I'm a young trans guy and I've only come out to my closest friend. Do you have any advice for people unable to come out, wear binders, and things like that? Also, when I came out to my friend, they came out to me as non binary. What can I do to support them fully? Thank you so much! Much love!! 💕
First of all, congratulations on coming out to someone, that’s a big deal! ❤️ I’m not the best at giving advice, & I’d recommend you check out blogs like @trans-relatable, @brotherly-advice , and similar blogs for stuff like this, there are more people running those with more experiences than just me, and you might find that people have already asked the questions you have! That being said, I can offer a few things as I was in a similar position to you when I started coming out:
Sports bras are a manageable alternative to binders if you’re unable to wear one for whatever reason. Just be sure you don’t buy one that’s too small.
Boxers are really great because they can alleviate dysphoria but no one has to know you’re wearing them because they’re not visible to the public. They can also be pretty cheap too, so they’re easily attainable.
Masculine deodorant/cologne. I found this to be really helpful in the beginning, maybe you will too!
I changed my name/pronouns with a few close friends at first before I really came out. They referred to me as Eli/he/him when it was safe to, and this was really helpful to me too. Don’t feel pressured to tell everyone right away, you can just try it with a few friends first!
I really like wearing hats (beanies, baseball hats, flat-brim hats, etc.), I find they make me feel/look more masc. & I’m more comfortable that way. And they can be really helpful if you’re unable to cut your hair.
Shirts that button up, have collars, or pockets, really help alleviate my dysphoria. If you’re unable to buy “men’s” clothes, you can easily wear button up women’s shirts, flannels, etc.
Allllll that being said, this is just my experience. Lots of different people have different experiences and different things that help them, so these might not apply to you, and that’s okay! Like I said before, please check out transgender blogs/websites/resources directly for more questions like this ❤️
Summary: (Modern!AU) Army medic, Private L/N, gets deployed on her first tour of Afghanistan. Struggling to fit in with her new comrades and adapt to the world of war, Pte L/N finds herself befriending a local, and pushing the boundaries of army regulations.
Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes - Reader x OC
Warnings: war, angst, blood, gore, death, PTSD, terrorism, stereotypes, sexual indications, swearing, cockney, slow-burn, a little offensive maybe? (throughout series)
Key: Pte - Private. Cpl - Corporal. Sgt - Sergeant. Skrimmed - Tassels. PT - Physical Training. TAB - Run in full kit with weight and weapons. Doris - Woman/Girl
Word Count: 2,467
A/N: I hope this is good and easy to read. Please also remember this is my first time writing. Tags are at the bottom and I’m sorry there isn’t too much of Sgt Barnes in this, but he’ll be around more and more as time goes on! & Isn’t Wanda awesome!! Sorry if you find the soldiers nicknames weird, they are the actual names from the TV show.
Camp Bastion, Afghanistan. 4:30am
The journey to Afghanistan was drab.
Soldiers lined the cold aircraft walls; kit cluttered around their feet. Most were now either asleep or conversing with their comrades. Faces wrinkled in pure joy, despite the knowledge of what’s waiting on the other side.
Sleep seemed to evade you as your eyes wandered over the many faces littered within the shuttle. Not everyone here will make it home. Your chest tightened at the thought of losing a peer, especially one in your section. The five guys whose lives you’re responsible for saving.
Fingers, Mansfield, Dangleberries, Baz-vegas and Smurf. Your brothers in green.
To your left, Captain Rogers absently fiddled with his radio. His perfectly styled blonde hair no longer hidden under his navy beret.
Was this guy immune to hat hair?
You let your focus wander down from his hair, taking in his strong jaw, crystal blue eyes, and inhuman physique. Seriously, did they all look like this in America?
“Right. We’re thirty minutes outside Bastion, put on all protective clothing including helmets.” The Captain ordered.
Forcing yourself out of your trance, you began to attach your armor. A bullet-proof vest covered your torso while pads protected your knees and elbows. Hard-knuckled gloves shielded your hands as you strap your skrimmed-helmet under your chin and swung your duffel bag onto your back.
Nervous butterflies spew in your stomach when the plane begins to drop. Your fingers gripped tightly onto metal ridges of the bench as your eyes squeeze closed; trying desperately to free yourself from this new-found anxiety.
Until now you had been undoubtedly excited to get to Afghan. Excited to do your job and help the Afghan people dismantle the Taliban and regain their home.
However, at this moment, you’re terrified.
Sand bags and shipping containers made up the four-mile walls surrounding Camp Bastion, with the inside absolutely brimming with flat-pack tin buildings, tents, vehicles and large weaponry.
Marching with your section, you made your way over to a large, green tent. Perfectly lined up US soldiers stood straight just outside.
“Section halt! Right turn!” Captain Rogers commanded. You stomp your right foot closely to your left with your back straight. Sharply turning right and stomping again, your sections stood to attention alongside the US soldiers.
“Under five’s, Welcome to Afghanistan. This ugly bunch here,” He signaled towards the US soldiers. “like to call themselves The Avengers. ” You snorted at the name.
The Captain ignored your little disruption and began introducing his team. There was Sam - a gorgeous, dark-skinned, well-built man, with a gap tooth and killer smirk. Clint – A slim, dirty blonde with a face that said ‘I seriously couldn’t give a fuck’ and Tony – A cocksure engineer with ridiculously trimmed facial hair.
Within minutes, tears were streaming freely down your face. Sam was attempting to impersonate your South-Eastern accent causing you to double over laughing. You covered your face with both hands and attempt to hide the ugly-laugh-face you pulled when something really set you off.
Your laughter started to slow as you straightened up, only to notice the whole platoon was now braced and facing towards the front. Copying your comrades, you quickly stood-to-attention, facing forward.
Next to the Captain stood an equally beefy brunette. His dark hair was definitely longer than army regulation usually allowed; falling just below his ears. A few strands fell around his face as he ran his finger through the tousled locks. Dark stubble surrounded his pink lips and a long, straight nose stood proudly between two captivating blue eyes, that just so happened to be scowling at you through the bodies of your peers.
You were definitely sporting some serious heart eyes right now. How come the US got all the male models and the UK got a smurf and a knock-off Prince Harry?
Standing up straighter, you mumble a quick apology to the sour-faced brunette and averted your gaze to Captain Rogers.
“ This is Sergeant Barnes.” The Captain motioned Mr blue-eyes. “He will be leading you through your two-day simulation here in Bastion, as well as joining you on your first mission. Barnes here is on his fourth tour of Afghanistan, there’s no one I trust more than him.” He placed a firm hand on the Sergeants shoulder, smiling fondly in the process.
The sight of the smiling sergeant was enough to make you go weak in the knees. The way his eyes almost completely closed and his nose scrunched up above his wide toothy smile.
If you weren’t drooling before, you definitely are now.
After leaving the boys their tent to get situated, you found yourself wandering the sandy base trying to find the female quarters. Sergeant Barnes had made it abundantly clear you would not be bunking alongside your male associates. Instead, sending you out alone with a side-eye and a snide remark along the lines of ’ did you even pass geography in school?‘
Now both the Captain and the Sergeant seem to dislike you. All you did was giggle a little bit and try to lighten the heavy mood. Maybe these guys were just all work and no play, if so, you sure as hell weren’t going to get along. You were well known in training for being disobedient and a joker.
Footsteps were gaining behind you causing you to snap your head in their direction. Your dust-filled eyes found those of the only prick who could make your mood fifty percent better or one-hundred percent worse: Smurf.
“Barnes sent me to help you find your way. He thought our little Doris would get lost on her own.” He shook his head towards the floor, walking along side you.
“Why’d he send you? Sam said this is his second tour, surely he’d know exactly where they are.” you quipped.
“Because he loves me, everyone loves me. I’m the life and soul pal.”
“Oh fuck off Smurf.I don’t know if I can put up with six months of your bullshit..”
“Are you really that pissed off that Barnes likes me?”
”Well. maybe I don’t want that rude prick to like me!” You defended.
“ You know what Y/N, find your own way. Sergeant Barnes is a better person than you’ll ever be.” With that he stormed off in the direction he’d come from, once again leaving you to find your own way.
“Are you looking for the female quarters?” Voiced the petite brunette just a few steps ahead. You nodded at her question causing her to reach over and take one of your bags.
“ I’ll show you. Don’t worry about Smurf,” she assured as she led you into another large tent. “Dump your kit, the bed next to mine is free. I’m Wanda.” she outstretched her hand after dropping your bag on the empty bed. You shook her small hand briefly stating your name and a thank you.
“You know Smurf.” You asked as you put your kit under the bed.
“Not really, but I knew his twin brother, he was killed in Area Fifteen.”
“Barnes was his Sergeant too, that’s why Smurf won’t hear a bad word about him.”
“I just called him a rude prick.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Geraint was shot in the neck on patrol. Sergeant Barnes crawled about two hundred meters on his stomach to retrieve his body. He wasn’t leaving him as a trophy for the Taliban.” She smiled sympathetically. “He’d do the same for you.” She continued.
You widen your eyes as the words spill from Wanda’s mouth. Not for a second did you expect that to be the reason behind Smurfs sudden outburst.
”Let’s hope he doesn’t have too.” You mumbled. “He’s just come across so snotty and rude like I’m not good enough for his platoon.”
“It’s ok. He can come across that way sometimes, but he’s a good guy and an even better soldier.” She smiled reassuringly. “Why don’t we get dinner later, they have a pizza hut here?”
“That would be great, thanks, Wanda. Can I ask you one question?” She smiled and nodded to you, urging you to continue.
“ Does it always feel like you’re walking through treacle here?” At this Wanda let out a full belly laugh, throwing her head back nodding in the process.
“You did what!?” Wanda gasped, Staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“I gave a recruit a lap dance in basic.” You laughed, taking a bite of your greasy pizza, while she stared at you in bewilderment.
“Where? Why? H-how?” Holding your hands up in surrender, she paused with her questions and picked up her slice again; raising her eyebrows for you to explain.
“Well first off, it was a dare. We were going home for a long weekend the next day so we had a couple of games. I had let slip a few weeks before that I had taken a six-week lap dancing class, as part of a bridal party, so they just picked a guy and I gave him a lap-dance. It was either that or streak round the quarters.” you huffed a laugh as you recited the vivid memory. Basic training truly was the best time of your life.
Brushing your fingers over your trouser legs, you interlock your fingers and use them to rest your chin as you continued.
“ We went into the storage locker where they kept the rations and I gave him a lap dance. It was mortifying really. I couldn’t look him in the eye again.” Wanda was staring as if you had grown two heads.
She opened her mouth to speak when a loud alarm rang through the air. To you, it sounded like a nuke warning, but one look at Wanda and you knew that wasn’t the case.
She scrambled off the bench, quickly tossing the pizza in the bin a few feet away. Another woman ran up to her, rambling something you couldn’t make out.
“ Six injured, they’re bringing them in now. All medical personal report to the hospital.” She shouts to you as she begins to run backward.
“ You’re medical aren’t you?” you run towards the hospital, rounding onto the main dirt road within the camp. Your legs are burning as you run up behind the ambulance. Wanda jumps on the nearest stretcher, ready to wheel it into the hospital.
Your panicking eyes ghost over the quivering body that occupied the stretcher. A man, no older than twenty-five. The skin around his eyes was clean from tears when the rest of his body was covered in soot, dirt, and blood.
“Y/N! GET ON THE STRETCHER!” Wanda’s voice snapped through your trance, and look at her. You force your shaking hands to grasp the end of the stretcher and push it forward through the hospital doors.
Looking back over the crying male, you finally notice his injuries. Legs completely blown below the knees. Blood was oozing from around the shattered bones as bits of flesh hung on to the red wound by threads.
He’s not going to make it.
Pulling up to the bed, a team of surgeons moves in, sticking the soldier full of needles and IVs, preparing for theater. You take a step back as the room begins to spin. Adrenaline was pumping through you by the bucket load as more soldiers with similar injuries begin coming into the room.
You’re still stumbling backward as you hit the shoulder of another medic.
“Pull yourself together medic.”
You knotted your running shoes and straightened out your shorts and t-shirt. Sergeant Barnes had requested yesterday that your section do a PT session this morning to help your bodies acclimatize to the warmer conditions. By this morning he meant four-thirty am, and by PT he meant a tab which became apparent when you stepped outside the tent to find all nine men dressed in their full uniform.
“I suppose I should be glad you’re not wearing your stilettos,” Barnes mocked as the guys wolf-whistled. “It’s full kit L/N.”
“Yes, boss.” You replied as you ducked back into the tent to get changed.
Thirty minutes into the tab and you were breathing out of your arse. The images from the hospital kept you from sleep last night, every time you shut your eyes all you saw was blood, bones, and flesh. So not only did it feel as though you were inhaling golden syrup with every breath, you were a majorly sleep deprived.
You ran in the back. Sergeant Barnes ran ahead of the section, leading the way around his makeshift course. He doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat, let alone about to keel over like you.
“Is everyone acclimatizing to the conditions?” He yelled. His voice completely gasp free. A chorus of ‘yes’ or ‘boss’ was answered back, all coming out slightly breathy. “Alright, sprint the last fifty meters. GO!” They all took off running. Totally distancing themselves from you.
“Smurf! Drop to the floor!” following commands, Smurf hurriedly fell to the sand, laying flat on his back. Everyone stopped by him.
“ Medic! Man down! Left arm blown off above the elbow! What are you going to do?” The boss shouted at you, walking to you as you try to jog to Smurf without passing out. Slowing down, even more, you suppress the urge to vomit as you slowly squat before the 'injured’ soldier. Panting furiously, your shaking fingers fumbled with the tourniquet.
“ Come on medic! You gonna let him bleed out while you gasp for air like a puffer fish?!” You give the Sgt the angriest look you could muster while still gasping for air. Your fingers would not separate the Velcro tourniquet no matter how hard you tried.
“L/N! Come! On! This isn’t Call of Duty. If someone stands on an IUD, there’s a life to save!” Smurf was staring at you with a pitiful look, while the others looked terrified at the fact the person in charge of saving them, can’t open a bloody tourniquet.
“Smurf get up! Get yourselves showered!” Smurf jumped up and the section took off running again. You slowly stand, jogging after them with Barnes at your side. You were right. He hadn’t broken a sweat.
“He could’ve died just then L/N.” He was speaking quieter now, but you could still her the enmity in his tone. “Now please don’t tell me we’ve got the only medic who can’t stand the sight of blood.”
You didn’t answer. You just gave him a look that said 'please can you fuck yourself’ and carried on running. Barnes stayed running beside you for a few seconds more before sighing and running off to the showers.
A former competitive cheerleader, Liv boasts a combination of agility and creativity once the bell rings, but she’s not afraid to scrap, either. Looking to make her friends and family back in the 201 area code proud, Liv represents New Jersey to the fullest and refuses to back down from a fight. Will it be long before she has an NXT Women’s Championship to complement her Jumpman and flat brim?
Summer explodes. The heat, the sun. The green on the trees. And in its aftermath, things slow down some. After winter’s cold, dark hand bosses everyone down the streets, people want to stop and take in the warmth. It’s no longer necessary to hurry or scuttle through the wind and snow, coats tugged tight against faces - now there are long, luxurious strides, more skin bared with the passage of every June day.
And with it, comes the inevitable douchebags. Showing up and showing off, right down Main Street, chests proud and arms swinging, lats spread beneath the thin white strings of tank tops. Basketball shorts. Somehow brand new looking sneakers, no matter the day, or maybe slide sandals. They do it to be seen, to be watched.
On the outside, Ethan watches, sees. He is scornful, in passing conversation. Sometimes laughs at a meme he sees online, scrolling through Facebook, with a close approximation of that type. Let’s be honest, he thinks. It’s the jock stereotype. The dumbass, muscle-obsessed, sports-ardent jock. And the jocks are on parade. Behind the wheel of shiny, glinting cars with music hammering the air. In uniforms, sometimes, black eye-paint streaked and pants muddy, cleats half-unlaced. Their fresh, aquatic colognes painting the air with invisible, heavy brushstrokes.
And yet, for all his disdain, Ethan watches them. He didn’t always. And in the winter, it almost feels like he gets a bit of a reprieve - but still, his eyes travel, involuntarily, towards them, whenever he sees a Jock. At work, stocking shelves, he sees a Jock go by, and there goes his attention. He sees the baseball cap - Red Sox! - fitted, dark gray, bright red B, flat-brim, over short, dark hair and dark eyes that sort of suck light into them. Red tank-top, showing off smooth, taut biceps and deltoids rounding slowly higher, still works in progress, but growing. Basketball shorts - gray with a bright Nike swoosh like a blinding white grin down the thigh. His calves lead down in tight diamonds to his Nike Roshes, also flame-red, the outsoles nearly sparkling, clearly well-maintained
Ethan’s face matches the Jock’s sneakers as he rips his gaze away from the bro. Fuck, he thinks to himself. It happened again. How long this time? He shakes his head back and forth to clear it of cobwebs and sets back to the task at hand.
But still, he thinks to himself, how fucking cool would it be to have a body like that? Being a Jock aside - he’d never dress like that, no way - just being fit, being in shape. Being in tune with the body, being agile, being corded with muscle. It makes a sort of practical sense, really. He wonders why he doesn’t go to the gym, actually.
(The Jock bro is crossing the parking lot, his shadow thrown back behind him like a long, thick sword. A brief smile dusts the corner of his mouth, and then he reaches up to curl the earbuds into his ears. Music swells up, the same thud and shout that accompanied his lifts not 30 minutes earlier. He stops at the edge of the parking lot, hikes himself up onto the top of the picnic table, head bowed, knees spread, nodding to the music. The Jock bro checks his G-Force watch, chunky and black against his tanned forearm.)
The Jock was wearing a lot of cologne, Ethan notes idly to himself. He doesn’t hate it. It doesn’t smell expensive, but it doesn’t smell cheap, either. The only words that come to Ethan’s mind are swimming pool, locker room, weight room, high school, mall. A splash of color and sound. The cologne is fresh, sharp, clean. That’s it, he thinks. It smells clean. Transparent, almost, like fresh glass. Like … like a mirror.
Ethan blinks and looks around. He’s in the bathroom. Must’ve wandered in here, he thinks to himself. And there in front of him is the mirror over the sink. “Gonna have to get these blackouts checked,” he says to himself, murmuring, chuckling. Ethan blinks at himself. Not scrawny. Wiry. Dark hair, a little curly, a little fluffy. Time for a cut. Long legs, long arms. Squat torso. Size 10 sneaker, currently a battered, low-top Chuck Taylor, the laces variegated with years. Black-rim glasses and a well-maintained goatee.
He flexes, then, pulls a double bi, right there in front of the mirror. He holds it. He puffs his chest out, he sucks his stomach in. He tenses all of his muscles in the vain, pathetic attempt to somehow envision his biceps inflating, suddenly popping out like found baseballs - or softballs, even! - seeing the veins fill and surge and rise out of his skin like fleshy worms …
The disappointment is nearly intoxicating, along with the rush of vertigo that hits directly after Ethan relaxes the flex. No, he isn’t fit, muscled. He’s got some wire under the skin, but so little mass.
Need to eat more, Ethan muses, the smallest trickle of a stream of consciousness beginning to flow beneath his thoughts. Proteinwould help the muscles grow. But because those thoughts are so foreign - they almost don’t seem to belong to him - his brain rejects them as important on a surface level.
Ethan shakes his head. Work, that’s what he was doing. And life outside of work, well, that’s going okay, isn’t it? Nothing too crazy. School, with its accompanying homework, all the flipping of textbook pages and the quick pace of keyboard fingering, face lit by the screen, crafting essays. Of course, sometimes it isn’t as quick a pace. Sometimes, it’s an argument with speed. He struggles. Everyone struggles from time to time. Just need more coffee. And he always has coffee after a good, hard workout. And that’s why he’s tired, of course. Balancing school and work and his workout routine is exhausting, sometimes.
Ethan feels himself slump a little as he turns to exit the bathroom, feeling a dull ache in his shoulderblades, in his neck. He reaches up to rub at them, digging in with his fingers, and issues an involuntary moan, a deep, throaty sound that verges on indecent.
(The sun is setting. The Jock bro cracks his neck from side to side, feeling the pull in his lats, his traps. He tilts his head to look up at the rapidly darkening sky. The first hot breath of night-wind skirls across his face. He tilts to one side, digs in the pocket of his shorts, and pulls out his phone. His fingers tap over the number pad, and he lifts it to his face, skin bathed in the eldritch, electronic blue)
“Fffffuuuuuck,” Ethan judders out, his upper teeth clenching against the lower, his lips pressed tightly together in order to stifle the noise he makes as he bucks back & forth in the bathroom stall. One hand has flung out against the tiles to keep himself steady as the other one jerks himself off, pumping wildly as his seven-inch cock, engorged in his hand, becomes like steel. Ropes of saliva spray from his mouth, his head flung back in the crescendo of the orgasm. It doesn’t once occur to him that he is fucking jerking off in the bathroom at work.
Ethan’s phone rings. At least, he thinks its his phone. Who else would have Turn Down For What as a fuckin ringtone? Well, him and Justin. Shit.
“Yo.” His voice sounds so far away as he picks up the phone.
“Bro! What the fuck, you get lost?”
(The Jock bro is laughing silently, knee-slapping. He fuckin loves the first Uhhh.)
“Well, hurry the fuck up. I’m waitin out in the parking lot. Pick me up some eggs, wouldja? I forgot em. Oh, and chocolate milk.”
“Uhhhh … okay.”
Ethan takes the phone off the side of his face and adjusts his backwards-facing hat. The bathroom is filled with the smell of his cologne, which - even though he’s been told that one spray is enough - he has sprayed on at least five times this morning before leaving the house, and another before work started. Now, of course, it mixes liberally with the strong, earthy musk of his cum, which has splattered all over the toilet and the floor. Ethan stares at it, confused, and then remembers, and a horking, jerking laugh spills up out of his throat and into the air. He turns on an immaculate, white and gray, Nike AirMax Wright, and leaves the bathroom without either cleaning up or washing his hands.
The night air is cool around Ethan’s bare arms. Still too skinny, he thinks to himself. The trickle of his stream of consciousness has suddenly become a whitewater rapid. A constant rising static, flooding out his other thoughts. Need more mass.
It carries from across the parking lot. The dark has fully descended now, like an eyelid shutting on the world. Ethan feels his Nike Elite basketball shorts swishing around his knees. “Yo!” He cries back, and the sound carries a lot further than he thought it would, surprising even him - but only for a moment.
“Fuckin course I’m ready.”
“Gonna fuckin hit it tonight.”
The world is breaking up into kaleidoscopic colors. Ethan rubs at his eyes, lifting his Ray-Bans to do it. Something feels wrong. Like two super-imposed images have become suddenly unmounted, and he is looking looking through through a haze of exhaust smoke. “Uh, hang on …”
Deep down, in the dark miasma of his brain, sullen red Klaxons have surged to life, and the alarm is cranked up to full volume. The clothes on his frame feel suddenly alien, the hat feels too large, the sneakers, too big. He feels like a kid, playing dress-up in an older brother’s clothes. His heart rate surges, and his eyes dart from shadow to shadow.
“Sup, bro?” The Jock bro is looking back at him, vacant eyes slightly curious, mostly bored.
“I’m not your … bro. Bro.”
The Jock bro moves closer. Ethan would, instinctively, move back, but he doesn’t, not quite, he doesn’t think he does, anyway. The Jock bro is standing so close now, so close that he can smell the entirely unnecessary aftershave under the cologne, so close that he can smell the residue of iron on his fingers, the rasp of slightly fruity pre-workout on his breath. His hand comes up, grasps Ethan’s bicep. His eyes fix, anchoring on something far down inside.
The anchor is being reeled back in, up through Ethan’s body. He feels giddy, dizzy. It is not an entirely unpleasant sensation, Ethan would reflect later - if he were able to reflect, later, beyond flexing in the mirror … and well, let’s be honest, every reflective surface …
“Come on, bro. Let’s go.”
An invisible cloud grows around Ethan as he nods, just once, and then grins, slightly vacantly. “Hey bro.”
Ethan flexes, as hard as possible, his muscles standing out in relief against his short, broad frame. The night flees from their laughter as they throw arms around each other’s shoulders and head towards the gym. And behind them, trailing a sweet, fresh, clean scent; mildly intoxicating, definitely distracting.
Channeling Old Hollywood, Kloss styled her newly-lightened strands in a deep side part with a silver barrette pinning her lengths back behind one ear in ladylike fashion. She paired her polished waves with a deep scarlet mouth and, offering a nod to the fashion house’s Western-inspired resort show, slung a wide-brim, flat top hat over her shoulders.
While it’s not the first time Kloss has treaded into icy territory—she paid tribute to Rei Kawakubo with a chin-grazing, asymmetrical bleached bob at the 2017 Met Gala—the change-up is similarly radical to best friend Taylor Swift’s “BLEACHELLA” moment. Needless to say, platinum blonde continues to be the most statement-making shade of the season.
I love Motionless In White because they’re carving out their own destiny and doing it their way. They’re not afraid to wear their influences on their sleeve, but they’re also not afraid to try new things and blend that all together, creating a cool musical amalgam that feels different. They’re also into the visual-it seems like every band dresses the same, looks the same, [with] the same beards, the same flat brim baseball caps, the same blue flannel shirts- which is why they all invariably sound the same. MIW have started to establish themselves as another very theatrical band with a visual mood and an extra little bit of ‘fuck you.’ The music and the look and the vibe and the energy- they’re in a really good position to take control of their own future. That’s why I’m a fan, just like a litany of others.
Hey!! If you can, could you do a scenario on shopping/going to the mall with Jungkook would be like. Thanks in advance :-))
here you go babe i hope you like it!! sorry it took long, i actually wrote this at work so if there’s some spelling // grammar stuff well
this was requested and it sounds really fun so I’m gonna try to make it as fun as I imagine !!
like I said in previous posts, I imagine jungkook as being someone who likes to go out on dates and doesn’t really like to stay at home so mall shopping isn’t all that rare for you
there’s a mall ten minutes from your apartment but it has like two good stores and it’s just kinda nasty
so you drive like an hour closer to the city to the big mall everyone flocks to
it’s usually like a weekend trip like if jungkook has no practice that day or has a shorter practice you guys go down to the mall
usually the other boys get in your business though and if you’re going they all wanna go too!!
so jin is all “we’ll just ride in the car okay once we get to the mall we will leave you alone”
and it’s jin in his cool mom suv and namjoon sits up front with him and the second row is you jeongguk and taehyung and the back row oh buddy yoongi is smashed between hoseok and chim
and jungkook keeps his hand on your thigh and he sits in the middle cause he wants you all to himself like sorry taehyung
and jin turns on the radio and it’s some mom music like idk what do moms even like oh Michael Bublé
and namjoon just glares and puts in his mix tape which gets yoongi and hoseok whining
and jungkook is like hiding his face in the crook of your neck best he can cause he’s sure his hyungs are embarrassing him in front of you on purpose
and then hoseok starts singing wicked v loudly and he’s elphie and then chim joins in as glinda and they’re singing/screaming popular
and just to tease kookie a bit you start singing along with them and kookie just whines and kisses your face to try and get you to stop
and it’s a wild ride it’s always a wild ride hoseok always makes seokjin pull over every five minutes cause he has to pee again
yoongi falls asleep
namjoon realized he forgot his wallet
taehyung wants to get a kids meal at McDonald’s so he can give the toy to one of his dogs
and jeongguk has become super duper clingy and you kinda just ooh buddy
but you finally get there and it’s been like point five seconds since you parked and jeongguk is dragging you away from everyone else
he gets kinda excited when he goes to the mall he’s smiling and he’s walking fast and you’re like plz your legs are too long
you guys always get a snack first
there’s this cookie place in the top level of the mall and the cookies are to die for and the best kind are the sugar cookies and you two order like an entire bucket full and just casually eat them as you walk around the mall
sometimes you’ll spice it up and get a smoothie or something and jeongguk will be rude and he’ll sip yours every two seconds and like drink more than half of it
you two always hold hands and your fingers are interlocked and he swings your arms back and forth
and he’s gotta be low key about it so he a beanie and some dune glasses and people near you guys are oblivious af
but if someone asks for an autograph or something he’ll always kiss your cheek or forehead or whatever before talking to the fans just to show everyone that you’re his and he’s yours
and the fans are so chill in your area seriously some of the biggest sweethearts in the world
and occasionally a few will ask for a pic with you or something and you what ??!!?!?
and one day y'all are up in the mall and this small lil a.r.m.y comes up and she’s flustered and shy and she’s so tiny and she kinda waved and jeongguk nearly dies cause she’s so small
and she goes up and she’s all “can you say hi to namjoon for me he’s my favorite”
and jeongguk is “sure anything for a cutie like you!”
and then she kinda “are you two married?”
and jeongguk goes beet red and he’s stammering and playing with his hands cause how do you even??
and you smile and kiss his cheek “not yet but soon sweetie”
and her eyes light up an she runs off to her mom all happy
jeongguk reminds me of someone who would be like pretty big on shopping if you were looking for the right things
he reminds me of a shoe person
don’t like y'all know what I’m talking about
and so he drags you into like those sports shoe stores where they play hardcore rap and have like flat brims and Jordan’s and jerseys and what not
and he tries on the same pair of shoes but like in fifty coke variations and he makes you decide which one you like best
and then you pick and he “actually I really like the gray ones though I think I’ll get them”
and you face palm and groan
and then he goes into something like Payless but more high end than Payless
and he wants something like vans but not vans he wants to be unique you know??
are air walks vans like the big bulky air walks?? not the knock off converse and not the high tops but the skater shoes cause that’s what he would get and he would get some strange ass color like plum purple
and you kinda what you don’t skate
and he glares “don’t ruin my dream”
and so he buys the clunky old air walks and he’s so proud of them
and he has like seven bags of shoes
idk I don’t go shopping a lot and there’s no men in my family so I can’t give you specific clothing stores he’d like oops
but he goes into like young adult stores (namjoon and yoongi still shop in old ppl stores and he just??)
but they’re like age approvals stores
but you go in and you don’t even need to ask cause you seem him darting towards the white tee shirts and you kinda “babe nO”
and he’s smiling all innocent that cute bunny smile and he just “but I don’t have one with a pocket o the right side like this see see??”
and you’re?? “you have seveny two white t shirts how many more could you even need??”
and he hugs the shirts to his chest “but you don’t understand, I NEED them!”
and there’s not really much he can do cause he’s whipping out his wallet and slamming his cash on the table (mama jin won’t let him have a credit card oh no)
and you begrudgingly look on cause that boy isn’t gonna listen anytime soon
so the next shop you go into (probably for ripped jeans rip haha get it) you kinda pull him aside
“look at this plaid! don’t you think it’d look cute on you?”
and he just narrows his eyes “um?? no why would I even think of wearing that??”
and you groan and whack his arm “am I dating a ten year old??”
and then you pull him over to another section of the store “well how about this jacket thing? I think they’re in right now”
and he kinda “do you even know me?”
and so he gets his jeans and you’re defeated at this point
but then you go into all the stores you like
idk what people even shop at so like insert your favorite store here
and you’re taking your time and your examining all the clothes and jeongguk is at your side like a lost puppy
you probably bump into him like seventy two million times, that’s how close he is to you
and he offers salty fashion tips “please that color with your complexion??”
and you kinda “says the boy who only wears white!!”
and he sulks and promises to keep his mouth closed
but then he sees something particularly ugly and he “girls fashion is so weird”
and he holds up one of those shirts that has like the entire back torn out and he just kinda “you think i’m gonna pay forty bucks for this please it’s not even a whole shirt”
and you roll your eyes at him bcuz brat
but he’s really supportive when you try things on like he’ll be honest but never in a harsh way like if he doesn’t think something fits right he’ll straight up tell you but then add something like “but i think that dress over there would really show off your figure well, you should go for that one babe!”
but then if you stay in a certain store for too long he would whine and complain and tug on your sleeve and he’s using his puppy eyes and complaining that you really have spent far too long staring at the same three pair of earrings
and you kinda “wow sound like anyone else i know hmm baby?”
you guys probably duck in every single shop in the entire place cause you crave time together you have out of the house and besides they look interesting??
the one that you can never drag that boy out of is the gamestop
like he has to look at every single game title there is and then he has to look at the DS even tho he has the 3DS already and like you don’t get better than that
and he buys you some games to play he probably buys you harvest moon and cute games like that
he carries all your bags by the way
like he carries all of it and it’s a breeze and he just shows off his muscles in the process cause he’s rude
he’s one of those people who awkwardly freezes when those kiosk people approach him like instead of running the other direction or saying no like other people do he panics and he ends up getting lotion rubbed on his hand or perfume sprayed on him and he just !! and you have to drag him away from the scary vendors
he’s not okay for like seven years and you have to go buy him an ice cream and kiss his face until he feels better
he likes to ride the escalator elf style and embarrass the heck out of you and one day you tell him his pants are gonna split wide open but he doesn’t believe you at all
if you bump into the other boys by accident kook runs he sprints and you just watch him go like “oh hey jin, hey nams, did you guys find anything for your apartment?”
and jin smiles “Yah we got a lamp, after the one namjoon broke!! how’s kook doing, is he still running from his problems??”
every time you go out to the mall he buys you something cute when you aren’t looking like if he notices that you were staring at a certain pair of earrings boom he’s buying them. you liked that blouse ahaha he’s gonna buy that too when you’re off chatting it up with jin and namjoon
and he acts like nothing happened he stuffs it in his bag of shoes or something
oh also this is another point if you guys walk past victoria’s secret he immediately covers his eyes and looks straight down and you have to guide him along and his face is crimson and you just tease him about it
it would be a lot of fun though and an adventure every time you went out
Wait Josh you fry in the sun?? Wear a hat or something dude!*same anon*
“Yeah I burn pretty easy.” Josh chuckles. “It’s alright though. I got my sexy guardian angel to rub me down with sunscreen.” He pulls Vas in for a quick kiss.
“I tried wearing a big straw hat to the beach once but I got embarrassed cause Red told me I looked like one of those old dad type guys.” He chuckled a little. “So now I wear flat brims. Not as much sun protection but a little more my style.”
You can enlarge your hat block a little by taping strips of foam sheets to it. Foam is flexible enough to follow all the curves if you tape it tightly. When done, wrap it in clingfilm again.
When I bought the materials for Athos’ hat I also wanted to get a capeline to make Aramis’ hat to sell to mitigate the cost of the stiffener and postage, but they didn’t have any in grey. The seller told me you can also make a hat like this from two cloches (smaller roughly shaped felt pieces, see the third picture), which is true but not a good idea!
To change the felt’s shape as dramatically as this you need to steam it and stretch it repeatedly, and it’s less messy if you do that before you apply stiffener. But it takes many, many repetitions.
It helps if you can keep the felt stretched or curved in the shape you’re aiming for while it cools down. You’ll lose this shape somewhat when you steam it again if you haven’t applied stiffener.
I’ve found that applying stiffener with a sponge is much more effective than applying it with a brush, and the sponge won’t shed hairs. Dip a corner of the sponge in the (watered down, if the stiffener’s instructions call for it) stiffener and dab it onto the felt, then press it in. Don’t rub it, keep dabbing it to work the stiffener in.
And that’s it for now. But once again, for a Musketeer’s hat a capeline is a much better starting point than cloches! It’s much easier and much less work!
After I saw Pauline’s fantastic frozen/wicked art, I felt very compelled to do the thing so here’s a silly drabble. Elsa is Elphaba and Rapunzel is Galinda. The rest are pretty easy to figure out. Enjoy!
This was the way it should be.
Flynn (freaking) Rider twirling her around the dance floor while multi-colored lights engulfed them. Wearing her pinkest, flounciest dress, dancing the night away with her prince charming. When she looked into the dreamy brown eyes of her date, Rapunzel had expected to see…well, something. Fireworks of love, giant hearts, the works, you know? Instead he was just sort of…vacant. He had on a bright charming smile, sure, but there was something hollow in his eyes. Before Rapunzel could ask him if anything was wrong, Ms. Stick-Up-Her-Butt (aka Madame Gothel) tapped reluctantly on her shoulder.
“Miss Rapunzel,” she began. She didn’t have the respect or decency to use her last name when addressing her. “I have something for you.” She pulled a long thin piece of wood from her sleeve.
The perky blonde gasped in awe. “A training wand,” she took the slender wood between her fingers and examined it. It was beautiful – elegantly carved with cherry wood with a balmy finishing. “Oh, how can I ever express my gratitution?”
Madame Gothel smiled cordially. “Don’t thank me. This was your roommate’s idea, not mine.”
“What? Elsa?” Rapunzel thought of the green-skinned, bookish, awful girl who shared her room with her. That couldn’t be. From day one, Rapunzel and Elsa absolutely hated each other. No, Elsa would never do something so kind.
1959 - American children wear Castro beards made of dog fur, along with flat-brimmed army hats when playing war as rebels in Castro’s 26th of July Movement. Numerals on their caps signify the date July 26, 1953 when Castro’s revolt began. Photo by Ralph Morse in Rockaway, N.J
AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Well, hello there guys. Long time no update but I have a nice fic for you to read. About 2.2k+ so it’s pretty long by my standards haha. This isn’t actually one of the ideas I was excited to write but I hope you still like it. As always, tell me what you think.
Photoshoot + Interview: James Bay for MATCHESFASHION.COM
The Shoot: James Bay SS15 | MATCHESFASHION.COM
For a man who is very much in the eye of a storm, James Bay exudes a remarkable sense of calm. The 24-year-old has, in the space of a year, gone from unknown to a place on the BBC’s Sound Of 2015 list – Ellie
Goulding, Sam Smith, Haim, Jessie J and Adele all won in previous years –
and then walked away with the Brits Critics’ Choice award in December.
He was hand-picked by Christopher Bailey to perform live at the SS15
Burberry Prorsum show: cue a lot of excited tweeting. Anticipation for
his debut album, due in early 2015, is understandably mounting.
There’s something compelling about the disparity between the
way James Bay looks - young, fine-cheekboned, long-haired - and the way
he sings: a gravelly, bluesy rasp that seems to belong to someone much
older, substantially more grizzled-looking, and probably not from
Hitchin, a market town in southern England, not much noted for its rock
’n’ roll heritage. He claims to have no idea where his voice came from,
other than to suggest he’s ‘a failed attempt at copying my favourites’.
He seems equally unfazed by the attention surrounding him: it’s the
measured confidence of someone who knows he’s good at what he does.
‘My mum was all about Motown and soul, my dad was rock ’n’ roll, the Stones and Bruce Springsteen. They used to fight over the record player when they had friends round: whether they were going to listen to Born To Run or Songs In The Key Of Life by Stevie Wonder. When I first started playing guitar, my dad played me Layla by Eric Clapton and Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I became obsessed.
‘My friends and I had a good time creating our music scene in Hitchin. There were all these pubs that never put on music. And all of a sudden,
we were playing in them. We weren’t even old enough to be there, but
they just let it go. We were having some of the greatest nights of our
14-year-old lives. By the time I left when I was 19, I’d done Hitchin to
death – musically and in every other way.
‘If I wasn’t doing music, I’d be drawing and painting.
That was my big passion. I was looking into going to art college in
London, illustration was my big thing. But then I found out about the
British & Irish Modern Music Institute in Brighton, a brilliant
excuse for me to not get a job and keep playing guitar. While I was
there, my management popped up. They work with James Morrison and John
Newman, and they got in touch with the college to see if there was
anything worth checking out. They told me it would be a long road, but
they wanted to work with me. They put me on at little venues in London
and encouraged me to keep writing.
‘I write about human interactions, relationships.
I’ve done a bit of sitting out in restaurants and places like that,
observing people. The other thing that inspired me was moving out of
home, moving on and everything that comes with it. I recorded my debut
album in Nashville, with a producer called Jacquire King, who’s worked
with Kings Of Leon, Tom Waits and Norah Jones. I just pulled out some of
my favourite records and checked out who the producer was and asked
him. I didn’t expect him to say he’d love to work with me.
‘I love that pin-drop atmosphere of a venue when it’s the right moment and it’s the right song. So I write towards that, a delicate little guitar, really warm and
soft, with a vocal that cuts. I’m a big fan of Ray Lamontagne; he’s one
of those one-in-a-million diamond-in-the-dust artists. But when I was
16, 17, I was playing along to Jimi Hendrix and the Rolling Stones, and
that amplified sound is the other end of me. The Born To Run moment, playing a song like it’s the last time I’ll play it, singing a song like it’s the last time I’ll sing it.
‘I started wearing a hat when I was 20. I was
really into the blues player Eric Bibb, and he wore a flat-brimmed hat
all the time. A hat just feels very comfortable for me. I like worn-in
things, denim, old leather. And the hat is like a little cherry on top, a
tiny bit dapper. I like that kind of earthy, bohemian look, like The
Band had in the late 1960s. And I liked the way The Kings Of Leon looked
in the early days, because they were just going against The Man: they
were saying, “You want us to look like a boy band, so we’re going to
look like this”.
‘Christopher Bailey at Burberry has been really kind to me, helping me to put my music out there.
At the Burberry show, this guy came up to me: big silver hair, a couple
of girls with him. He said, “Hey man, you’ve got a great set. I’d love
to shoot you some time. What’s your name? James Bay? Nice to meet you.”
And then he walked off. Everyone around me was gasping and I said,
“What? Who’s that guy? Why’s there such a buzz?” And they said, “It’s
Mario Testino”. I thought, “Yeah, I know the name, but…” Then I went
home, looked him up and thought: “Now, I get it.”’
What’s the last good book you read? ‘Another Country by James Baldwin. Every line in it felt like it could be a song.’
What record makes you dance?
‘Off the Wall by Michael Jackson, no question.’
Cash or card?
‘Cash. A card’s a piece of plastic and something to do with computers, which I don’t understand.’
Where’s the best place to spend the weekend?
‘I’d like to be surprised with somewhere completely
different. My girlfriend Lucy is pretty great at that kind of stuff.’