#you've been catcalled? shame.

[thefairfolk]

it's funny because women in the middle east will be beaten and/or killed for letting their hair show, are constantly shown propaganda from first grade about how they need to cover themselves and be modest and docile if they don't want to end up in hell with other scum, expelled from high school/college or forced to abstain from participating in important exams if they speak out against the government, have poisonous gas cans tossed into their schools as an intimidation tactic, are made to feel bad for having working mothers, and generally live in a country where not only they but also people of other genders are, majority-wise, in a state of poverty in comparison to the western world, yet still continue to be calm and powerful.

and first world women (whether white or black) will weep at seeing the stupid barbie movie and think that THAT'S the pinnacle of women's rights. like, that is PEAK self-centred ignorance.

i don't think that the western world is some kind of perfect utopia for women. i understand it has its own flaws. but you can't possibly expect me to believe that people there understand just how bad things are here. in fact, considering the fact that growing up here has taught me a lot of important facts, i'd say it was a vital experience.

heed the tags.

[jintaka-hane]

The Date

Masterlist

Summary: You and Heat have your first task together: buying provisions in the village where you've just docked. To get the job done, you decide to wear a beautiful, light summer dress, something that will reveal your companion to be quite the gentleman and charmer. Notes: I'll be honest. The amount of time it has taken me to write this fic is not normal XDD Word Count: 2700+

"Someday, I'll take out a girl like that," said a young Heat, hidden in an alley, hungrily biting into a stolen loaf of bread as he observed elegantly dressed girls pass by.

"Don't tell me!" mocked one of his friends. "And let me guess! You'd treat her to ice cream?"

"Of course I'd treat her to ice cream," he replied proudly, prompting his group of friends to erupt in laughter.

...

The years passed, and with them came the street gangs, the violent fights, and the Glasgow smile, causing this memory to fade from his mind.

******

That day was resupply day in the village. 

After the shout on deck announcing that you had just docked in the harbor, you hurried to get ready in your cabin, assuming Heat was probably already prepared. It was the first time you had been assigned a task together, and you didn't want to keep him waiting.

Your fingers began to sift through the different hangers in the flung wide open wardrobe in search of something light to wear. Summer had arrived on the islands, bringing with it hot, sunny days, so you needed something cooler than your usual outfit.

Discarding the leather jacket—too hot despite being sleeveless—along with the set of gothic corsets and harnesses, and the collection of dark t-shirts with spiked dog collars, your fingers halted on a hanger holding a much more delicate garment.

A few weeks earlier, Quincy had convinced you to buy a summer dress from a store that sold everything at half price. Lavender in color, with a sweetheart neckline and tiny embroidered flowers on the skirt, it was a garment you had never worn, partly out of embarrassment and partly because it wasn't the most suitable attire for the strict life at sea.

Holding it between your hands, you thought it was a shame for it to hang there unused. What if you wore it that afternoon? Oh, the crew would surely laugh at you when they saw you, but... it was cool and airy, perfect for high temperatures... and besides, the village seemed so peaceful and tranquil, with little risk of having to face a street fight. When else would you have such an opportunity to wear it?

You chuckled to yourself at the realization that you were making excuses to wear it, and slipped it on without further thought, completing the outfit with a pair of matching heeled sandals instead of your usual black leather boots.

As you stepped out onto the deck, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at you. Everyone except Heat, who appeared absorbed in reviewing the shopping list over and over again, seemingly unaware of the catcalls and wolf whistles that started to fill the air.

Slightly embarrassed, you hurried over, snatched the berry bag that Killer handed you, and turned to Heat, lifting your chin to meet his gaze, suddenly aware of how tall he was.

"Shall we go?" you asked, eager to disembark as quickly as possible.

The pirate with bluish locks lifted his gaze from the paper and blinked several times before looking you up and down. His face flushed pink, and before he could stammer a word, the shopping list slipped from his hands, falling to the ground right by your feet. Grunting, he bent down to retrieve it, unable to prevent his eyes from flicking a quick glance at the straps of your sandals, admiring how delicately they encircled your ankle bones.

"Uh, y-yes, let's go," he stammered, straightening up and brushing back the hair that had fallen across his face in cascades, his cheeks still tinged with a deep blush.

As he looked back at you, you were already descending the gangplank, teetering slightly in your heels. He slipped a hand into his pocket, discretely counted his allowance, then hurried to catch up with you.

"Behave yourself, Heat!" someone shouted from behind both of you.

*****

The port turned out to be a lively and pleasant place, and Heat, once over the initial shock, seemed more animated than ever. He chatted incessantly, his bright eyes fixed on you, gesturing emphatically with his hands, and constantly making you laugh with his antics.

You moved through the picturesque streets, going from shop to shop, oblivious to how the passersby crossed to the other side of the street at the sight of him.

Your companion was constantly attentive to you, always gallantly holding the door open at every shop and insisting on carrying all the shopping bags himself.

On a couple of occasions, unaccustomed as you were to wearing heels, you stumbled on the shop's entrance step, and Heat caught you mid-air as laughter bubbled between you. The shopkeepers watched with curiosity, puzzled by the unusual pair you made.

Once you had finished all the groceries Killer had instructed, you moved on to the list of personal requests. You giggled together as you read items such as a can of blue paint, nail polishes, a trident sharpener, and a special shampoo that Heat eventually confessed was for himself.

It didn't take long to gather everything, but not wanting to return to the ship so soon, Heat suggested taking a leisurely stroll through the heart of the village to explore.

"Doesn't it bother you? You're loaded down with bags," you asked, concerned as you saw his fingers, white under the handles.

"No, not at all!" he chuckled carelessly.

You walked without haste, chatting more calmly after the earlier excitement of the day.

The village boasted a wide array of peculiar products you had never seen before, and each time you paused to observe them in the windows of closed shops, Heat took the opportunity to admire the reflection on your face, filled with curiosity.

Heat wished the evening would never end, but before you both knew it, the sun descended from the sky, signaling it was time to return to the ship.

Walking side by side and enjoying the tranquility of the streets in comfortable silence, you made your way back.

You could already see the harbor, the masts of the moored ships jutting out in the distance, when your crewmate halted silently, a smile touching his scarred lips. 

"Heat?" You stopped next to him, peering at him inquisitively.

Following his gaze, you saw a modest ice cream parlor at the end of the street. It was small, with a limited selection of flavors displayed at the entrance.

He looked at you, a small blush creeping up his cheeks once more.

"Do you want ice cream?"

A radiant smile lit up your face, like that of a little girl. 

"YES!"

"Let's go." He patted one of his pockets to double-check his allowance. "I'll treat you."

"Really? No need, Heat, I can—"

"Let me treat you, please."

You beamed at him, somewhat surprised by his sudden generosity. 

"Thank you so much!" 

As you approached the ice cream flavors display, the vendor greeted you with a friendly gesture, his smile quickly vanishing when he saw your companion coming up behind you. 

There weren't many flavors to choose from, but the ones available looked delightful. Your eyes scanned the different options, hesitating over which would be the best.

"Psst, hey miss..." the vendor whispered in a voice only audible to you, watching warily as your companion bent down to eye the mint flavor. "Are you in danger?" 

You lifted your gaze and saw the man discreetly gesture toward Heat. Then, you bursted into laughter, amused as you watched your friend smile and point at the creamy, greenish ice cream with chocolate chips.

"Oh, no, no, he's with me."

Once each of you had your ice cream scoops nestled in a waffle cone, you slowly made your way back to the ship.

Since his hands were occupied with the bags, you carried both ice creams, pausing now and then to give him his, bringing it close to his lips while placing your other hand underneath to prevent spills—somehow, the ice cream seemed to melt remarkably fast near him.

This strategy worked the first few times, but eventually, it became impossible to avoid making a mess.

As you brought the cone to his lips, several treacherous drops fell from the corner of his mouth and rolled down to his chin. Without thinking, you swiftly used your thumb to catch them, briefly sliding it along the seam of his scarred lips, feeling the indentations of his scars. He jerked back, involuntarily withdrawing his head with an abrupt movement, surprising both of you.

Immediately, you pulled your hand away, embarrassed for touching him without permission and realizing it was the first time you had touched his scars. How foolish of you; perhaps it hurt him, or perhaps he found it unpleasant for someone else to touch them...

“F-forgive me, I didn’t mean to-” you began, visibly ashamed.

"It’s okay," he cut you off, cursing himself for his own reaction and for scaring you away.

You both continued walking in silence, the only sounds on the street being the rustle of your dress, and the click of your heels against the pavement.

Heat's thoughts were consumed by the gentle brush of your fingers against his scars, the sensation of your touch replaying in his mind over and over again.

"Heat…" you decided to break the silence. 

The pirate glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, seeing how you hesitantly held out your waffle cone toward him.

"Do you want to try mine?"

He halted beside you, his fists gripping the handles just a bit too tightly. 

"Um... yes."

As he bent down and your hand approached his mouth, his heart started racing. His lower lip trembled as he tasted the sweet flavor you offered him, and his gaze drifted to your fingers, observing how they carefully cradled the ice cream. How had he never noticed before how delicate they were? He studied them, noting the shape of your nails, barely maintained due to your lifestyle, yet still elegant and beautiful.

"Do you like it?" you asked.

He remained lost in your hands, his eyes admiring the smooth, velvety skin of your wrists, so close to his lips that he could almost kiss them…

"Heat! Can you hear me?" you laughed, giving him a friendly tap on the chest to get his attention. "Do you like it?"

"Yes..."

*****

It was already nightfall when you returned to the ship. 

After climbing the ship's staircase, you headed to the pantry, which was warmly lit, echoing with the voices of your crewmates from outside. 

"Oi!"

“Welcome back!” They greeted you cheerfully.

Heat dropped the heavy bags on the table, grabbed a few bottles of booze, and turned to stow them in a cupboard.

"Well..." Quincy began, glancing sideways at your dress while pretending to inspect the groceries, "how was the date?"

Heat's back muscles tensed, his hands freezing with the bottles held mid-air, as he listened attentively to the conversation behind him.

"The date?” You laughed, grabbing a couple of apples and placing them in the fruit bowl. “I haven't had any dates. I can't remember the last time I had one."

Quincy hummed, her eyes moving from the tense, motionless posture of the tattooed pirate to the vivid color in your cheeks.

"Well, that's a shame... you're gorgeous. And you look especially lovely tonight," she added, raising her voice to make sure everyone could hear.

"Oh, Quincy, stop it! You're going to make me blush even more."

"But you really are!" she pulled you into a hug from the side. 

You returned the hug, then focused on organizing the provisions, working in silence while your friends chatted around you.

*******

Back in your cabin, you sat on your bed reflecting on how the day had gone.

It hadn't been bad; you had quite enjoyed yourself.

Surprisingly so, considering it was just a day of shopping.

You lifted your feet to untie the straps of your sandals and rotated your ankles, stiff from the forced position of the heels. Barefoot, you rose from the bed and stretched your arms above your head to reach the zipper that fastened the dress at your back.

Knock, knock, knock.

A soft tapping on your door caught your attention, so faint that you mistook it for the usual creaking of the ship’s wood.

You grumbled, trying to make the zipper budge when the tapping came again, this time with more determination.

Knock, knock, knock.

With your dress half-open, you walked to the door and opened it, revealing the towering figure of Heat standing on the other side.

"Hey, Heat?" You greeted him.

The pirate looked at you in silence, his shyness causing his eyes to drop to the floor, landing on your bare feet. He quickly looked back up, a rosy hue spreading across his cheeks.

"Heat, do you need something?"

"I had a great time today," he blurted out.

You smiled. 

"I did too."

He ran a hand through the wild, untamed waves of his bluish hair.

"A-and I was wondering if you… well, it's completely understandable if you don't want to. It's fine, really, if your answer is no, but…” He propped his tattooed elbow on the door frame, trying to strike a seductive pose, “would you like to go back to town tonight?"

“Oh!” you exclaimed. "Did we forget to buy something from the list? But Heat, the shops are closed now."

He blinked at you, his heart sinking like a dead weight into the depths of the sea. 

“No, no, we didn't forget anything,” he assured you.

You looked up at him. "Then?"

"It's just that... I was thinking…” he began to fidget with the laces of his vest, “maybe we could go to town to have… dinner?" 

He ended the sentence with a questioning tone, wincing at how awkward he sounded.

"Dinner?” Your face lit up, suddenly realizing how hungry you were. “I could have dinner! When do we leave? Are the others ready?"

Heat couldn’t believe how difficult this was turning out to be.

"The others? No, no, the others wouldn’t be coming."

"...oh," you said awkwardly. "...OH.”

He kept his gaze fixed on you, studying your reaction as it all clicked into place for you.

"... so," you began carefully, wanting to make sure you were understanding correctly. "It would just be you and me? Like—"

"A date, yes," he confirmed, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

A warm, thrilled smile spread across your face.

"Yes! Of course I'll go! I'd love to go back to town with you!"

His face lit up with the most radiant smile you had ever seen.

“Just..." you remarked as you realized you were barefoot and with the dress halfway off, "...give me a moment to get ready, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded.

The moment you closed the door, Heat punched the air in quiet triumph. Then, with a satisfied grin stretching from ear to ear, he made his way to the deck, where he would wait for you for the second time that day.

Perhaps, if the evening unfolded well, he might gather the courage to hold you in his arms... and perhaps, if you allowed him, he could show you how much he had loved the feel of your skin against his scars.

..........................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail <3

[bbarnesbby]

Through the back door

Pervy!contractor!Joel Miller x fem!reader

(photos from pinterest, and not an accurate representation of how the reader is perceived in their appearance)

Summary: A fresh faced personal assistant catches Joel’s eye whilst working on his current job, and who can blame him for going after what he wants? Even if it takes some convincing…

Words: 2k

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dark!Joel Miller, Joel is VERY crude and pervy here, he's also very forward, creepy men, catcalling, groping, coercion, lots of sexual innuendos, but no actual smut, my lil brain knows nothing about construction sites or contractors and it shows<3, my dyslexia lol

!! I do not consent to or accept any instance in which my works are copied, edited, reposted or translated on tumblr or any other website. !!

!! Please also note that this is fan fiction and I would never tolerate the themes in this being repeated in the real world. I am not responsible for what you consume on this website, all warnings are given and if you don't feel comfortable with them then your opinion is valid and understandable, but not invitation to hate on or shame this fanfic !!

Thank you and please enjoy <33

The repetitive click of your heels on the dusty pavement below you seems to be the only thing you can hear over your laboured breathing as you rush to get back to the office building, the place that could only affectionately be described as your own personal hell.

When you'd first gotten the job, the ambiguously labelled title you had been assigned did confuse you at first. However, now as you grip the holder for four coffees in one hand, and a bag carrying a series of different flavoured salads, sandwiches, and kinds of pasta in the other, you realise it was all to cover up what you'd really be.

A bottom-of-the-barrel personal assistant.

The job itself isn't one you would complain about, everyone has got to start somewhere after all, especially coming straight out of college. It's just the assholes you work for that make you long for an escape.

Young men with no degree, making them easily less qualified than you, having the audacity to make requests that must be completed in unrealistic time frames seem to be the bane of your existence. The fact they have the power to do so only down to the fact they have family working the important positions in other branches of the company.

That and the thing hanging between their legs.

Pushing your thoughts of distaste aside, you glance at your wristwatch as you round the last corner of your journey before the building is in sight. You notice you've got a good five minutes before you're eligible for a scolding from your boss and let out a sigh of relief.

But as you get closer to your destination, you notice construction tape seems to have materialised around the walkway to the office building in the fifteen minutes you were gone, men already drilling into the ground you need to walk over to get where you need to be.

As you hurry to the now construction site, you stand for a moment confused, huffing as you look around for anyone who could help you in your predicament.

Your eyes scan a group of men standing by the bed of a pickup truck, presumably talking about their job at hand. You walk along the makeshift fence made up of scuffed traffic cones and more construction tape until you're near enough parallel to the truck, not crossing the tape out of concern you may disrupt whatever's going on.

"Excuse me?" Voice loud enough to be heard but still polite, you gain the attention of a couple of the men, their averted gazes prompting those who didn't initially hear you to look over too. A small but friendly smile pulls at your lips but soon falters when a few of them let out their renditions of low whistles and unsavoury comments towards you.

"You alright, pretty lady?" One of them smirks, dark, invasive eyes giving you a once over as he runs his hand over his dark brown, almost black, hair.

Was this building a magnet for sleazy male stereotypes or something?

"Um, I work here." You stumble over the statement slightly, the discomfort you feel under his penetrative stare affecting your speech as you weakly point at the building behind them.

"Yeah, no shit." The same man darkly chuckles along with a couple of the other workers, eyes raking your form, clad in a blouse and pencil skirt. But you feel you might as well be naked in front of them, stuck there like a deer in headlights as they continue to ogle your body. Before he can make any other comments, he's lightly pushed to the side as another man approaches.

"Shut up, Tommy..." His voice is deep and commanding but has a playful nature behind it, the two of them clearly well acquainted with one another.

He looks to be older than the men around him, broad frame imposing as he comes to where the tape separates you from him. Although, the way he carries himself suggests he's probably in a position where he could do whatever he wanted with the equipment on the site, but have no one to answer to for it.

"How can I help, sweetheart?" He sounds friendly enough but has that dirty, smug look on his face that tells you he's not any better than the men who'd previously been eyeing you like a piece of meat.

Despite the sickly feeling that swirls in the pit of your stomach when looking at him, you realise he's probably your best shot at getting you where you need to be.

"I need to get back in the building," your voice is timid as you try to avoid the burly man's gaze, opting to look back to where men are starting to pull up the concrete slabs that once made up your path back into your workplace. Though the pause after you've spoken prompts you to glance back up at him, catching him looking down the gap between your chest and slightly unbuttoned blouse, "I work here-"

"Yeah, you've said that." he cuts you off with a smirk, taking in your mortified expression before looking over the construction site with a huff. "Well my boys are pretty deep in their work now, and I can't have ya walking through here when we've got equipment running," he gives you another once over, "don't want a pretty girl like you getting hurt, do we?"

He's smiling again, but you see straight through it and tense at the realisation these men will be working here for god knows how long.

"What should I do then?" You ask with furrowed brows, readjusting your hold on the coffees that now uncomfortably weigh down your hand.

"I mean I could carry ya over," he laughs as though it's a joke, but first impressions tell you he'd jump at the opportunity to get his filthy hands on you -- no matter the circumstance, "how bout I take you in the backdoor?"

The way he worded the innuendo didn't fly over your head the way you wish it did, and the combination of his comment and the way he's now running his pink tongue over his bottom lip making you feel sick in multiple ways.

You reluctantly nod, just wanting to get back to work and away from this man. The obnoxious nepo babies that unfairly dominated your field of work suddenly felt like prince charmings in comparison to the man now stepping over the flimsy barrier that once separated you. But as he came that small distance closer, you couldn't help but feel some attraction to his broad frame and tan skin. And those arms...

His slight chuckle pulls you out of your thoughts, wide eyes snapping up to meet his leering expression as prickling heat floods your face in embarrassment.

"C'mon, I'm Joel by the way," he tilts his head, gesturing for you to walk in front of him. It's a request you realise most likely has ulterior motives, but you do so anyway after muttering your name in return.

Rounding the corner, you falter for a moment as the cluttered alley comes into view. Your gut instinct is screaming at you to tell Joel that he can fuck right off back to wherever he came from, but you figure that would cause more commotion than the slim possibility he'd try anything in broad daylight.

But as you carry on down the alley and squeeze past a particularly cluttered area of multiple dumpsters and bins, you become more uncomfortable as he spews another innuendo about how 'it's real tight, huh?'

His irksome behaviour soon becomes less of an annoyance and more of a concern though.

Once you're past the worst of the clutter you soon realise that it wasn't just an obstacle, but also serves as a wall -- blocking any further view for anyone passing by.

Turning around, you merely stand there as Joel comes closer. His daunting frame becomes more intimidating in the dim light of the narrowing lane you now find yourself trapped in, helpless.

"Doors just there," he mutters while pointing to the slightly beaten-up side door to the left of you, a twisted attempt at making you believe you still have any control over this situation.

Not trusting your voice, you simply nod at him with your eyes still locked. You'd prefer him to leave before you turn your back to him, but when he makes no move to do so, you quickly rush to the door in the hopes you may be faster than him.

But faster you are not.

First, you feel the heat radiating off of him, and then you feel the hard chest, the wandering hands, the grinding hips. As he invades your space and presses himself against your back, you try to squirm away, but only end up pinning yourself between the door and his imposing body.

"Where you tryna go, sweetheart?" His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and to places that make your body hot with shame. "You really wanna go back in there? Where those people are just gonna treat you like shit?"

His hips continue to grind into your ass, becoming more calculated rather than ravenous, as though his words and body are working as one to persuade you.

"I know those guys, they'll chew you up and spit you out." His words become harsh and his rough hands harsher, beginning to untuck your blouse from your pencil skirt, reaching up until his fingers are splayed across your stomach. The skin-on-skin contact is undeniably thrilling, as he now caresses it with finesse.

"So fuckin' soft," he mutters into your hair, inhaling before releasing a rumbling groan, "I'd treat you like the sweetest thing, baby."

You grimace at his words, far too much commitment behind them, leaving you spiralling into another panicked frenzy. You squirm again, this time having more success as you're able to turn to face him, although not fully able to escape his unrelenting hold yet. Facing him, you see how dark his eyes have become, set on you like a predator eyeing its prey.

His hair is slightly tousled, the way he'd previously been ravaging your body having that effect. You realise there's no way you can persuade him to stop his pursuit of you, so you decide to cave, at least you hope he thinks so.

"Let's not do this here." You say it quietly so as to not come off too demanding, peering up at him through your lashes in a way that you hope looks innocent enough for him to believe it. "Wouldn't you wanna do this someplace comfier," your voice switches from scared to sultry, “hm?”

He quirks a brow at this, slowing his assault on your body to a stop, but not yet taking his hands off of you, “you wanna do this somewhere else, sweetheart?”

The pet name still irks you, but provides some ease in telling you your comment hasn’t pissed him off at all. Trying to run along with your manipulative escape, you nod up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and pushing your own crotch closer to his. You tell yourself it’s all for the bigger picture, but you can’t ignore the way your body has come more accustomed to his touch in such a short period of time.

"Mhm,” you’re nodding again, placing a hand on his firm chest, and slowly, teasingly, sliding it lower, “do this where you can take real good care of me… Show me what I'm missing?"

There's a pause, his expression unreadable as he continues to penetrate your façade with his stare. His lack of response has you rethinking your words, brows twitching as more sick scenarios of what could ensue consume your thoughts. But then a dark chuckle fills the tense silence, Joel shaking his head as he smirks down at you. Stepping back, he tucks his hands into his pockets and gives you one last once over before nodding his head and making his way back down the alley.

"I'll keep an eye out," are his last words before he disappears past the trash and clutter, out of sight.

But maybe not quite out of mind...

-----

First fic done! All likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and I am open to requests on future fic ideas you may have<33

[just-wont-shut-up]

you're eating pizza, watching movies

everything's okay, for a moment

your roommate looks at you

"look what john said about you"

you read it once

again

again

you've never met john

messages in a group chat you've never seen before

you put on your earphones

press your clothes

shine your shoes

proper little housewife

"whore"

your course coordinator is asking for pictures of you as a child

"so they know they're messing with people, who have families and people who are about them"

no one cares about you, not really

everyone is expecting you to fall

you send them a picture of you with your gym friends

even though it's not going to help

"i'm an expert in fucking fatties like her"

nothing is going to help

food doesn't feel like food in your mouth

tasteless soggy paste

you throw up as soon as you make it to your room

you don't feel like leaving your classroom

you don't feel like looking people in the eyes

you're hungry and tired

you've never met john

"no one cares about us" she sends in the group chat. "no one cares about the victims"

you don't type anything back

no one cares about you, not really

it's more important that you all are humiliated equally

"i'd fuck her like she deserves to be fucked"

you keep your head down

you keep working

it's worse like this, when it's personal

you've been catcalled before, you're not new to this world

you can't go out in a dress not feeling guilty

you've never met john

you still don't know who he is

"they're going to get them all expelled"

"do you think so? last time they got off free"

"i hope not this time"

"14cm of cock and he can't handle a whore like her"

you want to die

you want to throw yourself out the window

your birthday comes

your boyfriend forgets it's your birthday

you try to pretend it's not a big deal

you try to pretend you've not been crying the whole day

"some days are only nights" someone tells you and you want to punch them in the face

rearrange their nose

"if they gave me fifteen minutes with that fucker, they wouldn't be able to walk"

humiliated

you've never met him before, not really

if you saw him in the hall you wouldn't even know it's him

but there he is commenting on the size of your ass

and what you do with your boyfriend when the two of you are alone

"heard john hired a lawyer"

"is he going to get prosecuted?"

"we don't know yet"

you've never met him before

he's trying to ruin your life

you worked so hard to get this far

you want to pluck his eyes out with your nails

you want to punch him unrecognizable

you and the others unite

through your shared tears

and shame

we don't respect you

we don't fall easily

[scarlettriot]

This isn't my usual content, apologize for that but, this needs to get off my chest.

Warnings: Bullshit women are put through on a regular basis. Also, some other minorities too. I curse in it cause I got angry, but, if that's what makes you mad then we have a bigger problem.

Last night, I was scrolling through TikTok, as one does, and came across a Ten Finger Challenge. You know? Those ones where you're asked a series of ten questions and each time you can answer yes you put a finger down? So, this one was "Put a finger down Women's Edition". I thought what the hell, figured it'd ask things like, "Have you box dyed your hair?" or, "Have you ever carried your phone in your bra." Yeah. It wasn't that...

Below I am going to post the ten questions that were asked in the video along with my own answers only I will be answering yes or no rather than dropping fingers.

1) You've been told to, "Smile. You're so much prettier when you smile." Answer: Yes

2) You've been told, "Girls aren't funny." Answer: Yes

3) You've been described as aggressive, too opinionated, or a 'downright wench!' just for sharing your opinion. Answer: No to aggressive, yes to opinionated, no to wench ((but I might take that as a compliment soo))

4) You've been told that you eat a lot for a girl. Answer: Yes

5) And, in relation to question 4, you've been told you're not eating enough. Answer: Also Yes!

6) Your natural hair has been described as unprofessional and/or sloppy: Answer: Yes to both and I'm not even black! Those poor ladies have it so much worse!

7) Someone has asked you when you're not wearing makeup if you're feeling sick. Answer: Yup

8) Someone has called you 'sweetie' or 'honey' when they think you don't know what you're talking about. Answer: Mmhm

9) The clothing size at a store has made you feel bad about yourself. Answer: More times than I can recall

10) You've been asked to make someone coffee or make someone a sandwich. Answer: Yes

BONUS QUESTIONS - These were not in the TikTok but I figured we're on a roll! Why stop now?

11) You've been told, "You'd look prettier without makeup," or "You should wear your hair down/grow it out." Answer: Yes to both

12) You've been told that you should dress for your body type. Answer: Yes

13) You've been catcalled or called out in some other way in a sexual manner while you were literally just existing. Answer: Yes ((FUN FACT TIME! First time was when I was 11 walking home from middle school in jeans and a hoodie!))

14) You've been asked when you're upset or irritated if it's your time of the month. Answer: Wow, guess what? It's another yes!

15) You have had a complete stranger ask far too personal questions about your future procreation plans. Answer: Yes

Well now, first of all, thanks for reading this far! I wanted to take a second to explain how listening to this 30-second video sent a surge of emotions running through me... what did you expect though? I am a woman after all.

First Reaction: Funny. Yeah, you read that right. I've wired my brain to think the crap myself and SO MANY others put up with is just funny. And then I thought, wait, that's kinda fucked up... Then came this mild form of shame that I really have had like 14/15 things happen in my life, and after that realization, I just felt sad. Sad that some other little girl is gonna have to deal with this bullshit too. And finally, you probably guessed it, I got angry, which is why we're here.

But, I'm angry with myself for allowing myself to view this as a joke. Joking is often how I deal with things I cannot control, it's a way to manage stress but I've turned so many of these things into jokes that really shouldn't be and, maybe you have to...

Like, have you ever asked a guy if he was on his 'man period when he's cranky? I have. What about saying, 'Oh, honey..." when you think someone doesn't understand what you're telling them? That was question 8 and yes, I've done that too. These things have become normalized and that's a big part of the problem! We laugh and think it's funny because that's the only way to cope with it but that's just really fucking depressing!

So, here's what I thought about at 2:30 AM when I had time to mull it all over. We have to be kinder to ourselves and to those around us. Eat the cake or don't. Do the diet or pass it up. Rock make-up or go all-natural. Stick up for each other. And, for fucks sake, call each other out when needed but do it with respect! Stand your ground and if you need to, *clears throat* ASK FOR HELP! It doesn't make you weak! It doesn't make you less than!

And for the love of everything, please, please, think before opening your mouth. Yes, this post is about women but this goes beyond us. We aren't the only ones harassed, bullied, assaulted and so much other crap. These little sayings, questions we get asked, they've gone on too long but I'm not narrowminded enough to believe we are the only ones suffering here.

At the end of the day, be kind, be strong, and be someone your younger self would be proud of.

[aloneintheheartbreak-blog]

Rape Joke

Knock knock!

Who’s there?

Rape joke!

Rape joke? Rape joke who?

Rape joke who’s not fucking funny.

Don’t worry, we’re good victims!

We don’t cry too loud,

Or demand your attention,

Or ask for trigger warning!

Men like to use the excuse

“Boys get raped, too!”

When they hear women talking about their personal experiences.

FIRST

“Boys get raped”

Should be it’s own sentence,

If you’re only using someone else’s trauma to silence female survivors,

Then you’re a scumbag.

SECOND

All the male survivors we know

Would kick your teeth in for saying that.

And your friends who aren’t survivors can’t sympathize

Until they know ALL the gory details

Please, get your porn somewhere else!

And once you do get their sympathy

It sounds like:

“Someone catcalled me once so I totally get it”

“Someone stepped on my foot last week,

It was a man!

I felt so invaded!”

And to the boys who write poems to raped girls

Saying “there’s good men out there,

The light at the end of such a dark the tunnel!”

They hold your hand in court and everything!

Thank GOD I’L GET SOME THOUGHTFUL DICK SOMEDAY

Those poets will tell you

“Violets are growing in the shadows under your eyes”

It’s skin.

I know it’s skin.

It’s good skin!

It’s gonna be skin regardless of what metaphors you attach to it.

‘You’ll be there when I cry’

Until my eyes get puffy and red.

You won’t be tearing off MY lace panties,

Because they were expensive

And they make me feel like I’m worth something.

Once you figure out that the only time I deep throat,

Is the feeding tube at the psych ward,

You’ll be gone.

If you do want a healing relationship

HOW DO YOU TALK ABOUT IT WHEN THE LANGUAGE IS ROOTING AGAINST YOU?

“Hey, wanna bang?”

“Screw?”

“Nail me?”

EVERYTHING IS SO VIOLENT!

How to flirt with a rape survivor:

Approach slowly and cautiously.

Do not make any sudden movements or loud noises.

“Hey baby I’ve got anxiety

Depression

Ptsd

And crushing sexual insecurity!”

“Wanna come back to my place

And hold my hair back when I vomit?”

AND THEN there’s feminists

Who feel entitled to our poetry

And narratives because, as they say:

“Under the patriarchy like all women are constantly threatened by rape”

What does that make us?

Hold on, Belissa,

I’M TURNING INTO A STATISTIC!

HOLY PEPPER SPRAY BATMAN!

I CAN ONLY SEE IN BINARY!

THE ONES LOOK LIKE PENISES!

Quick!

You've got to pull it together for

Slut walk!

*GAG*

Truly, nothing helps rape survivors of all gender, ethnicity and economic level,

Than rich white girls walking around half naked, while collaborating with the police.

Because the cops, historically, are so good at ‘supporting’ victims and ‘catching’ rapists.

Getting real tired of slut walk slogans, too.

"Don't slut shame me"?

How about, "Do not refer to me as a slut. Ever."

"Real men don't rape"?

Oh, shit! Must have been a ghost, then!

"Consent is sexy"?

Lingerie is sexy.

Consent is a basic human right!

You guys are supposed to be the adults we look up to,

But we went through our moon goddess phase

In 7th grade.

Humor helps trauma.

We just want to know that you

Are laughing WITH US!

We can joke about it

Because it is ours to joke about,

Similar to how our bruises are ours to poke at,

And yours to keep away from.

undefined

https://youtu.be/j4m3AJamQYM