was a corner unit with massive floor-to-ceiling windows leading out onto an expansive balcony overlooking the city and the distant white-capped mountains that surrounded it. With its crystal tables, art deco furniture, and extravagant paintings hanging on the walls, the sitting room was quite picturesque. So pretty, so pristine, so... sterile. Like one of those staged pictures that would be on a website trying to catch the eye of potential buyers. My mother had done the decorating, not I, which was probably why it looked so unlived in. This was more space than I had ever really needed anyway. I'd rarely left my own bedroom when I'd called this place home.

A low whistle blew from Lea's lips as his eyes drifted around the room. "Wow, you really were a princess up in a tower, huh?" He slipped his hand out of mine and I had to ignore how cold and lonely my fingers now felt. Stupid, clingy fingers. "Why don't you two take a minute to catch up while I," he held up the boxes, giving them a tiny shake, "go get started in your room. Which door is it? Bah, nevermind, I'll figure it out."

I blinked. Wait, my room? I didn't know if I was all that comfortable with the idea of someone being in there without me and going through my stuff.

I turned to look at him, opening my mouth to voice my objection. Before I could utter a sound however, his hand cradled the back of my neck, drawing me closer to him and planting a tender kiss to my forehead, sending waves of icy heat rippling all the way down to my toes.

I-

Wha-

Conc-

Don-

Fe-

Con- Co- C-C-Congeal, tone eel!

...wait, what?

Please stand by, Elsa is currently experiencing some minor technical difficulties.

He pulled back, smiling down at me and murmuring, "Have fun, babe." Yup. Those were words alright. Did I understand them? Nope! In fact, I wasn't comprehending much of anything in that second. "Pops," Lea shot my father a two-fingered salute before wandering off down an archway on the far side of the room leading to the rest of the condo.

Father lifted his nose with a sniff, lips pinching almost imperceptibly. "Your… friend is quite the... character."

"Ah… yes. He is," I heard myself replying, surprised that I was able to string more than two words together, bonus points for being in the correct order to boot. Wouldn't have thought it possible, what with my brains having been melted to mush inside the blazing sauna that was currently my face. There was no way Father could miss it this time. Hopefully he just thought I was embarrassed over the impropriety of Lea's forwardness. Not wanting to give him a chance to read too much into it, I hastily asked, "How is Mother?"

"As well as can be expected," he said flatly, folding his arms behind him and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "...better… since we've had news of you."

I winced, looking down at my feet.

And there it was again. That stifling silence.

There were so many things unsaid hanging in the air between us. A big whopping elephant wearing a friggin' diamond-studded wedding gown in the room that neither one of us wanted to be the first one to bring up, it seemed. At least, I know I certainly didn't. I knew I couldn't avoid the unpleasant topic forever, but at the same time there was a silly little part of me that was hoping if I put it off long enough, that... I don't know... the statute of limitations for discussing it would expire or something.

If only.

Well, someone had to be the one to start. Might as well get this over with. Screwing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath and-

"Snowbunny? Could you come in here for a sec please?" Lea's voice rang out from down the hall.

Great. And just when my face had finally managed to cool down too. At the rate this was going, I was beginning to suspect my cheeks might get stuck in this lovely shade of tomato rouge.

Plastering on a smile, I told Father, "I'll be right back."

"Of course," he gave a simple nod. However, the tiny scowl he was directing towards where Lea's words had come from was not lost on me.

I primly and with as much dignity as I could muster walked over to the archway. As soon as I was out of his line of sight however, I broke into a sprint down the hall, skidding to a stop in the doorway to my bedroom and scrunching up my face. "Snowbunny?" I spat out like it left a bad taste in my mouth.

He looked up from where he was neatly folding one of my dresses into a box atop my bed, flashing me a grin. "Was trying out a pet name to use around the folks. Thoughts?"

"I think there's a razor thin line between you trying to not look or sound like a pushover in front of them and you just straight up pissing them off."

"Huh," he tipped his head to one side. "...keep workingshopping it then?"

I rolled my eyes with a soft snort, moving further into the room to stand in front of him, "Yes, I'd say so."

"Noted." He closed the flaps to the box shut before crossing his arms and shifting over to lean back against my vanity, frowning at me. "Hey, we're okay right?" At my quirked eyebrow, he elaborated, "Ya know, with the this," he raised one of his hands with a waggle, then pointed at my own hand, "holding that, and these," now he gestured to his lips before gently poking my brow, "planting one right there."

"Oh." I resisted the urge to reach up to where my forehead still felt warm and had the ghost of a tickle from the brush of his lips earlier. Doing my best to suppress the umpteenth blush of the day, I looked away, "No, no, that was nice… er, I mean fine. Acceptable."

Elsa, Queen of Keeping Her Cool.

He grinned in relief. "Good. Was just winging it since we didn't really get a chance to discuss anything, but wouldn't have wanted to do something that made you uncomfortable."

"Nope! Totally a-okay here." I gave him a thumbs up. Then immediately felt lame for giving him a thumbs up and instead put my hands to better use running them down my braid. "So… I'm assuming there's an actual reason you called me in here."

"Right!" He flicked a hand at the two cardboard crates sitting side by side atop my mattress. "We're gonna need more boxes from the car."

I furrowed my brow, approaching them. "But I thought I'd only need one. How'd you fill them both up already?"

Lea shrugged, one side of his mouth turning up. "Just grabbed stuff out of your closet. Anything that'd look cute on you."

I pulled the flaps back on one to peek inside, my eyes widening before hastily opening the other one as well and puffing out a sigh, "You've packed everything that was hanging in there."

"Well, yeah! Cuz everything looks cute on you, El!"

It should be illegal for him to say things like that.

My broiling cheeks seconded that notion.

Slapping the boxes shut again, I huffed, "Fine, we'll run back down to grab more after my father leaves. But you! You're no longer involved in the decision making of what I do or don't bring back, got it? I don't have room for all this junk at my new place," I jabbed a warning finger in his direction, to which he just held up his hands in surrender, smirking and giving me another tiny shrug.

That was the face of zero remorse.

And I couldn't even really get mad about it since he'd only been being his big dumb sweet self again.

Ugh, I didn't even really want all these things. All these clothes that'd been bought and paid for with my parents' munny. This was my new life, my own life free from their control and I wanted to manage it with absolutely zero help from them, nothing, not even so much as a stitch of clothing. The only real reason I'd even come here today was to see Father and set Operation Boyfriend But Shh Not Really in motion. I'd probably just end up giving most if not all of these dresses to charity anyway.

Shaking my head, I glanced about the room. "Now where…? Ah!" I'd spotted what I was looking for - my phone resting on the vanity next to Lea's hand. Probably left there by Anna weeks ago, since she'd been the one holding onto it for me on The Wedding Day That Never Was.

Lea sidestepped out of my way as I moved to pick it up. He gave me a curious look, "The parental units still gonna be paying for your data plan?"

"Doubt it. I wouldn't accept it, even if they offered. Rayne said she can put me on her and Riku's family plan until I've gotten a few more checks from work and can start paying for my own. It'll be nice not having to borrow hers all the time anymore."

...okay, I know I'd just had that little mental spiel about not wanting to accept anything from my parents. But come on now, in this day and age, phones are all but a necessity, not to mention expensive. Besides, it's not like I was just going to take it. I planned to reimburse my parents for it… discuss and figure out some sort of payment plan with them that would work with my budget.

"Well in that case," he pulled a black Sharpie from the pen holder on my vanity, biting down on the cap and pulling it off before taking one of my hands in his and turning my palm up so he could write a phone number on it, punctuated with a tiny heart.

I stared blankly at my hand. "Um…?"

He winked at me. "My digits."

Now I stared at him blankly. "I figured, but why?"

"What, you don't think you should have yo man's number on speed dial in your phone?"

"No, that I get, but why," I shoved my palm into his face, "on my hand?"

A tiny snerk through his nose. "How else were you gonna get it? By psychically plucking it outta the air from my mind?"

"No, by having Rayne enter it into my phone after recharging it when I got home," I said flatly.

He blinked, eyes darting to the left. "...alright, point there." Then he chuckled, scratching a spot behind his ear. "I've just always wanted to write my number on a girl's hand. Seemed like a real slick move."

I drooped my eyelids at him. "Was it everything you dreamed it would be, stud?"

"And more!" he beamed.

"You're weird."

"Careful now or all that sweet talk of yours will go straight to my head."

Fighting a begrudging grin, I snatched up the charger from where it lay on the vanity as well and stepped back over to the boxes, slipping it and the mobile in with the folded clothes. Then both my eyebrows shot up my forehead and I glanced back at him. "Wait, you've never written your number on a girl's hand before?"

He blinked back at me, "...no?"

"But Rayne told me what a ladykiller you used to be, and that right there seems like Ladykillers 101."

"Gah, Raindrop," he grumbled under his breath, facepalming. "...those were… you don't really need to exchange numbers when you're just… looking to hookup for a night."

"...oh." I looked away, seriously regretting pulling at this thread.

His hand went to the nape of his neck, tugging at the hairs there. "...I've changed a lot in the last year."

"It sounds like it," I smiled gently at him. Then I exhaled heavily, "Okay… guess I better get back out there then."

"Wait," his hand closed around my wrist as I turned to go, stopping me in my tracks. I gave him a questioning look and he released me, squinting at me and tapping a knuckle to his lips in thought. Then he snapped his fingers and was shrugging out of his leather jacket, holding it out towards me. "Put this on."

My head rocked back slightly, gaze shifting back and forth between him and it a few times. "...but I'm not cold. And we're inside. Why would I go back out to Father wearing your jacket?"

"That's the point," his eyes crinkled as he moved closer to me, slipping my arms into it and tugging it on, flipping the collar up. "Make him wonder. It'll drive him batshit. Now scoot," his fingertip booped my nose before he spun me around and gave me a light shove out of my room. I staggered out into the hall, glancing back at Lea as he leaned a shoulder against my door frame. "Go get 'im, tiger."

I shot him a hard stare. "Also not an acceptable pet name in front of my parents."

"Duly noted." His arms folded beneath his chest as he tossed his head towards the living room, "Now go on already, get."

Pressing my lips together into a thin line, I looked straight ahead down the hall, squared my shoulders and started a slow march forward.

Why was I doing all of this again? Oh, right. To get my parents to leave me alone and stop trying to interfere with my life. And wearing Lea's jacket was going to help with that. Somehow. Was still kind of fuzzy on the how. The jacket itself smelled strongly of boy - really nice smelling, cinnamon-spiced boy. It was actually kind of comforting and was easing my nerves somewhat. So in a way, I guess that was helping. I glanced down at the sleeves as I walked. They were too long, stretching past my hands and hiding the number written in fresh ink on my palm. I suppose that helped a bit too. It would have been awkward explaining it to Father if he had seen it. So in that regard, the jacket was also practical.

So there you have it.

A helpful, comforting, and practical jacket.

...ugh, what was I even doing anymore? Really? Could somebody tell me please? At this point, I was just grasping at straws here.

I stepped back out into the living room to find Father with his back to me as he faced the large windows, staring out onto the balcony and beyond. I gave a polite little cough into my hand to catch his attention, saying, "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all, I-" he cut himself off as he turned, spotting me. Or, more precisely, me in the jacket. He then proceeded to give the thing the darkest look I'd ever seen him give any poor, unsuspecting garment.

Welp. Mission accomplished there I guess.

Whatever the mission had been exactly.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, absently fiddling with the zipper dangling from the left leather sleeve. Then I broke the long stretch of silence with a delicate clearing of my throat. "S-so… about the, uh… about the wedd-"

His hand shot up, stopping my words dead. His face had regained its aloof, impassive mask once more. "Regrettably, we don't have time to properly discuss that matter this visit. I have business elsewhere that I must attend to shortly. I merely came to allow you access to your old condo."

"Oh," I breathed, frowning and quickly looking down at my feet.

"...and to see for myself how you were doing," he added, his voice softening somewhat. Maybe I'd only imagined it however. "Your mother… she's expressed wishes to see you as well."

My gaze lifted once more as I sucked in a tiny breath, feeling hope prickle inside my chest. "Ah… yes, of… of course! I could come visit in a few days or-"

"We're actually having a small family get-together in roughly two weeks' time. A bit of a weekend affair, if you will. I think it would be for the best if you came by then. We could set aside time to discuss your actions between the festivities. Of course, your… your friend," he tried, really did try, to restrain the curl of distaste to his lips here, but wasn't quite fully successful, "is extended the invitation as well."

"You're too kind, Pops!" Lea's chipper voice sounded from behind me even as I'd been opening my mouth to respond. Before I could turn to look at him, I felt his grip on my arm tugging me and I stumbled backwards into his chest where he proceeded to hug my shoulders from behind and nuzzle his cheek against mine. "We wouldn't miss it for the world!"

How I had yet to suffer a heart attack during this entire little excursion was beyond me.

Once again, the words 'Conceal, don't feel,' chanted like a desperate prayer through my mind as I grasped his arm, hiding my flushed face in the crook of his elbow. Those three little words were starting to blur together into gibberish and lose all meaning, I'd recited them so much at this point.

Father fixed us with a long, unblinking stare and he'd gone so still, I could have sworn he'd turned to solid stone for a second there. But at last, he managed a, "Wonderful." I seriously doubt he meant that. "We look forward to seeing you both there." That either. "Well then... I'll just leave this here," he deposited the key onto the dining table, "should you decide you need to come back at a later date for more of your belongings. If and when we decide to sell the unit, we'll be sure to let you know. I'll be in touch shortly with further details of the upcoming gathering, otherwise I'm sure your sister will be only too happy to pass along the information as well."

"Thank you… Father," I muffled into Lea's arm.

He bowed his head slightly. "Right then, well… I must be off."

"T'was lovely to make your acquaintance," I could all but hear the smirk in Lea's voice as Father turned to go.

He froze, posture reaching new magnitudes of stiffness previously thought impossible. "...likewise," was all he said after a beat, not even looking back before striding out the front door, clicking it shut behind him.

And just like that, he was gone.

"I think that went rather well," Lea said brightly, not yet removing his arms.

I sighed, unconsciously relaxing a bit back into his chest. "I guess. Though I was kind of hoping we'd be able to air everything out today so it'd be all over and done with... I suppose I should be glad he didn't just disown me on the spot, for whatever that's worth. This thing he's invited us to though… it makes me uneasy."

His hair tickled as he turned his head to look at me. "What makes you say that?"

A small frown marred my face. "I don't know… it's probably nothing, just me being paranoid. I guess… all we can do is go, continue to put on this little performance and see what happens." My eyelids drooped, "Speaking of which, we really need to get on setting those ground rules for PDAs."

He swiftly released me now, taking a step back and holding his arms up like a criminal caught red-handed, "Sorry, did I cross a line with that one?"

I turned to face him but didn't quite meet his gaze. I knew that if I did in this precise second, I might be setting a new world record for number of blushes per minute, or BPM if you will. Feeling I'd done enough of that for one day, I looked everywhere but directly into his eyes, fingers plucking at my braid. "Not… exactly. I just… need to be forewarned on these things… know what I'm getting into, so they don't, ah… catch me off guard in the future."

"Oh, so that's why you were such an awkward walnut the whole time," he laughed, moving over to one of the couches and flopping down unceremoniously onto it, kicking his boots up on the immaculate, glossy finish of the coffee table. "Thought that was a little weird. You acted like a guy's never given you snuggles and affection before."

My lips twisted to one side and I said nothing.

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter. "You gotta be pulling my leg here. You were dating the guy, your fiancé, for what... five years was it? What were you two even doing that whole time?"

Grimacing, I made my way over to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from him. "The thing is, my ex… he was never really a fan of romantic gestures, big or small. Especially not in front of other people."

"Seriously?" he looked positively offended at the very idea. "He had to at least hug you in public, right?" I hesitantly shook my head. "Brush your hair back behind your ear?" A pause, then a second small shake. "Shit, for the love of- hold your hand?" Annnnd a third. "Please, please tell me he at least kissed you."

So much for not making it into the Guinness book for the most BPM. With a tiny scowl, I said, "Well, of course he did. Though… mostly only behind closed doors. But he'd take me on dates to fancy restaurants, art galas, the opera... oh, and he'd occasionally tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow when we were out." It almost sounded like I was trying to defend him now. "And he'd… uh…" Huh. Guess that about covered it. "...well, he just thought such things to be garish, empty gestures that were unnecessary," I finished lamely.

Lea gaped at me. "...and you were gonna marry this guy? Dude sounds like a fucking idiot."

I looked at him sharply. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, it's just…" he frowned now, leaning forward in his seat and planting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his arm. "El, you deserve better than that. Someone who'll worship the ground you walk on. Ya know… rose petals, white doves, the whole cornball, cheesy works."

"Oh." Would you look at that? Not two seconds and I'd already shattered the new BPM record I'd just set. I was really going to need to get this whole face heating situation under control, this quite simply would not fly anymore. "...th-thank you?"

He cleared his throat and propped his cheek in his palm, looking at me sideways. "No wonder you were weird about all that stuff I did. You've never really been all that touchy-feely with a guy before, huh?" He grinned, "Good news is we got two weeks to practice."

I cocked my head slightly. "Practice?"

"Yup!" He scooched over closer to me, nudging my shoulder with his. "We threw ya into the deep end before you were ready. Now we gotta rewind and actually teach you how to swim. And you know a good place to start? Learning by example."

"Which means…?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Observing some of the local wildlife perform their ritualistic mating displays in their natural habitat. That's right, you guessed it: couple-watching in the food court!"

Author's Note: Our couple is off to a rocky start! But it's to be expected with what an awkward penguin Elsa is. She was not built for this! But she'll get there… maybe xD They got 2 weeks to figure it out anyway… 2 whole weeks of fluff, mwahaha! Yeah, we're gonna take a lil detour off the Plot Highway here to make a stop in the good ol' town of Fluffsville for the next several chapters xD Also, Elsa's dress this chapter is loosely based on her Let It Go ice dress - the silhouette of it is at least (I think I used that fashion term correctly…). Lea's outfit is based on nothing, I just wanted to make him... smokin' hawt ;D ALSO, Elsa's dad isn't as nice a guy in this as he seems to be in the Frozen movies, but you all probably figured that was coming with the way he's been talked about the whole story thus far. To be fair, Elsa's parents in the movie could be considered a bit controlly with how they made Elsa suppress her powers, so just consider how he is in this story a twist on that from the movies xD Yet another also: Cliff (the doorman) is apparently the name of one of the rock trolls in the movie, so I figured, SURE, why not, let's name the doorman that! And one more also (last one, I swear!) - I'd run out of KH:BBS official ice cream flavors by this chapter. The one named in this chapter (based on Lilo and Stitch if it weren't obvious) was one my friend (who I'm borrowing Rayne from) came up with! I imagine it's description up on the Ice Palace menu would read something like "It's got all the punch of Hawaii's tangy fruit flavors and a little bit of Elvis for kicks! Naturally it's blue as the sea with bits of Hawaiian fruit in the center!" In any case, by the next time I needed to come up with an ice cream flavor name later on in this story, I'd figured out a new source list to pull from, as you'll all discover very soon!

Next chapter, will our leading man and lady get the hang of this whole relationship dealio? What couple(s) did Lea have in mind for them to watch? Will it actually help? Or will it only muddle matters further? Just what IS the world record for most blushes per minute and is Elsa really in the running for that highly coveted title? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

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cam-rowe · 4 years

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Hi! I saw your posts about vintage denim. And you seem to know a lot. I want to invest in a good levi vintage denim I'm skinny and I don't have curves I'm a little bit tall ( 174cm ), also I want to buy a pair of bell bottoms or flared jeans, what do you think? I'm confused because there are so many types of levi jeans with numbers that are confusing, are there ones who are good for girls who don't have curves?

Hey!

If you’re skinny and have very little curves, then you should be able to find a lot of vintage Levi’s that fit well because a lot of them have very narrow hips, especially the orange tab ones. I think flared jeans that are made and distributed after the 2000 look better on curvy gals and fit better, but that’s definitely not the case with vintage denim imo.

Majority of the true vintage bell bottoms and flares by Levi’s were made between the 60s and 70s, so most of them are orange tabs. However, Levi’s offer a lot of flared options and have been doing that since the 50′s. I’ll list out below a few that I think are nice options and break it down for you in details what the fit and price range is like:

1. 684

Also known as the ‘elephant bells.’ These are slim-flare fit jeans and they look amazing on girls with little to no hips imo. It sits mid to low-rise, skinny/tapered up top and it starts to flare out from the knees down. You can usually find them on depop or etsy and they go for a small fortunate (120 USD - 180 USD)

2. 645

These fit more like the tapered Cowboy flares. It was originally meant for men as the legs slouch over the boots but I find that it’s quite nice on women as well, especially when you get them customised with a little slit on the sides of the legs.

3. 646

These fit very similar to 684 but they’re usually a higher rise (sits right on the belly button.) You can find them in either crop flare or a full flare. I really like the placement of the back pockets on these jeans as it goes right on the cheeks and makes your butt looks perky.

4. White Tab Levis

If you’re not too concerned about the material being 100% denim, I’d also recommend the white tab series. You can find them for cheaper (45 USD - 70 USD) and they’re usually made out of 97% cotton. The White Tab Levi’s range was their first line of jeans that were made for women, so they are usually very hips-hugging. They won’t be as comfortable as the denim but in my experience and I don’t recommend this for anyone who’s curvy or have a larger bum. But since I’m lacking in those departments, I find that the pants/jeans from this range cups the butt better and they’re very high-waisted (like above your belly button high). You can also find them in a wide range of pastel colours, which I love as well

5. Sta-Prest

Basically these were rolled out as pants/jeans that didn’t need ironing. You can tell if a pair of Levi’s is sta-prest by either the black tab with golden ‘Levi’s’ stitched across it or there’s an actual tag inside the pants that say ‘Levi’s Sta-Prest Never Needs Ironing.’ They’re super hard to come by these days so if you come across one in your size, you best snatch them up. Again, like the White Tab, these aren’t conventional denim. They’re more like pants or cotton-twill based jeans. The cool thing about them is that they come in lots of funky patterns (sailor stripes, tweed pink, plaids) and if you’re looking for white flares, the Sta-Prest is definitely the way to go. You can find them going for 20 USD - 300 USD based on the material and the condition.

Also if these options don’t sound like it’s to your taste or you don’t want to buy vintage or vintage items aren’t accessible to you, there are plenty of other alternatives! Rolla’s offer amazing flares (in corduroy and in denim) and they mimic the tradition vintage cut that is super flattering. Rag and Bone also make really good flares that fit very comfortably. VTG Levi’s is not your only option, please remember that and feel encouraged to shop around before making the purchase!

#ask #answer #not camille #denim #levi's #tips #vintage

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crimeofthecentury · 6 years

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Rating all four of my pants from goodwill or thrift:

black corduroy pants: 6/10 perfect length good pockets and helps my vampire look. Loses points for being forced to paint in them without warning also because I can’t fit into after a meal

Paint jeans: once again, tainted because of being forced to paint only it actually kinda works because theyre plain light gray jeans and not fucking corduroy. Comfiest jeans ive ever had but theyre getting ripped at the crotch. Okay pockets 5/10

the grayish ones: 8/10 the only reliable pair of pants i have but because i wear them so often they’re getting annoying. The pockets are a little too good. Has a violet shade to it.

zigzag jeans(?): new from the thrift store, very warm and gray and has cool small zigzag patterns you cant see unless you have eagle eyes. A little longer and points docked for having pockets that kinda suck 9/10

Bonus:

Beetlejuice: i just need to get rid of these already. In the bonus section bc i pretend i dont own these. Can only fit in if I haven’t eaten in two days. Skinny jeans so i’m forced to look like a tim burton squash. Only keep them bc theyre punk af and in case i ever want to cosplay as beetlejuice but that’s it 3/10

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morganbelarus · 5 years

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Topshop’s Cozy Winter Clothes Are 30% Off Right Now Betches

So, it’s now February and it has been…hot? By that I mean, it’s been above 40 degrees. But let’s not get our hopes up for spring to make moves, even though the groundhog predicted it, because unless you were born yesterday, you know this nice weather won’t last. Unfortunately, it will be f*cking freezing again soon, and it’s even supposed to snow next week. Kill me now, please. On the bright side, having this news in advance allows us to prep for the weather the best way we can: scoping out the biggest deals to grab a cheap yet warm coat, durable boots, or fuzzy sweater to bundle up in for the office. Oh, you thought I would say something about stocking up on bread and milk? No, I’m not your mom. Clothing-wise, Topshop is saving all of our asses with their knits, coats, and boots sale. These items are up to 30% off and tbh, a lot of cute things are extremely affordable. RIP my credit card. Here are a few pieces that are worth adding to your cart to gear up for our next polar vortex.

1. Stab Stitch Logo Sweatshirt By Ivy Park

Ivy Park is like, the more DGAF version of Lululemon. Queen Bey’s athleisure street style brand is perfect for the gym, daily strolls, and your fitness Instagrams. This comfy cropped sweatshirt comes in black, so it goes with everything, and can just as easily be worn with jeans as with leggings to actually work out in.

2. Furry Sweater

This pullover sweatshirt is described as being extra soft and furry, so I assume it feels like wearing your favorite blanket. I can’t think of anything more perfect, tbh. For the winter season, this sweater allows you to fully embrace the lifestyle of Netflix & hibernation with or without a blanket, in and out of the house.

3. Corduroy Zip Up Jacket

Just looking at this is keeping me warm in this cold af office. Lined with borg, which btw, is faux sheepskin and happens to be v similar to shearling, this thick, heavy-duty jacket is made to keep you warm and cozy even in the worst of weather.

4. Love Brushed Borg Sweatshirt

I’m not usually a fan of graphic prints or anything of that nature, but this minimal embroidery is kind of cute and adds a pop of color to this muted periwinkle. This is yet another ridiculously soft sweater with borg material to keep you warm and cozy in just the right amount of fluff.

5. BABE Block Heel Ankle Boot

These cute little two inch heeled booties come in festive colors and prints, including a bold fuchsia snake pattern. They’re made out of this super long word that basically means durable plastic, so while they look great for hitting up bars, they’re also good for wading through slush.

6. Black Corduroy Joni Jeans

These may be corduroy, but whether you like the look of the material or not, you’ll hardly be able to tell since they look like regular jeans. The super skinny style grazes the ankle, fits as high-waisted, and flatters your whole bottom half.

7. KOKO Unlined Flat Leather Boots

Give your everyday Chelsea boots a break with these elevated ankle booties. You can slip right into them, walk forever with the low heel, and still jazz a lame outfit up with the silver accent if you look close enough.

Photo: Aljoscha Laschgari / Unsplash; Topshop (7) Betches may receive a portion of revenue if you click a link and purchase a product or service. The links are independently placed and do not influence editorial content.

Original Article : HERE ; This post was curated & posted using : RealSpecific

Topshop’s Cozy Winter Clothes Are 30% Off Right Now Betches was originally posted by MetNews

#MetNews

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youngavengersfeels · 7 years

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But Shit It Was 99 Cents

Pairing: Stucky

Word Count: 1353

Summary: Steve blames the fact that mannequins look too damn realistic these days.

Notes: So this is probably the shortest and most quickly written fic I have written but I saw a post on tumblr and knew I had to write it for Stucky. Let me know what you think!

Steve hated shopping for clothes. Nothing in the Men’s section ever fit him right and while his wallet appreciated that kid's clothing was cheaper, his pride did not take the hit well. It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know he was small, he would have to be delusional to think otherwise. It was just that his size didn’t really feel like that big of a deal other than when he was clothes shopping or trying to reach anything on the top shelf.

Fashion wasn’t really something that Steve was concerned about to begin with. Cheap and effective were normally his only criteria. He also preferred to buy his clothes from thrift shops than department stores. Not only were the clothes cheaper but it was more environmentally friendly to go pre-owned. It could be difficult to find things worth buying but in a city like Brooklyn as long as you had patience you could normally score a good haul by thrifting.

Steve also didn’t feel the need to buy new clothes every season. If it still fit and didn’t have too many holes it stayed in Steve’s wardrobe, the fashion industry be damned. The winter coat he had thrifted a couple years ago was good enough even if it was out of style and a little worn out. Natasha had also rolled her eyes when he would show up to hang out wearing the coat, shivering a little bit from the cold that creeped in through the holes in the coat.

When the coat finally fell apart it felt like the end of an era. Natasha celebrated while Steve mourned. Steve would have been perfectly happy to suffer a little while he waited for a good coat to show up in one of the thrift shops he frequented but after he came down with a nasty case of pneumonia from not dressing properly he was willing to give in to Natasha’s begging to take him shopping.

That’s how Steve ended up wandering around department stores with Natasha looking for a good coat. Well Steve was looking for a coat. Natasha seemed to be taking this as a chance to pressure Steve into buying a whole new wardrobe.

“You’re 26 not 96. Maybe consider jeans instead of khakis or corduroys,” Natasha almost begged holding an armful of skinny jeans. Steve was dubious that the jeans would do anything other than make his already skinny legs look even more like twigs.

“I’m offended on the behalf of old men everywhere,” Steve scowled although he gave in and tried on a pair of jeans and was surprised to find they actually made his flat ass look a little less flat.

He should have known better to admit that to Natasha though because she had just gotten that manically grin and it became her personal mission to get Steve to try on way more clothes than he needed. They had only been shopping for two hours and Steve was already getting tired of being her personal Ken doll. He had yet to even try on a single coat.

While Natasha was picking out shirts that were probably way more expensive than Steve wanted to think about, Steve snuck away to try and actually find the item he had come here for.

Steve was overall disappointed with the selection of winter coats. None of them really fit him and all of the kids coats were too kiddish for Steve to be able to pull off although he would have rocked that bright pink coat with the fur fringe. He was starting to discouraged when he saw a mannequin down the aisle wearing a distressed army green winter coat. It looked perfect; lots of pockets and very warm.

Steve went up to the mannequin and starting feeling the inside of the coat to test the material. He ran one hand on the inside of the coat and the other inside side one of the pockets to see how deep they were.The mannequin was the best looking mannequin Steve had ever seen almost looking like a person instead of creepy humanoid plastic, which made all the more terrifying when the mannequin moved. Steve was not proud of the high pitched shriek that came out of his mouth.

“What the fuck?” The guy Steve had just been feeling up yelled. Steve jumped back, face red with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry I thought you were a mannequin and I really like your coat,” Steve tried to explain backing up a little bit.

“Well I’m not a fucking mannequin,” the man said harshly. Steve wouldn’t blame the guy for punching him if he did, but he really didn’t want to get punched right now. His last black eye had just healed and he wasn’t really itching for a new one.

“Steve are you alright?’ Natasha said heels clacking as he hurried toward him. Steve almost sagged with relief when he saw her, knowing his chances of getting punch had decreased significantly. “Oh! I see you found Bucky who also needed a fashion intervention. I figured if I was going to help you, I might as well invite Bucky who could stand to get some new things himself,” She said visibly relaxing. Bucky also relaxed, angry facing smoothing out into a smile and then a laugh.

“My style is fine thank you very much,” Bucky said. “Did she drag you here too?” He asked giving Steve a knowing look.

“Yeah, my winter coat finally died and she managed to convince be to bite the bullet and buy new. Although you’re wearing the only coat that I’ve seen that I like, where did you get it?” Steve asked.

“At the Goodwill closest to my apartment. It was such a score, only $10,” Bucky said grinning with the pride that came with a good thrifting find.

“You like to thrift?” Steve said not able to help smiling back. This guy was getting better by the second now that he wasn’t glowering at Steve.

“Yeah. Why pay retail prices for a shirt that a million other people are going to have? Also it takes 1,800 gallons of water to grow the cotton for a new pair of jeans. That doesn’t even take into account the water it takes to process the cotton and make the jeans,” Bucky said hands flying as he talked. Steve thought he was actually going to swoon. This guy got it. Also Steve couldn’t help but appreciate how good he looked while he talked passionately about the environmental ethics of buying clothes. The guy was smart and good looking.

“Bucky! Don’t encourage him,” Natasha hissed elbowing Bucky in the side. She had sat through too many of Steve’s rants to want to do it again in a department store.

“No he has a point Nat. The way clothes are produced are seriously questionable. The amount of resources that go into just making the clothes let alone the transportation of all the materials is insane. And the workers! There is no way these jeans cost this much to make yet the people who actually make them are living off of only a couple of dollars a day. It’s just not ethical,” Steve said.

“Macklemore would be proud of you two fashion challenged dorks” Natasha said annoyed, knowing what defeat looked like. “This is the last time I try to help you two get some decent clothes,” Natasha mumbled while turning on her heel and walking away.

“Want to go get drinks and continue to talk about the shortcomings of the fashion industry?” Bucky asked turning to Steve.

“Sure as long as I can buy you a drink to make up for thinking you were a mannequin,” Steve said.

“Don’t even worry about it. It’s going to make a great story to tell when people ask how we met,” Bucky said leading Steve toward the exit.

So even though Steve didn’t get a new coat he considered the day a success since he managed to find himself a new boyfriend instead and besides the best jackets were the ones you ‘borrowed’ from your boyfriend anyway.

#stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #captain america #stucky fic

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kadobeclothing · 4 years

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12 Modern Trouser Styles All Men Should Own

Statement jackets and the latest sneakers are always going to be top of men’s lust lists, but don’t let high-wattage clobber blind you to the essentials. The right pair of trousers can be the most quietly powerful item you wear, but get it wrong and you’ll instantly dull the shine of the trending pieces you spent so long chasing.Yes, it’s easy to simply plump for your tried-and-tested slim-fit black jeans for the umpteenth time, but there’s a whole wardrobe full of top-notch trews that’ll look just as slick given half the chance. Here are some of the unsung trouser styles that you might not have considered, but definitely should.Corduroy TrousersOnce strictly the preserve of fictional (and real) inhabitants of academia, corduroy is one of the most underutilised materials in men’s style and, if worn correctly, can make for an indispensable pair of trousers. There’s a 1970s revival going on in menswear, too, so there’s never been a better time to cover your legs in cord.Cord is a textile composed of woven, twisted cotton or wool, resulting in parallel lines (called ‘wales’). Wool corduroy is the most durable type and wears particularly well. So, as well as bestowing a bit of superficial intelligence, cord trousers will withstand a fair bit of rough and tumble. The Indiana Jones of legwear, if you will. They can get a bit warm, though, so it’s best to save them for when the cold really starts to bite.Contrary to its sometimes stuffy connotations, corduroy is brilliant when dressed down and worn casually. Try teaming a pair of dark corduroy trousers with a sweatshirt and practical leather sneakers to signpost that you’re not actually a fellow at Oxbridge.This stripey fabric also does an excellent job of adding a touch of personality to more formal attire. A slim-cut corduroy suit will make an excellent companion for a light-gauge roll neck and monk-strap shoes come party season. Swerve the shirt and tie, though – Doctor Who has rendered that combo unwearable everywhere outside of Comic Con.Key PiecesWool TrousersA firm favourite of fashion bloggers (the kind who don’t dress like anime astronauts, that is) and art directors the world over, wool trousers offer a throwback to the days when jeans weren’t the de facto king of legwear.Perfect both for styling with other tailored separates or smartening a casual getup, wool trousers have been a mainstay amongst industry insiders for years – and their popularity isn’t showing any signs of waning.While you’ll often see them dressed down with a pair of sneakers by arbiters of cool hanging outside loft offices leisurely puffing on roll-ups, they work just as well styled in a more traditional way. For inspiration, cast your eye to Pitti Uomo where they’re often grounded with a pair of brogues, Derbies or double monks.Key PiecesTwill ChinosA good piece of workwear puts in a shift if you want to assert your old-school masculine credentials. In twill chinos, quality craftsmanship meets reliability and style in a perfect ménage à trews of cool that’s still exceptionally wearable.Cut from heavyweight cotton, woven to create a surface comprising diagonal parallel ridges, twill is a traditional material that, if invested in, will give excellent cost-per-wear calculations thanks to its hardy nature.Plus, every scuff on a pair of twill chinos tells a story – even if the only ‘work’ you end up doing in them is loafing about on Twitter. In twill the beleaguered chino also breaks out of the realm of ‘Ibiza lads on tour’ into an altogether more grown-up sense of place and tradition.The style is still, strictly speaking, a casual trouser so wear them with an easy-going pair of shoes (such as anything with a contrast Vibram sole), a T-shirt or piece of knitwear and top with an overshirt or denim jacket for an effortlessly cool off-duty look.Key PiecesRelaxed-Legged TrousersThe skinny jeans backlash is officially on. Tired of indecently outlined genitalia and trying (and failing) to remove our skinnies with dignity after a night out, relaxed-legged jeans and trousers are looking more and more appealing by the day.Harking back to 1950s-inspired garments, the Levi’s 501 cut is firmly back on the radar of menswear’s most stylish and the model has brought its mates along for the ride, too.While they are perfect for providing a platform for a standout piece of footwear, looser-cut chinos and trousers need to break perfectly. Too long and they’ll look like the floor-dragging bootcuts, too high and you’ll look like you’re wearing three-quarter lengths. The main objective is to avoid a pooling situation, so we’d suggest aiming for the hem to fall somewhere between the top of your shoe and its first set of eyelets.When it comes to styling, contrast the extra fabric below by keeping your top half fitted to avoid any accusations that you’ve been playing dress up in your dad’s wardrobe.Key PiecesLinen TrousersNot so long ago, linen trousers were sweaty, misshapen bloomers that had no place in a modern man’s wardrobe. Thankfully designers have done a lot of work to rehabilitate them in recent years. Gone are the shapeless cuts, replaced by tapered, modern leg-lines that flatter every body shape. And linen blends make them a lot more practical, less prone to impossible creases – while still being as breezy as ever.Try them as part of a linen suit for a dapper old-timer vibe, but the more modern way to wear them is cropped, with sneakers and a plain T-shirt.Key PiecesDrawstring TrousersWithout wishing to be overdramatic, smart drawstring trousers are the best thing to happen to menswear in a decade. Until recently, drawstrings and elasticated waistbands were confined to sportswear and generally considered to be a sign that you didn’t care. That’s stupid, of course. What a revelation it’s been to sit down for a large plate of pasta and not feel like your trousers might slice you in half by the meal’s end.These days, drawstring trousers come tailored and in a lot more materials than jersey. Wool and linen offer the best options at the smarter end of the spectrum. Once you’ve felt how comfortable your dressed-up wardrobe can be, you’ll never go back.Key PiecesSlimline JoggersThere have been some excellent hybrids over the years: the shacket, the snood, er, Kimye, but none boast as much staying power as athleisure, which is a rare example of fashion and function joining forces for the greater good.The sports-luxe movement is still a draw Stateside, and while UK labels took slightly longer to catch up, young Brits have taken the look to their hearts. Combining the “it feels like I’m wearing nothing at all” comfort of joggers with the slim-fit of a more contemporary work trouser, they’re equally at home in the pub or the gym.While there could be an argument made for the right jogger matched with the right overshirt, we’d suggest keeping the streetwear vibe going with a logo T-shirt from the likes of Palace, Stussy or Undefeated, a low-profile lifestyle runner on the foot and a slightly smarter bomber jacket.If you’re not on a streetwear flex, step into some box-fresh white lace-up trainers and stick on an (impeccably ironed) Oxford shirt to inject some sharpness into the look.Key PiecesCropped TrousersAnkle swingers, as some want to call them, are here to stay – and with good reason. Allowing your ankles to breathe in summer while still giving airtime to your footwear in cooler months, cropped trousers are a great way to spice up what can be a tired formal outfit. Disclaimer: by cropped trousers, we mean shorter than your average, displaying a sliver of ankle or sock, not to be mistaken with pantaloons.In addition to giving your footwear a platform to shine, a precise crop accentuates the line of your trews – because there’s nothing worse than puddling material at the bottom of your ankle. Getting the length right is crucial, though. Unless they fit perfectly off-the-peg, go to a tailor and take their advice, but if you’re feeling braver, anything up to three or four inches above the ankle is a safe bet.Cropped trousers lend themselves well to both formal and off-duty settings, though you’re undoubtedly in safer territory with the former. Cropped chinos in a sand colour will work well with a simple white shirt, premium suede bomber and white sports-luxe trainers on the weekend. Meanwhile, for more formal occasions, black cropped trousers worn with a grey blazer, charcoal roll neck and oxblood dress shoes is ideal for a relaxed business-casual office.Key PiecesCargo PantsCargo trousers have enjoyed something of a potted history, going from army essential to early noughties oversized monstrosity. Now, enough time has passed that things have calmed down a bit and they’re back in a big (and much more stylish) way.The key to getting cargo trousers right is ensuring that they hit the middle ground between slim and spacious, so think tailored. Sure, you can technically fill their big ol’ pockets to the brim, but in this case clean lines trump practicality, so leave them empty.Standard-issue khaki green pairs well with just about anything in navy so consider an overshirt (another workwear workhorse) for a weekend look that grafts. Meanwhile, if light layers aren’t an option, a pair of contemporary black cargo trousers can be recruited alongside a white Oxford shirt, grey sweatshirt, navy overcoat for a look that passes inspection.High-Waisted TrousersUsing your nipples as a marker to align the waistband of your trousers to used to be a dead giveaway that you were either A: 90+ years of age, or B: Simon Cowell. Today, however, it’s much more likely to signify that you’re the type of gent who frequents Pitti Uomo and owns more than one set of cufflinks. High-waisted trousers are quite literally on the rise. And while a well-styled pair can be a one way ticket to sartorial nirvana, get them wrong and you’ll look like a kid playing dress up in his dad’s suit.The key to hitting the sweet spot lies in nailing the length and the cut. If you’re going for a wide-leg style a cropped fit ensures you’re not drowning in fabric. Conversely, if mankles aren’t your thing, a tapered cut will allow the leg openings of the trousers to sit nicely with your chosen footwear.High-waisted trousers may be tailoring technically speaking, but they’re still super relaxed and the rest of your outfit should follow ‘suit’. Up top, opt for either a fitted polo or a loose T-shirt, tucked into the waistband. You can layer this with a matching unstructured jacket and even a wool overcoat when the mercury plummets. Footwear wise, try mixing things up a bit with a canvas high-top or a suede desert boot.Pleated TrousersAs trousers make their way way back up to men’s natural waistlines once again, a long-forgotten tailoring detail is being thrust back into the fashion spotlight. The pleat was not long ago a style detail reserved for your grandad. A quirk chosen for its comfort rather than its aesthetics and frowned upon by those in the know. However, here in this age of smart joggers and oversized tailoring, comfort is no longer a dirty word. Pleated pants are back in style and now is the time to introduce them to your wardrobe.When you’ve spent the last 10 years forcing your legs into jeans akin to sausage casing, the idea of playing with less fitted silhouettes can seem a bit daunting. The trick here is to strike that balance between fitted and airy. Your trousers should be breezy and comfortable, but you shouldn’t have clown-style pools of fabric obscuring your shoes. Opt for a tapered cut for best results and selecting a cropped style is never a bad idea either.In terms of styling, stick to relaxed tailoring in the jacket department, layered over a white tee. A tucked-in Cuban collar shirt can work nicely too. For the footwear stick to Derby boots, brogues or, if you’re feeling adventurous, white canvas trainers.Tracksuit BottomsWhen sporty slacks first began making their way off the running track and onto the runway, the long-time suited and booted menswear crowd shared a quiet sigh of relief. Finally there was a way to look put together in something that offered a level of comfort comparable to pyjamas. It was the break everyone had been looking for and couldn’t have been more welcome.There’s a wealth of variety when it comes to tracksuit bottoms. You can opt for a side-stripe trouser style and pair them with tailoring. Or alternatively, you can go full nylon and go for that 90s, head-to-toe vibe. Whichever you pick, go for a slim cut and if the cuffs aren’t elasticated then opt for a slightly cropped leg.Traditionally, tracksuit bottoms have always been best off paired with sportswear. To wear a pair with brogues would’ve been a style crime of unspeakable proportions. Today, however, things are different. A cropped side-stripe trouser can be paired with a smarter shoe just as effectively as it can with a luxe trainer. Throw on a plain tee and a bomber and you’re good to go.If you want to keep things more street then go for the full nylon tracksuit and wear it with chunky trainers and a dad cap. Source link

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