Inspiration | Women In Menswear | Wear It Weird
i never want to look at another man in menswear ever again
His arms on her made her jump slightly from it’s chill. She’d been so familiar to the cold of her lover, but she wanted warmth. She wanted heat to envelope her, the light resonating of flames about her person, and he couldn’t offer that to her right now. She could only imagine their son facing that same chill right now, blood running cold and still in dead veins. And it reminded her of what she was in love with.
Tou’s mindset was in a darkened place. Words to be spoken, she’d never mean. Emotions to be felt, would never hold truth. Neither of them in a sound state, who would be?
”No— don’t..” She pulled away from him then. She kneeled, knees pressing to the softened rug at the floor, her hands went to that scarf. Shaking and unsteady she placed them atop the fabric. In her mind she’d done it a thousand and one times already, peeled it away to see him. Yet in the reality of things she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t. “Je ne peux pas.. Jasper—?”
Brows furrowed. A hand swept through blond curls before rubbing along the back of his neck. He wouldn’t let himself think of it as rejection for he knew it wasn’t yet it was strange for him to feel so awkward standing there, looming over her, so tall. For the first time, practically since they’d been together be became acutely aware of his nudity and he wanted to shrink down into himself. He gave a couple throat clearing coughs and sat on the lid of the toilet facing the counter, arms crossed over his tense twisting stomach, gaze flickering between the scarf and her hands before it fixed itself on the scarf.
He felt a bile snaking its way up his throat, a thick swallow pressing it back. The scent was everywhere. Repulsively sweet, death and life mingled into one and it was like a rope was attached to his front and back, pulling him in each direction until he was swaying slightly where he sat, arms tightening around himself to keep himself from darting out of the room.
He realized quickly that the churning of his stomach was more from anticipation than the scent in the room. She couldn’t bring herself to do it just as he couldn’t, he didn’t want to. Looking upon their boy would be agony. Teeth clenched he swallowed once more then let out a human breath.
"—He is our son…" He whispered finally, the sway of his body ceasing as he shifted his gaze to Tou, looking at her as though his words were reason enough. "Bring him here love."
Tears filled her eyes to the brim, spilling over as if it’d been some never ending onslaught. She’d been curled up them crying heavily into the sheets for several minutes. Breathing in short spurts; feelings as if her anxiety was taking over. She had to force herself to move, as painful as it was, she did it.
Soreness ached in her loins, feet unsteady and wobbly on her knees. Having to grip onto the bed railing. Her other hand pulling of sheets with such anger and hurt in herself. She could hear Jasper in the bathroom, various objects being strewn aside. It seemed the both of them were in an emotional state of turmoil. Unsure of what to do, blindly acting upon instinct with no logic or reason behind their actions.
She pulled the sheets from the bed, tossing them to the floor, falling to her knees, Toulouse wept over the sheets. Pulling them to her, attempting to stuff them together until she couldn’t catch a single reddened spot. But there was none. No matter how she flipped or folded the sheets, there was a red smudge looking back up at her. Taunting her and what she lost. Endlessly reminding her of what she wouldn’t have.
"Non nonnonnon.. non—” It pained her to do so, but with force she came to stand. Maneuvering her way to the bathroom. That bloodied scarf stood out against everything else that was so pristine and clean in the bathroom. Seeing the mess of towels by her love, she gripped the counter top looking down at him. “He’s going to be so cold.. Jasper- he needs me.” She sobbed, words barely coherent as fingers shook, wanting to peel back the scarf to look at him. “He needs me…”
It wasn’t until he caught droplets of his own blood staining the scarf that he wiped them away from his cheeks. Catching himself in the mirror and grimacing at what he saw. A vampire could never wipe his tears away completely, they just smeared across porcelain skin and the palms of his hands. He grabbed one of the discarded towels and began to use that to wipe them away and was in the middle of it when he heard Tou come in.
It was enough seeing the state she was in to pull himself out of his own turmoil. He dropped the towel, placing one of his hands over hers on the counter while the other pushed curls behind her ear and out of her face. “Je sais.. je sais..” He mumbled over and over, not noticing that his own fingers trembled as he pulled her against his chest, holding her there.
With her in his arms he stared down at the scarf, still murmuring those words against her scalp and finding himself more than frightened to peel the fabric; to be hit with the full reality of what befell their little boy.
His touch made her jump if only slightly. Tou couldn’t bring her eyes to open. She couldn’t bring them to meet Jasper’s. She couldn’t look at anything. There was so much pain within her body she didn’t want to do anything. Her hands were shaking, and she still didn’t move.
Several minutes had passed before there was even the faintest movement. Toulouse finally allowed eyes to look up at Jasper. Tears were blurring her vision, her fingers lost their feeling and slowly, gradually she felt herself inching the scarf from between her legs. She couldn’t look at it; at him. With slowed and gentle movements, Tou turned herself until her back was facing Jasper. Body curling in on itself.
The onslaught of silent tears seemed to be never ending. Lips parted, her voice so small and meek, cracking through the words. “T-take him.. take him a-away… please.” She wanted to burn the sheets. Soak her body in scalding hot water, bleach the floor — anything to get rid of all of this blood. The pain of reminder too painful to bear. She wanted it erased as if it hadn’t ever happened.
Jasper stared at her back for a long while. Lips parted with words dancing on the edge of his tongue before they dove back down his throat and he closed them. He turned his gaze towards the scarf. He gently picked it up and cradled it in his hand. He knew what he would find if he opened it but he couldn’t make himself do it.
He stood and moved into the adjoined bathroom, set the scarf on the counter, keeping it still folded. There was blood, it was too bloody. It wasn’t right to keep him like that, their son. He zipped to the cabinet and rummaged through the various towels. Discarding almost half onto the floor as he searched for the best one to wrap him in with his razor sharp eyesight.
But he always found some defect. A loose string here, a stain there. “Christ!" He shouted through a low growl, gritting his teeth as he planted his hands on the counter on both sides of the scarf just staring down at it. Nothing would be perfect because that wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
His chest tightened as did his throat, an elbow dropped to the counter and he doubled over, covering his face with his palm as he weeped.
She felt her curls sweeping along her shoulders shaking her head no. “Non—!" A sharp gasp cut off her words when he came over to her. That pain forcing her to sit down from the pressure in her womb she was feeling. The contractions much too painful for her to even bear. "No hospitals.. non.." She whispered. The warmth had since then reached her hands through the scarf, legs tensing as she fought to will this all to stop but she felt incredibly powerless. For someone with a connection to nature, she couldn’t control what was happening within her body.
Pulling her knees up, Toulouse curled her legs up to her chest and fell upon her side in the bed. Holding the scarf in place no matter was happening, painful moans were deepening as that pressure increased with her body’s natural expulsion of their son. Beads of sweat were surfacing upon her skin, tears seeming to never end. It all was so foreign to her. It was like an invasive attack on her body, foreign bodies assaulting her body and stretching, pulling, prodding, squeezing and pushing at her insides.
The final pressure between her legs felt as if Sterling was being ripped from her; both physically and metaphorically. The cry that left her elicited in a scream. That sound all the more brutal then the previous ones. It was filled with pain from the physical and emotional trauma, desperation to keep him, and laced with the notion of defeat. She lost him. Her form had been trembling, breathing was ragged and deep.
Blood staining her thighs and legs and fingertips. The sheets of the bed marked with this tragedy. Evidence she only wanted to burn. Toulouse could feel him. She could feel him just sitting there still pressed against her labia and out of her body. It made her sick. She wanted to do anything but have to lay there. She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t do anything. He was actually gone.
He fell to his knees on the floor next to her, chill shaking fingers kept at her cheeks as he pressed his forehead to hers. Holding her there, being her rock as whatever wicked force was at play did it’s bidding, some malice charged with taking their son. That was all he could equate it to for what good could remove the life and energy of such an innocent being, tear him from this world before he even had a chance at living.
It was sickening. Beneath the grunts and cries, screams, his own sobbing which he hadn’t even realized was his own, he heard it. The entire process. The squish and rip, how her body pushed and pulled to expel him. He tried so hard not to hear it and even cursed the gift that gave him the ability to do it. But he had to. It was their son.
In the sick calm after his hand had begun to stroke damp curls from Tou’s face. His free one curling around her trembling form, unsure whether he ought to try and move her or not as he kept his forehead still close to hers. When he did look up it was with red-stained cheeks. An empty ache swirled behind the beast in him that usually relished in the spilling of blood. The one that yearned to now because it was his nature, but the line of red dimmed around his eyes and even that part of himself mourned the red staining the room.
He hadn’t even thought about Sterling laying there pressed against her, him still covered with the scarf she had pressed between her legs until his gaze shifted to it and then back to her tear-streaked face. “L-Love?” THe word came out soft, softer even than a whisper as he peered down at her.
"It was hilarious!" Cam disagreed as his giggles died down and he managed to straighten up. He grinned widely at Jasper despite his disapproving glare. "I could get in trouble, but who was the one standing next to the moving toys?" he looked at Jasper pointedly, because it was him, not Cam after all. Jasper’s attempt to shift the attention to Cam only resulted in him shifting it back. He wasn’t about to let Jasper live this down. Cam still had yet to fully enjoy it.
With the furrow of his brows deepening his lips parted to retort. His tongue tied though and all that came out was a jumble of unfinished syllables, the start of something that sounded like a convincing rebuttal that he could have finished if Cam hadn’t been right. He pressed his lips together then to silence the mess and rolled them into a tight line, still glaring at the proud mutant before him. A few beats of silence passed, a finger tapping on his arm while he fought to muster up something before he blurted out. “—Why are you here? You’re far too old for these gadgets anyhow, are you not?”
Her sleeping had been peaceful over the past three days. She’d been having dreams she hadn’t shared to Jasper. Dreams she wouldn’t even let herself think about because of the pain accompanying them. Images of a little boy, nearly a spitting image of Tristan but younger. She kept seeing herself within her male form, Jasper, Tristan and this little one with them. It was a cruel play upon heartstrings because that little boy was gone. She knew who he was without even needing to know. And it was during one of these dreams where she’d been interrupted in it.
She moaned in annoyance at first. Nearly turning away so Jasper would leave her alone and she could return to her dream. But that wetness she felt stirred her all the more. A sick feeling within the pit of her stomach had her blinking her eyes open. “Q-quoi..?” A warm dampness she could feel between her legs and along her backside. “Wha—” She moved to sit up and felt a sharp pain deep within her abdomen. The pain had been an equivalence to cramping all within her lower belly.
Instinctively her hand was on her womb. Pulling her legs together and feeling her eyes well with tears from the physical and emotional trauma. She’d just woken up and her mindframe was not in the right. She made to get out of the bed, stumbling nearly and clutching the edge of her night stand. “Mmpf—!” She just grabbed the closest fabric to her, a scarf hanging on the dresser handle and pressed it to where she was bleeding. “I can’t lose him..”
There was so much of it. It was the first time blood made him equally sick and rabid at the same time. He groaned, fangs aching as he tried to blink the haze from his eyes though they remained lined in red as he looked up at Tou watching her try and move about. “Love non, arrête.” He called out when she stood. He couldn’t think about himself right now, his first instinct was to get her to a hospital. Pressing back the urges tugging at his own body he went to her side and wrapped an arm around her, his free one moving to her face. Seeing the desperation on her face killed him.
"I know, I know.." He replied, voice tense as he tried to keep it from wavering. He didn’t know how to stop this, his blood could heal practically all maladies but this he couldn’t stop this—the one thing they wanted so badly. He wiped a tear from her face with his thumb, speaking more assuredly. “We need to get you t-to a doctor.” His voice wavered halfway through saying that though, stomach pulling as he saw the scarf darkening in her hold. He pressed his eyes shut a moment, letting them flutter open as he moved to lead her back to the bed. “C-come sit.. you need to sit love.”
There was only one scent that could pull a vampire out of a dead sleep. It had Jasper’s head rolling towards the source. Behind closed lids his vision glowed crimson before red-lined pupils shone between a flutter of lashes. A soft moan and a curl of his lip, needing only that scent he breathed in deep. Notes of honey laced strawberries coaxing him to take another even deeper one. Heady, intoxication, rousing. All the words in the dictionary couldn’t accurately describe each of the subtlest notes he picked up on.
Then something made his nose twitch. Lazy eyes grew in alertness as the tang of metal hit. Not the metal mortals usually used to describe the scent of their blood—no, for even then, when metal pressed passed the saccharine fragrance it brought a welcomed bitterness or spice that only pulled a vampire in even more— this one, though, cloyed the intoxicating sweetness.
It stripped the initial haze he’d been in, jarring him almost as he shifted and turned to feel a sticky dampness against his leg. “Love- love!” He brought a hand to her shoulder and shook her gently. “Love… blood, you’re b-bleeding.” That last part came out softer than the former, mingled with a series of noes, as though he were talking to himself. The swelling dread bringing a certain urgency to his voice as he roused her.