#ruffle bustle skirt

[badassindistress]

Triumph!

[bruja1837]

Hello listener… this is the Nighttime Radio… broadcasting live from somewhere within the infinite void of space…and I thank you for tuning in once again, to another tale lost to time…

@nighttime-radio

[freckleslikestars]

The Gilded Age

The House of Mirth (2000)

[starsinmylatte]

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚘𝚐

Here is my submission for @kentopedia's wonderful Love Through the Ages collab!

➻ Summary: Trapped in the gilded cage of Victorian high society, you were determined to rebel. You ran the streets in disguise at night and threw yourself into your work as a typist for Scotland Yard during the day, rejecting the label of “quiet, submissive woman.”  Further rebuffing the ideals of your time, you scoffed at the idea of love and marriage, but a certain blonde Detective Inspector always seemed to make your heart flutter. You’re assigned to work a case under him, and your feelings only grow more complicated… but will your budding romance be able to survive one of history’s most infamous murderers?

➻ Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!Reader

➻ Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI)

➻ Word Count: 8.2k

➻ Warnings: Explicit sexual content and Discussions of the Jack the Ripper case/thematic elements related to the case/time period (rape, poverty, etc.)

➻ Song recommendations (in order):

Toxic- From “Promising Young Woman” Soundtrack performed by Anthony Willis  Les feuilles mortes- Jean-Michael Blais The Swan- Camille Saint-Saëns

➻ Author's note: I did a ton of research to make sure I had my details correct, so there are tons of easter eggs hidden in the fic. I had a lot of fun with this one!

Join my taglist here!

Colors flew through the air as you tossed various skirts, bodices, and any other accessories unfortunate enough to catch your ire clear across the room. They hit your quilted bedsheets with an audible thunk as Misato shook her head at your antics, tsking at you from the corner. 

“Love, you’ll be late if you carry on like that. Wipe that scowl off and pick one already.” 

You shot the maid another half-hearted frown, looking as grim as a young woman clad in only her chemise, garters, and stockings could. Misato strode over with matronly confidence, snatching the next garment out of your hands before it could grace the top of the pile. She held the bodice up, inspecting it in the clear morning light before giving a brisk nod. 

“Right then, this will do. It’s posh enough to keep your father happy without all those extra frills and ruffles you hate. Grab that skirt, and let’s get on with it.” 

You did as you were told, albeit extremely unenthusiastically. Misato hummed soothingly, draping the familiar weight of a corset around your waist. This was a dance you knew the steps of all too well. You fastened the busk up quickly before bending down to grasp at the foot of the bed, adjusting your decollete into the supporting garment. Misato tightened the laces systematically, just as she had done for every year you’d been old enough to dress as a woman. 

Standing back up, you moved your body around, wincing and rolling your shoulders as you reacclimated to the squeeze of the steel boning. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, dropping your head in apology at the sight of her soft frown. “I know I’m bull-headed, and I know it only causes trouble for you.” 

With a gentle sigh, the maid slipped a muslin camisole over your head before moving to fasten a bustle around your waist. “I understand, love. But you’re a woman of society, and you’re to dress as such. Now, bear you in mind, I’d rather die than see you in trousers like the men, but I think there’s a middle ground to be found yet.”

You smiled at her, grateful for the affection, “I know, but I’m still glad to hear it.” 

“Who knows… Maybe you’ll finally attract a husband who’ll let you run as wild as you’d like.” The older woman teased you, pinching your cheek affectionately as she slipped several layers of skirt over your head. Her loving prodding pulled an imperceptible flush across your cheeks, and you distracted yourself with the buttons of your bodice. “Lord knows some of those peelers can’t be too horrible to look at.” 

“Love,” you scoffed, choosing to ignore the way your mind immediately wandered to a certain stoic, blonde detective, “is for little girls who still believe in fairy tales.”  

You continued on, selecting a hat from a drawer. “I work because I want to do something important… something beyond embroidery and gossiping at garden parties. There are people out there who need help, Misato.”

The maid laughed softly, pinning your hat at a perfect, jaunty angle. “I’ve known that since you stood at the height of my knee, but I can still hope to see you happy.” 

You bade Misato goodbye with a quick kiss on the cheek, finally venturing out from your family’s warm, comfortable house to wait by the road for your carriage. An icy breeze brushed past as soon as you stepped outside, ruffling through your skirts and causing you to shiver. As you waited patiently, the damp air slowly seeped under your multiple layers of clothing; the strangely oppressive chill only took a few moments to carve beneath your skin like an icy dagger. 

Normally, little birds would flitter throughout the small yards alongside the street, filling your morning commute with their cheerful racket, but there was only silence today. Your only companions were the ever-present fog and smoke that blanketed the city, but today, they seemed so much thicker than usual, making the overcast sky feel even more bleak. 

Thick tendrils of gloom trailed over the cobblestones, swallowing the flickering gas lights one by one. There were no people on your street this early, no signs of life to be seen anywhere. Another shiver shot down your spine, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. The world was grey and eerily silent as the fog finally reached you, blanketing your entire body with frigid mist. The downy hairs on the back of your neck began to stand on end; everything felt off… like an ill omen.  

A moment later, the clacking of hooves on the cobblestone echoed throughout the street, and a familiar carriage finally appeared in the gloom. You barely waited for it to come to a stop before you opened the door and climbed in, not caring to observe the proper etiquette. 

“Cold, miss? It’s a chilly mornin’ innit?” The driver chuckled, shouting loudly as he snapped the reins, urging the horses to return to their steady gait. “Don’t worry; we’ll get you back inside soon enough.” 

“Ah, yes… It is a bit chilly.” You smiled and brushed your actions off with a laugh, but the feeling of dread still weighed heavily on your heart. 

Even the horses seemed restless, rolling their eyes and tossing their well-groomed manes back and forth as they plodded eastward. You were grateful to finally see some sense of normalcy as you reached Victoria Street, where people of all ages milled around, setting up their businesses both on and off the street. Shops opened their doors, and street vendors set out their wares, squabbling loudly over placement and price. You smiled wryly as a young boy snatched a steaming pie from the corner of a table, eyes shining with delight as he shoved the greasy pastry into his mouth. He disappeared into the teeming crowd with the shopkeep still blissfully unaware of the theft.

The sight was as endearing as it was heart-wrenching; the cute little boy probably stole out of sheer necessity. If he hadn’t stolen the pie, there was a good chance he wouldn’t have eaten at all today, even in this area of the city. You suddenly felt guilty that you had the privilege of being able to turn down breakfast. 

“So much needs to change,” you murmured, drumming your gloved fingers against the lacquered side of the carriage. Most of the people from the upper crust simply wanted to hide the poor away; their attitude was just to keep them out of sight and out of mind.

Your thoughts continued as you looked off into the alleyways and then glanced eastward to where the worst parts of London were concealed. If your family had their way, you’d have never known those parts of the city existed; you’d have been kept on a pedestal in the opulent West End. To them, all you needed was decorative knowledge meant to accent your pretty face and attract a rich husband, but no one had counted on your tenacity. You had been too intelligent, too fierce of a little girl, always demanding answers from your tutors, rejecting their half-baked excuses about the world and how it worked. 

 Before long, you figured out that not all people grew up similarly. You fished stories out of maids and butlers, learning about how other people suffered in the cruel workhouses and filthy alleyways hidden in the background of the city you loved. But the most appalling thing by far was how little your parents and their wealthy friends seemed to care.  

When you turned ten, you convinced Misato to help you sneak out for the first time, mainly by threatening to go even if she refused to be your accomplice, and from that night on, you began exploring the real London. When your parents thought you were safely locked away in your room practicing embroidery, you were actually exploring the streets wearing ragged clothes “borrowed” from the nearest bin. It was dangerous and wholly irresponsible for a lady like yourself, and if anyone found out, your reputation and life would be ruined forever…. So, of course, you loved it.

“It’s no wonder I ended up here, in the last place a ‘lady’ should ever be.” You murmured, smiling as the carriage finally jolted to a stop outside the stately, brick-and-stone building at 4 Whitehall Place. The driver opened your door with practiced ease, and you entered Scotland Yard’s world of cops and criminals. 

“Odd, there’s so few people here…” You murmured, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as you walked in and reached your desk. 

Typically, the station was filled with men waiting on their orders for the day or waiting to go on patrol. The few men who were present milled about restlessly, and most wore the trademark blue peeler uniform. However, two men were notably different; they were dressed in everyday clothes and stood off to the side of the Chief Inspector’s office. If you didn’t know better, you could’ve guessed they were gentlemen who simply wandered in off the streets. 

“I haven’t seen those two before. They must be detectives.” You pieced together, noting the tension that hung heavily around them. 

The two men were certainly young to be detectives, but one seemed more experienced and slightly calmer than his counterpart. They each wore black frock coats and trousers, but from there, the appearance differed. The composed man had kind eyes and tawny, disheveled hair covered with a bowler hat, whereas his friend sported a red vest, fluffy hair, and no hat. He looked younger and full of nervous energy; for some reason, his hair seemed oddly…. pink?

You sighed, chalking it up to a trick of the light as you set up your desk for the day. In a valiant attempt to neutralize your own nervous energy, you began to clean your typewriter, stealing glances at the young detectives, trying to parse together what was going on from snippets of their conversation. 

“Do you really think- how long will it take?” 

“I don’t know, just wait and see.” 

Suddenly, two more men you did recognize walked into the room without fanfare. Chief Inspector Yaga led a tall, serious-looking blonde man over to the others, and your heart fell through your chest at the expression on his face. Not many of the detectives treated you well, but in all the time you’d worked there, Detective Inspector Nanami Kento had never failed to greet you with a small smile and a polite greeting every morning at the bare minimum. 

This morning, however, his expression could have cut through stone. The stoic man’s lips were set into a cold, hard line, and he didn’t even notice your presence. His dark eyes glittered in intense concentration, and the two young men snapped to attention as soon as he approached them.

Something has happened. Those aren’t the eyes of the gentleman I know… that’s the gaze of a detective entirely focused on his case.

Scotland Yard and its detectives were no strangers to tragedy and brutal events. They carried the weight of investigating the most unspeakable acts people could inflict on each other, but you had never seen DI Nanami look quite this grim. You watched the four men talk quietly for what seemed like ages before they finally walked over to your desk. Chief Inspector Yaga looked you up and down with a critical gaze as if to size you up. 

“How can I help you this morning, sir?” You met his eyes calmly, the feeling of dread rising, squeezing your heart once again. 

“You’ve been with us for almost two years now, correct?” His gruff voice rumbled through you like thunder promising an oncoming storm. 

“That’s correct, sir.” 

“And you’ve never had any-” He paused, gesturing around as if searching for the correct word, “trouble with the cases up until now?” 

Nanami’s chiseled jaw clenched as the Chief Inspector questioned you. He seemed to be looking just past your face, staring at a spot on the wall in a manner that seemed as though he was willing it to spontaneously catch fire. You didn’t try to hide the way your brow furrowed in concern at the question.

“Trouble, sir?” 

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Deep, dark bruises were blooming under the man’s eyes; it looked as if he had gotten little-to-no sleep for weeks. “I know you’ve certainly heard… more than a few disturbing things in your time here. The paperwork you tend to has details of crimes, and you’re around the men every day….  God knows they don’t know when to hold their tongues.” 

You nodded along, still confused and growing exponentially more concerned. His words were true; you’d certainly heard more than your share of gory details from the policemen as they returned from their patrols, whether it was just accidentally overheard or they told you directly as if it would impress you. 

“Well… It is never enjoyable, but I deal with it in the same way the men do, sir.” You pointed out deftly, unwilling to seem fragile. 

Nanami remained grimly silent, but a small smile played across the corner of his lips as Yaga watched you closely. After a moment of silence, the burly DCI sighed again. “Then there’s a job for you. I am about to ask more of you than I would like to, but you’ve excelled at your current position, and this situation calls for related skills.”

For the briefest moment, you could’ve sworn that you saw Nanami’s fist clench at his side. Still, the stoic man stayed silent as Yaga continued on, “You’ll be working under DI Nanami, and your main responsibility will be to organize and keep a running record of the evidence as it comes in. You’re to help them keep track of any papers they need to revisit during their investigation. Other duties will be assigned as needed.”

Yaga nodded stiffly and walked back to his office, shutting the door firmly as if to signal the finality of his decision. You looked up at Nanami with concern, as the man had barely moved since he arrived at your desk; he still looked silently furious. “Are you… do I need to do anything right now?” 

His mood seemed to shift to calm in an instant. “No, nothing right now. I’ll have a file to give you as soon as I return, but I do need to introduce the case to you so that you’re not blindsided when you… see it.” 

Nanami motioned for the two young detectives to step forward, “First, this is DC Itadori, and this is DS Ino. They will also be working under me for this case; if you have any issues and I’m unavailable, you can go to them.” 

The two young men tilted their heads in polite acknowledgment as they were introduced, each giving you a small smile, almost like the one Nanami usually reserved for you.

Ino spoke first, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Even under these circumstances.” 

Itadori nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! It isn’t often we get to work with a-”

“And I think it’s time for us to go secure transportation to the scene. You’ll have to excuse us.” Ino butted in quickly, placing a firm hand on Itadori’s shoulder and hauling the young man away, blatantly ignoring his noises of protest. 

You turned back to the Detective Inspector, whose expression was unreadable as he sighed, “He means well. Please forgive him.” 

A small, reassuring smile touched your lips as you gazed up at Nanami, “I’m not offended, Detective. I’m no shrinking violet and a bit of levity won’t go amiss every now and then.” 

Your small quip made the blonde man chuckle lowly despite the situation. “I’m well aware. But this case….” His expression shifted once again. “I don’t like involving you in it.” 

Hurt shot through you, stabbing through your heart with a dull ache. You had worked alongside him for two years, and he’d never seemed like the other men who constantly doubted your abilities for the supposed sin of being born a woman. You liked this man; you had trusted him.

“Do you really not think I can be of help?” You frowned as indignation seared through your veins.

You must’ve looked truly hurt because Nanami shook his head. “It has nothing to do with ability. You should know that I hold your abilities in high regard, but…” he said softly, “this case- it’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before, and you should never have to see things like this. No one should.” 

Your firey attitude froze instantly, turning to shame as you realized his true intent. “Forgive me, I’m used to….” 

A flush crept across your cheeks as you took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of your skirt and regaining your professionalism.

Why is it so easy for me to make a fool out of myself in front of you? 

“ I understand,” he murmured, studying the typewriter in front of you with a strange intensity. “You may as well come into my office and have some tea.”

–

It took you no time at all to understand exactly why everyone seemed on edge and why the Detective Inspector was so affected by the case. You had read files of violence, murder, and rape before, but what Nanami had to sit down and tell you was beyond all of that. There was a monster, some sick freak brutalizing and murdering women throughout the streets of Whitechapel. He toyed with and desecrated their bodies, and all evidence suggested that he had acted multiple times and was going to continue unless he was caught or killed. This wasn’t some random act of criminal violence or murder of passion committed by a jilted lover…. this was something only the devil himself could be capable of.

The warmth of the teacup against your hands brought you some comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink any of the tea. Your stomach roiled violently; you were suddenly immensely glad you’d skipped breakfast as Nanami softly explained what had happened to the women and the events that led to Yaga deciding that you’d join his team. 

“They found another body this morning,” he spoke plainly, but his deep brown eyes roamed over your face, his expression full of gentle concern. “Worse than the last, even.”

You glanced at the thick file in front of you, your stomach lurching as your eyes landed on the sketch of the previous victim. If it was only growing worse… God, you couldn’t even imagine…. The room suddenly felt too hot, your corset too constricting as you leaned forward, fighting the bile that rose in your throat. 

Nanami was by your side instantly, his large hand warm and soothing on your back as he knelt beside you with surprising grace. “If you don’t want to do this…. I understand. I swear I do. Just say the word, and I’ll have you home.”

It took a brief moment, but you swallowed thickly and straightened up, your eyes glittering in determination as you gazed down at the kneeling man. “No. I can’t- I won’t- sit idly by, knowing I had a chance to help, even if it’s just in a small way.” 

An entire moment passed as the two of you stared into each other’s eyes. Nanami rested his hand on yours for a brief moment, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you could feel your brain short-circuit. You were much closer to a bachelor than society would deem appropriate, but the desire to uphold proper values wilted against your need for comfort. 

The moment was over quickly, and the Detective stood, brushing dirt off his tan pants. “It’s time for me to head out to the crime scene. I’d like you to use my office while I’m gone.” 

Nanami gave you an achingly soft smile, the exact smile you had craved before he tugged his coat on, slid his unique, round glasses into place, and left the room. 

–

Weeks turned into months, but the monster who called himself Jack the Ripper still hunted the women of Whitechapel. It didn’t take long for the press to run with the story, drawing more attention to Jack than his victims. An endless flow of letters and tips began to pour in every day, and the monster had even penned a few himself, mocking the police for not being able to catch him yet. 

You spent every day working beside Nanami, who insisted you move into his office, claiming you could work more comfortably there. The attraction you felt towards the stoic detective grew as you spent more time with him, sharing the intimate workspace. He was always so busy and stressed beyond measure, but he was unfailingly kind and considerate of you. In return, you went above and beyond your assigned duties to care for him. You ensured that Nanami ate as regularly as possible, brewed him tea when he was having a particularly hard day, and provided him companionship. 

You had always known that Nanami was intensely intelligent and focused, but he truly gave all of himself to this case. Unfortunately, the Ripper seemed to be a shade able to pass through walls for all the helpful clues he left behind. You watched, feeling utterly helpless, as the pile of bodies grew and the dark circles under Nanami’s eyes deepened. Despite putting on a brave face, he seemed frustrated and permanently exhausted; if you had to guess, he even slept at his desk some nights. 

As the case progressed and even more women were killed, Nanami made it a point to make sure you were safe, even though you lived on the opposite end of London from where the murders occurred. You reassured him that you’d be fine, but he still gifted you a small firearm, a Derringer, that you kept tucked in your handbag every single day as both a good luck charm and a deterrent. The detective also insisted on escorting you home at night, and on the rare nights he was unavailable, he sent Ino or Itadori in his stead. 

However, most nights, you only waited inside for an hour or two before sneaking back to the streets. You were convinced the people who frequented the bustling pubs and taverns of Whitechapel had to have more information. Many people weren’t keen on sharing any information with the police, but you knew they’d talk amongst themselves and certainly to a pretty girl at the bar. You knew it wasn’t smart, but you were determined to help in every way possible; too many women were living in fear. However, a small part of you did know that you were also desperately trying to ease Nanami’s burden. 

Even though you were determined, you still felt incredibly guilty about the situation. It would undoubtedly drive Nanami mad with worry if he knew what you were up to, but you promised yourself that it was safe enough, that you’d always sneak back home before nightfall. You had even planned only to visit pubs on Whitechapel Road itself, knowing that proximity to the main road made your outings safer. Weeks passed as your covert outings continued without a hitch, but one night, everything changed. You had been far too distracted by the bartender you were conversing with, and before you realized it, the sun had fully set. You might’ve been right on the main road, but you were alone in Whitechapel after dark, where the monster was certainly lurking in the shadows.

Every bump in the night made your heart seize in fear as you started down the street, desperately heading back toward safety. You managed to make a decent headway, but the sound of a familiar voice stopped you dead in your tracks. Nervously, you glanced around to find DC Itadori at the building right in front of you, blissfully unaware of your presence as the young man chatted with a passerby.

You knew that the proper thing to do would be to approach him for help, to admit that you had made a mistake, but you couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of your mind that whispered, “You know he’d tell Nanami, right?”  

Telling DC Itadori would be bad enough, but the thought of his mentor being disappointed in you or even hurt by your actions made your heart lurch. 

“It’ll be just a quick detour,” you promised yourself as you turned and headed down the closest alleyway.

Your journey was fine for the first few minutes, but it didn’t take long for you to garner unwanted attention. Your dress lacked the finery you usually wore, but it was still the dress of a respectable woman, and this dark alley was no place for any woman. Drunken men leered at you from every shadow, trying to coax you closer. You ducked and weaved your way out of their clumsy attempts to grab you, but you were forced to run down alley after alley to avoid them. The familiar weight of the Derringer that you’d tucked into your garter was the only comfort you had as you fled deeper and deeper into the heart of Whitechapel. An icy chill crept down your spine as you grew painfully aware that you’d gotten lost in the maze of alleyways. 

Thick, oppressive fog curled throughout the already cramped alley as you hurriedly turned the next corner, only to hit a dead end. Your blood ran cold, and tears of exhaustion and fear ran down your face as you glanced around, desperately trying to figure out where you were, but it was useless. The fog was too dense, and you were too lost. Two sets of footsteps were still following you. You could hear them approaching faster and faster,  and you shrank back into the corner in fear, reaching under your skirts for the cool metal of the pistol as a last resort-

Suddenly, you heard the sounds of a brief scuffle around the corner, followed by the sickening crunch of a nose shattering. A man yelled out in pain; you could hear him sprinting back down the alley as another voice rang out into the night, “Miss, are you alright?” 

You could’ve wept at the achingly familiar, husky tone as your Detective Inspector appeared out of the gloom, lantern in hand. 

“I seem to have made a mistake,” You managed weakly.

Nanami froze instantly at the sound of your voice. He raised the lantern to illuminate your tear-stained face, and a look of sheer horror broke over his handsome features. You crumpled against the wall, and the Detective Inspector rushed forward to support your body, his strong arms cradling you with breathtaking gentleness. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked quickly as his gaze scanned you over systematically, desperately searching your body for any sign of injury. 

“No, just cold, afraid….. and more than a little ashamed. Thank you for saving me.” You admitted meekly, fighting the urge to lean into his warmth. 

Nanami groaned audibly in relief, tipping his head back as if thanking god. His arms tightened around you slowly as he embraced you, holding you against his broad chest while you shook with latent fear. You flushed furiously as you reciprocated his embrace, drawing enough comfort from his presence for your heartbeat to calm. 

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “let’s get you somewhere safe, and then you can tell me why you’re out here.” 

“I can’t go home. It’s too late; I won’t be able to get back in until morning when my maid returns. Perhaps I should rent a room here for the night? No one will know me this far out. I do have some money.” You rambled, trying to keep from crying even more.  

Nanami sighed, stepping back slightly to look into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you out here alone. It won’t be ‘proper,’ but I’d like to take you somewhere where I know you’ll be safe.” 

You felt a pulse of clarity flow through you, and you placed a hand on his muscular forearm, gently squeezing it in reassurance. “I trust you.” 

The detective’s warm, brown gaze softened as he saw the honesty written across your face.

“One more question, then. Do you think you’re up to walking? I could carry you, but that may draw more unwanted attention.” 

You shifted on your feet, testing them out. “I think I’ll be alright.” 

Nanami smiled down at you before deftly unfastening his tan, woolen greatcoat. He draped it over your shoulders with heartbreaking gentleness, ignoring your mild noises of protest as he secured it around you. 

“It’s cold tonight,” was all he said as he offered you his arm.

You held onto him tightly, instantly comforted by his solid frame and the quiet strength Nanami carried himself with, even in a tense situation like this. You had never been more terrified only moments ago, but now you felt safe and protected, almost warm despite the cold air around you. 

“Thank you…. It is quite comforting.” You murmured.

Nanami smiled down at you briefly before guiding you through the maze of alleyways, letting you dictate the pace. Funnily enough, the fog seemed to dissipate as the two of you walked down the streets of London together. You could see the stars twinkling above you, and if you didn’t know better, the two of you could’ve been a couple out on a nighttime stroll together. 

Time passed quickly as you walked together in comfortable silence, and soon, you arrived at a comfortable-looking townhouse near Bedford Square. Nanami unlocked the door without any preamble, ushering you inside out of the cold. He led you up the stairs into a tastefully furnished drawing room with a beautiful bay window that overlooked a moonlit garden.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he encouraged, leading you towards a plush settee. Nanami busied himself with lighting the ornate fireplace as you curled up against the arm of the furnishing, still wrapped up in his coat. You snuggled against the soft wool, surreptitiously enjoying how it smelled of his fresh, woody cologne undercut with the deeper scent you could only describe as his. 

As soon as Nanami finished tending to the fire, he began to pace around the room in a manner you knew meant that he was thinking deeply about something. 

“What is it?” You asked softly, almost afraid of the answer. 

He took a deep breath and stopped pacing, turning to look at you. Nanami’s expression held no anger as the firelight flickered across his face, but a profound sadness filled his beautiful brown eyes as he spoke, “I don’t think you understand what it would’ve done to me if you were the next body found.” 

You dropped your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as Nanami continued his pacing, “When I realized it was you in the alley, I- I thought the absolute worst had happened.” 

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing even more frantic as he tousled the normally neat blonde strands. “You must know by now…. You have to know…”

Nanami turned to you once again, dropping his arms to his side in defeat. “I love you.” He rasped, voice raw with emotion. “I’ve known for months. I didn’t think I could court you properly until I caught this bastard, so I didn’t say anything. You don’t deserve to be associated with me if I fail, but after tonight, I just can’t take it anymore. I understand if you say no, if you need a better man, but-” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. In the blink of an eye, you flung yourself across the room and into his arms. Nanami caught you in surprise, scarcely able to believe he wasn’t dreaming as you clutched desperately at his sides. Uncontrollable tears fell from the corners of your eyes as you gazed at him in unabashed adoration.

“I love you too,” you confessed, “ I don’t think a better man exists.” 

That was all the encouragement he needed. Nanami smiled lovingly, softly as he leaned down to press a slow, feather-light kiss against your forehead. You sighed in bliss, and the detective breathed deeply as if he hadn’t had fresh air in months. Months of stress and fear melted away from both your bodies, the negative emotions paling in comparison to the warmth of your love. Nanami ghosted more kisses across your cheeks and nose, taking his time to savor every inch of your beautiful skin before finally pressing his lips against yours. 

The kiss was soft and sweet. Your eyelashes fluttered shut, and you acted purely on instinct, leaning further into his embrace. One of Nanami’s strong, steady hands moved to cup your waist, holding you like precious china as your lips parted from the chaste kiss. As you shared another intimate breath, his other hand slid under your chin, tilting you forward to capture your lips again. 

“Marry me.” He mouthed against you, voice rough with emotion. “Let me protect you, love you, worship you. I want to hold you in my arms, to keep you by my side until I die.” 

“Yes,” you nearly pleaded, clawing at the material of his blue vest in an attempt to somehow pull him closer. “Kento, please…. I’m yours.”

He groaned desperately at the intimacy of his first name on your lips as his hand moved from your waist to wrap around your back possessively. Nanami trailed his other hand to cup your jaw as he kissed you even more passionately, almost devouring you whole. You had kissed before, but it was only mild, adolescent flirtations with boys you didn’t bother to remember; it was nothing like this. This kiss was searing, threatening to burn you from the inside out if you stopped for even a second. Your chest lay flush against Nanami’s, your body moving against his in a way that made his trousers grow uncomfortably tight. 

Nanami realized instantly and broke the embrace, stepping back to hide the way his cock strained against the fabric. The desirous look in your eyes and your attempt to follow him nearly shattered his resolve completely, but he touched your shoulder gently. 

“It will get increasingly hard for me to remain the gentleman you deserve if we continue.” He warned breathily, a light dusting of pink gracing his cheekbones. “If you need, I can go stand outside until morning.” 

A whimper left your kiss-swollen lips. Your body ached in a way you’d never felt, craving the sweet burn of his touch in places you’d rarely explored yourself. The world felt hazy and syrupy as you tried to regain your mind, but it was a futile task. Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples sensitive as they rubbed against the fabric of your chemise. 

“That’s not what I need,” you pleaded, and Nanami shuddered. 

“Can you tell me what you do need?” He murmured, taking a tiny step towards you. 

“Kento, I-I’ve never done this before,” you stammer, blushing furiously and shrinking back in embarrassment. 

Immediately, Nanami is at your side, holding you tightly once again. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling. I wouldn’t love you less either way. All it means is that we’re on equal footing here.” 

He pulled you into another hug, intent on soothing you further as your mind spun. 

“You’ve never….?” You questioned softly. 

“No,” Nanami murmured, “I haven’t been with anyone.” 

“That does make me feel better,” you admitted, biting the swell of your lower lip. “What I’m feeling right now is new…. strange, even. I want you to touch me so badly that it hurts.”

Nanami groaned again, pulling you against his broad chest; he could easily feel your heart racing, and he wasn’t faring much better. 

“Do you want me to touch you now, or do you want me to wait?” He asked, voice deadly calm. 

“I think I’ll die if you wait,” you pleaded, pawing against his vest again. 

He chuckled roughly, grasping your wrist and pulling it to his lips. Your breath hitched as he kissed the tender skin of your pulse point, savoring the way your pulse raced under his touch. Without further preamble, Nanami reached down for your skirts, slowly drawing the fabric up past the soft leather of your garters. He reached down, tracing up your thigh with his fingers until they caught the cool metal of the Derringer, which you had completely forgotten about. 

Nanami tugged it free as he kissed you once again. He smiled into the embrace, pulling you with him as he stepped over to set the small gun on a nearby table. You glanced at him in astonishment, unsure how he had known. As soon as the firearm was safely put away, he scooped you up into his arms with another soft laugh, “Darling, what kind of detective would I be if I didn’t know?” 

You smiled up at him, “I suppose you do have a point, darling.” 

He sighed in bliss as you turned the affectionate nickname against him. You traced your hands up Nanami’s broad chest greedily, slipping them over his shoulders for support as you leaned in for yet another desperate kiss, unable to sate your desire for his lips. He somehow managed to walk and return the kiss at the same time, only stumbling slightly as he brought you into another room. 

You giggled against him, and he smiled, devouring the sweet sounds and eager to hear more. Nanami leaned down, setting you gently on his large bed. He pulled back to gaze at you in utter adoration, loosening his golden cravat and undoing the buttons of his blue brocade vest. He discarded them both, leaning forward to cage you between his arms as you drank in the sight unashamedly. 

“You know it isn’t proper for me to see you in just your shirtsleeves yet,” you teased, snaking your hands up his arms and growing bold enough to nip at his bottom lip. 

“I don’t think anything that we are about to do is too ‘proper,’” Nanami smiled affectionately as he circled his hands around your corseted waist, pulling you forward to sit at the edge of the bed. He unfastened your boots, caressing your stocking-covered feet gently as he set your shoes to the side. Afterward, his hands returned to your waist, meeting in the middle to trace over the small buttons of your green bodice. 

“May I?” He implored, voice low and breathy with anticipation. 

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “Please.”

Nanami’s deft fingers began to undo button after button, exposing the other layers of clothing underneath as he went. You’d chosen to forego wearing a camisole, as none of your outerwear was fine enough to need protecting, so he was immediately met with the sight of your corset and the lip of your chemise beneath. The silken chemise you favored was thin enough to be nearly transparent, and Nanami’s breath hitched at the sight of your pebbled nipples peeking over the top of your corset. 

He knelt slightly, enraptured by the sight of your breasts rising and falling with every breath you took. Nanami stared at you ravenously as his breathing grew heavier. You blushed prettily, shrugging the bodice off as the once-stoic detective’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His hands dug into the fabric of his duvet as he fought the urge to caress and kiss every part of your body. 

“I want to explore every part of you with my hands and tongue,” he confessed with a groan. “I can’t hold myself back much further, but promise that you’ll stop me immediately if I make you uncomfortable.” 

You noticed the pupils of his brown eyes were blown wide and dark with lust as he looked at you, fully enraptured but waiting for your response. His expression forced an involuntary whimper to tumble from your lips, and the heat in your core spiked once again. 

“I promise, but please… I didn’t think I could feel something like this.” You begged sweetly, guiding his large, warm hand to rest on the swell of your breasts.

He caressed the area gently, watching your face as his clever fingers explored your soft curves. You sighed in delight as he squeezed and traced the barely-covered skin, prompting him to investigate further. His fingertips grazed your nipple, and your back arched instantly, mouth parting in a perfect “O” at the waves of pleasure that shot through you. Nanami’s gaze grew half-lidded and hazy; he squeezed the small bud in response, and you outright moaned as your core clenched in need. 

“Feels good?” He purred, utterly shameless in wanting to learn your pleasure. 

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak, as you pulled his other hand to your back. He knelt on the floor, pulling you to stand over him as he reached around to unfasten your skirts and small bustle. They dropped to the floor, and he leaned forward to pepper kisses across your stomach and the tops of your thighs. You couldn’t feel his lips directly for the corset and chemise still in the way, but you could feel the warmth of his body close to yours. The intimacy of him kneeling before you, kissing your body so hungrily, made you throb with need once more. Acting on pure instinct once again, you began to rub your thighs together, desperate to relieve the ache.

He reached for the strings of your corset, successfully untying the knot. Nanami felt around for a moment before leaning back to look the silk and leather garment up and down. The detective chuckled lowly, “Would you mind helping me, darling? This is the first I’ve dealt with a corset, and I’m afraid it’s not as straightforward as the other layers.” 

You gazed down at him in adoration, guiding his arms to grasp different parts of the lacing. 

“Pull here…. and here.” You murmured, and the corset loosened under your combined ministrations, finally becoming loose enough for you to unfasten the busk. 

Nanami watched breathlessly as it fell. He grasped the hem of your chemise, the final major barrier separating him from your soft skin, and rose from his kneeling position to pull it over your head. Finally, you stood before him fully topless, and he shuddered in desire as he removed your drawers. 

He picked you up again, setting you back on the bed to work on the layers of his clothing. You whined in protest, wanting to undress him as he had explored you, but he simply shushed you, only speeding up his movements as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Darling, I promise you that we will have ample time for you to undress me later…. but right now, I need you, or I’m going to fully lose my mind.” 

Nanami was barely able to choke out the words as he threw his shirt aside, granting you a beautiful view of his muscular chest and the smattering of honey-blonde hair that covered it. His arms were just as well-built, and you bit your lip once again, squirming on top of his sheets as you watched him. Nanami hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers, drawing your attention to a patch of coarser blonde hair that trailed down his lower stomach, hinting at what you’d see next. 

You felt hot, fully and shamelessly filled with lust as you stared at the outline of his thick cock tenting the fabric. Nanami groaned as he saw your reaction, palming his erection as he started towards you, only clad in his trousers. 

“Lay back for me, darling,” he cooed, guiding you onto the mattress. It dipped beneath his weight as he joined you, running his fingers over your leather garters. He pulled them down with his teeth, pressing kisses to the bare skin that forced a litany of moans and pleas from your lips as he rid you of your stockings. Dimly, you realized the space between your thighs was sticky with your own arousal. Nanami realized a split second after you, trailing his fingers up to your core after disposing of the garters and stockings. 

“You’re beautiful, gorgeous…. Perfect.” His deep voice rumbled against your ear as he traced his finger through your folds. You shivered and moaned in response, your legs falling open even further, begging for him to explore more. He slid up on the bed next to you, leaning down to kiss your bare, sensitive breasts as he toyed with your soaked cunt.

Nanami carried on like that for a few minutes, noting that you grew the most desperate as he circled the small pearl of flesh at the top of your sex. He caressed it, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that his ministrations made you beg for more and whimper his name. Tension coiled in your stomach as he gently circled the puffy bud and kissed you passionately, relishing the taste of his name on your lips. It didn’t take long for that tension to snap in your stomach like an elastic band, and your back arched off the bed as you came hard. 

He growled praises into your ear, teasing his fingers into you as your cunt spasmed around nothing. “My future wife… a goddess.” 

Your eyelashes fluttered shut in a moment of discomfort that soon gave way to the blissful feeling of being filled. There was no pain as the other women had complained of; your world was a haze of syrupy bliss as your lover prepared you with his fingers, gently stretching your velvet walls. 

Nanami rutted his hips against the bed, delaying his own pleasure until you were ready for him to truly fill you. The two of you moaned and sighed, almost in sync. 

“You’re so soft and wet,” he cursed under his breath. “I won’t last much longer… Do you think you’re ready?” 

You leaned up to kiss him passionately, mouthing your desperate assent against his lips. Nanami unbuttoned his trousers, unclothing his lower half in record time as you lay back against the sheets, eyes fully glazed over with lust. He spread your legs, slotting his hips between them, and you felt the swollen tip of his cock kiss your needy sex as he positioned himself properly. The two of you were panting, moaning together like animals in heat as he pushed in slowly, desperately trying not to hurt you. You cried out at the stretch, digging your nails into his back, the pain pulling another guttural moan from your lover. Any discomfort quickly turned to blinding pleasure as he sank into you fully.

Nanami paused arduously, his cock twitching, desperately begging for him to move. 

“Tell me… when.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth, his expression almost a grimace as he fought the urge to thrust into you. 

The warmth and pressure of his body, the feeling of being stuffed full, the feeling of his cock twitching inside you… It was all too much. Your fingers scrabbled at his back, desperate for purchase, as you whined, high-pitched and needy in response. “Now, please- oh, God. Need you now.”

Nanami groaned as he began to move his hips slowly, dragging his thick cock along your velvet walls. He began to move slightly faster as you writhed beneath him, your mind too sex-addled to form a coherent thought or sentence as his swollen balls slapped against you. 

Your future husband fucked you slowly but thoroughly, filling the room with the salacious sounds of your lovemaking. A familiar tension began to build in your core, and Nanami groaned as your walls squeezed his cock. Unlike earlier, there was almost no warning as you shot straight over the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm, and you cried out desperately.

Nanami growled and cursed against your neck as your cunt milked his cock, desperately begging to be filled. 

“So close. Need… need to pull out.” He rasped, almost whining as he left the plush warmth of your sex. You watched him in a lust-filled daze, melting against his sheets as Nanami leaned back, furiously stroking his cock. He grunted and moaned shamelessly, hips still shallowly thrusting against his hand as he desperately sought bliss. His head tipped back as he panted; you could see a beautiful, rosy flush color his chest and neck, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch of it. 

Nanami’s thrusts started to falter from their original pace, and you watched, wholly enraptured, as his brows furrowed and his perfect mouth fell open. He came a moment later with a hoarse cry; thick ropes of his seed coated his hands and stomach in spurts. He stroked his cock a few more times, fully milking out his orgasm before collapsing on the bed by your side. You both lay there in silence for a few blissful moments, basking in the warmth and security of each other’s arms.

“I love you,” you whispered, breaking the silence with a smile. 

“I love you too, my darling future wife,” Nanami murmured back, entwining his hand with yours.

Tagging some friends: @pseudowho @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty @unoriginalidea @cindyneko-strider @markleeisdabestdrug @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @akiiireix @tojispookiebear @dangoank0 @ifuckinghateschool @barryatsumu @voids-universe @mahgyu @themoonmonologues @byul9158 @starlitnotes @makingtimemine

[reallyshinycrusade]

A part two (of this) but for Honoka! bc it would be a crime to have only one half of this duo.

In the same vein as Nagisa’s adult uniform leaning towards her armor references, Honoka’s look here leans into princess-y vibes with a touch of strategist/tactician/fighter.

The Breakdown:

Overall, her og design feels very Rococo with her light blue pleating down the center of her top, bows, and lace! (cure black may have ruffles and bows, but no lace)

Her hair ribbon mimics a royal headpiece

The top layer of her skirt that splits in the middle is probably what marks her as more princess-like than Nagisa, bc it reminds us of the two weird pillowy things that the og animated princess Cinderella has.

To go off on a tangent here, the floofs on both sides of Cinderella’s hips are actually loose references to either bustles or trains found on court dresses from the 18th century, but it’s hard to say definitively what the hell she was actually wearing bc they’re two symmetrical puffs w no train or anything in the back😵‍💫 (I can’t link it for some reason, but search “Disney Princess Historical Costume Influences Part 2”)

But that specific element most likely is a reference to Robe à la Polonaise, where the overskirt is bunched to reveal the petticoat underneath. The rest, however…

You can’t NOT see it!! The illustration is “Figure de mode— dame en grande parure de cour à la française, 1789”

Whatever’s going on w the drapery on her neckline looks like the shape of a ribbon, and the skirt design is pretty spot on!

[fashionsfromhistory]

Girl's Dress

c.1885

United States

This is an example of a very typical girl's party dress for the period. Alternating stripes of sheer material was a prominent configuration at the time for both women's and girl's dresses. It is obvious that this dress was made with a great deal of detail and thought, which can be seen in the double ruffles of the underdress sleeves as well as the overdress sleeves, and the multiple ruffles of the skirt and the underskirt. The low bustle effect in back is appropriate for a young girl, and the long-waisted silhouette was typical of the time. The interior ties of the skirt create more of a bustle effect.

The MET (Accession Number: 2009.300.3208a, b)

[jewellery-box]

Wedding dress, American, silk, c. 1851.

This wedding dress presents a conundrum in that some stylistic aspects of the dress appear to be later than the marriage date of 1851 provided in the original accession records. While the bodice has very fashionable full size pagoda sleeves, which were a new shape in 1851, the skirt with bustle, train and ruffles at bottom is more consistent with the 1870s rather than the dome shape of the 1850s. While it is possible that the skirt was re-made for a later bride, there is no obvious indication of that being the case. Wedding clothes have traditionally been vehicles for fantasy and historicism, however, which may be the case in the styling of this one. It nevertheless is a grand dress made for a wedding in Grace Church, a high society Brooklyn house of worship.

The MET Museum

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

As it Comes Back to Me

Natasha Romanoff x WinterSoldier!Reader

Summary: Your whole life you'd been living for a mission, whether it be protecting your family or fighting just to see the next sunrise. If you didn’t slow down though, you stood to lose someone you couldn’t live without.

Takes place during the events of Captain America: Civil War.

Word Count: 8,000

A/N: I spent way too much time writing this instead of studying for class.

“Hey kids,” you said, walking up to wrap your arms around Steve and Bucky. You’d just  been promoted to Major and had been sent back to the states to escort a fresh round of recruits to the front. There was a big event tonight though which begged for your attention. Howard Stark was showing some new invention or other of his. You’d never been too interested in what the scientists had to say, but there would be plenty of girls out looking to be asked to a dance.

Steve, your little brother–both in age and stature–looked less than thrilled at your return. “What’s wrong, buddy?” You asked, shaking his shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” he protested, shrugging out of your embrace. “I should be heading out with you and Buck tomorrow. I want to fight. I know I can help.” You felt for Steve. If it was him and Bucky standing in uniform and not you, you’re sure you’d be missing out on a whole lot.

“I know, I know. I’m sure you’d give them Nazis real cause to turn and run,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold a rifle properly.

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “Ya know you should’ve seen him earlier today. Fought off some punk in an alleyway with a trash can lid. Kicked his ass real good if you ask me.” 

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Ya said you wouldn’t tell.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, what I meant to say was that Steve got beat up and I had to come rescue him.” The soon to be sergeant ruffled your brother’s hair.

“No, I know what you’re really upset about is that I’m stealing your boy here,” you said, nodding at Bucky.

“Yeah, yeah, enough. Now come on, I wanna get a good look at the car. All the posters were sayin’ Stark could make it fly.” Steve began to weave his way through the crowd, giving you no choice but to follow. 

“I’m worried about leaving him here all alone, ya know?” Bucky said, a crease forming between his brow. 

“He’s tough, and he’s smart. Always has been, you know that. Honestly, if they should be sendin’ anyone to fight they should be sendin’ him instead of us. But spirit’s not gonna win a fight, ya gotta back it up with somethin’. Point is, he’ll be fine on his own. Maybe if we’re lucky when we get back he’ll have found himself a nice girl to care for.” You smirked at Bucky. 

He ignored the jab as he waved at a group of nice looking girls. You waved too, flashing a smile and admiring the way their skirts fit. “Hey girls!” He shouted. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, he turned to you again. “I just worry about him. I care about him a lot and I can see how torn up he is about us gettin’ to go when he can’t.” A frown appeared to dim the light on his face. “What if he does something stupid while we’re off?” 

You clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You worry too much Barnes. You ought to save some of that for the war.” 

Giggling, the girls–the names of which Bucky had supplied earlier and which you had promptly forgotten–siddled up. The one nearest to you was a brunette with a yellow skirt and a white flower in her hair. She took your hand and pulled you right up to the front row. “Come on soldier, the show is startin’.” 

You smiled and let yourself get lost among the din and the spectacle. 

From beside you, Steve waved at you and said your name.

He said your name again, and again. You finally tore your gaze away from the TV monitor mounted in the corner of the room. Steve was much, much bigger now; even taller than you. You were still adjusting to the change. Although he still had the same kind gaze that came with naturally always wanting to do what was right, and believing others wanted the same. You wondered if you had been like that once too. 

“We need to get him out of there,” he said. Your gaze flicked back over to the security footage that showed Bucky restrained in a mobile holding unit reinforced with metal supports and bullet proof glass. You had thought he was dead, and turns out Steve had thought the both of you were long gone. And apparently, fate wasn’t done with any of you yet. Bucky looked drastically different. His hair had grown out to his chin and he had lost the boyish swagger and proud glimmer in his eyes. But beneath the bulk and hardened exterior you still saw your friend.

“I know. Something doesn’t feel right about this,” you said. A year ago you had been similarly detained. But you were held in the Avengers Compound and were surrounded by friendly faces. The people here were not so sympathetic. You could feel the passing judgment not just on the Winter Soldier, but on you as well. 

“Maybe we could talk to Tony again,” Steve said. 

From his seat across the table Sam shook his head. “Did you not just hear him tell us he was fully committed to kissing the government’s ass? Steve, I understand this whole ‘peace at all costs’ approach, but I have a feeling we’re not going to get our way by talking this time.” 

“Sam’s right,” you said, mouth twisting into a defeated frown. Through the glass wall of the office you were sitting in you watched a certain Avenger weave her way through the crowded room. You were torn, but Natasha had made her choice. “We’re going to have to consider punching our way out of this one. I got off lucky, but things are different now. The whole world is watching what will happen to him. Compromise isn’t an option anymore.” 

Hands on his hips, Steve sighed. “Well, we aren’t going to be able to grab him and get out of here. And we need our gear back if we have any hopes of not getting locked up in a real cell.”

As if sensing your staring, Natasha looked over. Quickly you averted your eyes and suddenly found the tabletop very interesting. But you knew she had caught you. Just a couple of weeks ago you had been spending your mornings going out on runs with her and your evenings watching her try and fail to play chef. She could go on for hours talking about the world and bringing you up to speed. You didn’t know what was more interesting; that the world had turned upside down or the way her voice sounded as she helped you make sense of it all.

And you both enjoyed the newfound freedom neither of you believed you’d ever see nor deserved. You had thought you knew her well enough to predict which side of the so-called Sokovia Accords she would be on. Turned out maybe you didn’t.

Sharon Carter walked into the sound proofed room, hopefully bringing more news. She seemed to have a soft spot for Steve, and you and Sam by extension. She was also the only person here that seemed to want to communicate with the three of you.

On the screen a man sat down at a table across from Bucky. He shuffled some papers around and faced your friend as if in conversation. You stood with your hands braced on the table and watched intently. A glove covered the shiny metal of your right hand. Under your sleeve, the flexible steel plating melded with flesh just below your elbow.

You knew visual without audio would only get you so far, but you’d be damned if you could figure out how to turn it on. 

“The receipt for your gear,” Sharon said, handing a slip of paper to Sam. 

He took one look at it and scoffed. “Bird costume? Come on.”

“I didn’t write it,” she said, trying to hide a faint smile. Now was not the time for jokes. Noticing the attention on the TV screen she pushed some buttons on a control panel and the audio switched on.

The camera showed a modestly dressed middle-aged man. “I’m not here to judge you,” he told Bucky. “I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?.” He glanced down at his notes and removed his glasses amicably. From another angle, part of the screen detailed an uncomfortably close profile of Bucky’s face. After a moment of silence, he went on. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” 

“My name is Bucky,” he answered, still not making eye contact with the man.

“Who is that man?” You asked, wary of the stranger who was supposedly the only person authorized to make contact with the Winter Soldier.

“He’s a psychologist sent by the United Nations just to conduct a primary evaluation. I’m not familiar with him personally,” Sharon said.

Steve studied the blurry photograph of Bucky that had been taken after he set the bomb off in Vienna. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?”

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Sharon supplied.

“Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” You could see the gears in his brain turning. Steve had always been the intuitive one.

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him,” Sharon said, catching on.

Sam spoke up, unsure of where your brother was going. “Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” 

“Sam has a point,” you said. You were all too familiar with the Winter Soldier program. If you didn’t want to be found, you had the ability to make yourself dead to the world. “We were trained to blend in, to hide in plain sight. Even if he had to run, no one man would ever be able to find him.”

“We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads,” Steve asserted.

“Yeah, but to your point,” Sharon said, nodding at you. “That doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

So there was a mole in the government, and he was probably in the building. Your gaze narrowed and you watched the people milling about outside your little bubble with a new suspicion. Whoever it was was obviously already ten steps ahead, you would have to wait until he made his next move. Beside you Sam stood from his seat, eyes similarly flicking from the screen to the windows and back. Steve looked like a racehorse ready to spring from its stall. 

From the corner of the room, the conversation continued on through the speakers, even if no one was paying much attention any longer. “Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” The man asked. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You fear that…if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” 

The CIA agent, Captain America, the Falcon, and the Wolf Spider were too busy looking for a threat aimed at themselves to notice what was going on before them.

In the secured, private room five levels below the surface, Helmut Zemo received a message on his phone. A package of his had been delivered. Looking up, he wiped the false pretenses of innocence from his face. “We only have to talk about one.”

For a moment the room was plunged in darkness before emergency lights bathed the building in a red glow. The monitor with the video footage remained black. You looked at Sam. Now was your chance.

Steve looked to Sharon and she spoke without hesitation. “Sub-level five, east wing.”

No sooner than she had finished were the three of you bolting from the office and back the way you had been escorted in. You flew down the stairwell, concerned only for Bucky and getting to him before it was too late. But even super soldiers could only descend a dozen floors so fast. Heart racing, you jumped down the last flight, only to be met with a sign on the wall that read ‘Sub-Level 5; West.’ 

Without pause you pushed through the nearest doorway and wound your way through the maze of hallways. “This way!” Sam shouted. You and Steve rounded on your heels and went sprinting after him down a narrow corridor that served as a connection between the two wings of the building. The soft glow of emergency lighting lit the way, but between flashes the basement levels were pitch black. In the final stretch you overtook him and spilled out into another landing.  

The doors to the room on your right were destroyed. A dozen guards lay spread out on the floor unconscious. The chamber was completely silent, but you doubted the chase truly ended here. You knelt and checked the pulse of the agent at your feet. He was alive. 

“Help me. Help,” a voice cried out from further in the room. You picked up a discarded pistol and tucked it into the back of your waistband.

Steve was closer to the man than you and wasted no time picking him up and pinning him against the wall by his jacket collar. “Get up.” You’d never heard him sound so furious. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“To see an empire fall,” the man replied vaguely. After staring down Steve he turned to face you with the gleam of a predator in his eyes.Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Steve, we need to find Bucky,” you said.

The echo of footsteps rang down the hall as Sam caught up. Right as he stepped through the door Bucky came lunging out of the shadows, metal fist swinging for Sam’s face. Sam ducked just in time to avoid getting his teeth knocked out. Instead, a fist-sized chunk of the concrete wall blew away into pulverized chunks. But by the time he righted himself Bucky had already launched another attack. This time he grabbed him by the jaw and threw him all the way across the room to crash into the holding unit. The impact was enough to knock him out cold.

Steve looked torn between chasing after Bucky, checking on Sam, and further interrogating the psychologist. 

“Go,” you said, nodding toward Bucky. “I got him.”

Steve launched himself at Bucky and pushed him back out into the hall. 

You pulled the gun and trained it on the guilty party. Outside the exaggerated sound of two super soldiers fighting reverberated back to you. The shuffle of quick footwork followed by the concerning crash of a metal fist colliding with a wall at inhuman speed. 

“Your name. Now,” you demanded.

“My full title is Baron Helmut Zemo. But I think the more important question is, who are you?”

The brawl in the hallway had stopped, and the renewed silence made you uneasy. “Enough with the games.” You flicked the pistol toward the exit. “Move. I’m taking you upstairs.”

He began to pick his way slowly across the room. “Okay, you’ve got me beat. But I just need to know one thing. Steve seems to think you’ve miraculously been returned to him the same as before he became Captain America.” It bothered you, how Zemo felt he had the right to use your brother’s name. “Show me what you hide from them, Wolf Spider. Show me who you really are.”

“Shut up,” you said, annoyed with his riddled speech. But before you could make another move, Bucky came ramming back into the holding room, kicking right at your stomach. The impact forced you to take a knee and as you scrambled to stand up, Zemo pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and began to speak. “Мрамор.” 

Even over the rushes of blood pumping through your veins and the stomp of Bucky’s boots on the ground, you still heard it. Like a heat-seeking missile the word wormed its way into your brain and you faltered.

Panic seized you. You needed to get to Zemo. “Bucky, stop!” You yelled, desperate for any way to get around him for even a second. As you tried to stand he planted a foot and your chest and pushed you to the floor. The air left your lungs in a gust as your back slammed into the cement. The gun went flying from your grip and skittering across the floor. “Dick move, Barnes,” you said in a strained whisper.

“Восемь,” Zemo said, sounding closer now even though you couldn’t see him. You clamped your hands over your ears and screamed. Taking a chance you bashed your metal fist into Bucky’s knee and charged for Zemo. “Жжение.” His voice sent you careening off course as if repelled by his words. Fighting for any last scrap of control you punched the wall until your knuckles left bloody streaks. You counted back from ten in your head, jaw clenched so tight it was close to shattering.

Your defenses broken, Bucky reengaged the fight. You scrambled, narrowly blocking his punches from beating your face in and counting you out. You reassessed and went on the offensive. You’d have to take him out before going for his handler.

Easier said than done.

“Рекрут.” You fought even harder, even as a fog crept up the back of your mind. Where was Steve?

“Снегопад.” Another nail in the coffin. He landed a punch to your face and a deep split opened on your cheek. You barely felt the blood run down to your chin.

“Пять.” You managed to land a right hook on Bucky’s weak side. You capitalized on the small victory. Seizing him by the shoulders you grappled with him for a moment before sweeping his leg from under him. He fell with a thud and you lined up a kick to the side of his head. You’d apologize later.

“Ув��дший.” The Wolf Spider crawled up the back of your spine, jaws gnashing at your brain for control. Your attention slipped for a fraction of a second. But that was all the time the Winter Soldier needed. He seized your ankle and pulled you to the ground. Before you could get your bearings he clamped his fist around your neck and threw you against the wall.

“послушный.” The Soldier rammed his knee into your stomach and you doubled over in an attempt to suck air back into your lungs. The room spun and the lights blurred together. A male Sokovian accented voice was all you could hear above the ringing in your ears.

An arm snaked around your throat from behind and forced you to stand. 

“An impressive attempt to be sure. But I’ve found that dogs can always be tamed.”

A fading voice in the back of your mind yelled at you to fight. Halfheartedly you tried to twist out of the Soldier’s hold.

“Одиннадцать.” A dam had cemented itself and separated you from your body.

“Пекин.” Your breathing became even and you looked to the man before you for instruction.

“Солдат?” He asked.

“Я готов отвечать.”

—

Natasha Romanoff walked through the chaos-ridden office, catching up to Tony Stark. Your swift absence hadn’t escaped her notice. She had almost chased after you herself. She’d desperately been wanting to talk to you since the Accords had been dropped in the team’s lap, but you had made yourself scarce since. She could tell that her decision had upset you, even if you were as unlikely to tell her so as you were to turn your back on Steve and Bucky. 

“Please tell me you brought a suit,” she said. Because a fight against three super soldiers would be much easier won with a trick of their own.

“Sure did,” the Iron Man replied. “It’s a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button.” He stopped his nervous rant. “I’m an active-duty non-combatant.” Fancy speak for the government not being comfortable with his access to the greatest weapon’s system on the planet.

Sharon Carter ran up to them, an earpiece providing information Natasha nor Tony were privy to. “Follow me,” she told them. 

They made their way downstairs onto the ground level. “The Winter Soldier has been unleashed,” Agent Carter said. “He’s on this floor in the lobby, probably trying to escape.”

“That’s a no-can-do from Agent Ross. We need a plan. Nat?” Tony looked expectantly toward the Black Widow.

“Why is it always up to me?” She asked, even as a plan formed in her mind.

“Because everyone knows my job is to look good and provide charity for you free loaders.”

Natasha narrowed her gaze at Tony’s watch. “Which outfit is that a part of?”

“It is as practical as it is fashionable. Glasses too,” he said.

“Tony, you’ll come up on him from behind. Get his attention, and try to disarm him if you can. Carter and I will be right behind.”

“I don’t remember volunteering to be the bait, Romanoff.” 

Natasha motioned for Sharon and they picked their way around the edge of the sun-lit lobby. Civilian workers fleeing for their lives rushed around them in a current, but the women stood as solid as stone. The sound of combat reached her ears before she was able to see into the main lobby. A metal fist pounded against flesh and man after man crumpled to the floor. The snap of a bone being broken and the subsequent screams. 

Natasha rounded the corner into the foyer just as a terrible supersonic blast flooded the area. Tony had stunned the attacker if only for a moment. To her horror it wasn’t Barnes standing there, but you. She couldn’t see your face as you moved to pummel Tony, but she knew what she’d see. A figure of a ghost from the Red Room flashed before her eyes.

A gunshot shook her out of her stupor and she ran after Sharon into the fray. You elbowed Tony in the face before punching him in the gut hard enough to send him flying into a table several feet away. 

Before you could finish the job Sharon ran at you, forcing you to block a kick and a jab. You wound up an answering punch that would’ve cracked her sternum but she ducked away and you missed. As you recovered, Natasha lodged a knee into your stomach before crouching down to jab you in the groin. She didn’t want to fight you, but she would. All it took was one look into your eyes to separate the Wolf Spider from the person she knew you were.

Sharon landed a roundhouse kick to the head but as she wound up for a second assault you caught her leg and hurled her down onto a table. The legs broke underneath with a clatter. 

As you were turned around, Natasha took the opportunity to seize you from behind and flip herself up onto your shoulders. With anyone else she would’ve been able to floor them from this position. But the Wolf Spider intimately knew all of the Black Widow’s moves. All those years ago, you had taught her much of the combat she still used today. 

She rained down blows on your head as you crossed the lobby. She grunted as she threw her fists down over and over in a vain attempt to get you to drop her. Instead you carried her to a table and slammed her down. Before she could recover, you clamped your hand around her neck and choked her out. 

Scrabbling at your metal forearm, Natasha’s face burned red. She felt her windpipe being crushed under your grip. But even under the eclipse of death’s shadow, the scariest thing was what they’d done to you. She knew you’d tear yourself up about it later, and worse she knew no one here would understand.

On the verge of passing out, she managed one last choked whisper. “You could at least recognize me.” Maybe, as Natasha’s heart was shattered in two, she could pass some of that anguish onto you.

If anything you only squeezed harder and she felt the strength waste away from her muscles. 

Seemingly out of nowhere you were shoved off of her. She gasped and pulled as much air in as she could through her bruised throat. All she could manage was to stare up at the ceiling and blink away the spots from her vision.

Rallying, Natasha pushed herself up and saw Tony standing over you with his mechanical gloved hand extended. She coughed and asked, “How?” 

You were on your knees, hands clamped tightly over your ears and fingers digging into the back of your head.

  “Lucky guess,” Tony said. “Think of it like a dog whistle, but for super soldiers. And also like blow your head off levels of loud. Had to estimate the frequency after getting beaten half to death. But it looks like I’ve outwitted the killing machine.”

Natasha was frozen. You’d just about suffocated her, but a large part of her still wanted to yell at Tony and tell him to cut it out. “Does it hurt?” 

“Well, it’s no symphony, I can tell you that.” 

She threw a glare in his direction.

“I don’t know. Ballpark? Somewhere between a migraine and an ice pick through the ear.”

A dozen more security personnel came flooding in. They rounded in a circle around you and half of them readied their guns. The rest assaulted you with tasers. You fell to the floor in a series of violent spasms and Natasha looked away. 

“Let’s get this one ready for transport,” one barked.

“Natasha, are you okay?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice still raw.

“That psycho almost killed you.” He always got assertive when he was worried. “You see, this is why we need the Accords. To keep chaos from breaking out in refuges of peace for godsake.”

Natasha looked back at where your limp body was being dragged away. She wished she could go back to before any of this started. She was terrified that she had missed her chance to tell you how she felt. “He’s not a psycho.”

“Then you and I have very different definitions of the word.” 

“Stark.” The disappointed voice of Secretary Ross called.

“We have the Wolf Spider in custody sir.” Tony adjusted his tie.

“And Barnes, Wilson, and the other Rogers are all in the wind. One out of four is three less than I expected of you.”

But Natasha had had enough of Thadeus Ross for a lifetime. She walked away wishing that you were by her side instead. Isolated from the beaurucrats and politicians and the bridge with Steve having been thoroughly burned, she felt lost. All around her the pieces of the life she had worked so hard to build lay scattered. The overwhelming urge to hit something surged. How did she get here?

—

You sat by Natasha under a tree in the forest behind the Avengers’ Compound. The chirping birds and the rustle of wind through the leaves were the only sounds that broke the silence out here. Everything at the compound was a blur of light and rush of movement all the time. You couldn’t get two seconds without someone needing something from you. So you had developed the habit of sneaking out and picking a random direction to pass an afternoon. 

Natasha had a book in her hands. Today her hair was pulled back in a braid and thrown over her shoulder. You liked when she put it up because you could see her face more clearly. 

“He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy,” she read. You ran your hand through the grass and dirt absentmindedly. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” You had been listening, but not to what she said, but how she spoke it. “It’s just I’ve read Gatsby before. Jay is a dreamer, but he still loses everything. It’s not fair. He didn’t know any better but to follow his heart.”

“That’s not how I see it,” she replied. “Listen. ‘His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was’.” She shifted closer, leg almost bumping your own. Uncomfortable with the proximity bordering on affection you subtly moved away. “Jay is chasing a life that he can no longer have. And in the process he ruins himself, and the woman he loves. He should’ve known better.”

Overhead the branches had become indistinguishable from one another and instead blended together as one entrapment. The fading orange glow cast by the setting sun reminded you to start heading back. The woods would be near impossible to navigate without the light. You stood and reached a hand out to help Natasha up. She grasped it tightly and instead pulled you down to her.

“You should’ve known better.” A haunted despair paled her features.

“What?”

The crack of fracturing bones echoed throughout the lonely clearing and Natasha cried out. Your hand had begun to squeeze hers tight enough to crush it. You willed yourself to let go but your stubborn metal fist refused to obey. 

“You destroy everything you love, even if you never say the words out loud.”

A bullet hole slowly materialized in the middle of her forehead. Blood seeped down her face and she smiled a bloody smile. 

“You should’ve stayed dead.”

You jerked yourself awake with a gasp. The dream faded from your mind almost immediately, as had the once before where you’d been stuck in a cave, and the one before that where you’d slaughtered an entire family.

You took a second to examine the unfamiliar environment. The cell you were in was bright and clean, and the camera assured there was no privacy. Across from you was an identical unit. In fact, the entire room was just an octagon of prison cells. 

You rubbed at your face, only for the movement to be followed by a metallic clanking. Both of your wrists were manacled with thick iron cuffs which were anchored to the wall with a chain. Your left wrist was chaffed and dried blood coated your hand. Alarm surged through you. 

No, you would rather die than play prisoner and puppet for anyone else again. 

You stood up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. But when you tried to step away from the wall you were yanked back, not by your wrists, but by a chain around your neck. Coughing, you fell back against the wall and pulled at the tight restraint. All you succeeded in doing was irritating the inflamed skin underneath. 

“Hey buddy, are you okay?”

You snapped your attention to the voice. You didn’t recognize the guy who had spoken, but the man in the cell next to him looked familiar. Your head throbbed as you tried to remember. He had short brown hair and sat hunched over on a bench, just watching. 

“Fine,” you said. Your voice sounded about as shitty as the rest of your body felt. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Scott. You actually don’t know me cause we haven’t met, but I fought with your brother. He’s a really nice guy. Of course you know that.” You shot him a glare. “You know what, I’m just going to shut up now.”

Confusion spun your battered brain around even further. Your brother. You had a brother named Steve. Steve was small so you had to–wait, that wasn’t quite right. Steve’s strength had caught up to the size of his will. He was a soldier. The Soldier. Солдат. A fresh pang wracked your head. No. A captain. Captain America. 

The room felt cold but your hand was clammy. Sweat dampened your hair as if you had caught a fever. You squeezed your eyes shut. Why were these lights so damn bright? Where were you? 

“Hey, what’s going on? I can’t see into the cell. Is he back?”

You knew that voice. You trusted it as well as you may trust anyone. If only you could think harder. You opened your eyes and again saw the familiar-looking man. The name came to you this time. “Clint,” you said.

Hope cleared some of the melancholic fog that had marred his features.

“Where are we? What happened? Where’s Steve?”

When he spoke, it was reserved, but you could tell he was holding back. “Steve called me. The Avengers fought. Some of them are picking up the mess. The rest of us landed our asses in here. You though…you were already here when they brought us in. I wish I could tell you why.”

“It’s Sam,” the man in the unit directly to the right of yours said. He banged on the wall for effect. “You were with me and Steve back in Berlin. Bucky was controlled and he went after us. He knocked me out and by the time I woke everyone was gone. I met up with Steve and Bucky outside, but you were gone. I’m sorry. If we would have known…”

“It’ll come back eventually.” Even if you could barely remember your own name now, somehow you knew this. The memories always came back, especially the bad ones. 

“I should tell you, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up,” Clint said. Scott looked away. “The first two times you didn’t say anything or acknowledge us. You just pulled away as hard as you could until you made yourself pass out.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. So they had all received a front row view of the mindless monster you were. “What is this place, anyway?”

“They call it the Raft. It’s an American prison unit that they dropped into the middle of the Atlantic.” Barton’s voice had taken on an undercurrent of anger. “It’s where they stick the worst of the worst.”

“Is anyone else here?” You asked.

“Wanda. Probably. I don’t know, they put her in a separate transport.” Your heart dropped. Why would they bring her into this? She was just a kid. And with her powers, you could only imagine what they were doing to keep her locked up. 

You didn’t ask if there was a plan. The atmosphere here wasn’t exactly revolutionary. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested as best as you could.

Sometime later–you were sure the room had been built to be purposefully disorienting–the door slid open with a whir. In walked Tony Stark, his left arm in a sling and sporting a terrible black eye.

Clint stood up and began to slowclap, finally finding a target to take his anger out on. “The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He sknows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not.”

The goading worked, drawing Tony’s attention away from you. “Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they would put you here. Come on.”

He spit on the ground in defiance. “Yeah, well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey.” Stark gestured at the barred cells, gaze catching on you for a moment. “You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint walked closer to the glass of his cage. “Criminals, Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for. Right?” The two estranged teammates stood eye to eye.  “That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are.” A long time ago that didn’t used to mean you either. 

“Because you broke the law.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t make you.”

Clint turned his back on Tony. “La, la, la, la, la…”

“Alright, you’re all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don’t understand, why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?” Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Clint he walked away. 

Barton rounded on him. “You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it,” he said, slamming on the glass.

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark,” Scott said with as much menace in his voice as he could conjure. You wondered how a civilian like him had gotten wrapped up in this fight.

“Who are you?” Stark walked right past him and onto Sam’s unit.

“Come on, man.”

“How’s Rhodes?” Wilson asked, not as willing to bite as Clint had been.

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomrrow. So…fingers crossed. What do you need? They feed you yet?”

You couldn’t see Sam from your cell, but you hoped that he’d tell Stark off too.

“You’re the good cop now?” He asked sarcastically.

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.”

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you’re gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

Stark messed with his watch. “Oh, I just knocked the ‘A’ out of their ‘AV’. We got about thirty seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment.” You looked up at the security camera in the corner of your cell. Could he really do that? “Just look,” he went on. “Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes.” A little picture of a clearly dead man appeared out of thin air. “Clealy, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

“That’s a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well. You don’t have to…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sam interrupted. You wished you were in his eyeline so you could shake your head no in silent protest. But you didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to pick a verbal fight right now so you stayed quiet. “Look, I’ll tell you…but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.”

Sam spoke so quietly you were sure without super hearing you wouldn’t have heard. “They went to an old Soviet-HYDRA bunker in Siberia. The fake doctor is going to unleash five more Winter Soldiers.”

“Okay. Wilson, I won’t forget this,” he said with fake malice in his voice to impress the cameras. 

He turned to you next. “Rogers.” He saluted. Shame burned your face. You felt like a wild animal on display. And Tony Stark’s presence wasn’t exactly a comforting one since you presumed he was largely at fault for the team’s current predicament. “You’re not going to go all Terminator on me again, are you?”

You stared at him blankly, not moving from your place on the floor in the middle of the cell. 

“Really? Nothing. I just came up with that one. Any messages from you to your brother I can deliver when I find him?” 

“Tell him after all this he needs to get his ass as far from trouble as possible. Tell him I’m right where I should be.”

“How about I just say you’ll send him a postcard?” He quipped, walking away.

“Stark,” you called. “Lay a hand on Steve and I will find you.” 

He didn’t turn back, but he gave a thumbs up on his way out.

—

You don’t think you could ever tire of the view before you. For most of your life you never believed you’d travel outside New York City, but here you were on the other side of the world. The waters below the ship were as blue and clean as great artists imagined in their scenes. The current lapped gently at the hull and you let the sound wash through you. Ahead, snow-capped mountains rose into the cloudy sky. The buildings and streets you were so used to being surrounded by in the city were replaced by miles of undisturbed woodland. The sky was overcast, but calm for now. Mist hung in the air and clung to your jacket. Maybe it would storm later, maybe it wouldn’t. You found peace in the apprehension. 

“Hey,” Natasha said. You hadn’t heard her come up. She joined you at the railing and pushed a phone into the water.

“How’s the Good Secretary?”

“I’ve got him chasing his tail in D.C. We are officially in the wind.”

Steve and Natasha had broken you out of the Raft three days ago. Since then you’d decided to split up while the heat died down. He had wanted you to go with him, but you couldn’t look at your brother without feeling crushed by six decades worth of guilt. You still thought he would be safer without you, but you couldn’t escape the disappointed look on his face. Hurting him was like kicking a little puppy.

“Steve would love this place,” you said. Natasha took in the view while you admired her. Her hair was down and flowed past her shoulders. The wind blew strands of it about in a way that told you God indeed played favorites. “He loved to draw. And he was damn good at it too. Kid used to draw everything. Our old apartment, back alleys, the sky. He wouldn’t know what to do if he saw all of this.” 

“You’re worried about him.” 

“Really? Was I being that obvious?” You were tired, but you smiled anyway.

“The first time I met Steve he couldn’t make heads or tails of the shirt on his back, much less anything else humanity had changed. Yesterday, he was piloting the most advanced jet on the planet. Sounds like he’s the same resilient kid you grew up with. Except now he can throw a man a couple dozen yards.”

“I think he could literally be invincible and I’d still worry,” you admitted.

“I think that’s how family is supposed to work. And if it helps, he’s got Sam to watch his back.”

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?” You asked. You bit your lip nervously and scanned the grayish-blue horizon. “I almost killed you. I mean I would have killed you if Stark hadn’t…” You’d opened Pandora’s Box and couldn’t stop all of the guilt from pouring out. “And all those years ago in the Red Room, what I did to you. Why don’t you hate me?”

“Because I know who you really are. And that wasn’t you. Never was.” She said it so fervently that you almost believed her.

“But that’s just the thing. It was me. All of that blood is on my hands. If something happened to you, that would be on me.” And I don’t think I would survive without you. You left the rest unsaid, but it hung in the air just out of reach. “All he had to do was say the goddamn words and I lost it.”

“And you came back.” You found your mind wandering off into the mountains afar. “Hey look at me.” She laid a hand on your shoulder and brought you back from your reverie. Her warm breath fanned across your cheek. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“I can’t shake this feeling, Nat.” You heaved a shuddering breath. “That horrible voice is always in the back of my head. I’m so scared that one day it’ll drown me out.” Your eyes hurt from the force of holding back tears. “Please don’t let it drown me.”

Natasha wrapped her arms around you in a supportive hug. “I’ll never give up on you,” she said. “You can always come back to me.” You cautiously hugged her back and draped yourself over her. You concentrated on what was around you. The smell of the sea-salted air, the warmth of her body, the churn of the boat's engine.

You let her go and cleared your throat, rubbing harshly at your eyes. “Me too,” you said. “I mean, I’m here for you. ‘Til kingdom come.” You’d always fight for her. Truth is you had been for a long time now, you just didn’t realize it. 

“You’re not the only one who’s done unspeakable things,” she whispered, as if preoccupied with reliving some awful memory. You weren’t the only one with demons intent on ruining any scrap of peace.

“Aren’t we quite the pair?” You inspected her hoodie and all of its familiarity. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

“No,” she lied, even as she messed with the ends of the sleeves that went well past her hands.

“Mhm. So did you bring any of my clothes for me or…?”

“I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again,” Natasha said. Her voice was shaky with frustration and pent-up anxiety. “I was so worried. I thought that this would be all I had left to remember you by. I kept thinking that we would get into the Raft and you wouldn’t be there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. The week and a half you were locked up for you hadn’t thought about where she might be. You told yourself you were too preoccupied with Steve and Bucky to otherwise focus. But you knew to think about Natasha was to admit you cared deeply for her. That was a battle you weren’t ready to surrender. “I didn’t know.” But maybe now was the time to lay down arms.

“That’s right you didn’t know. You didn’t think. That’s the problem you think you’re invincible and you run headfirst into danger time and time again.”

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Except it’s not just you anymore, Rogers. There are people that care about you and how you act affects them. When you make a stupid move it’s not just you who suffers the consequences.” Her voice cracked under the weight of the words.

“I can’t just sit around when something goes bad. You can’t ask me to do that.” You had so much time, so many lives to make up for. And that came about by means of action.

“I thought that you were dead. Don’t you understand that?” Natasha’s eyes were full of sorrow and accusation. Your cheeks flushed and you stared into the icy waters. She had every right to be mad. “When they dragged you away I was sure they were going to execute you. Again.” 

The reference stung. When the Red Room found out you’d broken your programming they’d practically beaten you to death in front of Natasha before shipping you back to HYDRA. The scars still burned in your dreams.

An apology formed on your lips. “I know,” she said. The bitterness had burned itself out of her tone. What was left you couldn’t describe. A profound understanding, edges brightened by the hope of a fresh start.

An unspoken something lingered in the cool morning air. 

Natasha grabbed your gloved hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. She leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder. A warmth bloomed in your chest. 

You thought that, just maybe, you’d found where you were supposed to be.

[femmeprincessjulia]

Ranking Cinderella Adaptations Based On How Much I Want The Dress

(In my own personal opinion, these are just the ones I like the best.)

10. Cinderella (2021) : Everyone's hated on this movie enough, so I'm just going to focus on the dress. In theory, I could see what they were going for. If it was just a fitted bustier, a hip-hugging skirt and a bustle, then I think it would have succeeded. But it's just underwhelming. That's all it is. Underwhelming. 3/10

9. Into The Woods (2014) : There's not much to talk about with this dress. I love the color choice, and I think the way it moves is pretty. But it just feels too simple. I know it's a dress that isn't crucial to the plot or anything, but it's still just a little too underwhelming. But I do think the sleeves are cute. 4/10

8. Once Upon A Time (2011-2018) : I think my issues with this dress are similar to my issues with Into The Woods. It just doesn't have the "wow" factor I'm searching for. It's a beautiful dress, and I would certainly wear it. But it just feels like the most generic Cinderella dress. Blue, sparkly, princess-y. Still cute though. 4/10

7. Another Cinderella Story (2008) : I'm a sucker for a red dress, and I truly adore this one. The neckline isn't my favorite, but I love the layering and the ruffles. It's such a daring take for a Cinderella dress, but it's something I would definitely wear. It looks like it would be fun to dance in. 6/10

6. Cinderella (1950) : Yes, it's a classic. It's simplistic, but so magical. The scene where her dress changes is one of my absolute favorites of all time. In this case, I love the simplicity. It really makes her stand out. I dreamed of this dress so much as a kid. 7/10

5. Ever After (1998) : Maybe I'm biased, because this is one of my favorite Cinderella adaptations, but I do adore this dress. While the time period is not my favorite in terms of silhouette, this dress still feels magical and dreamy. Empire waists and a slender fit aren't my type, but I would wear it simply to feel ethereal. I mean, the EMBROIDERY? The WINGS? All gorgeous and stunning. 8/10

4. A Cinderella Story (2004) : Yeah, it's a very simple dress. But it's absolutely breathtaking. I want to get married in this dress. Something about it is just so angelic. I feel like it should be paired with wings too. The femininity in this dress is something I truly adore. 8/10

3. Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) : Is it costume-y? Yes. Is it made of two clashing materials? Yes. Would I sell my soul to the devil for the chance to wear this dress? Also yes. I don't care how cliché it is. The sweetheart neckline, the opera gloves, the little bustle in the back, it's all so cute and just feels like a little girl's princess dream. Plus, I love the shade of light blue. 9/10

2. The Slipper and the Rose (1976) : Shockingly, I haven't seen this film. But I truly should, because the costume design is absolutely gorgeous. It all takes inspiration from the rococo period. My bias takes hold again, it seems. Sure, it's a lot of frills and pink, but that's exactly what I look for in a dress. If I was going to a rococo ball, this is what I'd be wearing. 9/10

1. Cinderella (2015) : The almighty. The most beautiful dress to ever be created. The dress that lingers in my dreams. Nothing can surpass this dress. Words can't even describe how wonderful it is. I do believe this dress is the most magical of all. It is absolute perfection from head to toe. Scratch what I said earlier about getting married in Hillary Duff's dress. I'm getting married in Lily James' dress. 1000000/10

[20dollarlolita]

(It's been entirely too long since we've started a tutorial with a very blurry picture, which is a 20dollarlolita tradition. Am I about to fall over and only staying upright because of a death grip on this trim? Stay tuned to find out)

Let's make a skirt.

There's a lot of lolita fashion that doesn't fit most people. It's me. I'm most people. I'm going to wear it anyway, so I'm going to resize that to fit me.

The hardest part of resizing a lolita skirt (or skirt part of a dress) is that you almost never can get the fabric that the skirt was made out of. Lolita prints are usually pretty limited run. While some dresses will let you redistribute the fabric to have a slightly less full skirt, that's usually a major reconstruction that ends up drifting a bit away from the lolita shape.

x

A ruffled bustle bustle, however, is pretty common. Bustles like this are pretty common in lolita fashion and add an additional detail. In addition, you can make the waist of the skirt several inches bigger without a problem, and without compromising skirt fullness. If you ever want to undo the alteration, seaming the skirt back up is not very difficult. It's not a fully seamlessly reversible alteration, but there's far worse things you could do to the garment (ask me about my AP dress with mesh pits).

The problem is that bustles like this take quite a bit of energy and fabric, especially if you want to have details like lace trim. It's one of the more time-consuming alterations to do.

Or you can make one bustle/ruffle underskirt, one time, and wear it with all your skirt and dress modifications. You can splurge and get some nice trim and get some nice fabric, because you only need to buy it once. You can also wear it as a standalone skirt. (Just remember to never, ever steam it before taking pictures. You wouldn't want to look competent)

I put off making one of these for a very long time, because I'd made the process much more complicated in my head than it turned out needing to be. Once I was building this and realized I needed to simplify the fuck down, this became a really easy project.

Materials: I decided to make the ruffles on my skirt out of eyelet lawn, which is a cotton fabric that has an all-over embroidery. I got this for about $10 a yard on ebay. I don't have a very accurate judgement of how much I used on the skirt. I bought 4 yards and used probably 3.5, but I also wasted a bunch of fabric on an extra tier that I had to chop off. I wanted a fabric with more detail than broadcloth, but that wasn't exclusively going to work with OTT styling.

I got 30 yards of 1/2" Venise lace off cheeptrims.com for $9. I really recommend putting lace on your ruffles if you can. It really adds to the detail level, and you only need to buy it once. You already have to hem all of this so you might as well hem it with lace.

You will also want some fabric for the slip layer (for want of a better term) to attach the ruffles to. My ruffles were a little bit sheer, so I wanted an opaque base fabric for modesty. Depending on the look you're going for, you can also use this layer to add some subtle detailing or changes to the finished look. If you're only wearing it with over-the-top looks, using a base fabric with shine or glitter can stop your ultrabustle from looking too plain. If you're wanting your ruffles to lay flatter, getting a soft fabric with a lot of drape will make the ruffles droopier. I just used some weird cotton plainweave that I got at Green Store for 75% off due to a bolt-long defect.

I used 1" elastic in the waistband here, because this skirt can get a little bit heavy, and then you often have another skirt on top of it adding to the weight.

The other thing that I used that made this much easier was a ruffling attachment for my serger. You don't need to use a serger, but a ruffling or gathering attachment that allows you to ruffle a flat strip of fabric and sew it onto another piece of (not to-be-ruffled) fabric will speed things up considerably. I know a lot of people buy a ruffler or a gathering foot when they start sewing lolita, and then are disappointed when they don't use it very much. There's a very limited number of lolita applications for these attachments, and I'm happy to tell you that this is one of them. If you don't have one, you don't need to go buy one. You can just do the two-step process of gathering the fabric and then sewing it on. But if you wanted an excuse to go buy one, well, you have one.

The Plan:

So I'd previously made a lot of math and calculations for how each tier was going to gather into the previous one, and then realized during the build phase that actually was way too complicated.

What we need is a rectangle with ruffles on it gathered into a waistband. Yes, a rectangle. I know, I was stunned too, but the final result worked the best.

I wanted the tops of the ruffles to be hidden in seams. If you just sew ruffled strips onto a single piece of fabric, it's very difficult to hide all the raw edges and to make sure you're not spreading loose threads all over the place. We're going to make ruffled strips, and sew them to each other. This covers up the raw edges very nicely.

This also will allow you to slightly gather the second and top tiers to each other, if you want to make this skirt in an a-line instead of a bell/cupcake shape.

The Math:

If you know what skirts you're planning on wearing your ultrabustle with, it can help to measure them and get a good guideline.

Generally, you want your ultrabustle to be a number somewhere within these guidelines.

~~Close to the same length of the skirt you're wearing it with or ~~4"ish longer than the skirt you're wearing it with. (This depends on if you want the bottom ruffle to stick out. If you're Tallita and all the skirts and dresses you're resizing are also too short, you might want this to double as a ruffled underskirt) and ~~An acceptable length to wear as a skirt all on its own.

My first run at this ultrabustle was WAY too long, and after chopping off the entire top tier, it ended up being either 1" shorter or 1" longer than the skirts I'm planning on wearing it with, which is a great number for me.

As for the total fullness of the skirt, you have to remember that the ruffles will add visual volume to the skirt. This means that you don't actually need the hemline of your skirt to be super full. All that matters is that your petticoat can comfortably squeeze in there. For this, I measured the hemline of the smallest dress that I had that still fit my petticoat, and used that. It turned out to be about 80" around.

So, what sizes do we cut this at? It's math time.

Here's a worksheet if you want. You're going to need to know how long you want the finished skirt, how wide you want the hem of the slip (not the ruffle) of the skirt, how many ruffle layers you want, and your waist measurement.

The slip needs to be shorter than the ruffles, so it doesn't show. So total slip length is your skirt length minus 2.5". Divide that by the number of ruffle layers that you have, and you'll have how long to cut each of those. This is slip tier short side.

Each ruffle layer needs to be longer than each slip layer, so that the slip doesn't show. You want each ruffle to overlap the previous one. So, take your slip tier short side and add 2-3" (or more, if you want). This is your ruffle short side.

Your finished slip diameter is your slip tier long side. That one's easy.

If you're a math and planning person, you can determine your ruffle long side measurement. You'll want to take a piece of your fabric, cut to the ruffle short side measurement and also about 45+ inches wide, and a piece of your slip fabric. Run them both through your gathering attachment so that your ruffle fabric is sewn onto your slip fabric. If you like how that looks, you can then measure the finished length of the ruffled fabric and use that to calculate how much fabric you'll need for the ruffles. There's four places where people mess this up. First of all, if you're using your gathering attachment to sew and gather at the same time (which is the point of that attachment), you want to do all your test runs gathering it onto a fabric. The amount of fabric that goes into a machine ruffle changes depending on if it's onto fabric or just gathering. Second, you want to use your finished fabric, at your finished ruffle length. Different fabrics will ruffle different amounts, and different ruffle widths will look different even at the same gathering amount. Third mistake people make is to not gather a long enough strip. The longer a strip you gather, the more accurately you can measure how much fabric is actually going into your ruffle. And the fourth is to take that measure as an accurate one, and not plan for needing extra fabric. The upside of the gathering attachment is that it will save you so much time. The downside is that you can't be as accurate with knowing how much fabric you'll use. Remember, you can always turn the leftovers into a matching accessory. Even if you're going to go yolo like I did and not do the math about how many ruffles you need, you will still want to run a check that you like how your ruffling attachment looks. You don't need to measure super accurately, but try to get a feel for how much fabric is going into each ruffle. For example, if your ruffler takes a strip and makes it 1/3 it's flat size, then you'll need more fabric than if your ruffler makes it 1/2 it's flat size. If you're really on a budget, you can just cut your ruffles at 2.5x your slip long dimension and precisely gather by hand. My time's worth something to me and so it wasn't worth it to do that just to save a yard of $10 fabric.

The last part is just to check that your ruffle long dimension (or it's rough approximation) is still at least 2.75x your waist measure (3.25 is better). If you don't have that, your skirt likely won't look full enough for a lolita silhouette. If that's the case, just add to your skirt dimension until it is.

Actually making it:

Before you forget, cut out a piece for your waistband. You can decide if this looks better in your ruffle fabric or your slip fabric (I used slip). This piece should be 3ish" longer than the distance around the fullest part of your booty. You need this to be longer than your booty distance so that you can get it on your body. If you're using 1" elastic, you want this piece to be a minimum of 3" wide.

I've found that the easiest way to do this is to start out by making the whole skirt as a single, very long strip. So, I take my slip tiers and cut them all out, and sew them into a long strip.

On my specific fabric, I decided that I wanted the pattern on the eyelet to go lengthwise. So, instead of cutting the fabric across the grain (short side, selvedge to selvedge) like I normally would, I cut down the 4 yard length of the fabric. This meant a lot less seaming. Since I didn't really know how much fabric I was going to use (you know that test I described to check how much fabric you're going to use? Yeah, guess who didn't do that), I just cut them one 4-yard strip at a time. I'd ruffle one all the way, stop, and cut the next one. This did actually save me quite a bit of fabric versus cutting them all at once. I had to go back and sew the sides of the ruffle together once the skirt was done. It was a small price to pay for the convenience I experienced.

I knew what size I wanted the finished ruffle length to be, but I cut my ruffles about 2.5" longer than that. I wanted a little bit of wiggle room once the skirt was done, so that I could do the length adjustment once the whole skirt was assembled.

And then, it's just a matter of letting the ruffler do its work. My serger ruffler works by you putting the item to-be-ruffled on the bottom, and the item to attach the ruffle to on the top, and then just hitting go. Some other rufflers work by putting the to-be-ruffled at the top, so you can see it as you go. Like all sewing machine attachments, if you're not sure, just go on youtube and search "HOW SINGER GATHERING FOOT DO THING NOT LOOK LIKE SHIT?" and someone's probably made a video of it.

So, once you've run all your ruffle through your machine, you should have a nice single strip of slip fabric with a ruffle on top of it. Now, some gathering attachments don't actually sew super strong seams, because you have to adjust tension or stitch length pretty severely to get it to ruffle like you want. The other advantage of putting the ruffles in a seam instead of just topstitching them onto a piece of fabric is that it doesn't matter how strong your ruffle attachment is, as long as it's strong enough to hold until you can put the ruffle in the seam. The seam provides the strength.

Once you have your single long ruffle, cut off a section that's the diameter of your bottom tier.

Now you just need to sew them together (and finish your inside edges). I like to start at the bottom tier and go up.

For each tier, you're sewing the bottom of the slip layer to the top (ruffle and slip) of the tier below. Just pull the ruffle of the higher tier out of the way, put right sides together, and sew.

If you aren't using a serger, you can zigzag over your edges and then trim them down, use an overcasting stitch from your sewing machine, or topstitch some seam binding over the seams. The extra line of stitching on the slip layers in front won't be visible. One of the other nice things about building this in the way we have is that, when you finish the edges of your inside seams, you're putting three layers together and finishing it as one. This is actually a lot less then 1/3 of the work of finishing them separately, because you'd have to finish the ruffle as a flat piece, which would take way more time. Have I convinced you on the greatness of this technique yet?

Continue cutting pieces off your ruffle layer and stacking them until you have as many layers as you decided you were going to have.

Once you have your layers all stacked up on each other, it's time to sew the skirt back seam. I find that it looks best to hold the ruffles out of the way, sew the slip together, and then go back and sew all the ruffle pieces. Basically now is a good time to just check for any ugly spots and to touch them up.

There's like 50 ways to attach a waistband to a skirt. For this one I used this method (what a blast from the 20dollarlolita past we have there. Also please note that the cost of ruffler feet seems to have gone up from $15 to $60-$100 in the past 10 years and despite working in a sewing machine store, I'm not totally sure why).

Once you've got the whole skirt assembled, it's time for the finishing.

The first thing that I did was put it on and try to judge how short I wanted my top ruffle. I'd cut all my ruffles extra long in the short dimension, so that I could shorten them when they were on the skirt. I picked a length that worked, marked it out, and chopped at that point. I then did this for the other two layers. I found that I wanted my bottom ruffle to be a little bit longer than my top ones, and cutting it long allowed me to make that choice.

I then started just zigagging on my lace. If you don't have a serger, you can use the lace as a hem finish, which also saves you an additional step. The lace really added a lot to this, and since I only need to make this once to wear with a lot of different garments, it was an economical use of nice lace.

I started putting the lace on the top layer first. This is because, if I ran out of lace, having a different (wider) lace on the bottom layer wouldn't look strange. As previously mentioned, I did zero measuring of how long my ruffles are, and had no idea if 27 yards would be enough lace. Don't be like me. Do some tests. Or be like me and choose the life of treachery. Anyway, stick lace on this thing, please. You worked hard and your skirts deserve it.

The only other thing that I did was to cut the slip layer down by about 3" on the very bottom. I did this because I made a mistake, but I like how it looks.

You can take this system of ataching ruffles in rectangles or even a trapezoid and stick it in the back of a skirt (or skirt on a dress). I did that here because I knew that I wanted a pink bustle, not a white one.

I'll do a tutorial for the actual skirt resizing sometime after I actually resize a skirt with this. Here, all I did was slice the back, hem those edges, and then button on some waist ties from another dress. This let me easily add several inches to the back of this skirt, without needing to re-distribute pleats, and without sacrificing the fullness of the shape.

This will all sit a little bit better once I've pressed the skirt, as well. Steaming the top layer of this while the garment is on me/a dress form/a hanger will decrease the poof in the top layer a little bit, and honestly, we could benefit from that in this case.

Anyway, if you have this, you have a very fast way to enlarge existing garments.

So, while this has thankfully very much decreased in the past years, there's still some people with weird opinions on MoDiFyInG bUrAnDo, so let's have a talk. Lolita clothing is not community owned. If someone who was never going to sell a dress to you modifies it, that doesn't take it away from you. This is a mentality that we tend to have in lolita more than other fashion just because of our high resell scene, but it wasn't ever going to be your dress and so you don't need to have an opinion about what happens to a thing you were never going to personally own. Things have value more than money, and value is often changed rather than destroyed. AP's Halloween Treats OP has no value to me when sold for $500 on Lacemarket. I don't spend that much money on lolita, ever. But a questionably-altered AP's Halloween Treats OP that I can un-alter has value to me if the price is good. But a questionably-altered AP's Halloween Treats OP has very little value to someone who likes the price, but can't undo the alterations. When someone resizes a dress or skirt, true, sometimes the people who are the size it was originally made can't wear it anymore. You've decreased the value to them, but you've made it more valuable to people who are the size that you've made the garment become. This skirt had no value to me when it's waist measure is 7.5" too small, but now I can wear it, so it has functional value to me. A lot of people who say that modifying the dress ruins it are either ignoring that also the stress of putting a dress not sized large enough for your body can damage it and not look as great while doing so, or else they have a much worse take. People who say that modifying clothes ruins the garment, but also say that wearing a garment that's too small ruins the garment, what they're actually saying is that wearing that garment is a privilege that should not be extended to larger sized people, and if they say that then they can just, you know, go fuck themselves. We don't need that in the community. Everyone deserves to wear lolita, and some people have to work harder to achieve it, and that's not fair, but everyone deserves it.

So yeah, kiddos! Build a skirt! Go cut up some clothes! Wear the skirts you've always wanted to wear! You can do anything!

And to answer the question we opened this with, yes, I was absolutely falling over.

[badassindistress]

If you or a loved one have been suffering from Symptoms for more than five weeks, you may be entitled to impulsively start a bustle

[slightlymediocree]

☆Update 2:☆

I remembered to take pics today! Sort of. Only after i had put away my machines and stuff...

Here are (most) of my edwardian undergarments

(i am wearing modern clothes under bcs the internet is weird)

Chemise, bustle pad, underbust corset, petticoat

I still need to make a corset cover someday, ive just been using a second thin chemise over all this:

I used these vintage buttons on the cuffs. I wanted some more security but ran out of buttons so i used small snaps:

Also put one on the collar so i could try it on. I think the placket at the back of the blouse is a little ugly and larger than ive seen in extant garments but i forgot to adjust the pattern for my broad shoulders and need the extra width for comfort.

I tried on the blouse and skirt together:

I may need to loosen the waistband of the skirt, the corset is a bit bulkier than i thought itd be. Also the blouse is just stuffed into the skirt and currently only has one closure on at the collar so it looks a little bit disproportionate. The belt/sash will help smooth everything out so i dont look like im drowning in voile.

I might go without the bustle pad during the final shoot because i think it gives too much volume in the waist/hip area for edwardian tastes. Its from an 1890s pattern, so the silhouette is a bit out of date. I should probably try the skirt on without the pad before extending the waistband though.

Im pretty happy with how the sleeves turned out! I have some vintage nottingham lace i bought on etsy from penelope textiles that i was going to add to another project. I think ill sew some different laces together and add it to the cuffs to elongate them a bit. Since this dress is supposed to be from roughly 1905, i want the sleeves to look as they wouldve in that time. The photos ive seen mostly feature large ruffles at the ends of elbow-length sleeves but i dont think ill be likely to wear ruffles very often. Ive also seen tighter cuffs that extend from the elbow to mid-forearm or from the elbow to wrist. I think the elbow-length sleeves are a feature of afternoon dresses but i could be wrong. Maybe that was just day dresses? Not sure.

Im also not sure if i want to get gloves/a hat/parasol for this project. On one hand, it would look really cool for the video. On the other hand, it sounds quite expensive and i doubt ill wear it again. I dont want to buy things i wont use and create waste, theres enough of that in fashion. I have a pink 1900s parasol that i might cover with black fabric, but idk.

There isnt much left to do! Im gonna make a list here so i have it written somewhere:

-sew snaps onto blouse

-finish blouse hem

-attatch lace cuffs

-press pleats on sash/belt

-order synthetic whalebones

-add bones, hook/bars to belt

This is just the sewing tasks though, i need to edit the video clips and record audio. I have no idea how to do any of this. I just downloaded davinci video editor so hopefully i can figure it out. The only experience i have with video making/editing was in 3rd grade on ipads on the imovie app. Ive just been binge watching bernadette banner videos bcs i love her video style.

Any tips/feedback are much appreciated! ♡

Date: 4/22/24

[tarnishedxknight]

{out of dalmasca} Can we just please talk about Judge Drace's set of armor in FFXII for a second? Because... um...

She... she has a skirt. Made of metal. Why have I never fully noticed this before or given it the proper attention it was due?

It looks to me to be in the shape and style of like a Victorian bustle (worn under the skirt of a dress to give shape) or an overskirt (worn over a skirt for fashion purposes or sometimes for added warmth. In this case, of course, it's just part of the armor, but even so...

They're literally hinged metal plates designed to look like frills or ruffles. She even has matching spaulders? Also made to look frilly? That's... so cool?

Nothing says, "I am a force to be reckoned with who can easily kill you and also I'm going be a fucking lady while I do it," like wearing skirt armor. She's not at all shying away from the fact that she's often the only major female Judge Magister in a room full of enormous, posturing male egos. She's handling her shit and looking good while she does it.

I love this because it smashes that horrible "strong woman" trope in writing whereby, in order to be or seem strong among men, women must become more masculine. Or conversely, that by being strong women, they are somehow less feminine. As if, in order to achieve one, you must give up the other. Nope, Drace is here to say that's total crap, heh. She's such a badass and I love her. I really wish they hadn't killed her in the game. Would've loved to have seen more of her. T_T

[puhmpken]

This has been edited + proofread! 🥳🍾

WRITTEN/EDITED BY: @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

W/C: 1,400

A/N: Yay my first actual story! I have been wanting to publish this, I just didn’t know where to start! I really hope you enjoy :))

༻Prologue: The Ominous Welcome༺

The wind gushed in your ears as you felt the breeze pass through your scalp..

Am I falling?

You had that one moment of thought before thick red grass covered your vision and the thick sensation impact started a burning sensation from all around your body as you began to cough, struggling to grasp air , turning to your back..you laid on the grassy ground motionless

Questions swirled your head as you stared up to the red sky. Your mind was loud only finding relief when listening to the sound of the dry breeze that would pass and the ruffles of dead’s leafs that would kick up off the ground and move with the drift, slowly you sat up as you finally looked around at your surroundings.

You were in a what look to be a forest or swap of some type, the way the trees laid sprawled and sort of visible dirt road with the tracks of who walked through the area

Standing up, and brushing yourself off you noticed the attire you were wearing: a ruffled black skirt with a slight hole in the hem towards the bottom with a neutral color off the shoulders sweater.

Your walk is somewhat shaky when making your way slowly to a nearby pond, getting close to the what seemed to be swampy water you saw a reflection..

“WHO IS THAT!?!!” panickingly moving away from the water with look of bewilderment written all over your face,

Creeping back to the water and poking your head slowly into frame and seeing the reflection mimic your actions

“That’s ME?!” You exclaimed as you got close to it raising a hand slowly you touch your face as your reflection mimic your actions

“I feel so different..” You said gently grabbing on your face and moving it side to side, looking at your finer and sharper features.You were on earth before this, you could’ve sworn you were a human but now you're a creature of some sort.

Your regular teeth were replaced with pointy sharp teeth that looked like it could tear through any type of texture, your once bright (e/c) was replaced with a orangey green color, your pupils change dramatically to now being diagonal slits, your once (s/t) was now a pale bluish purple color, it resembled the same type of color as if you were suffocating and your hair stay relatively the same the only difference is it got a bit long, natural if went to your (h/t) but now it went all the way to your upper back past your shoulders

Without a moment of hesitation you shot yourself away from the pond breathing in a heavy breathe as you huffed out, “Okay this is nothing I can’t get use too” You said to yourself as you were mentally panicking holding your hands together in-front of you, you slightly shake as you began walking following the dirt road

Moments pass before you hit a clearing, you could hear now in the distances the bustling sound of a city or hopeful people which was a good sign, you continued following the direction of noise

“Wow..” You breathed out as you pushed past the big red bushes that separated the swamp from the city. You took in the site of where you were at a bustling big city, as you gawked with no thought, you were standing on a busy sidewalk taking in the views before being stumbling with your steps ‘did i just get pushed?’ you question in your head before hearing out loud a starkly comment

“Move your ass. We are trying to walk, you stupid bitch!” You immediately took a double take, cracking your head to the person that shoved you as you gave the look of displeasure before scoffing and rolling your eyes, you follow the sidewalk

Your lost in your own mind as you took everything in the billboards, the streets building, the cars! Practically everything, you walked aimlessly before your eyes caught the sight of a big building with lights emitting off of it as the words read in bold

“NEXT EXTERMINATION DAY

80 DAYS”

You raised your eyebrow ‘extermination day?’ you questioned out as you began to walk past the building

Hours felt like they passed by in minutes and your aching legs told you to stop and rest up for a second. Not having much of a choice you look at the building that was close to you before shrugging your shoulders

‘This will be good enough’ You thought as you walk into the bar the first thing you heard was the sound of steady jazz playing as their was chatter but not to overly loud, you looked around before you made your way to the bar counter taking a seat at a empty spot next to some strangers that you didn’t pay mind too. Looking around you noticed all the different types of creatures you were around, having a puzzled look written on your face your trance was broke with a stern

“Hey, you ordering’ or are you just going to sit” A ruffy voice bartender said, your eyes meant yellow eyes with the puilps being slits that momentarily freaking you out, before getting a better look. The person or in now this case the cat bartender, had many feline features you chalk up looking at the face, he look like a common house cat with a bow and black top hat

You shook your head as you heard him say with annoyance “Well..”

“No, no. I don’t have money..” Your voice was quiet and under your breath if it wasn’t for his cat ears the bartender would’ve never heard you,

“So you just came here to seat?” He question with a dead tone as his eyebrows ruffle together the look of confusion was evident on his face before he roll his eyes and grimace something under his breath

Assuming that was your cue to leave, you began to raise from your cushion seat only to have a short glass cup be placed down in-front of you making you look down at the drink, then the cat bartender, shaking your head you move the drink away from you politely

“I can’t pay for it” You said as the cup was moved back to infront of you as the bartender stood semi in-front of you as he cleaned out a wet glass cup with a red rag

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house” He said as he looked at your figure standing half way up as you nervously chuckle a bit before sitting down

“Huskier” He said as he watched you eye the drink before lifting it and taking a sip of it, you didn’t taste alcohol in fact you actually just taste.. “Is this juice?” You questioned before going in for another sip pointing to the drink, as you place the cup down on the wooden bar counter “Oh! I am also y/n” you spouted out with a smile displaying your sharp teeth as the bartender look at you before looking away once you seen his eyes drift to your sharp teeth making you immediately stop smiling and going to a close grin, he nodded his head putting down the now dry glass cup

“It is.” He said kinda clearing his throat “Thought you can use it.” He said, focusing on grabbing the bottles he needs before starting up the conversation again catching your attention immediately, “You're new around here aren’t you?” He said as he began to work on what you assume to be a drink, adding stuff to a metal cup before putting a top on it and shaking it up and down close to his body

Watching his moves with curiosity written in your eyes you answer

“I am! I actually just got here”

“I see..” He said before pausing and then continuing “Well best not to go around telling other sinners that..easily” He said with a dry chuckle as he poured out a drink from the cup he was previously shaking “They’ll eat you alive, of course in a literal sense.” with a sly smirk coming to his face as he look over too you

Confusion plagued your face, “They'll eat me?” You repeat back to him using his own words with a tone laced with confusion

“You're in hell.”

EXTRA!!EXTRA!!

Husk: So, you’re a liquor kind of gal, eh? *slides a shot across the bar*

Y/N: Um, well, I’ve had a few drinks as a human, but never something as hardcore as a straight shot…

Husk: Ah, a virgin liver!*dry laughs* Well! Here’s your initiation. Bottoms up~!

[Later, on the dance floor]

Drunk Y/N: Husk!! Look at meee! Do you see me meow~?! *slurs with a grin and giggling uncontrollably*

Husk: *facepalms* Oh, for fuck sake…

previous part ; next part

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[blooming-violets]

Trick-Or-Treat (part two) || TASM

Summary: Another Halloween, another year gone by, and more Claire and Benjy to keep Peter entertained. There's never a dull moment in the Parker household. It's a very short read and simple and cute. (read last years Halloween fic here)

A/N: It's been a while since I've written anything. I'll dip my toes in and see how it feels by starting with the cute twins in Peter's life. Special thanks to @tarzinnia for bringing back last years Halloween fic and inspiring me to attempt writing again. Happy Halloween, bitches!

Spider-Man. 

That’s what Claire insisted on being for Halloween. Peter couldn’t help but be proud of her choices. 

“I don’t think there’s a better costume out there,” he boasted to you late one evening. He was sitting at the kitchen table, happily sewing a handmade Spider suit for his daughter. 

“Don’t tell that to Benjy,” you replied. “He’ll be heartbroken to hear you think his Buzz Lightyear costume is subpar.” 

Peter huffed, “Store bought will always be subpar. He wouldn’t even let me hand make it for him.” 

“You didn’t see him when we walked by it at the store. He fell in love. He looked up at me with those big brown eyes and I couldn’t say no to that face. He adores that costume. You’re just playing favorites because Claire chose Spider-Man.” 

Peter smirked, “The kid has great taste, what can I say?” 

You ruffled your husband's mop of messy hair and chuckled, “Just wait until she starts telling people she’s dressed as her dad for Halloween. That smile will be wiped right off your smug face. There’s no faster way to lose your secret identity than to have children. They can’t keep anything secret.” You passed him a red tutu to sew around the waist of the costume. Claire might want to dress like her father’s alternate identity but she still wanted to have the princess vibes she loved. “I think you should add a tutu to your suit. You’d look fabulous.” 

Peter laughed, “I really would, wouldn’t I?” 

“I’ve got to go to bed. The twins drained all my energy today. Please don’t stay up too late working on the costume. You still have plenty of time to get it done.” 

He lifted up his head for a kiss, “I’ll follow you shortly. Just a few more finishing touches…”

Claire’s eyes lit up when she saw her costume. Peter had successfully added the skirt and bedazzled the entire thing to create a sparkling, princess version of Spider-Man. 

“It’s perfect!” She shouted with excitement. “I’m going to look just like you daddy!” 

“Is this what I look like in your eyes? Full of sparkles and absolutely spooktacular?” He held the costume up to her small frame to admire his work. 

“Let’s get you kids dressed! It’s almost time to leave,” you shouted as you bustled into the living room holding Benjy’s costume and a pile of clothes. “Put some warm clothes on Claire under her suit, please, Peter.” You tossed him her thermal sweater and pants. “It’s going to drop down to the 40’s tonight and I don’t want them to catch a cold.” 

You quickly got Benjy into his warm clothes and tugged on his Buzz Lightyear suit while Peter dressed Claire. 

“Are we going to see Auntie May tonight?” Benjy asked. It was no surprise. He asked this just about every single night in the hopes that he’d get to see his favorite person. Tonight was his lucky night. 

You gave him a wink, “She texted me a moment ago and told me she was on her way over.” 

Benjy jumped excitedly around the room before running straight to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking up to the apartment building, so he could alert the entire family of her arrival. 

You turned around to get a good look at Claire as Peter finished carefully zipping her in. He stood up to marvel at his creation. Tears of love and joy brimmed in his eyes which he quickly tried to wipe away before anyone noticed but you caught them. His love for his children often brought him to tears. You wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled into his side. 

“You did good,” you whispered to him. “She looks great.” 

“I know everyone says they have the cutest kids but they’re all wrong. Ours win. It’s a good thing they inherited mostly your genes so they could end up this adorable. If they got mine, they might end up looking like haggard monsters,” he joked. 

“Oh, shut up. Benjy is the spitting image of you and he’s the most precious, perfect boy I’ve ever seen.” 

Peter turned to wrap you against his chest. He placed a warm kiss against the top of your head, “We make cute kids. Maybe we should make some more some time soon.”  You quietly gasped under your breath, “Peter Parker. Are you implying what I think you are?”

A sneaky smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “Maybe. The twins are going to start kindergarten next year. They’ll be full time at school. It sounds like a perfect time to bring a new little bug into our lives.” 

“I-” you weren’t sure what to say. “We’d need a bigger place. Three kids in one apartment is not going to work for us. We have been saving up for a house, though…I mean, if we move to the suburbs, you’d have to commute with Spider-Man…my job is done remotely so that won’t matter but you’d have to go back and forth into the city. I was looking into some nice school districts. We’d have to adjust our budget a bit. It could be doable…” 

“Is that a yes?” He asked, cutting through your attempts to mentally plan your entire future. 

You smiled, “It’s a yes.” 

Peter scooped you up into his arms and spun around with a joyful laugh, “We’re going to have another baby!” 

“Alright, alright, put me down! Nothing is set in stone, yet. Let’s try to get through Halloween first.” You took a step away from your husband and glanced around the room. 

Benjy was still patiently waiting at the window for any glimpse of May. Claire was nowhere to be found. 

“Claire?” You called out. “Where’d you run off too? Auntie May will be here soon. We’re going to leave in a minute to Trick or Treat.” 

You walked down the hall and peeked into the bathroom. Nothing. You poked your head into the twins shared bedroom. Nothing. 

“Claire?” You called out again. 

“In here!” She shouted from inside your bedroom. 

You pushed open the door and your jaw dropped at the sight occurring before your horrified eyes. 

“Look, momma!” Claire sang. “I’m daddy!”

Your daughter, in her sparkling Spider suit, was stuck halfway up the wall. She crawled up to the ceiling with nothing but her finger tips and the toes of her red converse. 

“Peter!” You shouted, not able to take your eyes off her. As she reached the ceiling, she smoothly made the upside down transition until she was crawling directly over your head. 

Peter showed up at your side. It took him a second to find the source of your stunned silence. When his eyes slowly looked up, his mouth fell open to mimic your own. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered. 

“That’s a bad word, daddy!” Claire chastised him from above his head. “Catch me!” 

Without a word, Peter snatched her from the air as she gracefully unstuck herself from the ceiling. She giggled at the action as if crawling up walls and leaping into her father’s arms from above was an everyday occurrence for her. 

“I’m Spider-Man just like you,” she hummed happily, not old enough to fully grasp the weight of what she was saying or what she’d just done. 

You and Peter exchanged terrified looks with each other. A shocked silence had stolen any attempts at forming words from your mouths as you both desperately tried to comprehend what you’d just witnessed.

“Uh huh…yeah, sweetie…just like me…” Peter managed to squeak out. 

“Auntie May’s here!” Benjy squealed from the other room. 

Claire squirmed out of her father’s protectful grasp to run towards her brother, both brimming with excitement to let May into their home. 

Neither you nor Peter could move. 

“Did that just…” your question trailed off. 

Peter nodded, “Yeah. Yes, it did.” 

You took a long, shuddered breath, “Okay. That’s okay. That’s fine. Everything is fine. We just…have…a daughter with abilities…no big deal…not a problem at all…everything is great…” 

Peter tugged you to his side, sensing you were about to start spiraling if he didn’t put a stop to it, “It is fine. I’ve been through this before. I can handle this again. She seems like she’s handling this better than I was at 16. She’s a natural at it! It’s totally, 100% fine and not at all terrifying.” Peter was always a terrible liar. “It appears she may have inherited more of my genes than I initially thought and that is okay. She’s really embodying the spirit of that Halloween costume isn’t she?” He gave a breathless chuckle. 

You shot him a stern look at his poor attempt at a joke, “Seriously?” 

He shrugged with a guilty expression etched onto his face, “They don’t write a parents handbook for this kind of thing.” 

“Our preschooler can crawl up walls! Her teachers are going to hate us, oh god. What are we going to do?” 

The buzzer rang, alerting everyone of May’s presence at the door. 

Peter glanced towards the sound, “Right now, we are going to let May in and then we are going to take the kids out Trick or Treating. We are going to have a fun night watching them run around and collect candy. They are going to be kids and enjoy their Halloween. Then we will come home, let them go crazy with sugar, then attempt to get them to bed. Afterwards, you and I will start on our endeavor to make baby number three. And then…tomorrow, we can figure this out more. But, tonight, tonight is for us.” 

You gave a slow nod, allowing his words to comfort you, repeating his mantra, “Tonight is for us. Tomorrow is for worrying.” 

Peter gave you a warm smile and a quick kiss, “Worry tomorrow, have fun tonight. This a problem for future us. Present us needs to only worry about how much candy we can fit into those kids’ pumpkin buckets.”

A smile grew over your face as some of the fear dissipated. Not all of it. You were always going to fear for the future of your children but Peter was always going to be there to help smooth out those worries. 

“If it’s Trick or Treat, Claire definitely chose ‘trick’ this year.” 

Peter laughed, “And Benjy will always choose ‘treat’. That will be one thing that never changes. The boy loves chocolate! Let’s go let May in before the kids break down the door. Come on, my son needs sugar and my daughter needs an exorcism. A perfect Halloween combination!”

The End :)

[lilac-nites]

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