#puffed cloth ornaments

[gogmstuff]

1489-1490 Giovanna Tornabuoni by Domenico Ghirlandaio (Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza - Madrid, Spain). From tumblr.com/life-imitates-art-far-more/642167958715695104/domenico-ghirlandaio-1448-1494-portrait-of; adjusted to fit screen  781X1400 @72 484kj.

[the-moon-files]

Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain! :)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (ur here!)

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader!

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Scenarios?

Stars: Wind, Wild, Sage, C*urage, K*ridai

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: i included the link from K*oridai (faces of evil), and the brunette Link from that old cartoon tv show,

& Trigger Warnings: none known.

☆

Wind (Wind Waker):

Misses being a big brother

LMAOOO I CAME FOR UR THROAT HAHAAA

ok chill chill he's doing okay

He's just not used to being the youngest in any given group, he used to be the oldest kid in charge of the younger ones and his little sister too

But dont get him wrong! He rlly does love the advantages that come with it,

and when he's feeling down abt not being older u usually cheer him up by reminding him he can be the biggest little shit he wants and every single Link will forgive him once he pulls out his baby seal eyes lmao

Ur the easiest to rope into horse playing/goofing off and he's very happy abt that

The others can be too serious for too long so he appreciates how u and him lighten them up by trying to give each other noogies (he loses most of the time)

As soon as Wind found out the others could play instruments, he immediately demanded they do campfire songs every night lol

(Most of the time one person caves, even just to idly play smth)

Likes inventing weird new games to play that'll convince as many other people to particpate, he used to do it back home too, like finding the prettiest rock on the island, that way his grandma and even adults could play too :)

Needs to sleep beside someone at night, bc he secretly likes it, back on his adventure going to sleep all by himself (unlike living with his grandma/sister) always was a little hard for him

Very hard to wake up in the morning, sleeps in the latest out of all the Links

("I'm a growing boy? Ofc i need my sleep, whats ur excuse??" @ the other Links who sleep in late lol)

Likes to sew! He's still learning, but his grandma used to teach him how so he could help her keep up with his growth spurts/recklessness tearing his clothes up

Idolizes u forever if you embroider, and will watch u like those videos of someone's cat who's fascinated by watching owner craft smth lol (like this ⚫️v⚫️)

Enjoys making stoic people crack their persona and laugh

Also has the wheeziest laugh youve ever heard, it makes u laugh every time, even when he started laughing over a dumb pun

Oh yeah, makes a foul amount of dad jokes for someone whos only like 14 💀

(He once managed to break Time and Legend, which then broke Wars and Twi, and it just continued down the Chain until everyone was crying or on the ground, he wears that shit like a badge and it literally made his confidence go 📈 puffed his chest out and everything lol)

Wild (Breath of the Wild):

U already know everything there is to know abt him??

I dont even have to say it, and it shows when ur around him lol

Like he'll go to do smth stupid like shield surf down death mountain in a unknown Hyrule, and before anyone can even realize thats what he's planning to do you've caught and stopped him and made a compromise to shield surf down some snow bluffs later instead

Or when u know he's gotten new ingredients in some other Link's Hyrule and is going to try and cook with them tonight, so u help him make a regular meal of smth else along with so the boys dont suffer stomaches

Like u can absolutely predict his bullshit all the time, just imagine the most adrenaline junkie thing he could do in that moment with the combination of things around him and you always know what tf he's up to, ur always right lol

Ur the only one who can get him to stop the chaos (besides maybe Time, weirdly enough Sky/Hyrule/Four bc they are the least likely to tell him to stop, so when they do, its usually a very, very bad idea)

Likes hair ornaments, he's got long hair for a reason after all

Likes u to style his hair, and esp if u teach him how to braid or do diff styles <333

He loves that u help cook/at least prep, and u make sure another Link helps too, bc thats a lot of ppl to make food for with little to no help 💀

(Makes u ur fav foods at even the slightest mention of them, like u wont even have to say ur craving Link's already whipped the pan out best housewife fr)

One of the few Links who's adventurous with his clothing, and trying new stuff

Wild was worried abt his Champion tunic getting messed up but was sad he couldn't wear it as much anymore

So u handmade him a new shirt that imitates the old one but with some new designs to represent the Chain! :)

He started crying.

He either hugs so lightly he seems like he's not enjoying it (no true, he's just trying to be polite)

Or he squeezes so hard be pops ur back and nearly breaks a rib

U got the latter for that shirt lol

Any new thing he doesnt remember how to deal with, like how to sew (he knows 1 stitch help), how to wash clothes (dont mix whites and blacks, and colors), how to soothe headaches/muscle aches etc.

He just wanders pitifully over to ur side and looks pitiful lol

Like he's a confused and saddened puppy

And just holds up whatever mess he's made like, "im so sorry, i dont know how to do this pls"

Bc he trusts u to know (the other Links may be hit or miss too tbh lmao)

And ur the least likely to clown him for it too, at least nothing he doesnt also find funny

Sage (Tears of the Kingdom):

So sue me, i enjoy this stupid-definitely-not-canon-unhinged-Link thats done with everyones bullshit and wants to be a hermit

SUEEE MEE ABT ITTTTT✨️

The first time u saw his hair nest and immediately clapped ur hand over u mouth in shock and tried to take a brush to it on sight

He fucking hissed at you.

Feral bitch.

Sage isnt like that all the time, but he was certainly the most distrustful and prickly out of all the Links

(U could smell it was like a defense mechanism from his adventure/past from a mile away, and knew with time that it'd fade away into his true self... like how u just knew Wild that well too)

U are the only person allowed to casually touch him, he shys away from the other Links, let alone strangers,and the first he allowed to help him with his hair

Tbh after u washed it out and got tangles and mats out and cut split ends off etc.

He almost teared up, and was extremely confused why

Def the type to not have realized he felt insecure lowkey abt it until it was fixed (he also was embarrassed to say he didnt rlly know how to take care of it)

Energy of a stray feral cat that leaves dead birds on ur doorstep without fail every morning and u leave a food bowl out in hopes he'll actually be your cat 💀

Extremely protective of you, and eventually the Chain, to the point where he might set someone's hair on fire or use runes on them

Like not enough to seriously injure but enough to scare tf out of ppl and have them running for their lives

(Did he literally growl at someone when they tried to flirt with you?? ... why is Twi encouraging him.)

Was unnerved by Wild at first but slowly got used to him and often butts into whatever private convo u two are having

Like just casually struts up and plops his head on ur shoulder and waits for attention, may complain loudly depending on how grumpy he is that day

(Wild's not getting jealous and constantly hogging u for cooking to get even more time with you what-)

Okay but unfortunately

Once those 2 got comfy with each other, they started tag teaming everyone

Like u can now bet that if an explosion happens in the distance, Sage definitely caused it, and if he's there, then Wild's there making him the explosives

(Same for if Wild's there, then Sage's there)

Def the Link that likes showing the most skin, he "gets overheated easily" - local half naked man justifies his nakedness

(coughtotallynototherreasonslikebeingshirtlessaroundyouallthetimecough)

Absolutely grievous clowning on the other Links, like its getting into bullyinggg 😭

His words are E rated for Everyone, no ones safe not even you

Sage: "wait, all those rings and nobody's ever put one on you? And you've never put on one someone else??🤔🤔"

Legend: ...😦

The rest of the Chain: 💀😭😶

Time, trying to hide he's choking on laughter so hard he's abt to fall into the firepit

Will occasionally team up with Wild to make a protective little border on either side of you while in towns/new Hyrules

U once offered to sing/hum for him after a nightmare while it was ur turn on watch (he sleeps up trees btw) and after u switched off w/other Link, u both went to edge of camp to sleep next to each other and he had the best sleep of his life like that

Now demands begs u to sing him to sleep every night, wont take "i dont sound that good tho" for an answer

Courage (The Legend of Zelda, 1989 Cartoon TV show):

Yeah... he's here too.

Just dont read this tbh

Enjoys being ✨️special✨️ by being the only hero twink out here with brunette hair

Was insecure abt it being curly/wavy until u slowly built his confidence

Bc he's got the most confidence in his strength, but not in much else tbh 😭

Actually will randomly have moments of responsibility or capability you didnt expect out of him bc he can be so silly and jokey all the time

Youll be lost as hell and he just "hey its ok the stars look like this so we go this way" and it works

Like the type of person u sort of avoid relying on bc he's like a playful jock type and then they randomly show theyre the captain of the team for a reason

Dont ask why, but hes good at knitting, shhhh no, no, no explanation he just secretly is he wont even tell u why or how or when he learned this he just "hehe, wouldnt u like to know princeyyy/princesssss/your majestyyyy"

Hyrule, and rest of Chain standing by, went to talk to one of the Great Fairies in a Hyrule once to try and get some info abt where to camp tonight or where nearest town was and before he could get close enough to ask,

Courage was already yelling like "YOOOO BIGGEST FAIRY WHATS UP?! u mind giving some poor lost fellas like us somewhere to go with ourselves tonight??"

They kept talking super casually and she laughed so hard that she let u guys stay near her that night to camp and be under fairy protection like no fairy boy Link needed 💀

Everyone was shocked, and thats how u all found out Courage is rlly good with fairies/their best friend no matter the Hyrule

Every time u guys learn smth new abt him it feels so unexpected, like out of left field or smth

It just never seems to fit his usual persona, or at least not what youd expect from him

So needless to say the first time u guys learned he could talk to magical objects that were powerful enough (like the fucking triforce)-

(this was apparently so normal he literally lived with a piece of it just in his room all the time????)

Has weird mixture of country boy vs. royal prince sensibilities?

It alarmed several Links. 💀

He can talk to Fi.

(Sky and you nearly cried)

Like he lived in the castle alongside Zelda so he inherited some spoiled/etiquette stuff, but he still would absolutely go splash in mud puddles in the rain

Would literally do fucking anything if it meant youd give him a kiss on the cheek

Likes to hug you a lot too, with his huge ass arms lifting u up (no he does not care how much u weigh ur going UP) and spinning u around

Its his favorite, almost as much as kisses

No but he's slay fucking Majora to get a kiss, like it's actually unbelievable and kinda endearing how excited he gets if u promise him one lmao

Koridai (Link: The Faces of Evil):

Omg not them putting Link's name in the title of the gameee i didnt know that 😭😭

Geezzz,, i dont know what im on

But ig heres that other silly ass Link if anyone feels like reading it

Will also fight any god, including Hylia, for a kiss

Actually astoundingly good at strategizing

Like after a few times in heat of battle him organizing Links, Time and Wars practically jumped him to include him in planning shit

He was similar to Courage to in that he just was cracking jokes all the time u didnt expect it, also he's significantly more sarcastic than Courage

U introduced him to dark humor and the laugh he laughed practically burst out of him, he looked shocked by his own laugh lmao

So he also now has a streak of dark humor he shows when u talk for while/sees someone also enjoys it

Its like his not-so-guilty-pleasure

Really good at baking? He apparently learned a lot of miscellaneous skills to better court someone and he now uses them fully to seduce you,

thru gift giving mostly, its is love language besides acts of service :)

(All Links do some amount of acts of service tho <3)

Rlly good at styling hair surprisingly, and at shield surfing??? What

Actually down to try Wild's experimental dishes...

And by that i mean he pranks the rest of you by sneaking the inedible bits into ur food

U may or may not have nearly choked him out for it and now he doesnt do it to you, and even was trying to act all pitiful abt it like "sorry lovely, but i just wanted to tease u bc ur so cute!! 🥺👉👈"

Like,, stfu u little shit 💀

He has the energy of a male orange cat, dont ask why he just is, and specifically the orange cat getting on top of the fridge or stuck between the the screen door and glasss door comically or smth 😭

Hes also loud as hell

One of the worst at stealth unless he just keeps his mouth shut completely, like his whispering is loud

He proclaims his affections very loudly too, like gettin u flowers and chatting ur ear off with what he likes abt u lol

No, like he can go for 20 minutes or more if u let him, u better stop him before he gets into the personality based compliments

Bc those sound wayyy too personal to be aired out in public ngl, like its so soft and domestic itll kill u lol

And he means every word too 👀

☆

I HATE THIS NEW FEATURE OR FUNCTION I SWEAR THIS DIDNT HAPPEN BEFOREEE!!!

😭😭 U ABSOLUTELY KNOW WHAT IT IS BY NOW, IT FUCKING POSTED MY DRAFT BEFORE IT WAS READY TO GO

God fuck this hellsite stop doing this meee

Thats it im just do what i do for the other blog and write it smwhere else and then copy paste onto the post this is ridiculoussss 😒😒

Well anyway, i hope if u read this before i updated and actually FINISHED THIS u come back and read it again!! :(

Sorry guys, but blame tumblr pls before u blame me 😔

(Yeah theres a lot of emojis leave me alone i feel strongly abt this)

Peace out,

🐤 Peep

I think ill start signing off my name ig, unless u guys wanna call me Moon that works too

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Day 30: Christmas shenanigans under the tree, if you know what I mean.

Fandom:Spider Man 2 || Insomniac ||

Character: Harry Osborn

Naughty or Nice

Warnings: p in v, christmas fun! Teasing, public sex.

You and Harry were alone, something you were actually grateful for. It was nice to actually get a chance to spend time with your boyfriend especially with it being so close to Christmas.Glancing at the large Christmas Tree in the center of the room a small smile formed on your lips as you turned your attention to Harry.

"Hey Harry?"

Glancing away from his work, Harry gave you a grin tipping his head to the side. "Ya love?"

"I have an idea, how about we Christmas shenanigans under the tree, if you know what I mean."

Harry's eyes narrow with a mix of curiosity and desire as he listens to your suggestion. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips, his mind already racing with possibilities.

"Ah, never pegged you to be an exhibitionist" he wetted his lips, his voice husky with anticipation. "You always know how to pique my interest. Christmas shenanigans under the tree, you say? I like it."

Puffing out his chest, he quickly closed his work away humming as he quickly rushed to your side making quick work to carry you too the Christmas Tree.

"We have 30 minutes until the camera's come back on " he stated hovering over you "Let us make this Christmas unforgettable."

Harry guides, you to lay under the lavishly decorated Christmas tree the twinkling lights casting a seductive glow over the room. He positions her in front of the tree, you back on the plush carpet, and admires the way your skin contrasts with the vibrant ornaments.

With a flick of his wrist, Harry removes his own clothing, revealing his toned form. He steps closer to you, his desire evident in his darkened eyes. His hand reaches out to caress you cheek, his touch both gentle and possessive.

"Remember, my dear," he whispers, his voice low and seductive. "You belong to me, and tonight, I will claim you under the watchful gaze of this tree. Every moan, every gasp, it will be our secret gift to each other."

And with that, Harry takes you in his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss. The heat and desire between you both ignites, as you lose yourselves in the pleasure of their private Christmas shenanigans, under the twinkling lights of the tree.

A gasp escaped your lips as your legs wrapped around his hips trying to match his thrusts as his name spilled from your lips. "Faster Harry! Please."

Harry groans in response to your actions, his desire escalating at the sound of his name on your lips. He willingly allows you to take control, relishing in the way your legs wrap tightly around him, urging him to go deeper.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your movements as he thrusts into you with a newfound intensity. Each thrust is filled with a mixture of possessiveness and adoration, his body moving in perfect rhythm with your moans. The pleasure builds within you both, your moans and his grunts filling the room as you all indulge in your shared desire.

Harry's eyes remain fixated on you, drinking in the sight of your surrendering to your passion. The way your body quivers and trembles beneath him only drives him further, pushing him closer to the edge. He whispers in a husky voice, his words dripping with a mixture of dominance and affection.

"That's it" he breathes, his voice laced with desire. "Wrap those legs around me tighter, show me how much you crave me. You're mine, and I will take you to the heights of pleasure."

With each thrust, he delves deeper into you, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The room fills with the symphony of your pleasure, the sound echoing off the walls as your connection intensifies. Harry's mind becomes consumed with the overwhelming need to bring you to the pinnacle of ecstasy, to claim you as his own in every way possible.

As your bodies entwine beneath the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, Harry loses himself in the intoxicating pleasure, reveling in the sensation of their passion intertwining. Their Christmas shenanigans reach a crescendo, a culmination of desire and adoration, as you both succumb to the waves of pleasure that wash over them.

[cl-plus-s]

Sissi in lyoko

I just noticed i haven't explained how i imagine Sissi's avatar weapon and so on looks like in lyoko. Taking inspiration from both how she is on the cheerleading team, and how for better or worse the position of her father as had an impact on her life I picture her with an appearance that primarily evokes that of a princess, with a more athletic twist on it. A salmon/coral piece on top that had her sleeves puffed. on her legs it would be a skirt more relating to a sports/cheerleading one than a gown one. All o fher clothes would be adorned with gilded patterns in golden string. Her shoes would have heels, not high needle ones but enough to give a regal appearance. On her head, instead of the headband she usually wears she would have a crown that signified her princess motif. As a weapon she would have a golden Royal staff that she would use as a cheerleading baton, with the capacity of separating it in two of half the size of the original. The top part of the staff would end in a big protuberance thit shined like a precious metal or gemstone and on the other a point like an ornate spear When the updated outfit happens, she would have the same style but more toned down, no puffed sleeves, no more gilded patterns, the scepters much more less ornamented, no gemstone symbolism, and not made of gold anymore. This would be a definitivve symbol of how she has completely abandoned her diva persona, and while she is still the daughter of someone in a power position it doesn't define her anymore, she now sees herself at the same plane as everyone else, not above them. As for her power this is what has taking me the most time to come with. I ended up landing on is ''Rally Up'': Depending on her movements, she can do a small dance to buff her own, and her friends abilities (Defense, attack, movement, heal a bit... imagine a Bard on a fantasy setting) As for transport, if Jeremie did one for her (that i'm ont so sure since she could use the Overbike or the Overwing) it would be Overshoes. Hovering rollerskates basically, akin to the ones shadow the hedgehog uses. And i think that would be all. Here are some images that i think shows relatively well the feeling i was going for with her lyoko form:

Anf course have to mention this lyoko design for sissi made by other talented fan of the series, that while not exactly the same is remarkably similar to what i had in mind

Artists are in the image descriptions 13

[aslightaddity]

He wore a tight-fitting satin red waistcoat, fastened with a number of tags, along with close-fitting breeches; both of which were designed to emphasize the king of Gotham's figure. He wore a red velvet doublet, tailored to emphasize the broadness of his shoulders and hips. His sleeves were puffed and slashed and styled in such a way as to make him look broader at the shoulder. His mantle, trimmed with the finest fur available, remained open. The hat worn atop the king was bright red, rich with feathers and decoration. The shoes worn by the phantom were made of white leather and had a large, deliberate heel. Jewelled buckles and other ornamentation wore attached to his clothing and person, as well as a large ring for every gloved finger.

And a mask that only covered half of his face. The material was clearly marble, white and gold swirled into a delicate pattern. The mask jutted out, in a shape similar to a plague mask, though sculpted in shape to that of the skull of a penguin. I looked down. His clothes were wet and dripping on the floor, creating a puddle of dirty, black water.

Psy is short for psychological torment @psymarketofobsessions

[scarletooyoroi]

🌿 Except there is no mistletoe on sight other than the one she's trying to hover over their heads while standing on her tippy toes. Emphasis on trying.

The allure of the holidays never failed in pulling Thoma in the realm of their whimsies. Before him stands a reminder of what he dedicates so much of his time, both in growth, learning and martial prowess in the name of Teyvat's collective whole. For all the strife that creeps and crawls within the nook of dark corners, or vivaciously through an onslaught of overwhelming and corrosive power, none of these aspects could ever dream holding a candle to this brand of completion.

Happiness that doesn't come at any cause of suffering. Contentment that doesn't lay upon a seedbed of the opportunistic, rather, a kick in the rear to initiate more to try their hand at the efforts of good will. Right within this very moment with the special someone he decides to enjoy festive spirit with, an endearing act was being made as he watched her strain this effort with glimmering aquamarine and a pair of puffed cheeks for that matter.

Thoma's smile was hard to hide as the ticklish brushes of the ornament nudged and skimmed at the fringes of his hair. For all they've come to discuss in the realm of actions speaking louder than words, the sentiment of witnessing Nilous signify this gesture by not letting the happenstance position on a ceiling to dictate this measure, rather, for her own human hands to choose their route in fate makes him speechless while such a lively tinge of laughter springs forth.

It rivals the warmth offering hearths of a fireplace. Toasty, secure, relaxing.

"Hmmm. I think if I wasn't none the wiser, there's a very special message the sweetest in Sumeru is trying to tell me here." The way it makes his heart dance was almost a dizzying brand of power. To know that her desire intertwined with his, how a genuine want in sharing affection, to offer it in turn to let them dance in a dimension of positive feelings

His answers come in the form of a hand that tenderly cradles the apple of her cheek. A single thumb dotes affection in brushing along the expanse, just the mere note of that vitality found in playfulness and health just bringing him peace. A tranquil calm branch of calm that easily rivals the epiphanies and heights reached during his training. Being able to stare into the majesty of Nilou's personal world always left him breathless in some ways.

With wishes of being so selfish in others.

"Would it be shameless to say that I've been eager for a present like this from you, Nilou?" Indulging never felt like a better option.

Letting distance become a simple suggestion, for their hearts to find a joyous rhythm, attempting to match despite the many barriers of cloth that inhibit such closeness. Lowering down, another arm would sweep along the midsection of her back, allowing for her to be pulled flush against him as Thoma bravely seeks the lips of the Lotuslight. Tender, enriching, it was a sensation of such loving contact that never failed to make an endlessly roaring flame sear spirit and mind with the aspects of utter joy.

Much as his composure could hide his giddiness, the smile woven into this kiss as tinges of gold and scarlet brush speaks thousands of words in their own right. Allowing the pressure to carefully amplify, for confidence to reign with this moment of exploring, the kiss soon finds itself growing deeper as he keeps her firmly embraced.

He never wants to let her go.

@haftkarsvar

[unit2-ss24]

SS24 Trends

XL Shoulders

Sacai

"SS24 sees sacai expand its design language through swollen silhouettes that manipulate the body. The first look featured a cropped wool blazer with popped collars and slashed shorts, followed by nylon variations, puffed shirting, and corseted underpinnings. Sheer tops and layered trench coats collided with hooded vests ornamented with adjustable toggles, while mini skirts dramatically extended at the rear. Swollen denim uniforms walked next to mismatched striped button-downs and deconstructed knitwear, seeing military hues accent additional garments that defied commonality." In Sacai's collection we see a lot of emphasised shoulders and structured jackets, although non are as large as the one above, they still explore this idea.

SHOWstudio. (2023). CATWALK IMAGERY: SACAI S/S 24. [Online]. SHOWstudio. Last Updated: 25 June 2023. Available at: https://showstudio.com/collections/spring-summer-2024/sacai-ss-24-menswear [Accessed 11 December 2023].

Issey Miyake

"Issey Miyake looks to nature for inspiration for its Spring/Summer 2024collection, emphasizing the shapeless yet impactful forces around us. Mimicking a fluttering flag in the wind or the glinting sun reflecting off water, Miyake’s Paris Fashion Week presentation celebrates our connection to nature and our intertwined ever-changing state of being." We see a number of looks featuring these large shoulders like the one above as well as a primary neutral colour scheme however with various pops of colour.

SHOWstudio. (2023). CATWALK IMAGERY: ISSEY MIYAKE S/S 24 WOMENSWEAR. [Online]. SHOWstudio. Last Updated: 29 September 2023. Available at: https://showstudio.com/collections/spring-summer-2024/issey-miyake-ss-24-womenswear [Accessed 11 December 2023].

Calcaterra

Throughout the collection we see the amplifying of the shoulders creating a more masculine feel to the clothes as well as the colour green once again making a huge come back in to the fashion game. In addition, similar to the other collections we have looked at this one is also made up of a large number of blazers creating that more structured feel.

JTDapper Fashion Week. (2023). Calcaterra SS24 at Milan Fashion Week. [Online]. JTDapper Fashion Week. Last Updated: 26 September 2023. Available at: https://jtdapperfashionweek.com/2023/09/26/calcaterra-ss24-at-milan-fashion-week/ [Accessed 11 December 2023].

[flovey-dovey]

The house of the Night Hand Man was full of things. Colorful baubles that each glistened a different color, fifteen sets of silverware that didn't match, three couches, nine cabinets, bottles, woolen socks, jars upon jars of lost pennies, dishes, pots and pans (though he hardly ever cooked), various books from various points in time and even more various genres, chandeliers kept more for their ornaments than illumination, and so on and so forth.

But there was a room in the large and opulent tree-castle that had nothing in it at all. Just one very lonely window and a lamp with no switch. In the summer the view from the window showed nothing but the western sky and its own assortment of twinkling jewels. In the winter, it welcomed the pale light of every winking moon.

Nabber loved spending time in every room of his castle if it pleased him to be seen in it, but this solitary room he kept to himself, all alone at the end of a long hallway that wound through the whole trunk up to the very top. Nobody could see the bags under his eyes there, or hear the tired whimpers from a wayward unpleasantness.

Nabber's daughter looked down that hallway, listening quietly, hearing nothing but the distant whisper of the crisp autumn wind, seeing nothing but darkness and feeling nothing but her own curiosity growing with every glance. She saw her father drift like a shadow and disappear into that dark hall once or twice. Sometimes briefly, other times for hours, but always with a frown he might've thought she couldn't see. For one reason or another she never followed him to find out what he was doing.

The horror of the forest always smiled at her as he tucked her in, but sometimes in a way that made her wonder if something was actually somehow wrong. She smiled back, but it vanished after he'd gone.

Curiosity at its limit in her tiny form and tired of the nicks and knacks that kept her company, Heather slipped from her bed five minutes past the stroke of twelve and crept slowly across the thick carpets through the sleeping castle. At this hour, all the world was seeped in shades of blue, purple, and sea green. She only hesitated for a moment at the looming entrance of the mouth of the hallway that seemed to eat up all the color inside it. Then she puffed out her chest and marched up the slight slope of the pitch-black tunnel. It reeked of old wood and dust, at the precipice of enough fear to turn back.

But she didn’t. Her feet walked on.

She kept a hand on the smooth bark of the wall, the other holding on tight to her bravery. Finally at the top, she didn't at all expect to find her father there all alone, surrounded by none of his favorite things. The silhouette of his feathery back slowly rose and fell as if in sleep, limp as a pile of old clothes on the floor in the nearly deafening quiet. He looked smaller than usual.

Nabber hadn't expected her to find him there, either. He could usually hear a doormouse skittering across a field on a blustery day, but it took two tiny hands lighting on his beak to jostle him from the heavy daze he'd fallen into. His eyes dragged open and looked like deep wells with only the barest flicker of color rippling at the bottom. Truthfully, she found her way there by chance.

The great wraith's body heaved with breath and his weary and thin expression softened- or did it?- when he caught sight of her big, bright eyes, like gemstones twinkling in the dreary hollow. The moonlight was bright that night but kept at bay by a gossamer ashen purple curtain. The rustle of Nabber's feathers Heather's ears, soft as they were, as he swept himself around her and claws combed through her unruly brown locks. The corners of his mouth lifted in a forced smile that made his face creak like a graveyard gate. Nabber, though exhaustion of seemingly every sort clung to his bones, spoke in as fine and merry voice he could muster. "Oh... Hey, kiddo... Can't sleep?" He chuckled airily and fended off a yawn. "Yeah, me neither..."

~~~

Hmm... The pose and perspective didn't quite turn out the way I intended, but I do like the end result anyways.

[gogmstuff]

Touring the 1500s -

Top left  1525 Laura Pisani by Gabriele Cappellini (location ?). From tumblr.com/eirene; partially fixed.

Top right  Diane de France, princess of France and daughter king Henry II of Valois by François Clouet (location ?). From tumblr.com/roehenstart/695196156597256192/portrait-of-diane-de-france-princess-of-france; fixed spots, but not cracks w Pshop 2048X2894.

Second row left  Woman by ? Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon - Dijon, Côte-d'Or, Bourgogne-Franche-Comté, France). From tumblr.com/blog/view/history-of-fashion 597X800 @72 208kj.

Second row right  1550s Laura Battiferri by Agnolo Bronzino (location ?). From tumblr.com/blog/view/papered-in-rose-toile 1370X1795 @72 677kj.

Third row  Woman by Florentine painter, possibly Jacopo Zucchi (Metropolitan Museum of Art). From tumblr.com/historical-fashion-devotee/700705910778216448/artthatgivesmefeelings-florentine-painter; fixed spots & cracks w Pshop 2015X2615 @72 1.5Mj.

Fourth row left  1545-1550 Lady, probably Philippine Welser, probably by Corneille de Lyon (Veste Coburg - Coburg, Bayern, Germany). From tumblr.com/blog/view/lenkaastrelenkaa fixed spots $ some cracks w Pshop 828X1200 @72 482kj.

Fourth row right  ca. 1565 French Princess by the school of François Clouet (Morgan Library & Museum - New York City, New York, USA). From tumblr.com/dashboard 1078X1445 @72 665kj.

Fifth row lef.  1570 Probably Camilla Martelli by Alessandro Allori (St. Louis Art Museum - St. Louis, Missouri, USA). From tumblr.com/pipouch/696978340783030272/alessandro-allori-portrait-dune-dame 1741X2048 @72 1.3Mj.

Fifth row right  Jungen Frau by Nicholas Hilliard (Bassenge - 1Dec22 auction Lot 6038). From their Web site 1070X2498 @144 7.6Mp.

[ranas12]

SAREE AND ITS DIVERGENT STYLES

Sarees are considered as the most beautiful and gorgeous traditional wear for Indian Ladies. Saree enhance one’s elegance, poise and beauty. This is the main reason as saree is been an integral part of Indian culture from the beginning of human civilization. Ranging from North to South or East to West, saree has some eccentric and special place of draping saree as the contemporary attire.

Aside from being the most famous traditional wear for women, the saree captivates the unique cultural importance. It is even described in Vedas, which is the most holy and ancient scriptures of Hindus. It is even have it existence in Indus Valley civilization which is very old and is somewhere around 1300 BCE. 

This unstitched Fabric varies from 4 – 9 meter have an utmost importance in the History of Indian culture and will always remain in future no matter whatsoever event occur.     

  EMERGENCE OF SAREE

Back then, a saree was the friend of everyday life and has many types. It is even worn on fields by women, as a princess in special occasion and like a lehenga in the wedding season.

These sarees have transformed through generations and centuries, without escaping its sparkle and it quality of being versatile naturally

This nine meter unstitched fabric have shine and gorgeous through the rural area, only to set the simplicity and ethnical! The sarees have been reinvented and untangled, from a varied perspective to enhance it appearance and beauty. A Kanjeevaram saree with zari and embellishment on it or a Kota saree with its simplicity and ethnical in nature screams itself the creativity of craftsman. 

ESSENTIAL APPAREL FOR WOMEN

A saree may not be like cutting a cake but when it come to appearance and style it just bangs on and it flaunt your curves where no other dress would be able to do it and you will always get appreciation whenever you embrace it .

And of course, you don’t need to worry about the climate too! You have summer fabric like Chanderi and Kota to keep your comfort in high peaks and also look stunning! Cotton light saree and exquisite silk saree, of course, are there to leave an ending image in our everyday life. You can wear Heavy Embroidered saree or a net saree in winters or a Light Gorgeous organza saree in Rainy Day too.

  Sarees: Forever and Always in Trend!

Bored from the everyday style of clothing and the puffed blouse looks? Add up the heat and fire to your contemporary look with a pant saree! You wear your saree with a pant as well and look fabulous than ever! Pair up your saree with the beautiful corset or a contrast blouse or with a blazer to enhance your look. Gold ornaments or antique ornaments, creating a no makeup - you are literally going to add fire in your appearance.

So, this is the varied reasons why saree is considered very versatile.

What makes Saree most special?

The saree might be the necessity of many women in rural areas but over the years the Indian Ladies over the years, but in recent time’s youthful ladies in urban India have selected western outfit. But while all girls in the country are wearing jeans and crop tops, the six meter of unstitched fabric is attracting the fashion of Ladies across the world, and entwining its road into couture and fashion in a manner. Its organza and net saree which are more in tend nowadays to attract the beauty. Embellished with sequins and zari, these hand worked saree are actually creating a buzz around Ladies which it is a matter of glamour and beauty.

Avani Shah, a 20-year-old student from Michigan university freshman at Loyola Marymount University in Michigan, enjoys draping it up in saree that are “ethnic and contemporary.” She wears them for parties, wedding and on auspicious occasions, and thinks this is the fashion which makes her comfortable and yet stunning.

 “It really oomph a woman’s curves and can look very beautiful,” says filmmaker Kinjal Shah, who has shown a British woman embracing a Indian culture and wearing a sari is a pure statement. Modern Ladies mostly prefers bandhani saree or a light organza one which is indeed very comfortable once you get used to draping it on.

 SAREE AT YOUR DISPOSAL

We are at the stage of celebrating the 75th Independence Day of India. When I think about our country, lot of ideologies comes to my mind; its culture heritage, vast history, varied heritage, largest democracy, unity and much more. But what really astonishes me is the beautiful attire of the Indian women that is known as ‘SAREE’. All outfits are gorgeous to wear but nothing can match the sheer of a Saree!

Saree is an epitome of poise and beauty for Indian women and looks effortlessly on all festivities. The different patterns, style and shades of sarees convey people’s belief, enrichment and area the person comes from. Indian culture always depicts indispensable part of diversity. 

“Sarees have gained it global proclaim in the current times due to its contemporary and never ending charm” and demand all across the world. It is perfect outfit to grace if anyone wants to look stunning and ravishing in their look. 

Sarees are not only worn during festivals or special occasions but also be worn in daily wear to look more gorgeous rather in their formal outfit. Do not misjudge what a saree can bring to a work place which no other formal outfit can give you is that pure sheer and elegances. Pick a correct saree, style it with different style of blouse and pair it with a belt or oxidized jewellery and you are good to go and start flaunting your look

The saree when you wear at your work place you look completely stunning and even more comfortable that it speaks your attitude. There are varied techniques by which you can make it appear more formal for example by wearing a saree belt or draping a saree around your palazzo or you can even pop it with a blazer. Sarees worn on office days should be very light in shade and comfortable fabric to breathe in. There is a global style couture which states formal attire. This is where we were talking about versatility of saree and its amazing and different ways to drape and dangle around which different colors.

The history of Sarees set back to the primeval times as its draping has been encrypted in the sacred Indian spiritual stories like Mahabharata and the Ramayana. The word Saree is also sometimes pronounce as Sari which has been derived from the Sanskrit word “sattika” , which is even found in the finds mention in the Buddhist literature. The History of saree itself depicts many untold stories and formats of its evolution and its gained momentum in the present modern world however the most important factor is that these credit goes to Indian women who have maintain the supremacy of the outfit hundreds of year back and even now, which is utterly commendable and aspiring more many other forthcoming generation.

For more info:-

online shop for sarees

[thebadgerclan]

The Dark Prince: Chapter 10:

Chapter Summary: The wedding...

This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I ran out of room for the reception, so y’all get another 😂

Dress reference at the end

Announcements had gone out the very next day, reaching every corner of the country.  Her Most Royal Highness, Princess Y/N Lantsov, second daughter to King Pytor and Queen Tatiana to wed General Aleksander Kirigan, General of the Second Army.  Invitations were sent out to foregin diplomats and leaders, as well as the entirety of the Ravkan court.  Yours was the first royal wedding since your mother wed your father, it was to be the event of the century.  

“One would think that my wedding would be the event of the century,” Vasily said, displeased by his role as one of Aleksander’s groomsmen, alongside Nikolai.  “Well, Vasya, it’s not my fault that I’m getting married before you,” you argued.  “Find a woman to court, then we’ll talk about your wedding.”  Your mother was beside herself in planning the event; flowers, dinner menus, mesic selections, it was as if she’d been planning this for your entire life.  

The ceremony would follow tradition, a few deviations being made for Aleksander.  He would wear a kefta, not military dress, he would use Grisha vows rather than Ravkan.  In the weeks leading up to the wedding, gifts and well wishes poured in from all over the world: ash boughs accompanied by a Fjerdan wedding blessing, Eternal roses from the Shu Han, bushels of jurda from Novyi Zem tied in blue, gold, and black.  You received countless jewels and gowns, Aleksander received fine clothes and ornaments of good will.  He also received money for the Second Army, which he was more than grateful for.

Finally, the day arrived, the sky blue and cloudless, the sun shining on the Grand Palace.  The Palace was decorated in the Lantsov colors entwined with black, flowers clinging to every surface.  Everyone rose early in preparation for the ceremony, the cooks rising well before dawn to prepare the feast.  The ceremony wasn’t until noon, but Genya woke you at 8 o’clock, ushering you into a bath where she scrubbed your skin and hair, shaped and polished your nails, before drying you off.

The Tailor and her team styled your hair and applied your makeup, ensuring you looked as beautiful and as regal as possible.  You stared at your reflection in awe as you were laced into your wedding gown: shimmering golden silk and tulle with intricate embroidery covering the full, ball gown skirts.  The bodice was fitted, the neckline dipping below your collarbone, the puffed sleeves hanging over your shoulders.  Your veil, golden lace, featured the double-eagle embroidered in shimmering thread, and your ceremonial crown; gold twisted into eagle’s wings, diamonds and aquamarine studded into the medal, was pinned into your hair, which was twisted into an elaborate updo.

“Saints, my little girl,” your mother said when she saw you.  “You look absolutely beautiful, malyshka.”  “Thank you, Mama,” you replied, letting her fuss over your hair, your skirts, your jewels.  Your maid of honor, Alya, your best friend since childhood, arrived shortly after, tears springing to her eyes.  “That General of yours is a lucky man,” she said, gathering your trailing veil into her arms as you began the walk to the Royal Chapel.

Servants and Grisha alike gathered along the path to catch a glimpse of the bride, shouting their well wishes and congratulations.  The antechamber to the chapel was packed with members of the procession.  Vasily and Nikolai were nearest to the door, and the flocked to you when they saw you enter.  “You look lovely, Y/N,” Vasily said, pulling you into an embrace.  “Thank you, Vasya.  You both clean up well too.”

Nikolai smiled and hugged you, careful not to mess up your hair.  “I’m happy for you,” your little brother said.  “Truly, I am.”  “Thank you, Kolya.  That means the world to me.”  A chapel attendant announced it was time, and the procession fell in line.  Your mother would enter first, followed by Ivan, Aleksander’s best man, then Vasily and Nikolai, Aleksander, Alya, and finally, you and your father.  Genya handed you your bouquet, yellow and black roses with sprigs of white, pressed a kiss to your cheek, and hurried to her seat.

The pianist began playing as the procession began, and your father took your arm.  “My little girl,” he said, squeezing your arm.  “I am so proud of the woman you have become.”  “Papa,” you said.  “You’re going to make me cry.”  Your father shook his head and kissed your cheek.  “Save your tears for your groom, milaya.” Alya arranged yoru veil behind you before it was her turn to walk, and she bobbed a quick curtsey to you.  “See you up there,” she said, taking her own bouquet and walking down the aisle.

Aleksander stood at the altar, watching the procession.  His heart was pounding and he was suddenly grateful he didn’t eat much breakfast.  What if she doesn't show? a voice in his head spoke, but he pushed it aside.  You would, you would be here, of course you would.  Your maid of honor entered the chapel, and Aleksander held his breath with anticipation.  The music changed and the guests rose to their feet, turning to face the rear of the chapel.

Then, you stepped forward on your father’s arm.  Aleksander let out a shaky breath, feeling tears spring to his eyes.  You were perfect, there were no other words to describe it.  Your gown, gold following tradition, shimmered as you walked, your crown perched atop your head, your steps measured and graceful.  He blinked hard to fight the tears, fighting to keep his composure.

All the nerves you’d felt had evaporated when you saw Aleksander standing at the altar, his hands folded before him.  You could tell he was nervous, and you saw him gasp when you entered.  The walk up the aisle felt far too long, but soon, you were standing before him, close enough to speak, but saying nothing.  “Who gives this woman away?” the Apparat intoned, and your father cleared his throat.  

“I, Pytor Lantsov III, give my daughter to this man.”  The Apparat nodded, and your father lifted your arm from his, placing your hand on Aleksander’s arm.  “I love you, Y/N,” he said, kissing your cheek once more.  Aleksander shook your father’s hand, an unspoken conversation occurring between the two men.  Your father took his seat and Aleksander led you closer to the altar, a soft smile on his face.

“You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, his hand clasped in yours.  “Simply radiant.”  “Thank you, Sasha,” you replied, and Apparat raised his hands.  “We gather here today to join Princess Y/N Lantsov and General Aleksander Kirigan in marriage.  The Saints give us this gift so that we may show our love for one another, binding one’s soul to their partner’s forevermore.  If there are any objections to this union, please speak now.”

If there were, no one spoke, and the Apparat nodded.  “Then let us pray.  O blessed Saints, we call upon you to bless this union, to bring the bride and groom happiness and prosperity in their life together, to allow them to worship you in their days and return to you when you see fit.”  Most members of the congregation prayed as well, but the Fjerdans abstained, as did the Kerch and the Shu.  But you heard whispered prayers in three different languages, and you knew they were offering their own prayers to their own gods.

“Please exchange your vows.”  Aleksander spoke first, facing you and taking both of your hands in his.  “We are soldiers,” he said, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice.  “I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return.  I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world, my darling Y/N, and there is no one more beloved, brave and unbreakable.”

The Apparat made a sign of prayer in the air above your joined hands and gestured for you to speak.  “Here, witnessed by our Saints and our friends,I speak words of both love and duty. It is not a chore but an honor to swear faith to you, Aleksander, to promise love to you, to offer my hand and my heart to you in this life and the next.”  The Apparat blessed the air above your hands again, and Ivan and Alya came to your sides, holding thorn wood branches above your heads.

“The Saints have decreed it, these two are wed.  You may kiss your bride.”  Aleksander drew you to him, his arms tight around your waist.  “My wife,” he said, only loud enough for you to hear.  “I love you.”  And he kissed you, deeply and passionately, finally able to show the world how much he loved you.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to your husband as he dipped you slightly. The congregation was cheering, but you hardly heard them, too focused on Aleksander; his lips on yours, his arms around you.

A few moments later, he righted you, breaking the kiss.  Reluctantly, you left his arms and faced the chapel.  “There is one more order of business to attend to before the feast,” you said, and Alya came once more to your side, a crown on a velvet pillow in her hands.  With a smile, Aleksander stood before you, bowing lowly before assuming the position.  “He was on his knees before you, and in your wedding gown, your crown on your head, the sun filtering through the stained glass windows behind you, you looked simply divine, like a Saint reincarnate, one who he would spend the rest of eternity worshiping.

You raised a hand, holding it over his head as if blessing him.  “I hereby crown thee Prince Aleksander Kirigan.”  You took the crown, his crown, and placed it on his head.  It was silver, the metal wrought into eagle’s wings as yours was, but his was studded with black diamonds and obsidian, owing to his lineage and status.  “Long live the prince!” you called, and the congregation repeated.  “Rise, Aleksander, Prince of Ravka.”

Your husband rose to his feet, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead as he did.  Ivan handed him your wedding band, and Alya handed you his, and you slid the silver band onto his finger.  “I promise to love you, support you, and cherish you for the rest of my days,” you whispered.  The exchange of the rings was usually a very intimate moment, the words spoken typically intimate and personal.  “I promise to aid you however I can, and I promise to always stand by your side.”

Aleksander pressed a kiss to your forehead, and he noticed the engraving on the wedding band: the sun in eclipse behind the double-eagle, two lines becoming one.  Your husband slid an identical band onto your finger.  “I promise to be your loyal subject for the rest of my life.  I promise to love you as much as I am able, and to make you feel as loved, cherished, and beautiful as you are.  I promise to be at your beck and call at every moment, and I promise that you have my entire heart.”

You went up on your tiptoes and kissed him, and the two of you faced the congregation once more.  “Presenting Her Most Royal Highness, Princess Y/N Lantsov, and His Most Royal Highness, Prince Aleksander Kirigan!”  The congregation stood, bowing and curtseying as you passed on your way out of the chapel.  When you stepped outside, you were met with a cheering crowd, people crying your names, along with “Long live the Prince and Princess!”  The church bells were rinsing, and you knew that all over the country, people would be celebrating.

“Well, darling wife,” Aleksander said, his arm linked with yours, your wedding procession following behind you.  “I believe we have a feast to attend, do we not?”  You smiled, your heart feeling light and airy.  “I believe we do, husband.”  Aleksander led you back to the Grand Palace, his chest puffed out with pride.  The most beautiful woman in all of Ravka was now his wife, he was a prince, for the first time in a long time, Aleksander was truly happy.  No more hiding, no more pretending to fall in love with you.  Now, he could love you as he’d always dreamed of; openly and devotedly.

[actress4him]

12 Days of Whumpmas - Day 12

Fandom/universe: Generic Whumpee

Warnings: homeless whumpee, hypothermia, mild frostbite

Notes: Continued from Day 7! This one is dedicated to the “save da baby” squad…y’all know who you are. 😉 Also thank you to @sweetwhumpandhellacomf for the initial idea for this.

.

.

It’s been a good Christmas morning so far. The kids had woken them up at the first sign of daylight, bouncing up and down on the bed until they were forced to get up and follow them downstairs to see what Santa brought. After tearing through stockings and a breakfast of cinnamon rolls, Teammate gets a sudden whim to go for a walk. The kids are all hyped about the snow that fell during the night, might as well get out and see it before the cars and pedestrians mess it up.

They’re all bundled up in coats and hats and scarves and gloves and boots, noses turning red in the frigid air and steam puffing from their lips, but everyone is smiling. Someone suggests they walk a block over to the park to see what the city tree looks like in the snow. A snowball fight breaks out somewhere along the way, of course. But eventually they make it into the park, snow squeaking beneath their feet, and everyone stills a bit, taking in the beauty of the undisturbed blanket of white amidst the trees and wrought iron benches.

It’s when they’re all standing side by side in front of the towering Christmas tree, silently admiring the dusting of flakes across the red and gold ornaments, that Teammate notices something off in the idyllic scenery. On the closest bench to the tree, there’s a person. At least, they’re pretty sure it’s a person. It’s a lump of clothing, at least, covered in a thin layer of snow.

That realization is what sets their feet into motion. Snow settling on top of a person means that their body heat is no longer melting it off. Dropping to their knees next to the bench, Teammate quickly brushes off what they can with their gloved hands, noticing with concern that the person isn’t wearing a coat. Or gloves. Or a hat. Only a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a thin long-sleeved shirt.

And then Teammate leans in closer, taking in the closed eyes, the too-pale face, and their heart stops beating.

It’s…it’s Whumpee.

“No,” they whisper, suddenly frantic to get rid of the rest of the snow. “No no no no, Whumpee. Whumpee! Can you hear me? Come on, please, don’t do this to me.”

What happened? Why are they out here? What reason could Whumpee have possibly had for being out here in these freezing temperatures, not even dressed for the weather?

Spouse has joined them now, leaning over their shoulder and reaching out to touch Whumpee’s arm. “We need to get them inside and warmed up. Now.”

Right. Right, of course. A plan. They can fix this, they can help them. Teammate stands, readying to pick Whumpee up, then stops and stoops down again. They slide their gloves off their own hands and tug them over Whumpee’s white-tipped fingers, then repeat the process with their hat, making sure it’s pulled down snugly over their ears.

Then they scoop them up off the bench, and immediately wonder if Whumpee has always been this…small.

“Call the team,” Teammate calls to Spouse. “Tell them to meet us at home.” Everyone’s Christmas is going to have to wait. They’re going to want to be here.

The walk home passes in a blur of white and worry. Whumpee never stirs the whole way, remaining limp and far too cold in Teammate’s arms.

Spouse beats them to the door, unlocking it and racing inside to start gathering supplies. The children stand back, silent and stunned, watching as Teammate carefully deposits Whumpee onto the couch and drapes a throw blanket over them. A moment later Spouse arrives with another armload of them, then disappears again to get a bowl of warm water.

“It looked like their fingers had some frostbite,” they explain, and Teammate quickly pulls off the gloves. They’re right, the tips of their fingers are unnaturally colored, cold and hard. They tug up the edges of the hat and find their ears look much the same.

“I’ll get a warm washcloth,” Spouse murmurs.

There’s a frantic knock on the front door. “And that’ll be the team.” Teammate forces a smile toward the oldest child. “Will you get that, sweetie?”

Both children scurry off as they gently lower Whumpee’s fingers into the bowl of water. Spouse returns with the washcloth just as Leader flies into the room, a storm of cold air, huffed breaths, and panicked movements.

“What happened?” they demand, hovering over the couch, obviously wanting to reach out but unsure if they should.

Teammate shakes their head. “I don’t know. I found them like this on a park bench, covered in snow.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Leader finally settles for starting in on the pile of blankets and comforters, laying them one by one over Whumpee until they can barely be seen anymore. “Why would they have been outside? They texted us last night, remember? If something was wrong they should have said. You don’t think they were out there all night, do you?”

The constant stream of questions just agitates Teammate further but they know exactly how Leader feels. “I don’t know. I just…I don’t know.” They brush a strand of hair back from Whumpee’s face, careful not to bump the warm cloth that Spouse set on their ear. “They’ll be okay, though. They…they’ve got to.”

The rest of the team arrives soon. They hang back with the children, who are happy to be surrounded by their honorary aunts and uncles, staying out of the way. All of the same questions are asked over again, and the answer still remains that no one knows. They won’t know until Whumpee wakes up and tells them themself.

Which is going to happen. They have to keep believing that.

It’s a quiet Christmas morning, nothing like any of them had imagined when they had woken up to a world of sparkling white. The remainder of the presents sit underneath the tree, forgotten, while the team and Spouse keep vigil, changing out water and cloths and waiting.

Just waiting.

And no one asks the other pressing question on everyone’s mind - “Who was Whumpee supposed to be spending Christmas with?”

Maybe because they’re all too ashamed to admit that they have no idea.

Finally, there’s a change. Subtle, at first. Whumpee’s eyebrows scrunch, and their lips press together, and Teammate freezes, watching. Then the blankets shift a little.

“Guys!” they whisper, heart pounding. “I think they’re waking up!”

The whole team is gathered by the couch in an instant, holding their collective breath. Whumpee shifts again, and ever so slowly their eyes pry open. For a moment no one speaks, allowing them to take in their surroundings with glazed vision.

“Hey,” Leader says softly. “Are you with us?”

Whumpee’s eyes flick up to them. “Wha-…what happ’n’d?” Their voice is raspy, small, not like the confident cheer everyone is used to from them, but it’s incredibly relieving just to hear them speak.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Teammate replies gently, removing the washcloth from their ear and checking to see that their ears have turned from white to pink. “We found you half-frozen in the park.”

Their eyes widen and they start trying to sit up. “Must’ve…must’ve fallen ‘sleep.”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t do that. You need to stay down.” Leader places a hand on their shoulder and that’s all it takes to keep them from rising.

Teammate nods, brushing their knuckles against Whumpee’s red cheek. “You’re still way colder than you should be.” A frown creases their features. “What do you mean, you fell asleep? How did you fall asleep in the park in the snow?”

Whumpee cuts their gaze away, silent for a moment. “Wanted to see th’ tree. Started snowing. Guess I got tired.”

Teammate glances up at Leader and sees their concern reflected there. Something’s not adding up. Does Whumpee really expect them to believe that they just…fell asleep on a hard iron bench that easily? That they somehow weren’t bothered by the cold and the snow? Not to mention there’s still no explanation for why they weren’t wearing a coat. They’ve always joked coming into headquarters on cold days without one that they’re warmblooded, but wandering through the snow at night should have been different.

They’re smart. They should know how to take care of themself.

Before anyone can press farther, Whumpee suddenly starts struggling to sit up again. “Wait, is it…is it Christmas?”

“Yeah, it is.” Leader presses them back into the couch cushions again. “Is there someone we should be calling for you, to let them know why you’re not there?”

Confusion shadows Whumpee’s face, but quickly morphs into concern. “No, no there’s…there’s no one. But none of you should be here! You’re supposed to be with your families!”

“We are.” Teammate takes Whumpee’s face in their hands so they’re forced to make eye contact. “You are our family, Whumpee. We’re all right where we want to be.”

It seems to take a few seconds for the words to process, but then Whumpee’s eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t…didn’t want to be a burden. Wanted you all to have a good…good Christmas.”

Leader’s hand strokes up and down the blanket-covered arm. “You’re never a burden. We’re worried about you, though. You have to talk to us, so we can help you.”

The other team members press in closer as Whumpee sniffles, making their presence known in little touches and soft words. Tears streak down Whumpee’s cheeks and they cling tightly to Teammate’s hand.

“‘s good to…to have a family,” they whisper finally, and Teammate’s heart breaks. “Love you guys.”

“We love you, too, Whumpee,” Leader returns.

Exhausted, Whumpee shuts their eyes and drifts back to sleep. Part of Teammate wants to keep them awake, to keep pressing for answers, but rest and healing is more important right now. They’ll find out for sure what happened eventually. A glance around at the other faces tells them that no one is going to give up on that soon. Whatever is going on with Whumpee, they’re going to make it right, like a family should.

Using the hand not trapped in Whumpee’s grip, Teammate swipes away the remaining tears from their cheeks. “Don’t worry. We’ll all be right here.”

[burnedbyshoto]

seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits. 

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born. 

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded. 

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors. 

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained. 

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing. 

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed… she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word. 

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew. 

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body. 

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. 

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips. 

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong. 

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch. 

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin. 

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up. 

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. 

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt. 

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

[designingthebarricades]

Fantine’s Arrest 

“Fantine’s Arrest” is like a darker continuation of “Lovely Ladies,” and the culmination of Fantine’s fall. A couple new characters enter the scene: Bamatabois, who antagonizes Fantine, and Javert, who attempts to arrest her for defending herself.

Bamatabois

Bamatabois is a bourgeois idler who shows up to torment Fantine at her lowest. We get a fabulous description of him from Hugo: 

“At that period a dandy was composed of a tall collar, a big cravat, a watch with trinkets, three vests of different colors, worn one on top of the other—the red and blue inside; of a short-waisted olive coat, with a codfish tail, a double row of silver buttons set close to each other and running up to the shoulder; and a pair of trousers of a lighter shade of olive, ornamented on the two seams with an indefinite, but always uneven, number of lines, varying from one to eleven—a limit which was never exceeded. Add to this, high shoes with little irons on the heels, a tall hat with a narrow brim, hair worn in a tuft, an enormous cane. . . .” Vol 1 Book 2 Chapter XII M. Bamatabois’s Inactivity 

George Cruikshank, “Monstrosities of 1822.” Library of Congress

We can see how commentators at the time parodied contemporary fashion in satirical prints like this. Note the tiny waists and puffed sleeves on both men and women, a theme that will persist through the 1830s. The mens’ ensembles also feature padded-out chests and enormous hats. 

Bamatabois’s silhouette gets pushed to almost comical extremes, furthering the grotesque world Fantine has fallen into. But his clothes also speak to money and power: when Fantine is at her most vulnerable and destitute, he shows up in his expensive fur coat to make her difficult lot a little harder. 

Javert

Javert resurfaces as the chief of police in M-Sur-M, and it’s him that arrests Fantine after her altercation with Bamatabois. The uniform of the gendarmerie — from the limited images I could find — is mainly blue with red accents at the shoulder, collar, and down the leg. 

[ellynneversweet]

There’s an essay somewhere in the aether about just what Jane Austen meant by lace (both the item and as a metaphor), which I don’t intend to write because I it would require an awful lot of compilation of quotes and sources and it’s not like I’m being marked on tumblr posts, but it comes down to this: what we think of as lace doesn’t appear to have been popular in the period when Austen was published and when her books were arguably set. From what I’ve gathered squinting at museum photos, lace rarely appears on extant garments from the 1800-1820 period, and when it does it’s maybe a tiny frill around the edge of a sleeve, or on a cap. Now, this may be because lace is fragile, expensive, and structurally stable in itself without needing a seperate ground cloth, and by consequence tends to be either damaged or removed and reused more frequently than, say, panels of embroidery. But I also suspect that lace had a bit of an image problem in this particular era, out of some combination of being associated with pre-revolutionary and decidedly French aristocratic showiness (all those élégantes!), being structurally unsuited to the floaty neoclassical shape and fabrics in fashion (handmade lace is surprisingly rigid, on account of the knots and plaits involved), and being similar to but more expensive than white work/cut work on muslin. Trims and fancy work generally seem to have made extensive use of self-fabric, either cut away (think broderie anglaise) or puffed and appliqued. Netting, which is structurally very similar to lacis and some needle lace, does seem to have been popular, both in accessories and as a trim, and was both done at home by accomplished ladies and available to purchase. Why exactly that was I can’t say for certain, but netting in its simplest form tends to be softer and less structured than other forms of lace, is simpler in geometry, being mostly squares or diamonds, and requires little by way of equipment — all you really need is thread and a good and decently large needle. I’ve seen some museums cite netted purses as originating in Greece or Turkey, probably as tourist souvenirs, so it might be that that’s the reason for the popularity of netting as a pastime and ornament.

Now, Mrs Hurst, who is probably in her mid-late twenties as Bingley’s older sister, and said to be fashionable, does wear lace, and quite a lot of it, but I suspect that she’s wearing machine-made bobbinet, — what we would now call tulle or netting — which had just been invented and was wildly popular and cheaper than hand-made lace, if still extravagantly expensive. There are several extant bobbinet overdresses, and that would certainly have made a statement at a country assembly. It’s possible that this is a nod to the Bingley family’s origins in trade in Yorkshire — Austen doesn’t specify what that trade was, but Yorkshire’s industrial textile boom was kicking off at the start of the 19th century, so it’s quite possible the Bingleys’ family money came from the textile trade.

In sum, I suspect lace — as we think of it — was old fashioned, something that your mother wore — or still wears, like a millennial clinging to their skinny jeans or a boomer going about with their tshirt tucked into their jeans all the way around. Mrs Bennet gets excited about lace. Tasteless, perpetually over-trimmed Mrs Elton loves lace. Mary Crawford, otoh, wouldn’t be caught dead in lace.