───‎ ‎ ‎oh,‎ ‎ were they even mine?

afternoons  spent  like  this  are  seldom  for  them  —  lounging  by the lake in  the  summer  heat  rather  than  working  the  day  away.  lean  legs  are  pulled  up  to  his  chest,  arms  crossed  over  them  as  his  cheek  rests  upon  them.  at  this  angle,  blue  hues  watch  quietly  as  droplets  of  water  occasionally  drip  from  the  tips  of  their  hair  and  down  the  side  of  their  neck.  though  when  his  gaze  begins  to  drift  down  the  curve  of  their  glistening back,  the  heat  that  creeps  on  the  back  of  his  neck  snaps  him  out  of  it  and  he  looks  down  at  the  tupperware  of  sliced  fruit  between  them instead.  “  bet  ya  didn't  know  i  can  do  palm  readings.  ”  casey  hums  over  a  slice  of  plum,  sparing a glance  at  them,  a  small,  coy  smile forming on his lips.  “  noleen,  she's  real  into  all  that  psychic  and  astrology  stuff  so  i'd  say  i  picked  up  a  thing  or  two.  “  will  pop  another  slice  into  his  mouth  before  wiping  his  fingertips  on  the  hem  of  his  damp  boxers.  ”  care  for  some  enlightenment  ?  ”  extends  his  hand  for  them  to  place  theirs  in,  an  expectant  quirk  of  his  eyebrow.

a nice swim, something to just round out the entirety of his trip — months long, thought to be indefinite for a while, but a sunset dawned upon todd's time here. the nature of a life on the move, eternal dissatisfaction, or rather, the inability to just stay still. only, it complicates, the moment another enters the picture. the moment casey entered the picture, well, he could consider himself utterly fucked, wound up in sandy hair and eyes mirroring the shade of the lake's surface when it gleamed under summer sun. he smiled, dripped in bittersweet since his own news broke, fractured something but not enough for a clean break. " hm? " the sound of his voice snapped todd out of it, drawn in by the way his tongue curled around each syllable, easily offering his own open palm with a plop! into the other's hand. " y'not gonna charge me, are you? i don't know if i've got any cash on me, mr. psychic. "

"   shut   the   fuck   up,   "   it's   quick   to   come   out   of   her   mouth,   the   look   of   shock   on   her   face   untraceable   to   either sudden   profanity   or   memory   she   assumed   was   long   gone.   "   you   remember   '   say   yes   to   the   dress '   ?   i   thought   you   absolutely   hated   that   show   ⸻   there's   no   way   you   enjoying   it   when   i   literally forced you to watch with me.   "   it's   enough   to   make   her   laugh   at   sweet   recollection ;   how   she   cuddled   up   into   his   side,   pointing   out   how   horrendous   the   wedding   dresses   looked.   a   pair   of   homemade   critiques.   wedding   planner   stands   a   little   straighter,   regaining   her   composure.   "   yeah,   same   apartment,   "   because   if   she   moves,   he   won't   know   where   to   come   home   to.   "   so,   you   like   it   better   out   here   ?   the   ...   wilderness,   i   guess. very bear grylls.   "

still, pierce lets himself fall into the nostalgia of it all, treading lightly with what his heart could offer while maintaining sanity only provided by distance between them. " i don't think i could forget it if i tried, " the regret within his tone mostly erred on sarcasm — truth was, he enjoyed it, even if most of the pleasure sat in watching inessa, impassioned and opinionated about every detail; the dresses, the bride's entourages and their own communication or lack thereof, the whole nine. i'd do anything with you. " you redecorate? not that there was anything wrong with it — but, that's a long time. four years. " passage of time weighed heavy on his tongue, forcing a shift in posture. discomfort, maybe, but only at himself. she looked the same; stood taller, if anything, but relaxed into who she was. " i think i've still got your entire floor plan memorized. not like a creep — just my weird memory, is all. plus, we probably spent more time at yours, anyway. my fault for having that annoying upstairs neighbor. "

                        ✱　     "   delete   that.   "   you'd   assume   the   woman   had   eyes   on   the   back   of   her   head   with   how   quickly   she   demands   it,   continuing   to   let   water   warm   as   she   waits   by   sink,   arms   and   hands   smeared   in   clay.   "   i've   had   cameras   in   my   face   as   early   as   four   years   old   ⸻    did   you   think   i   wouldn't   recognize   the   sound   of   your   shutter   going   off   ?   "

her voice billows through empty studio space — nearly as commanding as blythe's own presence, pointed and direct in its delivery. and yet, all adan could do is offer a smile, taunting yet true. " it's just a test shot, scout's honor. " even if that, in itself, was a lie, but could he not be selfish? " i just think that people would respond more to your work — well, more than they already do — if they knew more about the artist behind it. you don't need to be some faceless creator; the time of banksy is long gone, and it's all about marketing. c'mon, blythe, don't you want to be recognized for who you are, alongside your work? "

GENNEYA   WALTON.    twenty   seven,   ‘99.   in   the   source   link,   you   will   find   130   160  186   200   gifs of   genneya   in   daredevil:  born  again  szn  one  &  two.   she   is   of   african  and  filipino  descent so   please   cast   accordingly.   feel   free   to   edit   for   personal   use   but   if   you   wish   to   redistribute   for   any   reason,   please   give   credit.   don't   forget   to   like   and   reblog.

the  sun  peaks  into  the  room,  wrapped  in  their  arms  as  eyes  open  slowly  and  she  stretches  out.  "what  time  is  it?"  she  mumbles,  rolling  over  to  grab  her  phone,  eyes  widening  and  sitting  up  in  a  rush  at  the  time.  "shit  —  shit,  i  have  to  go,"  lena  lets  out  in  a  breath,  shaking  them.  "wake  up.  your  sister  is  looking  for  me." / @enamortes

barely-coherent, mumbled words amidst morning fogginess. it took him a second to even register lena's urgency — but once it hit? wes scrambled; wide-eyed and wholly ungraceful. " shit, shit, shit, " under-the-breath utterances. " where is she? fuck, danika told me she was going out this morning for some workout class, or whatever. do you want me to go out there? like, distract her, or somethin' — pretend you got locked in the bathroom? "

YELLOWJACKETS | Season 3, Episode 10, “Full Circle”

Challengers dir. Luca Guadagnino (2024)

⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀❛ you're looking at me as if you know something i don't ⸺ what is it ? ❜

emerson shuffled where he stood — they day-to-day fronting as someone normal, just another diner waiter, another resident of this dew-laden town. for the most part, he was, truly forgetful of his own gifts or curses, its designation depending on the day. at least, until recently. until the smell of rot had tipped off his senses, that natural, biological reaction to a being anything but. " nothing, i just — uh, just wonderin' if you want a refill, or if i could get y'anything else? more coffee, water? " smooth.

celeste goes quiet for a moment, letting rana's words play over in her head as if she hadn't heard them a million times before. "casual," she repeats softly, the word sounding bitter on her tongue. her gaze drifts down slightly before lifting again, becoming more vulnerable this time than she had intended. "you keep saying that like it'll make this smaller than it is." while there's a hint of hurt laced through her words, there's a sad, tiny smile that ghosts at the edge of her lips. "and maybe you're right. maybe this can't go anywhere. but if it's true, why does it always sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than me?"

to be candid, rana felt as if she would be a hindrance to celeste, fearing any momentum the other had built up would be halted with any entanglement. she hadn't slowed down herself, by any means, but the reality of their situation — two paths, starkly contrasting despite their denial of such — would be burdensome. an excuse? maybe. but, insecurity was a bitch, something rana could hardly shake in this area of her life. she swallowed thickly, eyes diverting from an intense gaze, hazel eyes she wanted nothing but to drown in being the one thing she kept herself from now. " what do you want out of this, celeste? really? " more prickly, grating. " what can i provide that you can't just get from someone else? " @hvzeful

calahan   almost   floated   on   the   air   when   he   walked.   eyes   glowed   a   steady   amber,   bright   through   the   fog   that   enveloped   both   men.   he   wondered   if   the   wolf   could   smell   it   on   him   the   same   way   calahan   could   smell   it   ;   the   cloying,   antique   scent   of   undeath,   a   clinging   sign   that   they   were   not   simply  normal.   the   vampire   was   a   man   of   god,   someone   devout   and   kind   despite   the   monster   he   had   become.   a   soul   in   need   would   never   be   left   to   rot   in   the   cold.   his   pale   hand   outstretched   to   gesture   behind   him.   “i   understand   that   you   do   not   intend   harm.   you   are   safe   here.   how   have   you   managed   to   stray   so   far ? ”

since moving — new town, greener pastures, dripped in a dew the dry cold of his home would freeze — emerson felt himself on overdrive, nerves and synapses firing at a rate previously unforeseen. his nostrils flare, hinting at something his own lack of experience, and the knowledge that came with such, could not speak to as of yet. natural instincts kicked in, a defensive marker, skin pricked at the mere presence of someone, to emerson, hardly signaled threat upon first sight — biology said otherwise, with the pang in his heart that said nothing but run. should he listen? " i — " unknowing, untrusting, hardly able to discern what he could reveal versus what could already be seen about him. " if you could just direct me to the nearest main road, i'll be on my way and out of your hair, i promise. " scared, unprotected by a pack, with eyes zeroed in on near-translucent flesh. " doesn't feel safe, from where i'm standing. "

                        ✱　     "   wait,   the   met   gala   ...   like   ...   the   mets   ?   like   the   baseball   team   ...   ?   "   he   looks   genuinely   perplexed,   if   not,   incredibly   concerned.   "   why   are   they   there   ?   "

there's a spluttering laugh, outright and candid in its delivery — mockery wasn't the intention, it only caught her off guard, really. it remained like that for a beat, only quelled by a deep inhale-exhale and a hand covering her opened mouth. she refocused, discerning whether or not sincerity sat at the heart of his question. " wait, are you serious? " suddenly straight-faced. " like, you think the team has their version of a navy ball, or somethin'? you sweet soul, i don't think they've got the budget to do that, pal. yankees, for sure. loaded, all of 'em. "