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myfashionburden · 2 years
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schiaparelli haute couture fall/winter 2022/23 ‘born again’ collection  
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newestcool · 1 year
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Hermès f/w 2022 rtw Creative Director Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski Fashion Editor/Stylist Jodie Barnes & Melanie Ward Photographer Armando Grillo Source
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super-into-on-it · 1 year
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Bella Hadid
Off-White | FW 2022, backstage
shot by Ferry van der Nat
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tbrma · 1 year
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DAY 3 - Ponyo AU
...except that it's the backstory of Madara as Fujimoto!
Madara almost drowned when he was a student, but he was saved by… he can’t quite remember what, and it has been driving him insane. Neither studying marine biology and the sea nor memorizing myths and legends brings him the answers he's searching for.
Until...
...and I don't know where I'm going with this yet (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)
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chromet · 1 year
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Noah FW22
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peaceoutloveop · 4 months
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clothedandstill · 2 years
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Woná Concept | Notte d’Opera Bridal Couture
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Magda Butrym FW22 photographed by Tatiana + Karol
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veravictorialee · 13 days
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grapeszn · 1 year
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MOHSIN NAVEED RANJHA "Gold Series" Bridal Collection 2023
YAADON KI MANZIL - KAIF
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myfashionburden · 1 year
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fendi couture fall/winter 2022/23
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newestcool · 28 days
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Baloon Sandals from the Loewe f/w 2022 rtw collection Creative Director Jonathan Anderson Newest Cool
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super-into-on-it · 5 months
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Omusi Yoon
for Marie Claire Korea | Dec 2022
shot by Songyi Yoon
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lourdesleonfans · 2 years
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Lola and Rocco getting photographed at Tom Ford’s show at New York Fashion Week.
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tbrma · 1 year
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it was running water
Day 1 - Found Family | Senju Butsuma & Senju Tobirama
In which I shamelessly rip off Gintoki’s backstory simply because him and Tobirama have the same hair color >:3
Content warnings: abandoned child in poor health, corpses
Part 2 | On Ao3
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Butsuma was on his way back home, with dried blood caked under his nails and his comrade's ashes tucked away safely in a bottle, when they offered him the job.
The village was one like many others, nestled near the Naka river and relying on it for water and for the irrigation of the surrounding rice paddies. He stopped at the only inn in town, and it wasn’t surprising that he monopolized the locals’ attention almost immediately. Civilians were always wary of shinobi after all.
But as he asked for a meal and food for his trip home, the whispers and the not so covert glances sent his way were a dead giveaway that something more was brewing.
He ate his meal in silence, feigning ignorance as he waited for someone to work up the courage and talk.
“Ne, shinobi-san”, the barkeeper finally gave in, “are you interested in a little job? Five thousand ryou, and the food is free, ya’know.”
The man must have interpreted Butsuma’s silence as interest because he kept talking.
A battle had been fought some miles north by the river, and since then a demon was infesting the riverbanks, attacking people and making it impossible to dispose of the fallen soldiers. The villagers were worried that the water would be poisoned by the corpses. So, they wanted to hire someone to get rid of the monster.
Butsuma had seen too many battlefields in his life to believe that anything but bandits was waiting on the riverbank, a child's game for him to face. However, such a paltry sum wasn't worth the time of a clan head.
He pondered the matter as he raised the bowl of rice to his mouth and ate the last grains under the hopeful gazes of the barkeeper and the bar's patrons alike.
"...I'll see what I can do," he decided as he clinked his dish back on the counter. The relieved civilians wished him good luck as he left without another word.
As if a shinobi would ever rely on luck even for the easiest task.
Truth be told, Butsuma had taken on this mission because he didn't want to go home yet. 
The thought of his clan's compound was suffocating, and even more so was that of his family: the second consort that despised him, the main wife that was but a fistful of ashes in a grave; and his children, his weak willed eldest and the babes, towards whom he hadn't allowed himself to grow any attachment since they hadn't passed the year of age yet. Children that were forever going to be the Senju clan's heirs more than they would ever really be Butsuma's own. 
He put all distracting thoughts to rest when the stink of rot signaled that he was close to the field where the presumed demon was sighted. Keeping to the trees, he staked out the edges of the battlefield. Only death reigned on the plane and the riverbank, the sound of the flowing water making the scene eerily peaceful.
A small pile of bodies near the river caught his attention. Soldiers wouldn't waste their time on already dead comrades in such a carnage, and if nobody had been able to clean up... He cautiously waited for a while before approaching, molding chakra in his feet so as to not get stuck in the bloody muck. The smell of decomposing flesh was almost unbearable as he circled the stack of corpses. After a couple minutes when nothing happened, he silently reached for the uppermost body, one hand on his kunai pouch.
The sword that flew at his left thigh was no surprise at all.
Butsuma dodged easily while a small form freed itself from the macabre mound, and for a moment he simply parried blows with a kunai to assess his opponent.
It soon became apparent that they were aiming at his thigh because they couldn't lift the sword any higher: even taking malnutrition into account, the little thing could be more than six. A child soldier or a scavenging orphan, already thoroughly battered and with his eyes crusty and shut. An easy kill.
Butsuma threw some shuriken, aiming at the kid’s neck. Surprisingly, the boy dodged most of them and parried the others with his too heavy sword despite supposedly not being able to see them. And then, when Butsuma pushed him towards the river, instead of being slowed down by the water the kid neatly stepped on it, not a ripple on the murky surface.
He can mold chakra, and well, he realized with something akin to amazement, he’s dodging because he can sense me.
Still, the little thing’s unexpected skills were nothing against the Senju clan head’s, who soon disarmed him, his rusty sword falling underwater. The boy raised his arm, hands into fists and breathing heavily.
Butsuma stilled. His experience screamed at him to go for the finishing blow before his enemy could attack again, but something stopped him from ending the pitiful life in front of him.
For a moment, everything was quiet as the kid waited for his next move. Then Butsuma sighed, falling out of his stance to rub the back of his neck.
“A bit too cute to be a demon,” he mumbled to himself, studying the boy’s small fists and his dirty mop of fair hair.
Resigned, he reached for the sword at his back. The kid tightened his stance in preparation for an attack, but Butsuma only threw it at him, still in the sheath. Then, before the boy could draw it, he closed the distance between them and laid his hand gently on the boy’s small head. He stilled completely at that, right hand unmoving on the sword’s hilt as he hugged the weapon to his chest with the other.
“Are you hungry?” Butsuma asked. The boy made no sign of understanding what he had just said, but the shinobi still handed him one of the fresh onigiri he’d bought at the inn.
The little one almost dropped the sword in a rush to grab the food. Surprising even himself, Butsuma gave the kid his back as he ate, setting off for home. Five thousand ryou really wasn't worth it. And in any case, he mused to himself, he had probably managed to handle the “demon” problem without spilling blood.
Indeed, the little thing ate the offered onigiri in record time and then hesitantly followed the shinobi from a distance, except for jumping forward instantly at the rustling sound of Butsuma reaching for another onigiri in his pouch. 
The boy would be an asset for the clan, Butsuma reasoned to himself as he took hold of the kid's hand and forced him to slow down in his hunger so that he’d actually chew the food. With an instinctive grasp on chakra control, and a sensor to boot, Butsuma could surely make a fine shinobi out of him. And he would be free to train him as he pleased without elders or customs hindering him. An heir to himself and not the clan.
When he set off again, Butsuma slowed his pace so that the boy could follow him easily. The child remained glued to his side for the whole way back.
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ronibrunn · 1 year
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Rianne van Rompaey by Giampaolo Sgura for United Colors of Benetton’s FW 2022-23 campaign
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