Hey guys!!! So I just tried tank top binding (I took a really tight tank top dress, and a plain tank top, not lined, and folded them up so it’d be right around my chest) and it’s so much more comfortable than binding with ace bandages, which I know you’re not supposed to do, but it curbs the dysphoria pretty well.
Now with this, it’s easy to tell from the side that I still have boobs, but from the front you can just barely tell, so if it’s not uber important to pass and you just want to alleviate some dysphoria, tank top binding definitely helps. If you want a more step-by-step post, the link I follow for the most part is right here. I hope it goes well, remember to bind safely!
A/N: Smutty smut smut warning, mature readers only
please. Mild Dom!Cas. It’s slightly longer, so I’m throwing in a Keep Reading break before the smut, so, you know, keep reading! One-shot written for @roxy-davenport ’s Lexie Carver SPN Writing Challenge. Prompts
- #62 “Are you
jealous?” and #54 “Did you write me a love letter?”
“And this one is courtesy of a shifter in Portland three
years ago, no four,” you lifted your tank top up, revealing a straight line milky
scar stretching from your armpit to under your breast, “Strong bastard, turned
my knife on me. It was a clean cut - I’d just sharpened the blade.”
Dean leaned closer to examine the scar, pursing his lips in
approval, “Nice work, did you stitch it yourself?”
“Super glue and duct tape,” you grinned, “Trick I picked up
Dean whistled, “Impressive, but I’ve got better.” He jumped
up, unzipping his jeans and dropping them down to reveal his boxers. He lifted
one leg up on the couch next to you, peeling the boxers up his thigh to reveal
a quarter-sized dense purple marbled scar.
“What the hell?” You ran you fingers inquisitively over the
scar, “That’s no bullet or stab wound.”
“Arrow, tipped with flaming holy oil,” a proud smirk
plastered across his face, “And FYI, don’t ever give Sam a crossbow.”
“Friendly fire! You win!” Laughing, you threw your hands up in
the air, conceding defeat.
Dean chuckled, fishing his discarded pants off the floor,
“Loser makes the beer run.” He winked at you, grabbing a bottle off the table
and taking the last swig.
“What is going on here?” Cas’ gravelly voice boomed the
instant he appeared, taking in the sight of you and Dean, stripped down to your
skivvies. He glared at Dean angrily, jaw clenched.
You flinched at the harsh tone of his voice, peeking over
the couch back to look at him. In the shadows behind him, you could almost make
out the outline of his wings spanning threateningly across the room.
“Woah, nothing happened Cas,” Dean raised his arms in
surrender and backed several steps away from you, “Innocent fun comparing old scars.”
Both Dean and Cas’ postures relaxed as you looked between
them, noting with curiosity that they shared a brief look of unspoken
“Actually, I think I’ll make the beer run, grab some fresh
air,” Dean collected his shirt from the arm of the couch, pointing at you, “You
owe me one.”
You lifted your chin and nodded - watching as Dean exited
the room, giving Cas a wide berth.
I honestly miss 2010-2012 style kpop. I’m tired of pastel soft pop. Where’s the same dark industrial background in every mv? The indescribable future-esque concepts with too many different kinds of lighting and monochrome color scheme. The outfits that have an entire craft store’s selection of rhinestones glued to them. The overly styled hair and generously kohl-lined eyes. It’s snowing. Metallic mesh tank tops. The slow zoom and hand gestures. Kevin is there. It’s U-KISS’s Neverland.
EXO reaction to seeing your tan lines for the first time
When I was in Marching band for high school, I had TONS of different tan lines. Like, I had tan lines on top of my other tan lines xDI have no idea what I was thinking while writing this but OKAY!!~ 사랑해요 Chas
/I don’t own any of the gifs used, unless stated otherwise/
STARTER: *You had to quickly change your shirt because you realized that there was a stain from when [Member] tripped and spilled something on it*
Yeol: “Does that hurt?”
You: “What does?”
Yeol: “Your tan. I see that you’re outside a lot and so you have a lot of tan lines.”
You: “Oh! No it doesn’t. I always put on sun screen. So, don’t worry!”
*He walks in to apologize but sees your tan lines from your tank tops and shirts*
Fan: “How many times did you go outside?”
You: “Many. Is it that obvious?”
Hun: “Have you been putting sun screen on?”
You: “Yeah. But I still get tans. Don’t worry, they aren’t burns.”
Hun: “Good. That way now we can have a little fun because your skin looks beautiful.”
“Walks in to give you another shirt and sees your tan lines from your shirts*
Tao: “I know that you have an outside job and all. But why do you wear many different sleeved shirts for you have to have those tan lines?”
You: “I get hot and sometimes I have to take that shirt off to wear my under shirt. That’s why I put the tank top on before my actual shirt.”
Nini: “We match.”
Nini: “I know that you have tanned skin but now we match. I got darker from being outside yesterday.”
You: “OMG Nini!”
*Walks in without warning*
Minnie: “WHOA! Tan lines.”
You: “You weren’t suppose to see them until they were gone.”
Minnie: “Is that why you’ve been staying inside more often?”
Minnie: “You don’t need to do that. You’re beautiful the way you are.”
Baek: “So, you’ve been hiding those beautiful tan line from me.”
You: “I wasn’t…hiding them. I Just never showed you and you never asked.”
Baek: “Well, I like them.”
Han: “Hello tan lines.”
You: “Hello boy I’m still mad at for spilling crap on my shirt.”
Han: “I’m a little turned on. Is that weird?”
You: “Yes. Yes it is. Because it’s multiple tan lines for being outside.”
Han: “I like it.”
Dae: “I’m sorry about your-Whoa I’m sorry!”
You: “It’s okay! You can come in.”
Dae: “Have you always had those tan lines?”
You: “I’m used to being outside a lot. Just the way I was raised.”
Dae: “You’re beautiful.”
Soo: “You’re beautiful.”
You: “What are you talking about?”
Soo: “Your tan lines.”
You: “Those? They are nothing. I just got them from being outside a lot here recently.”
Xing: “How long have you had those?”
You: “Long enough to have multiple of them.”
Xing: “Just don’t stay outside too long. I don’t want my baby to have skin cancer or something.”
Myeon: “How many do you have?”
You: “Too many. I need to start staying inside more.”
Myeon: “I don’t need my baby to get skin cancer. Be sure when you’re outside at work you wear sun screen.”
I know breast growth takes time. I’m 15 weeks HRT and not even close to a full A-cup. Just some tips to help out for those that would like to know how to get a fuller look.
Left: VS Pink lightly lined push up bralette and a standard tank top.
Right: Smart & Sexy extreme push up with shelf bra tank top.
(I’ll try to write this calmly but I’m in mobile &still a mess so ha) last night J went to Troye’s first concert ever in Seattle. It was fucking iNSANE and I want to write a list of tips to survive the concert/what to expect so??
• if you want to possibly touch troyes hand, get there early so that you can enter first (I know this because I got there late)
• if your weather is anything like seattles, wear a fuckinfg sweater (WILD&TRXYE IS GREAT) you’ll be waiting in line longer than you think
•please wear a tank top under your sweater. Outdoor lineups are cold, concerts are not
• everyone looks fucking great
• TROYE DANCES IN THE CUTEST FUCMJNFG WAY, HE LEANS DOWN AND BOUNCES AND ITS SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FUCKING HOTTEST MOVE AND MOST ADORABLE MOVE IVE EVER SIEEN
•HE YELLS “HEYY”/“AYY” A LOT AND UTS THE CUTEST THINF
•HE SREALLY PALE
•THERES CLEAR SKIN , AND THE. N THERES TORYES SKINF
• his voice is just as perfect as it is in the album
• his curls are very beautiful
• if you’re really lucky you might get a video//picture of him fixing his curls and if you do fucking sEnd It to me
• the set is super simple and super nice what the fjcjc
• it’s fucking loud
• EVERYINE US REALLY NICE
• he plays nEw SONGS. AND THWY RE FAMZING HOLY SHIT
• HE LOVES US VERY MUCH AND THIS REALLY IS A DREAM COME TRUE FOR HIM
Revo was perched on a bookcase ladder near the corner of the room, sheltered from the chatter of the newspaper club members. A set of reading glasses was perched on his nasal bone.
He was dressed in a dark gray, to-the-floor sweatshirt, flannel-lined jeans, and a black tank top, revealing he was off duty at the moment. He had a relaxed demeanor around him, calmly flipping through pages once finished.
The door to the building opened, Revo’s head swiveling up, not immediately recognizing the presence.
You know those things you say to women in the streets? Yeah, you have to cut that out. Seriously. Don’t tell me you mean nothing by it. Don’t tell me it’s harmless. Don’t tell me that’s how you let women know they’re beautiful. All those are silly, invalid excuses. If you verbally assault women in the streets, if you do absolutely anything to make them feel uncomfortable or threatened, you’re a scumfuck and need to quit it right now.
See, last week I received the last check from an online journalism course I was teaching for a university in New York. I was standing in line to use one of the two ATMs at my bank to deposit it when a pale woman wearing a black tank top joined the line for the other machine. The guy behind me said something about the strength of the tank top’s straps. I turned my head and looked at him. Six feet tall, skinny jeans, trimmed beard. Then I looked at her. Short, brunette, black tank top and jeans. True, she had big breasts, but the guy had as much right to comment on that as he had of commenting on the fact that I was wearing a shitty, dirty cap on my head because I hadn’t felt like combing the afro before leaving the house. In any case, the point is that the woman looked at me and shook her head. There was a level of discomfort in her eyes that made me feel like shit, so I looked at the dude behind me again and told him to shut his fucking mouth. For half a second it looked like he was going to start something, but he decided looking down at his phone was a better idea.
Up until that moment, I don’t think I’d ever said something to you, catcallers. That made me feel even worse. That’s why we’re here now, and I’m telling you that if you say something to a woman in front of me and she doesn’t jump on you, I will. I know you think it’s not big deal, but you have to understand that when you say “Hey, nice rack!” or even something as “innocent” as “What’s up, girl?” what you’re doing is making the space we share feel unsafe for that woman. The words matter, but so does your intent. You have to understand that women walk around knowing that men are looking at them and that the stupid, nasty, unnecessary, aggressive comments will become part of their day at any moment. Picture living with that shit. Try to imagine a world in which you have to put up with a dozen assholes telling you things every day. You can’t, can you? No, you can’t. Just like you don’t know what it is to be a POC is if you’re white. That’s why you need to stop it. Women know what they look like and don’t need you to point anything out. If they have big breasts or nice legs or purple hair of voluptuous lips or beautiful green eyes or great tattoos or they’re really tall, I assure they’re aware of it and don’t need constant reminders.
Shaw is sitting with her feet up on the one of the tables in the subway when Root walks in, two guns in her hands and a few smudges here and there, and her ripped tank top flashing a line of her abs.
“You look nice,” Shaw says sarcastically and arches a brow at her. “Had fun?”
Root grins at her. “Can’t blame a girl for getting some air, right? The harbour was pretty unforgiving.”
When she’s fully inside she drops the guns next to Shaw’s feet and sheds her dusty leather jacket. Shaw doesn’t answer, silently flipping through the files Finch gave her this morning to sort through.
“Hey, Sameen?” Root says after a while of just standing next to her and pokes the toe of her boot until she looks up.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Shaw asks cautiously and sits up, retracting her legs so she can face Root properly.
“We never talked about the fact that you kissed me,” Root says coyly, a sparkle lighting in her eyes and her smile growing impossibly wider.
For once Shaw isn’t entirely sure what she wants to say. Absolutely, she kissed Root. Yeah, she wanted it. She wanted it before that, but she wanted Root to know… In case that that was their time up.
“Do we… need to talk about it?” Shaw answers slowly and Root rolls her eyes, shaking her head. Her heels click on the floor when she closes the minimal space between them and settles in Shaw’s lap, straddling her legs effectively.
“No, I’m pretty sure actions speak louder than words.”