jacytheblue asked: I don't know if you've seen the comic panel but it's one of my ABSOLUTE favorites and it's basically Batman showing Superman his locked boxes of everyone in Justice League's weaknesses and he tells Superman to open Wonder Woman's. There's nothing inside and Superman is surprised. Batman goes, "Exactly, she has no weaknesses."
Okay, I am usually not a DC’er but let’s be real, EVERYONE is here for Wonder Woman and I am not an exception to this rule. I have seen that panel, and I love it fiercely. Wonder Woman is everything, I would fight you for her honor but instead I feel like she would end up fighting for her honor while I swooned on the sidelines.
srsly tho this is absolutely a thing that dudes do all the f***ing time
like where if he knows a girl doesn’t necessarily want to give him a hug, he will trap her in this position in front of witnesses where she has 2 options- both of which are undesirable for her, while simultaneously desirable for him
if she doesn’t want to hug him, whatever she does, it will suck for her.
she can 1. say nah and be the fucking asshole in front of other ppl or 2. forsake her corporeal boundaries and allow unwanted intimate contact
it’s a f***ing trap
F***ing hate dudes forreal.
too many f***ing times ugh
Story time.
One day I was on the MAX (basically a giant street car that goes all over the metro area) on my way to meet up with a few friends. I didn’t look at anyone, I didn’t speak to anyone, I just stood to the side on my phone making sure I wasn’t going to be late to my meeting.
Out of no where, this guy comes up to me and starts to chat me up. Me, being who I am, am absolutely terrified to tell this guy to f*** off. He was at least half a foot taller than me, and was way too bulky for me to fight back. So I suck it up at humor him, say hello. Before introducing himself or asking me for my name, he asks me out on a date. Not wanting to piss him off I try to make light of the situation and I laugh, telling him that my boyfriend wouldn’t like the idea, but thank you for the offer. He just shrugs and says, “He doesn’t need to know.”
At this point I’m scared out of my mind. There’s this guy who, after seeing me run two blocks to catch the train, comes up to me and has made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to leave without getting something out of me.
I deny him a second time, saying, “I don’t even know you’re name. We’re strangers, I don’t know you.” He finally introduces himself and asks me for my phone number. I tell him I don’t give my number out to people I’ve just met and he says, “Fine, but at least take mine so we can meet up later.” So he watches me plug his number into my phone (which I deleted as soon as I knew I was safe and away from him) as we’re pulling up to my stop. I tell him I need to leave and switch trains and he tells me, “Oh, I’ll wait with you. I don’t have any plans, so I’m in no rush.” It’s important to note what at this point he had previously told me that he was late to a job interview, but he has all the time in the world because he still hasn’t gotten what he wanted from me; a yes.
I get off of the train and he follows me, and waits at the platform with me for over ten minutes until my train arrives, asking me all sorts of personal questions about where I live and where I was going that day. As soon as the train pulls up he grabs for me and says, “Do I at least get a hug before you go?”
I was terrified. I was embarrassed. This dude, who before even asking me for my name asks me out on a date and then continues to harass me after I tell him I have a boyfriend, asks me for a hug only fifteen minutes after meeting. People around us were staring at me, as if I was being rude for denying him, and every inch of me was mortified. I wanted to run, but I felt like if I had done that he would have chased after me and things would have gotten worse. So I did, and he squeezed me so tight I felt like I was going to burst. It took me a good ten seconds to get him to let go and I ran to the train car just as the doors were closing. He was trying to get me to miss my train so I would have to wait with him even longer. I would have been stuck there for over a half an hour until the next train came by, and the platform (aside from the few buses coming by) was now COMPLETELY EMPTY. He knew EXACTLY what he was doing and he knew EXACTLY how to get me alone with him.
People, if you are in a situation like this do not feel obligated to give in. If someone is making you uncomfortable and asks to touch you in any way, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO SAY YES. Make excuses, be blunt, just straight up say ‘no’. If possible, go to someone else near by who you think can help you and ask them to help you. It’s important for guys to learn that they can’t get what they want just by asking over and over again.
I got lucky. But not everyone does. Please, everyone, Be Safe.
SECOND STORY TIME
So I was on the transit bus alone one time. This was my first time riding, and so already I was PETRIFIED. I sit down, pull out my ipod, and begin to play some games. This guy sits down next to me, and begins trying to have a conversation. I don’t really respond, I don’t even look at him, just give half-hearted “mhm”s and “oh”s, as I don’t want to be rude if he was just striking up a friendly conversation. He then asks me on a date.
Now, as I stated before, I already was absolutely petrified. My heart stopped and I didn’t know how to answer. So I just didn’t. He didn’t let up and I could feel his eyes on me. I quietly stammer out a “no thanks” and my stop HAPPENS to be coming up, so I pull the string thing to let the driver know I want to stop there, and once we stop and the doors open I get up and he asks me, “Well, can I at least have a hug before you go if you won’t go on a date with me?”
This makes me break. There are now people staring, as we are the only people standing up and not getting off… So I just start crying. Hell, I am bawling almost instantly. He looks so fucking freaked out and people are now getting up to come over and comfort me/question him. I don’t stop crying, and he keeps trying to comfort me by touching me, and people are yelling at him for that.
AND THEN. AND. FUCKING. THEN. THE GOD DAMN BUS DRIVER. A VERY EASILY 6 FOOT BURLY MAN. COMES OVER TO US. PULLS THE GUY AWAY. AND KNEELS DOWN. HE THEN ASKS, IN THE MOST CALM VOICE, “Did you request the stop?” I very slowly and shakily nod, as I am still crying my eyes out. He then asks, “Do you want to get off?” I give a quiet “mhm” and nod once again, and he offers me his hand. I take it, he stands up, and he escorts me off the bus. He asks me questions such as where I was going next, if I was going to meet someone shortly, if I was going to transfer buses from there. He was very polite and waited for me to answer the entire time, and my friend (who I was going to be meeting there) showed up. He asked me if this was someone I knew, I said yes, and he said alright, have a good day. He then told me- and this is something stuck in my mind forever, so it is word for word-
“If some guy EVER starts harassing you like that again, do exactly what you did there. Cry. Cry and scream and have a temper tantrum. Not only will it throw him off, but it will get others to notice. They might not interfere, they might, but you will have gotten their attention and if you happen to go missing the next day the search for you will be a hell of a lot easier because everyone in that location will have seen you screaming and crying with a guy now very awkward with his actions. They will know. That is what my daughter did, and three days after she went missing she was back in my arms. I pray for you and every other person like you who has this done. You stay safe now, okay?” And after I began blubbering again, I nodded and he left.
So this is the second lesson for yall. If you can not have the courage to say no or make an excuse, cry. Let out those sobs and tears and cry your heart out. Because it is going to make people notice and make people aware.
Reblogging for that second story. This might save a life.
I just wanna note that bus drivers can be really amazing and good ones do look out for their riders.
Also, as an additional tip (in case you cannot cry on command or such), you can say, “No, because you’re creepy/creeping me out” and if he persists or tries to laugh it off, say “I do not want to be touched” and look at one of the strangers/persons that is watching.
It: 1. Gives them a sense of urgency in the situation, as the eye contact is a way to make them feel as though you are personally asking for their help and it is now their obligation to help. 2. Contains words so that if you’re in a public place but people aren’t necessarily watching, then they (as natural evesdroppers) can overhear the attention-grabbing words and then notice the situation. Note, this does NOT mean that they will come for help, but you might be able to look someone in the eye (as previously mentioned) or just get some people’s attention. 3. It shows that you have fight in you. As with rapists, those who are physically aggressive (ie. these huggers) choose women they see as an easy target. The moment you show them you are going/willing to fight them, they are less likely to continue. Sadly, this is not always the case, but every little bit helps.
Hopes this also helps, guys, and I’m so sad that this has to even be a post we need.
Dudes who follow me: 1) reblog this 2) don’t be the creepy guy who asks random women for hugs 3) be aware of your friends or random creepy dudes and call them out if they act gross towards girls/womem
Honestly,
though, the best part of teaching Greek mythology is that soft ‘huh’
coming from behind you as you’re finishing up a diagram of the gods and
the relationships they have between them.
“Is something wrong?” you ask, turning around while you try, and fail, to clean white chalk off your fingers.
“It’s
just,” the boy says, and then he blushes a bit, because people taking
Latin are usually good and shy and the last thing they want is to get
into a fight with a teacher. “Those two characters here - aren’t they
both men?”
And okay, at this point everybody’s paying
attention except the resident class child - that one girl who still has
to uses four different colours for everything she writes and will get
upset if you point out she should only use black or blue when filling in
exams. So, yeah, you look at the boy, and then at everybody else, and
then you turn back, pretend to check.
“Yes, they are,” you say, frowning, as if you never had to answer that question before.
“So why is there a double line between them?”
“Because
they were in a relationship at some point. Double lines are for sex, remember? Single
lines are kids and parents, and double lines are lovers.”
Someone
giggles. The two kids whose parents bring them along to weird art
exhibitions - the ones who’ve grown up hearing frank political discussions and the occasional dirty joke - are now looking collected
and a bit smug. The others are losing it, and fast - they look at the
board, as if only just noticing the thing, and then at you.
“So,
they were like, gay?” someone else asks, and it’s always a girl asking
this question, because ‘gay’ is just something boys aged 14 and a half
never use - a Voldemort word, something that’s on your lips today and on
everybody else’s tomorrow.
And this, of course, is the
moment you’ve been waiting for - what the lesson was actually about. You
wouldn’t plan a lesson around that, but you will mention the subject if
it comes up, and so you start talking, about all of it - about sexual
orientation being a cultural construct, about the Greek language not
even having a term for ‘gay’ and ‘straight’, about warriors falling in
love with each other and neglecting their teenage wives, about the fact
our society is still coming to terms with something people have known in
their hearts for millennia - that there’s no choosing and no free will,
not about this. About how the most important thing is to respect
yourself and each other, and the rest doesn’t matter all that
much.
Statistically, in every class there’s a kid
who’s struggling with this. Maybe two. Here things are not as bad as
they could be, but it’s still hard, especially when you’re fourteen and
you think you may be the only one and you don’t want to be different and
how the hell can you even have a conversation about these things, with anyone?
And
sometimes when you talk about these things - and dedicated teachers will
find a way to include this speech somehow, because you never know who
might need an ally, and who might need to hear it said out loud - teachers who loves their kids will mention the issue when discussing Michelangelo and
Leonardo and Shakespeare and the Iliad - sometimes you see exactly who
these kids are. Sometimes you see them looking at you, wide-eyed and
fearful and yet full to the brim with that Go on look that’s so
endearing on any kind of student. And sometimes all you see is their
floppy hair, because they will keep scribbling in their notebooks and
pretending like this is uninteresting and embarrassing and Oh my God,
but the tips of their ears are getting red, and you find yourself hoping
they’ll get a hug today, because they really need it.
Not Even: Well, if you’re only mid-list worthy you’ll have at least twenty rejections.
You want to get published? Fine. You need to accept that every single day of your career will have rejection.
Everything you write will be rejected.
Every book you publish will be hated.
Every character you love will be degraded.
Every hour you put in – the blood and sweat and tears – will be dismissed as “…talentless hack who doesn’t know how to string a sentence together.”
Millions of people will never read your book because they can’t read at all.
Millions of people will never read your book because they don’t speak the same language as you.
Millions of people will never read your book because they hate your genre.
Millions of people will never read your book because they don’t like fe/male authors.
Millions of people will never read your book because they didn’t get into it.
Billions of people will reject your work. They will mock you. They will dismiss you. They will talk trash about you.
You. Will. Be. Rejected.
It doesn’t matter. You aren’t writing for the millions. You are writing for the one.
The one person who tells you your book made them cry because it spoke to them.
The one person who tells you your book changed the way they saw the world.
The one person who tells you your book was the only light in a dark time.
The one person who tells you your book inspired them to be something more.
You are writing for them.
They will wish they could take your characters to prom.
They will read your book after their mother’s funeral.
They will curl up in bed with your book on a cold night after their first real break up.
They will turn to those pages time and again to revisit the places they love.
You’re going to get rejected. And you’re going to take that punch square on the chin and not ever back down because you know who you are writing for. Because you know it takes more than a pretty font to make a book work, you have to be willing to take the rejections. You have to go into this knowing you will fail a million times with a million readers, and that it doesn’t matter because you aren’t writing for them.
Keep your chin up. You are someone’s favorite author even if they don’t know it yet.
