pippaespina

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#they are #INSP ⁞ all. #INSP ⁞ muse. #DYN ⁞ feat beckett. #q

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365 days of Jackie and Hyde: [165/365] 5.14 Babe I’m Gonna Leave You

#omg #madonna had a FEAST #INSP ⁞ all. #INSP ⁞ muse. #q

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#no one does #INSP ⁞ all. #INSP ⁞ muse. #q

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CLOSER (2004) dir. Mike Nichols

#edgy #INSP ⁞ all. #INSP ⁞ muse. #q

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the day that was  //  changes

#:( #INSP ⁞ all. #DYN ⁞ feat kevin. #q

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mariana adams fosters’ looks → allies (season 1 episode 3)

#baby angel #INSP ⁞ all. #INSP ⁞ visage. #q

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#thanks mads for this one #INSP ⁞ all. #INSP ⁞ muse. #q

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Euphoria (2019—) Created by Sam Levinson

#anna ou #INSP ⁞ all. #INSP ⁞ muse. #q

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Candy Jar (2018) Directed by Ben Shelton

#hes so mean to her #INSP ⁞ muse. #INSP ⁞ all. #DYN ⁞ feat beckett. #q

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#no actually i dont #INSP ⁞ muse. #INSP ⁞ all. #q

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#she isnt wrong #INSP ⁞ muse. #INSP ⁞ all. #q

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#im begging u to shut up #INSP ⁞ muse. #INSP ⁞ all. #q

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#mood

#can she BREATHE #INSP ⁞ muse. #INSP ⁞ all. #q

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graves, beckett.

bucket lets himself lean casually against pippa, enjoying the closeness she allows, but the truth of what they’re talking about still hangs, ugly, in the air between them. juli hadn’t been exactly ecstatic to discuss this topic either, and bucket’s secret dream of getting two of his favorite people into bed with him was quickly fading. “ you can’t kill him, you’d break up the band. you do not wanna be a yoko, pips. ” bucket steals the joint away from her - a risky move - but hands it back after he takes his own easy pull from it. “ was it really that bad? ”

“ Yoko Ono was a hero, ” She tells him matter-of-factly, placing her head on his shoulder as the joint is placed back between her lips. “ But that’s not the fucking point here. ” If she’s being fair, she isn’t really sure what exactly the point is. “ He was fine, okay? Like ... the most basic, okay, run of the mill sex. I just don’t need my ... escapades with people I typically HATE broadcasted around Black Spring. ” She draws a deep breath, and exhales, passing joint back to him. “ Kev already thinks I’m, like, a hooker or something. ”

#INT ⁞ all. #INT ⁞ beckett. #he truly is

[pippaespina]

graves, beckett.

bucket preens dramatically at pippa’s mocking compliment, his eyelashes fluttering for effect before he snorts himself out of it. “ can always count on you for your honesty, pips. ” she’s probably right, though - certainly, bucket would never categorize his own behaviors as weird, he’s sure the bank teller who counts his drug money would look at him a little differently if she wasn’t always telling him how pretty and blue his eyes were. a blessing and a curse, he supposed. “ yeah, people’d probably think you were a petty bitch if you didn’t look so good. ” he pauses. “ well, they’d call you out on being a petty bitch. ” his manicure finished, bucket blows a cool breath over his shiny nails and looks them over. “ not bad, not bad. fuckin’ hate the colors, but you didn’t get a single bit on my skin. ” bucket leans back on his palms, probably screwing up the work she’d just done, but he doesn’t care; there’d been a question brewing on the tip of his tongue since he’d talked to juli the day before. “ you remember that party? ” it’s open-ended enough, but they’ve been friends too long to count and he’s not worried about her understanding what he was really asking. 

She scoffs. “ Petty bitch and ugly nails? Aren’t you a sweetheart, ” She muses sarcastically, scooting up next to him. She doesn’t make a comment about him potentially messing up her handiwork — it’s not about the ugly pattern that looks like Easter took a dump on his hands, it’s about the process and time spent together. Ash tray is slid across her nightstand, half smoked joint pulled out of where it sat at his second question. “ I’m not NEARLY fucked up enough for you to be asking me about that party. ” Lighter flicks on in her other hand, and she puts it up closer to her lips, filter between them, breathing in deep. “ Is Julian running his mouth? I’ll fucking kill him. ”

#shes gonna kill them both #INT ⁞ all. #INT ⁞ beckett.

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JULIAN APOLSKIS.

     his mind’s a  WHIRLWIND  –  thoughts, wants, and consequences all scrambled into one, non - cohesive, cluster - fuck. no pun intended. he should be thinking–clearer, maybe, or at all–but it’s a laborious thing to ask of an inebriated boy. it all moves with a haze, a thick fog engulfing the pair as she tugs at his shirt, and as he shimmies out of it without difficulty. hands previously settled, rested upon her waistline, mimic her movements  –  fingers curving around the hem of her dress, pushing it upward. experience falls short but it is made up, through compliance and through a unrelenting touch. he doesn’t move with hesitance, or with reluctance, rather it’s  DIRECT   –  hands stopping at the height of her thighs, as he positions himself between her thighs.  “  you sure ?  ” it’s a muffled request for  ASSURANCE,  forehead against pippa’s as he catches his breath. 

She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Or maybe, she’s so hyper-aware what she’s doing — of his lips tracing hers, bodies pressed together as dress moves upwards, that it feels like she’s on auto-pilot. Too much, too fast, and it’s sensory overload: what she wants, what she doesn’t, what she knows she should and shouldn’t do. Dress is pulled off in one swoop of tanned arms, and soon they’re back around him. Things are too slow and too fast all at once, and the sinking feeling in her stomach is nothing compared to the buzz that fills her head: the high from the pot, and the booze, and Julian’s skin on hers. “ Yeah, ” She says, offering solace to the need for reassurance in his voice. “ Are you? ” She doesn’t wait for response, forehead removed from his as lips press against his neck, hands finding hemline of his pants with dexterous fingers — EXPERTISE and EXPERIENCE far outweighing the older. 

#shes a h*e #INT ⁞ all. #INT ⁞ julian.

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BECKETT GRAVES. 

“ yeah but normal people are boring, pips. i’m an innovator, a weed genius. it’s okay to be jealous. ” with a wink, beckett carefully moves his finger so the girl could start on the next. pippa had started painting his nails early on in their friendship, insistent it would help him be secure in his masculinity - something he already felt fine with - but he was pretty sure she really just needed a guinea pig. or a new toy. either way, beckett had been getting sporadic manicures for years. tonight, he raises up one finished hand of multicolored nails and wiggles his long fingers. “ interesting palette. you think someone’ll tell me i’m pretty ? ”

Another cap is screwed on, and the polish tossed into the bin is replaced with the final color, a sunny yellow. “ Aw, you’re already pretty. ” She assures him, but her tone is half-mocking as she reaches out with free hand to pinch one of his cheeks, grandma style. “ NOT NORMAL, by your own admission. ” Finally, she unscrews the cap and dots his final nail with polish, spreading it carefully across the nail. “ But cute. IMAGINE how fucking weird and creepy you would be if you were ugly. ” The sentiment is meant as a compliment, but as always, it’s a bit abrasive. “ It’s charming when people like us sit around and smoke pot and be sad all day, because we don’t let our hair get greasy. ” Plastic top is fastened to the bin of polishes, and she tosses it on the floor with a solid thunk, bottles clacking together. “ GO AHEAD. Tell me what you think. ”

#pretty privilege #INT ⁞ all. #INT ⁞ beckett.