ughhh adults are being so fucking weird about finn wolfhard. he’s a fourteen year old child. you should have zero interest in wanting him to “hit you up”. absolutely not. HES A FUCKING CHILD. ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN YOURE TWENTY SEVEN YEARS OLD. i’m sorry but that’s disgusting.
i just saw someone reblog one of my posts and tag it as peter x t*ny so i just need yall to know: if you ship peter parker, a 15 year old child, with tony stark, a 40+ year old man, you can unfollow and please block me
I called Hugh Hefner a pimp, he threatened to sue. But that’s what he was
Now that he’s dead, the old sleaze in the Playboy mansion is being spoken of as some kind of liberator of women. Quite the opposite
Long ago, in another time, I got a call from a lawyer. Hugh Hefner was threatening a libel action against me and the paper I worked for at the time, for something I had written. Journalists live in dread of such calls. I had called Hefner a pimp. To me this was not even controversial; it was self-evident. And he was just one of the many “libertines” who had threatened me with court action over the years.
It is strange that these outlaws have recourse in this way, but they do. But at the time, part of me wanted my allegation to be tested in a court of law. What a case it could have made. What a hoot it would have been to argue whether a man who procured, solicited and made profits from women selling sex could be called a pimp. Of course, central to Playboy’s ideology is the idea that women do this kind of thing willingly; that at 23 they want nothing more than to jump octogenarians.
Now that he’s dead, the disgusting old sleaze in the smoking jacket is being spoken of as some kind of liberator of women. Kim Kardashian is honoured to have been involved. Righty ho.
I don’t really know which which women were liberated by Hefner’s fantasies. I guess if you aspired to be a living Barbie it was as fabulous as it is to be in Donald Trump’s entourage. Had we gone to court, I would like to have heard some of the former playmates and bunnies speak up in court – because over the years they have.
The accounts of the “privileged few” who made it into the inner sanctum of the 29-room Playboy mansion as wives/girlfriends/bunny rabbits are quite something. In Hefner’s petting zoo/harem/brothel, these interchangeable blondes were put on a curfew. They were not allowed to have friends to visit. And certainly not boyfriends. They were given an “allowance”. The big metal gates on the mansion that everyone claimed were to keep people out of this “nirvana” were described by one-time Hefner “girlfriend no 1” Holly Madison in her autobiography thus: “I grew to feel it was meant to lock me in.”
The fantasy that Hefner sold was not a fantasy of freedom for women, but for men. Women had to be strangely chaste but constantly available for the right price. Dressing grown women as rabbits – once seen as the height of sophistication – is now seen as camp and ironic. There are those today who want to celebrate Hefner’s contribution to magazine journalism, and I don’t dispute that Playboy did use some fantastic writers. of Hefner’s business acumen was to make the selling of female flesh respectable and hip, to make soft porn acceptable. Every man’s dream was to have Hefner’s lifestyle. Apparently. Every picture of him, right to the end, shows him with his lizard smirk surrounded by blonde clones. Every half-wit on Twitter is asking if Hefner will go to heaven when he already lived in it.
But listen to what the women say about this heaven. Every week, Izabella St James recalls, they had to go to his room and “wait while he picked the dog poo off the carpet – and then ask for our allowance. A thousand dollars counted out in crisp hundred dollar bills from a safe in one of his bookcases.”
If any of them left the mansion and were not available for club nights where they were paraded, they didn’t get their allowance. The sheets in the mansion were stained. There was to be no bickering between girlfriends. No condoms could be used. A nurse sometimes had to be called to Hefner’s “grotto” if he’d had a fall. Nonetheless, these young women would have to perform.
Hefner – repeatedly described as an icon for sexual liberation – would lie there with, I guess, an iconic erection, Viagra-ed to the eyeballs. The main girlfriend would then be called to give him oral sex. There was no protection and no testing. He didn’t care, wrote Jill Ann Spaulding. Then the other women would take turns to get on top of him for two minutes while the girls in the background enacted lesbian scenarios to keep “Daddy” excited. Is there no end to this glamour?
Well now there is, of course. But this man is still being celebrated by people who should know better. You can dress it up with talk of glamour and bunny ears and fishnets, you can talk about his contribution to gonzo journalism, you can contextualise his drive to free up sex as part of the sexual revolution. But strip it all back and he was a man who bought and sold women to other men. Isn’t that the definition of a pimp? I couldn’t possibly say.
Summary: Loving Kim Taehyung was just so cruel, since he only saw you as his childhood friend. But after years of wanting him to return your affection, you finally saw the look of love shine on his eyes - but it wasn’t meant for you. No, it was meant for her… Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: Smut, Angst, bestfriend!au, university!au Word Count: 4.5k A/N: Original request here .
Loving Kim Taehyung was like treasuring a forbidden artifact
– you could appreciate it and love it from afar, but you could never touch it,
never have it – just stand still and admire from a distance. Just like the
artifact, he was untouchable and you could never have him the way you always
wished for. Why? Well that was because he was your best friend since you were
toddlers, but that was it.
You two were inseparable. Always playing and working
together, making your classmates assume that you two liked each other. Of
course, every time that accusation was made, you’d both deny it while saying
how gross it was – but even then you knew you were lying.
At the mere age of 14, you realized that you didn’t just
have a silly little crush on him anymore, no, you had fallen deeply in love
with him. But who didn’t? His affectious boxy smile and playful bright attitude
attracted many people towards him over the years, much to your dismay. But
Taehyung always brushed it aside, and kept his attention solely on you. That
is, once you two entered high school, then it all changed for the worse.
“One of the most interesting conversations Chris [Hemsworth] and I kept having was, ‘What does Loki want in the end?’ What does he want? I was unable to come up with a definitive answer. Perhaps because I don’t think Loki even knows. He’s become so accustomed to occupying opposition. Whatever the status quo is, he’s opposed to it. That’s why he’s a trickster, a shapeshifter, a deceiver, a strategist, a manipulator.” (Hiddleston)
Bpd is so fucking stigmatized and it’s disgusting. When I told my old therapist I thought I had it (before I was diagnosed with it from my psychiatrist) she said “you can’t possibly have it, you’re too pleasant to be around” as if we’re all fucking vile monsters? Fuck ableist therapists that plague the world. So I guess because I come in here and smile and act friendly I can’t have a disorder that ruins my life? Oh shit my bad…
And he forgets things. He falls asleep at the table. His napkin drops to the floor. His shaking hand sinks over his plate. He is old and feeble, and I dared to judge him. I disgust myself. I disgust myself.