#corky!!!

[monkee-mobile]

my circus boy golden book came!!!

baby micky has his own book !!

[fadeintoyou1993]

WINONA RYDER as "Corky" Night On Earth (1991)

[indigomood]

Bound (1996)

[moonalumi]

i need them all so bad omfgggggg i have a type

[robertacolndrez]

Bound, 1996 — dir. Lana Wachowski & Lilly Wachowski

[absfawn]

missin her. wife fr.

[lacyfide]

my breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert <3

[tiilore]

wanted to finalize my designs for the girls; thank u for all the support on my last post! <3

[superstarcherrycolagirl]

piece of you in how i dress

“cherry” by harry styles

benny cross x reader / 1.1k words

idea: benny rocks a new look

tw: none really, drinking, smoking, cursing, but just a bunch of cuteness

notes: sooo i sent a request to clo a bit ago (b4 we became bestie boos) and i was rereading what she wrote and it was SO GOOD so i kinda wanted to write a little piece abt that!! sorry if this is kinda shit imve been really really busy the past week but i wanted to put something out BUT i hope y’all like this :)) also PLEASE go read @semperamans work bc she is just TOO GOOD and deserves all the love !!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

benny’s always had a distinct look to him. messy hair, ripped jeans, sharp tattoos, scares covering his fists, and a chilling stare on his face that completed his intimidating look. although he and the rest of the vandals all seem to look the same, with their colors on and unique pasts merging together, benny was always recognizable and stood out like a sore thumb.

nobody really questioned why the young vandal was so feral, why his past shaped him into somebody who can either lurk in silence or create chaos out of nothing in the blink of an eye, because it wasn’t anyone's business. sure the vandals began because of the love to ride all day and night, but the community of people was built around acceptance of each member, regardless of their past.

so why the hell would anyone care? the guy just has a classic look to him!

until benny met you.

“wahoo you seeing what i’m seein’?” “the sexy redhead with that tiny skirt on? cause if you are-” “stop fuckin’ droolin’ for a second and turn that thick ass head of yours ‘round! over at the pool table!” due to drinking a ton and smoking weed, it took a while for corky and wahoo to focus on the same thing. and luckily they were able to, looking over at the pool table where benny was watching cal take a strike during their game. his dark shirt and dark jeans were so rough against his skin, that the pop of blush pink was throwing the two guys off. a little pink blob was tied around a belt loop on benny’s jeans, standing out like a sore thumb.

to say that wahoo and corky were stumped was an understatement “what is that shit on his pants?” “i d’know, that’s why my last resort was askin’ you” “ah fuck you too shithead! if you care s’much let’s jus’go ahead n’ask him” wahoo stood up first with corky trailing behind as they walked to the pool table, the mix of alcohol and pot in their systems making them stumble and laugh.

once they reached the table they immediately approached benny, perching their hands on his side of the table “hey benny! did ya’ fairy godmother visit you in ya’ sleep last night?” “or a.. a princess spare y’any gifts?” the boys started chattering, trying to hint to benny at what they were talking about “what t’hell are you goin’ on about? did you take some of that shit sonny got?” benny was genuinely confused, wondering what in gods name wahoo and corky took to be asking him about fairies and princesses. “what y’mean? look at you! all pretty in pink for us tonight! jus’wanna know what lucky lady gave y’that?” corky said with a laugh, which got the attention of cal.

oh here we go.

benny put it together in his head what they were laughing about, and a rush of pink started to fill the cheeks. he completely forgot he had your pink scare tied to him, you asked him to hold onto it because it was bothering your neck. he didn’t even think of it, and now caught off guard that his friends noticed.

he didn’t know what to say. was everyone else gonna start teasing him? telling him that he’s changed and now all soft? he had no idea. but as he was trying to open his mouth to say something, cal already beat him to it.

“you guys know who gave that to him, she’s literally been in here 3 times this week! spared your sorry asses some cookies that were for the ladies!” cal chirped in, his voice gaining the intoxicated guys attention “benny’s right, what the fuck did y’all take? can’t have y’forget so much that your dicks are hanging out ‘cause you forgot how to zip up your flies!” he said vulgarly, but earning a little chuckle from benny “now go smoke whatever shit sonny gave you outside! m’getting a headache” cal told corky and wahoo. both benny and cal watched them walk away, drowning in drunken cackles.

benny turns his head back to cal, seeing him take a sip of his beer before shifting his attention back to him “so how is she? i noticed that she isn’t with you tonight?” cal’s question threw off benny for a moment, surprised that he’d be asking about his girl. “yeah she’s good. she uh.. picked up an extra shift early for the mornin’, so she stayed home so she could get a good sleep,” benny said softly, the shift to talking about his girl made the blush creep even higher “almost didn’t show tonight ‘cause i wanted to help her relax, but she insisted for me to come here anyway” he said with a smile. oh how stubborn you could be.

“well i'm glad that she’s well, y’got a hard working lady on y’hands” cal said in response, noticing how shy benny got “listen, you and i both know that they're off their asses tonight, so don’t let their teasing rattle you, i know they respect her as much as the rest of us do” cal spoke to benny calmly, unsure if he was upset with their friends “no no i.. i’m not mad. i feel the opposite really,” benny looked down at the sweet pink scarf against his jeans “jus’happy that’ll get to see her once i get back home” he looked up at cal with a smile. it’s already getting pretty late, and benny told you that he’d drive you to work in the morning, so he might as well just call it a night and head out.

and just like that it was like cal read his mind “well why don’t you go on and get to it, i’ll cover our drinks right here” cal offered, which benny returned with a nod. he benny grabbed his leather jacket, and started walking away, cal spoke up one more time

“tell her i wish her luck, and hope to see the both of you on friday” “i promise i will”

and with that final promise he was out the door, hopped on his bike, and was on his way home. while driving down the dimly lit roads he’d glance down at your scarf blowing in the wind, and couldn’t help but smile. ‘a little piece of you in how he dressed’ some could say.

he couldn’t wait to get home.

[playsthetics]

MBTI: My Favourite Characters

ISTP (10/16)

-

Phillip “Lip” Gallagher (Shameless)

Rikki Chadwick (H2O: Just Add Water)

Shane Mccutcheon (The L Word)

Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn 99)

Lisbeth Salander (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo)

Yoon Ji-Woo (My Name)

Corky (Bound)

Patrick Verona (10 Things I Hate About You)

Robin Scherbatsky (How I Met Your Mother)

Theodora “Theo” Crane (The Haunting of Hill House)

[semperamans]

Benny as a dad I — he would be such a girl dad.

g'ah - i can see him being both :(

i can also see him bein' so fuckin' scared because "m'fucked up, y'know? jus' no good. best thing i ever did was somehow get you n'now we got this little one on the way and what if i'm no good at bein' a daddy?" he'd cry over it :( but then your lil sprout would come around and benny learns that bein' a parent means healin' that big part of him that still hurts every now n'then :( he's there for every first: the smile, the giggle, the tooth. n'when they're a lil bigger benny teaches 'em to ride a trike because, "gotta start small, we'll work' ya up to the panhead, though. don' worry. got fifteen years or so, plenty'a time." he teaches 'em that it's okay to cry. tells 'em to be like you n'lead with their heart. kisses every skinned knee, sits elbow to elbow on the sofa watchin' sunday morning cartoons, keeps a picture of 'em in his wallet :( dad!benny you will always be in my heart

[indigomood]

Bound (1996) dir. The Wachowskis

[seethesin]

rotaries and roses

pairing: Tattoo Artist!Corky x Florist!F!Reader

tags/warnings: modern au, tattoo artist/florist trope, first time tattoos, suggestive themes, cursing, teasing

a/n: requested by anonymous here. this was my biggest challenge yet because... this is smut free and i don't have tattoos 😭 i hope you guys don't mind how many liberties i took with this! as there are no gif hunts of gina as corky, this will have a gifless format. enjoy! 🥰

You found yourself at Corky's by the recommendation of a close friend. Every time you mentioned your desire for a tattoo, they would practically beg you to give the tattoo shop a chance before pulling up their Instagram page. The first thing you noticed was the address. The tattoo shop was on the same street as your flower shop; how you hadn't noticed it sooner was beyond you.

Your friend was right. You needed to take your ass over there. And now, there was no excuse not to.

Out of all the artists featured, the owner, Corky, had your favorite designs. Her Neo-Traditional style blew you away, and it was the post featuring a canvas with an array of roses that sealed the deal. They had always been your favorite flower, regardless of the stereotypical label they held. Every bouquet of roses that leaves your shop always receives your special attention. They never fail to bring a smile to your face, regardless of the color, quantity, or occasion. To have them on your body felt right to you and you wanted them in Corky's signature style.

You spent the rest of that evening mulling over what you wanted. It took you a few more days, but finally, you came to a decision. You wanted a ram surrounded by Corky's roses. A ribbon would wind around the portrait of the ram with the phrase: My will is sturdy inscribed on it. The design was perfect and you knew Corky would do your vision justice.

Your consultation was the first time you meant Corky outside of emailing her. A studded leather jacket was haphazardly thrown over her white tank top. You couldn't tell what brand of jeans she wore, but they did wonders for her legs. Her steel-toed boots clicked on the hardwood floor as she came to greet you. You accepted her offered hand into a shake and couldn't stop yourself from memorizing the callouses on her palm within those few, fleeting seconds. Her brown hair was perfectly unkempt and a permanent, knowing smirk was glued onto her face.

"I'm Corky."

She was hot. You were fucked.

After your initial greetings, she brought you to the back where her desk was so you both could work through your design. You found as many references as possible, including the same array of roses you saw on her shop's Instagram page. Corky chuckled fondly as she examined the canvas, lips quirking into a genuine smile.

"This is some of my older work," she mused as if she was warning you. Her gaze flickered through her lashes, brow quirked inquisitively at you.

"It's one of my favorites," you admit and Corky's smile only grows at your confession.

The close proximity allows you to catch onto her scent: fresh smoke and citrus. You want her to tattoo it into your lungs.

"Give me an hour and I'll have something nice for you. I'll call you when I'm finished."

One phone call later and you were back in her shop. Unsure of proper etiquette in the tattooing world, you had brought back coffee for both yourself and Corky. You needed a pick me up and it felt strange not to share with her. Shyly, you offered her a cup which she graciously accepted. Your guess of Corky taking her coffee black was right; you swallow a smile at the thought. She leads you back to her desk so she can present you her work.

It's overwhelming how beautiful Corky's art is. Everything about it is perfect and truly, you can't think of anything else to add, remove, or change. The roses woven through the ram's horns, the brilliant blue outline, and the delicate font she chose for the banner were small details you would have never considered on your own.

Your lack of a verbal response makes Corky laugh, leaning in closer.

"Stunned ya speechless, huh?" she teased and you can't help but laugh with her.

"It's gorgeous, Corky."

There's something on Corky's tongue as she pauses. Silently, you watch her shake whatever thought it was away before refocusing on you.

"Where do you want this?"

You pause to think.

"I think my thigh would be the best. I've read that it's one of the better places to get your first tattoo."

This information slaps a smile back on her face.

"You read right. That works for me."

Soon after, you discuss the rest of the housekeeping tasks regarding your tattoo. Once you put an initial deposit down, you decide on a date a month later. You bid Corky goodbye and return to your flower shop to close up for the night. Before you retire to bed, you start working on a custom rose bouquet for one of your clients.

The roses are beautifully crimson, just like the ones Corky drew for you.

"I'll be with ya in a moment!" A disembodied voice calls from the next room over at the sound of the doorbell. You nod—more to yourself—before shutting the door behind you.

A month blew by quicker than you anticipated. Tonight, you found yourself awkwardly stationed at the front door of Corky’s tattoo shop with a cup of coffee in each hand. On her recommendation, you came well-fed, hydrated, and with eight hours of sleep under your belt. You donned a loose, simple dress, figuring it would make Corky's job tonight easier.

What you didn't realize was that she booked you as her closer tonight. The shop was empty and immediately, you felt yourself sweating. Silently, you asked whatever higher powers existed to refrain from making you out into a fool tonight.

Shifting on your heels, you visibly brighten at the sound of Corky's boots thundering towards you. She appears from the backroom, grinning ear to ear as she walks towards you. She's clad in another plain white tank top and dark jeans, revealing the complex sleeves her leather jacket hid. The most notable tattoo is of a labrys on her upper arm.

"Hey stranger," she greets, raising her brows as you offer her a coffee cup. "You spoil me; thank you."

You don't miss the way her eyes drag down your frame.

Corky's fingers slide against yours as she takes the coffee from you. Her touch is electric and you hold back from shivering. If something so innocuous got to you, you don't know how you'll last tonight.

"My pleasure." You don't mean to sound so breathless, but you were currently recovering from her touch. Corky merely smiles and beckons you to follow her. You do so wordlessly, stepping up and over to her workstation.

She sifts through her desk before pulling out the stencil of your tattoo. Turning on her heel, she presents it to you and you nearly choke on your coffee.

It’s perfect.

Every detail from her initial artwork has been transcribed onto the stencil. You find yourself hypnotized as you lean in closer. It needs to be on your body now.

"Corky," you start and she laughs, gesturing for you to sit in the chair. You do so quickly, placing your belongings on an empty side table out of the way.

"Don't go worshipping me yet," she teases, easily picking up on the dreaminess laced in your voice.

She drags over a small, wheeled cart, completely set up for your session. You're unfamiliar with everything on it, but you watch carefully as she sets up her rotary machine. After checking to make sure you didn't have a latex allergy, Corky puts on a pair of black, single-use gloves.

"I still gotta tattoo it."

Pulling her stool over, her gloved hand goes to your thigh. The edge of her thumb grazes the hem of your dress and tenderly—so tenderly you might faint—she pushes the skirt up. You meet her in the middle, pulling it the rest of the way so it settles just over your hips. Cool air immediately rushes between your thighs and you've never felt more exposed. Corky guides your leg towards her and the thought of her face buried in your cunt flashes in your mind. Swiftly, you shake it away.

You allow her to position you as she sees fit while she preps your skin. Once satisfied, she presses the stencil to your skin to transfer the design. It takes all of your restraint to stay still and on the chair. How were you going to make it through a two hour session?

"Go check it out in the mirror." Corky points her thumb behind her and her voice sucks you back from your reverie.

Holding your dress skirt up, you walk to the wall mirror and examine the design. Turning to her, you hold a thumb up as she stares intensely at the exposed flesh. She hums in approval and you hurry back onto the chair. You get comfortable and again, Corky's hands are on your thigh. She's readjusting you and your teeth dig into the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning.

"Are you ready?"

You nod.

"Let's begin."

The first ten minutes are relatively quiet. The buzz of the rotary is the only thing distracting you from the dull pain in your thigh. Well, that and the fact that her other hand is gripping your thigh in a way that makes your head spin. Corky pipes up first over the noise.

"What do you do?"

You beam; you adore answering this question.

"I'm a florist!" You watch as Corky's brows raise in interest, her gaze intensely fixed on your leg as she works. "I actually own the flower shop just up the street."

The buzzing stops completely and her eyes are glued to your face, lips parted in surprise.

"You own Fern & Flora?"

You nod proudly, practically glowing from the recognition.

"No shit; one of my girls, Sue, is there every two weeks buying flowers for her girlfriend."

Corky's machine whirs back to life and the prickly pain on your thigh returns. You hum to yourself, going over a mental list of your regulars and who could fit the profile Corky described.

"She's always going on about how her girlfriend likes the—"

"Violets." You finish thoughtfully, unable to stop the genuine smile growing across your face. "Margaret's favorite flowers are violets and Sue never lets me forget it."

You watch the way Corky's face softens as you speak. Her thumb presses against your inner thigh and your breath hitches quietly in your throat.

"What's your favorite flower?"

Staring down at her in disbelief, a chuckle pushes from your throat. You gesture to the tattoo she was currently working on, hoping to highlight the array of roses she was getting ready to outline.

"Do you even have to ask?"

Corky's shoulders raise into a shrug, glancing up at you quickly before refocusing on your thigh.

"Hey, forgive me for making small talk." The smile in her voice is evident and you find yourself grinning along with her.

"What's your favorite flower?" You toss the question back to Corky, ready to take her answer and brand it into the back of your mind.

She takes a moment to think about your question. If it wasn't obvious already, you could tell that this was something Corky hadn't previously thought about.

"I think I'm going to have to swing by your shop at some point to answer that question."

You can't help but blush. Was she flirting with you?

"I'd like that," you admit, fiddling with your fingernails.

Corky doesn't respond, instead reabsorbing herself back into her work. But a sly smirk plays on her lips and you have to stare up at the ceiling to keep your thoughts at bay.

"I think you'd like cornflowers." You finally state after a minute of silence. The cool colors and perky petals reminded you of Corky's persona. The bouquets that you crafted with them were some of your favorites so far.

"I think I'd like anything you recommend."

Okay, she's definitely flirting with you. Brazenly, you reply with: "Then I recommend you visit me sooner rather than later."

"Oh yeah?" There's a teasing edge in Corky's voice and you feel the warmth rise to your cheeks. Her voice drops an octave lower and you've completely disregarded the pain in your thigh. "And why's that?"

In that moment, you’ve forgotten everything about yourself. The only things you could comprehend were Corky’s hands groping your flesh and the irritating whizzing of the rotary. You suddenly feel hot and the idea of stripping your dress off grows more attractive with each passing second.

“I want to make a bouquet for you.” The sentence is rushed from your own nervousness, but you mean every word. “The sooner you stop by, the better of a selection I’ll still have for the season.”

Caught off guard, Corky sputters out a cough. However, she doesn’t stop working. The machine is still on as she finishes the outline of your tattoo without issue. You glance down curiously and witness her face flush crimson. A delighted giggle squeezes from your throat and you swear Corky blushes deeper than before.

“I’ll come by tomorrow.”

Your laughter is replaced with a kind smile. “Promise?”

She nods.

The rest of your session goes swiftly. Corky works like a machine: detailed, efficient, and insanely accurate. Your small talk comes and goes in waves, more so that she can focus on her work above all else. With a final wipe of her towel, your tattoo is finished two hours later. She grins eagerly before looking up at you.

"Wanna check it out?"

You don't miss a beat: "Uh, of course!"

You practically spring off the chair, stretching your legs as you scurry over to the mirror. The hem of your dress is still bawled in your fists as you stare at your thigh. You can hear Corky snickering at you while you fawn over her work.

"Holy shit..." You are awestruck and you turn to her, gaping before turning back to the mirror.

"It looks incredible," she agrees, discarding her gloves before pulling the rolling cart over to the side and out of the way. She goes to her workstation, pulls a few documents out, and scribbles something down as you continue to gape and stare at your new tattoo.

You return to Corky's workstation, gathering your belongings as you ready your wallet. She turns to face you again, handing you paperwork and guidance on how to maintain your new tattoo. You listen to her instructions carefully, unable to stop yourself from staring at her chapped lips every few moments.

"Do you have any questions?" You shake your head, averting your gaze to the papers she gave you. It essentially regurgitated what she said aloud, but you were thankful to have something written to refer to. Corky had also included her business card that you examined, noting the handwritten number just below her professional contact information.

"Actually, I do have a question," you start, not looking up from the papers in your hands. "Do you give all of your clients your personal number?"

Turning the documents to Corky, you point at the handwritten digits just below her work email. She flushes briefly before clearing her throat.

"Well no," she starts and a grin is already curling on your lips, watching as she gathers her thoughts. "But I figured it would make sense to give it to you. For tomorrow."

You hum thoughtfully, glancing over at her workstation before looking at her.

"Can I borrow that?" You gesture at a Sharpie marker on the side and she snatches it up before handing it to you.

"Give me your arm."

Corky stares at you, bewildered by your demand, but obediently offers her right arm to you. Your fingers clasp her wrist, outstretching it so that her fingertips just barely graze the top of your chest.

You miss the sharp inhale Corky takes.

Carefully, you jot your phone number down, making sure to avoid writing over the pinup girl tattoo facing you. Once finished, you push the cap back on and place the marker in her open palm.

"For tomorrow," you parrot, giddily watching the flustered look wash over Corky's face. She nods quickly, clutching the marker before stammering for you to follow her so she can take the rest of your payment. You trail behind her, already working out flower combinations in your mind for Corky's bouquet.

Out of all the ones you can think of, cornflowers and roses are the most fitting.

🦇 tag list: @crvptidsmain, @astroph1les, @uraesthete

[theloveinc]

I always think it's a little surprising, irritating, endearing, something when big, tough men find solace in being gentle with their daughters.

There's reason to do tough things with them, too, to make sure they grow up strong and independent, but I think of a man like Simon "Ghost" Riley, who spent a huge percentage of his life being beaten down consistently by almost all the men who were around him.

And sure, he trusts the men in his task force with his life now, no question about it, but... I think the sudden calm he experiences when he starts to raise a daughter is beyond strange for him, but also weirdly... healing, too. Enjoyable.

That's not to say he doesn't, and hasn't, enjoyed the boyish things in life, the watching sports, the playing in the dirt, the pretending to hold guns part of growing up... but he finds himself sitting through your daughter's ballet class, overwhelmed by the calm that surrounds him, actually able to focus on the intensity of her pliers, her releves, the way her pink skirt ripples when she leaps into a sauter.

It's a new realization, a new kind of war (between him and learning how to be a parent), but it's one that doesn't revolve around the consistent anxiety that warps his stomach when he watches boys, little or not, teeter the line between roughhousing and fighting, picking on one another for shedding accidental tears that, really, cause no harm.

With your daughter, he's set in charge of watching her play with her friends and finds there is no lump in his stomach when she giggles with them, no dark possibility drifting in the back of his mind that she'll reach out and get her arm broken by someone she trusts--the fights she fights with her peers all between the characters they play and not between their fists, their games of laughter and drama and screaming but not of raging violence.

There's people who ask him, people who joke, wouldn't a man like him prefer a son? He must've been so disappointed... Yet, Simon still has yet to think of the best way to tell them that he honestly enjoys having a daughter a little bit more, that she runs to him and not for a second is he afraid she's hiding a snake up her sleeve, because she's only ever greeted him with flowers.

[decodedlvr]

I’m gonna say it. This is lesbian Steddie

[venchies]

lesbian shuake