men-girls

people need to stop associating lesbians with men, full stop

“gold star lesbian” is incredibly lesbophobic, because it implies any lesbian who may have had a romantic/sexual relationship with a man in the past is somehow less valid because of that, while completely ignoring the reasons a lesbian may have done that; compulsory heterosexuality, feeling pressured, lack of access to info about lesbian identity

it’s also often a concept used by terfs, the worst scum who do not belong anywhere near the lesbian community to begin with, who equate “man” with “penis”, completely invalidating trans lesbians and their cis girlfriends

lesbians do not exist for men, in any way, regardless of our past interactions, we are lesbians, we exist for ourselves, for girls, all girls, and men are not an important part of our lives, it’s really not a difficult concept

Nick never loved me.
He loved a girl who doesn’t exist. A girl I was pretending to be. The Cool Girl. Men always use that as the defining compliment, right? She’s a cool girl.
Being Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker and dirty jokes, who plays videogames and chugs beer, loves threesomes and anal sex and jams chilidogs into my mouth like I’m hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang-bang while remaining a size 2, because cool girls are above all hot.
Hot and understanding. Cool girls never get angry at their men, they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner. Go ahead! Shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the cool girl.
I waited patiently-years-for the pendulum to swing the other way, for men to start reading Jane Austen, organize scrapbook parties and make out with each other while we leer. And then we’d say, yeah, he’s a cool guy.
Instead, women across the nation colluded in our degradation! Pretty soon every girl was Cool Girl, and if you weren’t, then there was something wrong with you.
But it’s tempting, to be Cool Girl. For someone like me, who likes to win, it’s tempting to be the girl every guy wants. When I met Nick I knew that’s what he wanted. For him, I was willing to try.
I couldn’t have been Cool Girl with anyone else. I wouldn’t have wanted to. Nick teased things out in me I didn’t know existed: A lightness, a humor, an ease.
And I made him smarter, sharper. I forced him to rise to my level.
I was happier for those few years, pretending to be someone else, than I ever have been before or after.
But then it had to stop, because it wasn’t me! I hated Nick for being surprised when I became me.
He couldn’t believe I didn’t love wax-stripping my pussy raw and blowing him on request. That my fantasy baseball team was not a labor of love.
It had to stop. Committing to Nick, feeling safe with Nick, being happy with Nick, made me realize that there was a Real Amy in there, and she was so much better, more interesting and complicated and challenging, than Cool Girl.
But Nick wanted Cool Girl anyway.
Can you imagine, finally showing your true self to your soulmate, and having him not like you?
—  Rosamund Pike (Gone Girl 2014)
Love *Albert x Reader*

Pairing: Albert x female!Reader

Warning: love / and i know it’s not christmas anytime soon (68 days) but im in the shmood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- okay

-so get it

- everyone loves you

-jack, kath, romeo, (especially) albert, race, everyone.

- and you love them all very much, always by there side ever since the beginning.

- backstory time

- so you were walking home, right?

- and you go the usual way from the bakery, dark streets with nothing but buildings.

- so a group of men, maybe three, were watching you and they were like ‘ay, it’s a helpless girl, let’s try our chance’ (disgusting)

- so they all corner you and you put up a helluva fight

- they got bloody lips and their toes stomped on and their baby makers kicked, everything.

- but it was three muscular men against one girl, (sexist, sorry)

- so anyway, they got you pinned to the wall and they’re tryna get a feel and you’re screaming bc ‘god can someone hear me. please someone, anyone’ and thank god

- jack comes running through, hearing your cries from his penthouse. he calls for race and albert and they run towards you bc they’d never let a girl get hurt if they can stop it.

- and jack tackles on man to the ground, punching him unconscious.

- race is kicking and punching till the bigger guy flips him off and runs off

- before albert can even get his hands on the third guy, he runs off when he sees how quick his friends were taken down.

- albert immediately goes over to you with caution when you just burst into tears 

- bc shit they were touching me and how could i thank them and yeah. 

-(you and albie get together js)

- backstory over

- so yeah that’s how you find yourself the lodge w the boys almost every day.

- so it’s almost christmas, right? and you just wanna love the boys bc they all show their love so vv much

- walking you home - buying you food when you can’t afford it even if they can’t either - and so much more

- albie especially. every chance he gets he’ll try to do something for you, even something as simple as holding your bag when you’re walking from work.

- anyways, you walk up to the lodge, pretty sure that everyone’s asleep and you can’t do anything at your house bc your parents don’t want you to have friends and justwant you to focus on work

- so they think you’re sleeping ya baddie

- so you let yourself in and you go in and out of the house, all your money going with you in your arms.

- an extremely tiny tree, small presents all surrounding it, almost towering it with a number of boys there are seeing as you got each of them something.

- but you love albie so mf much so you decide to work extra hours for more money just so you could afford to get him a warm ass blanket

- but you stitched *albie + (Y/N/N)* to make it authentic and rlly meaningful

- and so you just kind of crawl into albie’s bed with him, not even caring about how your parents will freak when you’re not home in the morning

- albert just kind puts his arm around your waist and pulls you as close as possible for warmth.

- and you just kinda fall asleep with a smile on your face bc wow you really love this boy. like so vvv much.

- so the next morning you’re the first one up

- it’s really early still so you run out to the bakery and ask the owner if you could ask for a favor

- and you return to see a few of the guys surrounding the tree and shaking the boxes

- you sneak past them and set the food down on a small table the boys had once stolen.

- you set up the table as more boys woke up, but didn’t think to look in the room you were in

- so the food was ready and all the boys had woken up so you walked out and smiled at the guys and they were so very confused.

- “what’s this?” “do you know who did this y/n?” 

- so you just kinda gave a smug smile as the realization dawned on them

- so you brought them all into the room that could barely fit them all. most of them had tears when they saw the food they had never had right in front of them.

-jack attacked you with hugs bc wow, all this is for them and he couldn’t ask for a better christmas

- so everyone got their fair share, whatever was left was also split evenly for those who were still hungry

- albert was so mf happy bc he’s never really had a good christmas. most boys haven’t so it was so heartwarming

- after the food was completely gone everyone went back to the tree and presents.

-and everyone got important but small things that were either cheap or handmade.

- socks, scarfs, hats, gloves, simple but warming things for the bitter cold outside.

- so it was a really good day, and your parents weren’t worried as much, but you went back to the lodge with the blanket

- and some boys were already there, messing around and taking their new presents off when you walked in, going straight for albie’s bed.

- a few minutes later, he walked in, slightly bummed he didn’t get anything. that was, until he saw you in his bed with a tan quilt wrapped around her.

- he was so shocked when he felt how soft it was.

- he instantly took off his shoes and got under the blanket, so fcking comfortable and pulling you tight against him.

- it wasn’t until the next day that he cried when he saw the stitching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay ya’ll, i’m so sorry these are always so long i just have such ideas and can’t stop !! please send request whenever & i’ll get to it asap!!

youtube

#GirlsCount More | Rage 76 - HoneyBadgerRadio

Yet another campaign of pointing out one aspect of a problem and implying that that’s all there is to it. Millions of children are not educated, there are girls among them, therefore the world hates women. Girls are kidnapped, therefore misogyny, many times more boys are brutally slaughtered with the same justification, *crickets*, not so much as a “Patriarchy hurts men too”.

Girls have innate value, boys have to earn it. In societies where few can afford what the west takes for granted, an education might make the girls feel good about themselves but for boys working is not a choice. If they do not earn a living they are of no use to their families or to society, they are disposable.

For some reason, most anti-feminists and even many MRAs seem to think that the lack of consideration towards men is an entirely western phenomenon, that third world and middle eastern countries really do care about men and that’s a problem, it’s not that they do not have the means to treat women like royalty, but that they despise and oppress women and treat men like royalty. When the only difference is in how they prioritise women, not if. Not one country in the entire world views men as innately valuable and women as disposable, not one country prioritises men’s lives and well being over women’s or even comes close to considering them anywhere near equal in value. But that’s male supremacy. Somehow.

lestar123  asked:

So I've found that I think that girls with long hair are super hot, but I more so feel romantic attraction to girls with shorter hair? (By shorter hair I mean shoulder length and higher) I'm moreso like "wow she's super cute and looks badass, I would date her", than I am with girls with long hair. So what I'm wondering is, do you think that my liking girls with short hair is just a preference, or I tend to like them more bc I think they're more likely to be queer bc of the short hair stereotype?

Well…I have a preference for girls with very short hair. I think they’re so beautiful and perfect. This has been the case since before I transitioned and is still the case. Back before I transitioned I might have wondered the same thing as you. But nowadays it’s more of a hindrance for me to be the most attracted to tomboy type girls because they’re less likely to be into men than femme girls. And yet here I am! Still find tomboys the most attractive.

I think preferences are preferences. Could there be some deep down buried subconscious reason for them? Yeah maybe. But if they aren’t hurting anyone then what does it matter?

Max

instagram

@stephencurry30 wearing @ysl royal blue and yellow bomber. I created this look ago months before he wore this!! Dope look bro!!
🅜🅐🅡🅢 | 🅡🅔🅟🅤🅑🅛🅘🅚 | Men and Real Style | Stylist / Image Consultant - Antoine Kelly ⓕⓐⓢⓗⓘⓞⓝ•ⓛⓤⓧⓤⓡⓨ•ⓛⓘⓕⓔⓢⓣⓨⓛⓔ
••••••••••••••••••••••••
“It’s not just an image, it’s a LIFESTYLE!” ••••••••••••••••••••••••
#MARSREPUBLIK #MARS #nyfw #sports #shoes #style #mensfashion #womensfashion #me #fashionblogger #fashion #stylist #outfitoftheday #business #men #women #trendy #gq #girls #nba #nfl #entrepreneur #luxury #gucci #nyc #miami #fresh #love #money #boys
••••••••••••••••••••••••
@nba @gq @gqstyle @nfl @gqreport @gqafrica @nike @nikebasketball @nbatv @nfl_cfb @nflnetwork @nyfw @fashionweekonline


(at New York, New York)

Made with Instagram
That night at the Brooklyn party, I was playing the girl who was in style, the girl a man like Nick wants: the Cool Girl. Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.
Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: ‘I like strong women.’ If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because ‘I like strong women’ is code for ‘I hate strong women.’)
I waited patiently – years – for the pendulum to swing
the other way, for men to start reading Jane Austen, learn how to knit, pretend to love cosmos, organize scrapbook parties, and make out with each other while we leer. And then we’d say, Yeah, he’s a Cool Guy.
But it never happened. Instead, women across the nation colluded in our degradation! Pretty soon Cool Girl became the standard girl. Men believed she existed – she wasn’t just a dreamgirl one in a million. Every girl was supposed to this girl, and if you weren’t, then there was something wrong with you.
But it’s tempting to be Cool Girl. For someone like me, who likes to win, it’s tempting to want to be the girl every guy wants. When I met Nick, I knew immediately that was what he wanted, and for him, I guess I was willing to try. I will accept my portion of blame. The thing is, I was crazy about him at first. I found him perversely exotic, a good ole Missouri boy. He was so damn nice to be around. He teased things out in me that I didn’t know existed: a lightness, a humor, an ease. It was as if he hollowed me out and filled me with feathers. He helped me be Cool Girl – I couldn’t have been Cool Girl with anyone else. I wouldn’t have wanted to. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it: I ate a MoonPie, I walked barefoot, I stopped worrying. I watched dumb movies and ate chemically laced foods. I didn’t think past the first step of anything, that was the key. I drank a Coke and didn’t worry about how to recycle the can or about the acid puddling in my belly, acid so powerful it could strip clean a penny. We went to a dumb movie and I didn’t worry about the offensive sexism or the lack of minorities in meaningful roles. I didn’t even worry whether the movie made sense. I didn’t worry about anything that came next. Nothing had consequence, I was living in the moment, and I could feel myself getting shallower and dumber. But also happy.
Until Nick, I’d never really felt like a person, because I was always a product. Amazing Amy has to be brilliant, creative, kind, thoughtful, witty, and happy. We just want you to be happy. Rand and Marybeth said that all the time, but they never explained how. So many lessons and opportunities and advantages, and they never taught me how to be happy. I remember always being baffled by other children. I would be at a birthday party and watch the other kids giggling and making faces, and I would try to do that, too, but I wouldn’t understand why. I would sit there with the tight elastic thread of the birthday hat parting the pudge of my underchin, with the grainy frosting of the cake bluing my teeth, and I would try to figure out why it was fun.
With Nick, I understood finally. Because he was so much fun. It was like dating a sea otter. He was the first naturally happy person I met who was my equal. He was brilliant and gorgeous and funny and charming and charmed. People liked him. Women loved him. I thought we would be the most perfect union: the happiest couple around. Not that love is a competition. But I don’t understand the point of being together if you’re not the happiest.
I was probably happier for those few years – pretending to be someone else – than I ever have been before or after. I can’t decide what that means. But then it had to stop, because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me, Nick! I thought you knew. I thought it was a bit of a game. I thought we had a wink-wink, don’t ask, don’t tell thing going. I tried so hard to be easy. But it was unsustainable. It turned out he couldn’t sustain his side either: the witty banter, the clever games, the romance, and the wooing. It all started collapsing on itself. I hated Nick for being surprised when I became me. I hated him for not knowing it had to end, for truly believing he had married this creature, this figment of the imagination of a million masturbatory men, semen-fingered and self-satisfied. He truly seemed astonished when I asked him to listen to me. He couldn’t believe I didn’t love wax-stripping my pussy raw and blowing him on request. That I did mind when he didn’t show up for drinks with my friends. That ludicrous diary entry? I don’t need pathetic dancing-monkey scenarios to repeat to my friends, I am content with letting him be himself. That was pure, dumb Cool Girl bullshit. What a cunt. Again, I don’t get it: If you let a man cancel plans or decline to do things for you, you lose. You don’t get what you want. It’s pretty clear. Sure, he may be happy, he may say you’re the coolest girl ever, but he’s saying it because he got his way. He’s calling you a Cool Girl to fool you! That’s what men do: They try to make it sound like you are the cool girl so you will bow to their wishes. Like a car salesman saying, How much do you want to pay for this beauty? when you didn’t agree to buy it yet. That awful phrase men use: ‘I mean, I know you wouldn’t mind if I …’ Yes, I do mind. Just say it. Don’t lose, you dumb little twat.
So it had to stop. Committing to Nick, feeling safe with Nick, being happy with Nick, made me realize that there was a Real Amy in there, and she was so much better, more interesting and complicated and challenging, than Cool Amy. Nick wanted Cool Amy anyway. Can you imagine, finally showing your true self to your spouse, your soul mate, and having him not like you? So that’s how the hating first began. I’ve thought about this a lot, and that’s where it started, I think.
—  Amy Elliot Dunne (Gone Girl 2011)