#long sleeve slim suit jacket

[technicallymagicalcycle]

Loose Slim Collarless Casual Vest

Upgrade your casual style with our Loose Slim Collarless Casual Vest. Made for fashion-forward individuals who want to make a statement, this vest is the perfect addition to your wardrobe. Crafted with attention to detail, the loose slim fit ensures a flattering silhouette while providing maximum comfort. The collarless design adds a touch of modernity, making it versatile for casual and semi-formal occasions. Whether dressing up for a night out or running errands, this vest will effortlessly elevate your outfit and keep you looking stylish all day. Refrain from settling for the ordinary. Embrace the extraordinary with our Loose Slim Collarless Casual Vest.

[axeeglitter]

Melorius's shop: Thank you for your service

Adam stepped into the small, dimly lit Halloween shop without a clue that tonight would be anything but normal. He hesitated for a long time before deciding to go the office party. At 42, he really was finding those kinds of events more and more boring. He was late to get a costume, and with the Halloween party in just a few hours, he didn’t want to show up empty-handed, even more because Nathalie, his coworker he had kind of a crush on since she was hired a couple of months ago, would be here. Adam looked all day long but couldn’t find anything he liked or at his size. The last place on the block he didn’t check was this weird little hole-in-the-wall shop, a place he wouldn’t normally visit. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

As he walked in, the smell of old leather and musty costumes filled the air. Racks of outlandish outfits surrounded him, superheroes, clowns, knights, cowboys, Indians but none of them felt right. He wasn’t trying to win a costume contest. He just wanted something easy, fun, and simple that might bring him some points with Nathalie.

"Looking for something special?" came a smooth voice from behind the counter.

Adam turned to see an older man standing there, wearing a sharp suit that didn’t fit the vibe of the place at all. His eyes gleamed with a strange intensity, his thin lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“Uh, yeah,” Adam replied, “Just something for a party. Nothing too flashy.”

The man, whose nametag read Mister Melorius, gave a knowing nod. "I think I’ve got just the thing for you." Without waiting for Adam to respond, he disappeared behind a curtain and came back holding a dark, pressed military uniform. Adam was about to say no thanks when a shimmer of the dogtag caught his attention on the uniform. He thought for a second and as a reflex, his hands reached for the costume. Maybe it could work he started to think.

"Try it on," Melorius said, handing it over with a strangely eager smile.

Adam nodded and took the uniform, heading into the changing room. It felt… strange in his hands. Light but sturdy, with a coolness to the fabric. As soon as he touched it, something seemed to tug at him, a pull he couldn’t explain.

He quickly undressed, neatly folding his 3 pieces royal blue costume and red tie, then slid the uniform over his body. The trousers clung to his legs perfectly, and when he zipped up the jacket, it felt as if it had been tailored specifically for him. But just as he finished adjusting the collar, a sudden warmth spread through him, like someone had flipped a switch inside his body.

“Whoa…” he whispered, looking in the mirror to see his reflection only to be met with weird sensations invading his lower half.

His breath hitched as a deep, pulsing warmth gathered in his chest and spread outwards. He watched, wide-eyed, as his reflection began to change. His shoulders, narrow and unremarkable, slowly began to broaden. Muscles thickened beneath his skin, his traps rising higher, giving him a solid, athletic look, he never had. His biceps bulged, veins snaking under the skin as they expanded, stretching the sleeves of the uniform.

Adam’s arms swelled as they filled with muscle, his forearms thickening to match. His fingers, once slim and soft, grew thicker and calloused as if he’d been doing pull-ups and handling weapons for years. He tried to flex his hand, but the strength in his grip now felt foreign, almost as if he didn’t recognize his own power.

His chest pushed out next. He gasped, watching as his pecs thickened, rising up under the fabric of the uniform. Each breath he took made his pecs swell even more, the fabric pressing tight against them. He ran a hand over his chest, feeling the firm slabs of muscle there, and while his body was filling out with youthful strength, no chest hair sprouted. Instead, there was just a faint happy trail starting beneath his belly button, leading down into his waistband.

But it wasn’t just his chest. His abs rippled underneath the uniform, once undefined but now clear and sharp as if carved from stone. Each muscle tightened, becoming more pronounced, a solid six-pack replacing the soft stomach he’d grown used to over the years.

"What's happening?!" Adam muttered; his voice slightly higher than before. He tried to tug at the collar, but his hands were trembling. He watched his legs next, his thighs, once lean, ballooned with muscle, stretching the fabric of the pants until they hugged every powerful curve. His calves followed, thickening with each passing second, as if he had spent years running drills and hiking with heavy gear.

Adam felt a strange tightness in his groin. His cock, which had been a respectable 5.5 inches before, began to throb. He looked down, his heart pounding as he watched it grow harder in his pants. But instead of stopping, it kept swelling. The pressure inside his trousers grew unbearable as his cock thickened, stretching longer, now standing at a solid 9 inches when fully erect. His balls, too, grew heavier, tugging down into the tight space of his trousers. The weight of them sent an odd thrill up his spine.

He felt every change in vivid detail, the growing weight between his legs pulling more of his attention as his balls swelled, stretching the skin tight. It wasn’t just physical, his mind seemed to grow fuzzy as well. He clutched his head, trying to hold onto who he was, but each throb in his nuts seemed to drain away another part of his mind, like his very memories were slipping away.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he groaned, trying to focus on his reflection only to realize his face starting to change, to regress. In front of him, his hair started to grow back and took a light brown color, his skin tighten on his bones and muscles and his eyes cleaned of any sight disease..

The muscles in his back stretched next, widening, growing strong as if molded for carrying heavy packs. His spine straightened, the tightness there easing as his posture improved, making him stand taller. His entire frame had become lean but muscular, the body of someone fresh out of boot camp. His feet felt cramped as they grew too, filling out and pushing against the leather of his enw combat boots.

The reflection staring back at him was unrecognizable now, his youthful face smooth and sharp, his jawline chiseled. He was 19 again, with the fresh vigor of someone who had just graduated from military school. His eyes gleamed with a new confidence, the innocence of his late twenties long drained away.

Adam, frozen in surprise and incomprehension in his new 19 years old self wanted to scream for help. He grabbed the curtain of the dressing room only to realize something just woke up a bit lower.

His cock twitched again, harder this time, filling his pants with precum as it continued to throb. The uniform was pressing tight against his groin, the sensation making him grit his teeth. Adam felt like he was falling mentally, his old life, his name, his personality, everything that made him himself was being funneled into his swelling nuts, filling them with the essence of his past self. He tried to fight it, gripping his thickened biceps and flexing his jaw, but the pleasure was too much.

“Oh… fuck,” Adam gasped, his cock leaking steadily now, every pulse sending another piece of who he used to be into the pit of his balls. His mind was going blank. Everything about his past, the awkward college days, his old job, his straight lifestyle, was swirling away, replaced by a fresh, cocky attitude that fit his new body like a glove.

Adam felt the last grip he had on his old life give up in his brain as he mentally heard a Gulp sound and without touching himself, he came. His cock twitched violently in his trousers, releasing rope after rope of thick cum into the fabric, soaking through. His knees almost buckled, his muscles tensing as his orgasm washed over him. Every shot of cum seemed to drain away the last remnants of Adam. He groaned, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as it spurted again, marking the end of his transformation.

His breathing slowed, the intense pleasure fading, leaving him standing there in the dressing room. Adam blinked, his expression now one of cocky satisfaction. His body was exactly what it should be, perfectly toned, fresh out of military school, ready to take on any challenge. He gave his bulging biceps a flex, smirking at his reflection.

Just as the last of his cum soaked through his uniform pants, there was a flash of light.

When his eyes adjusted, Adam found himself standing in a dimly lit room, surrounded by cheering soldiers. The Halloween Initiation party was in full swing, but this was no normal party. The barracks were filled with the scent of sweat and musk, and the energy in the room was electrifying. The blue-balled soldiers had been playing games of dares all night while drinking alcohol and thinning about their girls back home. They were taking turns on each other, their pent-up frustration boiling over into raw sexual energy as each other companies was the only thing available for them at the moment.

Adam's cock, still half-hard from his transformation, twitched at the sight. He wasn’t one to back down from a bet, no matter what it involved. His cocky grin widened as one of the guys, a bulky lance caporal sauntered over.

“New guy, huh? Hope you’re not shy,” the private smirked, pointing toward the center of the room where a game of dares was already heating up. Guys were taking turns on each other, sucking, fucking, the air thick with tension, laugh and alcohol.

“Shy? Never,” Adam said, the words rolling off his tongue like second nature. His old self would have been horrified, but that part of him was long gone. Now, all he felt was the thrill of the challenge, his cock already hardening again at the thought of taking one of those dares.

Within moments, Adam found himself stripped down to his uniform pants, standing in the circle of horny soldiers. His cock stood at attention, rock hard, dripping precum as the dares flew around the room. One soldier dared him to take one in the ass to prove he was one of them, and Adam’s grin only widened.

“Bring it on,” he said, his voice steady, confident.

Across the room, another soldier, Ryan, a tall, ripped guy with a mischievous smirk, caught Adam’s eye. Ryan had a reputation for never backing down from a challenge either, and tonight was no different.

“Alright, new kid,” Ryan called out, voice booming over the music. “You think you’ve got the guts to take on me? I bet you can’t last more than four minutes before I make you tap out. And if you think you can, then let’s make it interesting, I’ll fuck you, and if you make me cum first, you win. But if I fuck you senseless before the clock runs out, you’re mine for the rest of the night!”

The crowd hooted and hollered, clearly loving the idea. Adam, never one to back down, chuckled and shrugged, stepping forward. “You’re on,” he grinned, puffing out his chest as if the challenge didn’t faze him at all. Inside, his nerves tingled with a mix of excitement and tension. His old self would’ve balked at the idea, but the new Adam? He was born for this.

Ryan smirked and cracked his knuckles, stepping forward, already unbuttoning his pants while some of the guys set up a makeshift timer. Adam, shirtless, his abs and pecs glistening with sweat, kicked off his boots and started to peel off his uniform pants, his semi-hard cock springing free to a chorus of cheers and whistles from the guys around him. The thought of bending over for the first time sent a shiver down his spine, but instead of hesitation, all Adam felt was excitement. He was ready to win this bet and prove he was worth being one of them.

They positioned themselves in the center of the room. Adam braced himself on his hands and knees, his ass in the air, and his cock still throbbing as it brushed against the cold floor. The crowd gathered close, cheering and egging them on, chanting Adam’s name. Ryan loomed over him, his own cock hard and dripping, ready to go.

With no further delay, Ryan pushed his cock against Adam’s tight, virgin hole, and the moment Ryan started to press inside, Adam gritted his teeth. A sharp pain shot through him, his body tensing instinctively. The stretch was intense, way more than he’d expected, but he wasn’t going to back down. No way. Not with all these guys watching, cheering him on.

“Hah! You good down there?” Ryan teased, but Adam just barked a laugh through the pain.

“Hell yeah, I’m good. Just fuckin’ do it, man,” Adam shot back, shaking his head, trying to ease himself into the sensation. He wasn’t about to give Ryan the satisfaction of seeing him break.

The crowd roared as Ryan pushed deeper, and Adam’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel every inch of Ryan’s cock stretching him wide, filling him up. It hurt like hell at first, his ass clenching tight, but Adam just grinned through it, biting down on his lip, determined to win.

He could hear the timer start ticking. He just had to hold out, just had to make Ryan cum first.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, hotshot,” Ryan growled and started to thrust, his hips slamming forward, his cock driving into Adam with rough, forceful strokes. Adam gasped, his body jolting with every powerful thrust, but instead of crumbling, he let out a breathless laugh.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” Adam taunted, grinning as he glanced over his shoulder, catching the strain on Ryan’s face.

Ryan’s cock pounded into him, faster, harder, his grip tightening on Adam’s hips as he tried to get the upper hand. But no matter how rough it got, no matter how much it burned and stretched Adam’s hole, he refused to give in. The cheers from the guys around him only fueled his determination.

“C’mon, Ryan, don’t hold back now!” Adam shouted over his shoulder, half-laughing, half-moan escaping him as the pleasure started to edge out the pain. He could feel his own cock twitching beneath him, leaking pre-cum onto the floor as Ryan’s relentless fucking started to push him closer to the edge. But it wasn’t about him. He had to make Ryan lose it first.

And Ryan was struggling. Adam could feel it in the way his thrusts were getting sloppier, the way his breath was coming in ragged gasps. His cock was twitching inside him, his composure cracking with every second that ticked by. Adam’s muscles tightened, and he arched his back just a little, pushing his ass up to meet Ryan’s thrusts, making it even harder for him to hold back.

“You gonna cum for me, Ryan?” Adam teased, voice ragged, but still full of that cocky confidence. The guys around them cheered louder, and Adam fed off their energy, his grin widening. He was close to winning. He could feel it.

Ryan let out a guttural moan, his hands digging into his hips as he tried to hold out, but Adam wasn’t going to give him a chance. He clenched his ass tight around Ryan’s cock, squeezing him hard, and that was all it took.

With a loud groan, Ryan’s hips stuttered, and Adam felt the sudden warmth of Ryan’s cum spilling deep inside him. The crowd erupted into cheers, fists pumping into the air as Ryan lost the challenge. Adam let out a triumphant laugh, his chest heaving, body shaking with the intensity of the moment.

Ryan slumped forward, panting heavily as he pulled out, but Adam was already standing up, grinning ear to ear, his own cock still hard, bobbing between his legs as the crowd of soldiers slapped him on the back, shouting congratulations.

“You fuckin’ did it!” one of them laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You made him blow in under four minutes!”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Adam grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He could still feel the dull ache in his ass, but it didn’t matter. He had won, he was one of them, and the rush of victory coursed through him like fire.

The crowd of soldiers slapped him on the back, congratulating him, Ryan approached from behind. The tall, ripped soldier, still catching his breath from their intense initiation challenge, gave Adam a smirk that spoke volumes. Without warning, Ryan wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. Adam grinned, thinking it was just part of the celebration, the camaraderie of the guys after a wild challenge.

But as Ryan leaned in, his breath hot against his ear, his voice dropped to a low, rough whisper. “You may be one of us now, Adam,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down his spine, “but you’re still gonna be my bitch from now on.”

Adam’s grin faltered for a moment, his heart skipping a beat as the meaning of Ryan’s words sank in. Before he could react, Ryan’s hand slid down his bare back, slipping lower until his fingers brushed against his still-sloppy hole. The touch was sudden, intimate, and before Adam could even think to protest, Ryan pushed one thick finger inside, pressing against his sensitive, overstimulated prostate.

The sensation hit him like a freight train. His body jolted forward, muscles tensing, and his cock, still hard and twitching, suddenly erupted. Adam’s eyes widened as he came, hands-free, his cock pulsing and shooting ropes of hot cum onto the floor beneath him. His legs trembled, barely able to keep him upright as the orgasm tore through him, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave.

Ryan chuckled softly into Adam’s ear, his finger still teasing his prostate, milking every last drop of cum from him. The crowd didn’t notice, too wrapped up in another challenge thrown to another new private first class, but Adam’s world narrowed down to the overwhelming sensation of Ryan’s control over his body, the undeniable pleasure, and the sharp sting of submission.

As Adam’s orgasm finally ebbed, leaving him breathless and trembling, Ryan pulled his finger out, giving his ass a possessive slap. “Good job, Private First Class Adam,” Ryan muttered, amusement lacing his voice. Then, without another word, Ryan stepped away, blending back into the group, leaving Adam standing there, dazed, his cock still dripping, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

The other soldiers continued to cheer and party, unaware of the intimate moment that had just transpired, but he knew. He felt it deep in his bones, his new life, his new body, and now, his new place in the barracks.

He was Private First Class Adam, the cocky, easygoing guy who never backed down from a challenge. But now, as he watched Ryan disappear into the crowd, his heart still racing, he realized something else.

He may be one of them, but Ryan had claimed him all the same. And Adam wasn’t sure he minded at all.

...

Back in the store, Mister Melorius went on and grabbed the folded blue 3 pieces costume to put it up for sell, a brand new “40 yo engineer costume” was ready to be sold to someone else. ______________________________________________________________

Hey! Here is today's story. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always let me know what you think of it and feelf ree to send inbox messages if you want to see what Mister Melorius has in store for you. See you soon!

[vryfmi]

book!l&co character lineup

finally finished extended version of my L&Co designs, based on their book descriptions! it took months, but im happy with the results

ID of designs + thumbnail-sketch under the cut

[image ID: two digital drawings of characters from Lockwood and Co books, done in semi-realistic style, black lineart and plain colour against grey background.

image 1: from left to right there are full body drawings of George Cubbins, Anthony Lockwood and Lucy Carlyle. George is standing facing left, slouching, he's looking at the viewer with indifferent expression. he's fat, light-skinned and has medium length fair hair. George's wearing round glasses, red t-shirt, baggy jeans, unzipped grey hoodie and sneakers. he has a grey sport bag in right hand and a black messenger bag across left shoulder. next to him there's Lockwood, he's standing half turned to right, he's facing the viewer with a gentle smile. Lockwood is paler than George, almost a head taller and slim with short, slightly wavy, black hair. he's wearing a grey three piece suit with white shirt underneath, as well as smart black shoes and a purple tie. on top of it is a black greatcoat. Lockwood stands with one hand in pocket and another resting on rapier's grip. the sword is in its scabbard attached to Lockwood's belt. furthest on the right is Lucy, she's standing half turned to right, head facing left with a curious look directed at the viewer. her skin is light and her hair is warm brown, slightly uneven and spiky with middle parting. she has a wide frame and is the same height as George. Lucy's wearing a baggy orange sweater, plaid grey skirt, black leggings and tall dark-brown work boots with iron patches. she's holding onto a strap of her rucksack that is on her right shoulder. there's also a belt on top of the sweater which holds her rapier.

image 2: from left to right there are full body drawings of Flo Bones, human version of the skull, Quill Kipps and Holly Munro. Flo is standing half turned to left, facing towards the viewer with a smirk. she's light-skinned with long dirty-blonde hair, and her face has smudges of mud all over. compared to previous pictures, she's almost as tall as Lockwood, but not quite. Flo is wearing long blue puffer jacket on top of her darker clothes that resemble one of fisherman's with mudded thigh-high rainboots. she stands with one hand in jacket pocket, one raising a brim of straw hat with a knife. said hat has a fishing hook stuck on its brim and two lavender stems attached to hat band. next to her is the skull in his human form. he stands half turned to right, slouching, hands in pockets, with head thrown back with a wide smirk across his face. skull is very thin and not really tall, he is tanned and freckled with spiky dark hair. skull is wearing ill-fitting clothes: a white old-timey shirt that is slightly too big and grey trousers that are too small and short. he stands barefoot. third from the left is Quill Kipps, he stand half turned to right, crossing his arms, head facing left with a look of annoyance. Kipps is short and slim, he has ruddy and freckled skin and short ginger hair. Kipps is wearing a grey leather jacket with Fittes logo on it as well as two medals, tight black jeans and chelsea boots. his rapier scabbard has a baldric type of belt. rapier itself has green gems on a hilt. finally, there's Holly Munro, she's standing half turned to left, head facing right with a gentle smile. she's pretty tall and slim with deep rich black skin tone and black shoulder length curls. Holly's wearing a white short lantern sleeve shirt with a blue dress with a cloth belt wrapped around and tied into a bow at the back, as well as low heel shoes. she has a light-blue scarf wrapped around her head. Holly also has white small earrings and beige nail paint. all of the characters have artist’s watermark at the lower right side of them./end ID]

bonus sketch

[sunny-yyy]

# 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧.

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐱 𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝��𝐫

★ Warnings : MDNI!, Public Fingering, Pet Names, Cursing, Jealous & Possessive Bada

★ Words : 1.8K

★ Inspired by : "Jealous Girl" by Lana Del Rey

She never hid her jealousy, even in public places, she liked to show who you belonged to, you were both flying back home after the best vacation of your lives, you both were in a good mood, until your girlfriend's mood quickly turned sour when she noticed the men looking at you with hungry eyes, you were wearing a skirt that showed off your legs which attracted their attention, you both take the seats in plane, that little smirk show on your face as you noticed the jealousy and anger written on her face, Bada was an elegant woman, your eyes wandered to her perfect body which was wrapped in a tight black suit, the black long pants emphasized her perfect legs and small waist, and her white shirt with rolled up sleeves showed her delicate tattoos, seeing people's eyes on your body, she took off her jacket and threw it straight on your thighs and knees, covering you at the same time

Bada watches as people's gaze lingers on your body, a flash of jealousy crossing her face again

You're enjoying this, aren't you?

She says, her voice strained as she tries to stand up, but you grab her hand and pull her back down

Don't make scenes, we are in public space, sit down

Bada's eyes narrow at your words, her lips pressing into a thin line

You're provoking me on purpose

She growls, but she doesn't pull away from you, instead, she leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear

And it's fucking working.

You feel her hands under the jacket, you eyes wide in shock, her hands feel so soft against your smooth skin

What are you doing?

You ask quietly to not get people attention as you look down on her hands. Bada's heart races as she leans in closer, her hand moving from your knee to your thigh, her lips brushing against your ear

You're going to pay for that

You start to get nervous, knowing what she will do just to take revenge on you for wearing that short skirt in public, letting other people look at something that belongs only to her, Bada's smirk only grows wider as she sees the desire in your eyes, despite your words

Stop? I don't think I can do that, and I don't think you really want me to stop

She leans in closer, her lips brushing against your neck and jaw, her hands grasping onto your thighs, she breathes heavily, her lips finding yours again in delicate kiss

This is all I can think about, since we walk inside, I want to touch you. To feel you. Here. Now.

You shake your head as no, hoping she will wait with this until you both will be back to home, Bada ignores your head shake, her lips continuing to move against yours, her hands continue to wander on your thighs, slowly moving higher and higher

We are on a plane, please, just stop this right now

She whispers back to you, her breath hot against your skin as she leave wet marks on your jaw, she smirks against your lips, her hand finally reaching to your wet spot

I know we are, and it's just so...thrilling

She purrs, her hands exploring your thighs under your skirt

We could get caught, but if you will be quiet no one will even notices

You whisper feeling how your breathing got nervous and faster, you was trying to squeezed your own legs for her to not move her hand further, but she quickly spread them wider with her other free hand, she chuckles softly, her lips trailing down your neck as she continues to touch you beneath your skirt

Yes, you do, don't be ashamed

Her hand moves faster, her fingers teasing your entrance, ready to slip her long, slim fingers inside you in any moment, she looks down at you with a confident smirk

You want me to stop, but your body shake under my touch, wanting to have more of me

Bada's smirk grows wider as she watches your reaction, she can tell how much she's affecting you, and how much your breath got faster and deeper

You're so fucking sexy like this, so innocent under my fingers...

She almost moan seeing how good you look trying so hard to be quiet for her, her fingers finally slipping inside you

Fuck you're so tight and wet, just for me

You bite your lips to muffle your moan, you look around in panic seeing people on seats, you was shocked that she really don't even hesitate for second, her fingers fit perfectly inside you, making your legs shake under the jacket

Take...your...h..hand off me

Bada's lips trail up to yours, her fingers still moving inside you as she speaks quietly to not get caught

I'll take my hand off when I'm ready, just give in to it

She kisses you deeply, her other hand holding your thighs apart, she whispers against your lips, she knows exactly good that she had all power over you, you don't protest anymore, you kissed her back to mute your own moans, her fingers move faster, her thumb circling your clit

I can make you scream or I can make you cum quietly, is your choice

You look up at her and nodded to agree with her on the quiet way

I don't want people to see or hear anything

Bada chuckles softly, leaning in to kiss you again as her fingers continue to move inside you faster, she almost moan for you seeing how cute and innocent you look with her fingers fucking you, she loved to see you a whole shaking mess just by her touch

That's my good girl, shhh...

She whispers against your lips, her thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, her eyes never leave yours

I knew you'd see it my way

You moan so quietly and hide your face in her neck, scared that someone can see your red cheeks, you heard perfectly well the wet sound of her fingers deep inside you hitting your weak spot, her breathing hitches as she feels you tighten around her fingers

You feel so fucking good around me

She moans quietly, kissing your hair and inhaling your scent, her fingers moving faster as she feels you getting closer

B...Bada I can't, not here..

You moan quietly looking at her up and feeling how close you are, Bada thumb circles your clit faster, her fingers curling inside you more

Just a little longer baby...they won't hear us, I promise

She whispers, biting her lip as she feels how close you are, she see how you close and bite your own lips to not make any sound at loud, your legs was shaking under the jacket, she look down at her hand, she can't help but find it incredibly sexy

Fuck, you're so fucking hot and obedient to me

You was staying quiet as much as I could, you moan quietly and squeezed your nails on her hand, leaving marks on it, she feels you tense around her fingers and can't believe how wet and tight you are, and the fact that she's making you feel this good spurs her on even more, your tight walls hug her fingers perfectly inside, the heel of her hand grinding against your clit, she can't resist the thrill of having you at her mercy, right here in public

You like that, baby? You love feeling me all inside, making you my little walking mess...

Bada's breaths come out in ragged gasps as she feels your tight walls clenching around her fingers, she can feel her own orgasm building, the thrill of being caught adding to the excitement

God, you're gonna make me cum in my pants, just by looking at your pretty red face fighting the urge to moan for me...fuck

You look down to see her beautiful long legs squeezed together in pleasure, her legs shake as she feels her climax approaching, her fingers still buried deep inside you, the black suit pants hug her thighs tightly, and she can feel the dampness spreading, you feel how slowly you was cumming on her fingers with muffle quiet moan, you was little proud of yourself seeing that you will made her cum in her pants just by looking at you, and fucking you so nasty with her fingers under her own jacket

Fuck, baby, I'm gonna...

Bada leans back against the seat, her legs parting ever so slightly to give you a peek at the wet stain spreading on her pants, as she cum inside them, she moan quietly for you to see what you done to her, she can't help but let out a low growl at the sight of you cumming under her touch, creaming her fingers in your cum

Look at you, baby...And look what you've done to me

She smirks from behind her hand as she watches you struggle to fully form a sentence in pleasure, she slowly removes her fingers from you and brings them to her lips, tasting your cum on them before wiping her hand on her jacket

Did you just...

You look on her fingers that she just lick and her pants with big wet stain between her legs, a single drop of sweat fall from your neck, your heart was beating fast, still processing what she just do in a plane full of people around both of you, and how lucky you were for not being caught by anyone

Maybe I did, maybe I didn't

Bada leans back into her seat, her breath slowing down to a more normal pace as she watches you, she can't help but let out a low chuckle at your audaciousness

You certainly know how to make a girl cum with just a look, don't you?

She winked at you with smile and stroked your hair behind you ear proud of what she did and that she take revenge on you

★ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝 ★

A/N: It was my last night dream. And I just needed to share it with my readers, I love my dreams, I need more of them to share 𖹭‧₊˚

Taglist (open) : @mikachacha @badaleesbish @froufrousnowman @xiakiyama @badasmuse @badasoneandonly @prilux @samiosisig @levexer @throughthebluesea @loudcyclesuit @munivrse

[synnamonroll666]

Hii, can you please do Josh x reader whose a brat so Josh has to punish them (spanking, and a sir kink please)

Of course!!!

Now You See Me

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: Josh was too busy at work to give you the praise you deserved, so you decided to be naughty, knowing damn well that he could not resist the opportunity to give you a good punishment... Warnings: Spanking, Use Of Pet Names And Titles Like "Princess" And "Sir", Master X Pet Dynamic, Dom!Josh, Sub!Reader, Punishment, Reader Is A Brat And Deserves It, Josh Is Angry, The Reader Knows What She's Doing. Word Count: 2k Main MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

I didn't know what had gotten into me that night. Josh had been pretty busy with projects he had been working on at work, and had little time to treat me—his loyal pet—to some much needed love and affection. The desire for him grew within me like a wildfire and caused a thin line of resentment to grow inside my heart. Not the kind that would make me hate him, but the kind to make me lose the want to be a good girl for him like he always wanted.

So when he came home from work late that night—eyes tired and tie loosened—that line within me finally snapped. I no longer could contain my wild will to be naughty just to get his attention. There would be no mercy. My eyes studied him as he walked from the front door, taking his suit jacket off as he did so, and entered our living room.

My form was covered by nothing but a slim black dress that only stopped just under my ass for easy access. It was tight enough to show off my figure—enough to drive him absolutely wild. So I was surprised when he bypassed me without a glance as soon as he walked through the door.

"Princess," He called as he sat down on our sofa, before leaning back and undoing the cuffs of his sleeves. "Come sit on Daddy's lap."

My feet reluctantly dragged themselves across the carpeted flooring, stopping once I was in the doorway, facing him. My narrowed eyes watched his exhausted form with a glow of annoyance. How dare he expect me to come running at his beck and call when he has not taken the time to treat my good behavior these last few weeks?

Josh noticed my reluctance and raised a questioning brow at me, as his lips pursed in an irritated line at my defiance. "Princess? Did you not hear me?"

"Yeah, I did." I acknowledged him nonchalantly as I leaned up against the doorway and folded my arms across my chest, clearly not up for being compliant. I didn't even bother to call him sir, which he had made a rule that I had to call him that when we were in private. And by the look on his face, I'd say he noticed.

"Princess," His voice lowered a few octaves and grew higher in volume, a strong warning that I would pay if I kept this up. Still, I did not care enough to give in.

"No." I huff as I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I did so. I wasn't going to give up so easily and I knew exactly what to say to get him going. "You can't tell me what to do."

This must have lit something within my master, because as soon as the word left my lips, his eyes filled with nothing but annoyance as he shouted across the room, "Enough with this!"

I jumped at that, surprised by his sudden outburst. But nonetheless, I was satisfied. It took a lot of strength to repress the smirk forming on my lips, happy with the fact that I was finally getting some much needed attention. He sat up from his spot, though remained in place, his light eyes boring into mine as he thought about what his next set of actions would be. But of course, it didn't take him long at all to think of something.

"You know the deal, princess." He retorted in an unimpressed tone before pointing to his lap. "Lay down."

I bit my lip to repress that greedy smirk that dared twist the corners of my lips up. Slowly lying I sauntered over to my master, making sure my movements were seductive and graceful. Then I lowered myself over his legs, my stomach pressed down firmly against them and ass up in the air in a presenting manner. He slowly pulled my dress up over my ass and let out a scoff when he noticed the bare behind, my underwear long gone before he came home. I knew he would love that.

"Okay... For this attitude, you get ten lashes. Understood?" He said and I nodded. Just then I heard an annoyed huff from his pursed lips. "With words, pet."

"Yes, sir." I whimpered with a faux innocence in my words, finally adding the title he and I as well loved to hear so much. I would be lying if I said it didn't ignite a heat in my core, and by the way he shuddered under me as I said it, it was clear that he was effected as well.

Bjt I turn my head to look up at him through my lashes as I said this, my eyes big and needy. There was a hint of softness added to his features once his light green orbs lingered on my submissive form, but he was quick to replace it with his dominant demeanor once more.

"Remember your safeword." He spoke in a hushed tone as his fingers gently brushed along the curve of my right cheek.

Then, with great force, his hand came down upon my flesh. A gasp parted my lips as a surge of pain simmered through my skin, melting into hot pleasure in a matter of seconds. His long digits returned to my cheek right after, caressing it carefully to soothe the ache that followed suite to his punishment.

Though that softness did not last long, as his large hand came crashing down upon my bottom once again. I yelped at the stinging sensation, though I couldn't help but roll my eyes back at the way it made the heat in my core grow. Josh noticed this and continued his assault, going back and forth to each cheek to make sure they got equal attention, as the room filling with the lewd smacking sounds of flesh on flesh and the soft gasps and moans emitting from my lips.

When he finally gave me the ninth strike, his hand paused, waiting for a moment to let the sting of the impact settle before responding in a cooing tone, a large contrast to his previous attitude towards me. "Had your fill, baby? Can you take anymore?"

I nod weakly, trying my best to stay strong, as I asked for this. Josh knew this—he knew what I wanted, craved, and needed. He would give me every bit of what I desired—he would put me in my place. And he did just that as his palm connected with my cheek once more, the impact causing a ripple through my skin.

My head fell forward as my form trembled in his lap, and he was quick to scoop me up in his arms and whisper all kinds of praises in my ear while he cradled me in his arms. He was proud of my willingness to accept my punishments, and I was satisfied that I had finally got some desired attention.

"Good girl, my pet." He murmured ever so softly before pressing a kiss to my now-disheveled hair, a content sigh leaving me as he did this. "You did so well for me."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[s10127470]

Meet the Spider Family

Hey there folks!

I'm back again with another post about Spider-Man!

But luckily, this one isn't gonna possibly give me a hernia.

I'm here today to introduce you to the main cast of my upcoming fanfic, Spider-Man: Family Values, which will be premiering next month during Thanksgiving week.

I don't really have much of a intro to this, so we're just gonna ahead and get in.

Spider-Man:

Real Name: Peter Parker

Age: 28

Height: 5'9

Weight: 162 lbs

Physical Appearance: Has a lean and muscular build, fair skin, brown hair in the form of a mullet with his trademark frontal bangs, and hazel eyes.

Relationship Status: Married

Causal Outfit: A red sweater with a white, long-sleeved collared shirt underneath, a open blue jacket, blue jeans with rolled up cuffs at the bottom, red and white sneakers, and round lenses glasses.

Hero Outfit:

-Still goofy and kinda silly, but also mature and very empathic.

-Is a HAPPILY MARRIED to Mary Jane and the proud father of Mayday Parker.

-An amazing and valuable mentor to Miles and many of the other younger superheroes.

-Works part-time as a substitute teacher at his old high school, Midtown High. He's essentially kind of a stay-at-home dad and house husband, which gives him more time to patrol the streets.

-Always visits his dear Aunt May.

-A true friend.

-Well-liked and respected by nearly all of the superhero community.

-Honorary member of The Fantastic Four and a part-time Avenger.

-Still the Friendly Neighbor Hero we all know in love.

Mayday Parker:

Age: 5

Height: 3'4

Weight: 49 lbs

Physical Appearance: Has a slim build, fair skin, long brown hair, and green eyes.

Relationship Status: Single

Casual Outfit:

-A little ball of hyperactive joy and wonder.

-Inherited her father's goofiness.

-Also inherited his spider powers. Luckily, Peter is helping her learn how to control her strength.

-Currently in kindergarten.

-Wants to follow in her father's footsteps and continue his legacy, which while touched by, makes Peter a little concerned.

Mary Jane Watson-Parker:

Age: 28

Height: 5'10

Weight: 130 lbs

Physical Appearance: Has an hourglass figure with a top heavy build, fair skin, long red hair with her trademark bangs, red lips, and green eyes.

Relationship Status: Married

Casual Outfit: A green navel-bearing sweater, blue jeans with a black belt and gold buckle, and black Mary Jane heels.

-Confident and free-spirited, but also loving and understanding.

-Got with Peter during their college years, and eventually got married shortly after graduation.

-Works as AN ACTRESS, MODEL, AND FASHION DESIGNER. She also pays the apartment's rent (thanks to how much she makes from her career), hence why Peter only has a part-time job.

-Has a stash of weapons just in case of a potential home invasion. Her favorite is the shotgun.

-Always thinking of new suit ideas for Peter.

Spider-Man:

Real Name: Miles Morales

Age: 18

Height: 5'9

Weight: 165 lbs

Physical Appearance: Has a lean and slightly muscular build, dark skin, brown hair in the same style from the Spider-Verse films, dark brown lips, and brown eyes.

Relationship Status: Dating

Casual Outfit: A red hoodie with a white X-Men symbol at the center, black shorts, black socks, and red and white Nikes.

Hero Outfit:

-Cool, friendly, artistic and street-smart.

-Has been a Spider person for about 4 years now.

-Peter and Mayday see Miles like a brother.

-Is a freshman at Empire State University, majoring in art.

-Currently dating Hailey Cooper.

-Works as a freelance artist.

Venom:

Real Name: Eddie Brock

Age: 38

Height: 6’5 (7’5 as Venom)

Weight: 270 lbs (470s as Venom)

Physical Appearance: Has a broad and muscular build, fair skin, scruffy blonde hair in something of a flattop style, a beard, and blue eyes.

Relationship Status: Divorced

Casual Outfit: A black T-shirt, blue jeans, and tan army boots.

Hero Outfit:

-Was once Peter's greatest enemy and hater, but eventually became his friend and one of his most trustworthy allies.

-Awkward, a little reversed, and pretty goofy (especially as Venom).

-Is not only Mayday's honorary uncle, but also her godfather.

-Still works at The Daily Bugle as a reporter.

-Was previously married to Anne Weying and they owned a dog named Woody together. But due to his previously slipping sanity and madness caused by Peter, she left him and took the dog with her. To this day, Eddie is still ashamed by this and wishes to patch things up with Anne and Woody, but doesn't know if he can.

Agent Anti-Venom:

Real Name: Flash Thompson

Age: 29

Height: 6’3 (5'3 while in wheelchair)

Weight: 170 lbs (470s as Venom)

Physical Appearance: Has a broad and muscular build, fair skin, long curly blonde hair with frontal bangs that cover his eyes, a stubble beard, and no legs.

Relationship Status: Single

Casual Outfit: A blue T-shirt and tan shorts.

Hero Outfit:

-Was once Peter's bully, but grew to become his closest friend.

-Still quite prideful and boastful, but far more humble than when he was a teenager.

-Is Mayday's other honorary uncle.

-Dropped out of the college to serve in the Army.

-Lost his legs during his service. Usually gets around in either a wheelchair or with a pair of prosthetic legs.

-Works as the gym teacher at his old high school, Midtown.

Silk:

Real Name: Cindy Moon

Age: 27

Height: 5'7

Weight: 130 lbs

Physical Appearance: Has an hourglass figure with a well-rounded and muscular build, light skin, long black hair, pink lips, and black eyes.

Relationship Status: Dating

Casual Outfit: A black bandeau, blue sweatpants jeans, and black sandals.

Hero Outfit:

-Was an old classmate of Peter's who mysteriously disappeared one day during high school. The reason why was because during the Midtown sophomore field trip to Oscorp, Cindy found herself bit by a radioactive Golden Silk Orb Weaver spider. Unfortunately, she caught the attention of the company and soon enough, found herself whisked away by them to an off-shore facility, where she was experimented on like a guinea pig for the next 10 years. Luckily, she was discovered by Peter and Felicia, who promptly broke her out.

-Suffers from a bit of social anxiety, so she tends to come off as quiet and quite reserved. But she's ultimately quite caring, friendly and imaginative.

-Isn one of Mayday's honorary aunts.

-Is currently dating Felicia.

-Shares an apartment with Flash.

-Works at The Daily Bugle as a journalist. Usually works close with Eddie.

Black Cat:

Real Name: Felicia Hardy

Age: 29

Height: 5'11

Weight: 125 lbs

Physical Appearance: Has an hourglass figure with a well-rounded build, light skin, long platinum blonde hair, black lips, and green eyes.

Relationship Status: Dating

Casual Outfit: A black crop-top, black leggings that bear the G-string of her thong, black heels, and golden neck rings (with similar sets on her arms).

Hero Outfit:

-Thanks to Peter, Felicia has given up her thieving ways. But she hasn't gotten rid of her skills though. She's now uses them as a private detective instead.

-She's the founder of Cat's Eye Investigations, which she runs with street-level heroes Tarantula and Humbug.

-Still flirtatious and sassy, but does have a lot of sincerity and heart.

-Is one of Mayday's honorary aunts.

-Despite her previous romantic feelings for Peter, she holds no ill will towards MJ. Essentially since she's moved on to someone else (Cindy).

Well that's all for now!

Let me know what you guys think about this little family idea of mine! Definitely planning on doing some more with other Marvel characters!

[hinamie]

hi hina! if you were yuuji, megumi, and nobara's personal stylist (you already kind of are 🙂‍↕️) what's an outfit you would pick that represents their casual style and one look that represents fancy attire? and what's an absolute No for each of them?

SORRY FOR GETTING TO THIS LATE i have . fashion opinions and need 2 articulate them Properly. gomen ik this isn't /exactly/ what u asked this is moreso just. my style headcanons fr each of them but i think it more or less gets the point across gFGHDSHFGJ.

will get long btw :')

yuuji:  casual: 

i loveloveLOVE him in jean jackets . since a hoodie is a staple for him that + a jean jacket i think is The Go-To fit for him hands down i think he pulls it off so well. u can even ditch the hoodie to opt for a baggy graphic T shirt but the jean jacket carries the fit.  it’s so casual n classic which helps it be ~versitile~ and it's just boyish enough to rly suit yuuji’s character. I have him in distressed jeans (grey or dark wash blue, as long as it’s a different shade of denim) whenever i can bc i think it looks good but athletic pants (think like adidas jogger-shaped) work also . add red sneakers of choice accessorize that boy with a gym bag or backpack Bam yuuji fit. 

formal: 

i feel very strongly about yuuji in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. no suit jacket fr him but definitely a tie and a waistcoat + straight leg trousers. i want to keep a pop of red on him so the safe option wld b to make his tie red but i think maybe he could pull off a maroon dress shirt + black everything else combo. important thing is He Wears Red :)

no’s:

honestly I can picture yuuji in most anything but i don’t think he wears long structured jackets, even fr fancy outfits. he’s too stocky of a build and i think a long jacket makes him look shapeless in a bad way i think mid-thigh is as long as i’d be willing 2 go for his outerwear, though im sure with the right fit i could b convinced otherwise

megumi:  casual: 

tl;dr: loose sweater over turtleneck/over collared shirt i feel SO strongly about megumi in loose straight silhouettes. HEAVY on the grey/black neutrals with the occasional cool jewel tone (green or teal u know how it is) though i do also like him in a chocolate brown! it is important 2 me also that whatever pants he wears r not too baggy since his top will have a lot of that Chunkiness to it and u need some shape n slimness 2 the leg 2 balance it out. this overall silhouette on megu >>>>>>>

formal:

unlike yuuji i Do think megumi could pull off a suit jacket or maybe even a blazer but whatever it is u best bet this boy is in All Black . I also like him in a turtleneck instead of a dress shirt but if we button him up Completely i think it achieves more or less the same look 

no’s: 

ok i have a couple but my biggest one is Fushiguro Megumi Does Not Wear Shorts end of story no further elaboration. also, this is slightly more forgiveable but like w yuuji i would avoid him in long jackets Also, altho fr the opposite reason . it’s not tht he’s too stocky for it rather i think he’s too lanky n a long coat runs the risk of drowning him — again situational tho !!!!! he would probably look good in a black wool coat so i will entertain the possibility . 

also listen. this is a personal headcanon and ik it likely puts me in the minority and i may even get flack fr this . but i do not think fushiguro megumi would have piercings. i know ive drawn him with earrings before but listen those were for Me . those were for the fit. he was an acting mannequin. but just him??? his personal feelings?? i just have a hard time thinking that boy is th type 2 put metal in his face sue me :’/ 

nobara:  casual: 

this is so hard because a. women’s fashion has SO many more options b. nobara is 100% the type to have a different style every week and c. she looks good in all of it. I think though i like her best in long skirts and layers so something along these lines is a Hard yes from me, though possibly with a brighter colour palette

formal:

i had Other ideas but god just spoke to me through pinterest by showing me this dress and this is all i want to see nobara in actually. 

(((real talk tho in terms of fancy dresses I like her in black/gold/red/pink for colours, either baby doll or bell skirts, strapless sweetheart necklines,, etc etc etc)))

no’s: 

similar to yuuji, I don’t have many things that i picture as off-limits for nobara fashion-wise bc she seems the type to experiment :’) I think any faux-pas i can name r just my own fashion icks so i’ll just go with those: no low rise and no full skin-tight fits (ik i said she seems down for anything but i think she draws the line @ athleisure). also maybe a pocket pick but i don't think she would wear orange or hot pink on account of her hair

[possibilistfanfiction]

Wn prompt: buttons

[for @unicyclehippo as part of our little series for ea other — outside switzerland era pov, or: the kind, amused things a vintage shopkeeper & her wife in switzerland think of ava & beatrice. also on ao3.]

//

one hot afternoon the door rings and a girl rushes through, a little bit of a hurricane, and another follows, calm in the eye of a storm she seems both exasperated by and fond of at once.

you’re used to an influx of university students during the summer months. many are passing through, on their way from zurich to berlin or munich; some are just relaxing here, passing time before they’re inevitably swept back into their everyday lives. you’ve lived here for a long time, since you yourself stumbled on this town just after you finished a degree in marketing that could have been of use but sparked so little joy you decided to give yourself a year, or two, or maybe five, to figure out something better, something happier. you’d worked at the vintage store before it was yours, with its previous owner, clara, taking a shine to you, even though, in those days, you were quieter, reserved, kept mostly to yourself. when she had wanted to retire, she sold the shop to you for much less than you knew it was worth — you buy her groceries and weed her lawn and fix anything in her house; you have her over for dinner every sunday.

it’s a good life, especially when it’s quiet in the morning, just before the shop opens, and you spin the pretty ring around aleyna’s finger and kiss her while she laughs and tastes like coffee. in those moments, with her black hair and the wrinkles that have gotten deeper around the edges of her mouth, under her eyes — from smiling, from your small home and the blue eggs the chickens in your yard lay, from her books and her records in this store that she sells with care and fondness, the way she does everything — that you love. in those moments, and in so many others, too — there is no better a life that you can imagine.

‘hello,’ you say in german. ‘welcome. i’m lena. is there anything i can help you with?’

‘i’m ava,’ one says, enthusiastic and rocking on her heels once, trying to keep her excitement in; she’s beautiful in a pretty way, in a young way, with messy, tangled light hair and a t-shirt with a hole in the sleeve. ‘and this is beatrice.’ she gestures to the girl beside her, a little older, stoic and straight backed, although she offers a smile, almost apologetic. she has on a black jumpsuit and her hair is in a neat bun at the back of her head. she waves. ‘we both use she/her pronouns, i don’t really care, though. and we’re staying here for the summer!’ ava continues, in perfect german, a happy smile on her face. ‘at least that long, i guess. we’re on sabbatical. anyway, we need stuff!’

‘clothes,’ beatrice clarifies. ‘our apartment is already furnished, ava.’

ava doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest. 'we need fun things too.’ ava takes beatrice’s hand and squeezes, which makes beatrice’s eyes go wide and you want to laugh, just a little. ‘but, yes, clothes.’

‘clothes can be fun,’ you say. ava grins; beatrice grimaces at you, a small warning not to encourage ava too much, it seems. you lead them over to some of your more casual shirts and summer tank tops, which ava seems immediately delighted by.

‘is it okay if i try things on?’

‘of course.’ you point toward one of the small dressing rooms near the back, with heavy curtains.

‘by the way,’ ava says, while beatrice carefully looks through tanks and t-shirts with a frown, ‘your suit is gorgeous. i would think it would be hot, but what is that — linen?’

‘yes,’ you say, and you don’t miss beatrice’s curious gaze at your slim pants, your loafers, the way your jacket sits perfectly on your shoulders. ‘it’s quite comfortable, even when it’s warm.’

‘i love that for you.’ ava already has a whole armful of cropped tanks and a few patterned overshirts, two pairs of denim shorts, and a pair of jeans the color of wild roses that aleyna had loved when she found them at a market two towns over. ‘bea, i’m gonna go try these on! fashion show!’

beatrice blushes but she nods. ‘stay within budget, please. i don’t think you can get all of what you’ve picked.’

‘yeah, obviously. don’t worry, i’ll find my favorites.’

ava scampers off and you don’t miss that beatrice hasn’t picked up anything to try on; you remember a feeling, back when your hair was too long and your pants were too tight against your hips, when you fought yourself into dresses, and the way she touches the same kind of tank ava had been thrilled to put in her arms reminds you, a little, of yourself.

‘i like to tailor,’ you tell her, and she looks at you carefully as you walk over to a clothing rack with — if you do say so yourself, and also aleyna says so, which is more important — beautiful slacks on it. some are formal, could pair well with a jacket, and some are more casual and comfortable. beatrice follows you, a little reluctantly but with measured, sure steps, solemn, exacting posture in her neat jumpsuit. you pick up a pair of navy slacks you genuinely do love, an exaggerated wide leg, and a grey pair that sits high on the waist. there’s a collarless button down you’d found a month or so ago, and you hand it to her as well. ‘what do you think?’

she takes them almost reverently, and sometimes you forget: you have lived here in the mountains and woken up to your wife and her sleepy grumbling for so many years, now — what it felt like to understand yourself for the first time. ‘they’re …’ she shakes her head, at a loss, it seems. ‘i’d like to try them on, if that’s okay.’

‘of course.’

ava bursts out of the dressing room not soon after beatrice is in the one next to her, and when she notices beatrice isn’t still standing outside, she grins.

‘well, lena, thoughts?’

you’re ultimately and immediately charmed by ava — her grin and genuine delight over a tank and a pair of cutoffs. ‘do you feel happy?’

‘god,’ ava says, ‘so fucking happy! i had — honestly, it’s a long story, but i haven’t gotten to pick out much stuff for myself, at least not in a long time. it’s so fun.’

you smile. ‘i told you so.’

she laughs. ‘but, while bea is in there —‘ she hooks a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the dressing room — ‘let me look at some knickknacks or something. she’s so serious but i can wear her down, i’m sure of it.’

you’re pretty sure ava could wear anyone down, but you don’t say that. ‘well, we have some records; my wife enjoys curating a collection so it’s fairly eclectic, but there will probably be something you’d like.’

‘sick,’ ava says, in english, and then laughs at herself. she starts looking through the few crates of records you have, pulls out blue by joni mitchell with a sad smile. ‘my mom loved this album.’

‘if you put it at the bottom of your pile of clothes, i’ll make sure it makes it into your bag.’ you wink when ava looks up at you and she smiles.

‘that’s very kind. thank you.’

it’s so sincere, ava immediately calmed and quiet, but then she perks up again when she hears the curtain of the dressing room open and beatrice steps out in the grey slacks and white button up you’d handed her. she’s a little awkward but her shoulders have relaxed and ava is about to drool next to you, you’re pretty sure, based on her complete lack of words; beatrice has to fight for a few seconds to look away from both ava’s thighs and her chest, but she does, eventually.

‘good?’

‘yes.’ beatrice offers you a real smile, not out of politeness but because she means it. ‘i think i need a belt?’

‘bea,’ ava says, rebooting and hurrying over to her, the record set carefully on the counter first. ‘you look so cool! like, whoa. conversely, also hot.’

‘ava.’

‘what?’ ava says, without any hint of an apology. ‘you do!’

you hand beatrice a simple black belt and find a few more button downs for her to try, a pair of loose levi’s, cuffed at the ankles, for lazy saturdays, and hand them to her too. she cradles them to her chest for a moment, and ava notices too.

‘thank you, lena,’ beatrice says. ‘i’ll finish trying everything on and then, if ava’s done, we’ll be out of your hair.’

you hair is perfect, thank you very much, and ava laughs when you primp it. ‘no rush, i’m just glad you liked some of the clothes.’

‘i do,’ beatrice says, then walks back into the dressing room.

‘whew,’ ava whispers. ‘am i right?’

it makes you laugh, her genuine distress. ‘i know the feeling.’

ava smiles. ‘well, bea wants to, like, get groceries, and clean, and go on a run, blah blah. but i’ll be back! i want to hear about your wife.’

‘she’s here most mornings, in fact.’

‘incredible.’ ava fist pumps. ‘i love mornings.’

you charge them far less, when beatrice brings two pairs of slacks, two button ups, and a pair of jeans so neatly folded you’re both a little concerned and a lot impressed, and places them on the counter, along with ava’s pile of tank tops and shorts and pants, and of course the album.

‘ava,’ beatrice says, ‘we don’t need that.’

ava pouts, but before she can argue, you say, ‘don’t worry about it. my wife will be thrilled it’s in good hands.’

beatrice looks torn; sometimes, kindness is difficult. but ava bounces on the balls of her feet and puts both of her hands on one of beatrice’s shoulders, practically begs. ‘fine,’ beatrice says. ‘thank you again, lena.’

‘sure thing,’ you say, accept beatrice’s neatly stored cash from her simple leather wallet, and send them on their way with a few bags. ava’s already trying to convince, you hear as they walk out, beatrice to skip their run and eat gelato by the lake instead. which, honestly, sounds like a good plan for the afternoon; you text aleyna and she comes by half an hour later, leaving the library a bit early, and kisses you in the golden sun.

/

ava comes in a few days later with a bag of pastries and three coffees and a giant smile.

‘hi!’ she says, delighted when she sees you and aleyna both sorting through a new box of books.

‘hello, ava,’ you say, stand and smile. aleyna stands too and steps forward to offer her hand. ‘this is aleyna, my wife.’

‘yes!’ ava puts the coffees down on the counter and then steps forward to shake her hand with enthusiasm. ‘i’m ava, it’s nice to meet you.’

‘i heard you’re a joni mitchell fan,’ aleyna says, with her black curls streaked with silver, her bright smile, her deep accented voice, her brown skin particularly gorgeous against the yellow of her summer slip dress, and you want to laugh at how ava’s eyes widen, how she seems to go a little weak at the knees.

‘i — uh — yes.’ she fumbles with the bag of pastries and then holds them out. ‘these are — thanks for the record. and for bea’s pants.’

you do laugh, then, but you take the bag from ava’s clumsy hands. ’thank you, ava. that’s very thoughtful. and i’m glad beatrice likes her pants.’

‘she does.’ ava sighs. ‘and i love her pants.’

aleyna smiles into her cup of coffee. ‘i heard from hans you both got jobs at the bar?’

‘yeah! it’s fun. i’m kind of terrible at it but i love to learn. bea is, of course, perfect.’ she rolls her eyes. ‘but i get to meet so many people. they’re really nice when i mess up their drinks.’

you take in ava’s tiny shorts and the way she’s tied an overshirt over a bralette, leaving just a sliver of her stomach exposed, and her soft, pretty features, her bright smile. ‘enthusiasm goes a long way.’

ava grins. ‘exactly!’

‘do you want to help us sort through some books?’ aleyna asks.

‘really?’

‘sure.’

ava sits down on the floor, crossed legs and scuffed converse and bright eyes. ‘i love to read; i’d love to see what you have. bea is still asleep; maybe i could surprise her with something.’

you let aleyna and ava go through a few boxes together while you work on a suit in your back workroom, but you can hear ava laughing brightly and eventually she pops her head through the doorway.

‘bea and i are gonna go swimming,’ she says, ‘but i’ll be back soon, i’m sure. aleyna is wonderful, you’re really lucky.’

‘i am,’ you agree. ‘what book did you get?’

it’s tucked under her arm carefully. she smiles. ‘the spring flowers own. i don’t know it yet.’

it’s tender, the way she means that she will know it; she’ll read it with care and meaning. ‘ah, etel adnan. one of aleyna’s favorites.’

‘that’s what she said; i’m excited.’

‘it’s very beautiful.’ you don’t add that it’s sad, that adnan’s bright paintings have brought your wife to tears on more than one occasion.

ava might understand; she is so young and pretty and bright but there’s an ache that’s hard to miss — a displacement, a longing.

‘enjoy the lake, ava. and tell beatrice hello from us.’

ava knocks twice on the doorframe. ‘i will.’

/

it’s a rainy, damp afternoon, nowhere in town terribly busy, when beatrice ducks into your store.

‘apologies,’ she says in form of greeting, looking a little lost without a jacket or umbrella. ‘i made the mistake of not checking the weather this morning.’

‘not a problem at all, beatrice. you’re always welcome here.’ beatrice smiles, gracious. ‘my wife was just making tea, if you’d like some? jasmine green tea.’

‘that sounds wonderful,’ she says.

‘hello!’ aleyna calls from the small back kitchen.

you gesture for beatrice to follow you. there’s a small table and four mis-matched chairs, carefully chosen, and aleyna smiles.

‘aleyna,’ she says, offers a hand.

‘beatrice.’ you know her handshake is firm and serious but she swallows once and you don’t miss the rise of pink on her cheeks. ‘pleasure.’

‘you’re british,’ aleyna says.

‘yes, from london, originally.’

aleyna smiles. ‘finally, someone to enjoy my good tea with.’ aleyna kisses your cheek to soften the upcoming blow: ‘lena is wonderful, and so handsome, but has awful taste in tea. she’s happy with just an over-steeped bag.’

beatrice grimaces around a laugh. ‘ava can’t make tea if her life depended on it. i’ve shown her many times, and she seems to get lost about halfway through.’

you suspect that might be because of beatrice’s careful hands and the serious set of her jaw, but you don’t mention it.

‘ah, ava,’ aleyna says. ‘she’s wonderful.’

‘she is,’ beatrice says. ‘exhausting, annoying… full.’

‘is she enjoying her book?’

‘she is,’ beatrice says, ‘very much. she’s been reading to me at night sometimes, so i’ve been enjoying it too.’

you share as quick a glance with aleyna as you can.

‘adnan is beautiful,’ beatrice continues. ‘you’re lebanese?’

‘yes,’ aleyna says. ‘you know her work?’

‘her paintings, mostly. i would love to read her work in arabic, though. ava’s fluent in a few languages, but all of them romance.’

you laugh — as if this is, somehow, a shortcoming beatrice would love to remedy — as aleyna perks up. ‘you know arabic?’

beatrice nods. ‘not as well as i’d like. i’m better with it spoken than written. but i’d love to improve; it’s beautiful.’

aleyna smiles, then says, in arabic, ‘i would love to speak with you, whenever you want.’

beatrice blushes down into her mug, then looks up. ‘your tea is excellent,’ she responds, a little slow, with an accent much more careful than aleyna’s lyrical and gravely lilt over the words, but perfectly. ‘i do know how to say more than that, also,’ beatrice says, and aleyna laughs, ‘but it really is wonderful.’

‘i appreciate it.’

‘lena.’ beatrice turns all her attention to you. ‘i was wondering if you had a sweater or two? ava continues to take my jacket when it’s cool. i’m sure she’ll enjoy taking my sweater too, but it would be helpful to have more than one.’

‘that would be,’ you grant her and spare her the embarrassment of clearly ducking into your shop because she’d gotten caught in a rainstorm with no jacket which is, apparently, ava’s fault. ‘want to come look at a few?’

‘sure.’ beatrice carefully rinses out her mug in the sink before following. ‘thank you,’ she says to aleyna, in arabic, ‘for the poems, and for the tea.’

‘come around anytime.’

beatrice smiles and follows you out, and you show her a soft green cotton crewneck you’d just gotten in. she holds it to her chest for a moment in the mirror, considering, and you wonder if ava ever gets beatrice to do anything without carefully thinking about it first. ‘this is perfect, thank you.’ she pulls it on immediately, definitely a little cold still, and you’re glad for her: that she has ava; that ava has her — in whatever capacity that is right now, the capacity you hope it’ll be eventually — and for her quiet, persistent kindness.

‘of course, i’m glad you like it.’

beatrice touches one of the suit jackets you’d finished recently, a little reverent. ‘i love a lot of the clothes you have, honestly. i — i’m not sure if i know, yet, how to be who i want to be.’

‘you’re young,’ you say. ‘not as a platitude, i promise.’ she nods. ‘but i didn’t figure out that i loved suits until i was years older than you.’

her shoulders relax a little, at the small out, the gentle understanding. she smiles, indulgent, and meets your eyes. ‘i can’t imagine you were ever anything other than very handsome.’

‘well, that is true.’ she laughs. ‘but impeccably dressed? that’s a journey. and you’re on your own.’

‘was it scary?’

‘terrifying.’

she touches one of the gorgeous opal buttons on the suit.

‘but very, very beautiful too.’

she tucks her hands into her pockets. ‘i’m sorry, i have to get going. ava thinks she can cook but we cannot afford another grease fire.’

‘better avoid that.’

‘how much is the sweater?’

you charge her a few euro; she eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t argue. she calls goodbye to aleyna, says a soft farewell to you, wanders back out — warmer, now — into the rain to make her way home.

/

ava bounces in on a sunny, hot morning, her hair sweaty and now short, cut to her chin, and you laugh when she gives you a high five.

‘your hair looks great,’ aleyna says, and you voice the same. ava preens, which aleyna happily laughs at.

‘bea cut it for me!’ she smiles and then looks at a few bracelets. ‘well, i tried to do it myself, but it’s, like, impossible. i had no idea. but, you live and you learn. bea fixed it, though, and then i convinced her to let me give her highlights! they’re so cute.’

‘how long have you been together?’

‘just a few months,’ ava says, trying on a little cap, and you raise your brows — you’d had a little ongoing wager with aleyna, after you’d run into the two of them at a summer festival in the city center, market lights and food and music; they’d been holding hands and ava had kissed beatrice’s cheek on multiple occasions. ‘but it feels like i’ve known her forever.’

‘young love,’ aleyna says, looks to you fondly. ‘remember when we felt like that.’

ava freezes, still looking at herself in the mirror.

‘i still feel like that, my dear.’

aleyna rolls her eyes fondly and kisses you on the temple. ava is still stock still in the corner, with the cap crooked.

‘i’m bisexual,’ she says, then puts her head in her hands, definitely embarrassed and you just laugh. but one thing about ava: she soldiers on: ‘i just mean, i like girls, and, anyway — is it — hypothetically, if someone wasn’t together with their best friend because of … prior commitments, but you’re pretty sure there’s, like, reciprocal feelings, and those commitments are… a little less strict now, and i know bea is — well — is it — should i kiss her?’

you wait for her to take a few breaths and steady herself. ‘so… you’re not dating?’

ava groans. ‘i wish.’

aleyna owes you twenty euro; you knew they were too jittery to have made that jump. you’ll remind her later. ‘do you think beatrice is ready for that?’ you’d seen the way her hands shook when she bypassed a row of dresses for a pair of men’s pants you’d hemmed for her; the way she blushed around aleyna when they spoke arabic together over tea some afternoons; the way she grinned when you’d handed her your favorite bronkski beat record and said, ‘my parents never let me listen to them, but i always wanted to.’

ava frowns; you think she might legitimately be about to cry. ‘i don’t know.’

‘well, it’s clear to me that you love each other, and you have your whole lives,’ aleyna offers. ‘you’ll sort it out.’

ava does cry then, and you thought that was going to be soothing response, but you wait a beat and then hug ava: small, slight — scared, clearly, of something you don’t understand.

‘you’re right,’ she says, after a few moments, and dries her tears. ‘we’ll — there’s time.’ she fiddles with the cap, runs a hand through her hair and then can’t help but smile, just slightly, as she tucks it behind her ears. ‘we’ll have time.’

‘you will,’ aleyna says, looks to you and you know she means it as a promise, the same one you made to each other years and years ago.

ava sniffles and nods and then laughs. ‘wow, sorry! crying in front of my two favorite lesbians. other than bea, obviously, but — fuck.’ she looks a little panicked but then, ‘oh well, you already knew, right?’

‘yes,’ you say, and aleyna laughs.

‘well, you’re tied for number two on the list, sorry.’

‘an honor.’

ava bows with a flourish and giggles at herself. ‘anyway, now my hair is always in my face, something i did not think through. so i’m gonna get this hat.’

you ring her up and she puts it on backward with a little grin and waves on her way out.

/

‘hello,’ beatrice says, wandering as you’re near closing, without ava in tow. ‘if it’s too late, i’m happy to come back another time.’

‘not at all.’

she smooths her already perfectly neat bun. ‘i was wondering —‘ she takes a deep breath and settles herself, like she’s about to shoot a gun— ‘can i try on a suit?’

‘of course,’ you say calmly, and it works: she nods in thanks and lets the air out of her lungs. you find her a beautiful, light linen suit — a little oversized, still a little feminine, and a pair of loafers you love, a collarless button down to go under the jacket. she takes her time in the dressing room, but when she steps out, her hair out of its bun, swept over her shoulder, her shirt tucked in neatly, she looks in the mirror and bites her bottom lip.

‘this is beautiful.’ it’s wistful, and sad.

‘you look handsome.’

she looks up at the ceiling, then tries to wipe tears of her cheeks as discreetly as possible. ‘you love being who you are.’

‘i do,’ you say. ‘i love being butch; i love that people know who i am, and how i want to be.’ you bring her some elegant cufflinks and she lets you put them on.

‘i love this suit.’

‘you’re more than allowed.’ you squeeze her wrist, just once. ‘it is a great suit.’

she smiles, grateful for the levity, and then lets out a big breath. ‘it’s quite a gift, to be in your own skin.’

‘it is.’

she tells you that she can’t get it — not yet, she says, a promise more to herself — and after she’s changed and meticulously hung the suit back up, she gives you a hug. you put your hand to the back of her head, as protective as you can. you had had an older dyke who had given you your own suit, had taught you careful stitches to tailor a waistband and how to comb your hair back neatly.

‘i do have something for you,’ you say, and hand her a small necklace, an opal drop on a black cord; aleyna had found it at a market in geneva and given it to you for the express purpose of giving it to beatrice. it’s meddling, but you think, in this scenario, maybe a little push is kind.

‘i can’t — this is too generous.’

‘it’s not.’ you put it in a small velvet bag for her. ‘i’m old, and have a beautiful wife. you get to go be yourself. and i think there’s a girl who cares a great deal for you.’

beatrice nods. ‘thank you. ava will love it, i’m sure.’

/

when you get to the shop a few weeks later, there’s a note shoved under the door; you open it and see what you’re sure is beatrice’s careful handwriting:

Dear Lena and Aleyna,

We are deeply sorry to leave without saying a proper goodbye; we’ve had a family emergency and have to get there as quickly as possible. Your generosity — your tea, and books, and music, and the beautiful suit I’ll think of for years to come — has changed my life. Your love is somewhat of a holy thing, I think. Ava also says that she appreciates all the crop tops you had for her because it made flirting more fun (she made me write this). In any case, we’ll miss you greatly; hopefully, we will be back eventually to visit again. I hope my Arabic improves, and Ava would like to make you drinks one day.

All our love, Beatrice + Ava

/

it’s a warm morning in may, spring giving way into the purple blooms of summer, when the door opens and you almost drop your coffee because you hear laughter you could never really forget, and then ava and beatrice walk in. you haven’t seen them in two years, and they both look older, a little tired, but they’re holding hands and ava is just as bright as you remember, a cap still backward on her head, short hair tucked behind her ears, an exuberance in her steps; beatrice’s hair is long and blonde and she smiles with a lightness in her eyes you’d never seen before. aleyna walks out of the back, absolutely delighted.

‘what are you two doing here?’

ava smiles. ‘we were visiting some friends in berlin, then heading to andalusia for a few weeks. we live in los angeles now.’

‘california!’ aleyna grins.

‘right on the beach,’ ava says. ‘but, well, we wanted to stop by, say proper goodbyes and then a new hello!’

beatrice laughs, free and open, and the hand that sneaks its way across the back of ava’s shoulders seems second-nature at this point. ‘i, um, actually — we have a wedding soon.’

‘not ours,’ ava says, but then looks to beatrice, ‘but one day, right.’

beatrice flushes red, but her smile doesn’t falter at all. ‘one day, yes.’ she turns to you and sets her shoulders. ‘could you help me with a suit?’

you give her a hug; you can’t help it, and no one mentions it when she lets ava wipe a few tears when she backs up. ‘it would bring me immense joy to do so.’

and you do — ava sits with aleyna and whistles at everything beatrice tries on, and beatrice puts on a slim navy suit — without a shirt underneath; she had smirked at ava when she walked out — and then looks at herself in the mirror. she meets your eyes in the reflection and nods, just once.

‘that’s the one, then?’

she nods. ‘i think so.’

‘this isn’t fair,’ ava pouts, ‘bea’s gonna look so much hotter than me. she’s gonna upstage the bride and the groom at this point.’

aleyna laughs. ‘terrible problem to have.’

ava rolls her eyes, joyful all the same. ‘you would know.’

aleyna smiles in your direction — a lifetime, a whole lifetime; your heart still swells like it did the first time you ever saw her. ‘i would.’

[laundryandtaxes]

Hi- I love your style and your fashion sense! I’m looking to buy my first suit, do you have any tips? I’m rather tall and heavy so I’ve been too nervous to try any on but I’d really love to get a suit 🥲

My only major tip is to only purchase from a retailer that allows you to buy the jacket and trousers separately. For instance, when I purchase an OTR suit I first make sure that the trouser and jacket sizes I want are both in stock (easy to do via email) and then leave my trouser size swap as a note in the order. The reason for this is that, otherwise, a 46 suit jacket, for instance, will come with 40 waist trousers- a 6 inch "drop" is standard sizing, but that works for almost no women and likely a minority of men as well.

Otherwise, I'd say any old guide to suit fit from a classic menswear perspective will do you well. The fit at the shoulders is non negotiable because it is difficult and expensive to alter shoulders, so it needs to be just right- the shoulder lean test where you lean a shoulder into a wall to ensure that the jacket doesn't land too far before your shoulder is a fairly reliable fit indicator. If your shirt sleeve is not visible with your arms at your sides naturally, then the suit sleeves are too long- whether you want to show half an inch of shirt cuff or a quarter of an inch of cuff is up to you, but some should be visible. I personally don't ever like slim cut jackets or trousers, I personally don't ever like no break trousers for suits, but that's because those things are not my style. Shoulder fit it one of the only things that is genuinely non negotiable in a jacket. When buttoning, follow the Sometimes, Always, Never rule. If a jacket has 3 buttons, you can sometimes button the top, will always button the second, and should never button the third. If a jacket has 2 buttons (as most contemporary jackets do) you skip the sometimes. I wouldn't purchase a suit that was anything other than entirely natural material- whether linen, cotton, wool, silk, blends of those, whatever- but that's also a personal choice and there's nothing inherently wrong with some stretch if you like it.

I think it is technically true that a jacket does not fit if you can't close it, but I also recognize that we all need to accept the bodies we actually have when it comes to OTR tailoring, to decide going in which parts of the fit are most important to us and make our altering and purchasing decisions with those in mind. What alterations are "standard" for a suit, then, is personal, but you should never wear a suit with absolutely no alteration because the odds that it actually fits well are very low because the suit wasn't made for you. For me, standard alterations mean adding a 1.5" cuff, getting the sleeves shortened which nearly everyone needs to do, and having the waist of the jacket let out to eliminate tugging I can otherwise get at the second button.

The more boring a suit is, the more likely you are to still have and wear it in 5 years. When choosing between a more fashionable decision and a more conservative decision, I always make the more conservative tailoring decision but again, that's a personal choice.

[shadowphoenixrider]

Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

(Thank you! ^^ This is probably going to be a scene for a fic I'd like to write in the future, but in case I never do or something comes up, here it is)

The Genoshan Gala was in full swing, mutants of all shapes and sizes decked out to the nines and looking every bit as stunning as the shimmering hall they danced in.

Gambit had chosen a spot at the bar with the best sight-line of the grand stairs at the back of the room, waiting eagerly for the appearances of the two women he had accompanied. He wasn't surprised they were taking a bit longer than him - he knew Rogue especially would be taking her time to look absolutely stunning. Although, as his gaze caught a glimpse of Magneto from the corner of his eye, Gambit turned his thoughts away from the painful conversation they'd had almost half an hour before.

He found himself wondering about Shadow. Gambit had never seen the woman in a dress or even a skirt in all the time he'd known her - although granted, they'd never been together at a fancy occasion such as this. Excitement buzzed under his skin at the thought - would she keep it modest out of shyness, or would she decide to let her hair down and wear something that would drive him wild?

Neither, it turned out.

Quite a few mutants came down the stairs at once, and it took Gambit a moment to pick out the familiar large, fluffy curly hair from them, but once he did:

"Ki-yar...!" He breathed.

Shadow was dressed in a suit very much like Gambit's, except hers had been tailored to accent her slim figure and the curve of her hips. The long-sleeved jacket and slacks looked black in the dark, but shone a gorgeous metallic blue whenever the light caught it, like a magpie's iridescent wing. A swallow brooch was pinned to the right side of the jacket's collar as if it was chasing around her neck. The white shirt below was buttoned up to her neck, her own black bow-tie completing the look.

Gambit was dimly aware that someone called his name, but his eyes were all for the woman descending the stairs, rising to his feet and walking towards her as if he was in a dream, tethered to her. He couldn't believe that no-one but him seemed to pay her any mind.

She was a couple of steps from the bottom when he finally reached her, and his heart almost somersaulted out of his chest when she finally caught sight of him, blue eyes widening and her jaw falling ajar in a gasp.

"Remy!" Her eyes shot all over him, drinking him up like he was water in a burning desert. "Gods, you look...incredible!"

"No more den you, chère." Gambit replied, sweeping another look over her. "Mon dieu, you are..." For once, at loss for words - neither English nor Cajun provided him with anything adequate to describe what she looked like, how she was setting him alight. He tried to push the part of him that wanted to peel that suit off her piece by piece right to the back of his head - there would be time for that eventually, and he wanted to enjoy this.

Gambit bowed slightly, offering a hand to her.

"Shadow, please dance wit me. Grant Gambit dis one night."

She blushed.

"I-I'd love to Remy, but I don't know how-"

He smiled warmly.

"Don't need to for a slow-dance, chère. We can leave the learnin' to another time. I jus' want to be with you tonight."

She blushed more, ducking her head shyly.

"Okay then, but no complaining if I step on your toes."

As she placed her hand in his, Gambit lifted it to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back, holding her blue eyes with his midnight ones.

"Beautiful lady such as you, mon ombre?" He said, gently leading her down to the floor below. "You can step on my toes as many times as ya like."

Shadow was definitely about to retort to that, but Gambit stopped that by pulling her close, placing her hands on his shoulders, and curling his arms around her waist.

"Jus' sway wit me." He murmured softly, leaning close so their foreheads touched. "Let me find de beat, den follow me. Nothin' more den dat."

She smiled, one that lit her face up like the sunrise, and the world completely fell away from around them. There was chatter and talking somewhere around them, and a gasp or two, but it didn't matter - not now. Not with the two of them.

They had all night, and they had each other.

That was enough.

[henriediosa]

Daisy Bell feat. Eleanor Forte AI Lite and ANRI Lite

here it is!! half a year in the making, and it's finally up. i'm really proud that i finally put this together after a long couple months of not being able to work on it.

I also wrote some notes on the costume design of the daisy belles on my ko-fi! because i put a good bit of thought in including elements of both their official character designs and 1890s western women's fashion.

image descriptions in the alt text and under the cut.

ID: two digital collages with yellow backgrounds and brown borders.

(1) eleanor forte as she appears in the daisy bell video, next to an image of her official synthesizer v studio character art and a cropped image of a woman in a shirtwaist, a slim skirt, and a jacket with gigot sleeves. eleanor has long white hair done up in two buns with long pigtails. she is wearing a jacket closed with a ribbon brooch over a pleated blouse, long white gloves, and a slim, cone-shaped skirt, all trimmed with red ribbon. she has a small daisy button pinned to her jacket.

(2) anri as she appears in the daisy bell video, next to an image of her official character art and a cropped image of a woman in a bicycle suit. anri has short brown hair with a fringe. she is wearing a wide red hat and a cycling suit with a full skirt, wide lapels, and daisy buttons. she has a small red ribbon around the collar of her blouse.

ID ends.

[saltlickmp3]

Thought I’d send another of these hehe, still no pressure!!!

🐸Describe your aesthetic

🎤Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🌿describe your favourite outfit

hehe ok!! :DDD

describe your aesthetic - uhm i wear a lot of big tshirts, band shirts a bunch of them, men's plaid button downs, and jeans with holes covered in paint. i got out my mum's old leather jacket yesterday and i actually like it more than i remembered hehe. if i'm feeling especially extra, i'll wear a waistcoat. i like cds and vinyl but if i'm listening to music on a device it's mp3 files babeyyyyy. anything i've used frequently enough will either get paint or pen ink or both on it. i've started cutting my own hair and it doesn't even look too terrible

is there a song i know all the lyrics too - hahahahah yes quite a few <3 i'm a musician i memorise songs for fun :D more pj harvey songs than a normal person probably

describe your favourite outfit - ooh it's long brown pants with lots of pockets, slim black lace-up boots, a blue button down with the sleeve rolled up, tucked in properly, soft waistcoat over that. blue and green tie, long brown corduroy coat which i've mentioned before - it makes me feel like the tenth doctor or like i'm performing on stage (i have worn some variation of this performing) it's very cool and makes me feel almost more myself? i don't wear it a lot because it's a lot of layers and i get too warm, but i like the layers and i like wearing suit-adjacent things and it just sort of makes me more confident and bouncy <3

[joylinda-hawks]

It's 2021 again and it's time to promote the WOH series. I guess even before the series was broadcast, no one expected it would become such a phenomenon. A series that few people expected would be successful made many people fall in love with it from the very first scenes. This is due to the incredible acting skills of both main actors as well as the rest of the cast and producers, directors and many, many other people who worked on this series and gave it their hearts. The success of the series was followed by promotional sessions and livestreams. A few of these livestreams with the main actors were deeply remembered by the viewers. And today I chose one of the photos just taken during one of such livestreams. ZZH had to finish filming the Retro Detective series then, because we could see his natural hair a bit longer. Here, ZZH wears a dark brown suit with white inserts and a white T-shirt. The color brown in clothes is also one of the more difficult colors, not everyone feels good in it. Especially if he has a warm skin tone. Looking at ZZH, we can say that this dark brown color perfectly suited his personality. This white T-shirt and white inserts at the collar, as well as the rolled-up sleeves of the jacket, where we can also see the white lining, effectively enliven this somewhat monotonous styling. The monotony is also broken by jewelry, two chains and a bracelet. It's good that there is not too much jewelry, because the rule in styling is: less is more. That's probably why we don't see earrings in ZZH's ears. In the selected photo, ZZH is sitting on a chair, with his hands clasped and his head slightly bowed. His face is so luminous, you can see that the make-up artist made him a delicate make-up that brought out all the beauty of his face, emphasizing his eyes, eyebrows and lips. The larger neckline in the T-shirt exposes his neck, which with such a cut gives the impression that it is long and slim. I think ZZH is listening to something the host is saying. His face shows concentration, but also a gentle smile. Maybe ZZH is wondering how to answer a question or how to react when he is surprised by a question. I really like ZZH in this dark brown version. Here he is an elegant young man who wants to share with viewers his experiences from working on the set of the WOH series.

[caeca-iustitia]

The Valentine Chronicles - The Truth

A short story inspired by an ask from @sephaeroth which got out of hand.

Now turned into a proper fanfiction at the request of @ssaluss.

Includes the 'Vincent is Sephiroth's Father' theory and Non-Binary Vincent Valentine (They/Them Pronouns).

Also has mentions of blood, injury and talk of experimentation on a child (Sephiroth).

-

Time was meaningless. It stretched on ad infinitum and yet never seemed to move much faster than a rusted clock. To one who was trapped in a place where nothing changed, where everything looked the same and the only distraction available was the distant, faint glimmer of stars in an expansive galaxy, time was a mere suggestion. An idea.

Sephiroth could only be grateful for the small bits of distraction that he could find. Memories slipped into his liminal, infinite space and allowed him faint reminders that life continued without him. That people still existed beyond his vacuum.

It was both depressing and relieving. 

Sometimes the Lifestream would deposit memories unbidden into his lap that were from times long past; give him a look at how life before him went on. They would allow him to see all kinds of things; from the Cetra’s daily lives in the distant past to simply how the childhood of his inexorably intertwined soulmate had gone.

-

Today, whatever today was, delivered to Sephiroth a memory that was seemingly linked to neither Cloud Strife nor himself. The faint blurriness allowed him to make out a distinctive lab coat as it all came into focus around him. 

The Professor.

What? How? 

The Professor looked younger, his hair was thicker and his face held fewer lines. He looked no less disgusting so that much hadn't changed at least. Sephiroth couldn't recall ever having seen the Professor look so young or healthy. He'd always looked like he had one foot in the grave whenever memories of him appeared in his mind.

He cast his eyes around and stopped short in shock. This was a room beneath the Nibel Manor, that infernal place where he’d discovered just what he was. The cold stone walls and the musty wooden bookshelves looked clean and well-used. The books strewn around only piqued his interest as he tried to recall if he’d ever seen them before. 

His eyes glance down at the floor and he’s surprised to not see the dark stain- no doubt blood- that had been ominously present when he’d last seen the room in his own time.

His gaze then snaps up as the memory begins and the door flies open with a loud bang, startling Sephiroth but not the Professor who stood at the desk as if he had anticipated this. Sephiroth watches in slight terror and awe as a hand grabs the top of the doorframe and a tall but slender figure ducks into the room. 

The person was tall, towering over even Sephiroth, with the most vibrant red eyes that the younger had ever seen. Brighter than even that Lockhart girl’s had been. Their skin was pale as snow and contrasted greatly against the inky blue-black of their shortly-cropped hair.

The suit they wore was missing the jacket and the sleeves of their white shirt were rolled up to the elbows, exposing bandaged forearms. Their suit pants were a familiar shade of blue and were tucked into laced-up black combat boots. 

They’re a Turk!

And they did not look happy. Far from it, in fact, as their lip curled into a harsh snarl as they zeroed in on the Professor. It was here that Sephiroth noticed the similar structure of their face to his own; slim nose, delicately slanted eyes, somewhat high cheekbones and fuller lips than one would expect. 

The way their hair framed their face made Sephiroth think back to his teenage self; the similarity was uncanny.

-

They cross the room in a handful of stride, their long legs carrying them to stand just behind the Professor. Sephiroth’s mind was still reeling from everything but he did his best to listen to the conversation- if it could be called that- between the unknown Turk and the Professor.

"You sicken me," the stranger spits, the anger in their deep voice making Sephiroth's hair stand on end, "What could you possibly gain from experimenting on a child?"

Experiment… on a child?

The only experiments that came to mind were the ones that had been performed on himself, Genesis and Angeal. Ones used to create them and train them into what they became in the end. 

Yet, Sephiroth knew that the other two had been created by Hollander- not the Professor. So that meant this stranger was referring to… him?

But why? Why would this person that Sephiroth didn’t know care about him? Moreover, where were they now if they cared so much?

“The key to everything, Turk Valentine," the Professor sneers, "The key to bringing back the Ancients! Miss Crescent's sacrifice was a necessary step... that boy shall be a GOD!"

That phrase turns his stomach, making him look away with a shaky exhale. A God? That had been what he had foolishly called himself before he had met his end in the Nibel Reactor. Of course, the Professor had always seen Sephiroth as a means to an end, a weapon, to get what he wanted. 

Then, the realisation that he had new names to think about crossed his mind and chased away the traitorous thoughts of what could have been if he had not let his hubris get the better of him. 

Turk Valentine? The stranger did have a name after all, it seemed, but Sephiroth couldn’t be sure if ‘Valentine’ was a code name or not. Turks were suspicious bastards like that and it wouldn’t surprise him if it was merely nothing more than a false name. 

At least he now had a name for that eerily familiar face.

That second name, however, caught his attention more. Miss Crescent? Crescent was a name that Sephiroth was at least familiar with in passing. It had been that name which had been passed over by his past self when scouring lab reports but it was so achingly familiar. It takes a moment to remember where he had seen it before.

Ah yes, the scientist who worked on Project S with the Professor. The woman who had made a handful of reports before just leaving for no specified reason. Sephiroth doesn’t remember much about her but she was somewhat present in his earliest memories of the laboratory. 

The mention of making Sephiroth an Ancient made the young man scoff. How pathetic was this man? It was ridiculous.

"That thing is no Ancient!" Turk Valentine retorts, hands clenching at their sides, "That is an abomination! Gast was wrong!"

"Ah you foolish boy," The Professor sneers, glancing back at the other as he folds his arms behind his back, "You are no scientist so who are you to dictate what Jenova is or isn't? She is an Ancient. The last of her kind. A beautifully preserved specimen! A fine mother for our new God, Sephiroth!"

Jenova Mother…

Why was the Turk referring to his mother as an abomination and, moreover, why were they saying that she wasn’t an Ancient? Gast had yet to be truly wrong about anything so why was this lone Turk so vehement about this?

The Professor seemed unphased by the accusations and his retorts made Sephiroth cringe away. Being referred to as a God- especially by Hojo- was vile in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. 

Something about it made him feel quite ill.

"Lucrecia is his mother!" The Turk shouts with a furious snarl to their lip, "Yet even she has turned her back on him! What lies have you fed to her that have made her treat her unborn son like this?! Sephiroth does not deserve to be treated like this!”

Lucrecia? Lucrecia Crescent? 

That was his mother's true name? 

What of Jenova? 

What was she if this Lucrecia Crescent was his mother? 

More questions spin in his head as he stares at the Turk’s furious expression and then slowly turns his gaze to the Professor, who has yet to even turn around and face the other. 

“I have not lied to my wife, Turk Valentine,” the Professor sneers, seemingly taking joy in the twisting of the Turk's face at the statement, “She believes in my vision for our child. Believes in the power he could obtain.”

Sephiroth watches mutely as the Turk seems to become even more incensed at this, their hands trembling violently as their teeth grind together.

“He has yet to even be born!” the Turk snaps furiously, gesturing widely with a hand, “And yet you have both already forsaken him! That child is not a weapon! That child is not a God! He is an innocent being with no concept of the cruelty that awaits him!”

A sense of warmth settles in Sephiroth’s heart at the Turk's words. It felt nice to be defended, to have someone care about him, even if this was in the past before he was even alive. Something in the Turk’s words made Sephiroth hopeful that, in another reality maybe, he would have been loved by someone.

The way they spoke was… protective and almost fatherly. 

It felt nice.

“Oh but he is,” the Professor says, laughing, “And he shall be the greatest weapon known to mankind. An Ancient of such great renown that all shall tremble!”

“MY SON IS NOT A WEAPON! He shall never BE a weapon! He is MY CHILD!” the Turk roars like a furious beast, silencing the Professor’s cackles, “And you are a monster. A vile, wretched creature incapable of understanding the absolutely disgusting way in which you are violating MY unborn child. He is not a weapon, Hojo…”

Their child? Their son?

This was his father? 

Why? Why did they not come for him? Where were they?! 

Why… why did they not rescue him? 

Was he just so bad that not even the one who had defended him so openly would come for him?

Sephiroth felt molten hot tears form in his eyes and he rapidly blinked, unable to shake them free and regain his composure. Mercifully, he was permitted a moment to grieve for what could have been if his father had rescued him. 

He let himself crumble to the floor and hug his knees as he once did when he was a child. 

When he composed himself and stood, the memory continued against his will as a twinge of pained anger gripped his heart. 

“Oh but he will be," The Professor chuckles, turning slowly to face the Turk, "And he shall be perfect."

The Turk growls and steps forward again as if to strike the Professor.

“You…”

Their words died in their throat as the scientist turned and there was a loud bang, followed by a choked cry of pain. Their hand flies to their chest and comes away bloody. Sephiroth numbly turned to look at the Professor, horrified to see a shotgun in his hands as he grinned maniacally at the Turk who he had just shot without hesitation. 

Then, his eyes dart to the Turk as they stumble backwards for a second. They seem confused as they stare at their bloody hand for a moment longer before it seems to catch up with them and they collapse to the floor. 

Right over where that stain now resides.

It was them. Their blood. 

His father’s blood painted the floor of that dilapidated room at the manor.

The wound is deep and wide, spanning the width of their chest and exposing no small amount of their insides. Sephiroth felt nauseated from the sight of what looked to be what remained of their heart as it struggled desperately to keep beating. The desperate inhales, choked by blood as the precious liquid pooled beneath their rapidly dying body. 

The Professor’s words were muffled now as he silently stared at the person he had come to learn was his father as they bled to death in front of him- gasping and choking as they drowned in their own blood. He fell to his knees beside them and gazed down at their face as they stared at the ceiling, red eyes wide as they fought for what little life they had left. 

More tears formed now as he realised that this was the fate of his father. Death. Experimentation. All of it was because they had loved him. 

They had defended him and lost their life for it.

"S-Sep... hi... roth..."

His eyes widen further and he lets out a sob again, tears pouring in unending streams down his face.

The last thing that they'd thought about was him?

The last thing that had been on their mind as their life came to an end was him? Did they want forgiveness? Sephiroth had nothing to forgive. They were the only one who had loved him. Cared for him. 

Even his own mother had forsaken him. 

But they hadn’t. They had been there even before he was born. 

Loving him. Cherishing him. Defending him. 

Oh, how foolish Sephiroth felt. How stupid he was. 

His father had always loved him. Had died for him.

That warmth, bittersweet as it was, returned. 

Love, he thinks, feels nice. 

The memory begins to fade around him but not before he catches the sight of Lucrecia Crescent- her familiar brown hair giving her away- burst into the room and run to his father’s side. 

“Vincent! Oh, Goddess! Vincent, please! Don’t die on me!”

Vincent? 

Was this… his father’s name?

Vincent Valentine?

He liked it. 

And maybe, deep in his mind, he remembered a tall cloaked figure who bore that name. Bore those eyes and that hair. 

His father was still here. Still loved him. Still cared.

His soul felt lighter than it ever had before. 

During his slumber that night- if the night could be quantified when one is surrounded by endless space and no ability to conceive time- he dreamed. 

Dreamed of a life with his father. 

Dreamed of love. Peace. Comfort. Stability. 

He dreamed of a father’s affectionate smile and gentle voice.

“Sleep well, my dear, you have deserved a good rest…”