#The Tee Tones out of The Essentials

[stayallnite]

nowplaying We Can’t Stop by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

DARE TO DISAPPOINT. 18+

bucky barnes x fem!reader — angst & smut

summary. you and bucky arrange to meet your friends for the first time, but he doesn’t show up. you find out the reason why while he attempts to make it up to you

word count. 2.7k

warnings. 18+ only! little bit of one-sided arguing at the beginning. hurt reader, teasing bucky, cunnilingus, pinv, resolved ending. mdni

Plans change and sometimes that’s okay. You’re grown enough to deal with it though you often expected better. You expected better from Bucky. 

Earlier in the week, you and your friends arranged to meet at a nice restaurant, the purpose of the hangout designed to introduce them to your boyfriend, Bucky. It was the natural step after several months of dating. And after a few change-abouts with the date, and accommodating last-minute personal life popups, it was all set in stone. The date of the introduction known to you, Bucky and your friends.

It was the day of your hangout —the night of— and Bucky was yet to return home. The minutes slowly turned into an hour and an hour slowly turned into two. Your texts and calls were yet to be unanswered and you couldn’t help but notice the nervous pit grow in your stomach.

It wasn’t like him. He’s not the kind of guy that would stand you up. That’s essentially what this was – you arranged a date, got dressed all nice and now he left you hanging. 

You’re sitting on the sofa, heels on the floor and phone in hand as you reread your messages, looking at your string of unresponded texts. This was getting ridiculous.

And as if he were right on cue, you hear keys jingle, the opening sound of your front door following shortly after. The silhouette of Bucky appearing through the gap.

“I’m so s—” he says as soon as his eyes fall on you, his features softened.

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head at him. 

His head faintly tilts as he walks over to you, his hand reaching for your shoulder. “Honey,” he practically coos, his voice gentle. 

But you shrug off his touch, moving your arm away from his attempt of physical comfort. 

“You can’t do that,” you turn to look at him, your eyebrows furrowing as if to further show your frustrations. 

You pick up your shoes from the floor, slinking your fingers in the straps as you stand. You turn on your foot and head for your bedroom down the hall, not so much as giving him another glance – almost blanking him. 

He doesn’t let you get far, his hurried footing chasing after you. “Baby,” he whispers, the pet name faint and gentle. Like he was appeasing you, an attempt of amends.

But again, you ignore it, making your way into your room to unready yourself and get out of your dress. 

“Come on,” he lingers in the doorway, watching you walk around your room. “Don’t shut me off, talk to me. Get angry at me, just say something,” he says, speaking like it was like a plea. 

You turn around to face him, a lounge t-shirt grasped tight in hand. “You want me to get angry?” you scoff, tone fairly amused. 

“Yes,” he nods, eyes soft as he looks at you. “I upset you. I hurt you. Tell me that.”

You scoff once more and throw your tee on the bed. “You want me to get angry? Okay fine,” you snap. “You disappointed me. We arranged to meet my friends but you never showed up. You made me sad. You pissed me off. You don’t do that, okay? Not to your girlfriend,” you glare at him, getting everything off your chest – repeating the things you said to yourself while you were waiting for him. “That’s the third time we’ve had to cancel, do you know how embarrassing that is?”

He nods, never once retaliating – taking in everything you say.

“James,” you pause, taking a breath. “If you don’t want to meet them, just tell me. Okay? Don’t mess me around,” you say, words far calmer once you realise you were not being met with anger, but instead comprehension. 

He was understanding you, listening to you. Anger a far-distant emotion of his.

“I am sorry,” he nods, action reaffirming his apology. He steps into your room, waiting hesitantly near your bed – standing on the opposite side as you. 

“You could’ve called me. I would’ve understood,” you say, voice almost defeated as you sit on the edge of the bed, your back to him. “I know how you get… just tell me next time.”

He makes his way around the bed to you on the other side, halting when he’s in front of you. “I know,” he says, eyes focused down on you in your seated position. 

You stiffen your features, straightening them so he doesn’t see your facade weaken into a smile.

He could see the slip, his own expression mirroring yours. “Forgive me,” he whispers, leaning over to peck your forehead. 

You cock your head at him, amusement in your eyes when you watch him bend to the floor, taking a knee before you. 

Bucky extends a hand towards you, palm gliding across your face to cup it, his eyes warm as he looks over you. “Come on,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Say you forgive me, just say it,” he mutters into your cheek —the opposite one to his hold— speaking softly into your skin. He thumbs the apple of your cheek, swiping over it as he presses a kiss into your lips. “You know you want to,” he lingers, whispering into them. “Let me make you forgive me.”

Your chest heaves at his tempts, the juxtaposing sides of your brain conflicting, each one fighting for leadership. You wanted to forgive him as you knew it was not in his character, but then again, he knew about this date. He knew it was important, yet he was late – didn’t show. 

So, you pull your head back slightly to look at him, eyes honing in on his lust-filled ones. He means it. 

You squint at him, the action playful.

“See,” he smiles, features gentle. “It’s not hard.”

You glance down at him. “It’s not?” you tease, suddenly forgetting the outrage mere moments before.

He cocks his head, chuckling with a sweet, boyish smile. “No, that is.”

“That’s a shame,” you say, your hands reaching to the sides of his face, fingers  grazing back into his hair. “Problem is,” you start, leaning in to kiss him briefly. “I’m tired from waiting around, so I was thinking about going to bed. Get an early night.”

His hands move to your thighs, one metal, one fleshed palm firm on the swell of your upper legs. “Bed?” he repeats, his touch rising to sit under the fabric of your dress. “Well, what would you say about me staying over?”

“I don’t know,” you play along, entertaining him. “It is quite late though, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” he nods, leaning forward once more to speak against your lips. “Maybe I should stay,” he utters to them, punctuating his tempt with a kiss.

Your hands around his face fall to his shoulders, your arms draping loosely over them as you pull him back in, kissing him with a little more urgency than before. “Maybe you should,” you mutter into his mouth.

He can read between the lines, he’s not an idiot. Sure he’s a man, but he’s not completely clueless. 

That little silent agreement from you was all he needed, the hints of willingness showing him he was in the midst of your forgiveness. And so with his hands still on your thighs, he raises them just that bit higher, his fingers skimming the very inners. 

“Forgive me yet?” he asks, pads of his fingers bumping against your fabric-covered cunt.

You firmly shake your head ‘no,’ wordlessly telling him he had a lot more to do than kiss you and touch your thighs. The simple act only spurring him on more.

He hums and pulls away from you, his eyes landing on your legs – gaze honing on his fingers just mere centimetres away from your pussy. He keeps his eyes down as he follows his movements, his fingers grazing up to slink into the waistband of your underwear.

Without a moment to think on it, your hips are lifting, the action helping him take them off. He tugs on them gently, pulling them under your ass and over your thighs, being sure to drag them over your skin as he does it. Letting the fabric caress you.

Your eyes are focused on your thighs like his are, each micro movement being watched eagerly by the pair of you. Each of you following the motion of their removal, the skimpy fabric momentarily caught around your knees – underwear spread between your parted legs before falling to your ankles.

He moves forward, his body slotting between you as his right, fleshed hand resumes its prior position in the crease of your upper thigh. His touch light and teasing.

His thumb extends out, tip of it knocking just under your clit. The feeling eliciting a soft, breathy noise into the close distance between. He keeps his eyes on yours as he does it again, prodding his thumb to the nub to get the same reaction. And he gets it, that same response of a delicate, whiney sound. The same sound causing a strain in his boxers. 

“Sounds like you forgive me,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you briefly, the slight force of him pushing you back into the mattress behind you. 

Your legs spread instinctively as he pushes himself closer, your eyes still focused on him in your laid position. 

“Getting close,” you quip, your reply a double entendre.

He hums, the view of his smile disappearing as he ducks down between your thighs, his face itching closer to your cunt. Brushing up the hem of your dress, he presses a kiss to the inner of your thigh, lips lingering for a mere moment.

With your hands having a mind of their own, you reach down to his head, your fingers skimming through his hair as a way to hold him close. Your grip light as you keep him where you want him.

He presses another kiss into your thigh, this time it’s in the crease. The contact of him so close to where he was needed pushed your mind further into a tizzy. 

As he circles your pussy with kisses, he’s sure to avoid your clit – being mindful to ignore the mound of nerves. Making you wait for it.

His little teasing games aren’t going to cut it tonight. It was your forgiveness he needed, so him making you wait, for the second time was not what you wanted. So, with your hands in his hair, you direct him, guiding him closer to your cunt – nudging him to the places where you need his touch.

Your cues go noticed. His lips moving to wrap around your clit, tongue slipping between to flick over it – the ache in your pussy being alleviated instantly with the brisk contact. The grip in his hair tightens as your hips unknowingly buckle, a gentle wind knocking you further into his face. The tip of his nose skimming your pubic bone.

Taking the hint, he does it again. His tongue laid flat against the nub as he encapsulates it between his lips, warm wet mouth attached to you like a suction cup.

And before long, he’s making it up to you by making out with your cunt. Working you up impossibly more until you’re writhing and grinding against him, crying obscenities into the air til you’re on the cusp of your high. Mere moments from falling into that deep end.

Though before you get there, the elated feeling is stripped from you. His tongue and lips lifting from its position. His selfish, cruel trick leaving you panting and gasping and whining frustratedly. 

“Are you trying to make me hate you?” 

“What?” he questions, voice teasing as he stands. His upper body hovering over you with hands situated either side, weight anchored from above. “No,” he whispers, head shaking softly as he leans to press a kiss to your lips. “Never.”

With one hand, you cup his face, holding him there as you deepen the kiss – tasting yourself on his tongue. Your other slips down to his waist, eager fingers dancing over the exposed slither of skin. The urgency clear with your soft, muffled breaths into his mouth.

“I will,” you utter, pulling away to speak against his lips. You drop your other hand to his waist, mirroring the desperate grabs on the band of his pants. “I will hate you.”

“You can never hate me,” he murmurs into your jaw, solidifying his statement with a string of fluttery kisses down the length of your throat.

That part’s true.

He balances on his left, metal arm, his fleshed one sliding between you both and down the front of his combat pants. A slight bulge forming in the constricting fabric, his meaty wrist being the reason.

Your legs bend at the knee on instinct, your thighs spreading and adjusting to his lower half more comfortably. Knees hugging at his sides as he palms his cock, readying himself. He pumps it a few brisk times after pulling himself over the waistband, eager dick hard and heavy resting over his belt. His hand moves to his mouth to spit into the palm, and with that added little bit of lubrication, he grabs a hold of himself once more, working the saliva over the tip.

With his soft, baby blues honed in on yours, he focuses, his gaze never leaving yours as he guides himself towards you under your dress. The movement comes from a place of muscle memory, the motion fluid from repeating the act dozens of times before. He doesn’t even need to look to know how far away he is from you.

And as the head of his cock knocks against your cunt upon first contact, you involuntarily let out a soft, breathy exhale, the sound blissed and relieved. He swirls his tip around you, circling through your folds to pick up that residual spit – using that like lube.

He lines himself with you, hand firm around the middle of his dick as he eases into you, pushing inside slowly. His eyes still focused on yours, they mirror his, a sort of softness spreading in them the more he starts to fill you, stretch you.

You pull him back down to your eagerly, hands slipping up to the curve of his back to make him resume his prior hovering position. You hold onto him tightly, your chest rising and falling in such a way you fear your lungs may explode, the quick pace a physical tell of the way he affects you. He makes you feel so much.

He ducks his head, his forehead pressing against yours as he stills, the motion in his hips halting with only half of himself wedged inside.

“I’m sorry,” he says, words soft between the close distance of your lips.

“For what?” you ask, bringing a hand to hold his head, the palm cupping sweetly over his cheek. “For earlier?”

He hums, pulling away to look at you. His grasp reflecting yours, his fleshed hand holding the side of your face.

“What happened?” you question, looking off to the side as you graze through his hair. “I thought you were excited about meeting them.”

“I was. I am. I just,” he pauses, distracting himself by thumbing over your lips, his eyes following the outline motion. “What if they don’t like me?”

You stare at him, brows furrowing quizzically as the doubt-filled question settles in your ears. What on earth makes him think that?

“Why would they not like you?” you ask, redirecting your focus to his eyes. 

“I don’t know.”

“If they were to hate anyone, it would be me,” you smile softly, thumbing over his temple. “They’d be so jealous when they see who I’m with.”

He chuckles faintly, head shaking at the compliment. 

“I’m being serious,” you whisper back, extending your neck to kiss him briefly. “They know how special you are to me,” you pause to kiss him again, trying to butter him up – make him feel better. “They’ll love you, because you love me.”

He smiles faintly against your lips, a soft boyish grin stretching across his face. “We can still make it tonight,” he suggests.

You shake your head ‘no’, the offer appreciated, but not wanted. “We can arrange something another time,” you drop a hand to his very lower back, your fingers pawing at him – silently asking him to wind his hips. “Tonight. I just want you.”

**not my artwork, I don’t know the artist either

[colebabey888]

The IT Girl Wardrobe Essentials | IT GIRL DIARIES

Creating the perfect IT Girl wardrobe is all about mixing timeless classics with a touch of trendy pieces for an effortlessly stylish look. The key is to build a closet filled with versatile staples while adding fun, fashion-forward items that show off your personality.

Here’s how to put together a wardrobe starting on your It Girl Journey :

The Magic of Basics 🎀

Every It Girl knows the importance of having great basics. Start with simple, well-fitting pieces, something similar to a plain white/black tee, a pair of skinny jeans or mom jeans ( skinny jeans are always trendy if you know how to style them ) .These items will be easy to mix and match, giving you endless outfit options. They can be dressed up or down and that's exactly the type of clothing items you want to have.

The Perfect Pair of Jeans 🎀

When it comes to my denims, I don't mess around! Invest in a good few pairs of jeans that fit you perfectly. Quality over quantity! Levi, Pacsun, REVICE Denim, these are are all examples on companies that sell high quality denims. Classic skinny or straight-leg jeans/mom jeans are super versatile and go with almost everything. It's never a bad idea to keep a few light denims around either but go with what fits your skin tone best. To keep things trendy, try experimenting with ripped jeans or wide-leg styles, but make sure to always have a classic pair for everyday wear. If you're going for a more classy/clean look, I would skip out in the spontaneous ripped jeans.

The Little Black Dress (LBD) 🎀

A little black dress is a closet essential for every It Girl. Whether you’re heading to a party or going out to dinner, the LBD is always a chic choice. Pick one that’s simple and elegant, so you can easily dress it up or down with accessories. There's nothing more to it, a simple black dress will do it for any occasion, any time of day!

Cute and Comfortable Shoes 🎀

Comfortable yet stylish shoes are a must. Make sure you have classic white sneakers, cute ankle boots for your rainy days , and a pair of strappy heels. On a hot sunny day, I love a good pair of black thong sandals, they pull every look together and give off the perfect touch of a 2000's vibe. Skinny jeans or a sundress, paired with good accessories and a handbag, black thongs for the win always.

Balancing Trends with Classics 🎀

The secret to It Girl style is blending your wardrobe basics with trendy pieces. Each season, pick a few fun items like a patterned scarf, oversized sunglasses, or a bold handbag to keep your outfits fresh and exciting.

The Power of Accessories 🎀

Accessories can really make your outfit pop! Invest in timeless pieces like gold hoop earrings, a simple watch. Then, mix in trendy items like layered necklaces, fun belts, or colorful purses to add personality to your look.

By building your wardrobe with these essentials and mixing in a few trendy pieces, you’ll achieve the perfect IT Girl style—chic, fun, and always effortlessly stylish. My style is definitely changing and upgrading every year so there will most likely be a part 2 of this next year. These are just a few tips and tricks I've picked up on throughout my It Girl journey so far, but we're all learning so if you have any tips yourself feel free to dump them in the comments, mwah!

xoxo, colebabey8.88

[sykeswrites]

Machine - Prologue

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader Summary: You were brought onto the team to help eliminate a B.O.W outbreak. They needed your particular area of expertise. Neither you, the team, or Leon himself could have foresaw the attachment that would form between you. Warnings: Older Leon, Slow burn, Everyone needs a hug, limited use of Y/N. Reader is described as masc presenting but they/them pronouns will be used throughout the story. Author's Note: The intention is for this to become a multi-chapter story, but updates may be sporadic. Please be patient x

Leon's POV: He didn't understand why they needed to bring someone new onto the team. They'd done well in the past, there were a few slip ups but... a whole new person? Really? "Stop moping." Claire huffed, crossing her arms and leaning back on the bench. Most of the team were sat in the back of a large, very conspicuous van, save for Chris, who'd been tasked with actually convincing whoever the newbie was to get in on the job. He looked at her and rolled his eyes, grunting in annoyance. He'd made his opinion about the situation very clear already, but he'd essentially been ganged up on and bullied into giving in. He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of several gunshots and something glass smashing inside the small house that their newbie apparently lived in. He sat up, eyes wide, but nobody else seemed concerned with the noise; in fact, Jill was picking at her nails absentmindedly, and Claire simply cleared her throat and sank further into the bench. "What? That doesn't concern anyone else?" He asked, a level of snark in his tone as if the gunshots had proved his point, but Claire only side-eyed him and shrugged. "If you'd have bothered to do your research you'd have known what to expect." She replied, kicking one of her legs up over the other so they were crossed. He glowered at her in response, but shut up. It felt like hours dragged by before Chris and their newbie appeared. Leon looked up with disguised interest as they stepped into the van, taking in all 5'8 of them from their cropped hair to the combat pants that looked like they fit a little too snugly around the thighs. Chris was first to hop up into the van, moving aside and offering a hand to the younger agent, who unceremoniously batted it away and, with their arms spread out so their hands were secure against the walls of the van, hauled themselves inside in such a way that made their biceps bulge and strain through the tight material of the black tee they were wearing. Their boots thumped loudly against the metal flooring as they steadied themselves, hands adorned with fingerless gloves brushing out the wrinkles that had formed in their pants. "Hey!" Claire called out, giving them a friendly smile. It would seem these two had met before, because the agent swiftly moved over to sit beside her, putting an arm around the redheaded woman. Leon noticed with a shock, mostly surprised that he hadn't noticed already, that the new agent appeared to be a lot younger than the rest of them. Early to mid twenties, maybe. Few formalities were exchanged between everyone and the agent, in which Leon learned their name at last,- he did know it, he'd just forgotten, honest!- but he stayed quiet until the very end. He was about to open his mouth to introduce himself when the younger agent finally looked at him and seemed to register his presence in the corner for the first time and, seemingly without thinking or with any semblance of a verbal filter, blurted out; "Whose the drunk?"

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Spring Wardrobe Essentials

Staple Tees & Tanks:

**Purchase in Modal, Pima cotton, linen, silk, or Tencel fabric**

Fitted scoop neck tank

Fitted high-neck tank top

Structured, relaxed fit crewneck tee

Fitted scoop neck/crewneck tee

Halterneck tee/mockneck tee

Contour tank/tee bodysuits

Blouses/Shirting:

Linen button-down (can be long/short-sleeve or a tank variety)

Silk button-down (can be a long/short-sleeve or a tank variety)

Relaxed fit silky tank

Relaxed fit silky cami top

Sweetheart neck tube top

Any other desired silk shell top/t-shirts/camis (for layering)

Sculpt knit top(s)

Self-tie wrap blouse

Halter-style silk blouse

Bottoms:

Black straight-leg jeans

Black bootcut/flared jeans

Black straight/bootcut trousers

Wide-leg trousers (I love a solid black, black pinstripe, and black with lace-up detail selection)

Split hem trousers

Black linen trousers

Stretch jersey pants (straight-leg, bootcut, and/or flared)

Black satin midi skirt

Leather skirt (mini or midi)

Tailored shorts (Tencel ones are great for various climates/weather that drastically in temperature/humidity throughout the day)

Leather shorts

Tailored black linen shorts

Dresses/Jumpsuits:

Slip dress (midi-length for every day; mini for hotter days/nights out)

Linen button-down dress (for work/modest dressing)

Linen tank dress (for layering/hotter days)

Little black dress (shift dress/A-line cuts are great)

Minimal black jumpsuit ("LBJ")

Black linen or silk jumpsuit

Blazer dress/jumpsuit

Long-sleeve playsuit/romper

Tuxedo jumpsuit/playsuit

Jackets/Outerwear:

Well-tailored black blazer

Well-tailored black vest

Leather moto jacket

Black trench coat

Tailored longline sleeveless blazer/vest

Neutral-toned racer jacket

Structured utility jacket

Satin coat/trench/blazer (great over transitional nighttime looks)

Footwear:

Black loafers

Square-toe/pointed-toe flats

Slingback/mary-jane flats/casual kitten heels

Short black lace-up boots

Sleek low to mid-calf black square/pointed-toe boot

Western-inspired boot

Minimalist white sneakers

Black pointed-toe pumps

Sleek mules/cut-out flats

Slingblack pointed-toe wedges

Rain boots

Accessories:

White/black ankle & crew socks

High-waisted shapewear shorts

Chunky/small chain necklaces & bracelets

Simple pendant necklace(s)

Pearl necklace

Simple diamond studs

Crystal drop earrings

Minimalist bangles

Stackable rings

A sleek, minimalist black tote (can fit a laptop for work/travel)

Black shoulder bag

Small black bag (top handle, crossbody, etc.)

Statement bag/evening bag

Silk/decorative scarf

Sleek neutral sunglasses that suit your face shape

Lingerie/Loungewear:

Seamless bra/underwear

Lace bra/underwear

Matching pullover cotton sweatshirt/sweatpants

Tencel, Modal, or cotton top/lounge pants set

Luxurious pajama set (Long sleeve/pants + short-sleeve/tank + shorts, depending on the climate – silk, Tencel, cashmere, etc.)

A to-die-for piece of lingerie like a lace slip/silk teddy

Silk or cozy robe

Open-back slippers

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder:

chapter 1.5 — anyone else but you.

DISCLAIMER: half chapters are much shorter and used as wholesome, or not ;), fillers for the series! they're essentially palate cleansers so you can be emotionally prepared for more angst + hurt/comfort in the full chapters. however, you won't need to read these half chapters to understand context in full ones.

husband!carmy x hispanic!wife!reader

teaser. chapter 1. next chapter.

warnings : reader occasionally speaks some Spanish that Carmen hasn't picked up on. he thinks it's endearing. nothing else really. just very fluffy and touching. just good ol' sappy carmen and his wife going out for the day before the honeymoon!

authors note : this series is not doing well and it's kinda killing me inside but that's okay! just for funzies. also, the end is mostly dialogue. got a little lazy. sorry!

word count : 3k (not as short as i thought it would be ngl..)

highly recommend listening to the series playlist.

song(s) for this chapter : anyone else but you, & everyone adores you (at least i do)

"14.56? You're kidding me!"

Your eyes scan over the rainbow assortment of fresh, boxed fruit, the overpriced strawberries immediately grasping your attention. But not necessarily in a good way. Neither you or Carmen can totally remember who's idea it was to walk to the farmers market in this dry heat. It's not like you don't enjoy long walks, but it comes with cons. Pollen irritates your nose and the wind always messes up your hair.

You tug at Carmen's shirt, which, for once, isn't a tight-fitting pure cotton tee. It almost looks a little big on him, the sleeves rolled and cuffed perfectly so they still hug his arms. It's collared too. That ring on his finger makes your knees weak. He smells like the cologne he used to snag from Mikey's bathroom as a teenager. Richie got him his own bottle for Christmas the year after his passing and he's been wearing a spray or two on his neck and the insides of his wrists every 'special occasion' ever since.

And a hint of cigarette smoke. But you like it.

You always have.

He looks good. Fresh. Clean. Yours.

"Wow. I mean—" Carmen lets out a breathy chuckle that isn't quite loud enough to be a laugh, "it's a massive box. And it's strawberry season: May."

Still, despite his persuasive tone and the big hand that sits in the back pocket of your jean shorts as he stands beside you, it's not enough to convince you it's reasonable.

"But—"

"And we're at a farmers market, like, 10 minutes away from our place. Convenience costs money, baby."

Carmen peers down at you, retracting his hand from your rear and teasingly pushing your head into his shoulder. You pout. You don't want him to be right. The dramatics are fun.

"Pero, que es eso? Quieren que yo pago casi quince dólares para unos pinche fresas?" You throw your hands up, directly pointing to the tempting, fresh, and beautifully red fruit.

Carmen only nods. Even after 2 years of accidentally eavesdropping on your conversations, filled with the Spanish slang and sometimes vulgar language you've been using your whole life, he still hasn't quite learned much. Most of the time, he's too anxious to ask you what you're saying. He worries it'll make you stop doing it in front of him.

Until he comes to Tina, desperately. She'll ask him for the details but he can only remember bits and pieces of your one-sided conversations with him. She laughs for a moment or makes her eyes go theatrically wide just to fuck with his head. But eventually, she tells him the truth.

You only know this because Tina immediately started cracking jokes after she spent 15 minutes crying over your engagement, and then another 25 over your official elopement. 'Sacaste con un puré, gringo, mi vida! He needs patience!' she'd say to you whenever Carmen did the most minuscule thing that not-so-accidentally set you off.

"Mi amor," you turn to him, pinching your fingers and widening your eyes to make sure he's really paying attention, even if he doesn't understand you, "podemos comprar la misma cosa en Walmart, or algo así!"

The look in his eyes suggests that he didn't catch most of that. The only words he picked up were "mi amor" and "Walmart," obviously. He just assumes you're continuing your pointless bicker. But he doesn't have the heart, or even the want, to stop you.

He does love the way your nicknames for him roll off of your tongue. It warms something in him. Almost as if he believes your words capture your feelings and fully encapsulates him better than boring English ever does. They're smooth and they stick to his brain hours, or even days after they're spoken to him. In fact, he's been pretending he didn't faintly hear you whisper into his curls as he drifted off to sleep 'te amo con todo mi alma' last night, all fucking morning. It's the only full sentence you've ever spoken to him that he's been able to engrave into his memory.

"Uh-huh," he chuckles as he nods his head slowly, his dimples cinching in near the corners of his mouth. His skin looks a little tanner and brighter than usual. The veins in his eyelids are nearly invisible now, and the little moles that are scattered around his face and body are so much darker now. You thank the spring, nearly reaching the tips of summer, sun for bringing some life back to him. But you're not done complaining. So, you try not to smile in awe of your husband.

"Ó sea, que, are they gonna make me grow a magical straw-baby?"

"What, like—like how people say you'll grow a watermelon in your stomach if you swallow a seed?"

"Yeah! Like that!"

"I don't know, peach. Maybe?"

"It's not worth finding out."

"Yeah. Definitely not."

Despite this, you guys buy the damn strawberries.

You continue walking through the market and stopping at every other intricate little selection of produce, picking up ingredients for tonight's, tomorrow's, and the next day's dinner. You're still snacking on the overpriced strawberries, the entire carton in hand. Carmen occasionally lets you pop one in his mouth. He contently bites right before the stem and swallows. They're perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy. And unfortunately a tad bit sticky. In the end, they're worth the aggressive price tag.

Finally, you stop in your tracks at a flower stand. Bouquets tied together with white ribbonYou're immediately drawn to the vibrant red of the roses and the pure, angelic white of the mums. Oh god, and you're convinced the baby's breath tucked in neatly between each gap that couldn't be closed by blooming petals could remedy the need for plant life in your living room. The fantasy makes you feel like you just can't leave without taking some of these gorgeous flowers with you.

"Mm—" you point, your mouth full of mushy strawberries, "those look really nice."

For a moment, Carmen hesitates. Those flowers will shrivel. They will lose their once attractive and captivating saturation of color. He's not even sure if they'll last more than 72 hours, given how bloomed the petals are. But you still have those clay vases from your engagement party. And he still loves to make you happy. Despite their fleeting nature, your appreciation for his gestures will last forever. Even if their lifespan doesn't.

Carmen's had this tendency for longer than either of you can pinpoint. Having money he doesn't need, money he doesn't use, has led to him making some questionable decisions. All in good faith. But impractical nonetheless. Take, for example, that time he bought you a Cartier love bracelet for your 1 year anniversary.

Yes, you heard that right. Cartier. The gold and shiny flat bands that required the disassembling and unscrewing of 18 karat gold bolts with a miniature fucking screwdriver. Oh, and this was even after you and him agreed to 'no gifts,' as you were already planning a trip to Copenhagen. The reaction he received from you wasn't quite what he expected. Tears streaming down your face and the kiss on his cheek to compensate for the lack of a proper gift for him was not part of the thoroughly walked through plan he wrote in his head. But your happiness is his, in the purest and pathetic and shameless way. He realized this the moment he screwed that last bolt and secured the thin piece of gold against the circumference of your wrist.

It's around 4pm, and the glistening sun is just slightly past its highest peek. Bright transparent blue and green spoons made from hard plastic swirl around in the cheap, (and definitely not authentic) gelato you share. Outdoor seating wasn't the first option, now that spring was slowly evolving into another scorching hot Chicago summer, but the AC of the parlor was sure to give you hypothermia.

"Fuckin' hot out here. Can't see," Carmen mutters, taking a small bite of the creamy pistachio mixture. He squints at the blinding beam of the sunlight. You felt a little guilty for letting him sit right in the direction of the sun. But he insisted.

"Did y'know blue eyes are more sensitive to sunlight?" You raised your brows, wiping the corner of your mouth and licking the gelato residue from it.

"Seriously?" Carmen leans forward, putting his hand above his eyes as a makeshift visor. His hand reaches out to adjust the heart shaped sunglasses that started to fall off of your head.

"Here," you hand them to him, feeling bad that you'd completely forgotten about them.

"And yes, seriously," you nod, hovering over the table and adjusting the sunglasses so they'd rest perfectly on Carmen's nose before sitting back down, "It's because blue eyes have less melanosomes compared to green and brown eyes."

A simple, "thank you, baby," would've sufficed, but kisses your lips, gently cradling your jaw and barely letting a breath of air slip through the empty space between your mouths after the 3rd kiss. Alas, you remove your lips from his and sit back down.

"Is there, like—"

"An exact number?" You finished his sentence.

"Yeah."

"Yes, actually. Blue eyes have 3 in each, green eyes have 5, and brown eyes usually have around 9 to 12 depending on how deep the color is."

You smile, shrugging your shoulders as you try to remain humble. It's impressive, he has to admit. Carmen's always been fascinated by your knowledge of pointless information. He wishes he could store and retain so much of what you know. But for now, he'll just admire you for it. He'll contemplate his lack of ability to remember things like patterns and bullet pointed facts that didn't relate to culinary arts later.

"Huh," he crosses his arms against his chest, his button up shirt squeezing his flesh and showing his slightly faded tattoos "kinda makes sense."

Letting out a laugh or two, you take another disappointing bite of the fake gelato monstrosity. It's not that it doesn't taste decent, but the texture is off and the crystallized ice that formed around the sides is unappealing for the price. Carmen had doubts since the moment you dragged him in by the hand like a greedy kid spotting a candy store. But he didn't say anything. What's the point of using his knowledge and skills to crush making you happy? It wasn't necessary at the time.

But, much to his pleasure of being correct, but his dismay of your disappointment, you aren't the biggest fan of it in the end.

"This isn't great," you swallow, shaking your head and dropping the spoon back into the paper cup in defeat as the green and nutty mixture went down your throat for the last time.

"It's not real," Carmen joins you, just to end up dropping his spoon in the same unfulfilling manner, too. "Most gelato places aren't. Gelato's dense. Not fluffy."

You nod, pushing the cup to the side and interlocking your fingers into his. His calloused fingertips gently caress the back of your hand and go over every little vein and mole that shines through your soft and soothing skin. He's become pretty fond of the whole hand-holding thing. Especially with that pretty rock on your finger. It's delicate. You're delicate. You're his.

"You've been doing that since the day we met, y'know," you hold onto his hand tighter, smiling and snatching your sunglasses back from his face with one swift motion before he can protest.

"What? Explaining shit about food you don't care about?" Carmen chuckles, his teeth showing. Sometimes he was embarrassed of his info-dumping, but he's learned to not be so shameful of it. You find it interesting. He doesn't really notice that he does it anymore.

"Yeah. But it's cute. It's what made me wanna keep talking to you. You don't do it to make me feel stupid, or something. You just.."

You paused to think.

"You know a lot about what you do, Carm. You're passionate."

Ah. The day you met.

Around 3 years ago, you'd just moved to the bustling city of Chicago after writing and successfully selling a beautiful script to an indie short film, which ended up being undeserving of your work due to the poor execution of dialogue. It didn't even end up showing at the film festival you were practically forced to attend. Even after co-writing and directing film projects and not-so-popular cinematic pieces, you hadn't tasted the pleasure of success. You dreamed to write something all on your own and conjure up a moving script of the century. You figured moving to a brand new city would get the creative juices flowing. Eventually, it did, but it took a boring circle of friends and a couple sleepless nights before you were successfully back and thriving in the industry.

You decided celebrating with an appletini or two at a shitty Karaoke bar down the block from your apartment was the best option. And thank god you did.

Carmen caught your eye the moment you detached yourself from your social circle to smoke a cigarette or two outback in the alleyway to melt the anxiety that started to consume you once you got a little tipsy for the first time in months. The tattoo on his hand and the way he crouched down on the asphalt beside Richie who complained endlessly about the complexities of his divorce was intriguing.

You butted into their conversation and lit a cigarette of your own, politely greeting them. Richie didn't say much. It's like he knew it would be Carmen's opportunity to function like a normal person and have a pleasant conversation with a random bar girl in black pantyhose and combat boots. The two of you discussed moving back to Chicago, discovering that Carmen actually grew up there and started a new life of culinary exploration and expertise, while you just needed a sense of control and escapism.

After the conversation had reduced to mundane small talk, visibly making both of you tense up, you finally got his name: Carmen Berzatto. His use of his full name was a little displacing. It made you wonder if you should've known who he was, considering his surprisingly humble background check. You couldn't help but want to know if there was more to him than his career. More than his cigarettes and his tattoos and his weird love-hate relationship with his family friend he called 'cousin' for no real particular reason.

More than the restaurant he'd been trying to revive.

That night caused him to come to the realization that he didn't actually know if there was more to him. Ever since that conversation and its rude interruption of Richie's right hook into some random guys face landing him in a cell overnight, he's been forming into a real person instead of the outer shell that is his job as a chef. He asked about your films, your projects, what made you start working in cinematography, and who your inspirations were. You answered completely honestly and wholeheartedly with every question, never making him feel a burden for his curiosity.

You could tell he was nervous with the way his voice shook and his breath went uneven with every look.

"I was kinda scared to talk to you when you came up to me," Carmen smiles, running his free hand through his dry and defined blonde curls. You squinted in disbelief.

"What? Me?"

"Yeah. I don't know, I–" he shrugs, leaning forward to get even closer to your again "you were cool right off the bat. You still are. Possibly a lot cooler than me."

You roll your eyes playfully, refusing to take the compliment in a fit of flattery. Constantly being humble around Carmen was kinda hard. Especially with the way he unintentionally showered you with compliments that were really just state of facts to him. But he didn't want you to be humble. He wanted you to own that shit.

"And you're beautiful. So, so beautiful. I think that scared me a little, too."

"I think I might've been more nervous than you were. I was just so determined to talk to the hot guy with tattoos and a blue apron over a slutty white t-shirt that I tried desperately to hide it," you joked, laughing harder at the sight of an eyeroll of his own.

"Yeah, well, look at us now. Married," Carmen smiles, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and exposing your decorated lobe with earrings Natalie gifted you for your birthday last year. "I'm glad you stuck it out. You always do. All the time."

Carmen gushes over your ability to 'always know what to say,' when you know deep down your life is just a constant cycle of 'figuring it out' and 'going with the flow' of inevitable highs and lows of life as you go on. Your brilliance is so organic. Everything about you has always been the purest form of excellence and love to him. Even when he barely knew you.

"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" You bite at the inside of your cheek, your hand releasing from Carmen's so you could clasp your palms together in a pleading motion.

"Sure."

You pause, swallowing the familiar lump that hasn't formed in your throat since the first time you told him you wanted every part of him in your life.

"When..." you breathe in sharply through your nose, "did you realize, 'oh yeah, I need to spend the rest of my life with her.' Was there any specific moment?"

Almost without a second thought, Carmen answers with a blush against his cheeks and his hand grasping yours again at the loss of physical contact.

"Probably the first time we kissed."

That response surprises you more than it probably should. That night in your apartment changed his course and perspective on love and life for the rest of eternity. He learned to slow down and let himself fail and pick the pieces of his mistakes back up.

"I love you, Carmy."

"I love you."

He says it back hungrily like he needs it to be branded into the ridges of your mind. And at this rate, it might've already been stamped into your memories of him.

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @fallinallinmendes @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) mentions of pregnancy, love bombing, occasionally sad, kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 25 - ‘You’re Mine’

You laid outside in the sun as the time started to tick by and get closer to when you needed to pack up and head to the airport. The whole group was flying back together including the Birmingham boys so it would be a little bit more interesting of a flight home but you’d worry about Lauren’s love life later because right now you stared at a messy room you needed to somehow get back into your bags. You lazily threw your stuff back in your suitcase sitting on the floor of your room while Trent laid doing nothing on the bed just following your movements.

“Baby…” he cooed, laughing a little watching you move around struggling with your packing.

“Yeah huh?” You sang back trying to sit on your suitcase now for it to close.

“Need help?” He raised his eyebrow looking at you with a sly smile. He laughed a little more as you pulled at the zipper.

“Ermm… maybe, yeah, T.” You giggled back at him sheepishly, embarrassed trying to pull the zipper again and failing so you stood up and stared back at him with a little pout.

“Alright c’mon move, let me do it.” He giggled when you sat down on the silver rimowa pressing it closed. You ran your hands up Trent’s toned legs as he stood next to you leaned over to zip it. You hummed feeling his muscles underneath your hands. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re very sexy, T.” You squeezed both your hands on his strong thighs igniting a fire in your stomach. God, he looked so good all the time and the shorts he was currently in were just doing something for you. You kissed his skin softly before he reached under your arms and pulled you up to stand.

“C’mere.” He grunted picking you up. “All set, pretty girl.” He winked, pulling your body into him. “Gotta get going soon. Gonna miss it here?” He cooed swaying back and forth with you in his arms humming.

“Thank you. Errmm I don’t know you know…” you thought a little bit more about your holiday. It started off so terribly (thank you Chase) but it ended so wonderful in the encasement of Trent’s scent as his hands caressed your stomach dreaming of getting started on your baby journey. “I think I’m happy to be going home. Want to be back in our little world. Miss the dogs” you giggled. “What about you, baby?”

“Don’t know, will miss you in those little bikinis.” He cheekily smiled at you, imagining you in a lot less clothing then you were currently in. You were in a little cropped baby tee and trousers. His fingers came to hook around the belt loops pulling at the material and you some.

“I can still wear those at home, T… we do have a pool. It’s summer.” You giggled stepping out of his embrace walking to the dresser to your tote bag filled with all your flight essentials again to double check for your passport. He followed you and pressed his chest against your back. His hands drifting down your sides and then in between you two to squeeze your ass cheeks.

“Yeah… well I expect to see that immediately. Alright?” You just hummed in response rolling your head back giving him more room to come and kiss your neck and that he did.

You jogged up the stairs off the tarmac to board the plane followed by Trent holding your bag kindly as you giggled with Lauren. After take off he sent you a wink queuing you to scurry over to him to cuddle and get more comfortable. Your lips were glued to him the second you sat down just loving kissing and sucking on his neck subtly in your own world. All the boys were exhausted from the late night, half were asleep but it seemed Marcel was up keeping an eye on Lauren’s moves. You clocked it but when Trent’s hands caressed your skin under your top you lost the ability to focus quickly.

“I love you, baby. Can’t wait to get you home.” Trent whispered in your ear as his hands started to slip lower and lower before playing with the waistband of your trousers. His fingers slid underneath it and started to get awfully close to your core. God, if you weren’t on the plane with his little brother and closest friends you would’ve let him keep going but you grabbed at his wrist giggling trying not to push your core down any further on his lap and change your own mind.

“Baby, baby, baby… can’t do that to me right now.” You said placing kisses on his neck still just now with a sly smile knowing he wanted you.

“Then you…” he said, pulling his body further away from you. Distancing your faces, so he could look you dead in the eye. “You cannot keep sucking on my neck like that. Driving me mad, beautiful. Not being very fair.” His face was serious. He moved quick to come and suck on your neck dramatically mocking what you were doing to him then pulling away. You couldn’t suppress your giggle very well at the wet feeling of his lips and inadvertently drew the attention of Lauren. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at you two before standing up and walking over to the seat that was facing you and Trent. She sat and pulled her legs up close to her body, settling in.

“Soooooo…” she cooed, eyes widening with smugness.

“What?” You giggled as Trent squeezed your waist tightly placing his head on your shoulder. He looked at Lauren with inquiry.

“No, no, nothing. Just was curious about a little rumour I’ve been hearing about.” She smirked, raising her eyebrows. Okay, so you definitely confided in Lauren plenty of times about how you were thinking about a baby with Trent but seemingly she and George had had their own conversation about the insights they had gotten from both of you separately and now compiled them to make one narrative. In turn, she was awfully excited to hear you were going home to ‘start’ according to him.

“A rumour huh?” Trent asked curiously as his hand instinctively rubbed over your exposed stomach.

“Yeah T… a rumour and I’m pretty sure you’re thinking about it right now.” Lauren said somehow even more smug watching his big hands move over your soft, currently empty and flat tummy. You shook your head with a smile at their little back and forth banter.

“Shhhh.” You shushed Lauren. “This is an us thing… not an everybody thing, besides you are in a much more interesting situation I’m curious to know about.” You giggled.

“More interesting than having a…” she started to talk but Trent cut her off.

“Lauren… we’ll let you know, alright?” He laughed dismissing the conversation. “Y/N’s right, what’s the play? If you sit with either of them on this flight… I mean, is that you choosing?” Trent pushed wanting to know if Lauren had made some sort of decision between Jude and Marcel.

“No! Not choosing. We’re all fine. They’re just different people. Provide different things” She laughed, dropping her head in her hands. Lauren was rarely embarrassed so you were surprised to see her flustered by this.

“Well let’s see what they think! Go find out Laur and we’ll watch. We can put a wager on it. Inflight entertainment.” You giggled looking over Lauren to see Jude on his phone, unaware you were about to use him in a game.

“Watch what? They aren’t going to do anything on the plane.” Lauren laughed again, Trent joining her both knowing that Jude and Marcel would most definitely not be opposed to doing something on the plane.

“Go sit with each of them and if they kiss you, make a move, whatever… which I know both of them will try then hmmm you owe me £100 and if they don’t like you think, I don’t know, you win something and ultimately then we know who's interested.” You shrugged squinting at her then peered around the plane to find where Marcel had gone.

“Fine.” She smiled deviously. “They won’t, so when I win… I get to be first to know, you two have to tell me first and you can name her Lauren.” She smiled big.

“I’ll give you the first bit, draw the line at the name.” You giggled. Watching Lauren get up from her seat as Trent pressed a kiss to your cheek. She walked over and sat on a couch pretending to mind her own business when she worked her normal charm throwing a soft smile at Marcel. It wasn’t long before he came over and sat next to Lauren. She slyly slouched in her seat a little more to lean her body onto his. You watched him lean over and whisper in her ear. She giggled and gently shut her eyes clearly enjoying whatever he had to say. Her hand sliding up his thigh.

“Yeah, this is between you two, I don’t want to watch this.” Trent said, grabbing his iPad to start playing a game. He felt nauseous watching Marcel put in work on any girl, let alone Lauren. You laughed and nodded, pressing a sensual kiss on his neck. He pulled away from you and gave you a stern look.

“Sorry!” You whispered shyly. “It’s a habit.” You joked looking back at Lauren who was whispering some sort of response in Marcel’s ear. You held your stare a little longer until she started to plant kisses on his skin working down his neck. You rolled your eyes. She couldn’t help herself. She lost the bet within the first round but it was a little funny. She clearly had some type of feelings for the boy. Marcel got up to go play a game with George and Lauren stood up to go to the bathroom a while later on. When she walked down the aisle it took little to no time at all for Jude to pull at her waist. She stumbled a little bit and ended up in his lap. His lips were on her bare shoulder almost immediately.

“When do you leave England?” He whispered as she squirmed trying to settle the horny monster Marcel had ignited in her.

“Few hours after we land, you?” She cooed now trying to look forward and ignore his advances.

“Same, so come with me instead.” Jude commanded with a particularly seductive bite to the nape of her neck. Lauren had a hard time stifling a gasp.

“Come with you where?” She smiled a little at the idea of going anywhere with him right now. Jude played her like a fiddle. It was so easy for him and she loved being played with.

“Just come to Spain, yeah? I’ll move your flight, you can head home after you spend the week with me there.” Her eyes widened at the offer. She was shocked he was trying to continue this past holiday. It confused her more, she really had dug herself quite a hole.

“I can’t…” she started talking when his hands caressed her soft skin higher and higher up her leg causing Lauren to quickly change her mind. “Fine, but we can’t tell anyone, they’ll make a big deal out of it.” She turned to face Jude a little taken aback for a moment forgetting his prominent bone structure.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He hushed her. You shook your head unaware of the plans being made and diverted your attention back to the silly little game Trent was playing and cuddled some more into him. He hummed at your touch.

“What are we going to do?” Lauren whispered to Jude needing a little more information. He moved his lips behind her ear some and then spoke.

“What I want to do right now but can’t.” She just nodded trying to downplay her excitement. Lauren clearly lost the bet so you sent her a Venmo request. ‘Make up your mind 😘’ you teased. You settled in more and fell asleep on Trent’s chest. You have no idea what everyone else did during the rest of the flight but you began to wake up to sweet kisses all over your face as the plane started to descend. You smiled and shuffled a little in his lap and picked up your phone, finally starting to get better service and opened Instagram mindlessly. Your eyes widened and you felt sick.

“Baby…? You okay, beautiful?” Trent cooed in your ear seeing your expression change, your body go stiff. You didn’t respond as you clutched your phone. You looked down at your notifications practically about to break your phone. You went to your profile and saw your measly 5,000 followers massed to over 250k since the time you had taken off in Greece.

“T…” you mumbled. You held up your phone for him to look.

“Oh wow… well, that’s sort of what you wanted, innit?” He joked trying to lessen the shock with some humor but your look of concern didn’t budge.

“T…” you groaned looking at him wide eyed.

“Alright, alright, it’s fine. Let’s put your instagram on private for now till we can talk to Tyler.” He told you kindly with a kiss to your forehead before grabbing your phone to do it for you.

“Y/N…” Lauren sheepishly called out from further down the plane. You picked your head up to look at her. “My instagram is being ransacked right now… my DMs are going insane with people asking for information about you.” She talked lowly. You winced hearing it. Trent felt your body shudder so he spoke before you did.

“Laur, I hate to do this, but can you just not respond to anything until we figure out what we’re doing?” Trent hesitantly asked her, feeling horrible about monitoring someone else's actions on social media.

“No, no, course.” Lauren cooed unphased but she saw your face drop more. “It’s gonna be fine. You were a public profile to begin with Y/N. You were never hiding. Try not to worry!” She said reminding you of the facts, walking over to you to give you a hug.

“Baby, our relationship was never a secret. Hmm? Lauren’s right, it's all gonna be fine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. You just hummed, switching off your phone and throwing it in your bag before you hid your face in his neck. His hands stroked up and down your spine. As you calmed, Trent slyly texted Tyler giving him a heads up about the arising situation. He wasn’t thrilled but as expected he had it sorted and would handle it. You landed safely back in England. It was a sunny warm welcome, despite feeling like there was a cloud over your head at the moment. You stood on the ground hugging Trent’s waist, your head pressed against him as George explained something about airplanes to the group. You don’t really know what he was on about, your head was completely gone at the minute. The only thing keeping you sane was Trent’s hands on your skin and the thought of being back in your bed. Lauren walked over to you wheeling her suitcase and pinched at your waist.

“Gonna miss me?” She cooed with a soft smile.

“What will I do for entertainment now?” You cheekily responded, returning the soft smile. “Do you want us to help you get to your gate or anything?” You asked sweetly, pulling your head off Trent.

“No, no, erm… I’m good. I actually think.” Lauren was cut off by an interrupting Jude.

“You wanna get going?” He whispered as his big hand gripped her tiny waist. She smiled greedily up at him, he returned the lustful look while you and Trent’s eyes widened.

“Okay…” you said, breaking their moment. Trent’s brows furrowed looking at them with confusion. You both were a little confused when they made such a big plan to leave together.

“I haven’t been to Spain in ages. It’s nothing!” She poorly tried to defend herself. She didn’t need to defend herself to begin with but in any case she did it poorly.

“The entertainment continues…” You joked rolling your eyes at her. “Call me, okay?” Giving her a bone crushing hug. You were somewhat surprised at Marcel's indifference to Lauren at the moment but then again you didn’t really understand their whole thing from the start. I guess she was right, it was ‘all fine.’ You said your goodbyes to everyone else gradually and nestled into the back of the car with Trent. When you finally pulled down your drive Trent asked if you would go open the front door while he got the bags. You obliged and dragged your very tired body up to it. You made it inside and he followed. Even though it was a pet peeve of yours you just let Trent drop the bags at the front door, leaving them there for now.

“Baby…” you pouted your lips a little.

“Yeah?” He smiled but was equally as tired as you so it was soft.

“I’m glad we’re home…” You said walking towards him then running your hands over his chest dragging your nails along the fabric of his shirt.

“Me too.” He cooed, pressing a kiss on your neck. He always managed to find the most sensitive spot every time and it made your heart beat faster. You purred as his hands ghosted over your skin. The only thing in your mind at the moment was the feeling of his hands trailing down your back, squeezing your ass. He gripped underneath it lifting you up. You gasped a little and wrapped your legs around him. Your arms came to drape around his neck. Since the plane ride when he had his hands practically down your trousers you had built up a lot of need for him throughout the day. He walked you into your living room. He sat back down onto the couch. His legs wide and a glint in his eyes.

“I love you so much” you whispered close to his face. “I want to be close to you, T” You shifted in his hold, grinding down on his lap. He was perfect and you wanted him. You cupped his face and pulled his lips to yours as you straddled him. Any semblance of composure you had was gone as you moaned into his mouth the moment your lips pressed against each other. He tasted amazing, he always had such a sweet flavor to him. The kiss was passionate, hot, heavy, and moving towards messy. He pulled away for a torturous moment to pull his shirt off over his head. You lifted your arms and he dragged your shirt off after his. He slid his hands around your waist slowly and gripped your ass cheeks eliciting another moan from you. He stripped the remainder of your clothes and looked at you completely naked on top of him. He licked his lips before he dropped his head, leaning you back, putting his lips onto one of your tits. He grazed your nipple with his teeth before nibbling and sucking on it.

“T..” You moaned again feeling his lips on you as you arched your back. You leaned into him further pushing your pulsing core down onto his hard cock. He was the one moaning now at the sensation of your wet pussy on him. You could feel Trent get harder and harder underneath you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so perfect. Your tits are so perfect. God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He rambled lost, pulling away from your boobs for a moment mesmerized. He knew he was completely whipped. He was obsessed with you and definitely obsessed with your body. You continued to roll your hips down on him but allowed him to take control of you. You liked him to take control. Trent switched boobs, making sure to give each the same treatment. Moments like this felt like a dream, a fever dream, a fever dream you never ever wanted to wake up from. Not now, not ever.

“T, you’re so good. Oh my god. I love you. You feel so good.” You rambled just the same back. Your eyelids felt heavy. You smiled at him incredibly turned on. He looked at you and he thought he could cum just seeing the beautiful lustful expression on your face.

“No one else is ever allowed to touch you, baby. You’re fucking all mine.” You gasped at his possessiveness and the feeling of his cock abruptly sliding inside your wet pussy. You slowly but gradually sank down on Trent’s length. The sounds your slick made were so lewd, squelch after squelch. It was tedious and repetitive. You grinded forward rubbing your clit against him. Suddenly he spanked your ass hard and you felt yourself get much wetter. You could only nod your head at Trent’s statement. Your breaths were growing rapid. After tantalizing minutes, you started feeling your orgasm coming. The sound of his cock pulping in and out of you brought you that much closer to the edge. When he moved his thumb to play with your clit you could only feel pleasure, numb to everything else happening in the world except him; in front of you now. The pressure in your stomach started to build up. Your toes curled. His upwards thrusts started to falter, you rutting back and forth against him got sloppy. He stared up at you with dilated pupils sucking his teeth before you felt his cock twitch a little. “Want to get you pregnant, baby.” He begged into your ear. His raspy low voice sent pleasure coursing through your body. He knew the words would set you on fire. He leaned his face closer to you when his hands feverishly pulled you into a messy kiss. He pumped his cock into so deep your eyes began to water. You stared at him with so much love in your eyes, it felt like such an intimate moment. Trent felt the same. Like his cock, Trent felt his heart could burst at any moment. He loved you so much, loved you desperately.

“Want you to fill me up, T. Please please get me pregnant. Let me cum all over your cock while you cum inside me please.” You whined begging and babbling. Trent’s thrusts became erratic, both your highs approaching fast. Your eyes rolled back. Your legs spread on top of him were quivering.

“Oh fuck, baby. Holy shit. I’m gonna cum, baby. I love you fuck ffuck.” He stuttered as you squeezed his cock. He shuddered and you felt your pussy spasm around him. You dug your nails into his skin leaving little crescent marks on his tan body. He pumped you full of his cum, grunting. You clenched tighter taking every bit of him, so much you felt it oozing out of you. He thrusted a few more times slow and languid as you both finished. He laid his head on your tits tired. You were both exhausted, panting, he grabbed your body to be even closer together. You stayed clung to him for some time just happy in his embrace. Over an hour later though you found yourself still naked on the couch with him. You laid cuddled on his chest breathing a little better now. Your previously sweaty body stuck to his skin was starting to cool as his hands moved over your back drawing shapes. You nuzzled your face into the nape of his neck humming at his scent and warmth.

“I like this” Trent spoke softly and vaguely. You didn’t move your head, you just hummed again but with more of a curious tone so he answered you. “You… naked, in our home, alone, with me… I like it just like this.” He murmured quietly, placing a kiss in your hair. His hands moved a little slower up your spine. You couldn’t help but smile at how perfect he was. How safe he made you feel, how much better he had made your life.

“I love you.” You whispered into his skin.

“I love you more” he echoed you. His voice vibrated his chest a little beneath you. The sound of his voice lulled you into further bliss. He was your whole world. You moved ever so slightly to lay down, still on top of him but just a little more snuggly with your head on his chest tucked under a blanket. He held you in comfortable silence on the couch loving being back home with you.

“Are you happy, T?” You broke that silence. Trent closed his eyes softly smiling at your question. Sometimes he couldn’t wrap his head around how sweet you were. You asked questions so innocently when you genuinely wanted to know about something and it made his heart skip a beat. You were so kind and so perfect for him. He felt it the first time he met you that he just wanted to take care of you, protect you, love you. God, did he love you. He loved you so much it made him sick sometimes imagining that you both had lives without each other before.

“With you in my arms, absolutely.” He responded to you softly. You giggled a little, your cheeks filling and going a little pink. You nuzzled in a little further and he pulled you tighter to him, giving you another kiss.

“You’re cheesy.” You kept giggling. He loved to hear you laugh. The house was quiet and the sound of your bubbling laugh warmed his heart. He wanted this, this moment, this sound, this girl, this feeling forever.

“Honest too” he cooed back at you, pressing another kiss to you. He laughed a little, bringing his hand up your spine to the back of your neck. His hand wrapping under your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Are you happy?” He asked hesitantly because he was so happy in this moment he didn’t want to entertain the possibility that you weren’t feeling what he was but deep down he knew he made you as happy so he asked anyway.

“In your arms…” you teased, kissing his wrist. You fluttered your eyes open to look up at him through your eyelashes when he started moving you.

“Funny… C’mere” he rolled his eyes at you mocking him and rolled your body over as he sat up right, leaning back into the couch cushions. He pulled you to sit in between his legs, your back to his chest. You got more settled as he slipped his hands around your waist, his big hands coming to rub your stomach. He kissed behind your ear before he placed his chin on your shoulder. “You want a girl or boy?” He spoke quietly into your ear as you nestled back into him. Your hands over his on your stomach.

“Just a baby is good by me… I’d like to get there first.” You laughed a little at your own joke but hummed feeling his warm hands on you then again thinking about the sex you just had possibly leading to a baby.

“Yeah but I’m imagining it. What’d you call it? Manifesting, innit?” He talked a little faster now coming out of an orgasmic haze. You laughed at him trying to talk about manifestations when you had mentioned it maybe only once before. It was cute he listened so carefully though. He sat up a little further and pulled your body with him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Manifesting.” You giggled more. “I don’t care though ultimately but in any case I wouldn’t be upset if they looked just like you, pretty boy.” You cooed, bringing your hand up behind you to stroke his cheek.

“Oh Yeah?” He smiled flattered by your touch and your words. “I don’t know, baby, I think I want them to look mostly like you. You’re beautiful. I like your nose…” he thought a little more quietly. “I like your eyes…your… I like” he kept rambling random body parts as you started to feel more and more sleepy, you could only hear every couple words when his voice just started to fade out, your eyes closing. Trent wrapped his strong arms around you and held a kiss to your head as he held you tightly as the night crept in. Trent carried you upstairs sweetly. He tucked you into your bed gently before climbing in himself and pulling you into his embrace.

“So so perfect, baby. Want to have you forever” he whispered into your hair. “Love you so much” He continued through a yawn bringing your body tighter to his before he fell asleep with his head nestled in the nape of your neck.

You woke up when you heard Trent’s phone continually ringing on the bedside table. You pressed your lips to his bare chest trying to wake him up softly with a kiss.

“Baby?” You cooed, sliding your hand from its current place on his abs up towards his shoulders. Your hand squeezed him a little as you spoke again. “T, your phone.” He shifted a little beneath you and let out a moan but just pulled you closer to him not opening his eyes any. His phone rang again. The noise was starting to drive you crazy and it confused you how it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “Sleepy boy… can I at least see who it is?” He hummed a yeah.

“Just answer f’me, baby.” He moaned. You nodded and reached over him and grabbed his phone coming to lay on his chest again with the phone to your ear. You answered and it was Tyler. Suddenly the reminder of your sudden Instagram exposure pinged in your head.

“I’ll be there in like 15, alright?” Tyler's voice muffled through the speaker against your ear. Trent started to wake up, his hands inching down your body until he was palming your ass. Kneading it. His lips were on your neck. You lost track of any thoughts you had in your head. You let out a silent gasp when he nibbled a little on your neck.

“Hang up the phonnnee.” He groaned in an incredibly sexy morning voice. You heard Tyler say your name again through the phone when you didn’t respond.

“Yeah, yeah, see you then.” You barely got out the words in a squeaky voice flustered under Trent’s touch. You found yourself 30 minutes later heavily breathing under Trent. He had 5 missed calls from Tyler who was now unimpressed sitting at your kitchen island.

“Sorry, mate!” Trent said, jogging down the stairs, seeing Tyler slouched on his phone waiting impatiently.

“You’re not, but it’s all good, bro. You alright?” Tyler spoke, rolling his eyes, turning to see Trent pull a t-shirt over his head rushed as he came into the room.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Definitely good.” Trent cooed while walking around the island to the refrigerator with a silly smile on his face after his morning with you.

“Yeah? I’m sure.” Tyler quipped. “Y/N coming down? He asked looking at Trent who grabbed a water and was chugging it down. He gasped a little as he finished it

“Think so.” Trent said just as he saw you come gliding down the stairs. You smiled coyly and licked your lips seeing Trent in the kitchen send you a wink. You skipped into the kitchen wearing a shirt of Trent’s wrapping your arms around his waist. “Good morninggg.” He cooed as you looked up at him. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your forehead and you squinted your eyes at the wet feeling.

“I think you already said good morning.” You giggled, squeezing him a little tighter alluding to the fun you had after you hung up on Tyler before turning your head to him whose unimpressed face had yet to change.

“Yeah, gross. Erm… I would loved to ask about the trip but obviously we have to talk about the Instagram first. It’s not what any of us feel like doing this morning, I know that but…” Trent guided you back around the island to sit on the stools next to Tyler. “Good thing is… it really isn’t a big deal.” He said making you feel just a little better.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 26 xx

[phroobin]

Yeah ya know a master post would be helpful if it wasn’t too much trouble for you sir. :3

Siffrin Cosplay Master Post

Before I start, here's a disclaimer: this is just what I did. I'm one singular cosplayer out of many and I am by no means an expert, nor are my methods the only way to cosplay Siffrin. I've seen so many other incredible interpretations, and they're all equally valid and cool, and you should seek advice from them, too!!! This master post is simply to help others if they need any advice, because I do get these questions a lot and people have asked for this master post!

✧ Hat and Cloak

I made both of these myself, so they're not bought from anywhere but I'm certain you can find someone who could make them on etsy! If you're wanting to attempt these yourself, I followed this tutorial for the hat and this tutorial for the cape and used a sewing machine to save myself from hand stitching everything.

I used this fabric in the colour ivory for both the hat and the cloak so that they match, and I chose it because it's a pretty heavy fabric so it hangs really nicely. If you're not based in the UK I've been told this link doesn't work so the fabric I used is 80% Polyester 18% Viscose 2% Elastane (though if you can't find this exact combination, something with similar makeup should do fine) and I believe it's called Softcoat Fabric. It does fray quite a lot so you probably want to get some fray check, or do a rolled hem to contain it! I went with the former option, as I didn't really fancy trying to do a rolled hem on a curve.

If you choose to use this fabric for a matching hat too, you'll need a decent amount of heavyweight iron on interfacing. The brim took 4 layers of it, and the cone shaped part took two so just be aware of that.

✧ The wig

My Siffrin wig is a combination of a couple of wigs that are sewn together to create his signature hairstyle.

I'm based in the UK and swear by a company called Coscraft, who are the company I bought my two wigs from. I chose their Super Maru wig (the curl patterns were what I was looking for for that messy look!) in both titanium blonde and natural black, and had to cut wefts out of the back parts of both wigs. Once that was done, then sewed the harvested black wig wefts into the back of white wig using a curved needle and a wig head. I then also glued, cut, and styled some longer wefts (one on each side) in the same titanium blonde colour into the front of my Sif wig to be their longer front pieces.

Essentially for something like Sif's hair where it's two toned, it's unlikely you'll be able to find a wig that's made with both colours so you sort of have to DIY the hell out of it! If you're looking for an easier method, you could always look at using synthetic dye on the under part of the white wig, or I believe I've seen some cosplayers in the past use sharpies to colour wig fibres.

Additionally, to style the bangs, I used this method to give texture and staying power before hairspraying everything into place with Got2B Glued Freezing Blast. At the very ends of the spikes, I used a little Uhu glue to keep the strands together.

✧ The eyepatch

Honestly folks, this one was just an amazon purchase. You just need to search for a black eyepatch, but my exact one was this one. At some point, I'll be sewing myself a new one because mine is slightly too big for my face and rides up a little bit but when I do that I'll link to a guide.

✧ Other clothing

I already owned the majority of this outfit, so no real recommendations. My black shirt is a long sleeved tee from Uniqlo. The exact one is actually a thermal shirt because it's the only one I own but I WILL be getting a light weight one so I don't sweat to death. My trousers are just black denim skinny jeans because I see Siffrin as having tiny little stick leggies and my boots (again, already owned - they're these shoes, in black) work best with them because they kinda blend together.

✧ The pins

I spent a LONG time looking for Siffrin's cloak pins. I was searching for oversized safety pins and realised quite quickly that the size wasn't right, and neither was the shape. I'm not going to tell you exactly which pins I bought because I spent a long, long time trying to find ones that looked like Siffrin's and I kinda like having this one thing that is maybe unique to my cosplay.

That said, I do have some advice!! Look for kilt pins!! They're large and heavy duty, and come in different styles! Finding this type of pin had a name was an absolute godsend, so hopefully this helps y'all find something similar!

✧ Additional things

I couldn't find a knife. I'm gonna have to eventually get someone to sculpt and 3D print one for me. If anyone in the ISAT fandom has these skills, hit me up. Same goes for a silver coin!!

I also have a little thigh holster bag (in tobacco brown) that I use when cosplaying Siffrin to keep props/my glasses/wallet etc in. It attaches to my belt (something I also wear when cosplaying Sif, as well as in regular life) and the thigh holster bag was originally bought for a motorbike journey I took with a friend, but it gives off a rogue vibe and I really like it as an additional, but not essential, part of my cosplay! I also actually use it a lot for my Astarion cosplay for the same reasons!

Anyway, I think that's everything. If you have any other questions, drop me an ask or comment here. Good luck, cosplayers!

[redesigningxmen]

REDESIGNING MAGGOTT

We bugged out for this round with the marvelous MAGGOTT! Born as Japheth in South Africa, the young boy's digestive system mutated into two large slug-like creatures, which can crawl out of his body, eat anything, and provide him with enhanced strength. The D-lister to end all D-listers, often appearing on lists of "Worst X-Men" or "Most Forgotten X-Men," we thought it was finally time to give Maggott his due. He appeared briefly in Children of the Atom and more recently in his own X-Men Unlimited story!

Our team embraced their inner digestion slugs and had fun updating Maggott for the modern day. He's only really had one notable costume to date, but is easily identifiable for his blue skin and, well, his maggots. See what everyone did, and make sure to follow them all on social media!

Calvin Lin | @/calvinloveinternet

"I love Maggott so much so wanted to give him a cool and radical new look!"

Joshua Bruckner | @joshingtonbear

"Maggott is my absolute favorite D-Lister X-Man who I've wanted to redesign for a long time! I wanted to give him a more streamlined and grown-up look. It seems essential for him to have a bare torso so Eenie and Meenie can crawl in and out of his body, so I gave him a cute cutaway that Emma Frost might be jealous of. He has some chitinous armor and details, and his sunglasses mimic the worm eyes. Costume colors are fairly simple to let his bugs and skin tones take center stage!"

Dale Yaddow | @/daleYaddow

"This redesign takes it's inspiration from Maggott's recent storyline in Dark X-Men. Having joined the Morlocks, Japheth doesn't have access to all the luxuries that some higher profile heroes have, so he's had to build a uniform from scratch. As his slugs, Eanie and Meanie shed their highly durable armor plating, Maggott has been attaching it to his outfit to give his body extra protection. Designed more for function than style, his outfit includes an undershirt that can easily open and be snapped closed for when the slugs emerge from his stomach. it also incorporates a hooded sleeveless duster jacket, and shades that are inspired by his slugs' eyes."

Léa Dupic | @/kimodraw

"I wanted to give him some buds for Eany and Meany and I kinda freaked myself out looking for some centipedes references lol. Went ham on the saturation and the complimentary colours."

SSTArtwork | @/sstartwork

"Maggott was a fun one to redesign, as I feel like you can put lots of personality into his look. I don't see Maggott as being a "uniformed" X-Man, he marches to the beat of his own drum. I grew his wee forehead tuft out a bit, into an undercut loc ponytail situation, added in some shoulder pieces that resemble insect mounds, a tiger striped tee with Miny Moe on it (in reference to Eanie and Meany) that's been chewed away at the mid section due to the boys jumping in and out of his stomach and some worker jeans and boots, also had to feature the red glasses!"

[ivynivekgames]

Here's something Sorely Kneaded :3c (Sorely Kneaded Update Announcement)

Heads up, this is gonna be a MEATY post! (This is making up for all the time of I've been so quiet).

It has been… checks watch okay, over a year since the original [猫はかわいい (kitties are cute)] demo dropped, wowza! Well, I got a couple of things I wanna mention and talk about, and about the future of this project (ALL OF WHICH ARE IMPORTANT)! I've been pretty quiet on saying anything update-wise, but there's a good reason for that… But first, some context!

Now, when I started work on this, I wasn't sure about what direction to take this. I just kinda winged it and hoped for the best, but as I was writing up ideas and where to take the project in the background--the scope has been getting bigger... And the original ideas I had for the time being just weren't holding up. My ability as a writer has majorly improved throughout this (2024) year (I applied myself, tee-hee).

On top of becoming a better writer and getting a more concrete vision of where to take the game, a new musician has joined in helping with the game's soundtrack (an aspect I was woefully fearful of). Their music will be replacing the old (though there may be a track or two that will be kept from the previous composer, seeing as they're essentially... Perfect). The new sound is a lot more fitting in terms of atmosphere and energy.

Art wise, it is still handled by me, but some of the workload is being taken care of by some good, talented friends that are willing to help make this project come to fruition, they too, have been gaining a better understanding of the artstyle that fits the game best. On my end, I've been getting even better at utilising the hard work that has been handed to me and having it make the most impact.

All things considered, I've realised that with so much improvement on the side of production, the earlier parts of the game would have to reflect my new standard going forward (namely The Void and Emerland). The original story is ill-fitting and its concepts too derivative (and anything original is ill-explored) and tone is mixed.

Hence, I am happy to the Sorely Kneaded update. A total reimagining of the CatJam's vertical slice. With half a year of development already, Sorely Kneaded will aim to show my vision and standard quality for the project going forward.

This update is not an earth shattering or thoroughly exhausting endeavour in the sense of scope, rather, it's a showcase of something much closer to what the final game will be. In the update you'll find:

Remastered graphics of assets that were originally sub-par in quality.

New soundtrack and sound design, more fitting for the game's vibes and vision.

New content, more secrets, etc.

A much more balanced gameplay experience, with more interesting dungeons to navigate and more focus on narrative decisions (though the game will still only have one ending).

Greater focus on characters and their interactions, this is a character-driven game, after all. ;)

And finally, a much more fleshed out story and lore, completely abandoning the original "Hell" related plot. Frankly, even the original game barely attached itself to Christian canon, so I feel this was the right choice.

My goal with this project has always been to make a fun and genuine experience that comes from the heart. I have a vision and ideas I want to show to anyone that's interested, and I couldn't bear the idea that I'd somehow deliver it in a shoddy state.

I want to direct you all away from hell, and welcome all of you to the World of Mu, a place where magic flows like air and one only truly dies when their soul fades...

The update will drop when it's done, currently: The Void is in a near-complete state and Emerland will begin development shortly. I will make a follow-up announcement for when it's released, beyond that--hold tight!

Potential questions:

Q: How big will this update be? A: It will likely be bigger than the original demo, I project about 3~ish hours out of it on an average playthrough (the early parts are fairly story heavy).

Q: How will the new music fare compared to the original? A: The new music will be rad! Er... I mean, it's gonna be AWESOM- okay no. It will service the game's atmosphere and tone much better. You'll just have to like, listen, dude.

Q: How good will the new graphics be, compared to the original? A: It's nothing earth shattering, the art will merely be "spruced up" since I want the graphics to maintain a "soulful" look. I have a vision... Q: Any content being removed? A: Yes. As previously said, all the music will be getting replaced, along with the old sound effects. Story elements will be cut in favour of new ones. You may have liked some old concepts or ideas, but I promise that what's new will more than make up for that!

Q: Will the old [Kitties are Cute] save file work with Sorely Kneaded? A: 99% sure it will not (can never be too sure), disregarding that. I put so much effort into making this new stuff, you GOTTA play it, dude!

Q: What will happen to the old demo? A: It'll be left on the page, available for download. I think it's good to leave it archived as a way to show how far the project has come.

PS: The page will be update when the update is out.

Credits:

Director, Writer, Designer, Programmer: Ivy Nivek

Music and Sound Design: @witchscadence, Ivy Nivek

Art: Guck, Split, Spoop, Ivy Nivek

Want to make developing this easier? Throw me some change: https://ko-fi.com/ivynivek

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 23 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: in the beginning, there was darkness...

words: 5.1k

chapter warning: gratuitously deep philosophical nonsense.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. smut. Spicy situations. spousal / domestic abuse. family trauma. verbal abuse. PTSD, psychotic breaks/episodes, drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. possessive!peter, protective!peter. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self-talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships. having happiness ripped away from you.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you think that this symbol

is the logo of some off-shoot programming block on Nickelodeon, then you're wrong. But are you? Regardless, live a little and come back later.

Part 23

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

Peter thought of the elements. 

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Greats. Earth. Wind. Water. Fire. Space. Born out of Hinduism’s sacred literature. Also, Captain Planet’s sidekicks.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Chemical Elements. Only 118 of them have even been discovered. Only 95 of those are primordial, whereas the rest are man-made. 

His dad used to talk for hours about this stuff.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The interrogation room he was in was dark, despite the flickering fluorescent bulbs. The buzz of the lights sounded like a buzzsaw. The air was cold, too. The thin NYPD-branded, crew neck tee that Peter had been given to wear didn’t help much. 

Tick... Tick... Tick

The lights flickered again, this time with a greenish hue. 

Argon. Symbol: Ar. Number 18. A noble gas. Mercury. Hg, number 80. Also known as quicksilver. Highly toxic. Phosphorous. Number 15.

In his class, he was Number 2.

Atoms aren’t even as old as people assume. After the Big Bang, the universe was still nothingness—white, hot light that scorched everything out of existence. The heat was uninhabitable. Hydrogen didn’t make its appearance until roughly 370,000 years later. 

370,000 years of hot, blinding nothingness.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

Hour after hour, they came at him like waves of radioactive light.

First, there were two detectives—both a bit too junior to be assigned to such a high-profile case, but Peter figured that they didn’t know that. A reserved Eagle Scout named Sousa and a snarky blonde female named Carter. 

Or just ‘Sharon,’ as her boss Alexander Pierce referred to her, to her thinly-veiled ire. 

The Commissioner waltzed into the room mid-interrogation and essentially asked his naive detectives to go back to coloring while the adults talked. Both detectives walked out of the interrogation room with a scowl on their faces.

They probably didn’t know it, but Pierce wasn’t concerned about their abilities as detectives, or the integrity of the case. All he needed was to get Peter behind bars, where crooked guards and violent inmates could take over. Where he could give Peter the same welcome that Miguel had.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter could tell by the scent of Pierce’s cologne: a $1,200 bottle of Bond 9 Dubai that not even New York’s police commissioner could afford. 

Peter recognized the scent. It was Wilson Fisk’s favorite gift to give his friends.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter did. 

Pierce had no intention of letting him make it to trial.

Peter was disconnected. Drained. Eventually, even Matt’s voice became static which blended into the tone of the room, and droned beneath the ticking of the clock and the god-awful buzz of the lights.

“—he’s in’a world’a trouble...”

“... absolutely no evidence —not even formal charges have been presented...”

It might not have been productive, but Peter allowed himself to tune out. Matt was a good lawyer.

“—lucky we’re not pressing charges against the department after Captain Stacy’s unwarranted attack on my client, whom he’s been stalking for years—”

Oh man, that’ll piss George off when it gets back to him. A very good lawyer.

Despite his earlier act, he still felt a great amount of sorrow for George Stacy. Not exactly sympathy... and not quite guilt. Just sorrow. 

Looking into his eyes was like looking down into a sinkhole. Or passing a destroyed car on the highway. Unidentifiable. Cold. Hollow. Empty. Somehow the emptiness in Gwen’s father always triggered an empty feeling in him. It was a secret weapon that George had over Peter that his estranged father-in-law didn’t even know he had.

On the outside, Peter could wear a mask that projected cockiness and make lewd comments about the man’s wife. On the inside, George could eviscerate Peter with a look.

370,000 years of nothingness. Nothing but white, hot rage.

Peter tuned back in for a moment when Pierce said the name Walker. He hadn’t even heard the question fully and already his blood was boiling. He wished that he was guilty of that bastard’s murder. He wished that he had killed him. He tried to focus on something that Felicia said months back which resonated with him: about how Honey needed a chance to stand up for herself.

Maybe Felicia was right. Maybe it was just a terrible thing that needed to be done, and Honey was the one that needed to do it. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen. 

The history she shared with that dead asshole was a far cry from the tragic turn of events that led Gwen to shove a man off the ledge of a clock tower. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

The look of heartbreak in her eyes. He’d never forget it. 

George looked at Peter that way once, too—after a closed-casket funeral when he laid his daughter in the dirt.

They looked the way Peter felt all the time. Devastation. Ruin.

How could Peter possibly be capable of such cruelty? The world was full of monsters. Sometimes Peter was one of them.

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

In the beginning, there was darkness. Then, there was an explosion. Then there was an inferno that burned so hot, even the basic building blocks of the universe could not begin to form.

Honey wasn’t Gwen; she was Peter’s universe. The stars in his sky. She was a vast, endless expanse that surrounded him. That held him in an ever-growing, outwardly-expanding gravitational orbit. She was everything, and outside of that, there was nothing.

And every second in that room he felt himself getting further away from her.

Peter’s bones hurt. His back was in so much pain it was difficult to sit still. On top of that, he was weary. He was traumatized. He was grieving the loss of his security, his home. Grieving Eddie.

Despite that, Peter could toss the table like a Coke can. He could punch a hole in the wall and stroll out if he wanted to. Or crawl across the ceiling, to Pierce’s astonishment and horror.

Pierce was staring at him again. This time, there was a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Even if Peter did escape, he had too much to lose. Peter knew it. Pierce did, too.

In all the ways that mattered, he was trapped in his own web.

After several more minutes (or hours, maybe) of grandstanding on both sides, the door to the interrogation room swung open. A stocky figure silhouetted the doorway. Intense features, sharp lines in his jaw, brow, and aquiline nose, as much shadow spilling over him as there was light. 

The temperature of the room shifted. Matt and Pierce stopped talking. Peter froze, lifting his chin as he met the dark glare of Manhattan’s district attorney. 

“Frank,” Pierce said with a tinge of discomfort. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us so soon.”

Matt’s voice warmed but maintained a snarky edge. “Ah, is that the Honorable Francis Castiglione?” he bitingly beamed. 

Despite the smile on Murdock’s face, Peter could hear the pace of his lawyer’s heart pick up. Which... wasn’t a great sign. Even Pierce started to sweat. 

“Mr. Murdock,” New York’s toughest DA replied without batting an eye. Unswayed. Uncompromising. Undefeated. He held a stone, straight-laced expression. Even beneath a conservative black suit and tie, he was one of the most intimidating men Peter had ever laid eyes on. He was at least a solid 170 pounds, Peter supposed, of solid muscle and righteous fervor.  

“Just having a little fun, Mr. Castle,” Matt charmed with obnoxious flair. “How could I forget your name with all of the posters still hanging around? ‘Stand Your Ground.’ Great campaign slogan, by the way. Especially for a pacifist who managed to ban every firearm in the five boroughs. Although, I’m certain you won’t be getting any gift baskets from the gun lobby—”

“I wanna speak with your client alone.” Frank’s deep voice rolled through the room like the first tremors of an impending avalanche. The other men stared back, blinking silently.

Matt’s sunny disposition dimmed as his jaw tightened. Pierce’s hackles were raised, although he tried to suppress it. Wordlessly, they blinked and flinched and tried to wrap their heads around the request.

A humorless laugh left Matt’s lips. “Yeah. That’s not gonna happen—”

“That’s fine,” Peter answered. He and his lawyer spoke simultaneously, their voices crossing each other in converse directions. 

Matt turned his head towards Peter’s side of the room, his whole body going stiff. The flesh behind his light stubble turned pale. “Um,” Matt subtly cleared his throat while his heartbeat hurled alarmed profanities at Peter. “Uh, that is... not advisable.”

“S’okay, Matt,” Peter calmly replied, keeping his eyes locked on Frank. He could hear the sounds of his lawyer’s brain overheating while trying to reboot. Pierce pinched his lips in an anxious pout, avoiding looking directly at the district attorney.

Matt gripped the head of his cane tight enough to nearly break it. “Uh... Um. Oh-okay.” Awkwardly, Matt pushed his chair back as he came to a stand, shuffling to his feet. 

Leaning back into the chair rest, Pierce visibly relaxed until Frank sternly added, “You too, Commissioner.”

The irritation in Pierce’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Shoulders tensed, teeth gritted, the man stood from his chair. He mirrored Matt as he sidestepped from the table and towards the exit.

Matt lingered for a moment at Peter’s side while his nails anxiously scored the cane. Peter noted the pinched expression behind Matt’s ruby-colored glasses.

“It’s okay,” Peter murmured under his breath, repeating an earlier sentiment that Murdock was skeptical to believe. And with that, Matt was powerless. Hesitantly, he gave them a parting nod, and followed Pierce out of the room.

The metal door echoed as it slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone in the cell. 

Peter threaded his fingers together, the metal in his chains clinking, and leaned back as far as his restraints would let him. Thighs spread and chin tilted off axis, he fixed Frank with an unimpressed glare as a smirk played on his lips.

The prosecutor shifted like a monolith unearthing itself. Frank measured the cocky, sharp-tongued mafia ringleader with eyes colder than steel as he strode to the table. He pulled out a chair across from the prisoner and lowered himself down into it.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment on opposite sides of the room. But it was their positions on opposite sides of the law that created friction. 

Frank was at least a decade older than Peter, but Peter seemed even more juvenile by comparison. The mob boss looked and acted like a young prince, leaned back in his seat with a smug face. Alternatively, Frank glowered down at him with the authoritative scrutiny of judge, jury, and executioner.

“Hot daaamn,” Peter said, mouth curved into a smile. “You put on some weight since I last saw ya, bub.” Waggling his eyebrows, his eyes flicked over the other man’s form. “You been workin’ out? Crossfit, maybe?” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Forget bein’ the scourge of New York’s underworld— Bro, you must be killin’ it in the gym.”

Unfazed, Frank disregarded the remarks without a single blink. His dark eyes bored into Peter, and he remained more than comfortable with the uncomfortable silence that followed.

Peter glared at him with darkening eyes, balling his fists against the table. “Is it safe to assume the cameras are off at this point?” Animosity sharpened his voice to a razor’s edge. “I mean, that’s the only way you’d ever allow yourself to be seen fraternizing with a criminal like me, right?”

The temperature of the room pitched downwards even further. Icy waves surged off of Peter. Frank was a stone wall, letting each wave crash over him and fall back into the surf.

“I’m not the one who put you in those cuffs, Peter,” Frank answered, nonconfrontational. “I’m not the bad guy here. And I never wanted to be your enemy.” He kept his voice soft and respectful, wisdom shining from his eyes. “You and I—we’re not so different. We’re not monsters; we’re men. We’re bound by the law. Both of us, judged by the law.”

The smile faded from Peter’s lips. “Well," he glowered, bitter frost in his bite, "aren’t you a modern-day Moses on the Mountain.” His words were punctuated with ire as he scrutinized him with disdain. “Y’know, they told me ya caught religion, but I didn’t realize what a holy roller you were. When we’re done here, I’ll give ya Matt’s number. Give ya tons to talk about. Bet'chu two would be a hoot at parties.”

Peter sneered at him a moment longer, then let out a bored, depreciating sigh. “M’not much of a Bible thumper, myself,” he half-shrugged. “Only verses I know by heart are Ezekiel 25:17... and, uh... whatever that bullshit was in Shawshank.”

Frank glanced down, deep in thought. “‘His Judgment Cometh and That Right Soon’,’' he said, recalling the prop he referenced. It was a tapestry embroidered with the Bible verse hanging in the corrupt Warden’s office—a MacGuffin in the film’s plot. 

“That's not a real verse,” Castle noted, matter-of-factly. “You’re probably thinkin’ of Psalm 98:9—’Let them sing Before the Lord; for he cometh to judge the earth: With righteousness shall he judge the world and all of its people equally.’” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Well.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue as resentment spread through his chest like a tumor. “I’m Jewish. And even then, I never drank the Kool-Aid. S’not really my thing.”

He waited, expecting Frank to take offense. To Peter’s dismay, he remained as peaceful as a lake on a windless day. 

“I get that,” the older man mused somberly. Contemplative, he looked up at Peter with sympathy coloring his face. “If what happened to you, happened to me,” he said, “I don’t know if I’d like who I’d become either.”

As he said it, his gentle eyes settled in on Peter with a knowing expression. Pity. It made Peter's teeth grind and his temper burn. It took all of his self-restraint not to break out of his chains and (re)break the prosecutor’s nose. Indignation writhed inside of his chest, souring his face and his stomach.

“Heard you were gunnin’ f’me real hard, too,” Peter muttered bitterly, tossing words like daggers. “Really put the heat on me— M'actually flattered.” Salaciously, he flashed his canines with a wink. “But ya didn’t hafta go to all that trouble, Frank. If y'wanted to get me alone in a dark room, y'coulda just hit me up on Grindr.”

“Are you done?” he replied witheringly.

“Oh, c’mon,” Peter taunted, equal parts threatening and scandalous. “I mean—they don’t call ya ‘The Punisher’ for nothin’, right? Well, go on. Punish me, Daddy. Why doncha just bend me over your knee?”

Frank’s eyes flicked to the black, mirrored glass window, shaking his head in frustration. “Always a comedian,” Castle huffed, annoyed. “Between you and Wade Wilson, it’s like watchin’ a hundred-car pile-up of clown cars. Can’t even be just a little real, not even for a second—” 

“That’s not true,” he pouted. “My tits are real...”

Fed up, Castle shook his head and grumbled, “Y’think everything's is a joke! Can you at least pretend like you give a shit about any of this—?” 

Peter’s temper flared suddenly, hitting a flashpoint that boiled the humor out of their rapport. “Y’know what I think?” he snapped back, eyes dark with rage. “I think you’re a God-damn hypocrite! That’s what I think! You and this whole corrupt, bullshit organization. That’s the joke.”

Frank shook his head, grinding his teeth. “There you go. Always a martyr.”

“Again, with the religious talk?” Peter rolled his eyes into the back of his head while letting out a dramatic sigh. “Look, ‘m’not interested in joining your little MLM cult-club, alright?”

“‘Mob Boss,’ my ass,” Frank scoffed. “Ya act like a fuckin’ child! Always whining about being the victim! Like you’re the only one in this city who's ever lost somethin’! Arrogant prick, I did three tours in Iraq while you were doodling in your diary! I was washing the blood of my brothers off my uniform while you were crying into your pillow at night! People die! Thousands of ‘em, every day! All tragedies, all the time, yet— somehow—yours is special!”

Frank’s voice boomed off the concrete walls, patience shattered. “You wanna talk about hypocrisy?” Castle said sharply. “Punishment?! How about three weeks ago in Forest Hills? Right in your backyard. Cops got a call about a domestic dispute. When they got there, the perp somehow ended up with a bullet hole in the back of his head, even though no one in the house owned a gun. You know anything about that?”

Peter straightened his lips into a thin line, lifting his chin. “Sounds like the dispute was resolved.”

“How about that hedge fund manager that committed suicide last spring?” Frank said, skewering him with his gaze. “The one that decided to swallow a container full of gasoline and light up a cigarette before jumpin’ off a roof on Park Avenue?”

“Tragic,” Peter replied, deadpan. “I read about it in the news. Guess the shame of stealing $8 million dollars of pension money from a firefighters union must’ve really burned him up inside.”

Agitated, Frank scowled with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How ‘bout in Brooklyn last fall? How do three seasoned drug pushers end up OD’ing on half their own supply of Fentanyl?”

Peter remained expressionless. “Dunno, Frank. Guess the Lord works in mysterious ways." The attorney huffed with nostrils flaring. By contrast, Peter idly see-sawed his head. "Rather poetic," he said, "as far as justice goes.” 

“That’s what I call ‘punishment,’ Parker. Not justice! Vengeance! Plain. Simple. And cold-blooded.”

Peter sat up, leaning forward as his colorless eyes flashed with rage. “Before you accuse me of anything else you can’t prove—especially the messes that New York’s Finest shoulda handled—how ‘bout you explain to me how two innocent women were butchered and burned to death in Midtown and not a single arrest has been made?”

Frank turned silent.

“How ‘bout the dozens of immigrant families who’re bein’ forced against their will to launder the Mayor’s drug money so he can spend it on campaign ads?”

The other man’s jaw clenched while Peter continued his attack. “Let’s keep goin’ shall we?” he hissed. “Tell me how a Russian oligarch and his buddies park a yacht in the harbor—filled with stolen girls—children, practically—and somehow just... get away?” Veins protruded from his neck as anger rippled through his chest. 

“Got any answers for me, Counselor?” Peter spat harshly, jabbing his index finger at Castle as far as he could while in handcuffs. “Wanna phone a friend? How ‘bout you call your boss, yeah? Why don’t you ask Wilson Fisk? Ask yourself! If you’re such a holy man, then how can you work for the Devil?! How can you even sleep at night, huh?I”

Outwardly, Frank was stoic with nothing but a crease between his brows to telegraph his thoughts. Inwardly, Peter could hear the attorney’s heart rate drumming up as Peter relentlessly dressed him down. Castle’s jaw was locked tight, holding his breath.

“And tell me one more thing,” Peter added, eyes flashing with rage. “How many times do you think about what woulda happened if I hadn’t been in the Park that night?” He blurted out the statement with a livid snarl and a dry throat. “What if I hadn’t intervened in the Blacksmith deal? What woulda happened if I hadn’t gotten your wife and kids outta there before the guns started goin’ off? You ever think about that!?”

Peter’s voice buckled on the last word. Memories of the violent night in Central Park five years ago flooded them both, bringing a tidal wave of conflicting emotion that swallowed him up. 

It was Peter that covertly led the FBI to a plan to eliminate several gangs (and Peter’s enemies) at once. Practically a gift from the gods, it seemed, to take out all of Peter’s competition in one swoop. 

Once it was clear to the young mob boss that the FBI cared more about making headlines than making sure the park was clear of innocent people, Peter chose to intervene. In the end, it was a disaster anyway.

When the other gangs realized they were being set up, a shootout erupted. Lives were lost. Peter saved as many people as he could, including Frank Castle and his family. For everyone else, it was still a tragedy. 

Gwen included.

It was the first and last time the two men had met. And subsequently, a night that neither of them ever talked about. 

Until now.

Peter’s eyes glazed over, tortured by the consequences of his choices. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions swallowed him up as his mind flooded with horrible thoughts. Betrayal, and resentment, and bitter, evil, disgusting jealousy that Peter could save Frank’s family but not his own.

Peter looked contemplative, then. Haunted. He fixed his weary eyes on Frank, continuing to unravel.

“And I’m gonna level with ya, pal,” Peter said in an unnervingly soft tone of voice. “Fuck. You. If you think that you and I are the same. You and I are not the same. Never will be.” Heartache pierced his throat, compressing his voice. He jerked his thumb toward himself. “Because somebody saved you.”

Tears glistened as Peter breathed hotly through flared nostrils. “Fuck your judgment!” he growled. “Because if what happened to my family happened to your family—ya wouldn't last a goddamn day! You’d be a nut job! You'd be beggin' for a bullet in ya head, rather than see what I’ve seen!” 

Fury vibrated through the younger man’s being, indignation piercing each sentence. “I don’t give a shit what nickname they call you,” Peter seethed, “in the media... in the Marines... not even in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! When it’s your family filled with bullet holes—believe me— that shit hits different.”

Peter’s eyes were wild—black with anger, wet with tears. “‘You wouldn't like who you'd become either?’” he repeated, muttering spitefully. “Fuck you!" Peter’s voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in Frank’s chest. 

He took a measured breath. His throat bobbed, cords pulled tight. "I may not be a religious man," Peter added as his chest heaved, "but I pray you never have to find out.” His volume abruptly dropped, adding a foreboding sentiment to the words. Like whispering a dark secret. A warning.

Blinding, white hot rage obliterating everything in its path. Scouring any sign of life before its existence.

Castle sat stoically with his arms crossed. Breathless from his outburst, Peter slowly retracted himself back into his seat. Frank studied him with a contemplative gaze and a tight-lipped mouth. 

Until he broke his silence. “Every night.” 

It was barely a whisper. Peter blinked at him with a crooked brow while the other man held Peter in his gaze.

“Every single night,” Frank answered, a little louder, “I think about what would’ve happened to my family if you hadn’t been there.”

Peter pressed his lips together, jaw flexing stiffly. Mist gathered on his lashes. He drew a shaky breath, lip trembling. To keep his eyes from betraying him further, he hardened his brow.

“You’re a hero, Peter,” Castle said simply. It was just a fact. “And a good man.”

Peter averted his gaze, casting it down while he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. 

“You have the power to do good,” he said. “So much more than you realize.” Frank’s eyes swelled with something like reverence and admiration for his antithetical counterpart. “And yeah,” he noted matter-of-factly, “I do pray." He watched him placidly and empathetic. "And when I do, I pray that one day, other people will see you for the man you really are. And maybe... just maybe—you'll see it, too.” 

Shooting pain in his fingers alerted Peter to the fact that his knuckles were clenched white. He kept his head lowered, eyes hidden and fixed on the shackles around his wrists. 

“I pray that you find faith in yourself,” Castle said, then. His soft voice sliced through Peter’s toughened heart. The older man’s lip tightened into a line, his deep voice thick with sorrow. “And salvation... from yourself.”

Peter looked upward. The attorney gazed back at him in earnest. The silence which followed felt like the end of an era.

“You and I want the same thing,” Frank then said, returning to a sense of formality. “You want to expose Wilson Fisk as the Kingpin. So do I.” 

Peter studied Frank’s heart—and his own. Steady. True.

“The only difference,” Castle added, “is I want to do it right: by the law. Justice. Not revenge.” Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes. “Because if we can’t do this right, then it’s not worth doing at all.”

“The only difference is,” Peter countered, “when I take Fisk down, he’s gonna stay down.”

Frank gazed at him incredulously. “That’s nice. Good stuff. You want me to write that down and read it at your funeral?” Peter glared bitterly but had nothing to say. 

“Cards on the table,” Frank explained. “I don’t have enough evidence to charge you. Not today. Now you can walk outta here, go back to your old ways. End up in a casket, or in a jail cell sooner or later. Take my word, there are plenty of people in this building that want you dead. You won’t last a night at Ryker’s without someone tryin’ to stab a broken toothbrush through that giraffe neck of yours.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna be painful,” Peter muttered in a low voice. “For them.”

Frank fixed him with a stern glare. “Alright, smartass. Then what? These people are comin’ for blood. And they’re not going to stop with just yours.” He paused, then added, “You should know that, more than anybody.”

Peter had nothing to say to that. The thought alone stole his breath.

“You wanna fight the system?” Frank said. “You wanna take down Fisk? Then you bring me proof to put ‘em away. All of ‘em. Fisk, Pierce, his little ‘Shield’ SS hit squad. Every last one of them.”

Peter bit his tongue, contemplating the idea.

“And most importantly, you keep your hands clean,” Frank declared sternly. “No more dead car thieves in the river. No more pimps gettin’ scraped off the subway tracks.” His tone was cold, eyes sharp as he skewered Peter threateningly. “There’s enough killing in this city as it is. You cross that line, and I will come for you, you understand? Deal or no deal, our history be damned—you are not allowed to take the law into your own hands. You got that?”

Peter raised his chin, peering at him through the fringe of his slitted eyes. 

The clock ticked on. Primordial elements as old as time surrounded them. And for reasons that Peter could not fully understand, he walked into a coffee shop one day and walked out with hope. A dangerous seed. 

A force that could save the whole city. The world.

Maybe even his own soul.

The district attorney came to a stand, holding the mob boss in his stare. “You’re a free man, Peter,” Frank said. “What happens next is up to you.”

After another moment, he headed for the door. As soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back at the man who he owed his life. With a stone expression, Castle made one final plea.

“Whatever you do... Don’t let me catch you.”

It was half past noon when Honey walked into her modest apartment in the Theater District off 45th Street. 

Flipping on the lights, she peered hesitantly inside. Stepping through the threshold felt like tumbling down a wormhole through time.

More or less, the studio apartment looked exactly the same as it did nearly a half-year ago, when she left for work at the coffee shop. 

It was a bit tidier than how she’d left it—her cheetah print throw blanket neatly folded on the edge of her thrifted loveseat. The smell confirmed that all the perishable food had been discarded. An empty vase sat alone on a scuffed, white, gateleg table that was crammed into a corner of her kitchen. The daisies that it once held had wilted and been tossed long ago.

The world was alien to her. It was like walking through a dream, or onto a theater set piece constructed for a play about her life. These were the possessions of a person she didn’t know anymore.

“We had someone come by earlier with groceries,” a voice said from behind her. She turned as Karen Page strolled into the apartment wearing camel wide-leg wool trousers and a matching double-breasted blazer from The Row paired with Salvatore Ferragamo Vara-bow pumps. “A maid came in once a week to tidy up, but other than that everything should be as you left it.”

Honey blinked with wide eyes as she watched the strawberry-blonde haired woman breeze through her home—former home. She pulled a rolling carry-on case behind her filled with a small portion of Honey’s wardrobe. Karen came to a stop in the center of the apartment. With neatly manicured nails, she produced a keyring from her blazer pocket.

“New keys,” she explained, handing it over to Honey. “Any pertinent mail has been left for you on the counter. The new wifi password is on the sticky note next to it, along with your new cell phone number.”

She had almost forgotten. Honey reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the latest model of iPhone. She stared down at the foreign object queasily. This one had no spider decal, she noted. 

“There’s also a debit card, too,” Karen explained methodically, as if reciting a monotonous dialogue. “New bank account information is in the folder. We’ve made a small deposit to compensate you for your troubles, at least until you find a new job. But you shouldn’t have any more problems from here on out.”

A few seconds of silence passed as Karen eyed the peeling paint on the walls. “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, straightforward. 

Honey’s eyes darted over to Karen as the woman turned to leave mouth “Wait!” she called out, her forehead creased and mouth hung agape. Karen stopped in front of the doorway. “Wait... is that it?” she said, dismayed. 

Karen blinked her radiant blue eyes. “Was there something else you needed?”

Her nose crinkled at that. “What about Peter?” Honey said, almost in a demanding tone. “What happens to him?”

Karen cast her eyes to the floor, sighing uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.”

Honey glared at her crossly. “Well, can I at least talk to him—?”

“It would be best to limit contact at this time.” The pleasant formality of her voice made Honey want to punch her.

“For how long?” she scoffed.

Karen gazed at her for several moments of silence. Which continued on, until Honey realized that an answer wasn’t coming.

“We’ll be in touch,” Karen added gently.

As the woman stepped out into the tenement corridor, Honey nearly jolted after her. “Wait... M-Ms. Page?”

She waited.

“What do I do now?” she asked meekly. Her voice sounded timid to her own ears.

Karen stared back at her then lifted up one of her shoulders. “Whatever you want.” 

And with that, Honey was left alone for the day.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Continue to Epilogue

[axigailxo]

Cola | PJM (Drabble)

summary. essentially, jimin is the worlds biggest fuckboy and he notices you at your workplace.

pairing. fuckboy!jimin x grocery store employee!oc or jimin x reader

genre. implications of smut, drabble (less than 1k words!!)

a/n: this was originally supposed to be a long smutty one shot but i’ve had it in my drafts since september (😭) and never finished so i figured i’ll release this as a drabble and maybe write an extended version in the future :)

*title inspired by the one and only lana <3

It wasn’t the fact that there was nobody else in the store, that part didn’t matter. It was the fact that he, the customer you’ve been seeing for a week straight, was in your department again.

Surely he’s there for you. He has to be.

Usually, you aren’t so sure of things. Especially when it comes to men like that wanting you. But a week is too many days for his appearance to be a coincidence.

But until he approaches you, you’ll continue to mind your space and finish stacking the last of your apples onto its display table.

You noticed his attire is essentially the same as it’s been for each time you saw him this week, suffocating black jeans and a black tee with that damn black jean jacket.

It was pretentious, really, but you didn’t mind it. In fact, you spared him a glance just now to see it.

Big mistake.

Just as you turn around, your body crashes into a harder one, apples that were in your hand falling harshly to the ground with a thump before scattering in several directions.

But you have bigger problems.

An “oomf” from you is all that’s heard before the man in front of you is instinctively grabbing your elbows to help you straighten up. And of course you’re the only one who’s been knocked into— his hard, stern body barley having moved.

“Sorry about that.”

And of course his voice is silky smooth. Why wouldn’t it be?

Still too shaken up, literally, he chuckles through his nose as he waits for you to pull yourself together. It’s almost annoying how he’s fully aware he’s capable of making you nervous.

“It’s fine.” You clear your throat discreetly. He still sees, though. “Can I help you with something?”

His smirk comes before his short second of laughter and you drag your eyes from his perfect teeth and down to his perfect shoes instead.

“Can you?”

“That’s my job, I kind of have to.”

He laughs again.

“Can you walk me to the strawberries?”

It’s a short walk. In fact, It’s at the other end of the table. You don’t know if he’s only messing with you, but nonetheless, you turn the corner with shaky legs and gesture your hand to the table of strawberries.

“Anything else?”

Your tone is vague and quiet and no other human would have been able to detect it. Except for him and his ridiculous observational skills. He smirks again.

“Yeah, actually.”

You wait for him to continue with an expected look, completely masking those nerves of yours that are still crystal clear to him.

“You seem nervous.”

“I’m just trying to help. Do you need anything else?”

He bites his lip for a quick moment, quick enough for you to squint your eyes at the gesture.

“Are these strawberries sweet?”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t really eat strawberries.”

You do. They’re your favorite, actually. He doesn’t need to know that, though. He can figure that out himself— anything to get him to leave. You need at least one more day to prepare yourself before you can actually talk to him. But given you’re absolutely blowing it right now, you don’t think the chances of seeing him again are high.

He chuckles to himself at your words, but before you can ask what’s funny, he beats you to talking.

“That’s good to know, but are yours?”

“Are my what?”

“Are your strawberries sweet?”

A scoff audibly releases from your mouth, but before you can scold him, you take the opportunity to make fun of his ridiculous flirting instead.

“Really? You sound like a high schooler.”

“Who said I’m not talking about actual strawberries?”

“Your ego.”

“Ouch.”

Call it bad customer service, but too incapable of continuing this absurd conversation, you make your way to the back— an area off limits to him.

That doesn’t stop him, though.

“You can’t be here, sir.”

“But you want me to be, no?”

And somewhere in that highly conceited sentence of his there’s truth.

Truth is, you don’t mind being alone and hidden in the back with him. You don’t mind that he’s walking closer, and you certainly don’t mind the way you feel his breath against your nose in this new proximity.

“What are you thinking about?”

Him. Just him. And what’d it’d be like to take him right here and right now, in the back room of the produce department. The thrill. But you’re not insane, and you’re definitely not willing to get fired for such things.

Stepping back and putting a reasonable gap between the two of you, you don’t dare to meet his eyes as you walk away.

“I get off at nine. You can talk to me somewhere other than my workplace.”

Jimin grins as he follows you out the back.

“So you’re interested?”

Striding, you don’t look back as you call out your next words.

“Talk to me when I get off!”

~~~

a/n: this had so much more planned than a quick drabble 😭 it was gonna be smutty asf and have an actual plot BUT i never finish my oneshots so therefore enjoy this lil snippet 😭🫶🏻

[utilitycaster]

thoughts re: skip/norman (also on the aso discourse the d20 fandom went through and also as a big skip/norman fan)

The ultimate problem that I see with the pc concept of skip/norman is that aso had heavy heavy themes of autonomy and "owning yourself", whether that's literally, through gunnie, or figuratively, through syd, margaret, etc. the leading question that was prompted by having one of the pcs literally being something that takes over a body and removes the original owner's control of it was just, WILD to me to tee up and then not explore.

norman was an asshole, for sure, but brennan and zac put just enough effort into making him a realistic person that the way doing brain surgery on him without consent was played straight for comedy felt a little strange. it is fascinating to me to discuss skip's position as a literal parasite in the galaxy and how he still deserves the right to exist and live, and how that intersects with norman's same rights, but aso just didn't have time for that.

and aso is a comedy, and one of my favorite seasons, so it's a pretty small issue that this is kind of shrugged off (that's where I disagree with the people who discoursed about it). like, I don't think that was what the season needed to be about. but, d20 in general is so committed to themes and philosophy uniting the pcs that the glaring hole that is the skip/norman of it all duct-taped over with "ahhh symbiosis is a thing" stands out. skip as a pc concept in the sense of his backstory isn't wildly dark to me (I mean, gunnie's is already pretty awful lmao), but in the sense of what he says in terms of the larger story, he feels a bit out of place.

there's a lot more to say here about how the Wurst crew's actions play into that given that he was their asshole boss, etc etc, but essentially: I thought skip/norman just kind of incidentally brought up some points via backstory/pc concept that were a little too complex for a 18 episode comedy season of dnd.

ps. pib fits perfectly into neverafter imo and I adore him completely

I'm going to be totally honest: I learned about this discourse re: Skip and autonomy long after it happened and my gut reaction was "well that's fucking stupid." I also haven't rewatched it and my memory for D20 seasons is often nowhere near as strong as for Critical Role.

I did not blink once at the concept for two reasons:

I'm familiar with sci fi and "creature that takes over the bodies of others" is a pretty standard trope, and not only that but one that has been played for both extreme horror and comedy. Which isn't to say you can't explore the concerns about autonomy but like...I do not find this to be remotely obligatory, which sort of removes all the concerns raised above. "Oh yeah, brain slugs, I know about those, one took over my cousin for a few years" is to me an entirely valid way in-universe of dealing with it. Cannot stress enough that at no point did this seem weird or horrifying to me. Which doesn't mean that it's not valid for others to feel that way, but it just...did not even register as a thought people would have, because it felt so utterly organic to the genre and universe.

I'm also familiar with actual play and Zac and Brennan were quite careful not to abuse the possession mechanic (to the point of creating Norm so that Zac would essentially have his own PC to possess as his real PC) so I have autonomy concerns re: the metagame.

I will also admit that I found the theme to much more be a case of finding one's place within the tough universe in which the characters must live, rather than autonomy and self-ownership, which puts Skip's story well in step with the rest of the group as he fights against his father's wishes. I should also add that I don't see any disjoint in Starstruck being a comedy. All D20 seasons are comedic; even the more serious ones are still comedic in tone and choice. They've also gone extremely dark at points, and that's a choice one can make in comedy, and in my opinion, a valid one.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

6x02 Costume Meta

of Sorry this took me longer to get out than I’d intended - I got a bad migraine on Tuesday evening that put me back a day so here we are a day later than I’d hoped!!

There are some really interesting over-arching themes at play this week when it comes to the use of colour in the costumes - in particular the use of black, green and of course - yellow and blue is still making its presence known - especially in relation to Buck.

No Maddie  this week as we only saw her at dispatch! I’m going to start with Athena’s costumes and you can read more under the cut!

Athena 

Athena is wearing a lot of what I like to call neutral shades this week - these are all colours that tend to be muted in tone - beiges, greys, whites creams etc all fall into this category and they are colours that can be overlooked if paired with brighter shades. combined though they also tell their own story! 

Athena arrives in Florida wearing a white tee, a khaki olive green cardigan (which I’m going to start referring to as army green to make my life easier!!) and washed out green slim fit jeans. All of these are neutral shades of their respective colours and the army green is the most prominent colour here. Athena wears a lot of this shade of green - she always has done, but its prevalence in her wardrobe has been steadily decreasing as each season passes. the times we see Athena in this green tend to correspond with times when she feels like she’s going into battle, especially in her personal life - hence the abundance of it in season 1 - when Michael and Athena were essentially at war with each other and Athena was fighting to save the life she had made for herself. 

Here though we have an Athena who is wearing white - the colour of open-mindedness and reflection. it is a colour that reflects rather than absorbs and a colour that wants to support others and make them feel good.

Athena in white suggests all of this - but the army green cardigan shows she is also prepared to go into battle. the other thing to note about this shade of green - because of its connection with the military it has connotations of being judgemental - again this is something we see some of from Athena in the scene inside the house.

She also has a new pendant on her necklace this season, but I haven’t been able to get a good enough still to see what exactly it is but from the still below it looks like it might be some sort of compass. If it is a compass then thats a really interesting direction (no pun intended) for them to take her necklaces in.

Athena has always worn the Gorgoneion necklace - a symbol of the goddess Athena and supposed to be a type of apotropaic shield (protective magic) said to protect the wearer from harm and imbue them with wisdom - in relation to work (esp when working in plain clothes) but she also wears it outside of work when she is in situations that require her to go into battle and be especially wise. 

Then there is the Anchor pendant necklace - this on is very directly connected to her family - the suggestion being that family is her anchor - it is where she draws her stability, support and keeps her from going adrift in the sea of life. 

Now in season 6 we have yet to see the anchor pendant necklace, but we have seen the gorgons head pendant and we have this new possible compass pendant. The implication here is very much connected into the fact that Harry and May have/are both leaving Athena - she has an empty nest and can no longer draw on the stability and support from her home life in the same way.  it is suggestive of her searching for a new direction now she his essentially an empty nester - we’ll have to wait and see how it plays out, but I’m pretty sure we’ll see Athena searching for something in her personal life this season.

The very bright lime green collared knit top is a new colour on Athena, but the story at this point is loudly about all the things green means - the colour of renewal. Renewal of an old friendship, the plans to renew the destroyed room, but also the renewal of the battle with Beatrice over Samuels situation.

Back into neutral tones and this ecru/silvery blue sleeveless top. the silvery blue tones are suggestive of enlightening the mind, of reflection, healing and restoration. and the ecru (a shade of greyish yellow), because the word ecru means unbleached, wearing the colour is suggestive of honesty - that it is a colour that suggests the laying bare of ones self. this is what we see here with Athena in this scene - she is being reflective and honest in her recollections of her childhood with her parents - especially with her father.

the last outfit we she Athena in is this beige long sleeve sweater and the arm green trousers. Beige is a colour which draws opinions on both ends of the spectrum - it is equally loved and loathed. It is considered a colour of tranquility and convention. To me seeing Athena in this colour for this scene suggests her desire to make peace with her mother - to not intrude on her mothers grief. it becomes a moment of bonding and understanding for them. the other thing to note about Athena wearing this colour for this scene is actually what is going on elsewhere. Athena is in a tranquil bubble - bonding with her mother - meanwhile Bobby is back at the house and dealing with a police investigation after finding a body with Jr. The blue and red of the police cars bounce off the beige Athena is wearing in a way that they wouldn’t do if she was in any other colour. It also makes her stand out in that scene - everyone else is in dark colours except her - it pulls her into the centre of focus and works with the voice over which is lifted from 2x07 to ensure we as a viewer are connecting the dots along with Athena about who that body under the floor belongs to.

Bobby

Bobby spends pretty much all of the episode in black - with the exception of one scene. The black has multiple meanings in this context. Black is an absorbing colour - hiding vulnerabilities, but it is also a colour of authority and strength as well as being able to blend into when needed (due to its proliference in clothing in general- its not a colour that stands out from the crowd unless you are the only one in black in the crowd). These are all things we see Bobby being in this episode - he is there as a support to Athena, he stands up for her and becomes authoritative when needed, but also semi blends into the background. It is a mark of Bobby knowing when to step in and when to hold back that we see come into play throughout the episode. there is also the underlying tone - which has been there in both episodes this season and was there at the end of 5b that Bobby is hiding his own vulnerabilities.

we do get a little break from the black though - in the form of a burgundy shirt. We’ve seen Bobby in this colour many times over the seasons. Burgundy is a colour of compassion but also intense focus. In this scene it is being used to show Bobby as having compassion for Athena and her history, but also imploring us the viewer to pay attention - to focus on what is being said - because there are clues to be had in that conversation. 

Hen

boy oh boy did we go through a whirlwind of costumes for Hen this week!! the main over arching take away from her costumes is to take note of the use of patterning. I know I don’t talk much about the trousers they wear - this is mostly because when you’re costume designing you very often don’t know if legs will be seen on screen - it depends on what angles they chose to film from. this doesn’t mean you don’t worry about the trousers, skirts or whatever a character happens to be wearing on their lower half, but it does mean if you’re trying to get information across through the costumes you are better off focusing your energy on the top half. there is also that trousers etc tend to have less variety available - especially if you’re dressing a male character, so it is much harder to make use of colour theory in the same way. that doesn’t mean we never see it in the lower half of a costume - and Hen is here to show us how it can be done!.

to start we have this green satin bowling shirt with beige, red and white detailing, worn over a black vest and with beige plaid trousers with grey plaid stripe down side. I really love this look on Hen - such a great colour on her, and also a great use of texture. the satin with its sheen is generally a more dressy fabric - used for evening gowns etc. the darker green is, as I’ve said before, the colour of growth renewal and nature - it is the type of green you see at the height of summer - when everything is growing well and foliage is at its most lush.

then there are the tweed trousers - on their own not all that interesting - except they have a contrasting grey tweed/plaid stripe down the side of them - the two different patterns are fairly busy and hint at the scrambling of Hens mind that is to come. (Side note Luis is wearing stripes - this fits into my stripe theory if we consider the idea that Hen may be taking a different career path to Luis going forward!)

then we have the red blue and black sweater that looks like a Rorschach test. it also looks a bit like the MRI brain scans - espcially with the choice of colours. We see a lot of this sweater and it heavily hints at Hens mind becoming overwhelmed with her workload - at the confusion to come - that will lead to her failing her neurology test - interesting considering that both the Rorschach test (a part of the process of diagnosing schizophrenia) and MRI’s tend to focus on brain patterns - neurology!!

We then get this jacket with large and busy print in black, aqua blue, green and burgundy - further emphasising the way hens mind is becoming increasingly scrambled by trying to fit all of the various pulls on her time in. 

baby pink tee with embroidered logos on front. This is an unusual one for Hen - its not a colour we’ve really seen her in before - I can only assume they were trying to tie the colour in to the scene - a moment when Karen was going to persuade Hen into not neglecting her sexual and romantic needs - using the pink to show romance rather than the passion of red.

The indigo hoodie is an interesting colour choice - indigo is the colour of integrity, knowledge and intuition and here we see Hen in the exam - not trusting her knowledge and intuition - the rubbing out of answers implies this. the use of camouflage trousers in combination with the indigo hoodie to me is suggesting the idea of Hen masking or hiding in plain sight - hiding her stress and the fact she is struggling to keep up with everything in her life - the camo essentially reverses (not really reverses as Hen knows all this stuff - but it kind of hints that there is a block to her using her knowledge) the indigo - she wore it to portray that she is knowledgeable but underneath she isn’t feeling that way (hence the camo being under the table - a bit like a swan - graceful on the surface but legs paddling frantically underneath)

cream longline v neck cardigan - cream is a colour of honesty and sincerity - but is also a colour about giving 100% - which Hen is definitely doing! This cardigan for me at least is also about subterfuge - its Hen putting up this front/mask - trying to pretend everything is ok - when she knows it really isn’t - they do say we are best at fooling ourselves an thats wht this cardigan is - its much more feminine and softer than anything else we’ve seen her in in the episode and that speaks volumes.

Finally we have the black hoodie with gold ears of wheat around bottom - there are so many things going on with this hoodie - its an epic choice from the costume team. If anyone fancies owning their own you can buy it here but as to the many layers of meaning embodied in this hoodie - well I hope you’re sitting comfortably as it might get long!

Lets start with the black - the colour of power, sophistication, but also a colour of concealing. here we have Hen in a position of authority (as she is captain) who Buck is asking for advice - Buck would also have asked these same questions to Bobby f he’d been there, but he would also have asked Hen as his friend away from the captaincy - here it is just a double whammy - and Hen isn’t really in the mental space to actually give Buck the full level of support he needs - but she tries to conceal that by giving him some form of answer - it is almost the same type of answer that Buck gave to Eddie during the hospital fire.

Then there is all the ears of wheat making themselves very loud around the bottom of the hoodie. there are so many things tied into wheat and especially into wheat used as a symbol on clothing. Wheat is a symbol of fertility, bounty and resurrection, it is also a symbol of the cycle of life - of the seasons passing (and if we want to get really into colour choices then when the 4 of them are stood in a line at their lockers they are dressed in colours associated with the seasons - spring - Buck - Summer - Chim - Autumn - Eddie - Winter - Hen!). When it comes to the use of wheat in clothing - there is an interesting little piece of information. the use of  wheat motif was commonly used on clothing in the 1880’s and 90’s (it is also seen earlier than this but this period is particularly intense in its use) in connection with anxiety around the industrial revolution - the move from a society centred around agriculture to one centred around industry. I think this is an interesting concept to connect with Hen - the idea that she is going through change herself - from one career to another. the 1880’s and 90’s use of wheat was in essence a protest or a questioning of if moving from farming to industry was the right thing, in the same way Hen is now starting to question if moving from firefighting and being a paramedic, to being a doctor is the right thing (especially if you consider that in general terms paramedics are considered less advanced than being a doctor).

The colour of straw and wheat - moving through the season - the golden period is when it is cut down - when it has reached the point of turning - essentially the end of its lifecycle - it can only be useful (to humans) if it is cut down or it will rot away. its an interesting connotation - the idea that Hen’s growing period is at an end - this is further backed up by her conversation with Karen - when Karen tells her she needs to make choice - doctor or paramedic - she cannot be both - hen has reached a point in her growth where she needs to be cut down in order to grow again - because by cutting down the wheat you get the seeds to grow more next year - this also applies to Buck - the death of lev has cut him down - at a point where he is already searching for answers - Hen cannot provide them for him because she is at the point where she has nothing left to give.

I have been having lots of thoughts about harvest and reaping what you sow and the straw that broke the camels back because all of these idioms apply to Hen here - taking on the captains role in Bobbys absence proves to be the straw that breaks Hen’s back, and the insane schedule she set for herself to try and do it all means she spread herself too thin and is reaping what she sowed - if you spread your wheat seeds to thinly you get a lesser crop.

Then there is the  Demeter connection as the Goddess of the harvest. For those who don’t know Demeter’s daughter Persephone was kidnapped by Hades (her Uncle) and taken to the underworld with the approval of Zeus (her father). Demeter tried to get her back, by preventing all plants from growing but because Persephone had eaten some of the food from the underworld she could no longer return to the world above full time - it was agreed that she would spend half the year in the underworld with Hades and half the year in the world above - thus we get the seasons. The Demeter connection also plays in to the idea of time (yes more time metaphors!) being split in half - that Hen has been essentially dedicating half her time to study and half to work, but also being separated/distant from her family - all while trying to maintain that part of her life as well. The idea the Demeter created the seasons in response to being separated from Persephone for half the year - separated from her family is such a fascinating concept in connection to Hen and her story arc for this season - does she remain studying to become a doctor; which will separate her further from her family (both the firefam and Karen and Denny) or does she remain with the fire department and pursue moving up the career ladder - whatever that path looks like!

The other aspect I've been thinking about is the fact that those ears of wheat are embroidered - these were probably done by a machine, but in general the process of embroidery is a time consuming one - much like the growing of wheat, it takes time for the picture to appear when you are creating an embroidery - playing on the concept that both hen and Buck are in the middle of something and therefore cannot see the full picture yet - that it will all come together once all the various threads are in place - but until then it is hard to see what you are creating - even when you know what the end piece should look like!

The embroidery also has a potential connection to the fairy tale of Rumplestiltskin and the weaving of golden thread from straw - the connection being the idea of Hen trying to achieve the seemingly impossible - and in the process 'bartering' with her child (forgetting Denny's robotics club meet) but ultimately finding a way to overcome her issue and keep her child (something is going to have to give and when that time comes - Hen will put her family first). 

Chimney and Eddie

We actually need to talk about this scene as a whole because there is something interesting going on. Buck is the odd one out from the other three. remember what I said above about Hen’s jumper representing harvest and fertility and growth - well Eddie and Chim also represent this in this scene. We only get a brief glimpse of Chim and Eddie out of uniform in this episode and what both of them are wearing compliment each other and Hen’s jumper - they work in tandem to highlight what they are both trying to do in this scene. Eddie in brown - stability and reliability, it is the colour of earth and therefore ties into the idea of growth. while Chimney is in grey and green - grey again a colour of stability while green is growth and renewal. The check theory also comes into play here - Chimney physically touches Buck - almost as if passing on who the theory is going to involve. But Chim was also wearing check in the last scene we saw him in in episode 1 so it is also possible that the check is intensifying - that whatever id going to befall Chim will be big - we know he’s in the car (likely kidnapped) that (almost) hits Buck  and we know that there is possibly a scene where Maddie can’t find him and thinks he’s the one running this time - we also know that Chimney will be going to therapy (couples at the ver least) this all leads to the implication that while Chim seems fine right now, he isn’t going to be for long - that his breakdown is going ot be a swift one.

Buck

Bucks light blue collared knit tee is telling several stories all at once here. There is the obvious connection to Lev, who is wearing the same colour of shirt - the meaning is obvious - we are meant to connect Lev’s story and search for happiness with Bucks own journey - this is less about what a viewers subconscious mind is doing, and more about what the active mind is doing - even the most casual of viewers will pick up on the matching colour choice. we should also connect this to Frankie - because he is also wearing the same shade of blue - his shorts! There is obviously the fact that Lev sacrificed his life so that Frankie could be saved, but there is also a subtle connection to chairs - chairs being what brought the walkway down. That Buck has decided to go for a single armchair rather than getting a new sofa - and the next episode we see single seater chairs being the thing that makes the existing cracks reach their breaking point - well lets just say the foreshadowing is clear - Bucks choice to go it alone will only widen the cracks rather than helping him close them! I’m just quickly going to point out the continued use of blue and yellow in this episode in stories surrounding Buck or Eddie - Frankie is in yellow and blue - and Lev is too - he could have been given any coloured lanyard for this scene, but they chose the yellow one!!

Then there is the other less obvious connections we can draw, because we’ve seen Buck in a pale blue exactly two other times in 80 episodes. 

The second one is a more similar in shade of blue and it is the more recent one - the connection might seem obvious - the Buck we saw in x18 is mentally in a similar place - maybe slightly more at ease because he ended his failing relationship on his own terms, but he isn’t ‘happy’ that suit represents the beginning of Buck not replacing his couch - the beginning of a spiral about not wanting to get things wrong again. But in actual fact this isn’t the only connection and the bigger one connects all three tops. If you look at them all together you can see that the shade of blue is getting increasingly stronger - we go from the very powdery blue of the hoodie to the darker blue - with a hint of grey to it from the wedding, to this much brighter blue from 6x02. This to me at  least (with colour theory in mind) is saying to me - these are connected - they are showing a journey - a progression - and I think we might continue to see this tone of blue on Buck going forward - perhaps lightening or darkening in shade depending on where he is in his journey.

I could go on further on several of these costumes, but as this has taken me longer to get done than normal andits already a long post - i’m ending here!

I hope you enjoyed and thank you as always for reading and for your likes, comments and reblogs - it means the world to me that you all enjoy reading about costumes and colour theory!

Tagged people below!

@mistmarauder @theladyyavilee @loveyourownsmiilee @leothil @girldadbuddie @kitkatpancakestack  @bucksintheroom @lemotmo @trashendence @elishareads  @clipboardsandstethoscopes @comfortbuddie @fiona-fififi  @name-code-black-widow @prettyboyandthekid @callanee @calyssmarviss @alwaysme @pbandjeremiah @batgrldes @piningpettyeddie @bi-moonlight @spotsandsocks @projectabc @livingwherethesidewalkends @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @idontshitpostbuttheolympicpark @diazboysbuckley @sweettsubaki @jordxnhennessy @shortsighted-owl @sherlocking-out-loud @ekstasisandangst-main @favouritealias @hearteyesdiaz @gossamerglob @ktinastrikesback @adamrparrrish @princesschez75 @bucksbuddie @oneawkwardcookie  @leatherat @moniquekatie @wanderingwomanwondering​  @trickster-archangel @outrunningthedark​ @asharadaine​ @ajunerose​ @wolfybuckley @neon-d0rk 

[doctornilaybailey]

𓂀 𝙱𝙻𝚄𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝟶𝟶𝟸 — 𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙱𝙾𝙾𝙺.

Varies on her mood, activities, and the season. Typically bohemian/global-inspired and items from global brands, adventurer, vintage, artsy, casual, comfy athletic, dark and light academic, but can also glam it up for the occasion. (As written here, in Nilay's statistics post.)

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂

As mentioned above, Nilay's style could always be described as being bohemian and worldly, adventurer, vintage, artsy, casual, comfy athletic, and academic (light during spring and summer, dark during autumn and winter), and also having the capability to glam up for an occasion, along with stepping outside of her comfort zone. Her style can depend on what she's doing: if she's at work, if she's working out, if she's at home, if she's out and about, if she's exploring; No matter what she's doing, she'll be rather stylish while doing so. Not only that, but Nilay also takes inspiration from her own upbringing and heritage. Essentially, during the summer and how I see her wardrobe, the best way that I can describe her style is "modern-day, real life Princess Jasmine from Disney's Aladdin".

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝚈𝙻𝙴 𝙿𝙸𝙴𝙲𝙴𝚂

After growing up in Mardin, Türkiye and spending seventeen years living primarily in Cairo, Egypt, Nilay is a desert girl through and through, and that can be seen through her wardrobe. She knows how to dress for warm weather, typically reaching out for her linen and flowy pieces. When she's at work, she'll typically wear a linen pantsuit that's still sophisticated and keeping her cool. Off-work and out-and-about, Nilay will be reaching for her two-piece sets or a flowy dress. Depending on the day and her mood, her colour scheme is either light colours (sky blue, white, tan, yellow) or bright and bold colours (warm tones and jewel tones). She also especially loves patterns and textiles, and will either incorporate it through a pair of Inkkas shoes or like the bottom two-piece set in the graphic. Either way, Nilay's wardrobe is on the colourful side and she loves having fun with her style. Here are some extra outfits that I can see her wearing during summer; All gifs are from ciceklerveyildizlar (here, here, here, and here), whereas the still pics are from the brands she would shop from (from left to right: Wondery [the Isabel 3.0 Pants in Coral and Borrego Trail Crop Tee in Sand; For when she's hiking, rock climbing, camping, etc.] and Sun Bunny Yoga [Sun Print Sports Bra and Leggings, though she would have everything from this brand to be honest]).

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙴𝚂

Nilay's shoes of choice during the summer are from Inkkas and Jerusalem Sandals. During work, she'll still wear work-appropriated heels, though she might wear either one of Inkkas booties or slip-ons, depending on the day. Below are her go-tos and favourites.

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙹𝙴𝚆𝙴𝙻𝚁𝚈

No matter the time of year, Nilay's a gold girlie through and through. She absolutely loves the brands Awe Inspired, Common Era, and Temple of the Sun when it comes to jewelry and wears their items throughout the year. Though, items that she could rarely be seen without, are her Magen David necklace, her locket with a picture of her and Eli with the girls and their cats, her Rhiannon necklace from Awe that Eli gave her and has a matching necklace, at least one of the items from Awe's Egyptian collection or CE's Hathsepsut necklace, multiple rings on her fingers, and either an Evil Eye bracelet or ring.

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙸𝚁

Nilay's dark curls are out in full force throughout the summer. Whether keeping it down completely, in an up-do, or half-up/half-down, summer is her curls time to shine and her straightener is locked away for a few months. To help keep her hair beautiful and protected over the summer, her go-to brands are Joon, Izil Beauty, Fable & Mane, and Saphira Hair. Below are her go-to styles; Gifs are from the same account as the outfit gifs above.

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚄𝙿

Aside from work, special occasions, and if she feels like it, Nilay's keeping minimum on makeup during the summer or completely bare face. When she does wear makeup, however, she keeping things light so that she won't risk it melting off throughout the day. She will play up her eyes and lips, liking to add some colour. The first gif up above is a good example for her makeup. She's a lot more bronzy during the summer and is keeping her skin in good condition thanks to Whind Beauty, so she likes to let that be shown off naturally instead of wearing too much makeup. Also, her scent during the summer for the day is Whind's Oud Davana as a base note and then Amber Tangerine as a top note, then for night time she uses Habibi New York's Royal Saffron Oud as a base note and then Whind's Rose Saffron as a top note.

[brooklynislandgirl]

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

This Softness || Accepting

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Those first few times when Skye put his hand out to shake hers and found himself enveloped in a hug became funny as the months rolled by. Eventually it was just a part of Beth and who she is as a person when he noticed that she would offer that same warm, welcoming embrace to a variety of people. Patients, of course. Friends without hesitation. But even strangers, people who looked like they could use a spark of human decency. It never really seems to occur to her that this is not a common thing. She's always been touch-oriented, finding it easier to navigate the world and the people in it through physical contact. And maybe that isn't such a bad thing. Most of the time those embraces are short. So carefully light that the other person might not feel caged by her. Perhaps the hilarity in that comes from the fact that Beth is a wisp of a person, bird-boned and delicate as glass. Or so it might seem. And she always smells good; faint essential oils that can not overpower the senses or trigger the illness-frail. ~*~

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) While the deepest recesses of her closet might look like the place where bespoke and designer outfits go to languish their existence on earth, Beth rarely seems to bother with them. She prefers scrubs when she takes volunteer shifts at the local ERs, and modest office wear when she works the reception desk for Skye. On those rare days off, she putters around in old tee-shirts several sizes too big for her frame, floor length skirts, and more often than not? Beach wear. Bikinis and the like, with bright floral wraps that belong on the shores of her beloved O'ahu. "Hate clothes. Shoes are worse," she's murmured a time or two. Sometimes? Things slip her mind, especially when they might be anxiety-inducing or unpleasantly traumatic. Like now. He's come to pick her up for drinks and trivia which is their weekly scheduled appointment ~she calls it date night, though maybe she doesn't mean it the way anyone else might~ and she seems almost surprised when he turns up. Everything about her is tight. The tension in her shoulders. The smooth, freckled skin around her full lips. The short, clipped way she moves in general. There's other things that are just a little...off. Beth rarely wears make-up, and when she does, it's almost always natural, enhancing her eyes and complimenting both her skin tone and the outfit she's chosen. Tonight? She's wearing at least three supermodels worth of product. Her face is practically sculpted to take some of the roundness away, and to soften her jaw. Her eyes, always wide and bright, seem to have less of their tilt to them. The most noticible thing? She's pale. Her skin artificially lightened so no trace of duskiness remains. Her hair is brutally straight, swept up and back into a chignon. She's covered shoulder-to-toes in a wide-legged Versace pant-suit, and she's looking at him as if she's attending her own funeral. "Gold studs, or these hoops?" She holds one each to a different ear as she asks his opinion. "It's just... the Admiral...he prefers a classic look. Maybe I should do the diamonds instead..."