mens purse

So over the "glamourized bowl"

Working as a sex worker wether as an sb or escort is so over glamorized in the bowl.. All I constantly see is designer this, designer that. Expensive vacations etc.

Like.. why are you doing this? To pay school? Start your own business? Be financially independent? Pay off your debts? Get that surgery you been wanting? Etc every girl has her own reasons.

DON’T get lost or fooled by the glamour. Yes these men will buy you purses worth a couple thousand, take you on luxurious trips but y'all you realize that you could be getting that money from them in cold hard cash.

Here’s my advice; SAVE, SAVE, SAVE. Pay off your debts first, put aside your at least a years worth of tuition, rent money for a few months! This isn’t forever you don’t know what can happen and btw you could live like a billionaire’s girl for years and wake up one day realizing your too old for this shit and have nothing to show for it except a closet and Instagram pictures.

This money isn’t free, you work HARD 24/7 for it. Don’t treat it like free money.

And please for your own sake ladies don’t be spending your cash on designer goods. Once you save a lot and think you would be safe if your income flow just stopped the next day for months on months (because it can), then okay do it within your limits. Just please be careful!

Save your cash, go to school, GET YOUR EDUCATION, invest your money!! I think the best goal to have in the bowl is to be a baller on your own. Aka invest in YOURSELF

Because let me tell you:

Your money, career, education won’t wake up one day and decide to leave you. These men will.

I'm Sorry I Failed You- Josh Dun

Request- Hello! I love your writing:) can u do a josh imagine? Maybe we’re your Tyler’s sister and while there on tour you get jumped walking to your and joshs’ appartmemt and they find out and there all worried? Thanks have a great day/night!

Y/N’s P.O.V. 

 Only a mile and a half from your apartment and your car decided to break down. You typically would have called your boyfriend Josh but he was on tour with your brother Tyler. You got out of work late that day and the walk to your apartment isn’t always the safest late at night. You and Josh lived together in L.A. by a bunch of bars and on Saturday nights the sidewalks were filled with drunk horny men.

You grabbed your purse from your car and threw your phone in. You set out on your walk home enjoying the warm night. You wanted to call Josh but you couldn’t because he and Tyler were in the middle of a show. So to say the least this walk was going to be boring.

You were about a mile from your house now when you felt like you were being followed. You looked over your shoulder to see a 3 tall men stumbling behind you. You felt them walking faster behind you so you decided to quicken your pace and turn down the next street even though it wasn’t in the right direction of your house. You could hear your heart pounding from being scared.

When you finally thought you lost them you slowed down and took out your phone quickly to call someone, anyone really so they can distract you while you find your way back home. You dialed Jenna’s number knowing she was basically your best friend and she would keep your mind off of the slightly terrifying walk. The phone rang twice before the familiar voice came through the other end.

“Hey Y/N what’s up.”

“Oh nothing. My car broke down so I have to walk home and I wanted to talk to someone to distract me for a bit. so, how’s tour going?”

“Oh okay. Tours going great, we all wish you were here. Especially Josh.” she said.

You were about to respond when you heard loud footsteps behind you. You turned around and saw the same 3 men running towards you.

“Y/N are you okay?” Jenna asked, she must have been suspicious of your long break in the conversation.

“Um, no there are like 3 people chas-” and before you could finish you were pushed to the ground and you phone flew from your hands out of reach. You could her Jenna yelling you name but you could respond due to someone kicking your ribs. The biggest man ripped your purse off of your shoulder and put it to the side while another man  sat on your back holding your face to the pavement. You were screaming but nobody heard you.

“Stop, please. Get off me.” you begged and the one kicking you stopped and the one on top of you stood. You turned over and looked at the 3 men looking down at you.

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do.” the biggest man said and he punch you straight on the face. You could have sworn your nose broke.

The smallest man who was kicking you earlier knelt down next to you and started petting your hair. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke.

“What should we do to this one guys?” he asks as he moved close to your neck. Your fear paralyze you and could scream. He start pulling up your shirt and tears rolled down your cheeks as they pulled you up and put you against the wall.

“Stop fucking crying or we’ll beat the fuck out of you.” the medium sized man said. You knew you weren’t getting out of this. You couldn’t control your tears and you were quickly pushed back to the ground. You felt the skin on your palms and knees scrape against the hard ground and your arms couldn’t hold you from the pain. You fell and hit you head and the last thing you remember is seeing the 3 men running off.

You woke up to the sound of your phone busy on the pavement.  You phone was lighting up with Jenna’s face calling you. You reached as far as you could reach and pulled it to you.

It hurt so bad, even to simply swipe your finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Y/N. I’ve been calling you for the past 5 minutes are you okay? Where are you?” she asked frantically.

You could really talk due to your ribs being in so much pain. “Jenna I’m fine, just don’t panic. I’m walking home now.” you voice cracked a few times and she knew you weren’t okay.

“Y/N what happened? I know you’re not okay. I heard those guys, I stayed on the phone the whole time. Talk to me.” you wanted to talk but you didn’t want to Josh or Tyler to found out. They were both really overprotective of you.

“Y/N say something or I’m going to tell Tyler. I don’t care if they’re in the middle of a show or not. I’ll go and right on stage and interrupt the whole thing to tell them.” she threatened.

“Okay, fine. Please don’t say anything to them.” you started to stand  and you had to use the wall for support. “These 3 drunk guys just beat the shit out of me.”

“Oh my god. Y/N how hurt are you?”

“Well my feels like it’s broken and it’s bleeding. My ribs hurt and so does my head. Look I’m only 2 blocks from my apartment. I’ll walk there and tell you more. I just need to sit down, I feel really dizzy.” you said stumbling, trying to walk but you were really dizzy and nauseous.

“Y/N tell me where you are, I’m calling you and ambulance you don’t sound okay.”

“Only if you don’t tell Tyler and Josh, I’ll be fine. I just need to get some help and I’ll tell them when I’m ready, Please.” you begged.

“I won’t. Now tell me where you are.”

“On the corner of Daniel ave and 5th ave.” you said sitting down against the wall. Your legs were beginning to weaken and you could feel you eyes starting to close.

“Y/N stay with me. I have an ambulance on it’s way there now.”

“Okay” you mumbled and you blacked out again.

Jenna’s P.O.V.

I had heard the whole thing happen and I know she didn’t want me to tell anyone, but I was married to her brother and he needed to know. Not to mention her boyfriend Josh needs to know. I promised I wouldn’t tell them in order to get her location out of her. I called her the ambulance because I could hear her drifting off in the conversation.

I gave the hospital my number so they would call me when she got there.

When they called me to tell me they found her passed out on the sidewalk I knew I had to tell Josh and Tyler. They needed to know even if that meant they would end the concert early.

I tried getting Tyler’s attention from the side and he stopped sing, looking at me with concern because I never bugged him during a show. Josh stopped playing and came over to where Tyler was.

“Dude are you okay?” he asked Tyler as I approached them.

“Yeah Jenna looked like she really needed to tell me something and I felt like something was wrong. What’s going on? Is Y/N okay?” he turned his attention to me and everyone in the arena was completely silent.

“No. um Y/N she’s hurt. Like really badly. She’s in the hospital. I think you need to end this and we can talk.” with that Tyler pulled the microphone to his lips and Josh ran off with me asking me all sorts of questions about Y/N.

“Okay, I’m very sorry this has to be this way, but we have to end the show early.” Tyler said and the crowd was filled with disappointment. “My sister, Josh’s girlfriend is hurt and we really need to get to her. Goodnight and stay alive all. Thank you for those who are understanding.” he ran off stage and found Josh and I.

“What happened, is she okay? Where is she?” Tyler asked all the same questions Josh had asked.

“We’ll explain later, i just booked us an immediate flight to L.A. I think we should get to her.” Josh said with tears threatening to come from his eyes.

“She’ll be okay Josh, she just needs us there.” Tyler said not knowing anything.

At the airport Jenna told her side of the story to Tyler and Josh.

Before getting on the plane Tyler was really worried about you and he texted your family to tell them what happened. Josh couldn’t keep still. When ever he was nervous he would bounce his leg and that’s what he did the whole plane ride and car ride to the hospital.

Josh’s P.O.V.

As soon as we got to the hospital I basically ran to the front desk.

“Hi sir, how may I help you?”

“My girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N, she was brought here about 5 hours ago. I need to see her. Is she okay?”

“Her file says she’s not awake right now, I’m going to get her doctor and you can go back to see her with him.” the woman said and then she left. I stood there and Tyler and Jenna came up to me.

“What’s going on?” Tyler asked and the doctor approached.

“Hi, which one of you is the boyfriend?” he asked.

“I am. Can I go see her?” I said quickly.

“Yes, but please know that it looks worse then it is.” he said leading us back to her room.

When I entered the room I saw Y/N just laying there asleep. Her hands had scraps all of them. Her arms had all sorts of bruises along with her face. She had blood stained on her upper lip and her head was wrapped in white bandages.

I went over and sat next to her holding her hand.

“So is she okay?” Tyler asked the doctor.

“She lost quite a bit of blood from hitting her head. She has 3 fractured ribs and she has a lot of bruising and scrapes. She will be okay, but we want to monitor her to make sure she doesn’t pass out again. She needs rest and pain medicine and she’ll be all good to go in a few weeks when those ribs heal.” he said.

The doctor left after a few more questions and I saw that Y/N was starting to wake up.

“J-Josh?” she questioned. Her voice was quiet and raspy.

“I”m right here baby.” I said kissing her on the hand.

“How you feeling kid?” Tyler asked walking over and rubbing a non-bruised part of your arm.

“Um, it hurts but I’m fine. Why are you here though? Did I mess up your show?”

“No Y/N you didn’t mess up anything. We’re here because we love you. You’re my sister and I would do anything for you.” Tyler said.

“Babe you didn’t mess anything up. You’re more important than a show. Everyone will understand.” Josh said.

“Hey guys, I just got off the phone from the police. They found one of the guys that hurt Y/N and arrested him. Then he turned in the other guys. They’re all in custody.” Jenna said entering the room.  

“Good, I was about to beat every drunk guy in L.A. for hurting my sister.” Tyler said and it made you laugh. When laughing it felt like your whole body was broken. you flinched slightly at the pain and it drew everyone’s attention to you.

“You okay Y/N?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, I’m just in a lot of pain and tired.”

“I think it’s time we leave so you can sleep. I don’t think I’m gonna convince josh to leave your side though. We have a hotel across the street. Call me if you need anything.” Jenna said and Tyler and her said their goodbyes.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Once they left Josh sat a little closer to you pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m sorry I failed you Y/N. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Josh said and you could hear the tears in his eyes.

“Josh look at me.” you said “you didn’t fail me. You’re always there for me. Nobody could have stop this. I’m okay.” he looked into your eyes and smiled.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I love you so much. I want you to rest and get better, okay?” he said getting up from where he was kneeling beside you.

“Wait don’t leave. I haven’t seen you in 3 weeks and I want to keep you close.”

“Well I don’t want you to have to move. I’ll be right over here on the couch.” he said and as he went to pull his hand away from you you tugged on his hand making him look at you.

You moved (painfully, but didn’t let it show)  in the bed so there was enough room for Josh to lay with you.

He smiled at you and laid next to you and held your hand kissing your head.

“I love you Y/N, so much.” Josh said as you start drifting off to sleep.

“I love you too. Thanks for be so amazing.” you said drowsily and then sleep took over the both of you.

Imagine being the only one to calm Tormund’s temper

prompt number nineteen requested by anonymous


Your name: submit What is this?

“This is not up for debate!” Tormund shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“Stealing a Night’s Watch supply cart? Are you mad, Tormund?!” Dorolf replied incredulously.

Tormund glowered, “What did you say to me, you filthy–” you rested a hand on Tormund’s arm, stopping him before he got himself into trouble.

“What Tormund is trying to say,” you explained calmly, “is that most food carts are only manned by one or two people. We could easily intercept it, get food for us while we weaken the Watch. Kill two crows with one stone.”

The men around you pursed their lips, considering your words. Dorolf crossed his arms and chuckled, “Need Y/N to speak for you, eh, Tormund?” he said mockingly.

Tormund growled, “I need Y/N to make sure I don’t beat anyone to a bloody pulp.”



’ How can you forget a guy you’ve slept with? ’
’ I don’t like having anything inserted in my anus. ’
’ I don’t think we’re in single digits anymore. ’
’ I once dated a guy ‘cause he had a pool. ’
’ I’d go over and get all cocoa-buttered up. ’
’ Yeah, I was thirteen! And honey, you should have seen my tan! ’
’ You dated Mr. Big. I’m dating Mr. Too Big. ’
’ There isn’t enough wall space in New York City to hang all of my exes. ’
’ Let me tell you, a lot of them were hung. ’
’ It’s so not fair. All the good ones are straight… even the gay ones. ’
’ I’ll admit I have had to polish myself off once or twice. ’
’ I RSVP to a party, I make it my business to come. ’
’ Well, I don’t know how you people do it. ’
’ All that emotional chow-chow. It’s exhausting. ’
’ What am I supposed to say? ’
’ So what are we going to do? ’
’ Okay, I’m definitely in the slow sexual group if even Charlotte is open to this. ’
’ Can you have an affair with your own husband? ’
’ We finally have the penis working. I don’t want to scare it. ’
’ After years of odd men, God is throwing me a bone. ’
’ You get married and hope for the best. ’
’ I am sleeping and walking! Sleeping and walking! ’
’ It’s the end of an era. ’
’ I revealed too much too soon. I was emotionally slutty. ’
’ The most important thing in life is your family. ’
’ There are days you love them, and others you don’t. ’
’ But, in the end, they’re the people you always come home to. ’
’ Sexy is what I try to get them to see after I win them over with my personality. ’
’ I could go to dinner with on Saturday night? ’
’ Oh yeah, that one weekend I was bored. ’
’ I showed him a boob in a coat checkroom. ’
’ Soulmates only exist in the Hallmark aisle at Duane Reid Drugs. ’
’ Yes, I’m sorry about it all. ’
’ I found you in my apartment, fell down the stairs, and broke my tooth. ’
’ Now not only have you ruined my marriage, you’ve ruined my lunch. ’
’ Will you please not use the f-word in Vera Wang? ’
’ Have you ever been in love? ’
’ My shrink says thats a very common fear. ’
’ Allow me to get right to the point. ’
’ I have decided that this is the year I am getting married. ’
’ Fuck me badly once, shame on you. ’
’ Fuck me badly once, shame on you. Fuck me badly twice, shame on me. ’
’ Oh, my god, she’s fashion roadkill! ’
’ I’m a tri-sexual. I’ll try anything once. ’
’ You men have no idea what we’re dealing with down there. ’
’ Easy? Honey, they don’t call it a job for nothing. ’
’ What’s the big mystery? It’s my clitoris, not the sphinx. ’
’ I think you just found the title of your autobiography. ’
’ Balls are to men what purses are to women. ’
’ It’s just a little bag, but we’d feel naked in public without it. ’
’ I said no white, no ivory, no nothing that says ‘virgin’. ’
’ I have a child. The jig is up. ’
’ I will never be the woman with the perfect hair. ’
’ I blow you I feel like I’m flossing. ’
’ It’s a slippery slope. ’
’ Here, swear. Swear on Chanel. ’
’ Oh my god, was that a Schoolhouse Rock I missed? ’
’ I pretended to ignore it for as long as I did. ’
’ I’m very sorry that you felt the need to come down here. ’
’ I’m sorry that he moved to Paris and fell in love with me. ’
’ I’m sorry he cheated on me with you. ’
’ It’s you day. You get a day. ’
’ Haven’t we all had sex with ______? ’
’ They all involved going up my ass. ’
’ Do any of you have a completely unremarkable friend or maybe a houseplant. ’
’ Sometimes it’s the family you’re born into. ’
’ Well, first of all, define recently. ’
’ Have you given birth recently? ’
’ I didn’t tell ________ I was pregnant. ’
Brand Ace Low Top Embroidered Leather Sneaker Red HD Review from
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women’s clothes have fake pockets

or don’t have pockets at all, or if they DO have pockets they’re not big enough to actually hold anything useful. 

And that seems like a really ridiculous side effect of sexism, which seems fairly innocuous.  Annoying but not a real problem right? And I’ll give you that it’s not as bad as many other issues of institutionalized sexism, but the more I think about it the more messed up it actually is.

Without pockets women have no way of carrying their wallet, keys, phone, tampons, loose change, or anything else. The solution is, of course, a purse. Pants not having pockets means women are forced to buy and rely on purses (which men then mock them for). 

Women (who are paid less than their male counterparts, and are less likely to be hired for high paying jobs they are qualified for to begin with) are required to spend extra money on purses (which are expensive), yet another expense men do not have. 

This falls in line with women’s clothes being much more expensive AND less durable than men’s clothes, women’s clothes cycling through fashions much faster, and women’s fashion requiring more layers and more variation from day to day, women being expected to have a variety of different shoes (also expensive), women (especially in professional settings) being expected to comply with fashion standards in order to be considered respectable (while men can go their whole career wearing the same generic suit/outfit and no one makes a judgement), etc.

With all their essentials in a purse, it becomes easier to steal from women, and easier for women to lose their belongings (ID, credit cards, phone, money, etc). Women are then stereotyped as being both easy targets, and less competent/reliable. 

Women are forced to be hyper vigilant, cautious, and fearful of being stolen from/attacked, and then blamed when they are targets of theft, despite it not being their choice. 

I think it’s likely that companies don’t think past “if they don’t have pockets, they’ll have to buy a purse” or even “they don’t need pockets, they’ll just use a purse” but the effect is the same. Another potential reason for clothing companies to put fake pockets (or no pockets or useless pockets) on women’s pants is that putting things in your pockets changes your silhouette. 

Men’s ability to control/consume women’s appearance is valued over women’s practical needs, and ultimately over women’s autonomy and safety.

Medieval Clothing, a Masterpost of Sorts

This is meant as an information resource for creative folk, not a complete guide. Be sure to supplement this with additional research. Find the rest of the series, including the previous posts on clergynobilitycommon medieval jobsdivinationspirit animalsmythical creaturesstructuring an armymedieval punishmentsarmorpre-gunpowder weaponssiege warfarecastle anatomy, and common terms of medieval life.

This post includes women’smen’s, and children’s medieval clothing terminology, materials, colors, as well as a note on medieval shoes.

Medieval Women’s Clothing Terminology

Aprons: Used by middle- and lower-class women, they could be a variety of colors.

Barbe: A pleated piece of linen similar to the barbette and widows, it was worn underneath the chin or widows and over the chin to denote a noblewoman.

Barbette: A linen band that wrapped around the head, under the chin. It was usually pinned.

Keep reading


Day 4: Past/ Future of @daisugaweek2017 is here! I decided to literally drop the boys into the past. I dunno. I really wanted to write serious samurai Daichi. So sue me.

Enjoy. (Sorry it’s long and I’m a terrible spammy piece of shit.)

“Excuse me, oh Samurai-san!”

Daichi’s eyelid twitched and he lowered his hand to the hilt of the sword at his waist. He was outside for less than five minutes and was already getting heckled by the common rabble. He wrapped his fingers around the sword and turned, prepared to heed his mentor’s teaching and silence any pathetic commoner that dared think he was allowed to demand the attention of someone of Daichi’s status.


Daichi’s eyes fell on a young man in a simple grey kimono opened halfway down his pale chest. He was barefoot, with not a single thing on his back or in his hands.

At least he didn’t seem to be there to challenge him. Daichi was tired of losing perfectly good kamishimo to a few obnoxious blood stains and sword cuts.

“What do you want?” he snapped, not taking his hand off of the hilt of his sword. Even if the man wasn’t there to challenge him, Daichi knew better than to let his guard down around unnamed commoners. If he wasn’t careful, he could be stripped of his purse in an instant and forced to scurry home with his tail between his legs to be taunted by his peers and branded the fool robbed by a street urchin.


The man smiled warmly and Daichi’s spine stiffened in alarm, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.

“Well you see,” the man clasped his hands together and gazed at him from under his eyelashes. “I was just robbed. I was wondering if you’d kindly help me?”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t do charity work.”

“Of course not,” the man shifted closer to him and Daichi clicked his sword up slightly from its sheath. “Naturally I’d pay you for your efforts,” he cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You samurai don’t do anything for free, do you?”

Daichi clenched his jaw. He was tempted to silence the peasant and continue on with his day. The only people allowed to talk to him like that were his fellow samurai and those men with purses fat enough to protect their hearts from the point of his sword.

Daichi straightened his shoulders and reminded himself that he was wearing his cream colored kamishimo that day. His favorite kamishimo, no less. It would be a shame to stain it so early in the morning.

“My services aren’t something that can be bought by rice and favors,” Daichi lifted his chin. “So I suggest you find someone else—”

“I suppose at the moment I do look like someone that couldn’t afford you,” the man interrupted, chuckling. He shifted closer and Daichi pulled his sword from its sheath. The man eyed it quietly but didn’t stand down. He turned an amused gaze to his face, “Help me this once and I promise your reward will be handsome.”

Daichi should shut him up and continue on his way. But now that he looked at him, he could see that the fabric of his grey kimono was much more lavish than he had initially believed. It was woven with silk even finer than that which made up Daichi’s kamishimo, in fact.

And he was much too clean to be some common thief or rice farmer, too. His pale hair, although unruly and shorter than the style- much like Daichi’s- was washed and he appeared well fed.

He really didn’t look like just some random peasant.

Perhaps he was telling the truth. If he was bold enough to approach someone like Daichi in broad daylight, disregarding the obvious threat he posed, he must be of a much higher status than he originally thought.

It may just be worth Daichi’s time to go along with the stranger.

If he ended up lying to him, Daichi could just always kill him.

Even if he was wearing his favorite, cream-colored kamishimo.

“Very well,” Daichi sheathed his sword once more. “I’ll help you. No… I’ll allow you to hire me.”

“How generous, Samurai-san.”

Daichi stepped closer to him, gathering up a fistful of his kimono. “If you break your word, I’ll kill you without hesitation.”

The man chuckled and lifted his hands, “Of course. I promise, your reward will be very handsome.”

Daichi glared at him for a long moment before releasing his kimono.

“Well,” he smoothed his hands over the wrinkled fabric. “I look forward to working with you, Samurai-san.”

“Working with?” Daichi frowned.

“You don’t expect me to just point you in the direction of the thief and then sit here and wait, do you?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly what I expect.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” the man narrowed his eyes. “What’s to keep you from just running off with my property?”

Daichi gritted his teeth, “My honor—”

“Oh please spare me. The whole honorable samurai joke wasn’t funny the first time I heard it, and it’s definitely not funny now when I’m forced to actually hire one.”

Daichi clicked his tongue, “Joke—”

“My name is Suga,” the man clasped his hands behind his back. “What should I call you? Or do you like being addressed as Samurai-san?”

Daichi scowled.

“Call me Sawamura-san.”

“So formal. Can’t I just call you Daichi?”

Daichi blinked in astonishment, “How did you know—”

He chuckled, “A new samurai rolls into town and you don’t think I’d gather as much information as I could before hiring him?”

Just who the hell was this guy?

Daichi straightened his shoulders, “Regardless. You will address me as—”

“That’s enough chatting, I think,” Suga turned and headed down the street, a bounce in his step. “Let’s go Daichi, before that bastard spends all of my money.”

Daichi stared after him for a long second, mouth hanging open.

Just who the hell is this guy?

“Okay, you go be a distraction, and I’ll sneak in through the window and get my stuff,” Suga whispered, climbing silently over the clay tiles of the fortress’s roof.

Daichi followed behind at a slower pace, arms out at his side for balance.

“Distraction?” he grunted.

“Just make a fuss in the courtyard,” Suga insisted. “When everyone is looking at you, I’ll break in and—”

“I’m not a distraction,” Daichi argued. “I am a samurai. If this man stole from you, then I’ll just cut him down—”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Do you have any idea who—” Suga stopped.

Daichi’s eyes narrowed.

“Ah… I mean… don’t be stupid. There are too many guards. You’ll never win.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t have sought you out if I didn’t think you were strong. But… it’s just easier this way. And besides, it’d be such a terrible shame if you got blood on that real snazzy kamishimo you got there.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Certainly not.”

Daichi glanced over the peaked roof they walked over, down into the lavish courtyard of the fortress. Just where the hell were they? He had never been to this side of the city. Was Suga really robbed by someone rich enough to live in such a large and ornate home? Who did it belong to? Just who was Suga that he had something that someone living in such luxury would want to steal it from him?

“Listen,” Suga grabbed his arm. “Do you want to get paid or not?”

Daichi stared at him silently for a long second. Suga lifted his brows.

Daichi did want to get paid. And now that he was there, looking at the building of the supposed thief, he was convinced that Suga would make good on his promise of a handsome reward. Even if it injured his pride to be a mere distraction, the appeal of filling his purse was too strong to ignore.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll be a distraction. Just hurry it up, okay?”

“I knew you were a smart man,” Suga grinned and winked. “Alright. Give me a boost up here, and then go draw everyone’s attention,” he stood underneath a window and lifted his arms up towards the sill.

Daichi clenched his jaw and reluctantly offered his hands. Suga placed one of his bare feet in them and pushed up. Daichi lifted him up until he was scampering through the opening. Once inside, he leaned back out and looked down at him.

“Five minutes is all I need. Then we’ll meet down the road.”

“Five minutes,” Daichi agreed. “If you don’t show up—”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll kill me or whatever. Don’t worry. I won’t betray you,” he glanced over his shoulder and then back down. “Okay. See you in five minutes,” he ducked into the building and Daichi let out a sigh and turned towards the courtyard.

He supposed it’d be suspicious if he just dropped in from the roof, so he climbed back down to the ground on the outside of the fortress walls and then walked swiftly to the front gate, which was open wide. He walked confidently inside, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Immediately, three guards approached him.

“Well, I’m here,” he announced loudly. “Bring him out.”

“Bring who out?” one guard asked suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“Don’t insult me,” Daichi snapped. “Your master was the one that sent for me. I’m willing to overlook the fact that he sent a messenger to fetch me, but only if you stop wasting my damn time and get him out here.”

The guards exchanged looks. One slid closer to another and said in a low voice, “Did Oikawa-sama send for someone?”

“Who the fuck knows?” the other guard muttered. “He never tells me anything anymore. Just go call him.”

The guard nodded, gave Daichi another look, and then ran across the courtyard to the fortress. He returned shortly, followed by a man dressed in an exquisite teal kimono, casually waving an ornate fan in front of his handsome face.

“What’s this nonsense about me sending for a samurai?” the man called.

“Well, I’m here,” Daichi crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it that you want?”

The man frowned. His eyes darted to one of the guards, “Iwa-chan did you—”

“Don’t look at me.”

He turned back to Daichi, “I didn’t call for you.” He hesitated, fanning his face slowly before a smirk crept over his lips. “But since you’re already here… I do have a job that you may be interested in.”

Daichi cocked an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

The man let out a sigh, “Four times the past month a thief has broken into my home and stolen from me.”

Daichi blinked.

“He’s taken roughly eighty ryo, countless jewelry, bundles of my finest silk, family heirlooms, and my pet cat,” he continued. “He’s been a constant annoyance and I’d very much like him eliminated.”

Daichi’s eyes flicked over the man’s head in time to catch a flash of grey in a window high up in the luxurious building.

“It should be easy to find him,” the man went on. “He hangs around the south side of the city, usually gambling or pick-pocketing.” His lips pressed together, “He has short grey hair, hazel eyes, and a disgusting little mole in the corner of his eye.”

Daichi’s eyelid twitched.

“I believe he goes by the name Suga? Something common like that,” he waved his fan nonchalantly.

Daichi watched as Suga climbed out of the window, a bag slung over his back, a brand new royal blue kimono wrapped around his body. He slunk expertly down to the lower roof and then scurried up and over the peak, disappearing on the other side.

That son of a bitch.

“So?” the man drew his attention once more. “How about it? If you kill him, I’ll pay you your weight in gold.”

“Let me think about it,” Daichi turned and headed back towards the gate of the courtyard. “I’ll get back to you.”

He left the courtyard and sprinted down the road, muttering low expletives under his breath. Suga was somehow already waiting in the promised meeting place, leaning against a tree as he sifted nonchalantly through a small silk purse.

“You lied to me!” Daichi called as he drew near. “Fucking thief—”

“Oikawa-san is such a narc,” Suga pushed away from the tree. “He’s got more than he needs anyway. Who cares if I borrow a little bit of it?”

Daichi grabbed the front of his new kimono and dragged him close, “He offered me my weight in gold to kill you. Your handsome reward best beat that offer or else I’m hauling your ass back down this road and throwing you at his feet.”

Suga stared wordlessly up at him for long seconds. Daichi opened his mouth and prepared to hurl another threat when suddenly, Suga clasped his jaw in both hands, closed the space between them, and slipped his tongue inside Daichi’s mouth.

Daichi’s eyes widened and his grip on Suga’s kimono loosened. Suga kissed him long and deep, effectively muddling his mind and erasing whatever threat he had been prepared to spit before the unexpected attack. When his thoughts were ground completely to mush, Suga leaned away, hands sliding down the front of his kamishimo. He took a step back and smirked.

“How’s that?”

Daichi swallowed, “Wh-wh-what was that?”

“Your reward!” Suga lifted two fingers in a peace sign.

Daichi’s brows furrowed, “My reward? But that’s— no… where’s my money?”

“I never promised you money,” Sugawara took a step backwards, eyes glinting with amusement. “I promised you a handsome reward. And who is more handsome than me?” he winked.

“You son of a—”

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Samurai-san,” Suga gave a deep bow. “I hope to play with you again in the future,” he blew a kiss, turned, and walked down the road, a slight bounce in his step.

Daichi would chase after him, cut him down, and take the reward Oikawa had offered… if his traitorous knees thought it prudent to stop shaking weakly.

“Fuck…” he slumped over to the tree and leaned heavily against it.

He had been thoroughly played. He had wasted an entire day. He had been taken advantage of by a common thief. He aided in a robbery and didn’t even get paid.

On top of that…

Daichi ran a hand along the inside of his kamishimo. Sure enough, his coin purse was nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” he covered his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree.

And there he sat for the next two hours, a lone samurai, robbed clean of his money, his time, and his heart.

evie-a  asked:

How do you properly deal with everyday racism in novels that aren't about racism but are set in modern day? Specifically racism against black people. E.g. Police brutality, stereotypes ("Are you part of the cleaning staff?" "Are you the first one in your family to go to college?" "Is your dad still around?"), name-associations ("Your name is *stereotypical AfricanAmerican name* they're not going to hire you").

Incorporating Micro-Aggressions in Writing

Since you’ve asked about racism geared specifically towards Black people take a look at the post Common Micro-aggressions: African Americans and/or Black People.

As for including micro-aggressions into a story, here are some pointers:

Mind Intersectionality: Many things factor in and how and what racism a PoC might face such as being a Black man vs. a woman due to associated stereotypes, being fat, trans, gay, dark-skinned vs. light-skinned and so on. 

For example: a middle to upper-class Black person who dresses, speaks, and acts in a way that conforms to society ideals of upstanding will likely be slapped with respectability politics more regularly (she’s not like those other Black girls/ I’m Blacker than you/you’re an oreo/) versus one who doesn’t.

They might be more often be viewed as ghetto and trashy, have AAVE spoken back to them mockingly, their speech corrected, overall treated more poorly, but note: respectability doesn’t save even the most “socially-acceptable” Black people, especially the moment one acts in a way they don’t like (e.g. passion or any raise of the emotion = angry, sassy, a violent threat).

Anti-Blackness is a Thing: Prejudice doesn’t just come from White people, but from People of Color too, especially towards Black people (there’s a version of the n-word through multiple cultures). Solidarity among PoC is not a given. I’ve faced store-following, stereotyping, and lack of understanding of my struggles from Non-white people too. I don’t encourage placing much of this in your story, but it feels like omission to leave out this fact. Although I’d actually like to see more POC solidarity and relationships in stories.

Don’t overdo it. If the character’s arc is not meant to be about racism, then don’t make it about racism. Facing micro aggressions is a part of their life, but not the subplot of their story. I don’t have a magical number of how many you should include (though 1-4 is plenty), however every situation they stumble in shouldn’t include a racist encounter.

They Can Come from Anyone: You really never know where you’re going to get hit with racism and from whom. I’ve encountered extremely kind old white men and extremely racist purse-clutching middle-aged white woman (and the exact reverse!). Realistically, one can’t necessarily know who will be/say racist things. Location is a factor too, such as being in a place where people aren’t use to PoC being around (which often onsets staring and suspicion, though it can happen anywhere).

Consider other daily struggles: I once read a story where a Black woman, being held against her will, was given provisions and being forced to ‘be comfortable’ and make any requests she wished, to which she noted how the provided shampoos wouldn’t work for her hair and requested the right products.

If micro-aggressions are being included for realism’s sake, note that blatant micro-aggressions are not the only way to go when including indicators for that ‘authentic’ touch. Sometimes it’s a matter of not being able to find your foundation color at a store or, alternatively, being surprised when you do (stores seem to be getting better at this these days).

Writing Reactions to Micro-Aggressions

Reactions to micro-aggressions vary. Consider a character’s situation and/or personality on what you feel their reaction might be to racism. Sometimes it’s not possible to act on the way one feels inside, such as in a work, formal situation, or given power dynamics.

Here are some starters:

  • Condemning silence, frown or look
  • Closed-off behavior (Crossing arms, looking away)
  • Visual discomfort (Uncomfortable laughter, shifting stance)
  • Questioning self (Did that just happen? Did he really just call me that?)
  • Brushing it off. “Whatever.” “This happens all the time.” “Let’s just go.”
  • Forced friendliness (Like smiling, but gritting your teeth at the ignorance)
  • Snarky refute of comment (You call me chocolate? I’ll call you mayo.)
  • Telling off or calling out the behavior (“That was rude.” “Why would you say that?”)
  • Verge of tears or having some fall (whether in frustration, sadness or both. More likely if they’re not used to this treatment, but everyone is different. I teared up the first time a white woman clutched her purse when I walked by. Now I roll my eyes to outer space.)

NOTE: No matter what reaction an affected character has, you, the author, should not dismiss this behavior and therefore ‘okay’ it to the audience. Showing it is wrong in some way or another (using another character, refuting the prejudice thought later) is ideal.

I hope this was helpful to you and happy writing,

~Mod Colette

You Need a Maid? Chapter 11

Fandom: Avengers / Marvel
Rating: G / PG13 / R
Warnings: Swearing, Mention of Blood
Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, blah legal stuff. Don’t sue me, I’m poor.
Songs: An Honest Mistake - The Bravery

Chapter Menu

Your name: submit What is this?

“Guys, I can go grocery shopping by myself, I do it every week.”
You tried to explain, watching the team fidget with putting coms in their ears and plan disguises. “Things are dangerous out there,” said Tony, pulling a baseball cap on. You didn’t think it was much of a disguise. He just looked ready for Red Sox season now.

“We just want to make sure you’re safe.” Steve came over, placing a large hand on your shoulder, smiling down at you. What? Was the lettuce going to attack? You sighed, knowing there was no disagreeing with them. Slipping on your jacket you headed for the door, boys in tow.

Keep reading

Talk Dirty to Me
  • Jim: *pokes Molly's cheek* Hey
  • Molly: hmm?
  • Jim: You're quite busy today.
  • Molly: Well.. These were your work, obviously. *shows dead bodies*
  • Jim: Oh? And how can you tell?
  • Molly: The bullet hole is behind the victims' heads, that's one. It's not charred enough on the side to make it a close range shot AND these are the men who stole my purse a week ago.
  • Jim: I love it when you talk dirty to me. *smirk*
  • Molly: Jim! You could've just-
  • Jim: *hoists her up the table and kisses her passionately*
Iced - A FFXV Drabble

Ok, so I got inspired to write this, which is a bit out of my comfort zone (for those who have read Ghost of Myself will find that weird as I do have a nudity scene in that fic).  Dedicated to @femmescientia and @rsasai (maybe this is why I’m nervous to share this) as I thought this might make you smile (I hope).


“Shit!” Prompto screamed as the quartet were whisked over the waterfall.

The roaring wall of water nearly drowned him out. Everything flashed by so quickly. One minute they were being chased by one of those giant daemons seemingly made completely of iron then Prompto lost his footing on a slippery rock.  His friends all tried to help him out but somehow they all ended up in the same predicament as they cascaded down the falls and smacked into the pool below them. The belly flop stung and Prompto was certain his skin would develop nasty red whelp, but at least they could say they survived.  Cold, but alive.

Stepping out of the river, then men shivered and their teeth chattered.  Spotting a nearby haven, the men followed the blue aura that seemed to steam up from the rocky plateau.  Securing their safety for the night, the men relaxed as sighs of relief chorused.  The night will be miserable but at least they had sanctuary.  

“We need to rid ourselves of the drenched clothes,” Ignis pointed out.  “These will only serve to induce hypothermia.”

Gladio nodded, acknowledging the information was indeed accurate.  What Prompto didn’t get was couldn’t they have erected the tent first so they had shelter to take refuge in?  

Sighing, he followed everyone else’s lead and discarded his jacket and then his shirt.  The material clung mercilessly, but there was a relief in finally freeing himself from the offending garments.  As he began fumbling with the buttons of his pants, he caught a glimpse of Gladio standing stark naked like the day his was born after having tossed the last bit of his clothes into a pile for Ignis to hang for the night to dry. Prompto blushed as his eyes trailed over every groove of his chiseled muscles from his shoulders, down his chest, and landing on his torso.  Then he cocked his head to the side.  He survey inconspicuously (or so he thought) the other two now completely nude men. Pursing his lips, Prompto returned his gaze back to the six foot whatever giant.  Suddenly two large hands clamped over the penis that Prompto suddenly realized he was staring at for way too long.  Locking onto Gladio’s eyes, heat rose to his cheeks, turning his fair skin a deep pink.  

Gladio narrowed his eyes at the younger man before bellowing, “The river was cold!”

anonymous asked:

Posts a poem, unlikely/ Pulls the potent portion past/ The pill-box, empty, ampersands,/ What have you, all// The jagged boys, the men/ All pursed and parcelled, eaten,/ Beaten through, and like the last/ Partitioned, too.