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#crossdressing mention
soggedboytroutanti · 23 days
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if i dont make paul matthews crossdress i die im sorry my heart stops beating its my lifes purpose i cant not do it
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user-null · 6 months
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DN kinktober
day 1 (toys) - day 20 (crossdressing)- day 28 (panties/lingerie & omorashi)
don't like, don't click
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smoresie · 8 months
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I'm gonna tell kids this was my barbenheimer
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heartfullofleeches · 1 year
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Okokokok so recently I’ve been REALLY into collars, especially the ones that lock and cannot be taken off unless the dom unlocks it
Do we think either of the hart siblings (or their dad teehee) would be into that??
Without a doubt. Spencer is the most bold and proud about it. Probably did research on them before you even bring it up and just asks which you think looks best. Erin is the type of guy to wear chokers, so its just a step up from there and he likes you have physical claim on him the most out of the group. Even if he won't admit it. Theodore hides during class if you make him wear it in public, but wouldn't mind making it up for you at home by wearing nothing else.
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unhonestlymirror · 1 year
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Staring:
secretly extremely kinky Japan
Christian Poland
True Multilingual Lithuania
I am really sorry for confusing Orthodox cross with Catholic, I am a pagan
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which teetle is it (on the shirt)
OK FUCK IT
we're settling this once and for all
@gumy-shark @sundere1181 @uncertaininnit @donatelloturtle (welcome)
HERE'S THE SHIRT CLOSE-UP:
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here's the most popular versions of donnie and leo (from 1987 and 2003):
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now. i have no clue from which media this shirt is so i cannot tell you easily which iterations could have been considered.
however, you may have noticed that basically every iteration of leo listed (and in general) tends to have a warmer/lighter shade of blue for his bandana. though when i envision leo as a concept i've always seen him with a rich blue, it seems my memory deceives me and, in fact, he is lighter blue all the way.
but, you say, donnie doesn't fit either! the shirt shows a darker indigo color! so what's the truth?
to this i say: take a look at the shirt close-up again.
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lit only appears darker because of the black lines and how small the object is. this, my comrades, is donatello turtle
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deus-ex-mona · 1 year
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no coherent thoughts, just thinking about how much of a fruit parade the shiny wedding mv was
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offaeandcreation · 2 years
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Young Maiden
Gift: @robininthelabyrinth  Based off the queer fusion of Feminine Mystique + Strange Definitions of Success 
TMW you art-student/theatre kid yourself to queerness
Summary: Wen Ruohan should have burnt it to ash, grounded these memories to dust, yet they come again and again. His teacher had told him all those decades ago, that only a true artist can never let go of their craft. He put the brush down and pulled out the wine.
CW: Not exactly a happy end, for now. Mentions of leering. He/Him Pronouns
Author’s Notes: Art is one of the six scholarly arts a young master learns. It is as masculine as carrying around a sword. It is the same here. Though I am not heavily editing this, this short fic holds a personal touch due to my own queerness/genderfluidity and love for art. 
AO3
Wen Ruohan hadn’t lifted a brush to paint in decades.
The urge remained, however. Every time he signed a document or noted a budget sheet, his fingers would slide against the smooth wood of the brush into position. Characters would mold into mountains of pitch-black ink, with the echoes of indigo and malachite speckled down the peaks until they became vibrant rivers.
The image of the last painting he ever made. Unfinished, half-burnt, and hidden away, deep in his private chambers. He should have kept it in the bonfire; stomped those memories to dust. Yet they come again and again, like ugly ink stains under his eyelids.
His teacher had told him forever ago that only a true artist can never let go of their craft.
He placed the brush down and pulled out the wine.
Wen Ruohan always had a taste for beauty. A true artist, and a true wealthy man. Why else would he fill his room with carefully selected pottery, inlaid colored glass, and paintings? Why else do the ornaments that hung from his belt and his guans be inlaid with gold and precious stones twisted with only the skill of a true master smith. Only the beautiful things, the good things, in the world he deserved.
He reached for them since when he was young, with whatever memories that remained from over a century ago. Buried his hands into his mother’s jewelry box, stuffed his hair with as many pins as he could, because they all glittered in a way that appealed to a child. Servants would chide, snatching the pins from his hair. He, then, could not understand why it was so bad to wear something pretty.
Even today, when only the immortals that hid away were older than he, Wen Ruohan felt that the jewelry allowed for a man of his station…lacked. That little itch reared its head when he prepared for banquets and conferences or dressed for a forgetful day of paperwork and cultivation.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was during one of those latter days when he happened upon his principal wife painting her face in the garden. Her hand still with every stroke, with a precise grace that architects would envy. Her colorful palette meant to only subtly underscore her features.
Wen Ruohan painted people before. Their complex forms and finicky features are as difficult as inking around cracks in rock and depicting gaping ravines surrounded by waterfalls. But instead of painting on rice paper, Madame Wen painted on her face. Like an artist.
Late one night, he pulled out a brush and paint and applied it to his face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Since then, Wen Ruohan played around with face-painting until dawn. Except now with proper make-up instead of the toxic paint that stained the skin. He thumbed the edge of his jaw, the line softened by powdering right to its outer edges. An illusion of soft facial features created by masking the shadows with a powder that absorbed light rather than reflected.
He pulled back his collar to brush off some particles, his pinkie catching on the padding slipped under his outer robes. Wen Ruohan snorted through his nose.
It wasn’t much different than the sleight-of-hand Clan Leaders played with their appearances really. Wen Ruohan’s true body type leaned more into skinny, even with cultivation lining his bones with muscle. With some shoulder padding and hidden heels, however, he could construct a striking silhouette that unnerved even men twice his size.
Wen Ruohan held out his brush, watching the powder glitter in the candlelight.
Suddenly, he remembered one of his mother’s pins. Since she rarely wore it, it made its way to the very bottom of her jewelry box. The deep blue stone glittered in the latent sun rays when he held it up for inspection, pale gold chain tassels clicking against his fingernails. Until it was snatched away and the box finally hidden from him for good.
Wen Ruohan thumbed the polished wood. Why not? He could easily disguise the purchases with gifts to his wife and concubine.
~~~~~~~~~~~
A few months passed with his late-night artistic experiments. Something…shifted. Some days, Wen Ruohan reached for his kit hidden in a locked drawer in his bedroom, only to remember it was morning. He would find himself avoiding reflective surfaces, a stubborn knot in his chest that refused to budge.
Some days, he wore his robes with pride and mirrors posed no thread. The makeup kit as if forgotten.
It was one of those busier evenings. The conference was right on the horizon by the month’s end, even if QishanWen wasn’t hosting this year. A whirlwind of documents and paperwork –  updated intelligence from his spies, the state of his Sect, which disciples were to accompany him, and the likes.
He hadn’t remembered whether it was one of those days where he couldn’t stand the mirror. With the sudden ache to leave his rooms, an impulsive indulged, he left Nightless City to the evening market within Qishan.
A store clerk, a young woman, waved at him.
“Is this Maiden in the search for jewelry?”
Maiden? Wen Ruohan brushed his cheek with a finger. Powder.
The reflection in the miniature bronze mirror on the stand revealed the very tips of the pins in his hair.
Oh. It must have been one of those days.
He muffled his “no thank you” with a sleeve to his mouth.  
The knot fluttered in his chest, like it grew wings. In a haze, Wen Ruohan continued wandering the market.
“Your servant wields such skill! Your huadian is beautiful.” A young maiden said to him.
He could not remember what he did, but the plum blossoms bloomed and Chao-er stuck branches into the grate on his window that morning.
 An older madam, hair long since grey, paused from her stand to scold, “Why are you alone! Where is your escort?”
He gestured at his sword, name hidden in a silk scarf, by his side. She frowned and shook her head, gesturing behind him.
Wen Ruohan was used to being gawked at. Fear and envy flashed in the eyes of fellow cultivators. With the occasional interested party – a certain saber-wielding sect leader came to mind.
The gazes sent his way now were far different. No longer nervousness in their eyes. He looked like a rich young maiden, perhaps unmarried and foolishly walking by her lonesome. Glances of indifference, like he was no different than the stranger beside him. Some gazes however made him tighten his grip on his sword. Like how some leered like they were undressing him with their eyes. Slipping his sword in their direction and meeting their eyes with a glare seemed to bat them away.
Some took his softer appearance as approachable, with offers of a sample of this snack, or this tea, always with ‘will this Maiden indulge-“, especially from clerks who barely could hide their blush.
Sleep potions and poisons didn’t work on him anyway, so what’s the harm in an indulgence.  
In the later hours, Wen Ruohan stepped into a restaurant rich enough to have a full-length reflective glass. Xu-er mentioned this particular place had excellent wine. When he peered his head in to see if he could spot a clerk, he glimpsed his own reflection. Make-up, hair pins, and light robes all in a glance. Something inside clicked into place.
Sometimes, he didn’t want to be a man.
Wen Ruohan’s lowlight trance, warmth, and elation plunged into a bone-deep freeze. He stared wide-eyed into the reflection, into an artificially softened face. Sharp-edged body hidden under rolling fabric and the cover of darkness.
The server was talking to him, calling him Young Maiden.
He turned on his heels and walked off. Of course, he didn’t run away. (He ran).
He burned the robes, presented the pins as late presents to his wife and concubine, and threw the makeup deep into a drawer far away from his bedroom.
What nonsense.
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reikaniichan · 1 year
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Pita in grape :]
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+1 skirt pita
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victory-cookies · 11 months
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I love having a half hour long debate with my mother about how bad jk r*wl*ng is bc she decided to listen to that witch trials podcast! (lying lying lying I hated it it sucked I hate debating her)
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Local cat officially too dumb to participate in puzzle-solving.
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moophinz · 2 years
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Now just what in the goddamn hell is this character design
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RGG Studio said let's give this man some fuckin h i p s
Leave nothing to the imagination
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seas-arts-n-things · 1 year
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,, I believe in Pirate Cookie supremacy,, 😔💕💕💕💕💕💕✨
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menderash · 2 years
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im a bullets kind of cunt but revenge IS the gayest album in the lineup. like they all are but like. come on.
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moggleboggle · 2 years
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To be fair I've known one of them for months now and he's fine, still in the ballpark of liking wlw anime bullshit AND identifying with it somewhat but that isn't a crime, many trans people still honor their experiences as cis gay/bi people, but when transmasc people do it it can become messy and ugly fast
The other two are new though and they bug me because they're new. I don't know what to expect from them, but their existence is not a crime. That would be hypocritical of me, especially as someone who also ids as a woman and man simultaneously, but last time I put my guard down against these types it ended poorly.
All of them seem fine, they literally have not done a single thing to warrant my caution except exist, but people in the past that aligned with these types seemed fine until they felt too comfortable to be That Guy. You never really know with afab lgbt culture if you're around friends are foes until it's too late.
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