#edmée

[thecareandkeepingofwhumpees]

Content warnings: blood-drinking, dehumanization, alcohol, self deprecation, and starvation. Please ask if you need any added.

Tokito ran his fingers over his ribs. All twenty-four were clearly defined, standing out against his pale skin. He was so hungry.

His fingers eventually moved their exploration to the muzzle that was keeping him from the nutrients he so desperately needed. He hated it, hated the gnawing in his gut, hated how desperation clouded his mind and made him act like the animal Wallace believed him to be.

“Do you remember what’s happening this evening?” were the words Wallace used to announce his presence. Before waiting for Tokito’s response that he did, in fact, remember what was happening that evening, and had been dreading it all week, Wallace answered his own question. “Of course you don’t. It’s okay, I know you’re just a dumb little pet. This evening I’m having a guest over for dinner, and you will be the entertainment. Do you think you can put on a show for her?”

Tokito curled his lips back in a sneer and growled.

“Ooh, feisty! Yes, that would be perfect.”

There was no real way for Tokito to win in this situation.

Wallace adjusted the place settings at his dining table, then moved on to do the same with the art on his walls. The busywork wasn’t doing much to soothe his nerves. Rich and powerful, the lady he’d be hosting was definitely one to impress. The fact that his place in high society was relatively new would make that difficult, but he was determined to do so, and his new pet could only make it easier.

The ringing of his doorbell startled him out of his nervous reverie. He left the painting alone to open the door, but doubled back a split second later to make one final adjustment to the frame’s tilt.

Satisfied, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and opened the door.

When Wallace dragged Tokito out to meet his guest, it was with a finger hooked around a strap of his muzzle, making the leather press against the back of his neck in a way that was sure to leave a mark. He showed him off like a proud owner at a dog show. He forced him to obey a series of commands, making sure to emphasize the fangs that jutted out past his lips.

At one point, Tokito’s eyes connected with those of Wallace’s guest. They were wide, and looked almost horrified. He wasn't surprised. That wasn’t exactly an unusual reaction for someone who was seeing a vampire for the first time.

Once Wallace had had his fun, he locked Tokito up in a spare room, leaving the key far out of reach yet tauntingly in sight.

When Edmée had received an invitation from Wallace, announcing that he had something he’d like to show her, she hadn’t exactly been sure what to expect. She’d always had a bad feeling about the man, but, with no proof to back it up, she’d shoved the feeling aside.

Well, she’d gotten the proof she wasn't looking for.

Wallace's big surprise turned out to be… a man he was holding captive? She wasn’t sure why he assumed that admitting that he’d committed a criminal offense would endear himself to her, and she wasn’t exactly fond of the implications.

She waited, playing nice and making idle chatter, until his mind and limbs were heavy with wine. At that point, she excused herself under the pretext of needing the restroom. The vampire was curled into a fetal position when she found him, as if he were trying to protect his stomach.

“Hello,” she said, crouching down on the floor opposite him. “My name is Edmée — maybe Wallace already told you that. I’m sorry that he’s been doing this to you; I’m sure you don’t deserve it. I can get you out of here, and you can stay the night at my house if you’d like. I’ve definitely got the room to spare.”

Tokito had no idea what was happening.

His eyes, clouded in equal parts suspicion and desperation, searched the woman in front of him for any clue. Eventually, desperation won over. He pulled himself to a standing position with great difficulty, given his weakened state and the fact that it wasn’t an action Wallace was particularly fond of. Standing but still hunched around his stomach, he made to follow her.

They had to walk past Wallace to get to the door, and yet he didn’t realize what was going on until they’d nearly passed him. “Hey, where you goin’?” he slurred. When he was met with no response, he forced himself to his feet, trying to catch up to them on unsteady legs. Mercifully, he tripped on air and fell hard. It was an odd experience for Tokito, seeing the man who’d held so much power over him be laid low by something as simple as wine — and, if he were being honest, a bit shameful. He’d really let himself be controlled by this?

Edmée pulled him into her car, buckled both of their seatbelts, and sped off. Once they were what she deemed a safe distance away, she pulled over. Turning to face him, she asked, “Do you want me to take the muzzle off?”

That was, for her sake, a terrible idea, but the hunger fogging his mind rendered him unable to say no. He nodded desperately.

Reaching over and taking a utility knife out from her glove compartment, she began to saw at the muzzle's leather strap, careful and excruciatingly slow.

The second he was free, he lunged forward, sinking his teeth into her neck. She stiffened at the — well, he’d call it unexpected contact, but really, what was she expecting?

Edmée, generally a fan of charity, had routinely given blood for a few years. She was used to the feeling, and expected her current experience to feel similar. She wasn’t exactly wrong. When she ran a hand down the vampire’s all-too-prominent spine, she felt him jump slightly at the touch, and then melt into it. She was distantly reminded of her pet cat.

Another benefit of her prior experience with blood being taken is that she knew to stop when she began to feel dizzy. It took a little time, given that she’d just eaten, but the lightheadedness was inevitable.

“I’m sorry, but I need a break,” she told him. He whined, but at her prodding pulled away with little resistance, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes. She leaned his seat back for him. “You can sleep now. Stay the night at my house, and we’ll figure the rest out in the morning.”

Tokito yawned like a cat, showing off his still-blood smeared fangs, and drifted off to sleep.

[didoofcarthage]

Rhea Outwitting Saturn by Edmé Bouchardon 

French, 18th century

red chalk on off-white laid paper

Metropolitan Museum of Art

[castelnou]

sculpture by edmé bouchardon

[philoursmars]

Bon, n'étant pas très mobile, difficile de créer des posts avec de nouvelles photos. Je reviens donc à mon projet de présenter l'intégralité de mes photos, projet interrompu à l'année 2017. Je vais donc essayer de clore cette année 2017.

Ici le MusVerre à Sars-Poteries (Nord)

Bertil Vallien : "Head"

id

Edmée Delsol : "Méandre"

Czeslaw Zuber : "La Bonne Bête"

Bernard Dejonghe : "Meule Vive"

Silvia Levenson : "Amor"

[wolfie-wolfgang]

stone transformation. sleeping faun wakes. 

[whatevcr-us]

"I...I did somthin' terrible! When I was puttin' in my birthday to confirm the blog, I put the wrong year! They think I'm a whole year older than I am!"

[history-of-fashion]

ab. 1827 Sophie Chéradame - Children blowing soap bubbles (Marie-Adèle Chéradame, the artist's daughter and her cousin Saint-Edmé Canel)

(Jacques Leegenhoek Art gallery)

[letthesunburnyourskin]

The Thurston County University Finches

i started working on an OC exy college team a few months ago now so enjoy (also i've seen just yesterday that one of exy oc teams started by moncuries is also called the Finches so sorry about that <3)

The Finches are the Exy Team of Thurston County University (or TCU i totally made it up) in WA. Their name comes from the Willow Goldfinch (the state bird of WA).

Their colours are yellow, black, & white.

from left to right: goalie, away, home.

The team is made up of 6 strickers, 6 backliners, 3 goalies, & 4 dealers – 4 women & 15 men

Strickers

- Edmée 'Eddie' Perry #26 5"10, 23 (starting stricker) - Wilson 'Wil' Otten #7 6"3, 21 (starting stricker) - Oscar Wilson #30 5"11, 19 - Mason Dupuy #88 5"9, 20 - Caleb Espinosa #23 5"7, 23 - Riley Kim #68 5"7, 22

Backliners

- Thomas Anthony 'Tony' Porter #35 6"0, 21 - Beau 'Tiny' Santini, #12 5"2, 22 (starting backliner) - Olivia 'Oli' Woodley, #43 5"4, 18 - Daniel 'Danny' Allen #19 5"9, 20 - Paxton Robinson #58 5"10, 23 (starting backliner, Captain) - Jake Adams #93 6"0, 19

Goalies

- Mikki Henley #17 5"5, 20 (starting goalie) - James 'Jamie' Becker #84 6"2, 20 - Malachi Sanders #75 5"11, 18

Dealers

- Ana 'Santana' Sanchez, #3 5"8, 21 - Bryson Finch #46 5"9, 19 - Leon Murphy #33 5"10, 23 (starting dealer) - Abel Nilsen #39 6"3, 22

stay tuned for more about them

[solcattus]

Pottery Peddler, 1738

By Anne Claude de Caylus (after Edmé Bouchardon)

[carsickcrow]

today’s doodley sketchbook page and a sketchbook assignment for class in progress (study of an illustration by marie-edmée pau)

[moonchiesim]

Printemps 1891, Brindleton Bay

Cher journal, Ça y est, nous partons. J'étais un peu mélancolique et j'ai donc ressenti le besoin de t'écrire une dernière fois, comme si vraiment j'allais cesser de le faire une fois parvenue à Chestnut. Je ne peux m'empêcher de songer que si je change de vie, alors ma personne aussi changera. Le penses-tu aussi ? En tout cas, notre chère Edmée n'a pas du tout apprécié que je tente de la charger comme une cargaison. Elle m'a botté les fesses, la petite chipie !

Printemps 1891, entre deux chemins

Cher journal, Nous avons décidé de faire un petit arrêt pour nous reposer. Nous sommes à mi-chemin de Chestnut, et tout près de Hendford, mais pas assez cependant pour y chercher refuge. Séverin a dormi la majorité du trajet, pour se réveiller le reste du temps en pleurant à gros sanglots. C'est ses dents qui lui font mal, j'en suis sûre.

Printemps 1891, Chestnut Ridge

Cher journal, Nous avons rencontré le maire, et c'est lui en personne qui nous a remis les clés de notre maison. Elle est confortable, je t'avoue, et on a même un étable pour un cheval, un jour, et une chambre fermée pour Séverin. François Xavier a trouvé une occupation dans la cave et y a passé toute la première soirée et une partie de la nuit, aussi. Je me demande ce qu'il trouve à cette grotte, moi j'ose pas y descendre. Nous avons pu ranger toutes nos possessions, mais malheureusement nos petites poules n'ont pas survécu au trajet. La première a été chipée par un renard et la seconde était déjà bien vieille, et avec Edmée qui aime bien lui faire peur, on se demande si ça n'a pas été le coeur. François Xavier commence a travailler sur le chantier de la future centrale hydroélectrique dès que possible. Il s'impatiente, car apparemment que son patron veut le rencontrer en personne et parler business. Je suis fière de l'homme que j'ai épousé et qui a bonne réputation alors même qu'on vient de poser nos valises.

Été 1891, Chestnut Ridge

Cher journal, François Xavier a reçu une promotion dès qu'il a mis les pieds sur le chantier. Il est devenu le patron des employés de là-bas, et ça n'a pas plut à tout le monde, mais François Xavier s'en réjouit malgré tout. Il a sorti une vieille bouteille de nectar de la cave, et j'ai appris qu'il y passait tout son temps à tenter de reproduire la boisson. Ce soir-là, il a fêté pas mal fort et il a finis par dormir dans la rocking chair, sur le patio. Séverin pleure souvent et il a des chaleurs. Je pense qu'il est malade, mais je sais pas ce qu'il a. J'ai essayé des trucs de maman, et je suis souvent à chercher ses conseils, mais pas grand-chose ne semble soulager mon petit bébé. François Xavier a voulu lui donner un peu de nectar pour apaiser ses pleurs, mais j'aime pas tellement le goût et j'ai pensé que ça pourrait donner des nausées au bébé, alors j'ai dit non, peut-être seulement s'il se sent vraiment pas bien. Aujourd'hui, il refuse d'être dans son berceau, alors je le laisse libre, ça va lui faire du bien de gigoter un peu pendant que je gère la maison.

Bonus

Edmée, la chipie-chèvre. Ses passe-temps incluent la lecture à voix haute et de terrifier tout le monde.

Cheryl-Ann, la cocotte du village. Ses passe-temps incluent de caqueter les ragots et de roucouler pour son coq.

A noter que le passage où Joséphine parle qu'ils songent à donner du nectar à bébé Séverin ne reflète pas la réalité, mais certaines méthodes de l'époque. En 1880, un premier livre est apparu qui portait sur "La santé pour tous" et qui se voulait un guide d'hygiène de vie surtout lu par les femmes, mais ce n'était pas encore matière courante dans les régions éloignées. J'ai du mal à organiser mes idées et à les transposer concrètement, alors il se peut que tout soit un peu confus et chaotique, surtout au début. N'hésitez pas à m'éclairer de vos lanternes si vous avez des suggestions à mon approche du sujet ! 🌞

[nanshe-of-nina]

Kushiel’s Legacy GIF sets || Edmée de Rocaille

It was the death of Edmée de Rocaille that had caused a rift between them, after the University, after Delaunay had been castigated by his father and formally taken his mother’s name. Hyacinthe and I had not been too far wrong; there was a longstanding bond between the Houses Rocaille and Montrève—strange, still, to think of Delaunay as aught but Delaunay—and Edmée had been a childhood friend to Delaunay in Siovale, betrothed to Rolande out of goodwill and because her family had ties to the royal House of Aragon. A good arrangement, it seemed; there was fondness between all of them, and Edmée understood that she was trading passion to be the eventual Queen of Terre d’Ange, mother of heirs. Then came her hunting accident. It was obvious that Rolande genuinely grieved for her, and obvious too that he was blind to the possibility that Isabel L’Envers had been involved, attributing Delaunay’s vehemence to a mix of grief and jealousy. It is a human failing, to attribute the best of motives to those we know the least, and the worst to those we love best; he loved too well, Rolande did, and feared to be lenient in his judgment and favor Delaunay because of it. He heeded Isabel, who flattered and bewitched him. And they were betrothed, for House L’Envers was powerful; betrothed, and wed.

[slaygentford]

The novel opens with an exchange between Léa and Chéri. They are physically involved, and they argue while Chéri plays with Léa's pearls and thinks on her age. He mentions his marriage prospects, but she seems to take this in stride as they believe their relationship is casual. They have been involved for around six years, and she is forty-nine while he is twenty-five. Léa alternatingly obsesses over getting old and celebrates what she has done and who she has had in her life while demonstrating no remorse over her life as a courtesan. As they often do, the pair playfully fight before making up, and he runs off to meet his potential bride, Edmée. Edmée is revealed to be a reticent girl with a boisterous, rude mother (Marie-Laure).

At this point, there are flashbacks through the course of their relationship. Léa considers Chéri's mother, Charlotte, a competitor but she also appears to be one of her closest friends. When Chéri was nineteen, Léa mentioned taking a trip to the country. She and Chéri argue a little, kiss and make up, and travel together to Normandy where they stay for several months as lovers. At times she thinks that he is so distant, he might as well speak another language. After attempting to have him trained in boxing, the text flashes forward to a more recent time.

Chéri is telling Léa of his upcoming marriage to Edmée and is disappointed by her lack of response. Notably, his mother and Edmée's mother are at war over the couple's future financial arrangements. After their marriage, Chéri is notably depressed. Léa takes her leave without telling anyone where she is going or when she will come back. Chéri does not take this news well and wishes constantly to know more while reflecting on the shocking youth of his young (nineteen year old) bride and comparing her with Léa.

After an argument with Edmée, Chéri goes for a late night walk and eventually ends up with a friend, Desmond. He has Desmond call his house for him and tell them first that he is having dinner and then that he is staying with Desmond for the night. He does not return home for months though. In this time period, he repeatedly thinks of going home or of divorce, yet he does neither. He pays Desmond for his services, yet he never actually sleeps with the women or does the drugs that are provided. In his absence, Edmée writes him to say that she will wait at their home for further instructions.

After having been gone for six and a half months, Léa returns. This spurs Chéri to buy apology gifts and actually return home to his young wife (who happily accepts his return after his three months' absence). It is revealed that Léa had some lovers while she was away; however, she seems uninterested in most of her old habits once she has returned to Paris. Realizing she is being ridiculous, she begins trying to make plans to keep her mind from her longing for Chéri.

Not long afterward, Chéri turns up on Léa's doorstep and she lets him in. He declares he is here to stay and they realize their relationship was one of love. They have sex that night. After awakening, she begins to plan for them to escape Paris discreetly together; however, there seem to be some prior feelings that they cannot move beyond.

They begin to argue, and he must remind her of what a kind woman she typically is and how she is supposed to care for others. He admits that he has been obsessed with seeing her again and could not move past her. Although this may be true, in the light of morning, he sees how she has aged tremendously and realizes that the Léa he longed for is gone. Heartbroken, she thanks him for finding her beautiful and worthy for so long. She says he should blame her for all that is wrong with him, and sends him home to his wife despite longing to do otherwise. As he walks away, she excitedly thinks he may turn around; however, he does not. The novel ends with his back to her as he leaves and him filling his lungs with air the way an escaped convict might.

[asgaoth]

Edmé Bouchardon

[bentbliley]

so of my main beyblades i use for battling, two are named after long dead european men of science. volta df145f for alessandro volta and alive Бeauchene 8 orbit for edmé françois chauvot de beauchêne.

for beyblade x, i'm having an identity crisis because i can't figure out which custom avatar to use (because of course my extra ass is gonna use a custom avatar) and i'm legitimately considering another long dead european mam of science. i already have two potential avatars: diver harpoon for rené descartes's cartesian diver and newton cannon... for isaac newton... and his cannon.

can someone please read too much into this and tell me what it means about myself?

[artoffenrad]

I’m gonna try artfight this year despite my bad hands/wrist chronic pain. I get so sick of not being able to do anything, but I’m still gonna go slow and be careful to not hurt myself more. I added my two pathfinder characters Arden and Merle to my OC Edmé who was there since 2021.