#Sneaker Catalog

[snkrbonbon]

Reebok Footwear Spring 1994 Dealer Product Catalog.

[thisisrealy2kok]

link to pic 1 // link to pic 2

[ogindex]

CO.JP (Concept Japan) Nike AF1 (2001)

[vansfriend]

Vans original 1998 catalog

[horrid-phantasm]

Nike Quantum Force High

[aeth-eris]

★ the physical essence of venus ★

★  aries  venus  ★ the  scarred  helmet  hanging  on  the  back  of  your  door  that  you  won’t  replace,  even  though  it’s  scratched  beyond  repair,  because  it’s  been  with  you  through  every  wild  decision  you’ve  made.  the  sneakers  at  your  front  door,  caked  with  mud  from  an  impulsive  hike  you  dragged  your  friends  on  last  spring—still  laced  tightly,  ready  to  go  at  a  moment’s  notice.  your  jacket  pockets  always  seem  to  hold  something  random—keys,  an  old  receipt,  or  a  coin  you  found  that  felt  like  it  could  bring  good  luck,  though  you’d  never  admit  it.  even  your  wallet  looks  battle-worn,  stuffed  with  notes  you’ll  never  throw  out  because  they’re  pieces  of  a  past  that  make  you  feel  alive  when  you  touch  them.

 ★  taurus  venus  ★ the  candle  on  your  bedside  table,  burned  just  enough  to  release  the  scent  of  wildflowers  but  still  pristine,  because  you’re  saving  it  for  “when  it  feels  right.”  the  blanket  on  your  couch  is  perfectly  folded,  even  though  you  use  it  every  day,  its  edges  slightly  frayed  because  it’s  older  than  you’d  care  to  admit.  your  collection  of  tea  blends  isn’t  about  drinking  them—it’s  about  the  ritual  of  opening  the  tin,  inhaling  the  scent,  and  deciding  what  fits  your  mood  that  day.  even  the  wooden  cutting  board  in  your  kitchen  feels  sacred,  smoothed  from  years  of  careful  use,  holding  the  quiet  memories  of  meals  shared  with  people  who  make  your  world  feel  steady.

 ★  gemini  venus  ★ the  pen  you  always  lose  but  somehow  manage  to  find  at  the  exact  moment  you  need  it,  its  cap  chewed  and  its  ink  running  dry  because  you  use  it  for  everything—doodles,  random  notes,  grocery  lists,  and  the  occasional  half-baked  love  letter.  your  phone  case  has  a  faint  crack  from  being  tossed  on  a  table  during  an  animated  conversation,  and  there’s  a  tiny  keychain  charm  dangling  from  it  that  you  picked  up  during  a  trip  you  can  barely  remember.  your  desk  is  a  mess  of  brightly  colored  sticky  notes,  most  of  which  have  cryptic  one-liners  that  no  longer  make  sense,  but  you  refuse  to  throw  them  away  because  they  “might  mean  something  someday.”

 ★  cancer  venus  ★ the  slightly  faded  Polaroid  stuck  to  your  fridge  of  a  moment  you’ll  never  stop  replaying  in  your  mind,  its  corners  curling  just  enough  to  show  its  age.  the  quilt  on  your  bed,  soft  with  time,  smells  faintly  of  lavender  and  home,  even  when  you’ve  been  away  for  too  long.  your  jewelry  box  holds  treasures  you  don’t  wear  but  can’t  let  go  of—a  broken  bracelet,  a  ring  from  someone  you  loved,  or  a  single  earring  that’s  lost  its  match  but  not  its  meaning.  there’s  a  jar  of  seashells  on  your  windowsill,  each  one  tied  to  a  memory  you  can’t  explain  but  would  defend  if  anyone  tried  to  move  it.

 ★  leo  venus  ★ the  golden  compact  mirror  in  your  bag  that  you  flip  open  with  a  dramatic  flourish,  even  when  you  don’t  need  to  use  it.  your  favorite  jacket,  velvet  or  sequined,  hangs  at  the  front  of  your  closet,  waiting  for  its  next  moment  in  the  spotlight,  no  matter  how  rare.  you  keep  a  framed  photo  of  yourself  from  that  one  perfect  night,  sitting  prominently  where  you  can  see  it  and  be  reminded  of  your  glow.  even  your  perfume  bottle  looks  like  art—half-full  because  you  save  it  for  moments  when  you  want  the  world  to  remember  you  by  its  scent.

 ★  virgo  venus  ★ the  planner  on  your  desk  is  immaculate,  with  color-coded  tabs  and  neat  handwriting  that  looks  like  it  belongs  in  a  design  catalog.  your  favorite  pen  is  a  gel  pen  with  just  the  right  flow—you  buy  them  in  bulk  because  losing  one  feels  like  losing  a  limb.  your  kitchen  has  a  perfectly  organized  spice  rack,  alphabetized  not  out  of  compulsion  but  because  it  just  makes  sense.  even  your  plants  thrive  in  an  oddly  perfect  way;  they’re  pruned  regularly,  sitting  in  matching  pots,  as  if  they’ve  agreed  to  reflect  your  careful  attention  to  detail.

 ★  libra  venus  ★ the  antique  hand  mirror  on  your  vanity,  slightly  tarnished  but  impossibly  elegant,  next  to  a  bottle  of  rose-scented  perfume  that’s  more  art  than  utility.  your  coffee  table  has  a  stack  of  perfectly  arranged  art  books  that  you  flip  through  during  lazy  afternoons,  marveling  at  the  balance  of  beauty  and  creativity.  your  wardrobe  holds  a  silk  scarf  or  pair  of  perfectly  pointed  flats  that  you  wear  when  you  want  to  feel  effortlessly  polished.  even  your  favorite  mug  has  an  air  of  charm—delicate,  with  a  tiny  chip  that  only  makes  it  more  perfect  in  your  eyes.

 ★  scorpio  venus  ★ the  leather-bound  journal  hidden  in  a  drawer,  its  pages  filled  with  raw,  unfiltered  emotions  you  wouldn’t  dare  share  aloud.  the  black  candle  on  your  nightstand,  burned  down  just  enough  to  release  its  smoky,  mysterious  scent,  but  not  finished,  as  if  waiting  for  the  right  moment.  your  ring  drawer  holds  a  piece  you  never  wear  anymore,  but  every  time  you  pick  it  up,  the  memories  it  holds  flood  back  so  vividly  it  takes  your  breath  away.  even  your  favorite  book  has  underlined  passages  that  feel  like  secrets  only  you  could  understand,  the  kind  you  re-read  when  you  need  to  feel  seen.

 ★  sagittarius  venus  ★ the  worn  leather  backpack  leaning  by  your  door,  its  zippers  jingling  faintly  every  time  you  grab  it  to  head  out.  your  passport  is  scuffed,  its  pages  stamped  with  memories  that  still  bring  a  grin  to  your  face  when  you  flip  through  them.  you  keep  a  jar  of  foreign  coins  from  places  you’ve  been,  not  for  their  value  but  because  they  remind  you  of  café  conversations,  train  rides,  and  sunsets  you  swore  you’d  never  forget.  even  your  favorite  shoes  are  battered  from  countless  adventures,  soles  worn  thin  but  still  too  full  of  life  to  be  replaced.

 ★  capricorn  venus  ★ your  desk  holds  a  fountain  pen,  heavy  in  your  hand,  its  ink  flowing  with  precision  as  you  jot  down  plans  that  matter.  the  watch  on  your  wrist  is  timeless—its  leather  strap  softened  with  wear,  a  quiet  symbol  of  discipline  and  style.  your  planner  is  sleek,  every  page  carefully  filled  with  tasks  and  goals,  because  each  moment  of  time  feels  like  an  investment.  even  your  scarf  is  understated  and  elegant,  folded  neatly  by  the  door,  ready  to  shield  you  from  the  chill  as  you  head  out  into  the  world  you’re  steadily  building.

 ★  aquarius  venus  ★ the  slightly  offbeat  earrings  you  wear  almost  daily,  their  mismatched  charm  drawing  compliments  wherever  you  go.  your  favorite  gadget—a  smart  device,  a  quirky  invention,  or  something  DIY—sits  proudly  on  your  desk,  a  blend  of  utility  and  rebellion  against  the  ordinary.  your  coffee  table  holds  an  art  book  or  zine  from  an  obscure  creator  you  discovered  before  anyone  else  did.  even  your  favorite  lamp  is  asymmetrical  or  futuristic,  casting  light  in  ways  that  feel  just  unconventional  enough  to  reflect  your  unique  vision  of  the  world.

 ★  pisces  venus  ★ the  candle  on  your  desk  smells  like  sea  salt  and  mystery,  burned  down  to  a  waxy  puddle  but  kept  because  it  reminds  you  of  a  fleeting,  perfect  moment.  your  dream  journal  sits  beside  your  bed,  pages  filled  with  poetry  and  fragmented  thoughts  you’ve  scrawled  in  the  dark,  barely  legible  but  emotionally  potent.  you  keep  a  jar  of  glitter  on  your  shelf—not  for  any  practical  purpose,  but  because  it  catches  the  light  like  magic.  even  your  blanket,  impossibly  soft  and  slightly  worn  at  the  edges,  feels  like  a  portal  to  the  dreamscape  you  create  every  time  you  wrap  yourself  in  it.

★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

[hoshifighting]

ok... so i've seen your amazing college fling works for seungcheol, jeonghan, and joshua.... but what about one for hoshi 👉👈

ONCE AGAIN I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: freshmen!hoshi, late night practices, burn-out, shyness, sunbae!reader, fluff, a lil bit of angst.

WC: 2.8k of this... judge me 🗣needed to divide this into parts...

part 1 / part 2

college fling!hoshi that you clocked that he was a freshman by the very moment he stepped into the dance practice room. it started with the smell, honestly. freshman reek—like nervous sweat and too much axe body spray, paired with the faintest whiff of fear. baggy-ass hoodie that practically swallowed his arms, hands shoved deep in his pockets like they’d get fined if they came out, sneakers so new they squeaked against the gym floor. he looked young. not in a bad way, just in that “i’m not used to being left unsupervised” way.

he stood in the doorway like he didn’t know what to do with himself. everyone else was stretching, pulling their limbs into shapes human joints probably weren’t meant for, and there he was, swaying on the balls of his feet like a kid waiting to ask if they could borrow a crayon.

“you lost?” you called out, not even looking up from where you were sitting, tying your shoelaces.

“huh? n-no, i’m, uh—this is intro to hip-hop?”

the way he said it like a question had you biting back a grin. “yeah, you’re in the right place. c’mon in before the instructor roasts your ass for lurking.”

he shuffled in, taking a spot in the back corner like he was hoping no one would notice him. “i'm invisible if i stand still enough”, he thinks. but of course, everyone noticed him. new kid energy was impossible to ignore, and to top it off, he had that awkwardly cute thing going on. messy bangs falling into his eyes, face pink like he was one awkward comment away from combusting. his eyes, wide and curious, darting around like he was mentally cataloging every single thing in the room.

“you got a name, freshman?” you asked, leaning back on your hands as you watched him.

he blinked, like he didn’t realize you were still talking to him. “oh, uh, hoshi. i mean, soonyoung. but people call me hoshi.”

“cool. you dance before, hoshi?”

“alright, new guy!” the prof clapped his hands, dragging everyone’s attention. “show us a little freestyle! don't be shy...”

college fling!hoshi who freezes mid-blink, still thinking about your question. clutching his backpack straps so hard you thought they might snap. he turned to you, wide-eyed and panicked, like you could save him from the impending doom.

“relax,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice low enough that only he could hear. “you do this and sunbae’s buying you dinner. whatever you want. ramen, fried chicken, you name it.”

he blinked, like the concept of being spoiled by you was enough to short-circuit his brain, but there was something there. a spark. like maybe he didn’t wanna flop in front of you.

“okay,” he mumbled, and you gave him a grin that could probably power a small city.

“attaboy,” you said, patting his shoulder as you turned back to the class.

by the end of the first class, he’d loosened up a bit—mostly because the instructor made everyone run through improv drills, and there was no room for shyness when you were flailing around to some experimental old-school rap track. you caught him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

college fling!hoshi who finally zipped up his backpack after what felt like an eternity, stood up, and immediately knocked over a water bottle with his foot. he muttered a quick, shy “sorry,” barely glancing at the offended plastic, and shuffled toward you. his shoulders were stiff, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack like they were the only things tethering him to this earth. you gave him a once-over, your phone in one hand, and a smirk playing at your lips. “you survived,” you said casually, and his grin was so tiny you almost missed it.

college fling!hoshi who started walking alongside you, a little too close like he didn’t know how to pace himself yet. every few steps, his elbow brushed yours, and he’d shift just enough to make it obvious he noticed. you didn’t say anything—just side-eyed him with a teasing smile that had his ears turning red.

college fling!hoshi who paused outside the building with you, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve as he asked, “so, uh… what do you like to eat?” his voice was barely louder than the passing breeze. you raised an eyebrow at him, tucking your phone into your pocket. “you’re really gonna let me pick, huh?” he nodded, determined, even as he shuffled his feet. “you said you’d spoil me,” he countered, and for the first time, there was a flicker of sass in his tone. you liked it.

college fling!hoshi who almost tripped on his untied shoelace when you said you’d pick a place, his backpack slipping off one shoulder as he bent down to fix it. he was mumbling something about bad luck when you crouched beside him, yanking the lace from his hands and tying it with a quick knot. “you’re gonna kill yourself before dinner at this rate,” you said, and the way he stared at you—wide-eyed, lips parted—made it feel like you’d just handed him the keys to the kingdom.

college fling!hoshi who sat across from you at the tiny chicken shop, looking at the menu like it was a math test. “it’s just chicken, dude,” you teased, propping your chin in your hand. he fumbled with the laminated page, finally blurting, “but what if I pick something too spicy?” you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, rookie, let me help you out.” you ended up ordering for both of you, and when the dish came, his eyes lit up.

college fling!hoshi who distractly puts too much sauce on his chicken wing and doesn’t notice because he was too busy grinning at your stories. “wait, wait—so you fell during a performance?” he asked, the sauce at the corner of his mouth. you groaned, throwing a napkin at him. “it wasn’t just a fall, okay? it was a crash,” you admitted, and his laugh was so loud the couple at the next table glanced over. “stop making fun of me or I’ll make you pay,” you threatened, and his face instantly sobered. “wait, what?”

college fling!hoshi who insisted on paying despite your earlier threats. he pulled out his wallet like it was some grand declaration of independence, only to hesitate when he realized he didn’t have enough cash. “um…” he started, cheeks burning. you rolled your eyes and handed your card to the cashier before he could protest. “rookie rule number one,” you said smugly, “always check your wallet before acting like a big shot.” he muttered something about repaying you, and you just laughed, nudging him toward the door.

college fling!hoshi who got lost again on the way back to his dorm, despite the fact that he’d been living there for a week. “are you serious right now?” you asked, watching him squint at the campus map on his phone. he scratched the back of his head, mumbling, “it all kinda looks the same at night.” sighing, you grabbed his phone, pulled up the map yourself, and started walking. “come on, hoshi-ya you’re hopeless.”

college fling!hoshi who walked beside you, hands in his pockets, quietly humming a tune you didn’t recognize. “what’s that?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. his eyes widened like he’d been caught. “oh, uh, just something I made up,” he admittedquietly. you stopped in your tracks, turning to him with a grin. “wait, you write music?” he shrugged, suddenly bashful. “a little… it’s not a big deal.” you nudged him with your shoulder. “nah, that’s cool as hell. show me sometime?”

college fling!hoshi who hesitated outside his dorm door, hand hovering over the handle. “thanks for… you know, today,” he said, glancing at you shyly. “and dinner.” you smirked, crossing your arms. “you earned it, rookie. but next time, you’re paying.” his smile stretched wide, and for a moment, he just stood there, like he didn’t want to go in. finally, he nodded, fumbling with the key. “goodnight, sunbae,” he said softly, and you had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair as you turned to leave.

college fling!hoshi who always trails behind you, holding onto the strap of your backpack like a lost puppy. “you’re gonna rip it, you know,” you tell him, but he just grins and tightens his grip. “you’re my sunbae. gotta make sure I don’t lose you.” it’s so dumb and cheesy that you flick his forehead, but your chest feels warmer anyway.

college fling!hoshi who managed to charm his way into your friend group like he’d been there all along. one of your music department friends spotted him loitering outside your lecture hall and asked, “is that the guy you’ve been dragging around campus?” you rolled your eyes, but hoshi smiled like he’d just won an award. “that’s me!” he said proudly, and somehow by the end of the conversation, they were swapping playlist recommendations.

college fling!hoshi who shows up at your dorm one night with a bruised knee and a sheepish smile. “i tripped during practice,” he admits, wincing as you drag him inside. “tripped or collapsed?” you demand, pointing at the ice pack in his hands. he shrugs, trying to play it off, but you’re already crouched in front of him, scolding him as you press the ice to his knee. “you should stop, sunbae its worried about you.” you mutter, and when he mumbles, “i’ll be fine,” you glare at him until he mutters an apology instead.

college fling!hoshi who gets into his first real argument with you after you find him practicing in an empty studio way past midnight. “what the hell are you doing?” you snap, flipping on the lights to find him mid-spin, sweat dripping down his face. “just a bit more,” he protests, breathless. “i need to get this routine perfect.” but you’re not having it. “perfect doesn’t matter if you’re too dead to perform, hoshi!” he flinches, wide-eyed, but you don’t stop. “you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. stop before you break something.” he looks at you, frustrated, and finally, he slumps onto the floor, whispering, “sorry, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who randomly shows up with snacks between your classes. “figured you’d be hungry,” he says, handing you a convenience store bag. you peek inside—your favorite drink and a pack of cookies. “didn’t know you were trying to bribe me,” you tease, taking a bite. “is it working?” he asks, grinning, and when you give him a thumbs-up, he beams like a kid on christmas morning.

college fling!hoshi who ends up crashing at your dorm after a long night of studying. he’s sprawled on your bed, one arm thrown over his face, while you sit cross-legged on the floor, typing away at your laptop. “you’re gonna fail if you don’t actually read the material,” you say, glancing up. he groans, rolling onto his side. “then i’ll just ask you to tutor me again,” he says, smirking, and you chuck a pillow at his head.

college fling!hoshi who catches you off-guard one day by slipping his jacket over your shoulders during a chilly walk across campus. “you looked cold,” he says simply, his voice softer than usual. you pull the fabric tighter around you, the faint scent of him lingering on it, and when you glance at him, he’s pretending to be super interested in a tree. “thanks,” you say quietly, and he shrugs, his ears turning pink as he mutters, “anytime, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who came back one day to the practice room after a late practice, two cans of soda in hand, humming to himself. “sunbae, I got—” his voice cut off when he saw you slouched on the floor, one hand clutching your forehead. “y/n?” he rushed over, dropping the sodas with a dull clunk. crouching in front of you, his voice softened. “what’s wrong? are you okay?” you waved him off weakly. “just tired. it’s nothing.” but he didn’t buy it for a second.

college fling!hoshi who gently pried your hand away from your forehead, his fingers brushing against yours. “you’re burning up,” he said, his brow furrowing. “why didn’t you say anything?” you tried to sit up straighter, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “it’s fine, really. just pushed too hard today.” his expression tightened. “this isn’t fine, y/n. you shouldn’t have kept going if you felt like this.”

college fling!hoshi who helped you lean back against the mirror. “stay still, okay?” he murmured, crouching next to you. you gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “you’re acting like I’m dying, hoshi.” he didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “don’t joke about that,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of improvement.

college fling!hoshi who let you rest your head against his shoulder when you slumped forward again. “here, like this,” he said softly, adjusting so you were cradled in his arms. his hands were steady, one supporting your back and the other brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just relax. you’re safe.” he started gently blowing on your face, the cool air soothing your heated skin. “better?” he whispered, his voice close enough to send a strange flutter through your chest.

college fling!hoshi who stayed with you until you could sit up on your own again, his arm still lingering behind your back just in case. “you scared me,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “i thought… what if something happened and I wasn’t here?” you blinked up at him, guilt bubbling in your stomach. “sorry,” you muttered. his hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “just don’t do it again, okay? i mean it, you always scold me for practicing too late...”

college fling!hoshi who refused to let you walk home by yourself, no matter how many times you insisted you were fine. “nope, not happening,” he said firmly, slipping your bag over his shoulder along with his own. “if you collapse halfway there, what am I supposed to do? carry you like a princess?” you snorted, but the teasing tone in his voice couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“you know, I could really get used to you carrying me around,” you said, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. he raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh, really?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah,” you said, deadpan, “I mean, who wouldn’t want a cute guy carrying them everywhere?”

college fling!hoshi who, despite the teasing tone in your voice, caught that little glint in your eye. “alright, then,” he said, voice suddenly serious, as he paused in front of you. “come here.” without waiting for a response, he slid his arms under your knees and around your back. you yelped in surprise, but before you could protest, he had you lifted off the ground like you were weightless. “you wanted it, right?” he said with a grin, carrying you like it was nothing. “not a word out of you until we get to your dorm.”

“you’re a natural at this,” you teased, your chin resting on his shoulder as you looked up at him. “yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you from passing out on me,” he muttered, but his cheeks were flushed, and his hands felt like they were holding you just a bit too tightly. “this isn’t bad,” you added with a smirk, “maybe I’ll start making demands. like, no more walking for me from now on.”

he blushed at your joke but didn’t miss a beat. “you sure about that?” he asked, glancing down at you with a sly smile. you nodded, playing along. “definitely. I’m a princess now. I’ll need snacks, water, a blanket... and don’t forget the back rubs.” hoshi shook his head, clearly trying to hide his amusement. “I’m pretty sure you’re taking this way too far, but okay,” he said, adjusting his grip on you. “I can do all that...”

“deal. but only if you don’t drop me halfway there,” you teased. hoshi’s grip tightened, his voice lowering a little. “I’ll never drop you, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who made it to your dorm room, still carrying you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I should’ve known you’d enjoy this,” he said, shaking his head as he set you down on your bed. “enjoy what?” you asked innocently, grinning up at him. “this whole ‘being carried around’ thing,” he said, still laughing a little. you shrugged dramatically.

college fling!hoshi who would come up to you after class, always fussing over you—was your shoulder okay? did you stretch enough? how was your lunch? you’d always brush it off, sulking a little at the way he took care of you like it was his full-time job.

[hurriane23456]

Trading Spurs for Sneakers

Tyler and James had always thrived on their shared sense of adventure, but this time, they were about to push the limits in a way they had never done before. When Tyler invited James to stay with him for the week, they came up with a challenge: not only would they swap clothes, but they’d wear full-body silicone suits that made them look exactly like each other. They’d go out in public as each other, and for the entire trip, they would live in each other’s skin—literally.

Tyler’s style was straight out of a western catalog. His wardrobe was filled with rugged denim, thick leather boots, and plaid shirts, all carrying the earthy scent of the outdoors. James, on the other hand, was all about streetwear. His clothes were sleek and oversized—designer hoodies, joggers, and fresh sneakers that gave off an urban, stylish vibe. The idea of stepping into each other’s style was thrilling enough, but the bodysuits took it to another level.

When James arrived, Tyler showed him the silicone suits. They were disturbingly lifelike, each one a perfect replica of the other, right down to the tiniest details—skin texture, hair, even the faint freckles on Tyler’s arms. The suits were smooth, soft silicone that would cover them completely, with zippers running down the back, meaning they’d need to help each other into their new bodies. Attached to the suits were masks, just as detailed, transforming them from head to toe.

“So, you ready to become me for the next few days?” Tyler asked with a grin, holding up James’s suit.

James ran his hand over the suit’s smooth surface, already feeling a shiver of excitement. “Only if you’re ready to rock some streetwear,” he teased back.

They headed to the bedroom, and that’s when things got interesting. Tyler helped James first. He unzipped the back of his own silicone replica, and James stepped inside, sliding his legs into the suit. The silicone was cool against his skin at first, but it stretched perfectly, molding to his body like a second skin. As Tyler pulled the suit up, James slipped his arms into the sleeves, feeling the soft material hugging his muscles, creating the illusion of Tyler’s broad, rugged physique. Tyler tugged the mask over James’s head, adjusting it carefully so the silicone fit snugly over his face. The cool sensation of the mask pressing down, forming around his nose, cheeks, and forehead, was strangely comforting.

When Tyler zipped up the back, James couldn’t help but admire the feeling of the suit fitting him perfectly. It wasn’t just wearing Tyler’s skin—it *felt* like Tyler’s body. Every movement was smooth, every gesture natural. His hands, now Tyler’s rough, calloused hands, flexed as he stared at the mirror. It was like he had become his friend, in every possible way.

“Your turn,” James said, voice altered slightly to sound like Tyler’s.

Tyler grinned and stepped into James’s bodysuit. The experience was just as surreal for him. The silicone slid smoothly over his legs, pulling snugly against his skin, transforming his usually broader build into James’s slimmer, leaner form. Tyler could feel the cool material warming up as it molded to him, turning him into an uncanny replica of James. When James tugged the mask over Tyler’s face, the sensation of the silicone wrapping around his head was exhilarating. The mask fit like a glove, sealing him into James’s identity.

Tyler moved in front of the mirror, marveling at the transformation. His own reflection was gone, replaced by James’s face, his tattoos, and his slim frame. The bodysuit moved fluidly with him, and he could feel every part of the suit stretching and flexing like real skin. It wasn’t just a costume—it felt *real*.

“Man, I think I could get used to this,” Tyler said, his voice now identical to James’s.

James laughed, admiring how weird and amazing it felt to see Tyler’s face reflected back at him. “Same. This is wild.”

Next came the clothes. James reached into Tyler’s closet, pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans. They were thick, stiff, and smelled faintly of leather and dirt. He slid them up his legs, the denim feeling tight and rugged, a stark contrast to the soft joggers he was used to. The jeans clung to him in a way that made him feel powerful, like the sturdy fabric was wrapping him in strength. He fastened the heavy belt with its oversized buckle, feeling the weight of it pressing against his stomach. Next came the plaid shirt. The material was rougher than anything he usually wore, but it felt good as he buttoned it up, the tight fit making him feel more grounded, more solid. The cowboy boots were the final touch. As he slid his feet into them, he felt a satisfying firmness, the boots hugging his feet in a way that made every step feel strong and deliberate.

Tyler, meanwhile, was having the opposite experience. He pulled on James’s oversized hoodie, and it felt like slipping into a cloud. The fabric was soft, almost silky, and it pooled around his body in an effortless way. The joggers came next, sliding over his legs like butter, loose and relaxed. He pulled on a pair of James’s sneakers—lightweight and cushioned, like he was walking on air. The sensation was completely different from the structured feel of his boots, but it was freeing in a way he hadn’t expected.

Dressed in each other’s clothes, they both admired themselves in the mirror, reveling in the strange thrill of looking and feeling like someone else. It was more than just a swap—it was like stepping into each other’s lives, fully embracing the new persona.

Now it was time to go out. They headed into town, each fully committed to their roles. Tyler, now dressed in James’s streetwear, strolled down the sidewalk with a casual swagger, loving the way the loose hoodie swayed with his movements. The soft material brushed against his skin, a constant reminder of the freedom and ease of James’s style. It made him feel relaxed, like he could blend into the city’s energy without trying.

James, on the other hand, was adjusting to the ruggedness of Tyler’s outfit. The jeans were stiff but in a comforting way, like they were made for hard work and adventure. Every step in the cowboy boots felt strong, as if they grounded him with each clomp on the pavement. The belt buckle pressed firmly against his waist, a constant weight that made him feel solid and secure. The plaid shirt hugged his shoulders in a way that gave him a sense of confidence he didn’t usually feel in his streetwear. As they walked, he felt powerful, like he was embodying the spirit of Tyler’s lifestyle.

They hit the streets, walking into coffee shops, browsing stores, and even stopping at a park. Everywhere they went, they marveled at how natural it felt to be each other. Tyler loved the lightness and ease of James’s clothes, the way the hoodie made him feel like he was gliding through the day without a care. James, meanwhile, relished the weight and structure of Tyler’s outfit, feeling every bit the part of a rugged cowboy.

As the day wore on, the bodysuits felt less like costumes and more like their real bodies. The silicone had warmed to their skin, moving naturally with every gesture. The masks clung comfortably, fitting so snugly that they forgot they were even wearing them. There was something liberating about the whole experience—the idea of fully stepping into someone else’s shoes, literally living as the other person for a day.

By the time they returned home that evening, they were laughing, still fully enjoying their swapped identities. They helped each other out of the suits, peeling the silicone away, but even as they returned to their own bodies, they both knew they’d never forget the thrill of being someone else.

“That was insane,” Tyler said, wiping sweat from his brow, but still smiling. “I think I could do that all week.”

James grinned, tossing the bodysuit aside. “Same. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids

“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”

Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”

Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.

Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”

Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”

Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”

Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”

“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.

Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”

“Maybe he should stay away from those.”

“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.

Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”

“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.

“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”

“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”

Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”

Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”

“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.

“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”

They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”

Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”

Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”

Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”

“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”

Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”

“Yes. I would.”

Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”

“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”

“Uh huh.”

He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.

“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.

Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.

[commsroom]

eiffel and lovelace have approximately 80% similar personal styles, which would delight him and horrify her. like, tank tops, cargo shorts, flannel jacket, same kind of old sneakers and sandals, etc. lovelace's fashion sense is just a little sportier; some basketball shorts, jerseys, and new york liberty logo tanks in place of eiffel's walmart discount rack selection of pop culture tees. that kind of thing. if hera could dress the way she wanted to, she'd have a very... folk festival woman at a farmer's market type of vibe. colorful, flowy, nature-y patterns. but minkowski is so much harder to imagine in casual clothing. a big part of it is how much she's separated her work life from her personal life, but even then... she just feels like someone who is practical about it to a fault. she doesn't dress badly, she's always put together, she just dresses. kind of like a mom in an old navy catalog.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma'am

Prompt: Envy | Word Count: 666 | Rating: M | CW: Talk of Off-Screen Sex, Recreational Weed Use, Period-Typical Objectification of Women | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Off-Screen Gareth/OFCs | Tags: Gareth's on a Hot Streak, None of the Rest of Them Can Understand It, At All

Eddie thinks it's a fluke. A random hot-streak that's gonna end as fast as it started. 

But it doesn't. 

Gareth picks up one, three, then a dozen girls. Nearly every stop they make, Gareth finds a way to get laid. It's honestly getting impressive. For a kid that got no action in high school, he's sure hit his stride once they hit the road. Goddamn.

"Are we gonna talk about it?" Jeff asks, flicking the lighter, flame burning bright, as he holds it up for Eddie to get the joint going. 

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. It's a travesty," Goodie says dryly, and Eddie and Jeff both laugh at him.

Gareth's gone, out for the night, or at least well into it, and the three of them are hanging out in the van, because they don't need another angry motel manager whining about the skunky smell upon check-out.

"He's a little twerp, this's unholy," Goodie continues and Eddie leans into Jeff, cackling.

"I wish I had that kind of confidence," Jeff admits, passing the joint back to Eddie. "To get shot down, and just move along to the next one."

"I mean, if you get enough nos you're eventually gonna get a yes," Eddie reassures, "It's just if you're willing to accept all the rejection first."

"Clearly he'll get rejected all day and all night to get some pussy," Goodie snarks.

They all laugh.

When this all started, Eddie gave Gareth the safe sex lecture, loaded him down with condoms, and told him to have fun, but be safe. The last thing they need is…well, anything that could come from not wrapping it up.

Mama Jones would kill Eddie if anything happens to her boy while they're out here. It's his job to keep all of them safe and in line, at least somewhat. 

"How is he even doing it?" Jeff asks.

"Confidence," Eddie answers, "Charisma. Charm."

Gareth has an easy way about him, a swagger and smile that he's learned to work. Eddie watched it evolve. The kid was never told he couldn't do something, so now he thinks he's god's gift to women, and for some reason, the women are believing this.

It's a pretty great trick he's got going, Eddie's not gonna lie. 

"Cockiness," Goodie adds to the list, interrupting Eddie's thoughts.

They all burst out laughing, and are still cackling when there's rhythmic pounding on the side of the van, making them all jump and then laugh louder. Gareth.

Eddie slides open the door to let Gareth climb in. He reeks of perfume and sex, and they all wave their hands around, like the smell of him is stronger than the skunky weed cloud they're sitting in.

"That was fast," Jeff says.

"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am," Gareth answers. 

"Got your dick wet, so now you're good enough to hang with us," Goodie says dryly.

"Don't be jealous," Gareth says, snagging the joint right from Goodie's fingers. He gets kicked for his trouble, but doesn't seem to mind.

"That was fast," Eddie echoes, "Did you even leave the parking lot?"

"Nope," Gareth says, and passes back to Eddie. 

"Well, I'm sure she enjoyed the quick encore you gave her," Goodie goads.

"I know what I'm doing. She left with no complaints," Gareth answers, but digs in his pocket, "But I did leave with this, though."

Gareth tosses a bra onto the floor of the van. It's pink, and lacey with a tiny bow.

"Classy, kid," Eddie says, while Goodie toes at it with his sneaker.

"Bras are expensive, she's gonna be pissed," Goodie says, and they all turn to look at him.

"How do you know how much a bra costs?" Gareth asks. 

"I know things. I read."

"Yeah, you been reading the lingerie pages of the Sears catalog," Jeff teases, and Goodie flips him off.

Eddie realizes that's probably exactly where Goodie's gotten this info, and he tosses his head back, laughing. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Before there was the internet, there were the models in the Sears catalog. 👙

[itsanerdlife]

Wicked Intentions 16

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader // (Seriously close) Steve Rogers x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader // T’Challa x Reader.

Warning: Violence. Language. Bullying. Girl Fights. Name Calling. Degrading Comments. Angst. Degrade of Woman (to a point). Criminal Life. Illegal Shit. Fights. Alpha Males. Stalking.

Characters: Peter Stark. Howie Stark. Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers. Clint Barton. TC (T’Challa). Ben Reilly. Cledus Kasady (CK). Brock Rumlow. Gwen Stacy. Wanda Maximoff. Becca Barnes. Amore Lorelei. Kitty Pryde. Frank Castle. George Barnes. Joe Rogers. Winni Barnes. Pepper Stark. Wade Wilson. Eddie Brock. Warner Strucker. Barney Barton. Bobbi Morse. Pietro Maximoff. Logan.

A/N: This is a Bully Romance. High School setting. Mafia Family Life. Woman are on a lower level than males in their world. Just a heads up. This is the third installment of the series. Bad Intentions, Cruel Intentions, and Wicked Intentions.

Credit: Huge shout out to @ml7010 for all the help, pushing, hyping up, putting up with my changes midway through. If it wasn't for this peach, y'all never would have gotten this series or nearly as far as I am now.

Leaning on the counter, pamphlets and catalogs spread out on the counter, between the two of us. Side eyeing the bruises forming on Bucky’s knuckles.

“What did you punch?” I ask innocently.

He chuckles, “nothing,” flipping through a catalog slowly.

My lips pucker, watching him now.

"You didn’t have them this morning.” I point out.

“I know.” Flipping a page.

“Who did you punch?” I huff at him.

He looks up winking at me. “Someone looking at you.”

Nodding slowly, I tip my head to the side. “So, I can do that too.”

“No, you lick me. You made your choice.” He chuckles.

“Because you told me to stop punching people outside of The Ditch.” I remind him with a smirk.

His lips press together slowly. “Baby girl, no.” He points a finger at me. My head tips.

“I thought it was fair, if you do it. I can too.” I grin.

“I don’t go around punching people for fun.” He huffs, shoulders dropping.

Lifting my brow at him, waiting.

“Our breakup was a different story, Y/N and you know that!” He levels me with a look.

I shrug. “Marriage is a different story too.” Whispering softly as I pick up a venue pamphlet flipping it open.

“You’re going to beat someone up, aren’t you?” He sighs.

Shrugging, I tip my head from side to side. Looking through the pamphlet in hand.

“Oh, good you’re both here.” My mother breezes into the room, a little short of breath. Rocking jeans, sneakers, and a black T-shirt. Nothing close to her normal attire she wears. Her hair looks messed, a small cut on her cheek. Her own knuckles look to be bruising.

“Mom?” Bucky speaks up first.

Winni is right behind my mother. Jeans and a dark grey T-shirt. With what look like dark splatter marks on the front of it. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, looking quickly redone. She has handprints on one arm. Her knuckles bruised and a nail broken.

“What the fuck?” I stare at them.

“Oh, good you’re looking over Venues.” Winni smiles.

Ignoring our comments.

“See I think that we should go with this one.” My mother leans over me, grabbing a different one holding it up to me. “And keep this one as a back up if the first doesn’t have available dates.”

“Your father found some charming homes.” Winni joins Bucky pulling home catalogs towards them.

“You’re just ignoring the fact you have blood on your shirt?” He looks to his mother.

Both look down at Winni’s shirt,

“And you have a cut on your face, and both have bruised knuckles. Like James.” I comment.

Each of them look down at the other’s hands.

“Starting to feel real left out here.” Huffing as I flip over the pamphlet.

“You beat up someone and didn’t let her join?” My mother shakes her head at James. “You know that’s going to cost you.”

“I know.” He sighs.

“You’ll learn, or she’ll start beating you up Buck.” Winni snickers.

“Hello!” I throw my hands up, looking at the three of them watching me. “Who did you two beat up and since when did you do dirty work?” Looking between the two.

“Who says we never did dirty work?” My mother lifts a brow at me.

“What?!” I blanch at her.

“Maybe you just didn’t pay attention.” Winni shrugs, flipping pages, tapping on one page showing James something.

I squint at my mother. “That’s a cheap shot on your cheek. You underestimated them.” I pout softly looking at the wedding venue she picked out.

“Maybe I need to join you and Frankie in the ring more.” She comments, grabbing a diet soda from the fridge for her and Winni.

“I got my right hook from dad.” I smirk at her.

“Yes, but I baked the evil into you myself.” She winks at me.

My head tips softly to the side, shrugging. She wasn’t wrong.

“Our children are going to be evil, aren’t they?” Bucky sighs.

“If you have a girl, will she take the table next?” Winni looks from her son to me.

We exchange a look, he shrugs, I smirk at them. “You better hope the boys have boys, she’ll need someone to run the table with.” Going back to the wedding info in front of me.

“A generation of girls, heading the table. Could you imagine?” Winni grins at my mother.

My mom grins, watching me. “Told you, Winni, she was going to change everything she put her mind too.” I smile pretty, filled with cockiness.

“Or her fist.” Bucky snickers.

I stick my tongue out at him. Our mothers laugh.

“Okay wedding details.” My mother turns her attention to the counter.

“Your father has a few opening to let you do walk through, if you want, I can come with.” Winni changes the topic.

“If we do this,” I wave my finger at the counter “will you answer questions, or at least like three after?”

My mother sighs, “if you agree on some details to this wedding, I’ll answer three questions to be exact.” She settles me with a look.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes.

“And you’ll behave at Howie’s wedding.” She adds suddenly.

I gasp. “I was good at Wanda’s!”

“Y/N,” she blinks at me.

“UGH!” I huff loudly. “Fine!” Throwing my hands up. “But if he is 30 seconds late to that wedding, I’m cracking one of his ribs.” Shaking my head, shrugging a shoulder.

“That’s fair.” Bucky nods, agreeing.

Our mothers’ smirks at one another.

“Fine.” They agree.

Around two hours later, we finally agreed on a venue, a color scheme, top three houses and bridal parties. Dropping back in my seat, I look from Winni to my mother.

“Who did you beat up?” I ask.

My mother sighs, pausing for a moment. “Louise Kasady.”

“CK’s mom?” Bucky’s brow jumps up.

I sit up straight.

“What?” I blink at them.

Winni sips from her soda can. “She is leaking information to Eddie. Can’t be allowed.” She spoke casually, looking down at the houses decided on.

Bucky and I exchange a look.

“She fought back?” Lifting a brow.

My mother waves her hand. “She wants revenge for her son. Her husband isn’t the same, I guess.”

“Since my dad broke his hand with his foot?” Bucky smirks.

“And you killed her son. The woman just can’t take a loss and move on.” Winni sighs.

“Her son wasn’t even a high up. I don’t see the need for revenge.” My mother shakes her head.

“She say anything?” Tipping my head.

My mother presses her lips together. Winni inspects her can.

“Mom?” Bucky watches her.

“Nothing we should take serious, honey.” Winni smiles, only it shakes slightly on the edges.

“Shouldn’t we get to decide on that?” His brow dropping down.

“Mom,” I stare at my own. She chews the inside of her cheek for a moment.

“She said you won’t last at the head of the table. That you’ll be the fall of our families.” She watches me, fear in her eyes.

Nodding slowly. I look to Bucky who is watching me.

“They better get through me. And if she falls, I’ll take everyone of them with me.” His blue eyes darken with anger.

“She said you won’t make it to marriage.” Winni whispers.

I grin. “They come for him, and hell better bring it’s biggest army, cause I’ll destroy everything in my path.” Shrugging.

Bucky smirks, nodding softly.

“I am Satan, and hell has nothing on me. Or what I will do to this town, if so, be it.” Looking to my mother.

------------ Everything Peaches 9/21/2024 @mo320 @ml7010 @kmc1989 @babizza @coley0823 @destiel-artemis @royal-sunflower @camelliasblossom @shinycupcakebaker @purpleeclipseeggsland @daughterofthenight117 @hisredheadedgoddess28

Bucky 'Fuck Me Up' Barnes: @jbbarnesgirl @kaylaphantomhive

Series tags: @sebastians-love @otterlycanadian

[viharmons]

What would be ur recs/advice for those who wanna start dressing like violet? I started the show less than a week ago ( late to the party, I know lmao ) but I already love it and she really stands out to me as a character.

Ps: I think ur posts are so cool!!

thank you! better to be late than never come i guess. :,)

if you're looking into violet's style and just want to dress like her, i recommend doing research on all of her outfits. she dresses very grunge-like at times with a twinge of girly and boho style. a great example of this is her outfit in “home invasion”, where she wears a dress and a flannel paired together.

the way she wears dresses is slightly influenced by 90s style. in “home invasion”, violet asks the girls if the tights they're forcing her to wear are vintage. it's clear that violet loves vintage style clothing. this photo is from a 1996 delia’s fall catalog, which is similar to violet's clothing style.

model A is definitely wearing something violet would wear. as violet loves to pair short-sleeve dresses with long sleeves. she also often wears combat-style boots with dresses, or vintage-style ankle boots. she wears ballet flats a few times, giving her outfits a feminine look. she also does wear a few blouses. violet is more on the girly side when it comes to dressing up.

for shoes, violet wears a lot of boots and ballet flats. her most common boots worn are her urban outfitters ecoté equestrian ankle boot. she wears them with almost every outfit with leggings, tights, etc.. with most of her outfits, she does wear combat-style boots. a great example of this is her boots worn with her ymc dress and the boots worn with the joie cardigan. she does wear ballet flats a few times, once with the spending time pullover and once with her free people fit and flare burgundy skater dress. only once in the show she wears sneakers. she also wears black, lace up oxfords with her a.p.c dress, which are never worn again after that.

violet often wears patterned clothing. the most common pattern violet wears is floral. almost all of her dresses have floral prints. her tights also have floral patterns. she often wears paisley print tops as well, such as the free people regal macrame asymmetrical tunic and the paisley ruffle top worn underneath the banana republic striped cardigan. she likes stripes as well, her socks are striped as well as some of her cardigans and sweaters.

another thing to remember is that violet always layers her clothing. underneath sweaters, she always wears an undershirt. underneath dresses, she wears long sleeves, and so on. underneath tank tops, she often layers two long sleeves or rolls up the sleeves.

she most often covers up her body when wearing dresses. she always wears something underneath her dresses to avoid showing any cleavage. she always makes sure to wear long sleeves with dresses as well to hide her cuts. when wearing sleeveless dresses, violet will pair cardigans or long sleeves underneath a dress to avoid showing her arms. when wearing shorts and dresses, violet always wears tights or long socks. it's clear that violet doesn't like to show a lot of skin. when wearing tank tops or short sleeves, she always wears something underneath unless she's by herself or with tate. only a few times in the show violet shows some skin, but not very much.

violet also loves graphic t-shirts. she wears a few of them like the j. crew lake erie boating club henley, the custom-made kinks tee, and the nordstrom chloe k. multicolored feather print tee. when wearing these, she always wears a long sleeve top underneath. as for long sleeves, violet likes to wear burnouts, such as the free people floral burnout henley and the free people striped long sleeve burnout in sand.

as for color, her outfits are never really vibrant. most of the time they include colors with dark hues. she wears a lot of black, purple, burgundy, gray, and beige from what i've seen. most of her outfits consist of muted color schemes.

for accessories, violet wears a lot of hats and bracelets. she wears the urban outfitters bailey of hollywood cosgrove wide brim pork pie hat a couple times. she also wears a lot of knit beanies or berets. when wearing bracelets, she really just wears whatever, such as pearl bracelets, knot bracelets, hair ties, and so on. she likes to wear scarves too, and she wears a small wrist scarf around her wrist a few times. with every outfit, violet wears silver hoop earrings, which aren't too noticeable unless she pulls her hair back. she also includes different bags, such as her rothco book bag and her ecoté backpack.

another thing about her style is that she often wears a lot of free people and urban outfitters brands, such as pins and needles, staring at stars, bdg, ecoté, and so on. free people is a mainly boho style clothing brand, and violet does wear a lot of boho style clothing as well. once in the show, she does wear a crochet white beanie, which stems from the whole 2010s boho style.

she wears crochet tank tops, paisley patterns, floral patterns, macrame vests and tank tops, ponchos, crochet dresses, lace tops and dresses, fringe cardigans and bags, the list goes on. her style overall is a mix of 2010’s boho, grunge, and vintage style clothing.

if you're looking to actually collect exacts, then before you start collecting, i would recommend doing your research on violet's outfits so you don't get the wrong exact. i've seen people buy the wrong colorway of the trapeze slip dress, so you should probably do your research first.

to start collecting violet’s clothes, you may want to start with some common items. such as the items listed down below. do keep in mind, as the years go on, the availability of some exacts are getting more and more limited as they age, so get these while you can.

• free people intimately voile and lace trapeze slip dress in storm.

• anthropologie moulinette soeurs anthro horkelia shift dress in orange.

• free people fit and flare burgundy skater dress.

• free people lost in the forest knit pullover in tan/faded rose.

• free people spending time pullover in ivory/cream.

these items are almost always available, these are some casual staples in your collection that really capture violet's unique style. new collectors usually get these anyway because if and when any rarer items are on sale, older collectors usually strive to get those because they've probably been looking for them for a while. as you slowly start to build your collection up, you can start to buy rarer exacts.

i recommend searching for items on other apps such as mercari, poshmark, vinted, curtsy, and ebay. if you search hard enough, you can find these items for really cheap. you can type in the brand name of an item you're looking for with a vague description of it, just like this. you can even use image searches on poshmark and ebay if you want.

you can find really cheap exacts this way, but if you can't find anything, then don't be discouraged. mapleavenues has been selling exacts since the early 2010s, and she still does to this day. she's on depop, poshmark, and ebay. however, her prices are high, so if you're not willing to pay that much, then you may wanna start searching with this method.

this is pretty much all i have to say about dressing like violet. this was a bit rushed, but i tried! violet's style is so unique and it always surprises me. so don't be afraid to change up your outfits every now and then like violet does. hopefully i explained this well enough, but violet's style doesn't have a main theme, so it is very, very complex and hard to explain. :,) hopefully this helps.

[ogindex]

Vintage Japan Nike ad, Street Jack mag January (2001)

[gabessquishytum]

Naked Chef Hob

Hob has a cooking show that started on YouTube where he cooks in the nude with just an apron on -- depending on what he was cooking the apron was either around just his waist or a full apron (splat-ery things are going to splat!).

Every time he bakes, with just his (small) apron around his modesty, and gets flour or sugar streaks on his chest he goes viral. (The gifset from the episode where he frosted a cake & pink frosting got smeared near his nipple for the last 20 minutes of the show gets reblogged constantly.)

Hob is actually a very good chef and he started the YouTube thing when he lost a bet - it's not his fault the interwebs like to catalog his tattoos and his manbun broke the internet that one time. 😎 Despite his viral fame, he still cooks at his small restaurant.

The youtube thing was never supposed to be anything other that a forfeit, a lark. Well now, HFGTV wants Hob to take his "show" to tv. Being naked on YouTube is different than being naked on a channel that used to host Alton Brown,,,,and now hosts Dream d'Endless.

Hob doesn’t know if he can be in the studio, where Dream talks very seriously about fresh ingredients and food history, with nothing more than a branded apron covering his bits.

Of course, the pilot is a hit; of course, after his 2nd taping when Dream accidentally (on purpose) swung by to watch him work,,,,he kept. stopping. by. to watch Hob cook (hopefully, sexily) covered in the sauce of the day. Only problem, Dream never stays long enough for Hob to talk to him - it was all just smolder-y eyes. Hob is really glad the aprons are thick or he would be cooking on pornhub.

NAKED CHEF!!!! This is so good.

The show is a hit, which is great! Except that people keep recognising Hob in public now. It's great for the restaurant, they're booked out every night. But not so great when Hob is just trying to go grocery shopping, and gets accosted by fans. His YouTube show was never THIS big. He actually has a small breakdown about the whole situation in the studio bathroom (dressed only in his apron and sneakers because he may cook naked but he always wears shoes, he is NOT going to drop a knife on his foot AGAIN).

Anyway. Bathroom breakdown. Naturally, Dream comes in and sees him naked AND snotty. It's a nightmare.

But Dream is... very very nice. He wipes Hob’s face for him, and wraps his arm around his shoulder. He comforts Hob with the knowledge that the novelty will soon wear off, and people will stop bothering him. Dream solemnly says that anyway, people only notice Hob because he's so sexy. He could always try being less sexy?

Hob finally laughs and leans against Dream because this is his one opportunity and he's not going to miss it. Dream starts rubbing little circles into the small of Hob’s back, and it's like the dam finally breaks.

Hob just about makes it through making his Malaysian curry (artfully splattered in his chest hair, as always) and when they wrap up for the day, Dream is still there. Waiting, this time. He diligently swipes the curry off Hob’s chest with his finger, and his eyes are even more smoldery up close.

It's probably inevitable. But Hob still can't quite believe it. Dream sucks him off in the bathroom where he was just crying!! He ducks underneath Hob’s apron and stays there until he's done, and Hob just knows that the apron will smell of sex and Dream forever now. He might have to take it home with him, actually.

Or maybe he'll just take Dream home instead. It's his night off, and he can always get a table for two at the restaurant. He won't be naked, but it only seems fair to finally give Dream something to unwrap!

[t4tails]

In universe, there must be a Riddler subredit full of alpha grindset finance bros who idolize him. It is mostly inspirational quotes plastered over pictures of Edward, people's medicore Riddler cosplays, and the type of insipid pseudo intellectual discussions you would expect from this type of guy. Edward hates them because they use images of him he hates , buy cheap, ugly looking polyester suits, do not know how to knot a tie properly, and sometimes wear sneakers while doing so. At least the women who photosop flower crowns onto his mugshots, write questiable erotica about his person, and cataloge the minutia of his criminal career send him their underwear to Arkham.

the idea that theres a group of people that idolize the riddler and would probably do whatever he asked but he doesnt take advantage of this because he thinks they suck is really really funny