#chad charming: physique.

[rotturn]

dumb boy

#chad charming: in character. #chad charming: arc one. #chad charming: arc two. #chad charming: arc three. #chad charming: study. #chad charming: aesthetic. #chad charming: headcanons. #chad charming: physique. #chad charming: visage. #chad charming: dash games. #chad charming: edits. #tag dump.

[gfxced]

Le jeu de la séduction est truqué et il m'est impossible de trouvé quelqu'un et donc d'être heureux

Nous ne sommes pas tous égaux, c’est certain, mais nous avons tous un potentiel, il faut pouvoir investir correctement, mais pas à des fins “d’être avec quelqu’un” mais bien de pouvoir “être avec soi même” avant tout.Je sais que c’est facile à dire, mais il ne faut pas agir dans le but de trouver quelqu’un, c’est le meilleur moyen de signaler que cet intérêt est la seule chose qui t’anime et de passer pour un creep. 

De plus, les êtres humains n’apprécient en général pas les autres êtres humains qui ne sont pas capables de tenir debout par eux-mêmes. Il y a des exceptions, certaines pas franchement drôles (les mecs sans colonne vertébrale qui ne vont chercher que les jeunes filles un peu tourmentées parce qu’elles sont plus influençables).Et rien de tout cela ne procède de ces inepties de chad et de nice guys et d’incels et compagnie. Juste, très pragmatiquement, investis dans des activités, des hobbys, des passions avec une composante sociale assez forte (arts martiaux, clubs artistiques, études) et qui te permettront de te construire, de construire ton estime de toi, mais — et c’est là qu’est toute la difficulté — uniquement dans un but de développement personnel, pas dans une optique de résultat ou de réussite, surtout pas au niveau des relations amoureuses. 

C’est une voie longue et difficile mais in fine développer ses capacités sociales simplement dans le but d’apprendre à interagir, va te permettre de démystifier toutes ces idées reçues de trucage et autres et d’apprendre à être plus au clair avec ce que tu es.

Une fois que tu aborderas la chose de manière sereine et désintéressée, que tu auras une vie sociale épanouie (tout en respectant les éventuelles limites que tu aurais, mais en essayant toujours de les dépasser) tu pourras essayer un truc pas trop intimidant comme Tinder? 

Alors évidemment oui, le truc cruel c’est que on ne peut pas vraiment s’extirper de sa “catégorie”, de sa classe sociale. Mais l’humour et le charme, l’intelligence, ça peut jouer en la faveur de personnes au physique moins gracieux, les exemples comme cela sont courants, non?

Ce qui ne jouera pas en la faveur de ces personnes : leur idée que lorsqu’ils donnent de l’attention à une personne, une relation leur est due ; leur incapacité à pouvoir sentir qu’ils foutent les gens mal à l’aise ; leur envie de ressembler à des gens qui attirent le genre de partenaires dont ils ont envie physiquement mais qui sur tous les autres plans ne sont pas pour eux, etc.

Les incels c’est ce gros mensonge, c’est le bias cognitif d’attribution externe par excellence des manquements à la force de caractère de certains. 

Don’t be that guy.

#Anonymous

[dlwritings]

Masquerade | Sebastian Stan

masterlist found here

pairing - Sebastian x reader word count - 2,619 warnings - A/N - 

summary - The one with the masked mystery man

You hadn’t been to a masquerade ball since your senior year prom. Now you were a successful actress with an Oscar under your belt, and you were headed to the UNICEF Masquerade Ball. You felt like a teenage girl again with how excited you were. You got a gorgeous dress and a pretty gold mask and your stylist did your hair and make-up to absolute perfection. The only thing that wasn’t perfect about the night was that you were absolutely and utterly alone. You may’ve been a Hollywood star, but you were outrageously shy. You didn’t have other celebrity friends. In fact, the friends you did have were the ones you went to your last masquerade ball with. No one knew you like they knew you and no one probably ever would. You could grow up and move on to a fancier life, but you couldn’t make old friends.

Too bad your old friends couldn’t come with you to today’s ball.

Nevertheless, you really wanted to go to the ball. It was the perfect chance for you to hide behind a mask and perhaps pretend to be someone else. No, you wouldn’t pretend to be another celebrity, but maybe the mask would give you the confidence to pretend to be a better version of yourself. Identities would be hidden at the ball until the stroke of midnight (how Cinderella of them), which gave you exactly two hours to give your best performance yet.

Your driver pulled up to the ball venue and gave you a smile. “Here’s your stop Miss (Y/L/N),” he said. “Have fun.” You returned his smile, slipped your mask over your face, and stepped out of the car. As soon as you walked up to the red carpet, one of the event coordinators stopped you. He was letting celebrities down the red carpet one-by-one to ensure that no one saw another unmasked. As soon as you were done walking the carpet, you had to put the mask on again before entering the venue. The rules were all very strict but you were grateful for them. You knew the only way you’d survive the night was if you could hide.

But you were determined to have fun.

You walked into the party and marvelled at the gorgeous decorations around you. Music was blasting and people in amazing outfits and masks were dancing and socializing around you. You immediately felt your breath hitch a bit with nerves. Couldn’t you just relax for one night?

You made your way to the drinks.

There was a bartender serving up drinks upon request so you ordered a Jack and Coke to ease your nerves. Surely you could find someone to talk to. It should be easy considering no one knew who anyone was. There was no pressure to be anyone except your truest and most raw self.

“It’s a bit early to be hiding away at the bar, no?”

You looked over your shoulder as a man in a purple mask made his way over to you. You smiled softly and shrugged. “The fame doesn’t push away the anxiety,” you said, shocked at your own honesty. Huh, maybe the mask did give you confidence.

The man laughed, “I couldn’t agree more. These parties are never something I can get used to.”

“Tell me about it,” you sighed. “I’d be much more content at home right now with a drink in my hand watching everyone on the red carpet like when I was in high school. Sometimes this all feels like it’s a bit much.” You shrugged. “But I do love dressing up.”

“You do it well, too,” the man said. Though you couldn’t see his mouth, you could hear a smile in his voice. “You look stunning.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said. “Though I can’t see if the face is as nice as the tux.”

“Is purple not my color?” he joked.

“Plastic and horrifying isn’t exactly a good look on anyone.”

“Is my mask horrifying?” He sounded wounded.

“You look like someone from the Blue Man Group,” you said, “except purple.”

“That’s exactly what I was going for!”

You and your masked mystery man chatted nonstop for the next hour. You stayed near the bar, drinking lightly and chatting about anything and everything that didn’t have to do with fame or your careers. It was exactly what you needed for the night. It eased all your nerves and made them disappear almost completely. There were a few times where his voice stood out to you as familiar, but with that being the only thing to go off of, you were still clueless as to who he was, but you didn’t mind.

The music pumped through the room, switching from upbeat dance tracks to slower songs for pairs. Celebrity parties and events were always funny to you. They felt like glorified school dances: all the girls still tried to out-do each other with outfit choices and the men still tried to leave with a girl on their arm at the end of the night. Your friends loved to hear about them and you tried to take one of them to every event you could. Tonight, guests weren’t allowed unless they were significant others, which was why you were going stag.

During a lull in your conversation, Sleeping At Last’s cover of All Through the Night began to play. You weren’t a huge fan of the original Cyndi Lauper version, but you knew rhythm of the cover like the back of your hand. Your mystery man must’ve noticed you perk up, because he stuck his hand out for you to take. “Would you care to dance?” he asked. You gave a nervous smile.

“I’m not the best dancer,” you confessed.

“Neither am I,” he said, “but I promise I won’t step on your feet.” You laughed lightly and accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you over to where people were gathered to dance. As soon as you stopped, he put his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. You put one arm over his shoulder, letting your hand rest at his neck while your other hand held his. For the first time that night, you desperately wished he wasn’t wearing his mask. “What?” the man asked. You realized you had been smiling.

“Sorry,” you apologized immediately. “It’s just very strange to be this close to your creepy mask.”

“That’s it,” he huffed sarcastically. “I’m never wearing this thing again.” You just laughed and rested your head on his chest, swaying with him to the beautiful music around you. You felt so at peace.

When the song ended, your mystery man took your hand again and guided you through the crowd of people. Before you could ask where you were going, he led you out the doors of the building and to the back of the building. You laughed at the sight in front of you, causing the man to look at you with a tilted head. “What’s funny now?” he asked.

“Have you ever seen A Cinderella Story?” you asked. “The one with Hilary Duff and Chad Michael Murray?” He shook his head. “No, I guess you wouldn’t,” you laughed. “This just, this is whole thing reminds me of that movie.” The back of the building was a small courtyard, decked out in twinkling lights on the trees that lined the small cobblestone walkway. And naturally, the walkway led to a gazebo. “I bet they have so many weddings here,” you observed. The man just laughed and stuck his arm out for you to link yours with his. You did so and the two of you began to walk.

“So, mystery lady,” the man said with another audible smile, “how did you get invited to this lovely ball?”

“Is that your way of asking how I’m famous?” you teased.

The man chuckled, “You got me. It was either that or So what are you? Singer or actress?”

“Well I’m definitely no singer,” you said. “I may’ve acted in a film or two.” You paused. “What about you? You have the face of a radio star.”

“Ouch!” he laughed, nudging you a little bit as you walked. “You don’t know what’s under this purple exterior. I’ve been told I’d get arrested for killing the ladies with my looks.”

“You’re so humble!” you laughed. “Can I guess?” He nodded. “I think you’re an actor.” Again, he nodded. “And by your general physique and charm, I’d say you’re not too old either.”

“I’d like to think not,” he laughed.

“Bummer,” you sighed sarcastically. “I was really hoping George Clooney was under there.”

“So sorry to disappoint.”

You laughed brightly and leaned a bit into his side as you continued walking. “I know this is going to sound horribly cheesy,” he said, “so forgive me in advance. It’s just, you’d think I’d recognize such a beautiful laugh.” The two of you stopped under the gazebo. You leaned up against the railing and the man put his hands on the wood on either side of you. He moved one to stroke your cheek, just under the material of your mask. “Or these eyes,” he said slowly. “So mesmerizing.” You melted under his touch, feeling your breath get caught in your throat for a reason entirely different than before. You could still hear the party going in full swing inside, but nothing else mattered except the man standing in front of you.

“I’m still not entirely convinced you’re not a man from the Blue Man Group,” you joked breathlessly.

With almost no hesitation, the man lifted his mask over his head revealing the face of Sebastian Stan. Your mouth parted slightly in shock as Sebastian smiled gently at you. “I can’t tell if that’s a face of disappointment,” he said with a nervous laugh. Just after he spoke, you heard the DJ from inside the party.

“Okay everyone! It’s officially midnight! Go ahead and take off your masks and show the world who you are!”

Sebastian looked expectantly at you. “Well?” he said. “Do I get to see the real you?”

And suddenly, you panicked. “I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head rapidly. “I have to go. This was a mistake. I’m sorry.” Before Sebastian could stop you, you turned on your heel and ran back down the cobblestone path. You could hear him calling after you, but you continued to run as fast as your heels would take you. As soon as you felt like you were significantly ahead of him, you paused quickly to take off your shoes before running again. You weaved your way through the party, trying to get to the front door without spilling anyone’s drinks.

It was a mistake. Everything. Going to the party. Speaking with the masked man. Dancing with the masked man. Getting swept off your feet by the masked man. All of it. A mistake.

Sebastian was a Hollywood heart-throb. You were a huge fan of his work and had been admiring him from behind your Instagram account for years. The problem was, you were you. You were awkward, anxious, not-quite-cut-out-for-the-spotlight (Y/N). Sure, you were great behind a camera (your awards being proof of that), but when it came to being you? Well, you couldn’t wear your mask forever. At some point you’d have to take it off and face reality again. Reality was Sebastian Stan was not the kind of guy who fell for people like you.

You called for your driver and waited impatiently at the front of the venue. Security and event coordinators were around you, but no one paid you much attention, which was exactly what you wanted. You needed to get as far away from that venue as you could before Sebastian-

“Hey!”

You turned when you heard his voice and panicked again. You had nowhere to go. Still you made an attempt to run off, but Sebastian was far quicker. He grabbed your arm gently to keep you in place. “I refuse to live out this cliche,” he said breathlessly. “Why’re you running? Why won’t you tell me who you are?”

“Because I’m not the same,” you said pathetically.

“Not the same?” Sebastian repeated. “I don’t understand.” No, of course he didn’t. That didn’t make any sense.

“I mean,” you huffed, “I’m an actress, right? I can play a character. And that girl you talked to, this one under the mask? She’s like, a really cool version of who I want to be. When I take off this mask I’m just me, and that’s not good enough for Sebastian Stan. I know it’s not.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one who gets to decide that?” Sebastian said softly. You bit your lower lip and took a deep breath through your nose. When you didn’t argue, Sebastian slowly put his hands on your mask and tugged it over your head. You looked up at him, no longer hidden by the material. Why did you feel like crying? This wasn’t a big deal. So why were you freaking out so much?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, looking down at the ground again.

“Sorry?” Sebastian repeated. The shock in his voice made you look up at him again. “What makes you think I didn’t want you to be (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

“Because I don’t even want me to be (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you said lamely. “I want to be the mysterious masked girl who could carry on great banter with my mysterious masked man without stumbling over her words or freaking out over the abundance of people in fancy dresses and creepy-purple-man-group masks.”

“You are that girl,” Sebastian almost laughed. “It’s not like you’re playing a different character. You’re just faking your confidence. You’re faking it til you make it.”

“That’s pathetic,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest.

“No it’s not,” Sebastian said.

“You’d think that if the whole world knows who you are and puts you on this pedestal that it’d be easier to be confident,” you mumbled. “If anything it’s a whole lot harder. I know I’m not who they make me out to be, so it’s a lot to live up to.” You sighed and covered your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry,” you said again. “I just totally ruined your night with my dramatic exit and pathetic reveal. I’m so sorry. You should go in and finish the party.”

“No way,” Sebastian laughed. You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Parties like this aren’t really my thing anyway.” He paused. “Where are you headed?” You shrugged, feeling a blush creep on your cheeks.

“I was just going to head home,” you said honestly.

“Ah,” Sebastian nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring up at the sky. You weren’t oblivious to the small smirk on his face.

“Are you suggesting I ask you to join me?” you teased. Sebastian looked down at you, a look of fake offense on his face.

“That’s not at all what I’m suggesting,” he gasped putting his hand over his heart. “Who do you think I am?”

“Well I thought you were George Clooney,” you said. “But now that I know you’re Sebastian Stan, I think it’s safe to guess that that’s what you were suggesting.”

Sebastian laughed, “See? You can still carry on great banter.”

You grinned and shook your head just as your car pulled up on the curb. Your driver got out of the car and ran around to open the door for you. You hesitated a moment before getting in. Finally, you turned to Sebastian, feeling a blush creep on your cheeks.

“So are you coming or not?”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian imagine #sebastian x reader