Okay but when I say I want to romanticise things that are seen as ugly by society people always reply saying “no normalise it make it normal” and like sure but like also bitch I really just want to look at my flaws and see art like I want poetry to be written about the cellulite on my legs and the stretch marks on my stomach and the hair on my upper lip like bitch let me feel like a work of art when I’m laughing and unaware of my crooked teeth or my double chin and when my skin is oily and my acne is bad. Like let ugly girls feel more than normal let us feel beautiful and extraordinary sometimes please
Like, in one video he recommends people who have had failure with leash reactivity using all-positive methods go out, buy a prong collar and that will solve everything. And like…. you know, I feel like prong collars have a place for some dogs and can be very useful tools… but you don’t just pop a prong on every dog and expect it to fix all your problems. Especially when the person’s problems are ~probably~ (I’ve seen it happen) not caused by a failure of R+ itself, but by poor timing. Because poor timing with a prong collar is going to solve all your problems of poor timing with food. Especially when you recommend it to people you’ve never met who own dogs you’ve never even laid eyes on. This is the kind of advice that gives people who use prong collars a bad name.
And then I was watching another video of his this morning (why? I don’t know) where he recommends first punishing unwanted behavior and THEN reinforcing the behavior you want. And that just seems backward? Why not first teach what you want and then when the dog understands, then you can start proofing and correcting? Why stress a dog with corrections when it has no idea what you do want? Like, that’s just really unfair to the dog and it’s so much less stressful if the dog already knows and understands how to be “right”.
AND THEN. He said you can, and he does, correct fear. No you can’t, and why would you do that? You can correct an action the dog does. You can correct a dog for lunging and barking, yes. You cannot correct the dog’s fear. You can’t reach into a dog’s mind with a leash and correct the dog’s emotional state. Just like it’s been proven you can’t reinforce fear, either. It’s not a conscious choice on the dog’s part. But he thinks he is doing just that and swears up and down how successful he is and blah blah blah.
Jean got home from the studio around three in the afternoon, after a fairly productive day of painting. He expected to be greeted as he was most days by Jeremy running up to give him a kiss and tell him about his day at work, but he was peculiarly met with silence instead.
He furrowed his brow as he set to looking around the house for his sunshine. He eventually found him in a blanket heap near the window, arm thrown over his eyes.
“Hey, baby,” he greeted, crouching down, “what’s going on?”
“Bad day,” Jeremy mumbled instinctively seeking out the warmth of Jean’s chest.
“What happened?” Jean asked, brushing Jeremy’s hair out of his eyes.
“I had to send a kid to the principal’s. And then I’ve just been out of it all day. And…and I broke the mug you made me for our anniversary.”
Jean leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Baby, it’s okay. I can make you another one.”
“I know. Just…not feeling very sunny today.”
Jean tapped Jeremy’s leg to get him to sit up so Jean could carry him over to the couch. He pulled Jeremy back so he was settled against his chest and said, “You sound like you just need to recharge.”
“Mmm,” Jeremy said, nuzzling in, “if that means cuddles, I’m a fan.”
Jean chuckled and stroked over his back. “Anything for you, my sunflower.”
What if Lewa just spent years believing he was still on a completely different planet to all his friends, and so he stays with the Bota Magnan village because they’re the only company he has left. Eventually he’s just accepted as one of the tribe.
He had to learn their language the old-fashioned way, having not received the “patch” that Mata Nui transmitted. Toa learn relatively quickly, but he sometimes has trouble with words that have no Matoran equivalent and resorts to treespeak alternatives (also, “hair” just has a weird sound to it and “head-grass” is so much more descriptive, so there).
He refuses to go hunting with them, and doesn’t eat meat, but his powers are valued as he can protect the village from bad weather and dangerous creatures.
As soon as they started letting him go out on his own, he searched the jungle for Hafu and Kapura, with no success. He tells himself they are with Helryx and Axxonn and are safe. But he still hasn’t quite forgiven himself for abandoning them to go exploring that fateful day.
Children grow up in the village simply accepting the fact that they have a funny green robot uncle from space who tells very long stories and promises to take them flying one day when they’re old enough.
I feel like most pessimists are named after girls. Debbie Downer, Negative Nancy, Bitter Betty, etc, etc. Whatever her name is, she hasn’t had a good day in years, and she’s gonna make sure your day is just as bad as hers.
Prompt:Finding out that Hermione is pregnant during the war.
“Hey, ‘Mione. Harry says you called for me?” You sat down in front of your fiancé and pressed a kiss on her forehead.
She nodded and smiled at the gesture before sitting on her knees. She took a deep breath and tucked her hair behind her ear habitually.
Hermione opened her mouth but closed it quickly and wrung her hands nervously.
You watched her for several seconds before picking up on her growing agitation.
“Princess, what’s wrong?” You asked, furrowing your brows in concern. Hermione rarely got anxious but when she did it made you really edgy.
“I-uh… I have something really important to tell you. I know it’s a bad time but… I think you have a right to know, just in case we don’t make it, you know… after the war-”
You placed a finger on her lips and shook your head amusingly. “Just get on with it, love.” You took her hand and intertwined your fingers with hers. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. There’s no better time like the present, right?”
Your girlfriend pursed her lips and exhaled. “Yeah.” She agreed. “No better time like the present.” She played with your fingers and looked at her thighs.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she began, “but, I guess I’ll just have to be straightforward.”
Hermione clenched her jaw and looked up at you, holding your gaze intensely.
You licked your lips as the churning in your stomach became violent. The serious tone in Hermione’s voice was making the blood in your veins turn cold with worry. Nevertheless, you waited patiently for what seemed like forever for Hermione to speak.
When she did however, you nearly fell face flat into the snow.
The blood rushed out of your face and you turned deathly white.
Your hands slipped off your knees and you just barely managed to catch yourself before your face made contact with the icy pebbles on the ground.
“I beg your pardon?” You blinked and cocked your head to the side as if that would help you hear better.
“I’m pregnant, [Y/n].”
“What do you mean-”
“I mean I’m expecting… a human… I’m going to have a baby.” She explained slowly, as if she was speaking to a child.
You shook your head and stared at her with wide eyes. “Yes I know what being pregnant means. I mean how are you pregnant? Whose is it?”
Hermione stared at you like you had just said the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.
She gaped at you.
“Well… it’s yours, first of all. Second of all, I’m not entirely sure how it’s possible but, I’m as certain that this is your child as I am about being pregnant.”
All you could say was “How?” as your heart hammered in your chest.
“Mrs.Weasley helped me with the spell to confirm. I already knew there was no way someone else could be the parent besides you but she also helped me with that spell and… you are the mother.”
“We’re going to be parents?” You asked incredulously.
“I- yes. We are. Do you want to be a mum?” Hermione bit her lip, swallowing down the fear of you saying ’no’.
You nodded your head back and forth as a grin spread across your face. You laughed and ran a hand through your hair messily.
“I, yes. Yes! Yes, I want this baby!” You grabbed Hermione’s hands and kissed her knuckles.
“It’s not the best time to bring an innocent child into this world,” you admitted. “but hopefully the war will be over by the time our child comes.” Hermione nodded as she listened to you.
“I promise, we’ll make it through the war and we’ll settle down and make the world a better place for our little nugget. I’m going to be here for the both of you.” You placed your hands against Hermione’s abdomen and she placed her on top of yours, beaming.
“We’ll be the best parents we can be, 'Mione.” You promised, the shit eating grin not leaving your face.
Hermione giggled at your enthusiasm and threw herself into your arms. She laughed as you peppered butterfly kisses over her face and whispered how much you loved her.
You pressed your forehead against Hermione’s and kissed her nose.
Hermione’s grin matched yours as she ran her hands through your hair.
“I love you, [Y/n].” Hermione mumbled against your lips.
You smirked. “I love you, Hermione.”
A/n: Dedicated to the @Anon that requested this on Tumblr💖
Clay draws Tony Obsessively— Still Thinks He's Straight lol
So like, long before Clay realizes what the tightness in his chest and the warmth in his belly whenever he even SEES Tony is, Clay would kinda just sit in awe at Tony’s dashing good looks (completely platonic and heterosexual tho, really) and he would make excuses like “Oh, I’m just jealous of how handsome he is; who wouldn’t be?”
(I’m not even gonna get into how the sound of Tony’s perpetually gentle voice makes the hair on the tip of Clay’s ears and the nape of his neck stand on end).
And one day when Clay’s sitting in his room, procrastinating doing his homework, and doodling in the margins of his poorly-drawn notes, he picks his arm up to finally reach for the textbook he should be reading and realizes that he’s drawn a little caricature of Tony Padilla. It’s really bad though and Clay immediately cringes and erases it as quickly as possible, inadvertently tearing apart a quarter of the paper. He tapes it back together.
The next day he sits in his Communications class, Mrs. Bradley going on and on about the dangers of online predators, meanwhile pretending like her class is listening. What a champ.
Clay scribbles little cartoons on the back of his worksheet. And this time when he pictures Tony’s rugged but soft face, he curiously sketches an almost transparent outline of a curved face and slicked-back hair. Clay’s eyes glaze over as he deliberately, and with as much precision as he can muster, makes the first line. He starts with Tony’s sparkling cat eyes, his thick dark brows, then his cute round nose, his big lips with a sharp Cupid’s bow, the little mole on the right of his chin. Clay angles his arm with his elbow farthest away from his body to be able to smoothly trace Tony’s ample jawline. He gets to an ear and— and what do Tony’s ears fucking look like???
Clay huffs to himself and when he finally looks up from his crude sketch, he has to stop and breathe for a second because he feels so disoriented. It was like he was in a trance as he was drawing and he suddenly got whiplash from accidentally yanking his head back out of limbo and thrusting it into the real world.
Why does it bother him so much? It must be because I want it to be perfect, Clay thinks. Silly Clay.
Being a woman in this day and age is so hard. We are expected to be perfect all the time. Look, dress, speak and act a certain way at all times. We are expected to be better than just “human”. I have marks on my body, scars and stretch marks. They make me human. They make me me. Why do I have to be told to get them corrected with laser. Why do I have to be made to feel bad for what I have been through.
I also have hair as all humans are born with hair. I remove it and it grows back, it is part of being human so why do I have to laser every part of my body with hair just to be “perfect”.
Woman naturally have more fat on their body, it is in our genetics. It is what helps us grow another human in our bodies and bring it into this world. We require more strength for this than any man does for this yet we are seen as weak. I do not care if I have a bit of fat on my body, I do not even care if it’s a lot. I like my curves and I wear them proudly.
These things make me the woman I am today and I am proud of who I am.
Maybe growing up is knowing when you start to feel bad about yourself you just need to take a shower and wash your hair. Maybe it’s knowing when you’re getting irritable you’re just hungry and dehydrated. Maybe it’s feeling restless and you know it’s your body telling you that you need to burn off some energy by going for a run or dancing around your apartment. Maybe it’s feel sad and uncomfortable but really your kitchen is messy and you haven’t had clean clothes all week so you spend an evening cleaning and doing laundry. Maybe growing up is just listening to your body and understanding your surroundings and accepting the fact that your body knows what you need and your environment effects your state of mind.