#and just constantly hold women to a higher standard than men.

[spacestationstorybook]

shoutout to selfshippers with female f/os who are unjustly hated in fandom. because they "get in the way" of a popular ship, because they're "too mean," because they're villains or morally gray or just dare to do anything that inconveniences the protagonist. because they're rude, or not feminine enough, or feminine in the "wrong" way. because they fuck up and don't spend the rest of their life groveling at the feet of everyone in their life for daring to not be perfect all the time. your understanding, respect and love for them mean more than any of the crap other people say about them, and you fit with them perfectly. your ability to see past bad-faith and often downright misogynistic criticism is just more evidence of how perfect you are for them.

proship‏‏‎ ‎this is not for you. + this is not about bigots or sexual predators. that hatred is in no way unwarranted.

[erodasfishtacos]

Loving You is Easy (Demi)

prompt: my baby 🥺 mlb!harry’s exploration of his sexuality and coming out.

word count: 14.3k 🥲

warnings: topics of sexuality, identify issues, bullying, toxic masculinity, smut - 18+ minors dni

Take The Hint takes place in the middle of this fic & so you might want to reread first or when Harry starts to mention YN.

This fic is my baby. I’m so so proud of it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

Please please like, follow, comment, and reblog ❣️

And I really would love to hear your thoughts so please send me a message about the fic ❣️

-

Assumptions.

That’s what Harry’s life has been based upon since he was in little league because of his perceived dominance and masculinity.

It happened nearly every game, he’d always draw attention because of his skill. 

Even at such a young age - as soon as he could bat without the tee to hold the ball, people knew that he was something special.

Women would pinch his cheek and tell his mother to watch out because he was going to be a heartbreaker with the ladies - men would chuckle and joke that they were going to have to hide their daughters from him.

It doesn’t get any better as he grows up, it actually gets worse. 

The more notoriety he garners, more attention and not just based on his athletic abilities, his looks landed him almost just as much.

He was good-looking and had above average athleticism, he was irresistible for people to leave alone.

He can’t count the number of times that men have asked him how many girls he had fucked that week because he just had to be getting it all the time.

In all this time of feeling wanted, Harry had never felt more alone. 

He felt like there was something wrong with him. 

There had to be - because he wasn’t living up to any expectations that society has set for him and had made abundantly clear since he was young.

He was meant to have a girl on his arm, who had to be the societal standard of beautiful who would follow him like a puppy.

Since he was a young teenager, always playing on baseball teams much higher than his age level - coaches and scouts knew that he was destined for the major leagues and it was just a matter of time before they snatched him up.

Girls in high school would swoon over his chiseled jaw, the way his biceps flexed, and the baseball bleachers were riddled with gaggles of giggly girls watching him practice on the pitch.

He didn’t have a break, there wasn’t a day of practice that didn’t go by where girls weren’t coming to watch him as he played.

It was supposed to be flattering but to Harry, it was just frustrating to constantly have all these girls gawking after him when he wasn’t interested.

Harry knew that he should be enjoying all the attention from the female gaze, at least, that’s what he thinks because of how often people are making assumptions about his private life.

But that’s all these things were…

Assumptions.

Harry didn’t care about girls or dating in middle school, never really gave it another thought when he never developed any crushes on the pretty peers who were very much interested in him.

It wasn’t until high school that he realized that there was something wrong with him or so he thought that he wasn’t normal like the other kids.

Harry began to realize that he didn’t have the same interests and urges as his friends who were constantly drooling over girls in short skirts or commenting on their appearances.

He could look at a girl and think she’s pretty but he didn’t have some deep primal urge to ask her over his house so he could get his rocks off like his friends did.

It only became an issue when his so-called friends started teasing him about his lack of social life with the ladies.

They would ask him if he was gay or asexual, asked him if he was still a virgin with all the date offers he gets.

He didn’t know what he was - he didn’t know if he was gay or asexual, he wanted to have sex but he didn’t just want it to be random.

Harry now realizes it wasn’t harmless teasing, not with how much emotional damage it had on his psyche to constantly be questioned about his sexuality.

He hadn’t known what he was.

It had been a late night practice and everyone was talking about the upcoming prom dance.

“Who are you taking, Styles?” Cody, one of his teammates asks as he packs up his bag with his equipment.

“Er, not sure,” Harry shrugs, attempting to come off nonchalant and unbothered by the question - despite how cocky he appeared, he was the furthest thing from confident internally about the topic.

“Come on! I know Lana and Jessie already asked you and they’re the hottest girls in the school! Lana’s tits are massive,” Seth chimes in, offended that Harry would have the nerve to turn down the girls of his teenage dreams.

Harry feels his face get hot because he knows what this is going to turn into very quickly - as it always did.

“Is it because you’re taking your boyfriend? Or yourself? Your hand can’t be your only date forever!” Cody crows, Harry’s hackle standing up at the jab and he feels himself getting hot.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Harry huffs out instead, swinging his pack over his shoulder and turning on his heel to leave.

“You know for how good you are at baseball, nobody would know you��re a virgin. Great in the field, a dud in the sheets,” Conner can’t help but add in, all the boys were chuckling as they changed.

Harry is still trying to be the bigger person by continuing to walk away but when Seth snickers, “Y’know what I think? He’s so good at baseball because he’s making up for his small dick.’

Everyone has a breaking point.

They had managed to get Harry to hit his, which was an accomplishment but the subject of his sexuality had become more and more tender over the past few months as he really started to understand his dilemma. 

Harry drops his bag at his feet, storming towards Seth with his fist coming up, raised and about to swing when their coach appears to stop anything from happening.

Seth is frowning with his hands up in surrender, eyes wide as he realizes Harry was actually mad, “I was just joking around with you. Take a fucking joke.”

“The only joke in this locker room is your baseball abilities,” Harry snarls back, it was quite the insult coming from their captain and Seth's face drops even more than before.

“Styles, hit the road,” Coach Greggs orders, pointing towards the exit of the lock room with a serious expression - disappointment in his star player’s behavior.

-

When Harry gets home, he bypasses his mum and sister without even a hello before he’s running upstairs to his room and slamming the door shut.

He hates feeling like this.

Like he didn’t even know who he was.

How difficult could it be to figure out what or who you’re attracted to?

He was trying to convince himself he wasn’t broken, he knew all his body parts worked, it wasn’t anything but pure mental blockage.

Thinking about having someone lay next to him in his bed, they’re kissing, taking off clothes - Harry likes the idea of that.

However, it’s not just anyone, it’s not a random hookup.

He imagines it being someone he’s in love with, he’s so fucking fond of, and they know each other so intimately - its just them in their little world, no one else had this experience but them together.

But that doesn’t make any sense.

That’s not a thing.

Harry always felt normal beside this but this was major. 

This was detrimental that he figured out what his issue was or he would never have a partner, get married, have kids.

Sure, he'd probably be a successful baseball player but may be the oldest virgin on this earth if he didn't shake this feeling.

Harry decides that same night that he's going to go against his instincts and just ask a girl to the dance - maybe once he put himself out there it will change.

And as Harry was thinking about it, he wouldn't necessarily be against asking a boy either but he's not sure he's ready to explore that idea right now.

He didn't feel excited at the aspect of having a date but instead just a sad relief that his teammates won't bother him anymore.

It felt lonely and isolating.

-

Harry brings flowers the next day, he knows which girl he wants to ask, Yazmin - he knew she had a crush on him and she was nice, not overly concerned with what others thought of her.

The other reason he is choosing her is because she is one of the many who had made it extremely obvious that she would instantly say yes to him if he asked and he was really not trying to get rejected either.

He feels bad he's not very enthusiastic when she accepts and draws him into a massive hug with her face buried in his neck.

To avoid coming off as rude, he hugs her back until it becomes too much for him and he's pulling back with a forced smile.

The lunchroom is filled with envious glares from other girls who had either been dropping hints to Harry that they wanted to go with him or they'd be too nervous to be forward and are boiling with envy.

Yazmin begins to talk about colors, her dress, everything that people should be looking forward to for the event.

Harry...well, he was just hoping that after he asked her and she accepted that he would feel something, anything towards her whether it was a bit of fondness or admiration.

There wasn’t a question that she was pretty, her long thick black curls that fell down her back, her warm brown eyes, and wide smile.

But there was nothing, absolutely nothing that was attracting him to her at this moment as she babbled on about cool versus warm tones.

-

After baseball practice, he wanders in to his mum and sister sitting at the dinner table - just beginning their meal as they chat.

When he drops his backpack and duffle bag near the entryway and joins them - he's tired from all the drills and doesn't say anything more than 'hi' as he begins digging in.

"Mrs. Fields told me today that you asked Yazmin to the dance," Anne smiles with bright eyes, she was proud that he was putting himself out there - she worried about him.

Harry feels his stomach churn, he's short when he replies, not looking up from his plate, "Yeah."

"I'm so happy for you, this is going to be so exciting," Anne says before taking a sip of her tea and patting his hand.

"She's pretty too," Gemma adds to the conversation, "I think you guys are going to make a cute couple."

"I'm not dating her," Harry says sharply, using a bit more force to stab at his vegetables, "It's just an invite to a stupid dance. That's it."

"I know, dear. It's just that we haven’t seen you interested in any girls at your school and I want you to enjoy your high school experience-"

"Can I not enjoy high school without a girlfriend? Is me not being not a star athlete enough?" Harry is getting loud which isn't like him to every raise his voice at his mother, "Why does everyone fucking care? I just want to be left the fuck alone about it!"

With that, Harry is slamming down his silverware, snatching his backpack off the floor, and storming up to his room with the door shutting and the lock being flicked.

-

Harry doesn't come out of his room that night and refuses to speak more than a few words to them through the door.

The next morning when Harry comes down for school, dressed and ready to go, Anne tries to  smooth over the situation.

She didn't know what was going on with her son and that was a new uncomfortable feeling for her - usually he was open about everything with her.

Anne didn't know what she said that had triggered the response he'd given and despite how much she wanted to talk to him about it, she knew that she shouldn't force him.

"Harry," Anne speaks up when he steps into the kitchen to make his morning protein drink, " I want to talk about last night."

"There's nothing to talk about, s'fine," He brushes off stiffly as he reaches for one of his shaker bottles and container of protein mix.

"There is. I clearly upset you last night," Anne's voice is soft and cautious, "I'm sorry. I love no matter if you want to date or not, I'm proud and excited for you no ma-"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Harry bites back as he tries to scoop out the powder, hands shaking with some strong emotion, and it spills onto the countertop.

"I didn't say there was," Anne furrows her brow, she felt like they were on two difficult wavelengths and not really speaking the same language - having two different conversations.

"Shouldn't everyone care that I'm lined up to go pro or that with all this training, I still get straight A's," Harry scoffs as he pours the water and shakes it harshly, "Why is everyone so focused on who I'm going to sleep with?"

And with that, he's grabbing his stuff and leaving the house - Anne stunned as she sits at the breakfast nook unsure of how an innocent conversation at dinner has led to an ongoing tense back and forth with her son.

-

Yazmin is all over him and Harry is quickly realizing that him inviting her to the dance was also interpreted as him asking her to be his girlfriend.

But when she sat down next to him at lunch, her hand moving to intertwine with his - he didn't push her off but instead could only think about the whole lunch period about how he didn't want to be holding hands with her.

However, he noticed that all of his friends had their girlfriends cuddled up on them too and seemed to enjoy it when their girl curled into them or kissed their cheeks.

He played along.

-

In the locker room, after practice, well Harry wishes he could skip changing and go home because he was starting to not enjoy this time around his teammates.

"Yazmin, man," Hunter laughs as he sits on the bench to kick off his cleats, "It's no surprise you wait until the last minute to ask a girl out and you pick the hottest girl at school."

Harry shrugs as he shoves his jersey into his duffle, shoulders already tensing because of the conversation topic, "Yeah, she's nice.”

"Nice? You mean has nice tits," Luke adds and the other boys howl loudly as they mock breasts with their hands coming up their chests, "She's got huge ones. Let me know how they look when you get her topless."

Harry shakes his head, face turned away towards his locker- even though his teammates are being pigs, he wishes he could relate in a way.

He hadn't even looked at her chest or maybe he had but it didn't elicit any type of sexual response that made him want to get her naked.

It seemed like every other guy in the room had the identical response except him - normal teenage boys cared about boobs, really no matter who they belonged to.

"Yeah, I saw Casey's pair last night," Josh adds with a cocky smirk, "Let me touch 'em and everything."

Luckily, that conversation distracts the boys enough to lay off of Harry - now to focused on Josh's experience with his girlfriend.

They don't even notice when he slips out the door to head home as they all joke around and share stories.

Life was just..

Harry was miserable.

He dreaded going to school because of all the eyes on him, the fact that Yazmin wanted to be with him every free second, or his friends who were always talking about something girl or sex-related.

At practice, he got hounded by his teammates about the same things everyday and had to hear tales that he didn't assimilate to in the slightest.

At home, he was now in this weird limbo where he knows his mom and sister feel like they're walking on eggshells because of his moodiness that he refuses to talk about.

The ideas of relationship and sex were closing in on him from every angle and he just didn't want to talk about it.

He wished that when he was born someone just smacked a label on his forehead that said 'gay', 'straight', 'asexual', something so that he didn't have to figure this out himself.

Why was it so fucking difficult?

He felt broken, like his brain wasn't functioning correctly because he couldn't even decipher his own thoughts or feelings.

He'd always felt like this in a way but now that he is at the age where people begin to get into relationships and have sex - it's in the forefront of his mind.

He just has to get through the dance with Yazmin, that's it - he at least has to try to see this through with dating her.

-

Harry knows he's been pulling away from his family too but he doesn't feel like he's able to help it - he can’t explain what’s going on and he doesn’t want to be shunned by them too.

Because he feels like if he talked to them he'll blurt out, "I might not be straight" or "I don't know what's going on with me."

He used to think that he thought about it a lot but ever since he asked Yazmin to the dance - the only time he doesn't think about it is when he's on the field  or working out.

Baseball is his only escape.

When all the boys are going out after the game, the weekend before the dance, they were all inviting their girlfriends to join them.

He didn't want to be an asshole so he knew it was only right to invite Yazmin too - he didn't want her to feel left out.

When they're all in the pizza shop, it's nearly ten at night, and they're all still sipping on Coke and eating pizza after winning the game.

Yazmin is sat next to him in the long booth, their thighs smooshed together, and she wraps her arm around his - resting her head on his shoulder.

It's a nice gesture and Harry feels guilty that he wants to push her away so he lets it happen and tries not to think too much about it.

The conversation turns into the afterparty for prom, they were renting a cabin in a nearby state park, and were planning to drink and have a campfire.

Harry had agreed to go but he really hadn't thought of the implications until Harry is driving Yazmin home that night and she seems nervous in the passenger seat.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asks as he navigates out of the pizza's shop's parking lot and towards her house.

"Yeah. It-It's just, are you excited about the dance? You weren't very talkative in there," She points out, she seems a bit disappointed but hides it behind a small smile.

Harry sighs, he doesn't know how to address it, so he lies, "I am excited, really. It's just been crazy with baseball. I'm sorry it didn't seem like I was in there. Just tired, I guess."

Yazmin perks up immediately, "It's okay, I just wanted to check. I'm used to you being really outspoken and talkative so I was just making sure."

Harry moves his hand over to her, resting it on the lower part of her thigh, near her knee, and squeezes, "It's gonna be fun."

"I can't wait for you to see me in my dress," She replies, her smile widened with his touch as she moves to put her hand over his.

"I'm sure you'll be gorgeous," He fake smiles, keeping his eyes on the road, they're nearly to her house and he presses the gas pedal a little harder.

As they pull up, Yazmin takes a deep breath before asking, "Are you going to bring protection to the cabin?"

Harry gives her a puzzled look, confused for a second by what she means by protection and she grimaces when she realizes he's confused.

"Condoms? I'm on birth control but I want to make sure we're being safe," She adds sheepishly, looking down at her hands.

How was she already talking about sex when they haven't even went further than kissing? 

He didn't think he'd be expected to get intimate with someone this fast in a relationship.

"Oh, er," Harry stammers, just as embarrassed as her, his throat felt tight," Yeah, I'll definitely bring some. If that's what you uh, if that's what you want to do."

For objectively being the most popular boy in school, it was really quite ironic how backwards he was compared to the other people in his grade.

He was eighteen, everyone already assumes that he lost his virginity by this point, and it shows - he wonders if she can tell.

"I'd like to," Yazmin responds before leaning over to kiss him, she parts her lips and Harry matches her but it doesn't feel as nice as he thinks it's supposed to.

They kiss for a while in the car that night until his lips are puffy and swollen but Harry doesn't even remotely feel a twinge of any arousal.

As he drives home that night, he punches his steering wheel a few times- letting out frustrated screams into the car because he just wants to be like everyone else.

-

The actual event of prom goes fine.

It's easy smiling for pictures, eating at a fancy restaurant, and then going to the hotel where they all dance around to the music without anything being too serious.

The issue comes when they get to the cabin and everyone is starting to disappear from the campfire up to their own bedrooms with their significant others.

Harry waits as long as possible, until the flames legitimately start to fizzle out - he hadn't even touched any alcohol, neither had Yazmin.

She was getting impatient as she begins to wrap their hands together and kiss at his neck before finally asking, "Ready to go to our room?"

Harry agrees because he can't stay out here forever, he had bought condoms even though he was pretty sure they wouldn't be using them.

He bought them in the hopes that maybe, magically that once his body knew he had the oppurtunity to have sex that he would be interested enough to do so.

When they're up in the bedroom, Yazmin is on him, her lips finding his and kissing like they were that night in the car.

He can tell that she's nervous too but she seems much more excited and eager as she tugs off his shirt and runs her hands over his stomach before going for his athletic shorts.

She kneels down and Harry has to squeeze his eyes shut because when she pulls down his shorts - he's not at all hard.

It doesn't seem to deter her, she leans down to begin to stimulate him, and nothing happens as she does it - it’s not those amazing fireworks that his friends talk about.

He knows there’s a silent tear slipping from his eye when she finally pulls back when she realizes something isn't right.

"I'm sorry," Harry says with the most embarrassment he's ever felt in his life, "I'm- I'm sorry, Yazmin."

Yazmin pulls his shorts back up for him before standing in front of him, she puts her hand to his jaw and says quietly, "Look at me."

Harry blinks his eyes open, trying to hold in his tears as she looks at him with a concerned expression.

"Did I make you uncomfortable? I didn't mean to force you to do -" She begins to apologize profusely, getting upset herself.

It snaps him out of his own mind and his voice is firm when he interrupts her, "Hey, no. No, you didn't do anything wrong, I promise. It's me, you're-you're wonderful and pretty. It-s me."

Yazmin’s face washes with relief as he speaks, she reaches to take his hands but it's more of a friendly gesture.

"Are you..." She trails off, not wanting to make any assumptions about him.

"I don't know," He says honestly, choking up a bit on the words, "I'm really trying to figure it out and I just feel broken. This proves I am."

"You're not broken, Harry," Yazmin smiles as she shakes her head like he’s silly, "You're just figuring it out and that's okay."

"I know you don't owe me anything after all this but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone," Harry mumbles as he laughs a big self-deprecating.

"My lips are sealed. If anyone asks, we had amazing hot sex," She giggles as she walks over to her bag to pull out pajamas, "Want to watch a movie?"

And his prom night actually wasn't as awful as it started out, Yazmin and him laid in the massive king bed and watched a few older horror movies and made fun of the bad acting.

At some point they drift off to sleep, when they wake up, they're not necessarily cuddled together but Yazmin's arm is slung over his stomach.

He thinks to himself, this isn't too bad, and just that little thought alone makes him feel like he may not be as lost of a cause as he sometimes feels.

-

Yazmin and him stayed friends after they 'broke up' and she never spoke a word about what happened that night and to her, he'll always be eternally grateful that kind, understanding people exist.

The summer before college, he realized that he needed to actually take the time to explore his sexuality through research instead of continuing a pity party for himself.

He could narrow down that he wasn't entirely straight because the idea of him being in love with someone other than a female didn't sound obscure or unappealing to him.

He didn’t think it mattered who he fell in love with, it wouldn’t be purely based on their gender.

The idea of sex didn't repusle him, he wanted to have sex and he knew that he wasn't asexual.

He wanted to have a partner and have sex.

That's when it stuck with him.

Everytime he thought about having sex with someone, it was a partner, someone he was in a strong romantic relationship with - but he didn't think that was a specific sexuality.

One day, he's watching some reality television show, and when they're introducing the contestants - someone on the screen identifies themselves as demisexual.

He'd never heard that term before and he curiously puts it into the search engine on his phone to figure out the definition.

That's when he reads the definition that changes it all.

"Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in whcih a person feels sexually attracted to someone only after they've developed a close emotion with them."

Harry felt like he was having an epiphany and that the world fell still for a moment - it was like finding the puzzle piece he had been missing for years of his life.

It finally fucking made sense.

It made so much sense that he started crying, full on sobbing as he held his head with disbelief that something clicked.

Anne, who was in the kitchen, making dinner, hears the sniffles and rushes in, concerned when she finds her son crying which was completely out of the norm.

"Harry, honey," Anne coos softly, sitting down next to him and brushing his hair off his forehead before wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "What's gotten you so upset?"

"M'not upset, mom," Harry chuckles as she tries to wipe away some of his tears with the sleeve of her shirt, "I just-, I don't know how you'll react when I tell you."

"Is it bad?" Anne asks worriedl,  tugging him in closer like he was still a little boy and not a big, tall athlete that was way larger than her.

"I-I'm, it's about me," Harry stutters, his thoughts now racing for a different reason, this wasn't on how he planned to tell his mother any of this but he didn't want to lie to her either.

He wanted to be himself and he wanted his family to know who he is.

"I've been struggling with, erm, who I am for a really really long time," Harry begins, his eyes glued to his feet, "And I..I finally figured it out."

"I'll love you no matter what you're going to tell me, Harry Edward,” Anne says firmly, tilting his chin so that their eyes meet and he can tell how serious she is.

"I'm pansexul and demisexual," Harry breathes out, saying it into the unvierse for the first time, it felt like a massive weight has been lifted off of his chest, "It means that I am attracted to people regardless of their gender and that I'm only sexually attracted to that  person after we established a emotional bond.”

"How long have you known?" Anne asks as she holds him closer.

"I-I've known that I wasn't st-straight for a long time but I-I didn't know what exactly I was until now," Harry stutters out through tears, Anne can't remember the last time she saw her son cry and his face was damp with emotion.

"I am so proud of you," Anne murmurs but her voice was firm and serious, she moves to cup his cheeks until he's making eye contact with her, "So so proud of who you are."

"Y-You're proud of me?" Harry repeats back in a whisper, his heart felt like it was beating fast enough it was going to leap out of his chest.

"Of course I am," She laughs softly, like it was ridiculous that he could think that she wouldn't be filled with pride, "I love you so much. My little boy."

She kisses both of his cheeks before wiping the tears away once more.

Anne isn't expecting it when Harry hugs her tightly, his face tucked into her shoulder as he hides away for a moment.

She rubs his back lightly and just holds him as he sniffles, she hadn't cuddled him like this is so long but he clung to her for a long while as she whispered words of love.

-

Gemma is the second person that he decides that he needs to come out - he's not as worried about her reaction as his mum but it still wasn't going to be fun for him.

She had gotten home from work and disappeared into her room to most likely working on college homework like she did nearly everyday.

Harry knocks and when she calls for him to come in, he's sheepish as he comes to sit on her bed next to where she has her textbooks splayed out.

"I have something to tell you," Harry starts off after taking a deep inhale of breath, why was he so nervous? It was just Gemma.

But everyone reacts differently, people he think would be supportive of him may not agree with it and give him pushback or worse disown him.

He was nervous because he couldn't lose his sister but he also couldn't stand not living his truth any longer.

"If you took my laptop charger one more time and broke it, I swear to -" She begins with a frown as she closes her book to glare at him.

"No, it's...well," Harry begins to trip over what he wants to say and now maybe isn't the right time, maybe he should think it through more than this, "Forget about it."

Gemma realizes quickly that something isn't right, she reaches out to grab his arm and tug him back down, "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I have something that I want to tell you," He reiterates with a sigh, "I just don't know how you'll feel about it."

Harry explains what he had explained earlier to his mother to her, she listens intently and doesn't try to crack any jokes while he's speaking.

After he's done with what he feels like is rambling, he hesitantly looks up to meet her gaze.

"How did you think I would feel?" Is the first thing she asks.

Harry's brow furrows in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"You said you were worried about how I would feel about you telling me," Gemma explains from before he told her.

"Ju-Just that you'd be disappointed in me," Harry hates that he's been crying so much lately but he begins to sniffle.

"Oh, Harry," Gemma titters, swiping her school things off the bed so she can drag him into a hug, just like his mother did, "I would never be disappointed in you for being who you are. I love you. I'm happy that you finally feel like you've figured it out."

"I hope I find someone," Harry chuckles, wiping his face on his hoodie, "I hope I find someone who will understand, that I'll be able to fall in love with and have a normal relationship."

"It will happen," Gemma hums as she pulls back, "Just like with you figuring this out. It won't happen overnight. Now get out, I have to study."

-

It really doesn't happen overnight or anytime soon.

He will say that getting in to college and knowing his sexuality even if he hadn't been with anyone had let him slip back into the cocky role that he was used to.

Harry had no problem flirting with girls and guys at frat parties to keep up appearances - even though he wasn't interested in sleeping with them.

It kept his teammates from questioning him because when they saw him at parties, giving a girl his million dollar smile and telling her she's cute - they figured he was sleeping with them.

He didn't enjoy going to parties because it was only fun to fake flirt for a little bit before he wanted to leave because people were trying to get him alone in a bedroom.

Luckily, baseball and sponsorships took up a majority of him time so he wasn't expected at many frat celebrations with how rigorous his workouts and training schedule were.

Tonight though, he didn't have an excuse to not come because they had three days off that weekend.

Everyone convinced him to come, it wasn't a bad time really but he couldn't drink because he'd be kicked off the team  if he got hit with an underage drinking fine.

(They definitely wouldn't kick their star player off the team but he would be in deep shit and would much rather avoid that.)

Harry had been trying to get to know people on campus, trying to create the emotional attachment that he was searching for but it wasn't easy.

It felt fucking impossible.

He learned very quickly that he couldn 't just will it to magically happen and that he has issues building those bonds with anyone.

There was a girl named Halee who he had been talking to for the past few weeks, they met in one of his statistics classes and he tried to make an effort with her.

He took her out to dinner twice, listened to her talk for ages, and he waited to feel the spark after consistently seeing her for a month.

There was nothing there.

She was at the party tonight, they hadn't gone any further than making out because Harry didn't want to force himself to do that. 

Halee manages to get him alone in his frat bedroom later that night, stating that she needed to talk to him alone, and he knows it’s bad that he’s hoping she wants to break up.

But when his bedroom door shut, her lips were on his and she was pushing him back towards the bed - the exact opposite of what he wanted.

When he falls backwards onto his bed, she's crawling on top of him to straddle him, never taking her lips from his as her thighs come onto either side of him.

Harry's hands come to her hips, knowing he should try to enjoy it but also that it was no use despite how hard she grinded her hips into his.

After a few minutes, she pulls back and palms at him - completely expecting to find him hard and ready for her but...nothing.

He's not hard.

Halle gives him a confused look, she'd never had an issue with a college guy’s libido before, and she knew she was attractive.

Harry can feel his face turning red with shame but manages to give her a reasonable lie, "I think it's just because I've drank so much. I'm pretty wasted."

That seems to satisfy her concern because she giggles and drags him back to the party, promising that they can try again when they haven't been drinking so much.

However, he knows that's not going to happen because he fully plans on sending her an 'im sorry, its just not working out' text tomorrow morning.

Harry doesn't stay at the party much longer before he's retreating up to his room and locking the door to shut everyone out.

Sure, he's become more acepting of his own sexuality but it doesn't mean that it doesn't fucking suck that he can't just have a casual hook up.

The fact is the only sexual interactions he's had are where girls are coming onto him, he has to make an excuse or they'll see he's not physically into it which makes everything ten times worse.

Harry feels that sinking feeling coming back that he remembers well from his senior year of high school.

He remembers thinking that because he finally identified what sexuality he was that it was the code to cracking his life long struggle.

He wonders often whether he's truly waiting to meet the right person or if it's just something that is wrong with him.

The fake flirting, turning people down who come onto him, dating people he has no real interest in.

At some point it doesn't feel worth it to try to find his person , he wonders if there just isn't a person for him and that's a really lonely thought.

-

(Take The Hint) - One Shot

This girl makes him want to scream.

He didn't mean to break her fucking ipad and she has the nerve to run to the school newspaper and write an article about him.

He had apologized when it happened but she hadn't been willing to accept it, that wasn't his fault.

Harry had never had such a critique in a school paper before and he wasn't going to stand for it.

He doesn't know why he feels the need to go back and forth with this journalist from the paper but he can't stay away.

After their back and forths, he finds himself bringing her food a few times to the newspaper's office after he gets done with a long day of training.

Harry's intruigued that this girl doesn't seem to give a fuck about who he is and really hasn't given him the time of day.

But he finds himself looking forward to picking up a sandwich for her so that she can try to refuse it and give him a shy smile when he doesn't take no for an answer.

It sounds a bit dumb, Harry has spent so much of his time worried about finding the right person or building this emotional bond that he fucking misses it when it's right in front of him.

When YN walks out onto the field that day, leans over the fence and connects their lips for the first time - his insides feel like they're going to combust.

His stomach feels warm with excitement, he's eager to kiss her back, he wants to kiss her back and not stop for anything.

When she pulls away, he wants to pull her back, and join their lips again - he's never wanted to do that before.

Then when she asks, "Are you going to ask me out or what?"

Holy fucking hell.

He has never said yes sooner.

Harry was an idiot.

He didn't see that their back and forth over the past few months (even if a few of those were fights) was flirting and building this god damn connection.

It didn't seem like it at the time because in the past, he had to make conscious efforts to build relationships.

It happened naturally with her, he didn't have to think about 'wanting' to kiss her, forcing time together - he wanted to do all those things without having to plan it.

As he's walking back to the frat from practice that night, his mind is racing because he thinks he might have finally done it.

He found his person.

Harry didn't want to give his hopes up but he just hasn't felt like this before - he's had hundreds of opportunities with the smartest, most attractive people and he's never gotten that warm feeling in his stomach around any of them.

He was thinking about the next time he would get to kiss her and really kiss her - it made him feel something new but it was thrilling.

-

Harry has never felt more nervous in his life, he'd changed his outfit at least five times, and fluffed his hair a hundred more.

It was funny, outside looking in, despite how cocky Harry appeared to everyone - he really wasn't like that at all.

He hoped that YN would like him and he was worried because even though she forgave him, they really didn’t get off on the right foot.

There was another anxious thought bubbling up, what if he's getting too excited and it is another relationship that falls flat.

Harry nearly wants to back out because he doesn't think he can be let down like that again - he just wants to be loved and love someone.

They're set to meet at a small italian restaurant off of campus, Lorenzo's, and Harry arrives first.

Shet not there yet but he's also a few minutes early, he's trying to talk himself out of a nervous breakdown when a group approaches him, a group of middle-aged men who want to talk to the Harry Styles.

Harry smiles politely, answering questions about the upcoming games, and what he thought of their last win.

When they finally bid him goodbye after a few minutes, the group disperse and waiting patiently is YN with a small smile.

"You're really popular, huh? The Harry Styles," She greets, it was teasing but not in a mean way more curious than anything.

And Harry's mouth felt dry because she looked fucking beautiful like the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

In a form-fitting orange dress, her skin tone was complimenting the vibrant color and her curves were other worldly. ***

Harry knows, absolutely knows he wasn't just trying to make this work, he was undoubtedly attractive to her.

It was the fact that he wanted to see what lay beneath the dress, the way her breasts sat made it hard to control his gaze.

More importantly, her smile was wide and heartbreakingly gorgeous as she stared a bit confused, waiting for him to say something.

"You are gorgeous," Harry manages, it wasn't a line, it was the truth, "Sorry, you took my breath away for a moment if I'm being honest."

YN lets out a shy giggle, her hands smoothing the sides of her dress as a nervous tick, as she steps closer to him.

"You don't look too bad yourself, quite handsome actually," YN compliments, reaching out for Harry's hand so he can guide them inside.

The cocky attitude drops over dinner, well it never appeared in the first place, and YN was appreciative of that.

YN was intelligent, funny, kind, and quite honestly, everything Harry's ever wanted as she snorts out her drink at a dumb joke he makes.

She kicks off heels halfway through the appetizer and rests her foot on his thigh like they've known each other for ages.

He can't help but reach down and squeeze her ankle, fingers dancing along the ridge of the bone, and laughing when he tickles her enough to make her squeak.

For the first time, it doesn't feel forced, he doesn't have to remember that he should want to touch his date.

Harry is interested in everything she has to say from her experience on the newspaper to how she accidentally broke into a museum while she was in high school.

He finds himself laughing genuinely, not counting down the minutes until the date is over, in fact, he doesn't want it to end.

"You're actually a nice guy," YN murmurs towards the end of dinner when their plates are near empty, "Who would have guessed."

Harry winces at the dig, putting his silverware down and looking at her seriously, "I am sorry about how I treated you. I was being a douche. I don't always feel like I have a lot going for me and baseball is what I'm good at and to have that article written was a hit on my ego."

It was the most honest he's ever been with someone but he didn't even think twice about revealing his most vulnerable thoughts to her.

YN's face twist in confusion, "What do you mean you don't have a lot going for you? You have a guarantee in going pro, you have a ton of friends, and you have no shortages of girls around you."

Harry knew he wasn't ready to delve into his sexuality conversation with her, he hasn't ever talked to anyone outside of his family and Niall about it.

Instead of admitting what really makes him feel low - his sexuality and lack of relationships, he just shrugs and says, "I don't know. It's just..It's not alway easy."

"I imagine, it's a lot of pressure on you at all times. Everyone watching your every move," She agrees, her eyes are soft and she can tell Harry's thinking about something.

She doesn't force him to tell her, instead she reaches across the table for his hand and takes it in hers - but she doesn't let go.

Throughout dessert, they hold hands across the table until Harry is feeding YN a piece of strawberry cheesecake and it ends up on her lips instead of in her mouth.

"You did that on purpose," YN laughs, her tongue peeking out to wipe the sweetness away but misses the corner of her lips.

"Missed a spot," Harry chuckles, he leans over to wipe it off with his thumb and when he does, she takes his thumb in her mouth - just for a mere moment to lick it off with a cheeky smile.

Harry feels himself actually start to harden in his pants and he almost wants to panic because that's never happened before - even when girls have tried way more sexy things to get his attention.

It had been a simple but intimate gesture, it wasn't even groundbreaking to YN, she went back to eating her gelato without another thought about the interaction.

Harry had to will himself to calm down, his mind racing to her plump lips and the way it wrapped around his thumb.

If he had any doubt that YN was his person, it was completely gone now - he hadn't even known her long but to say he was infatuated with her was an understatement.

He couldn't find one thing about her that he didn't like from her beauty to her intellect to the way she giggles with a little snort when something was extra funny.

It felt like his world was shaping to revolve around hers but that scared him on the same end that he hadn't known her that long - their emotional connection was just that strong.

After the date, Harry offers to walk her home because she lives in the campus dorms - just like at dinner, very soon into the walk she takes off her heels and shoves them in her purse.

Harry doesn't know if he should make a move, this was all so fucking new, and he felt like he was years behind on what he should know, basics about dates.

YN wasn't hesitant or coy, she quickly intertwined their hands as they walk, bumping shoulders as she points out where her classes are at certain buildings and what she hates about some of her awful professors.

Harry wants to cry because it's just so nice to hold someones fucking hand, that's all he's wanted for so long.

When they arrive at her building, YN digs out her keycard, giving him a pouty expression, "I'm sad our date’s over. I really did have a good time."

"I had an amazing time," Harry tells her seriously, "Will you go out with me again?"

YN squints up at him, with puckered lips, "I'll have to think about it."

Harry's heart drops.

"Oh my god," YN bursts out laughing, "Your face. Of course, I'll go on another date with you, I had fun."

"S'not funny," Harry mumbles grumply as she giggles at his reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you," YN hums, stepping into his space and leaning up until their lips meet.

Harry's frozen for a moment, it feels like sparks, like everything finally makes sense but he doesn't realize that he actually physically froze because YN is pulling back.

"Shit, I'm sorry I though-" She begins to apologize profusely, thinking she read the situation wrong.

Harry takes a deep breath, channeling his confidence, and he steps forward into her space now - hands coming to cup her face and bring their lips together passionately.

Their lips move in perfect synchronization, his tongue swiping against her lips until she opens, and he can get entrance.

Her hand comes up to his neck, keeping him close as they kiss, it feels like his first real kiss, and he can't get enough.

When they finally pull back for air, her lips are swollen and she has a starry-eyed smile on her face.

"Goodnight, Harry," YN murmurs softly, pecking his lips one last time before swiping her card and going into her building.

Fucking hell, he was gone for her.

-

He could not stop thinking about her.

Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes squinted when she was teasing him - this had to be what being in love felt like.

Could it be this easy?

As soon as he gets home, he sends her a text.

Thanks for giving me a chance. I really had a great time. Are you free next Friday?

It barely takes any time for her to respond and he finds his lips turning down at her response.

Are you fucking with me?

He decides to take the more cautious route, reading his text conversation, and he doesn't think he said anything wrong.

No? Did I offend you??

Yes.

As soon as he receives the message he's typing out an apology for whatever he might have said to trigger her to be upset but right before he hits send, another text pops in.

Offended you're not asking me to hang out sooner.

Harry totally does not squeal like a school girl as he smiles stupidly at his phone for the next few moments before remebering to actually text back.

I have a game tomorrow and Sunday but we could hang out Monday night x

They agree on that.

-

When the next day comes, he feels more energized than ever to do good on the field today - he always thrived but YN was really boosting his confidence and overall happiness.

He struts on to the field, he always displayed arrogance on the field no matter how he was feeling on the inside - he wanted to intimidate people and let them know that he's the best.

At the mound, he kicks the dirt a bit and adjusts his hat in a little ritual he always did before scanning the crowd - it was always a full house in the stadiums because of him.

His eyes do a quick skim of the crowd but stop when he's sees YN sitting in the stands without her iPad or notepad - she's sitting with a friend.

Harry's heart leaps as he gives a dimply smile that was exclusively for and he tips his cap towards her in greeting.

She blows him an exaggerated kiss and a small wave as the announcers begin the game.

Harry doesn't know if he's ever had a game that good - he had been on fire the whole time, multiple strikeouts, a home-run, and overall good plays.

When the game’s over after the post-game interview and compliments, instead of heading straight to the showers, he wants to talk to YN but she's no longer in the stands.

He tries not to think too hard about it as he goes into the locker room to shower, in a noticeable less than happy mood.

Harry's actually the last one out, he drags his feet getting into the showers, and lets the hot water just hit against his sore muscles.

By the time he gets out, wrapping a towel around his waist, and stepping over to his duffel - he nearly screams when someone appears in the locker-room.

"What's taking you so long? I've been waiting out there for ages," YN complains with a raised eyebrow, a smirk on her face when she's met with his strong, damp chest - his pec twitches.

"Er," Harry stammers as he stares wide eyed at her, "I didn't think you were waiting for me."

YN shakes her head, "Why wouldn't I? Am I being too subtle about dropping hints that I like you?"

Harry’s chest seizes because he doesn't want her to think that, "No no, it's me. M'sorry I'm fucking this up. I just, yeah..."

I just can't tell you why yet. 

Be patient with me.

"I know you've been with a lot of people, okay? I'm not here to use you and lose you. I want to see where this goes," YN seems frustrated as she explains herself.

"I do too. M'sorry," He apologizes again, the opposite of the cocky asshole she met, "I'm really, really into you."

And you're the first person I've said that to without lying.

"Yeah?" Her words are quiet, bashful as she glances down at her feet for a moment, like she wanted to hear the affirmations from him.

"Of course, you're gorgeous, smart, out of my league, if I'm being honest," He tells her with a raspy chuckle.

"I think you have it backwards," YN murmurs but she's walking towards him, and just like yesterday, kisses him fiercely.

God, he's never going to get tired of this.

He instantly reciprocates her advance, hand moving to the back of her head to cradle her skull and keep her close.

His stomach muscles twitch when her hand comes to his chest, rubbing up and down his abdominal definition, and thumb teasing at his happy trail.

It indescribable how just the simple touch is turning him on, he can feel himself harden at the movement and he can't help but push his tongue into her mouth.

They get startled when a janitor steps into the lockeroom, a tired look on his face when he spots them, "I'm locking up. Get lost, kids."

YN giggles as Harry flushed with embarrassment before she's leaving him to get changed and waiting outside for him to walk her home.

-

The next three weeks were an absolute whirlwind of hanging out in YN's dorm room cuddled together on the tiny bed, watching movies in his room in the frat, Harry stopping by the newspaper office constantly after practice to make sure she ate and then walkingher home, and then on the weekends they were going on dates and YN was coming to watch his games.

He knew that he was in love, he didn't care what anyone had to say about a certain amount of time it took or it was too soon.

Harry had found his person.

The puzzle piece that was missing his whole entire life was wrapped up in a gorgeous girl who bullied him, cuddled him, and gave him attitude when she didn't get her way.

He couldn't imagine anyone better.

There was one major issue, Harry had yet to tell her about his sexuality or the fact that he was a virgin.

He didn't blame her for making assumptions that he had a high body count with the way he flirted at parties - that was in fact the appearance that he was trying to give off even though it was further from the truth.

Harry wanted to tell her but when revealing that he was demisexual that was also telling her that he was head over heels for her.

And even though YN seemed nothing but understanding and accepting, it's different when you're in a relationship with the person.

She doesn't know whether it would matter if he was pansexual, if it would freak her out that he wasn't soley attracted to females.

As much fun as he was having, enjoying this new relationship, there was a lot of anxiety - he hadn't felt this much weight on his chest since high school with Yazmin and prom.

They hadn't gone further than kisses but it wasn't because of lack of arousal, he was so attractive to her that it didn't make sense.

However, up to this point, she hadn't pushed to do anything further than that and he wasn't ready to take the first step either.

It's a standoff until it's not.

YN and Harry are in his frat, they prefered it there for his queen size bed and he had a bigger television that they could binge watch shows on.

It was after a mid-week game, they had done exceptional, and Harry was truly convinced that YN was his good luck charm.

It was late, they both had class tomorrow but YN was sleeping over for the first time because Harry couldn't part with her.

They were in the middle of watching Great British Bake-Off and critiquing their bakes like either of them could do anything close to as good.

YN is tucked into his side, head of his chest but she squirms until she's looking up at him with a frown.

"Whassit?" Harry rumbles as he blinks heavily, his hand coming up to brush her hair out of her face - he couldn't get over how fucking pretty she was.

"Didn't kiss me enough today," YN huffs like she just realized the problem, her bottom lip pouted out.

"Didn't give you enough kisses, huh?" Harry repeats with a raised brow, his thumb coming to pull at her lower lip, "I haven't been very good to you, have I?"

"Absolutely awful boyfriend," YN agrees and everytime she refers to him as that, his stomach flutters.

"Or maybe I've just given it to you too much so now you're a demanding lil' thing," He hums but he's pulling her up so that their lips meet.

Harry can't help that he gets hard everytime they make out, maybe it’s a rookie thing or maybe most guys that's normal for - he wasn't sure.

But Harry and YN had never acknowledged it and as weird as it sounded - it felt good to get hard even if there wasn't relief at that time because it’s more  pleasure and arousal than he's ever felt.

There was no way he wasn’t truly fucked - this girl held everything in her hands, she had so much fucking control over it and she didn't have one fucking clue.

YN's hand is rested on his stomach but at some point she moves it, she moves it right over his bulge in his nike running shorts, and palms at him.

Harry moans embarrassingly loud and sucks in a gasp at the sensation of someone else touching him like this for the first time.

YN pulls back startled like she hurt him and begins to apologize because of his visceral reaction but Harry joins their lips needily before murmuring, "Please baby, don't stop."

"Okay, whatever you want," She simpers quietly, her lips coming to his neck to kiss and nip at the skin as she feels out the shape of him over his thin shorts - thick and ready for her.

Harry is trying to keep his eyes open but it feels so new and euphoric that his lids are heavy as she thumbs over the sensitive tip.

"Take your shirt off," YN requests, not taking her hand off as he rustles hurriedly to get it over his head, "Slow down, we're not in a rush."

It was lightly teasing but it made insecurities tick a bit because he didn't want to embarass himself in his first sexual experience.

His stomach is sucking in at every other touch, his butterfly tattoo dancing as his ribcage outlines against his skin.

Her hand lazily moves upwards again but is taking the liberty of dipping into his shorts and briefs.

He twitches when her hand wraps around him, thumb tracing along the vein on the underside before circling at his already wet tip.

"M'gonna take my time with you," YN promises as she helps him slip the rest of his clothes off, her eyes locking with where he's hard for her.

He feels self-conscious, the first person to see this part of him in this intimate way - it was the most vulnerable he ever felt.

"You're so pretty," She murmurs happily as she begins to give him light strokes, "Makes sense why you have big dick energy. You're massive."

He has to clench his teeth to avoid coming at her words because it was all too much as he kept his hips on the mattress as she twists and tugs with the perfect amount of pressure.

"I-It feels so good, baby," Harry breathes out, he's on the verge of panting when her hand comes to roll his balls delicately.

"Yeah?" YN muses with a devious smile before she's ducking down to lick at the swollen head before suckling at it.

"Fuck, m'sorry," Harry groans as he feels his orgasm start, "S'good, you're so good. Fuck, you're amazin, sweetheart."

He can tell YN is a bit taken aback by his lack of stamina but she swallows as he pulses in her mouth.

When she sits back up, Harry is trying to catch his breath, "I'm so sorry. I just-"

"Stop apologizing," YN tells him firmly, leaning over to pepper kisses over his chest and tummy, "That was perfect. You look so handsome when you come."

Harry preens at the praise, he knows she’s probably just making sure he doesn't fell bad but it seemed genuine.

"Let me take care of you," Harry says after a few more moments, he knew his cheeks were flushed and his chest red with a blush of postorgasm haze and embarassment, what a mixture.

"You any good at it?" She jokes as she playfully licks his nipple before moving to take her own shirt off.

Harry freezes, he knows he probably looks like a deer in headlights before quickly wiping it off his face.

He doesn't respond but instead knocks her hands out of the way to pull the shirt over her head himself.

Her breasts were fucking perfect where they sat in a plain black bra with a little lace detailing on the edge of the cups.

Harry didn't know if he would survive this, he felt like a  stupid teeanger as his hands were shaking with nerves.

This was more nerve-wracking then when he played in the playoffs for baseball or when a college scout came to watch his game.

He sits up and rearranges them until she's laying on her back and he's on top where he feels like he has a bit more control of the situation.

By some grace of god, YN's bra unlatches with a front clip and when he undoes it, it falls to either side and her tits bounce out.

"Holy shit, darling," Harry huffs out in awe, her nipples were already hard and so fucking pretty.

"What?" YN asks in a mere whisper, when he looks up at her - his heart sinks because he was so focused on himself that he didn't even think about how she might be feeling.

It was obvious that YN was a bit nervous too as he revealed her like he might not like how she looks - she’s squirmy and doesn't look him in the eye.

"How are you so fucking beautiful?" Harry shakes his head in disbelief, moving to cup them and they're soft in grip, warm, and good god, he's in love with them already, "Look at you, s'unfair."

YN lets out a pleased giggle and Harry can't wait any longer, he's fucking down to wrap his lips around one of the buds and suckle as his other hand rolls her other nipple.

"Oo-oh," She gasps out, pushing her chest into him, and he was sure that he wanted to hear her moans of pleasure for the rest of his life.

She was responsive to his touch, whimpering and asking for more through her body language as he switched between them and teased them until they were damp and puffy.

"Please, H. I'm so wet," YN begs as her hips move in frustration, her hand weaving into his hair and scratching at his scalp.

"You're wet for me?" Harry pulls back, their eyes meeting and he couldn't believe - he was turning her on even if he didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

"Stop teasing me," She demands with a pout.

He really wasn't.

Harry felt like he was in a movie in a way.

He dreamed about this for so long.

Being so in love with someone that he would want to have sex with them.

It happened and it was happening right now.

If it didn't feel so good, he wouldn't believe it.

Harry may or may not have utilized the internet to search about how to please a female.

He hadn't wanted to come into this and not be able to return the favor - it wasn't that he was uneducated about sex or didn't know the logistics of how to do it.

He didn't want it to be just okay.

He wants to show her how much he's truly gone for her by making her feel the same pleasure she's give  to him.

Harry takes his time kissing down her soft belly, biting at the plush on her hips to make her squeak before he's shimmying her shorts and underwear off.

Harry has never felt so primal in his life when he's met with her mound and puffy folds, glistening with arousal, and he wanted to devour her.

The hesitance is gone as soon as he sees her for the first time.

He's spreading her legs and nuzzling straight in between her folds, lapping at her with excited, eager strokes.

Fuck, she even tasted good.

"Harry, fuck," YN mewls when he finds her clit, it wasn't hard with how swollen and hard it was for him - dragging it between his lips and suctioned it.

Her legs are restless like she wants to close them, her hands balling into the sheets as he relentlessly goes at her.

"Oh my god," She gasps as she bucks upwards, trying to ride his tongue - it was by far the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. 

He couldn't believe he was actually doing a good job his first time, he knew she was actually close because he could feel her throbbing and getting wetter for him.

Her hands move to his hair, gripping it to keep him close to her center as she punches her hips up to find the friction she needs - it was beautiful watching her chase her pleasure without any shame.

He wanted to do this with her for the rest of his life and he knew it wasn't just the sex talking at this point.

She was it for him.

His chest swells in pride when she finally tips over the edge, a continuous stream of soft whining moans out of her mouth as her hips slow down and rest back against the bed - her limbs loosening.

Her face was damp with perspiration, long locks stuck to the side of her neck, and her chest was heaving and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath.

"That was the best orgasm I've ever had," YN murmurs in awe, goading him back up until they’re kissing in short little pecks and he's brushing that sticky hair off her skin, "You're so good at that."

Harry's internally preening with the compliment, thrilled that he was able to get her off the first time ever doing something like this.

It was dangerous though, he knew already that he was going to crave her, she tasted amazing, it was addictive to be around her.

Everything from her smile to her laugh to the way her folds glistened with her arousal - it was all consuming.

-

Harry knows the longer they're seeing each other that he needs to tell her but the second he tells her about his sexuality, he's basically confessing his love to her.

He begins to feel like he's living this lie because YN occasionally makes a joke about how experienced he is or how many people he'd been with and he doesn't ever deny it.

To be fair, he never confirms it either but that even feels like lying. 

One day while they're at lunch in a little bistro on campus, tucked away in the corner so people don't continuously harass Harry like always.

"I..I shouldn't be surprised at how good you were," YN murmurs shyly, they were talking about last night and when he used his mouth for the first time, "It's just...for me, I've only been with two other guys and it wasn't at all like that."

"They sound like idiots who didn't deserve to give it to you anyways," Harry has to swallow down the possessiveness of two other people having her like that.

She was his.

YN shrugs noncommittal as she sips on her peach tea, "They were okay but not as experienced as you. They hadn't been able to make me, you know...finish."

Cue his chest swelling with pride once again.

YN glances down at her plate, suddenly not making eye contact with Harry and he frowns at that, "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, letting out a short laugh, "I just feel embarrassed, I guess. I know that I don't have as much experience as you. I've heard the stories of you taking all those girls upstairs at parties. It's not, it doesn't bother me but I...I just worry I'm not going to be good enough or compare."

Harry's heart sinks into his stomach and he knows now would be the absolutely perfect time to actually come clean that all those experiences were fake.

He chokes though, his throat tightens up and he can't find the words but he can reassure her, and he's not lying when he tells her, "Hey, I've never had a better experience than last night and m'not lying. You were amazing, fuckin' perfect. I can still taste how sweet you-"

"Ssh," YN giggles, the mood already lightened again as she chucks a chip at him because she doesn't know if anyone is eavesdropping, "I get it. Thank you."

"Anytime, babydoll," Harry drawls cheekily, exerting confidence when inside he's absolutely panicking.

-

Tonight it is the night.

Harry has nearly canceled three times because he doesn't know if he can do this.

He's so fucking in love with YN.

So fucking gone for her already that he doesn't know how he could lose her if this isn't something she's okay with.

Logically, he knows that if she doesn't accept him for who he is that she's not worth his time but fuck, he loved her.

YN was it for him, he didn't care how early it was or if you’re ot supposed to say that yet because they haven't been together long.

It was the truth though.

Harry wanted to try to make it as casual as possible when he brought it up so he invited her to sleepover after an away game.

He'd organized his room, cleaned his sheets, bought her favorite snacks, and laid out a shirt that she'd want to sleep in.

When she knocked on his bedroom door, one of his mates must have let her in, his hands were physically shaking and his smile was forced through nerves.

"Hi," YN huffs as she brushes past him to drop her overnight bag, "I brought a bag of chips but Niall literally stole them out of my hand and ran away like a little goblin -"

"I have something I need to tell you," Harry blurts out as he quickly shuts the door and leans up against it - he felt like he was about to have a full blown panic attack.

YN freezes from her rant, eyes meeting his with concern at his behavior and his body language, "Is everything okay, H?"

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and tries to breathe out of his mouth, voice quaking, "I-I don't know."

Fuck, why did he feel like he was going to cry.

"Harry," YN murmurs from where she's sat on his bed now, "You're freaking me out a bit. What's going on?"

"I haven't told you something, important about me," Harry sniffles, he couldn't control the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, and he felt like that scared high schooler all over again, "And I'm scared you won't want to be with me if I tell you."

YN's brow furrows, she doesn't know how to respond because she doesn't know what he's been hiding from her.

"Tell me," She asks softly, her heart was pounding too - she didn't know if he was going to break up with her or tell her he already cheated but she was worried just as much as he was.

"M'not straight," Harry finally whispers, looking down at his feet and avoiding her gaze all together, "I'm pansexual and demisexual. I haven’t been with anyone other than you, ever. God, I know I sound like such a fucking loser."

"Come here," YN responds firmly, her eyes serious and he can't read her expression which makes everything worse as he cries, sniffling and wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

He listens though, cautiously walking until he's in front of her - eyes still looking anywhere but at her.

"Look at me," YN prompts once again, waiting until his watering green eyes finally meet hers, "I love you, no matter what your sexual preference is or how many people you've been with."

"You-You love me?" Harry stutters out with another sob, he felt like such a baby but his heart was fluttering and butterflies were turning his stomach.

"I thought I've made it obvious but yes, I do," YN smiles sweetly, pulling him down to kiss him despite his damp cheeks, "I love you as you are. I accept you as you are. You're perfect."

Harry blinks away his tears, letting her cup his jaw and bring him in for short but soft pecks over and over again.

"I know what pansexual is," YN says against his mouth before pulling back a little, "I don't know what demisexual is."

After Harry gets done explaining to her what his sexuality means to him, what he defines as being demi sexual - he's alarmed when he notices tears in YN's eyes now.

"I'm- Are you-" Harry begins to ask but she cuts him off.

"I'm your person?" YN repeats his words from earlier, she sounds like she’s a bit in disbelief that this is all happening.

"You’re my person," Harry agrees, kissing her forehead, nose, lips, cheeks, "I'm so in love with you. It's only ever been you. Only ever will be."

"I love you," YN gasps against his lips, bringing him in for another kiss but this time it's more heated with more purpose behind it as she pulls him down on top of her.

YN and Harry are equally frantic as they tug off each other's shirts, lips wandering over bare skin, and YN whines loudly when his lips wrap around her nipples and suck at them.

She's hurriedly pushing his shorts and briefs off his hips before allowing him to nearly rip her panties with the eagerness to have her bare.

As Harry's mouth teases at her breasts, switching between harden buds and nipping at them - her hands are twined tightly in his hair and holding him to her.

His cock is painfully hard, wet at the tip as he grinds it against her mound - the friction already good.

On one thrust, his length slips through her folds and his swollen head is pumping at her clit - making them both let out a surprised moan at the sensation.

"Need it," YN whines as he pumps his hips, the wet slide against her core was new to him but it felt like heaven, "Please, H."

And he knew what she was asking, he wanted to give it to her but he was scared that it wasn't going to be good.

"It's my first time," Harry mumbles embarrassedly, even though he had already admitted that to her, "I don't know how long I'll last,"

YN wriggles her hips, hissing in pleasure when his cock drags against her slit, teasing at pushing in before pulling away. 

"It's okay, baby," She assures him, petting at his hair, "I just want you, please. I don't care how long you last, just want you. Want to make you mine."

Want to make you mine.

Holy fucking shit.

"Yeah," Harry rasps, voice deeper than ever, feeling a building up in confidence at how bad she wanted him right now.

He was so used to being the best at everything.

He was the best baseball player in the college leagues.

He was the best pitcher to ever attend Duke.

He was the first person to get an MLB draft pick before graduation.

He wasn't used to not being confident in hai abilities but he truly felt the love radiating from YN and knew that she just wanted him however she could get him.

Harry takes a deep breath, hand shaking as he grips himself, positioning at her entrance, and when he pushes in - he knows he moans loud enough that the whole house will be able to hear him.

"Shit, baby," Harry mewls as he drops his head down to take a deep breath before moving, "You feel so good. Fuckin' hell."

"H, move please," YN begs as she wraps her legs around his hips, "You're so big. Feels amazing, please honey."

Harry nods, one more deep breath before he's pulling out nearly to his tip before thrusting back in - the hot, velvet of her walls squeezing him and it was surely what euphoria felt like.

He can feel his orgasm already brimming over and it couldn't have been more than a minute or two - between the feeling around his cock, how pretty the noises she's making are, and the way her tits jiggle with every stroke - he can't last.

"M'sorry," Harry groans as his stomach starts to tense, "M'coming, you feel so good. You're gonna make me come."

With that, he's speeding up and pounding in harder than before - YN’s hand reaches down to rub expertly at her clit until she's clenching up around him and whimpering as her thighs shake.

Harry pulls out after a moment, ducking to grab his discarded tee shirt to clean them both up - he knows his cheeks are twinged pink with embarrassment.

"Hey," YN giggles, grabbing his attention and squishing his cheeks between her hands as she grips his chin, "Don't get all shy on me now."

"M'not being shy," Harry pouts as his words are muffled from his cheeks being smooshed, "I just look like a dickhead, I just came in a fuckin' minute."

YN rolls her eyes, fuck she's so pretty, her skin was literally glowing, "So what? Just means we get to practice more."

Harry chuckles, already feeling the tension ease form his chest, "For the rest of our lives. I only want this with you, ever. My body is yours."

"And I will always love it," YN murmurs more seriously, forehead pressed against his, "I love you for you. I accept you for you. You’re perfect and you're enough."

And after this, Harry never ever doubts that YN is the one for him - not in a few days or a decade when they're married and have four little babies running around that look just like him.

-

You are never alone.

There is always someone ready to listen, there is no struggle too little or too big.

The world needs you here.

Trans Crisis Line

LGBTQIA+ Crisis Talk, Chat, or Text

[pissjesus]

go on 👁👁

Ok sooooooo I wanted to keep their personalities as close to their actual characterization, obviously, but I was thinking about how they’d get to the same place from a different starting point, if that makes sense. Cuz they’d probably be treated very differently if they acted and looked the way they do but were women instead (or a boy in Noodle’s case)🙃. Unfortunately these can get kinda depressing so fair warning. And these are just my takes so 🤷 unfortunately a lot of them are based on cisheteronormativity because we live in a cisheteronormative society

Also a lot of these ideas came from smashing my last brain cells together with @plastickatz and @alicepalmersnokia

* This all started from me finding out that “Murdina” is the feminine version of the name “Murdoch,” which sounds like what Murdoc would call himself if he put on a wig drunk in his room at 5am. So I’ve been calling them Murdina, Udon, and Rose— 2D stays the same cuz she’s still got 2 dents. But some people (Murdina) call her 2A cuz she still has no boobs 😔

* 2D does modeling on the side cuz her tall, slender, androgynous appearance and pilled-out, blank stare make her a y2k alt it-girl

* Murdina finding a younger, more attractive girl to be the face of her band when she’s in her 30s and considered “ugly” seems like it’d be of greater importance. Murdoc gets to make being ugly and gross his schtick. Not that Murdina would compromise her right to replace a shower with half a bottle of “Truth or Dare” by Madonna, but she’d probably have to work harder to get fame

* She’d be constantly in the tabloids for nip-slips and ass crack, throwing her heels at the paparazzi, and her “foul” comments about eating babies. She’d also post slutty pictures online and be shaking with rage as people comment “omg body positive queen, love your bravery <3”

* 2D is already treated like he’s stupid but I think people would expect girl 2D to roll over and take a lot more bullshit— she would have flipped her lid WAYYYY earlier on

* Don’t worry Rose is still bald she just wears wigs. Hear me out but I feel like Rose would be a lot more femme than Russel (or at least more femme than he’s allowed to be). Russel prides himself on being educated, well-spoken, and fashionable, and I feel like that standard would be higher as a woman (especially being a fat black woman in the early 2000s). So I think she’d be very conscious about her image— she’d probably be everything Russel wishes he could be. However, she’d get very down on herself when she can’t reach that standard of perfectionism when she’s really depressed.

* Russel being put on a pedestal as “the only responsible caretaker” would be cranked to 1000. Though, besides Rose being an über-perfectionist, I think her and Udon’s relationship would ultimately remain unchanged. They’d still be very close even through all the lows

* Rose criticizes Murdina and 2D for their lack of hygiene and sitting with their legs spread— she puts forth that she doesn’t believe in tearing down other women but once in a while she lets it slip that she thinks they’re sluts. She’s also a repressed lesbian but she’ll figure that out eventually

* Murdina, on the other hand, has no qualms with tearing down other women and resents 2D for being considered “the pretty one” (which I fully believe Murdoc already does, but the media doesn’t pit men against each other in terms of looks quite as much, don’t they? 🙃)

* On a darker note, and this might be a hot take I guess, but I feel like Murdina’s MO would be less physical and more psychological. If Murdoc/Murdina wants to hold power over 2D, they’d have to do it in a way where people are going to turn a blind eye. It’s not that big a deal for men to push each other around and hit each other, but it’s considered more unusual for women to physically fight in public. Murdoc still tries to get in 2D’s head and Murdina would still swat her occasionally but I just think Murdina would have had decades of practice in psychological warfare

* In the same vein 2D would have to fight back in the same way. I feel like she’d give her backhanded compliments in interviews— like “I always admired that you don’t give in to the pressure to get a nose job :)”— and Murdina can only sit there fuming because she can’t throw a table.

* 2D would have very little tolerance for men because they expect/want her to go along with anything since they think she’s stupid, but she wouldn’t take it. But I also don’t think she’d be particularly clever on the fly so when some guy is trying to make her look stupid she just throws things at them (which Murdina would kinda respect)

* I also think 2D already cries easily but girl 2D cries at any provocation so not only is she whaling on you with her bony fists but she’s also crying. Category 5 white woman moment

* Udon is a weird one and I don’t have as many thoughts about him, unfortunately. Like he’s still a former child soldier, fighting his way out of hell, killing zombies in his own home, and bearing witness to psychological warfare within his band, but I guess now he doesn’t have interviewers asking him if he’s drawn anatomically correct.

* I guess interestingly, here is where Kat and I had differing opinions. Cuz I think 2D and Udon wouldn’t be as close but they don’t think their relationship would be any different, so I don’t know, I’m not dead-set on my take

* I already think Noodle has a hard time being vulnerable and I think part of it is because she takes after Murdoc in that aspect, partially because she feels like she has to prove herself as the only girl. Udon would likely be the same way but maybe for different reasons? Perhaps seeing the way Murdina gets into peoples heads would make him keep his distance, though Rose and 2D’s influence would keep him from being too cold.

* I’m sure there’d probably be “concern” that he doesn’t have a proper masculine influence in his life when he’s like 14 and wants to paint his nails but idk, when 3 disaster bachelors took in a random little girl and put her to work, no one seemed too concerned

* I can literally name like 4 different pieces of media about 3 disaster bachelors taking care of a baby but I can’t name a single story about 3 disaster women raising a kid together so that’s probably why I have a hard time thinking of what to do with Udon

* Sorry if these are kinda depressing, I do have funnier scenarios if people wanna hear them. Or darker ones if you want to peep the horror

[badedramay]

Sorry imma couple of days late! Breakdown of the Kim and Daood scenes for this week please?

(heylo..I hope all is well at your end!)

It was a decent episode. not a LOT of KimDawood content but enough to know where they stand in this relationship. Dawood, bless that fool, said and didn't say a lot of words just to mean that he was jealous of Kim's relationship with Zulfi xD am I wrong to interpret this as jealousy? the man saw Kim, his would be wife, ditch her own mehendi ceremony to personally go invite Zulfi for her wedding. then he had to witness Kim fully disregard his "warning" to not step out of the house without being escorted by him. THEN he had to bear Kim defending Zulfi and being a-okay about Zulfi's financial condition and thus, again dismissing Dawood's so-called valid concern that Zulfi took her out for lunch at a sub-standard place. like...Kim has done more with/for Zulfi than she has done with/for Dawood and I can't imagine a desi mard like Dawood being okay with it. i am not saying he thinks there's anything illicit going on between the two but c'mon..Dawood most definitely IS jealous/insecure of Kim's proximity with Zulfi.

I really don't think Dawood won any rounds in this episode. Kim was throwing one bomb after another in the car ride afterwards. gotta say i LOVED how Maya acted in the scene. the insult Kim felt at being treated like an object by these two men..the rage she was feeling in that moment and trying her best to not let it get the best of her..the way her eyes were sparkling with tears but she didn't let them escape..it was just all so wonderfully portrayed and captured. Kim YET AGAIN exposed Dawood's hypocrisy that he is only concerned with imposing his decisions on his wife but doesn't spare the same energies on his father or brother because he KNOWS he has no control over them. no son can overrule his father's decisions. working elder brothers don't always have the energy to deal with unruly younger brothers beyond reprimanding them occasionally (but not investing any time to make sure the reprimands bear a positive change). but with Kim he keeps bringing up the "you're my wife" reminder because that, in his head, gives him a higher "authority" over her that he has seen happen all around him all his life. the whole "mard ki aurat pe bartari" logic that gets legitimized when a man and woman get married to each other. Kim, love of my life, firmly reminds him that his superiority BS won't work on her because she doesn't depend on him for security that she'd have no choice but to give in to his whims and demands as most of the women in marriages do.

I was thinking this other day and idk if I tweeted or posted about it but..Kim in her marriage with Dawood is a very clear example of how much patriarchy as a concept works solely on the oppression of women. you give women a decent amount of power and autonomy and a LOTTTT if not all of patriarchal concepts get shattered. Kim is not like Razia or Iqbal or Suraiya. her identity is not constantly tied or and defined by the relationship she shares with any men. her "liberal" way of living has given her the chance to own her agency. which is why she can stay mad at her father. which is why she can firmly make conditions of how she wants her marriage with Dawood to be. which is why she's the only one who can question Dada's rulings. because she isn't scared that offending any of these men will have an irreparable impact on HER life. Kim never crosses the boundary of respect or decency when she questions. she doesn't have to. she's just so highly secure in her life as just being KIM that she knows that if her justified questions fall on deaf ears and this environment she's living in becomes too suffocating for her..she can easily walk out and no one will have any power or authority over her to stop her. the thing is Kim is, so far, CHOOSING to stay here because there's still something here holding here. be it her growing feelings for Dawood or the companionship she's finding in Suraiya, Iqbal, and Zulfi. that's the mark of a relationship's beauty I feel. that a person, who has the choice to leave, CHOOSES to stay. not because they HAVE to but because they WANT to. i feel Kim, ultimately, would WANT to stay back. but for that to happen Dawood still has a LONG way to go.

Dawood is getting influenced by Kim at least enough for him to take the first step of standing up to Dada. yeah it's a weak step cuz his obedience (which is a flaw of his let's be real) doesn't allow him to counter-argue with Dada. Kim kardeti argue. but Dawood was silenced when Dada gave a very weak reasoning about why Suraiya wouldn't object to the marriage and why there's not even a NEED to ask for her marzi. "main uska Wali hoon..kuch gair-sharai' kaam nahin horaha". Again..patriarchy empowered through women's oppression. cuz the religion very STRICTLY says that the consent lies SOLELY on the individual in matters related to marriage. a no IS a no and no wali has the power to veto it.

the preview for next week is a little scary ngl. Kim has her heart in the right place but she doesn't have patience to deal with things without blowing up a few buildings along the way. although i must say TWICE In this episode she shielded Suraiya from unwanted interrogation so Kim is also learning the art of navigating complex situations. she's still a beginner though so she has a long way to go to perfect it xD i am happy that Suraiya's issue is out and there's no dragging it. also, I feel it's gonna be Dawood who'll ultimately take a step for his sister and fight for her right. and maybe that will be the catalyst for Kim truly falling for him. oh she KNOWS she's attracted to him and she isn't entirely unhappy with him but Dawood's tendency to stay silent in matters that demand him to speak up make Kim not really respect him. she's always lowkey mad at him for not refusing to the marriage when he KNEW he didn't like her. she's now highkey mad that he's not fighting for her sister's right to marry the guy of her choice. if the show truly intends to show via Dawood&Kim's relationship of how these two people from two completely different worlds can come together and learn from each other to make lay foundation of a whole new world where both their previous worlds can peacefully coexist..NOW is the best time to show that.

P.S - how freakin' glorious was Kim being all "ab main itni achi bhi nahin hoon ke apki har baat manun." to Razia xD the way I laughed! i love love LOVEEE whenever Maya does these cheeky scenes. there's this innocence in her sass that's never badtameez. gaaah Kim has really become my top3 fav Maya Ali characters and the show isn't over yet! nazar na lag jaye bass!!

[feterradi]

I stopped caring about this garbage show a while back and it led me to mostly being blissfully unaware of all the endless crop of the most braindead takes I have ever seen in my life. Unfortunately, this one wormed its way into my brain.

Oh boy.

I'm not gonna comment on the "90% female cast" remark, who am I to cast stones on unfortunate souls that are as bad at math as I am? Math is hard, y'all.

I'm not gonna make fun of the op for the "example of female-led media with queer women in them being held to a higher standard" comment because I firmly believe that everyone has the right to be a self-loathing clown with non-existing standards.

But I will say that for a show that is "primarily about women and wlw" it sure is fucking interesting that they managed to dedicate a significant amount of screentime to two canon straight couples, something that the "it's all about women!!!11!!" crowd loves to ignore. In fact, they dedicated more screentime and plot-importance to them that their wlw couple. Kind of really funny how that happens in a show with 90% of female cast, huh?

The straights were confessing and kissing back when the queers were grinding their teeth at the stereotypical portrayal of Scarlet and there was no mention of the bees ever being more than a tease. The straights were allowed complex feelings and tenderness and touching and loving looks when the show threw in Blacksun to not discourage the bigots from watching it and giving RT money.

Renora were out there kissing and confessing when the bees got relegated to a background couple that gets 2 crumbs per season, all that after what happened at the end of Volume 6. Because they got backlash. They got backlash and they had to wipe the tears of sad little boys who felt threatened by all the pussy-loving that finally occurred after 6 fucking years and lasted checks notes wow, one whole episode.

But hey, they got canonised! 10 years later they gave fans a confirmation that there are indeed some faggots of female variety in their show with a 90% female cast that holds queer women to a higher standard. Of course, the focus of the show immediately had to be redirected to their only prominent white straight cis boy with his never-ending manpain over women in his life dying, one of whom was strongly implied to be queer herself and was hinted at being in a relationship with the protagonist in the future. Priorities, y'all.

We could talk about the entirety of the Atlas arc being focused on villanising a prominent male character who was modeled after an Asian man but is constantly called white by the fandom because doing so gives the dickweeds a pass to be as hateful towards a male character as they want (yeah, not racist at all).

We could talk about the show actually having a gay male fucking character who got killed for shock value and because the people who write this show are explicitly uncomfortable at the idea of queer characters, especially male ones, being treated with the same amount of respect and care as straight ones.

We could talk about a bi male character who had feelings for him and who had to play a role in the gay dude's death, watch him die and then get forgotten by the story with no emphasis on his feelings because the writers are too chickenshit to admit that they did a BYG and frankly, they have more important stuff to write about, eg exploring their token white straight dude's Existential Pain du jour that lately revolves around a prominent and beloved female character dying for no reason.

We could talk about the double standards plaguing the show when it comes to how it handles male and female characters and how the fandom interacts with them.

But what it really is about is the fandom being fully aware of all these issues, they just value the chance to hate on men and mlm more than they value the treatment queer topics receive, to the point that all these delusional hateful little nutsacks rewrite history and pretend that it's some goddamn queer masterpiece about a great lesbian romance and not a shitty show written by clueless straight dudebros who poured all their effort into ignoring their main wlw couple as long as they possibly could and destroying their mlm one, all while having no problems handling their straight counterparts with the utmost care.

But you know what, I'm low-key glad that things are like that because people were leaving en masse after what happened in V7 and later V8 and the remaining fans are doing their best to drive the final nail in the coffin. This show is dying and it's exactly what it and the writers deserve. Keep up the good work and don't forget to spam the "greenlightrwbyvolume10" in a desperate attempt to stay relevant in-between shitting on people who dare to call things by their name.

Who knew that having rabid hypocritical man-hating twats as your main fanbase was detrimental to the popularity of a show huh.

[28whitepeonies]

two things can be true at once. u can admit that harry isn’t a feminist while also rightfully calling out the backwards and liberal feminism that olivia constantly tends to peddle. they’re perfect for each other in that sense lol

So two things, firstly is my issue in those tags is with this wild idea and absolute dedication from quite a lot of fans to the idea that Harry is a great feminist. Partly because there’s literally nothing to back that claim up and also because I have a major problem with people who will bang on about that and shitting on Olivia for not being a feminist in their eyes.

My second issue is something I’ve addressed before here. But to summarise, I have a massive issue with this idea of feminism being either an individual movement, or something against which you measure individual famous women. That's partially rooted in the fact that you are always going to find them wanting, to exist in an industry that is so very male-dominated, in the way the film industry is, and meet whatever standard it is that you are setting is to set them up to fail.

Like I said in that response, you will struggle to find a woman in Hollywood who hasn't done something you object to on the grounds of feminism, and you'll struggle just as hard to find a man - the difference is that women are already at a disadvantage in terms of power and I won't hold them to a higher standard than I will the men around them. In this case most fans only care about judging Olivia’s actions because they think it justifies their hatred as a result of her association with Harry.

So if you’re determined to go on about Olivia’s feminism not being good enough, I want to hear about your thoughts on Harry’s feminism first.

[the-feminist-philosopher]

What has watered feminism down is not the inclusion of 0.2% of the population in our advocacy, but the pervasiveness of corporate “choice” feminism. It’s this idea that one’s personal choices can qualify or disqualify someone from being a feminist. The idea that individuality and singular action- more or less girl-bossing your way out of the patriarchy- can bring down a system is inadequate. 

Whether or not the individual wears or does not wear heels on a night out is not what is going to end the patriarchy. It also does not qualify or disqualify them from being feminist. Feminism is an active and a liberation-minded ideology. Asking yourself: “is this a feminist action” shouldn’t be applied to whether or not you trim your bush to avoid the difficulties of overnight period blood, or whether or not you wear a T-shirt with a catchy slogan, or whether or not you wear a pink hat shaped like cat ears, or how many pins you bought from Walmart that say "girl power." It should be applied to whether you are out there actively working to uplift other women, strive for a more equal and just society, and achieve true civil and political emancipation. Feminism is something that takes collective action and under a standard of analyzing wider impact rather than scrutinizing individual choice, the SAHM- someone conforming to a gender norm- who organizes abortion resources and marches and and state-wide grassroots policy campaigns from her kitchen table is a feminist. Under the watered down “choice" feminism, her “choice" to stay home and raise kids would disqualify her from being a feminist as those would not be “feminist” choices. 

And that waters feminism down.

Collective action- with our trans sisters- certainly isn’t “watered down.” The threat of riot that comes with organization and action certainly isn’t "watered down.” Centering the collective means centering those systems and "actions" that affect the collective. We should be looking at overall impact on people rather than scrutinizing every last choice a woman makes, she already has to deal with that everywhere else.

The scrutinizing opens up every last choice a woman makes to fault-finding and chastisement. It opens up every last choice to be constantly inspected for signs of gender-conformity and singular impact where the only way to stay safe from their life's choices being undervalued or inspected is to, ironically, conform to the standards of singular feminist action that certain groups believe are inherently feminist in nature. It creates this inescapable panopticon where every woman is expected to conform to a different set of standards on the grounds that there is are "correct" singular actions that make a feminist. It reinforces and entrenches the exact forces of socialization of which feminists claim to be critical.

And it does this while the patriarchy simultaneously inspects women for any sign of non-conformity to patriarchal standards of “female” presentation.

Do not scrutinize the actions of women more so than the capitalist class - mostly rich, white men- that benefits, monetarily, from the perpetuation of these norms. You are criticizing women for socializations they cannot escape. You are telling women that this is their fault while at the same time painting them as pitiable victims. Do not hold women to higher standards and demands than the very systems and people keeping them down.

Our socialization is, yes, impacted by our environment and while that environment will impact someone's decisions, the individual's action is still individual in its impact. Do not take this to mean that their experience is isolated or that there isn’t a larger force behind their “choice.” I'd be kidding myself if I said no action was influenced by the patriarchy and the capitalist, male ruling class. What many feminists are failing to see is that their choice to, say, wear sneakers does nothing to uplift or aid other women or challenge the expectations we're held to. That is what I am saying when I say that your own personal actions only really affect you. Your choices are largely limited it their impact. Is it a totally "free" choice? No. But I will still hold that the norms that push someone to make a decision- like the choice to be a SAHM being reinforced by lower wages and inaccessible childcare- are far more important to attack than the person themselves. 

Analyzing singular, limited actions as "more" or "less" feminist rather than looking at things by ideology and wider impact on other women results in performative activism. It results in the belief that wearing sneakers and a uterus pin actually somehow challenges the patriarchy. It also divides our personal expression into another binary, one that subtly reinforces a type of conformity to a specific set of standards in order to be "seen" as feminist. It also ironically reinforces the idea that certain forms of expression are inherently "feminine" and inherent to "female people.” 

Currently, your actions center individualism, and individualism will get us nowhere in terms of deconstructing and challenging and ending the patriarchy.

[melancolemie]

Do men love bitches

A very hotly debated topic that divides opinion is constituted by the mere question of whether men and boys like ,,bitches’’ , where bitches doesn’t necessarily correlate to actual women who work in the sex industry or would hump everything that walks, but more so, it raises the question of men liking a specific type of women that modern society has  perpetually and consistently been creating. 

However, how can this ,,bitch’’ type girl be described? What defines a bitchy girl and why are boys and men so eager to engage themselves with such women? These are questions that run through my mind and that I seem to have almost no answers to. 

Weren’t girls taught to act nicely around men and boys, to be pleasant, good looking, never outspeak them, agree with what they are saying? Didn’t parents teach their girls that if they weren’t respectable, beautiful, smart young ladies no boyfriend and husband would want them? 

Well, apparently the entirety of people who had directed us towards such behaviors and  attitudes regarding men built us a completely wrong idea of how to pursue men to pursue us. We’ve been lied to all along.

Not only do men get bored by such women and girls, but they seem to be having fun breaking their hearts and shaking their ability to trust forever. Now, the saying ,,being a good girl gets you nowhere’’ seems to be truer than ever. So, are all girls supposed to be mean, cruel and play mind games on men ? Is that the new and only way you can win a guy over? And what if the world then becomes oversaturated and overpopulated by people who play cat and mouse games but never end up actually building harmonious, loving relationships? Because this is what it seems the foreseeable future holds ahead of us. 

So, what is there to be done in a situation like this? The dating world appears to be just a bunch of confused people who don’t know what they like, what they are looking for, nor who they want to be. But, inherently, we were biologically, mentally, spiritually and physically constructed to pine for another human being who can love and whom we can love back. It’s part of our nature to want to be with someone. And when we are not able to fulfill what is supposed to be a part of us, we become sadder, angrier, meaner. Therefore, failure in dating could mean failure in other areas of life too.

If all women were to act a certain way, it would be exhausting and even harder to find a male companion along with whom you can spend some cozy nights and go on some nice adventures. It would strip us of all authenticity and creativity, originality. Women would once again prove that all they do, they do for the attention and approval of men, something which doesn’t benefit any woman.

Therefore, I think that maybe, some of the girls considered ,,bitchy’’ are just girls that give less appreciation for the bare minimum. They don’t get so easily mesmerized by some sweet words and nonchalant behaviors. Surely, some are just straight up mean and cruel, but so are certain men that some girls always go after. Unless you have some real personality and parental issues, or issues with yourself, raising your standards a little higher, finding out what you truly look for in a partener, rediscovering yourself and choosing people that actually give an F about you, should save you some pain along the ride that modern dating provides. Of course someone with respect for themselves, and who prioritizes their well-being is more attractive than someone who constantly agrees with you, has no mind of their own, and is usually at all times at your disposal. Someone that you can hurt and go back to multiple, infinite times too could provide a little comfort and confidence boost but never a relationship partner. This is what some of us need to understand and acknowledge. 

In the end, we all learn from mistakes at some point, so until then, maybe for certain people the key is to keep hurting, to keep meeting the same people in different fonts, until they get a hold of themselves and start going for the people that actually are similar to them. That they get along with and even find a little comfort in. 

[madfishmonger]

Well said.

"We need to realize it’s impossible to please people who hate us.

It’s really become clear to me over the last several years and seeing what’s happening in the world (particularly in the US because that’s where I am) that a disturbingly large portion of humanity simply hates women and will not be convinced otherwise. And it’s not just men, there are plenty of women who hate other women.

We are constantly judged. No matter what we do, it’s wrong. There is an absolutely impossible standard set for us that no person can ever meet, and yet our perceived failure is seen as a reason to keep hating us.

If we choose to express ourselves sexually, we’re called slts and whres.

If we choose to not be sexually active, we’re called prudes and “frigid.”

If we enjoy sex with men, that’s bad. If we enjoy sex with anyone other than men, that’s bad.

If we choose to pursue an education and career, we’re selfish cold-hearted and will die alone. Especially if we choose not to reproduce.

If we choose to get married and have a family, we’re lazy and contributing to overpopulation.

If we are stay at home mothers, we’re mooching off our husbands and sitting on our asses all day and being bad feminists.

If we are working mothers, we’re neglecting our children and homes.

If we are happily single, we’re going to be eaten by our cats.

If we are happily in a relationship, we’re somehow manipulating someone.

If we take birth control, we are selfish and promiscuous.

If we get pregnant, we’re irresponsible and stupid.

If we have an abortion, we’re evil baby killers and trying to duck out of responsibility.

If we give birth, we’re babytrappers.

If we dress too seductively, we’re asking for the wrong kind of attention and have no self respect.

If we don’t dress seductively enough, we’re frumpy and have no self respect.

If we are cautious around men and try to protect ourselves, we’re paranoid and silly and exaggerating.

If we aren’t cautious and end up assaulted, we should have been more careful, what were we thinking?

If we’re in an abusive relationship, we should have been more picky and had higher standards.

If we refuse someone’s advances, we’re too picky and should “give them a chance.”

If we’re polite and demure, we are too passive.

If we stand up for ourselves, we’re too aggressive.

If we express ourselves, we’re hysterical and too emotional.

If we hold back, we’re bad communicators.

We are considered too weak, too fragile, too dumb, too emotional, too vain, too EVERYTHING to be equal to men, but we’re also somehow responsible for every bad thing a man does. Either his mother didn’t raise him right, or girls he pursued wouldn’t date him, or his wife was a nag or stopped putting out, or that woman or little girl was tempting him, or women’s suffrage has somehow disenfranchised him and women’s rights have robbed him of opportunities that used to be reserved for men only.

And I’m so tired of this.

We’re never going to win. Not by playing by their rules. I know many of us have realized this long ago, but for anyone who needs to hear this: you don’t have to keep trying. People will hate you just for existing, and the best revenge is to just keep going, live YOUR best life, fight their attempts to quell us, and stop trying to meet the impossible standards they placed on us.

We have to keep fighting. We have to push back on these toxic beliefs, not because we’re going to convince them to stop hating us, but because they will never stop hating us. We don’t owe them anything. We owe each other, our allies, and ourselves everything.

Misogyny has always existed and probably always will. Getting rid of it isn’t what we should be trying to do. Instead, we need to take away their power and make it so they can’t keep trying to keep us “in our place.”

Vote. Protest. Donate. Talk to people. If you have kids, raise them to be feminists. If you don’t, consider volunteering at shelters or community centers. Be intersectional. This fight affects cis women, trans women, black women, white women, all our LGBTQ+ and POC siblings. And even men.

Because misogyny and hate hurts everyone. They’re going to hate us no matter what, so we might as well fight for ourselves, our safety, our freedom, our happiness, our future. And let everyone who hates us rot away in their hate. We don’t have to play their game.

I quit. I quit caring what hateful men and women think of me and my life and my choices. I’m don’t playing nice and trying to get along and compromise with people who believe I’m not worthy of freedom and dignity.

They can call me any name they want, it’s not going to make me keep trying to play their losing game."

[tyrannuspitch]

Jumping off @kidrat​ ’s recent post on JKR, British transphobia, and transphobia against transmasculine people, after getting a bit carried away and too long to add as a comment:

A major, relatively undiscussed event in JKR’s descent into full terfery was this tweet:

[image id: a screenshot of a tweet from JK Rowling reading: “’People who menstruate.’ I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud?”

Rowling attaches a link to an article titled: “Opinion: Creating a more equal post-COVID-19 world for people who menstruate” /end id]

This can seem like a pretty mundane TERF talking point, just quibbling over language for the sake of it, but I think it’s worth discussing, especially in combination with the idea that cis women like JKR see transmasculine transition as a threat to their womanhood. (Recite it with horror: ”If I were young now, I might’ve transitioned...”)

A lot of people, pro- or anti-transphobe, will make this discussion about whether the term “woman” should include trans women or not, and how cis women are hostile to the inclusion of trans women. And that’s absolutely true. But the actual language cis women target is very frequently being changed for the benefit of trans men, not trans women, and most of them know this.

Cis people are used to having their identities constantly reaffirmed and grounded in their bodies. A lot of cis women, specifically, understand their social and physical identities as women as being defined by pain: misogynistic oppression is equated to the pains of menstruation or childbirth, and both are seen as the domain of cis women. They’re something cis women can bond over and build a “sisterhood” around, and the more socially aware among them can recognise that cis women’s pain being taken less seriously by medicine is not unrelated to their oppression. However, in the absence of any trans perspectives, these conversations can also easily become very territorial and very bioessentialist.

Therefore... for many cis women, seeing “female bodies” described in gender neutral language feels like stripping their pain of its meaning, and they can become very defensive and angry.

And the consequences for transmasculine people can be extremely dangerous.

Not only do transmasculine people have an equal right to cis women to define our bodies as our own... Using inclusive language in healthcare is about more than just emotional validation.

The status quo in healthcare is already non-inclusive. When seeking medical help, trans people can expect to be misgendered and to have to explain how our bodies work to the doctors. We risk harassment, pressure to detransition, pressure to sterilise ourselves, or just being outright turned away. And the conversation around pregnancy and abortion in particular is heaving with cisnormativity - both feminist and anti-feminist cis women constantly talk about pregnancy as a quintessentially female experience which men could never understand.

Using gender-neutral language is the most basic step possible to try and make transmasculine people safer in healthcare, by removing the idea that these are “women’s spaces”, that men needing these services is impossible, and that safety depends on ideas like “we’re all women here”. Not institutionally subjecting us to misgendering and removing the excuse to outright deny us treatment is, again, one of the most basic steps that can be taken. It doesn’t mean we’re allowed comfort, dignity or full autonomy, just that one major threat is being addressed. The backlash against this from cis women is defending their poorly developed senses of self... at the cost of most basic dignity and safety for transmasculine people.

Ironically, though transphobic cis women feel like decoupling “women’s experiences” from womanhood is decoupling them from gendered oppression, transmasculine people experience even more marginalisation than cis women. Our rates of suicide and assault are even higher. Our health is even less researched than cis women’s. Our bodies are even more strictly controlled. Cis women wanting to define our bodies on their terms is a significant part of that. They hold the things we need hostage as “women’s rights”, “women’s health”, “women’s discussions” and “support for violence against women”, and demand we (re-)closet ourselves or lose all of their solidarity.

Fundamentally, the problem is that transphobic cis women are possessive over their experiences and anyone who shares them. Because of their binary understanding of gender, they’re uncomfortable with another group sharing many of their experiences but defining themselves differently. They’re uncomfortable with transmasculine people identifying “with the enemy” instead of “with their sisters”, and they’re even more uncomfortable with the idea that there are men in the world who they oppress, and not the other way around. “Oppression is for women; you can’t call yourself a man and still claim women’s experiences. Pregnancy is for women; if you want to be a man so badly why haven’t already you done something about having a woman’s body? How dare you abandon the sisterhood while inhabiting one of our bodies?”

Which brings me back to the TERF line about how “If I were young now, I might have transitioned.”

I’m not saying Rowling doesn’t actually feel any personal connection to that narrative - but it is a standard line, and it’s standard for a reason. Transphobic cis women really believe that there is nothing trans men go through that cis women don’t. They equate our dysphoria to internalised misogyny, eating disorders, sexual abuse or other things they see as “female trauma”. They equate our desire to transition to a desire to escape. They want to “help us accept ourselves” and “save us” from threats to their sense of identity. The fact is, this is all projection. They refuse to consider that we really have a different internal experience from them.

There’s also a marked tendency among less overtly transphobic cis women, even self-proclaimed trans allies, to make transphobia towards trans men about cis women.

Violence against trans men is chronically misreported and redefined as “violence against women”. In activist spaces, we’re frequently told that any trauma we have with misogyny is “misdirected” and therefore “not really about us”. If we were women, we would’ve been “experiencing misogyny”, but men can’t do that, so we should shut up and stop “talking over women”. (Despite the surface difference of whether they claim to affirm our gender, this is extremely similar to how TERFs tell us that everything we experience is “just misogyny”, but that transmasculine identity is a delusion that strips us of the ability to understand gender or the right to talk about it.)

I have personally witnessed an actual N*zi writing an article about how trans men are “destroying the white race” by transitioning and therefore becoming unfit to carry children, and because the N*zi had misgendered trans men in his article, every response I saw to it was about “men controlling women’s bodies”.

All a transphobe has to do is misgender us, and the conversation about our own oppression is once again about someone else.

Transphobes will misgender us as a form of violence, and cis feminist “allies” will perpetuate our misgendering for rhetorical convenience. Yes, there is room to analyse how trans men are treated by people who see us as women - but applying a simple “men oppressing women” dynamic that erases our maleness while refusing to even name transphobia or cissexism is not that. Trans men’s oppression is not identical to cis women’s, and forcing us to articulate it in ways that would include cis women in it means we cannot discuss the differences.

It may seem like I’ve strayed a long way from the original topic, and I kind of have, but the central reason for all of these things is the same:

Trans men challenge cis women’s self-concept. We force them to actually consider what manhood and womanhood are and to re-analyse their relationship to oppression, beyond a simple binary patriarchy. 

TERFs will tell you themselves that the acknowledgement of trans people, including trans men, is an “existential threat” that is “erasing womanhood” - not just our own, but cis women’s too. They hate the idea that biology doesn’t determine gender, and that gender does not have a strict binary relationship to oppression. They’re resentful of the idea that they could just “become men”, threatened by the assertion that doing so is not an escape, and completely indignant at the idea that their cis womanhood could give them any kind of power. They are, fundamentally, desperate not to have to face the questions we force them to consider, so they erase us, deflect from us, and talk over us at every opportunity.

Trans men are constantly redefined against our wills for the benefit of cis womanhood.

TL;DR:

Cis women find transmasculine identity threatening, because we share experiences that they see as foundational to their womanhood

The fact that transphobes target inclusive language in healthcare specifically is not a mistake - They do not want us to be able to transition safely

Cis women are uncomfortable acknowledging transphobia, so they make discussion of trans men’s oppression about “womanhood” instead

This can manifest as fully denying that trans men experience our own oppression, or as pretending trans men’s experiences are identical to cis women’s in every way

[nightswithkookmin]

Hi Goldy: I just recently started reading your blog and I would like your thoughts on something. I am 100% convinced JiKook is a real relationship-there's just too much evidence to deny it. :-) I love their connection. I wonder about your thoughts on it being even more difficult for the members/company/fans to accept since JK is often portrayed as the heartthrob/can't do anything wrong member of the group? Do you think that makes it harder for everyone to accept that their Golden Maknae is gay?

Heartthrob who can do no wrong???

Chilee, I can hear Jungkook chuckling in his Itaewon home reading this bit right now. Lmho.

I don't know how to feel about Gay and wrong and acceptance being neighbors in a sentence. Sounds like a set up to an unsolicited, unwanted advice about gender and sexuality.

There's nothing wrong with being gay or queer. If people can't accept Jungkook is gay because they think he does no wrong because they interchange gay and wrong in a sentence then those people need to be castrated and mummified alive.

That being said, I think I understand where you are coming from. Jungkook gets away with a lot within the fandom- not so much within the group. Unless of course, you're counting the messing with his hyungs and making them pay for stuff and him acting bratty with certain hyungs.

I mean being Maknae has its perks.

But I think the group holds him to much higher standards especially within Jikook's dynamic, which to me is crazy because Jimin is the hyung in that group.

Yet most times- untill dynamite era last year- they sort of had this weird Jimin is always right schtick going on within the group. And you could see this especially with RM and Suga when it came to the JK vs JM moments. I have a post saved in drafts on this topic and so I won't get much into it.

But yea, a lot has changed since October and you see this shift mostly in RM and JM's dynamics- I recall dropping hints here and there about how I felt Minimoni needed to spend more time together off cams cos I thought it would be good for their dynamic? There's been a lopsided shift in Kookminjoon's dynamic and I think it's quite telling of how they have handled Jikook's relationship even on that personal level.

I think more than anyone in BTS Jk has gone up against stereotypes and people's assumptions of him and he's always stood his grounds.

People take him as he is. They don't have a choice really. He doesn't bend himself to be consumable. If he did he wouldn't be spotting them tattoes and piercings. I think he is the least consumable member in BTS according to Kpop idol standards- in certain aspects. He don't be moving like a typical idol is what I'm saying- he doesn't sway too far away either.

Do I think he gets away with a lot in this fandom? ABSOLUTELY. A lot of idol's careers have ended for far less- the scandals, the body art, the ghetto gayness etc. He really doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks of him. If he wants to get a tat he will. If he wants to fuck his band mate he will. Jeikei does what Jeikei wants.

I think if he came out today to say he likes men, or girls, or three breasted aliens- we will say ok and keep it pushing because he's gradually conditioned us to accept and be ok with who he is over the years.

"If army loves me they will accept me as I am. Rather dead than cool."

I don't think he negotiates negotiates his person with anyone. He may make compromises here and there but if push came to shove I think he would what he wants and what makes him happy and not what others want of him. He pushes the boundaries on the limits of what it means to be an idol in KPop and I think more so than Jimin he is the one best fitted to change the status quo in terms of the LGBTQIA discourse.

Jimin is a different case all together. He is an idol true and true and it makes me sad that he used to care so much what people thought of him and that he always tried to make others happy at his expense. And I can understand him because putting himself first and doing what he wants- especially in recent times, have come with consequences. He is constantly negotiating, straddling the line and trying to keep the balance- which is kind of a libra curse so I can't be mad at that really. But it sucks in the grand scheme of the LGBTQ agenda.

Whatever people think Jikook are, I think they are the exact opposite of it. It's just a matter of them showing it or living up to their truth I think. I love Jungkook- as a gay woman. I love that he is with JM because I feel they can accomplish a lot together if only JM will allow him to push his boundaries a little bit more and not resist it so much.

I think a lot of people can't believe and accept JK is gay because they are homophobic period or they have a very narrow view on life and gender and sexuality or they have just been bamboozled and they get thrown off by the mainstream hyper masculine image JK presents- which I think also stems from their being used to the stereotypes of gayness rather than gayness itself. They couldn't tell a gay man if he licked balls right in front of their salad.

A lot of what people see as gay is nothing but tropes and stereotypes of gayness. And so when they see a gay man who doesn't fall under those stereotypes they struggle to wrap their heads around it. In my opinion.

It's easier, for instance, for people to think masculine presenting women are queer than for them to wrap their heads around someone like beyonce being a lesbian- It's a loose analogy but sis work with me- I'm tired. Lol. And I say this from experience, between my sister and I, people often think she is the gay one. Lmho. Yet she is the least likely to be gay in my family. My little brother is bisexual if not gay chilee. Lol. We are the only queer ones in the family I think. But people clock him more so than I because he's effeminate. I often pass for a het- which sometimes I feel guilty about but this is not about me. Focus Goldy. [Also edit n delete ma'am]

I think it's the same for people's perception of gay men though. It's easier for people to wrap their heads around gay Jimin than gay Jk on that spectrum because Jimin fits a more traditional stereotype of gayness.

Truth is, anyone can be gay regardless of how they look or how they present as. Me when I look at BTS, JK is the most likely to dip his dick in some guts or try that gay shit at least once and next to him JM is the most likely member. Put those two together and I don't need my gay crystal ball to figure they might be screwing.

I gotta admit, I know some people who don't want to believe JK might be queer because they know the struggles that come with that identity. It could be they themselves are homophobic and have perpetrated violence and aggressions towards gay people- the karma of them loving someone who might be gay can do a number on them. Imagine that. Imagine hating on something only to find out your fave is that thing🙃

It's a myriad of things really but homophobia is always at the root of it.

I think people should stop trying to beat down their brains to accept something as fact that hasn't been confirmed. They should start with the baby steps- which member is the most likely to be gay in bangtan?

If the answer is any member besides Jikook I am beating you with a sledgehammer🤣

I hope this answers your question?

Did someone send me a Jesus loves me message recently? Y'all are too kind. I'm too gay he's gone wipe me on the hot floors of hell🤧

Signed,

GOLDY

[kyoomiii]

♡ Weight Insecurity [hcs]

-  ➣. . . ❝ Hiiii can I request for Kuroo, Keiji and Hajime with a chubby girlfriend who distanced herself cause she got insecure because a girl is getting too flirty with her man? 👉👈 thank you so muchhh (*˘︶˘*).。.:*♡ ❞

― requested by: @ chichi-chanischibi ​ ―

- ✎ characters ❝ kuroo, akaashi, and iwaizumi ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): heavy mentions of insecurity and slight language ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff, angst ❞

❝ i just wanna say... LOVE AND APPRECIATE ALL BODIES BECAUSE YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! thank you for coming to my ted talk (○゜ε＾○) ❞

-kyo ♡

When it came to appearances she was perfect, tall, thin, and standard wise she was beautiful… Something you did not see in yourself- and watching the way she touched Kuroo, you felt as if maybe, just maybe that was who he was meant to be with. 

Someone as equally as stunning as he is. Because that’s what they are, absolutely stunning standing next to one another, like two models fresh out of a magazine.

The sight alone makes your stomach churn, the familiar buzzing of anxiety vibrating throughout your body… He deserves better.

And the thought lingers in your mind the longer you stare at them, that tingle of anxiety soon joined by the clench of your heart. You watch him expectantly, perhaps he would pull away. Tell her he’s taken. But he doesn’t. He smiles the way he always does, seemingly oblivious to the way she eyes him, devouring every inch of his being.

With a shaky breath, you manage to tear your gaze away, continuing your steps down the hall. He deserves better, he deserves her, because she is beautiful and so is he, you are not- at least that’s what you tell yourself.

Throughout the day the scene replays in your mind. Her and  Him- You don’t belong there. Especially now, as you stare into the bathroom mirror, you find yourself dissatisfied with your appearance. How could he possibly love you when you are nowhere near the standard that he is. 

Tears begin to pool the longer you observe yourself. The plumpness of your body, and the roundness of your face, it leaves you feeling upset, angry, unpretty.

Gently, you wipe away the droplets that have trailed down your cheeks. You won’t let him see you like this, and maybe it’s best you don’t see him at all, because he’s sure to get dissatisfied with you one day, and when he does- when he leaves. It’ll hurt less if you no longer hold any ties.

With that set in mind, you move through the day tiptoeing around corners, looking over your shoulder for that familiar bedhead. Each time you hear his voice throughout the halls you freeze, holding your breath as you hide in the nearest place you can, hoping that he won’t see you. 

But in the end, you know, your game of one-sided hide and seek will come to an end eventually because he’ll be waiting for you just outside that classroom door as soon as the bell rings. And when you see him, he’s going to ask. Ask why you’ve been avoiding him.

The ringing fills your ears much earlier than you expected, but your heart thunders louder. Packing up your belongings you make sure to keep your head hung low. Eyes diverted towards the floor as you try your best to get out of the small room as quickly as possible. However, the gentle grip around your wrist makes you freeze. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“What are you talking about Tetsurou?”

Looking up at him, fake smile plastered on your face, you can see it in his eyes. He knows you’re lying.

“Please tell me what’s wrong y/n… Did I do something?”

The tears return once more, wetting your lashes as you look at him, 

“I just…- She’s so much more attractive than me… Tall- skinny”

And suddenly it strikes him, he feels guilty and utterly stupid as he gazes at you.

“Kitten… You’re just as attractive, if not more so. I love everything about you.”

“-But Tetsu, you deserve so much better…”

Your voice hitches and the tears finally spill. The sight breaks him, and he gently pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Listen to me. You could look any way you wanted to, but I will always think you are stunning. If you want to take healthy steps to lose weight then that’s fine- you’ll be beautiful, and if you don’t you are still beautiful.”

His grip tightens slightly as he uses his hand to wipe away the tears.

“I love you for you and in my eyes, you will always be gorgeous… I am so sorry that I haven’t made you feel that way.”

The sincerity in his voice eases you, and you slowly find yourself melting into his touch.

“Thank you, Tetsu… I love you too.”

“Of course baby, and I’ll do my best to make sure you feel good every day.”

In your mind, Akaashi came from the world of the wealthy and beautiful. The standards in his world though very similar to your own, seemed so much higher- so much more prominent.

And as a result, you were very much nervous when he approached you one day, asking if you would accompany him as his date to a party being hosted by a close family business partner. You accepted- albeit very reluctantly, but, the gentle smile that spread across his lips made it all seem worth it.

The thought is what you keep in your mind, especially as you walk through large double doors, arm looped around his own as the two of you enter the party just behind his parents. 

It’s just as grand as you expected it to be, leaving you awestruck. Men and women, boys and girls, each one holding themselves high, but you suppose that would be easy if you looked as though you were a model who was meant to be on the runway. 

Your grip on Akaashi’s arm tightens, the sudden wave of anxiety that flows through your body as you glance around doesn’t go unnoticed by Akaashi, who gives you a glance of reassurance, setting you at ease for the time being.

And as time passes, you find that it’s not so bad. The two of you stick to the corners of the room, Akaashi being someone who even though wasn’t opposed to socializing, wouldn’t necessarily go out of his way to interact with everyone, especially if you weren’t exactly comfortable in the first place.

That is until a girl, petite and in your opinion, downright beautiful approached the two of you. Her aura is bright and welcoming, and the way Akaashi greets her so fondly has you anxiously gripping his arm once more.

As you talk, you come to know that she’s Akaashi’s childhood friend who had moved away quite some time ago. But at the same time, you also come to realize that she is what is to be considered the standardized perfect. She is cute, petite, and downright sweet. And that terrifies you even more as you come to think that they look good together, she fits in his world, and you do not. 

Excusing yourself from the conversation as it slowly becomes more painful, you make your way to the drink table, before exiting to an open balcony for fresh air. You can still see them from where you are, but at least you no longer have to carry the burden of continuing the conversation.

Diverting your eyes to your drink, you manage to catch your appearance in the reflection of the glass. Examining your features from head to toe and letting your mind wander, 

And the longer you stare, the more distaste you find in your appearance. From the rolls of skin to the gentle plumpness of your body, and the roundness of your face. You wonder how Akaashi could ever find you attractive because you think you are anything but. 

You don’t even realize the tears that come to pool in your eyes, wetting your lashes and spilling to your cheeks. And you definitely don’t notice the presence of the boy behind you who gently lays his hands on your plush hips, pulling you close to his body.

“She’s pretty…”

He’s shocked, to say the least, he had noticed you were uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t have guessed it was because of her.

“But so are you…”

Turning to face him, his frown only deepens at the sight of your tear stained cheeks.

“I don’t belong here Keiji… Look at me, I’m not even half as pretty or petite as any of those girls in there I-”

Cutting you off with a soft kiss to your lips, he presses his forehead against yours.

“y/n… I am looking at you, and all I see is someone so beautiful inside and out that it makes my heartache with how much love I feel. I love you alone and no one could ever convince me otherwise. You are beautiful, I only have eyes for you y/n.”

“Thank you Keiji, I love you too.”

“Of course y/n- you deserve to feel just as beautiful as you are.”

It doesn’t take a genius to acknowledge that Iwaizumi has the body of a god. He’s simply beautiful. And while he may not have fans flocking to him like Oikawa, that doesn’t mean he isn’t accustomed to the more than occasional admirer.

Even now, after it’s been made official, a couple of months into dating that you and Iwaizumi are publicly in a relationship, every once in a while, someone will try their hand at stealing away his heart. 

None have been successful so far, but the looming anxiety that settles itself in your chest has you worrying. That one day, when you least expect it, he’ll leave. Because Iwaizumi Hajime can have anyone he wanted… So why would he want you? And that thought runs through your mind constantly, with every pretty admirer, tall, or short, thin, and downright pretty. 

The worry embeds itself within your mind, and you find yourself actively trying to avoid Iwaizumi while not raising suspicions. 

Today at lunch, you’ll sit a little further away from him, and as you walk from one class to another, you’ll choose a different way to avoid seeing Iwaizumi until you get to a class the two of you share. Even at practice, you settle yourself on the second-row balcony, enough to say that you’re there, while still being out of his way. You’ve convinced yourself that this is for the best because it’s easier to let go when there’s nothing to hold onto.

Your mind is snapped from your thoughts as the gym door opens. A girl, small and pretty stands at the door. Even from where you sit, you can see the gentle flush of pink that decorates her cheeks, and you figure that perhaps she’s here for Oikawa… That is until Iwaizumi follows her out, and suddenly you find yourself holding your breath. 

Waiting patiently, the ever growing anxiety only seems to worsen, seconds turn to a minute, and a minute turns to a couple, and you can’t stay in this gym anymore. It’s like the walls are beginning to cave in. 

Quietly, you gather your belongings, tiptoeing your way out through the nearest exit in hopes of going unnoticed.

Upon leaving the gym you finally let the pooling tears spill, decorating your cheeks and spilling to the dirt in little droplets.

“y/n!”

The sudden call of your name is enough to make you halt until a pair of arms engulf your plump body jerking you forward.

“Hajime…?”

“Shittykawa said you looked upset- are you crying?”

Startled that you had been caught, you quickly wipe them away, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie… Baby tell me what’s wrong.”

Taking in a breath, you let it spill, the words leaving you in a flood.

“You just deserve so much more than me Hajime… That girl, she’s so pretty and skinny… And I just thought that maybe you’d leave me for someone more beauti-”

“Leave you?”

His hold tightens.

“Dammit y/n, don’t say that! You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. So what if she’s skinny. I don’t care about that because in my eyes you are stunning both inside and out.”

He cups your chubby cheeks between his hands pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

“You are the only one I will ever need in my life... Because- I fucking love you! And I will be damned if you don’t see that.”

Your eyes widen in shock… He’s never said that before.

“Hajime… I love you too. Thank you.”

[umbraja]

Body Hair Positivity: Good or Gross?

It’s been a trend lately to embrace a more diverse image of beauty. Freckles and muffin tops, dark skin and curly hair, scars, tattoos, unusual proportions, crooked teeth, pretty much anything is supposed to be accepted under the banner of Body Positivity. 

But what about body hair?

And I’m not just talking about armpits or legs. I also mean unusual body hair. The kind people don’t talk about. The kind women aren’t “supposed” to have: chest hair, happy trails, beards, back hair. The kind that doctors call hirsutism and is often associated with hormonal imbalances from things like Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, Cushing Syndrome, medication side effects, menopause, or even just genetics. It affects somewhere between 5%-10% of women depending on the region surveyed but may be higher as it can often go undiagnosed.

It’s not like we’re taught how healthy body hair should look.

Humans have been removing body hair since before recorded history. Archaeologists have found evidence of early humans using clam shells and shark teeth to remove body hair. Ancient Egyptians are well known for their full body waxes. Ancient Greeks considered it “uncivilized” for a woman to have pubic hair. Roman boys celebrated their entry into manhood with a mandatory first shave. And medieval European Ladies plucked daily to remove all hair from their brows, temples, and neck - some even plucked their eyelashes. The “New World” was no stranger to body hair removal either. Thomas Jefferson, and many others, wrote of some Native Americans’ depilatory obsession.

“With [Native Americans] it is disgraceful to be hairy on the body. They say it likens them to hogs. They therefore pluck the hair as fast as it appears.” - Thomas Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia

In the non-native US, body hair removal wasn’t really a big thing until the 20th century when we did a complete 180 on the subject. Before that Puritan values made sure that most body hair was covered by clothing so few bothered to remove it since no one was gonna see what was under all that cloth. Now recent studies say that 93 to 99 percent of American women regularly remove their body hair, making it one of our most widely practiced beauty norms. Girls as young as 10 are pressured into shaving, waxing, plucking, threading, anything to remove errant hairs as soon as they start to sprout. Refusal to do so leaves us open to bullying, both on the playground and in the office. Visible body hair can cost a woman jobs, promotions, and relationships so most of us remove it, no matter the cost. Which one study worked out to be more than $10,000 over the course of her life for the average American woman who shaves. If she waxes instead the bill goes over $23,000.

So what happened?

“Where eighteenth-century naturalists and explorers considered hair-free skin to be the strange obsession of indigenous peoples, Cold War-era commentators blithely described visible body hair on women as evidence of a filthy, ‘foreign’ lack of hygiene.” - Rebecca Herzig, Plucked, a History of Hair Removal

The driving forces behind hair removal in America are the same three that cause most of the nation’s problems: greed, sexism, and racism. Let’s go in chronological order. 

As the “Age of Enlightenment” began to secularize European politics, Imperialists needed a new excuse to justify their expansion into non-European territory. Naturalists like the still famous Charles Darwin handed them pseudoscience. It’s debatable whether or not these naturalists intended their work to be used as the foundation for white supremacist ideology that still plagues us today but there’s no question about how racists interpreted it. They saw evolution as a line that went from ape through colored people and ends at Aryan. Real science tells us that’s not at all correct and if anyone is closer to cave man it’s white people who often have Neanderthal in their DNA. But they didn’t have genetic sequencers back then so they used physical traits to “prove” it instead. Part of this was a gross mischaracterization that body hair could be used to determine a person’s place within the line of human evolution. They claimed people with coarse, dark hair were closer to apes and those with thin, light hair were more evolved. Guess who picked up on that concept in the 20th century.

Darwin further complicated matters in his attempt to explain why some white people were hairier than some indigenous populations by associating hairiness with evolutionary backsliding and mental illness.  

“[Hairiness in Europeans] is due to partial reversion; for characters which have been at some former period long inherited are always apt to return. We have seen that idiots are often very hairy, and they are apt to revert in other characters to a lower animal type.” - Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man

Other scientists and even medical experts of the time ran with this idea and before long the educated elite considered hairiness (along with other non-Aryan traits) to be a symptom of disease, insanity, and criminal violence. The uneducated masses were more familiar with freak show displays of unusually hairy people as “missing links” to our primate ancestors. Both cases considered having body hair to be a very bad thing. They’re also very bad science and not at all true.

Despite these very strong, racist feelings about body hair, it still wasn’t common for American women to remove it beyond the upper lip, neck, jaw, or between the eyebrows. Most women don’t have much hair there and those that did rarely had time or money to invest in removing it. Also they wouldn’t be caught dead admitting they had to so historical records might not be accurate about how many women actually plucked. For the first half of American history peach fuzz and other light hair was seen as normal and clothes covered the rest. But the 20th century not only saw women wearing less cloth and showing more skin it also saw them calling for gender equality. Critics of women’s liberation often accused suffragettes of sexual inversion - aka acting too much like men, which they saw as an abhorrent threat. To really drive this point home they often depicted women’s rights activists as being hairy, thus politicizing our pits. Pair this with the “hygiene” movement’s embrace of already mentioned racist views on body hair and you have a recipe for weaponized shame.

“Self-consciousness brings timidity, restrained action and awkwardness. The use of Del-a-tone relieves the mind from anxious watchfulness of movement.” - 1919 Del-a-tone depilatory advertisement

Enter Capitalism. Producers of hair removal products wanted to up sales so they did the exact same thing that was done with every other beauty product on the market - shame women into buying their stuff. It’s debatable if this was motivated purely by greed, in an attempt to reach an untapped market, or if the resulting gender oppression was intentional but men were spared of this aggressive shaming (until recently at least). Women, on the other hand, were flooded with advertisements for body hair removal products. From the first “razor for women” in 1915 to 21st century laser hair removal ads, women are constantly being reminded of our body hair. It doesn’t take a genius seeing ads that call smooth skin “attractive” or “sanitary” to extrapolate the opposite - that body hair is ugly, and dirty. A series of ads for Del-a-tone depilatory products even called it “necessary” for sleeveless fashion and suggests that not using their product will lead to social anxiety. Pair that with only ever using shaved models in all of fashion advertising and you send a pretty clear message: female body hair is something to be ashamed of. Advertising works. Now most American women actually feel gross if they’ve missed a shave, despite body hair being perfectly natural and not at all dirty. This disgust is so strong it has even bled over into an aversion toward male body hair which has seen a sharp decline in popularity since the shaggy chested disco days. Now men are being inundated with “manscaping” advertisements and expectations of manicured if not completely removed body hair.

So that’s the background but where’s this going?

While female body hair removal is firmly ingrained in western beauty standards, a new generation of women are rebelling against those ideals - body hair included. Recent studies have shown a shift in body hair trends among young women. Only 77% percent of women 16 to 24 reported regularly shaving their pits in 2016 and 85% shaved their legs, down from 95% and 92% respectively just two years prior. Since then we’ve started to see models, celebrities, and everyday women with unshaven pits and hairy legs. Body positivity campaigns have even gotten a few advertisers to include body hair in their ads. Now you can see razors actually shaving hair from women’s bodies instead of inexplicably running over baby smooth skin. 

Women have always told ourselves that hair removal is a choice but we’ve never before been encouraged to choose not doing it. Instead we’ve been brainwashed to think it’s dirty and disgusting and that no one will accept us for being hairy. Today’s young woman is actually presented with a choice, “to shave or not to shave” and a lot of them are choosing not to. Which is great news for people like me who have hirsutism and are sick of being shamed for how nature made us. 

But we’ve still got a very long way to go before I can be confident that my neck beard won’t hold me back both socially and professionally. A lot of the women who have publicly displayed body hair in recent years have come under attack by people calling them various shades of “gross” and some have even been sent death threats. It’s one thing for a rich and famous Hollywood movie star to take that kind of risk but for an autistic office worker living in a conservative backwater that’s a whole different game.

Whatever your thoughts and feelings on body hair, America still hasn’t escaped the shame of the last hundred years. Women are still very much judged for being hairy. A lot of people still think it’s gross. I’m not one of them but I’m full of unpopular opinions.

[things2mustdo]

I doubt anyone needs to be reminded that the media is rotten to the core; even the most reluctant and closed-minded people are accepting this as a given now. But despite the media being widely condemned nowadays (my special thanks to Germans for bringing the word “Lügenpresse” back), few people know or understand what’s really going on in the journalistic kitchens, where the foul slop of lies that people are fed every day is cooked up. However, there is always a way in—through purposeful infiltration or, in my case, by accident.

I have an old friend—let’s call him Sven—whom I always knew as a kind-hearted and sincere man. However, these traits are also coupled with always assuming the best of people and being rather naive. Due to this, he keeps ending up in awkward and sometimes dangerous situations. One of them turned out to be a short stint as a journalist for a popular online newspaper. He barely maintained contact during his employment and eventually went completely off the grid. In about a month, he resurfaced a changed man, and not for the better. As he explained, he quit the job and then shut himself in for a while, armed with nothing but alcohol, to cope with the depression working as a journalist gave him.

Now, this probably sounds very soft to many of you, including myself. Men don’t sink into depressions or try to drink themselves out of problems. While I granted my friend the clemency of explaining his failures to him, I also recognized the usefulness of his experience and started questioning him about what he saw and heard at the job. I will relay his findings below; however, I will not disclose his true name or the name of his employer—given the “free” country we live in, this can land him in very hot water.

Whoever pays you, owns you

Sven joined the ranks of journalists to tell people the truth. To his credit, he believed he would be doing exactly that. His first assignment sounded so simple, after all—talk to a person, record the conversation, write an article, publish it. The reality turned out to be diametrically different—after our fresh-baked journalist returned from his first interview, he was immediately ordered to transcribe the recording and email it to the content manager. Half an hour later Sven received a heavily edited version of the transcript, with the parts he considered most crucial replaced with meaningless buzzwords or removed completely. When he went to the manager to voice his indignation, the manager simply replied: “This man did not pay us for an article that would disparage him. Get back to your desk.”

This was far from the only case of Sven witnessing how much pull money has in journalism. His numerous colleagues almost never produced independent content—they were too busy publishing one paid article after another. When Sven asked whether these articles should be marked as sponsored, the only reply he got was a bitter laugh. Very often the content manager would come over to his desk and say something along the lines of “Do you know the guy you are writing about is a close friend of our boss? Do not screw this article up.” Sven was also surprised to see that many interviewees (usually politicians) would not even bother to talk to him, instead referring him to their secretaries or assistants. One of them even went as far as to hand him a pre-written speech, tell him to work with it and walk away.

However, our Sven also happens to possess a burning sense of justice, which has several times led him to ignore the “recommendations” his content manager gave him, deviate from the official story and allow small snippets of truth to make their way into public view. For each of such occurrences he was called to the manager’s room, given a strict admonishment and had his paycheck for the month reduced. Any “unsanctioned” things that he wrote were quickly edited away afterwards—even if the article had already been read by thousands of people. And his was supposed to be a “neutral and objective” media outlet!

Standards? Never heard of ’em.

It was a big shock for Sven when he finally realized that his employers were beings without conscience who whored themselves out to the highest bidder. It was an even bigger shock when he discovered how nonchalantly his colleagues treated their responsibilities. Investigative journalists relied on information they got from Google searches and Twitter posts, editors and sub-editors used rumors and hearsay to write scathing op-eds, website managers just posted any content that caught their fancy as long as they could come up with a flashy enough headline for it to attract people. Fact-checking was almost unheard of, unless someone specifically paid for it.

When it came to choosing topics and writing articles, the guideline for the entire establishment was simple: do not make the people angry. Not the regular people, mind you—those were not even considered human beings, just a faceless mass that one threw articles at and got pageviews and money in return. No, the label “people” was reserved for people who mattered. This included representatives of the powers that be, well-known public figures, moneybags with fingers in the political pie and, of course, personal buddies of the outlet’s owner.

These were to be protected, coddled and praised at all costs, while everyone else was fair game. Needless to say, politics held as much sway in the outlet as money did—whenever something noteworthy happened, “protectors of truth and objectivity” immediately went to work spinning the events in a way desirable for those holding their leashes. Hit pieces against political opponents and undesirables were churned out, smokescreens were cast, facts were omitted, denied and misinterpreted. Sven confessed to me later that the day his outlet covered the parliamentary elections was the first day in his life when he spent the entire evening drinking. Journalistic ethics, a term that the media loves throwing left and right, turned out to be nothing but hot air.

In the media omelet, you are an egg

The title says it all. For top dogs in the media business, a rank-and-file worker is not just a pawn—he is a condom. Contrary to what many people think, a typical journalist’s existence is quite pathetic: underpaid, undervalued, thankless and constantly bossed around. Staff turnover in the “kitchen” is very high, and not because people are getting promoted. In this field, the term “veteran employee” frequently means a poor sod who has no alternatives and cannot quit.

According to Sven, plenty of his colleagues worked only for the sake of getting their paycheck, which explains their negligence. Grey faces, pinched mouths, shifty eyes and sour attitudes—whatever it takes to get through the day. In addition, the higher-ups avoided any responsibility for the published content: whenever an angry reader called the office and complained about an article, the guy who wrote it was immediately thrown under the bus, even if his work was reviewed and approved by the management before publication. After all, what does it take to find another office drone with half-decent writing skills?

However, Sven also describes those of his coworkers who enjoyed their job. They arrived at the office with a spring in their step, a smile snaking across their faces and a mischievous glint in their eyes. These were the “talented” favorites of the outlet’s boss—unfeeling, cold assholes who would sell their own mothers for a juicy piece of gossip that they would later smear all over the website. Whenever they got a chance to write a hit piece, spread a nasty rumor or ruin someone’s life, one could almost see them light up from within. Remember all these smug, holier-than-thou, oh-so-intellectual articles churned out by rags like Salon, Dagens Nyheter and Huffington Post? You can bet your pinky finger they were (and are) written by these people. Which brings us to the next topic.

No wrongthink allowed

As you have probably noticed long ago, the media field is a huge and accommodating Petri dish for all varieties of Kulturbolschewismus. In Sven’s case, it wasn’t just a fear-based company policy of snitching and self-censorship, but an actual agenda at work. He told me there was a flowchart hanging in the newsroom explaining what to do when reporting crimes and incidents. It went something like this: “Was the perpetrator native (white)? Y = report in detail, amplify, N = gloss the details over, downplay.”

Sven wrote an article about a national holiday once, but his content manager refused to approve it for publishing due to it being “too patriotic,” advising him instead to “write more inclusively about minorities’ participation in the festival.” Anything praising the country and its indigenous inhabitants was undesirable and omitted whenever possible, while any piece that brimmed with self-hate, praised inhabitants of other (read: African and Muslim) countries or attacked the natives and their way of life was a big hit and flew through approval like a bird.

Needless to say, the outlet’s newsroom was crammed full of women, their pet cucks and, of course, Jews. The former enjoyed absolute power regardless of their position—a simple complaint to HR was enough to fire anyone, no proof required. The cucks, represented by twig-armed, piercing-laden, wispy-bearded creatures in Che Guevara shirts, were very pleased with the way things were going, sipping lattes and snitching to HR on those who expressed ideas incompatible with the narrative. Jews were in their native element in the newsroom, doing their usual “arrogant intellectual” schtick and getting promotions out of nowhere. The majority of articles bashing natives, their culture and values came from them, as later study of the newspaper’s website showed me.

Liars for hire

So, to sum it all up: the media is not composed of good but misguided people, as many still think. On the contrary, it is a very purposeful and self-aware entity that positions itself somewhere between an unscrupulous opportunist and a loyal lapdog of the state. At best, it is faux-patriotic (“such a wonderful country we have, let’s invite more immigrants!”), while at worst, it is openly hostile towards the indigenous population of the country it exists in.

Moreover, it allows for consolidation and self-affirmation of globalist forces—the traitorous governments, the world Jewry, the multinationals, the entertainment industry and the like—against the increasingly disenfranchised and declining native population. And last but not least, the media is complicit in crimes committed in the West by non-White immigrants due to purposeful obfuscation of them and, if that fails, rabble-rousing to pressure the courts into letting the criminals off scot-free. To me, the latter reason alone is enough to send all the journalists and their owners to the gibbet.

The bottom line is to always remember that the media is not your friend in any way, shape or form, even if its lowest tier operatives fit the description of hapless victims rather than nation-wrecking enemies. The media must be opposed, exposed and boycotted at every turn until it starts bleeding money and choking on its own venom.

Read More: Is Washington Post Writer Adam Taylor A Shill Or Part Of Something Larger?

While reading  Roosh’s article about Adam Taylor and the Washington Post, I noticed quite a few things I would like to share with people here. The direct link between Adam Taylor and the Radio Free excerpt is an anomaly. Such blatant copying is a very rare thing to occur because it gives away a possible collusion between entities.

Looking for these open relationships is long and hard. The better way to analyze  the relations and motivations of certain publishers, policy makers and other manipulators  is to study the various themes they put out and where these themes repeat. While Roosh  might assume that Adam Taylor is the paid shill by himself, I’ve noticed that his writing changes to whoever publishes it. Therefore the Washington Post Worldviews section may be the one that is parroting US State Department themes not just Adam Taylor.

As is shown in Roosh’s article, the similarities between Adam Taylor’s piece and Radio Free Europe are quite telling. It is a possibility that it is a coincidence but a small one. People that try to influence public opinion go to great lengths to ensure things like this do not happen which is why I’m assuming that Adam Taylor is  part of larger machine and not a shill by himself.

Looking back at Adam Taylor’s writing for the Huffington Post, he wrote fluff pieces about gay dogs and other mass consumption items for that audience. His writing about geopolitical intrigue only takes the current form when he begins writing for the Washington Post. All his articles are the Who’s Who of what the US State Department doesn’t like. The roster includes Russia, China, Venezuela, Syria, and Zimbabwe. He writes nothing critical of any American allies.

Could this mean that his change in format indicate that someone turned him? I doubt it. Compare his work at the Washington Post to the rest of the “world views” section there, his writing is merely a contribution to a giant echo chamber and not unique to him.

As I said earlier, it’s very rare for open evidence of collusion such as the similar quotations to present themselves. A better technique to discern propaganda and collusion is to analyze trends and themes.You should look for such things as what the work attempts to convey, does it try to get you to think or act in a certain way, and does it try to get you to disregard other things.

In the Adam Taylor case, the pattern changes significantly from the Huffington Post to the Washington Post. You can also apply this trend analysis to pretty much any author. You can even apply to the contributors here at  Return of Kings and see what you get. Do the trends indicate that the publisher may dictate what the writers write about? Do the trends indicate whether or not the writers have freedom to write about whatever they want? To help you readers out on this exercise I’ll inform you there were two articles I did at the direction of the publisher. They were my article for fat shaming week and my article for #backtothekitchen.  Feel free to comment on any other trends you might notice and if they do not line up with the “about” page.

[modernmusings]

Difficult Women

I didn’t intend for my first post to be so angry but here we are.

Georgie Dent summed it up perfectly in the introduction to her piece “The last few weeks have been intense even for a statistically “lucky woman” like me: a women who hasn’t experienced sexual assault or sexual violence. Harassment and sexism, of course, but never assault or violence.”

I too, am a “lucky woman”. But I can’t be the only lucky woman that has had trouble sleeping these past few weeks. The underlying sense of anxiety and existential dread that has become the background of our thoughts as we move through our days. The dull hum of anger that belies our friendly demeanour. I can only imagine how those of us who aren’t so lucky have managed to function with any sense of normality as they go about their days, under constant threat of seeing an image, a tweet or an anecdote that might bring the whole carefully constructed facade they have built crashing down over them. The line between survivor and victim is a fine one and it shifts constantly. Even when you’re lucky, knowing what trauma others hold brings with it a particular kind of guilt. And there is always the fear that you could crossover into the territory of the unlucky at any time. Because thats the thing isn’t it? You never know what or who or when it could be that you become another statistic. Its not anything you can control regardless of what the Chief of the ADF says. Its not what you’re wearing, or what you’re drinking, or who you’re with or where you are. And I can’t be the only woman that is tired and infuriated at constantly being told that someone is “asking for it”. When are we going to ask men to simply stop attacking women or each other? 

It shouldn’t have to be like this. We shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of the crimes committed against us and also be held accountable that they occurred. We never ask the victim of a coward punch from a drunk to account for what they did to provoke the violence that they suffered. We don’t tell them that accusing a man of punching them and pressing charges will destroy that man’s life, that his future and potential are ruined if they speak out. So why do we say this to a woman who has been sexually assaulted? We rightly hold the violent drunk to account, we make him answerable for his actions. We demand justice for the victim. We don’t tell them that their actions contributed to their attack. We offer them sympathy, empathy, support, justice. Not blame.

It feels like were at an inflection point, that surely, after this things must change. We can’t go back to the way things were, too much has shifted, the avalanche is coming. And yet. We feel like we’ve been here before. The advent of the Me Too movement felt similar, that we were standing on the precipice of societal upheaval that sadly never came. We are still waiting. But it feels like now we are angrier than ever. That the simmering fury we have felt for years now has us glowing with pent up rage. From the fact that we earn less, to the micro aggressions we suffer, to the small demeaning acts we tolerate every day because to speak up means you’ll be labelled a difficult woman and god forbid you be known as that because who wants to deal with a difficult woman? Its a sliding scale of awfulness that we endure that starts with a sexist joke (come on, can’t you lighten up and have a laugh?) then descends into horrors all too imaginable for the thousands of women that have to live in the aftermath. 

It needs to stop. The problems don’t end in Canberra, but that is as good a place as any to start. There doesn’t need to be a level of proof that reflects that of a criminal court, we don’t need to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that these things occur. The people that keep equating criminal law proceedings with how we handle these things have it backwards- we make snap judgements all the time in our everyday lives about the suitability and character of those around us. Our friends, colleagues, family even. We don’t demand proof beyond reasonable doubt that some one is of good character to associate with them. If we get a bad vibe from a pet sitter or we hear that a colleague is accused of impropriety we can and often do choose to disassociate from them.

 Why should a cabinet minister be held to a lower standard than a dog walker? Why should a political staffer be given more leeway than a family member we feel uncomfortable around? Being a politician is a form of public service. And I for one think that those that wield the power to make our laws and govern various aspects of our lives should be held to a higher standard that an average citizen. 

This time, we can’t let the noise die down, fade away and leave the status quo intact. We just face the change. Channel that anger. Be the change.

[inlovewitheasefuldeath]

some people who hold problematic beliefs are just awful, but some people don’t really understand why what they’re saying is problematic and genuinely believe they are acting in the most compassionate/progressive way possible.

When I was out to dinner with my mom the other day, the host was wearing a black tank top dress, and after she sat us and walked away, my mom said “Wow, can we just talk about how teeny her dress was?? what the heck???” and i just calmly was like “well, you couldn’t see her butt or her boobs so it was fine, maybe we shouldn’t judge other people” and everyone shut up and i didn’t think anything of it

and then later when we were alone in the car, my mom says “I guess I didn’t really care what that girl was wearing, but when I see young women in skimpy outfits, I just get so concerned that they feel like they have to dress that way to get male attention, or that their boss or someone is making wear sexualized outfits for male gratification” and i was like huh ok, that’s an understandable concern from the viewpoint of protecting women

so i just said “that makes sense. the way I like to think about it is that by reacting poorly to women’s bodies (even out of concern) we are reinforcing the concept that a woman’s body is inherently sexual. All you could see on this girl was her legs, arms, and upper chest. You couldn’t see her boobs (not a sex organ anyways, but that’s a whole other issue) or vagina (an actual sex organ). What would the world look like if outfits like that weren’t considered inherently sexual on women when they aren’t on men (dudes walk around straight up shirtless like...constantly). Some notion of “forced” sexualization or women feeling like they “have to” dress in a “sexy” way to get ahead would be eliminated if we just limited our idea of what is inherently sexual to literal sexual organs/acts. That would protect women just as well, while still celebrating genuine self expression if this lady just wanted to wear a short tank top dress in the summer when it is hot as balls”

and my mom was just like “huh ok, i never thought of it that way”

sometimes we gotta shift our perspective on what constitutes the ideal. The ideal standard for our world is usually much higher than just the bare minimum. We shouldn’t be only trying to minimize/eliminate harm, we should be actively trying to promote progress/value/idealism. idk this is a ramble now but just some thoughts i had