so last week I was walking downtown and a girl leaned out her car window and yelled “YOU LOOK LIKE A PRINCESS” and today a girl walked past me on the sidewalk and said “I love your socks” (they have birds on them) and I suggest we replace all cat-calling with girls complimenting each other on the street because honestly I have never felt more pretty or into girls in my goddamn life
Catcalling is a compliment when women do it
no, complimenting isn’t catcallng because it’s actually trying to make the person happy as opposed to deliberately harassing someone as a power trip
one of the best moments of my life was biking past this group of late-teens girls and one yelling “I LIKE YOUR BIKE,” and i smiled and waved, and another yells after me “and you’re pretty!”
women supporting other women is pure and will always be a good thing; men harassing people because they feed off of asserting dominance over people without power will always be trash
If men want to yell things like your socks are cool and I love your hair, that would be well appreciated. But instead they’ll just bark at me from their cars.
I am totally here for people of all genders replacing catcalling with gentle drive-by compliments.
For real I once had a guy on the street tell me he liked my boots and I just said thanks and he smiled and said “you look nice, have a nice day!” That was fine. That’s a compliment. I’m down for that.
The following week a guy pulled up to me in a car and told me he “would love to see that mouth around his cock”, wolf-whistled, then drove way. That is not a compliment that’s sexual harassment and it made me feel unsafe. I am floored by the number of people who apparently can’t tell the difference.
Here’s a good rule of thumb I would suggest: if you wouldn’t say it to your mother, don’t say it to a random woman on the street.
Disney/Lucas Film: *mute af on the actual nature of baze and chirrut’s actual relationship despite multiple reviews, viewers, and critics reading the onscreen relationship as that of a couple*
do you guys think cassian andor had to undergo spy training—well. not really “training” so much as a week locked in a room with an imperial torture droid, a nonsense sentence he was given in lieu of actual rebellion intelligence.
(the tricky tradoshan takes twice the twi’lek’s toys, see, senator mothma? he remembers. And he remembered all those years ago, his mouth tasting of blood and everything swimming before his eyes; barely able to stand straight, but he said it perfectly, every syllable crisp, even imitating mothma’s core accent—
thank you, commander andor, mothma had said, and he’d grinned, before then unceremoniously passed out.)
do you think that the rebellion was short on imperial torture droids, so they just used a security droid with an augmented intelligence subroutine.
i.e., the only imperial droid they had around: k2
do you think cassian startled the first time he saw That Droid (as he’s taken to calling it, at least in his head) in another context—some mechanic tinkering on his casing, the droid quiet and obedient. It was staring straight ahead, though it cocked its head when it saw cassian staring.
ah, commander andor, the droid said, when cassian drew closer. I am k-2so. I did not have the opportunity to mention it, before.
yeah, I was pretty busy screaming, I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
cassian watched the mechanic for a minute. She was clearly not doing more than patching up some rust, ensuring joints were lubed. you know, it seems unfair, he said, after a minute. the droid was still staring at him. you get to rummage around in our heads, but we don’t get to poking around in yours.
well, if you would like, the droid said after a long moment.
but cassian just grins, and grins, and then laughs when k2 says, that is not true, there is still a 92% chance of my delivering a painful electric shock to any new member of the rebellion.)
I always hate it when people are all “so do you go to school, or are
you working, or” and I either have to
make up some lie, or
eventually get
around to “I am not working because of depression/anxiety,” and
subsequently have to deal with whatever bullshit-riddled and completely
unsolicited opinions on mental illness this stranger feels obligated to
share with me.
So my therapist was like, “You don’t have to do either.
You can just say you haven’t worked in a while because you’re recovering
from an illness.”
I tried it when the home inspector was here today, and it fucking worked.
He was like, “oh, I’m sorry, are you doing better now,” and I’m like
yeah, and don’t worry, it’s not contagious, awkward laugh, and we moved
on.
MY THERAPIST. IS A GENIUS. Because it is an
illness, so it’s not a lie to say that, and it’s also none of his
business to know specifically what it is, and I clearly don’t want to
give more details, so we should move on from this topic. MYTHERAPIST IS A GODDAMN GENIUS.
Dude I needed this. I never know what to say when people ask if I work because I’m severely disabled and don’t work.
Also, if you’re like me and you get super anxious about putting someone in this uncomfortable position, my mom (after getting past a stint of being in this position) came up with the alternative “So what fills your days” because it’s a lot less…interrogatory, I guess.
Sometimes it blows my mind that there are people that don’t wear glasses/contacts. Like they can literally see with no aid. Like they wake up and just be out here seeing. What a wild concept.
And people say stuff like ‘lol don’t you hate it when you look up in the middle of the night and see a spider on your ceiling’ like bitch (!!) i could have Nicholas II last czar of Russia hangin from my ceiling fan and i would be none the wiser
ok a followup from my irony post: one of the things i love most about steve rogers as seen in the mcu is that he doesn’t do the thing that ‘feels right’ or looks most virtuous or american or whatever, he’s not sentimental, he knows what hell is like because he has been there and it’s called the western front. he grew up sick and poor and irish catholic when there was no kindness for those things in the american narrative, he is not the kind of guy who thinks everything will turn out okay if you just believe in yourself.
he doesn’t do what he feels is the right thing, he does what he decides is the right thing. and sometimes it feels terrible, and has terrible consequences. at no point in ‘civil war’, for instance, does he seem to think his decision is The Right Choice and tony’s is Wrong. he knows there was no right answer, only two wrong ones, and he picked the one he could live with. and people bled for it.
i wouldn’t say he’s a ‘logic’ character, he’s not that trope, but he is secretly, subtly, ruthlessly thoughtful.
so when he does something like, say, become a fugitive from the entire world within minutes of hearing there’s a shoot-first order out on bucky, it’s not that blind emotional panic that drives so many heroes. it’s as cold and unstoppable as a glacier.
an emotionally driven hero has, inherently, a sense of entitlement about the outcome of their choices. if you believe in your friends, if you tell the truth when you ought to lie, if you refuse to take the kill shot because heroes don’t kill, things will definitely turn out okay in the end somehow. and of course the narrative always supports this, because that’s the genre, that’s the trope set. there’s no room for a counterpoint in their universe.
and then there’s captain fucking america.
look, i’m sleep-deprived and haven’t planned this post out at all so it’s probably kind of a mess, but what i’m getting at here is that the ‘golden boy’ of superheroes, the star spangled man with a plan, this corny, schmaltzy, old-timey character, isn’t light because the darkness hasn’t touched him. he’s light because he set his jaw and marched into the darkness and he set it the fuck on fire.
