#and then you have whatever the fuck was going on with men's fashion where guys just went around wearing like

[catmask]

How do you make interesting male character designs, male fashion is so fucking boring and bad, and you seem to have a good sense of fashion, please help im suffering

two important tools you must remember:

1) there is no such thing as 'mens clothing' and 'women's clothing' theres just clothing and if you see something a lady is wearing and it looks good you dont have to say 'aww but a guy can't where that' yuuuup buddy you can. draw whatever and wear whatever you want forever. my wardrobe is completely mixed in terms of 'men's' and 'women's' clothing bc it's just MY clothing not anyone else's

2) pinterest

almost went on this entire rant about 'women's fashion is more expansive in part due to misogynistic double standards of appearance and men's fashion is only bad/boring because of years of being funneled through capitalism patriachal expectations of power homo/transphobia and racism' but if i do that people will start throwing rocks at me with the intention to kill and if i write multiple paragraphs of reflection on the false gender divide within fashion and the patriarchy and someone only reads 2 sentences to get mad at ill start blowing things up gotham city style

anyway these are the secrets to good mens fashion there is no brand that will save you there is no purchase that will save you utilmately you must study what you like blind to gender and then mix and match what you believe looks good. because i cannot just tell anyone 'this is fashionable' it is about going and finding what you specifically feel reflects yourself (or a character in this instance)

[alexiapp]

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You take Alexia to be your plus one to a after party after your show and she gets really possessive and 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 a little blurb for you guys

(𝐛𝐭𝐰 i’ll take any request of Alexia and other players)

Alexia thought you were the most beautiful woman in her eyes. She was drawn to you in many ways.

Everything you do makes her attracted to you more and more.

Alexia was 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 possessive over you, she was aware people found you attractive, you were a model for God’s sake, she was aware you were hot.You made her soft, something she hates to admit, but one of the hundred things she loved about you.

You were an eye sore, you were sexy, “smoking” some men would say. Epically since you were a model a lot of people looked up to you for fashion and looks and though she hates you admit for your body also.

Sometimes, she hates how much attention you get, unwanted and wanted.

So you being at this party in a revealing two piece made her skeptical.

You were having a blast, meeting friends talking, it was always fun to hang out with others, one of your love languages quality time.

You were interrupted with your conversation when you felt a tap on your back. You turned around being met with a Middle age man.

“Hey” the man in front of you said. “Hey?” you said almost like a question, “do you i know you ?” you followed after with a confused look on your face.

“You’re really beautiful” the man said moving closer making you take 2 steps back in discomfort.

Garlic hitting your nose, insinuating to you that he was drunk, 𝐞𝐰.

Your face construed in disgust. Not knowing Alexia already had her eyes on you from afar, a stoic look screwed on her face.

Who does this guy think he is? she thought.

You looked around wondering where he came from “thanks.” keeping it short and blunt trying to hint to him that you didn’t enjoy his presence.

“Want to leave this place with me?” he said with a menacing grin on his face.

You were now disgusted and uncomfortable.

“No thank you i already have someone i’m going home to” giving him a half smile, ready to walk away you felt a tight grip on your wrist.

“hey, i’m talking to you” The random man said with a not so pleasing look on his face.

You were shocked, and it wasn’t just you who felt the same way.

Alexia was fuming, she quickly got up walking with long strides.

“Hey babe” The blonde said coming towards you pulling you into a heated kiss, pulling away biting your lip, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, a non pleasing looking on her face when she makes contact with the man in front of her.

“Can i help you?” She then said to the man in front of you two.

In this moment Alexia looked the scariest, she looked angry and intimidating.

“nothing, whatever forget i said anything” he said mumbling under his breath walking away.

You let out a deep breath out you didn’t know you were holding in.

You looked up in Alexia she looked pissed.

“What the fuck was is his problem” She said with venom in her voice, “The way i saw him looking at you, i should punch him”.

You patted her shoulder and guided her to you guys table to gather your stuff and head home. “Let’s just go home baby” You said trying to clear the air throwing the suggestion out.

“I should go confront him” She said almost walking towards where the weird man disappeared to, you tugged on blazer jacket a little, preventing something Alexia may regret, since the two of you were in a tipsy daze .

“Please Alexia i just want to go home” You said with desperation in your voice.

Alexia huffing and rubbing her hands over her face in frustration nodding her head in agreement.

Alexia pulling the Brit to there shared car out side hopping in and a lamming the door.

Alexia taking a moment to steady her breathing from how angry she is.

“Alexia, baby calm down it’s going to be okay…” you said rubbing her arm.

“You don’t understand, i don’t like people touching what’s 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞“ she said with an aggressive tone. “Alexia baby you know i’m only your’s”

You let out a sigh, you knew just a way to calm Alexia down and prove to her that you were 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬.

“How about you show me how bad i’m yours” You said in a seductive voice, rubbing her arm up and down again.

Immediately Alexia said “Put your seatbelt on let’s go” she husked out clearing her voice after and starting the car.

The way she said it turned you on making you squirm in your seat.

Alexia spending down the road driving like a mad man.

You were pulled into an abandoned parking lot.

“Get in the back seat for me and take everything off” the blonde woman said firmly. You quickly climbing to the back slowly taking everything off, knowing alexia was watching from the rear-view mirror of her cupra.

Once you finished stripping alexia quickly got out slamming her car door and opening the back seat.

The cold air hitting your body making your nipples harden, make everything even more pleasing.

You bit your lip watching Alexia come in slowly.

You helped her take off her blazer jacket and trying to unbutton her button down until she stopped you.

“Hands off cariño, remember i’m proving to you that you’re mine” She said with a sinister grin.

The hazel eyed woman coming to pull you into a heated messy teeth clashing kiss, you moaning and gasping making her slip her tongue in.

Her pulling back harshly biting your bottom lip almost making it bleed.

driving you crazy, alexia moving down to kiss your neck finding the right spot making your body arch.

Alexia placing multiple kisses, moving down to your hard nipples sucking hard.

The car being filled with your loud moans, your eyes rolling behind your head.

Alexia leaving open kisses on your torso leaving occasionally love bites.

She sat up satisfied with the work she’s done so far, marking you.

She moved down, her breath fanning your cunt.

“Alexia don’t tease” you said in a begging tone

“Easy, Easy bebe i’ll take care of you” you nodding your head in a daze of pleasure.

The hazel eyed woman biting inside your thigh teasing further, then suddenly

Alexia suddenly sticking her mouth to your cunt giving slight kitten licks.

Making you let out a loud moan. It quickly moved to Alexia harshly licking devouring you, her adding a finger licking your clit.

You move your hands into her hair leaving loud breathless moans your face screwing in pleasure “Alexia please i’m so close” As she continued to hit the right spot, the blonde groaning at making you vibrate a little making you gasp, She thought you looked the most beautiful all fucked out with pleasure. You sitting up moving her hair out her face looking down at her as she continues “Alexia please let me cum” tears now falling down your face in a euphoric daze.

“Cum bebita” she said into you, making you let out a loud moan falling back. Releasing

You breathing heavily trying to catch your breath.

“Oh my gosh that was amazing” you said breathlessly.

Alexia kissing up your body stoping at your neck and biting you and lifting up her head “That’s not even half of it amor” she said with a teasing smile, turning you on again.

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬...

𝐏𝐭.𝟐??

[doubleca5t]

Bored tumblr radfem here to take the bait- What kind of gender feelings were you having? Magical ineffable girly feelings about wanting to wear spinny dresses and play with dolls? You know what gender feelings I was having as a young woman- Feeling afraid of the men sexually assaulting me. Wanting to be seen as a whole human being with interests and ambitions. Alienation as a gnc lesbian which made me want to chop my tits off. Those are the gender feelings I had. Very curious to hear about yours

Ok to answer your question, the gender feelings I was getting from since I was a little kid were along the lines of:

"I wish I could have been born a girl, I don't really like being a boy that much"

"women's clothes are so much better than than men's clothes, I wish I was a girl so I could wear them"

"My female friends kind of act like I'm 'one of the girls' but my male friends never treat me like I'm 'one of the guys'. I like this arrangement. I don't want to fit in with the boys."

"I wish my face was more androgynous and I wasn't as tall, that way I could dress up as a girl and everyone would be totally convinced"

"I can't stand romance stories. Unless it's a romance between two girls. Those rule. Really wish there were more of them 😔"

"I love women but I don't really relate to how cishet men talk about women. For some reason I *really* relate to how lesbians and bisexual women talk about women though."

I think you get the idea.

With that out of the way, there's kind of a second question underlying your initial question which is "what the fuck do you think is so fun about being a woman? being a woman is fucking terrible." And I think that question is worth answering as well since it's probably something a lot of people are legitimately curious about.

The short answer is that, in my experience, "womanhood" as a concept is broad and varried enough that different people are going to get different things out of it, and while all women are oppressed and traumatized by patriarchy, the way they process that trauma is VERY far from uniform.

I know lots of cis women who've been through similar things to what this anon has described, but they haven't come out of it with nearly the same perspective. They recognize that just because *they* can never be comfortable with the role that society prescribed to them, that doesn't mean that no one else can or should be comfortable with that role. They recognize that you can take joy in the aesthetics and performance of a lot of things that are stereotypically feminine while still asserting your value as a person and refusing to put up with patriarchal bullshit. And perhaps most importantly, they recognize that the notion that someone can choose their gender is not contradictory to the idea that people should not be forced into a rigidly defined gender role. There are a lot of trans men who want to look like femboys or dress like flamboyant glam-rockers. There are a lot of trans women who don't give a shit about fashion or makeup and just want to be comfortable, or aspire to look like a capital d Dyke.

And like.... Idk isn't there something freeing about that? The idea that you can be whatever gender you want in whatever way you want, patriarchy be damned. That seems like the kind of world I want to live in.

So yeah anon, I understand why you view womanhood the way you do. For someone with your experiences, it makes a lot of sense. But I don't think your perspective has to be mutually exclusive to mine. I want to live in a world where women aren't forced to present a certain way from birth, don't live in constant fear of abuse and assault by men, and aren't belittled and marginalized at every turn. I just happen to also think that the idea of biologically determined gender is just as much bullshit as the idea of systemically enforced gender roles.

[hotvintagepoll]

I am adoring all of these polls and gif sets and just being fed so many hot vintage people. As someone who really hasn’t watched very many classics, are there any movies you’d recommend for someone just starting to dip their toes in older media but unsure where to start?

Sure! I don't want to sway any voting, but I'll put an incomplete list of favorites that involve hot men not still in the bracket below the cut.

Something to note that applies to most of these old movies—older movies have different pacing than modern movies, so some of these might seem really slow or weird to start. There are also different ways of framing gender and agency, for better and for worse. I've italicized the ones that I think are the best for starting with, but go with whatever genre/aesthetic sounds best.

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Basil Rathbone)—a circus performer working for a quasi-Robin Hood infiltrates the royal court. Fun comedy that's incredibly accessible and still so light on its feet. Swordfighting, glamorous medieval costumes, court intrigues, and silly accents.

Singin' in the Rain (Gene Kelly)—fun polyamorous musical comedy. The dancing is incredible, but so is the sense of joy and camaraderie between Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds. Genuinely captures the feeling of hanging out with your best friends. 1920s Hollywood, big movie studios, backstage drama, goofy hijinks.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (Errol Flynn, Basil Rathbone)—classic swashbuckler/romance. It could read a little slow to modern tastes but the action scenes are absolutely killer, as is the sentiment of seeing little guys pull down big capitalists evil monarchs. Swashbuckling, labor activists merry men hanging out in the woods, hot men in tights, social commentary swords, a Maid Marian who really holds her own and falls in love with the socialist

Charade (Cary Grant)—thriller/romantic comedy. Audrey Hepburn's husband dies and leaves her a hidden inheritance, and she's racing some skeevy characters to find it. A little bit scary but mostly charming and gorgeous, and you can find it high quality virtually anywhere because they fucked up the copyright trademark in the opening credits. Romance, murders, Paris, 1960s fashion, chases in the night.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (Dick Van Dyke)—this movie is divisive for some reason—I personally like peace, love, and joy, so it makes the list. This is a James Bond movie if James Bond had two kids, lived in a windmill in the south of England, and was into cottagecore inventions more than martinis and racism. This is very much a kids' movie so go in with that expectation, but enjoy the gorgeous production design, the wonderfully silly performances, and Lionel Jeffries pulling out every stop as an insane old man. Dick Van Dyke has excellent DILF energy. Magical cars, big musical vibes, fun inventions, and romantic fantasy.

To Be Or Not To Be (Jack Benny)—comedy/drama. A ragtag Warsaw theatre troupe stands off against the Gestapo after the invasion of Poland. TW for Nazis, obviously, but overall this is a comedy with some heft, and kind of shocking to be this ballsy about fucking hating Hitler's guts in the 1940s. Hambone actors, Shakespeare, spies, 1930s gowns. It's been a minute since I watched it so I don't think there are any TWs here, but go forth with caution.

Witness for the Prosecution (Tyrone Power)—mystery/legal drama based off an Agatha Christie story. The performances are campy fun and the twist would be at home in something like Knives Out. Big dramatics, hambones, lots of talking, a bit of a mindbender.

The Lady Vanishes (Michael Redgrave)—mystery/suspense/romantic comedy. It's a little slow to start but roll with it—once the action moves to the train the pacing really picks up. This gets slotted as a thriller sometimes but it's much funnier and gentler than that. There's some period-typical snarkiness directed at anyone Foreign™ by some of the British characters; the British characters are also made fun of. Trains, British people, international shenanigans, mystery, and humor.

All About Eve (absolutely none of these hot men, lots of hot women though)—a legendary actress fights for her life against the rising star who supplants her. Big drama, big performances, lots of gasp! and dahling! and vicious little quips. New York, theatre pronounced theahhtah, drama queens and plotting.

The Philadelphia Story (James Stewart, Cary Grant)—talk-heavy comedy, lots of quick banter and period transatlantic accent fun. It's a bit shouty and conflict-heavy at times, but I don't think James or Cary have ever been hotter, and Katherine Hepburn is just wow. Very funny dialogue, relatable characters, incredibly hot across the board. There is one instance of a racial slur (not directed at anyone but still there) and one shove. Some people won't like the discussion of Hepburn's character's choices as a daughter and a wife. With all of these movies you'll see a a range of how female characters are presented and treated, and while some period movies fall hard for sexist tropes, I personally think the performances, direction, and subtext of many of these films actually prioritizes the experiences of the female characters and shows them as living, breathing people, even if they're not framed the way they would be today.

[itsmebytch001]

Dad! Aaron Davis X Daughter! Reader.

(Headconnons)

Is super chill about most things, including you smoking weed, under the conditions of it only ever being in the house, never more than twice a week and always from his guy, so he knew it was clean.

Would even support you dropping school for your creative indevours, as long as you had a plan that is, he would even help you with building your portfolio, taking you to secretive spots of the underground where he knew there where blank walls.

The only thing he's not chill about boys, Can't have then over, Can't be dating round, can't go on dates, and if your gay, he would be so supportive, not only beascuse he's a decent person, but beacuse he dosen't have to worry about men anymore, infact he would brag about it to Jeff as a 'I don't have to worry about teen pregnancy, or dating bad men beacuse my daughters gay and your son inst HAHA'

Jeff: "And You're letting her drop out of colluge!?"

Aaron: "Listen man, school was never her thing and she's got real potentail in fashion...I think I don't know know shit about clothes"

Jeff: "Your her father, not her friend and your treating her like a friend! She need's someone to hold her down in education"

Aaron: "It Isn't working for her!"

Jeff: "You aren't pushing her enough!"

Aaron: "Listen Jeff, I'm going to support her fashion, and art or whatever she wants. baecuse she's a good kid, and she's good at what she dose, and besides she's pulling her weight, She's got a job"

Jeff: "...Listen I'm just worried she's gonna fuck it up"

Aaron: "So am I, but I think she could do great if I let her"

3. Pulls you out of burnout before it becomes all consuming. He comes home to find you embryoidng something at 1am, on your 6th coffee of the night, shaking a bit due to the energy, sourounded by the fabric and sparkles.

Aaron: "Ay, you okay?"

Y/n: "Yeah Yeah, I'm fine"

He looks round your room, consumed in mess and materials. He places a hand on your shoulder pulling you back a bit.

Aaron: "Okay, I think It's time you took a break yeah?"

Y/n: "No, I really need to finish this, if I don't now I never will"

Aaron: "How many coffee's have you had?"

Y/n: "I don't know, like 4 or 5"

He looked around and saw some cans aswell.

Aaron: "You have some energy drinks too?"

Y/n: "Maybe"

Aaron:"M'kay" He said as he removed your needle from your hand, pulling you up from your shoulder.

Aaron: "Lets get some food, yeah?"

Y/n: "...yeah"

4. Whenever Jeff and Aaron where having problems, you and Miles became the line of communication between the two sides of the family, and though you really didn't like it, becasue Jeff and Aaron were two grown men you would tolerate it, for your Dad, And for Miles who also agreed this whole thing was Mad, who grown men so petty they communicated through their children.

Now of course you two never liked this, and tried to express this to your Dad's, they never understood how straining it was for you and Miles to be messenger pigeons.

But Aaron loved you, and though he found it strange to express that to you verbally, he did, but he mainly showed you through buying you stuff, sometimes when he was gone for days at a time, he would just buy you loads of stuff, or taking you on shopping sprees in order to make it up to you, buying you makeup, clothing, fabric or art supplies, and though you liked the stuff, you needed a Father, and eventually he got the idea that him being present was more important the just lots of stuff.

And honestly, you were the only reason he left the Prolwer life behind, he was terrified if someone found out who he was, they would then come after you, so he abanonded the life, and actually stared a enginnering career, and it also only beacuse of you that Jeff and Aaron mildy reconnected, When Jeff found out your Mom was pregnant, only a few months behind Rio, he thought it would be good for the family to come back together for you two, thought that never really happened, it certianley helped, Jeff and Aaron would occesianlly chat, use thier children as messganger birds to insult each other, and would buy each other insulting gifts on christmas, for exsample last year, your Dad brought your Uncle Jeff a scale.

You and Miles where always close though, you were kinda like estranged siblings, and even when your Dad's where agruing, you wto would still text, call sometimes to give small upates on life, and would occesiannly see each other when ever Miles came round the house, were you'd find him just casullay sitting in your room waiting for you.

Actually, you and Miles didn't meet until you were 6, Rio had enough on waiting for Aaron to reach out, so one day she just turnded up at his door with Miles, she was furious he wasn't teaching you Spanish and you didn't even know who they were, you refused to let Miles play with your dolls beacuse he was a stranger, who was this kid? Just coming in your house, touching your stuff?

It took awhile for you to accept and understand the idea of cousin and Auntie, you thought she was just your Dad's friend with her son, but eventually when you stared going to Middle school together, you two actaully bonded.

And though you and Rio were close, you and Jeff never really clikced though you got on, You didn't like being in thier house, you flet like a ghost, and Uncle Jeff was always pestering you about school, and how you were doing even though he knew you had left to persue other things, he was trying to scare you back in, and you knew it was for good reason, he was worried you end up like Aaron, pre you and mess up your life, but you two were so distant, it felt like an intrusion.

Pt 2?

[rreskk]

FREAKSHOW

Hey guys, excuse any gramma errors or whatever. I’m still sick lol

Summary: You were apart of the goth subculture. There was an open venue for a goths night, including punks as well. It was all going well before you crossed paths with a particular man.

Pairings: goth fem!reader/Trevor Philips

TW: smut

Word count: 4860

New wave. Simultaneously on the spectrum with punk-rock when it came to growing popularity. Once frowned upon, now you are looking around the room, seeing people express that “satanic” ritual of black dresses, corsets, white makeup, dyed black hair. Of course you had the casuals! People who were standing around drinking from the cup of beers, wearing that once relevant band from the 70s, but it was the thought that counted. It was not only new wave for the goths; it was new wave in general, the population intensifies with experimentation and new fashion. You even saw a few mohawks clotting through the endless crowds that surrounded the loud speakers.

You smiled, contently. You were one with the crowd, exchanging knowing glances to other people within your subculture, nodding to appreciate their whole attires and appearance. It was nice like that. Especially in the low-developed areas within the Midwest where things were usually slow, more media-shy. Heavy music was only just celebrated due to the solemn nature of the town you were based in – North Yankton. With all the rapid snow, you would’ve thought it was the hotspot for likeminded people? Surprisingly, no. This club was a few hours aside, still within the area but more in the region of human life. Where you lived, it was in the rural region. Snowy fields, broken-down cars, lost tourists (who went the wrong way), weirdly growing criminality rates?

The criminality has died down a bit but a few weeks ago there was a robbery at the local cash-in. It shocked the neighbours and locals, the community automatically downgraded with trust.

So it was great to hit the clubs again.

It was packed, but you liked that. Finding a drink was hard until some lovely lady, twice your height, handed you a glass of wine. Red. It was typical for the goth agenda and luckily you were in the mood for some classy drinks as the night commended into a phase of adrenaline and spirit!

You sipped the fruity delight and meandered within the crowd, making small-talk with the occasional men who were drunk as a skunk. It was something you couldn’t escape when clubbing. You usually wonder away as they slur out an age that was definitely not theirs… A man full of grey hair with wrinkles of a scaled fish would lie about their age being under the 30s and you immediately slick out of them lies. What could you expect in a room full of misfits. A murderer could be in this room and none of the people here would care. They would, however, riot if something happened to the drinks and music.

“Hey, hey.” You heard someone hush as a hard hand grasped your shoulder. Turning around, your eyes met this largely obtained frame of a man whose face was vaguely covered by the dim lights. You barely made out the hand that pointed towards your drink. With a husky voice, he spoke again. “They got something other than wine?”

Trying to understand him from over the music was hard enough. You shouted out and pointed towards the bar. “They’ll have menus over there or something.”

The man sniffed loudly when you spoke. He shifted forward, the majority of his face revealed. His nostrils were red and his eyes were a bit twitchy, but he was fairly normal looking. Well. For a scene like this. He wore this moustache and shaggy mullet that spiked up in every direction, effortlessly as well.

“Eh. Eh – Atta girl.” He ruffed and sniffed again. You wanted to assume it was the cold weather outside but you knew it was something other. The man released his grip and squeezed past you, his large shoulder accidentally knocking your wine. It fell onto your dark dress and leather corset.

“Fuck…” You murmured but he hadn’t of noticed, only walking further away from the destruction he had caused. There was a temptation to call him out for the clumsiness but it was stupid to blame a man who was high on whatever substances he had snorted in the past hour. It was obvious, you even noticed the powder sit on the skirts of his moustache. White; cocaine.

Watching him from afar, the guy was quite tall. He wore nothing to suggest he willingly came in here. Probably drinks, right? It was an obvious reason, maybe the only reason. He made no attention to the dressed up figures around him. In a room full of liveliness, he sat there on the bar, his green parkers coat and tanned cargos. His posture hunched and you saw him take a swig of a glass that wasn’t even his. The lady beside him grew disgusted and walked off despite paying for the beverage but you couldn’t blame her – he was intimidating.

People automatically avoided him and continued dancing around to the wave of music. However, your eyes struggled to move away from the stranger. As you were patting down the damp fabrics from the accident, you took small steps forward, slowly edging towards the bar. Maybe you could get an apology or something. This corset was expensive and now it had small specs of the wine imprinted.

It took courage. You stood beside him and cleared your throat for the bartender who came to your service. If you weren’t going to face the problem in a confrontational threat, you were going to give passive hints.

“Hey.” You smiled when the bartender stood at your front. “I was wondering if you could refill my wine? Someone knocked it over a few minutes ago.”

“Ahah, accidents like that happen all the time. I’ll get you another glass.” The good worker took your glass and went back to refill.

This left you alone with the stranger who gave you a snarky side-eye. Now you could see it for yourself, he was high. Them eyes were dilated like a UFO and his face was struck with this nasty gaze. You made eye-contact and he held it, making you stiff.

“I found the bar.” Finally, he muttered after taking a sly sip from the stolen drink.

You nodded your head in affirmation and looked away but he said something else, something faint. It took you a couple of seconds to recall the exact wording since his voice matched the heaviness to the music.

“What’s the fuckin’ occasion then? I walked in and everyone is dressing up like some BDSM get-together.”

“BDSM?” You repeated, rather offended. “No. It’s a venue event.”

“Halloween was months ago.”

“Yeah, I know – “

“I saw a random guy over with a leash around his neck.” The man grunted as he raised his hand to the far corner of the club. He then looked at you. “This ain’t some normal venue. You got some kinky shits in here.”

“It’s for the new-wave music. You know, gothic… Metal, punks?” You attempted to explain.

“In North Yankton? This is some Romanian vampire costume party.” He placed the glass back down and returned to his shell, covering his face with his arm and sitting there like a loner.

But you didn’t take this as a sign to stop.

“It’s not all about the clothes. It’s the music.”

With this, he edged his head up and stared through his brows at you. It took him a minute to recollect the energy and straighten his posture. “I always thought goths were to look at.”

You felt a bit disgusted as you knew what he was suggesting.

“Your clothes and all…” His voice drooled and came to a deep conclusion by the pitch of his tongue. “It’s erotic. Sexy.”

“Nice…” You whispered with discomfort. The wine was served and you held it close to your chest, not trusting the guy who was obviously taking an interest at the sight of you standing there.

“Oh, come on… Take it as a compliment. You goths have way more to look at than the strippers I just saw – “

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying… That you look… Nice.” The man gritted with his teeth. The shift in tension between you both grew as annoyance struck. He wanted you to take it as a compliment despite the “compliment” being pervy and disrespectful to the overall scene.

You dragged your drink away the bar and gave him a hefty glare. “Thanks.”

He sniffed up the molecules of coke from his moustache and returned your sarcastic remark. “You’re fuckin’ welcome, sugar.”

You uttered a small “whatever” under your breath before setting some distance between him, but he maintained this steady stare where you felt burdened to break the eye-contact. Whatever this was, it was intense. You returned his stare while taking slow sips of your wine, eyes flickering down towards his tongue that licked the lining of his glass cup. It made you grossed out and you looked away.

The man, with strength, slammed the cup against the table surface and leaned back in his chair, his body slump, his arms falling to his sides, staring – still. This is where you draw the line, finding this behaviour creepy and uncomfortable.

“Stop staring.” You muttered loud enough for him to hear.

His eyebrows raised at the confrontation. “That’s poor mannerism. Where is the magic word?”

The audacity of this guy. To refrain from further exclusions of emotions, you grounded yourself and turned your back. If he wasn’t going to find decency, you may have to ignore him, which is what you are about to do. He watched as you left the bar with the glass of wine idly in your hand.

“I didn’t hear you say the magic word!” The man called out before you could get lost in the crowd.

So turning back, you raised the finger and gave him one last sight to taste. But apparently that was not to his standards. Your eyes widened as he jumped out of his seat, his face full of hatred and feet rapidly following you.

He looked painfully angered yet his words, smooth as butter. You were forced to face him with inches sparing to save room for Jesus. His groin; pressed against yours mercilessly. Whether he meant to, it was warm and it made you shudder in a weirdly excited fright.

“There is no. Need. To. Be. So. Rude… Darling Dragula… You hear me?” Is what he said.

The threat became nothing but sweetness to your ears after the close, heated proximity where you wished it hadn’t of turned you on so much.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured.

“Oh, yeah, you’re sorry,” his voice rapidly tormented. “You can’t expect a man to not stare at the freaks in a freakshow.”

There was zero rationality that made your lip twitched. He needed to be corrected as this was your time to loosen up and have fun, being someone within a community so wronged.

“You willingly stepped into the freakshow. I wouldn’t complain if I were you…” You tried to ease the bitterness but it was prominent.

The guy grinned uneasily at your argument and leaned closer. His horrid breath filled with alcohol, bodily disgust, acidic death; an assassination to intimidate your nostrils and dominate the title of “freak.” Because he was one. You didn’t have to second-guess that.

“I ain’t complaining. The staring said otherwise.” He whispered directly against your ear, his lips grazing your earrings like he wanted to taste the material. The drug was definitely playing a role with his reasonings.

“Sometimes staring can be misunder….” You stopped talking when his nose gently rubbed against yours. You stopped talking at the closeness becoming 10x entrapping. Despite complaining about the staring, the stare he was doing right now was different and vulgar. Your spine shivered as it felt wrong to participate in this weird situation.

“Staring can be what?” He grumbled with a low voice.

“…Staring can be…” His persistent boldness had made you struggle to line up the right words. He had left you speechless which is where he wanted you to be.

The man smirked and leaned away, gifting you with freedom of space before grabbing your wrist and speaking. “What’s your name, sugar?”

You didn’t want to tell him. Whatever happened to the bitter-sweet argument where you wanted to continue your night, solo. But you couldn’t escape this one, not yet anyway.

“[y/n].”

“[y/n]?” He repeated and you nodded. The man inspected your face before nodding. “Your make-up. It’s… Cool.”

“Than – “

“The names Trevor.”

The pace was fast when he proposed his name. You didn’t know how to react. What was there to say? “Nice name…”, “Nice to meet you!”, “How are you, Trevor?”

None suited the present time. Neither was his name nice or was it to meet him. Trevor. It was so ironic. The syllables to his name was something to spit out, an opposite of a lullaby and melody. Trent, Travis, Troy, Trevor. Somehow you imagined people named after a “Tr” approach to be someone like him; a bit edgy and definitely questionable, morally. It’s the aggression and swift movement of the lips and teeth that makes his name unforgettable. It was masculine, indeed.

“Ahh, cool.” You uttered relatively quietly.

Trevor rocked his head back and took a deep breath before them frantic pupils scanned the busy room. He took turns to focus on each individual then returned to you, lips curling up into a snarl. You thought he was going to say something but instead, he just sneezed. You flinched and watched him adjust himself back into the close position.

“Bless me.” Trevor applaud with an overexaggerating tone.

You gave him a nervous smile and leaned away. He noticed the distance multiplying and tugged his cruel fingers around your corset where they felt the strings round back. This was alarming until he used it to pull you closer. Your body instantly went into meltdown as your groins fell in contact again. You could feel him, he was there, and he was hard. It unconsciously rubbed against you through the skirt. You didn’t know if he meant it so you remained silent. Mute.

“Don’t look so scared – I’m trying to be nice.” Seized the taller man as he noticed your discomfort. Them hands gripped harder around you and he looked through his brows with a scolding gaze. “Thought I’d… Endure the atmosphere a bit.”

“The atmosphere?” You spoke.

“Everyone else is enjoying themselves. Why can’t I?”

“You can, I… I didn’t mean – “ The way he phrased things. He seemed so offended all the time! You didn’t want to miscommunicate with him anymore since you could already tell he was a bomb to handle. A ticking time-bomb.

“[y/n], [y/n], [y/n]. Don’t sound so unsure. Try and enjoy your precious goths night, ay?”

You really wanted to say “you make it less enjoyable” as he took every chance to mock the subcultures in the room, but you could identify the slander being a pathetic attempt of teasing, maybe flirting.  

“Yeah, my night.”

Trevor grumbled in his voice as your bodies swayed together slightly. He was stuck to you like glue. “My night’s been a shithole. I need a distraction. Lemme dance around with you.”

“You want to dance?”

“Or fuck.”

“What?” You froze.

“What?” He snickered in return, gaslighting.

“You just said you wanted to fu – “

“What shitty, shitty music… Let us dance around with these other morons…” His voice would bewitch and charm, licking up them insults with a flavour of seductiveness; paradox-ing whatever the Hell you were experiencing with this guy who was high as a fucking kite.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but move around with the commandment of his hands that held onto your lower back, pulling you alongside. You looked at Trevor who grinned. God you wanted to go. To escape this. Your feelings were conflicted and you felt like you were going to puke. Your face was full of nervousness and you glanced to your side before his cold thumb grazed a pinch of your upper lip.

It made you jump as you watched his finger pull away, your black lipstick staining the tip of it.

“What?” You confusingly murmured.

Trevor raised an eyebrow and licked the lipstick from his thumb. Pervert.

“It smudged a bit.” Was his excuse.

“Sure… You fixed it?” You’d interrogate sternly, this time.

“No – it’s more smudged now.” Trevor smirked and threatened to touch you with his thumb again. “It looks hot on you though. You know, messy.”

Instantly avoiding his thumb, you broke away from his grip and crossed your arms, creating an invisible barrier between you both where he turned sour again, glaring like you disobeyed a law.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“You’re creeping me out.”

Trevor scoffed. “Oh, get over yourself – “

“I don’t care how lonely or high you are, I really don’t care! Just stop freaking me out with you… Touching me like that. It’s fucking weird.” You stressed.

“Weird, is it?” He took a step forward and grabbed your wrist, your nails automatically digging into his hand as he’d hiss at the pain. You marked his skin great enough to draw blood that trickled down his palm like a piece of artwork. His eyes shifted from your sharp, black nails and to the wound, caused by you, his face itching with disbelief.

This was the opportunity to rush off but then that same hand attacked your face. Your mouth was hit with this iron taste and you were thrown back into his arms, his hand covering your mouth, blood aching on your lips and tongue. Trevor was shaking as he kept you tight and grunted slightly since your warm breath penetrated the fresh wound from your nails.

Your words were muffled and he placed his chin on the top of your head, dragging you away into the furthest corner where the lights barely exposed it’s presence.

“C’mon…” He whispered in your ear and finally released you from his bloodiness, making you gasp for air. Though you were free to speak, his body cornered you against the wall.

However the situation… You were supposed to feel angered and scared. But there was something about it all. His blood marked your lips and you licked around it, the eye-contact between his brown ones and yours strong. You became aroused.

“You made me bleed.” Trevor groused with restless lips that stretched up into a grin.

The connection was shared and now you were both facing the consequences of this unwanted arousal. You were fuelling his fetish for “goths” and you couldn’t care less. Not after this.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry?”

“Don’t apologise. Don’t fuckin’… Ruin the moment…” He hurried, “and don’t threaten me, you cheeky fuck.”

“You threatened me first.”

“You wanna try and threaten me with my cock in your mouth, huh?”

“Now that… Was a threat.” You snickered.

Trevor adjusted his bulge and used his free hand to hold your chin, looking at you with desire. His thumb, stained with blood this time, smudged more of your lipstick before moving closer, searching between your lips and passing your teeth. You took this as a sign and began to sensually suck around his thumb, tasting his blood and your own lipstick.

“Oh…” He seemed more vulnerable watching you. His large frame hid you from the crowded room but that didn’t stop him from paranoidly looking over his shoulder. Possibly the drugs giving him that fear of being watched. He waited until you sucked for an extra second then draped an arm over your shoulder. You were guided by this shaky man as you entered the private bathrooms reserved for the staff.

One of them staggered over after noticing Trevor luring closer. He cried out. “Hey, that’s staff on – “

But in return, he received a massive “FUCK OFF!” that echoed over the music, some of the party-goers turning to gaze over but you were pushed into the private bathroom, the door locking behind you.

Immediately his lips were on yours. Trevor lifted up your hips and held you against the wall as he carelessly aloud your make-up to splutter against his rough skin. You grabbed the back of his neck and gently applied pressure with your nails while he worked labour with his tongue that adventured around your wet mouth, tasting every inch like he was deprived from touch.

He made whining noises throughout the clingy kisses and he couldn’t hold back. You gasped out loud when he ripped off your leather corset, the strings snapped in half and your body becoming free from that tightness. It made you feel naked. You leaned your head back and breathed heavily as he ran his hands down your frame, the dress becoming loose due to this rough nature of his playfulness. It took you a life-time to prepare yourself for the venue today but something about Trevor ripping every layer was more sexier. Soon your back was naked against the wall and he had his hands groping your freed breasts.

You looked at him, his face partially white with the occasional smudges of black. His moustache had white ends from the endless kisses too. He didn’t seem to noticed, you loved it.

“I’m so… God…” Trevor groaned as he zipped off his green coat, throwing his shirt from over the head and easily undressing himself in front of you. His body type had great muscle mass but with the balance of thick and thinness. Your eyes shifted to the hairs leading down to the buckle of his belt, in which you saw his injured hand undo. The buckle came loose and he made sure you watched. Trevor’s other hand grabbed onto your neck as he positioned your head to face the reveal of his cock. He brought it from the briefs and lied it in the palm of his hands, smirking at you. “You like that, [y/n]? You want that?”

The dirty talk edged you closer and you nodded your head, the dyed black strands falling onto your face.

“I bet it fits perfectly in you.” Your body shivered as he held you against the wall, his hand introducing himself with your intimacy. He said this while stroking over your pussy. He gave himself an insight of your shape, feel, touch. Trevor must’ve loved the way you were since he’d let out a soft moan when his finger perfectly moved into you without struggle. The way he came in – you whimpered silently.

Trevor continued to finger you until it was loose enough for his preference. He liked it wet and messy before the deal. You opened yourself to him and felt obliged to the access of his shaggy mullet, dragging your nails down his strands, repeating the cycle from the scalp downwards

He hummed at your affections before lining his cock, with the guidance of his bloodied hand, easily fucking the looseness as it would slide right in. This made you both moan behind the heaviness of music that dominated the atmosphere still. At least no one would hear you. They may suspect, after Trevor’s “kindness” to the worker, but there was no evidence to propose the truth. It was only you and him.

“Yes, yes…” You finally encouraged Trevor through the increased pace. The make-up was damned and ruined, your breasts bouncing at the force of his thrusts. Your back kept on beating the wall behind since the bathroom was too small to execute a full position. The cramp space, however, made it all so better because you two were made into this close proximity. The proceeding sweat from his neck and face would only transfer onto you due to this. It was the definition of “hot and bothered.”

“Oh, my… Oh, ah!” Besides, his noises were pathetic. Before you assumed he was this masculine character, yet the way he sloppily fucked into you with them whiny cries said otherwise. You were allowing this pervert to treat you like so! It was abnormal, amazing even! How the time passes when you are having an awful interaction with this intoxicated man. There were nothing but lust and coke behind his eyes and you showed mercy; resulting in legs spread, cock in, mouth puking out moans. Dirty work. You wondered if the strip-club he allegedly stayed in, before the venue, was at your level of satisfaction. Maybe you were proving him right though…

Goths were so much more than them strippers. You damned that right.

“I fuckin’ love you… Love me!” Trevor angrily sobbed as he pounced in and out aggressively. You’ve had rough sex before but this was another category. You were light-headed at the heaviness of his touch, it was disgustingly attractive.

Your hands clenched onto a handful of his thin, longish hair and you pulled as you as you can, liking the way he responded through snarls and moans. The painful dosage mixed with pleasure. You could’ve sworn his cock had the stains of his blood too, and now it was inside you.

“I… Shit…” You moaned, “I think I’m gonna cum, Trevor… Trev – Fuck!”

He nodded his head rapidly and consistently fucked you. His lips were sucked in and he only made sounds of whimpers and whiny chants. From the hardness and twitchiness though, you knew he was close too.  

“Fuck me! You fucking… Freak! Fuck!” This came watering out from your tongue unnaturally. So into the moment, so infused, that the filter was beckoned. Your eyes wondered from realisation but Trevor, dear old Trevor, he nodded his head again.

“Oh, yeah… I’m a freak, baby. I’m all yours. All yours… My cock fits so good, don’t it?” He weakly responded after the intense echoes of your skin slapping together.

“You’re all mine?”

Trevor placed his lips against your forehead and murmured a muffled groan. “All fuckin’ yours…”

What had gotten him so worked up and needy? It was hot. You smirked and took in the scent of his nastiness before the sensation became present again. He cried in frustration and ignored your distressed moans, the climax approaching you both at the same time.

“Trevor… Shit…” Your legs started to shake and you stared upwards, suddenly…

Both finishing. Warmth rinsed out of you, squirting. The noise you made was painfully good. You had arched your back and allowed the cum to drain out as Trevor came onto the softness of your stomach. He rubbed himself to encourage the orgasm that was awakening the sobriety in his mind. Loud wasn’t even the right word for it. He was obnoxious. You breathed heavily after he released a high-pitch pant, the bathroom slowly becoming silent, making you realise just how randomly steamy it had got.

And it smelt of sex, massively.

“Ohhhh, and I hate myself…” You heard him whisper as the rush came to an end. Your pussy though? It stung, in a good way.

You picked up the scattered leftovers of your clothes and decided that after this, you may go home since your attire was… Presumably inappropriate looking. From the way your make-up was running down your face with sweat and the sweat mess of your hair. You didn’t mind, a good nap was what you needed from this anyway.

“Dare I ask for your number, sunshine?” Trevor managed to speak, his coat on but his shirt not. He lazily had his chest out like he couldn’t be bothered.

“Yeah…” You whispered and routed for your phone before realising that it was in the car still. The way you fell in defeat and sighed. “Fuck. I haven’t got it with me.”

He scoffed. “Where am I gonna find a chick like you again, ay? I gotta have something. An address?”

“Woah, too fast. I’ll just tell you where I work… You know, day-time job. In the town still.”

“Strip-club? – “

“The café a few blocks down. You know where that cash-in is? The one that got robbed?”

Trevor fell silent before grinning. He nodded his head and looked at you. “I know that area very well, sugar.”  

This didn’t seem to tick any flags in your head as you smiled. “Yeah, I’m there from 9 to 3 usually. Am.”

“Good to know.”

“I’ll see you around, maybe?” You hoped.

“I’ve got a load of business around there… So yeah, you’ll see me around, sugar.” He said with an entertained grin before zipping up your dress and ensuring you looked somewhat presentable.

Well, he didn’t help. You had to persuade him. He did complain but was silenced when you slapped his shoulder.

Then you exited the bathroom. It was awkward and you avoided eye-contact with anyone, especially because he still had his chest on display from under the open coat. He probably forgot about it. His shirt was stuffed in the waistline of his cargos as well, it was pretty obvious.

“Keep them sharp nails to yourself, [y/n].” He said in your ear and wondered off without another word. He left you standing there dazed. With a sore pussy as well.

“Keep them sharp nails to yourself…” You mocked back and walked out of the venue, the freezing air drying up your sweat as you walked back to your car, half-proud, half-ashamed.

[yjhariani]

WTF?!

Valeria Garza X F!Reader Word count: 1300± Warning: Profanity Summary: You're out to exchange intel for a meeting with El Sin Nombre.

A/N: Not sure how many people have done this, but I surely need more.

“Just let me be the one getting in, okay? I have better charm than walls,” you reasoned to the group.

“You’re calling us walls?” Ghost concluded.

“Would you prefer a pole?” you replied.

“Just let her fucking go and get it done with,” Graves rushed.

One of the worst things of being the only woman in a group of men, especially in the military, was how you would always have to prove your worth. To show them that you got here not because of your pretty privilege. To show them that you could get shit done just like them and did it ten times better.

That, of course, after making it very clear in front of their faces that you were not here to be their barrack bunny or barrack rat or whatever they called it. Besides, once this mission was complete, you had a gorgeous woman waiting for you somewhere in this city.

“I can’t let you take this risk,” Alejandro said. “There will be a lot of men in there. If they don’t kill you, you’ll have a worse fate.”

“Or she could sprinkle some of her womanly charm and make things go swift,” Graves countered.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna play this card,” you muttered before limply throwing your arms in the air. “Do you not trust me with this because you guys—except for Soap—have higher ranks than me or because you don’t trust women?”

There was a tense pause within the group. Ghost, Alejandro, Soap, and Graves exchanged looks.

“You would have let Soap go,” you added. “Why not me?”

“Fine, you go,” Ghost decided.

After a little bit of a recap, you were released to go with Alejandro going in through another way.

Though the guards gave you a warning shot as you approached, they did not use as much force whilst tying your hands and even let you put the rag over your head all by yourself.

When being led inside, one of the guards simply placed the tip of his rifle on your back, telling you where to go. Soon enough, he told you to stop.

Someone removed your rag and you were standing in front of a masked man in a suit. You were in a lift somehow and went down.

“Hermana,” a familiar gruff voice greeted.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Don’t lie, okay? Tell them everything,” Alejandro stated.

“I know what I’m doing,” you promised.

“I trust you,” Alejandro nodded.

Soon enough, the lift stopped and opened. You were revealed to a mean looking bald man. After confirming things with Alejandro in an amused fashion, he finally talked to you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

“They call me Daddy,” you answered.

“You think this is a joke?” he asked again.

“No. They literally call me Daddy,” you explained.

The man exchanged a look with Alejandro who only shrugged.

“Sure. Let’s go,” he sighed.

With that, you followed wherever the man took you. Soon enough, you were brought into a room after a little bit of a delay. He was telling you what you already knew what to do, more as a threat than to lecture.

Within the room, the first thing you noticed was there were people already tied on chairs. Then, there was someone else and it took you a few seconds to see her clearly. As soon as you did, you felt a cold running down your spine.

Her name, as mentioned by the bald man was, “Valeria.”

What the fuck was your girlfriend doing with the cartel?!

There was a glint of recognition in her eyes, too, that she shoved away immediately. There was something else as well. Could it be anger? Could it be pain?

Whatever it was, you reflected it back to her in the way you looked back at her.

“Sit her down,” Valeria said.

Someone dragged one of the people tied on the chair away. You quickly made your way to the chair and sat down.

Valeria bent down in front of you, levelling her face with yours. She was examining every inch of your face. You would have kissed her under different circumstances.

“Who are you?” Valeria asked.

“They call me Daddy,” you answered, very hesitantly.

You both knew that was not what she called you, but instead what you called her. Valeria laughed, but soon dropped her smile and formed her previously serious expression.

Proceeding from there, Valeria walked herself over to the bald man. They had a bit of a disagreement.

Afterwards, Valeria stepped forwards and once again bent down in front of you, levelling with your face.

“Okay, Daddy,” Valeria said. “You better have something good or this won’t end well for you. Don’t lie to me. I can tell if you do.”

Valeria always knew when you lied to her. That was why you only did it if there was a special surprise for her.

“We were protecting a friend recently. Who attacked us?” Valeria started, looking at one of the men tied on the chair.

After hearing his answer, Valeria turned to you.

“Mexican Special Forces,” you said.

Whatever she was talking about with the other hostage, you paid not that much attention to because all that was clouding your mind was her. What would happen after this? Would you both be the same after this?

Sure, you knew she was into some shady stuff, but not this shady. Maybe she was a drug dealer, not involved in a cartel like this.

“There were outsiders,” Valeria leaned her hands on the armrest of your chair, “helping the Special Forces. Who are they?”

Valeria turned to the other person first. After getting his answer, she turned back to you, placing a finger under your chin to hold your face in place, facing her.

Very quietly only for the two of you to hear, she said, “Amor, what the fuck are you doing here?”

As quietly, you said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The two of you were looking at each other for a moment.

“Answer the question,” Valeria said.

“American private military company, called themselves the Shadow Company,” you answered.

Valeria stepped back, discussing something with the bald man.

“Do you have proof that they exist?” Valeria asked.

“There’s something in my pocket,” you answered.

Valeria walked back to you. She put her hands on your knees.

“Which pocket?” she asked.

“I… the one on my pants. Right side,” you answered.

Valeria moved her hand there, swiftly sliding into the pocket. Not once she broke eye contact with you until she pulled out the badge.

Examining the badge, Valeria took a moment before looking back at you. There was wonder in her eyes and the tiniest bit of worry.

“Who’s their leader? You look like the type,” Valeria said.

“No, it’s not me,” you stated. “There’s a man named Phillip Graves.”

“But you know what he wants, don’t you?” Valeria asked.

“He did say something about missiles,” you stated.

Valeria ordered for the other man to be killed. In the meantime, she pulled you to stand up. She cut off your ties.

“Let’s go,” Valeria said.

With that, you followed Valeria out. The mean bald man followed, asking a few questions to Valeria that she answered accordingly.

In the lift, the three of you were standing in a tense air. You paid attention to every word they were saying.

“So, I get to see El Sin Nombre, right?” you dared asking.

“Valeria’s gonna speak to the boss now,” the bald man answered. “You wait with the others.”

“El Sin Nombre will be very interested to talk to you, Daddy,” Valeria said.

The lift stopped and opened.

“This is where you wait, sweetheart,” the bald man said and immediately got thrown a mean look by Valeria.

“Hey,” Valeria called.

Turning to face her, Valeria clutched your jaw from the underside of your chin.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Valeria stated.

That was not a warning. That was a simple statement. She cared.

“I won’t,” you opened your palms in surrender.

You got off the lift, there was a guard waiting. Looking back for a moment, you found Valeria looking at you until the lift door closed.

Moments passed and you eventually got a pat on the shoulder.

“You’re alive and you look pale,” the guard—Alejandro—said. “Everything went well down there?”

It’s a mistake that I came down here. There’s a woman and she’s my girlfriend and I have no idea what the fuck she’s doing with the cartel, you wanted to say, but never actually formed the words in your tongue.

[chvoswxtch]

Hello my love! I love the way you write Frank (AND Matt, but im in a Frank mood tonight). I’m not sure if you’re taking requests rn, but if you are, I love to submit one!! Tbh I’m so sick of how douchey guys are these days on apps, and the “oh you just wanted a free meal” behavior and dating rn is the fucking worst. What’s your take on a situation where you’re friends with Frank and you complain about how badly men behave these days, and he offers to take you on a real date and treat you right? Bc I could use a Frank to rescue me and treat me right rn 😫

hello my darling! thank you so much, omg. you're too kind🥺

ok first of all when I say you are PREACHING to the damn CHOIR !!! I tried a few dating apps and I loathed every single one of them. straight up was not having a good time. it was an absolute travesty, so I feel for you so hard right now angel.

this is my first time doing a headcannon so this is super exciting and i'm happy we get to do this together!! because you absolutely DESERVE a frankie to rescue you and treat you right because you are a goddamn CATCH you are a GLOWING GODDESS and anyone should be so heckin LUCKY as to go on a date with you ❤️

headcannon is going to be below the cut bc y'all know I get carried away, especially with my baby frankie

frank castle & dating apps

first things first: frank castle is very old fashioned, so the idea of a dating app probably not only confuses the fuck out of him but also makes him grimace. like the man without a doubt hates texting, preferring an actual phone call instead, and most likely comes up with a million different threats to your security and worst case scenarios when you teach him about online dating

"don't you wanna meet someone the old fashioned way? how can you tell they're not a complete asshole just by a picture and a few words? what if they ain't who they say they are? you still got that knife I gave ya?"

frank already made you share your location with him a long time ago for safety reasons but now makes you text him the address of wherever it is you're going on these "dates" as well as check in with him every hour

he would probably be adamant about coming with you and sitting in a corner somewhere so he could keep an eye on you but you quickly shot that down bc it's frank and he's very hard to miss and you would have a hard time explaining to your date why that big guy across the room looks like he's seconds away from committing murder (you know exactly which look i'm talking about)

frank requests you send him a picture of whatever guy you're meeting just in case he needs to hunt him down find him if you don't check in or something happens, and never hesitates to offer a look of utter disdain and merciless judgment when you finally send it

"really? you're goin' on a date with this? the options on them apps that goddamn bad, sweetheart?"

frank is extremely shameless in verbally eviscerating every single guy you show him or tell him about and never misses an opportunity to make his opinions known

one night you storm into his apartment without knocking (a common occurrence he's finally gotten used to) and plop down next to him on the couch with a glass a wine (he made a mental note to keep the kind you like on hand at all times) and start to vent about your latest disaster date

the guy made you drive nearly an hour out of your way to meet him at a sketchy dive bar, spent the whole night talking about himself and cutting you off every time you spoke, and then had the AUDACITY to ask you to cover the tab because he "forgot" his wallet at home (this actually happened to me once)

frank can't take it anymore. this online dating thing has been going on for months and every time you vent to him about these assholes, it gets harder and harder for him to control his feelings for you because he's supposed to be your friend and the guys you've been going out with look nothing like him and as much as he wants to be with you, he's scared to ruin the one good thing he has. so, frank hatches a plan

"alright, I can't take this shit anymore. don't make plans friday night. we're goin' out."

he says it so nonchalantly, you almost don't catch what he means. you splutter out your wine, staring over at frank because there's no way he just asked you out on a date??? frank catches your look and offers a timid smile, reaching over to squeeze your knee gently

"relax. i'm just gonna show you what a real date should be like. you've been on so many shitty ones, I don't even know if you know what a good one is. let me help you raise your standards a bit."

let me tell you something, frank castle knows a thing or two about romance. this man goes ALL OUT. picking you up at your door (on time, early even), flowers in hand (your favorites bc he actually listens when you talk), is the most dressed up you've ever seen him (it's a dress shirt and jeans but he's usually covered in blood so), opens all the doors for you and pulls out your chair, takes you to a restaurant he knew you would love bc he knows your favorite dish & dessert, spends the whole night asking you questions about things he's always wanted to know about you, makes you laugh with silly jokes and stories, and tells you several times throughout the night how beautiful he thinks you look

you've always had a crush on frank (how could you not honestly) so you were a nervous wreck about the whole thing and what it meant for your friendship and if he was just doing this to be nice because he felt sorry for you or if he actually liked you back

but the date is not only the best one you've ever been on but also the easiest because it's frank and he's your best friend and you've never felt more comfortable or at ease with someone and when the check comes it makes your heart sink because you never want this date to end, even if it isn't real

the entire walk back to your apartment there's a palpable nervous energy between the two of you and his hands are in his pockets but you desperately wish they were holding yours and when you stop at your door there's a million thoughts racing through your head that you wanna say but the look in frank's eyes steals the oxygen straight out of your lungs

"listen I uh...know I said this was just to show you how a real date should be and what not, and I did mean that but...I really just wanted to show you how you should be treated ya'know. how...how I would treat you, if you'd let me. i'd give you the goddamn world if you asked, sweetheart. I don't know if I read tonight wrong, but I know I could be the right man for you, and I think you know that too. at least, I hope you do. there's nothin' I wouldn't do for you, honey. I understand if you don't feel the same way-"

you don't even let frank finish that sentence before you're dragging him down by his collar and crashing your lips together because holy shit frank, your frank, wants you just as much as you want him

needless to say you invite him up and show him just how much you want him despite his weak attempt at trying to continue to be a gentleman

"sweetheart, we can take it slow. I don't mind-" "frank I swear to god if you don't take your pants off right now, i'm never kissing you again." "yes ma'am."

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

the way izzy was received by this fandom rlly is the worst combo of how fans responded to kylo ren and how fans responded to, like, tyler durden or walter white.

anything i could say comparing izzy fans and kylo fans was already said in this fucking incredible post by @chuplayswithfire. but basically: izzy is a huge cunt to everyone in this show but fans take him at his word when he talks about being hardworking and competent, they minimize and excuse his actions and act like he's an innocent traumatized baby, and they focus on him, a shitty white antagonist, instead of any of the other interesting characters of color they could be paying attention to

but imo the thing that rlly makes a difference between izzy and kylo, and the thing that makes me compare him to those other two white dudes i mentioned above, is that unlike the movies kylo ren is in, ofmd is actually well-written

the first movie in the star wars sequel trilogy was pitched, written, filmed, and literally released with no ending for the trilogy in mind. the writing for the next movies was adjusted based on fan reactions, and major plot points were decided by studio executives deciding which events would make the movie more profitable. i should not have to explain to you that this is a terrible way to write a movie series. or a television series. or literally any kind of fucking story in the world.

our flag means death, or what we have of it so far, is not that. there's fully developed characters with given realistic motivations, instead of one-dimensional props that are jerked around by a constant tug-of-war between writers, directors, and studio executives. there are narrative plot points that are woven expertly throughout the story, not hints of storylines that are completely forgotten about by the next franchise, or storylines that were finished that are getting dug up again. there's a central theme to ofmd, unlike the new star wars movies, where the theme seems to be "how can we milk this fucking franchise for all it's worth." there's no goddamn queerbaiting

i'll admit that i've never actually seen breaking bad, and everything i know about it i've learned via tumblr osmosis. but from what i can tell, it's actually a very well-written show, and the whole point of the show is that walter white is the epitome of entitled and abusive white man who thinks he's super tough and badass and that everyone should listen to him and do whatever he tells them to do (lmao, sound familiar?). he ruins his life and the lives of everyone around him and idk he might die in the end. anyway dont do drugs.

fight club i have seen, and i can confirm that this is a fantastic movie that features, you guessed it, an arrogant white guy who represents the classic violent male power fantasy. the narrator, deeply depressed because he's a beta male, watches jealously from the sidelines as tyler durden starts seeking violence, first from just meeting up with random guys for consensual beatdowns, but it escalates as more and more men start joining the fight club (wow! the title of the movie!) until the club morphs into a terrorist group. also if you haven't seen it there's a Big Plot Twist that i haven't mentioned and it's pretty good. love that movie.

anyway the point is that both of those men are very obviously. shitty fucking guys. classic macho men (even tho tyler durden's fashion sense is fantastically fruity, for some reason) who crave power over others and respect in the form of fear. the whole point of their fucking characters is that in any generic action movie, they would be the heroes

and so many fans just. completely fucking miss this. there are hoards of dudebro fan guys who relate to these characters and go "wow, he's just like me!" and absolutely do not get the point of the thing they're watching. it is fucking baffling to see

anyway that's izzy stans!! an truly groundbreaking combo of your classic female fans who woobify evil white men and classic male fans who miss the entire point of characters who are written to subvert the expectations of what kind of role a character like izzy hands, walter white, or tyler durden would be expected to play!!!!! izzy hands is written to be an antagonist and the personification of toxic masculinity that ed is trying to escape from, and yet people are acting like he's the show's third protagonist.

because izzy would be a protagonist, in a different and much shittier story. and even though we all watched the same show where he very clearly is not the protagonist, people are applying that role to izzy and not actually looking at what role he plays in this show.

[not-alien-girl-v]

more frat kyle or frankenkyle idec i love both maybe just some fluff or whatever u feel like !!! i love ur fics 😫😫💞

warning: reader is drunk like really drunk, nausea but no throwing up, general party stuff yeah

note: writing this while watching asylum for the first time i’m gonna be real i haven’t seen it before. YES i know i changed tenses halfway through this but it’s 2am i’m not changing it

it had been hours since she first put on that skimpy black party dress, applied shades of pressed powder onto her clean skin, curled her lashes, tied her hair, did a coquettish twirl before her mirror for one last final look, then walked to the party a few blocks from her home.

the air was swirling in a most intoxicating fashion, music so loud she swore she saw the sound waves rippling down the packed halls and she felt at home, surrounded by drunk college kids, she fit right in, seeing as she was getting an undergraduate degree in some random major she had no idea how she was going to make a career out of, and the fact that she, too, had intentions to become drunk as fuck.

she doesn’t get drunk often, that’s one thing for sure. when kyle invites her to these types of parties, he goes all boyfriend mode and insists she stay sober so she can keep herself safe and he won’t have to spend all night looking after her while he has a whole frat house of men he has to do so with already.

but tonight, kyle had a pounding headache, likely due from the hours upon hours on top of hours with a side of hours à la mode he spent studying for his final exams of the semester, along with the actual stress of taking said exams. it was all over as of today, and some are choosing to celebrate via a party, but kyle would much rather get a solid nights rest.

he makes it maybe 3 hours into a good nap before awaking for no reason whatsoever, headache dissolved, but mouth dryer than the sahara desert itself, so he leaves the comfort of his warm bed to fetch himself a glass of water.

one careful sip, feeling the water soothe his dry throat, and his phone begins to ring. with every bone, every fiber in his body, he doesn’t want to answer it, but something inside him tells him he better, and to his surprise, it’s her.

he’d be lying if he said a lovely feeling didn’t sprout in his stomach when he saw her name lighting up her phone, and he almost lets it ring too long, dumb smile staring at her name, but he does pick up in the end.

“hey baby you alright?” he always starts their phone calls off the same way, even if he’s the one who calls first. there’s something so sacred to him about enduring her safety before anything else in conversation with her. he tries to do everything in his power to show how much he cares.

“kyle?” one word from you is all it takes for him to be grabbing his keys and jacket off the dining room table. something about the slur in the word she spoke, the way it came across as a question, kyle figured she needed him right now. sometimes he wonders if he just really likes being needed.

“where are you right now, sweetheart?” the pet name and the familiar drawl informed her that her suspicions were correct, she was, in fact, speaking with the boy she loved, the boy who didn’t come to this party.

“at a party,” she hiccuped and stretched her arms out wide, hearing her joints crack and pop.

“awesome. can you tell me where?”

“maybe…” she laughed too hard at her own joke and his deafening silence made her uncomfortable so she gave in, mumbling something about a blue house and austin and will, two guys kyle knew who lived in a fraternity with blue painted walls.

when kyle arrived at the house, the party was mostly over, a few stragglers straggling about on the front yard straggedly, and the house wasn’t packed wall to wall like he assumed it once had been that same night.

it wasn’t hard finding her, she was lightly singing to herself while she kicked her legs back and forth childishly, sat atop the kitchen counter. her attention was diverted to the tired boy once he came in to her line of sight, however.

“hey handsome. can i buy you a drink?” he’s worried for a second she truly doesn’t recognize him, but when her arms open sluggishly to engage him in a drunken embrace, he pushed the thoughts aside.

“cute. come on, let’s get home, sweetie.” he takes advantage of her already open arms, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her, feeling her slump over the curve of his shoulder and her chin resting on his back slightly.

she’s yapping amongst herself the whole walk to the car, her small happy voice muffled by the cloth of his t-shirt. he approaches his car, setting her down on the ground to fumble around in his pockets for his car keys. meanwhile, she walks her body straight into his, crashing her face into his chest in a sloppy manner, not even bothering to hug him or anything, just pressing herself into him.

“did you know that i love you?” the inky black sky is lit up by only a few stars, a sign that the two were surrounded by city, and with it, dense light pollution that prevented them from ever seeing more than a few twinkling spots here and there once the sun sets.

the keys aren’t in his pants pockets, and frustrated, he tries his jacket pockets now. “yeah, i knew.” finally, feeling cold metal touch his searching fingers, he whips the keys out of the inner pocket of his coat, inserting it into the car door to unlock it and escape the cold night that was upon them tonight.

he opens the door for her, but when he turns to her to coax her into getting in, he is met with a teary eyed look on her intoxicated face.

“hey, what’s with the tears, huh?” he finds a gentle pace rubbing up and down her arms, half to comfort, half to warm up the goosebumps forming from the frosty air nipping at her more and more with every coming second.

“you didn’t say you love me back,” she uses the back of her hand to smudge away the hot, salty tears rolling down her cheeks.

from keeping her at arms length, he closes in the distance and pulls her into his chest, one hand on the back of her head to rub gently with his thumb. “i thought it was implied, my darling.”

his touch feels like a fuzzy blanket on a cold winter night, like petals of a flower blooming and blossoming to her hearts content in her mind, she leans into it to show her appreciation for his presence and ability to care about such trivial matters.

wordlessly, she breaks from him, letting herself into the car and managing to strap herself in successfully, and kyle almost feels proud, as if she normally doesn’t possess this ability.

she waits until kyle has started the car from his seat next to her to speak up again. “can you hold my hand?” she looks at him with tired eyes and he’s fairly certain he’d chop off his entire hand and eat it for dinner if she deemed it necessary.

he inwardly melts, nodding and grabbing her hand from the top of her thigh, giving three gentle squeezes in hopes to make up for his previous wrong.

“alright baby, let’s get you in bed now.” he’s suddenly appeared right next to her, outside the car with the door opened next to her, she must have fallen asleep; because if she remembers correctly, he had just started the car up, now he’s out, and they’ve reached a destination. she squints at the building before her through the window.

“this isn’t my house,” she states plainly as if perhaps he wasn’t aware of this and had made some fatal error.

“yeah, it’s my house. well, not just my house but i do live here.”

“why not my house?” he tosses her arms around his neck before lifting her into his firm hold. he wouldn’t dream of dropping her.

“i figured,” the front door is already unlocked, likely the doing of a forgetful roommate of kyle’s, but it saves him some trouble as he continues down to his bedroom, “since you know, you’re in love with me and stuff,” he kicks his bedroom door open, “that you’d be okay with having a sleepover.”

“i love sleepovers! can i paint your nails?” gently, she’s set down on his bed with care and he’s quick to potter about in his drawers with a chuckle.

“if you really want to, in the morning, sure.” he chucks a clean t shirt and some shorts she left in his room last night she was over at her figure on the bed. “put these on,” he doesn’t mean to sound so demanding, but he figures she doesn’t notice/care.

“can we call cute boys? oh em gee, we can ask them to rate us! how fun would that be?” she’s getting herself all riled up and giddy as he walks back to the bed, shooting her a conflicted look.

he imagines them huddled up around a telephone with a phone book in hand, giggling and dialing the numbers of boys from other frats. a humorous sight to fathom, but not a likely one. “maybe another day, baby?”

“whatever,” she puts on a faux valley girl accent once she finishes in putting on the clothes and now she’s laying down under the green blanket, onto the black sheets next to the boy. once she’s done a comical amount of tossing, turning, adjusting of her clothes, brushing hair out of her face, cracking her back and knuckles, she needily cuddles into her boyfriend, hugging his head into her chest like he usually does to her and holding him there firmly.

he’s pressed up against her boobs, so he’s not complaining, but he does have to turn his head to the side so he isn’t being suffocated by her love.

“you’re pretty cute. you’re a cute boy. give me a rating, cute boy,” she commands and misses the aggressive rolling of eyes he presents as she can’t look at his face.

“rating women is bad for their self esteem. as a young man, i should know better than to reduce a girl to cheap modern beauty standards. you said that, you know?” he tells her with admiration dripping from his words, each consonant soaked in love and happiness.

she laughs too loud for two people huddled up in a room alone. “ok, sure, you big ol’ feminist. you are cute though. you’re so cute. like really, really cute. why did they make you so cute?”

he sighs, not wanting to engage in her antics and hoping if he calms her words, she’ll be closer to falling asleep. his arms circle around to her back, “dunno, sweetie.”

she hums happily. “you called me sweetie.”

“mhm.”

“i like when you do that. hey, never stop doing that, okay? even when i’m old and ugly and crabby and not sweet anymore. please?” her drunken words hold much more weight to them than she imagines, and a pretty feeling sprouts in kyle’s stomach. just the thought alone that even drunk, she sees kyle and her together so far into the future is enough to stir up his insides with a metal whisk.

“promise, sweetie.”

she’s quiet for a good long while, and he cuddles into her more, enjoying the attention and intimacy of behind held like this. he loves her more than she’ll ever understand.

“which boob is your favorite, left or right?” she speaks her mind and it takes every mature bone in his body not to burst out laughing.

“i can’t choose, i love them both equally as much as i love you.”

“ok but if you had to choose just one?”

“i’d have to say probably left.”

“of course you would, you pig man. the left one is bigger. you’re gross.” he can’t help but giggle at her, he wonders if she knows how funny she can be sometimes.

“if i’m so gross, then why are we cuddling in my bedroom, huh?”

“beats me. i didn’t even get a say about coming here. in some books, this counts as a kidnapping.”

“are you gonna call the cops on me, baby?”

“nope. i have stock hole syndrome or something. i’m totally obsessed with you now.”

“good. i like how obsessed you are with me. makes me feel like less of a creep for being so obsessed with you,” he speaks more truth that she seems equipped to handle right now, but she takes it well.

“i bet i’m more obsessed. sometimes when you’re in class and i miss you, i put your hoodie on a pillow and cuddle it n stuff and i pretend it’s you.”

“wow, what a freak you are.”

“hey! at least pillow kyle is nice to me! he can’t even talk. i think i like that better. you should shut your big fat mouth once in a while.”

“if i couldn’t talk, how could i call you sweetie? does pillow kyle call you sweetie like i do?”

she sighs. “you got me there…”

“i have a folder in my phone full of pictures i took of you when you didn’t know i was. i look at them all the time just cuz you look so pretty in them.”

“aww, you think i’m pretty when i’m not looking?”

“i think you’re pretty all of the time.”

“you’re such a sap. you’re pretty too though, don’t worry.”

“i wasn’t worried. i already knew, all the boys round these parts tell me all the time,” he jokes.

“oh yeah? you’ve been getting busy in this house?” she sounds much more sober than she first was when she called him, not completely, however.

“you know it. i’m the hottest piece of ass in this house. just cuz we’re all into chicks doesn’t mean we don’t take advantage of that every now and then.”

“really?” she sounds too close to convinced, so he tears away from her cradle and gives her a silly look.

“no.”

she reaches up to brush some blond hair from his dark eyes and lets her hand linger while she traces absentmindedly across his facial features.

“you haven’t kissed me all night.”

“didn’t know if you wanted to be kissed, sweetie. i wait until you’re sober for consent, i’m cool like that.”

“kiss me.” she was the one who instructed him to do so, yet she’s the one who pulls his face into hers, pausing a moment before making contact, letting their lips just gently brush, then pressing them together sweetly.

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

if you have not seen discowing era dick… you need to. you may rethink the fashion stance lmao 😂 just imagine kate giving him shit for that, which he of course will defend by going after the Infamous Hip Holes

also while he has been a cop (ugh) dick really just picks a career and magically gets it???? like epitome of a nepo baby, bruce just buys him jobs I am CONVINCED. he’s been a social worker, a museum curator, a cop, he owned a crossfit studio (if you see babs on the yoga mat upstairs in GK, it’s a nod to that!), and depending on canon he has a law degree????

and riffing off of that degree… nightwing vs. daredevil rivalry WHEN. they are parkour badasses. they’re street level heroes who are just regular guys. they have fantastic asses. dick you cannot also have a law degree you CANNOT TAKE MATT’S ONE THING— my running joke is that if dick shows up and he’s better than matt at everything, matt might have a Small Existential Crisis

xoxo dickate anon 🩵💜

oh i KNEW about discowing when i called him a fashion boi. I did not specify it was good fashion. nightwing is that one tiktok. "I don't dress for men, I dress for little girls (children?) who have been told at some point in their lives that this is not a fashion show, and for old women drunk on their porch."

also nepo baby dick is hiLArious considering that I have been thinking all day about how in a separate-universes world, everyone in Kate's world thinks he's a golddigger. The tabloids and gossip mags are so confused??? He's a stay at home boyfriend? He literally doesn't have a job. He basically doesn't even exist. Kate's always saying he's home visiting his family, or traveling. Is he a spy? Does he do crime? He didn't know who Captain America was, he's just a himbo. He absolutely could not be a spy. Dick LOVES this, I feel like. It's much funnier when people think that about him than when they think that about Kate (which is what happens when she goes to his universe)

There's a post from forever ago about someone who's supervisor called their partner "Boytoy" at work, like, exclusively. And the guy knew and was fine with it, but anyway he came in one day and the op went "Mr. Toy, I presume?" and he went "The very one." This is very much Dick and Kate. also somehow he meets Anthony Bourdain, and this is a Good Timeline where he's still alive and Dick winds up traveling with him for a few episodes? That would be a fun dichotomy

Kate turns her back for five seconds and Clint and Dick have gone undercover at a circus. Kate expected this from Clint, but Dick knows better. Which prompts Dick explaining that CLINT is the brains of the operation, not Dick, he's the beauty, and Clint getting mad because HE'S the beauty, and Kate just sighs. Clearly neither of you are the brains.

Dick loves that there are no expectations of him in Kate's universe. It's like a vacation. He gets to be a himbo here. There's absolutely a pic of them on insta that he captioned "this barbie is an Avenger. He's just ken" and he will not HEAR Kate's arguments about how technically by Barbie/Ken rules he is also a Barbie. Dick pouts and is like I AM KENOUGH.

All of this leads to a mostly funny conception the Avengers have of Dick. They know he's Nightwing, he doesn't really need a secret identity here, but they don't...get it. He's bouncy and casual because he's still watching Kate's teams, figuring out how best to support, and he doesn't want to step on Kate's toes by accidentally being Too In Charge. So there's this idea that he really IS a himbo until Kate gets injured or captured. If she gets injured on a mission he's on? Look. It clears things up right away. He will absolutely rip apart whatever faction or organization caused that to happen with his bare hands. And God for-fucking-bid he encounters the actual individual responsible for harming her. I'm not saying someone's getting kicked off of a roof but, someone is moving from the roof to the sidewalk in the most expedient way possible.

This is also funny because it makes very clear how different their preferred fighting styles are, because Kate picked A VERY DEFENSIBLE POSITION, please stop worrying, Dick. And she's right! It is! IF YOUR PREFERRED WEAPON IS RANGED.

Now Dick is standing over his mostly unconscious girlfriend who looks like her face got scraped against the ground (because it did), preparing to defend them from all sides. fucking snipers.

It also leads to a fun moment where Kate can't lead. Eli isn't there, so normally command of the team would slide into Cap's purview (if cap and whoever his second is are down, Avengers command would slide over to Kate) so Cap is getting ready to start giving the YA some orders and Dick, not even THINKING about it, just kind of assumes command of the young Avengers and NONE OF THEM QUESTION IT???? He doesn't lead like Kate. He doesn't give orders like Kate, he doesn't even sound like Kate, with cadence or whatever. But there's something that is just kate like enough that her team is like yep this is correct. (The same thing will happen in reverse with the titans) After that the Avengers stop roasting him behind Kate's back.

Also, THE HIP HOLES. look. We need to admit that Kate, canonically, does not have great taste in her avengering uniform. Why did she choose this look? why is she so attached to it?

Like if Kate has the audacity to genuinely criticize discowing?? If for some reason she's wearing a different costume or they got tossed into Gotham in their civvies, her team will absolutely throw her under the bus in order to get brownie points with the batkids.

You can't talk about the deep vee when you had YOUR ENTIRE ABDOMEN OUT BABE. Nothing! Not even a tissue! The body confidence is great Kate but seriously how did you not die. (he's into the scarf, though)

And if Kate actually wears the hip holes? Dick is poking at her trying to figure out if they're actually holes? Is there mesh there? Is it flesh toned fabric? No?? It's actually holes? This man is going to stick his hand in one just to see because what the fuck, Kate, and Kate's going to be like. Dick. Dickie. Nightwing. Your hand is under my costume. Do you realize where your hand is.

Is THAT what it's for?!?!? Dick is now seeing how far he can get his hand. The small of her back? Her other hip? Their friends are scREAMing. Guys? Could you do this some other time?? Like maybe when we're NOT ON FUCKING PATROL?????

anyway now Dick is wondering how far he can actually get his hand inside her uniform and he WASN'T thinking about it Like That before but he sure is now

[1whitewitch1]

It's so weird because I used to be able to tell that Hunter Schafer looked masculine sometimes but I didn't think she/he looked like a man, but now that he's a bit older and his face is coming out of that beautiful elf face phase, I have noticed it more when I've seen him in media.

And this isn't even in a negative way, it's just interesting the way that you just can't hide the secondary sex characteristics. In that first photo where the breast fat is noticeable, I just look at his face now and I know that that's a guy!

I saw a post on Tumblr earlier in the month that said how sad it was that we went from 2011-2013 where it was like pizza roles, not gender roles, anyone can be whoever they want without needing to be the opposite sex, women are strong and brave and can be muscular just like men, men can be etc. etc. Because that's what's cool about not conforming to gender roles is you get to do whatever you want and there's no unnecessary extra labels. Imagine how good things would be if that took flight.

Anyway, that is all just to say that Hunter Schafer is someone who could have been just one of those sick men who is super tapped into his feminine energy or whatever. And knows fashion and high art. I know of VERY FEW (literally 3 and I don't even know them as actual humans) men in my own life who wear dresses, high heels, makeup, jewellery etc. And they're all still just a man, because "man" is just the word for an adult human male. There are no accompanying stereotypes that are true about men (unless they make it true🙃, like with violence, sexual issues etc.) They don't have to exclusively wear blue, they don't have to hate dolls, they don't have to be mean to girls, they can have long and healthy friendships with women and so on. It just makes me so upset because if gender norms weren't pushed everywhere by everything and the conditioning of everyone ever, it would be so beautiful just to exist.

TRA's are, often unknowingly and more often thinking they are the opposite, so pro-gender it is almost unfathomable. Where radical feminists and other women or GNC men say "gender isn't real, fuck these expectations", trans people say "gender isn't real, but I don't care enough to take that issue seriously" and just go along with it.

[dead-twink-storage]

Dumb moments in time

More story time bullshit from my college days. Got invited out to go to a gay bar by a whirlwind trainwreck goth girl I was friends with a girl of constant tall tales and many adventures and her obnoxious aspiring drag queen friend;

her boyfriend ditched on going with us probably because gay clubs and being around her drag friend was a bit too faggy for his liking. After her and I got all retro goth’d up and her drag friend did the most piss poor make up smear job I had ever saw we went into the communal patio area of her rundown roach motel apartment where some middle aged white trash poverty wage man was drinking beer alone after his long shift on one of those old metal patio tables that had been over painted with so much white paint over the years that you could tear off balls of just clumpy paint.

So the three of us sit down to pre-drink and of course we strike up a conversation with him so it’s two goths explaining yea we’re goth into the music and all that; short, sweet, and easy for a layman to wrap their head around. The drag gay with us? Proceeds to go into the entire rundown of every last bit of drag drama from his show with the guy who has no idea what the fuck an alaskan thunderfuck is but he doesn’t want to be rude so he just tries to tune it out and focus on the bottom of his coors’ light bottle after what felt like an eternity of watching this poor blue collar white trash dude try to understand what hunty and slay means we finally fucking leave for the club.

We get to the club, doorman lets us in after the typical ID check and all that and immediately upon entering I see one of my brother’s exes hanging out with her friends watching the drag queens do their awful attempts at Britney Spears and Lady Gaga performances. Realizing I was not going to hear any music I could stomach I b-lined it for the bar where the girl behind the bar managed to put together 3 Amaretto sours, one for my fellow goth and two for myself by this time her Drag friend was far off trying to interact with the drag performers trying to get his foot in the door. Some chatting about random stuff with the bartender, my friend, at one paint even my brothers exes and a few more drinks in I needed to find a washroom. Upper floor was filled no spare room and no urinals so was directed downstairs.

 On my way down I would end up cornered in a dark small stairwell down by some guy twice my age trying to press against me much to my distaste, after some drunken scowls on my part and insistence to fuck off I would elbow and knee my way out of his grasp absolutely livid and pissed a thousand violent thoughts coming and going all while the fucking shittiest gayest pop music was playing only making it even more unbearable. I would take a minute to calm myself and continue my descent down this dark grey black painted stairwell.

When I got to the basement and went forward I saw the second lower bar; the bear den, a bunch of fat hairy, large gay men shooting dagger eyes and sneering faces that some make up wearing goth twink faggot would dare tread in their part of the club. Bartender down there was kind enough to direct me to the washroom where I would proceed into what was the most vile looking washroom I ever set foot in, imagine the washroom from SAW 1 imagine broken stall doors, non functioning toilets, and enough grime, filth, and used condoms that you would be at ground zero if airborne AIDs was a thing. I made my stay down there short, trying to use as much paper towel to keep myself from having to make proper physical contact with anything in there. I would finally ascend out of whatever the fuck I interrupted down there.

Not long after I return to the surface we are hanging out on the patio chatting with some other patrons having a good time when some yuppie homos twice the age of my friend and I start laying into us for wearing goth fashion “in the current year” because it’s so outdated and not in fashion anymore or whatever. We ignored the first barrage of comments but they kept nagging and insulting us thinking they were being oh so catty and witty. Well the thing about trailer park goth girls who may or may no be using hard drugs is there is little in the way of fucks to give so it wasn’t long before she would go on the offensive calling them every homophobic slur she had in her repertoire after the most impressive linking of slurs and them fucking imploding in anger and crying to the doorman we got kicked out including her drag friend who was pure collateral damage in our little verbal scuffle we managed to talk the doorman into letting us hangout infront of the club until her boyfriend came to get her.

So there we are outside the club fence chatting to each other about whatever it was we were chatting about while her friend was leaning over the fence to keep talking to the queens. The guys who got us kicked out left and gloated and acted like they won some great victory and weren’t fucking overgrown school kids who cried foul.  After sometime and phone calls her boyfriend finally arrived they went off to do meth, the drag gay went home, and I would try to find a public washroom to strip off all the baby bat eyeliner, black lipstick, and nail polish before heading home with results as equally disastrous as what I had just been through.

[meadowmines]

OC-Tober Day 11: Fight

[in which some punks play stupid games with a certain pair of fun-size Majima men and win a stupid prize]

This could not have possibly gone any more wrong for this pack of idiots. They picked the wrong pair of guys to pick a fight with (Aoyagi and Nishida). They picked the wrong time to try it (a night where Nishida was getting a little stressed out and grumpy with the boss and was summarily ordered to go to his "happy place" and break some shit until he could act right). And they absolutely picked the wrong place to try it (right outside the door to said "happy place" which is one lock and a few steps away from a veritable arsenal of blunt weapons).

Let's back up a little.

There's this warehouse over by the docks. The boss keeps it stocked with junk cars and old tube TVs and dead major appliances and glass jars full of confetti and mismatched chipped china and glassware from the bargain bin at the secondhand store and all kinds of other things that break in really satisfying ways when thrown real hard or hit with a blunt weapon. Sometimes the boss even hauls in a few piñatas made in his image (Aoyagi and his bro suspect the boss makes them himself and they're actually a scary good likeness) and they're stuffed with full-size candy bars and obscene amounts of cash and other cool stuff. And just inside the door, there are racks and racks of baseball bats and crowbars and golf clubs and... you get the picture.

The fact that this warehouse is referred to as "Nishida's Happy Place" should give you some idea what it's for. These days it's actually more Nishida and Aoyagi's Happy Place, on account of Aoyagi being given a key one day after he shot his mouth off at the boss and got hauled out behind the woodshed for it, but never mind that. The point is, they came here to break some shit.

And bless these dumb sons of bitches... they volunteered.

Nishida keeps them busy for the few seconds it takes Aoyagi to unlock the door and grab a couple of weapons. "Bro!" he calls, lofting a bat through the air towards Nishida's waiting hand. As for himself... a nine-iron, perhaps? No, there's a headwind, maybe he ought to club up a little.

Nishida is always a little nervous in a fight, at first. He's fairly terrified of his own strength (and, going by what the boss has told Aoyagi in private, he's right to be) and he's skittish about hitting anything with a central nervous system. Aoyagi, on the other hand, is not the least bit skittish about throwing hands (or golf clubs, or baseball bats, or whatever happens to be lying around that would hurt if he hit someone with it). Look, he's not the kind of guy that goes around busting heads just for funsies, but a) these guys started it, b), there are a lot of them, and c) Aoyagi is five foot five and Nishida has maybe two or three inches on him and all of these guys are well above their weight class and Aoyagi does not feel even the least little bit bad for the guy whose head he just broke his six-iron on. He considers going back in for a fresh beatin' iron. Nah, fuck it. This is almost a fair fight for Aoyagi and his bro, at this point.

Actually, no. It's not. It's skewing unfair in their favor, because now Nishida has gotten his jitters out and he's starting to enjoy this and that's always extra fun for Aoyagi and the opposite of fun for whoever they're beating on. Mostly because the guys they're beating on never realize how screwed they are until it's too late.

Aoyagi is, as we've mentioned, a little guy. And sure, he's pretty damn strong for his size and biology, but he's also smart enough to know that's only going to get him so far. The boss has told him, more than once, that he's not going to win the big fights with his fists, he's going to win them with his brain, and of course he's right about that. He does enjoy a good old fashioned slugfest now and then, but the strategic approach is a lot more fun and a hell of a lot more effective. He uses gravity and timing and surroundings to his advantage and really, when you think about it, all he's really doing is helping these idiots beat themselves up and that's fucking hilarious.

Nishida, meanwhile, just swings for the fences and that works fine for him.

One big lug comes charging at Aoyagi and Aoyagi drops his shoulder low, catches him right in the gut, and lets his low center of gravity and the dude's own momentum carry him over Aoyagi's shoulder and head-first onto the ground. He wraps a leg around just the right part of the guy's arm and gives a good solid yank at just the right angle and there's one more out of the fight. How many does that leave? Two or three, and they're all on Nishida. "Need a hand?" Aoyagi hollers as the guy whose shoulder he just dislocated runs off whimpering with his arm flapping around wrong.

He knows Nishida can take three guys on his own, but he also knows the numbers are just perfect for this fun little trick they cooked up. "Going up?" Nishida hollers back with a grin, and Aoyagi grins right back.

He takes off running towards his bro and the last of the goons and at just the right second, Nishida spins around, back to his enemies, bat held low and horizontal like a step. Aoyagi plants his foot right in the middle of it and cackles as Nishida launches him into the air. The goons stand there open-mouthed like they don't know what the fuck, and by the time they figure out what the fuck, it's too late for them to do a thing about it.

God, Aoyagi thinks as his knees and elbows send the three punks sprawling, this never gets old.

[zoronoas]

Omg hi! You are so funny on the post about the YouTuber who dresses like a girl! For your next bit can you shut the fuck up?

It’s so amazing how you whine about that as if not allowing people to dress however they want does in fact not help normalize gender expression. It’s not about him mocking trans people, where do you see that babe? Cause I sure don’t. Is he going “Oo trans women stupid look how stupid I am” ??

Sure he dressed up as a girl as a joke, but then hey! He continued doing it cause he liked it or fucking whatever, it’s literally not anyone’s business. Maybe he’s figuring something out, maybe he’s just having fun. Please show me where that gives you permission to get all whiny about someone doing something for fun. Seriously, helping to normalize gender expression and even further still, expression in taste of fashion means letting people do whatever they want because it’s not the goddamn dark ages .

It’s goddamn 2022, let people dress up however they want. If a guy wants to dress like a girl then good for him! I mean have you heard of fucking drag queens? Show me where any of this is your business and then maybe I’ll consider not throwing a bucket of crabs at your head. Otherwise please stop throwing around a bunch of terms that don’t apply, stop fucking whining and ruining the mood, and maybe like I dunno. Take a month to touch some grass and get in touch with the world around you, you returned-dollar-store-item version of a drama Twitter bitch.

He keeps dressing bc it gives him money lol same reason cis men actors take trans woman roles. not for gender experimentation lmao

put your pussy into debating me or jump off a cliff you coward <3