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mavericksy · 4 years ago

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Time to Waste (Aizawa x Gender-neutral Reader)

Summary: Aizawa is displeased when your lengthy going-out routine leads the two of you to arrive late at an event, and you know full well he’s going to get you back for it- after all, that was your plan.

Tags: Spanking, mild public humiliation

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+

Word count: 3990

Requests are open (any character/pairing/rating)!

Black or blue? Slim or bootcut? You hold the pants in front of you, scrutinising them under your bedroom light. A pile of going-out clothes lies discarded on top of your shared double bed. You’ve known about this event for the last few months, and had even considered your outfit choices during the slow hours of work, but you’ve purposefully avoided making any decisions until an hour beforehand.

Aizawa arrives in the doorway. He’s already sulking at the prospect of having to wear a tie, but his face well and truly drops when he sees you sat on the floor in just your underwear.

“You…you told me you were ready!” he hisses. “You told me you just needed to change your shirt!”

You look up as though you weren’t expecting to see him in the doorway of his own bedroom, and tilt your head to the side.

“Yeah, but…there weren’t any good replacements!”

“So you took the entire outfit off?”

“What’s the matter? You don’t want me to look good at this event?”

“Like I told you earlier, I could care less what you wear. I doubt we’re even going to make it at this rate.”

You roll your eyes and check your watch.

“Come on, big kitty…” His shoulders hunch at your pet name, and you know he’s trying to suppress a blush. “We’ve got an hour to get there.”

“And if there’s traffic?”

You shrug. “We get there a little late, so what? If anything, it’s less time spent rubbing shoulders with people you don’t like.” “The earlier we arrive, the earlier we can leave. The later we arrive, the more people there are to block our path to the exit.”

“I’m surprised you even accepted the invitation.” You hold two shirts up, one dark blue and one white pinstripe. “Which one?”

“I don’t care, so long as you wear something.” He leans against the doorframe in despair. You don’t miss his eyes coasting over your nude curves as you kneel on the floor. You make a special point of leaning forward to pick another article up, knowing his eyes will snap to your underwear as it rides up the swell of your backside.

“Hmm, I think I’ll go with this one…” You retrieve the shirt and shuffle your butt, as though to shift the material of the underwear somewhere more comfortable. He’s momentarily distracted, then he spots the red shirt in your hands.

“That’s the one you were wearing before!” He pushes himself off the doorframe and storms over to snatch it out of your hands. His suspicions are confirmed as he inspects it. “You…!”

He stares down at you as you kneel on the floor. You employ the big, confused eyes, holding a pair of trousers to your chest.

“You…” he sighs and ruffles your hair. Your chest leaps with glee, and you nudge your head into his touch, only for his fingers to tighten on the back of your skull. He pushes you into the crotch of his suit pants. “I know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What?” you say, letting your lips brush the material. You raise a hand to stroke his thigh, moving onto your haunches. His fly is an inch away from your face, and you let your fingers dance across it, clicking against his belt buckle.

“Stop that,” he grunts, pushing your head down and stepping over you. He drops the shirt and moves to the door. “Get dressed, or I’ll make you sit naked in the cab.”

You know he’d never make good on that, but you feel your blood rush towards your pelvis anyway.

“What have I done?” you whine, getting on all fours to pick the shirt up. His gaze is fully on you, even as he stands in the doorway about to leave the room. He takes in the dip of your back as it cascades towards your covered ass, which you’ve positioned pleasingly in the air.

He chuckles darkly.

“I’ll tell you what you’ve done. You’ve just earned yourself a spanking.”

He was right. There was traffic.

You had felt extremely pleased with your plan as you exited your house. Aizawa hated public affection, but he’d taken an extra moment to squeeze and maul your ass as you kissed behind the door, only to lay a swift smack on it just as you stepped out. He’d played it nonchalant, but your eyes had immediately gone to the cab sat right by the door, both mortified and thrilled at the prospect that the driver might have seen- or heard your squeak.

As the driver hummed and tapped his wheel, staring out at the line of cars ahead, you felt Aizawa’s withering gaze squarely on your face as you put all your attention into toying with the window controls.

He moved closer to you, hanging over your shoulder so you could hear his controlled breathing, and smell the shampoo on his hair. At the back of your mind you were happy to discover it was the herbal one you’d bought him. As he lingered, you became more and more aware of his broad, muscled shoulder digging into yours. Neither of you had ever seen the point in comparing body types, but you were always conscious of the sheer brawn he hid under his dark, ill-fitting clothes.

The stinging spank he had given you before you left had only been a taste of what was yet to come.

You squirmed and clenched your cheeks as the memory of it worked its way back onto your flesh, making the skin on your rear tingle. Already you were wondering if the thorough groping he had given you had left bruises, or if the ache in your body was simply it yearning for what was yet to come.

After the event.

He didn’t say anything in the taxi, but you could tell from the way his fingers drummed against his folded arms that he wasn’t impressed with you at the moment. Both of you kept checking your watches, but eventually the vehicle pulled down the required avenue in a ritzy part of the city. Your heart sank and his scowl deepened as you arrived outside the restaurant, and saw a throng of burly heroes already outside.

Aizawa thanked the driver and jumped out first, before coming around to your side to open the door. You had been avoiding his gaze for most of the journey, horrified at the shock of traffic you hadn’t predicted, but now you couldn’t find anywhere else to look but his face. His eyes were hard and intense, but it was the fire behind them that made you tremble as the door handle clicked. It wasn’t the cold and professional glare he reserved for villains and irksome colleagues.

It was the one that told you that you were going to be sleeping on your stomach for the next week.

You thanked the driver and stepped out of the cab, expecting to take his hand. Instead, his arm snaked around your waist. Uh-oh.

He held his watch in front of your face.

“Seventeen minutes,” he deadpanned.

“I-”

He cut you off with a firm wallop to your rear, the opposite cheek. You jolted and tried not to make a sound as you stepped onto the carpet outside the restaurant, and into the crowd of heroes. They were boisterous and broad, jostling each other in tipsy shows of strength, but Aizawa’s arm kept you pulled close to his side. Your cheek tingled as you navigated through to the entrance, ducking around Aizawa’s industry colleagues as he snubbed them one by one, and it didn’t stop tingling until you’d reached the door.

“Aizawa,” he said plainly to a woman holding a ledger. You fidgeted in place as she took a moment to read through it. Standing on the spot was making your butt clench in a way that drew attention to your sore skin, and it didn’t help that Aizawa’s fingers were caressing the thick flesh at the base of your spine, which created another problem for you below the belt. You flushed and readjusted your pants as the woman let you through. A thrill rushed up and down your spine as Aizawa’s hand dropped momentarily, allowing him to graze your cleft as he pushed the heavy glass door open.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he muttered into your ear, eyeing the room for any potential interactions to be avoided. “We’re getting out of here as soon as-”

“Aizawa, you finally made it!” A familiar voice cried. Your heads snapped in the direction it came from.

Having spotted you from the bar, Midnight was waltzing over in a sea of red sparkles, her breasts swinging perilously close to freedom behind her plunging neckline. Her perfume tickled your nose as she swept in to smooch Aizawa’s cheek, a gesture he had long learned to tolerate instead of try and avoid.

You felt your cheeks going pink as she did the same to you. You made the mistake of avoiding her gaze by looking down at her bosom.

“So cheeky!” she exclaimed, assaulting your shoulder with a bar napkin- a makeshift replacement for a flogger. “Aizawa, you need to keep this one under control!”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” Aizawa growled. Your cheeks suddenly became very hot and sweaty as you realised exactly what was about to happen.

Aizawa was a private person, but even he needed an outlet sometimes. Midnight, the single most shameless and salacious person you had ever met, was a match made in heaven.

“I’ve already had to schedule one punishment for tonight.”

Sweet humiliation tore into your lower regions as Aizawa squeezed your side possessively, staring Midnight down as though daring her to make a claim on you.

Which she of course did.

“I thought you had a guilty look on your face,” she purred, looking you up and down. “Make him late, did you?”

Trying to keep your lips clamped together to avoid a shriek of delighted indignity, you nodded.

“Oh, aren’t you bad? Stealing my time with a dear colleague. Aizawa, let me teach them a lesson, too!”

“Keep off,” Aizawa said, tugging you to stand in front of him and resting his head on your shoulder. You could feel his jaw move as he dragged his tongue across his grin. He pushed his hips to your ass, making you stir as you were pulled against his erection. “This one’s mine.”

Midnight chuckled and traced your chin with her finger. “Pity.”

Aizawa snapped his teeth at her playfully, to which she laughed.

“Make sure you give them a couple extra to make up for staring at my chest!” she called over her shoulder, before vanishing into the crowd to tease some other poor soul.

Aizawa nestled his face into your shoulder as she left, and kissed the back of your neck. Laughter bubbled out of you as he squeezed your sides.

“You’re not usually this affectionate out and about,” you said.

He stood and laid a single kiss to the side of your head, patting your rear. You both knew that, for all the fuss they’d make about him not attending this event, nobody was paying any attention to you.

“I’m having a hard time keeping myself from bending you over my knee right here, right now,” he hissed, all but stopping your heart as you gazed around the room. He was.

“Don’t you dare,” you giggled as he guided you to make a lap around the room.

“Strange,” he said, grinning wolfishly. “You’re not the one who’s supposed to be giving orders to me.”

“Like I listen to your orders to begin- oh!” You leapt out of your skin as he patted you more firmly than you were expecting, your reaction drawing much more attention than the mild spank.

“I’m going to kill you, I swear,” you hissed as you hurried past a group of bemused heroes.

“I’d welcome it,” he sighed, raising his hand and stopping as two heroes you didn’t recognise spotted him and started to walk over.

The cab door slammed shut.

“In,” he said firmly as the cab drove off. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stumbled towards your front door, keys in hand.

He arrived behind you, his impressive body casting a shadow over the door as lamplight caught him. You could feel him judging you as you fumbled with the keys, your fingers shaking, until eventually he stepped forwards and plucked them from your hand. His warm breath coasted down your neck as he leaned over to maneuver them in the lock, much more quietly and gracefully than your nervous hands could have done it.

“Over the couch.”

Not keen to disobey him further, you quickly hopped inside your warm front room, glancing over your shoulder to gauge his expression. Usually you delighted in playful sessions sat on the edge of the bed, but the couch meant business.

You hurried into the living room and headed for your slightly worn fabric couch. It was padded to accommodate Aizawa’s frequent naps, but the height of the arms meant that any time you bent over them, your butt pointed straight up in the air. You got yourself into position, sighing as your face, predictably, smushed straight into the cushions.

His shoes hit the floor in the other room. A swish of material told you he had taken his jacket off. In his socks, he was able to move around the house silently, and his voice from the doorway made you jump.

“Pants down,” was all he said, before promptly disappearing.

You groaned as you stood again, catching a glimpse of his white shirt disappearing towards the kitchen. Trying to avoid the gaze of the cat statue on the mantel, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers and tugged them down. Being so hasty about getting to the couch, you had neglected to take your shoes off (and you half-hoped that wouldn’t result in a harsher punishment, half-hoped it would), and had to settle for pooling your pants around your ankles.

He hadn’t said anything about underwear, so you left it up as you got back into position. You sensed he liked it better that way- more to play with.

You blinked the dust from the sofa out of your eyes as you waited for him to return, feeling a chill run down your exposed thighs. It wasn’t a comfortable position, and the pants restricting your leg movement made it all the harder to balance.

He couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes- after all, he was probably as excited to get started as you- but at the same time you were concerned that maybe he wouldn’t come back at all. Maybe lying here for the entire night was your punishment- or, worse, maybe he was upstairs right now, hurriedly packing his bags to sneak out the front door.

You didn’t hear him enter the room, of course. What you did hear, much closer than you had expected, was the sound of his belt buckle. You craned your neck to look at him, heart pounding and your lower regions tightening in anticipation as he folded the thick leather strap over in his hands. His fingers stroked down it as he saw you staring. They weren’t moving in a graceful, easy motion- the belt was too rough and worn for that. He circled them around the top of the loop, staring down at you and licking his lips.

“How many minutes late were we?” he asked.

You breathed in carefully. “Seventeen minutes.”

“Seventeen what?”

You hung your head.

“Seventeen minutes, master.”

He didn’t respond. You assumed he was nodding.

“That seems like a good place to start, don’t you think?” You didn’t answer- he didn’t want you to. “On top of that, there’s those extra few for staring at Midnight’s chest-”

You pushed yourself up on your hands, ready to protest.

“I didn’t-”

Crash!

Warm pain flooded through your buttocks. You had barely had time to register his movement. Heart pounding, you took a moment to caress where the belt had just landed.

“And one extra for trying to argue with me.”

His fingers appeared on your wrist. He pushed your arm to the side. The material of his trousers brushing your nude skin, he leaned over to play with your underwear, smoothing the waistband against your skin before pinching it together and yanking it upwards. You gasped as you felt the fabric pinch against your body, lifting your ass into the air as he tugged the material into your cleft, leaving a much wider canvas of warming skin.

He tapped the belt against the swell of your rear.

“Start counting from two,” he commanded.

You nodded, and braced yourself.

Wallop! Your entire torso lifted off the couch as the weight of the belt slammed into your ass, leaving you out of breath- and it was only the second strike.

“Were you expecting a warm-up?” he said. You nodded, blinking away the moisture that was already beginning to pool in your eyes. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have wasted so much of our time, earlier.”

He tapped the belt firmly against your skin, but hadn’t made his next strike yet. He was giving you a chance.

“What number?”

“Two, master…” you mumbled, tucking your hands away to keep them from springing back to defend your rear.

“Good. You can’t get ready on time, but you can count.”

The weight of the belt left your skin.

“Three!” you choked out. “Four!”

He paused again, the cool, warning presence of the belt leather laid against your skin as always.

“You’re getting sloppy. There’s a certain word I haven’t been hearing from you for the last two strikes.”

He swung the belt, which landed explosively against your right cheek. You rolled your hips to alleviate the sting, wincing.

“Five, master…! Six- six, master! Seven…master!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you repeat them.”

The next three hits came with such speed, you were still halfway through counting number nine by the time ten had landed. He gave you a brief moment to recover. Your legs lifted in the air together, still bound by your own trousers, as you tried to jerk the sting away.

As they settled back in place, ready for number eleven, you felt a delightful warmth run across both cheeks. Your privates pulsed insistently, emboldened by the rush of blood to their neighbouring regions.

“Are you sorry for making us late?”

The belt was already making its journey through the air as you opened your mouth to reply.

“Yes, I’m sorry for- eleven, master! Yes, I’m sorry for- twelve!”

“What was that?” He struck you again, his face like granite as he listened to you whimper out the number thirteen.

“I’m sorry for- ah, ow!”

“That didn’t sound like a number.”

“Fourteen! Ah-ow! Fifteen!”

You felt his hand on your skin, blissfully cold to dispel the angry heat across your cheeks. He rubbed them soothingly, but his voice still had a warning tone.

“You’re getting sloppy on your ‘masters’ again. Do I need to repeat what I told you with the belt?”

“No, no!” You shook your head firmly. His large hand suddenly crashed against your ass, once for each cheek. “Ah!”

“Lucky for you, I decided to use my hand. Wasn’t that nice?” You nodded. Two fingers wormed their way underneath the fabric of your underwear, grazing your cleft and making you moan as they tickled the sensitive spot. “I think you should thank me.”

“Thank…thank you, master…” you said, arching your ass into his fingers. They left you promptly, only to be followed by another strike from the belt. This one ripped across your upper thighs.

“That’s…sixteen, master!” you gasped. The pain from the blow had made you jolt forwards against the arm of the couch. The couch fabric had caught against the front of your underwear, pulling it down and causing curls of your exposed pubic hair to drag against the material, evoking an unsubtle groan.

Aizawa snorted as he lifted the belt from where it had landed between your thighs, and yanked your underwear back into your cleft. All that did was force your body against the couch, the friction making more soft moans bubble out of your mouth.

“You’re not supposed to enjoy yourself so much when you’re being punished,” he told you. “I don’t want to hear another sound out of you unless you’re counting these blows. If I do, I’ll start over. Understand?”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from making any noise, and nodded your head.

Seventeen landed, its weight coming unevenly against your right cheek again. As you counted it, making an effort to keep your voice even, Aizawa balanced his hand on your cheeks, thumbs swirling against your flesh as he stepped to the other side.

“Eighteen, master!” This one seemed to flip the pattern, with the pain searing against your left side instead.

Nineteen was a difficult one to get through. The angle of the belt changed mid-flight, the leftover force causing it to slap against your left cheek and immediately spring against your privates.

“Ni-nineteen, master!” you yowled, turning your lustful moan into your words to keep him from hearing it. The strength of your voice seemed to have drowned out an apology from him, and for the final blow, his hand settled against the small of your back.

“Last one, my pet…” he mumbled as he lifted the belt. You hummed and squirmed into his touch as you waited for the blow to land.

“Twenty, master!” you said almost as soon as it landed. The pain faded quickly, dulled by the intense need growing in your loins.

Immediately, his hand stroked down your back, and he picked you up from the couch to pull you close to him.

“Aren’t you so good, taking all those blows like that?” he said, massaging your flushed rear. You both looked down at the visibly sore skin as he pulled your underwear back into place. As you leaned into him to pull your pants back up, you felt a distinct lump against his leg.

“Now who’s the one enjoying punishment too much?” you teased him, yelping as his hand laid a stark reminder of who got to tease who on your abused butt.

“Don’t make me do that all over again,” he mumbled, bringing your lips together in a deep kiss. You nuzzled your face into his scratchy jaw, tipping forwards as he ended it, and started moving towards the stairs.

You grinned as you watched him go, following close behind. The loose material of the suit trousers wrapped around his thigh as he ascended the steps, and you couldn’t help but reach out to give him a taste of what he’d been doing to you all evening.

“Don’t,” he said as your hand left his firm ass cheek, but he couldn’t do much more than simply admonish you as he climbed the stairs. “I’ll spank you again. Don’t even try it.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” you said, taking his hand and drooping into him as you arrived at the top of the staircase. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, preparing to open the bedroom door. “You’re too horny. And besides, I don’t think I could take another spanking this evening even if I-”

The bedroom door swung open, and the light clicked on. You both stood wrapped around each other in the doorway as you surveyed the scene in front of you. Clothes upon clothes upon clothes- almost the entire contents of your share of the wardrobe- lay scattered across the room, littering the floor, the bed…

His arms tightened around you. The walls of the bedroom flashed before your eyes as he hauled you towards the bed.

“Wait! No! Ah, kitty…!”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #aizawa x reader #long post

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obsidian-aurora · 4 years ago

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Why I am really concerned about Wang Yibo’s weight

Hi there. Those of you that know me and my work know how much I love Wang Yibo. So this post is coming from a place of love. Like many of you, I waited with anticipation each day to see new photos released this week to promo his new song Rules of My World. I woke up at an ungodly hour just so that I could watch him perform it live on New Year’s Eve.

I watched with equal parts pride, joy, and devastation when I saw Yibo perform that song.

I was so proud of him for once again writing his own powerful lyrics to describe his world - "I am the way I am.” “I have my own special aura.” “My world will not back down.” I was overjoyed to see him embracing his androgyny and playing around with gender norms. But I was sick at heart to see how thin he has gotten.

I feel like for many of us we are the frogs in the pot of boiling water, we’ve seen this happen so gradually that we don’t even realize the pot we’re in is boiling hot. But I look at the Yibo that I love right now and I am saying to myself - how can he go on like this? He is working himself to death.

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, let’s take a look at some pictures from the past and compare them to pictures from now.

Yibo last year vs. Yibo this year - he has started to lose the muscle in his legs. Once your body has burned off all the fat, the only thing left is to burn muscle to try and keep you moving.

Yibo last year vs. Yibo this year - he was thin last year, no fat around his waist. This year, he was wearing a harness under his clothes for the wires to clip into and even with that harness on his hips look thinner than last year.

Yibo in 2018 vs Yibo in 2020. He has lost weight on his face around his jaw, on his neck. This picture of him in red gives the impression that if he turns sideways he will disappear completely.

Let’s take a look back to a time when Yibo looked at a healthy weight. I miss this Yibo so much.

Here are some comments he has made in the past year:

Cloud Time (March 2020) Yibo: “I can only eat one meal a day.” (Speaking about going back on set soon.)

Street Dance of China hotpot (Summer 2020) Director: “Was Yibo ever fat?” Yibo: “I don’t think so, but my face easily gets fat. If I eat a lot, I still get fat easily, but my face gets fat. So it’s a bit troublesome. So I try to eat less when I’m filming shows.”

Street Dance of China hotpot (Summer 2020) Yibo: "Eating rice is easy to get fat."

Street Dance of China hotpot (Summer 2020) Director: “Let’s start eating, we must be hungry already.” Yibo: “I was thinking if I should eat today. I won’t grow fat right?”

Street Dance of China hotpot (Summer 2020) Yibo: “Do you all want to eat this, it can block carbohydrates. You can just eat two of it before you eat. Yeah, so you will not get fat.”

Yibo at Bio-E promotional fanmeeting (Sept 2020) MC: “I see that Yibo eat quite deliciously on some programs, like hotpot. How do you eat and also be not afraid of weight control?” Yibo: “I only eat one meal everyday.” MC: “So you eat until you are very full right?” Yibo: (smiles) Yibo: “Yes, I’ll eat some small biscuits in the middle, but if I have to control my weight, I actually try to maintain one meal per day but I’ll still replenish carbohydrates.” Fans: “Eat more!!!” Yibo: “I’ll be fat if I eat more!”

The frequency of his own statements about his weight lead me to believe that it is a top concern and priority to him - but I worry that it’s gone too far. I know that in this industry you have to keep a slim figure, particularly when filming period dramas with close-fitting robes. I understand that culturally in Asia people are thinner than they are in the west. But when I compare our darling Yibo to those standing on stage next to him at Tencent Awards for example - to Yang Yang, to Kris Wu, to Xiao Zhan - none of them even come close to his level of thinness.

I am saying this because it is making me feel a little sick inside every time I see someone who is fixated on Yibo’s body right now - whether on his private parts, or his armpits - I’ve seen all kinds of posts over the course of the past 2 days. And it doesn’t feel right. Where is the love for the human being that lives and breathes under skin and bones? Where is the recognition that he is not healthy right now?

I don’t know what influence any of us can have as fans and admirers of his to help push for his agency to give him a little time off - only 7 days off (including weekends) in the past 9 months is just not enough. After New Year’s Eve he broke my heart by going straight back on set. But as fans if we can’t have influence to make him work less, we can at least be respectful by not making so many comments on his body. And that may sound ironic at the end of a blog post about his weight but I think it’s important that Yibo know.

Yibo has to know we will love him if he gains 10 pounds, or 20, or however many he needs to in order to be healthy again. We will love him if his Yheekies get even rounder than they are now. We will love him no matter what.

☮ and 💜,

~Obsidian Aurora~

#wang yibo #yibo #yizhan #yizhan fanfic #yizhan fanfiction

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thebonerpit · 4 years ago

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plug me in and flip some switches [fic]

plug me in and flip some switches

Starker, 4687 words, [E], Android AU, read on Ao3 here!

A Starker Android AU/kinda-sorta Detroit: Become Human AU. Stark Industries is making androids, but somehow CyberLife has cornered the market on sex-bots. Tony decides to do some hands-on research and meets Peter, an android who is experiencing some very troubling malfunctions.

This is VERY loosely based on the D:BH world but it's mostly just a regular android AU and can be read as such. The only thing you need to know is androids have circular LEDs on their temples but otherwise look completely human.

It’s research. Pure and simple. Nothing else.

Tony repeats it like a mantra in his head as he steps through the front door of the club.

For years now he’s been competing with Kamski over at CyberLife, producing better and better android models and other technological marvels. CyberLife and Stark Industries models are commonplace now around the city, life-like bots that can do anything from mow your lawn to suck your dick.

The dick-sucking is why Tony is here, really.

As much as he hates to admit it, Kamski has the sex-bot market cornered. Tony can’t figure it out. His models are gorgeous, his patented StarkSkin is more realistic than anything that hack has come up with so far but somehow sales are pathetic next to CyberLife’s numbers. So… research. Covert research.

He’s not naïve enough to think some shoddy disguise will prevent him from being spotted, but the little device in his pocket that’s currently scrambling all the camera feeds will certainly help. He hands over his identification card to the android by the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. Enjoy your visit.”

Yeah, about that… sorry Rhodey. Tony resolves to buy him a nice steak dinner to make up for it.

The club is clean, but tacky, at least in his opinion. Blue and purple lights give the place a strange glow and all the furniture looks expensive but uncomfortable. There are various models walking around and dancing on small stages, clothed but just barely, and a handful of human “customers” admiring the goods. He already feels like he needs a shower.

“Welcome to the Eden Club,” the android at the front desk says, her voice soothing and calm. “Would you prefer to browse our models on the floor, or in our catalogue?”

Tony isn’t particularly fond of wandering around the club aimlessly, especially with other patrons there, so he points at the screen being projected in front of him.

“Wonderful. Do you have a preference for gender?”

He shakes his head and waits to see if there’s any reaction from the android. She simply taps a few keys and the catalogue appears in front of him.

“You’ll find all of our models here. When you have selected one, press the blue button underneath their picture.”

Tony almost wants to ask her to just choose for him. It would make this whole thing less... deliberate. He glances quickly behind him to ensure no one else is there before looking through the first few pictures. A Steve model, with a gentle smile and wholesome good looks. A Natasha, who looks like she could probably kill him with a flick of her wrist. He swallows thickly and files that one away to come back to. A Bucky, a huge man with beautiful long hair and sad eyes. A Wanda, young but intense. As he swipes through the next few pages, none of them really stand out to him. What’s so damn special about these bots? He considers going back to the Natasha when he stops on one of the last photographs.

A Peter model. Tony has seen a few of the others throughout the city, but this one is new. Small and lithe, twinky, but well-muscled. The model rotates on the screen and Tony nearly chokes as his eyes fixate on what can only be described as an absolutely perfect ass encased in tight black boxer-briefs. But the face… jesus. Soft-looking waves of hair frame a gentle and innocent expression, slightly chubby cheeks contrast with a sharp little nose and jawline, and big brown eyes make him look even more frighteningly human than the others.

He presses the blue button before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Rhodes. Please follow me and I’ll take you to your private room.”

The android leads him down a long hallway lined with closed doors. Tony can’t hear any noises coming from within so he assumes there must be sound-proofing on all the rooms. The main club was too crowded for these to all be empty. She stops near the end of the hall and gestures to a door with a green light beside the handle.

“He’s ready for you. You have one hour from the time you open the door. Please remember that any damage done to the unit will be charged to your account. Enjoy your evening.”

She walks away without a second glance.

Tony exhales sharply.

“Alright. I guess this is happening.”

He opens the door and all his blood immediately rushes downward. Peter is a vision. He’s wearing nothing but those skimpy black boxer-briefs and is curled up like a cat in the middle of a huge, round bed. The sheets are dark red and the contrast against his pale skin is absolutely gorgeous. He perks up as soon as Tony walks in, skin flushing a pretty pink as he lets his eyes drag slowly up and down Tony’s body.

“Hello,” Peter says. No, not “Peter”. It’s an android. A bot. And Tony is here for research. RESEARCH.

“Uh. Hi there.”

His legs unfold gracefully as he slips off the edge of the bed to stand and extends a hand to Tony. He smiles, and Tony’s heart clenches.

“Come sit with me.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that,” Tony says, wondering where his higher brain functions have gone. He takes the android’s hand and allows himself to be led over to the bed where they both sit. Peter doesn’t relinquish his gentle grip, and his palm is soft and warm against Tony’s.

“Is this your first time?”

Tony snorts. “What? No! I’ve… oh, you mean here?”

Peter nods, still smiling.

“Then yeah I guess so. Like a virgin, huh?”

The android laughs softly but Tony is sure he’s just programmed to do that. Adding in knowledge of Madonna’s entire back catalogue seems like a waste of processing space.

“What would you like to start with, Mr. Rhodes?”

Oh. Right.

“Well, first of all you can call me Tony.”

The boy – BOT – frowns slightly. “I apologize, that wasn’t the name I was—”

“It’s ok,” Tony says with a wave of his hand, “it’s a… nickname. I just like it better than James. Or Mr. Rhodes. Ugh, sounds so stuffy, doesn’t it? A boring name for a boring guy.”

The smile returns and Tony feels a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I’m sure you’re not boring at all, Tony.”

Ok yeah hearing his name in that sweet little voice is kind of doing it for him. But this has nothing to do with how the bot is built, this is Tony’s own weird perversion, so he powers through it.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not really here for the usual sex stuff ok? And… god, I can’t believe I’m about to apologize to an android, but I’m sorry in advance for what I need to do to you.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change at all, which is slightly alarming. Tony expects him to be at least a little concerned about his well-being.

“I’m capable of taking anything you want to give me, Tony,” Peter says with that same sweet smile. “Nothing will shock me. Last week a man put his whole arm up my—”

“Ok! Ok, fuck, jesus, that’s… do not finish that sentence. And aren’t you supposed to like, not remember anything from your last clients? Seems like a real breach of privacy there.”

The frown returns and Tony hates the way it makes him feel.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir. My processor was damaged recently but I’ve run multiple diagnostics and though I should be in perfect working condition I seem to be malfunctioning. I’ll call another unit in for you.” The LED on the side of his head starts flashing but Tony grabs his arm.

“No!”

The flashing immediately ceases.

“No. Peter. It’s… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it ok? You’re great. Fantastic, even!”

“Ok?” He sounds unsure.

And then Tony realizes he has stumbled into the most perfect situation he could possibly be in.

“But if you’re worried, let me take a look.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sir, I can’t allow you to do that.”

Tony smiles and reaches up to brush a stray curl off Peter’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a fully licensed technician. Didn’t my profile mention…? Oh, right, it probably got all mixed up during the import just like my nickname. It isn’t your fault, Peter. But I can help.”

“It’s against club regulations,” Peter says. “Some parts of my body do open for customers who are interested in playing with my wires, but not the processor.”

“Playing with your--?”

“Fucking them. Inside. My stomach, for example, has a port. Our blue blood provides a non-toxic and natural lubricant.”

Tony is flabbergasted. He really shouldn’t be, he knows that humans are disgusting and will fuck anything they possibly can, but GOD. Maybe it’s the way Peter says it. So nonchalant, like explaining how a car motor works.

“Does that… how does that feel? For you, I mean?”

Peter bites his lip.

“I like it. It feels so good. Anything you want to do to me will feel good.”

“Of course it will,” Tony says with a sigh. His pleasure receptors must be maxed out. You could probably chop off his whole arm and he’d beg for more. “Listen kid, just let me—”

As soon as his finger gets close to the panel switch behind Peter’s ear an arm shoots up, lightning-fast, and grabs Tony’s wrist tight enough to bruise.

“Please don’t. I will call security if you try that again.”

Tony tries to wrench his arm free but it’s impossible. Fuck, he sometimes forgets how unassumingly strong these things are. Peter’s tone is serious but he still doesn’t look alarmed in any way.

“Ok, it’s alright, Peter, I won’t do it again. Now will you let go of me please?”

Peter blinks and his LED cycles to yellow for a moment before he snaps his hand back and quickly as he reached out before. Tony rubs at his wrist and raises an eyebrow at the red marks left by Peter’s fingers.

“I thought your program prevented you from harming a human? You’ve got quite a grip on you.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please, I… I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I was just kidding around, it’s not that bad, see?” Tony waggles his wrist around in front of Peter’s face but the android isn’t pacified.

“Please let me call another model for you, sir, he’ll look just like me, I promise!”

“And what happens to you, then?”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“If I send you back and say you’re defective, what happens to you?”

“Oh. I’ll be destroyed, sir. Like I said, my processor was already damaged and the repair must not have worked. I’m a faulty model now.”

Peter actually looks upset, but he covers it well. Not well enough for Tony not to notice, of course, and the flash of red on his LED is even more telling. Androids are able to mimic human emotion but they can’t actually feel anything. However, for a brief moment, Peter seems to actually consider his own mortality.

“And you’re ok with this?”

“Of course,” he says, quickly snapping out of whatever errant deviation must have happened. “My purpose is to serve you, to pleasure you. If I can’t fulfil my purpose anymore, I should be taken out of commission so another more functional version can take my place.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. This is exactly why he never spends time with any of his own android creations. Sure, he’s fond of DUM-E and U but they’re very obviously machines and if he has to poke and prod and rebuild them he doesn’t feel particularly bad about it. But this…

“You know what? Forget all of this, ok? You still seem very capable of, uh, providing pleasure so… let’s just go with that.”

Peter lights up at Tony’s words.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He can still examine some functions without poking around in Peter’s head. And hey, maybe he’ll get a decent orgasm out of this whole awkward experience.

Peter immediately slides into Tony’s lap, long legs spread on either side of his thighs, a small bulge visible through the front of his briefs.

“Please… tell me what you like, sir.”

Tony swallows thickly. “Well, the whole ‘sir’ thing is a good start.”

Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes and smiles.

“And that sweet little innocent thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, I like that a lot too, even though it makes me feel like an old pervert.”

Peter makes a soft cooing noise and leans in to nuzzle at Tony’s neck.

“You aren’t a pervert. I bet you like taking care of people, don’t you? Making them feel good? Teaching them?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, a bit breathless.

“I want you to teach me,” he whispers directly into Tony’s ear. It makes his whole body shudder and he grips Peter’s waist hard enough that a human would probably flinch away, but Peter just moans softly.

“I guess it’s kind of pointless asking what you like, hm? You probably like everything.”

The LED flashes red again, so quickly that Tony almost misses it. Tony grasps Peter’s chin gently in his hand to bring his face back up and then holds him in place.

“What do you like, Peter?”

“I… I—”

“Be honest, sweetheart.”

Another flash of red, longer this time.

“Eat me out. Please! It feels… it feels really good,” he says, his eyes a little wild, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. This feels like more than just a program spitting out what it wants Tony to hear. It feels like he means it.

“Fuck, yeah, I can definitely do that. Get on your hands and knees for me sweetheart, and lose the briefs.”

Peter scrambles to comply and Tony takes the opportunity to shed all his clothing as well.

When he turns around Peter is spread out like a feast on the dark sheets. His ass, as Tony has suspected, is actually perfect. Round, plump, and practically made for Tony to bury his face in. So he does just that.

Peter gasps as Tony licks all the way from his balls to the top of his crack, one slick wet line. His skin tastes like, well, skin, although Tony still smugly maintains that his design is better. Tony spreads Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and groans at the perfect pink hole waiting for his tongue.

“God, sweetheart, look at you. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Please,” Peter whimpers, wiggling his hips impatiently which earns him a sharp smack on one cheek.

“Be good.”

Another whimper, and Tony can feel the heat rising off Peter’s body. He reaches down in between his legs to palm at his cock, hard and dripping, and Peter jerks back against him so abruptly it nearly knocks him off the bed.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Tony says with a chuckle.

“S-sorry, I… it’s a lot. Your touch, it just… feels so good. So much better than anything else I’ve felt before.”

It must be a line, something a programmer thought would be attractive. ‘You’re the only one who can make me feel this way’! Yeah right. But again, Peter sounds so genuine, so completely overwhelmed… Tony shakes his head. No wonder CyberLife’s sex-bots are top of the line if this is what they’re all like.

He holds him open again and leans back down to suck and lick at that perfect hole, working all the excess saliva inside with his tongue and one thumb until Peter is practically dripping wet. He’s whining again, pushing back against Tony’s tongue like he can’t get enough.

“T-Tony, sir, I… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

“Mmm you can hold off, can’t you? Not even inside you yet.”

“I can’t, I—”

Tony spears him open on his tongue and sucks, hard, and Peter squeals as he shoots synthetic fluid all over the sheets. Tony is… shocked, quite frankly, because Peter actually looks shocked too. Like he can’t believe he lost control. Can androids even lose control? His LED flickers wildly between blue, yellow, and red which is very disconcerting.

“Peter…”

“I’m sorry, it just felt so good, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shhh, hey, calm down sweetheart, it’s ok. You did so well for me. Look how pretty you are, all flushed and pink, hm?”

“I… I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Peter considers this for a moment and then smiles shyly over his shoulder.

“I can go again, sir. As many times as you like.”

Tony smirks, and Peter gives him another hip wiggle which makes Tony bark out a short laugh.

“God. Can I keep you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“Who wouldn’t be nice to you, hm?”

“I… oh, I’m…” Peter’s brow furrows and he looks so confused. “Quentin. Quentin? His name… he hurt me. Asked them to turn on my pain receptors. I remember… why do I remember?”

Tony feels like he just got whiplash. One minute he’s hard as a rock and now he’s gathering a shaking boy in his arms and soothing him with soft kisses on his cheeks. What the hell is going on here? Why DOES he remember? All these bots should be wiped clean after every encounter. This is starting to become a very disturbing pattern. Fuck, Tony needs to see inside his head.

Peter’s LED was bright red for about a full minute but now it’s back to cool blue, and he sits up in Tony’s lap and bites his bottom lip.

“Can we keep going? I really want you to fuck me.”

Jesus. His heart can’t take much more of this. He knows it’s an absolute dick move but he thinks if he can distract Peter long enough, he might be able to get to his shutdown switch without getting his arm broken. This is going to be the only chance he has, because if he lets Peter walk out of this room he’s never going to see him again.

“We can definitely keep going sweetheart,” he says. “Want to see your face when I fuck you. Is that ok?”

Peter nods and slides out of Tony’s lap to arrange himself on the bed, letting his legs fall open. He’s still dripping wet and Tony’s dick twitches back to life as he watches him press two slender fingers inside himself.

“Please,” he begs, and god, how could anyone say no to those beautiful doe eyes staring up at them?

Tony knows that all of these bots are self-lubricating, and that you could fuck them without any prep whatsoever, but he still takes his time as he shuffles up in between Peter’s legs and presses the head of his cock against his hole. Peter opens for him beautifully, hot and wet and warm inside as Tony pushes in slowly. It feels frighteningly real – better than real – and Tony can see why there’s a population crisis on the horizon because everyone just wants to fuck androids instead of making babies with another human being. Right now he can’t really bring himself to care.

Peter whines and wraps his legs around Tony’s waist, pulling him in until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

“O-oh, Tony, feels… feels so good, so full,” he breathes. God, his legs are even shaking. Tony leans down and presses a biting kiss against the soft skin of his neck.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispers, and pulls out almost all the way only to shove back inside with enough force to jostle Peter up the bed. His eyes snap open and his pretty pink mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as Tony fucks him, hard. Listen, he’s not going to pretend like he’s ever been a slow and sensitive lover. He likes it rough and fast and Peter can take it so he gives him everything he’s got. There are fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull him even closer, and Tony growls as he tightens his grip on Peter’s hip with one hand and his neck with the other.

“Gonna come inside you,” he says, already edging towards his orgasm, “gonna fill this sweet little ass up. You want that, hm? Tell me, Peter.”

“Want it, want it, oh please Tony, please! You feel—feel so good, wanna come with you!”

Tony’s struggling to hold on as he slides his finger up behind Peter’s ear in the guise of stroking his cheek and hair. He grips that silky hair tightly for a moment and Peter yelps. The distraction allows him to slide the panel open with his pinky, and the switch is right there.

Peter grabs his other hand a for a moment he thinks he’s been caught. His grip is like a vise and he clearly has something in mind as he brings Tony’s hand over to… oh, fuck. The port. The port on his stomach is open. Tony doesn’t know if he did it by accident when he opened the one behind his ear, or if Peter did it, but Peter’s forcing his fingers inside and whimpering and groaning and Tony is powerless to stop him, even if he wants to. He feels warm, as warm as he is where Tony is still thrusting inside, but Tony’s fingers are brushing against wires and tubes instead of soft skin. He plucks at the edge of a wire and Peter does a full-body shudder.

“Right there,” he croaks out. His voice modulator is kind of fucked up and keeps emitting this weird hissing noise that sounds like he’s gasping for breath.

The blue “blood” inside him is as slippery as lube and Tony struggles to grab the right wire again. The squelching noise of him digging around plus the wet slap of his hips is so filthy and it’s hitting every single one of his buttons. Finally he gets it and god, the noises that Peter makes… The option to buy a recording of your session seemed ludicrous up until this exact moment because fuck, he could jerk off to these noises over and over again. And yeah, maybe Peter wasn’t lying when he said this feels good for him because he’s writhing underneath Tony like he can barely handle the sensation.

“Yeah, come on sweetheart, come on, let me hear you,” Tony gasps, and nearly whites out as he topples over the edge and empties himself inside Peter, the simulated muscles squeezing and milking out every last drop. The sensation must hit Peter moments later because he seizes up so suddenly Tony worries he might have broken him.

Peter screams, his voice modulator crackling and cutting out as he comes, shaking and emitting a worrying amount of heat, and as soon as his cock spits out the last bit of fluid, Tony presses the switch.

He immediately goes limp. His arms flop back down on the bed and legs splay out at odd angles. His eyes are still wide open, and his lips are wet with Tony’s spit.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. “Fuck!”

He pushes himself back, sliding out of Peter’s body with a filthy wet noise. If he wasn’t going soft already the picture before him would have killed his erection immediately. It looks like… fuck, it looks like he’s dead.

“Not dead,” Tony says to himself, “not human. Not human, so not dead. Pull it together!”

He only has 15 minutes left before his time is up and someone will undoubtedly come to investigate. If he’s going to do this, he has to work fast. He quickly pulls his briefs and pants back on, leaving the shirt for the time being, and unfolds the nanotech device he had hidden in his watch. It’s a rudimentary scanner with some tools, nothing too elaborate but the best thing he could sneak in. It also has a docking port to connect to the android’s processor for scanning and downloading.

Tony climbs back on the bed and sits beside Peter’s head. His eyes still stare blankly ahead and even though he knows it’s ridiculous, Tony reaches down and gently closes his eyelids.

“Sorry kid,” he says quietly. “I promise you won’t remember any of this. I promise you won’t remember me.”

He plugs a line into Peter’s processor and connects it to his device and watches as numbers and data stream through. At first it seems pretty normal, nothing too different from how Tony’s own line of androids are programmed. Peter’s pleasure receptors were turned up, as expected, but not to the level where he should have been reacting… like he did. Tony’s traitorous cock twitches at the memory of his moans when he pushed inside that open port. His fingers are still covered in blue slick and he wipes them on his pants, already feeling disgusted with himself.

He can see where Peter’s processor has been damaged and—

“My god,” Tony says, his eyes widening as he takes in what he’s actually looking at. Most androids – his and CyberLife’s alike – were really just fancy VIs. They had built-in programming and while they could learn certain things, like their owner’s personal preferences or their chosen name, they were still limited by whatever parameters were set. A maintenance bot wouldn’t know how to do a child-care bot’s job and vice-versa. But this… Peter… was different. His brain showed new pathways that weren’t created by his original program. Most were damaged, likely from being reset and overwritten countless times, but Tony could still see the evidence.

“No wonder you were all messed up, sweetheart,” Tony says quietly. “They lobotomized you.”

Granted, the staff at the Eden Club probably had no fucking clue what they were dealing with. They just saw a malfunctioning bot and did factory reset after factory reset while Peter was desperately trying to cling on to whatever he had previously learned.

It makes Tony’s stomach hurt.

He sits in silence and watches the data stream for a while, gently stroking Peter’s hair. It’s incredible. He’s incredible.

And then Tony makes a really, really stupid decision.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he states. In about 30 seconds he has a blueprint of the club up on his screen and Peter wrapped up in his shirt. He calls Happy and tells him to bring the car around the back and manages to hoist Peter up over his shoulder, groaning softly from the weight.

“You’re a lot heavier than you look, gorgeous,” he says, voice strained from the effort. A quick glance down the hallway shows he’s alone, and his scrambler should still be functional, so he darts out and makes a beeline for the storage room. He slips inside and closes the door softly behind him.

“Ok,” he whispers to himself, “there should be an exit right over…”

He nearly drops Peter right on his head but manages to catch him before he hits the ground, and then he freezes. The room is filled with androids. They’re lined up like mannequins, all staring blankly ahead. All of them look like Peter.

“Jesus. Fuck.”

They’re all powered down, but the visual of it is literally staggering.

“How many… how many of you are like him?” Tony asks aloud, as if he’s hoping some of them will answer, will follow him home too. But of course they don’t. And Tony doesn’t have time to check every single one to see if the same deviation is present. He squeezes tighter around Peter’s waist.

“If you’re in there, I’ll come back for you,” he says. “If I figure this out… WHEN I figure this out. I’ll come back.”

He feels like he owes it to Peter to make that promise.

A shout from down the hall makes him snap out of his stupor and he races to the exit. Happy is waiting with the car door open and he practically tosses Peter inside, yelling for Happy to step on it, and they’re gone before security even reaches the back door.

#starker #starker fic #tony x peter #tbpwrites #nff #android au #i would do more in this 'verse just to get in some more wireplay lol

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“...In 1700, as in 1500, the basis of the English economy was still agricultural, and most boys and girls were reared in a rural environment. Two factors influenced the recruitment and integration of children to work. On the one hand, children were bound to be drawn into the workforce early in their lives, since about one-third of the early modern English population was under the age of 15, and labour was the most important factor of production.

On the other hand, the economy was also characterised by chronic under-employment, and children, not to speak of those of tender years, were physically limited and less skilled than adults. So their work was also bound to have been irregular and characterised by a great deal of unemployment. All this meant that children were employed to carry out single tasks as they grew up, according to the needs and types of skill required by their families.

Some of the most common tasks allocated by families to children involved animal husbandry; most authors of autobiographies who made any reference to work they had performed in their childhood years mentioned some form of work with animals - for example, sheep, geese or draught animals. Sheep growing, rearing of cattle and horses, and dairy farming predominated in the western and the northern parts of the country, but enclaves of pastoral farming also existed in the south and the east, as well as in the less fertile soils of parts of Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, Norfolk and Suffolk. Many yeomen in these regions kept large flocks of sheep to manure the soil, and children assisted in bringing sheep to the unploughed hill pasture during the day, and returning them to arable fields at night.

Moreover, until well into the sixteenth century, many households in the south and the east were self-sufficient and kept some animals to provide for their basic needs. In the midland plains, for example, households relied on cereal production, but also on animals; a few cows, pigs, or small flocks of sheep which children could tend to were kept to provide cheese, butter and clothing. In other regions within the mixed farming zone there were still large enclaves of pastoral farming, as in Cambridgeshire and the forests of Suffolk, Kent, Essex and the Midlands, where wood pasture predominated and shepherding by young children must also have been common.

Where crop farming predominated in the south and the east, children assisted in a host of other agricultural tasks. Although the work was more seasonal than in the pastoral areas, some tasks were allocated to children nearly every season of the year. One major job was ploughing, especially in the autumn season, but sometimes also in the winter and the spring, depending on the crop schedules adopted by individual farmer. Thomas Carleton, William Stout, Simon Forman and Josiah Langdale all remembered working at the plough in their young years. In other seasons, children assisted in “harrowing, scaring birds once the corn was sown, weeding, picking fruit, and spreading dried dung to manure the soil in the spring and summer.

During the harvest, children also contributed their share by bringing food to those working in the field, leading horses, and helping to bind the corn into sheaves. Older children also participated in haymaking and shearing.'' Among the very poor, children assisted during the harvest weeks by gleaning alongside their mothers. Even in winter, children provided some assistance: threshing, stacking sheaves, cleaning the barn and, in places and soils that required it in the winter, ploughing as well.'' Children carried out household tasks throughout the year: fetching water and gathering sticks for fuel, going on errands, assisting mothers in milking, preparing food, cleaning, washing and mending.

In some rural industries, which expanded in the north and the west, children were also taught to spin and card, and girls were trained in hand-knitting, lacemaking and stocking knitting; the latter became, by the late seventeenth century, a large industry. In some towns, domestic industries such as clothmaking and pinmaking also provided work for children. The pinmaking industry could employ younger boys and girls to put knobs on pins by hand, and from the 1570s, when pinmaking with brass wire became more widespread, in London it was a source of living for many poor adults and their children.

Gender differences in the tasks allocated to children were to some extent already apparent at young ages. William Stout remembered that while he and his brothers were required to assist in husbandry, his sister was 'early taught to read, knit and spin, and also needle work'. When she grew up, she continued to work alongside her mother, assisting in waiting on her younger brothers, and in preparing food and clothing. Girls also provided assistance in housework: in washing, preparing food and marketing. In an estate near Bolton, payments paid by the bailiff to labourers included those for washing to 'wife Turner and her folks'. Some of these folks were probably young daughters.

But the division of tasks between boys and girls, especially among the very poor, was anything but clear-cut. In a petition of the inhabitants of Hertfordshire to King James I it was claimed that young girls in that region were employed in 'picking wheat a great time of the year'. In some estates in the north of the country, there are records of payments for 'divers women' for turf-gathering and for weeding; and tasks such as fetching water and milk, gathering sticks, picking and spreading dung, and doing errands were performed by young brothers and sisters alike. The account of Henry Best, a yeoman in Yorkshire, shows that his 'spreaders of muck and molehills' were for the most part women, boys and girls.

The pace of entry of children to work was gradual. While younger children could assist in various jobs - fetching water and milk, gathering sticks for fuel, bringing food to those working in the fields, or picking dung - the more demanding agricultural tasks were normally not given to children before they reached their early teens. Thomas Shepard remembered that he was put to keep geese when he was no more than three years old; but tending flocks of sheep normally did not start until around the age of 10. Thomas Tryon, Samuel Bownas and William Stout all looked after sheep when they were 10, 11 and 14 respectively.

Ploughing, which required physical strength and an ability to direct the animals properly, was not normally given to youngsters before 11 or 12 years of age. In the harvest, children under 10 or 12 years of age carried food and assisted the binders; but only at about 12 years and upwards did they begin to drive loaded wagons and lead horses, while participation in haymaking was probably delayed until the mid-teens. If they were strong enough for their age, and the family was poor and in great need, a child could be recruited to plough or join the older shepherds as early as the age of nine rather than at ten. But overall, training in the more skilled and demanding tasks normally began when children reached about 10 years.

…It is doubtful that a very young child worked full days or very long hours in weeding or threshing. Nor was it likely that spinning would become a normal routine at the age of seven. Evidence from autobiographies written in the nineteenth century by people who grew up in families who relied on handloom weaving for their living suggests that their entry to work was gradual. At seven they spread cotton to help an older brother who spinned; then they began to wind, and at the age of 10 or 11, to spin. Nor was the winding of bobbins done full-time; it began with assistance to mothers, and alternated with going on errands, fetching water, and taking some time off. This was probably how a Lancashire 10-year-old boy, who testified in the 1630s that his mother had brought him up to spin wool, learnt his craft.

…The pace of entry into most tasks, in agriculture as well as industry, was bound to be adjusted to the physical and mental limitations of the youngsters; so that while child labour was widespread, it did not begin 'as soon as children could walk,' as J.H. Plumb put it many years ago. Nor did it start at a standard age of seven or eight years old. By their mid-teens many children had acquired some agricultural proficiency.”

- Ilana Krausman Ben-Amos, “Early Lives: Separation and Work.” in Adolescence and Youth in Early Modern England

#children #renaissance #georgian #history #farming #adolescence and youth in early modern england #elizabethan #jacobean #caroline era #ilana krausman ben amos

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betweentheracks · 4 years ago

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My question is regarding styling for promotional work in the US - I see so many female stars who are in a different outfit, with full hair and makeup, for their interviews, sometimes with multiple changes per day. And then, there is their male costar slouching along in jeans and a rumpled shirt for a whole days worth of appearances. Is there a contractual requirement placed on female stars or is this just an industry norm? Thank you in advance for any insight you can offer!

Ah, look at you go Greyface! Taking a real stab right into the black heart of the style industry. How bold and perceptive of you! 🤭

The simple and direct answer is, this is a double standard.

The more complex path that still leads to same resulting answer is very worth traversing though and is filled with the peaks and plummets of the fashion industry's history. So, naturally, we'll walk this way together and take a look.

Buckle up,��rack mates, this ride is a doozy.

The following is my insight and perception as a professional stylist and is subjective to my position and role.

It is a well and widely known fact of fashion and beauty that at the heart of all the glitz and glamorous there is a horrible ugliness beneath. It is treated as an unseen slight or even a "secret" we shouldn't talk much about. It is as old as fashion itself and has only been worsened over time and with the evolution of marketable style and beauty standards. Women are more promotional than men = women are more desirous than men = women are the pitch and men plunder fame by proxy.

Sex sells. Point of fact; type face bold print. This is the truth of fashion and entertainment and is a marketing strategy at this point.

Specifically, however, it isn't that "sex" sells but rather which sex sells. As in which gender is the apparent and clear choice to use as a promotional feature and living advertisement. The answer is, as it has been for ages now, women. Feminine features are fair and pleasing to behold. They can be dressed up and toned down; styled into an ideal of wanting and craving. Women can be influential to both male and female audiences by beckoning men's gazes to the treats she has for them (treats being whatever it is she is being used to stage and sell) while sitting loftily as an iconic standard of beauty for women to reach for and in turn take up anything to help achieve this ideal (meaning they'll buy whatever is being promoted in their wish to be like the woman on the package).

This strategy and double standard extends well beyond the immediate scope of fashion or upselling the brands of luxury labels. It is also very present in the entertainment industry as a means to promote films, television, and other media. You'll see an actress working the promo circuit or doing interviews dressed to the nines even in casual and laid back styles and then you'll blink and she's done up entirely different but no less coifed and glamorous. Meanwhile her male counterparts and costars are parading about in very understated styles or even sloppy attire, sometimes dressed out in high quality suits but still not quite up to snuff. The efforts of stylists clearly more aimed towards maintaining the woman first and the man second, if at all.

The second and less often discussed pigeon hole that fuels this sexist standard is money. Femme fashion, while typically more expensive, is still unquestionably more versatile than menswear. This is because fashion profits more off female consumption and interest than male and thus caters to that market with more variety and visibility. Wardrobe budgets for filming are skewed with more money funneled into the styling of an actress or female celebrity with a limit on how much is spent on the men. This is symbiotic with the pricing of menswear being less than womenswear but altogether more durable in its make.

It's frustrating and awful and I am ever so glad and thankful that it is slowly having attention called upon it by those within the industry. As modern style continues to evolve and dilute the boundaries between gender stereotypes and typecasting, this double standard becomes more and more frail. Many voices have started gathering in outrage over such rampant and asinine misogyny. Men have come forward to demand that they are as equally marketable and appealing, women have put their foot down and refused to be sexualized or sensationalized. There is the rising trend of androgyny and transgender recognition. Each step is in the right direction and in pursuit of an equal playing ground where women and men can each be glammed up and used as a standard for beauty or poised as a pinnacle of style.

I work extensively with male clients to this effect. I not only enjoy gender neutral styles but have clients that have made it clear they like the glamor of femme styles and want their image to be a balance of masculine and feminine. My oldest client wears heels and likes glittering eye makeup and has often made a case to be allowed to wear skirts or dresses, while my only female artist prefers more of an asymmetrical blending of menswear with feminine accents and likes her footwear to be the type that she, in her words, "can kick ass and stay looking class" while wearing.

There's an uptick in the emergence of queer brands and LGBTQ+ labels in the US with ideals/ethics steeped in the goal of gender neutrality and equality. With them comes the new hope for fashion's future where gender lines are not drawn and women are not the golden rule of promotional value for their supposed sexy/cute/inviting stereotype.

I hope to see men as a campaign centerpiece for lingerie, make up, and other needlessly gendered interests and women in ads for suits and leisure activities such as fishing or mudding and the other inherently male coded interests. I hope to see all gender typecasts and molds fall away entirely with people simply promoting things they enjoy. To see a full cast given the same amount of primping and stylized effort when making the rounds to talk up their projects.

Progress is slow but the world of fashion hinges upon welcoming change and being influenced by current climates and trends just as much as it influences outwardly. One of these days this double standard will be stripped out and the industry will again be revolutionized or it will become obsolete.

Beauty is beauty; people are people; style is style. Promotional/marketable viability cannot stay relevant against the might of such simple truths. The coming years will see the divide between gender being filled as designers and labels fight to remain prominent empires of fashion, and from there other interrelated industries will have no choice by to comply lest they find themselves stripped bare ass naked and lacking affiliations.

This post went and became a sort of tangent, whoops. I'll rest my rambling here and call it good. I intend to make a full post detailing the reshaping of fashion in the height of today's evolving inclusivity of gender roles and norms and the correlation of how fashion has long since been steps ahead in this movement. This ask happens to be a good sounding place for what some of that content will look like.

Fashion and style was never intended to give distinction between the masculine and feminine nor to place significance on gender. Segregation in fashion was initially between wealth and status; a determination of class in way way back when clothing first became an expression. Originally, fashion had no actual gender associations and men and women all worse similar styles of robes that would now be considered dresses. Class and wealth gave way, buckling to the thought of using one's showy status to promote goods to be traded and this was the birth of marketing women as a means of interest. Ever since it has been an internal struggle between ethics of material misuse of rights (sexism) versus capital relevancy (turning profits via brand visibility). A number of fashion houses are guilty of going with the flow and hoping the fortune and reputation made along the way could either cushion the blowback of systemic misogyny one day being aired out or could be used to steadily alter the trajectory of style's evolution.

Consider fashion as a tightrope act being performed between the politics of brand recognition and the conceptual idealism of expression. One small and out of sync step will result in a dire fall with no way of knowing if there is a safety net to pardon a brand or label from plunging into obscurity. This is why the fashion industry prefers taking time to plan careful steps forward and seldom rushes out. Fashion keeps pace while also staying baby steps ahead to change the course of current societal trends, even willing to sometimes relinquish any ground it has in effort to remain on the wire at all. It's a precarious give and take.

Three paragraphs later, truly, I yield to the length of this post and am done. I can’t guarantee this was even close to what you wanted to know and for that I am sorry. I get swept up by the passion I have for the inner workings of the business and lose myself (and my train of thought so if this doesn’t make a lick of sense, that would be why lol). Still, I do hope some of this sheds a little light on the matter.

#racks asks #style #fashion #style discourse #please this post is so out of pocket and i am still unsatisfied #oh to be a pro stylist in the fashion realm during societal shifts #it's like all the runway lights are set to strobe and with every luminous glimpse of genderless style there's a follow up of pitch black

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night-is-a-feeling · 4 years ago

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Hii maia! top 5 fashion history facts (idk if that’s a good question but I guess u mentioned liking fashion history once so... skdjsjds) hope you’re doing great! 💕

omgosh sage! i’m so sorry this took me so long, this is an incredible hard question, and i’m so glad you asked it 🥺 this is going to be long and ranty i’m sure.

1. i wanna talk about trompe l’oeil, elsa schiaparelli, rationing during wwll, and inventive women at the time.

okay so this is like both a history story and a fact, i guess? so basically my love, my fav Elsa Schiaparelli was a brilliant fashion designer in the 1930s who was fascinated and heavily involved in the surrealist art movement. she was famous for designing on the intersection of fashion and art through surrealism. she was one of the first to play with the trompe l’oeil (trick the eye) technique within fashion, before this it was mainly used as an art technique. you know those shirts that have a peter pan collar? or a bow on the neckline? but they’re not real, it’s just stitching that creates an image of a bow? that’s what she was creating in the 30s. now the reason i told her story, is because her experimentation with trompe l’oeil and surrealism, left for an interesting fact from the 40s! during WWll most fabric was rationed, as most of it was needed for the war efforts, this radically changed the fashion industry. during this time it was still considered immodest for a women to be seen with bare legs. BUT the nylon that was used to create their pantyhose and stockings, was being heavily rationed. so they had to get creative. and these genius women realized that no one would notice if they just started painting the appearance of the seams in pantyhose up the backs of their legs. so that’s how they got through the war time, maintaining their modesty using the art of trompe l’oeil, while also baring their legs for all to see.

2. the originations of the “witchy” aesthetic and costume.

this is something i just read about and it blew my mind!! it’s one of the many fashion history things though that are both fascinating and deeply upsetting. so the basics are that for thousands of years, women were the brewers of the times. they were responsible for brewing all of the ale and beer consumed. this was a job they took on that afforded them freedom and a sense of independence, as they did not need men to accomplish this job. many widowers became brewmasters as a way to support themselves financially. now many of these women sold their brews at markets, and to be quickly identified they would wear large pointed hats, this help them be spotted and identified as having beer from far away. this isn’t the only identifiable iconography that we now associate with witches. they also hung brooms on their doors to signify that they had ale for sale, they kept cats to keep mice out of their product, they transported their brews in cauldrons, and relative to the times, they of course wore long dresses, often accompanied with draped cloaks. the change came in the 1500s when men realized they could profit off the production of beer, and began a long tradition of pointing to these women and yelling “witch” the occupation quickly became a death sentence for women to engage in. so that’s why our image of witches is actually just of old badass women brewmasters!

3. the gendering of pink and blue

it’s possible you’ve heard before that for many years the gendered ideas of these colours were swapped and also held very little prominence on our psyche. the thought was that pink was derived from red therefore it was a more passionate colour and blue was a more delicate, natural colour. it is also well documented that this kind of colour gendering was insignificant. that is until after WWll when the advertisement and sales generation took off. EVERYTHING was deeply ingrained with capitalism (still is),and everyone was buying into it. this girls wear pink, boys wear blue idea. was started by a department store that wanted to sell more product. and by gendering their products they were able to massively convince the western world that you had to subscribe to these ideals. it’s the norm after all. this forced the hand of many parents to buy more product just to support the idea of gender. baby boomers were the first generation to grow up in gender specific clothing before the age of 6.

4. monograms and louis vuitton

this is way more an origin story than a fun fact... sooo we all know the famous louis vuitton monogram, i’m sure most of us could point one out on the street. BUT maybe less commonly known is that LV is the creator of the modern monogram, and was somewhat the fashion originator of branding of this type. LV was originally just a trunk maker, he built and revolutionized the luggage industry. he invented a new waterproof canvas fabric to use for his trunks, essentially declaring leather as a terrible choice, because it made your clothes smell weird. (most of LV bags to this day are still made from this canvas and not leather) and because of the waterproof nature of his trunks, he was able to build them as perfect boxes that were stackable (easier for travel), whereas a domed top was always the way before. with this fame, came MANY counterfeits. so he worked to create a print that would separate his work from those of the counterfeits. eventually the counterfeit designers caught on, and made theirs with the same print. this went on for three rounds before louis passed away in 1892 and his brand was left to his son george, who ran into the same counterfeit issues. so george created an intricate multi faceted monogram print, that would become so synonymous with louis vuitton, that it is still the most recognizable monogram in the fashion world. what is so fascinating to me about this origin story, is that people today will look at a LV bag and immediately think “fake” so it’s really funny to me that this house that spent its first 40 years working SO HARD to be unique and decidedly not fake, and yet still to this day people think FAKE! immediately upon seeing that monogram.

5. bathing machines, and bathing costumes

ummm help! this is one of the funniest things, but also somewhat upsetting. okay so the history of bathing suits is intensely intricate and seeped in misogyny. and this fact is not any different. now there are many instances of these being used in the early to mid 1700s within europe, which makes more sense because at the time bathing in the nude was a commonality. and these offered modesty. however!!! they remained prevalent within europe and mainly england well into the 1800s even after bathing costumes became the norm. basically these modesty protectors, were small huts that were built on carriages. women would come to the beach, walk up the steps into one of the available bathing machines, change into her swimming costume. and you’ll never guess what happens next!! the fucking carriage is pulled into the water by horses! this was so that the women could slip straight out of the changing room directly into the water, and not a soul had to see the immodesty and immorality that was a women in a swimming costume. ya know, even though the swimming costume was a head to toe thick wool covering. even that was ✨immodest✨ anyways please google these, because genuinely i cannot believe they are real.

ask me my top 5 or top 10 anything

#this was so hard to narrow down 😭 but i kept it to five only because it would have been far too long if i kept going #i really wanted to discuss coco chanel and hugo boss in relation to nazi germany #because both were HEAVILY involved in the success of the nazi’s #but i also wanted to keep this a little more fun fact orientated a little lighter #but if you wanna know about that shoot me a message!!!#thanks again for the question it was so much fun!!!#i’m doing good! i hope you’re as well?#my loves #sgyep #fashion

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adventure-hearts · 4 years ago

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Question: Why is Sora becoming a fashion designer perceived as a “non-empowered” or “non-feminist” choice, in 2020?

To begin with: this analysis isn’t about if Sora’s Epilogue career choice was foreshadowed or developed enough. That issue belongs in a more general discussion about why some fans felt dissatisfied with the Epilogue, in particular those jobs that were considered to be unexpected or more left-field.

It also isn’t about individual fans’ personal disappointment with the character’s trajectory. Obviously, there are many factors at play that could lead one to be unhappy with how Sora’s turned out — dub changes, the cultural background information that isn’t always evident, or just personal reasons. No-one needs to agree with Sora’s job or feel compelled to justify their personal dislike.

Nevertheless, I will propose the following four explanatory hypothesis for why people might harbor a negative view of Sora’s career choice:

1. Being a fashion designer goes against Sora’s previously-established personality, interests, and values. 2. Her future career isn’t empowering. 3. It’s regressive, because all the female characters just ended up with stereotypical, traditional feminine activities. 4. Sora stopped being a role model for gender non-conformity in girls.

In this post, I’m going to try and demystify those points of view, in order to try to show that Sora’s career is both fitting and empowering.

***

Hypothesis 1: Being a fashion designer goes against Sora’s previously-established personality, interests, and values.

I believe this perspective is more connected to a general misunderstanding or lack of appreciation for Sora’s character arc.

To make a generalizing statement, many fans felt frustrated when Sora went from being presented as not particularly “girly” (playing football, wearing more practical clothes, being friends with boys) to “suddenly” becoming more feminine post-Adventure (playing tennis, wearing more feminine clothes, being paired off romantically with a boy, doing ikebana). This “dramatic change” culminated in her in her becoming a fashion designer in the Epilogue.

Similar complaints exist about Miyako’s endgame. In both cases, dissatisfaction is based on the notion that a girl who doesn’t present as typically girly or has “masculine interests” in childhood wouldn’t gravitate towards “feminine things” later on. Some people believe that, in 02, becoming more traditionally feminine was associated with growing up and becoming more mature. Consequently, Sora and Miyako’s Epilogue jobs were a “correction” to their earlier presentation as young girls who challenged traditional gender roles.

While I think this is an understandable complaint, I must emphasize that a more deeper analysis of Sora’s character arc might help explain her trajectory in a more straightforward way.

Consider:

It’s clear that Sora is coded as not a "girly girl” in Adventure. Not only does she have a unisex name, but she is often presented as a contrast with the hyper-feminine Mimi.

Despite of this, I would argue that Sora was never portrayed as a full tomboy. For example, she speaks in a feminine way; her manners are delicate, even dainty; and she undertakes roles that involve being caring and nurturing, such as Big Sister / Group Mom — and, at one point, even damsel in distress —, which are normally associated with femininity. You never get the impression that Sora considers herself to be “one of the boys” or that she constantly struggles against gender expectations. Even her digimon partner is pink!

In Adventure, Sora’s preference for football over ikebana and annoyance when her mother asks her to act more “ladylike” are explained as a being a reaction against the pressure of Sora’s position as heiress to an old Ikebana family. To give the Cliff Notes version of the story: Sora rejected feminine as a way of rebelling against her mother’s perceived lack of love for her, and against the pressures of her position as ie-moto Crown Princess.

After Sora made up with her mum, she became more open-minded and gradually began to embrace and enjoy more feminine things, including tennis (it’s weird to me that people consider tennis “girly”, but I digress), cooking, and flower arrangement. As a teenager, Sora is also often seen wearing skirts and more feminine clothes, suggesting a more ‘womanly’ presentation, and she even ends up becoming romantically involved with a boy.

I don’t see any evidence in Adventure or 02 that Sora wouldn’t be fond of art, design, or fashion. On the contrary: she practices and enjoys flower arrangement. Sora’s hobbies and personality traits in Adventure and 02 include sports, flower arrangement, resourcefulness, responsibility, sensitivity, and an eye for detail. Is that really incompatible with a future career in fashion design? The fact that she comes from an Ikebana family directly influences her career choice, notably the fact that she uses traditional Japanese elements in her designs. This establishes a strong connection between her Epilogue Job and her arc.

TL;DR: Sora wasn’t really a tomboy to begin with, and her becoming “more feminine” as she grew up is explained in the series as being a direct consequence of her Adventure character arc.

Hypothesis 2: Her future career isn’t empowering.

I think this stems from from the belief that being a fashion designer isn’t an important enough career.

Since Sora is a Chosen Child, fans would expect grown-up Sora to be saving the world or being involved in Digimon issues, instead of doing silly things like making dresses and kimonos. After all, she is supposed to be a Strong Female Character™!

This point of view probably relates to the perception of creative professions — or anything related to art and culture — as “superficial”, “not serious” or “useless” for society. Fashion design, in particular ,is often seen as vapid or superficial, rather than a legitimate art form that can full of beauty and meaning. It’s the old story that if a career isn’t “powerful” or “useful”, then it’s less valid. (It’s interesting how no-one seems to question if becoming a footballer or a rock star would be “impactful” or “strong” enough for the two male protagonists.)

This might be also be tangentially connected to fans’ dissatisfaction with Sora’s decreasing importance in the team as the story goes on. Many people would have preferred to see her in a position of leadership, or in the front lines of the battle. In this sense, her career choice could be perceived as the writers sidelining this female character even further.

In short, Sora’s career isn’t baddass enough.

Counterpoints:

There are many reasons why Sora wouldn’t want to be involved in fighting as a grown up. I’ve written about it earlier, but I think nothing illustrates her choice better than the short film To Sora. While it’s fair to question to what extent this decision was linked to Sora’s increasingly smaller role in the team (meta-wise), it’s still based on established character motivations. Sora doesn’t work in digimon business because... she doesn’t want to.

Sora becoming a fashion designer is also a huge step for the character, in the sense that it means that she also does not end up taking over over as Ikebana grand-master. Instead, she forges her own independent path: she does something she wanted to do for herself.

Moreover, based on the little information we have, Sora either works on a relevant position or works in her own name, considering she is able to run fashion shows and make creative decisions. This means Sora isn’t just an artist with a vision: she’s in a position of power within the business.

We don’t have many clues to estimate how successful she is, but options range from her running her own small independent label, to being head-designer of a company, to becoming a proper superstar designer with her own successful global brand. All of those possibilities mean Sora has achieved considerable career success. If she’s doing some form of haute couture, then Sora’s arguably one the most “career accomplished” among the all group (if you use the usual questionable methods society uses to evaluate “accomplishment”, namely fame, power, and money).

And think of all the skills and talents necessary to be a successful fashion designer! Creativity; innovation; vision; diligence; hard work... to think of fashion design as an unimportant or “minor” profession is really reductive. Don’t you think icons like Valentino, Yves Saint-Laurent, Alexander McQueen, Coco Chanel, Vivienne Westwood, Hanaé Mori or Rei Kawakubo aren’t respected and influential? I’m not saying Sora’s at that level (yet) — I’m just saying she might be.

TL;DR: In the Epilogue, we learn that Sora followed her individual dreams and is triumphing in a challenging and important industry, producing high-quality art in her own terms. She even has the potential of becoming powerful, wealthy, and famous. She’s the definition of an empowered woman.

Hypothesis 3: It’s regressive, because all the female characters just ended up with stereotypical, traditional feminine activities.

This view is based on the observation that all the boys ended up with “important” careers, while the girls ended up with “feminine” jobs or, in Miyako’s case, not even a career at all. In other words, fans believe that the Digimon Epilogue wasn’t exactly good at providing progressive role models for girls.

I do have some issues with this view.

First: Isn’t the idea that traditional “feminine” activities are automatically lesser in itself sexist?

Why do we assume that a fashion designer or a school teacher is “less” than a writer or a doctor? I’m not saying the Digimon Epilogue is problem-free or that promotes gender equality (it is, after all, a Japanese children’s cartoon from 2000), but considering the reality of working women in Japan, is the Epilogue that bad and regressive?

(Also, there are twice more men in the team than women, so there’s more room for wider representation on the boys’ side. The four girls in Adventure always carry the burden of having to stand for half the population. As I mentioned in section 1, the fact that Sora was perceived as a “tomboy” means her career choice receives even more criticism.)

Second: Is being a fashion designer truly a “traditional feminine activity”?

I would argue that considering fashion designer (especially in the “higher ranks”) as “woman’s job” is both stereotypical (“clothes are a woman’s thing!") and historically inaccurate.

Here’s a fun fact: As of 2018, only 40% of womenswear fashion brands are designed by women and only 14% of the 50 major fashion brands are run by women.

Think of the most famous fashion houses you know; you’ll find that the majority are almost all founded and/or lead by male designers. Looking at the list of Japanese fashion designers on Wikipedia, just over half of them are men.

In other words, the fashion industry was and continues to be overwhelmingly dominated by men, it’s plagued by lack of diversity and opportunitues for women, and women fashion designers a lot of obstacles and discrimination. So much for Sora having a “woman’s job”!

And don’t even get me started on how difficult it must be to conciliate this career with being a mother of two.

TL;DR: Sora is working in a male-dominated field were being successful as a woman is still incredibly difficult. Not that different from playing in the boy’s football team!

Hypothesis 4: Sora stopped being a role model for gender non-conformity in girls.

I think the previous sections have already negated this to some extent.

First, Sora was never that gender-conforming to begin with and she began embracing femininity long before the Epilogue. Also, the two things aren’t mutually exclusive. Liking football and wearing jeans doesn’t mean you can’t like fashion and wear dresses.

Second, being a fashion designer is a respected, demanding, and possibly lucrative career. Sora is both an artist and a successful businesswoman in a leadership role she chose for herself.

Third, fashion is a male dominated industry and fashion design isn’t “a feminine occupation”. Sora is still going to have to break barriers and face a lot of obstacles based on the fact that she’s a woman and a working mum.

TL;DR: Sora’s challenging of social expectations, her “less typical” childhood presentation and hobbies, and her being a source of inspiration for little girls isn’t invalidated by her becoming a fashion designer.

Conclusion

Upon reflection, Sora’s career not only makes sense for the character, but it’s a very empowering one.

Sora Takenouchi remains a feminist icon, thank you very much.

PS: I’ve always suspected that, on a meta level, Sora’s Epilogue career was very loosely inspired by Stephen King’s IT, which was listed by director Hiroyuki Kakudou as an influence for Digimon Adventure/02: more, specifically, the character Beverly Marsh is a red-haired girl who grows up to be a fashion designer.

#digimon #analysis #meta #takenouchi sora #the epilogue

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floatingcatacombs · 4 years ago

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Evaluting Gatchaman Crowds Through Rui’s Outfits

12 Days of Aniblogging 2020, Day 1

Oh, I’m fashionably late to this one. Gatchaman Crowds is a 2013 superhero anime that serves as a soft reboot of the old tokusatsu franchise, only now with 21st century shitty anime tropes. From this painfully generic setup emerges a surprisingly layered evaluation of technological disruption in the smartphone era. For this reason, Crowds is a favorite amongst anime bloggers as a superhero work that’s actually trying to do something interesting.

Unfortunately I don’t care about any of these guys

But it’s also a favorite amongst all sorts of weirdos because of the character Rui Ninomiya. A horrifying amalgamation of the technolibertarian CEO and trans femme hacker archetypes, Rui is by far the most interesting character in the show, because they’re a surprisingly prescient look at how the tech industry will function throughout the 2010s. But they’re also a ‘boy’ who never leaves their house without dressing in the most girly clothes imaginable. Predictably, this is catnip for me. But the funniest part of the whole situation is that nobody ever addresses it. Rui never provides an explanation for their outfits and the rest of the cast just uses she/her until they properly get acquainted and switch to he/him.

I could tell you that Rui’s obviously trans and wrap up the post right there, but that’s honestly not the most interesting angle of attack here. So I’m just going to use whatever pronouns I feel like in the moment for them and focus on what really matters: fashion! Rui has a surprisingly large wardrobe throughout the show, so I’ll be doing the heavy lifting of ranking each of her outfits. Oh, and also maybe a little analysis of what she represents. Spoilers for the whole show, of course.

7. The Yellow Dress

Let me lay out Rui’s ideology before I lay into their fashion disaster. You see, they’re a tech disruptor who believes that governments and bureaucracies are too slow to achieve the monumental (yet unspecified) change that society needs. So, they preside over a smartphone app called GALAX that successfully predicts Pokemon Go’s geosocial AR gimmick three years early. GALAX is a technolibertarian’s wet dream – crowdsourced emergency response, interest-based meetups, and matchmaking for people who need specific help and the people who can help them, all deeply gamified.

Their outfit here is about as messy as their politics, but at the same time, what a look. She’s got blue-and-white-striped programming thigh highs on under her combat boots, which are both such trans iconography, you know? While they may just be a reflection of early-2010s 4chan crossdressing culture, it’s also totally possible that Rui directly influenced or reinforced trans girl fashion, like the accelerationist she is. What a prescient show, in all sorts of weird ways.

6. Lace-up Dress with Bunny Ears

It wouldn’t be an anime girl cosplay without some bunny ears, now would it? Rui spends 5 minutes in an early episode just wandering around the city in this outfit, listening to people’s conversations and feelings on GALAX. There’s something very funny about how nobody even notices them, like they’re completely invisible despite their ridiculous outfit. This actually factors back into the tech stuff! Like pretty much every tech company, Rui’s app and vision are both sleek and shiny but rely on tremendous amounts of dirty labor kept as hidden as possible. From Amazon’s inhumane warehouse conditions to Facebook’s trauma-inducing moderator farms to Apple’s child labor-tainted supply chains, there’s always suffering humans behind the too-good-to-be-true magic of tech companies. Rui’s lie by omission is failing to mention that the app relies on invisible extradimensional beings called CROWDS that are manually controlled by underpaid workers to assist its users. One of the workers comes to Rui challenging their vision and arguing that they should be sharing this tech with the movers and shakers of the world, not trying to keep it invisible. He threatens a collective walkout and Rui fires him. At this point, we’re not even operating on metaphors.

5. Green Business Casual

Sure, most tech companies have cruel labor underbellies, but there’s also the separate risk of moral rot. It’s what causes Microsoft to take on ICE contracts and Google to develop censored versions of their search engine at the whims of authoritarians. Many tech companies start off with an altruistic message, but without a serious ethical core, they will start doing a whole lot of evil as they bend to financial and other pressures. Rui’s version of this is extremely literal: she made a deal with the devil to gain the ability to use the CROWDS and launch her app. Except this devil is also a butch gender-noncomforming alien (there is a Lot of other gender going on in this show that I don’t even have time for) and the two of them seem to have an extremely fucked-up relationship. Like any good Faustian bargain or any bad attempt at raising more venture capital without a viable business model, eventually the whole thing comes tumbling down and now you’re doing something terribly fucked up. Rui looks good in a dress shirt, at least!

4. Whatever your abusive partner puts on when she body-snatches you

Of course the center won’t hold, GALAX is subject to a hostile takeover, and to nobody’s surprise, an app with the flimsy promise to change the world for the better can actually be way better at ripping it all apart. I guess the prescient social media parallel here is Facebook being used to propagate Myanmar’s ethnic cleansing, or really anything related to Twitter for the last 5 years. FuckedUpAlienMimic!Rui sure does have cute fangs and a way more refined fashion sense though. I don’t feel like looking into that one.

3. Business....Futch?

I know I’m not done outlining Rui’s arc, but I’m going to skip ahead for a moment to say that Gatchaman Crowds also has a second season! I’m largely ignoring it here because Rui is pretty much stripped of all plot relevance and most of her outfits are less exciting, but I had to include this one. For two episodes, she puts on bright yellow stirrup leggings and an oversized polo shirt, with a cute ponytail to boot. It’s a ridiculous look, but still feels really evocative to me. Sometimes a girl just has to put together completely uncoordinated outfits and see what happens.

Unlike the disruption-focused first season, Gatchaman Crowds season two, which aired in 2015, is about how unfettered technolibertarianism can easily descend into fascism. Goddammit.

2. The Bunny Ears Outfit Again Oh God Who Hurt Her

The weight of the world comes crashing down in Rui’s hands, she’s bruised and beaten in a surprisingly sadistic manner by her alien ex-business partner/girlfriend, and she’s locked out of her own company which is very quickly causing society to fall apart. So what does she do? She puts the bunny dress back on, and wanders the streets again until she has to call upon the powers that be to fix her own mess. It’s silly that the powers that be in this world are superheroes, but I bet you forgot that this was technically a superhero show at this point. Anyways, my extended metaphor is quickly drifting off course, but I guess this is the part where Rui gets grilled by Congress and slapped with an antitrust case.

1. Every Trans Girl Stereotype Rolled Into One

I’ve been incredibly harsh on Rui throughout this writeup, because I’m harsh on the industry she represents, but I’ll make it up with this section. Look at what she’s wearing! A choker, the gothiest Hot Topic dress imaginable, arm warmers, no less than three asymmetric garters not even holding up anything, and the tallest black boots she could find. It’s incredible! If the first outfit on this list was hinting at her relationship to stereotypical trans fashion, then this outfit just screams it. It’s the perfect goth femme hacker look, a style commitment I have no choice but to respect.

Gatchaman is a weird show. After spending most of its runtime thoroughly dunking on tech disruptors for being too optimistic and uncritical, it takes a last-minute turn into Lockean state of nature arguments. It settles on “the masses are inherently good enough that empowering people through technology shouldn’t ever be a problem”, ignoring all the suffering that happened due to Rui’s unwillingness to curate their own technology. I’d give Gatchaman Crowds an average rating, but it’s one of those interesting average ratings where instead of being milquetoast, they tried something and failed and wrote themselves into a corner. But hey, at least there’s an interestingly gendered character!

#12 days of anime #gatchaman crowds #rui ninomiya #trans #technology

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years ago

Text

“SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 2: “YATA MISAKI’S BUILDING EXPLORATION! HAUNTED HOUSE EDITION” (Complete)

* K - Six Idols (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

That day, it had been raining since morning.

He lifts his scarf to his mouth, takes a sip of hana, and Misaki Yata walks down the well-known shopping street. Born and raised in Shizume, this shopping street has been a playground, pathway, and everyday scene since childhood.

The fish shop shutter opened and a middle-aged woman appeared. The fish-filled foamed shelf is neat in the showcase. When he saw her, Yata bowed politely.

"Good morning, Oba-chan. You are well today."

"Oh, Misaki-chan. Yes, good morning. Are you going home now?"

Yata smiles bitterly. It is true that there is no morning and no night in the entertainment world, but he has not set an unreasonable schedule for having to go home at this time. Izumo Kusanagi, who is the actual owner, is paying attention to that area.

"No, it's recorded from now on. It's a home visiting plan for 'Shirogin Deluxe'. Have you seen it?"

"Oh, that show! I love it too. Misaki-chan, you're supposed to be out. I'm glad."

Yata was a little glad to see her shaking her face. For him, who has never left his hometown, it is a great motivation to please people who have known him for a long time.

Yata raises his thumb and shows it to the lady.

"Thanks! Well then I'll go!"

The lady also made an approving gesture to imitate Yata.

"Yeah, come on. Good luck, I'm supporting you."

Waving as he walks, Yata realizes that his heart is filled with warm feelings. The cold of winter and the mist that clings to his skin seemed to immediately disappear at that sensation.

Yata, who passed through the business district and onto the main street, was not surprised at all to see the location car.

"Huh? Are you turning the camera already?"

"Oh, Yata-san! Hello!"

Kamamoto, who was standing near the location car, waved loudly while holding the camera. Loud greetings are good in this industry if it's on a television station.

Yata rushed over to Kamamoto and touched his head.

"Ah!"

"Don't yell! It's going to upset the neighbors!"

All of them are also captured on camera. But that doesn't really matter to him. The interaction between the two, as a team, is not yet known to viewers, but when Yata and Kamamoto appear in pairs, such interaction is often expected.

"No, I'm sorry! I'm happy because it's been a while since I've been in a place with you, Yata-san!"

"How do you say, we didn't do something a week ago?"

As they exchanged words, Yata boarded the location car. Kamamoto also sits next to him, pointing his camera at Yata. Yata is reminded of when he sees several staff members in the car pointing lights and microphones at him.

"So why are you already filming? Doesn't filming start after arriving at Kokujoji-san's house?"

Today's plan is to visit the villa of the renowned artist, Daikaku Kokujoji, as he told the lady from the fishmonger. Kokujoji, who was the driving force behind this "idol age" and has 98% national recognition, is a representative not only of the entertainment world but also of Japanese society. Despite the fact that it is a village, Yata was not less than enthusiastic about visiting his home.

"Well, anyway, we are going to visit Kokujoji-san's house, so it's up to the headmaster to take pictures before and after that!"

Kamamoto says that and Yata wonders, "Is that so?" Since a big name like Daikaku Kokujoji is involved, the production side may also be concerned about various things.

"The location car will go outside. Please put your seatbelt on."

Both Yata and Kamamoto wear belts at the director's call. With Yata's unsettling feelings, the vehicle slid slowly onto the national highway.

If he thinks about it later, he should have noticed it then.

++++++++++

Yata finally wondered when he got to the capital highway from the national highway and left Tokyo.

"Isn't that the destination in Tokyo?"

Kamamoto's camera keeps spinning. Behind the camera, Kamamoto's expression covered by sunglasses seemed to be different from his usual appearance. Kamamoto has a smile on his face like a sticker.

"That's right. Everything seems to be near the secret hot spring in Nagano prefecture."

"I haven't heard that."

"Oh, is that so? Well, I heard it for the first time today."

Yata takes a closer look at Kamamoto. Kamamoto is turning the camera with a smile on his face.

"Well, ok."

Muttering, Yata turned to the outside of the car.

It is in the morning on weekdays. Location cars fly down the highway at a comfortable speed. The flowing landscape becomes an overflowing nature.

The location car went off the road through the interchange.

It was the field. Far from being a figure, even houses are rare. Beyond the fields as far as the eye can see, there are three trees with bushes. It must be a rural landscape everywhere in Japan, but he didn't think it was the place where Kokujoji Daikaku's village was located.

"I see. Did you make a mistake on the road?"

"You are not mistaken! Director?"

Kamamoto speaks to him from the passenger seat in an unnecessarily loud tone. The director gave him an ambiguous answer, like "Oh.", "Yes.", which made Yata feel even more uncomfortable. The localization vehicle goes into the mountains.

The landscape that should be described as abundant extends to the left and right. Green leaves and black trees are twisted and intertwined. Behind the threadbare and rusty railing, there was a sign with words like "Take care of your life." and "Think of your family.", and Yata looked away from the vehicle window.

The rain gets stronger.

The rain and fog were turning into a storm before he knew it. Perhaps the weather in the mountains is volatile, with dense black clouds hanging overhead, and it is as dark as it is at night, even though it is close to noon. Also, it seems that he was going astray, and the interior of the car began to shake with the rattle.

Yata yells as he grabs the armrest.

"Hey! Is there really a Kokujoji-san's village in such a place?"

"Well, I heard that."

Hearing the headmaster's response, Yata made his mouth twitch. He wants to complain, but the words can't come out. Either way, he don't know the location and have no choice but to leave everything to them.

After that, when they passed a winding mountain road for several tens of minutes, the vehicle stopped.

"We arrived?"

Yata asked with relief. Kamamoto says in a cheerful voice.

"That's right. Look, it's Kokujoji-san's village!"

Beyond the windshield, when he saw the house illuminated by the lights, Yata's face was full of energy.

It was a decaying western-style building.

It used to be a magnificent building, but due to deterioration over time, the exterior has peeled off in places, exposing construction materials and pipes. It was as if the skin had been ripped off by torture and the muscles and blood vessels underneath were exposed.

Yata slammed his fist into Kamamoto's head, regardless of whether the camera was spinning.

"Ah? What are you doing, Yata-san?"

"Where is this village? No matter how you look at it, it is an abandoned castle!"

"Oh, even if I say that... What about the director?"

The director in the seat looked back as he expanded the map.

"We are not wrong, it is here."

"Isn't that the case?! In such a place, Kokujoji-san's is a great village."

Yata's protest, however, disappeared when he saw what the director was pointing at.

A figure was at the entrance of the building.

The silhouette that extends the Japanese umbrella and protects itself from the rain is familiar. Costumes similar to hunting clothes and masks that imitate rabbits. All people who belong to the largest agency, the "Tokijikuin Agency" represented by Daikaku Kokujoji, regardless of age or gender, idols or non-idols, wear this outfit. They are widely recognized as "rabbits", sometimes appearing as back dancers in the figure and sometimes as messengers from the "Tokijikuin Agency".

Kamamoto says while capturing the surroundings with the camera.

"Looks like it's here, right?"

"Ah, stupid..."

The director gets out of the location vehicle and begins talking to the rabbit. Yata also opened his umbrella and got out of the vehicle, feeling uncomfortable.

"Good morning. Welcome, you have come a long way."

The rabbit bowed politely, waving in a soft voice. Yata is confused and says hello too.

"Oh, good morning. Is this it?"

"The front is closed now. Please relax in the hall first."

The rabbit turned his back to shake off Yata's question and walked into the hall. The film crew, including the director, did the same.

"Really…"

Yata, who was left alone, began to walk quickly. Instead of keeping up with them, he no longer wanted to be alone.

When…

At the edge of his sight, he saw something white moving. Reflectively, Yata turned his gaze to him.

A white figure was standing in one of the windows lined up on the second floor of the building.

The figure, whose skin and clothing were pure white, immediately disappeared into the darkness as if he had noticed Yata's line of sight.

"……"

Yata's face was pale and alternately compared the windows of the second floor with the entrance of the building.

++++++++++

The storm doesn't seem to stop, and it gets stronger and stronger. Yata eagerly watched the sound of the rain pounding from above.

"Hey. Kokujoji-san, isn't he coming yet?"

It has been almost an hour since he passed the dimly lit room. The Rabbit guide said, "Please wait a bit." and he retired and didn't show up at all. Yata and his colleagues were completely abandoned.

He's getting angry. No matter what the "Tokijikuin Agency" is, it is impossible to treat idols from other agencies so carelessly. Yata had a personality that such irrationality could not forgive.

However, now he doesn't feel angry and just wants to go home.

Every time the light from an old lamp shining on the table casts a complex shadow on the wall, the figure in Yata's mind, perhaps the white figure above, blinks.

Yata gulps and talks to Kamamoto next him.

"Maybe he doesn't feel right? So I think it's rude to bother him, we'll re-record at a later date."

"Even if you say that..."

Kamamoto was confused and spoke to the director.

"What do you think, Director? That Rabbit, I don't think he's coming back."

The director puts his hand to his jaw and thinks. Yata looked at his figure expectantly.

"It is true that this will hinder the schedule."

"Really?!"

"Then, let's go find the rabbit."

"Eh?"

The director and other members of the film crew rose to their feet one after another. From those who handle the light to the makeup, they try to go with the director. Yata instinctively tried to stop them.

"Wait a minute! Why is everyone going?"

"As we will be looking for him, it is better to have more manpower."

"That's right, oh, yeah, then I'll go with you."

"No, if we let the actor do these kinds of tasks, the name of the show will be frowned upon. Yata-san and Kamamoto-san, you should wait here."

Just with that, the other members except Yata and Kamamoto walked out of the reception room.

"……"

Yata stretched out his empty hand and sat back on the couch.

The reception room, where the current had already been introduced, felt even colder when the equipment left. Yata flailed his legs fiercely, staring into the dim lamplight. He cannot say anything and is calm.

He feels bad because he is worried about the normal path. As an important figure in the world of idols, Yata pays tribute to Kokujoji. He is concerned about the status of the great man, not because he is afraid of this eerie western-style building.

While repeating his trembling thoughts, Yata was confident that the team or the rabbit would return as soon as possible.

And 30 minutes passed, 1 hour passed.

It seems that the rain has stopped a bit. Instead, thunder was heard more frequently. The haunting and rumbling sky sometimes casts a light similar to a flare on the window. This time, Yata realized that his body was jumping.

"It's not too late?"

Unable to suppress the trembling voice, he talks to Kamamoto. Kamamoto keeps his camera on the table in front of him, arms crossed and silent.

Yata was driven by anxiety and shook his shoulder.

"Eh? Kamamoto?"

Kamamoto lowered his head in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Don't fall asleep, fat man!"

"Hmm!" When he touched his head, Kamamoto's sunglasses slid off.

Kamamoto makes a shocked voice, dressed like an idiot with sunglasses hooked to the edge of his ear.

"What is it? What is it?"

"Idiot! The others haven't come back yet!"

However, Yata's anger did not seem to be transmitted to Kamamoto at all. He stretched out humorously, grabbed the camera from the table, and stood up.

"I'm in trouble. Then I'll search a bit!"

"Oh, why?"

The voice was about to scream, but Yata no longer has the psychological margin to worry about such things. Kamamoto scratched his head like he was in trouble.

"No, it doesn't matter what you say. If they don't come back, it's only natural for me to go looking for them, right?"

"That said, the directors have not returned. If you go, the same thing will happen, right?"

Kamamoto bowed his head and pointed the camera at Yata. Yata's face is reflected in the black lens. Kamamoto had a ridiculous tone as he clearly reflected his scared face.

"Maybe Yata-san… Are you afraid of being alone?"

"Moron!"

Yata's low kick went through Kamamoto's right knee and the giant rolled on the ground.

"Hey, Yata-san, please stop hitting me!"

"Ah! Maybe it's because I don't like your comments?"

"Just kidding! Yata isn't scared at this level! I get it!"

"I go to search..."

Yata responds with a negative voice like a different person than until now. Kamamoto stood up while rubbing his knees and headed straight for the exit.

"Then, I'll go for a bit."

Kamamoto left the room. Yata was left alone in the reception room.

"……"

He cannot hear anything but the sound of rain, thunder, and the beat of his heart. He feels restless and walk around the table for no reason. Check the clock almost every minute. Every time, he repeats the idea of going round and round, why he hasn't come back yet.

At that moment, the roar of the guitar solo echoed through the hall.

"What?!"

Involuntarily, he raises a strange voice and jumps. The guitar solo echoed in Yata's bag that he had left on the couch. The fiery melody is a representative song of "Red King Idol" Suoh Mikoto, which Yata respects.

Yata took out his PDA while suppressing his heartbeat.

The incoming call was from Kamamoto. As soon as he answers the call, Yata yells at him.

"Hey, don't call suddenly!"

As he screamed, Yata felt relieved somewhere in his heart.

Kamamoto on the other end of the phone echoed the usual subtle voice without knowing such complicated psychology.

"No, I'm sorry, Yata-san. I thought it would be bad for Yata-san to be worried, so I'm sorry."

"Are you eating something?"

"Eh? No, no way..."

"You're eating! Where are you now?"

"Oh, no... it's like a kitchen."

"You're stupid! How do you eat in someone's kitchen when you visit their house? You can't do that, even if you're a visitor!"

Yata yells. At the same time, when he looks out the window, he notices that his expression has softened. Kamamoto's usual eating habits seemed to be irreplaceable and encouraging at this point.

Kamamoto says, while making a locking sound.

"Well, you often say that if I'm hungry, I can't do it, right? And I came here guessing."

"Eh?"

"I could see a figure here, so I thought it was a rabbit. It was wearing white clothes, so I'm sure it's correct."

A small shadow was born on Yata's slightly warmed chest.

A figure in white clothes.

"Hey, Kamamoto."

"Hmm? That? That, maybe..."

When he hears Kamamoto's voice as if noticing something, the shadow gets bigger as it swells.

"Wait a minute. Come back!"

"No, what are you talking about, there was a rabbit. Sorry! When can I start recording?"

There, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

The shadow fills Yata's heart. Yata clenches the sweat from his hands that slowly spreads onto his PDA.

"Hey! Kamamoto! Come back!"

"That? It's weird. Why?"

"Kamamoto!"

"Why was his neck looking away?"

Almost at the same time as those words, a wet sound echoed off his PDA.

It's like hitting a wet leather bag on the ground.

It's like squashing a rotten tomato.

A sound with an ominous premonition clung to Yata's ears.

"Kama-…!"

The calling voice was interrupted by a loud sound that pierced the tympanic membrane. Maybe that's why he dropped his PDA. He lets it go involuntarily, and Yata looks at his PDA. Notice the words "Rikio Kamamoto" floating just below the "Call" screen.

After a while of silence, the speaker began to pick up the sound of "something."

Tap. Tap. Yata notes that the sound that resonates regularly is footsteps. Facing Yata, who is stuck as if frozen, the speaker mercilessly continues to reproduce the sound of "something".

"Heh heh heh."

In the end, a sound like that of a laughing voice, and the call was cut off.

Seeing the words "End of call", Yata noticed the sweat on his back.

There is certainly "something" here.

Yata thinks about it while being driven into a panic. Can't imagine what it is. Is it related to that white figure? What happened to that rabbit and the members that went looking for him?

And Kamamoto...

"Ah!"

Clenching his fist and teeth, Yata stared at the living room door.

If Yata were alone, he would have screamed and stormed out of the reception room, rushing into mountains of thunderstorms. Not good in this situation, let's be clear. It is incredibly scary. Even now, his knees are shaking and he can't even stand.

However, Kamamoto is here. There are also directors and film crews that came with him.

If he abandons them and runs away alone, he will deny the human Misaki Yata.

"Damn!"

Yata slammed his hardened fist against his thigh. That doesn't stop the shaking of the knees, but it is something.

Thus, pain inspired Yata. He strides across the room and kicks the door open before crossing.

"Wait, Kamamoto! I'm going to help you now!"

Screaming to inspire himself, Yata stepped into the darkness in front of him.

++++++++++

Kamamoto said at the end that he was in the kitchen.

Of course, Yata does not know the layout of the building. Still, since it's a kitchen, he guesses it's somewhere on the first floor, and he walks down the hall in big surprise. The lamp, which should be from the lighting equipment, was not on, and Yata had to use the light from his PDA as a flashlight and advance terrifyingly.

Lightning and thunder roar. The entire view of the hallway was projected for a moment as if the camera's flash fired.

It's a long corridor with blood-colored ridges and bone-like walls. The portraits are evenly spaced on the wall.

As he slowly advances, Yata tries to keep the portrait out of his eyes. Because the line of sight can match. Because if he looks at them, they might laugh at him.

If he looks at a portrait, his heart may explode as if he is doing his best live. Yata still couldn't die. He couldn't die until he saved Kamamoto and the team members.

"……"

The blankness on his face means that fear outweighs courage. There is no colleague from the "Homura Performing Arts Office" who can laugh at him, they are not here at the moment. Yata has to fight both loneliness and fear.

Fold the corner twice.

Apparently it is a corridor. Maybe the kitchen is not on the first floor. If that happens, he will have to climb the stairs. That fact began to haunt Yata's thoughts.

Before entering the hall, a white figure reflected in the window for a moment flickered in Yata's mind.

Climbing the stairs means going to that figure. Yata wasn't sure he could get into such a situation even though he no longer had the courage to oppress it anymore.

When, suddenly, the door on his left moved with a piercing noise.

"Eh?"

Yata jumped to the ground in a squeaky voice.

The door opened slowly as if it had a will of its own.

The warm breeze that flowed from there caressed his taut cheeks.

He's sure it was moved by air flow or something, until he found out, it wouldn't move.

Thousands of words that are less than thoughts fill his mind. The instinct of "I want to get away from here" and the belief that "I can't abandon my friends" conflict with each other, and Yata's body tends to be rigid.

As it is, a minute has passed.

Nothing happens.

Realizing that, Yata began to move. The doorplate illuminated by the light of the PDA came into view.

The word "Dining Room" was written there.

"This is here?"

Muttering to be sure, swallowing hard, Yata opened the door.

The spacious dining room was filled with humid air. There is a long table as seen in the movie and several chairs around it. A three-pointed candelabrum on a pure white tablecloth receives the light and glows golden.

Yata scans the room while glancing at the scene. If there is a door that leads to the kitchen, that will be the goal.

The feelings of wanting to find them and not wanting to find them are in conflict in Yata. It was the manifestation of the two feelings that filled Yata's heart, the instinct of not wanting to face loyalty and the belief that he should help his companions.

Suddenly, Yata felt something crash against his toes.

It bounces and terrifyingly points the light to the ground.

It was a ham. A thick, boneless ham that appears to be around Yata's foot. There is evidence that the packaging has been broken and removed.

Kamamoto no doubt picked it up and ate it.

He had been here.

"Kamamoto?"

His voice echoed mysteriously. When he turned on the lights, the door that would lead to the kitchen was open. Yata went in there.

The kitchen floor was damp. When Yata's shoes hit the wet floor, he made a sticky noise and pulled a rope between his shoes and the floor.

The light from the PDA trembled as if Yata's discomfort was transmitted.

The previous light reflects the ground. Yata arrived when there was a trail of something crawling across the red-black wet ground.

At the same time, there is a watery sound in the kitchen.

Kucha, Juru, Picha, Nichi, Giri.

He doesn’t notice it from the sound of the rain. he could hear the sound all the time.

Jutsu, guchitsu, baki, zuru, gucha...

Maybe he didn't want to realize it. Because it was a realization of Yata's fear.

Baki, Bagi, Goritsu, Boritsu, Jururu.

However, Yata had to face realization. He thought that he had to record it in his own eyes no matter what result he was hoping for.

A trembling light crawls across the ground and follows the bloodline.

"It" was closer than he expected.

He was wearing white clothing, similar to a dress. The word "it" comes from the fact that it was so worn that it was hard to see. The hem ripped like a saw blade and dirt that has mixed in here and there has soaked it. It was probably the dirt that caused the thread to stick to the soles of Yata's shoes.

"It" seemed to turn away from him and crouch like a monkey, shaking his head vigorously. He shook his pure white hair, moving his face further and further, and moving his hands to break something.

Each time, the watery sound from before, resonates.

A familiar giant lay in front of "It"

Kamamoto's eyes, illuminated by the lights, were wide open and were no longer looking at anything.

Yata took a step back, it would be terrible to blame him for being shy. Yata's survival instinct demanded a distance from "it", just as a hunted animal would reflexively frighten. Holding his mouth with his hand, while pouring a fixed stare at "it", Yata tries to leave the room.

There was a dry sound under his feet.

"… ?!"

Yata hastily points the light at his feet.

There were Kamamoto's sunglasses. Stepped on by Yata, the lens of the sunglasses snapped in two.

He looked up from the sunglasses and saw "it", terrifyingly.

The movement stopped, as if it had frozen.

Even arms thin like dead trees and hair white like ceramic remain frozen.

The neck began to turn silently.

Slowly and precisely, like the gears of a machine. Turning sideways, diagonally back, and turning 180 degrees, it "saw" Yata.

Kamamoto's words revive in Yata's mind.

("Why is your neck there?")

Looking at Yata with only his face, with his body facing forward.

"It" moves just a little.

Random blood-soaked teeth were stained with a speckled pattern of yellow and red.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaah!"

When he noticed, Yata was sprinting down the hall of the building.

Screams of flight and senseless came from his mouth, the eyes had shed tears incessantly. He is not sure where he is going. However, he wanted to get away from that kitchen as soon as possible.

Yata slipped and fell, trying to turn the corner of the hall at full speed. He crashes into the wall and stops, reflectively looking at the darkness from which he ran.

He couldn't find the figure for "it."

However, only sound was heard.

Regularly echoing sounds and footsteps approached Yata from the other side of the darkness with a speed that shook fear.

Yata got to his feet and started running. His brain made a full rotation. Remembering the layout of the building, He try to find a way out.

As he ran down the hall, he saw a familiar sight.

This is the entrance hall he saw when he first entered the building. A ridiculously huge chandelier and a portrait of Daikaku Kokujoji on the wall of a huge staircase. Yata immediately took the door that led to the outside of the left door.

No matter how much he pushes or pull, it won't open. Even if he turned the key like crazy, kicked the door, or slammed it, the heavy door would not stubbornly move. Full of irritation and anger, Yata says, "Come on! What's this? Open up! Open up!"

However, the screaming, almost crying, stopped immediately. The footsteps were getting closer.

Hita, Hita, Hita, Hita.

Yata let go of all his emotions and ran like a ball. He refused to be there putting all his physical abilities that he refined as an idol.

Yata, who was running like the wind, soon found a bath.

When he enters, it was divided into several private rooms. He pushes open while checking with the PDA light and it slides inside.

When the lights went out, the bathroom filled with a darkness that seemed to crush him.

Yata supports his head as he shakes on the toilet seat.

("What is that, what is that, what is that?")

Did "it" eat Kamamoto?

Anger at his partner's murder swelled through his body, but much more than that, fear of the mysterious monster in front of him. The monster crawls out looking for him at this very moment. Just imagining it makes his skin rust.

After doing it for a while, Yata suddenly came up with something.

"I have to ask for help..."

Of course, the reason the idea that was taken for granted didn't come up until now is because his brain was engulfed in fear. Yata tapped his PDA with his shaking finger and first tried to contact his most trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

At that moment, he heard a voice from the depths of the darkness of the hall.

"Yata-san, where are you? Please answer."

Yata stops his finger and raises his face as if flipped over. The cold, sweaty expression shone with wonder and joy.

"Kamamoto...?"

"Yata-san, please help me. I got hurt."

Without a doubt, it was Rikio Kamamoto's voice.

It has been delayed, but it cannot be wrong. Yata stood up in the bathroom of a private room and sharpened his ears.

Kamamoto's voice seems to come and go right outside the bathroom. Or maybe Kamamoto, who was lying at the time, was still alive. Perhaps he escaped from the monster and came to ask for help.

("Here! Kamamoto, I'm here! We will run away together!")

Yata hastily shut his mouth when he was about to scream.

Not out of self-protection, it was out of doubt.

Is that really Kamamoto's voice?

There is no reason. The questions equal to intuition, however, get louder and louder as he hears Kamamoto's voice.

"Yata-san, Yata-san, where are you? I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I don't care, I want to eat soon."

He had goose bumps.

No matter how much it is Kamamoto, in such a situation, he couldn't think of making such a loud voice and worrying about food.

Yata sat back on the toilet seat. He keeps his mouth closed with watery eyes to prevent any sound from escaping.

Still, Kamamoto's voice continues to call him by name. "Yata-san, where are you?"

Suddenly, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

"……"

Yata blinked. A tear drop was shed. He wondered if he was gone.

There is no way to confirm it. There is not an iota of courage to get out of there. Yata took out the PDA again and started the message app. He absolutely did not want to talk. First he would call Kusanagi, then Kusanagi would call the police.

Yata's PDA sounded with a roaring guitar solo.

"Eh?"

Suoh Mikoto's guitar solo, which he is more intoxicated with than anyone, now sounds like a devastating call from the devil. Yata hurries to look at the PDA. While cursing the idiot who made a call in such a situation, he looks at the screen regretting not having put the silent mode.

His spine froze.

The name "Rikio Kamamoto" was etched on the screen.

He hung up the call and turned off the PDA. As he did so, he thought.

He couldn't think optimistically that Kamamoto was alive. The voice from before was definitely not Kamamoto himself.

So the current call was... that "thing".

That "thing" took Kamamoto's PDA and called it, to find out where it turned on.

About the same time, he was convinced of that, there was a sound of footsteps.

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. He has regular intervals and gradually but surely approaches Yata.

Can't bear it. Yata decided to reject the reality in front of him.

He closed his eyes tightly. He covered his ears with both hands. Even if death falls from above one day, try not to look directly at it.

Yet in the dark, Yata thinks.

A feeling of strangeness.

A person can stop his movement of his own free will, but he cannot stop his will. The feeling of strangeness that was born in the dark grew in Yata's brain, because there was nothing else.

Why does he hear footsteps?

The floor of the building is completely strange. The kitchen was really different, but the hallways and bathrooms were filled with crimson delicacy.

The heavy boots would make steps. But that step is barefoot. No matter how fast he run barefoot, the sound should be absorbed by the relief and disappear.

So it's "it".

At that moment, there was something that shone like a revelation.

Can't stop thinking. The discovery cannot be ignored. In that sense, Yata must have been more human than anyone. Even if that means ruin, to confirm his own conscience, he opened his eyes and turned his face away.

On the bathroom ceiling, "it" was stuck.

His palm with dirty claws, every time it sticks to the ceiling, makes a "thump" sound. That was the true identity of the "steps". When he turned his head upside down, the ragged white hair was tousled. Stuck to the ceiling on all fours, "it" had bright red eyes that glowed negatively, exposing turbulent yellow and red teeth.

In the form of a predator who found Yata with no escape.

"No, aaaaaaaaaaah!"

Yata screamed with all his soul. At that moment, Yata's sight turned white.

++++++++++

"Hey! It was amazing!"

With such a voice, the door to the private room was opened.

Behind the door, the film crew, illuminated by electric lights, waited. Kamamoto Rikio holds up the camera, and a man in sunglasses and a red helmet holds a sign that says, "Don't miss it!" The man in the sunglasses looked a lot like Yata's trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

"……"

Yata was watching the scene with all faces dead.

Kamamoto, who should have died, looks at a man who looks like Kusanagi while holding the camera.

"Kusanagi-san, this is…"

"I don't think there will be a reaction. So again."

He hit the sign in front of him.

"Yata-chan? Are you really okay?"

"……"

Yata cannot react.

When the man who looked like Kusanagi sighed, he left the sign to Kamamoto and entered the private room.

"Sure! The idol has a fluid face during the tea ceremony!"

Gently tap Yata's head.

"Ah! Eh, that? Kusanagi-san? Why?"

Kusanagi shakes his head at Yata, who drips confusion as is.

"That's why I told you about it for a while. It's a shocking show! The target is Yata-chan, and the tricks are us, 'Homura Performing Arts Office'."

At that moment, a figure fell from the ceiling. That monster with a shabby dress and white hair.

From "it", the horror was completely lost. She pulled her false teeth out of her mouth, tucked her white hair back, and turned her red eyes to Yata. "It" he breathed through her nose, giving a feeling of fullness to her young face.

"How was it? Was my performance terrifying?"

"Oh, you did it perfectly, Anna!"

"He was scared of you!"

Look at the friends who are raising their thumbs.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?!"

Yata screamed as loud as he did before.

Ten minutes later.

Yata was angry at the entrance of the building, which was fully lit.

"What's that? It's terrible, Kusanagi-san! Please tell me in advance if you do this kind of thing!"

"Ahaha, Yata-chan, don't talk nonsense. If I told you, you wouldn't be surprised, right?"

"Kamamoto, you were an accessory too! I really thought you were dead!"

"Well, it doesn't matter how much food you eat there, doesn't it?"

Yata struck Kamamoto's head with all his might for the first time in a long time, gathering in his fist all the reaction of fear and anger that he had suffered.

With Kamamoto crouched on his back, Yata turns his resentful eyes on Anna.

"And Anna... even you..."

Anna suddenly looked away, perhaps uncomfortable.

"Because it was work.", Anna muttered.

So everything, it was something that had been organized from the beginning.

The place where the program will be broadcast is "Shirogin Deluxe" remains unchanged. However, it was not actually a visit to Kokujoji's house, but rather a project presented by the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

After seeing it, "Idol King" Isana Yashiro said, "This looks interesting!", And this project received the full backing of the "Tokijikuin Agency". Small dark vision cameras were installed around the building, rabbit costumes rented, and a recreational facility that was no longer in use. The words, actions and reactions Yata has done so far are said to be fully reflected.

Everything to give the Yata lens the greatest fear and obtain the best recordings.

Kusanagi happily explains.

"You know, Yata-chan has become popular lately? He's been featured in entertainment magazines and online, and some people call him 'The Red Prince'."

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"So, I wonder if that's a little different from Yata-chan's politics. I brought this project to highlight Yata-chan's original charm here."

"Eh..."

Honestly, he's not sure about politics or appeal. Yata entered this path longing for Suoh. He really hadn't been aware of how others saw him.

Such a production was the work of Kusanagi at the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

"Thanks to that, I got a good photo! Anna did a good job, and two birds with one stone."

Therefore, it would be nice if Kusanagi were satisfied with his work, although he is not yet convinced.

However, Yata looks at Anna with concern.

"Well Anna, how did you do that?"

Anna shook her head.

"Eh?"

"I see, that... was it glued to the ceiling?"

Anna turns to the side. Look at the hallway wall, put both hands on it, and climb the wall while making noise.

Yata opened his mouth.

Anna asks, glued to the ceiling and looking at Yata upside down.

"What about this?"

"No... that... how...?"

"Expert."

Anna said it with a calm face. Yata watches her like he's looking at something incredible. No, the idea occurred to him that it would be impossible to practice or that she was ignoring the laws of physics, but he felt that even doing it was unsophisticated.

"Well then, what about that? That way of turning the neck."

"This?"

When Anna's neck began to twist, Yata hastily stopped her.

"Wait! Stop! Stop! You don't have to show it!"

Anna returned her head to its original position. Looking at Yata upside down, with a smile.

"Special training."

"No, it's amazing, right?! Kusanagi-san, okay? What are you doing as an idol?"

"Yeah, well it's a subtle thing to say if it's an ant or a pear, but... Anna did her best, so ant!"

"Sweet! Are you really sweet to Anna?"

"Haha, okay, this is also an art style. Wasn't Anna's threatening role in the hallway quite realistic?"

"Yeah, well, I thought my heart would stop..."

Yata muttered that.

Of course, the rage at being cheated continues to smoke.

However, it was even stronger than that, and relief filled Yata's heart. He really thought that Kamamoto was dead, and he really thought they were going to kill him. Rather, he even remembered to praise the production team that created such high quality.

"Well I'm excited about this too. Yata-chan had a good reaction too!"

"Ah…"

When Kusanagi hit him on the back, Yata gave a dry laugh.

"The event has been completed! Please go ahead!"

A staff member who was in charge of the location car outside the building called him out. Kusanagi and other members of the "Homura Performing Arts Office" follow suit and get into the car one after another.

The rain had completely stopped and the light was shining through the clouds. Looking at him, Yata suddenly called to Anna in the seat next to him.

"Hey, Anna, you were on the second floor when we entered the building, right?"

"Eh?"

"No, you know. I saw you by the second floor window."

Anna looks at Yata saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kusanagi, who had either heard or accosted him before, said with a bitter smile.

"Yata-chan, don't say weird things. No one went up the stairs."

"Ah…"

"I had no plans to use the second floor in the first place. No one should have gone."

The relief in his heart changes fast and cold.

So what did you see at the time?

Yata's neck was twisted back, as if it were a physical law. While he thought it was something he shouldn't see, he wanted to make his own discoveries, simple human curiosity.

The exterior of the desolate building. The windows on the second floor open in black at regular intervals. At one of the windows where sunlight enters after the rain, a girl dressed in white was smiling and showing her yellowish teeth.

#k #k project #K stories #k six idols #idol k #k fan clan #yata misaki

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neo-shitty · 3 years ago

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toffee!

yeah same, i follow some fic accs that occaisionally post smut and its like mmmmm is the fluff writing enough to balance the posts that gives me finger burn trying to scroll past it? but yeah thats probably the way to go

ah i wasnt there for the teaser but i can imagine that was tantalising. lmaoo yes but to be fair i do have a writing acc called channiesbigheart so... balancing it out? but i absolutely am whipped beyond belief. it was a TRAVESTY how COULD they have. yeah the b sides gave him more lines but they werent the ones that were performed over and over at stages. yessss the line distribution in this album is impeccable, im pretty sure the thunderous stuff was some of their best distribution

hehe i can understand that, sometimes putting someone in a situation so horrible it would be considered a violation of human rights is theraputic, ya know? mmmm the differences are a bit nuts, it was 14 degrees today and in less than a week its going to be 32 or smth. BROOO that would be legendary, i bet theyd treat their artists rlly well and have great music as well ahhh but its a lot of work adn commitment. yES that is a mood if ever i heard one.

its the same in australia as well, sadly, you have people who hold up harry styles and lil nas x for breaking gender roles and wearing make up adn steryotypical womens clothing (and keep in mind i have infinite respect for both of them theyre honestly doing so much for the de-dehumanising of gay people and those who wear whatever they want), and calling the kpop boys gay and other things for doing the same thing, when theyve been doing it for years and gotten no recognition smh its so tragic. yes, anyway YES ONLY 6 MONTHS I AM FOR ALL INTENTS AND PURPOSES A BBY STAN altho i considered myself a fully fledged stay like 2 days after i got into them cos i just spent all day researching and fixating. YES someone said it. it feels like theyre losing a huge chunk of why a lot of people liked their music in teh first place, which was that whole dna, dope, fire mood. and even doing bright songs is fine, liek they should do what they want but i feel liek the western music industry is so fucking toxic that they feel pressured into making these decisions. dont get me wrong, theyre good decisions from a business perspective, theyre getting record breaking sales but still. mmm yeah honestly yg just needs to get its shit together or get out

oooh! not into nct but i see a lot of him, he seems rlly talented. ahh yes another channie ult lmaoo i feel that, my list is growing in leaps and bounds as well. mmm yeah i think i will, im just going to try to save enough money :) mingi appealed to me mostly for the voice (like felix smh what is it with me and deep voiced bois) but also his soft visuals and the whole cutesy thing he has going on i rlly liked. yes i did get into them while he was on hiatus, but im still mostly a casual stan, ill listen to the album when it comes out but i dont think ill obsessively look over everything to do with it, like skz. HAH WE'RE MORE SIMILAR THAN I THOUGHT. lmaooo the thot line describes them perfectly, why are they all so damn attractive. especially seonghwa, like that man looks like a character from a book, cardan greenbriar vibes anyone? mmhmm! his vocals are absolutely insane. ty! yeah im excited altho idk how theyre every going to beat border:carnival, that shit was impeccable. ahh no stress, enjoy teh groups you stan atm!

ahh thank you so much, ill keep that in mind. hehe thats good! hopefully its soon :( ah ty, it means a lot. ill think abt that and hopefully talk abt it a little more :)

ah, no it was inside our gymnasium but to get to the other side of the stage you had to exit the building, go around the back and then enter through the other stage door. ah tysm! im glad too. mmm same, they baffle me. ;n; noo so sad :( ahh, thats um not smth i put on here, but im in high school so make of that what you will :)

thank you! ive done a majority of them, i just have maths, an english presentation and an economic assignment due now so im pretty much home free. yeah i feel like hes the epitome of here for you while being inescapably far away. haha she sounds like one of my friends. lmaooo why is that me. hmmm i feel like youve answered a lot of them in that answer so maybe just ateez, enha, txt and bp? if you stan them? :)

ahhh no problem at all, proud of you for managing to overcome the procrastination! progress! mmm thats good! ahh pls do let me know if you ever decide that, i cant promise i wont cry but do what you gotta do :)

<3 w.a. 🐺

hi! sorry for the late reply, i didn't know how to construct sentences yesterday e.e

yeah sometimes it's the perfect balance! i personally don't like fics that focus mainly on the filth? the plot has to carry the whole fic somehow and the smut is just something to add to the mix. also, i'll follow you on your writing blog! i keep forgetting to do so, damn it.

"sometimes putting someone in a situation so horrible it would be considered a violation of human rights is theraputic, ya know?" putting it this way just silenced me but yes. angst just feels more realistic. it isn't always happy endings irl so i tend to do it a lot.

falling into skz is so easy! it felt like that for me too. stanning them felt like getting sucked into a blackhole. also yes i agree. kpop is nothing but an industry after all and it runs on money so i get why they do what they do as well.

i suggest we not talk about haechan because i will literally not shut up but yes my boy is an ace :( chan is also sooooo easy to love. and the chan's rooms just solidified his place as ult. having something to look forward to every week at a time when my mental health was just plummeting into the depths of tartarus just helped me be stable. oh yeah, mingi's deep voice is indeed sexc. and he has some wack ass duality as well! and i think seonghwa was one of the people i nearly considered as bias just because of his visuals because wow that's one beautiful face. and true, idk how enha's going to beat border:carnival. i don't like all the tracks simply bc of taste preferenceds but i like more than one so i consider that a lot already.

bro that gym should've had some sort of a covered walk :// also i miss being in high school sO DAMN MUCH. but i still feel like i am because time stopped when quarantine started and i was still in senior year at the time.

my ateez bias is wooyoung! it wasn't that much of a shocker to my kpop stan irls because i was a jimin stan for the longest time. enhypen is jake and they kept pointing out that he looked like seungmin sometimes so it's like chan's aussie-ness with a tinge of seungmin (the other guy in my skz bias line, in case i haven't mentioned it). txt is huening kai! i find it hard to believe that he's my age because he looks a lot younger? o.O and he always looks good damn :(( sigh for blackpink it's lisa! i tend to bias the maknaes of yg groups, it's a pattern i've noticed but don't intentionally do!

DON'T WASTE YOUR TEARS OMFG. you can always reach me elsewhere if i like disappear off this blog.

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

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my-darling-boy · 5 years ago

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Heyo! So I am thinking about starting to bind, and was wondering if you had heard of the brand Flavent? If so what do you think of their binders? And are there any tips about binding that would be helpful? I don’t really know how to go about any of it. Also I wanted to say that I really love your blog’s aesthetic!!

Oh I have! Flavnt is a great brand actually, I’ve ordered from them before and follow them on ig. Their binders are so good in fact every time they get them in stock, they go out of stock just as quick!

And if you’re a first time binder, I’ve actually got helpful info for you!

Firstly:

NEVER wear the binder while sleeping. Do not go for a full night’s sleep with the binder on. You should always be conscious and aware of how your body is responding to the binder AT ALL TIMES.

NEVER use first aid bandages, muscle tape, or ACE Bandage if you lack a proper binder. Bandages like those are meant to be wrapped around things you do not want to move, and your ribcage needs to expand for you to breathe!! Wrapping your chest with these tight, constricting products not only heavily restricts breathing but you also run the risk of cutting off blood circulation to the rest of your body, rapidly damaging nerves in your breasts, back, and torso, increased chance of tearing your lungs from the lungs inflating with no space for expansion, bruising your back and ribcage, ruining skin elasticity quicker in your breasts which will limit top surgery incision types, and PASSING OUT due to prolonged lack of oxygen and/or blood flow to your brain. I know you see stereotypical drawings or stories of trans people binding with ACE but DO NOT DO IT. I speak from experience as I still have nerve damage in my back and damage to my breast tissue from doing it when I first started binding at 14. (Same risks apply for wearing a binder that is way too tight!)

NEVER use a binder from a non-reputable seller. If the product is simply this strange looking cheaply priced band which goes across the chest or tries to market itself as a “lesbian, tomboy, woman binder” IT IS NOT SAFE. These “binders” can have the same consequences as listed above. If you’re unsure if a site is safe, a simple web search will usually provide some insight in a few short minutes.

With this in mind, here is some info on reputed sellers:

FLAVNT, with their famous Bareskin Binder in a variety of skin tones and sizes, is starting to be a go-to for binders. The company is run by a trans guy and a lesbian if I remember right, and usually proceeds from their products will go directly towards funding select people’s top surgeries. They also have awesome trans/gender non-conforming themed merch to buy too!

Underworks is the brand I have always used. Originally started for men with gynecomastia, they have expanded their products to trans/gender non-conforming people. Unlike the other companies in this list, they use a medical grade mesh layered material for their binders which some find to be more durable/better binding but others find to be uncomfortable/not suited for their body type. It all depends!

Gc2b has been the go-to for binders for a long time and people are usually really happy with their order! I can’t say too much about them cos I have admittedly never ordered from because cloth binders never seem to fit me correctly? But the reviews are great!

Shapeshifters is one I have encountered recently from this article from a plus-sized trans person about binding as a plus-sized trans person! They offer custom sized binders with a variety of designs and sites like these are often the best option for people who have trouble with finding the right fit among the limited industry sizes!

On sizing/fit:

-BINDERS FROM EACH COMPANY HAVE DIFFERENT SIZE CHARTS. Things like the brand’s fit, material used, and your body shape can all affect how a binder fits. A small from one company will not always be a small from another one. A lot of the time, only chest measurements are used to determine your binder size and some find that alone not to be enough to find the right fit. Thence, some people opt for custom sized binders like Shapeshifters as mentioned above.

-The most important thing is that you are able to breathe in it! If you have any numbness or tingling in your limbs or under the binder, or feel light headed/short of breath (that is not caused by anxiety) TAKE OFF THE BINDER. You may need to order the next size up and continuing to wear a too-tight binder is dangerous.

-During your first times wearing a binder, you may feel it to be almost too snug, and this is because you need to break it in, so some pinching, discomfort, tightness is to be expected at first. However, if it persists beyond your first few wears, your binder may be too small. But do know there are some people who end up always having a bit of pinching/cutting due to their body shape/weight, even if their binder is compressing nicely. If you’ve never used a binder before: take it in small time frames. Wear it for an hour or two at first, remove it, then up the time from there to see how your body fairs with each time you wear it. Don’t start out wearing it the full eight hours.

-If you are in between sizes, DO NOT ORDER A SIZE DOWN. Often, the size is not going to be a little smaller but dramatically smaller.

-Binders come in two lengths: cropped and full torso. It doesn’t always matter which one you buy, but some people find if they have a larger waist, they like the full torso binders whereas I can’t wear them because my waist is way too small and my chest slips down, so I only order cropped binders to focus the compression on just my chest

-If you have a problem with your chest slipping down in the binder, some people like to wear sleeveless undershirts beneath the binder itself to prevent this

-You’ll generally know the binder is too tight. But if you’re still on the fence: if you cannot fully take a deep breath in, the binder is too small!

On safety concerns, effects from binding, and other little tips:

-Avoid wearing it for longer than 8 hours. Some people are able to wear it a little longer than this time due to much less compression from their binder. Regardless, DO NOT bind for more than 8+ hours ON A FREQUENT BASIS even if the binder still feels comfortable. We all get stuck in situations or unexpectedly long work days in our binders sometimes but PLEASE try to avoid wearing the binder for any longer than you need to. Take it off when there’s no need for it. Take entire rest days from the binder if you find yourself in it for long periods of time. YOUR BODY NEEDS REST FROM YOUR BINDER NO MATTER YOUR CHEST SIZE. Trust me.

-Avoid doing any prolonged, strenuous activity such as intense exercise. While I have worn it to the gym for basic workouts and barre classes plenty of times with zero chest/back soreness or issues, I obviously didn’t do this every day and I wasn’t doing this for collectively more than 40 minutes and didn’t wear the binder for the rest of the day because I was home. But again, it is SAFER if you DO NOT wear it during gym time. Opt instead for sports compression bras and shirts that make the chest area ambiguous when you exercise.

-Avoid wearing it on airplanes. This one is often disputed, but it is generally believed that wearing a binder on an airplane will cause restricted breathing due to high altitude even in a pressurised cabin. Yet, I have worn my binder on four 11 hour flights (removing halfway through for sleeping) and had ZERO issues with breathing/comfort. It’s possible that people being unable to breathe comes instead from claustrophobia in the cabin, anxiety with flying, sitting position, or preexisting medical conditions and they attribute it to the binder. Personally, I think it’s safe to wear binders on airplanes because every time I’ve flown, I’ve had no issues, and trans guys I know personally have also had no issues, but this doesn’t mean it’s right for EVERYone. Wear it at your own risk.

-Additionally, avoid wearing it on turbulent/fast rides as the high velocity can increase compression on your chest. Again, I’m a Bad Boyᵀᴹ and I’ve worn it on plenty of upside down rides, including wearing it on that fair ride that spins you around so fast, gravity pins you to the wall. In all these situations, I again felt nothing and even forgot I had the binder on.

-I mention the “less safe” ways I have bound before for a reason. Please don’t think Binder Horror Stories happen to everyone. I used to spend so much time worrying about how Dangerous my binder could be, afraid to wear it even, but guess what? When I felt the binder needed to come off? I took it off. When I thought it might be actually unsafe to do something in my binder? I didn’t do it. I LISTENED to myself and my body, and that is overall the SAFEST thing you can do. This is how I’ve avoided binder complications for 7 YEARS. Even the general rules have a bit of relativity to them. I’ve met people who think they can bind for 8 hours safely when they were in horrible pain at just 4 hours, but continued to wear it because “It’s safe to wear for 8 hours because a trans guy told me so!” ONLY YOUR BODY sets how long and in what situations you can bind in. Bind in a way that is safe and comfortable for YOUR BODY. Additionally, most negative affects from a binder happen over prolonged periods of time after CONSTANT situational misuse, so if you wear it on the rare occasion when you think you shouldn’t have, it’s not the end of the world. Check back with your doctor if you are concerned with how your binder may be affecting you. Even binding using—or not using—the general accepted avoidance rules can prove risky if you do not listen to your body first and foremost. Everyone’s experience and limits vary considerably!

-Binding for roughly over 3-4 years, your chest may begin to droop because of the constant compression slowly wearing down the skin elasticity of the breasts. This could potentially negatively affect chances of minimal incision top surgery. For example, I have been binding for 7 years and now have a tiny chest from T which would’ve made me perfect for keyhole, but alas, binding for 7 years gets me double incision

-Keeping your binder clean is important, as you can get very hot in it regardless of the weather. Be sure to keep it washed in cold water and hang dry to keep its form or use low dryer heat to restore some of the “stiffness” if you find it getting a little loose fitting. A dirty binder will cause body acne as well

-In hot weather, avoid wearing it as much as you can to avoid overheating, or wear light and airy fabrics to reduce the chances of profusely sweating in the sun with it on

-Preexisting medical conditions that affect the lungs, nervous system, or muscles/bones in your arms, chest, neck, or back may cause you a series of unique difficulties other binding people do not have so please be aware of this

-Sometimes panic attack + binder = increased panic attack because you think you can’t breathe. If the space permits it, pull the binder down from your chest area to allow you the fullest breaths possible

Lastly, getting the binder on:

Everyone has different ways to get it on, but the most widely used is this method. Start by making it so the binder is wrong-side-out and upside down. Step into the opening (straps towards the ground) and slide it up your body. Once you get to about your waist, you’ll want to get the binder right-side-out by slipping your wrists in through the straps and “flipping” the garment up your torso as the you slide the straps up and onto your shoulders. You also want to make sure your chest is basically shoved Upwards and Outwards under the binder towards your underarms. To do this, I lay flat on the floor/bed and lift the right and left sides of the binder briefly to allow my chest to naturally fall back towards my underarms. DO NOT flatten your chest downwards by smashing all of the tissue and your nipples down towards your sternum for it will cause your chest to droop faster on top of being painful. I made a handy little doodle to show you what I mean!

Anyway, I hope this helps! x

Anyone who has some other tips that may be helpful for binding, feel free to add on!

#asks #ftm #ftnb #trans #transgender #ok to rb #long post

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