#because i want to be so dainty and feminine and little and seeing the number on the scale drop and my body get skinnier is so euphoric

[nosugarsweetener]

i have spent too long in denial. i am not the feminine girly girl i keep trying to be. no feminine girly girl continuously and viciously pines over the fact that she does not exude the same vibes as a rugged middle aged man that simply does not happen

#i am so unbelievably fucked in the head #because i want to be so dainty and feminine and little and seeing the number on the scale drop and my body get skinnier is so euphoric #and it’s not like i want to LOOK like a man #i simply want the vibes of one #i would cut off my left ring toe if it meant i could exude the same vibes as jon berenthal’s frank castle #or pedro pascal’s joel miller #i think this is a crisis true and proper

[yanderenightmare]

If this isn't allowed I'm super sorry, but could I request Enji with a (Male/GN) darling that's scared of him. Like he always thought Enji was super scary as a hero and now that they're captured, he can't even stand to be around Enji without shaking or crying.

YANDERE ! ENJI TODOROKI x MALE ! READER

This is not what you asked for… I’m sorry this is all just… absolute filth… I got too excited, hope you like, sorry if some of these themes are triggering

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, degradation, feminization, spit-fetish, Enji being an ass, yandere, profanity, abuse, anxiety, manipulation, misogyny

FEAR

He doesn’t know exactly how to explain what replaces Enji’s presence when he leaves for work in the morning. He wants to say that it feels good, that it’s a relief, but that would be a bittersweet lie that leaves him feeling guiltier than it should, because when Enji’s not there to fill the space of the giant mansion, all that’s left is cold tiles, soundless rooms, and somehow… a lack of safety. He thought about it while finishing cleaning the second to last room, dreading entering the next, knowing how he’d find nothing there, just more emptiness, just more stale unmoving shadows on walls, more cold, more void, more loneliness, more fear.

He needed to shower before Enji got home. Enji would bathe with him later in the day too, but it would be after… after they played. He’d been talking and teasing that very soon he was going to be doing more than just sucking cock. Yesterday, he was made to sit on Enji’s face for half an hour, all while Enji fisted his own cock furiously in the same beat he lapped at the tiny budding butthole so ripe for the taking on top of him. But, he hadn’t done it, he hadn’t pushed a finger inside, he had barely wormed his tongue into the hole, only made to suck on it, before pushing him off and down into the sheet so he could cum all over his pretty little face, his white thick seed running and mixing in with fat globs of tears. But today, he wasn’t sure if Enji would still spare him being impaled on his fat thick monstrous pole. The thought had him nearly whining as he removed his clothes, padding over the clean reflective cold marble floors to step into the shower that seemed so strangely massive without being filled with both himself and Enji’s intimidating build.

It was as though he could already feel Enji’s warm hands holding onto his hips, steadying him as he was sure he would be uncontrollably quaking. It was as though he could already feel it filling him up, lifting him off the ground, off his feet, hauling him up into the air.

He turned the temperature too high to imitate what heat Enji would emit when thrusting into him, the shower-droplets stinging on his reddening skin. It hurt, but he needed to prepare himself, only physically if not mentally. He wiped a hand up between his butt-cheeks, stroked a finger over his hole a couple of times, teased to see if he at all wanted to slip it inside. He whimpered upon facing the inevitable fact that Enji’s massive thick pole would soon push inside him, push all the way inside him, fill him up so snugly and painfully and inescapably, holding him still as he crammed himself inside, probably even chuckling that gruesome snicker when seeing how he would try and wiggle out of his death-grip.

Enji is too big for it to possibly feel good, it’d be too painful, too painful to feel anything else, except fear. Fear would always survive. Fear of choking to death on his cock filling up his tight throat, more so than the pain of it actually happening. Fear of the feisty flames licking his skin more so than realizing how they only tickle not sear. Fear of being trapped, so much so he forgets to humor the idea of running, of fighting, of saying no. Fear of how he was going to be impaled, split in two on the hero’s cock before the day let up.

His own size wasn’t bad, but probably not what one would call impressive. He wondered if Enji would ever ask for him to penetrate him in turn. If… perhaps he could bargain to do that instead of the other way around, but he knew that was a foolish thought. He didn’t want to touch it, even as he felt it twitch against his stomach, because he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to touch it while Enji fucked him. Instead, he pushed one finger inside the comfort of his ass, worming the digit inside the tight space, his forehead soon pushing against the shower-wall to steady himself while he tried to get deeper. It was nowhere near what would be happening later, he knew that, but with the thought, the imagery of what would no doubt be happing later, it still managed to make his toes curl. The thought of Enji’s large warm gravely hand coming to stroke up and down his cock while penetrating him from behind, the sounds of his husky gruff voice huffing and grunting into his ear, letting him know what a perfect little pet he is.

He felt ashamed, and so utterly confused. How come he still turned on, even with the amount of fear and trepidation that pumped the boiling blood through his system? Why wasn’t he pissing himself instead of standing there, fingering his own hole, fantasizing about how much pain he was going to be in later, and getting off on the fact? Was it true what Enji had said? Was he really a submissive little masochist that would soon be worshipping the ground Enji walked on?

The questions were answered as he felt himself explode all too abruptly onto the glass, seeing his cum splattered onto the dewy steamed wall, watching it run down, creating paths that were slowly being washed away by the ongoing spritz of the showerhead.

He made then to shave his chest first, then the rest, all the rest, everything except the hair on his head, he knew Enji wouldn’t be pleased with anything but perfection, and even though the razor nicked him in sensitive places he was still extra careful to not miss a single spot, going over the same area several times to achieve complete smoothness. He turned the water too cold to stop the bleeding and to ease what soreness and irritation had been awoken by the activity, muscles tensing and flexing under the pressure, thinking that perhaps the freeze would encourage getting dressed… though he doubted it.

He got dressed slowly, having to talk himself down from crying as he clasped the lacy white bralette on, dragging it into position even though it had no real position on his chest. Then the dress. Splayed out so prettily on the bed, Enji’s declaration. White and patterned with pink poppies, a real housemaid’s frilly skirt and sweetheart neckline and thin shoulder-straps and everything pretty and dainty and feminine, one that worked so perfectly as an underdress for an apron.

The dress was nice and all, nicer than most things he’d ever worn before, but the apron was a real work of art. Frills decorating the edges, sweet swirls and flowery embroidery working its way up the white cloth, still with white thread, looking handmade yet with precision and delicacy. The stocking matched to some degree yet not carrying the same ornate expensive-feel to them, also adorned with a frilly edge were the sock stopped mid-leg. The shoes were plain enough: white with an easy button-over contraption, only slightly high-heeled, yet high enough to make that clicking errand sound when he walked across the marble floors each time Enji rung his service-bell, calling on him from where he sat on his knees with his hands folded neatly in his lap, supposed to wait patiently at Enji’s every beck and call, even though the large man was only a few meters away with a voice that could easily reach him no matter which room he found himself in the mansion, Enji insisted on using the bell. Loving to see how the boy skittered to his feet, hands running timid fingers to smooth over the fabric of his apron, shoes clicking together at the heels. His wintry voice so fragile and scared half to death as he answers Enji’s steely cyan glare: “Yes, Daddy?” His eyes falling sullenly to the floor to watch the cute rounded curve of his glossy shoes instead of looking to meet the fiery yet ice-cold eyes of his captor.

He avoided the mirror, even though he knew he should look over himself one more time for Enji’s sake, or for his own. He was given no boxer, no underwear, no measly thong, nothing, and therefore was subjugated to walk the empty halls in his flowing skirt with the cold air wafting in between his legs, kissing his limp cock each time he made a swift step, his shoes clicking, clicking, clicking, like the clock counting down the minutes until Enji came home.

“Welcome home, Daddy.” He needed to force himself to smile. Crooked in its execution, broken, yet still a smile, a smile Enji was pleased with as he kicked off his shoes, even happier to see him bow down to pick the pair up and place them neatly in the stacked shoe-compartments, despite the stink of them being drenched in sweat after his day of patrolling. His cock was already growing heavy with hunger. “How was your da-” He wasn’t given the time to answer before Enji wrapped both his hands around his waist from the back, slotting his massive warm hard chest against what felt like his paper-thin back, but he didn’t need to be able to carry Enji’s weight as he did most of the lifting himself.

A gravely sigh erupted from the man’s chest, rumbling against the boy’s back. “It’s so nice coming home to someone so appreciative and sweet.” He mumbled up against his spine, nose gliding up his neck, followed by a heavy inhale, breathing in the scent of the shampoo he’d told him to use, seemingly content as he pushed his crotch better against his ass. “I’ve tried getting hard for that slut breeding-cow all month…” Of course, his little experiments. He was a good fuck, but he couldn’t carry children, and producing children, or rather heirs, was something Enji and his fucked-up need to be number one was obsessed with. “You should see her, fucking begging for my cock, like my cock is her god. Pathetic.” He was glad he didn’t have the ability to get pregnant. He could only imagine what those wives of his were feeling, so insignificant, only a means to an end… but… that was rather what he was too. “And you just look at me and my cock is already twitching.” He smelled him again, nose blaring, hands trailing over the fabric of his apron and dress to feel up his thighs, grabbing at them before guiding him out of the entrance and into the living room. “Strip.”

It seemed so unnecessary for him to even be wearing clothes at all when they always ended up on the floor, especially such intricate clothes as well that needed to be removed with elegance and not shaky unsure fingers like his. But that was rather the point. It was a show, he guessed as he reached behind his back to undo the bow of the apron. A rather clunky graceless strip-tease, he mused when the apron fell unceremoniously to the floor, the dress following shortly after.

That was it, he’d learned, the rest Enji wanted to do on his own. He couldn’t understand how a man could still look so intimidating even when on his knees removing his shoes. Large, large hands cupping the small clothed feet, unclasping the buttons and sliding them out of their enclosure. He left the socks on this time, they were going to be part of the show, them and the bralette, and nothing else.

“Bend, I want to see that perfect little ass of yours.” His voice would be casual if it weren’t for the dripping boiling-hot lust that stuck to his tongue as he spun his toy around and pushed him over the back of the white couch, liking how it was too tall to meet his hips for a proper bend and instead aided in lifting him up on the very tips of his toes. He licked his lips, tugging on the crotch of his pants.

Scorching fingers grabbed the ample flesh of his ass, kneading it up like dough before he felt the wet sludge off his tongue gliding a trail up his spine, only stopping once he came to his neck where he began kissing wet, so very wet, drooling kisses up behind his ear. Again, inhaling through his nose as his clothed cock nuzzled neatly between his presented ass, humping into the welcoming heat.

“You smell good, did you shower like I asked...” Asked? They both knew it wasn’t a request, but yet he nodded his head from where he felt the blood beginning to pool where he was resting on the sofa-cushions upside-down. “Such a good pet.” His hips curved into him so he pushed his bulge up into his plushie backside, hands rubbing circles into his midriff, pulling him back to meet his mellow thrusts. “Is your throat still sore from choking on my cock?” His fingers, laid steadily on the softness of the couch, bending to grip the surface in order to hold himself back from crying. “Answer when you’re spoken to, pet.” Enji sounded bored, slightly bitter as he pressed his growing cock harder into his breakable little hostage.

He felt the tears begin to fall despite his efforts. “Sorry.” He pipped, half his face now buried in the couch. “My throat is fine, thank you for asking.” Enji’s hand went back to carelessly wandering, instead of gripping his hips so harshly.

“Good, I’m glad.” The statement didn’t seem heartfelt. “Spread your legs. Give me your hands.” His suspicion was answered through the heartless commands, Enji didn’t care.

He moved his feet away as much as he could without losing contact with the floor, which wasn’t really far at all, but he guessed Enji would steer him into the right position when the urge fell over him. Letting go of his grip on the couch-cushions proved more difficult as he was left sinking even further into the plushie surface without any support, yet he still managed, bending his elbows to fold his arms on his back, making it easier for Enji’s massive hand to grip both his wrists at the same time.

“I’ve been looking forward to taking this ass for so long…” He groaned, his hand giving the ass a rough squeeze. “Perhaps that’s why that slut can’t get me hard anymore, since I know what a perfect little pet I have waiting for me at home.” It was as though he used the fat of his ass as a handle to pull him up, lifting him briefly off the couch before dropping him back down again, hearing him give a little yelp at the action, again causing him to groan in satisfaction as he bumped his erection into where it fit so perfectly between his ass-cheeks. “I’ve been waiting so patiently… and so have you.” Enji mused, as though the boy at his mercy was having any of the same cravings. “I think today is the day we both get our reward.” Enji pulled on his wrists, dragging him off the couch, his feet meeting the cold floors again and quickly yanked into Enji’s hard chest. “I know you’re excited, but let’s get you to the bedroom first.” He taunted when he gave another squeal, looking up to see Enji’s unforgivingly hungry cerulean gaze, having tears and fears and swirling panic brimming in his own. “Wipe those tears, you can comfort yourself with having your face stuffed, use my cock like a pacifier.” The comment did far from comfort him, instead evoking a whimper as he swallowed thickly in a way of suppressing the hiccup that wanted to hitch in his throat at the dark promise.

He must have blacked out or zoned out or something alike it as a form of preparing himself for Enji, for when he came to he was upstairs, already placed on the bed, on his knees, in front of a naked Enji and large thighs made up of pure muscle and scares, and hair. Then of course the centerpiece, Enji’s large intimidating cock standing proudly up against his ripped stomach, with its angry mushroom-shaped swollen head puckering right into his face.

Enji’s hand rubbed lazily over the tip, smearing what precum had already beaded in the slit. Yet, he wasn’t given too long to just stand and admire it as Enji’s other massive hand come up to grip the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his short locks to form a better hold, pulling him down to level with the beast, pushing him further, head mushed and buried to cuddle with the manhood. Enji’s hips leaning in on repeat to meet how his hand pushed his face against the sensitivity of his sex, balls slightly swinging up against his chin.

“Come on, use your tongue.” Enji didn’t waste any time, starting to pull at the roots of his hair in order to frighten him into obeying. He succeeded, as the boy opened his mouth and laid his tongue out flat to taste the salty skin it was pressed against. “Lick from the base.” Enji commanded and the boy listened, dragging his tongue up with the guidance of Enji’s hand steering the back of his head up the entire length of his cock. Pulling him slightly away from the activity, making the boy wince at the sharp stinging off his roots being yanked. Enji’s other hand gripping the base of the giant pole to tap it in a slapping fashion against the lips that seemed so welcoming and warm, the boy shutting his eyes allowing some more tears to drip from where they had been welling. “Open up.” He did as he was told, lips parting to accommodate for Enji’s weeping cockhead. “There you go, taste me.” He groaned as he pushed his head further onto his cock, traveling into his mouth, filling him up and prodding at the back of his throat. The boy knew better than to think he was any less than half-way done, yet he couldn’t hold back the reflex of gagging. Not that Enji paid any mind to the complaint, only placing his other hand to control his chin as he continued nudging himself deeper, sinking down his throat. “Come on, swallow all of me, I want to feel that cute nose buried in my belly with your tongue licking my balls.”

He tried relaxing his throat, choking his length and girth down and down, sniveling as he held back the urge to pull away, knowing how the hand Enji placed at the back of his head wouldn’t allow him to move anyway.

His eyes traveled backwards when the lightheadedness of being barely able to breath got to him, which was when Enji let up, freeing him as both hands took their leave from holding him steady. “Such a good pet, do as your told.”

He coughed into the bedsheets while Enji’s hand pet over his head, his own fingers tightly gripping the fabric beneath, knuckling the textile into his palm, trying to compose himself before his head was guided to look back up at Enji again, who seemed to tower over him even though the both of them were on their knees, though the boy was rather bowing for the giant red-headed man.

Enji’s fat fingers came to pry open his mouth, pushing past everything with little regard. “Suck these fingers for me.” Shoving the digits down his throats and fucking the soreness for a while before retracting them. “Spit in my palm.” He didn’t argue, unless the sniffling cough he gave were to be considered a protest, before spitting all the saliva his mouth had produced when being attacked by the mass that filled him up before. “Get back on that cock.” 

Again, he didn’t waste any time, adamant on making sure Enji knew that there was no need for him to be using his hands to force himself down his throat as he guzzled down on his length, bobbing up and down with his head, letting him kiss the back of his throat as he glugged with his lips forming a tight circle around his girth, using his tongue to slide out to cover what areas of his cock he couldn’t reach when swallowing him down at the pace he was going. Desperately trying to please the beast.

Enji gave no warning, pushing his fat digit into his puckering hole from where he was being such a good boy with sucking him down like he’d asked. Filling and stretching his little ass, dragging an adorable whine from his throat, a whine Enji received on his cock, the unrestrained voice giving nice little tremors to vibrate alongside his girth, settling somewhere at the tip of his cock before traveling down into his heavy balls, making him buck deeper into his face. “Wouldn’t want that cute butt to get lonely while I fuck this pretty face.” He explained, as he sank the finger even further into his ass, listening to him mewl a panicked whine around his cock, simply fucking even deeper into his face, hand clasping around the back of his head to better rut into his skull, finger roughly stretching out the tender tight muscles from behind.

He cursed gruffly once he let up, admiring as his pet drooled and spluttered to breath at the absence of his cock in his mouth, spit slobbering down his chin and landing in thick puddles dampening the bedsheets beneath them. 

“Look at me.” He whimpering as Enji once again grabbed a tight hold on his chin, rough fingertips planted into his cheeks, sliding in saliva as he forced him to look up, lifting him upright, so much so his hands needed to leave their station on the bed in favor of supporting himself against Enji’s chest or else he’d simply be held up by Enji hand like a noose. “Open that mouth up.” He did his best to comply with the demand with how his hand seemed to pressure his jaw shut, though he managed, having his cheeks squeezed and lips puckering like a duck out towards him, a perfect parted hole he could aim and spit right into. “Swallow that for me pet.” It came as a shock having Enji’s warm liquid shot onto his tongue but he quickly recovered, letting it slide down his jugular before he swallowed. “Good boy. What do you say?” He could feel him quenching his pride and all hopes of fighting back in the whimper that ran up beneath his fingers on his throat.

“Thank you, Daddy.” There was no spite in the words, just wholehearted defeat and surrender, and the potency of it all sprung right to Enji’s ego, making his attention-craving cock throb with neediness.

“Good pet.” Hand tightened around his throat to lift him even higher up to meet with his face, kissing his slick face roughly, stiff lips setting the motion, bloated lips following suite, before the hand around his throat once again took advantage of its power and threw him back down on his hands and knees. “Now finish your meal.” The statement held nothing but hungry cruelty, followed by a long blob of spit dripping slowly from his tongue onto his cock, sliding down its length. “Lick it up.” Unsure eyes looked up through stinging saltwater, finding no hint of mercy, encouraging him to do what he was told before earning himself a punishment. Mouth promptly taking the large cock into his mouth again, yet he felt the sting of a slap to his cheek all the same. “I said lick, not suck.” He resisted the urge to soothe the red stinging flesh of his cheek and did as he was corrected, tongue lapping up the underside of the angry cock in his face. “Yes… good… there you go.” He was praised, and though it made his stomach sink, he also felt relief, for at least praise was far away from disappointment and the punishment that followed such a resolution.

What followed was simply Enji’s rumbling groans and moans as his fingers played with the short locks of hair at the back of his head, somewhat steering where his head would go, how far away and how up close and personal, whether to suffocate him with cock or not. He compliantly slurped up and down his length with his tongue hanging out from his mouth, spit dribbling down his chin, down his neck, dropping to the bedsheets beneath them, before Enji groaned again, this time signaling that he was bored, hands yanking him away from the wet activity.

“Lie down on your back.” He wasn’t given much freedom to do so on his own as he was pushed down and kept down as Enji swung his leg over his chest where he laid beneath him, trapping face between his thick deadly hairy thighs, threatening to squish his head until it popped from the pressure. “Open your mouth up pretty.” He gaped, feeling the slick of Enji’s balls slide on his chest as he sat down on top of him, pushing much air from out of his breakable ribcage and the lungs beneath. Cock laid between his nipples, cockhead touching his chin. Again, a blob of his spit met his tongue, accompanied by a light playful slap against his cheek. “Keep it open.” He couldn’t hold up to Enji’s command as rough fingers pulled at his sensitive nipples, squeezing them and tugging at them through the thin lacy fabric of his bralette, rubbing on them, making him whine in discomfort, yet with his hands locked to his side underneath the contraption of Enji’s thighs, he was given no room to fight back. “So pretty.” Enji admired, tweaking the nibs tenderly as he rocked his hips forwards, cock sliding up and down his chest, balls squished against him, before he sat up again, kneeling with his cock and balls hovering over him, threatening to sit down and suffocate him while riding his face.

Enji gripped his cock and tugged it up and down to dance his balls on the pretty face beneath him, though the wet cavern he wanted to dip into shut into a thin line before he could.

“I said keep your mouth open.” He growled and the boy was reminded of the former command, promptly opening wide. “Tongue out, play with these balls, Pretty.” His tongue rolled out, at once met with the size of Enji’s nuts as they slid up and down his wet muscle. “You get to decide today: do you want a face full of cum or do you want me to fill that belly up?” He wasn’t given much air to retort with his mouth being filled with cock and balls, Enji’s hand resting on his forehead to keep him perfect and still for his manhood to abuse. “Come on, pick one.” He made him gag as he forced his entire pole down his throat, allowing him no chance to reply. “That’s fine, you can have both since you’re so spoiled.” Again, he stuffed his mouth with his balls, making him gargle and suckle on them, before he took his shaft in one hand and slapped the side of his face, liking how his eyes squeezed even tighter shut at the sharp contact. His face covered in spit and smeared with precum, slick and glossy, with pretty wet lashes. “Let’s paint that face first.” He slapped his face with the weight of his cock again, before placing it on the middle, balancing the slug on his lips and nose, resting between the bridge between his eyes, chin buried in his ball-sack. “Smile for me, smile for Daddy.” 

He forced on a broken uncomfortable smile where he laid beneath the brute man, eyes still kept shut. Enji smeared what oozing precum had breached his tip onto his lips, as though requesting him to open up, which he did, being met with the entire mass of his cock stuffing his mouth, tickling the back of his throat as he fucked into his face. 

“Swallow me down, Pretty. Stay right there.” He choked and gagged at the feel of him continuously pushing into the tight canal of his throat, yet wasn’t allowed to move as Enji’s hand still balanced his head by tugging at the hairs over his forehead, pushing him into place. He coughed and spluttered desperately once Enji let go, though was given minimum time to collect himself again before Enji gave another growling and ruggedly desperate command. “Smile.”  

He fisted his length in his palm, finger rubbing over the tip, pumping furiously into the face beneath him before thick ropes of white cream came shooting out of the tip, hot and wet and sticky when it landing all over his face, running down his cheek, into his mouth, letting him taste bittersweet salt on his tongue.

Enji continued rubbing himself, though slower now, eyes scrunched close as he held onto the euphoric feeling of exploding, feeling himself gradually and too quickly for his liking, coming down from the high, though as he opened his eyes and looked down at what pretty artwork he’d made on his pet’s face he found that he was far from finished.

“What do you say?” His hand’s movements were slow and calculating as he rubbed himself tenderly, without rush.

“Thank you, Daddy.” He hiccupped, relieved to get some rest even as the stench of Enji aided in his discomfort, feeling his stickiness begin to dry on his skin. The rest didn’t last long though as Enji’s cockhead bumped into his lips, demanding he open up to take him inside his mouth again.

“Clean the tip.” He sucked on the mushroom-head, tongue swiping up to clean out the weeping slit. “Such a hungry spoiled pet. Does Daddy taste good?”

He let go with a pop to answer, knowing it was better to just play along. “Mmh, yes, Daddy.” He kissed the head, strings of slime connecting his lips to the thick pole. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Enji reached his hand behind him to find the perky perfect nipples he played with before, pulling at the nib to retract an open-mouthed whine from the boy, allowing him full access to the welcoming wet hole. “Suck some more, get all your spit out on me, get my cock nice and ready for your little butt.” He felt him whine and whimper on his cock at the sound of his words, the panic feeling delicious as it came out like vibrations tickling alongside his length, settling in his balls as he once again fucked into his little face, with him having no chance of escaping, being trapped so perfectly between his thighs. But, his face had gotten used and abused enough, and it was high time he buried himself balls-deep in the no doubt tight hole of his ass and fucked him into a crippled stupid mess.

“Come on, up on your knees.” Strong hands grabbed his hips as he moved off of him, dragging him up into position before he even knew what was happening, with no strength of his own to support himself, falling face first into the pillow to rest, an agonizingly cute display to the man standing behind him, lining him up. “Little boy is gonna get his ass stuffed by Daddy.” He started to jerk himself off, holding his hip and pulling him close. The hand ascending to his mouth so that he could spit into his palm, gathering wetness before grabbing the limp cock of his pet in his massive warm hand, resulting in the boy jolting out of his resting pose, surprised by the sudden touch of his sensitive member. Though he was pushed back down again by Enji’s other hand, it having left his own cock leaving it to rest between his ass-cheeks. “No, no.” He scolded. “Posture, Babyboy, face down in your pillow.” The massive hand pet over his head, pressuring him to simply lie there and take it. “Get this ass up.” He corrected his stance by pulling his hip up into position, back arching like a cat stretching, ass pulled close into Enji’s crotch. “Hands on your back, give me those hands.” He fished for the limp arms, folding them behind his back, letting go once he was assured the boy knew to listen to the order. “Now spread those knees.” Enji took hold of his thighs and shuffled his knees further to the side, the boy feeling the wetness of cold spit on the sheets, as Enji continued stroking the cock between his thighs so lovingly and tenderly, rubbing over the sensitive tender velvety cockhead again and again, feeling him leaning back and shivering under the touch. “There we go, perfect.” The hand pressed against his back dragged down his spine slowly, before it stopped to cup the ample soft dome of flesh, his thumb swiping over the unprotected tight butthole, all ready for the taking, helpless and broken and all his. “Are you excited?” Enji shuffled back on his knees, giving a quick glance over the perfect ass in front of him to inspect the face that was neatly and snuggly squished against the pillow, happy to see the pretty concoction of fear, surrender and anticipation displayed on his face, just like a submissive pet should look.

He shuddered as he felt Enji’s warm breath on his ass, the exposed sensitive ring of tender flesh slightly burning at the feeling.

“No one’s ever taken this ass before, have they?” The statement was rhetorical as he already knew the answer and was instead a gesture made simply to gloat, as it was followed by a satisfactory hum and a set of warm wet lips pressing a sloppy kiss onto the puckering opening, hand still jerking his cock, having him shivering for him. “You’re all nice and ripe for me?” Another wet kiss was placed at the entrance, though this time the lips remained tightly locked, mouth sucking on the skin, tongue laid out flat as he dragged the rough rigid texture up over the hole, before poking through the sensitive rim, pumping the fat wet muscle in and out of the tightness. He let go with a smacking pop, lips quitting their suction.

His thighs were shaking by the end of it, his cock still held firmly in Enji’s hand, allowing him no room to move away, in fear he might just rip his dick off. Enji balanced his own cock between the perfect set of plump ass-cheeks raised up for him. Putting his thumb into his mouth before he once again rubbed it over the now wet hole, pushing through the tight rings of muscle to bury the digit inside. “So tight.” Came his rugged breath as he groaned, beginning to rock his hips forward while pulling the boy back to meet him by the thumb he had hooked inside him, his thighs meeting with the back of his ass, as his cock stroked through the crack, where large heavy balls clapped against smaller ones.

The thumb was removed, though not the hand handling his cock as he was left drooling into the pillow he was pressed against, his own hands going numb where he’d managed to keep them perfectly folded behind his back. Though the absence of the thick thumb was soon replaced, doubled even, as two fingers sank into the hole, promptly curling them, forcing him to whine like a cat, a moan so wet it stuck in the drool in his throat. He whimpered as the digits parted from each-other inside him, stretching him out, before pumping them in and out slowly, working the tightness.

Enji groaned at the sound of the boy’s measly whimpers, wet and pathetic, perfect. “I think your pretty ass is ready.” He gripped his cock, tugging on it up against his stomach, spitting onto the glistening wet hole presented to him, the one he was soon going to plant himself deep within. He slowly and carefully, taking his precious time, as though savoring it, lined his manhood up at the puckered opening, gently pushing his twitching cock into the back entrance, forcing a cry out of the smaller creature at his mercy. “That’s so tight…” He moaned, closing his eyes, focusing on the tight snug fit pressing around his cockhead, hugging him close. His fingers had definitely made it easier to enter, but it wasn't enough to make it easy by any means. “Does it feel good?” The tone was patronizing, as though he was talking to a child, looking over at the drooling mess he was burying himself inside, feeling his butt twitch around the fatness of his tip, as though sucking on it. “Want me deeper?” He started slowly sliding in inch by agonizing inch. Breaching each ring of muscles that surrounded his fat length. “All the way?” Watching as his hard sex disappeared into the ample ass until he was completely engulfed. The view alone had him pulsing inside.

One hand steadied the ass, making it easier to sink into place without any interruptions or split-second fearful protests, acting as a represent and fear-tactic, threatening to land a sharp painful smack against the soft flesh if he were to go against what Enji had made clear was going to happen one way or the other. The other hand had more or less the same purpose, where it laid slow attentive strokes to the unsheathed throbbing cock. Though as he bottomed out inside his ass, the hand moved from playing with the painfully tender pulsating pole in favor of fondling the balls at its base, gathering both his own and his pet’s in his warm palm and messaging them together before he slid slowly out of the clenching tight hole, enjoying the tremors that seemed to wreck though the frail body he had positioned in prayer-stance before him.

“You like that?” Enji purred, having pulled almost all the way out before pushing back inside the warm walls of his slave. “You like getting taken in your tight little ass?” He wasn’t necessarily fishing for any response, most likely the opposite, simply wanting to prove how right and good and perfect their dynamic was, how this is something they both wanted, both needed. “Nothing to say, pet?” He snickered as he once again stuffed him completely full with his cock, listening to the wet choked moans that were whined into the pillow beneath him. “Is my little pet enjoying himself that much, is my cock that good?” He picked up the pace, only a little, rocking faster, fast enough for his balls to begin swinging to hit the other pair of balls it met with each soft thrust. “Tell me how good my cock is.” The hand steadying him squeezed the plush doughy flesh, a pain sharp enough to bring him to his senses, allowing him to formulate what words he knew Enji wanted to hear.

“Fe- feels good, Daddy, thank you Da- Daddy, feels so, so goo- good.” He croaked, face hugging the pillow close, buried in the fluff of it, the plush sucking up what drool seeped from out the corner of his mouth, and what tears spilled down from the corner of his eyes. The cover wet and sticky and itchy against his skin as he rocked softly further into it each time Enji filled him up and pushed him down.

“That’s right.” Enji drawled with a smirk, gorging at the submissive wet mess he had wrapped around himself. “And you thought you were scared.” He chastised. “When we both knew you were just hungry.”

#yandere #yandere todoroki #yandere enji todoroki #yandere enji x reader #yandere enji #yandere todoroki enji #enji thirst #bnha enji #enji todoroki #todoroki #bnha todoroki #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia

[fletchphoenix]

Little Secret

Okay this is chapter 9 of the High School AU

PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION - TW for an attempt at s**c*de, s*lf h*arm and some other morbid shit. please don’t read / skip over the italics if you aren’t comfortable reading about those topics. Please. This is more of a vent piece as well but please be careful.

I love you all so so much.

As Hugo left, Varian let himself lay back on his bed and let out a huff. Wincing at the constricting feeling in his chest, he changed into his pyjamas and laid back in bed. Ruddiger, ever the saint, sat beside his head and let out gentle noises to soothe him, nuzzling his cheek against the boy’s as he calmed him enough to settle into a deep sleep.

----------------------

Teardrops dripped from his eyes and onto his phone as his breath shook with each inhale and exhale he took. Blue light from the screen stung the already teary eyes, the hurtful words that looked back at him instead of his reflection on the screen made the suffering even worse. His throat burned as he swallowed down acidic bile and his shoulders shook. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes away as the shock of the situation finally set in and his hand flew to his stomach, his gags finally ceasing after a few minutes.

He was well aware of the blood that rolled down his arm, indents from fingernails also stinging and buried deep into the pale, freckled skin that now had an ugly coat of scarlet that concealed them from his view. It ran down onto the bed steadily, not even ceasing as it still continued to run and flow across the expanse of skin and pool onto the sheets. They were red anyway. It fit right in, only a slightly deeper red than the covers.

Raising his head, he looked into the mirror - a true sight to see. Rather than a sight for sore eyes, he looked like something that would make someone gouge their eyes out. He wouldn’t blame them either. He felt like a freak, the weight of his secret almost crippling in his brain. Everything looked wrong about him - the way his hips jutted out too much for a boy, his overly feminine face, his chest...he wanted to rip that off. The material that constricted it made it almost hard to breathe every day, his chest heaving as he knew he had it on for too long, but he couldn’t risk taking it off. He just couldn’t.

Quirin had lost it when he found the last one, so buying a new one would be...too difficult. Well, as soon as the man had found out Varian’s secret, he’d lost it on the boy. Told him he’d ‘never be his son’ and refused to even look at him for a few days. He hated it when he cut his hair, even though he’d always kept it at a moderate length to keep Quirin happy. Well, if Quirin wasn’t going to call him his son, he wasn’t going to call him father.

What he hadn’t anticipated was this.

He only told one person his little secret. His almost deadly secret that he couldn’t risk getting spread because he’d already been transferred from Old Corona High to Saporia High, Old Corona apparently not being ‘good enough’. He’d left behind all his friend, everyone he’d ever cared about was gone and he wasn’t going back. 

He met Andrew in his first week and almost instantly they’d bonded. They bonded over thinking the Corona High students were snobs and didn’t even deserve the air they breathed. He’d told Varian that everything he did was great and encouraged him to do more. He cared for Varian when his father was being difficult and had wiped away countless tears. He’d been there for him no matter what. 

So he told Andrew his little secret.

He’d told Andrew. Andrew swore he wouldn’t tell anyone. Well, he swore until Varian befriended Rapunzel and her husband, Eugene. He didn’t even know he hated the pair, oblivious to the fact until Andrew had forced him to stop talking to them just the other day. Obviously he’d refused - why wouldn’t he? Rapunzel and Eugene cared for him. They loved him.

And so Andrew told everyone. Everyone in Saporia High knew his little secret, which is definitely not what he needed in a school that was almost built on republican values. It ached and pulled at his heart as he threw his phone across the room, it banging against the wall and he could swear he heard the shattering of the screen. It didn’t matter though anymore - not as if his father would have to fix it.

He rose to his feet. He had some business to attend to.

The burning returned as shaky legs dragged him towards the bathroom, fists clenched and locked himself in there, the tears still rolling down his cheeks. He felt too warm all of a sudden, sweat gathering and forming beads along his eyebrow as he heaved for breath and a pain spread and blossomed throughout his chest. He’d closed his eyes as he pulled off his shirt before he opened his eyes and stared at the binder that covered his chest. He wasn’t right. He didn’t know why he was born the way he was. The still shaking hands raised to open the glass cabinet in front of him as he took out two containers of pills. If he wasn’t gonna be listened to, he’d make them hear him.

The next time he woke up, all he heard was the persistent beeping of a monitor. A heart rate monitor. He remembered that from when his mother was in hospital. His vision was still blurred as he looked around the room, faces of doctors with masks and nurses opening doors appearing first, then the face of a familiar blonde rushing to his bedside as soon as the aforementioned door was even the slightest bit open. 

“Rapunzel.” He coughed, forcing a smile onto his features. Everything ached. His stomach ached. He let out a wheezy cough as a dainty hand was raised to press against his cheek, the touch welcome and spreading a cooling touch against his skin. He felt too hot. Far too hot. He assumed that was normal, the humid air of the hospital being uncomfortable. The place was too sterile as well, too uniform.

Distantly, he heard screams of ‘Vivian! I want to see my daughter!’. Quirin. He raised his head from the comforting hand pressed to his cheek and dread filled his stomach. “Please don’t let him in.” He gulped, Eugene moving away from the bedside to stand in front of the door and help the staff holding the man back.

 Rapunzel gripped his hand, a poor distraction as Eugene stopped Quirin from entering. “Oh Varian, we were so worried.” The soothing tone of the woman replied, the yelling outside ceasing as Eugene took a glance over. In fact, Lance and the girls were there as well as Cassandra and her girlfriend. A sad smile graced his features as he leant into the hand resting on his face and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“...And for as long as I live, you’ll never see him again!” The finishing yell of Eugene declared as the door to his room slammed shut and he rushed to his side, giving a silent nod to Rapunzzel. “Kid, you’re living with us. I’ll go get all your stuff and whatever you need, I just...fuck, kid. You should’ve told us sooner. We could’ve helped you, V. We didn’t know it was...that it was that bad. I just...fuck. I'm so sorry, Varian. I’m so sorry.” He explained, very clear tears welling in the man’s eyes as he apologised profusely to the boy.  

By the end of the week, Eugene and Rapunzel had helped him move out and set up his room in the attic of their house. He didn’t want to be an inconvenience to them, but the couple seemed to welcome him with open arms as they took him away from Quirin. They’d also arranged for him to start at Corona High instead, having helped him legally change his name to Varian. No one would know other than the teachers.

Thank god.

------------------------

Varian woke up with a start, sitting up and wheezing. Oh, that was right. Hesitantly, the boy gripped at the sheets before removing his shirt and the binder residing under it before putting the shirt back on again. Rapunzel had always been sure to tell him when he had to take it off, ever the observant. She’d also always been the one to tell him to take his hormones. He knew she and Eugene loved him even after he came out.

But would Hugo? Well, that was a whole different story but...fuck it.

His fingers drifted to pick up his phone. 2:37am. He took a deep breath. He was sure Hugo would still love him either way, even if he wasn’t a biological boy. He was still Varian and he was still the boy Hugo fell in love with. Inner turmoil filled him as he let out a determined breath and dialled his number before raising the phone to his ear. There was no going back.

“Sweetheart, what’s up?” The raspy voice on the other end asked. God, he sounded amazing. Guilt still settled in his stomach as he took a large gulp. Shit, he was calling Hugo at 2am. They had school tomorrow and he’d probably woken the other up. Oh fuck, he’d certainly hate him now- “Baby, you gonna talk? I’ve gotta finish this level on-”

“I’m trans. Well, I was a girl. But I’m a boy. Well, I was never really truly a girl, I’ve always felt like a boy and I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve always been a boy but I have a girl’s body and I thought you should know.” He stuttered out, silence meeting him on the other end of the phone. He facepalmed mentally, wanting to just curl up and die. Was he really this awkward? Why couldn’t he have just been normal and told Hugo face to face. ‘Hello my ridiculously handsome boyfriend, I’m transgender and I hope you love me!’

“Oh..” The other finally said. Varian could tell he was carefully choosing his next words, he could practically hear the cogs in his head turning in the deafening silence. “Well, I still love you and that isn’t gonna get rid of me, V. But thanks for telling me. You’re still my amazing boyfriend and I don’t love you any less.”

“Thanks Hugh. Sorry, I’ll let you finish your game. I uh-I love you. Goodnight.” He replied, hanging up and setting his phone aside as he stared at the ceiling. Hugo didn’t care. Hugo still loved him either way. A warm feeling filled his chest and a goofy grin took over his features as he slowly, but surely, fell into a deep and very happy sleep.

#varian tangled #tangled varian #varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #tangled hugo #hugo x varian #hugo tangled #varian x hugo #tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure

[artsybanchou]

I’m a big fan of 80s/90s anime and Ranma 1/2 played a big role in my childhood. The premise has sooooo much food for thought when it comes to looking at gender and specifically the performance of gender. I’m about to get INTO it, so, here’s your warning-- read more is a ramble. (LONG ramble)

Oh ho ho ho! WELCOME TO MY HELL!

Aight, so let me set the stage for you-->

Two people, who should not be parents, have a kid. The father, Genma, a fairly successful martial artist, takes their just-born son on a training journey without consulting the mother. By training journey, I mean that they travel all over the world with little to no money, either stealing from or scamming people in order to make sure they can eat, under the guise of training the son, Ranma, to become the greatest martial artist of the “Anything Goes” school of martial arts. One of the most frequent scams the father pulls is promising his son’s hand in marriage to various families in exchange for a dowry before running off with both his son and the dowry, never to be seen again. This-- inevitably-- comes back to bite them in the ass. But more on that later.

We don’t get to see a lot of Ranma’s childhood on the training journey, just the occasional incredibly horrific flashback to something that would become a national incident were it to happen in the real world. For example, at one point in time, his father finds a Chinese pamphlet of an ~ancient lost Chinese art~ that is INCREDIBLY POWERFUL!!!!! wow! It’s called Neko-ken. So he decides to teach his six-year-old this technique, although he can’t actually read Chinese so he does it based off the diagrams-- which detail a process of collecting a good number of cats, starving them for a few days straight, and then tossing his son, covered in fish sausages (possibly tied up, can’t remember), into the pit to fend for himself (and not be eaten alive) for hours on end. Surprise, surprise, Ranma comes out incredibly traumatized and with an intense fear of cats (something his father would’ve seen coming if he was able to read Chinese as the pamphlet says that someone would have to be crazy to try to teach someone this technique and that it causes severe psychological damage-- also could’ve been avoided if his father had any common sense or fatherly instincts, but hey that’s just asking too much of Genma). This is not the result his father wanted, so he tries to “fix” it by doing the exact same thing multiple times, just with different cat foods wrapped around his son because... I genuinely don’t know what his thought process was but yeah. So that’s just a tiny snapshot of what his childhood was like as well as how much of a massive idiot his father was. And since Ranma never interacted with his mother, guess who had the greatest influence in his development (yay........). (save him) (also this is based off my memory from watching the anime YEARS ago, so some small details might be wrong but the big, overarching “his dad is a terrible person” thing is still very much true even if some of these smaller details aren’t)

When Ranma is a teenager, his father brings him to a Chinese training ground full of cursed springs. The tour guide repeatedly tries to explain what exactly this place they’re visiting is, but the father and son pair are two hard-headed idiots and get right to sparring. Ranma knocks his father into a spring pretty quick only to be caught off guard when his father reemerges from said spring as a panda and grand slams our protagonist into another one of the cursed springs. Our manly man martial artist protagonist emerges from this spring as a dainty, busty teenage girl. /The horror./ The panic from both Ranma and his father’s deeply shaken fragile masculinities gives the tour guide enough time to reveal that they had fallen into the cursed springs of the drowned panda and the drowned girl (one guess who fell into which one) and that anyone who falls into a cursed spring will take on the form of the life form that drowned in it. They can return to their original bodies by being splashed with hot water but, from now on, every time they’re hit with cold (or even apparently lukewarm) water, they’ll change into these new cursed forms.

Now, I’m sure you all saw this coming from the type of man that Ranma’s father is based on everything I’ve said so far, but Genma is the worst(TM). So Genma is all, “no SON of MINE can be a GIRL! >:((((((” and Ranma, who has been raised for his entire conscious life by this man, and only this man, is also very much not Okay(TM) with this because he’s a man, a manly fighting man who was raised to be the manliest of fighting men who fight. He can’t be a GIRL. 

Except he totally can. Because these two start taking advantage of Ranma’s feminine body pretty much immediately in order to continue running scams so that they can eat and whatnot while traveling. Of course, Genma constantly shames Ranma by saying things like, “I can’t believe my son is such a failure of a martial artist, being a girl! I’m so ashamed!” and whatnot at every opportunity but especially when they are in an argument and Ranma is winning or if he needs Ranma to do something for him. He frequently manipulates his son by using this kind of guilt-tripping language as though it’s Ranma’s fault that his body is like this. Nevermind that they both frequently profit off of Ranma’s female body for scams, Genma still puts Ranma down for having it and Ranma internalizes that because he’s 15 and his father is the only person he’s ever known.

And I’m sure we all hate Genma now, as we should, because fuck Genma. What kind of woman would ever marry Genma? (And we assume a woman is married to Genma because how could a man this bigoted do anything other than marry a woman all traditional and whatnot). If only Ranma wasn’t taken from his mother so young. Maybe he would’ve turned out a better person~ Well, uh, bad news, lads :/  So, by the time we meet Ranma’s mom in the series, we’ve known most of these characters for a chunk of time. It’s already quite well established how terrible of a human being Genma is. Ranma may or may not have started the episode out admitting he doesn’t know much about his mom after being asked about her. A standard set-up. I don’t quite remember all the details of the episode, only the important things-- here’s the important thing: Genma’s wife, Nodoka, made Genma swear something to her before he took their toddler on a training journey all around the world. He had to raise Ranma to become “a Man among Men” (and we’ll talk about how she defines manliness) and, if he failed, then both he and Ranma must commit seppuku. 

Yeah, that's right. 

If her son isn’t enough of a man by her standards then he has to commit ritual suicide.

Her son who now transforms into a girl every time he is touched with at least a ladle’s worth water that isn’t steaming.

(hey have i mentioned save Ranma yet? save him seriously)

Her definition of manliness? All the shit the misandrists of tumblr swear is the inherent evils to all men. She thinks her son needs to be unapologetically forceful in /all/ he does. Especially in his romantic forays :///// (yeah this is going where you think it is)

When she does decide he isn’t manly enough (because Ranma was being sexually harassed by an old man who forcibly put him in a sailor outfit, no im not kidding, happosai, said old man, is a whole other element of the show that like holy shit) and tries to get him to commit seppuku, the solution the cast comes up with is to have Ranma “peek” at (his friend? girlfriend? fiance? frenemy? roommate? it’s weird-- technically they’re the two romantic leads but their chemistry is like -5 because she constantly physically hits him for things that really aren’t his fault and just ://) Akane while she is bathing and that will prove his manliness to his mother so that he doesn’t have to literally die. Will having Ranma be a fucking voyeur prove his manliness to his mother, you ask? Yep. This is Manly(TM) and so Ranma gets to live another day. Yay. Once again, molestation saves the day. (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa) All of this is played off as a joke, for the record. No character is really acknowledged as being “a bad person” for any of this behavior-- not molester Happosai, not trying-to-kill-her-own-child Nodoka, etc. 

So these are the people who made Ranma. Who shaped this kid with the ability to spontaneously switch between male and female bodies (presuming he has water on hand). Also, obviously, Genma had more influence seeing as Ranma never saw his mother between the ages of two and (I think) 16(?), but. regardless, these are the people who shaped his understanding of gender. For all intents and purposes, our lad should be such a pressure cooker of toxic and fragile masculinity that he just about commits seppuku himself every time he ends up in his female body. 

But he doesn’t. In fact, Ranma is largely comfortable in his female body as long as his father isn’t trying to hold said body against him (wait did that come out wrong?). Ranma has no hesitations taking on his female form for something as little as a discount on ice cream. He makes the statement, “when it comes to eating out, being a girl is the only way to go”-- because he’s able to get an extra scoop for being “cute”

There’s a scene very early on in the series about exactly that which has always stuck with me. It opens with Ranma in his female body at a cafe with Akane and they both order fancy ice cream parfaits. Ranma is extremely excited and exclaims, “I’ve always wanted to try one of these!” 

Akane replies with, “don’t tell me you’ve never had ice cream before.”

And Ranma proceeds to explain that he’s never had ice cream like /this/ because it would be too embarrassing for a guy. When Akane asks if he isn’t embarrassed now, happily shoving huge spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth, he responds with, “hey, I’m a girl now. It don’t count.” Akanes shoots back with a “REAL girls don’t eat like that” (because our lad is eating with such gusto-- he’s living, he’s thriving, he is demolishing that parfait and there is ice cream all over his face) 

He goes, “I’ll eat it however I want.” And then finishes the whole thing off and proclaims that he wants to order the chocolate one next.

Moments like that were the ones where I loved the show the most. We can see Ranma’s insecurities about his masculinity (thank you /soo/ much for that genma) in that he isn’t willing to perform an ‘unmanly’ action in public in his male body. He can’t be *seen* eating girly ice cream. But when he is admonished for not living up to feminine standards in his female body (eat more daintily), he just goes, ‘i’ll do what i want’. Young me really resonated with that, being born with a female assigned at birth body and growing up in Texas. 

It feels like there’s a trans narrative buried in the steaming hot mess that is this work by Takahashi Rumiko-- and it is abundantly clear that was never her intention so I wouldn’t exactly recommend trying to give her an award or anything. She said that she wanted to write a work with a male main character but was so worried about how many male readers she had, she made the decision to make (as she described) a half-male half-female main character (essentially so she could have her cake and eat it too if you will-- all the self aggrandizing fantasies of a male protagonist her male readers could imagine themselves as along with a copious amount of fan service-- the great majority of which was at Ranma’s unwilling expense in his female body which like ://////// (remember that old man I mentioned before??)--  with the female protagonist body). And, like, I’m not saying Takahashi Rumiko is a terrible person or anything-- I don’t know what her beliefs are, I only know her works which are quite old at this point. Takahashi Rumiko is a big deal in the mangaka world because she was one of the first big shonen mangakas who was openly a woman. Normally, men wrote shounen (which literally translates to boys) manga and women wrote shoujo (which literally translates to girls) manga-- the genres were literally divided along gender lines in terms of their intended audiences but also, to a certain extent, their creators. If a woman wanted to write/draw shounen, usually she had to use a pen name that sounded fairly masculine in order to not impact the perception of her work. Takahashi Rumiko was working in that environment so I would understand why she’d want to be careful but, at the same time, I still kind of hate a lot of the things that she normalizes in her works. Especially assault. Both physical and sexual assault she constantly used as a punchline. Not as much anymore. Her most recent work I’ve read was Rinne and the punchline with that one was that the male lead is super poor, literally penniless, and is constantly starving so hahahahha humor amirite? Pain being funny seems to be her through line now that assault is off the table. At least he isn’t constantly getting whole ass tables thrown at him by his love interest as though that’s supposed to be a cute relationship dynamic (Akaneeeeeeeee). I digress. Takahashi Rumiko’s works played a big fucking role in my childhood from Ranma to Inuyasha to Lum (which I encountered well into my teens and therefore didn’t jive with at all because I’d finally learned sexual assault =/= funny and this was one of her more dated works) and so on and just--  I don’t know if I can watch her older stuff the same way I used to. I’m scared to try, honestly. Because some of the ideas behind her works are so interesting-- like Ranma 1/2-- but then you have to sit through episode after episode of a teenage boy in a girl’s body being sexually assaulted by a remorseless old man only to try to fight back at which point he is physically assaulted but also he still has to grovel to and respect said old man because he’s his father’s master and therefore he has to learn martial arts from him but the old man is constantly wagering Ranma having to pose for him in incredibly skimpy outfits if Ranma wants to learn literally anything and alsso RANMA IS FUCKING FIFTEEN/SIXTEEN JESUS CHRIST IS THERE NO FUNCTIONING ADULT ANYWHERE IN THE VVICINITY SAVE HIM!

I NEED TO DIGRESS

It feels like there’s an unintentional trans narrative buried in this anime. It’s not a fun one (but most trans narratives aren’t either so). This is a boy who knows he’s a boy-- even when his body disagrees. He frequently asserts that “he’s a boy” even when in his female body because he is. He’s a boy. He’ll reference being a girl “in appearance” like with the ice cream parfait scene earlier, but when it comes to identity statements, he’s always a boy. This narrative is about him navigating gender presentation and societal assumptions in order to live however he wants. He’s constantly contending with his own forms of gender dysphoria, whether that be his own gripes about doing anything unmanly (eating ice cream) or the very real threat of his mother fucking killing him if he does anything unmanly (aaaaaaaaaaaa), and he navigates tons of threats by choosing how he presents himself.

There are characters that are in love with the male “version” of Ranma and want to kill the female “version” of Ranma (who, for the record, goes by the name Ranko) and vice versa. The Kuno siblings are a great example. Kodachi is in love with Ranma (and is not above literally fucking using date rape drugs on him to get to him) and wants to fucking kill Ranko whereas Tatewaki Kuno, her brother, is in love with Ranko (the lovely pigtailed girl, he calls her) and has literally sent assassins after Ranma. Ranma essentially has to choose between being sexually assaulted or physically assaulted every time he runs into either of them in terms of what body he is presenting. 

I feel like I should let you know, ye who have actually read this far, that Ranma is able to protect himself pretty well from the assault. Like, our boy ain’t dead. Later on he literally fucking kills a god because he’s really passionate about martial arts so he puts all of himself into it and god damnit does his effort show but, honestly, his ability to protect himself shouldn’t mean that it is okay to assault him. Assault is assault. And just because he can fight back doesn’t mean he always does. Akane, his main love interest, regularly sends him through roofs and across town with the force of her Up + B (aka magically appearing hammer), usually for things that aren’t his fault in any way. Akane actually came to the conclusion that Ranma was a pervert when she (fully dressed) walked in on him (naked because he was in the bath) even though the bathroom was obviously occupied. She constantly gets mad at him for things that are beyond his control and then takes her frustrations out on him by literally beating him up and he never fights back-- which is admirable of him but also made me never want to root for their relationship because that isn’t a red flag, my dude, that’s a red planet. the whole of mars is out here trying to warn everyone that this relationship is the most toxic thing since RoundUp.) 

Usually, when watching a show, you get really invested in the character’s aspirations. You want them to ‘get the girl’, ‘get the promotion’, ‘become the pokemon master’ and whatnot. All I ever wanted for Ranma was for him to fake his own death and run far, far away from everyone who ever knew him as “Ranma”. He’d have to fake his own death, obviously, because otherwise his father and Happosai would track him down because, for his father, Ranma is a walking meal ticket and, for Happosai, Ranma is a teenage girl he can sexually assault at any time. Those two would chase Ranma to the ends of the earth if they thought he was trying to get away from them so--

Ranma. Help him.

There’s so much more to dissect with this show. It’s kind of accidentally a great way to look at gender presentation, especially all the terrible negatives that come with constrained gender roles. I use He/Him pronouns when talking about Ranma because it is abundantly clear that he sees himself as a man and I respect that. Sometimes nonbinary-me is like, but think what a gender-fluid icon our boy would be-- literally switching perceived genders via fluids-- and I think that version of Ranma would be a lot happier than the canon one but, I think the canon Ranma is an important reflection of what a lot of people go through, cisgender, transgender, and beyond, when trying to parse what it means to present a gender and the roles you’re supposed to play. 

Maybe Ranma can go on a journey of self-discovery with his own gender after faking his death and escaping Nermina. 

I was all over the place writing this but this isn’t an essay and I’m not being graded so ha fuck you (excpet no not really fuck you because you either a) read this whole thing or b)scrolled down to the bottom to see if i’d get to the fucking point already-- which for the record, I don’t really-- and either way it means you were a little curious what I had to say so thanks I guess). None of this is exceptionally well-thought-out. I wouldn’t exactly stamp this with any kind of official gender discourse seal. It’s all just food for thought. 

#my art #ranma 1/2 #dont click read more seriously youll regret it #i just ramble for a really long time about nothing #technically about ranma and gender #save ranma jesus chrsit he doesnt deserve all the bullshit

[toongrrl-blog]

Pink Power Rankings (Pt. 1)

Hi I am here to look at famous pink outfits in film and TV history and figure out: is pink a power color for this character? I choose to leave out obvious ones like Pink Power Ranger because, duh it’s in her name and this is gonna be a long list. Also avoiding real-life figures and onscreen depictions of real life figures because keeping it short (and I don’t have the time)

Pictured above are the bridesmaids at First Daughter Luci Baines Johnson’s wedding in the 1960s. 

Mimi Tachikawa

She is the most obvious pick from Digimon and the girl most decked out in pink. To paraphrase this video from The Take: there was once a show about a strange world beyond our own, somehow a group of preteens were pulled into this world not of their accord, including a young 10 year old girl. Along with her friends they were exposed to the elements and fought monsters out to harm them, she was sexually harassed by two clearly adult digimon, uncomfortable with the elements, often had to put up with toxic masculine BS, and was often snarked at by the story and even some of her own friends for being so girly and into pink. Of course some audiences and the story were overcome with sympathy with this girl pulled away from a familiar world...

Just kidding! They weren’t and some audiences even gave her a lot of shit and this has only been recently examined. For a while Mimi Tachikawa had a problem that seemed to be well known by a lot of female characters, like Carmella Soprano, Betty and Megan Draper, Margaret Sterling, and yes Skyler White. Put a flawed, complicated woman character alongside more charismatic (and male) characters and she will be disliked (despite the audience being more likely to be she than the menfolk held up as icons). 

This is sad because looking back, Mimi was truly a badass all along: she sticks up for herself, speaks up for herself, she is unapologetic about her love of pink and girly things, she is quick to tell guys when they are getting in her space, she’s honest, she lets Tanemon go on and fight with only a sincere question if she really is going to while the others hold their Digimon down, she stands up against the Numemon who were harassing her and her friends, and she was funny as hell. Sadly it took a long while for fans to grow up but many of us, especially girls, reclaimed her as our own. It also helped that Mimi came before girly icons like Elle Woods, Leslie Knope, and Joan Holloway and also before the boom in Gen X and Millennial women contributing to comedy and starting their own stand-up specials and movies and TV.

Power Ranking: 10, all because she held her own, no matter the haters and was glad to see us no matter how odd. 

Karen Wheeler

Another complicated lady, this time older and from the 1980s. This is Karen Wheeler of Hawkins, Indiana whose children are off on their own adventure. She is trying to tap into her sexual power here. It’s dicey because the man in question is a young man and she is a unhappily married affluent housewife in the suburbs; she agrees to meet him at the motel for “private swimming lessons” and does herself up in a way inappropriate for swimming lessons (in Scarlet Letter Red to boot!), only to be stopped by the sight of her lazy husband sleeping on the Laz-E-Boy with their youngest child Holly on his chest. This season sees Karen open up to her two older children over the patriarchy and saying goodbye to a best friend and girlfriend after confessing his love for her.

Power Ranking: 6, because her sexual power was on shaky ground and only based on her looks and attention from a man but she shows some character development that season. 

Nancy Wheeler

This look was a game changer, but Nancy is no stranger to pink and preppiness. Here she is wearing an outfit that recalls the postwar “Boyfriend Shirt” from Brooks Brothers for the female collegiate set and it’s updated with long loose but pinned hair and designer (or mock) jeans. In this outfit she goes monster hunting with her younger brother Mike’s best friend’s older brother and Nancy’s classmate, Jonathon Byers and squares off with slut-shaming police officers and a mother who chastises her for lying about her whereabouts and losing her virginity while Nancy’s best friend Barb Holland is missing and she also tells off boyfriend Steve for trying to cover his ass by not participating in the police investigation. This is the look (which can easily double as office wear) when you want to go straight from school where you have an impeccable GPA to monster hunting in your neck of the woods to find the whereabouts of your best friend and for fighting the patriarchy. 

Power Ranking: 8, this is a girl on the move as we can see with her rolled up sleeves. 

Eleven

The Iconic Look, the look where she made a boy wet his pants, found two missing kids, broke a bully’s arm. The Polly Flinders dress would alter the way we see girls in dainty pastel pink dresses. 

Power Ranking: 10, can you do all that without touching someone?

Barb Holland

The most tragic look for this was the sweater that Barbara Holland (1967-1983) wore when she was taken by the Demogorgan and killed. This was the look where she was the recipient of a wet willie from a boy who looked down on her and her best friend who was dating his popular friend, the look where she accompanied her best friend reluctantly to the popular boy’s party, and where her friend turned her back on her concerns. This is the look of a passive and traditional (to her detriment) femininity. She did gain a huge following who cried foul over her fate. 

Power Ranking: 4, points up for the fandom and devotion but she wasn’t empowered. 

Erica Sinclair

That was depressing, let’s go to the girl who embodies America: Hawkins resident wise-ass, the girl who kept her observations and words as tight as her corn rows, and her planning as precise as her perfectly well done baby hairs (Black readers, feel free to correct me as I document her fabulousness), My Little Pony nerd and Economics wonk, and American Heroine. Erica sassed her way into Stranger Things with a raised eyebrow and a lusciously girly girl wardrobe that stands out and fits in with her Midwestern environment. She’s no stranger to pink and she commands attention and the best service at Scoops Ahoy and manages to get several ice cream dishes for free (the most elaborate ones) before getting in on finding the secret Soviet military base. Girlfriend manages to deal with teenage shenanigans, assassins, creatures from another world, near-death experiences, almost being captured by foreign enemies and the most awkward sing-a-long ever. She doesn’t seem to have lost her child-appropriate enthusiasm for games even when telling off old balding men for getting her age right.

Power Ranking: 10, you can’t spell America without Erica

Joan Holloway

Pink is an appropriate color for the resident femme intellectual of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, it shows that Joan is willing to defy “the rules” of fashion for redheads (she also wears red) and it ties into her 1950s persona of the bombshell who is trying to get married to a man who’d move her out to the upper-middle class suburbs and she wouldn’t have to work. That was Joan at the beginning: over time she started to own her natural independent streak and her willingness to buck expectations of her based on her gender and looks but also deals with the same men who ogle her, disrespecting her intellect, her hard work ethic, and even her body (fuck you Greg Harris). In this fuchsia number (still in the pink family), she sets up a luncheon with a colleague (Peggy Olson) where she pitches the idea of them setting up a production company with their names, while Peggy didn’t take, Joan starts her own “Holloway & Harris” with her babysitter and mother. Sealing her end as a strong, productive, independent woman who learned to own herself as she was. 

Power Ranking: 10, men may like scarves but women like not being tethered to men. 

Betty Draper Francis

Meet Elizabeth Hofstadt Francis and her ex-husband Don Draper (actually Dick Whitman), for about 10 years of marriage, they have enjoyed a union where they looked like a couple right out of a magazine, he being a square jawed handsome self-made man with an athletic build who often is compared to old-school movie stars like Tyrone Power or Clark Gable or Cary Grant and she, a beautiful model from a wealthy family in the Main Line area of Philadelphia who studied anthropology at Bryn Mawr and speaks fluent Italian and is often compared to Grace Kelly (and other Hitchcock Blondes). But the interior of their perfect colonial in the suburbs hid an ugly reality where she suffered from ennui and was a brat to her kids while he gaslighted and cheated on her with other women, more modern women, like she wasn’t enough. Eventually she found out his true identity and floored that she had been living a lie and gave up her last name for an imposter, she divorced him and married a man she met at her husband’s work function. 

About three years later, Don is happily married with a younger and much more modern woman (Megan Draper) while Betty is married to a man who loves and accepts her even at her worst but to her chagrin has put on a lot of weight (a blow to a former model who grew up being raised that weight gain or being fat was the worst thing a woman could be) and she hasn’t dealt with her unhappiness in a productive manner. 

For a while well into 1968, she accepted the extra pounds (although looking like she lost some) and coming middle-age and even dyed her hair black, until her new husband tells her he plans to run for office and as he was excitedly recounting what is to be done, says “Everyone will see you” not knowing that his young, vain wife would read this scenario differently and after assessing her new look to an old evening gown of her’s, she sped up her weight loss and returned to her slim and blonde look that turned heads. Soon she takes a drive to her son’s summer camp and runs into her ex-husband and they feel the old spark and sleep together; it is there she tells him that he as a lover is different than him as a husband and admits about the young wife she looked down on, “That Poor Girl, she doesn’t know that loving you is the worst thing to get to you”. Next morning she has breakfast with her new husband, who is none the wiser, while Don heads back to the city. But is Betty really happy?

Power Ranking: 7, not satisfied but has received some closure about her relationship with her ex-husband. 

Sally Draper

This is Sally in her birthday party dress. On that day her father built her a pastel colored playhouse, Mother prepared treats for the adults and kids for her birthday party, she and her friends played out their parents’ (admittedly shitty) marriages at the playhouse, her father goes out to get her birthday cake from the bakery and returns only with a golden retriever named Polly, while her unhappy mother fumes about her husband doing something shitty and humiliating and not being allowed to ream him out because he brought a dog and that makes him the good guy. 

Power Ranking: 5, she gets a dog but is still young and dependent on her messy parents. 

Rachel Menken

Meet Rachel Menken Katz, running into her ex Don Draper while he is out with his latest mistress and she with her husband Tilden Katz. She would end this series as dying from cancer after having two young children and running her father’s department store and instead of flowers, requesting that donations be made for a Jewish hospital in the Jell-O Belt. In 1960 she fell in love with an ad man who proved to have been miserable and having lost his mother during his birth, as she did, she also competed in what was called “a man’s world” at a time when women were relegated to assistant roles at best and she split from him when he wants to run away with her, mostly because he wants to run away from his issues and not because of his feelings for her. As her sister Barbara said, “she had everything”.

Power Ranking: 8, she ends up dying young but she manages to “have it all”. 

Megan Draper

Meet Megan Calvet, later to become Megan Draper. How does she become the next Mrs. Draper? At this timeline, Don Draper is dealing with life after divorcing Betty Draper (now Francis) and is trying (and failing) to quit alcohol and trying to date the intelligent, warm, no-nonsense, and close-to-his-age Dr. Faye Miller. But that night Megan, who noticed she caught her boss’s eye, decides to make the moves and in a uncharacteristically demure (many fans thought she looked frumpy here) but at worst basic outfit, she sleeps with him. This is the outfit for a quickie that later won his heart and has him pop the question and she becomes part of Creative at their work. But is this really for the best?

Power Ranking: 7, she married Don Draper but then again she married Don Draper. 

Peggy Olson

Meet Peggy Olson, who officially walked away from the things holding her back from feeling at ease with herself and her choices. After a whole season where the priest impressed by her skills has learned that Peggy had a child out of wedlock and put him up for adoption and starts pressuring her to admit her “sin” while Peggy would rather move on with her life, she tells him they don’t see eye to eye and walks away from the Catholic Church and while the Cuban Missile Crisis is going on, she lays down in her bed with the pink comforter and pillows with her pink floral nightgown, she lays herself down to sleep and prays with a contented look on her face.

Power Ranking: 9, she’s not fully absolved of the issues plaguing her but refusing to wear a hairshirt and beat herself up? Awesome. 

Dawn Chambers

Meet Dawn Chambers, from 1966-1968, she was the only black person (let alone black secretary) at the uber-white Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (pun intended for the decor) and like many minorities in positions occupied by less marginalized people, Dawn had to keep her head low and not stand out (despite some co-workers considering her as remarkable as a sore thumb). But then in 1968, she made the mistake of punching in for a co-worker and they get caught by Joan Holloway (and it’s so horrid, thank God Don Draper intervened on Dawn’s behalf and Pete reminds them of how the ad agencies are being looked at for their minority quotas). This was also the season where Dawn took to wearing blazers over her blouses and skirts or dresses and here Dawn is wearing a conservative grey blazer over a pink shirt with ruffles down the front and a red plaid skirt when her work life alters for the...better? It is there that Joan sternly gives her the promotion of keeper of the keys, title not pay, and Dawn tells her that she decided she doesn’t care whether other people in the office hate her but she doesn’t want to disappoint Joan, who withholds any warmth or approval. The next season we see Dawn stand up to a entitled and mediocre white man (Lou Avery) and first she is moved to reception and then she takes over Joan’s post as Office Manager (With her own office! And the salary!) while Joan goes upstairs to her own office in Accounts. 

Power Ranking: 10, this is a big fucking deal for a Black Woman in a mostly-White corporate setting during the 1960s. 

Trudy Campbell

1970, Trudy Vogel Campbell has remarried her estranged husband Pete and they are moving out to Wichita, Kansas with their young daughter Tammy where he will work a plush job for Lear Jet (and they are being flown out by them!). 

For the past ten years, Trudy and Pete have had a difficult marriage where he was dissatisfied with the choices he made and that he really didn’t want to marry her, and Trudy had to deal with being a woman with fertility issues at a time when motherhood was seen as a primary goal for women and women who didn’t have kids or chose not to were seen as weird at best. They had to deal with pressure from her father to adopt, his parents snotty issues, she had to deal with her husband’s attitude, his envy of others, and his cheating. But Trudy laid her boundaries and was able to stand up to her husband, without losing her gracious manner and her zest for society. She tried to be a supportive wife and she found some common ground with him, when it comes to common decency and politics, and they make an amazing pair on the dance floor. 

Then came the end after their divorce: they behave more amicably, he’s more involved with their young daughter, he fights for Trudy, and he gives an amazing pitch for her to come back. She takes him back but lets him know that she isn’t the same girl he married a decade before and she looks at things for how they are. 

Plus she is gonna rule Wichita!

Power Ranking: 8, she accepts there will be compromises but states her boundaries and has them met and will be a society wife. 

Elle Woods

Who shows up in court in LA hot sandals, a pink tote bag for her canine companion Bruiser, long glossy hair, and a curve-hugging but professional power dress in shocking pink? Elle Woods. After trying hard to be taken seriously by her fuckboi ex Warner and her snotty, neutral toned Harvard classmates and learning that her Professor got her in an internship for a important lawcase (where they defend her fellow Sorority Sister) just for her looks, she leans into both her natural intelligence, expertise, and love of pink and all things girly to defend her friend and solve the case. 

Also can we talk about how both Legally Blonde and Bridget Jones’s Diary are both movies where the attractive blonde protagonist is humiliated by showing up for a costume party in a Playboy Bunny costume under false pretenses and she deals with sexual harassment and being underestimated regarding her intellect? But LB ages better because it kinda pokes fun at the beauty myth more and is more inter-sectional and Elle finds supportive women to add to her posse of supportive sisters and she supports other women in turn.

Power Ranking: 10, Sisterhood and owning your personality quirks and interests and boldly defending others is always a win. Case Dismissed. 

Lorelei Lee

The ultimate Pink Power icon and the one who set the path for all femme-y and cute loving blonde protagonists with wit and ambition. This is the song for a woman who sings about how transactional heteronormative relationships in the mid-century were and how the performative actions of men in heterosexual relationships don’t do much to improve women’s lives, like paying the rent and that they would use women for their own uses and could be shallow enough to dump women if they lost their beauty and/or got older, so for insurance make sure you get money or rather things that can be hocked and worn with pride, like diamonds. Tom & Lorenzo covered this in their One Iconic Look series and this sequenced has been spoofed several times in Hey Arnold!, Crazy-Ex Girlfriend, Birds of Prey, and most famously by Madonna, and it is the look for women who not only feel good about their curves but also want to show them off.  As T&Lo said about the ditzy Lorelai and her savvier friend Dorothy Malone (Jane Russell):

These women were all about power, control, and looking out for each other. Men were side stories or play things.

And in the repressive Fifties it was outrageously pink and smelt of female sexual power (pink pussies). 

Power Ranking: 11, hawwwwwwww that’s what you get for having an iconic and referenced look!

Marge Simpson

The most nostalgically remembered outfit in cartoons and the most written about in think pieces and articles by Millennial women who grew up watching The Simpsons and the rest of what the Animation Renaissance had to offer. In “Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield”, the family goes out to the outlet mall in Ogdenville where Marge and Lisa happen upon a beautiful pink Chanel suit that even left my cartoon-apathetic mother enthusiastic and Marge is soon seen by a old high school friend who mistakes her for being wealthy and Marge goes along with the ruse and is invited to Country Club activities with the ladies where she shows up in several talented alterations of her suit (until getting destroyed by Santa’s Little Helper, RIP Iconic suit), she also gives her family a hard time about how they don’t fit into that Country Club Scene and then when forced to see how she hurt them (and even Baby Maggie), turns around and tells them she loves Homer’s sense of humor, Lisa’s compassion and outspoken human rights politics, and just loves Bart (even if she can’t figure what she likes about him). 

This also happens to be another instance where Marge sacrifices a social life (she’s not seen with a lot of friends who have her back, aside from a brief time with Ruth Powers), chances for social mobility, and her own self-improvement for her family. While we love a mother who prioritizes her family’s autonomy, we still kind of hope that she didn’t have to sacrifice her own identity for her family. 

Power Ranking: 8, points for the iconic suit and it’s layered meanings. 

Bridget Jones

A rare move of power for a normally powerless and insecure woman and in a shocking pink blouse and black slacks that show off her hourglass curves and go with her coloring. 

Pink is not a color Bridget isn’t familiar with, especially with this deleted scene that shows her in Pink Passivity (and it looks delicate on a blonde with blue eyes and pale skin but could risk her fading but I as a brunette would look popping!). But here after entering a relationship with Daniel Cleaver (who is a walking red flag) and finding out he was keeping her as his side-ho to his skinny, bitchy American girlfriend and colleague and I have my problems with Bridget Jones as a series (which would take several parts) and I can talk about how Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway were a lot better written versions of her (klutziness and awkwardness but succeeding!). But this is a huge power move where Bridget wears a simple outfit that owns her looks (even being affirmed by a older and previously antagonistic co-worker that she’s actually thinner than the average woman and she can’t back down, like ever) and is able to quit her job for a better and more glamorous job and tell off her ex-boyfriend for how poorly he has treated her. And all her co-workers smile off as she walks off in triumph after telling Daniel she’d rather wipe Saddam Hussein’s ass. I kinda wish I could go Joan Rivers on Daniel here. 

Also points on that bolder shade of pink. 

Power Ranking: 10, no one gets to burn a cheating, manipulative bridge like that (and yes she is conventionally prettier than I but that’s not the point). 

Alice Macray

I know, I should shut my mouth and wear beige but my personal color analysis says I’m a winter person.

It’s an interesting power move, albeit within the confines of patriarchal society and even the only defiance that wouldn’t get her tsked at because she is serving the Male Gaze. And yet it’s a natural part of her characterization in this part of the series: the traditional housewife stubbornly keeping her pedestal and fighting to stall progress for other women pursuing other paths (part of wearing beige and shutting up as Mother of the Groom is to allow the Bride to take center stage) but it’s also a path she had to take what with being a dyslexic in a less informed and intolerant era and growing up in a sheltered, conservative Catholic family. This is also the outfit she wears when she spots a younger wife being forcibly yanked by her husband, alluding that the patriarchy isn’t benevolent. 

This isn’t her first time in pink, or even a pink and blue combination: she wears pink when she goes and gives out bread to defeat the feminists at the Illinois Legislature, she wears pink and blue when Bella Abzug calls on her and her peers’ hypocrisy, she drinks a Pink Lady when she is given a “Christian Pill” and it matches her lavender dress. It’s also ironic: pink, white, and blue are the colors of the Transgender pride flag and she is defending White Heternormative Cisnormative Christian Values TM and it’s also a color combo that shows up in the beauty parlor she frequents where she and her friends wring their hands over working women gaining more ground and feeling that their comfortable privilege is being taken away by women who sully their hands working outside the home while they stay home with their children in their coordinated pastels and have maids of color keep their worlds nice and orderly. 

But she is wearing a pink maxi dress with a high neckline and a very prominent hat that provides very ladylike shade for her fair skin, just like our first Pink Power Girl Mimi Tachikawa, and like Mimi, Alice will take a life-altering short trip to Wonderland. And like Pink Power Girl Eleven, she finds her true hidden power and starts wearing more saturated colors as time goes on. 

Power Ranking: 5, she is on her way to breaking out of her little safe world and doing more than subverting a wedding tradition. 

#Pink #Women in Media #Costume Analysis #Mimi Tachikawa #Karen Wheeler #Nancy Wheeler #Eleven Hopper #Barb Holland #Joan Holloway #Joan Holloway Harris #Erica Sinclair #Betty Draper Francis #Megan Draper #Rachel Menken #Peggy Olson #Trudy Campbell #Dawn Chambers #Elle Woods #Lorelai Lee #diamonds are a girls best friend #Feminist Reading #Sally Draper #Marge Simpson #Bridget Jones #Alice Macray

[deviantpath]

DEBBIE’S MODERN DAY WARDROBE: A QUICK VISUAL STUDY.

** i made the psd but don’t own the photos.

+   TOP ROW, FROM LEFT TO RIGHT:

i.   introducing the absolute classic tan + ( almost ) black pairing that i absolutely adore,   and yes  ––– this may be a little biased,   but i’m sure it’d be a winner here.     this is probably something go-to,   when there’s just a normal day out to do things.    

ii.  dresses are a STAPLE when it comes to debbie’s wardrobe, and in this case i’ve included a maxi length,   because it’s flattering for someone at above average height ( 5′8 ).     here i’ve opted for something red,   something a bit bold but with a small print so it’s not too plain nor over the top.

iii.  ... ok sue me,   i did the tan-and-black look again,   but i saw this and couldn’t resist !   i’m loving the balance between feminine and masculine here with the tighter, square neck top that contrasts the more wider silhouette the pants give.   bonus points if they’re not tapered,   bc we all know she’d go for a wide leg sort any day.

iv.  wbranching off of debbie’s outfit in episode 2 when she and holden go to the movies, i’ve included a denim skirt   –––   it’s timeless,   and the mini length shows off her legs.     i wanted to include more floral in this,   hence the shirt,   but i’d prefer it to be more flowy than pictured.

+   BOTTOM ROW,   FROM LEFT TO RIGHT:

i.   i HAD TO include a more dainty,   girly dress in this,   otherwise it would be a disservice to her absolutely adorable little number in episode 2.   i think this is one of, if not the  most feminine look she’d had her entire time we see her on the show,   and to top it off,   i played with the theme and let it stay a light,   almost innocent white.

ii.  i saw this photo and couldn’t help but think this is what debbie’s apartment would look like if it were 2020  –––  keeping her boho / indie style and maintaining a very natural wood floor with white wall look was a must...   totally favouring the idea that she has a lot of her staple pieces physically outside her actual wardrobe,   too...   and let’s not forget that i totally hc that she has a cat called pluto. :’)

iii.  once again to contrast that very heavily implied girly appearance,   we have her in a classic button-up.     short sleeved,   simple buttons,   and matching bottoms.     what can i say ?   she’s a fan of an all-black outfit.     pair it with some gold jewellery,   and it’s a winner. 

overall,   i wanted to keep the outfits very minimal.   despite her vocalised need to fit in,   i honestly don’t really see her wearing pieces that are too over the top   –––   the colours are basic,   the prints are small,   and the silhouettes are form-flattering but still comfortable.     while there are definitely more feminine pieces,   i’ve also tossed in some a look with pants   (  tailored,   though could be swapped for straight leg jeans on any given day   )   for an androgynous look,   because it’s 2020 + we won’t let social norms define our wardrobe !

ps: notice no heels ?    she’s already quite tall,   and does wear them  –––  just not often enough to be added here. 

–––––  not pictured,  mostly bc it’s now almost 2am while i draft this and just finding these photos took me the better part of 3 hours:  lace bodices under partially open blazers,   she’d rock the hell outta that, tho. 

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Little Peach, Chapter 7

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Used an old storybit here, tweaked it up. Also put in a pairing I technically haven't written for before, but I plan to enjoy it to the fullest.

Summary: Mickey finally reaches the capital, but he finds more surprises waiting for him and his friends than he ever expected.

It took several long days and nights to reach the capital, with Mickey learning all he could from Panchito during every waking hour. While Panchito was very enthusiastic about having a student, the lessons were limited – without an opponent Mickey's size, they couldn't truly measure Mickey's abilities. Yet neither of them said this out loud (and Maurice smacked Marsupilami every time he tried to bring it up) and the training was met with vigorous determination. At the very least he could feel his stamina building and some small muscles beginning to grow – it felt amazing to get real exercise after years of being cooped up in his house and treated like he couldn't do a thing.

Even as they reached the large, red, imposing gates of the capitol, Mickey was still training, doing stretching exercises as he stood on Panchito's saddle. Numerous soldiers and guards were at the gate, and only when they inspected each person's head to make sure there were no Oni horns did they allow the group to pass – and that was only after Panchito gave them an inspection for any green feathers, which would have annoyed the guards if Mickey's incredibly small size hadn't thrown them for several loops.

“Boy oh boy!” Mickey said once they made it past the gate. “Would you look at all the people?” Even though he'd been secluded for most of his life and expected the capital to be a shock to his senses, the sheer number of people going to and fro among all the hefty buildings was still a real surprise. It was jam-packed, and some had make an effort to squeeze around a corner – though a few stopped in place, doing various double-takes when they thought they saw a peach pit-sized person on a passing horse.

“Seems like everyone's coming to the capital for protection,” Marsupilami mused, cupping his chin with his tail, “since it's one of the few places the Oni have been driven back. If it keeps up, the entire capital will be full of everyone from Japan. That means less food and roofs for everyone here, and it'll drive the people nuts. Stuff enough rats in a tiny cage, and they'll eat each other alive. The Oni still win.”

“Must you be so morbid, my friend?” Panchito tilted his hat up to get a better view of their surroundings. “One day, the Oni King will be defeated, and we can all rest easy again. Until then, we must keep sight of our current goals! Young Mickey will get the Lucky Hammer, and I will meet the man who saved me, and I will say to him...”

“Sir, I am Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González the Third.” Mickey automatically cut him off. “I have come to you to learn your ways and repay my debt.”

“If it takes me the rest of my life, I will obey your every command, and make sure your fight was not in vain. Do me the honor of becoming my sensei.” Marsupilami finished, with he, Maurice, Mickey and Pluto all mimicking the wide and expressive gestures Panchito was prone to making.

Panchito blinked slowly. “Have I mentioned this before?”

“Only about fifty times every day since we met, but who's counting?”  Marsupilami replied sarcastically, having been convinced from day one that Panchito was more trouble than he was worth as a teacher. “I couldn't care less about that green hero of yours, but we need to think about how Mickey's going to get that hammer in the first place.”

Mickey climbed up the horse's hair to sit on its head and look at the tall, imposing tower where the Princess lived. The tower was surrounded by a thick, wooden gate at all sides, with several trees growing along outside. Some of the trees on the outside were so tall that they leaned over the gate, providing shade to the inside. At the front of the gate were two guards – one tall and lanky, the other pudgy and snapping to his comrade about whose shift was next. “Why can't I just go on over and ask them to let me in? Look at me, I'm in a very unique position.”

“No, no, no!” Panchito shook his head hard, pulling the reins to a stop. “We cannot do such a thing!”

“Why?” Marsupilami deadpanned again, sensing a disaster oncoming. “Because it's simple, and you want to do something needlessly complicated?”

Panchito ignored him as usual as he began to climb down. “If you want the Princess to truly understand your plight, you must make a good first impression! Show her how determined and brave you are, that you will let nothing stand in your way! Once she sees how courageous and resilient you are, she'll understand right away you must be given the right size! Do something that no one else can do!”

Mickey liked the sound of it – if the Princess' heart was truly as stony and steely as he'd been told, he'd have to think outside the box to win her compassion. What could he do that no one else could? He looked at the tower, at the gates, at the trees – and he snapped his fingers. “I've got it! With my size, climbing into the palace gardens will be a snap! From there, I can get into the tower with ease! She'll see how serious I am, and only I can do it! Any other person would be caught with just one look!”

“You want to impress her by breaking into her house?”  Marsupilami felt as if he was the only person around with a functioning brain.

This feeling was amplified when Panchito laughed merrily, hands on his hips. “Marvelous, yes, marvelous! And we'll help you do it! We'll distract the guards!”

“The heck we will!”

Panchito pulled his horse over to the clearest tree, with Marsupilami ranting and raving about a plan he refused to be a part in yet knowing he'd be dragged into, and Maurice and Pluto happily waved their friend a temporary goodbye. “You guys sure you'll be all right?” Mickey probably should have asked that before he started climbing the massive tree, but thinking ahead wasn't one of his strong points. He'd only made it up a few inches, and it was going to take some time before he made it all the way up and over the castle walls. Even if he wasn't the size of a peach pit, this would be a long, daunting task. But distracting guards could also be daunting, and there wasn't a hint of hesitation on any of his companion's faces – save for Marsupilami.

“Just leave it to us!” Panchito saluted, with Pluto and Maurice copying the motion. “We'll take all the time you need in order to convince the princess to give you the Lucky Hammer! Even if it takes all day and night!”

“Or at least until dinner,” Marsupilami added, his reluctant salute having a smidgen less enthusiasm to it.

“I've already got a plan!” Panchito continued on as if he hadn't heard his companion. “Marsupilami, Maurice and I shall pretend to be fighting over who Pluto belongs to! We'll cause a ruckus like the kingdom's never seen before! Now go forth, Mickey! And fulfill your destiny!” Eager to aide his friend and even more eager to cause some action, the energetic rooster was leaping heaps and bounds towards the castle entrance.

“Good luck, Mickey...I feel you're gunna need it,” Marsupilami said with a sigh, giving a wave before he left with Pluto and Maurice, leaving Mickey all on his own to climb the tree. As he watched them begin their bizarre performance, Mickey couldn't help but smile as he resumed his ascension. He felt very lucky to have some loyal and generous friends, and hoped someday he could return all of their kindness. He didn't know how he would, but surely that would come to mind one he was normal-sized. Yes, when he was no longer the size of a peach pit, everything would come easy to him and life would be grand.

It was this one goal that fought through exhaustion as he rose higher and higher on the tree, sweat pouring down his black fur. He wouldn't allow himself to rest, not even for a second, and in time he was rewarded with a view of the castle's interior gardens. Since the branches of the tree only dangled over the wall, there was no way to climb down where he wanted. Luckily he spotted a small pond right beneath him, surrounded by gray rocks. Mickey held his breath and jumped – making the tiniest splash imaginable.

Several of the orange and red koi within the pond were greatly startled, unsure if this was a meal or an attacker. Their confusion allowed Mickey to swiftly swim to the surface and climb out, coughing beneath his hand. Now that he was on solid ground again, he was in another pickle – the grass was tall, so tall that he couldn't see where he was going! He'd have to guess which direction the castle was in. Not that he'd let a silly thing like getting lost stop him. Once he squeezed his robes and his tail dry, he decided the best way forward was in fact going forward.

Fortune smiled upon him, as within seconds he heard two female voices.

“Did you hear that, Princess? I could've sworn I heard something in the pond.” An older woman who stretched out her vowels, a bell clanging every time she spoke.

“It was probably just the koi playing.” Smaller and more feminine, a dainty melody that was gently reprimanding her elder. “You're far too paranoid, Clarabelle. You just want me to go back inside. Can't I at least see my own garden once in a while?”

“Not while the Oni King is out and about! We don't know when or where he'll show up!”

The princess was only a few feet ahead! Maybe the gods were finally giving Mickey a break! He smoothed down his clothes, unsure how to exactly present himself in front of royalty. It wasn't something his mother had taught him, as no one in the family ever thought they'd meet someone so important. With his chest puffed out, he pushed aside the blades of grass ahead of him. The princess was sitting in a clearing where the grass was much shorter, allowing Mickey to get the full view of her.

And that's when Mickey's mind became absolute mush.

He had heard rumors of Princess Minnie's divine beauty, but they sure didn't hold a candle to the real deal! She was a petite figure, with endless black hair rolling at her sides, dark as the purest night, although an attempt at a pink-ribbon bow to control some of it had been made. Since she wasn't in the public eye, her face was free of make-up, though Mickey wouldn't have guessed it. How could such luscious red lips be natural? How could she simply be born with those soft pink cheeks? Then again if anyone took a look at those alluring eyes of hers they might not have any inclination to look at her face – after all, once you saw those stunning blue diamonds, how could possibly look at anything else?

Clothes weren't something of particular importance to Mickey, save for his own due to his height. Yet here he was, admiring the pink kimono with flowers that seemed to flutter with every sigh the princess gave. It was so long and intricate that he couldn't tell where her hands were right away until he spotted the illustrated book she was holding. She was sitting on her knees, a thick blanket spread out underneath her, and she was surrounded by more and more books, all the same size, along with a few sweets and cups of tea. Yet those lay untouched, her appetite spoiled by Clarabelle's constant worrying.

Not that he could hear the two of them lightly arguing. In fact, the entire world had gone deaf in Mickey's ears, and he completely forgot about why he was in the garden in the first place. He probably could stayed in that same spot and watched this enchanting royal, with his mouth in a stupefied smile and his body hanging lopsided oblivious to the world around him. But despite his lovestruck stupor, the world continued to move around him, and Mickey only realized this when a shadow fell over him – Clarabelle's foot, unknowingly about to step on him.

“HEY HEY HEY! Watch it!” Mickey ran out into the clearing, managing to miss death by a millisecond. The females momentarily froze – before Clarabelle let out a scream.

“It's a bug! Ew, ew, ew!” The servant was wearing a yellow kimono of far less expense, a cowbell strung around her neck. She grabbed her robe, trying to avoid the touch of the “bug”.

“Wait... Either this bug knows his vocabulary,” Minnie said, slowly placing her book aside after very carefully putting in a pink paper bookmark to recall her place, and leaning down to inspect the newcomer with big wide eyes. “Or it's not a bug at all...Oh my goodness! It's a person! It's a very little person!”

So much for a grand entrance. Mickey cleared his throat, standing as tall as he could, daring to look Minnie right in the eyes – though given such lovely eyes she had, this was a difficult task. “I-I...I am Mickey, and I am here for the Lucky Hammer!”

“A-ha!” Clarabelle got over her fright easily enough, now rolling up her sleeves in anger. “He's working for the Oni King! Don't you worry, princess, I'll get rid of him!”

Wow, this was going much worse than he'd planned – not that he had planned for much. “W-what?! No I'm not!” Indignant, he stomped his foot, demanding to be heard. “I just wanna get taller, that's all! Can you blame me?”

“You can't trust him, Princess! I bet it's a trick! I bet he's here to kidnap you and take you the Oni King!”

Minnie slowly turned her head to give Clarabelle a look of deep skepticism. “And how, exactly, would someone this small kidnap me?” This finally seemed to shut Clarabelle up, at least for the moment. As the cow mulled over what she thought Mickey's true goal was, Minnie faced Mickey again, a warm smile gracing her delicate features. “I apologize for my handmaiden. She tends to think the worst of everyone.” She bowed her head low in retribution, which made Clarabelle's fit even worse – Minnie was supposed to have a certain cold, hard image in front of everyone. Why was she suddenly acting like her normal self? Hesitantly, her eyes wandered to the books. Oh, she hoped she was wrong about her reasons.

Mickey felt oddly humbled, and he toed his foot in the ground. “Aw, um, it's all right! Really! I bet everyone's kinda tense what with the Oni King's doings.” He pounded a fist to his chest, determined to convince them both of his somewhat noble intentions. “I swear on all my ancestors, he's no friend of mine! He's just a big bully, and bullies are the worst type of folks! Why, if I ever saw him, you know what'd I do?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Clarabelle muttered, rolling her eyes.

Mickey yanked out his trusty sword – his mother's sewing needle – and wielded it this way and that. “I might be small, but I don't let nobody get picked on! I'd give him what for! Show him a thing or two!”

Minnie giggled quietly, hiding her mouth behind one of her extra-long sleeves. “It warms my heart to know that there are such brave people in my kingdom. I know that one day, because of people like you, he will definitely be defeated.” Once Mickey had returned the sword to his handmade scabbard, she placed her hands in front of him. “You said your name was Mickey? I am Princess Minnie, and this is my handmaiden Clarabelle. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir Mickey.” This came with another proper bow, and Clarabelle reluctantly did the same.

“Nice ta meetcha too.” Mickey chirped, feeling his anxiety lessen with every passing second. For a royal figure, this lady was rather nice. Combine that with her ravishing looks, and no wonder she was rumored to have a thousand suitors vying for her hand. Once Mickey was of normal height, perhaps he could be one thousand and one. He cleared his throat to try and chase that thought away. “I've traveled far and wide, across the scorching heat and cruel forests, all the way from my homeland to come and see you.” Wait. “Well, not you, particularly.” Dang it. “I mean, not that it wouldn't be nice to see you, it's very nice, nicest thing I've ever seen.” The anxiety came back in full swing. “...Can I start over?”

Another round of giggles came from the princess. “Here, let me see if I can help. I've always found it better when people can talk eye to eye.” She opened her hands, laying them flat with her palms up. Mickey hesitated, reluctant to dirty her hands with his muddy, wet sandals. He slowly walked onto her hands, and she felt him up to her face – wow, she even smelled nice. He was a goner. “Now then. How can I help you, dear sir Mickey?” Clarabelle, meanwhile, had picked up one of the books and was flipping around to find a certain page.

She called him dear – FOCUS. “Um! I, uh, that is...” Another hard shake of the head. “Ever since I was born, I haven't grown a single inch! Betcha it's not gunna take long for you to imagine how hard that makes my life. My own father won't acknowledge me as his son. But I heard tale of your family's most prized possession – the Lucky Hammer that can turn anyone and anything into any size at all! I just need to borrow it so I can be a real man.”

Clarabelle huffed and snorted throughout the story, trying to find a way to disprove it but coming up blank. As for the princess, her smile now turned into a sympathetic frown, her shoulders lowering. “I see...I am sorry for what tragedies may have befallen you, but I'm afraid I can't just hand over the Lucky Hammer.”

“W-well! I'm not sayin' you just gotta give it to me, I only gotta borrow it!” Mickey pleaded, his squeaky voice ringing with desperation.

Minnie sadly shook her head. “Please understand...on my father's deathbed, he made me vow a very important promise about the Lucky Hammer. I swore to keep it, and nothing and no one can break it. I must think of my people, you understand.”

Mickey bit hard on his lower lip. He too knew the power of promises – after all, he'd promised not to return home until he was no longer the size of a peach pit. But to have the hammer so close and yet so far was unfair. With each depressing fact, Mickey's body wilted more and more, and Minnie's guilt rose and rose. “Oh, Mickey...I really am sorry. I'd hate for you to come all this way for nothing...” She gradually began to rise to her feet, making sure Mickey wouldn't fall over in her hands. “Why don't you stay in the castle tonight?”

“Absolutely not!” Clarabelle interjected with balled fists. “He's an intruder!”

“But it would be terribly rude to send him back after he's traveled so far!” Minnie whined, already turning to the castle doors. “Besides, if I welcome him, he's no longer an intruder. Now he's my honored guest.”

“Oooh – Princess, one of these days, your good intentions are going to get us all killed!”

She had spunk, Mickey had to admire her for that. And it's not like she was a bad person – she just had her own duties to fulfill. Mickey wanted to be mad at her, but honestly couldn't. “Well, your highness, long as you're offerin'...my pals traveled with me. Can they stay over too?”

“Of course!” But now that gave Minnie paused as she began to look around for any other small visitors.

Mickey stifled a laugh. “They're outside, and they're regular sized! There's my dog Pluto, most loyal pup you'll ever meet. Then there's Marsupilami, smarter than ten men put together, and his best and strongest pal, Maurice. And then you got Panchito Pistoles...his real name is longer than most men's put together! You couldn't ask for better friends.”

“Now you've got me eager to meet them, sir Mickey.” With a bemused smile, she lifted her hands to her left shoulder, allowing Mickey to sit there instead. “I've been cooped up in my castle for so long that I've become bored to tears. I would love to hear about all the grand adventures you and your traveling companions have been through.”

“Then you're in luck, 'cause we've got tons of 'em!”

But before Mickey could get out one single adventure, one of Minnie's guards had rushed out to meet them. “Princess! There's a big fight going on, right outside of the palace gates!”

Within seconds, Minnie's face took on the serious, hard-laced appearance she'd been known for, and Mickey was so startled at the transformation he almost thought Minnie had been switched with someone else when his backed was turned. “Are the Oni attacking?”

“Oh, no,” said the guard, quite casual about all of this, “It's just really funny.” The guard then stopped, adjusting his helmet so he could get a better look at what was on the Princess' shoulder – doing so allowed Mickey to spot a hint of green feathers, and he wondered if his luck had returned. “Do my eyes deceive me, Princess, or is that a very tiny person on your shoulder?”

“Quick, you gotta meet my friends!” Mickey ran down Minnie's arm, using her hand to swing back so he could fly forward – the entertained guard held out his hands to catch him.. “I wanna check something out. They're... well, they're the ones causing a ruckus. Let's go!”

This particular guard was so lackadaisical that he really saw no problem with this, lifting his hand so Mickey could stand on his shoulder. “You know what? Why not! Today just keeps getting more and more entertaining!” With a chuckle, he headed for the front entrance, Mickey along for the ride.

Minnie was about to join them when Clarabelle reached out and yanked Minnie by the shoulder. “Hold it right there, missy. Don't think I don't know what's going on?”

With her serious act on, Minnie didn't face Clarabelle at all. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“A-huh. So you didn't just invite a total stranger to stay the night...” Clarabelle shoved the offending pages right into Minnie's face. “...because he's a dead ringer for Sir Sakura?”

Mickey had no idea how much he coincidentally resembled the illustrated hero, save for some exaggerated eye sparkles, long flowing hair, and the ability to cause flower petals to rain down upon him whenever he spoke. Aside from this, he could have been Sir Sakura come to life – not that Minnie was going to admit it. “Is he? How remarkable. I hadn't noticed at all.” Yet even when Clarabelle pulled the pages away, she still refused to look at her handmaiden's face. “Come now, we mustn't keep my guests waiting.”

“He's not Sir Sakura!” Clarabelle groaned, following after Minnie. “None of that book is going to come to life! Princess, life is not like a manga! There is no big love at first sight meeting with cherry blossoms everywhere while some handsome hero introduces himself in slow-motion!”

Outside, the fake fight had certainly become real for Marsupilami, who was being chased in circles by Panchito, Maurice, Pluto, and now the two outside guards, who had caught gotten up in the mess. The guard with green feathers, Minnie, Clarabelle and Mickey watched for a minute or two before Mickey stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a high-pitched whistle. “We're good, guys!”

Marsupilami stopped in place – which allowed the five before him to crash land into him with several THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUDs. Mickey cleared his throat, a little embarrassed at the fuss they'd all made. “Whoops. Sorry about that. See, Princess, those guys are my pals! I wouldn't have made it here to the palace without them. Marsupilami, Maurice, Pluto, Panchito, we got some real royalty here! It's the Princess! And she's even allowing us to stay the night!”

“Remind me what the purpose of this was, again?”  Marsupilami asked with his face in the ground, leaving the other three to get up, brush themselves off, and bow with the deepest of grace, as if everything was perfectly normal. “Ah, yes, I see, the purpose was to remind us all that my life is just comic relief. Good to know. Don't help me up or anything.”

“Honored guests, eh?” The green-feathered guard repeated, amused. “Well then, we should all introduce ourselves as well! Aside from her royal highness, we have her lady-in-waiting, Clarabelle bow, and the men you just played with, Goofy and Pete!”

“Nice ta meetcha!” Goofy said, thinking that his concussion was the reason he saw a very tiny person on his fellow guardman's shoulder.

Pete sputtered at this same sight, pointing at Mickey with a shaking finger. “What are you– I mean, what are you? Is anyone else seeing this? I – YIPE!” Panchito, having no longer needed to put up a fake fight, began inspecting the guards for his real reasons, holding up the green feather, and this included giving Pete a good spin.

“Wait, wait, Panchito!” Mickey called out, hoping to stop his friend before Goofy got his turn. “This guy here has green feathers! And you don't have to turn him upside down to do it!” To make doubley sure, he turned to the guard, lightly rapping on his helmet. “Sir, do you remember saving a young rooster from some awful Oni several years ago?”

The guard raised his eyebrows, then cupped his beak, thinking. “It does sound familiar... I was a very young man myself back then! The castle had sent me out to help out certain villages, but I took so long getting back because I never could refuse a nice face in help. And... hmmm... yes, yes, I do believe there was one handsome fellow who actually argued about being saved...”

Panchito abruptly dropped Pete, his eyes widening, and he raced on over. “Is it me? I'm sure it was me! You must be the person I've been searching for!”

The guard hesitated, then held up his hands. “Hang on. With this silly helmet on, I swear I can barely see a thing. One moment!” It took him a few tries, as the darn thing was stuck rather tight, and when he finally yanked it off, it went flying, smacking into a nearby cherry blossom tree, causing the petals to swirl and sprinkle all around him. “There, that's much better.” He then shook his head, causing his feathers to flutter about, before fully finally facing Panchito. “My name is Jose Carioca, loyal retainer and guard to her highness, Princess Minnie. And you are?”

Mickey gestured outward with his palms, ready for Panchito to delve into his speech... except it didn't come. “Panchito? … Panchito, your speech!”

Panchito stared at Jose, mouth open but not a single word coming out. Because his feathers were already a very rich red, no one could tell he'd begun to blush, and heavily so. His fingers jerked in odd, twitchy motions, and when Maurice came over to poke his face, he didn't acknowledge it. “I... uh... ah... eh... um...?”

Marsupilami got up, brushing the last bits of mud off his tail. “Okay, if he's not going to say it, I will, and maybe I'll finally get it out of my head! His name is Panchito  Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González the Third, and he has come to learn your ways and repay his debt!”

“Uh,” said Panchito.

Mickey decided he might as well help out. “If it takes him the rest of his life, he will obey your every command and make sure your fight was not in vain!”

“Uh,” said Panchito again.

“Do him the honor of becoming his sensei!” Marsupilami topped it off, with him, Maurice, and Pluto, getting on their knees and waving their jazz hands to make sure the show had all the pizzazz it needed.

Jose wasn't really sure what to make of all this, but boy it was entertaining, much more so than the fight! He chuckled quietly, then reached out, offering his hand to Panchito. “Well now, how can I possibly turn down such a generous offer? You seem like you've really become a soul worth saving! I am very happy to meet you again.”

Hand met hand, and Panchito's eyes rolled back into his head, and he went down like a sack of lead.

Jose, Minnie and Clarabelle looked to Mickey, since he supposedly had the answers to all of his friend's nonsense, but Mickey was just as stumped. He had no idea what happened to his teacher, but he put on a brave, albeit nervous grin. They had, at the very least, succeeded in getting to the capital and meeting the princess! Now all he needed to was get the Lucky Hammer! And to do that, he needed to be as determined as his friends, exactly like Panchito!

Marsupilami began to tie up Panchito with his tail in order to carry him. “Is there such a thing as a happy coma, because I think that's what he's got.”

…. Maybe not exactly like Panchito.

#disney #fanfic #the little peach #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #panchito pistoles #jose carioca

[queenofcats17]

Perfect (But Not In The Way She Wanted)

So, I just saw this post from @adobe-outdesign , and I wanted to write it.

I’m supposed to be cleaning out my drafts, but this just struck me. And I ended up going really heavy on the body horror. I’m not sure how that happened. It just did.

She stared at the heart in her hand, her own heart beginning to pound. This was it. She was going to become perfect. Finally. And then she’d finally take care of Henry. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see his face once he caught sight of her in all her glory. He would fall down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. It would be glorious. She couldn’t help but giggle to herself. 

“Dreams come true, Susie, dreams come true.” She hummed to herself as she held the heart in front of her face. Perhaps not all of Joey’s prattling about belief had been garbage. Closing her eyes, she pressed the heart against her chest. The heart slipped inside without much of a problem, just as the others before it had. She began to feel her ink shift and change. She was going to be perfect! 

But...No. That didn’t feel right. It felt as though her face was stretching out. Her eyes popped open and she looked down at herself. She could see her face beginning to stretch out before her, forming into something resembling a muzzle. Turning her gaze down to her hands, she saw her dainty feminine hands puffing up, resembling cartoon gloves. This in itself might have excited her, given her on-model counterpart was supposed to have cartoon gloves, had it not been paired with her growing muzzle and the fact that her dress appeared to be turning into overalls.

“No.” She whispered before starting to scream. “NO NO NO NO NO!” It was becoming difficult to talk now as she stormed about her secret lab. Her footfalls grew heavier as her feet grew larger. Her halo vanished into her head along with her hair, her horns turning into slightly floppy ears. She ended up in a corner, hugging her knees and crying silently. She lacked even her feminine form now, everything she’d had, every connection to what she’d once been now erased. She was a Boris now. A stupid, mute Boris. What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to become perfect? 

Suddenly, she heard a door open. Someone had found her lab. Normally, she might have tried to defend her sanctuary, but being killed honestly sounded pretty good at that moment. She could return to the ink, build herself back up again. She almost hoped it was the Ink Demon. Unfortunately, it was just Henry. Her shoulders slumped when she saw him. Wonderful. Given that she now looked like every other Boris, she had no doubt he would assume she was the Boris he’d lost, instead of the one on the table. Sure enough, as soon as the light hit her face, Henry ran over to scoop her up in a hug. 

“There you are, Boris!” He said. “I was so worried about you!” She made no attempt to push him away, nodding glumly. She didn’t even have the ability to tell him no. Better to just play along. Maybe if she was lucky, she’d end up dying along the way.

“Where’s Alice?” Henry pulled back, looking around wildly. “Is she coming back?” She shook her head. 

“Is she...dead?”

She made a ‘so-so’ gesture with her hand. 

“Well, she’s probably gone for now.” Henry got up, shifting his ax to his less dominant hand so he could hold his other one out to her. She regarded it for a moment before finally taking it. She hoped he couldn’t see the defeat in her eyes. 

“She must’ve done a number on you, huh, buddy?” Henry said as he pulled her up. She shrugged, looking listlessly around the room. She hoped no Butcher Gang members would take up residence there while she was gone. Or worse, Searchers or Lost Ones. They always seemed to get ink everywhere. She didn’t want to come back and see her precious lab defaced with their silly writing. 

“We should get going.” Henry let go of her hand, gesturing to the door. She nodded sullenly, following him out. She had to admit, she was rather impressed he’d managed to restore power to the haunted house. She’d put a Projectionist in the train area, and Bertrum was a force to be reckoned with in his own right, although he was thankfully blind enough to mistake Henry for Joey. 

They made their way deeper into the studio, making better progress now that they were on the same side. Alice was admittedly rather jumpy. She didn’t like things being out of her control. Controlling things was one of the few things that had given her peace in this hellhole. Despite herself, she kept grabbing onto Henry at the slightest sound. She wanted to immediately pull away, but she was still scared. 

“It’s okay.” Henry patted her head. “I’m here.” Alice apparently didn’t look entirely convinced, as Henry’s shoulders slumped a bit. 

“I know it’s probably hard to trust me after I let you get captured by Alice, but I promise I’m not going to let you get hurt again.” He said. “I always thought of you and Bendy like my children, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt either of you ever again.” He looked away, biting his lip. “I never should have left you in Joey’s control. I should have taken you with me.” 

Alice hesitated before taking his hand in hers. Henry looked up, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. Alice shook her head, pulling him into a hug and patting his back. She wasn’t doing this because she wanted to comfort him, she told herself. She had to play her part as Boris. She didn’t care that Henry smiled when she hugged him, holding her close. 

“Thank you, Boris,” Henry said when they separated. “I’m going to get us out of here. I promise.”

 As they kept moving, Alice began to find herself conflicted. She hated Henry. He was a traitor. He’d abandoned them all to Joey’s mercy. And yet...He was so kind to her. She’d known he cared about Boris, but she’d never actually witnessed his love for the wolf. She imagined he was probably a very good father. All in all, it felt...nice to be treated with kindness again. It had been such a long time since anyone had treated her like a human being. Even if she was trapped in the body of a cartoon wolf, at least she could take comfort in the fact that someone cared about her, at least a little. 

Then they ran into the other angel in the studio. Alice had been aware that her replacement had also been turned into a version of the character they’d both voiced, and to her frustration, Allison was an even more perfect version of Alice. This had been part of the reason she’d been so desperate to become perfect. She couldn’t let Allison beat her, not when Alice was the only thing she had left! Surprisingly, Alice’s burning hatred for the other voice actress seemed to have cooled a bit. Or maybe she was just too tired from turning into a Boris. At least they wouldn’t kill her now that she was a Boris. 

“Who are you?” Allison took a step forward, brandishing her sword toward Henry. Alice stayed firmly behind Henry. She might not have been feeling any hatred for Allison at the moment, but she still recognized that the other angel was extremely dangerous. Allison and her Boris had been surviving in the depths of the studio for quite a while now. They were not to be trifled with. 

“My name is Henry. Henry Stein.” Henry held his hand out. The Boris at Allison’s side growled at him.

“Tom!” Allison shot him a look. Alice frowned. Tom...There had been someone by that name who’d worked at the studio. Thomas Connor, if she remembered correctly. There was an audio log of his on her level. Now that she thought about it, Allison and Thomas had always been rather close.

“You need to come with us.” Allison turned back to them. “Both of you.” 

“Alright.” Henry looked back at Alice, who proceeded to suction herself to his side. She didn’t quite trust these two. There was always the possibility they could discover her true identity and kill her. And she was actually starting to enjoy traveling with Henry. 

“It’ll be okay.” Henry patted her head again. “They’re not going to hurt us.” Alice did her very best to give him a deadpan look. Everything in the studio was dangerous. 

“Come on.” Allison gestured for them to follow her. Tom stayed behind her, giving them a look that made it very clear he didn’t trust them. Henry followed without another word, taking Alice with him. Alice sighed to herself. It looked like this was something she was going to have to go with. She just hoped Henry would be alright.

#bendy and the ink machine #fanfiction #susie campbell #malice angel #henry stein #boris the wolf #tw: body horror #tom boris #allison angel

[mindmyvaginastories-blog]

Tonight’s reading

Hi Shirley! Thanks for submitting your payment on time through PayPal. Today’s reading incorporates elements that we chatted about on the phone yesterday. I’ve incorporated the two people you asked me to incorporate. I hope it’s to your liking:

You are sitting in Quiznos. You ordered a foot long pizza beef sub no onions and no greens, extra cheese. You are taking a bite when you notice a frail and delicate boy of around 32. His legs are long and lanky and his complexion is mediocre. He is with a cute girl of around 23 with blonde hair. You are aroused and your hair increases in redness. The boy notices. He gets up and walks towards you. He says “hi, I’m drake Bell, and this is Lena. Want to eat with us?” You accept his invitation. Lena is sweet and shy and you are instantly wondering if you are actually straight or if you’ve just never seen such an attractive woman that you might be a lesbian. Then again, Drake is caressing your back and it does feel nice. You pick up your sub to take a bite and drake says, “why don’t I help you with that.” He takes the sub from your hand and slides it into your mouth, slowly moving the sub back and forth. You wonder if this is what it’s like to give a blowjob. Drake says, “Yes. It is.” You give him a questioning look and he says, “I have the gift of mind reading, which is why I know that you can’t wait to take this a step further.” He winks at you and you can feel your feminine juices soaking the seats you are on. Lena giggles playfully and says, “don’t be shy!” You are comforted. Drake says, “why don’t we take this back to my place?” You nod nervously. He and Lena grab your hand and head towards the bathroom in the back (the one no one uses). As Drake unlocks and opens the door, you are surprised to see a sleeping bag on the floor, a floor lamp, and a mini fridge stocked with Mountain Dew. He says “sorry for the mess. I don’t get visitors often.” You squeeze through the door. Lena looks at you and says, “are you ready to take things to the next level?” She sensually removes her shirt and you see a bra with two juicy tomatoes squished in the cups against her breast. She pulls one of the tomatoes out, accidentally puncturing it and releasing tomato juice onto her breast. She says, “oops. Oh well. Want a bite?” And she hands you the tomato. You can’t take it anymore. You are bold. You go in and try to lick the tomato juice off her breast. Just before you can, Drake gets between you. He starts crying. He says, “I’m not going to be left out of this.” He asks Lena to leave so that he doesn’t have such unfair competition. He knows he will never win the threesome with her there. Lena shrugs, removes the second tomato, and throws it at your face. You orgasm the second the tomato hits you, and when you open your eyes she is gone. Drake Bell is sobbing. He says he never gets any love. You say that you feel the same. He asks if you’re willing to engage in some fun time. You say yes. He asks you to lay down. He squats above your face and farts daintily into your mouth. You quiver and your hair gets redder and curlier. You say “I know you can do more than that, little boy!” He tries again, but his fart is again too dainty for your liking. You get impatient and say, “mama will show you how it’s done.” You lay him down and tie him to the toilet. You massage your clitoris with marinara sauce and moan loudly. You know this will be a big one. You squat over his face and let out the loudest fart you’ve ever let out. He immediately ejaculates green slime all over the place. You turn around to look at him. His face is covered in poop from your anus. You smile. You are proud of yourself. You did good. You put a can of Mountain Dew in your anus for later, kiss his hand, and wish him well. You don’t leave him your number, because you love knowing this was a one time thing. A steamy and messy good time. After all of that, you’ve worked up an appetite. You order a meatball sub to go and drive home. You feel so sexy and in charge.

#story #quiznos #funny #tomato #noonion #redhair #hotstory #extremearousal

[sirendrowns]

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost ,   don’t  reblog  !  good  luck  !

TAGGED. stolen lmao TAGGING. steal if u want!!!!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford

NICKNAME:  Lizzy, Liz

AGE: 14

BIRTHDAY: April 18

ETHNIC GROUP: White

NATIONALITY: English

LANGUAGE(S): English, French, passable Latin

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Engaged but verse dependent

CLASS: Daughter of Marquess, will marry to be a Countess

HOMETOWN / AREA: London

CURRENT HOME: London

PROFESSION: Noblewoman

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Waist length when straight golden hair, typically kept up in curly twintails, bold bangs.

EYES: Doe-like, perfect for pouting. Emerald green.

NOSE: Button nose, quite small

FACE: Heart-shaped, full cheeks

LIPS: Slightly turned up in the corners as if smiling, full, often bitten to be a deeper pink

COMPLEXION: Pale, smooth, the product of a strict skincare regimen

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: One on tip of her middle finger from a burn she recieved as a child from touching the stove (she was told it was too hot, of course she didn’t listen), various little knicks on the bottom of her feet from running around barefoot as a child.

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 5′3

WEIGHT: ~90lbs

BUILD: Coltish

FEATURES: Delicate and kind, the sort of face you just assume is followed by a nice person

ALLERGIES: None

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Curled pigtails, one strand at the right of her face hanging down, bold bangs across her forehead.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Slightly sad if she thinks no one is looking, a small smile if she suspects someone is.

USUAL CLOTHING: Petticoats, corsets, and ribbons, oh my!

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Being forgotten, unloved, disliked, or left behind. Her engagement being broken. Disappointing her parents.

ASPIRATION(S) : To be a good wife and mother as an adult, though for now she’ll settle for being the best fencer in England.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Kind, generous, protective, hopeless romantic, willing to let others take the spotlight for her achievements

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Classist, sexist, vaguely racist, homophobic, overly protective, competitive

ZODIAC: Aries

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic

SOUL TYPE(S): Caregiver

ANIMALS: pls buy her a bird someone

VICE  HABIT(S): Literally running away from her problems and/or temper tantrums

FAITH: She’s very religious

GHOSTS?: Yes

AFTERLIFE?: Yes

REINCARNATION?: No

ALIENS?: No 

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Fairly republican because i mean, she rich asf

ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE: She understands the way of the world and that there are strict class systems in England and across the world, just as she understands how high in nobility she is. However, she believes quite strongly that her family deserves it and that others could acheive it, even so, she often gives money to the poor.

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: She believes the world is the way it is now for a reason. The queen is at her head, and she will serve her no matter the order, just as she views her space in the home to be a good wife and mother. She’s much more open to modern ideas in more modern verses, but she is quite set in her ways in victorian england, though she respects others choice to do as they please.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Tutored at home to a reasonable degree. She’s literate, but certainly didn’t go to school past age ten or so. Now, it is strictly about being a lady and her swordwork.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Alexis Midford

MOTHER: Frances Phantomhive Midford

SIBLINGS: Edward Midford

EXTENDED FAMILY: The Phantomhives are the only family she finds herself close to, though she adores the Midford grandparents.

NAME MEANING(S): Elizabeth: my God is an oath, Ethel: noble, Cordelia (French): heart of a lion

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: I don’t believe she was based on a real person, but I like to imagine her as a sort of Joan of Arc meets Daisy Buchanan meets Johanna Barker

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Emma - Jane Austen

MOVIE: None

5 SONGS: anything that has a dancing rhythm 

DEITY: God

HOLIDAY: Easter, it’s often near her birthday and she loves the big egg hunt

MONTH: July

SEASON: Summer

PLACE: She loves her room, like genuinely loves it to an unhealthy degree. It’s the only place she can truly be herself.

WEATHER: Sunny and bright

SOUND: The tap-tap-tap of a block heel hitting marble floors and the swishing of a petticoat, hopefully at the same time

SCENT(S): Cinnamon, Linen, and Paula’s perfume

TASTE(S): Milk with honey and cinnamon, sweetened tea, pineapple (though she’s only had it once)

FEEL(S): The snugness of a corset, sharing a bed, sitting by a fire, sunlight

ANIMAL(S): any type of songbird

NUMBER: 7

COLORS: Pink, cream, naples yellow

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Fencing, endurance running, sneaking out, needlepoint, singing, piano

BAD AT:  Making decisions, telling hard truths, cooking/cleaning, talking about feelings

TURN ONS:  Put her in her place honestly, just take care of her emotionally and the rest will be taken care of.

TURN OFFS: People with no ambition or people who play hard-to-get. She’s needy.

HOBBIES: Shopping, fencing , dancing, spending time with loved ones

TROPES:  The Damsel (In Distress)

AESTHETIC TAGS: Pastel, Lolita, Luxury, Parisian, Princess

GPOY  QUOTES: “ Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That's what little girls are made of ”

FC INFO. animated / live action

MAIN  FC(S): Elizabeth Midford /  Viktoriya Novikova

ALT FC(S): N.A. / Okazaki Momoko

OLDER FC(S): Ada Vessalius / Annasophia Robb

YOUNGER  FC(S): N.A.

VOICE CLAIM(S): Haven’t thought abt it tbh

GENDERBENT FC(S): Lowkey just Edward Midford, and then William Mosely for live action

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?: It would probably just be called something simple and plain like “Elizabeth”, “Doll”, or “Low Heeled Shoes”, and it would be filmed in a sort of artsy way like the shortfilm Empty Sky. It would follow her struggles as she grew up with femininity, religion, and having to learn the general concept of self love without basing it on others’ approval of her.

Q2: what would their soundtrack / score sound like?: Lots of soft, dainty indie songs following the sounds of Daughter, One Two, Cigarettes After Sex, etc

Q3: why did you start writing this character?: She really appealed to me back in middle school when I got into the show. She was sweet, feminine, and unafraid to speak her mind, which I liked. As I started getting into the manga more recently after a long hiatus, I fell in love with her all over again and all of her nuances that I didn’t notice when I was younger (and before the campania arc, mind you)

Q4: what first attracted you to this character?: She was everything I wanted to be, I found her positively adorable and there weren’t many characters like that. She brought a well needed ray of sunshine to the show.

Q5: describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse: She’s a BRAT

Q6: what do you have in common with your muse?: We both have super overbearing parents who care too much and too little at the same time lmao. also i fence while still being very feminine minded and enjoying hair/makeup/fashion and i like seeing a character do that

Q7: how does your muse feel about you?: Hopefully we’d get along

Q8: what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?: Sebastians like j e s u s i love the drama. Also rciels have a quite interesting dynamic with her, though i really do appreciate every interaction, it’s much more about the muns that make it special than the characters

Q9: what gives you inspiration to write your muse?:  Sad music, painting, sewing, drinking a bitchin cup of tea, dancing, you name it. also my bf

Q10: how long did this take you to complete?: Like an hour and fifteen minutes, but i took a big sleep in the middle and had to look up a lot of quizzes

#& GAMES ᵃʳᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵒᶠ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵈˡᵉ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ

[p0pupb00ks]

Fair Game

Aurelia watched as women of every shape and size mingled and giggled with one another. Grown women. Giggling like children. Jesus. You’d never know they were in their thirties.

She didn’t know why she was here.

She didn’t know why she kept coming.

Maybe it was hope that kept her coming to “Flirty Thirty” speed dating. She was officially too old for hookup apps, and the other options for women who loved women were scant. Aurelia was quite the catch, if she did say so herself. She was educated, charming in the right light, and financially stable. She owned a house in the suburbs that would be paid off in ten years. She had already paid off her student loans. She had a cat named Frankenstein and minimal emotional baggage. For all intents and purposes, she was probably one of the better suitors in the room.

But here she was. Sipping shitty cabernet sauvignon in the corner.

Maybe she should just accept her spinsterhood and be done with it.

“Okay, ladies! Everyone have their numbers? Good! Head over to your assigned table and we’ll start.”

Aurelia sat down at a small table reminiscent of what one might see at a Parisian cafe. The lights were dimmed a little as everyone sat with weighted breath.

“Okay, ladies! You have four minutes on the clock! Begin!”

Aurelia’s brown eyes locked with the eager blue eyes across from her. The woman was nothing if not eager.

“Hi, I’m Sam.”

“Aurelia.”

“Oh, what a pretty name.”

Good lord. This woman was daft.

“Thank you,” Aurelia responded, “So...tell me about yourself.”

“Well I--”

And so it continued.

Sam was a hairdresser for a living. She loved dogs and swimming. It was very important to her to be fit. She was raised in Iowa and mentioned her ex-girlfriend more than once. Sam didn’t ask about her interests at all, but she seemed enamoured with Aurelia if her body language was any indicator. But Sam’s nails were too long, sending a silent signal that she was probably a pillow princess in lust with Aurelia’s appearance. Aurelia was a butch in formal clothes. She had probably made assumptions that she was the strong silent butch waiting to whisk away this pillow princess and claim her for her own. And more power to her. But that was not who Aurelia was in the slightest. Despite her trendy butch haircut and her tailored blue suit with matching tie, she wholeheartedly believed in sexual and romantic reciprocity.

Soon enough the four minutes were up. Aurelia had an odd number, so she stayed seated. She filled out her comment card with “absolutely not” and Sam’s assigned number. Two more speed dates were relatively similar. She met an electrician and a school teacher, both butch. They showed a little more interest in her; she wouldn’t mind getting to know them better. Both had pleasant dispositions and liked cats. Both had good heads on their shoulders. Both were attractive. By her fourth speed date, she was on her third glass of wine and feeling it. She felt warm, fuzzy, and giggly. Perhaps she should have eaten more before the dates. No matter. She took an Uber there, she could take an Uber back.

“Are you doing okay, Sunshine?”

A brunette woman sat across from her. This woman was probably taller than her, which wasn’t hard to do at five foot two, and had a very open demeanor. She had a soft smile that played at very full lips. Strands of hair were falling out of her messy bun and dusting her alabaster shoulders. She wore a maroon sweater that hugged her upper arms, leaving her shoulders exposed. From her seat Aurelia could see a few freckles on said shoulders. The carnal and very tipsy part of her wanted to kiss each one. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I’m fine. I think the cabernet finally hit me.”

“Do you need some fresh air?” The woman, whose name tag read Siobhan, reached a well manicured hand across the table and laid it lightly on her own. Fire shot from her hand and straight through her legs. Oh yes, the carnal desire was there.

“No no,” Aurelia assured, “I’m fine--I’m so sorry, I don’t know how to pronounce your name.”

“Oh!” The woman said, pulling away her hand, “It’s Shih-vohn”

“Siobhan,” Aurelia purred, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Siobhan’s face flushed violently. She was the shy type. Oh, Aurelia was going to enjoy this cat and mouse game. Hopefully Siobhan could keep up.

“So, tell me about yourself.” Aurelia grabbed the wine glass and rested it on her lips. She let the esters waft into her nostrils.

She took a sip--

“Well, to start, I’m a funeral director.”

And nearly spit it out.

“I know, I know!” Siobhan laughed, “But before you grill me, I do it because it’s so significant, you know? People trust me with their loved ones in their final moments before they’re officially laid to rest. And I love doing what I do. I love being there for them. And what do you do?”

Oh no. Aurelia’s least favorite question that seemed to come up during every single speed date. Telling people what she did often gave them the wrong impression.

“I’m a wedding planner.”

Telling people that often lead people astray, and she understood why. It made her seem bubbly and romantic, maybe even a bit daft. And that was not her in the slightest. If Aurelia had to sum herself up in a few words, she would say that she was charismatic, logical, and had an incredible eye for detail. To some she even appeared a little standoffish or cold. But that is what separated herself from her peers and made her so successful.

Siobhan raised an immaculate eyebrow at her and scoffed. Aurelia’s guard shot up.

“What, do you think I’m lying?”

“Well, no.” Siobhan retorted, “I don’t. I believe you. You just don’t...seem the type.”

“How do you mean?” Aurelia’s interest was peaked.

“Well--do you mind if I’m candid?”

“Go right ahead.”

“You’re a snob. I saw you here a few weeks ago, but I had to run out because of an emergency. I noticed that you tend to stand in the corner and you’re closed off. You’re a loner and don’t really seem like the type who actually likes coming to these things. And I don’t know if it’s social gatherings you don’t like or if you find it depressing or what. But you don’t seem happy here.”

“And how does that relate to my work?”

“A wedding is a giant party.”

“Fair point.”

Siobhan leaned forward and placed her arms on the table.

“So why do you do it?”

Aurelia adjusted in her seat.

“Because it pays well.”

It wasn’t a dignified sound, but Aurelia couldn’t help but find Siobhan’s barking laughter quite charming.

“Seriously,” She continued, “I get to do designs and network, and because it’s someone’s special day they will pay through the nose to have it exactly how they want it. And I own my business, so I can pick and choose my clientele.”

“Oh you own your own business? What’s that like?”

And so it was that four minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Aurelia’s heart dropped when she heard the dainty clang of the bell. She wanted to keep talking. They had only just barely glanced over the things that Aurelia wanted to talk about. They hadn’t even started discussing the fun topics like religion and politics. And for once she was engaged. And she wasn’t sure if it was the wine or if it was those alabaster shoulders, but Goddammit she wanted to continue.

“Well, Aurelia,” Siobhan purred as she donned a black peacoat, “I hope you have a wonderful evening.”

“You’re leaving already?” She almost whined in return.

Siobhan scribbled on her comment card and stood up. She dropped the card in front of Aurelia and laid her hand softly on her shoulder. The heat permeated. Siobhan leaned forward and Aurelia could smell her perfume. It was mild and floral and positively feminine. A few locks of hair brushed her neck as Siobhan whispered seductively in her ear.

“I got what I came here for. Good night.”

Aurelia simply nodded. She had been bested at her own game. She looked down at the comment card in front of her.

Call me.

This woman would be the death of her, Aurelia already knew it.

#wlw #writing #fromawritingprompt

[moricatlibrary]

Eren’s Valentine

Eren gets a valentine from his not-at-all-secret admirer, Armin, and struggles to hear out his feelings.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Eremin forever!^^<3333

Valentine's Day was finally here. Armin had been taking deep breaths in and out all day, trying to stay calm, but struggled to defeat his anxiety. Ever since he'd met Eren that day by the vending machines outside last month, he'd been absolutely taken with him, grew completely enraptured by him, and fell totally and irretrievably in love with him... The very vision of his dream guy appeared before him and he was everything Armin ever could've hoped for and yet everything he didn't even realize he wanted. Eren was clumsy, awkward, deceptively grumpy, and off-putting, but so very sweet, so caring, so brave, so strong, so passionate... Armin believed heroes didn't exist, they were only something to dream about in fairy tales and action flicks. But now, he felt like dreams really could come true, because a hero was right there in front of him, shyly rejecting his eager request to watch 21 Jump Street but ultimately proving to be nothing short of amazing.

Armin had struggled to present his feelings, they were too overwhelming for him to really know what to do with them, and finally Marco told him "Why don't you just tell Eren how you feel?"

Armin blushed as he jittered. "Eh?! But I feel like I've already made it so obvious! Maybe I should just accept that his reluctance means he has no interest in me..."

Marco raised an eyebrow over his smirk. "Mmmh... I think you should just try telling him very explicitly. I rather think it's just been going right over his head."

Armin was almost too afraid to hope for that. "You think so? It's possible he's just confused?"

Marco couldn't help the chuckle in his voice, for Armin was too in love to see Eren as the airhead that he certainly believed was. "Yeah. I think so. Try telling him directly. Then see what happens." he told him with a nudge.

Armin went home after that and got to thinking. Valentine's Day was just around the corner, so he decided to make his formal confession in the form of a valentine card, one that really expressed his heart's true desires to the incredible green eyed boy he adored... And he poured all his efforts into several attempts to do so.

Now, it was the 14th. The moment of truth. Armin finished passing out his little store bought valentines to all his friends and was ready to give Eren his when the final class was dismissed. He clutched the big red envelope in his hands as tight as he could without bending or damaging it and just waited by the lockers for Eren to arrive at his... And soon enough, there he was. As tall and as handsome as ever, acting aloof, looking incredibly bored, that same disinterested look in eyes as usual, like they were just waiting for someone to light the wild fire that Armin knew was just lying dormant inside him. Armin beamed and blushed, swallowing the lump of fear in his throat and ran towards him.

"Hey, Eren!..." he called as he unconsciously placed his hand on Eren's arm before quickly retracting it upon realizing that he had.

Eren looked up from his backpack-stuffing at the little blond who'd come to greet him yet again. "Ah. You again."

Armin inhaled once more to soothe his anxiety for Eren's simple response, and began his little presentation. "Um... Eren, I-- I wanted to- give you this." he said as he handed Eren the envelope trembling in his dainty hands.

Eren took it, mindlessly taking note of it's rather big size, and read his name across the front, written in very pretty handwriting.

"It's a valentine I made just for you. I wanted to, um... give you something special. Because you're very special to me. The note explains everything better, but-- I like you, Eren. I like you a lot. Like- like you, like you..." he confessed most ungracefully, as he squeezed the backpack straps resting on his little shoulders. He wished English had more phrases for the types of affection one feels for a person like Japanese did, so he wouldn't have to stumble through his confession like some little kid in a bad sitcom. "I just think you're so great and... I just wanted you to know, if you didn't already. For whatever that's worth."

Eren listened... and nodded. "Alright, well, I'll open this when I get home." he told him nonchalantly with only a small blush crowning his cheeks as he stuffed the envelope into his backpack, on top of the other couple of valentines he'd gotten that day.

Armin jumped in to add "W-Wait! Wait, here, I have 4 more to give you!". He quickly unzipped his backpack to dig out the prototypes he'd deemed less worthy of his hero and handed them to him nervously, noting that Eren's indifferent expression remained unchanged. "I tried really hard to make you one that was as good as you deserve, and that one was the best I could manage, but you should still have these others too..."

Eren took the others from Armin’s shaky hands, a little uncomfortable with this amount of affection. Did this little guy really think he somehow didn’t get the hint that he had a crush on him? "Alright then." he concluded, and nodded again before turning to leave for home, leaving the glassy-eyed boy there alone.

Armin watched as Eren turned the corner and then immediately began bumping his head against the lockers in embarrassment... The honest approach was such a hard one but if he wanted to be Eren's boyfriend, he certainly didn't want to begin their relationship with dishonesty. And he wanted to be with Eren so badly that he couldn't help showing it anyway... And of course Eren was welcome to reject him but still, it hurt to be rejected no matter how one sliced it. He moaned against the cold metal, overcome with the ache in his heart. He really loved him...

--

Eren came home without a word and tossed his backpack by the couch. The house was empty, indicating his mother had probably gone to the store, leaving Eren a quiet evening to himself. He planned to go on about his routine as usual, but he stopped and looked down at his backpack for a short moment. He bent down and unzipped the pocket to pull out the big red envelope Armin handed to him by the lockers. He stared at it briefly, expression still unchanging... and tossed it on the couch cushion before walking on into the kitchen to prepare a snack. With his snack cooking in the oven a few minutes later, he passed by the couch again and glanced at the red envelope still resting there untouched, but continued walking. A few minutes later, he passed by it again on his way back to the kitchen, now in just his comfy plain t-shirt and red boxers, and glanced at the envelope once more as he walked on to retrieve his snack from the oven. After gathering his sustenance, he finally returned to the living room to unwind. With his plate in one hand and the tv remote in the other, he settled down into the couch, legs and feet folded under him comfortably. And he glanced at the envelope again... but ultimately decided to continue ignoring it, and turned on the tv to channel surf for a while. Still though, he couldn't help peering at it every now and then from the corner of his eye.

At around 5 o'clock, Eren stood up with a stretch and vacuumed up his crumbs off the cushion with the DustBuster he kept beside the couch, not because his mother told him to, but because he hated to see himself leave a mess behind. In doing so, however, he knocked the envelope onto the floor. He turned the vacuum off and casually returned it to its place to pick up the envelope and held it in his hands for a long moment. He studied it again, studied the pretty way Armin wrote his name, curious too as to why whatever was in here required such a big envelope. The gears in back of his mind turned in thought about what it might say as he stood there in silence, still with that dull expression, before finally deciding to pick up his backpack and carry himself, and the envelope, upstairs to his room. He tossed the backpack on the bed, set the envelope by his pillow, and hopped onto the mattress, intending to start on his homework before dinner, but still that darn valentine preyed on his focus...

After several minutes of trying to do his algebra assignment, he tapped his pencil mindlessly on the paper, well aware he was no longer thinking of numbers or homework, but rather working kind of hard to not think about Armin's valentine. He looked over at it again, just sitting there with Eren's name face up in the silence of his room. His expression still didn't change, but his eyebrows began to furrow a little bit with curiosity...

Finally, he tossed his math homework aside and picked up the envelope in his big tawny hands. He studied his name again, wondering what it was like to be Armin, having such soft feminine handwriting and wondering too about this envelope and what it could possibly have in store. It took him a moment to realize it, but the envelope actually wasn't store-bought; it was handmade! That was certainly an impressive extra step, he thought. No glue or tape either, it was just fancily-folded red paper. That was... also impressive, he had to admit. And at last, he opened it, and pulled out a big card, and a letter...

Eren looked down at the card itself. It was absolutely beautiful! Armin had constructed it with some very appealing paper covered in a colorful looking red and gold floral pattern and in outlined letters, it read "I love you!". But if that weren't enough, Eren noticed the center of the card seemed to part in a strange way. He pulled it apart which opened it to a new message! "I adore you!", lettered over a blue and white ocean pattern. Eren's eyes widened. That was like magic! And there was yet another part? He pulled at this one too and found another message: "You're amazing!" lettered over a green and gold forest pattern. Eren was now grinning wide and bright for how cool this card was, and grew excited to find yet one more part. He opened it to read "You're my hero!" lettered over a red and gold roaring dragon pattern. Eren happily opened the infinite card over and over, again and again, reading the infinite words with a smile. It was something he never could've imagined getting! He'd never seen anything like this... He then picked up the love letter, handwritten as beautifully as the name on the envelope, on romantic looking ocean themed stationary, and rather nervously began reading...

Dear Eren...

It's been about a month since we've known each other and I wish we'd been closer by now, but... I wanted to give you this valentine anyway. Ever since I met you I've thought you were truly amazing. One of a kind! A hero, a wonder... and yet you're someone as ordinary as a fellow sophomore in the hallways passing by me at a vending machine. It's amazing! I know you don't see it, but I do, plain as day. You're bubbling with passion and fire and strength and I truly believe that you're exactly what this cruel world needs. I never had hope for the future before but after meeting you... I just find myself overflowing with it. You inspire so much in me, and make me feel like things are going to be okay. Thank you so much for that... Forgive me, but, if I may wish just one more thing from you, I hope to be friends with you. It's alright if you don't want that, but you do seem so lonely to me. And I really want to help you cheer up by showing you all the things I can think of that might excite you and make you happy. I want to see you light up and smile! I want to see you feel passion for something fun and hear you laugh. Will you please tell me if there's anything I can do to make that happen? And if there isn't, then I wish you to find it elsewhere because you deserve it. You deserve nothing short of the happiest life you can imagine. Please believe in yourself the way I believe in you.

Love, Armin.

Eren's happy expression had turned to one of desperate confusion... Aching confusion. He quickly pulled Armin’s other valentines out to read the rest of them, (never even minding the ones he’d gotten from some other classmates which fell into the floor). One envelope contained five sheets of pre-creased and folded origami paper, and instructions on how to fold them together into hearts to reveal a message: "I-love-you". Another contained a pretty, but blank card meant for love notes... and a tiny blacklight pen that revealed a secret message written on the card in invisible ink: "I love you, Eren. You're amazing. Be true to yourself. :)". Another contained a folded paper fortune teller with several messages to explore, throughout all the corners; "My Hero!", "You're Amazing!", "My Love!", "My Dream!"; and all the folds, "I love your eyes!", "Will you go to the beach with me sometime?", "You're so intriguing!", "Can we watch the sunset together?", "You're a vision of strength!", "Will you watch a movie with me?", "You are my hope...", "Can we please be friends?". Eren was growing dizzy... This was all becoming overwhelming. Finally he opened the last envelope, and found a simple card inside with a red heart painted on it... and a funny looking coin with a hole in it taped just above it. Armin had drawn an arrow next to it that pointed to the heart, indicating to Eren that he should scratch the paint away and reveal a message: "I love you... Thank you for being my hero. Please be true to yourself. Love, Armin."

Love, Armin. Love, Armin. Love, Armin. Eren felt like he'd read those words a thousand times now!

"God dammit..." he grunted, his eyebrows furrowing and his hands shaking in frustration as he grit his teeth and gripped the last card. "God dammit!" He shut his eyes and tossed the valentines aside in a fit as he fell back into the bed with a rough bounce. "God dammit!... Why?! Why does he think I'm so great?..." he whined, tears pooling in his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling...

Eren tried to avoid Armin's company ever since that day they met. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't like Armin, but Armin was so instantly infatuated with him and Eren just couldn't understand it. He'd watched him from afar for a long time, inexplicably intrigued by him, and he only meant to finally ask why he lets people bully him, but wound up becoming some sort of hero just for punching someone who deserved it. And now Armin was calling him the greatest thing in the world, when Eren couldn't feel farther from such an honor. Armin was smart, wasn't he? He should know better than to indulge in nonsense like love at first sight. Let alone the idea that Eren was some kind of a hero. What the hell could he possibly see to make him think Eren was anything but an average ordinary empty headed brat? Maybe his glasses were just fucked up. To be that pretty little blond guy's hero... it was too much to hope for. None of those things Armin said made any sense to Eren. How could he like him so much? How could he see him in such a wondrous light? How could he see any of these things in him that Eren himself just couldn't?

Eren rose up from the bed and stood up to walk over and look at himself in the mirror on his dresser. He looked at his empty distressed face. His eyes were lightless and he had wrinkles by his mouth from constantly frowning. His arms weren't very muscular and his haircut was plain. He felt like he looked so dull. Just a domestic, bored high school student with nothing but anger to give. Being that hopeful boy's hero... Yes, it was too much. Eren couldn't bear to dare believing in it. He had to prepare his rejection to him tomorrow, to just end this mess already, once and for all...

--

Armin held himself as he stood by the lockers the next morning, waiting patiently for Eren to arrive. This was it. He'd either be rejected or accepted and either way he'd have to move forward after this. He buried his face in his hands. Why did crushing on Eren hurt so much and yet feel so wonderful at the same time? Suddenly, he heard soft-shoed foot steps approaching and turned to see that Eren had arrived. It would all begin or end here... "Ah... Good morning, Eren..."

Eren only stared in silence, looking upset, his expression somewhere between sick and annoyed. And Armin noticed him clutching the letter from his valentine in a fist.

Armin gripped at his sleeves anticipating what was to come... but ultimately found himself unable to bear the awkward, intimidating silence any longer. "Eren, I'm sorry for coming on so strong, I'll accept any answer you give me, even if it's just you walking away... I can take it." he pleaded meekly, his glassy eyes seeming like they were going to shatter with heartbreak from behind his annoying spectacles. "So... What is it?"

Eren looked down at him, a frown on his lips and his fuzzy eyebrows furrowed. He'd planned his little speech before he came here. Dude, you are hopelessly lost. Why would you make someone you barely know 5 elaborate valentines professing your love to them? And where do you get off making all these assertions about me? Why do you think you saw something in me in 2 seconds that I wouldn't have seen in 15 years? What is it you even think you see? I’m not your goddamn hero!!! Why can't you just look at the facts and move on?! How can you see me as one?!!

Armin stared, wet eyes shining from the tears building up in them, still waiting for his rejection.

But Eren remained silent. His speech flowed through his head again and again, and yet the words wouldn't come out. His heart was aching... And the ache worsened the more he thought about it. He had every intention of rejecting this blue eyed boy and yet he couldn't even begin. Why was that?...

Eren watched as Armin swallowed a lump in his throat, looking like his final faint but precious glimmer of hope for love was about to be extinguished. And in that moment Eren realized... he didn't want to reject him. His fist relaxed, dropping the love note to the ground, and the angry speech in his head disappeared completely. His expression softened and his voice fell so gently on Armin's ears. "I'm sorry... I don't know how to respond to your valentines." he began, unsurprised to find that these were the true, honest words he’d really wanted to say all along. "They're too much for me. I don't have the words to respond to them to return the favor. I can't even begin to tell you how I feel. I'm so sorry. But for now, I guess what I can give you... is this."

The next thing Armin knew, a pair of plush, warm lips were pressing against his. His big eyes widened, his brain tried to process what was happening but for once, it couldn't think. A second passed. Maybe two? And Eren was still there, still kissing him, seemingly not intending to leave anytime soon. It wasn’t a dream then. This was really happening! Somehow, some way, the amazing Eren Yeager was kissing him. Armin finally closed his eyes to indulge in this gift of a moment and gingerly slipped his trembling hands over Eren's back while those soft lips continued to explore his.

Eren was so clumsy at kissing him. His mouth would open too wide, his teeth knocked on Armin's, spit brushed over the corners of their mouths and their lips, and he wasn't sure what to do with his tongue.

And yet, bad kiss or not, Armin cherished every second. His heart beat so hard and so fast, he worried he may pass out before too long, (in which case, he would only hope that Eren would catch him.)

Eren grew light headed, and only when he felt like he may be sick if he kept indulging in these suddenly overwhelming emotions did he finally pull away from the lingering boy's lips that hung onto his for as long as they could. And he marveled at the look on the blushing blond's face that he'd left behind. He looked so airy and light, so ethereal and beautiful... And when the courageous dizzy boy opened his blue eyes again to look into Eren’s, Eren felt like an arrow had shot right through his heart. Those glowing oceanic eyes put the stars to shame and every diamond too. Eren couldn't help reaching out and removing his glasses to look at them full view... It was the most inspiring sight he had ever seen. And then, Eren he did something he'd never really done before: put on a big, wide, dazzling smile, the kind romantic heroes would envy, and the one from Armin's dreams... just for him. A presentation never before seen by anyone was now exclusively Armin’s to love. 

And at last, the bell rang.

Eren sighed, but his lips still curled up in a smile. He had a lot to look forward to, after all. He glanced down and picked up the love letter that he'd dropped, planning to hold onto it forever now. He then tapped lightly up against Armin's chin, treasuring the way the little blond kept leaning in like he wanted to be closer. "See you after class." he purred.

Armin's voice cracked as he finally managed a response. "Ye-ahh..."

Eren turned to leave but stopped short, quickly turning back to tell Armin before he forgot, "Thank you for all the valentines! They were perfect..."

Armin blushed again. He'd stayed up all night preparing those valentines, working so hard to keep them interactive and enticing for Eren, finally deciding that an infinite card that would tell him his feelings forever would be the best choice. It was such a labor of love for which he expected nothing in return, not even real appreciation. And yet... "You're welcome." he told him with a humble smile.

Eren simpered and held his hand up to wave goodbye before finally leaving for class. As he sat at his desk, he found himself high on the greatest feeling he'd ever felt. He was looking forward to something. To Armin. Looking forward to what wonders Armin might have to show him, to what sorts of things they could share in, and maybe he’d even discover what it was Armin seemingly saw in him. If it was good enough to warrant that much love, then maybe there was something in him after all. His heartbeat pounded at such a funny rhythm that made him smile to himself in his seat. What a feeling... He had a lot to look forward to indeed. And this was a feeling he could not wait to pursue.

#eremin #eren jaeger #armin arlert #snk #aot #erearu #valentines day

[shineesbackbitches]

In what kind of God-forsaken universe did your ex-boyfriend’s newly minted girlfriend invite you to their housewarming party?

It wasn’t just insulting, it was-- it was-- absolute fuckery!

Who the hell?!

To say the least, you were spitting mad, stomping around in your work shoes with such aggression that the heel of one had snapped.

Thus, you found yourself pouting at the local cobbler’s shop. He was a friend of yours: Ilhoon, a fashionista to the core with a shamelessly dorky exterior. 

Fiddling with the heel of your shoe as he allowed the glue to set, he nodded along as you explained the sheer outrage of your current situation.

“So?” He said finally. “Don’t go.”

“How can I not go?” You fretted. “I know they sent me this damned invitation just to see me chicken out and bury my head in the sand. How can I let them be right?”

“Why do you care? They aren’t a significant part of your life anymore-- they’re assholes.”

“They’re assholes who’re gloating about how happy they are and I don’t really care that they’re together anymore-- I don’t-- I’m totally over him, I would never want to be in a relationship with him again. I may not be in love, but that doesn’t mean I’m not angry!” Crossing your arms over your chest, you lean back with a huff.

Way back when, you’d been very much in love with your ex-boyfriend, Shin.  He was good-looking, smooth, intelligent, and-- as a result-- a very successful businessman.  In other words, he was everything your mother had ever wanted you to date.  But you’d come home one evening to find him in bed with a pair of long, milky, unfamiliar legs slung around his hips and the smell of sex and sweat in the air. 

You had promptly slammed the door and turned on your heel, walking out of Shin’s life.

The next morning, however, you had returned to your apartment after he’d left, put his shit into a trash bag, and tossed it out onto the street.  Following that, you hadn’t heard from Shin, though you had spent many nights crying into the soft cashmere of Ilhoon’s designer sweaters, his comforting hugs your only solace for the duration of your post-breakup angst.

Well, maybe not entirely.

You’d partaken in a lot of vodka too.

“Don’t you think going is just going to make you feel worse in the long run?” Ilhoon pointed out worriedly.

“No. I want them to see how well I’m doing. That I’m really enjoying life and I’m better off, you know?”

“Well, you’re at least gonna have a bangin’ pair of shoes,” He grinned.

Ding!

Your phone chirped from inside your purse, prompting you to pull it out and unlock it. It was from an unknown number.

‘Hey, Y/N, this is Shin’s girlfriend.  He said you blocked him on facebook so he couldn’t message you-- which is a little weird-- don’t you work together? I got your number from your LinkedIn to make sure you got our invite since I didn’t get your RSVP. Anyway, hope to see you at the party this Friday!’

Oh.

Oh.

Shin hadn’t even told the poor girl about your history with him? You were just the girl from work? This was too good. You were going to destroy this boy. But there was the problem of the girlfriend… She seemed sweet.  At the very least, you didn’t think she knew you’d been dating Shin when he’d taken her home. No one at the office had.  

“It would look bad for you to be dating me when we work together,” Shin would say. He’d tried to excuse hiding your relationship; you’d chosen not to be suspicious.

Thus, you were left with a problem: you needed to make it clear you were not happy with Shin, but you also needed to protect his girlfriend from getting her feelings hurt-- you certainly had no intention of making a scene and embarrassing her.

“You’re gonna have to buy them a housewarming gift, you know…” Ilhoon handed you your repaired high heel.

Taking the proffered shoe, you grumbled, “What’s the point? He doesn’t want reminders of me in his home with her. He’ll just throw it out.”

“Why don’t you just bring something they’ll have to throw out anyway then? Like flowers?”

Something about his suggestion struck you.

You shot to your feet, hopping around as you slid on your sensible black pump. Grinning, you waved, already heading for the door, “Ilhoon, you’re a genius!”

His head cocked to the side and he blinked owlishly, watching you stride purposefully out of his shop and down the block of local businesses. “... What did I say?”

A cursory glance up and down the row of storefronts saw your gaze alighting on a little flower shop with a fully glass storefront, the panes painted sky blue, doors wide open. Baskets of flowers hung from the overhang of the porch and pre-prepared bouquets sat in metal buckets filled with water. ‘Miss Lee’s’ read the sign over the door.  It was cute and the open doors immediately drew you in.

The interior walls were unpainted red brick, and iron wrought rods of industrial lighting were strategically placed around the room to the advantage of the flowers and the natural light streaming in from the front windows. Strings of colorful blown glass bubbles floated from fishing wire fastened to the beams of the high ceilings. The shelves were filled with all sorts of succulents and quirky vases. All different shades of carnations, roses, orchids, and lilies bloomed from buckets scattered around the room. Snapdragons, daisies, tulips, and sunflowers winked brightly at you, making the room seem to smile with their happy, summery hues. The shop was gorgeous.

Nevertheless, you were here on a mission. Marching right up to the counter, where an employee had his back turned as he worked on an arrangement, you pulled a twenty from your pocket, smacked it down on the lacquered wood, and asked determinedly, “How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?”

Startled, the employee turned around, glancing down at the twenty then up at your face.  “Um…”

Well, shit. You hadn’t thought this through at all, and now you were faced with, well, the human personification of beauty.  

His eyes were sweet and almond-shaped, with lashes so thick and long you might have mistook him for a girl. Except for the muscles rippling beneath the tight shirt that strained over his chest.

Hooo boy.

You did your best not to stare-- really.

But when your request finally computed with him, he threw back his head with such a full-bodied laugh, how could you not?

His thin upper lip pulled back to reveal slightly large teeth, lending him a somewhat squirrely appearance. It certainly didn’t detract from his features. If anything, you were quite charmed by it.

“I’m sorry,” his laughter began to splutter out, “but what?”

Heat crept up your neck to leave a heavy flush on your cheeks. “... I need you to make me a bouquet for someone.  My ex invited me to his housewarming party with his new girlfriend and she texted me to ask why I haven’t rsvp-ed and I’ve just realized that she isn’t a fake bitch, she really has no clue that the asshole cheated on me or that we ever even dated but now I feel obligated to go and I need to bring a gift because that’s polite but I know he’s gonna toss it so I shouldn’t spend a lot of money on it or anything but I still want to kill him and make a scene but that would be so rude and Yun Jae-- the new girlfriend-- doesn’t deserve that kind of humiliation and it isn’t my business--” Your mouth snapped shut as you realized that you’d just been rambling to this total stranger.

His brows inched towards his hairline; a thoughtful hum passed his lips, “So you need a… a hate bouquet?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Relief flooded your expression. Finally! Someone understood you.

He began writing on a small legal pad next to the register, taking your twenty from the counter and putting it in the register.  “All right.  And when do you need it by?”

“Friday evening.” 

“Perfect,” he flashed you a gleaming smile, pushing the pad of paper towards you. “Could you leave your name, number, and preferred pick-up time here?”

“Of course!” You chirped, scribbling out the requested info.

“Great.  So why don’t you drop by tomorrow and I’ll show you my design for the floral arrangement?”

Minhyuk had been a little surprised when he’d turned around and saw a fierce little thing like you. He’d never gotten a request for a hate bouquet before. Chuckling to himself as you nodded and promised to come back tomorrow, he glanced down at his notes for your request.  What an odd way to express displeasure… With flowers. He got the feeling that you were the type of person who had trouble being impolite even at your own expense. And this would be at your expense-- he frowned to himself, thinking of the flowers he was likely to put into the arrangement. It would definitely be more than twenty dollars.

But he recalled the bright, righteous anger in your eyes and the rosy hue your cheeks had taken on and found himself drawn in. What a curious person. His eyes fell to the name you’d left for him.

Y/N…

How pretty.

The next day came more quickly than he’d anticipated, but either way he was prepared with a design for you.

He was not prepared, however, for you to walk into his shop in your office clothes looking like, well, like… Well, beautiful and soft. 

Your feminine figure was sheathed in a peachy pink dress that cinched at the waist with a thin, tan belt and fell to your knees, hair falling around your face in loose, romantic curls. But his eyes weren’t fixed on your gorgeous sloping hips or your dainty feet encased in nude stilettos. They had caught on the pleasant shade of pink dusting your cheeks and the gloss coating your plump lips. And when you’d ended the conversation you’d been having over the phone, putting the device into your purse and finally looking up, Minhyuk was struck by the way your eyes caught the natural light streaming in from his front windows.

“Hi! I’m back!” Your mouth perked up in a smile that made your whole face glow.

And Minhyuk was smitten.

“Hello, Y/N,” he grinned in return, feeling his cheeks warm a bit, “I have the design for your arrangement ready. Wanna take a look?”

Eager, you stepped forward and leaned over the counter to look at the collection of sketched scattered over the surface of the counter.

From the stack, Minhyuk pulled a stunning design featuring many warm bright shades of pink and orange. 

“Wow,” you breathed, eyes wide as you glanced back up at him, “He doesn’t deserve something this pretty.”

“No,” Minkyuk’s gaze connected pointedly with yours, “He really didn’t.”

“Oh,” you fidget, breaking eye contact out of sheer embarrassment. 

The moment having passed, Minhyuk is back to business, relaying the meanings of all the flowers he’d included in the bouquet. “Geraniums for stupidity, foxglove for insincerity, meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations meaning ‘you have disappointed me,’ and orange lilies for hatred to top it all off.”

You were amazed, “Minhyuk, really, this so striking,”

“And full of loathing!” He added cheerfully.

Shaking your head with bemusement, you snorted, “I can’t believe you took my completely asinine idea and made it something so beautiful. So how much more do I owe you for this? It looks pretty expensive.”

Subtly sliding his calculations for the cost under the other drawings (the math had come out to roughly $65 but why should you have to pay extra for inspiring him?), he responded, “Actually, it balanced to exactly $20.”

Skeptical, you folded your arms over your chest, “Did it?”

“Absolutely,” He nodded, seeming very certain.

“Okay…” You weren’t quite as certain.

“You know,” Minhyuk paused, “I do have a question, actually.”

Your head tilted to the side, encouraging him to go ahead.

“Don’t you think you’d drive your point home a lot better to this douchebag if you brought a date?”

You flinched a little. “I mean, yes. But I’m not dating anyone right now, so I don’t have anyone to bring.”

Somehow this response pleased him much more than it should have. Gathering his wits, Minhyuk leaned toward you with his cute little chipmunk smile, “And what if I offered to escort you?”

Flushing, you responded promptly, “I’d say yes and we’d have the weirdest first date I’ve ever heard of.”

And so that Friday, instead of picking up your hate bouquet at the shop, Minhyuk made a special delivery, closing up his store early to pick you up instead.

And yes, your ex-boyfriend-- whatever the hell his name had been-- Shu? Shannon? Cher?--had positively withered when you’d arrived on Minhyuk’s very, very muscular arm, flowers in hand.

Click to see our masterlist!

#AW YISS Imagines #aw yiss! #Minhyuk #BtoB #Imagine Asking Minhyuk to Make You a Hate Bouquet #a minty bias #Florist AU

[40sandfabulousaf]

Double trouble because I like this dress so much! It's a feminine wardrobe update since Spring is about all things sweet and dainty, although florals can be worn all-year-round whenever we want to add an extra dash of femininity.

Influencers have embraced the trend, indulging their girly side and, why not? Our power lies in our femininity, not only appearance-wise, but also our ability to be supportive, encouraging, refined, gentle, poised and ladylike.

I've rounded up my fave floral looks this week, starting with Leah of @voluptuousleah, in a womanly bodysuit, perfectly paired with suspender pants. Add pointy-toe slingback heels and I can see her enjoying a glass of bubbly with the girls.

Erica of @ericalauren looks luscious in a flirty little blue number. The red print truly pops against the background and the girly bow, along with pleated skirt, play up the femininity of this piece.

Sweetie-pie Nicole of @curvesonabudget13 goes comfy chic in green floral trousers and emerald top. She's unsure whether she's down with it; I personally think the hue is beautiful against her skin. Besides, her coy, demure, megawatt smile makes everything look good. I say keep the top. It will go with lots of neutral classic bottoms.

Alison of @curvygirlchic never disappoints when I'm looking for feminine, ladylike style. Hello absolutely gorgeous maxi dress! Loving the straw tote and nude sandals. This perfectly flowy number will look great by the pool as the weather continues to heat up.

I am IN LOVE with the way Rachel of @lovelyinla has styled this dress. Totally ADORABLE bag, cute sandals and I WANT THAT CROPPED DENIM JACKET!!!!!!!!! Sweet and demure, this babe's style personifies Spring.

We're in Batam now - YAY! - so there's a bonus post tomorrow. Cya! 🤗

#goldenconfidence #itsmyconfidence #fashion #style #shopping #seeyourselfseeeachother

[cpfmp-blog]

STYLING/BUYING WORKSHOP

REF PAGES: 56, 57, 58, 59

In this workshop I needed to plan and source four outfits as my two models will have two different outfits each for the photoshoot. 

PAGE 56: Sourcing vintage pieces

To mark the start of my styling workshop I went through my parent’s unwanted clothes to see if I could find any garments that would work nicely with my punk/grunge theme. This will reduce costs of buying other garments to put my models in for the photoshoot. I found various pieces (for both men and women), but the ones that fit my theme best are the yellow vest, mustard yellow cardigan, the purple cami top, white dotty blouse, blue graphic t-shirt, black slip dress and the blue ‘Italia’ sweatshirt. Not only do these pieces fit with my colour scheme and overall aesthetic of my photos, but using pre-loved clothes fits with the ethics of the grunge movement where they would shop for vintage clothing especially in charity shops. 

PAGE 57: Initial outfit ideas

Having those 7 pieces in mind and looking back through my research and moodboards I used polyvore.com to piece together looks inspired by my theme. I think this is a really good way of putting together outfits for a photoshoot, because you can see how the colours will look together and you can (if you wanted to) layer the pieces on top of each other. 

The plan for the first look was to use the blouse that I had found on top of a green/khaki turtleneck to make it a bit more grunge. I wanted to pair this with black cargo trousers as I have seen them quite frequently throughout my research and the process of making my mood boards. I then wanted to keep it simple with some heeled black boots, the ones I picked had the oversized zip, which corresponds with the punk way of customising clothing. Also fitting with the metalware and personalisation theme, I thought safety pin earrings would be perfect to top off the look and would be really dynamic in close ups/headshots. 

In the second look I was thinking of using the blue sweatshirt underneath the black slip dress, which makes it a bit more feminine. I was going to pair this with red tights (which I was going to rip, to fit the grunge aesthetic) and finish it off with some delicate black heeled sandals for a fairly feminine look. I like the contrast between the red and the blue and I like the link between the Italian sweatshirt and my research that I did about European vs. American Vogue. 

Look three is probably my least favourite out of the six. I like the purple and mustard yellow colour combination as it fits well with my colour scheme and isn’t conventional, however I think it doesn’t scream editorial as much as the others do and that is something I’m really looking for. With the rest of the outfits I can picture them working well in a variety of backgrounds and in the type of images I want to create, however this one seems a bit more boring.

I wanted to use look four to layer up the men’s yellow vest on top of a simple, black turtleneck but have both of those under a bright red jacket. I then wanted to finish off the look with black trousers and heeled boots, as this shows both the punk and the feminism side of my theme. Although I like this outfit, I think it needs a bit of development. I’m not so keen on the red jacket that I chose and I think it needs something else changed to make it come alive and have a stronger punk/grunge aesthetic. 

The main feature of outfit five is the jeans that I am going to splat paint on and shred. To compliment this I planned to pair it with the blue graphic t-shirt that I found in my dad’s wardrobe, a red tartan shirt (as a nod to punk culture) and black high top Converse, which I learnt was popular amongst both punks and people associated with the grunge movement. Again, I think this outfit needs to be developed a bit as it looks a bit more street style than editorial fashion.

One of my models actually bought this yellow and purple motocross t-shirt, which is what inspired me to base an outfit around it. I thought it would look really grunge-y with the shredded/distressed jeans, high top Converse and a tiara made out of safety pins, which is a way I can link feminism and punk culture together. I really like this outfit, however I’m not sure how well it would compliment the others - as there will be two models posing side by side, so they need to look good together.

PAGE 58: Outfit developments

To continue the workshop further, I have developed my favourite 4 outfits into looks that I think would suit my models and would compliment what the other is wearing.  

First Looks: Hayley in #1 & Ellie in #2 Second Looks: Hayley in #6 & Ellie in #4

I have developed it by swapping out the turtleneck underneath for the blue graphic t-shirt, this makes the outfit slightly less formal and more fitting with the punk and grunge culture. It also gives it a bit more texture and dimension as you will be able to faintly see the motif on the t-shirt but through the feminine dotted blouse. I also swapped the heeled boots with the oversized zip for studded boots as I thought they were more punk and it also creates more variation between looks one and four. The last change I made was taking away the safety pin earrings as Hayley doesn’t have her ears pierced and I’ve moved the safety pin accessory to her other look.

They only small development I made to outfit number two, because I was fairly happy with how it was, was that I changed it to a thicker strap and heel on the shoes. This feels more punk than a dainty sandal as punks more chunky shoes like Doc Martens.

I have quite drastically changed looks four and six (outfit six looks more like outfit four) as I was browsing Asos and had a few more ideas on how to make the looks even better. As soon as I saw the harness-style sweatshirt I knew that had to replace the turtleneck, vest and red jacket. It perfectly fits with the metal hardware trend from the punk subculture and Vivienne Westwood’s bondage style from the 80s. When I purchase the sweatshirt (which is from the men’s department) I am going to order a size large as I want it to be really oversized to fit with the grunge idea of thrifting and nothing being perfectly fitted. I also changed the boots to suede instead of patent as I felt that was too dressy to go with this look. I decided to move the safety pin tiara to this look as my other model, Ellie, has her ears pierced so can wear safety pin earrings & I thought it would be really dynamic to have headshots with them both wearing safety pin accessories. To add a pop of colour, which will compliment look six (which are being worn at the same time) I am going to have a mustard yellow leather jacket draped over the shoulders/in the models hand just to break up the all black look.

Garments from look four, like the black turtleneck, yellow vest and red jacket, have been moved over to look six, which I will pair with the distressed jeans, high top converse and the safety pin earrings. As I am planning on getting the jeans quite oversized I will use a simple black leather belt to hold them up, hopefully created the feminine, yet grunge shape of a paper bag waistline. I decided to change the t-shirt as I wasn’t sure how well the purple would fit in with the rest of the colours that are going to be used in the editorial. I also swapped the patent red jacket for a denim, oversized one as I felt it went best with the already-quite-busy outfit.

PAGE 59: Exact items to be used/purchased

This page shows everything that will be included in my photoshoots, apart from little practical things like belts etc...

Hayley in look #1: White polka dot blouse (Mango), blue graphic t-shirt (Diesel), satin cargo trousers (Bones at ASOS), studded ‘Amy’ boots (Topshop).

Ellie in look #2: ‘Italia’ sweatshirt (unknown), black slip dress (Dorothy Perkins), red ripped tights (Primark), black block heels (Boohoo).

Hayley in look #6: Black trousers with stripe (Topshop), black suede heeled boots (Topshop), oversized black sweatshirt (made by Callum Maunder), safety pin headpiece (made by me).

Ellie in look #4: Black turtleneck (Topshop), yellow vest (Topman), red bomber jacket (ASOS), white hightop trainers (Converse), paint splatted straight leg jeans (bought from charity shop, splatted by me).

[crazyblondelife]

Box of Style By Rachel Zoe - Luxury in a Beautiful Box

“Spring is my favorite time for a style refresh. A few breezy essentials make it so simple to elevate everything from blazers and boots to feminine dresses to jeans and a T-shirt. So incorporate a little glamour into your look this season—I promise it’s never been easier!” –– Rachel Z

Hi Everyone! I’m so excited to be teaming up with Rachel Zoe to tell you about Box of Style Spring 2019 Edition! Box of style is a luxury subscription box curated by designer and editor, Rachel Zoe! Every season, Rachel selects 5 style finds valued at over $400 for just $99 and those items are shipped directly to your door. Box of Style is the number one luxury subscription box available. The Box of Style Spring 2019 Edition features $515 worth of this season’s most coveted fashion, beauty and lifestyle items, including statement pieces that can be layered and styled so many different ways. This is the perfect gift to give yourself or someone special. I know that my daughters would love to receive an annual subscription and look forward to getting a box of luxurious goodies each season! Members of Box of Style also get exclusive access to the Box of Style Boutique. The Boutique is expertly curated (of course) with the best pieces at special prices. It features beauty, home and entertaining, jewelry, clothing and accessories. You can choose to be a seasonal subscriber or you can upgrade to an annual subscription. If you choose to upgrade, you can receive an Amazon Echo Look (while supplies last)! Amazon Echo Look is a hands-free camera and style assistant that takes full length photos and six-second videos that you view directly on the Echo Look app.

The best part is that you can get $25 off your first box using Promo Code: SUZANNE25!

Subscription Options

Subscription options include: yearly (billed once) or quarterly billing (pay as you go).

1 box : $99.99 / quarter Annual (1 box each quarter) $399.99 $349.99 / year   Subscribe Here and use code SUZANNE25 to receive $25 off your first box!

The Box of Style Spring 2019 Selections Include:

A beautiful Chan Luu Silk Scarf in either floral or leopard

The Chan Luu scarf is 100% silk and valued at $125. Chan Luu began making jewelry as a young girl, stringing together shells collected on the beaches of her hometown of Nha Trang, Vietnam. Two decades later, after forging a career in fashion as a buyer and retailer, she founded her namesake brand, making her first pieces of jewelry from her tiny garage in Los Angeles. The print is an exclusive Rachel Zoe Collection print, reinterpreted by Chan Luu.

“Nothing provides more styling options than a printed silk scarf. Tie it around your neck, head, waist, wrist or purse for an instant pop of color and of course glamour.” xo RZ

Styling Tip - Knot the scarf at the neck to add a French flair to any look. Roll it into a headscarf or cinch it around the base of your ponytail, or my favorite way…wrap around your wrist or purse for a chic touch.

Michelle Campbell Talon Bracelet Set

These dainty Michelle Campbell gold bangles can be worn separately or as a pair and make a beautiful daytime look. Layer them with other pieces for evening. They are made of gold plated brass with white pave stones.

Tribe Alive Leather Clutch - Exclusive

This sleek Tribe Alive Leather Leather Clutch retails for $78 and is made from genuine leather and is ideal for holding all of your essentials. It’s large enough to hold a cell phone, small wallet and of course lipstick. Keep it inside your larger work bag and then use it as a clutch for appointments. It also looks great inside of a trendy PVC clear bag.

Another reason to love this Tribe Alive Leather Clutch is that it’s designed by women and made by women. “Tribe Alive partners with female artisans around the world to employ at-risk women at living wages. Their Studios create safe work environments, dependable income and empower women to determine their own futures.”

Edible Beauty Gold Rush Eye Balm

I have a slight obsession with eye creams, because I want to keep the delicate skin around my eyes as moisturized as much as possible. Edible Beauty Gold Rush Eye Balm is the Gold Standard in eye cream (literally…it contains gold leaf) and retails for $65,. It is ideal for all skin types and assists in reducing puffiness while smoothing and rejuvenating the eye area.

Lightly pat onto your under-eye area using your ring finger. Gold leaf improves radiance and circulation, while coffee and cucumber extracts reduce puffiness and inflammation.

Skin Gym Rose Quartz Heart Gua Sha

The Rose Quartz Heart Gua Sha Retails for $32 and takes skincare “one step further than the jade roller. This massage tool boosts circulation and fits into your makeup bag. Keep it on hand for long flights or for a midday pick-me-up. Regular use drains puffiness and toxins while contouring and smoothing fine lines. It’s a natural way to sculpt your face and also relieves jaw tension.

The Rose Quartz Heart Gua Sha can be used with your favorite serum or oil. Store it in the freezer or refrigerator for a refreshing kick in the morning.

Use Promo Code SUZANNE25

Thank you so much to Rachel Zoe for sponsoring this post! I love my Spring Box of Style and cannot wait to see what’s in the Summer Box of Style! Have a great weekend!

#Rachel Zoe Box of Style #fashion #sponsored post