Velvetysage - Are You Going To Scarborough Fair?

“fitted” sheets well why dont they then. why dont they

céleste  took  him  in,  gaze  flicking  over  him  once  —  slow  and  measured.  he  looked  exactly  as  expected:  self-assured,  relaxed  in  that  infuriatingly  effortless  way,  standing  there  like  he  had  nothing  but  time.  but  beneath  all  that  charm,  she  caught  something  else  —  a  flicker  of  something  in  his  posture,  like  a  tension  he  was  pretending  wasn’t  there.  her  lips  twitched,  the  faintest  amusement  ghosting  across  them.  “an  interior  designer?  please.  you  don’t  strike  me  as  the  type  to  let  anyone  else  make  decisions  for  you.” she  let  her  gaze  drift,  taking  in  the  penthouse  with  a  passing  glance.  it  was  as  sleek  and  impressive  as  expected.  something  told  her  he  hadn’t  been  the  one  to  choose  the  finishes,  the  furniture,  the  perfectly  staged  decor.  money  made  things  easy.  taste  was  another  matter.  “besides,”  she  added,  letting  her  gaze  flick  back  to  him,  “if  i  were,  you’d  owe  me  a  lot  more  than  just  a  session.”  unhurried,  she  moved  further  inside,  the  soft  click  of  her  steps  swallowed  by  the  sheer  openness  of  the  space.  the  view  was  spectacular  —  the  city  unfurling  beneath  them  like  something  out  of  a  dream.  but  she  had  no  plans  of  giving  him  the  satisfaction  of  saying  so.  instead,  she  turned  back  to  him,  arching  a  brow  at  his  offer.  “evian,  smartwater,  voss  —  what,  do  you  collect  overpriced  hydration?”  her  tone  was  light.   "any  of  your  finest  water  will  do,"  she  mused,  finally  meeting  his  gaze  again.  "you  know,"  she  exhaled  lightly,  tilting  her  head  just  slightly,  "you  don’t  have  to  try  and  impress  me."  there  was  no  condescension  in  her  tone,  no  outright  challenge. she  could  feel  it  —  the  slight  acceleration  of  her  heartbeat,  the  way  her  body  registered  the  shift  before  her  mind  could  catch  up.  but  she  kept  her  expression  carefully  neutral,  refusing  to  let  it  show,  refusing  to  let  her  thoughts  spiral.  it  was  just  them.  no  noise,  no  distractions,  no  audience.  she  inhaled  slowly,  steadying  herself,  reminding  herself  exactly  who  she  was.  control  was  second  nature  to  her.  she  wouldn’t  let  this  —  whatever  this  was  —  change  that.

the subtle chime of the elevator sent a slow ripple of awareness through him, breathing turning into a sport instead of something that came naturally. he didn't move, his gaze fastened to the doors that soon opened, watching as celeste stepped inside like she belonged there. poised and bearing an air of confidence that wasn’t forced. she was even more stunning today than the other night, framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, the concrete landscape stretching out like he owned it. but right now, she was the one commanding attention. a self-assured smirk curved on his lips as alec crossed the threshold to meet her with deliberate, unhurried strides that said he wasn’t rushing for anyone. “funny, i don’t remember hiring an interior designer,” he joked, one head cocked to the side as he purposely let his gaze glide over her. “but judging by the way you’re standing there like you own the place, maybe i should’ve.” adrenaline pumped through his veins at the mere sight of celeste, hands clammy as he wondered where they would go from here. "you want something to drink? i've got it all. evian, smartwater, voss. kombucha, green juice, coffee. pick your poison."

molly gordon via instagram

céleste  accepted  the  bottle  without  breaking  eye  contact,  fingers  grazing  his  just  long  enough  to  make  it  seem  incidental  —  a  calculated  accident,  if  anything.  she  brought  the  bottle  to  her  lips,  taking  a  sip  —  not  out  of  need,  but  because  she  didn’t  mind  letting  the  silence  stretch  either.  his  reply  lingered  between  them,  deliberate,  measured.  a  soft  breath  of  amusement  slipped  past  her  lips,  almost  like  she  was  entertaining  the  thought—before  she  tilted  her  head  slightly,  gaze  dragging  over  him  in  a  way  that  was  half  assessment,  half  something  else.  something  more  dangerous. most  people,  standing  in  a  penthouse  like  this,  would  probably  be  fixated  on  how  he  got  here  —  the  money,  the  name,  the  effortless  access  to  things  others  could  only  dream  of.  but  none  of  that  had  been  her  first  thought.  his  wealth,  his  lifestyle,  the  privileges  that  came  with  it  —  didn’t  impressed  her.  money  made  things  easier,  not  more  interesting.  and  alec?  he  was  interesting.  not  because  of  what  he  had,  but  because  of  whatever  was  lurking  beneath  the  curated  exterior.  but  that  didn’t  mean  she  was  about  to  hand  him  that  realization. "mm."  the  sound  was  thoughtful,  considering,  but  not  entirely  convinced.  she  let  her  eyes  flick  over  him  —  not  in  admiration,  but  in  calculation.  like  she  was  still  deciding  exactly  where  he  fit  in  her  world.  "so  what  you’re  saying  is…"  she  let  the  words  hang,  her  lips  curving  just  slightly.  "you’re  naturally  inclined  to  be  this  insufferable?"  she  took  another  sip,  before  setting  the  bottle  down  with  a  quiet  clink  against  the  counter.  then,  with  the  faintest  smirk,  she  met  his  gaze  head-on.  "noted."  she  took  a  quick  gaze  across  the  new  york  city  skyline.  “at  least  you're  not  getting  exhausted  trying  to  impress  people  then.  more  energy  to  place  elsewhere.”

his smirk didn’t falter, but he captured the way her gaze moved — perceptive, knowing. most people didn’t look that closely, or if they did, they were too busy being in awe of his wealth to question what they found. celeste, apparently, was neither. it felt as though she had already sized him up and decided exactly where he fit into her world. that was new. most people were too distracted by the money, the name, the lifestyle to see past the surface. they played along, eager to impress, but céleste? she wasn’t playing at all. at her comment about the water, he chuckled before quipping, “hydration is important, céleste. i thought you, of all people, would appreciate that.” he moved toward the built-in fridge, prying it open and grabbing a random bottle without even checking the brand. voss, apparently. twisting off the cap, he held it out to her. “but if this doesn’t meet your standards, i’m sure i can have something imported. nothing but the best for my trainer, right?” her next words, though, caught him slightly off guard. not that he showed it. you don’t have to try and impress me. he let the silence stretch just long enough to make it noticeable, his eyes lingering on her frame. it was almost inscrutable, but there was something there. maybe the smallest crack in all that control. he eased a little closer, just enough to minimize some of the space between them, but not enough to cross any lines. not yet. “who says i’m trying?” his composure was level, tone light and teasing. “maybe this is just me.”

she  should  go.  she  knew  that.  her  workout  was  already  mapped  out  in  her  head—every  set,  every  rep—but  standing  there,  his  arms  lazily  draped  around  her,  the  gym  didn’t  feel  quite  as  important.  céleste  curled  her  fingers  loosely  around  the  smoothie,  her  focus  entirely  elsewhere.  the  way  he  lingered,  the  way  his  lips  brushed  against  her  cheek  like  he  wasn’t  quite  ready  to  let  go  either—it  did  something  to  her.  his  laugh  hummed  low  in  his  chest,  settling  over  her  like  something  warm,  something  steady.  and  for  a  moment,  she  forgot  all  about  the  godforsaken  smoothie  she  was  about  to  pretend  didn’t  taste  like  chalk.  his  hand  motioned  toward  the  door,  an  easy,  effortless  gesture  that  brought  another  smile  to  her  lips.  for  the  first  time  in  longer  than  she  could  remember,  the  gym  wasn’t  the  first  thing  occupying  her  mind  in  the  morning.—  she  had  spent  so  long  perfecting  the  art  of  distance,  of  keeping  people  at  arm’s  length,  of  never  letting  herself  sink  too  deep  into  something  that  could  slip  through  her  fingers.  yet,  here  she  was  as  he  opened  the  door  for  her  like  it  was  second  nature—like  looking  after  her  was  something  he  did  without  thought.  and  that  was  the  thing.  it  wasn’t  all  the  grand  gestures  that  bowled  her  over,  it  was  this.  the  small  things,  the  moments  between  moments,  the  effortless  way  he  made  her  feel  like  she  didn’t  have  to  hold  herself  so  tightly  all  the  time.  grabbing  her  car  keys,  she  moved  to  walk  towards  the  door,  standing  before  him,  she  tilted  her  head  slightly,  her  free  hand  reaching  up  to  toy  with  one  of  his  curls,  her  eyes  locking  onto  his  before  instinctively  flickering  to  his  lips.  "you  know,"  she  murmured,  her  fingers  curling  lightly  at  the  nape  of  his  neck,  holding  onto  him  for  just  a  second  longer.  "you're  not  making  it  easy  for  me  to  step  out  this  door."  then,  she  closed  the  space  between  them,  pressing  her  lips  against  his.  the  warmth  of  him  pulled  her  in,  that  familiar  sensation  of  pure  bliss  intoxicating  her  like  second  nature.  she  let  herself  melt  into  him  for  a  moment,  into  the  way  he  made  everything  else  fade  into  the  background.  when  she  finally  pulled  back,  she  let  her  eyes  stay  closed  for  another  second,  savoring  it.  then,  with  a  small  smirk,  she  whispered,  "think  the  leg  press  might  be  upset  if  i  cancel  our  date.  i'll  see  you  when  i  get  back,  yeah?"

the electrifying feeling of her lips against his cheek, was one that he hoped never dulled. he offered her the horrid excuse of a drink with his arms coming to lazily wrap around her. rather than go to the gym (he'd rather drop dead), he would suffer silently with her gone for the time being. "if it's nasty, just don't tell me." he laughs, returning the kiss to her cheek with rose tinted lips lingering before he pulls away to let her go. "let me walk you out." he grabs his hoodie off the back of the couch, tossing it over himself to protect him from the unforgiving winter air. he then made his way to hold the door open for her, his hand coming to motion her.

"  don’t  try  to  make  me  feel  old  just  yet.  but  you’re  probably  right,  i myself  might  be  the  only  one  who  can  handle  all  my  charm  and  nonsense. as  for  blowing  you  away  ?  i’ve  got plenty  of  tricks  up  my  sleeve.  maybe  i’ll  get  you  a  house  with  a  secret  room  just  for  me  to  hang  out  in.  no,  wait  —  you  can  have  the  big  house,  i’ll  take  the  part  where  i  build  a  world-class  kitchen.  that  way,  i  can  wow  you  with  my  cooking  ...  and  maybe,  just  maybe,  make  you  think  twice  about  that  whole  separate  wings  thing.  but  hey,  i’ll  keep  working  on  that  proposal  just  in  case  you’re  actually  serious  about  this  pact.  "

"  just  bringing  it  up  to  see  if  you  have  a  memory  of  a  goldfish  or  not  .  .  .  bold  of  you  to  assume  that  i'd  put  up  with  it  if  we  get  married  ,  might  have  to  buy  a  house  big  enough  so  i  could  be  locked  on  the  other  end  of  it  .  oh  ?  i  want  to  be  wowed  ,  think  you  can  blow  me  away  ?  "

PUBLIC COMMISSION — by clicking on the source link you will find a page with 501 gifs, all made from scratch by myself, of joe keery in interviews. joe is white and is currently 32 years old. i don’t care what you do with these, just don’t be gross and don’t claim them as your own. if using these, give this post a reblog. thank you !

"  stunnin'  face  ?  you  lot  really  are  dangerous  with  compliments  over  here.  look,  maybe  i  came  for  the  moral  support  and  maybe  i  stayed  for  the  fights  —  and  maybe,  maybe,  the  view  from  my  seat  just  so  happens  to  be  decent.  hockey’s  chaotic,  violent,  and  dramatic.  i’m  a  theatre  girl,  raph.  i  was  bound  to  fall  for  it  eventually.  besides,  it’s  not  like  you’re  exactly  forgettable  on  the  ice.  consider  me  an  intrigued  convert.  "

"  and  you're  not  ?  just  tagging  along  for  moral  support  or  did  someone  catch  your  eye  along  the  way  ?  all  the  way  from  the  uk  and  supporting  me  weekly  ,  think  hockey's  growing  on  your  sweetheart  --  who  can  really  complaining  at  such  a  stunnin'  face  ?  "

lowkey    ,    pissed    that    dua    lipa    isn't    there    js.

(shaking my 14-year-old self) I was so mean to you but I love you, I love you, love you