me @fevertomlinson - Tumblr Blog

see honestly i am the easiest person to impress because literally no one has ever really bought me flowers or taken me dancing or on a picnic or any of that romantic junk and i would just melt at any of it

haznlou-deactivated20190321

This is it lads! The fandom has done it

haznlou-deactivated20190321

THERE’s A PART TWO

notemily

Lewis’s Law: Twitter Version

(Lewis’s Law states that the comments on any article about feminism will justify the need for feminism.)

So today someone posts a thing about how it’s hard to talk to men about issues that affect primarily women.

And this dude responds saying he doesn’t think this is a real problem that women experience:

Apparently without irony. So of course he gets the response:

Not getting it:

STILL NOT GETTING IT:

Does he get it yet? Nope:

He goes through this ENTIRE EXCHANGE without realizing that he is demonstrating the exact issue being discussed. I’m still not sure he understands what’s going on, despite multiple people trying to explain it to him. It’s just… this is a work of art. It’s mansplaining all the way down.

advanced-procrastination

Life imitates art

north-of-annwn

Source: https://twitter.com/ImpPoster

rufeepeach

This.

It’s genuinely worrying to me how often white supremacist misogynist dudes have a weird Viking obsession. The Vikings did not agree with you. Stop dragging the Vikings into this.

amuseoffyre

Right-wingers: We should treat the Muslims like the Vikings did! Me: You mean travel thousands of miles to strike up profitable trade deals with them in their own countries and establish mutually beneficial business arrangements? Right-wingers: Wot?

star-anise

Move to a predominantly Muslim country, convert to Islam, and become famous makers of cheese.

thedailystyles

Madison Square Garden - 2012 vs 2018

disgoth-deactivated20180319

the only thing i knew about sex at the age of nine was that

1) it was for mommies and daddies who were married;

2) it made me, my five year old sister, and my baby brother.

i learned everything i knew about sex from the internet while secretly browsing grownup sites on my 4th generation ipod touch i earned for doing so well at a piano recital. because of the nature of, you know, men and their internet porn, i learned that my sexual role as a woman was to be slapped and pissed on and tied up. i didn’t know what healthy sex was. i didn’t know it should be mutually consensual, or that it was okay to want sex with girls. i didn’t know that sex should be good for both people. i learned that sex would hurt, and that sex was about men and men only, and that i would be forced into sex whether i liked it or not, and that it was normal to have sex with big, burly, grown men as a teenager. i learned it was normal to cry during sex. i was scared of sex for so many years because of that, and the way i was exposed to sex at a young age led to the inappropriate and traumatic sexual encounters i had (occasionally with older people) later on in my teen years.

the day i got my first period, i was ten-and-a-half. i was swimming in the river with my best friend, and when i got out to go to the bathroom, i noticed brown blood on the inside of my mint-green tankini bottom. i knew what a period was, but i hid it from my mother in shame. she found out, eventually, of course. she told me, you have a woman’s body now, and if you have sex, you could have a baby. all i heard was, you have a woman’s body.

i started shaving my vulva when i was eleven, because i saw memes on memegenerator about how disgusting “hairy pussy” was. i wanted to be sexy. i was eleven years old, and all i wanted was to be sexy. it hurt, and it itched, and it made me uncomfortable, and i’d sometimes nick my labia with the razor, but i did it anyway, because i didn’t want to have a nasty, “hairy pussy.”

eleven was the age i first started getting pinched on the EL. i was an early bloomer: i had B-cup breasts already, and my menstrual cycle was regular enough that i could keep a calendar. i started wearing a full face of makeup to school and buying shorts that rode all the way up my skinny twelve-year-old thighs. i remember the day i stopped jumping off the swings the summer after fifth grade. skinned knees weren’t sexy. smooth, flawless legs were sexy, and i was a sexy girl. i was probably the sexiest little girl in the whole world. my parents hated it. they told me i was too young, but i knew the truth. my body was older, maybe 17 or 18, so my brain must be, too.

when i was twelve, i had a secret kik account that my parents didn’t know about. i used it to message strangers. i made all sorts of friends. i wasn’t stupid. i used a fake name. never showed my face. one of my friends asked me for a bra picture. i was a cool girl, right, i was sexy, so i sent him a picture of me in front of my bedroom mirror in my little white training bra with the blue butterflies.

sexy, he said.

that was all i wanted.

i’m not typing out all this bullshit because i think it’s something special. i’m typing it out because it’s not. i’m typing it out because i see the same thing happening to my little sister. i’m typing it out because i see the same thing happening to that little millie bobbie brown, sexiest actress at thirteen. i’m typing it out because i’m sixteen years old now, a girl in the eyes of the law and a woman in the eyes of men.

mothers, talk to your daughters. tell them to jump off the swingset and skin their knees. tell them to get dirt on their dresses. tell them that they’re a woman on their 18th birthday, not at ten-and-a-half on the first day of their menstrual cycle. the world is confused. the world is sick. if your daughters don’t hear about how to treat their bodies from you, they’ll hear it from the sick, sick world, and they’ll do the things i did.

let girls be girls.

don’t force womanhood on little girls.

disgoth-deactivated20180319

i encourage men to reblog this post

daintylilperfection

This is so important,,,

blackswallowtailbutterfly

Men won’t reblog it except to justify it.

decenthuman99

This post is so important and not to take away from what is being said i just want to add.

Fathers talk to your sons. Teach them to respect women. There are way to many dudes out here thinking that their dick is some kind of gift. It’s pretty simple. You just gotta raise a kid not to be an entitled asshole.

theroundbartable

This is important. This happens in many different ways, too. This is where mysogyny lives. This is where fatshaming begins and this is where girls and women hate themselves for being female, because they believe they are only allowed to he happy, if they were born a man.

disgoth-deactivated20180319

the only thing i knew about sex at the age of nine was that

1) it was for mommies and daddies who were married;

2) it made me, my five year old sister, and my baby brother.

i learned everything i knew about sex from the internet while secretly browsing grownup sites on my 4th generation ipod touch i earned for doing so well at a piano recital. because of the nature of, you know, men and their internet porn, i learned that my sexual role as a woman was to be slapped and pissed on and tied up. i didn’t know what healthy sex was. i didn’t know it should be mutually consensual, or that it was okay to want sex with girls. i didn’t know that sex should be good for both people. i learned that sex would hurt, and that sex was about men and men only, and that i would be forced into sex whether i liked it or not, and that it was normal to have sex with big, burly, grown men as a teenager. i learned it was normal to cry during sex. i was scared of sex for so many years because of that, and the way i was exposed to sex at a young age led to the inappropriate and traumatic sexual encounters i had (occasionally with older people) later on in my teen years.

the day i got my first period, i was ten-and-a-half. i was swimming in the river with my best friend, and when i got out to go to the bathroom, i noticed brown blood on the inside of my mint-green tankini bottom. i knew what a period was, but i hid it from my mother in shame. she found out, eventually, of course. she told me, you have a woman’s body now, and if you have sex, you could have a baby. all i heard was, you have a woman’s body.

i started shaving my vulva when i was eleven, because i saw memes on memegenerator about how disgusting “hairy pussy” was. i wanted to be sexy. i was eleven years old, and all i wanted was to be sexy. it hurt, and it itched, and it made me uncomfortable, and i’d sometimes nick my labia with the razor, but i did it anyway, because i didn’t want to have a nasty, “hairy pussy.”

eleven was the age i first started getting pinched on the EL. i was an early bloomer: i had B-cup breasts already, and my menstrual cycle was regular enough that i could keep a calendar. i started wearing a full face of makeup to school and buying shorts that rode all the way up my skinny twelve-year-old thighs. i remember the day i stopped jumping off the swings the summer after fifth grade. skinned knees weren’t sexy. smooth, flawless legs were sexy, and i was a sexy girl. i was probably the sexiest little girl in the whole world. my parents hated it. they told me i was too young, but i knew the truth. my body was older, maybe 17 or 18, so my brain must be, too.

when i was twelve, i had a secret kik account that my parents didn’t know about. i used it to message strangers. i made all sorts of friends. i wasn’t stupid. i used a fake name. never showed my face. one of my friends asked me for a bra picture. i was a cool girl, right, i was sexy, so i sent him a picture of me in front of my bedroom mirror in my little white training bra with the blue butterflies.

sexy, he said.

that was all i wanted.

i’m not typing out all this bullshit because i think it’s something special. i’m typing it out because it’s not. i’m typing it out because i see the same thing happening to my little sister. i’m typing it out because i see the same thing happening to that little millie bobbie brown, sexiest actress at thirteen. i’m typing it out because i’m sixteen years old now, a girl in the eyes of the law and a woman in the eyes of men.

mothers, talk to your daughters. tell them to jump off the swingset and skin their knees. tell them to get dirt on their dresses. tell them that they’re a woman on their 18th birthday, not at ten-and-a-half on the first day of their menstrual cycle. the world is confused. the world is sick. if your daughters don’t hear about how to treat their bodies from you, they’ll hear it from the sick, sick world, and they’ll do the things i did.

let girls be girls.

don’t force womanhood on little girls.

disgoth-deactivated20180319

i encourage men to reblog this post

daintylilperfection

This is so important,,,

blackswallowtailbutterfly

Men won’t reblog it except to justify it.

decenthuman99

This post is so important and not to take away from what is being said i just want to add.

Fathers talk to your sons. Teach them to respect women. There are way to many dudes out here thinking that their dick is some kind of gift. It’s pretty simple. You just gotta raise a kid not to be an entitled asshole.

theroundbartable

This is important. This happens in many different ways, too. This is where mysogyny lives. This is where fatshaming begins and this is where girls and women hate themselves for being female, because they believe they are only allowed to he happy, if they were born a man.

harryisclever-deactivated201803

Harry Styles' kooky aunt style is more rockstar based than you realize.

by Maeve Keirans November 30, 2015

There is no denying Harry Styles has gotten verrrry experimental with his look as of late. Things started off slowly with a printed shirt here and there, but then, he started wearing patterned pants and, most recently, a full floral suit. We originally likened his shirt collection to that of your loud, tacky aunt, but his look actually has more of a basis in classic rockstar style than you may have realized.

Harry’s taste has definitely rubbed off on the other members of One Direction, yet he manages to stick out from the group on red carpets and during performances thanks, in large part, to his flamboyant style.

Harry’s recent, unexpected style choices may help him stick out from other male celebrities in 2015, but all draw direct inspiration from iconic rockstars of the late ’60s and early ’70s.

Here are a few of the most glaring comparisons.

Floral Shirts

Harry pulls a lot of pages from Mick Jagger’s style book, who, like Harry, was initially fond of a preppy, blazer-heavy style. By 1973, Mick had starting experimenting with his look a little more, growing out his hair and wearing bold, feminine-inspired blouses. Sound familiar??

Sparkly shoes

In 2015, many men stick with simple, leather dress shoes. Harry, however, follows in David Bowie’s footsteps—literally, LOL—in making sure his shoes are as impressive as his outfit. In 1973, at the tail-end of his Ziggy Stardust era, Bowie wore metallic turquoise boots, which punched up his otherwise simple brown suit. Since late 2013, Harry has been fond of Saint Laurent boots, which, especially when they’re sparkly, add an exciting element to his often monochromatic performance outfits.

Embroidered jackets

Today, embroidered jackets may invoke the marching band uniform of your high school, but Harry’s inspiration seems to stem from someone way more stylish—Jimi Hendrix. In the 1960s, Hendrix bought a vintage military jacket and turned it into one of his trademark looks. He wasn’t the only one—Eric Clapton, Mick Jagger, and John Lennon all purchased similar jackets from I Was Lord Kitchener’s Valet in London. While Harry’s jacket is Saint Laurent and military-inspired rather than, y’know, an actual military uniform, it adds him to a long legacy of musicians who aren’t afraid of ornate jackets.

Tuxedo ruffles

Sure, the Harry Styles-Mick Jagger comparisons have been around for years, but Mick isn’t the only member of the Rolling Stones who Harry takes inspiration from. Ruffled tuxedo shirts were in style in the 1970s, though—surprise!—they didn’t often make appearances on stage at Rolling Stones gigs. In 1971, however, Keith Richards managed to turn a ruffled tuxedo shirt into a look suitable for a Stones performance by wearing it unbuttoned and without a jacket. 43 years later, Harry followed Keith’s lead by wearing a ruffled shirt without actually wearing a tuxedo. The look initially took us by surprise, but a closer examination reveals something important—rockstar-level confidence is required to pull off a shirt like this.

Printed suits

Harry’s bold floral Gucci suit took a lot of people by surprise at the 2015 AMAs, but unsurprisingly, Mick Jagger wore a similarly ~out there~ suit. Checkered suits became extremely popular by the mid-70s, but Jagger spearheaded the trend, wearing it in 1969 on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” While it doesn’t seem like floral suits are set to take red carpets by storm any time soon, we wouldn’t be surprised if subtle patterns started popping up here and there—gray suits are ubiquitous and tired. Dudes are inevitably going to want to mix it up. Calling Harry’s impact now—keep your eyes out.

When Zayn resurfaced at Paris Fashion Week after leaving the band, we were convinced that he was angling for a fashion campaign. While he may have been—and still might be, for all we know—he’ll have some stiff competition from Harry, who is quickly proving he can pull off most things, including flared pants.

Gucci, you know what to do. Harry has a break coming up, after all—what better way to fill it?

fevertomlinson

loved this

#harry #styles #style

everytime i see trough louis’ eyes i feel like the sun is fucking shining at my face and the world is the best place in the universe to live this guy just fascinates me

#louis #tomlinson #eyes #beautiful #af #blue

don’t you ever asked about how much posts in tumblr have some connection with larry stylinson

#larry #stylinson #tumblr #harry #styles #louis #tomlinson