#if Ace had more clothes hes too powerful as exhibited by Strong World -

[xamaxenta]

Dumb thing that annoys me I absolutely loathe how Ace’s stupid shorts break his silhouette its so fucking hard getting any pose to look good with them baggy ass shorts in the way

[nekokoaa]

Phantom Pain- Overhaul (Chisaki Kai) x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: “Do as you wish,” he whispered and closed his eyes. You smiled slightly, not saying a word as you caressed the scar on his forehead with your thumb. You then pressed your lips on it, hands holding the sides of his face, and you pulled away to find his golden irises looking up at you in a trance. The faint light spilling through the cracked window behind you haloed around your figure, giving you the appearance of divinity that he found himself wanting to worship you. The urge to grab you soon consumed him, yet the action fell dead as there was nothing he could do except to express it by the twitch of his mutilated limbs.

In other words, thank God Shigaraki didn’t cut off his dick.

Warnings: angst, birds and the bees, dry humping, blowjobs, boobjobs, amputated Overhaul

Part of the NSFW series Euphoria 

Also on AO3

AC: Always wanted to write Overhaul, this was so fun! Enjoy, loves!

Phantom Pain – sensations or pain that feels like it's coming from a body part that's no longer there.

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Phantom Pain – Chisaki Kai (Overhaul) x Reader

For how long you knew Chisaki, you have never seen such despair in his eyes—such lost. A dull shade of gold that was usually shimmering with determination and authority was now without light and harbored a sort of emptiness that looked foreign. It was like he no longer existed, but he was in fact there, no matter how much he felt like he wasn’t.

It’s been days since you heard his voice, the last of it was that strangled scream that echoed into the skies. A scream that exhibited regret, pain, and the shuddering factor that his initial plan to revive the power of the yakuza was taken away from him permanently. A scream that shook your very soul and froze you—refusing to believe that it belonged to the prideful young head you’ve known since childhood.

You wrung the wet rag above a bucket and squeezed the water held within the fabrics. The splashes resonated through the abandoned building along with the squeaky floorboards that would sound every time your feet would press into it. You sucked in your dry lips, briefly lathering it with your tongue before you let out a soft sigh and pressed the rag to Chisaki’s shoulder, watching it collect the dirt that has been accumulating. You soon dipped the rag back in the bucket and repeated your actions.

Chisaki sat still in his chair, shirtless with his golden eyes as far away as his expression. They were lowered and away from you, not on purpose but because he had no energy to lift them. Those golden irises were surrounded by bloodshot red pigments from his lack of sleep and under and around the skin was dark, nearly reaching a purplish tint to his normally cream hue. His head was also low, a striking difference from the Chisaki you knew who never lowered his head for anyone. You shivered to the fact that the Chisaki in front of you may very well be different—not humbled or submissive—but broken, perhaps, beyond repair.

You dragged the rag across his skin, cleaning his shoulders and chest. You noticed his skin was developing hives under the rag once it left. It wasn’t by your touch since Chisaki deemed long ago that only you were fit to touch him, it was instead the lingering phantom pain of losing his limbs. It still plagued his thoughts and he relived that moment ever since he had gone through it. Shigaraki hacking away at his arm, his blood splattering every time the knife came hurling down, and that taunting smile so large that it took up his face all because the fall of Overhaul was caused by his own hands. Chisaki flinched, more hives appearing around his shoulders when the rag followed down his arm until it stopped, nowhere to go as his forearm and hand were gone—nothing but a stump of his upper arm left.

Chisaki’s subtle movement made you glance at him and grimace. Hatred boiling within you as you remembered how you found Chisaki, bleeding from both his decapitated arms after you had followed the gut-wrenching scream. He already passed out from the blood loss and you broke him out of his bindings and carried him to safety before the heroes could arrive to arrest him. You had then found an abandoned building near the outskirts of the city and that’s where you and Chisaki had been staying for the past couple of days. The media had already been alerted about the young head’s escape and his face has been plastered on every screen around the city—labeling him as extremely violent and dangerous. Some part of you couldn’t help but snort at it, seeing Chisaki right now—violent and dangerous just wasn’t the words to describe him anymore. Though the police had no idea what had become of him, so you understood the panic.

“Kai,” you called his name for his attention, more to warn him about your hand that went to hold his cheek and the wet rag that pressed against his other. You wiped his cheek and the side of his face slowly. You wiped through his forehead, treading over the faint scar near his hairline. You then lined the rag with his jawline, making his head rise. It’s been so long since his eyes fell upon your face. You couldn’t help but briefly meet his gaze while you cleaned him.

Faintly, there was light in his eyes as if he had just noticed you were in front of him. You had missed the subtle change in his blank expression as you were more focused on getting him cleaned. Though Chisaki was looking at you like it was the first time he saw you in a while. Ever since he lost his limbs, he’s been dissociating, living in his head. A tactic to escape reality because his once strong mind couldn’t handle the trauma he had experience. His naturally stubborn personality couldn’t admit that he had lost—that everything he built for years was all in vain. Where had he gone wrong? He wasn’t sure because that was how confident he was in his plan. It was foolproof, so why did it turn out with these odds?

He closed his eyes. And then there was you, a woman who’s been by his side since he was a child, who had followed him to the hells of this earth and yet was still the only thing pure in this diseased filled world. You scoured the streets with him until you were both picked up by boss and together, you rose from street rats to yakuza members and earned the trust of the Shie Hassaikai. Even when Chisaki proposed his plan to restore the yakuza and eliminate quirks to you, you accepted it with a smile, agreeing that it was something that must be done to save the world. Every time he remembered your smile on that day, it urged him to work harder into making his vision a reality. That smile was hopeful, loving, and there was nothing in this world as pure as it. It wasn’t long before he asked you to rule by his side when this was over and word to word, he would always recite what had you said. I was always by your side. Such a simple response yet at the time it sent his heart racing and the sides of his mask stretched from his smile that grew behind it, golden pools that you thought weren’t capable of such softness proved you wrong. Only you were allowed to see such a look from him.

Through thick and thin, you stayed with him.

So, he knew it would take some convincing, but he didn’t want to see you fall to the same fate as him. With all he could muster, he spoke, voice heavy with rasp in every syllable sounded, pain stinging his strained throat, regardless he spoke.

“You should leave…”

“No,” immediately, you responded and even though you were surprised that Chisaki spoke, you didn’t show it in your face. Your ‘no’ felt like a reflex, like you were trying to convince yourself first before Chisaki. He began coughing right after, the sudden intake of air through his dry mouth made his throat squeeze in pain. You quickly dropped the rag in the bucket and reached for the water bottle on the floor. Chisaki took a few slow gulps, a bit of water spilling down his chin. You took a clean cloth and wiped him dry, but it did nothing to the filth that Chisaki felt under his skin.

He pulled in his cracked lips, trying to lather them with his remoistened tongue as he continued speaking. “…before the heroes come. Don’t let them take us both…”

“I’m not going anywhere. Remember,” you smiled lightly and caressed his cheek. “We’re supposed to rebuild the yakuza together.”

“It’s… it’s futile,” he cleared his throat. It did nothing to the rasp. “it’s no longer possible. The heroes… they have her—our pawn… the villains… with my drugs and I can’t do anything without… my… my…” he gritted his teeth, wanting to close his hands into fists. He felt the ghost of the action, and the stumps of his arms just shook in response. “This world can’t be cured. Everything we worked for—what I worked for…”

“is not in vain, Kai. It’s only a setback. The Shie Hassaikai will rise as it always does with you as their leader and me by your side.” It was a dream. A dream that both of you sought after for years to restore the yakuza and cure the world of the wretched quirk disease. As long as Chisaki was still alive, you believed that dream was too. But Chisaki thought differently, his face contorted into a grimace at your words like he was insulted that you still held such values after everything that had happened. You were well aware of how lost Chisaki was. The ego-filled yakuza boss you admired was crushed, shattered into pieces that if you were to pick them up would crumble into dust in your fingers. You have never seen him so fragile, so hopeless, but without his arms, his quirk—his purpose, without the very thing that was key to saving this world, how ever could he go on? You had to save him.

“Please,” Chisaki had never begged before in his life and he didn’t think he would ever start but his pride was lost along with his arms and his words flowed out of him like a water jutting out of the small crack of a dam, spurting and pausing, spurting and pausing. He was tired. “It’s… over. The Shie Hassaikai… is gone and there’s nothing left… for you to do but leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He growled your name, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the rasp in his voice or if he was truly losing his patience with you. His golden eyes were dull, but you could’ve sworn they hardened. And it excited you.

“I’m not leaving, and this isn’t over, Kai.”

“You’re acting like… there’s some hope.”

“I’m not acting. There is.”

“Are you blind, woman…?” His voice cracked when he raised it and he cleared the lingering gunk from his throat immediately after. He glared at you through his red-shot eyes. His hives becoming increasingly present as they appeared one after the other on his face and body. He had the urge to scratch himself, but he couldn’t, so he started visibly shaking to deal with it. It was unsightly but nevertheless, it was your Chisaki. “Do you not see what I have become? My arms! My quirk! It’s gone! The very thing I needed to save this world—to cleanse it from its filth! So, don’t you dare look at me as if there’s some hope!”

“You’re still here so of course I’ll believe there’s hope!”

“The only thing you should hope for is to leave me. There’s nothing I can offer you but a prison sentence in Tartarus.”

A brief kiss on his neck was all it took to stun him out of his rage. “What are you talking about…? You can offer me plenty, Kai. You could scream at me, insult me, hurt me, do anything to push me away but you must know that I will never leave your side. We’ve been together forever, through all the hardships… and pleasure,” your hand squeezed his thigh. “So why on earth would I choose to leave you because of this? You’re a smart man. I know that better than anyone.”

“I just don’t… want you to get hurt,” he spoke quietly, eyes lowering.

“I am already hurt. As long as you feel pain, I do too,” he gritted teeth to your words. A small grunt leaving him when you slid off your chair and onto his lap. You swiftly unbuttoned your collared shirt, leaving it open and revealing your black bra underneath it. “Let’s make each other feel better… like what we always do when we’re having a rough day,” you whispered before you pressed your lips to his ear lobe and felt the cold metal of his earrings. Your arms were perched on his shoulders and he already gasped to the small roll of your hips creating friction for the growing swell in his pants. “That’s something you can offer me… Hm, Kai…?” You wanted an answer, pulling back to gaze into his face. With his tired eyes, he searched within yours, not even sure what he was searching for but all he knew was that he was tired and maybe if there was a chance to forget about what had happened—even for a couple of minutes, he would take it.

“Do as you wish,” he whispered and closed his eyes. You smiled slightly, not saying a word as you caressed the scar on his forehead with your thumb. You then pressed your lips on it, hands holding the sides of his face, and you pulled away to find his golden irises looking up at you in a trance. The faint light spilling through the cracked window behind you haloed around your figure, giving you the appearance of divinity that he found himself wanting to worship you. The urge to grab you soon consumed him, yet the action fell dead as there was nothing he could do except to express it by the twitch of his mutilated limbs.

You pressed your lips to his cheek, a feathery touch that still had his heart fluttering ever since you first did it as children. Your lips traced his cheek, kissing through some disappearing hives, until you found the corner of his lips and he pursed them as soon as you touched it, longing to feel your soft lips against his own. But you pulled away slightly after and he sighed irritably. You brushed your fingers through his short hair to calm him, but it didn’t stop his tired glare from being directed at you.

“Patience.” You told him.

But he wasn’t having it. “Darling,” he husked, leaning forward just as you were leaning back. “Kiss me already.”

Chisaki’s patience was always thin. As a child, he had zero patience. If he didn’t get what he wanted right away, he would forcibly take it by murder. It wasn’t until after he was taken in by boss where he developed a thin layer of patience masked behind a calm, gentle persona, luring those in with kindness to get what he wanted and if he didn’t, his mask would slip, and he would become increasing irritable and dangerous with a killer’s intent. He wasn’t anywhere near that irritated right now but you saw a trace of old Chisaki that riled you up so much that you had to suppress your smirk with the bite of your lips. He wasn’t completely gone, and that relieved you.

Still, for the first time ever, Chisaki was at your mercy and if you wanted to, you could disobey him without having to worry about any precautions. But you knew what it would’ve done to a once prideful man so broken like him. This was about building Overhaul back up, not breaking him down.

You smiled at his glare, one hand caressing the side of his face while the other drew circles on his shoulder around his hives. “It’s the first time I’ll be on top. I’m a little nervous,” you told him.

“That’s not true. You did it before.”

“Kai, you know very well that you didn’t let me do anything last time I was on top,” you thought you saw a suppression of a smirk. “So, I don’t count that time. Just relax and let me love you…” you whispered your last words before sealing them with a kiss to his lips that had the both of you humming softly. He closed his eyes, angling his head slightly while you moved to slip your arms out of your shirt and it dropped to floor with a gentle thud. You were kissing Chisaki so softly, so different than your usual sexual endeavors that are fueled with pent-up stress and anger from work but it’s also because you didn’t want to hurt him as his arms were partially wrapped up and still healing.

But as the kisses grew longer, Chisaki grew hungrier. He nibbled and sucked on your bottom lip, at times his tongue would brush against it, urging you to open up for him. And when you didn’t in time, your lips were forcibly split by his intruding tongue and you succumbed to the feeling of it exploring your insides, treading over your teeth and inside cheeks and wrestling your own wet muscle. You pressed yourself closer to his body, your bra scratching his chest and your arms anchored around his neck as your nails lightly scratched his skin.

He separated from you with saliva connecting your lips together and you felt that wetness when his kisses went to your jaw and traveled to your neck. You sighed softly, and he felt you shivering against him. He wished that he could’ve held you, wrap his arms around your body, feel your delicious curves under his fingertips as you would melt against his touch. He was amazed how you weren’t turned off by him, that you still looked at him like he was the greatest man you ever saw.

“Still… even when I’m like this…?” He was uncertain, so he whispered that against your neck while he nuzzled his head into yours and you leaned your head on his, bringing a hand to stroke the side of his face.

“Yes…” you moaned at the ticklish feeling of his kisses. “You’re still my handsome man, my Overhaul.”

Even though he hated everything this universe had to offer, you were the one thing he loved. You didn’t weaken him. No. You empowered him unlike no other.

You soon found yourself gazing into gold when Chisaki lifted his head, passion oozing from his eyes that it nearly took your breath away. He couldn’t stand to be apart from you any longer. He pressed his lips against yours, resuming the aggression he had before but without his tongue.

You reached behind your back for your bra and unhooked it with a single tug and slipped the straps off your arms. Your bra fell between your bodies until you yanked it out and it fell on the ground. Chisaki was so excited to see your breasts, the perfect size and shape to his liking. He wished he could squeeze them in his hands like always, but he would have to make do with what he could do. He didn’t hesitate to abandon your lips to have your nipples between his.

“Hmn… Kai…” you arched your back and moaned against your pulled-in lips. You cupped your breast under your hand, lifting it up for Chisaki to have better access to them while he engulfed your entire nipple into his mouth, circling his tongue around it, sucking and pulling like he’s been reduced to a child wanting his mother’s milk. A growl rumbled within his chest when he swapped to your other tit and you started grinding on his lap to ease the warmth pooling at your lower belly. You felt the bulge of his pants pressing against your crotch, directly where your clit was, and you whined as you felt the sensitive nub rubbing on the cloth of your underwear.

Chisaki dragged his tongue all over your breasts and kissed your upper chest and collarbones when he left them. He glanced into your eyes and you caught sight of the darkness hiding behind those rich irises. A single look was all it took to know how much he wanted you.

You quickly hopped off of him, tugging at the button of your pants until it unleashed, and you threw your pants to the side. Chisaki eyed your body, subconsciously licking his lips as you saw them travel south from your face to your boobs, then your waist and legs. He had never felt the urge to grab you more than he did now. He wanted to destroy your underwear, carry you in the air, and fuck you gloriously under the shimmering sun rays from the window. How painful it was for it to only be a mere daydream.

“Like what you see…?” You smiled cloyingly as you stood between his legs, your fingers tugging at the stings of your underwear to tease.

“Yes, darling, you know I love it when you strip for me,” he loved the purr you gave after his words.

“You’re going to love what I do next,” you discarded your underwear shortly before dropping to your knees in front of him—in front of his bulge. You unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his black pants before you slid it off of him. His underwear was next, and his dick nearly hit your face when it bounced out and stood with all of its glory, reddened, veiny, and glistening with precum leaking from its head, and his pubic hairs were neatly trimmed as always.

He had to stop himself from cumming right on the spot from watching your voluptuous lips bounce back into shape after you had licked them. He couldn’t wait to see them wrap around his cock.

And he didn’t have to wait long. He groaned when you submerged his entire dick in your mouth, feeling the hot walls surround his girth as your lips nearly met with his pubic hairs and the head of his dick touched the back of your throat.

Your name was a breathless whisper from Chisaki, cheeks flushed, eyebrows furrowed as you began to bob your head. You loved how sonorous his moans sounded. It rattled something within, adding to the heat pool bubbling between your legs. You brought your fingers to your clit, rubbing in the same speed as you moved your head while your other hand was squeezing his inner thigh. There was something about seeing your mouth stretch to his length that had him jerking his hips into your bobs and although he couldn’t exactly move as fast as he wanted to, he marveled at the fact that he still had a bit of control.

He was writhing in his chair now, legs shaking, stumps of his arms trembling, heavy breathing with an occasional crack moan. You were driving him nuts. And just when he thought you would let up on his cock as you finally released it from the fleshy walls of your inner cheeks, you replaced it by surrounding him with your voluptuous breasts. You frantically stroke his length as it was being swallowed by the tits he wished could squeeze in his palms.

You gazed up at him with blushing cheeks and eyes so dazed that Chisaki’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of them. Your mouth returned to licking and sucking on the head of his dick, leaving him shuddering in his seat. You worked tremendously hard to pleasure him, to make him feel like he was still worth it despite what he went through, despite that he was reduced to mutilated monster. How you looked at him with eyes of pure adoration when your sight was filled with nothing but a powerless, armless man was still beyond him. Any woman would have left, but you stayed faithful to him. Truly, what did he do to deserve such a woman like you?

A shudder of your name was enough for you to give him a break, so you slowly slide your mouth and breasts off his cock, enjoying the sight of your saliva coating his length. It left a shiny hue like if the sun rays were to hit it, it would shimmer, while your breasts were wet with your own saliva and his precum.

“A little pent up, are we…?” You began to stroke his inner thigh, smiling slightly at his disheveled form. He responded with a breathless whisper.

“It’s… been a while.”

“I know,” you gave his thigh a small lick before you stood up and slid yourself onto his lap. His penis was pushed against your stomach. “Same,” and then you kissed him feverishly, arms around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. He moaned into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside and explored around like he was on uncharted lands. And you fought diligently against his strong tongue, the faint, stale flavor of iron upon your taste buds.

“Kai,” you whined, breaking the kiss sooner than expected while grinding your needy hips on his lap. You couldn’t wait any longer. “Can I…? I need this… I need you inside…” He knew very well that you didn’t need his permission to do so, so the fact that he still had that over you renewed some of his vigor. Something shined in his golden eyes, something deadly that if you were to disobey him, you would surely regret it.

“Sit on my cock.”

You shivered, his eyes, they reminded you of the very man you fell in love with. “Yes, Overhaul…”

You hovered over him. Your hands rested on his shoulders and you aligned your sopping entrance with his dick and slowly sank down. Your mouth went wide for a silent gasp to escape as you felt his length stretched your walls. You could feel it pulsing, twitching within you and your legs began to quiver the moment he was all the way in. A shaky sigh sounded from Chisaki as he felt himself nuzzled deep within you. He wanted nothing more than to grab your hips and guide you but unfortunately, he was at your mercy.

“God…” you moaned, fingers curled into his shoulders. Still, he was delighted that he could still make you feel this way—that he could still make you tremble with his cock. You then started to move, rolling and lifting your hips to no rhythm, squeaking and moaning every time you would slam yourself down on him while you balanced on the balls of your feet to keep you steady. Your breasts would shake to your movement when you slammed down while your nipples would lightly tap his chest when you lifted slightly.

You watched as Chisaki’s face contorted into what anyone would believe was anger and they would be too distracted by that assumption to notice the softness in his rich eyes as they stared into yours, mouth open for his frantic breaths to puff out just centimeters of your own. Sweat had gathered at his forehead giving it a light sheen whenever the sunlight would peek through from behind you.  

“How are you this wet… when I haven’t even touched you…?” He breathed, and puffs of his breath hit your lips just as he heard your juices swirl to his cock.

You whimpered to answer him, your eyes teared in response to the overwhelming pleasure knocking at your core.

“Come on,” he grunted and pressed his lips to your neck. He bit and sucked on your skin until it blossomed in color. “Use your words…”

“B-Because it’s you, Kai… Ahn—just your presence is enough to get me wet… it’s just enough…”

He let out a shaky sigh and briefly closed his eyes. “Naughty girl…” you didn’t have any idea how happy that made him. He leaned forward because of the sudden desire to hold you close to his body. Your arms went around his shoulders sharing that same feeling of his. Your breasts were squeezed to his pecs as you continued to roll your hips, mouth full of nothing but his name and former alias, like you were somehow hoping there was magic in his name and all would be revived by just a simple hymn from you, and you would once again feel his hands on you. You were careful not to touch what was left of his arms because he was still healing and also a gentle brush was enough to have his hives break out, a subconscious reaction to the trauma he suffered.

Thankfully, Chisaki was too focus on how your vagina swallowed his dick like you trying to milk him for all he had. He was thrusting upwards, sloppy, he was trying not to give you full control but having him use most of his ab muscles to move was exerting a lot of energy. He couldn’t go as fast as he wanted to.

“Kai… I…!” He could feel it without you telling him. The end was near. You were already holding on to him with all of your strength while your instincts kept your hips moving against his. You were slamming your body so hard on him that it had your ass jiggling, skin slapping and your nails clawing his back because somehow his dick manage to hit the right spot every fucking time. Oh, you could barely keep up your rhythm as pleasure struck like lightning and rolled through your pelvis like thunder. You rested your head on his shoulder and mapped it out with open mouthed kisses, tasting the salt of his sweat on your tongue.

Chisaki’s breathing was loud in your ear and his groans were heavy, almost angry sounding when he pressed the side of his face against your head. He felt himself reaching his peak. He shut his eyes and focused solely on the pressure building until it finally released. A strangled moan sounded from Chisaki and he jerked his hips as hard as he could as spurts of his cum spilled into your womb and you felt so full of not only his cock but his warm seed as well. And shortly after a few more thrusts, you had reached orgasm, legs quivering, and moans so loud you swore anyone from the outside would’ve heard you.

You slumped against his body as your chin rested on the crook of his neck. Your arms were still firmly holding on to him and the room was silent except for the breathing of you and Chisaki filling your lungs with much needed air. You were exhausted. You spent most of your energy taking care of Chisaki and the rest of it fucking him. Your eyelids felt heavy and you surely would’ve fell asleep if you weren’t missing that one thing. The warmth of Chisaki’s arms.

There was no doubt in your mind that you had missed the feeling. Chisaki would always surround you in his warmth by pulling you into his chest with his arms around you after sex. He couldn’t bear to separate from you after. He would pull the covers over your sweaty bodies and hold you until you fell asleep. Then he would get up and shower because going to sleep in his own filth bothered him.

But now, all he could do was just lean against you as you hugged him. You hated this. You hated everything that made Chisaki this way. You hated Shigaraki. You hated the heroes. You hated that green haired kid for fighting him. You hated everyone that harmed him when all he tried to do was save this pathetic world.

You didn’t notice at first, but you were shaking. Suddenly, the memories that were masked by desire revealed itself and you were left to think about what had happened. And really, all you felt was rage, so much rage that you wanted to either hurt yourself or any innocent victim. You wanted to ruin someone’s life just so they could feel as horrible about this world as you.

But that anger soon dissipated as you felt something poking your sides. You gasped when you noticed Chisaki desperately trying to hold you by lifting his stumps and pressing them into your sides, fighting the feeling of his hives appearing one after the other across his limbs and shoulders. In his mind, he was holding you tightly. He felt you in his arms, a faint feeling like a ghost of his movement, a phantom born from the pain of his lost limbs. But to you, all you felt was reality. And your body continued to shake but this time with sorrow. Fat tears fell down your cheeks and the first sob that came from you was the ugliest thing you’ve ever heard. You were supposed to be strong for him, but you were just as broken as him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you cried but you knew Chisaki must’ve been there as he’s been there all of your life. The kisses on your shoulder was there to soothed you yet it did nothing to the fuming rage still sitting within your heart. You pulled away from him slightly and held his head in your hands, bloodshot eyes drenched in shiny tears laced with nothing but pure wrath was staring straight into his own eyes. Your voice was shaky, yet determination shown itself proudly.

“I swear... I’ll get your arms back...”

Chisaki’s eyes widened slightly. He didn’t take the tone of your voice lightly nor your eyes that looked as if he was staring into the fiery depths of hell. “How...?”

Your mouth twisted into a shaky smile. The look in your eyes changed to something psychotic yet a glimmer of hope, relief, and the gold reflection of his eyes shined through. A simple name was all that passed through your lips like the solution was there all along. “Eri.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ash/Athena AU: Enter Corrine

Strap yourselves in, motherfuckers, because @whump-tr0pes and are about to take you on a rollercoaster... that’s right, the storm is here!

CW: Dehumanization, threats of torture, referenced past noncon/torture

Very little rattled Corrine Michaelson. 

She was feeling more than a little rattled now, and she did not like that feeling. She very badly wanted someone to punish for it.

She twisted her ring around one finger, large blocky gold with the slightly raised M at the top, with a twist of vines around it, and settled back into the soft cushions of the section couch in her eldest son’s formal living room.

“What do you mean, they’re gone?” 

She looked up at the three men arrayed before her - Nate Vandrum, who stood largely relaxed with his hands clasped behind his back, and two of the Michaelson’s armed guards.

Nate stared back at her with his jaw set, with the unreadable green eyes that softened only for Daniel. Corrine had little use for mortal humans beyond their usefulness to her, but she would have given Nate a job even if Daniel had not been the one he rescued. When a man spends six months planning and then burns a house full of people alive to get vengeance for someone … a smart Syndicate sees the potential in having that sort of careful, analytical violence properly directed.

Directed at the protection of her son, and of hunting down those who had sullied the Michaelson family and insulted them by using him against his will, Nate Vandrum was an employee she very nearly liked.

In this moment, she liked him less.

“J-Just what I said, ma’am,” Nate said quietly. “We let our g-g-guard down, and th-they left without approval. Without w-w-warning. They left their th-things behind and we were unable to catch up to them in time. We think they must have h-h-had some warning.” 

Corrine could not read people like her son and husband could, but she saw the way a muscle twitched in Vandrum’s cheek, and she wondered. 

Nate seemed aware of her scrutiny, as he shifted just slightly and straightened his spine. “They even l-l-left one of their oh, own behind.”

“Did they now?” Corrine blinked, surprised. That was at least something, although she couldn’t imagine whatever poor sap they’d left behind could be of any use. Well, there wasn’t a living, breathing, bleeding mortal on Earth who couldn’t be of at least a temporary use to Corrine Michaelson, but…

Her fingernails, painted a deep beige-pink to pop against her dark brown skin, began to tap lightly on the fabric of the couch. 

“Yes. His name is Isaac Moore.” Nate paused - it was barely a moment, but Corrine caught it. “We don’t know what purpose he serves to the group itself - but they don’t appear to have hesitated to leave him. He’s st-still out with D-Danny, in the woods. I’ve c-confirmed with our men that Isaac Moore and Danny are ac-accounted for. But the r-r-rest of them are gone.”

Corrine frowned. She had come here expecting to find the little ragtag band of heroes still kept in place, effectively held like zoo animals waiting for her to decide their exhibits. 

She could sell them back to the Stormbecks one by one - she’d heard the family was desperate to get their hands on them. The man who had once run their Syndicate was blissfully dead now, and honestly Corrine had been looking forward to meeting the one she’d heard was responsible for murdering him. He had insulted her deeply, once, a long time ago.

Corrine did not leave grudges behind. She did not forgive or forget. She held every slight, every insult, every attempt to overthrow her carefully close, and waited. In this, perhaps she had waited too long. 

She hadn’t exactly decided to sell them, yet - but had considered it, and Danny’s house would no longer do. Her eldest son had a reputation, since his return from his unfortunate waylaying by those anti-syndicate mercenaries, for being… weak.

Unwilling to take the harsh steps necessary to maintain control. Unable to even really be part of running the Syndicate at all. He’d holed up here in an old summer home and Corrine had begun to understand that her eldest son - adopted, as a child, to shield her youngest from too much scrutiny - could not be trusted to keep them if they wanted to go.

She was surprised to discover they had gone without Danny even knowing. 

“You will question everyone who has worked this house the entire length of their visit,” Corrine said, her voice brusque and sharp.

Nate Vandrum nodded, once, as did the men on either side of him.

“Nate, I need your absolute focus on this,” Corrine said quietly, steepling her fingers together. “I want you to find them. I cannot have them escape my territory without my knowledge, I cannot. I will not be shown to be weak.”

“Yes, ma’am. I take full r-r-responsibility for the f-failure to maintain their security h-here-”

“Yes.” Corrine frowned at Daniel’s bodyguard and partner. He looked right back at her, with no discernable expression at all. She wished, briefly, she had her husband’s ability to understand people, to know the wants and needs of humans at their basest depths. “You will take responsibility. This is your fault and your failure.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice did not change. Even and strong, the constant presence at Daniel’s back. The shadow of her son, stronger than her son could ever be now. Corrine felt a flicker of something like affection, deep within a heart that rarely felt it for anyone she wasn’t married to or the mother of. 

“You say my son at least is accounted for? Along with this… Isaac person?” Corrine sighed, rubbing at her temples with one hand. “Does he have any useful intel? Have you discerned his potential usefulness to the Michaelson group?”

Nate paused again. His expression did not change, but there was a calculation there, a consideration. Corrine looked up at him. He is trying to decide how much to tell me, she thought. But Nate was loyal to Daniel in ways that ran deeper than the blood she might otherwise have made him shed for her. He would never have hidden a single thing that could bring Danny risk or harm, and she knew it.

She couldn’t read people like her husband and son could, but you didn’t have to. Nate wore his loyalty, his devotion, like visible armor. As long as Daniel was in this world to protect and to shield, Nate could not be harmed by knife or bullet or a mother’s hunger for someone to blame.

And for all her coldness, Corrine would not have taken him from Daniel - she could never even have begun to make herself try. Daniel had suffered, for the choice Corrine had made in bringing him into their home. He had suffered for years as a stand-in for every choice the anti-Syndicate fools hated the Michaelsons for. 

Daniel had come home, to his parents and to his brother. Corrine could indulge him in allowing him the love he had found in the darkness.

“I don’t believe h-he knows m-m-much, ma’am,” Nate said carefully. “He s-seems to be a sort of… fighter, for th-the group. He has a lot of physical c-c-capability in combat but I wouldn’t s-s-say he’s.. overburdened with knowledge.” His eyes slowly raised, looking at something behind her. “Not knowledge w-we can use, anyway.”

“Damn. Can I kill him?”

Nate blinked and his eyes jerked back down. “Ma’am? Are you… asking?”

“Yes. I don’t want to, if there’s a good reason not to, but I dislike that his little friends left without my permission or my say-so. I dislike that they abandoned one of their own, and I immensely dislike the idea of feeding, clothing, and housing a useless scrap of flesh.” Corrine tilted her head to the side, crossing one leg over the other in the tight-fitting deep red suit she wore, her hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She looked like power, and she knew it. 

Patrick was the nominal head of the Michaelson Group, but Corrine was the bite behind his charming smile - and everyone knew it. A precious lucky few even knew why.

“I have a deep need to fuck someone up, Vandrum, and it might as well be the runt they left behind.”

“I w-w-wouldn’t, ma’am,” Nate said, and swallowed. She watched his Adam’s apple bob with unusual nervousness. He seemed… pale, and when she thought about it, she could hear the way his heartbeat had sped up.

“And why not?”

“Because… ah, b-because…”

Behind her, she heard the back door from the kitchen open, the sound of her son’s soft, half-breathless laughter. Another male voice laughing with him.

“Do you, um, do you… do you want to see if anyone wants, um, lunch?” Daniel’s voice sounded lighter - stronger - than it had since he’d come home. Corrine’s eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline.

She… couldn’t remember the last time she had heard Daniel laugh like that, speak like that, to anyone but Nate Vandrum. And then only rarely. 

“I… yeah, sure, let’s do it, but first - come here,” The second voice replied, with the same shy flirtation. There was a pause, and then the two men laughed again.

Corrine looked back at Nate, who gave her a slight, uncertain smile. “D-D-Danny likes him,” Nate said softly.

CONTINUE READING

[miglevosyliutel6photography]

ARTIST ANALYSIS COMPARISON LINKED TO MY OWN THEME

1) What is the name of the photographer?

Mary Ellen Mark was an American photographer who was born in March 20, 1940, Elkins Park, Pennsylvania, United States and died in May 25, 2015, Manhattan, New York City, New York, United States.

Is this photographer a professional photographer?

Mary Ellen was a professional photographer and Mark’s work had been widely published in LIFE, the New York Times Magazine, The New Yorker, Rolling Stone, and Vanity Fair.

2) What is the photographer’s motivation for being a photographer? What is the photographer’s motivation for taking / creating these types of images?

“She wanted to work – she loved being a photographer. She was great with her subjects – working so intuitively – and was able to get at the essence of the people she was photographing, to tell their stories. It mattered to her to represent them faithfully and truly, and not just in the documentary visual sense, but distinguishing each individual for who he or she really was in the world. Her work is humane, all heart.”

3) Who is the person in the photograph? Is there a relationship of any kind (i.e. family, friend) between that person and the photographer? Do you think that this relationship has influenced this photograph?

A woman in a photograph named Mona who is smoking in Oregon State Hospital, Salem, Oregon, in 1976. There is no relationship between them.

4) Discuss the face that you see in the photograph.

Age

Beauty

Personality

Flaws or perfection

Emotions

The woman in a photograph is expressing a lot of thoughts and feelings through her eyes and actions. The person in a photograph seem to be going through some sort of depression or experiencing negativity in her life. This woman seem to be in her 40’s, her personality seems though and hard to trick. The eyes are still alive and beautiful representing hope.

5) How has the lighting affected the way that the person looks?

The lighting greatly impacts the mood of the person in a photograph because there is a contract between the person and the lighting. Natural lighting through windows have a very calming and peaceful effect on the moods and emotions but the person seems depressed as if there is a lack of light and which seems to trigger the person's mood.

6) Respond to a quote by an alternative photographer:

“A photographic portrait is a picture of someone who knows he is being photographed, and what he does with this knowledge is as much a part of the photograph as what he’s wearing or how he looks” – Richard Avedon

Richard Avedon is a historic photographer. This quote makes me think of model itself mostly because what the person can give to you is way more important than what the camera can do. It is important to pick out the right person for the photograph that has the clear knowledge of themselves being their true selves. This quote relates to the photograph I’m analysing because the model in Mary Ellen’s photograph seems to be very depressed and that is shown just by the eye contact; the way the hand is held; the clothing; hair and accessories.

7) Discuss the main technical or formal elements featured in this photograph?

Blurry movement is strongly used all over the photograph which creates an old and historic look. There are no strong angles or sharp angles, the photograph is edited smoothly. It's a close up shot which doesn't appear to have unusual composition. The light that is reflecting from the window to the back of the person's shoulders which tells the time of a day. There is a range of tones between very dark, black shades and lightness. The hand seems to be the most focused on however the cigarette in the person's hand is blurred which makes a beautiful contrast.

8) Do you think that the photographer has manipulated this photograph using digital editing (such as photoshop?) If you think that she/he has, then what impact do you think that this could have had on the way that viewers react and respond to the photograph.

I think that the photographer has barely done digital editing to the photograph because the photograph looks naturally imperfect because of the way the reality has been captured of the person in a photograph. However, I think that the photographer has blurred out the image and added brightness to it which still makes the photograph look so real and that leaves an impression to the viewers who seek for a historic, teaching photograph. I also think this type of editing is quite touching and serious because it brings out so much real life.

9) What is your personal response to this photograph and how does this photograph inspire or relate to your own work?

First of all the photograph speaks to you – I immediately know that the woman is depressed. It’s the attitude and ignorance in the eyes and the hand. It's so inspiring to see so much reality in one photograph that has captured a moment and translated with a camera that knows how to speak to the audience and tell a story. The person is giving their own self; personality; identity without any effort. I find this relative and inspiring because I want my work to leave a message of the power of reality, many beautiful portrait photographs have escaped from reality, they are digitally manipulated and developed. However, I think portrait photography is about touching a moment, reading the eyes to understand the emotions and thoughts.

I feel that shooting portraits of someone (especially professional models) is one of the most challenging tasks because people always want to show a staged version of themselves. Especially professional models - they have a certain “look” mastered. But what I'm trying to reach is truth in a subject. Truth in the ace. I think this is why many of us are drawn to street photography. We crave reality. We crave truth - especially in this modern photoshopped world.

1) What is the name of the photographer? Is this photographer a professional photographer? If so, write down 2 companies that she or he has worked for, or 2 famous magazines have their photographs featured in or 2 galleries has he or she exhibited their work in?

Irving Penn was an American photographer known for his fashion photography, portraits, and still lifes. Penn's career included work at Vogue magazine, and independent advertising work for clients including Issey Miyake and Clinique.

2) What is the photographer’s motivation for being a photographer? What is the photographer’s motivation for taking / creating these types of images?

“A good photograph is one that communicates a fact, touches the heart, and leaves the viewer a changed person for having seen it; it is in one word, effective.” —Irving Penn.

3) Who is the person in the photograph?

What is this person famous for?

Is this the type of portrait you would expect to see of this particular person?

What is the relationship between that person and the photographer?

The person in the photograph is Miles Davis, who was an American jazz trumpeter, bandleader, and composer. He is among the most influential and acclaimed figures in the history of jazz and 20th century music.

“When these two icons met, it wasn’t the most comfortable. Miles Davis did have a reputation. So he arrived at the studio and Penn tried to engage to make a conversation but it wasn’t really happening. Penn did say afterwards that he was blown away by him and went home to listen to his music”. Penn and Davis didn't have a relationship that could be labeled, but Miles Davis was taking shoots more than once with Irving Penn.

4) Discuss the face that you see in the photograph.

Its simple to understand that Miles is thinking and maybe humming or whistling a tune – it’s a great portrait. The light falls perfectly on his hands and face and I like the crop too, losing the top part of the subject’s head and fading into black at the bottom, focusing all the attention onto Miles’ face. I love the sharpness used in this photograph, the detail on Davis hands are amazing, it’s like a map. I also think it’s a great portrait that is giving out so much even though the eyes are closed.

5) Discuss the main technical or formal elements features in this photograph?

Penn has caught the face that comes with many different elements to it and pointed it out in such a great crop, a very close up. There is nothing else to it but the face with emotions, no distractions or suggestions of what’s behind the model. The tones are beautifully manipulated in this photograph, the very centre of the face - forehead, nose is nicely smooth and peaceful and where the darker shades seem to appear more there is more wrinkled skin shown.

7) Do you think that the photographer has manipulated this photograph using digital editing (such as Photoshop)? If you think that s/he has, then what impact do you think that this could have had on the way that viewers react and respond to the photograph.

Irving Penn was one of the first photographers to shoot his subjects against a neutral background in the studio, rather than setting them with props that showed something about their profession or career. Penn also taught himself long forgotten darkroom techniques by applying platinum rather than silver on the printing paper that produced wonderfully smooth and more permanent, long lasting tones. I believe that Penn has used his own techniques to create beautiful photographs rather than digitally editing them because the quality of his work is certainly noticeable. Penn has created images that excite; interest; stimulate the viewers through the natural skills.

8) What is your personal response to this photograph and how does this photograph inspire or relate to your own work?

I am amazed by the stark simplicity of Penn’s work. Penn’s portraits were powerful; intimate, yet quiet. The angles, shapes, forms and design of his images clearly showed his knowledge of art which is very inspiring. ”I am going to find what is permanent in this face. Truth comes with fatigue. He displays himself just as he is, just as he did not want to look.” – Irving Penn

Photograph by Mary Ellen for first analysis

Photograph by Irving Penn for second analysis