I’m sorry, I love Jon but if Sansa wanted to take winterfell (which she doesn’t) she would have every right to. She’s the rightful lady stark. If she was a man, people would probably be angry that jon was in charge instead of her.
someone shared a thing on fb where a guy put like rose petals & candles etc around their room for his gf and was like “guys this is how you treat your lady right”, and one man commented saying “guys, i’m sure your gf or wife will appreciate it more if you just regularly do your share of housework and cooking rather than making a mess in the house” and a woman replied to his comment saying “Agreed! my husband did this one valentine’s - threw rose petals around the room & on the bed and candles everywhere - and after valentine’s day was over he left it all for me to clean up” and I wish I could say I was surprised that a man would be such a colossal jackass but I’m really not.
Ino and Chouji:
Shikamaru, we've come all the way here to save you!
*slaps him and makes him come into his senses with the words she knows he needs to hear*
haha, cool 👌
Naruto, inside Shikamaru's mind:
OMFG SO MOVING, SO INSPIRING, ONCE AGAIN I'VE BEEN SAVED, THIS MAN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS FUCKING MAN RIGHT HERE, I CAN BEAT GENGO, I CAN PUNCH THE SUN, LIFE ISN'T REAL, DEATH IS A LIE, THE UNIVERSE IS AN ABSTRACT CONCEPT WE TRANSLATE TO FIT OUR SENSES...
The Cliff Notes For Bagging The Older Rich Man You’ve Always Wanted
The Cliff Notes For Bagging The Older Rich Man You’ve Always Wanted
Seriously, let’s be short and sweet: you want a very rich guy to date, and you want him NOW. Here are some short, no-holds barred tips from expert sugar babies for getting into your older man’s bed, wallet and heart as fast as you can!
Here are some tips from our sugar babies:
Seem smart: a hot airhead is a dime a dozen, but a well-read, worldly girl (or seemingly worldly) is much rarer.
Bring a mirror for quick makeup touch ups. You’ll be glad you did!
Keep up your hotness. Always look hot. Always. If it means quick touch ups of makeup in the morning, so be it. He brings cash to the table, and you bring the mind-blowing good looks. Period.
Don’t be to eager. Play the field. If the sugar daddy in question is interested, take his number but don’t jump all over yourself trying to make a connection. Seeming a little aloof is much sexier than being really into someone. Play it cool.
Seem like you have money. So your bank account’s zero? No problem, as long as you look like you don’t need the cash. Desperation is definitely NOT sexy.
Hot rich men like exotic girls. If you’re from Akron, no problem. Seem exotic by creating an aura of mystery about you. You don’t have to answer every question or respond to every remark; smile like you’ve got a secret, girl, even if your secret is that you aren’t that exotic!
Guys love long hair. If you can rock short, awesome. But- hair to run your fingers through is, in my experience, uber sexy.
Be discreet. Be discreet about your sugar baby/sugar daddy arrangement, about handling cash, and about what each others’ titles are. Remember, ladies- keep it classy.
Value yourself. If you ever feel uncomfortable, get the eff outta there. Period.
Practice walking in new heels before you go out on the town. This will help you break your new shoes in, but will also help you with your heel-walk. Crucial!
Live your dreams. Remember, you’re a sugar baby for a reason! Let the money help you achieve all the things you want it to (college, travel, etc). Don’t get caught up in jewelry or material things…it’s all about the experience.
Smile. Always, always, always smile. It’s your best look.
Read sex books. Even if you don’t use the tips, they’ll make you a more sexually confident person.
Love the way you look in clothes. If you don’t feel comfortable, you aren’t going to look comfortable. When you don’t look comfortable, you don’t feel comfortable. And when you don’t feel comfortable, you definitely don’t look sexy. Always look sexy, ladies!
Have fun! Seriously, being a sugar baby is SUPPOSED to be fun! If you aren’t having fun, date someone who you DO have fun with. That’s what life’s about, right?
I Still Love You || Peter Parker x Reader [[request]]
[[request prompt(s): can you write about peter breaking masculine gender roles + a fluff thing where peter wants the reader to be the big spoon but is too embarrassed to straight out say it? :)]]
for this story, i’m going to combine two requests together because they both fit ;w; admittedly, i had a hard time trying to think of a good plot for the ‘breaking masculine gender roles’ request and figured combining these two requests would make things a hella lot easier for me [♥]
The Most Disturbing Things in John Winchester’s Journal: A Comprehensive Study.
@jaredsnuggles made a really incredible post about all mentions of the boys in John Winchester’s journal. It’s incredibly helpful for writing reference, and filled with genuinely heartwarming moments and an interesting glimpse into John’s POV.
But as someone who’s pretty infamously critical of John’s parenting skills, what I most noticed was the progressively disturbing way in which the boys were brought up, the responsibilities placed on them, and the way in may have impacted their psyches (performing!Dean, anyone?)
So let’s take a look at some of the most blatant examples of the Winchester’s upbringing that would have had the Child Protective Services knocking on most people’s doorsteps, and how it may have influenced the people they’ve become.
1. Encouraging violent, illegal, and womanizing behavior:
Dean turns fourteen today. He took off to the movies with a girlfriend. I think her name is Katie. Quite the ladykiller, that kid. Like I was at his age. Hell-raising, foul-mouthed, full of piss and vinegar. Silas had it right: he’s like me. If I’m not careful with him, by the time he’s twenty he’ll have left a trail of kids and arrest warrants all over the country.
For some reference, Dean was not “a lady killer” at that age. He was fourteen at the time, and didn’t even have his first kiss until he was at the boy’s home (where John dropped him) at age sixteen. At fourteen, he was still a child, having a presumably very chaste relationship with another child, seeing as it didn’t even involve the rudimentary making out.
Dean turns twenty-one today. I’d buy him a beer if I thought it would be something new. He’s also old enough to buy his own guns now. I tried to raise him right, and looks like I did. He’s a scam artist, a ladies’ man, and an absolutely loyal son. He knows what’s right and doesn’t hesitate to do it. I’m proud of him. Now that he’s hunting on his own I don’t see as much of him, but I know he’s out there. When I call him in on a job, he’s right there every time. I’ve spent the last sixteen years afraid that I was going to screw him up somehow. Maybe now I can forget about that.
This one is just messed up on multiple levels. For one thing, there’s a lot of talk about “performing!Dean” within the fandom, and it’s easy to see where that persona comes from: this, along with his ability to shoot, kill, and protect Sam, is one of the few times John expresses overt pride in Dean. Of course a child/young man struggling to garner his father’s affection and approval would adopt the most suitable persona possible to do so.
It’s my opinion that Dean, at his heart, isn’t a “scam artist” or a “ladies’ man:” he’s a homebody who loves to cook and clean and take care of people, with a lot of traditionally feminine characteristics. He can also be interpreted as having a lot of internalized same-sex attraction.
Would John have accepted that? From what I’ve seen, probably not. Performing!Dean is just the son John wanted.
I took the boys, said good-bye to Missouri, and got the hell out of Lawrence. If I never go back, it’ll be too soon. Not for Dean, though. The first thing he wanted to know was when we would go home. But we don’t have a home anymore, Dean. The sooner you get used to that, the better. We don’t have a home until we find what killed your mother.
The fact that it was hammered into Dean’s brain that they didn’t, and would not, have a home for the foreseeable future would have been a tremendous blow to a child’s psyche – particularly when it was just mentioned that he wasn’t speaking or leaving John or Sam’s side less than a month prior.
I’ll hunt, and the boys will hunt, and we will find whatever killed Mary and we will send it to Hell. And on the way, we will kill every monster and ghoul and ghost and demon and anything else. My boys will not grow up to experience what I have. They will not lose what I have lost.
As always, his intentions are clearly good here, but for some reference, this was 1983. The same year Mary died. Dean was four, Sam was an infant, and he’s already decided that they can and will hunt.
Took Dean shooting. If he’s big enough to try to comfort me, he’s big enough to start learning the tools of the trade. I only let him fire the .22, but he is a deadeye marksman. My drill sergeant would have taken him over me in a second. Times like this, I sure am proud of my boy. I have a feeling it’ll be different with Sammy. Maybe he’s just too young to show it, but I don’t think he’s got the same kind of killer instinct.
There are two disturbing things going on here: Dean is being taught to kill at age six, and John’s reasoning is the fact that because he’s old enough to serve as emotional provider for a fully grown man, he should be able to. And also, there’s something about a six-year-old having a “killer instinct” that just sounds incongruous to me.
This is also one of the few times he expresses genuine pride in Dean.
For his seventh birthday, I took Dean shooting again. He wanted to fire one of the big guns—that’s what he called them. I let him shoot the Browning, but I steadied his hands. Sammy wanted me to help him make Dean a card. It was like a normal day, like we were a normal family with a mom who was off shopping or at work or something. Instead of dead. That illusion never lasts. I can’t afford to let it.
Sammy is five today. Thank God. He almost didn’t make it. I could blame Dean, but it’s my fault. There’s enough blame to go around. I missed the kill, and I left Dean watching Sam, and he couldn’t pull the trigger when he needed to. I haven’t taught him well enough. If he is weak like that again, my boys will die.
The fact that he’s blaming his nine-year-old son for his inability to kill, subconsciously or otherwise, in addition to putting a nine-year-old in a situation where he’d need to kill, is disconcerting to say the least.
Last night, Sammy woke up in the middle of the night telling me he was afraid of the thing in the closet. I went and looked. There was nothing in the closet, but I’ve seen too much not to believe that there could be. So I handed Sammy the .45 and told him the next time he saw the thing in the closet, he knew what to do. I don’t think I’ll win any awards from parenting organizations, but five nights running now Sammy has slept without nightmares. Sometimes a .45 under your pillow is all you need.
Sammy is sixteen years old today. God knows he’s got plenty of torments. Now he’s got a driver’s license, too. Doesn’t make much difference. He’s known how to drive since he was nine.
Mary, you know I would never leave the boys with strangers I couldn’t trust. You know that, right? I never would.
The fact that he is apparently leaving them with strangers, regardless of whether or not they’re “trustworthy,” when at this point they are still toddlers, is by definition neglectful behavior.
4. Paranoia/controlling behavior:
Dean turns five today. I was thinking about where we’re going to be in the fall, because he should start school. Then I realized that I can’t leave him in a school. Anything could happen. Maybe a place that has half-day kindergarten. Maybe that I could do. I know I should. I know he should be able to run around with other kids, who don’t know how to fileld-strip the Browning. Well, Dean doesn’t either, yet. But he’s learning. He’s got a talent for guns. I can see it already. And he’ll need it.
I was a homeschooled kid myself, but the fact that John kept Dean isolated and out of academic environments in order to protect him strikes me as paranoid and controlling, as well as bad for Dean’s psyche.
He’s also been using guns at around five years old. I’m not even against guns, but that’s just messed up.
Dean turns twenty today. He’s in Ohio somewhere, hasn’t called in a couple of days. Tracking a possible poltergeist. He’s supposed to call in every night. Mission discipline is critical.
Sammy is eighteen years old today. Surprised he didn’t take off. We’re not getting along too well. He hunts when we need him to, but he’s never committed himself the way Dean did. Dean’s never known any other way to live, or if he has, he doesn’t act like it. He’s playing the role he was born to play. Sammy’s the younger brother. He doesn’t know what his role is, even though I can tell him until I’m blue in the face and we’re both ready to kill each other. He’s got one more year of school and then I’m drafting him full-time into the family business. I’ve given him more slack than I ever gave Dean, more than I would have ever gotten from my dad. He needed it. Now he’s a grown man, or almost. Time for him to step into what’s expected of him. Dean never even thought about college. We used to joke about it once in a while. But Sammy still believes he can have a normal life, but they’re both more useful to the world as hunters than … what, lawyers? Dentists? Sammy’s convinced himself that smart kids have to go to college. Part of my job is to convince him that college would be a waste of his smarts. And I gotta hand it to him on the brains front: there’s nothing he can’t find on the computer. I still dig around in actual books, libraries, newspapers. It’s all keystrokes and search words for Sammy. He’s done a good job hiding our trail on all the credit cards.
John never leaves an option for Sam or Dean to be anything other than “what’s expected of them.” He never asks them what they want to do with their life, or considers their opinions valid.
This is one of the later entries, so it’s clear John has had a long time to settle himself into his extremist way of thinking, but it’s still disturbing and sad.
Sam graduated. He didn’t go to the ceremony. I think he’s still carrying a grudge that it took him an extra year. What do you want me to do, Sammy? Should we have stayed in Lawrence while whatever killed your mother came back for you? Should we have sat around fat, dumb, and happy even though war had been declared? How long would we have lasted that way?
Sam left. I told him that if he was going, it was permanent. I meant it.
Dean turns twenty-four today. I was twenty-four when I married his mother. Sorry, kid. Every boy has to cut the apron strings sometime, and for you it’s not going to be until we kill off a supernatural entity that seriously needs killing. Then we’ll all be free of your mother’s ghost. We’ll be able to live normal lives. But maybe not. Maybe we’ve all been hunters too long now.
It’s clear that John didn’t consider his children autonomous adults, and expected them to blindly obey his authority. He also considers them complicit in his “war,” even though they were both very small children at the time.
In closing, it’s clear from the other entries that John loves his boys. But as I’ve pointed out before, you can love someone and still be thoroughly toxic, abusive, and bad for them. John’s parenting and projection onto Dean is probably the reason why he’s so uncomfortable with his own femininity (and ~possible~ bisexuality), and why he feels so continuously obligated to prove himself as a Scam Artist and Ladies’ Man™.
Even Sam, heartbreakingly, has finally internalized the message that he can never be anything other than a hunter, when he clearly at one point wanted to do otherwise.
So while John could, and did, have a lot of redeeming qualities, and wound up sacrificing himself for his son’s benefit, I hope this will lay to rest the debate about whether or not he was a good father.
(( gif not mine - fucking quick stripping there wth ))
(A/n): wow I aspire to be felix
hey! Can you do a one shot where the reader is a youtuber and she is on the cringemas livestream? I don’t really care the scenario, I just love how you write the reader and friends, I swear. (also, I need more pewds in my life) thanks! ps: I know you have a ton of requests so take your time! <3
I was wondering if you could write something with pewdiepie, maybe the reader is a YouTuber and they are together in a collab or something, just being friends because I would love to be his friend tbh. I love your blog 💞💞
Warnings: don’t cringe
“You don’t want this.”
“Just do it, Mark.”
The American laughed and nodded an aggressively quick ‘okay’ before absolutely covering Felix’s face is whipped cream. The white, frothy substance bonded with the rough stubble among the Swede’s jaw to make a perfect beard.
Mark titled his head, serving his work a satisfied look.
“God, you are one glorious bastard.” Mark commented,
briefly wiping his hands off on his jeans.
“Santa came early!” Felix hollered while standing upright- arms raised and head high. He gave each camera, and (Y/n) a cheeky wink.
“Oh god, put it back- put it back.” (Y/n) whined, looking away and putting her palms up to block the view.
Over all, the girl was just happy it was her friend that ended up with the beard and not her. But still. Gross.
Felix and (Y/n) laughed heartily for a good moment, triggering the rest to do so as well.
Chris doesn’t have a nickname—not one he likes, anyway.
He’s so used to hearing “Christopher”, never Chris. He’s Christopher because there’s three other boys with his name in class. One of them gets called Chrissy because he’s cute and girls like him. One of them gets called Christian. Chris Moore gets to be Chris. He doesn’t have to change his name, or even use the first initial of his name. Moore gets to be Chris while Chris Chow is known as Christopher in class. He’s known as “son” and “meanie pants” at home.
He plays hockey. Nicknames are different there. For a while he goes by Topher, which makes him more confused when he goes between class and practice. It’s a mess. He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s outside his house.
He starts high school. It’s private and the hockey team is one of the top ranking school teams in the country. The first day of preseason, upperclassmen are jumping at the chance to dub the freshman with their new nicknames.
When they get to Chris, he feels twelve sets of eyes on him. They’re all probably wondering what weird name he has. He can already hear the Karate Kid chirps. He’s heard them all before. No one who thinks subtle racism is hilarious is really that creative.
Before they can give him shit or figure out what to do with Christopher (probably Tofu or something) or Chow (he doesn’t even want to know), he speaks up.
“My friends call me Frank,” he lies.
Because his middle name is Franklin, and some people go by their middle names. Because maybe this is exactly what he needs, a fresh start where no one thinks of him as a kid.