#AND was a haircut worn by women

[allastoredeer]

I always figured Alastor wore his hair that way because he thought the lack of human ears on the side of his head looked strange, so the hair helped cover that area.

True true, the lack of human ears would be jarring LOL

The previous ask had me looking up more about the shingle bob cuz I was curious, and back then a lot of women got bobs, not just because they wanted one, but as a form of female empowerment and the fight for women's rights. They were pushing back on societal norms and challenging the status quo (which we know Alastor likes to do >:3)

Alastor choosing to fashion his hair in a style that was known to be controversial for his time AND it being a feminine haircut makes me love it even more. That's so gender of him <3 (Although back then, one of the push-backs for the bob was that it made women look more "mannish" but considering the hairstyle men wore at the time, Alastor's hair would definitely be on the feminine side).

[bxtxnx]

why do you bring yourself down?

Planets in a square or opposition to your ascendant can have you feeling and thinking negative about your appearance for different reasons. Conjunctions can go either way – they can bring out either the positives or the negatives of the planet.

☉ The Sun in a conjunction, square or opposition to the ascendant can make you lack pride in your appearance. You can lack pride and confidence in the way you look and you bring down the things you do with your appearance, always thinking that you’ve picked out the wrong hairstyle or worn the wrong outfit. You are your own biggest enemy and no one can criticize and hate on your appearance better than you. Your father could have contributed to your negative self-esteem.

☾ The Moon forming a conjunction, square or opposition to the ascendant can have you constantly changing your opinion about your appearance. Just like the phases of the Moon, your self esteem is fluctuating. You can often feel sad or angry about the way you look and any negative moods or emotions seem to harm your self esteem more. You are either feeling like you are way too soft and feminine or that your are not soft and feminine enough. Your mother or a family member may be the one that is bashing and bringing your appearance down.

☿ Mercury squaring, opposing or conjoining the ascendant can have you have a bad opinion or think negatively about your appearance. You can overanalyze and even make an entire list of all your flaws. This placement is most likely to make you actually say your negative thoughts out loud and share with other people what you don't like about yourself. You might have some questionable ideas what to do with your appearance which results in bad results, like a haircut that doesn't suit you in the least bit. You are most likely to have dealt with siblings or classmates mocking your looks.

♀ Venus in a square, opposition or conjunction with your ascendant makes you unappreciative of yourself. You don't value your appearance enough, even if you are objectively attractive and everyone around you seems to think so. Your personal taste in clothes and accessories might be off, which makes you pick out ugly things or just things that don't flatter you. You put yourself down because of your features or your weight. Being too feminine or not feminine enough can have you disliking the way you look. Women that you do or do not know or your partners are the ones to put your appearance down.

♂ Mars conjoining, squaring or opposing your ascendant can make you give yourself scars by getting into accidents or scarring your skin with your own two hands by picking at any pimples or blemishes, which causes you to get angry at your appearance every time you look at yourself in the mirror. You may even go as far as hating your appearance and thinking that only surgical intervention will be able to help you. You dislike yourself because of your scars or redness/inflamation of your skin or because you look either too masculine or not masculine enough. Your weight is also a source of frustration, because you may not like the way your body looks. If anyone has made you feel upset about your appearance, it most probably has been a man.

♃ Jupiter in a conjunction, square or opposition to your ascendant can have you disliking features that you have based on your ethnicity. Certain beliefs that society has about beauty can have you disliking your appearance - if society around you considers fair skin to be beautiful and you have olive skin, you end up disliking your skin tone. You just don't hold the belief that you are beautiful. Jupiter in such an aspect can give you features that seem too prominent for you, which you end up disliking. If you are very tall - you dislike your height, if you have big thighs - you can't stand looking at them, if you have a big nose - you hate it. Your disdain for something about your appearance could have been triggered by a comment a teacher of yours has made.

♄ Saturn could have made you hate how you look more mature for your age, if it squares, opposes or conjoins your ascendant. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you may think that you look too solemn. You have a general disdain for your appearance and it takes a long, long time before you find something about yourself that you like and appreciate. You have a particular problem with your appearance, based on the sign Saturn is in, which has a negative effect on your appearance that you see as a flaw, it can even cause depression. Older people can easily have you feeling upset over your appearance.

♅ Uranus can give you something very unusual in your appearance which you dislike, when it's in a conjunction, square or opposition to your ascendant. You may be upset that your features aren't very symmetrical or you may have a more androgynous look which you dislike. You dislike something that makes you stand out from others way too much like a very unusual birth mark. You may take too big risks with your style and apperance which instead of making you look unique make you look like a clown in the eyes of some people. You may have friends that have made fun of your apperance and have cause you to look down on it.

♆ Neptune can give you a signature sad look that you dislike when it's in a conjunction, square or opposition to your ascendant. You often feel sad or even depressed about the way you look. You may delude yourself about what looks good on you. You feel down about your appearance because you think that you lack something - your lips aren't plump enough, your eyes aren't big enough or anything similar. Your own emotions are the enemy that puts you down, because being sad or mad about anything unrelated makes you feel bad about the way you look when you look in the mirror.

♇ Pluto in a conjunction, square or opposition to your ascendant can have you experience huge crisis with your appearance - you may fall into deep depression over the way you look or you may experience a big problem with your appearance that makes you feel awful about it. Making huge changes to your apperance also has you feeling upset, because you can't accept the change and you think it makes you look bad. Traumatic events can alter the way you see yourself and have you look down on yourself. ☽

[zahri-melitor]

What did fandom do to Cassie sandsmark?

A solid chunk of fandom has a hard time accepting any stories or characterisation from Cassie outside of Young Justice 1998 and a few panels from John Byrne, and I'm pretty convinced they don't think too hard about the end half of YJ98 either.

The easiest way to track this is to go and look through Cassie Sandsmark fanart, and then count how much of that art has any passing resemblance to the way she's been drawn for the last 22 years or so in comics.

It's emblematic in the utter obsession some people have about her hair length. Cassie hasn't had a short crop since she was covering her own hair with a wig, and during Sins of Youth, a crossover drawn in 2000, it's pretty fair to say aged up Cassie has a Meg Ryan haircut, which was very trendy hair for adult women at the time (for that matter Courtney Whitmore, Stargirl, also gets a very similar haircut during the event).

But "Cassie should have short hair" and "Cassie shouldn't wear skirts" and "Cassie's relationship with Kon sucks and they weren't really in love" and "don't even mention Cassie's relationship with Tim" and so on, even though: Todd Nauck started the process of growing Cassie's hair out throughout Young Justice and it tracks as a symbol of her growing confidence and authority; Cassie has comfortably worn skirts in art from multiple comic artists in multiple titles, including skirted armour; Cassie and Kon got together in Young Justice 1998 and their relationship was incredibly important to both of them both there and through Teen Titans 2003; and Tim and Cassie might have been coping by grieving together, but I've also seen similar dynamics in various Titans properties with say Roy and Donna, and people don't spend all their time dunking on that relationship.

It's a resistance to accept that Cassie has appeared in any comic since Young Justice 1998, and a refusal to value anything about her appearances since then, and a constant refrain to force her back to being exactly like she was in mid Young Justice 1998.

She's not allowed to have any of her development since 2003, even in her solos in 2007 and 2011, in her multiple Teen Titans runs (2003, 2011, 2014), in her personality in the Young Justice 2019, or in any of her stories in Wonder Woman properties outside of her initial introduction under Byrne.

[lackadaisycats]

i would love to ask(if you're comfortable enough, if not please ignore this) if the trans vers of your cat people retain their original hair(guys dont have any/indistinct like rocky, girls do like ivy, mitzi etc.) or they look like the gender they aligned with, or is it fully up to the characters' views themselves?

I get why the presence of hair on female presenting characters creates a sort of troublesome binary. It's not really my intention to treat it as necessarily connected to sex or gender, though. It's really more about how I choose to depict the hairstyle types themselves.

My priorities are creating distinct silhouettes that I feel match the personality of the character, and capturing something of that Jazz Age look. It just happens that hairstyles more typically worn by women at the time tend to be the more iconic, immediately recognizable styles. To answer your question more directly, though... If I were drawing a trans woman who I imagined would wear an Art Deco finger waved bob, then I would draw her with hair much the same way I draw Mitzi. If I were drawing a trans man with a shorter cut, slicked back hair, or an undercut, I'd draw him with the same forehead tuft + cheek-fur approach I draw for characters like Wes, Rocky, or Zib. If I were drawing a cis woman who I imagined with a sort of crew cut, I'd focus more on giving her a distinct head and cheek-fur shape than on trying to draw really, really short hair around her ears. And so forth. ----------- Here's a bit about my thought process for these design choices: Does the character wear their hair somewhat long? Shoulder-length, a bob, something with some notable exterior dimension that really affects the character silhouette? Something that screams '1920s'? If yes, then I'll probably draw them with actual hair. On the other hand, if I imagine the character to be someone who'd wear their hair quite short and closer to the scalp, I'll usually take a more abstract approach. I find drawing really short haircuts on animal-like heads with big ears to be pretty awkward - I never struck on a more literal design solution for that that I was happy with. It doesn't augment the character's silhouette the same way a longer or more dimensional hairstyle does, so I try to define a distinctive shape with extended fur instead, in a way that might imply something about their character corollary to the way a hairstyle might (i.e. Freckle's tiger tufts and Mordecai's sharp angles).

I hope that makes some sense! Or at least clarifies my intentions somewhat.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.  

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s. 

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.  

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.  

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance. 

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done. 

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.  

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.  

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.  

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.  

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.  

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.  

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans. 

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.  

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.  

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”  

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....” 

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”  

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”  

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.” 

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him. 

♡♡♡ 

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.  

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.  

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.  

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies. 

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.  

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”  

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words. 

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”  

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.  

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”  

“What are you doing with my...” 

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!  

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.  

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.” 

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.  

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”  

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”  

So that’s his name.  

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.” 

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.  

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”  

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.  

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”  

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.  

Of course.  

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.  

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police. 

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.  

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.” 

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.” 

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”  

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer— 

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.  

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.  

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.  

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”  

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.” 

“No, no, please...” 

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.  

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.” 

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.  

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.  

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.  

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.  

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.  

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”  

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...” 

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”  

“What now?”  

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”  

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.  

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.  

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.  

Jesus. 

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.  

Tony also sits down and shrugs.  “But it did. So what?”  

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”  

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”  

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.  

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”  

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.  

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.” 

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.  

Trouble with a capital “T”. 

♡♡♡ 

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight.  She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away. 

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that! 

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there. 

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.  

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.  

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.  

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”  

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.  

“(y/n).”  

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?” 

“I...” 

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.  

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.  

No one would dare stop him.  

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body. 

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.  

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?” 

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.  

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.  

♡♡♡ 

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.  

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.  

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.  

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.  

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.” 

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.  

He looks pleased.  

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”  

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.  

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.” 

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”  

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”  

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.  

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.  

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.  

“Shut up”, he orders.  

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”  

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”  

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”  

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start. 

Of what exactly, (y/n)?  

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”  

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.  

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.  

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.  

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.  

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.  

♡♡♡ 

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.  

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.  

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.  

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.  

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.  

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.  

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.  

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.  

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”  

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly. 

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”  

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”  

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...” 

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.  

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”  

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.  

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...  

Her head was going to explode.  

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes? 

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.” 

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.  

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.  

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”  

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface. 

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.  

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways. 

[skulls-and-wishbones]

The fluidity of gender expression in ballad of songbirds and snakes costume design was really refreshing.

I don’t remember his name but the boy in the incredibly frilly and loose clothing I thought was a skirt for a while in the career group, coral’s boyish haircut, CCs long braided hair. The skirt/pant mix of the academy uniforms that matches the men and women without simply having women dress like men (which is what normally happens in that sort of thing, pants for everyone) and how that design in specific was made so angelic by the use of shape in certain scenes.

it’s just so nice to have clothing being worn and made to show character without restrictions. Especially in something so main stream

[luke-shywalker]

he’s still a baby to me

I thought only girls did this sort of thing, Leia thought to herself as she navigated Han’s electric clippers around Ben’s head. Her fourteen-year-old son sat there, stone-faced, his knuckles gripping the edges of the kitchen chair.

Leia was currently performing damage control on a self-inflicted haircut. Ben had grown out his hair long enough to brush his shoulders, and he’d worn it like that for a few years, irritating Han to no end—but Leia knew Ben hadn’t cut it to please his father.

“Is everything going alright at school?” Leia asked carefully, sweetly, the same way she would on any other Friday night. But she knew that Ben saw right through that in an instant.

“Yes,” he muttered curtly.

“Are you feeling all right, sweetie?”

“I’m great.”

Leia paused, considering her next move like it was a game of dejarik. Honestly, sometimes it kind of was. Teenage boys were an unfathomable mystery.

Ah—she had it.

“I cut my own hair, once, too,” she said lightly. “When I was about your age. Women on Alderaan would always grow their hair so long—because of the traditional braids. I chopped all my hair off one day, just to give my attendants a heart attack, and had to wear hairpieces whenever I was out in public for the next five years.” She chuckled at the memory.

No response.

Gee, tough crowd, Leia thought.

Ben tugged at his long sleeves. These were the last days of summer, when school had already started but the air was still hot—not like the cool autumns of Alderaan, which had always seemed to come early as if to usher in the winter festivities as quickly as possible. But all summer long, Ben had been living in that same disgusting sweater, oversized and pilling—she had to force him out of it once a week to get it into the wash, and yet it still wasn’t enough to keep that old hand-me-down of Han’s from smelling distinctly of boy—

But a new thought had occurred suddenly to Leia, and her motherly instincts kicked into overdrive—teen angst—haircuts—scissors—blades?—and she found herself seizing his arm and rolling up his sleeve in one quick motion. “Mom!” he yelled.

But there was nothing to find. Only a pale, skinny wrist that hadn’t seen a single ray of sun all summer. She relaxed.

Kind of.

“I was…checking your eczema,” Leia fibbed. “Do you still put your cream on every night?”

“Yeeees.”

“Good boy.”

Nothing.

I wish I knew what went on in his head, Leia thought.

And then: …No. No, I don’t.

She remembered having her own share of teen angst, at his age—but, it had been quickly replaced by some very real trauma that had turned her forty years old at nineteen.

She had had some wild thoughts in her time. Scary thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Did everyone, she wondered? Or, was it just her…?

Anyway…she had to trust that Ben would turn out okay. Just like she had.

…Force, she thought to herself as she turned off the clippers and dusted off her kid’s shoulders. Did I turn out okay?

She stood there a moment, staring at nothing, trying to figure out whether or not she had turned out okay, whether or not she was raising her son okay—but Ben interrupted her racing thoughts.

“Mom, can I go now?”

Leia blinked rapidly. “Yes, yes, of course, sweetie. Come back downstairs for dinner around six, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Ben, even though both of them knew he wouldn’t be coming down until twenty-seven “Ben, dinner”s after six-thirty. “Can I play hologames with Poe?”

“Are they appropriate?”

“You’ve literally killed people, Mom,” said Ben, and bounded upstairs, nearly tripping himself over his too-long legs. “You don’t get to tell me what’s appropriate.”

“Ben Solo, where did you pick up that attitude of yours?” Leia yelled up the stairs.

But that, of course, was a ridiculous question in this household, and one that didn’t necessarily require a response.

Leia sighed and stooped to sweep up the hair trimmings by hand. Her knees ached a little. The short locks of black reminded her of the thin wisps of hair she had saved, in a little traditional chest she had received from another Alderaanian ex-pat at her baby shower. She stood up again, and remembered how it had felt to carry him.

He’s still a baby to me, she thought, fingering the strands.

[pansy-picnics]

Helloooo I just wanted to say that your trans Varian art is very special and comforting to me <3 it gives me warm soft feelings and it always makes my day thank you very much. The little details you include like what he uses to bind and his family supporting him and also him feeling comfortable enough to take his binder off at the end of the day or around certain people just makes me feel so seen and happy <3 I hope you have a lovely day

AUGHHGJGG THANK YOUUUU you have no IDEA how happy these kinds of comments make me,,,, 🥹🥹🥹🥹 i don’t even really identify my gender myself and im definitely not transmasc but varian is just So violently transgender to me and it doesn’t feel right to not portray him that way. i put a lot of effort into my portrayal of it so when ppl say my art makes them feel seen i literally. scream and cry and throw up /pos

and YES you get it omfg…..the little freak plagues my mind constantly he is SO loved and supported by his family. he’s a very practical guy to me so unless he’s going out for work or has visitors or something he can’t really be bothered to get dressed up or bind. he used to when he first started working in the castle,, but now he feels a lot more comfortable there and if he’s just gonna be hanging around at home he’s not gonna go through all the extra effort. and him feeling safe enough to do that is SO important to me!!!!! it makes me so unbelievably happy that people are able to notice all those details and i’m just so,,, oughggghh

ALSO!! the detail of the binder in particular is actually one of my favorite things i haven’t really gotten a chance to talk about it here…..i’m kind of a history nerd also and although tts doesn’t really have a set time period (and i honestly don’t want it to), i enjoy adding in some historical references here in there cuz i just think it makes the world feel a lot more immersive. but heres a fun fact for you if you want to read:

most modern binders are made up of some kind of nylon or spandex, both of which weren’t invented until around the 1930s or 50s. most people use bandages to portray trans characters in fantasy settings, but bandages by themselves wouldn’t really do much unless they were compressive, and compressive bandages as we know them today also weren’t invented until around WW2. THIS is where corsets come in.

corsets get a rlly bad rep most of the time honestly, because for some reason most people are still convinced they were like. medieval torture devices. and they were used to promote a slim silhouette a lot of the time but so were a LOT of other garments!! corsets alone were undergarments worn on a day to day basis, both by rich and working class women and even by some men in the victorian era. they were just used the same way we wear bras today!! it wasn’t any different!!!

but boned garments like this also had the ability to shape and form the body, and though obviously i can’t confirm anyone was making corset binders in the 1800s people have been able to make modern replicas with similar materials that have almost the exact same effect as a modern chest binder, which tells us that it would’ve been completely possible for someone to hide their chest with a corset like garment AND!! it was quite literally PROVEN to us during the 1920s flapper era!!!

i could go on and on about the flapper era and it’s influence on the general social culture but basically, a LOT of inherent gender roles were being challenged, so women were wearing shorter skirts and haircuts, and women’s fashion trends in general started to take on a much more androgynous silhouette to reflect that. a boxy, more boyish shape was actually strived for and a lot of women with larger chests would wear bodices advertised as “bust reducers” to create this appearance, a lot of which were made with similar materials to corsets of the time!!!

they obviously aren’t exactly the same as a binder we would have today but its shockingly similar i think, and it’s just neat to know that people really have been doing this stuff for centuries :’3

[beehunni62]

Married Mongolian Women’s Hairstyle in the Yuan Dynasty

Mongolians have a long history of shaving and cutting their hair in specific styles to signal socioeconomic, marital, and ethnic status that spans thousands of years. The cutting and shaving of the hair was also regarded as an important symbol of change and transition. No Mongolian tradition exemplifies this better than the first haircut a child receives called Daah Urgeeh, khüükhdiin üs avakh (cutting the child’s hair), or örövlög ürgeekh (clipping the child’s crest) (Mongulai, 2018)

The custom is practiced for boys when they are at age 3 or 5, and for girls at age 2 or 4. This is due to the Mongols’ traditional belief in odd numbers as arga (method) [also known as action, ᠮᠣᠩᠭᠤᠯ, арга] and even numbers as bilig (wisdom) [ᠪᠢᠴᠢᠭ, билиг].

Mongulai, 2018.

The Mongolian concept of arga bilig (see above) represents the belief that opposite forces, in this case action [external] and wisdom [internal], need to co-exist in stability to achieve harmony. Although one may be tempted to call it the Mongolian version of Yin-Yang, arga bilig is a separate concept altogether with roots found not in Chinese philosophy nor Daoism, but Eurasian shamanism.

However, Mongolian men were not the only ones who shaved their hair. Mongolian women did as well.

Flemish Franciscan missionary and explorer, William of Rubruck [Willem van Ruysbroeck] (1220-1293) was among the earliest Westerners to make detailed records about the Mongol Empire, its court, and people. In one of his accounts he states the following:

But on the day following her marriage, (a woman) shaves the front half of her head, and puts on a tunic as wide as a nun's gown, but everyway larger and longer, open before, and tied on the right side. […] Furthermore, they have a head-dress which they call bocca [boqtaq/gugu hat] made of bark, or such other light material as they can find, and it is big and as much as two hands can span around, and is a cubit and more high, and square like the capital of a column. This bocca they cover with costly silk stuff, and it is hollow inside, and on top of the capital, or the square on it, they put a tuft of quills or light canes also a cubit or more in length. And this tuft they ornament at the top with peacock feathers, and round the edge (of the top) with feathers from the mallard's tail, and also with precious stones. The wealthy ladies wear such an ornament on their heads, and fasten it down tightly with an amess [J: a fur hood], for which there is an opening in the top for that purpose, and inside they stuff their hair, gathering it together on the back of the tops of their heads in a kind of knot, and putting it in the bocca, which they afterwards tie down tightly under the chin.

Ruysbroeck, 1900

TLDR: Mongolian women shaved the front half of their head and covered it with a boqta, the tall Mongolian headdress worn by noblewomen throughout the Mongol empire. Rubruck observed this hairstyle in noblewomen (boqta was reserved only for noblewomen). It’s not clear whether all women, regardless of status, shaved the front of their heads after marriage and whether it was limited to certain ethnic groups.

When I learned about that piece of information, I was simply going to leave it at that but, what actually motivated me to write this post is to show what I believe to be evidence of what Rubruck described. By sheer coincidence, I came across these Yuan Dynasty empress paintings:

Portrait of Empress Dowager Taji Khatun [ᠲᠠᠵᠢ ᠬᠠᠲᠤᠨ, Тажи xатан], also known as Empress Zhaoxian Yuansheng [昭獻元聖皇后] (1262 - 1322) from album of Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk, Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368). National Palace Museum in Taipei, Taiwan [image source].

Portrait of Unnamed Imperial Consort from album Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk. Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368). National Palace Mueum in Taiper, Taiwan [image source].

Portrait of unnamed wife of Gegeen Khan [ᠭᠡᠭᠡᠨ ᠬᠠᠭᠠᠨ, Гэгээн хаан], also known as Shidibala [ᠰᠢᠳᠡᠪᠠᠯᠠ, 碩德八剌] and Emperor Yingzong of Yuan [英宗皇帝] (1302-1323) from album Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk. Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368), early 14th century. National Palace Museum in Taipei, Taiwan [image source].

To me, it’s evident that the hair of those women is shaved at the front. The transparent gauze strip allows us to clearly see their hairstyle. The other Yuan empress portraits have the front part of the head covered, making it impossible to discern which hairstyle they had. I wonder if the transparent gauze was a personal style choice or if it was part of the tradition such that, after shaving the hair, the women had to show that they were now married by showcasing the shaved part.

As shaving or cutting the hair was a practice linked by nomads with transitioning or changing from one state to another (going from being single to married, for example), it would not be a surprise if the women regrew it.

References:

Mongulai. (2018, April 19). Tradition of cutting the hair of the child for the first time.

Ruysbroeck, W. V. & Giovanni, D. P. D. C., Rockhill, W. W., ed. (1900) The journey of William of Rubruck to the eastern parts of the world, 1253-55, as narrated by himself, with two accounts of the earlier journey of John of Pian de Carpine. Hakluyt Society London. Retrieved from the University of Washington’s Silk Road texts.

[brotherslayer]

Bals des victimes

The bals des victimes allegedly began as part of a rash of merrymaking and balls that broke out as the Terror came to an end. According to one source, they emerged as an idea of youths whose parents and other near relatives had gone to the guillotine, and to whom the revolution had now restored their relatives' confiscated property. Reveling in the return of fortune they established aristocratic, decadent balls open to themselves alone. Those who attended the orgiastic balls reportedly wore mourning clothes or elaborate costumes with crepe armbands signifying mourning. Some accounts have both men and women wearing plain but scanty dress in the wake of the impoverishment of the Revolution, at least until the return of their fortunes at which time ball dress became highly elaborate. Others describe women, in the fashion of Merveilleuses, dressing scandalously in Greco-Roman attire, with their feet bare, in sandals, or adorned only by ribbons, a possible allusion to the fact that women often went barefoot to the guillotine. The style of dress at such a ball was known by some as the "costume à la victime." Women, and by some accounts men too, wore a red ribbon or string around their necks at the point of a guillotine blade's impact. Both men and women attending the balls were said to have worn or cut their hair in a fashion that bared their necks in a manner reflecting the haircut given the victim by the executioner, women often using a comb known as a cadenette to achieve this fashion.

[shortkingvi]

🌞🕶️⛱️ shortkingvi's ultimate guide to cool butch fashion in the summer ⛱️🕶️🌞

Hello friends! At long last, I come bearing the summer fashion guide I promised a little while back. As a young kid looking to butch up my wardrobe, I found it rather difficult to find sufficient inspiration for some with my body type and goals. It can be - and is! - difficult to find decent fashion guides geared toward butches by butches, and even moreso for the summer season when the typical butch fashion fallbacks (layers, boots, etc.) just aren't realistic.

And so, as someone who spends a lot of time putting together fun outfits that fit me well and bring me joy, I figured I'd put something together in hopes that someone on the lookout for help figuring out their style might make use of this!

Below you'll find:

Information on determining your style goals

Tips on creating outfits and combinations that are undeniably butch/masc

Advice for butches who might not be safe to shop outside the women's department (you can still make a masc outfit out of women's clothes, I promise!)

Outfit inspirations

The best places to shop as a butch/masc person

...and more!

So, click on the read more if this sounds like it might be useful to you! Feel free to shoot any questions my way, as well; I'm happy to help you out with some more specific advice.

Section 1: How the hell do I figure out what I want to look like?

Before we can get into the specifics, it's crucial to figure out exactly what you're going for on your butch fashion journey, especially in the summer. Butch/masc fashion is not a monolith, and you likely have seen some popular butch trends that you absolutely do not like. That's great! That gives us a perfect place to start.

There's no shame in using celebrities, fictional characters, or even friends and family as a jumping off point for your style. Hell, I recently watched Love Lies Bleeding and have been incorporating muscle tanks into my wardrobe more than ever before. It makes things a whole lot easier if you have an idea of what you'd like to go for with your fashion choices.

I recommend ignoring full ensembles and thinking about the micro details of an item of clothing or outfit that you really enjoy. Consider things like:

Length - is there a sleeve or pant length that you'd like to try out?

Colour - is there a colour you feel like you look good in? A colour you think others look good in? Do not fall into the "x skintones can only wear x colours" rhetoric - that is the devil speaking and we do not do that here. Every colour can be worn by anyone, so long as you style it well!

Vibe - have you been wanting to try out streetwear? Country/cowboy style clothing? Soft academia? It never hurts to pick a vibe and look for inspiration from there. Google, in this case, is your best friend

Pattern - do you enjoy florals, perhaps? Start thinking about what you'd like to incorporate this into

Body type - is there something you'd like to highlight on your body? Maybe a cool tattoo, your newly flat chest, strong thighs, or even a fun haircut you've gotten. It's always great to feel confident about your body in whatever you're wearing

Once you've thought through some of these things, it makes it infinitely easier to establish a baseline. You might really want to buy a Guy Fieri style button up: go for it! Use that as your anchor point, and start to build out the rest of a look from there.

Section 2: I am a butch who doesn't know how to make clothing fun if I can't layer! Help!

Trust me, I get that. Sometimes it feels a lot easier to present more masc when I can wear a hoodie and jacket with some loose jeans, but this does not mean your summer need only be full of plain t-shirts and 9" inseam shorts. Creativity is absolutely possible in the summer.

Take this outfit, for example:

Pretty standard, pretty basic, right? It's a pair of sneakers with a t-shirt, shorts, and a baseball cap. And yet, it's not boring. The shorts are patterned and bright blue, which means they'll be the focal point of the outfit. The shirt, as a result, should be a bit plainer, though it doesn't need to be soulless. I've got a fun little graphic tee on here - theres a larger design on the back - with just a touch of blue in the numbers to match the shorts. The hat is in keeping with the blue and white theme (I am a big fan of matching your hat to your outift. Though it's not absolutely necessary, it makes things look much more intentional on an otherwise simple outfit).

Brief interlude to talk about shirt lengths and sizing here. Though this is not always the way I feel, in shirts like this I tend to prefer to reduce the prominence of my chest. I'm not dysphoric, personally, nor do I bind, but I do enjoy the aesthetic look or a uniform body shape when I'm in a combo like this. In order to achieve this, I buy shirts a size up from what I usually wear. I typically am an XS, so when buying shirts, I'll look for a small size most times. I also almost exclusively purchase my shirts from the men's department because the cut of the shirts follows a rectangular shape and in turn cut a more angular chest to hip shape on the wearer - you'll want to look for shirts labelled "regular fit" to achieve this.

(We'll talk about shorts later on in this guide)

Back to the outfit breakdown. The shoes are Jordans. Disclaimer: I am a big sneakerhead, so my shoes mean a lot to me, but you in no way need to spend the big bucks on your shoes! A simple pair that. again, is in keeping with the theme go a long, looooonnngg way. I also urge you to leave the standard ankle socks behind; low length ankle socks give your outfit a really harsh cutoff. A pair of slightly higher ankle socks - or even a low crew sock - work much better to highlight the muscle lines in your legs and bring that more masculine feel to your lower body clothing.

All of this is to say that while yeah, you might not be able to layer as much as you would like, you can still create pretty simple looking outfits that are engaging, unique, and give you that distinctly butch feel - in a well put together kind of way.

Section 3: I want to wear muscle tanks, but everything I try on looks weird!

Ah, the muscle tank dilemma. My mortal enemy. My eternal plight.

I have bested this, though, and today I'll introduce you to two different ways I've done so.

First and foremost, sleeve length. A good, more masculine looking muscle tank should have sleeves that cover the entire top of your shoulders - without going past them (you'll be edging into cap sleeve territory if that's the case, and that'll move the needle toward a more traditionally feminine style).

Next, please stop falling for the extended sleeve hole propaganda. While a sleeve like this

might be what you have in your mind when I talk about muscle tanks, it is absolutely not doing you any favours in butching up your wardrobe while also keeping it stylish and flattering. These are great for the gym, but not always the best at cutting the body shape you might be looking for in a tank.

What you want instead, is this:

See how the sleeves follow a tighter line around the arms but then cut a more uniform shape down the body? This'll give you wayyyyy more room to play with presentation. You can find tanks like this at almost any clothing store (athletic is your best bet) - this one comes from Champion, and is about $18 CAD.

But maybe you reeeeeallllly don't vibe with store tanks; they might be boring or constantly have logos and sayings that are that specific kind of millennial cringe that makes your teeth ache (sorry millennials, we do not rise and grind here). Well, my dear reader, let me introduce you to my (semi) foolproof method of creating your own muscle tank! Go read that tutorial if you’re interested in cutting your own, and then come back here so we can chat about it.

Ultimately, what you're looking for here is a tank that gives you a slightly boxier shape without absolutely dwarfing you in it. This'll draw attention to the parts you want to show off (in a muscle tank, that's probably arms and shoulders) and reduce focus on your torso's figure.

Section 4: Can we go back to the layers discussion? I need help with that!

Though I have, for the most part, moved out of the layers realm when it comes to my summer fashion, I still love and appreciate the occasional button up situation.

I typically have two rules when it comes to layering that I'll explain here.

Figure out the focus before you put on the outfit

I'm not a fan of a patterned button up paired with an equally busy tee; I think they both end up pulling focus from each other and leaving the outfit looking cluttered. To make sure the outfit does what I want it to, I typically will either do a patterned button up with a solid colour tee or tank underneath, or a simple button up with a graphic tee:

2. Understand that length and fit are everything

It's easy to assume that all button ups are created equal; this is WRONG. Sleeve length is crucial, and simply cuffing your sleeve can make the shirt look much more flattering in the long run. It'll also add some dimension to the layers you're wearing to make sure that they all fit each other appropriately. Your top layer shouldn't be shorter than your bottom layer (there are occasions where this is fine, but typically, it looks messy), so finding a top layer that hits at the waistline or can be tucked in and look good is critical.

Layering in the summer can be tough because of the heat, but many short sleeve button ups are made with lightweight material and are breathable by extension. I like to shop at Hollister or American Eagle for my button ups, but ASOS has a great selection in a wide range of fits and styles, as well!

Section 5: Shorts... just shorts.

Shorts are tough; it seems like the moment you find a length that works for you, the trends move on or you start to hate it. I think that the best rule of thumb for shorts is to buy what works with the style of shirt you tend to wear.

If you wear a slightly looser shirt, but not one that hangs super low, a 3-5" inseam is best for you. It'll do well to cut a taller figure by exposing some more leg, but also provides you with a good selection of looser fit shorts to go with. These shorts in this photo are roughly in this range and look pretty solid with the looser, skate style/streetwear shirt I personally prefer:

A tighter shirt or tanktop typically works better with a longer short - I don't LOVE shorts beyond like a 7" inseam, but there are definitely ways to wear them in a fun, flattering way. I enjoy a longer short when I'm going for that 80s-90s style butch look. If I'm doing certain kinds of cropped muscle tanks, a longer short gives it the messy ratty kind of vibe I like:

Also, don't buy into the jorts slander! They'll always be a simple, classic look that is easy to pair and style. I like to turn my older jeans and longer shorts into shorter jorts when I get tired of them, which gives me the lived in look I prefer from denim.

Shorts, really, are about what you want your figure to look like more than anything. If you're a short lil guy like me, a shorter inseam will almost always help elongate your figure. Buying a short that fits straighter gives your legs an opportunity to not get squashed by something too tight. There's 100% a space between tight femme shorts and baggy basketball shorts, and it's all just a matter of determining what that space is for you.

Section 6: I can't stop wearing Vans and I need to be free

I am taking your hand gently as I say this: there is a whole world out there beyond the skate shoe. Come with me as I take you there.

Please, PLEASE invest in at least one pair of sneakers. I personally wear Nikes most often because I really enjoy the chunkiness of the shoe, as well as the vibrance of most of the designs.

Here are some of the styles I enjoy most:

Dunks: These come in high or low tops and are typically a bit chunkier than other styles. They're sleek but casual and look great with a looser pant.

Air Force 1s: Are a similar shape to the typical Dunk, but are a bit smoother and simple. Don't be fooled by the argument that the white AF1 low is a feminine show - that's the gender devil talking, and we don't like that here. An AF1 is incredibly versatile.

Jordan Spizike Low - if you love Jordans and crave a pair of J4s like I used to, the Spizike is a more affordable option. It's dynamic and fun and looks great if you're wanting to edge into the streetwear realm.

These are only a few examples of Nikes specifically that I think do well to help spice up an outfit or edge into the masc/butch territory if you're not ready to fully dive in.

I've also become a big fan of Vessis recently because they're 100% waterproof and provide some nice casual to semi-formal options.

Summer shoes, ultimately, are about comfort on the move while also looking fun and exciting. I think sneakers do a good job to help with this.

Side Note: if you wear anything under a Women's US 8.5, you can fit junior sizes and save yourself money on shoe costs! I wear a Women's US size 8 and so I exclusively buy Junior US 6.5s and subsequently save myself $100 at times.

Section 7: Nightmare blunt rotation - formal wear in hot weather

It suuuuucks most of the time, I know. But this is probably because you've been lead to believe suits are your only option. Spoiler alert: they're not! I don't have the time to run through all your options here, but I'll give you some general directions to start heading toward that are both butch AND can be tweaked if you're not able to/not comfortable dressing fully butch quite yet.

First up, the short sleeve button up:

One of my best friends got married last May, and I knew that a long sleeve shirt would be FAR too stifling for that kind of weather. SO, the short sleeve white dress shirt came in to save the day:

With this look, I took a rather simple shirt (I don't think it cost me more than like, $50 at the most) and made it formal by adding a tie, a racing stripe dress pant (purple was the wedding theme), and a collar clip that added a pop of gold where I would typically include a necklace. This look got me plenty of compliments, and by cuffing the sleeves and adding a brown belt and shoes, I ensured it looked super clean and formal enough for the setting I was in.

The other semi-formal to formal look I enjoy is the vested pant suit:

I LOVE this look; I recently wore a vested pant suit to a bridal show and it was SUPER flowy and breathable but didn't at all feel too femme for me.

My rule for this is that if you're wearing a loose or baggy pant, leaving the vest open and wearing a tank underneath looks best. I did this and paired them with a chunky platform oxford, and the look came out pretty solid, I think!

If you're interested in a more fitted look, however, a closed vest and a slimmer pant looks incredibly nice; it can almost edge into that punkish middle ground that still is acceptably formal, like this:

Whatever your choice for formal attire, remember that the most important thing is your comfort in hot, sunny weather. Lighter colours are better, but shade and water are most important!

Section 8: Hey, I'm not able to shop for mens clothing yet, what should I do/ where should I shop if I still want a butchier look?

I get that and sympathise; I've only recently (the last few years) felt fully comfortable buying mens clothing. Luckily, we are in an era where even women's trends are veering toward baggy, straight fit clothing, so it's entirely possible to creep toward a masc presentation regardless of the department you shop in.

ASOS has a huge selection of clothing, and they carry quite a few unisex items as well.

I find that Hollister's mens section can also be passed off as just like... baggier womens clothes, so that may be an option.

Sport and athletic wear tends to trend toward gender neutral as well. In the same way, streetwear like Fear of God or Supreme will cut the same look while still giving you a softer transition into buying and wearing masculine clothes.

The most helpful thing, in my opinion, is to find people who dress the way you want to dress and start leaning on that to determine what'll work best for you. It was a lot of trial and error for me and I certainly am still evolving in my clothing decisions, but establishing a baseline of what makes you happy will always result in more confidence and a longer lasting wardrobe.

Section 9: Shortkingvi's Outfit Reference Guide - if You're Looking for Somewhere to Start

Here are some outfits I've put together that are simple and casual and may give you an idea of what you'd like to go for. Not all of these are summer looks, but they do well to show the sort of fit I like to aim for and what I think really affirms my personal expression. Feel free to ask for links to certain items if you'd like to know where they're from!

[callsignbaphomet]

Glance, stillness, formal, texture, favorite, and change! For whoever you want ofc <3

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

☆.｡.:* He has really big and bright gray eyes that are more on the lighter side.

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

☆.｡.:* He has ADD so standing still is kind of a pain in the ass especially as his medication starts wearing off. It's your usuals: shaking his foot without him even noticing he's doing it, hums without him even realizing he's doing it, constantly chewing gum to offset the requirement of standing still. He's been known to lightly scratch his cuticles and picks at his skin. He has little things he can play with while standing still. Before heading off on a job though he makes sure to medicate and have plenty of gum.

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

☆.｡.:* Oh, this is fun! His formal looks are all dresses, heels, jewelry everywhere he can put some and some of the most extravagant makeup looks he can come up with. He HATES men's formal clothing with a burning passion but luckily he's an avid cross-dresser and given the fact that he looks androgynous and has curves he passes as a woman and gets a kick out of that while he and Jelani laugh about it. He's worn men's formal clothing before and hated every second of it.

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

☆.｡.:* He's a slut for silk. Give him anything made of silk and he'll hump your leg for 30 minutes. Furs and leather are another favorite of his. He hates ruffles and anything plaid. He avoids anything with rough textures as he prefers soft fibers and fabrics plus Jelani has texture sensitivities.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

☆.｡.:* He has this really soft, off the shoulders, oversized, pastel colored long sleeved shirt that's super light and breathable that Jela bought for him when he was out on the job somewhere in Europe. He loves to wear it around spring and just before summer and he wears it/combines it with lots of articles. He has a little circlet and set that Jela got for him from one of the times they went to one of the exo realms. Every time they passed by the shop he stopped to look at it through the window and he would've gotten it himself but he wasn't sure if he should or exactly when he'd wear 'em. He only pulls 'em out during special occasions. It's made from materials only found in that exo realm. Honestly every time Jelani goes out and Angelus stays home or back at base he always brings him something.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

☆.｡.:* You can sorta say he constantly does. Like I said he's an avid cross-dresser and he goes hard. Half his closet and drawers are full of women's clothes (yeah, including underwear). He likes changing things up with different styles (pastels, goth or whatever he feels like). Then he'll switch it up and dress completely masc and instead of short skirts and oversized sweaters he's decked out in techwear or anything "tactical" (civilian kind of tactical, he's not running around in full uniform off the clock lol).

[x-choutenchan-x]

Hi! I wanted to ask a question about Jirai kei <3

For a bit, I've wondered if I'm a jirai kei girl. I've been doing my research, gotten some girly kei clothes, been making some of my own in fact (I'm in America and my parents don't trust most websites I can get girly kei clothes from), but I'm aware that Jirai Kei girls have been wearing more of a punk type style. I wanted to know if I can be a jirai kei girl even if I wear girly kei clothes, even if the style is changing? Also, I wanted to know if I can even be a jirai kei girl. I'm an indian living in america, and my skin is darker than most (ik it sounds silly), and i do live some of the jirai lifestyle (sh, and bpd, no drugs yet), and I really wanna know if I qualify. I couldn't ask on your jirai kei blog, so I hope I can ask here. Please feel free to delete this, but if you do respond, thank you so much!! <33

thanks for the ask! and i will say: anyone can be a landmine—though it is a subculture primarily in japan, it is also a subculture that has become rooted in the internet as well. otherwise, i myself would likely not be jirai kei. the only thing that really matters in labeling yourself under this term is that you are aware of the nature of the subculture, and label yourself as “jirai kei” knowing it is not supposed to necessarily be a good thing. the term is derogatory for a reason, this kind of suffering should not be sought out.

this also brings me to say that jirai kei isn’t the clothing you wear, despite it being a subculture related to certain kinds of clothing trends. though it has become less common, girly kei is still sometimes worn among landmines. and, if it’s what you like wearing, then wear it! just like how wearing girly kei doesn’t make you a landmine, not following clothing trends doesnt really mean anything as to whether or not you are a landmine.

to clarify the current trend, to my understanding the “punk” look is more of just an alt fashion:

something sort of like this (after a lazy google search that’s the best picture i could find)? i personally am not completely confident in my understanding of current trends, but i believe it focuses on the look of a baggy print tshirt/hoodie, leg warmers and arm warmers, fishnets, etc. and both twin tails and jellyfish haircuts are popular. of course, black is a common color but platinum is another choice. heavy piercings on the ears and face still are common, and skirts can be worn underneath the shirts (usually pleated). once again, i could be entirely wrong on this and would encourage you to do your own research on this if you’re curious.

and, once again, anyone can be a landmine. jirai kei is determined by the person’s mental health—hence the “landmine type.” if you’re going to emotionally explode, you pretty much fit the bill. of course, the other big factors in the subculture is the pien and booze, but drugs, sh, and of course the bpd like you mentioned are also all factors. the tokoyo kids are one big part of jirai kei’s history, and i’d encourage you to learn about them if you can. there’s also the kabukicho stuff with the men in host clubs taking advantage of vulnerable women and eventually putting them into sex work under the guise of a “romantic relationship,” and even the jirai kei not directly involved with these groups have their own turmoil that they suffer with. whether you “qualify” to be jirai kei is really up to you, and if you decide to take this label, then i hope you find comfort here.

i will reiterate, it is good to do your own research and take everything i say with a grain of salt. however, i would ABSOLUTELY avoid tiktok at all costs when it comes to information on jirai kei. from anything ive ever seen, tiktok is invaded by fashion landmines who would absolutely harass you if you were to tell them any of the info ive said here. they view lifestyle landmines as insane, and insist that jirai kei is only girly kei fashion. there are various accounts on tumblr that discuss jirai kei as a subculture, and one of the best people ive seen for this info is zirazyo (hello if you stumble across this post btw), and they probably have better sources than i do for a lot of this. i am only one person in this community, and i absolutely do not know everything. but, i hope that i was able to answer your questions well! ♡

also, thanks for letting me know that my inbox isn’t open on my jirai blog—i’ll make sure to go fix that!

[big---tasty]

alright dykes and brodies we only have one mission and that is to take back the bowtie. im talking to us mascs that constantly fumble the bag and actually respect and love women. pathetic stupid dudes have always worn bowties and this is how it shall remain. i know bowties are fuckin ugly but we have to make a statement, and that is that bowties must no longer be associated with terfs and the ugliest fuckin fashion and haircuts known to planet earth.

[tbdofficial]

An extremely fast-and-loose analysis of several TBD characters’ outfits (Croissant, Timekeeper, String Gummy) ft. Steampunk and Her Weird Cousins. take all of this with a grain of salt bc it’s just written off the cuff lol

⏳ Croissant is in a getup typical of ladies in sci-fi and especially mechanic-y types - half-zipped coveralls tied at the waist, and a tank top (grease and sweat optional). Doesn’t look one bit out-of-place in our era, which means it’s very suitable for our Croissy - an engineering student in the late 2010s/early 2020s. There’s a fun hint of steampunk in her design with the brass goggles, of course, which doubles as a spot of foreshadowing. Her Timecraft, though, is a special case! It’s a Renaissance Era-inspired, Da Vincian flying machine - this would be considered ‘clockpunk’.

⏳Timekeeper is steampunk. You all know what steampunk is. Top hat, monocle, puffy shirt sleeves, an embroiderer, various gears and gizmos - all retrofuturistically Victorian things. Overall a lovely design that makes people go batshit bonkers, and rightfully so. Their costumes tend to combine masculine and feminine articles quite succinctly, which I adore for them. Nonbinary slay.

⏳ Ruler of the Ephemeral Flow also draws a lot of steampunk, but also bleeds past that into other aesthetics - there’s kind of an early 1900s theme with the Ruined Future characters that I’ll touch on in a bit. In a lot of ways, it resembles a military uniform, with the jacket and cloak. The skirt-over-trousers look was fairly popular with Victorian women (well, skirt cage in this particular case), and two out of three of Teek’s outfits include it! I’d also like to point out a particular feature - the 19th century weeping veil, worn during periods of mourning; in this case, donned when Timekeeper is at their absolute lowest. Whoever designed these characters deserves a raise and a handjob. Moving on.

⏳ Timeless Love is pink. I fucking love pink. I don’t have many thoughts on it though but it fucks. Fantastic.

⏳ Director Croissant is decopunk - dieselpunk’s contemporary, but brighter and shinier bedfellow. (We’ll talk about dieselpunk in a bit.) Decopunk is based in the early-mid 20th century, much like dieselpunk, simply from a more optimistic perspective - because as we all know, nothing bad ever happens in the early 20th century. Symmetry, straight lines, smooth patterns, rich metal accents, admiration for crisp modernity and the beauty of machinery. The Future is Bright! Tech & invention will change our lives for the better! Art deco! Expressionism! et cetera. The cloak and chain makes her resemble a military commander, with her new leadership position.

⏳ The patterns on her outfit are smooth and geometric - diamond-shaped buttons, swooping arches on her cap, all decked out in gold and steel. It’s… a fittingly ironic aesthetic for a character whose invention unwittingly destroyed the world, straining to keep up her once-genuine mask of idealistic optimism. It also foils her nicely with String Gummy, whose gruff exterior belies a genuine sense of hope.

⏳ String Gummy is a dieselpunk - likewise based in the early 20th century, but darker, grittier and more pessimistic. Baggy military uniform-esque pants, gas mask, tiki skull motif, shaved haircut, metal prosthetic, and a Big Ass Rifle. In a similar vein, his skill + Smile Detector’s green glow resembles that of radium dial clocks, which is…. um. uh. Concerning. I don’t think pastries can get cancer or anything but but but but

⏳ Detective String Gummy (his “dashing uniform” as he describes it) is also rooted in dieselpunk - the archetype of the film noir detective. He’s more colorful and more unambiguously heroic, and - I was going to say “less depressive” than most examples of said archetype, but this is String we’re talking about, so the bar is lower than a Dutch conga line. Still tough as nails, gritty and relentless, but not without his softer spots.

[princecrows]

because i dont go outside i dont think of myself as someone with a gender presentation because the only people who perceive me are my parents and because im in pajamas thats low effort right? i dont think about the fact my pajamas are womens pajamas and that i present myself every day wearing pink and traditionally feminine clothing because that is what ive worn for years. i wear jewellery every day and have for years and i wear earrings and my lack of real defined masculine haircut especially now makes me look feminine.

gender non conformity without real intent or purposefulness is so funny to me like i have never thought of myself within a gendered context as i exist most of the time i always think of myself only in a gendered context in public but even if you argue nobody perceives me at home someone does my parents do and they think of me overwhelmingly as someone who does not conform to gender and is a feminine man. (if they think of me as a man at all!) if you wear a dress and nobodys around to see does that count as gender presentation?