there was definitely some tie pulling going on there

how to wear a hoodie

maybe in your time on this planet, you have asked yourself, “am i wearing my hoodie appropriately? is there something i’m missing? can i jazz up my style in some way?” 

well bernie wolfe has some tips.

is it a casual moment in the hoodie, where you have plenty of time and nothing pressing going on? well if that’s the case, definitely just pull it on like normal, let it rest free and easy, whatever. loosey goosey.

have you had to run after someone to stop them from committing a felony or to make sure they don’t do something insane and/or harmful? then you also have time to zip that bad boy all the way up to the tip top of the zipper, and tighten those hood strings as much as possible and tie them in a neat bow. there’s no other way to go about running after someone in an emergency situation, this is what must be done. take the time to look your best, that’s what matters.

the bow is key. the neat little bow is what holds the whole thing together. so the next time you wear a hoodie, remember: zipper up, bow tied. otherwise you’re just not living your best life.

Title: Sex Drunk

Pairing: Wincestiel

Rating: Explicit

Wordcout: 1,994

Notes: just a little cheer up quickie for @hornsonmysoul, because ily, be nice to yourself (loosely based off what I remember of the episode ‘99 problems’ with the whore of babylon, I know this doesn’t really work with the timeline of it but anyway)


“What’s with the angel passed out on the bed?”

Dean pulled his jacket off and tossed it over the back of a chair, eyeing Cas spread out on one bed on top of the comforter, trench coat and shoes still on.

“He showed up drunk.”

On the small couch, hunched over an old book, Sam didn’t even bother to look up at Dean.

“What, seriously? He can even get drunk?”

Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair and finally sat back, looking at Dean. “He said he drank a whole liquor store. I think he might have meant that literally.”

Dean pulled a dingy glass down from a kitchenette cupboard and filled it with tap water. “Man, what is up with him.”

“He called me stupid when I asked if he was ok.”

“I mean, it’s kind of obvious he’s not.”

Setting the water down on the table, Dean moved to root through a duffel bag at the end of the couch, pulling out a bottle of aspirin.

“Where’s Padre?”

“Taking a minute to get his head on.”

Passing the couch, Dean patted Sam on the arm and his brother leaned into it before settling back quietly over his book. Picking up the water, Dean took the aspirin over to the bed and sat down hard, bouncing the mattress.

Cas was dead to the world.

“Maybe you should let him sleep,” Sam said.

“Maybe you should mind your business.”

The bitch face he got for that was reassuring. Things’d be fine between them. Always were.

Keep reading

Knowing that he had his full attention, Smithers reached forward and softly pulled on Burns’ tie, forcing the older man to lean forward.
From across the bar, Burns was sure heard the only bald man in the bar shout something along the lines of “Get some, Smithers,” in response to the situation, but Mr. Burns chose to not respond.
Whipping out the puppy-dog eyes, Smithers twirled his boss’ tie in his fingers gently. “Sir, please let me go home with you.”

a scene from this fic by @puffythepig !! definitely worth the read

Blind Date AU

Based loosely on the following prompt from notallbees‘s “We’re Bad at Dating” AUs: We’re both meant to be going on blind dates with other people but we sat down at the wrong table and got our hopes up

“I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Starting, James glanced up from where he’d been mindlessly disemboweling a breadstick to see a vision in blue breathlessly drop into the empty seat across from him.

“I swear, I’m usually punctual to a fault. But the orange line broke down again, and I had to walk for ages to find a transfer to the blue, and I bloody well knew I shouldn’t have worn heels, but Mary was all ‘It’s a date, Lil. You have to make a good impression!’ and, fuck, I’m botching this something horrible, aren’t I?” The girl grimaced, her pale cheeks flushing a dusky rose that clashed adorably with the dark red plait draped across her shoulder.

“Not at all,” James grinned as he tried to discreetly hide his decimated bread beneath a napkin. “It’s rather refreshing, actually. A woman dressed to the nines and cursing like a sailor.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, “And, for what it’s worth, Mary was right about the heels.”

Keep reading