how does harry manage to update his fashion sense with each of his eras?
2012 - sweet dorky kid who might offer to pay for your ice cream and will want to “take it slow, yeah?”
2013 - some bratty frat boy who always gets what he wants but you would still let him fuck up your life
2014 - the matured ex frat boy who left the frat when he got educated on “no means no” and “rape culture” & switched his major to art or some bullshit like that
2015 - that one guy who spends WAY too much time at record stores flipping through queen and the rolling stones commenting about how he “listened to this shit wayyy before it was fucking hipster” even tho he was born in the ‘90s
2016 - the cute new dude who your boss just hired and all the girls (and some guys) in the office have a crush on and so you try to find him on social media but he has absolutely none
2017 - intimidating as fuck guy who gets iced coffee every single morning at 7 am with some weird ass bell bottoms on but when you actually have a convo he just starts crying about how much he loves the bees and “we need to save them at all costs”
Seventeen-year-old Anne just fell in love with Sasha, the most popular girl at her LA public high school. But when Anne tells her best friend Clifton - who has always harbored a secret crush - he does his best to get in the way.
A remote fishing village in Iceland. Teenage boys Thor and Christian experience a turbulent summer as one tries to win the heart of a girl while the other discovers new feelings toward his best friend. When summer ends and the harsh nature of Iceland takes back its rights, it’s time to leave the playground and face adulthood.
Seventeen year old Miklós Varga’s plans to escape his migrant family and run away with his best friend Dan are crushed by the accidental death of his older brother Tomi. Only Mik knows the events that led to this tragedy, and he is suddenly forced to navigate his guilt and explosive sexuality to find the man he can become.
1930s Korea, in the period of Japanese occupation, a new girl (Sookee) is hired as a handmaiden to a Japanese heiress (Hideko) who lives a secluded life on a large countryside estate with her domineering Uncle (Kouzuki). But the maid has a secret. She is a pickpocket recruited by a swindler posing as a Japanese Count to help him seduce the Lady to elope with him, rob her of her fortune, and lock her up in a madhouse. The plan seems to proceed according to plan until Sookee and Hideko discover some unexpected emotions.
Damien lives with his mother Marianne, a doctor, while his father is on a tour of duty abroad. He is bullied by Thomas, whose mother is ill. The boys find themselves living together when Marianne invites Thomas to come and stay with them.
After discovering the truth about being stolen by the woman he thought was his mother as a child, Pierre (AKA Felipe) must deal with the consequences of his mother’s actions and must try to cope with his biological family.
A young street musician girl must conquer her own fears and ghosts from the past, including the social influences of Ukraine, where she has grown up, in order to admit her feelings for a beautiful deaf-mute girl.
A timeless story of human connection and self-discovery, Moonlight chronicles the life of a young black man from childhood to adulthood as he struggles to find his place in the world while growing up in a rough neighborhood of Miami.
Many years ago, I used to be a feminist. At first it was merely a “yeah, girl power! Feminism!” kind of thing. And then I moved back home from an abusive relationship, and started hanging out with one of my best friends more often. He was one of the few guys that was a genuine friend and didn’t want to try to get into my pants. Or so I thought. After several months, having found some peace and routine with him, he brought up the prospect of being anything more. Thing is, I felt nothing for him in that aspect. I mentioned this, told him that it wouldn’t feel right forcing myself to be in a relationship with him when I didn’t actually see him in a romantic way and that it would only be cruel to him. He was disheartened, but he didn’t bring it up again for a while.
He was a pharmacy student who was on the cusp of graduation. He studied well and had high grades, and part of our hangout routine was him using his homework and notes to “teach” me (I didn’t really pay attention, but it helped him to better understand his material). One weekend - Halloween, actually, as I will always remember it - he was picking me up from my place so we could spend a few days lounging and playing video games. His car broke down and we spent hours waiting for the tow truck. The next night, we were playing video games per usual. He asked about whether or not I wanted to go somewhere and do something different. I told him that, understanding his financial situation, it would be best if we just continued with our normal routine. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I figured “Hey, he must just be bored and stressed.” He seemed flustered and excused himself to get us some drinks from downstairs.
He came back with some drinks. I remember that mine tasted odd. I chalked it up to flat soda and allergies to the cats. Soon after, I got extremely tired. I thought it was because I hadn’t slept a few days and it was catching up to me, and I was with someone that I trusted.
I woke up feeling weird. My clothes were gone, I was in his bed, and he was on top of me. His tongue was down my throat. Every ounce of trust I had went down the drain. I was enraged. He was the ONLY male I had trusted. He was my best friend. I hardly trusted my own father to not hurt me at this point in my life because of how rocky our relationship had been. The man I had just left was sexually, physically, and emotionally abusive. This man, the man I so foolishly had considered my best friend, had broken every ounce of trust. I don’t even know the full extent to what he had done to me. But I demanded a ride home.
I never went to the police because I didn’t think they would believe me and at the time I still cared for him as a friend. I didn’t understand at the time everything that had happened. It didn’t completely sink in for years that he had drugged me. It didn’t sink in that he was the one who took off my clothes, that he had touched me in places he knew I would never allow. And I didn’t want to ruin his life over it. But it hit deep enough that I began to hate all men. Every one of them.
A couple of months later, after barring him completely from my life, I was hanging out with my female best friend. She took me out with two of her male friends, who I didn’t like or trust. And a guy that I’d liked from high school met us at the place we were hanging out. He pulled me off to a secluded area and started kissing me. At first I didn’t mind. He was cute, and seeing him kind of rekindled the old flame. But then he wouldn’t stop. And I started pushing him away from me, but he would pull me closer. I’d tell him to stop, and he would tell me that I didn’t really want that. I started struggling and yelling.
My best friend with her friends came across us. I came to find out that she didn’t know he had taken me away and had been looking for us. He friends separated us. I was crushed, because once again a man had broken my trust. My friend, instead of consoling me, lashed out at him. Accused him of “using me to get to her because he knew she liked him.” She didn’t try to make sure I was okay. But her friends did. Her two male friends, who I hadn’t liked simply on the basis that they were male, told me that if they had known the extent to which things had happened they would have beaten his ass instead of telling him to leave. One, who had just gotten out of jail, said that if I knew where the guy lived he would be more than willing to go back to protect me from the guy. These two men were more understanding than she had been.
They took me home. I was too shaken up to be fun. My dad saw how I was, and asked me what happened. The guy worked with my father. I told my dad what he did. He asked me what I wanted to do. My only words were “I want him to go away.” My dad said he could make that happen. And he did. The guy moved to California within the month.
I began having doubts about whether or not all men deserved to be hated simply because of their penis.
Months later, I began going to school the place my dad worked at. I realized that a lot of the ladies there liked my father. He wouldn’t ever do anything to return this “friendliness” from the women. My father prided himself on being professional. He was a completely different person than he was at home. One of the women who consistently tried to advance on my father began to feel spurned. So she and some of the other girls conspired together. They made false accusations about my father. Saying he would touch them and speak inappropriately to them. The school wouldn’t even listen to my father. They wouldn’t even allow him to defend himself. “The accusation alone is proof enough” were their official words. They made him resign.
My father began working as the general manager of a chain of luxury refinery. The girls that he hired took a liking to him, and when he turned down their advancements, they did the same. They accused him of sexually harassing them. When he didn’t. Once again, he was forced to resign. “This has happened twice. If it happens again, we will be forced to revoke your license.” Once again, they didn’t even allow him to defend himself. They wouldn’t see the video footage of him telling them to stop. They wouldn’t see the texts of him telling them to calm down. Because he was male.
And I realized that I, as a woman, held more power than any man ever could. I realized that all it took was mere words to destroy a man’s life. That wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t oppression, not on a woman’s part. I realized that there were shitty men and shitty women. But there was no shortage of good men either. And there was no shortage of good women.
My resentment for men faded, and it faded fast. My resentment for feminism grew for forcing me to be so scared of men, because despite my terrible experiences there were men who were willing to go to prison to defend a woman that they hadn’t known for more than five hours.
My entire point is that you are allowed to be hurt by your past experiences. You are allowed to feel, to grow past it. But don’t harbor the hatred. Don’t turn it against the people who didn’t actually do anything to you. If a man abuses you in any way, shape, or form, it’s on him. It isn’t on the shoulders of every other man in existence.
Misandry isn’t the answer. Don’t let your fear turn into hatred, please. Learn to grow past it. Because no matter how scared you are, there are people strong enough to protect you, who are willing to do so in the blink of an eye. People who don’t even know you who still love you enough to treat you like family. And it’s not their fault that there are fucked up people. People, not just men. People.
You run your fingertips along the tender parts of your neck. A knot had formed under your skin weeks ago. You really needed to get that checked out, but you also really needed to meet your deadline. At this point your work was more important than your health. There was a lot riding on this project, a possible entire rebranding of one of the most powerful companies in the world. And you were the one responsible.
There were times when you were in the middle of a long stretch of work when the night on his desk would flash through your mind. You would think about the wood pressed against your back in the middle of analyzing sales figures for the past 10 years. You could feel his breath on your throat in the middle of sending one of board members a strongly worded e-mail.
You hated how every touch was imprinted in the back of your brain. The asshole in Armani was in your head every time you closed your eyes. Your body started to tingle every time you passed by his office, knowing that maple desk was on the other side of it’s walls.
You hated it.
You hadn’t seen him since that night. He was conveniently shipped out overseas to check on some of the international branches of the corporation he inherited. You were glad, for the most part. It gave you time to detach yourself from that night and bury yourself in your work. Hoping that by the time he came back to the office you wouldn’t want to shove him against a wall and repeat the night on the desk.
A/N: Highly recommend reading both Yoongi’s and Tae’s versions of this au! It’ll make a little more sense :) Thanks for requesting to my beautiful bby mutual, @dat-town <3 Sorry if it’s not what you expected :( but pls feel free to request more to all my readers!
You’re feet are killing you, as you scurry around the chapel, careful to take your gig seriously as you snap pictures of every aesthetic scene you can possible capture in the hustle of the wedding.
Picture of the altar, check.
Picture of the bride and her bridesmaids, check.
Picture of the groom and his parents, check.
Snapshot of his members, check.
Side-view of the flowers lining the entrance, check.
Sarah and Katie had just finished their 4 week training period at Hooter’s Family Restaurant. As evident by their growing bellies, they figured out the “benefits” of the job very quickly.
There never seemed to be a lack of eager men when new girls were hired. On their first night of training tips, compliments, and alcohol were abundant and guys vied for a chance to breed the new girls. Katie and Sarah hadn’t even finished their shift before they were overtaken by the atmosphere. Katie found herself in one of the back rooms with her legs over her head while Sarah never made it past a bathroom stall to have a stud ravish her. Neither girl thought the first night would be risky, but apparently whatever management puts in the food takes hold quickly. Both girls left that night with multiple eggs floating in a pool of seed.
No on their first night as full waitresses, the girls were looking like they had already had their full. Amid all the hustle and bustle…and waddling of the dinner shift, Katie and Sarah took a moment to capture their first night.
“Now off to work,” Katie huffed as she patted Sarah on the belly. “Only 8 more months to make enough money for each of our four before we have to take maternity leave!”
This was another in a series of attempts to get hired by a company in Sydney that is making a fantasy card game (probably shouldn’t name it?). I did a whole bunch of these “hire Ayla” fantasy guys! (this is 3 of 4)
This is late, but to be fair, it also ended up being much longer than I expected. I wanted to write a Chlonette soulmate AU, and I wound up going with one where your injuries are healed when you’re close to your soulmate (from this list).
She wanted to believe it wasn’t just the ladybugs that healed her scraped knee. After all, she was sure it had healed itself before the hole in her pants had repaired itself. She desperately wanted to believe that Ladybug’s presence, just the fact that they were in contact had been what healed her.
Unfortunately, Chloe had no way to prove it.
Every time she got close to Ladybug, though, she couldn’t be sure or she wasn’t injured or any number of things stopped her from being able to confirm that Ladybug was indeed her soulmate. Akuma after akuma went by with nothing to show for it but more news for the Ladyblog. It wasn’t until Nathanael was akumatized and Chloe was bruised in the struggle that she was able to watch it fade away when Ladybug jumped in front of her.
They were definitely soulmates.
Now, she just needed to figure out a way to tell her. Maybe she could hire someone to spell it out with flowers in the park or build a commemorative statue in gold. Maybe she could pay Jagged Stone to write a song telling everyone that she, Chloe Bourgeois, was Ladybug’s soulmate.
“Marinette, could you pass these out to the class?”
Chloe barely noticed when Marinette stood and took a pile of papers from Mrs. Mendeleiev. She just held out a hand when it was time for her to take a sheet.
Marinette frowned and shoved it towards her.
“Ow!” Chloe scowled, glaring up at Marinette. “You cut me!”
“Where?” Marinette asked, looking down at Chloe’s fingers.
Which was odd, because Chloe had seen it. She’d felt it. She knew she’d gotten a papercut.
“Just be more careful,” Chloe snapped.
Marinette bristled and moved on, shooting her a nasty look.
Obviously, Chloe must have imagined it. Maybe it just felt like she’d gotten a papercut. Maybe she just wanted it to be a papercut because it was easier to be mad at Marinette when she could come up with a reason.
Then, she looked at the back of the page.
She wasn’t imagining a small line of her own blood on the page. She had definitely been cut. And she’d definitely been healed, which meant that Marinette was also definitely her soulmate.
And if Ladybug was her soulmate and so was Marinette, that meant…
Chloe jumped to her feet. “Mrs. Mendeleiv, I need to go to the nurse. I’m not feeling well.”
Their teacher rolled her eyes and gestured for Chloe to leave.
“Are you okay?” Sabrina asked, her voice soft as Chloe snatched up her things.
“No,” Chloe murmured, a sick feeling spreading through her stomach.
From 2008- 2009, ABC aired a short lived show called Eli Stone, starring Jonny Lee Miller. Eli was a lawyer who started having hallucinations caused by an aneurysm, and realized those hallucinations might actually be visions.
Many of Eli’s visions revolved around George Michael (and all of the Season 1 episodes shared their titles with his songs). However, when he appeared in Episode 9, titled “I Want Your Sex”, he wasn’t just a vision anymore.
George hired Eli to represent a teen girl who played one of his songs, the titular I Want Your Sex, during an abstinence only rally at her school. During her trial, she used both facts and personal stories to explain why abstinence only education is more dangerous than safe sex education. When the lawyer for the high school claimed that the song she chose promoted sexual promiscuity, George Michael was called to explain the true meaning behind the song.
Wethersby: Mr. Michael, tell me, what inspired your song I Want Your
Sex? A song, by the way, which rose to number one on the world charts, a song
that helped you win a Grammy for Best Album of the Year.
George Michael: Well, it was inspired by a relationship. Like most of my
work, it was autobiographical.
Wethersby: You heard Principal Ackerman describe the song as
George Michael: But it’s just the opposite. Ironically enough, I wrote the
song about abstinence, and I was very much in love with someone at the time.
Wethersby: So how do you feel about your song being used to protest an abstinence only sex education program.
George Michael: Well I applaud it, obviously. When I wrote it, we were in
year six of the AIDS crisis, a crisis that Ronald Reagan did not even address publicly
until there were over 21,000 people dead. And what the government is doing
right now, funding federal programs that tell children that condoms don’t work,
is killing people all over again.
I have seen a lot of posts discussing how we lost such an important member of the LGBT community. This scene has always stuck with me, and I’m sure most people would not have had a chance to see it. Though it is through a fictional lens, George Michael is reminding us that there have been times where misinformation and government inaction made it seem wrong to have even monogamous sex with someone that you love, and that stigmatizing sex, and gay sex in particular, is dangerous.