#then the long leather jacket was simple but effective

[parkissat]

Aaaaaaa he looks like something out of Power Rangers or Spy Kids I love it XD

But also THE DALTONS' NEW OUTFITS!!!

And also also LOVE Erika's look and vibe from the gifs I saw, love her energy and chemistry with Jere ;u;

[thefiresofpompeii]

another really well-designed visual storytelling element of dot and bubble is the decision to have the fifteenth doctor star in it wearing his “doctoriest” costume yet. doctor outfits vary, of course, but a unifying trait is some kind of suit/smart-casual style and long jacket — subverted in many cases, obviously, but even thirteen wears the long hoodie and suspenders, and twelve’s punk fits still follow roughly the same template, nine has his leather jacket doing the job — whereas fifteen has most noticeably stepped outside that mold for the past few episodes, starting with the kilt and open-shouldered vest (!) in TCORR, then the t-shirts and, in general, far less rigidity.

but in Dot and Bubble, you take one look at this man and know: he’s the Doctor. which is why it creates such a powerful feeling of juxtaposition — all this ‘Doctor-aura’ posturing that usually works on side characters straight away completely fails to have any kind of effect in the face of unabashed, impenetrable bigotry. the clothing is a kind of uniform, it provides reassurance that this man *is* the doctor, that he’s come to rescue you, that he’s the same person he’s always been. but not to the residents of finetime.

since time immemorial (the second doctor’s era, but maybe even earlier, i haven’t seen much hartnell so correct me if i’m wrong) the doctor’s been asked — “why am i talking to you, why am i telling you my secrets?” and he’s always replied that he has a “face you can trust”. it’s time lord magnetism. people are naturally drawn to him. he commands a room. people begin to follow his orders because they know on some primal, innate, subconscious level that this entity is going to help them survive and make their existence better.

which is why it’s so jarring when they don’t. the racism, privilege and prejudice that clouds their eyes is genuinely so strong that it almost works like a perception filter, blocking out the doctor’s natural charisma, his bottomless kindness, all of the superhuman qualities that make him irresistible. they don’t see the charming 2000-year-old Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey that is going to “save their lives and everyone else’s”, long jacket fluttering out behind him as he runs, holding his hand outstretched like a beacon of hope. they see a Black man and nothing else, and that puts him beneath them no matter what he says, no matter what he does, how he proves that *he’s the Doctor*. to fascists, race stands above everything. you can be accomplished, talented, wise, clever, brilliant, but to them, the simple fact of the colour of your skin renders you unworthy. and that’s why they’re beyond saving.

[operafantomet]

FAVOURITE RED DEATH IN NON-REPLICA PRODUCTIONS

Rule no. 1: Gotta be red. Cause, you know... RED death. Then... a sense of death. If it's just a fancy red costume I miss the horror of the living skeleton Gaston Leroux describes. Though not without exceptions. If there is a hint of danger in some other way I can be on board. Key thing is that the figure feels like a threat. Hence...

ROW 1: Hungary (design by Nelly Vágó). Talking about a living skeleton, here comes the ultimate one! Skull head and a doublet illuding festering ribs, clothes that look torn and ancient as they come straight from the grave. Furthermore, the fingers looks like claws. This is an absolutely awesome costume design.

ROW 2: Czech Republic (design by Roman Šolc). Long, swooshing coat, drape, ornate jabot, and a death skull head. It's wonderfully theatrical and suitable scary.

ROW 3: Norway / Greece / Tour (design by Andrew Riley). At first glance "just" a red Renaissance-esque leather suit and plumed tricorn hat. But that cape... it gives a sense of bat-like wings, and also a hint of the Mephistopheles tale, the devil hunting Faust's soul. It's underlines by the set design, as he is standing on the mantle of a burning fireplace, looking like the flames of hell.

ROW 4: Serbia (design by Tatjana Radišić). He appears in a coat reminding of cossack "gazyr" uniforms with a dash of Hussar jacket, and with a half-mask giving a sense of a skull. He is armed to the teeth, the Hussar look underlined by his sword, but with the cossack vibe in mind he eventually also pulls a gun. Not the guy to mess with.

ROW 5: Sweden (design by ?) and the Mediterranean version (design by Chiara Donato). Yes, two different ones, and I would have listed them separately if I had multiple good photos of both. But they are strangely unphotographed, both of them. They also convey much of the same idea. Both feature a red cloak with wide sleeves, and with a hood partly hiding the mask underneath. In the case of Sweden there was a skull mask, while the other showed hints of the Phantom's white half-mask. After delivering the score for Don Juan Triumphant, they both swirled out of the cloak and mysteriously disappeared. Simple, and super effective.

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter four | you can hear it in the silence

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.2k

summary: you try to keep your distance from ben after italy, but after a terrible day, there's no one else you'd rather be with. i wonder why that is...

A/N: sorry it took longer than usual to update guys, it's been a very busy week for me! this one's a bit short as well but the next will be longer. i'm so happy the prem is back and we're getting so much good ben content though, the chelsea media team is keeping us well fed (and inspired one line of this chapter lol). title is from you are in love by taylor swift 🙈

previous chapter | view all chapters

Your plan when you got back to London seemed almost foolproof at the time.

You picked up a bunch of shifts at work, more than you would ever normally take on in one week. If you’re constantly working, then that gives you 1) an excuse not to attend any more events with Ben and 2) a good distraction from the developing feelings you’re experiencing for him.

The facts are simple.

He is your best friend in the world. He most certainly doesn’t return whatever weird feelings you’re having. Nothing is going to happen.

You’re sure it’s just a weird side-effect of this fake dating you’ve been doing, but that’s just playing pretend. 

Seeing him return to his usual ways - that perhaps he never left - of sleeping with beautiful models, firmly planted you back in the real world. 

And there’s nothing that can help you snap out of your fantasy life than a double shift in an East London emergency department. 

By the end of the week, you’re burnt out, exhausted, and you’re coming off what might be the worst shift you’ve ever had. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, and it takes all your energy just to make it home on the tube and get yourself up the stairs to your flat afterward.

You don’t know whether you want to cry, scream, sleep, eat, or something else entirely when you finally make it to your couch and collapse into it. 

Some time passes - you’re not sure if it’s minutes or hours - without you moving a muscle, your face buried in a pillow as you try to forget about your nightmare day. You’re snapped out of it when there’s a knock on your door. 

You’re not expecting anyone, but you reluctantly force yourself off the couch and trudge your way over to open it. 

And there stands Ben, who you haven’t seen or really spoken to except a few texts in a week and a half. Perfect.

“Ben, what are you doing here?” 

You’re aware it’s not the most polite greeting, but you don’t really have much more than that in you. 

“Are you alright?” Ben asks as soon as he has a moment to take you in, his eyes scanning your face. “You didn’t answer my call yesterday or my texts this morning, I was worried.”

Although you missed the texts because your phone was off at work and haven’t had the energy to check your messages since, you did dodge his call. 

“I’m fine, I just had a long day at work and I-“ You pause as it dawns on you what day it is, as well as the fact that Ben is dressed a bit more smartly than usual, in black trousers and a nice leather jacket. “Oh, shit. The Nike thing. I completely forgot.”

You had agreed weeks ago to attend a big flashy party for Nike as Ben’s date tonight, but as you focused all your energy on work this week it completely slipped your mind. 

“I’m sorry, just give me a few minutes to get changed and I’ll-“

“Hey, hey,” Ben says softly, stepping into your flat and closing the door behind him. “Forget about the party, is something wrong?”

You shake your head. “I just had a rough day at work.”

Ben nods, gesturing for you to go on, and something about the sincere worry in his eyes makes it impossible for you to remain closed off from him.

“We were really understaffed, and it was just one thing after another and then I lost a patient and I just-“ 

You cut yourself off as you feel that you’re about to cry, the sheer weight of your awful day and week catching up with you, but Ben can see it in the way your lip is trembling slightly and you’re avoiding eye contact with him.

“It’s alright, come here,” he says, stepping closer and pulling you into his arms before you can insist that you don’t need to be comforted. You definitely do, and there’s no better comfort on earth than Ben’s hugs. 

He holds you close against him, letting you hide your face in his chest, and you can’t resist letting out a few sobs now that he’s opened the emotional floodgates. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” Ben says so softly that it almost makes you cry harder. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, and never breaking contact, Ben shuffles you both backward until the back of your legs hits the couch and eases you both into a seated position. He pulls you even closer so your legs are draped over his lap and your face rests in the crook of his neck, his hands slowly rubbing your back as your sobs taper off into quiet whimpers.

You can feel everything bad and stressful about today slowly leave your body with every soothing murmur and stroke of Ben’s warm hand against your back. 

He’s like an instant cure for everything wrong with the world, and it occurs to you that a big part of your terrible mood is probably the result of not seeing him for longer than usual. 

Now that you’re back in his presence, in the strong arms that have held you when you were eight and you scraped your knee falling off a bike and when you were sixteen and a boy broke your heart for the first time, you never want to leave. 

You’re no longer crying when you finally find the strength to pull away from him and look him in the eye. 

Ben releases you but keeps his hands firmly on your arms as he examines your face with worried eyes and a creased brow. 

“Are you alright?” he asks barely above a whisper. 

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Sorry, I guess this week was just a bit overwhelming.”

“You’ve been working a lot lately, yeah?”

“Yeah, well, have to pay the bills,” you shrug, as if that’s the only reason you’ve been drowning yourself in shifts on purpose. 

You do regret the comment slightly as Ben’s mouth opens and you know what he’s going to say before he even says it. 

“Y/N, if you ever need money, you know-“

“Ben,” you interrupt. “I don’t need money, I’m fine. It was just a stressful week, but I’ve got a few days off now.”

You’ve had this dispute before, with Ben freaking out whenever you seem overworked and insisting on covering some of your expenses. You never take him up on it, obviously. You do mostly love your job and helping people, and Ben knows that. He just worries about you. 

“Alright, fine,” Ben accepts. “Now why don’t we order some food and pick something to watch?”

You blink at him in confusion. “What? What about the Nike thing?”

Ben shrugs. “I’ll skip it. No big deal.”

“Ben-“

“Y/N, you had a shit day, you’re not going to some dumb party, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s his job to take care of you when you’re sad. Like he’s more than just your friend.

You can’t help but smile at his sincere expression, and how he’s gently rubbing your calf that’s still draped over his lap, as if you touch each other like this in private all the time. 

“I thought you said it would be a fun party?” you raise an eyebrow. “Or were you just trying to trick me into it?”

Ben laughs. “Well, it might be alright. A couple of the boys are gonna be there. But not as fun as watching a film with you.”

There it is again - that damn fluttering in your chest that is equal parts exciting and terrifying. 

Suddenly, doing anything with Ben sounds pretty good. Even a dumb party. 

“You know what, let’s go,” you say, wiping any remaining tears from your cheeks. “There’s no point in this whole fake dating thing if we don’t commit, right?”

“Are you sure?” Ben asks, frowning a bit. “We really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure. Let me go get changed.”

You get ready fairly quickly, putting on your go-to little black dress and comfiest heels, because you did just work a 12-hour day. You make your hair look presentable and apply a bit of makeup.

It’s nothing special, but the look on Ben’s face when you walk out of your bedroom says otherwise. 

The stress of your day continues to fade away to nothing as you and Ben make your way over to the party. Ben drives as they have a match Sunday so he won’t be drinking anything, and he loudly sings along to the Taylor Swift song on the radio in a clear attempt to cheer you up. It’s definitely working.

The party is a cool, lively affair at the Nike HQ. There are loads of athletes there, some that you recognize from television and some that you know through Ben. 

As you navigate the party, chatting with some Nike execs and some of Ben’s past and present teammates, Ben maintains some kind of physical touch with you. His fingers intertwined with yours as you walk in; his arm around your waist as you talk to his mates; his hand rubbing gentle circles on your lower back as you order a drink. 

You don’t know if it’s the fact that this is an event hosted by one of his biggest sponsors and he wants to play up the “man in love” thing or if he’s still trying to comfort you, but you can’t help hoping it’s the latter. 

After a while, Ben is approached by someone from Nike asking if he can do a short interview for social media. 

“Your girlfriend is welcome to join too,” the woman says nicely, flashing you a smile.

“You don’t have to,” Ben whispers in your ear, but you just shrug. 

Normally you would shy away from any press, but maybe a part of you doesn’t mind being called his girlfriend tonight.

“I’ll do it,” you say with a small smile at the interviewer. 

Ben keeps his arm protectively around your waist as the interview begins, glancing at you from time to time to make sure you’re alright.

They ask him a few questions about football before diving into the personal stuff, which you know is juicer for social media. 

“So, Ben, we see you’ve brought your lovely girlfriend Y/N here tonight,” the interviewer says. “How does she keep you grounded during the hectic football season?”

You tense a bit as you wonder what Ben is going to say, or if he’s going to be able to come up with anything on the spot, but he barely takes a second to respond.

“She’s such a calming presence in my life, really,” Ben says, squeezing your waist slightly. “She’s a nurse, so her job is infinitely harder than mine, and she still supports me emotionally whenever I hit a low point with my career. She’s…just the best person I know.”

Your heart is beating so wildly that you’re worried Ben is going to be able to tell, but you don’t have much time to stop being flustered before she’s directing a question at you.

“Y/N, I’ve heard that you two have known each other for quite some time before your relationship began,” she says. “What’s your favourite thing about Ben?”

There are a million things that come to mind right away, most of which feel too personal to share. 

You love how he takes care of the people in his life without expecting anything in return. You love how he cries every time you watch Marley and Me together, even though he’s seen it a thousand times.  You love close he is with his family and how he calls his mum every Sunday night just to chat. 

You love…

“I love how positive he is,” you say after a moment when you realize it’s taking you too long to answer. “He’s overcome a lot of adversity in his career, but he always has a smile on his face and makes everyone around him feel better by being in his presence.”

While you try to keep your answer somewhat football-related, since this is a work function, it’s also completely true.

And when Ben looks at you with that same bright smile, you think he knows that.

“Well, it seems love is in the air at Nike HQ tonight,” the interviewer swoons. “I hope you both have a nice evening, and we wish you all the best this season, Ben.”

As she leaves you standing there alone with Ben, trying to process the weight of your feelings, he turns to smile at you and tightens his grip on your waist.

When you meet his gaze and your stomach churns, you know two things for certain.

The first is that you’re in love with your best friend. It’s absolutely terrifying, due in part to the fact that you think you may have been in love with him without realizing it for a long time, but there’s no disputing it anymore.

The second is that you’re going to have to end this fake relationship before someone gets hurt. 

You just hope it’s not too late.

a/n: let me know what you thought, predictions, etc!! love chatting with all of you and your comments/asks make my day! <3 tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe​ @batmansb1tch​ @ncentic​ @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

[writingawaymylife]

A/N: so I read @icyblogs fic about Ghoul!Simon and I was so inspired, and suddenly, this idea had me in a chokhold. I was so tired last night I couldn't write it, but literally, the moment I got up, I was writing this out on my phone. I did a quick read through and tried to find any mistakes, so I hope it's smooth, but I did write this in a hour, lol

Synopsis: Simon has spent two years trying to survive after a rude awakening to the new world. Losing everyone close to you is an experience he never wanted to suffer through again. Navigating the world alongside that grief doesn't make it any easier. It seems, however, that the world has finally decided to give him some mercy.

Word count: 1,800+

Warnings: swears, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of a severed hand and violence, please tell me if I missed anything

Simon had been stuck in some facility when the bombs fell. Some test. It's not like he wanted to stay in there, but they were testing out something related to the effects of cryogenic stasis on the human body (especially those who had peak body performance), and the week long study "just happened" to take place a few days before the bombs dropped. He had been told that if he took part in this, that him and his partner would be safe in a vault, but now he's waking up, and it's been over 200 years and everything is destroyed. He is mourning everything. The loss of his friends, his life, and you. Sweet you.

Waking up to this world bring so much grief that he nearly loses him mind, but he pushes through. Everyone that he ever loved and who ever loved him would want that. You would never forgive him for giving up. So, he eventually just falls into a life of survival. Odd jobs here and there, traveling. He often thinks back to who he used to be and his life, but he forces himself to focus on what is in front of him. Keeping himself afloat through the continuation of everything he'd known from before the Great War.

He's at a small town in the middle of nowhere yet again. Nursing a few shit wounds and an ever shittier whiskey as he tries to shake off some of the stress of the day. Raiders had taken up in an abandoned factory near the town, and he'd been hired to clear it out. Simple job for him really, yet even being out in the wasteland for a while now, he still finds himself missing his team. The companionship and the way they all worked together like awell-oiled machine. He tries not to think about how lonely it makes him, but some things just aren't so easily forgotten.

The bar is pretty full, much to his surprise, and the knowledge that he has found himself in yet another town where half the population begins getting drunk by 5 pm is putting him on edge to a certain extent. He's seen how easily people begin to pull out their weapons at the slightest provocation. So he keeps himself in the corner of the bar with his back to the wall, his rifle leaning against the table at an immediate grabbing distance as his eyes do idle surveys of the room It's unlikely that anything will turn sour, he knows that, but the past two years out here have only further emphasized all those years in the military; and he isn't keen to just let it all go for moment of lazy relaxation.

Then he hears something. It's drowned out by the other conversations filling up the space, but it rings something in his head, a small little echo of what once was. Leaning into that feeling shouldn't be so easily humored, he knows this, but beyond the veil of gravel and radio static there's something so familiar. A melody he hasn't heard in so long, one he can't help but soak in and embrace. His eyes are trying to find the source, weaving through the crowds, before they land on the weathered, spike shouldered, leather jacket of a Ghoul. He can't see their face, but something about the curves of their body looks so intimately familiar that he finds his hand shaking as it grips the glass. Inklings of recognition fire through his synapses, forcing him to stay on their back. They're talking to a man beside them, nodding along and shrugging before they're speaking again, and Simon feels like he's going fucking insane. The knowledge of that voice, that same intonation, forcefully summoned to the forefront of his mind.

Then the ghoul turns their face.

Everything comes to such an aggressive halt he nearly wheezes. His eyes never leaving their face, scarred and worn and-

You.

You're sitting there two hundred years after the end of the world in some leather jacket and vest, a rifle strapped to your back and two pistols in your waist holster. There's a severed hand on the table between you and the person, marred and glinting with a few rings, and the man you're talking to nods approvingly at it. Giving you a swift pat on the arm before handing over a rather comfortable looking pouch of caps. Then the man says something, and you're laughing, and yes, it's different and rough and age worn, but he would know it bloody deaf.

Simon can't move. He's thinking about all the years you've been out here. The pain, suffering, the ghoulification process that he has heard stories of, the things you must have done to keep yourself from going insane. His eyes are honed in on the pouch of caps, and he knows that you've had to become strong in a way that he wasn't there to help you through. While you fought through two centuries of destroyed civilization and were shown the worst of humanity, he had been safe and tucked away in a vault. It wasn't his fault. Not entirely. That doesn't stop the mind-numbing guilt that has come back and multiplied twofold. Nor the anger he's feeling that is mixing with that nauseated realization that everything he did, all he had sacrificed, had been for nothing. He had left you for months on end while the world was falling apart, and you didn't even get the one reason behind all of that.

Every reeling thought has that flight response he hadn't had in so long flaring, but he can't move, can't look away. He keeps looking at you and the way you talk and hold yourself, the similarities shifted through years of experiences. You still gesticulate but it's more toned down, arms staying relaxed where they rest on your thigh and the bar as your fingers dance in the air with whatever you're saying. That little smile you still do is on your face, but he can see how the light in your eyes has changed. Not gone, but as if it has taken on a different filter, colours being more highlighted than the ones that once were.

There's a slightest twitch where your brows once were before your looking around the bar, and he doesn't have time to look away, to hide his face and the shame he believes it will bring before you're looking at him. Eyes snapping to his and your body freezing in place. The man beside you is continuing on, but you aren't paying attention anymore. Your head is tilting. A furrow on your lips as you scan his face while he is unable to leave your eyes. He can see the slow build of shock and pain as recognition kicks in full force. Leather and spike clad shoulders almost shaking as you grip at the room temperature beer you were drinking. He expects horror next. Hatred. You had begged him to stay with you before, your pleas ignored from his desperation to keep you safe. The man stops talking, following your gaze and landing on Simon, but whatever he says next is ignored.

You're almost stumbling out of your chair as you land your feet on the worn bar floorboards, boots planting themselves firmly for a moment like you're hesitating. Eyes scanning and rescanning his face like you don't really believe what's in front of you. Then something clicks in your eyes and you're fucking barreling towards him. For a moment he expects you to try and kill him, and he wouldnt have even tried to stop you. He would have let you press the barrel of your gun into his forehead and paint the wall and tables with his blood and brain matter. But there isn't an ounce of aggression in your eyes as you roughly push past a couple of customers in the way, only such bone deep desperation and begging, suffering hope. Other customers are looking at you with shock at the suddenness of your actons. like you've suddenly gone feral as all conversation comes to a jagged stop. But no one moves, too interested to see what they probably hope to be an entertaining fight after a rather quiet evening.

When you get to him, you are stopping so quickly you collapse to your knees in front of him. Sucking in air like you didn't run twenty feet but miles, eyes pleading and shining with tears as one of your hands rests on the rough wooden floor like it's an anchor. The few nails you have are digging into the rotting spots, most definitely shoving splinters into the thick skin of your fingertips. The other hovers in the space between you two, fingers twitching as you seem to struggle between keeping them open, or pressing them against your fist to avoid giving into the desire physical contact he can see so plainly in your features. It falls back down to your lap for a moment. Neither of you are saying a thing in the dead silent bar as you give him such a begging look, his eyes start to burn.

Such heartbreak and fear and grief should never grace your face. It shatters him, dismantling him to his base atoms and burning away at his skin and organs. You're almost struggling to breath while Simon can't even remember how to when something finally breaks down within you. Your quivering hand reaches up again, cautiously, fearfully almost, to cup his jaw as you look at him like he's some mirage of shade and water after years in the desert.

Your voice croaks, the gravel in it emphasized by your scarred and aged vocal cords as you say his name likes he's your god. Bowed before an alter and finally being graced with the presence of a deity you've spent your life worshipping. "Simon?"

It's like he's been splashed with cold water, jolting him from where he sits as he leans forwards and practically scoops you up onto his lap. The other people are ignored, their stares insignificant as he wraps his arm around your waist and dig that hand into the soft leather there, his other hand coming up to the back of your head. He's pressing your forehead into his as you settle on his lap. Its like he can finally breath, that bone crushing weight leaving his chest as he sink into so many different emotions they become static, unimportant now that he has you in his arms and can feel your body and weight. Ragged breaths match your own as your arms tangled around the other, and he can feel the solid muscle and sinew under your thinning skin as you hold him so tightly. Like you're trying to fold him into you, make him a permanent part of your worn and weary body so he never leaves.

He vows than that he'll never leave you. Never go without that touch that hasn't changed despite the stark difference in your hands. Whatever happens now doesn't matter as long as he's with you, and he'll spend the rest of his days making you know that.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

sorry i have to brainfart this somewhere but mersault chuuya wearing almost damn near similar clothing to his youth got me thinking about dazai and chuuya's fashion choices.

dazai, in all the eras where he was in the mafia....never changes his outfit. it fitting, given his character and such.....so his ada outfit makes him look like a rainbow. dark blue vest, blue gem(?) bolo tie, striped shirt and a tan coat similar to oda's. i think it's cool, to show the stark contrast between his pm days and how he's faring now, aswell to show how much effect oda had on him.

chuuya.....is the complete opposite. boy changes his clothes all the time. but it's so interesting.

his fifteen outfit is very "him" in a sense. street kid, street kid style- red shirt, grey hoodie, green leather jacket, bright blue sheep armband. he fits right in with the rest of the sheep, and hes so...colorful here. almost similar to ada dazai's outfit. and then theres the outfit he wears in the mafia- the first one we saw back in the manga where he seems to be wearing like a..."beta" version of his current outift- but the way it was drawn (disregarding the anime for a second) it looks like its almost ill fitting for him. the vest is too big, the coat looks so heavy, the tie isnt properly tucked, and his pants are baggy. like hes struggling to "fit in".

then theres sb outfit- hes wearing the standard mafia outfit like higuchi, but with his own touches- rolled up sleeves, glasses tucked in his breastpocket, choker, gloves. its not much, but even higuchi doesnt do anything to hers. we kinda see him "getting into" the mafia work, and theres no pop of color here. the dragon head conflict outift is different though- hes wearing clothes that are "his style" again. simple shirt, jacket, choker, gloves. he also has his red petticoat (i think thats what it is? whatever that long cloth underneath his jacket) that, once again, gives him some color. i dunno what spured the outfit change, but i honestly think the red color is his own touch- his own "color"

and then current chuuya. no color at all, maybe safe from the ribbon on his hat. he wears his coat on his shoulders, similar to pm dazai. (also, slight off tangent here- he always loses his coat whenever hes dealing with dazai?? i think?? which is. interesting. given with how glued pm dazai's coat is to his own shoulders. like he actively takes it off/gets it taken off and i SWEAR this only even happens when hes with dazai. idk. ever since asagiri said beast dazai wearing his coat fully to signify him accepting his role as the pm boss ive been. thinking about it. a lot.)

where was i going with this?? oh yeah. why is mersault chuuya wearing his old clothes?? specifically fifteen clothes? like was it his off day or something. bc if you look at chuuyas various outfit as his progression towards the mafia then him wearing his old non mafia clothes either means two things : 1. this is to signify chuuya, under vampire influnce, is well. obviously not loyal to the mafia atm. or 2. something might happen in the future that makes him swear allegiance to someone else which i dont find possible but??? who knows. im overthinking this

Oh my god I opened my asks to find this monster in here and scrolled through it like ?????????

Please feel free to do this anytime this was an absolute joy to read hahaha

"dazai, in all the eras where he was in the mafia....never changes his outfit." His outfit stays pretty similar, you're right, though he does actually change it once during his mafia days. The left image is the outfit he wears in Fifteen and Stormbringer, while the right is what he wears in DHC and Dark Era.

The difference is the blazer jacket he adds under his coat. It's a minimal change but I think it's significant. I mentioned in this post how I believe the change might be related to his change in pronoun from boku to watashi, but really it's more the added layer of distance that makes this significant. Dazai just looks a little... odd, in the first outfit. The coat hangs off him loosely, his shirt is a little baggy. He looks very boyish, and that makes his deceptive tendencies and deeply concerning outlook all the more disturbing to others.

The second outfit makes one change but his clothes now look like they fit him (still with the exception of the coat, which never fit and never will... in this universe anyways. You mentioned Beast so... you know already hehe). In the case of the second outfit, he looks more mature and formal, which lends itself to a person who withdrew further and further away from people (with the exception of the other two at Bar Lupin); who became a terrifying executive in other's eyes, moving away from the "creepy intelligent child" image he had earlier - even though he is still very much a kid. No one knows Dazai - I think the added image of formality and authority here is just one of the many barriers he constructed to keep people from getting too close.

"so his ada outfit makes him look like a rainbow. dark blue vest, blue gem(?) bolo tie, striped shirt and a tan coat similar to oda's."

hjdfvbdjf rainbow - entering his no longer closeted gay era (sorry lol i couldn't resist)

No but you're right about the coat looking a bit like Oda's. He cared for and respected that man like no other and I think when Dazai thinks of "a good person" Oda is the first person who comes to mind. His shirt in the manga is also stripy like Oda's, a little detail that got lost in the anime. :')

"his fifteen outfit is very "him" in a sense. street kid, street kid style- red shirt, grey hoodie, green leather jacket, bright blue sheep armband. he fits right in with the rest of the sheep, and hes so...colorful here."

Yeah. He looks every bit the street kid and blends with the Sheep near perfectly - more than fitting in though, I think it's more than implied that he wants to fit in and changes his look to do so. Chuuya goes to great lengths to give the appearance of fitting in - because he never felt like he truly did (and certainly the Sheep did not treat him like an equal or a friend).

"and then theres the outfit he wears in the mafia- the first one we saw back in the manga where he seems to be wearing like a..."beta" version of his current outfit- but the way it was drawn (disregarding the anime for a second) it looks like its almost ill fitting for him. the vest is too big, the coat looks so heavy, the tie isnt properly tucked, and his pants are baggy. like hes struggling to "fit in"."

YES you get it!! And adding onto that, Chuuya doesn't really have a lot of reason to want to fit in yet. He hasn't found his personal groove yet, because he has little personal attachment to the mafia at this point in time.

Yeah in Stormbringer he's got a few personal touches but is still pretty non-descript (though you're right, it's much more than Higuchi... something to think about for her character too, and how it seems the mafia may be more of a job than an investment to her). By Dead Apple though, Chuuya's outfit is... well, back to his punk vibes, just a little more mafia-classy, I guess. (I don't know fashion I'm sorry, please don't kill me)

"but i honestly think the red color is his own touch- his own "color""

Red makes a lot of sense as a colour for Chuuya. It's energetic, emotional, fierce and aggressive. It's also considered protective, so yeah it suits him for sure. Red clothes, red ability... red camellias...

"and then current chuuya. no color at all, maybe safe from the ribbon on his hat." Ooo ok. So in the anime, this is true but in the manga, I believe his vest is actually a pale red.

Well. Brown with red undertones. Your point still stands though because the colour is very muted. It's not like Fifteen or DHC Chuuya for sure.

"(also, slight off tangent here- he always loses his coat whenever hes dealing with dazai?? i think?? which is. interesting. given with how glued pm dazai's coat is to his own shoulders. like he actively takes it off/gets it taken off and i SWEAR this only even happens when hes with dazai. idk. ever since asagiri said beast dazai wearing his coat fully to signify him accepting his role as the pm boss ive been. thinking about it. a lot.)"

Oh. Thinking on this. Um. Embarrassed to say - I don't think I noticed that actually. Like obviously he loses the coat a lot and that was already something to think on but... only around Dazai, is that right? Hold on, I'm gonna check.

Ok so my check wasn't super thorough (read: I am too tired and drained to go through each and every panel he appears in) but...

By god, I think you're right.

That's. Hm. I'm going to join you on thinking about that for awhile.

I see the coat as a representation of his role and responsibility he takes on, really, so it's interesting that the formality and symbolism of his service to the mafia gets quite literally discarded in the scenes with his foil and equal. Fascinating.

He's also not wearing it in any of these now infamous panels from Chapter 101:

Huh. Well. Thank you anon. You've just given me a whole new thing to whir about.

"why is mersault chuuya wearing his old clothes?? specifically fifteen clothes?"

Honestly, I'm still waiting to figure this out too.

Because of the purplish hue over this piece of new art, I find it hard to tell what the actual colours of his outfit are but it does look awfully similar to his Fifteen outfit. It could just be his "day-off" outfit but I think there's got to be more to it than that. It could have to do with allegiance, like you suggested. May I also suggest the return to a sense of inhumanity?

These are also the clothes he wore when his journey to find answers on himself began. Might he be entering a new arc where he has to "find" himself again?

I still feel we don't have enough information to make a solid judgement. As the meursault pov continues, I think we'll have a better reason as to why he's dressed like this.

[silurisanguine]

OC Questions tag game - (lisa-and-shadow question answers)

I was tagged by @lisa-and-shadow in the oc questions tag game and I'm going to answer the three given me as all 4 of my ocs!- Seren Jones, Aeryn Ryder, Zofie Orel and Kiara Black This was great to really delve into their personalities as i wrote these, i hope that comes across! Since this is going to be a long post, answers behind a cut! And I'll tag @vorchagirl @despicablediet and @bearlytolerant @staticpallour @fangbangerghoul @a-cosmic-elf @atonalginger @eridanidreams @toxiclizardwrites @therealgchu @aro-pancake with these three questions to answer, no pressure though! What is your favourite place to visit? Do you have a signature style or look? What was your favourite toy as a child?

First up Seren Jones (My Starfield, Coemancer Starborn OC)

What was your first kiss like? "Oh...fumbled, messy and embarrassing!...but kinda nice too. I was fourteen and so innocent in that regard. It was with a girl I'll call Katie, a fellow expat I'd met and grown fond of in the Akilan secondary school I ended up in after my parents and I had moved back there. I'd known from the moment i started thinkin about other kids in that way that I liked both boys and girls and finding a girl that seemed to like me too, well I jumped at it...guess my curious explorer streak came out early! It was such a classic trope, kissing her behind the school sheds during break. She basically dared me and I'd never kissed anyone, so I just sort of smushed my lips against hers as she opened her mouth and yeah...messy. Then a teacher came round the corner and discovered us and although they weren't angry I was so embarrassed. Katie I think more so as she kinda avoided me after that." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "Now? I guess my starborn suit. It feels like it's part of me... I dunno. When I'm reborn in a new universe, I'm already wearing it, like it's born with me. But style? I tend to go practical, what will fit under it, so sportswear or jumpsuits, anything fitted or light. As for what I like, I guess I used to enjoy wearing fitted suits and formwear in dark colours, like blues, blacks and greys, sombre tones rather than bright colors. That I leave to my hair! Think my favourite item of clothing though...was my wedding dress. That was this cream and deep dark navy blue sleeveless gown I'd found in a shop in New Homestead, but I think that had a lot to do with the way Sam looked at me when he saw me in it." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "I'd like to say even keeled most of the time, even when I'm seething inside I play it cool usually. Why I survived that gauntlet going undercover with the Crimson Fleet for Sysdef. I used my anger to play the role and I think when I do show anger it's the cold kind. I don't tend to scream or shout, unless it's the Hunter provoking me, then...well I tend to react." Next Aeryn Ryder ( My Mass Effect Andromeda pathfinder)

What was your first kiss like? "Oh god let me think...Okay, you know, I don't actually remember exactly as those days have become a blur. I can tell you though the first kiss I do remember, the one that set the bar for all future kisses. That was with Kesala when I was eighteen, a research assistant on a prothean dig I was peacekeeping. She was this petite lavender skinned asari that just made everything so interesting. She had such enthusiasm for her work that it was infectious and she brought that to the evening I spent with her at the bar. She was what...112, young for an asari but I could tell she was experienced if you know what I mean. The kiss itself was tender, slow and made my legs weak...and that's all I'm saying on the matter." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "My black leather jacket, I love that thing so much. I usually pair it with a simple top, and fitted pants and my go to sneakers, usually in purple shades. I like comfy and casual. Not that I don't like dressing up, I love dressing up, but I never get chance now! I'm either in armor or wanting to wear something comfy afterwards. I did get to see these gorgeous fabrics back on Aya that Jaal told me were used to make gowns for ceremonies and important parties. Maybe one day I'll get something made for myself, when we can finally celebrate." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "Feisty, that's what my brother Tristan says I'm like. I've had to temper it as Pathfinder with all the important people I deal with and SAM thank god really helps there, calming me down from doing or saying something I might regret. But there are times they know to just let me loose and let it out my system!"

Next Zofie Orel (My Deus Ex / Assassin's Creed OC)

What was your first kiss like? "Hmm. Jason, a fellow Assassin acolyte in the Coterie. We shared a birthday so we shared a kiss too after both of us getting a little drunk at our eighteenth party...He died in the Incident protecting civilians. He was a gentle soul really, I don't really think suited to the life, but he was a damn good scout and very good kisser." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "I only wear red, black and white clothes as it makes it easier to mix and match when travelling and I rather like the symbolism. I suppose I have different signature outfits depending on who I am at the time. As Sofia, I wear sleek, expensive clothing, usually a fitted suit. As myself when on a job I wear my custom made tac vest and armoured combat trousers and when I'm off the job, it's what ever is clean but I tend to go for more high end clothing, just in case I need to put on the Sofia persona." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "I would be lying if I said I didn't have a temper, but I've been trained to control it, hone it into a weapon. Some may call me cold for it, but I feel things strongly, I just hide it well, lest my emotions be seen as a weakness by the enemy." Lastly Kiara Black (My Thief/Dishonored OC)

What was your first kiss like? "That's a bit personal, why do you want to know?" *a few minutes pass* "Fine, you're not going to let this go are you? It was a streetgang kid when i lived in Dunwall, nothing special." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "Anything dark and fitted so I'm not noticed. I tend to swap between my gear - this leather and twill get up I'm wearing now and something loose after to let my skin breath." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "I...try not to be. But some people make me angry with their bigotry and arrogance. I can't do much about it though, so there is no point in getting angry, it's better to get even."

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [22] chapter v, part iii

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

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chapter summary : despite his chains, loki begins gathering his pieces on the board. astrid works on escaping her own confines, and mitigating the damage of disasters to come.

recommended listening : venus in gemini, dezi

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“So. What do you think?”

The question rang slightly in the room, ricocheting against metal plates and graphite-grey walls.

Arms folded, facing out into the open floor, Fury allowed the slight turn of his head and expectant silence to serve as invitation.

After a moment, Alethia- sleekly attired for the autumn chill like a native Manhattanite, in black skinny jeans, mid-heeled ankle boots, and fine-knit turtleneck sweater of berry wool- pushed herself off the wall, stepping forward.

She and Romanoff had been on the roof before Fury called them into the VERITAS testing area, drinking coffee in the cold and soundscape of noise above the city. Alethia had stripped the long wool coat she had been wearing when she arrived inside, draping it over one of the chairs, but Romanoff was still wearing her camel leather jacket, curls soft and mouth faintly pursed, eyes fixed on Alethia’s back.

Glancing over the two of them, Fury could easily understand why Romanoff had identified with her. The resemblance between their circumstances was self-evident, but the subtler physical similarities were in the details; it was written small, in the simple facts of their heights, their builds, the way they moved- a confident ease with a slight tension underneath, like a dancer waiting to fall into the right steps.

They matched nicely against each other. Fury could envisage sending them out into the field together, on intelligence retrieval and social reconnaissance- Romanoff’s ability to assess and assimilate, and Alethia’s eye for truth and steel nerves, would make for an invaluable combination.

Fury’s eye flicked back to Romanoff where she remained in place, exuding a faint anxiety like the vapours from paint thinner.

He knew that Romanoff wasn’t unaware of her bias. But neither did that awareness make her immune to it.

Rather than letting it become a liability, Fury had warped it into an advantage; if Alethia saw the truth in all things, it was better to offer her a favourable truth, in the form of a handler who wanted her recruitment to be successful for reasons beyond fulfilment of mission parameters.

Alethia halted- coffee cup still in hand, its heat-sleeve stamped with SHIELD’s eagle insignia- before the centrepiece of the room, head tilted consideringly, the sheen of her curls shifting across her shoulders.

The wide chair was set on a high swivel, aggressively angular, constructed from darkly brushed titanium, strict right-angles, and heat-sensitive fabric. A biometric plate was affixed into the centre spine, metal cuffs locking at the armrests, leashed with black electrical cables; a unit reminiscent of a cranial halo capped the structure, winged forward to encase the temples of its occupant. Immediately behind where Alethia stood was a large, simple control centre, inset with a touchscreen display.

“The fruits of your labour.” Fury announced with a wry twist of aplomb. “Thought you might like to see it. Ninety-six variables in total, monitored and analysed by a unique algorithm, based on and verified in efficacy by your contributions. Say hello to the alpha version of VERITAS- the Verification Enhancement for Response Input Technological Analysis System.”

“Stars. If that acronym were any more tortured, the Geneva Conventions would have something to say about it,” Alethia quipped, almost more to herself than the room.

“It was the initial code name for the project,” Fury replied with the intonation of a shrug, unfolding his arms and stepping forwards, the leather drape of his overcoat shifting with the motion. “We’ve got a few like that. But, if you feel that strongly about it- give it a new name. The DNA of it is mostly yours.”

People tended to be more reluctant to destroy or abandon that which they felt personally invested in, Fury found.

Alethia gave a quiet hum from the back of her throat, and lifted a free hand to skim the closest cuff of the chair.

“You think so.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without your input,” Fury admitted, “not on this time scale. Maybe not even in this generation-”

“It was your design, Nicholas. So- congratulations,” she lifted her voice to call out. “It is a highly sophisticated piece of scrap.”

She rapped a fingertip against the cuff, two neat taps.

“I hope that you’re satisfied.”

Fury took a long moment to study her.

In most cases, he would avoid rising to the bait. Not unlike another troublesome asset that came to mind, Alethia had an element of narcissism to her character- and worse, just cause for it; like Stark, she acted like she knew more than anyone else in the room because, most often than not, she did. Fury’s general policy was that they did not feed egos, particularly those attached to individuals that liked to provoke. Indulging it was a short-term solution that would result in long-term headaches.

Alethia was an exception. Unlike other consultants, they had little information to use as leverage, her available history alarmingly sparse- something that happened approximately never, given SHIELD’s not inconsiderable reach and resources. And as Alethia had deduced with irritating accuracy during their negotiations, the threat that had brokered her cooperation- to flag her with every agency that SHIELD had backchannels with, threatening her meticulously cultivated anonymity- was a card that could only be played once.

Romanoff’s evaluation had found that the most effective strategy was to play her game. Alethia would speak in circuitous riddles and rhetoric, but the more you paid attention to her words, the more you engaged, the more threads she would cast out to watch you follow, chasing towards the truth that she was hinting at.

It was a power play- but one that Fury could tolerate. The rules were consistent, for the most part, and Alethia played fair.

“That the most advanced lie detector system in the world,” he answered patiently.

“Nicholas, you couldn’t even use me properly.” Smoothly, she pivoted to face Fury, unimpressed and unusually direct. “This machine can’t talk back when you’re asking the wrong questions. If not scrap- it is a monument to irony.”

“With regards to what?”

Alethia pushed off the chair, shoulder set, a strange pressure gathering in the air.

“SHIELD is a monster. You might be the hand feeding it, but you are not the one holding the leash.”

She flicked her head back towards the gleaming chair.

“Call it Cassandra.”

With that parting shot, Alethia cut a path out of the door.

Romanoff shifted her weight, as though moving to follow her- but Fury halted her with an open palm and quelling look.

Six minutes later, Fury emerged onto the rooftop.

The Base- codenamed in recognition of its legacy as the original headquarters of SHIELD, after it was established on the foundations laid by the SSR- would have been an imposing building in any other city. Within the cloistered, oversaturated streets of Midtown, however, the broad tower block of dark stone and glass panes blended in amongst the billboard-plated skyscrapers and storefronts that lined the avenues, glossed over like any other corporate office building on the island. At over a dozen storeys tall, the roof was far enough above street level that the coordinated chaos melded together into a rush of tires on asphalt and idling engines and a miasma of passing chatter, punctuated by the distant blare of car horns, sirens, and rattle of construction work- a cocktail of sensory overload, diluted down to a half-ratio. The rubble of the Incident had been cleared, its smoking wounds cleaned and under repair, returning the great aortic chambers of the city to full capacity.

Alethia stood near the edge of the roof, gazing down at the traffic below, vanilla hair and underdressed torso caught in a cross-breeze. As the wind twisted around her, Fury thought he caught a snatch of a high-contrast melody- something that rang of Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the golden age of Broadway showtunes and classic jazz standards.

“For someone who was so determined to keep her mouth shut when you got here, you’ve sure got a lot to say,” Fury interrupted, projecting his voice above the rush of traffic and whip of the winds, strolling up behind her.

“For someone who demands answers at every opportunity, you’re not very willing to listen,” Alethia retorted swiftly, knocking back the dregs in her cup and setting it on the raised edge of the roof. From the drop of liquid left on the plastic rim, it seemed that Romanoff was continuing to keep her sweet with a supply of matcha lattes.

“I’m listening now.”

“Ah, right. Like you were with the Tesseract?”

Fury’s visible eye narrowed.

“What did you mean by that jab? About monsters and leashes.”

Alethia drew her bottom lip between her teeth, glowering, eyes burning like a golden-hour sun behind storm clouds.

Eventually, she filtered out a shallow sigh, her expression cooling.

“There is a principle,” she began slowly, dark lashes lowered as she watched the traffic below, “in regards to statecraft, that you cannot design a seat of power solely with regards to what will allow one individual to do good- but must also consider what will prevent another from accomplishing evil, if they were to acquire the same position.”

Alethia looked directly at him, sombre in a way that she only was once she had given up any attempt to fight or undermine.

“I would strongly urge you to consider what evil could accomplish in your position, Nicholas.”

“Implying that you don’t think I’m evil,” Fury observed, with some intrigue.

It was an unexpected, and interesting concession; Alethia had made no secret that she held SHIELD wholly in contempt, and Fury by extension as the one at its helm.

“I think that you’re a manipulative, opportunistic bastard with few scruples and broadly altruistic intentions, which makes you very good at your job,” Alethia answered, glancing away with a dismissive air. “I also think that you’re arrogant enough to think that you’re paranoid enough, and about the right things, rather than what fits your worldview and skillset.”

Fury absorbed on her appraisal. He had received less scathing evaluations, but he found himself oddly unoffended by it.

“So what should I be paranoid about?”

She looked to him with a slow blink, her expression hard, more resolute than angry. Her irises seemed deeper than the usual hazel, verging upon amber, despite the flat light of the overcast midday skies.

“I told you. You are not holding the leash.”

The meaning clicked.

Fury’s initial, instinctive reaction was outright scepticism.

SHIELD was strictly compartmentalised for a reason. Trust was a commodity both coveted and scorned in the industry, and any system worth its salt in resilience did not merely trust in the integrity of its participants, but enforced it. SHIELD was no different. Its structure split its various branches and operations in such a way that its design could trap and isolate the first hairline-fracture roots of subversion, before they could sink deep enough to alter the fabric of the organisation, or its directives.

The structure of the organisation was not of Fury’s making, but it was one that he had maintained and improved upon since he had been appointed as director, and it worked. A certain level of grime was to be tolerated- in an organisation like SHIELD, entrenched as its operations were within the global network espionage, geopolitics, and commerce, both legal and black market, there was no such thing as clean hands, and even less so of a clean house. It would be the height of naivety and idealism to believe otherwise. But Fury would have detected the swells of a schism forming, of acceptable margins for disagreement becoming an unacceptable division. The sharks may circle, and there would always be blood in the water, but they would never get close enough for a bite.

SHIELD’s identity, and its purpose, was as secure as they had been when Peggy Carter and Howard Stark had founded it.

Common sense dictated that he should verbalise none of this to Alethia.

“So what do you recommend? Tell me what I should be looking at.” Fury began consciously convincing himself into a counter position that he could justify- that there was more to gain than to lose in hearing her, that it was eminently for Alethia to have noticed a risk that they had failed to assess.

Truth was the only shield that held against Alethia. If he didn’t believe it, then neither would she.

The irked tightening of her eyebrow was not encouraging.

“I know you’re humouring me, Nicholas, but let’s ignore the subpar charade otherwise for now.” Alethia shifted into resigned slant, arms folding against the brisk air. “Alright. First. You need a stricter delineation between personnel files, and dossiers on civilians and associates. Especially in regards to storage and access permissions. The keys to unlock one door should not work on another. It’s a security risk, and more than a little alarming that I have to bring it up. Second- stop kidnapping people. Human rights and due process aside, it’s a good way to build up ill will with the very people you may need help from in the near future. Less vinegar, more honey.”

“They are people of interest-”

“Stop kidnapping them.”

“So you’re telling us to ignore the risks-”

“I am telling you that the secret is out,” Alethia interrupted sharply, “and that the bell can’t be unrung. So- exploit it. Instead of trying to wrench the curve backwards, stay ahead of it. Advise the appropriate legislative bodies. Drive the drafting of fair laws to cover the hypotheticals that have become realities- just like with every other advancement in history. Provide evidence for public trials. Give people due process if and when they violate the law, and stop kidnapping people on the basis that they might, possibly, at some point, become a threat. Offer them the resources to help them control their abilities, instead of the choice between constant intrusive surveillance, working for you, or getting disappeared to a facility that doesn’t legally exist.” She paused, with all the ominous inertness of an active hotplate. “And get some actual oversight.”

“This may be hard for you to believe, but we have oversight.” Fury replied, wondering exactly how inept she was under the impression SHIELD was.

“Your oversight is faceless, tried to nuke Manhattan, and has yet to face any questions in regards to it.” She said flatly, staring at Fury with a particularly blank contempt. “Get better oversight.”

Regrettably, she had a point.

Although, Fury was slightly more concerned with where and how, exactly, Alethia had acquired that information.

“I am well aware of their shortcomings,” Fury answered evenly, “and, frankly, I’m a little insulted by the implication to the contrary.”

“Nicholas,” Alethia sighed, part impatience and part resignation, seething, “I don’t like you. But that does not make me intellectually dishonest. There is a reason why I am talking, despite the fact that you are proving incapable of listening. I know that you know. And I am aware that you are not unreasonable. Or- entirely incompetent.”

Fury ignored the qualifier. It was impressive that she had held out this long without a thinly veiled insult.

“But you don’t trust me.”

Alethia smiled slightly, in a way that declared I would have to be an idiot.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

“You and yours are not answerable to the public,” she said simply, combing her hair out of her eyes as the wind picked up and tossed it into disarray. “And the Avengers have to be, if the project is going to be sustainable. You had a good idea, but- SHIELD is not the right organisation to execute it. It is not what you’re good at, or suited for.”

“Protecting the world from threats that it’s not ready for?”

“By sealing truth in the well. Yours is a war of cloak and dagger- a necessary one,” Alethia added with a pointed glance in Fury’s direction, as though daring him to accuse her of being unfair, “and you’re good at it. But you cannot protect the public by keeping them ignorant ad infinitum. And treating people as though they’re helpless children won’t help them develop critical thinking skills. It will just keep them- reactive, and uninformed, when the situation forces their awareness. This is not a terrorist cell with a glowing cube that defies the established laws of thermodynamics. This is an entire world that has been emerging for decades, and is past being kept a secret.”

Fury felt his chest expand with a deep, slow breath, his gun holster tightening briefly, leashing in his thoughts.

“So. Stronger protections for our data, more outreach to enhanced individuals, focus on laws, improvement of oversight.” Fury concluded. “Those are your recommendations?”

“It’s not a panacea,” Alethia said, lifting one shoulder, “it’s a safety net.”

“It’s a pretty reasonable report.”

“I’ve learned to lower my expectations.” She lifted her face to the open air, soaking in a sudden break of sunshine from between the clouds, warming her colours and sharpening the contrast between her golden complexion and fair hair. “Nothing that I mentioned should offend your sensibilities overmuch. Although, I notice that you omitted the no kidnapping clause.”

Not for the first time, Fury resented that Alethia was so determined to distrust SHIELD. In some respects, she reminded him of Maria Hill, driven and intelligent and unapologetically argumentative, first to point to flaws that no one else would mention due to adherence to chain of command.

The crucial difference was that Hill was capable of doing what she was told.

“I never thanked you,” Fury decided to say, eventually. “For guarding Loki."

It seemed gracious to acknowledge it, as they neared the end of Project VERITAS.

“It’s unnecessary to,” Alethia stated tonelessly. “You would have forced the issue if I had refused, and I had my reasons to say yes.”

“Such as?”

Alethia lowered her gaze, to cast it out over the city, serenely blank.

“Some that you wouldn’t understand. Others that- you probably wouldn’t credit.”

“Well, I might surprise you,” Fury murmured, before shrugging. “That was a pretty good pitch, by the way.”

“Oh- thank you,” Alethia said, the lightness of her cadence surprisingly devoid of sarcasm. “I spent a considerable amount of time refining it. Including editing out a point about SHIELD’s double standards, hypocrisy, and lack of self-awareness over the concept of unbridled, unknown power in the hands of obscure organisations with dubious motives. I thought it might be- unproductive?”

“Smart call,” Fury replied dryly.

Alethia’s mouth flicked into a smirk, before fading into something more solemn.

“But this doesn’t guarantee that you will take my advice, does it?”

Damn right. A good argument makes you a good orator, not a good strategist.

“You knew it probably wouldn’t. So why make the case?”

This time, Alethia laughed outright, sudden and disorientating as a sun-shower.

“Sometimes,” she said through a luminous smile, “I really just want to walk away, and let all of you die.”

But she wouldn’t.

That much had been proven, by the warnings she issued about the Tesseract, by the fact that she had taken up watch over Loki despite the considerable personal risk, by the arrogance-clad counsel that she offered an organisation that she openly abhorred.

Fury let his mouth quirk.

This, he could be satisfied with. Even if SHIELD had not acquired Alethia’s loyalty, her cooperation was no longer a complete impossibility.

And Fury was reluctant to slam any door shut forever. So long as it was left ajar, he could allow the matter to rest as success enough.

-

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[hrefna-the-raven]

Heart of Steel

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Song for this chapter:

Summary: You pay Goodneighbor a visit, meeting up with Nick in the Memory Den to find out where the Institute is hiding, hoping to save your son. Meanwhile something as simple as a visit to Goodneighbor proves challenging for someone with the mindset of Elder Maxson. He made a promise but keeping it might crack deeper into what Arthur truly wanted.

Warnings: smut (18+), violence (although Finn deserves it), a lot of feel feels

Notes: sorry for the length of this chapter^^ but there'll be smut at the end as a reward ;)

Chapter 7 - Dangerous minds

You nervously paced up and down in front of the entrance of Goodneighbor, jumping at every little noise around you. Your hand instinctively reached for the pistol in the holder on your hip as someone emerged from around the corner. As the person drew nearer, you noticed that it was a tall man with dark brown hair. The sides of his head were shaved, while the hair on top was slightly longer with a few strands that fell in his face. A snug white t-shirt clung to his well trained torso, covered by a worn black leather jacket. His dirty blue jeans clung tightly to his legs and his boots were worn and covered in dirt and scratches. As he approached, you caught sight of a long scar on his right cheek and only then did you relax, removing your hand from the pistol.

"Arthur", you greeted him with a smile, "you look...different."

"Different enough that you were ready to shoot me", he grinned, "I suppose that means I've been successful."

You thought he was already good looking before but that clean shaved face took it to a whole new level. No beard to hide that wonderful sharp jawline, perfectly contouring his face, making him look more his age. You were positively surprised how many years his beard had added to his appearance. As your finger traced over his scar, he suddenly became self-conscious, realising that most of it had been hidden beneath his dark facial hair for so long. Memories of how he'd barely managed to defeat that deathclaw seven years ago violently flooded his mind, causing his hands to tremble and his vision to blur as sheer panic caused by the flashback flooded his entire body.

"Don't worry about that", you spoke softly as you kept touching his scar, "I actually think it adds to your rugged charm. Although, at some point, I would love to hear the story behind it."

You placed a tender kiss on his lips and felt the tension melt away. Arthur let out a nervous chuckle, surprised at how you were able to have such a calming effect on him. Just a simple kiss managed to wash away the painful memories of his encounter with one of the most dangerous creatures in the Wastelands.

You made your way through the creaky worn wooden door but only a few steps in, your way was blocked by a scarred bald man in road leathers. He casually lit his cigarette, his eyes scanning between Arthur and yourself, lingering as he examined your appearance.

"Welcome to Goodneighbor, Sweetie. Can't go walking around without an insurance. It would be a shame if something happened to you."

The disgustingly smug smile he gave you made you want to punch this dude straight away but you knew better than to start trouble in this place, especially with the Brotherhood's Elder by your side.

"Unless it's “keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me” insurance, I'm not interested", you shrugged nonchalantly, trying to keep a neutral expression as you heard Arthur laugh next to you.

“Careful babyface!”, he pointed at Maxson before turning his attention back to you, that greasy smile reappearing, “now don't be like that, sweetie, I think you're going to like what I have to offer.”

“Whoa, whoa, time out, Finn!”, Hancock laughed as he strolled towards you, “my favourite Vaultie makes a rare visit to town and you're hassling her and her friend here with that crap? Good to see you again”, he winked at you.

“What d'you care? She ain't one of us and he ain't either! You're soft Hancock, one day there'll be a new mayor in town”, Finn took a few steps towards the ghoul, raising his arms provocatively.

“Come on, man. This is me we're talking about. Let me tell you something.”

Hancock now stood mere inches away from Finn when he swiftly pulled out a dagger from beneath his coat and began thrusting it into Finn's body until it went limp and collapsed onto the pavement, a dark crimson pool forming around it. The ghoul wiped the knife clean on the corpse and slid it back under his coat, a genuine friendly broad smile gracing his lips now as he approached you with open arms and to hug you tightly.

“You alright, sister?”, a concerned tone in his voice as he inspected you before addressing Arthur, “don't let this little incident taint your view of our little community. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome.”

“Of the people, for the people? Oh brother...”, Maxson grumbled.

Hancock burst into laughter before playfully slapping Arthur's shoulder.

“Same as her, he he, I can tell I'm gonna like you already. Your room's ready at my humble State House, courtesy of being the mayor. Old Nick's waiting at the Memory Den. And be sure to pay a visit to The Third Rail, trouble always seems to find your little merc MacCready.”

“He's not mine, you know”, you chuckled as you watched Hancock make his way toward the State House.

You wanted to head straight to meet up with the detective but Maxson's fingers wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you closer.

“You're...friend...is a ghoul”, he whispered with disdain.

The sudden hostility in his tone should have shocked you but upon seeing the sorrow in his eyes, you knew exactly where this was coming from. Those were words that sprouted from the seeds of military indoctrination sown in the mind of a child who ever only got to see the worst of each supposed enemy. It reminded you that war was not the only thing that never changed.

“Quite the deduction skills, Captain Obvious”, you teased him, refusing to play into his hateful statement.

“But-”, he started but you cut him off.

“You made a promise to me yesterday. Now I kindly ask of you to leave the Elder at the Prydwen and let Arthur follow me”, you said with a mocking bow, sticking out your tongue before taking his hand and leading him towards the Memory Den.

A surge of righteous outrage swelled within his chest, roaring in anger as it fought against the audacity of your response. It felt ridiculed, left alone in a dark corner with the nagging voice of doubt that had grown louder in recent times. He did make a promise yesterday and despite suspecting that this journey would challenge everything he believed in, he still chose to accompany you. He had to buck up on his ideas, at least for now, for you and his own sake.

The glowing yellow circles in the otherwise lifeless eyes, the grimy worn pallor of the artificial skin, exposing pieces of complex machinery on the places it was torn. Arthur recognised the synth for what it was immediately, his stomach only twisting further as it presented itself as detective Nick Valentine, friend of yours. It didn't take him long to connect the dots between this machine and the first discussion you had with him about the synth. This was one of the Institute's abominations and, at the very same time, the one saving your life multiple times. And now here it was waiting for you, ready to risk its own life yet again to help you find and rescue your son from the clutches of the very institution it should be loyal to. Your answer on your first day finally had a face to it, the face of a discarded machine and that of a truth he kept denying vehemently. His mind held countless reasons to hate every synth, everything created by the Institute, but his heart began to waver, secretly driving the wedge between his convictions and yours deeper, leaving him struggling to find out which version of reality would ultimately prevail.

"Don't worry, they'll both be alright ", doctor Amari assured, a smile on her face as she continued to observe you, delving deeper into Kellogg's memories, "although I have a feeling that one of them is more important to you."

Arthur's gaze never wavered from your form, afraid to even blink for fear of missing a moment where you might be in danger, beyond his reach.

“I know who you are.”

He finally dared to look away from you towards the doctor, his lips parting but the words failed him. What did he even want to tell her? That he couldn't care less if she knew? That nothing she could say would sway him from the path he had set the Brotherhood on? That even if he wished to stray from that path, he couldn't? He was trapped, his name, its legacy, hanging like a bleak prophetic shadow over him, regardless of what he truly wanted.

“But I also know”, Amari continued, “that she made the decision to bring you here and I will place my trust in her judgment. What she has done so far, the people she has helped, there is an honest heart and open-minded soul within her.”

“And what do you think happens now?”, he finally found his voice, his words escaping in a faint and uneasy whisper.

His mind failed him, trapped in the worries around you in this moment, he didn't have the energy to summon the soldier he was expected to be.

“Nothing”, Amari chuckled, her laughter filled with a mix of amusement and reassurance, “I will keep a watchful eye on you, but as long as you care for her and show respect to those residing here, you will be welcomed. We are not the Brotherhood; we don't immediately resort to violence against those who hold different beliefs, or physiology for that matter. ”

His eyes darted to the screen just in time to see the courser vanishing with Shaun.

“Teleportation”, he muttered under his breath.

“Now it all makes sense. Nobody's found the entrance to the Institute because there IS no entrance.”, Amari spoke, her fingers swiftly tapping on the buttons of her computer as she spoke into the microphone next to the screen , “let me pull you out of there.”

Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away from Magnolia, slowly draining his drink as her voice and music hypnotised him further. The sultry tone dancing around the swinging rhythm lured him deeper into the depths of his own musings. It felt different hearing the music directly sang by someone pouring their soul into the song and touching others with a directness a radio could never replicate. He huffed, after this day, he was truly wondering if the singer was even human or one of those damned machines. He wouldn't know anymore and he grew too tired to think about it... To claim that this day had been exhausting would have been an understatement. It had been a long time since he'd experienced the world the way he did today. The Brotherhood had always kept him busy, even more so since he was appointed Elder, but despite being out there in the world, he never truly saw it. Yet, in spite of his fatigue, a part of him still yearned to leap from his seat and return to the Prydwen, armed with the newfound knowledge he had acquired to further his war against the Institute. He groaned instead, shifting his gaze from Magnolia to the empty glass he twirled between his fingers.

Your hands gently caressed his shoulder, your tender gesture prompting the first smile since both of you left the Memory Den. He seemed more quiet than usual, out of place, his usual cockiness stripped away and it caused a flicker of uncertainty within you. You questioned whether it was the right decision to bring him here but then again, these people became your allies, some of them friends, and if he was to be a part of you, he needed to witness and embrace everything that came with it. You nuzzled your face in the side of his neck, trailing kisses up to his ear.

"Mac's still not here and I'm getting tired, let's head back to our room", you whispered, leading him to the State House.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Maxson flung his jacket onto the armchair in the corner and collapsed onto the bed, absorbed in a mist of thoughts while he stared at the crumbling plaster of the ceiling, only lifting his head when he felt the mattress shift under a weight at its edge. He swallowed a groan as he watched as you crawled on top of him, gradually moving until you were lying upon him, placing a long tender kiss on his lips. The pressure and warmth of your body weighing down on him washed over his mind, clearing a path for his insatiable longing for you.

"Arthur", you breathed sultry, your eyes finding his.

There was a subtle shift in the depth of your stare, beneath the vast ocean of your deep affection, there lingered something more intense - a yearning that he had grown all too familiar with since you entered his life. Away from the ceaseless hum of the Prydwen's engine, with no danger of being interrupted by anyone at any time, the realisation of just how much you wanted to be close to him, to melt into him without ever leaving again, hit you with an overwhelming force. You moved slightly to the side, causing a gasp to escape his lips as he felt your hand gently stroke his clothed member. It didn't take long before his growing bulge felt almost painful against the confines of the tight jeans. Biting his lower lip, he watched as you unbutton his pants before pulling them down along with his underwear. The sudden coolness of the room against his throbbing erection caused him to inhale sharply; you had barely touched him, yet he was already teetering dangerously close to his limit.

"May I?", you asked, licking your lips as you settled between his thighs.

Arthur had no idea what you were implying but he knew he'd take whatever you offered him. He hissed as your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, swallowing it slowly until all of it was buried in the wet warmth of your mouth. He'd touched himself many times in the solitude of his quarters but this felt unlike any pleasure he was ever able to give himself.

"I...I...I don't know for how long I can take this", he stuttered, "I've never been with anyone, not like this."

His confession tugged at your heartstrings. Here you were, lying in bed with the one man, whose Brotherhood almost lifted him into the realm of legends due his deeds and leadership, bare before each other in a rare moment of vulnerability of him admitting that you were the very first to grant him this kind of intimacy. It saddened you, realising that this man, whose soul revealed a profound connection and gentle nature, had never been seen in this light by anyone before. Despite the Brotherhood's reverence and adoration for him, they failed to recognise the beauty within his soul. But he'd no longer be alone for he had you now. You continued bobbing your head, twirling your tongue around the tip each time. You barely managed to do this five times before you felt his cock twitch, his warm release filling your mouth as the sound of your name mingled with long sinful moans dripping from his lips. You eagerly swallowed every drop he offered, and with one final lick, you crawled back to lie beside him, offering him a gentle smile. It took him a few deep breaths to recover before he settled on his knees, slowly starting to undress you before taking off his own t-shirt, leaving both of you completely bare before each other. His steel-blue gaze trailed over you body, brows furrowed as if he desperately tried to burn every little detail of you into his memories while his hands trailed over your soft skin. He remembered a part of that book he once stole in the Citadel, eager to try if those old words held any truth. Leaning in, he licked and sucked on your nipple while his hand ventured down between your legs, two fingers slowly dragging through your folds. His inexperienced touch and movements might have been slightly rough and uncoordinated, but they elicited the sweetest moans from you. He noticed that that every time his fingertips grazed against your clit, your legs quivered ever so slightly and your moans grew needier. You opened your eyes at the sudden lack of his touches and found him staring at his fingers, coated with your wetness. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you witnessed his fascination with something so ordinary, highlighting how his life must have been devoid of intimacy all these years.

"All for you", you whispered, earning a genuine smile from him.

"Do you truly want this?", he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

You remained silent, aware that words alone would never be enough to convey the depth of your desires in this moment. Instead, you pushed him onto his back, straddling him as you pressed your wetness against his cock, grinding against it and feeling him grow hard again.

"There is nothing I want more than being here with you, feeling you, loving you", you breathed, pausing your movements, "you're all I ever wanted."

Arthur's heart felt as if it were on the verge of shattering at your words. He had been going through life without ever experiencing such affection and tenderness. For the first time, he felt truly wanted, even loved, not just for his name, his purpose, but for his soul, his own true essence.

"I don't recognise that feeling plaguing my heart and mind but if this is truly love", a teardrop welled up in the corner of his eye, "then allow me to tell you that I love you."

You positioned his cock at your entrance, moaning his name, feeling him stretch you perfectly as his cock was sliding deep inside you. His hands clasped unto your hips, fingers digging into your supple flesh while he held you in place for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure. Your walls clenched around his twitching cock and you slowly began moving, placing your hands on his chest while your gaze locked onto his. Arthur began thrusting his hips upwards, anticipating your movements. The lewd sounds of him thrusting deep inside your wetness filled the room, entangling with the heavy breaths and lustful moans. Arthur watched your head fall back in pleasure as you rode him and he couldn't care for anything anymore in this very moment. The Brotherhood, his war, held no significance at this moment, all he cared for was the closeness to you, the love which bound you together and the heavenly bliss you had brought upon him. Both of you approached the edge fast and your moans grew louder as both of you finally plunged into the abyss of purest pleasure. Panting, you tried to get off him but Arthur pulled you down on him, his arms wrapping around you, holding you in a tight hug, both of you surrendering to the irresistible lure of slumber.

Chapter 8 - why do fools fall in love?

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

[wedreamedlove]

This concludes the VR series and all the men's biometric data. Charlie has the best dorito proportions with a 103 chest that matches Osborn but a 75 waist that matches Jesse, all the while being the tallest of the men.

Translations under the read more!

FOREHEAD (16 cm)

Portable sunglasses that are easy to clean and durable. The impact resistant lenses and frames are custom made according to its owner's preferences. It's guaranteed to provide clear vision for a long time while also being fashionable.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “Are you giving me a hint? We should… go back to the bedroom to continue this.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Let's do it again, you'll get more perfect results in your hands.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Making the finished product fit me, Charlie, like a glove is your one-of-a-kind ability.”

HEAD (54 cm)

A big lip cap embroidered with a gold flight emblem. Hard lines draw the outline of its shape, but a soft interior protects the head. Wearing this in and of itself is a type of bearing.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “My brain is nearly unable to fit any more of my love for you, you have to take responsibility.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Should I get on one knee to make it more convenient for your measurements?” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Your precise grasp on numbers is at the same level as your perfect partner.”

CHEST (103 cm)

Special materials were used to create this dark flight jacket, making it wear-resistant, windproof, and crease-resistant. The inside of the jacket has unique multi-layered pockets and it also leaves enough room for its wearer during unexpected flight tasks.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “After a tense mission, proper relaxation is also very necessary.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Don’t tell me you’re also setting aside room for my wings? You always consider more things than me.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “My beloved, are you ready to welcome my hug?”

HANDS (19 cm)

Simple and elegant white gloves made of top quality fabric that is skin-friendly, stretchy, sweat-absorbent, and breathable. From all aspects, it's guaranteed not to become an obstruction to its owner's operation of complex instruments.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “Please don’t underestimate how attractive you are to me, especially when you touch me.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “There’s not too much deviation. It won’t affect my performance.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Such an accurate number. Did you already secretly rehearse this in your heart?”

WAIST (75 cm)

Uniform pants with exceptionally good stretchability. Its color is simple and it magnifies the lines of its wearer's thighs. Simultaneously, the cloth inside contains newly developed composite material which can effectively prevent sharp instrument injuries or bruises.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “Don’t touch me so impatiently like this. Our sweet time together is endless…” BAD MEASUREMENT = “I’m right here and I won’t fly away. You can take your time measuring.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “You’re constantly unearthing your talent, and I’m both an involved party and a witness to all of this.”

FEET (28 cm)

Classic pure black leather shoes, which can adapt to many extreme situations. Regardless of the weather at the destination, its owner can still advance forward courageously.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “This perfect body is at your disposal.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “This doesn’t seem to be my size… How about getting to know me better?” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Accurate to perfection. My partner has such a precise grasp on all my details.”

[jurif]

He was just a slip of a boy, bones protruding at odd angles—a malnourished, waifish little thing, with coal-black hair that contrasted the stark white of his skin. He moved like a frightened lamb, cautious, one foot slowly in front of the other, and seldom opened his mouth unless spoken to. He had a kind of desperation in his dark eyes that would make anyone sick with grief. Most people would turn away, feeling disgusted and guilty, but some might reach out a hand to touch his gaunt face—thumb his downturned lips, cracked and bleeding from being anxiously licked, wind their fingers into his coarse, unbrushed hair, and watch him cower away, pathetic and shivering.

Rizer was eighteen, going on adolescent.

His eyes seemed too wide for his face, only for the fact that his cheeks hardly had anything to fill themselves with, and his eyelashes were long and thick, like a girl’s; it was his one point of beauty. He wore thin, cracked glasses which slipped down his long, pointed nose. It, like his glasses, had clearly been broken several times, and lay on his face in a frustratingly misshapen way. This wasn’t the only indication of violence Rizer carried with him. He always walked with a slight limp, always had some bruise or other blossoming tenderly on his skin—today his cheek is purple and his eye is yellow, next week his eye will be fine and there will be a string of violet fingerprints around his neck while his cheek fades into obscurity—and his knuckles were always smarting. It was ghoulish, seeing such a ravaged creature walking along the street, but, nervous as he was, Rizer was used to whatever lashings he got and had adapted to live with them.

The clothes he wore were simple, plain, cheap, effective. Block coloured long sleeve shirts, which seemed more befitting of a twelve-year-old, but that didn’t really matter given his stature, and straight legged jeans, far too baggy for him. The one item of clothing he ever wore that looked like it was actually worth a dime was a dark brown leather jacket, fitting him even worse than his own clothes—he rarely wore it out, but when he did, Rizer wrapped it tightly around his thin frame and inhaled the smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey, basking in its comfort. Perhaps it was that which kept him nonchalant about the beatings he took; perhaps Rizer Anheuser cared about familiarity, above all things.

[billyrussohaven]

Into My Web

Chapter 16

Dark!Vampire!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Cowritten with @the-cult-of-russo

Ratings: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include; Sexual situations, swearing, human slave, biting, blood, murder, obsessive thoughts, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting.

“Can I have a drink? I feel like I’ll need a drink,” you asked Billy with a little blush. As excited as you were about the whole thing it made you a bit shy and nervous too. Billy on the other hand seemed cool as a cat.

"You can have one drink. Don't need you gettin' drunk for your first threesome. Want you to remember it," he smirked wryly. He was getting a kick out of your nerves, he couldn't lie. But he couldn't wait until you were experiencing it to see how you'd react then.

You stood up and poured yourself a tall glass of the same wine you adored so much at Frank’s and flopped back down on the couch next to him. Your glass was ridiculously full but you shrugged at his amused look.

“What? You said one drink. One drink,” you answered to his amused look and pointing to the wine glass in your hand. You didn’t want to get drunk anyway, you just needed a bit of liquid courage to untense. You took a long sip of it before opening up the conversation.

“Okay. What’s your rules? Anything I can or can’t do specifically or…” you asked trailing off, unsure how he expected you to behave or do or anything.

He wrapped an arm around you as he thought about it for a moment.

"Just be good. I want you to have fun, see what you like or don't like. Only real rule is to do what I say," he shrugged. He didn't want to impose too many rules on you, he didn't want to suck the fun out of the whole thing. As long as you obeyed him, it was good.

It sounded simple enough and you were also relieved to hear you could be curious and go with the flow.

“Bedroom or…” you asked, the thought of having her in his bed made you grip the wine glass a little tighter but you took a deep breath and kept your cool. No need to get worked up on the little details.

"Bedroom. Beds big enough and it'll be easier, more comfortable," he replied as he toyed with your hair. He had a feeling it wasn't the answer you wanted to hear, as always taking in every little change in your behaviour and body. But he knew it would be better for everyone involved. Threesomes could be tricky anyway, comfort was key. And maybe he also just enjoyed pushing your buttons. You took another long sip of your drink to hide the little annoyance on your face and you shrugged it off. It was just a bed and it wasn’t like she’d ever be around it again. You gave him a small smirk and wondered if there was anything else to talk about, you couldn’t think of anything so you shrugged slightly.

"Alright, I'll head out. Find our friend for the night," he smirked as he stood up, leaning down to place a kiss to the top of your head.

"Make sure you behave yourself. You'll be locked in but if you somehow manage to get out, you know I'll find you," he warned with a wide smile as he grabbed his leather jacket. He had a feeling you wouldn't run though. Not tonight at least knowing what was coming.

You grabbed the front of his shirt pulling him toward you before he could walk away.

“Can I have a kiss before you go?” you asked, leaning forward and biting your lower lip suggestively. You bat your eyelashes at him for added effect and untangled your hand from his shirt.

He grinned, grabbing your jaw firmly as he captured your lips in a dirty kiss. When he broke away, he smirked, placing one last kiss to your lips before he moved away.

"I'll be back soon," he said with a sly smile, moving to the front door.

The silence inside the house was deafening. You wondered how long it'd take him to go and find your partner for the night. You sipped your drink and tapped a finger on the armrest nervously.

"Fuck it," you said out loud and got up to go to his personal bar. You took a mini swing of whisky and shuddered at the burning taste. You walked to the stereo and pressed play on whatever was playing last. You needed to change your mind and untense or the evening was gonna suck. You took another sip of wine and closed your eyes. You focused on the music and moved your hips to the rhythm. You knew these songs, Billy often played them and you liked them quite a lot too. You turned the music a bit louder and danced until you heard the front door open. By then, you were in good spirits, having a good time and all the tension had left your body. You turned to the front door and gave Billy a sly smirk as you danced for him.

He tilted his head as he watched you, really not expecting to come home to this scene. His dark eyes were glued to you, soaking in the way your body moved to the music. For a moment he forgot about the girl with him until he smelt her arousal at watching you dance this way. He hadn't been gone too long but he'd been pretty picky about the girl he chose for you. She was a redhead, which honestly was for his sake more than anything, but he'd picked a girl that reminded him a lot of you. He'd compelled her to do what he told her, to let him feed from her and most importantly, to enjoy herself. He didn't need the night being ruined by her not being into it and killing your vibe. He wanted you to have a good time.

Your gaze switched to the beauty next to him and you grinned. She was perfect. Hot but not too ridiculously hot to make you feel like a lesser woman either. She had a kind and welcoming face and curves not unlike yours. She gave you a bashful smile and you reached out for them to join your little dance floor. You weren't drunk, you were just focusing on the good and fun parts of the evening, that one glass of wine did wonders on your nerves.

"Look what the cat dragged in," you said, when they were a few feet away. You reached for Billy first and welcomed him back home with a dirty kiss, moving your hips against his to the music. He groaned as he kissed you back deeply. He was enjoying seeing this carefree side of you. He could taste and smell the whiskey on you but he decided to let it go since you were nervous and it'd just kill the mood to punish you for it. You weren't the only one who wanted this threesome. Billy was thrumming with excitement for the whole thing. You took a peek around Billy's arm and saw her dance against Billy's back. You gave her a timid smile that she gave back with a wink. You kept dancing with Billy and her but all your attention was on her for now, like a cat studying her prey. She looked back at you with the same curiosity that pulled you toward each other.

"Have you done this before?" You asked her. She shook her head with a sheepish smile moving closer to you. Her answer surprised and pleased you. You wondered if Billy picked her because of that, so maybe you would feel more comfortable. You gave Billy another smirk biting your lower lip and reached to take her soft delicate hand in yours. You slid around Billy to be the one in the middle with him at your back and her in front of you. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you took every inch of her in.

Billy ran his nose along your neck, savoring how fast your pulse was going. His hands gripped at your hips as he rubbed his already hard cock against your ass, letting you take the reins. He'd take the back seat for now as you let your curiosity guide you. You moaned and pushed back against his length. You raised your hands to her chest and slid her jacket off her shoulders slowly. She was wearing a long-sleeved little black dress and the first thing you thought was if Billy would let you keep it.

"I like your dress a lot," you said, running your fingertips on the fabric plunging down in a v shape between her breasts. You trailed your fingertips over the mount of her breasts and licked your lips absentmindedly thinking how warm and soft she was. You turned your head to Billy and gave him a little smirk. You were almost shaking with anticipation and ready to move to the bedroom but he was the master here so you stayed put.

"Let's take this upstairs," he smirked, nipping at your neck before he led both you and the girl he couldn't remember the name of upstairs to the bedroom. His whole body was practically vibrating with excitement about what was to come and so far, you seemed to feel the same which only made him more excited. You were holding her hand when you all entered the bedroom. You led her closer to the bed and closed the distance between you two. You slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders and it fell in a pool at your feet. You helped her out of her dress and you ran your hands on her soft skin, taking in how gorgeous she was in her underwear like you.

Billy was leaning against the dresser as he watched you both with rapt attention. Two seemingly sweet girls enjoying each other's company. It had him rock hard and aching and he bit his lower lip, his eyes taking in the both of you now you were both nearly naked.

You turned your head to look at Billy timidly but with a smirk, feeling her lips on your cheek. You moved your head back slowly and your lips met hers. Your hands caressed the side of her face as you tentatively kissed her soft lips. You licked her lower lip and she kissed you back languidly. You moaned into the kiss and she pressed you closer to her warm body. You kissed and finished undressing each other. She pushed you back on the bed so you were sitting on the edge and she knelt in front of you. You looked up at Billy a bit unsure as she opened your legs wide open and dived right in. You moaned loudly, feeling her small tongue lapping at your clit as you brushed her soft copper hair back. You closed your eyes with your head hanging back and hummed pleasingly. You leaned back on one hand and kept the other in her hair. You opened your eyes feeling an intense jolt of pleasure and locked eyes with Billy watching you both with dark intense eyes. They had a predatory glint to them as he looked at the pair of you, desire running rampant through him. You moaned loudly and wanted to touch him badly.

"Help me undress this one?" You asked looking down at her, she grinned and you gave Billy a wicked smirk. You both stood up and ran your hands over his body pulling his shirt off and kissed his chest and back greedily with giggles. He moaned, thoroughly enjoying being the centre of attention, as always. She moved behind him and ran her hands down his torso to his jeans where you knelt down in front of him working on his belt and jeans. She helped you slide his jeans and boxers down his long legs leaving him gloriously naked between you both. He felt oddly relaxed yet ridiculously aroused all at the same time. He glanced down at you with a wicked smirk, stroking your hair softly. You were doing really well so far and it was turning him on how unabashed you were about all of this, how curious you were to explore your new friend. You stood up and crawled on the bed with her next to you. You looked at her and you both giggled like you were up to no good. Billy smirked, slowly fisting himself as he approached the bed casually. 

It surprised you how comfortable you were so far with her around. You were curious and you especially loved how Billy seemed to enjoy the two of you together. You moved so she'd be in the middle and you laid on your side next to her. Billy lay on the other side, head propped up on his hand as he shot you an amused grin. His fingers traced patterns absentmindedly on the girl's stomach but his eyes were glued to you.

You ran one hand over her breasts and kissed her shoulder trailing kisses down to her breast. You kissed and took her nipple inside your mouth enjoying the sounds she made. Billy's dick twitched at the sight and sounds and he moved to kneel between the girl's legs as he watched you lavish her breasts with attention. He parted her thighs before diving right in, devouring her with his mouth as she squirmed and gasped. He hummed against her, enjoying how she tasted. You tasted better but he was still loving it as he fucked her with his tongue. You curiously looked as he ate her, never been able to see it before obviously. It turned you on to see his lips and tongue work around her pussy. You loved how she moaned and you wanted to touch her too. You tentatively ran two fingers between her legs, down her folds where his lips were and he looked up at you.

"Can I help?" You asked with a little timid grin.

He moved away from the girl's pussy, licking his lips as he quirked a brow.

"Be my guest, kitten," he smirked, his voice low and rough from his arousal. His eyes had already changed to red but his fangs were still away.

You bit your lower lip meeting his dark red eyes, rubbed your fingers up and down her folds enjoying how she squirmed at the touch. You moved down on the bed next to Billy so you could have a better view and reach. You didn't want to take her from him just yet. You wanted to try her for yourself but you wanted to watch and learn for now.

"You can keep going, please. I won't be in your way. I'd just like to watch you before I try," you said to Billy with a naughty yet bashful grin biting your lower lip hard. He bit his lip to stifle a groan at your words as he went back to licking and sucking on the girl's clit as she moaned.

You opened her legs wider with your free hand and slid a finger inside her pussy leaving her wide open for Billy to devour. She was so warm and wet like liquid silk, you groaned a bit enjoying the feeling of her around your finger. You made sure to be out of Billy's way as you fingered her at a slow pace and brushed Billy's hair back with your free hand. He was really enjoying the both of you pleasuring the girl, soaking in her sweet little noises from the feelings you were both giving her.

"How do I do the thing I love when you finger me? I'm not entirely sure where.." You trailed off moving your finger around like you were looking for a lightswitch or something. Surely he could fit a finger in with your small one? 

He chuckled as he moved away a little, sliding a finger inside of her against yours, making her gasp softly. 

"Curl your fingers here, like this," he murmured as he felt that sweet spot instantly, the girl letting out a loud moan as he did. He didn't want to take over since you had plans for her so he slipped his finger back out, eyes on your finger inside of her in curiosity and arousal. You mimicked his movements on the spot he found for you and you felt a slight difference of texture but you were amazed he could find it so fast. Probably with a lot of practice. It was an instant reaction from her as she buckled up off the mattress in moans. Your eyebrows shot upwards and you looked at Billy with a surprised smirk. She was much more vocal and quick to respond to your touch than Billy was but maybe it was a female thing because you reacted like her a lot too. Billy was really getting a kick out of watching you with another girl. The way you were so new to this and exploring her curiously. 

After a few minutes of you two pleasuring her, you slowly pulled Billy’s head back by his hair in a pleasurable way. He groaned and glanced at you with a quirked brow.

“My turn,” you said excitingly, making a sly grin creep onto his lips. You leaned down and kissed him while running your hand some more in his hair. You pulled your finger off her as you scooted over and took his place between her legs. She looked down at you panting, her pretty cheeks all blushed and you moaned seeing the state of her. You gave her wet folds a tentative lick and looked up at Billy watching you with something like pride in his eyes and it pleased you immensely. You gave her small kitten licks and studied how she reacted to certain things you did. You could taste both her and Billy as you gave her cunt open-mouthed kisses. You slid a finger in then a second one inside her and wondered if you'd be able to make her come.

Billy was really enjoying watching you pleasure the girl but he was done with just watching and not doing. He moved behind you, his hands palming your ass roughly as he admired it, manoeuvring you so your ass was in the air with your legs spread open for him. He leaned down and started fucking your soaked hole with his tongue greedily, moaning as the taste of you exploded on his tongue. You gasped and let out a loud moan at him pleasing you this new way. Your brain stopped processing thoughts for a few and you forgot about the other girl squirming under you. You went back to pleasing her, only this time a little less focused, sloppily. He went at you harder and faster, the sound of your moans mixed with the other girl's sending him into a frenzy. He fed off the pleasure in the room and fisted himself a little to ease the aching in his cock. 

You felt the girl clamp down around your fingers and she came loudly. Her pleasure seemed to call your own, the tale tell tingly feeling growing inside you. You helped her through her high and carefully removed your fingers from her. You rested your head on her lower belly now able to fully focus on your own climax building up fast. You closed your small fists around the bedsheets and you pushed back on his face coming with a loud gasp. He almost came when you did, having to stop touching himself as he eased you through it with his tongue and didn't waste a drop of your cum. He wondered if you'd enjoyed making the other girl cum too. After a long lick, he moved away and lay down, anticipation reaching its peak at where things would soon be going. He couldn't wait.

You whined at the loss of his tongue inside you, missing his touch already. You moved up and flopped down on your back next to Billy and her with a lazy smile. You looked at his handsome face, his lips wet with your juices. You leaned over to kiss him and groaned, tasting both you and her on his lips. 

"Can we play all night? There’s just so much I wanna do to you two," you purred above his lips, your voice thick with arousal and neediness. He grinned, taking your lower lip between his teeth and tugging on it a little. He felt a little drunk from his desire and no release but he was waiting for the big finale before he came. 

"Can play as long as you want, kitten," he drawled against your lips, his hands roaming your skin everywhere he could touch as a primal desire for him ripped through you.

"Headboard, now" you said to Billy with a sudden uncharastically dominance that took you off guard. You felt a flicker of fear at the startling realisation and you froze like a deer in headlights. You didn't understand what happened or why you'd give an order to him of all persons. You opened your mouth as if you wanted to apologize, talk or maybe even whimper, you didn’t really know. Billy's eyebrows shot up, not expecting you to act that way but he'd be a liar if he said it didn't make his dick twitch. 

“Please? Sir?” you added submissively this time, a little hesitant and timid at the tone you had used. He chuckled darkly, not even mad about you trying to order him around. How could he be when you were so adorable? He did as you requested, moving to sit against the headboard.

You crawled to his lap and looked up at him as you stroked his painfully hard cock, making him let out a dirty moan at finally feeling some fiction. You kissed him languidly and slowly, moaning into the kiss. You felt the other girl roll over and move next to you to lavish him with attention too. You scooted over and gave the head of his cock a wet kiss. You saw her lick the side of his cock and you stopped stroking it to lick and suck on it instead with her help. His head fell back, hitting the wall with a dull thud as he groaned, a hand in each of your hairs. He couldn't get enough out of all the attention you were both giving him. You both kissed, licked and sucked his dick together like a shared lollipop. Sometimes your tongue and your lips would find hers and you'd indulge in a bit of kissing before going back to sharing him. Billy just sat there and took it. Moaning and arching up a little as he felt his pleasure increasing almost painfully. The louder Billy moaned, the more you and her wrestled for his dick, both wanting to be the one to make him come.

You stopped fighting her and sat back on your heels glaring at her sucking him hungrily. A curious and dark urge filled your mind and you bit your lip, smirking wickedly. The thoughts had you feel something like arousal, like desire. You gripped her hair roughly and pushed her head down. You felt an overwhelming satisfaction at seeing her choke over his dick and you kept her head there for a few more seconds as she started to whimper. Billy's eyes almost rolled back as he gasped, lewd moans spewing from his lips at the feeling and he tried his hardest to not just cum down the girl's pretty little throat. 

You yanked her head back off his dick and chuckled darkly at her face.

"Oh? I'm sorry! For a second there I thought you weren't grateful to have his cock down your throat!" You said to her mockingly, enjoying controlling and dominating her. You considered letting go of her hair, your head tilted to one side with a little pout as she coughed and gasped. Billy's eyes widened, lips parting as he looked from you to the girl. He had no idea what the hell had gotten into you but he fucking loved it. You looked up at Billy for his thoughts like you were asking him about the weather and not about you forcing his dick down the girl's windpipe. You were about to open your mouth to spit more venom at her but Billy's stern voice stopped you.

"Now, now, kitten. Be nice. Don't wanna break her before we get to the… big finish," he smirked devilishly, red eyes glinting with arousal and hunger as they darted from you to the girl. His darkness seemed to swirled around you and you smiled, letting go of her hair. He had reminded you what was coming for her in the end and it soothed your possessiveness and bitter jealousy for the girl. You laid down on your back next to him and invited him between your legs by spreading them wide open, caressing your inner thighs. Billy eyes trailed over your body hungrily, his need only stronger since you showed him a peek of your darkness. He hadn't thought you had it in you. A flicker of vicious anger hit you as she took the invite for herself and crawled on top of you. You kissed her back lazily as you kept your attention on Billy appearing behind her.

One hand stroked your leg as the other smoothed up the girl's back softly. He was done waiting now, he was sure his dick might fall off at any second if he didn't get some release. He roughly pushed into the girl with a loud dirty moan, feeling relief sweep through his body at the sensation. The girl whined and moaned, arching back at him and rubbing herself against you at the same time. You were instantly jealous of her, how he picked to fuck her first when your own pussy was not even 3 inches from her. You kept your mouth shut for Billy’s sake, this whole thing was for him after all. It has pleased you, it was great to try new things and new ways to please him too but you were just about done having her around. 

Billy grabbed her hips and started pounding into her harshly. Finally feeling friction made him desperate for his climax and his moans bounced off the walls, mixing with hers as he fucked her senseless. His eyes locked onto yours over the girl's shoulder and he gave you a devilish smirk. There was no way in hell she was gonna be the one to get his cum inside her, no way. You looked at Billy with an evil wicked look in your eyes.

"Tell me, did you compel her to let you feed on her?" You asked curiously, running your hands on her shoulders and neck over you. He slowed down his savage pace with the girl but didn't stop and she whined as she pushed back at him.

"Of course I did. Didn't need her cryin' about it and ruinin' the night," he smirked, giving the girl a particularly harsh thrust that made a keening moan leave her lips. He'd compelled the girl to be a docile little lamb and she'd been a good girl. He'd enjoyed her company. It was almost a shame how the night would end for her. Almost.

"Meh...Shame. I'd have loved to see her frightened little hysterical face," you said almost snarling the last word. Billy couldn't help the dark chuckle at your words. Your blatant jealousy amused him but he was enjoying seeing this darker side of you. You gripped at her hair painfully tight and yanked her head to the side, offering her pearly white neck to him mercilessly. Billy's mouth watered as his eyes darted from her very appealing neck to your face, brows raising at how different you were being.

"I think it's time for a midnight snack, sir." You said, already enjoying seeing him snarl behind her. You were so done, her use had officially expired and the coup de grace of the night was coming.

He groaned, your darkness making the beast inside of him purr as he sunk his fangs into the girl's neck. He started drinking from her greedily, her blood making a wave of pure euphoria wash over him and heighten the pleasure he was feeling as he still thrust into her. He could hear her heart rate slow down quickly as he drank her blood fervently, savoring the taste of her. He kept going until her heart stopped, until there was nothing left. He pulled out of her and carelessly shoved her off you. He did it so roughly that her lifeless body rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a thud but he paid it no mind. 

You looked back at him kneeling in the middle of the bed and you felt nothing but adoration for him. He was licking his bloody lips clean with a satisfied smug smirk. Although you just saw him feed, drain a girl of all her blood and shrug her off the bed like a lifeless doll, you wanted him. You gave him a wicked smile and he pounced on you, the blood in his system setting him ablaze with feral need as he pushed into you with a loud groan. He forced his fangs to retract so he could kiss you without worrying he'd cut you. His tongue dominated your mouth as he rut into you like a man possessed. You moaned loudly into the hungry and rough kiss. Your hands were all over his body as you caressed and gripped every inch of him. You felt drunk on him, you needed him like you needed air.

“Yes, please. Take me, I’m yours,” you whispered, opening up wider and meeting his thrusts hard.

He rested his forehead on yours as he fucked you, his hand winding around your throat but only applying a small amount of pressure.

"My sweet kitty," he murmured between moans, sounding drunk almost as he lost himself in his haze of pure ecstasy. 

You nodded quickly, looking up into his dark red eyes making soft little moans and gasps over and over. You were so close to a second orgasm your legs shook from the intense build up.

"Such a good girl," he moaned, feeling his release creeping up on him. His pace got harder and faster as he chased it desperately, a hand snaking between you to rub your clit to bring you over the edge first. Your nails dug in the skin of his back as you arched up into him. You let a series of moans so loud it hurt your throat, you came like you were falling down a never ending cliff of pleasure. You felt tears of joy leave the corners of your eyes to disappear in your hair.

He gasped, his whole body tensing up before he let out a guttural moan and he came blindingly hard, spilling himself inside of you. He was sure he'd never cum that hard in his life before and his brain stopped working for a whole minute. You looked up at him with pure adoration. You didn't see him as a monster anymore, his red eyes, his fangs, his thirst for blood, it was all part of him. He was your master, your lover, your everything and pleasing him pleased you greatly. Tears left your eyes as he showered you with attention and praises. He looked ecstatic at the night you planned and gave him. You lived for this. You'd bury twenty other girls if it meant making him this happy and proud with you.

He nuzzled your neck, practically purring as he felt calm and sated and very satisfied. You didn't yet go off him just yet, you wanted to be in his arms like this forever, watching him cum and ride the pleasure you gave him.

He pulled out of you, moving to lay beside you as he turned your face to his. He gave you a lazy grin, feeling more than pleased with you and how the night had gone. You'd surprised him a few times and he was starting to wonder if he was rubbing off on you. It amused him.

"You did good, kitten. I'm proud of you," he murmured with a sweet smile, his fingers sliding up your side softly, his fingertips just kissing your skin. You felt your beaming smile fall slightly, remembering how you didn't follow his order earlier that evening. You felt guilty and unworthy of all his praises suddenly.

"I, uh," you said, licking your lips nervously. You could hide it and never mention it but the thought of not coming clean with it made your skin crawl. He glanced at you curiously, hearing your heart beat change and he raised a brow expectantly for you to continue.

"I-I...I misbehaved earlier," you said without explanation. You looked at him from the corner of our eye wondering if you were about to ruin the night.

"You did?" He asked, confused, wondering how he missed something like that.

"I had a sip of whiskey to calm my nerves when you were gone and you had told me to only get one glass," you said, hanging your head down in shame. Billy suppressed a snort, realisation dawning on him. He thought you were talking about something a lot worse.

"I didn't do it to upset you. I did it because I wanted to calm down, to make sure you’d have a great time like I wanted you to and like you did." You added, brushing a fingertip over his skin.

"Will you forgive me?" You asked him looking up with pleading eyes. He made a show of looking like he was thinking it through. He'd already decided not to punish you for that earlier and he'd already known since he'd tasted it and smelt it on you. But it was only a sip and he knew you were nervous so he'd decided to let it go. And right now he was feeling pretty generous after the night he'd had. He didn't much feel like punishing you.

"I will, but don't do it again, okay?" He asked with a firm look, his fingers tracing circles on your hip.

You nodded and hummed in approval, turning over on your belly.

"Maybe just one smack to make sure?" You proposed biting a finger trying to hold off a giggle at the thought of it. It had been forever since he slapped your ass and it had been an interesting experience. He snorted as he raised a brow, amused at how you wanted to be spanked. His hand palmed one of your ass cheeks as he lay there feeling completely serene. He gave it a quick but harsh smack, a lazy smirk toying on his lips. You moaned and a soft gasp left your lips as you rubbed your hips on the mattress. You bit your lower lip and hummed at the purring pleasure waking up once more. You crawled on top of him and gave him a smirk.

"How about another quick one before I go bury our friend?"

A hand reached up and gripped your jaw, pulling you down for a deep kiss.

"Nope," he drawled against your lips with a devilish smirk.

"You're gettin' greedy. Now go clean up the mess," he grinned wickedly. Just because he was in a particularly good mood didn't mean he'd let you forget your place. Your demeanor had changed so much with him in such a short space of time, and while he was enjoying these new sides to you, there was such a thing as you getting too comfortable with him. He wasn't going to let that happen. You were his pet, not his equal. He wasn't going to reinforce behaviour that would make you more demanding.

[girlmikeyway]

challenge: mikey's jackets/coats, top 5 (or more). go

shit dude this ended up being harder than i thought, you were right when you said challenge. honestly the top 4 could be in any order but i'm just running with whatever instinct says first. in keeping with the game i tried to make the actual list still just the top 5 tho!

1.

kobra kid jacket you will ALWAYS be famous, what can i say. the red gives mikey such a presence everywhere especially since everyone else's danger days jackets are darker colors. the stripes highlight his form well and the overall appearance isn't boring but not overwhelmingly busy. i am in love with this jacket fr

2.

black parade jacket! said this in the last ask but it's my favorite out of all the black parade jackets, i love how it's cut longer than most of the others' with the flaring out toward the bottom. it gives him a kickass general outline which works with his height. accents on the chest and shoulders just create a nice effect as well

3.

this double breasted coat from i wanna say later black parade/later 2000s era. i really like the mikey looks where he's wearing longer jackets/coats, they just give him a nice silhouette. this one fits him fairly tightly and my god is he pretty in it. the added elegance is fun too. also i would like to steal it

4.

it snuck up on me but i actually really, really like mikey's revenge jacket 2.0 from wwwy2. idk i just think it fits him well and better than the old one ever did and i've always thought moto jackets are fun! that is all

5.

leather jacket from danger days touring (although based on more recent photos he still wears it!). mikey had some very good looks with this one and i like the pattern on the shoulders. also it's very shiny which catches the eye even more and definitely when combined with the glittery mustang

now. honorable mentions in no particular order, because i got too invested while scrolling through photos:

this black blazer. simple and still more casual, but mikey makes it work so well with the hoodies. y'all already know what i think about this look specifically <3

leather jackets/coats automatically make people hotter and i already said stuff about mikey + long coats bjslkgjslkgjslkdfl HI

another double breasted coat but less slim-cut and i love the dramatic collar on this. it also looks cozy and warm, would also steal

aaaaaand that's all, folks!

[ggomos-maribat]

[54/?]

original prompt | complete masterlist

This part is dedicated to @ghostdoodlen who makes wonderful art and @kitsun369 for suggesting the idea

“Oh no.” The color on Marinette’s face slowly drains. “Oh no. What happened?”

“Zatanna happened,” Damian deadpans. 

It looks like the mighty karma has smote them, granting them the same predicament they had their brothers suffering in before. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Stephanie have become toddlers, and are currently unleashing a storm inside the manor. And Alfred is nowhere to be found. 

Marinette’s jaw drops. A small Jason engulfed in his big leather jacket is trying to wrestle handguns out of Damian, even resorting to biting his brother. Tim is asleep face first on a bowl of oatmeal and Marinette rushes to take his head off from it. Stephanie is in a sugar high from purple candy, jumping and running around. 

“Where’s Dick?” Marinette asks frantically, wiping Tim’s face with a paper towel. 

“Where do—Todd! Don’t you dare—where do you think?” 

As if on cue, a squeal sounds out from the chandelier. 

“Hell no.” Marinette rushes from the kitchen and scampers up to get Dick from the ceiling. He starts to cry when she pries his chubby fingers from the chandelier. 

“This isn’t a place to play, Dick.” She sighs and delivers the toddler next to Tim. Dick likes cereal . . . wait can he even eat cereal? She sighs again and fishes out a juicebox from the fridge. 

“Get off me you demons!” Damian yells. Jason and Steph are ganging up on him, climbing up his tall figure and pulling at his clothes and hair. 

“Graaaahhh!” Jason hits Damian’s nose with his small fist repeatedly. 

Meanwhile, Marinette dives after Tim, who’s trying to reach for the coffee pot. He wails when she tells him that he can’t drink coffee and squirms out of her hold to run elsewhere. Marinette groans, takes Dick just in case he climbs high places again, and runs to follow Tim. 

“How long until the effect wears off?!” 

“Twenty four hours at most!” Damian replies. 

“Tim! No!” Marinette gasps when the boy manages to open up the entrance to the Batcave. 

Bonus

Marinette coos as she fixes the tie on little Jason. He tugs at it lightly before going back to his Jane Austen book (which he's somehow reading upside down). 

"They're so cute!" Her eyes sparkle. The kids are lined up thanks to some Alfred-induced miracle. 

Stephanie's blonde mop of hair is tied into two pigtails by purple ribbons. She's rocking a purple dress Marinette made herself, with matching purple flats. Beside her, Jason has a pair of glasses, a long coat that belongs to Bruce, and a book prop. His hair is slicked back to book-smart perfection. Meanwhile, Tim is wearing a simple outfit with suspenders. His chubby hands tug at the beret on top of his head. 

Lastly, the brave and shameless Dick insisted on wearing a baby-sized Robin costume as an ode to his roots. 

Marinette runs to where Damian is standing at the side. Alfred fixes the camera in front of the kids. "Ready, and smile, please." 

"They grow up so fast," Marinette mock-sniffles. 

"They're technically older than us," Damian says monotonously. 

Taglist: @tinybrie @sinoffalsejudgement @its-maemain @kamarallil @toughluna @golden-promises @whatamoodhoney @trippingovermyfeet @m4ster0fnone @alexizlazy @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @maybeanalien0-0 @imchaotic-dontmindme @ev-cupcake @flowers-n-fandoms @crusherccme @ji-nk-ies @depressed-bitchy-demon @duskyashe @multplelifes @authorpendragging@iloontjeboontje@thatonecroc@user00000003@paradoxaloccurance@kking13@laydeekrayzee@chaos-inperson@astol07@the-coffee-fandom@nerd-nowandforever@nightmarewasteland@certainmuffinbagelcalzone@the-hospitality-of-knives@stainedglassm@talia-scar123@trying414@starling218@buginetye@ascetic-orange@myazael@child-of-the-clouds@ladythugs@adrestar@therealkotlc@blueneko9314@kinda-craz-fan@kitsun369@talia-scar123@ghostdoodlen

[woongisi]

No Empty Space // Eric x Sunwoo

sub!Kim Sunwoo x dom!Eric Sohn // SMUT

WC// 1.7k

Synopsis// After a long day, Eric's not keen on sharing the sofa. Sunwoo decides he can change that.

Warnings// anal, dry humping, name calling, praise kink

Author's Note// BYOK cultural reset! I wanted to post something entirely new but yknow. whatever. here's something from a few months ago that was totally out of my comfort zone bc i normally do x reader :)

------------

“Sunwoo, hurry up! This is a race, is it not?” Eric’s voice called back against the wind. After a long day of running the city streets and causing various mischief, the sun shone its goodbyes across the horizon’s expanse to call an end to another hot summer day. The younger of the two had called a race back to the car and made a run for it in an instant. Sunwoo, maintaining a casual stroll, smirked in expectation. Only steps after his exclamation and mere feet from the car, Eric tripped over his own feet and hit the ground with a heavy thud. Sunwoo darted ahead with a laugh suppressed between his lips before lifting Eric by the arms, turning to press his own back against the side of the car. “I won.”

Eric whined and writhed against Sunwoo’s grip. “Whatever! You just got lucky. Now get in, asshole, we’re going to your house.” Sunwoo climbed into the passenger’s side only after calling shotgun as if there was anybody else to take it to begin with. Eric’s car was a sight on its own with a glossy black exterior that seemed to never hold claim to any blemish. Its interior was largely trimmed in off-white leather with black at the seams. Red fuzzy dice hung from the front mirror, a gift from Sunwoo for the sole purpose of making the car seem tacky. The engine started up with a low purr and welcome chime.

The drive to Sunwoo’s house was no longer than 5 minutes in length but plenty enough for him to glance over at Eric’s focused expression and sweat coated brow. When driving, Eric had a habit of taking his bottom lip softly into his mouth every time he made a turn… a habit that never failed to make Sunwoo’s stomach churn. However unsafe, Eric drove with one hand at the top of the steering wheel and the other dropped between his thighs that presented a subtle flex of his triceps.

The youngest’s outfit for the day was simple yet undeniably effective. For a shirt, he donned a simple, loosely fitted white tank with dropped armholes that he kept tucked into black cargo pants. Sunwoo on the other hand wore a cropped Hysteric Glamour top (that may or may not have been a normal length prior to an unfortunate round of laundry) and denim shorts that cut off at the knees. Formerly he’d had a bomber jacket colored red white and blue, but Eric had long since sullied it by tackling Sunwoo straight into a pile of gravel.

Eric let out a relaxed sigh and pulled the vehicle to the curb out front of Sunwoo’s home, turning off the ignition and scrambling to the other side of the car to open the door for his senior. “You’re so annoying,” Sunwoo feigned a scoff and took Eric’s hand to lift himself from the seat. “Come on, let's take a seat on the couch. There’s plenty of room.”

Eric practically flung himself down on the brown suede sofa, man spreading to the best of his capabilities and stretching one arm after the other. “Aren’t you gonna leave me any space?” Sunwoo groaned and kicked his buddy’s shin.

“Mmm… nah, I like having this room.”

“Well-”, a wicked thought flicked through Sunwoo’s mind. “I guess you won’t mind if I make my own seat.”

Sunwoo sat himself directly between Eric’s legs and pressed his ass up against the other’s groin. Practically jumping out of his skin, Eric grabbed fistfuls of the sofa’s material as if he’d disappear if he didn’t. “You know I’ve been staring at you the whole day, don’t you?” Sunwoo muttered nonchalantly and innocently wriggled his hips. “You just had to wear that tank top, huh? Just had to show off those toned arms of yours.”

“Watch yourself, man...” Eric hissed as he snaked one arm around Sunwoo's waist. “You aren’t the only one that’s been waiting for a bit of privacy.” He licked a long stripe up Sunwoo’s neck, pulling a whine from the boy on top of him. “Get up, if you’re so desperate then show me.”

Eric shifted to rest his back against the arm of the couch, urging Sunwoo to straddle his hips in turn. Sunwoo, taking only a moment to process what was going on, leaned in and desperately took Eric’s lips into his own. His hand massaged Sunwoo's ass as he hurried to take control of the kiss. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, babe.” Eric groaned.

"Maybe you should learn some critical thinking skills.” Sunwoo ground his hips against Eric’s dick, already painfully hard. “You’re the one who has to be such a tease in everything you do.”

Eric growled under the friction and shut his partner up with a firm bite to his collarbone. “Be quiet, Sunwoo. Just kiss me, you’re having this much fun while we’re both fully clothed.”

A chorus of desperate moans filled the room, Sunwoo’s hips stuttering in rhythm. Eric had initially only meant this as foreplay, but he took notice of how worked up his partner was already. Sunwoo was sweating, his curled light brown hair losing its form in return. His brows were furrowed in a mix of both concentration and frustration while tears welled in his dark eyes. With every thrust, Sunwoo felt euphoric waves of heat wash over his shaking body. Unable to bring himself to interrupt Sunwoo’s pleasure, Eric yanked his head back by a fistful of soft hair. Eric pulled Sunwoo down in such a way his heaving chest pressed against his own and softly nipped at his earlobe. Sunwoo lost himself deeper into his overwhelming joy with every passing moment, whiny moans tumbling from his lips. His dick twitched against the firm fabric of his jeans.

“You’re my dirty little slut aren’t you, Sunnie?” Eric whispered seductively into his senior’s ear.

“E-Eric, don’t- fuck, Eric!” Sunwoo stopped in his tracks, thighs quivering with every hit of pleasure. Hot spurts of cum hit the fabric of Sunwoo’s briefs, bringing breathy whines of Eric’s name each time. Eric froze in surprise, taking in every utterance of his name. Sunwoo’s face flushed deep red upon realizing what he’d just done. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… Shit!” Embarrassed teardrops fell from his eyes and landed on Eric’s chest.

Eric wiped Sunwoo’s tears with his thumbs and pulled him into a soft kiss. “Sunwoo, don’t apologize…”, he whispered. “You’re so fucking hot, baby.”

“Alright,” Sunwoo smirked with a renewed confidence. “Then stop messing around and shove your cock in me.”

Eric wasted no time in unbuckling Sunwoo’s belt and discarding his shorts to the floor, his own pants following suit. “Hands and knees.” Eric ordered eagerly and rummaged through his bag for a bottle of warming lube. Dripping a considerable amount onto his fingers, he circled Sunwoo’s entrance before gently pushing one digit in. A soft gasp escaped Sunwoo's lips at the intrusion, and he pushed back against Eric.

Eric gently curled his finger around inside before slipping another in. He stared wide-eyed at the boy before him, admiring the way Sunwoo’s ass greedily pulled his finger’s inward. “Look at you, such a good little whore.” Eric cooed, which earned a whimper from Sunwoo.

“Mmm, Ric… only for you.” Sunwoo braced himself on one arm and reached the other down to stroke his aching cock. “Please, I’m ready, just fuck me already.”

Eric removed his fingers to Sunwoo’s dismay and poured lube on to his length, taking a moment to slather it on. “Since you asked so kindly, my dear…” Placing his hands on Sunwoo’s toned waist, he guided him to hover just above his hips.

Sunwoo eagerly lowered himself down on to Eric, his law dropping slightly with a drawn out moan. “God, Eric, you’re so big.” He groaned, eventually bottoming out.

Soaking in the praise, Eric began to roll his hips into Sunwoo at a steady and deliberate place. “Your little ass is so tight,” He grunted. “You take me so well, Sunnie.”

Sunwoo’s dick slapped against him in time with every thrust, smearing precum across the supple skin of his stomach. Beads of sweat rolled down Eric’s temples, looking up at Sunwoo with admiration. Eric could never truly process Sunwoo’s beauty. His golden honey skin, the contour of his abs, his toned thighs, his juicy lips, but more than anything his eyes. His deep eyes that held all the stars of the universe in them and conveyed his every thought. Nothing matched the glossy sheen that overtook Sunwoo’s gaze in such intimate moments, Eric decided then that no other sight could be so divine.

“Faster, please, need it,” Sunwoo borderline begged Eric. “Feels so good.” Who was Eric to deny such pretty pleas? Eric adjusted his grip on Sunwoo’s thighs for ample leverage and slammed his hips firmly into Sunwoo’s ass. Bordering closer to cries, Sunwoo’s moans filled the room alongside Eric’s grunts. It wasn’t long before the two felt the familiar coil build inside of them fueled by the enthralls of lust.

“God- Sun, I’m so close… cum with me?” Eric gasped between groans, ignoring the complete cliché of it all. Sunwoo’s faltering pace and unsteady breathing was all Eric needed to know he was close.

“Mhm, please, inside.” Sunwoo draped his arms over Eric’s shoulders to anchor himself. Moving one hand from his lover’s hips to pump his dick instead, Eric pulled Sunwoo against him. Eric picked up the pace exponentially with the two’s foreheads pressed together, sloppy kisses exchanged between them.

In a few more thrusts Eric buried his cock as deep as he could manage, shooting white-hot loads into Sunwoo’s asshole through strangled moans. Sunwoo followed not long after, crying out Eric’s name as if his well-being depended on it. Still stuffed in him, Eric planted soft kisses across Sunwoo’s face, attempting to help him ride out his orgasm.

"You did so well for me, Sunwoo,” Eric purred into Sunwoo’s ear. “You always do… let’s run a bath?” Sunwoo nodded weakly and pulled himself off of Eric’s cock, spilling cum across the both of them.

"Ric,” Sunwoo pouted. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too, even if you’re such a slut.” Eric giggled. “Come on, I’m gonna get you all cleaned up.”

[larabiatasstuff]

Part two 🖤 @katehawke

So I put my headphones in and started to check my equipment. I couldn't help myself but I was still thinking about the conversation with Catherine earlier. Time went by pretty quickly and before I knew it, it was dark. I put everything in my backpack and went to leave. "Y/N be careful out there and please call me if you need something okay? You still seem a bit off if I'm honest." "T I'm fine seriously. I'll call you if I need you okay? Have a good night." With that I put my backpack over my shoulder and left. I walked over where I parked my car and drove to the cemetery. After a twenty minute drive I parked my car and entered the cemetery. I looked around for a spot where I had a good view over the whole cemetery. So I put my bag down leaned against a huge headstone. The first hour was very quiet so my thoughts started wandering again. I thought about my future, would that be everything my life had in store for me? Hanging around cemeteries at night, fighting vampires so everybody else can be happy? I was so deep in my thoughts that I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings but suddenly the sound of a breaking twig pulled me back. My blood froze, I was surrounded by six vampires. I instantly got in fighting stance. It wasn't easy because they all attacked at the same time. I t was hard but gladly I could maneuver a few of them against each other. After an exhausting fight and stabbing the last vampire's heart. I fell down on my knees and started crying. It was too much, how could a simple conversation have such an effect on me?I took a deep breath, wiped my tears away and took a walk over the cemetery but the rest of the night was quiet. When the sun appeared on the horizon, I put everything back to my car. I got in and started the engine. When I entered the library twenty minutes later T stood at one of the bookshelves. "Oh Y/N was everything... God you look awful and you're hurt. Sit down I get the first aid kit." he turned to go but I held him by the wrist. "Do you ever think about the future?" I asked. He looked at me confused "Excuse me what?" "The future, your future, my future. I don't know dating, getting married, starting a family the future T!" "Is that what bothered you the whole day?" he asked in a soft voice. I sighed "When I met my friend she told me about her getting married and moving to Rome and stuff and then she asked me and I had nothing to say. Is that my future T? Being alone and hunting vampires till I'm old?" he pushed me down on a large armchair, then he went behind his desk and returned with a first aid kit." How long do we know each other? " he asked while putting some disinfectant on a wipe." Five, six years why? " " And you know you can trust me right? I was always there when you needed something." "Yeah, but T what do you...?" he looked directly in my eyes. "Do you really think I didn't think about that? I know you're carrying a huge load on your shoulders and I know you're risking your life every night just to keep everyone out there safe. And because of that you absolutely deserve to have at least a little bit of a normal life. So I wrote a few letters and reached out to some of my contacts to get help. " he said cleaning my wounds and putting band aids on all the cuts." What do you mean with help? Other vampire hunters? " " Yes, and to be honest I could use a little help too. So what I wanted to say you have a future Y/N it might be a special one but I promise you'll have a future." I looked up at him trying to hold back the tears." Thank you T, for everything. " I said hugging him. Suddenly someone cleared his throat.We looked over to the door and there stood a young man dressed with a black leather jacket and a beanie on his head. " Hey umm I don't want disturb or anything but I got this letter and... Oh my name's Max by the way." "Hey I'm Y/N and this is T. Welcome to the team I guess."

Part one here 🖤