I'm 21, all sorts of crazy, and slightly obsessed with supernatural, psych, and Grimm. But I will REBLOG anything that captures my interest for .02 seconds
I'm legitimately crying right now. My younger sister told me a few minutes ago that boys would never catcall her on the streets like they did her friends. She's thirteen, and she said, "Is there something wrong with me? Do even they think I'm ugly?" I explained to her that catcalling is insulting, that they're not complimenting girls when they do that, and she still said, "But I'm still not good enough to be insultingly told I'm beautiful by a boy." It's so fucked up and I'm just sobbing rn :/
This is why our society is so fucked up.
This is why we need to fix the way we teach the children of our generation.
Can you guys get out of your fucking fantasy world and open your eyes to the actual shit that’s going on?
This girl is a thirteen year old, and she already thinks that she’s not good enough to be insultingly told she’s beautiful by a boy. Let me repeat that, this wonderful, human being, has to go through thinking that she’s not good enough to be insultingly told she’s beautiful by a boy.
I need you to read that sentence, then read it again, because it doesn’t take a genius to see how fucked up this is.
Don’t you dare think that this is the girl’s fault, and don’t tell me that by thinking this she is reinforcing misogyny. This is our fault. We are supposed to be the new generation, the brand new world, and our generation thinks its okay to catcall girls on the street?
And you know what the fucking problem is? Its that that’s not enough, its that we also had to go and fucking teach them that they had to be grateful for it.
Anon, if you read this, you grab that girl and you tell her she is the most fucking beautiful person in the world, and she will still not believe you, but you say it again and again, and maybe someday, someday she will hear you.
And all of you, you do this as well, and you do it nicely, don’t you fucking dare insult anyone, don’t you think you are paying someone a compliment by telling them you would bury your face in any part of their body. You go and tell a girl she is beautiful without expecting anything in return, because society keeps telling them they are not.
If a girl gets scared about you telling her she’s beautiful you move on, you don’t go back and try to fix it, you don’t keep telling her how you are not a creep and shit because that will only scare her more. This is not about you. You tell her she is beautiful and you move on because otherwise there is nothing that will make her believe it.
Because if we think for a second you are expecting something in return, we feel used, we feel once again that all we are is something for society.
Even better than saying you are beautiful? Point things out. You have a lovely smile. You rock those shoes. I love your earrings. Those small things count more than anything else.
If you think this is not your business well guess what you are fucking wrong. Not doing something is making a decision. By not doing something, you have already taken a stand.
I have said many different things in here. You choose whether to hear me out or not.
#I actually thought this was Marvel trans!Pepper AU for a second?#and this is totally how it would be#if anyone Tony knew was trans#it’s like oh OK that’s cool#you wanna hit Versace now or wait until the new collection’s out?#you gonna do hormones? Surgery?#JARVIS find me someone who does surgery#don’t you worry peps#we’re gonna buy you the nicest dick in Manhattan (via dixie-chicken)
I nearly died from headcannon it’s perfect
No you don’t understand
"We’re gonna buy you the nicest dick in Manhattan." sounds like a sentence Tony must have definitely said
He waited until the train was in motion to make his move—a true sign of someone who knows how to make the environment work to their advantage. Then he leaned forward. “Hi.” “How you doing?” “What are you reading?” “What’s your name?” “I really like your hair.” “That’s a really nice skirt.” “You must work out.”
It was painful to watch. She clearly wanted nothing to do with him, and he clearly wasn’t going to take the hint. Her rebukes got firmer. “I’d like to read my book.” And he pulled out the social pressure. “Hey, I’m just asking you a question. You don’t have to be so rude.” She started to look around for outs. Her head swiveled from one exit to another.
The thing was, I had already heard this story, many many times. I knew how it would play out. I knew all the tropes. I probably could have quoted the lines before they said them. I wanted a new narrative. Time to mix it up.
So I moved seats until I was sitting behind him. I leaned forward with my head on the back of his seat.
"Hi," I said with a little smile.
He looked at me like I was a little crazy—which isn’t exactly untrue—and turned back to her.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"I’m fine," he said flatly without ever looking back.
"I really like your hair," I said. “It looks soft."
That’s about when it got…..weird.
He sort of half turned and glared back me, and I could tell I was pissing him off. His eyes told me to back the hell away, and his lips were pressed together tightly enough to drain the color from them completely.
But no good story ever ends with the conflict just defusing. He started to turn back to her.
"Wait, don’t be like that," I said. “Lemmie just ask you one question…"
"What!" he said in that you-have-clearly-gone-too-far voice that is part of the freshmen year finals at the school of machismo.
And I’m not exactly a hundred percent sure why I didn’t call it a day at that point, but…..maybe I just love turning the screw to see what happens. I gave him the bedroomy-est eyes I could muster. “What’s your name?”
Right now I’m sitting here typing out this story, and I’m still not entirely sure why I’m not nursing a fat lip or a black eye. Because that obviously made him so mad that I still am not sure why it didn’t come to blows. There are cliches about eyes flaring and rage behind someones eyes and shit like that that are so overdone. But it really does look like that. When someone gets violent, their eyes just kind of “pop” with intention—pupils dilate, eyelids widen. And his did. Even sitting down he was clearly bigger than me and I was pretty sure he was kind of muscular too, so at that moment I was figuring I was probably going to need an ice pack and sympathy sex from my girlfriend by day’s end.
"DUDE," he shouted. “I’M NOT GAY."
That’s when I dropped the bedroom eyes and switched to a normal voice. “Oh well I could see not being interested didn’t matter to you when you were hitting on her, so I just thought that’s how you rolled.”
never hit that reblog so fast in my life.
Mere - Just adding - if this is a true story, you are my hero! Seriously. If guys could just do this - point out to other guys in ways they can’t laugh off, how what they’re doing isn’t acceptable - then maybe things will change.
We got us a real life Steve Rogers here.
Top 3 phrases that’ll create sexual tension
- "Make me",
- "oh really",
- "is that so"
"What’s in it for me?"
"The Black Death was one of the most devastating pandemics in human history, resulting in the deaths of an estimated 75 to 200 million people and peaking in Europe in the years 1348–50 CE."