hell hath no fury like someone on the internet being asked to self-reflect on whether or not their behavior contributes to larger and harmful cultural trends
no go on say it. tell me to my face that semi-privately talking about streamers fucking each other contributes to horrible real life situations. dont be a coward
i will gladly say that. i think that publicly posting sexually explicit or otherwise invasive stuff about complete strangers contributes to a harmful erosion of boundaries and basic respect. i dont think becoming a b-list internet celebrity means someone forfeits their right to be thought of as a full person instead of a fictional character. i think the fact that plenty of internet content creators have openly said that invasive fanbases have been detrimental to their mental health is proof enough that this is part of a larger trend that has unfortunate real-world implications.
Author’s Note: I don’t know how many times I’m going to say this, but I am terribly sorry for being gone for so long. But I am glad to be back, I do hope that you guys enjoy this new chapter.
Warning: Sexual Harassment, please do not read if it could be too much to handle
The entirety of the trip was leaving you with your mind reeling and your heart racing. The monster you’ve spent, knowing now it’s actually been almost two months since you’ve stayed with him, had you thinking more ways than one just how mind boggling he made you feel.
Bucky was courteous, kind, and even cracking jokes with you. Never once did he do that while you were imprisoned in the plantation. Sure you were the one cracking the ever terrible jokes, trying to make the best of everything. But you never thought he would make the jokes, nor even smile when you tried to fire back the jokes he made. Though one thing did tug at your mind, one question that shouldn’t even matter.
“How did you even get all of that money?” You looked to him as you stopped near a red light.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” He answered simply while staring ahead out the window. You sighed to yourself, knowing you weren’t going to get any answer from him.
It was quiet for the next few minutes, the coldness of the AC making goosebumps rise on your skin. No music played on the radio, only the soft breathing of both Bucky and yourself filled the car.
From the distance you could see the outline of the mountain. The place that you knew as your prison just awaiting from your ever growing sadness and anger. You knew not to make yourself angry, especially while enclosed in a car with an ex-assassin.
You snuck a look at him, his features strangely calm looking for a man struggling for his past and fighting for his future. Yet you smirked when thinking of a particular joke from within the store.
“So,” you began, Bucky looked at you, “do you think Ann’s got a sister?”
The atmosphere between you and Bucky had changed, the difference wasn’t significantly humongous but it still mattered to you. He wouldn’t glare towards you as often, the stiff posture he held was slightly more relaxed. If you didn’t know any better, it also seemed he started to lose the ever present grimace on his face.
‘Reminder to self, thank George and Ann next time I see them.’
You sighed to yourself, surprisingly somewhat bored with what the day had became. Usually you were content with exploring the halls of the plantation, with an odd shadow shaped like Bucky following you, but today was merely just a day. You couldn’t even entertain yourself with that strange shadow, he was nowhere in sight.
A thought protruded into your head as you wondered up the stairs to go to your room, finally tired of the day growing into night.
‘Where the hell is his room?’
Your eyes ran down the two halls of the plantation, his room had to be somewhere in that hellhole.
‘Was it that locked room?’
To your body’s own accord it moved towards where you knew to be the locked room. As your hand reached for the door, you could feel the determination set and fill your veins. You weregoing to get into that room if it was the last thing you do. With a deep breath, you turned the nob, and with a short gasp you found the door unlocked.
The door creaked loudly as you pushed it open enough for your head to peak through. Bucky was nowhere to be seen within the old room. You knew what you were doing was the exact thing that could get you killed. Yet the curiosity within you made your actions justified for the time being.
Your eyes began to take in everything; from the map hanging on his wall, his clothes piled neatly in the corner. You expected everything to be a wreck, for the bed to be broken, cloths ripped to shreds, for a monsterto have destroyed the room. But no, it was uncommonly neat looking and you couldn’t help but feel ashamed for thinking that it should have been in ruins just because of the things he had done in the past.
Sighing, you furthered yourself into the room, curious as to what else he held within it. As you made your way closer to his bed, what you could make out from the moonlight were journals strewn across the bedding, next to it a black backpack.
Should you have even bothered to open them, no, but did you open them anyway, yes. It was in your nature to wonder and in your blood to read. Surely he wasn’t going to fault you for ‘accidentally’ opening his journals.
You grabbed the first journal on your right, sticky notes sticking out from the pages and dog-ears making some of the pages lump. A slight scowl formed on your lips when seeing the dog-ears.
‘Of course he fucking dog-ears his pages.’
As you opened to the front page, the first thing you see was a handmade table-of-contents.
-Begininning
-Childhood
-Steve?
-War
-Blood
You couldn’t even get through the first page when hearing the door behind you open more.
“What are you doing in here?”
His voice startles you to the point where you jump, dropping his journal in the process. You turn to him and see his eyes widen in realization as to what you were exactly doing.
Bucky rushes to the bed, grabbing his journals hurriedly and placing them within the backpack.
“I-I’m sorry-“
He cuts you off with a roar, “Get out! Get! Out!”
The sheer anger you felt from him terrified you to death. The only thing you could think of was to flee, to get as far away as you could from him. At that moment, you truly do believed he was the monster people made him out to be.
Your mind is reeling in terror, your body pushing itself to find the nearest place of safety. It didn’t even occur to you as you ran past Philippe to take him and go home. You only wanted to be away from him, from the man you believed to be changing.
The moon was the only light you had to help you traverse the wooden land of the Virginian woods. At this point you were only running aimlessly, your body couldn’t stop even if you wanted it to.
Your eyes squinted when seeing faint florescent lights in the distance. Finally you forced your energy drained body to slow down, your lungs screaming for air as your mind screamed for understanding of the situation at hand.
‘I should leave, I should leave and go find dad.’
The lights grew clearer and clearer as you walked towards them. To your relief, a gas station stood lit brightly, a beacon of some sort for your tired self.
You huffed heavily as you neared the curb, you tried your damnedest to not let what had just happened to get to you. Yet once the dam holding back tears broke, you couldn’t stop them, they ran freely as you hiccuped and took in shaky breaths.
‘Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I can’t do this anymore.’
You’re trying to calm yourself as you hear footsteps near you. Looking up from the ground you see a group of men walking towards you. You could feel your heart race when seeing them come closer.
If it was any other day, you knew what your exact response would be to these men. A simple yet strong, ‘Fuck off and fuck you,’ would’ve sufficed. But once again, fate never wanted to play nicely.
It was nighttime, you were alone, and nowhere near civilization.
The wolf whistles from the men made you close into yourself. Hastily you wiped away the tears to steel yourself into not showing these wolves your sadden eyes.
A ‘Hey, baby,’ a mere ‘Why are you all by yourself?’ and a ‘You look so beautiful tonight, darlin’’ made bile rise in your throat. Now only did you wish you stayed within the ‘safe’ confines of the plantation.
You try to smile at these men, no, wolveswith hungry eyes and unforgiving actions, “I’m just waiting for my friend fellows, I’d like to be alone.”
There’s tsk’ing as you requested them to leave you alone.
“Please, I don’t want any trouble.” You beg slightly, your body was in the stages of fight or flight when hearing them chuckling.
Your stomach is churning, your heart beating painfully in your chest, and your lungs ready to burst at any moment from the looks in these mens’ eyes.
The man closet to you grabs your arm, his hands are rough against your bare skin, the others are laughing as you’re trying pulling away from him.
“Aw, baby don’t be that way.” The man’s voice sent chills down your spine. He tries to pull you closer into his embrace. The familiar stench of alcohol coated his breath as he tried to pull you into him again.
You hit him, yelling, “Let go of me!” You could feel the tears starting again as his tightens his grip on your arm.
He jerks you harshly, “Feisty little bitchyou are, might have to take care of that.” The others continue to laugh along, as if they’re use to seeing this, that it was a regular Friday night for them.
You continue your actions, screaming, pleadingfor help you just knew that wasn’t coming. Your hands clashed with the man’s body, his face, anything you could injure to get away. But the laughter kept coming as you kept fighting.
Out of nowhere you hear a car screeching to a stop, with it a righteous slam of a door.
Your eyes are too clouded with tears to notice who came from the car. But soon enough you realize just who it is once all the men were on the ground. Many of them groveling in pain or unconscious from the administrations from the man standing in front of you, his eyes filled with concern.
It’s Bucky, he’s standing in front of you, slightly out of breath but there nonetheless. He grabs your hand gently, then leads you to the car. With gentle touches he buckles you in and walks to the driver side of the car. You stare numbingly onto the dashboard, clearly trying to process the last couple of hours.
Ever so slowly, your eyes move across the dashboard, finding that the car to look strangely familiar. You look towards where the keys should be, but finding nothing there.
Out of everything that should have been said at that moment, you ask, “Did you hot-wire Philippe?”
You look at Bucky to see him shake his head slightly.
“Yes.”
A late August rain rolled in as you and Bucky comforted yourself inside the confines of the mini library. You watch as Bucky tries to clean up his ever present wound. A soft grumble parts his lips as he tries to wipe away the blood.
Carefully you move towards him, a wet rag in hand, “Here… just let me do this.”
Touching the wound softly you hear him yell out in pain.
“That hurts!”
You counter him, “Maybe if you held still and let me do this it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
“Maybe if you didn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened!” He replies quickly, already annoyed with the argument at hand.
“Well if you didn’t scare me, I wouldn’t have ran away!” You try to clean his wound again until he counters you once more.
“Then you shouldn’t have gone into my room, or looked at my belongings!” He looks at you, relentless in proving that he was right in what he did. Even if he knew what he did was clearly wrong.
You scoff, “Well, you need to learn to control your damn temper!”
Bucky opens his mouth to respond but quickly closes it when found at a loss for words. You roll your eyes, knowing you won and he is giving up with the argument.
“Just please hold still Bucky, it might sting a bit…” You move the rag towards the wound once more, you feel his body jolt slightly from the stinging. Continuing your actions, you move to press the rag on another part of the gash. “I, I am sorry though for looking at your journal…”
You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, you didn’t dare look up at him, there was just too much more to say to him.
“They, those pigs what we sadly call men…” You could feel your heart beating slightly faster when thinking of them, “I just,” you pause for a second before finally looking up at him, “thank you for saving me, Bucky.”
His face was stoic but his eyes showed every emotion he felt, mainly the mere shock of you thanking him had shown itself.
people actually believe that Muslim females in hijabs/burqas/niqabs etc don’t face sexual harassment because we’re covered?????????? how do you fail to understand that no amount of clothes will stop a perverted man’s behavior towards a woman.
It happened like this: When he turned nine, he gets called into his office. Until this point, none of them had ever been allowed in said office. It’s that day he’s told to take off his clothes, this is a pattern that continues for eight years.
It happened like this: He’s fifteen, and talking to a reporter. The reporter places his hand on his knee, throughout the questions it slides up his thigh. The reporter calls him pretty, says he’s too pretty. It’s his own fault.
It happened like this: He’s short on money, and the dealer offers him a way to pay the little bit. He doesn’t understand until he’s on his knees. He knows what to do by now.
It happened like this: Someone asked how much, he said fifty.
It happened like this: He’s twenty-two, and sitting in a police station. A cop tells him that it wasn’t his fault, he laughs at her. Because it’s always his fault.
It happened like this: He likes skirts, and heels, and eyeliner, and dancing.
It happened like this: The hands are always rough, and they always leave marks that hurt for days. It hurts, and it’s only ever bad people. People who like hurting other people.
It happened like this: He tries to touch him one night, on the thin mattress in a motel room. He can’t breath, because no, no, no, no. He’s supposed to be good, he’s supposed to be kind. He locks himself in the bathroom and cries.
It happened like this: It’s his own fault, and everybody knows it.
hot take: ‘chivalry’ is fine as long as it’s adapted to 21st century values. if you are a male, you SHOULD be aware that your female friends face certain issues that you as a male dont. acting on that awareness in a way that keeps your female friends safe, isn’t a bad thing.
like… opening doors isn’t rly chivalrous when it’s just a thing you ought to do for everyone. but real 21st century chivalry might be, like, standing between your female friend and the guy that’s trying to get her drunk, or offering to walk her home when it’s late.
if the ‘chivalry’ inconveniences everyone involved and you’re just doing it for your over-inflated male ego — ie, “no you’re the girl here, you HAVE to let me hold this door for you and do all these things for you even when you can do it yourself and im just slowing you down” — then it’s just outdated misogyny.
Old chivalry was walking on the side of the road, giving a woman the centre, so that tosspots would land on you and not her.
Modern chivalry is walking nearer the road to protect your female companion from being struck.
Modern chivalry is walking/driving your female friends home to make sure they’re safe.
Modern chivalry is clocking groppers or smashing cat callers windshields.
Modern chivalry is listening you your female companions hints that they’re uncomfortable is a situation and getting them out of that situation safely.
Modern chivalry is pretending to be your female companions boyfriend to keep the creeps away.
Chivalry is about using your power to PROTECT women. Not to earn you “good guy points”.
This fucker on tiktok comment section talking about “well it’s not James’s fault that Snape chose not to wear trousers under his robes so no it wasn’t sa” of course it wasn’t James’s fault! It was the school’s fault, or the magical society’s because TROUSERS WERE NOT A PART OF THE HOGWARTS UNIFORM. Guess Snape could’ve worn them under his robes anyway if he didn’t want to be exposed in front of a crowd but I really hope no one thinks that.
So they’re saying it’s a teen girl’s fault, when a guy lifts up her dress, for not wearing trousers under.
Inescapably, that’s what they’re saying by blaming teen Snape for not wearing trousers. And like, literally it’s normal for wizards not to, just as with dresses, but even if it wasn’t - it doesn’t give people the right to strip them nonconsensually just because it might not show underwear!
They’re also saying it’s the muggle victims’ own faults, when the Death Eaters used levicorpus on them in GoF.
you can’t even talk about lesbianism for 2 seconds without some fucking creepy old man sexualizing you. this post didn’t even have 10 notes!! i’m literally a minor and lesbians aren’t purely for entertaining old creeps. fuck these people and block and report that guy if you don’t mind.
Has been writing smut stories about my friend (without their permission and after they told them multiple times to stop) and has s*xually harassed that same friend and another one of mine (im not gonna say their names for privacy sake). but just fyi, writing smut about minors (which both my friends are, he’s one too) is child p*rnography and very illegal so if any of y’all who see this could just report his account and do what you do to pieces of shit like him, that would be great.
He’s been making my friend uncomfortable for a while with creepy advances and doing stuff just to see them get upset and im just done with this shit, he hasn’t stopped and he’s taking advantage of another friend, i’m just hoping if enough people report his account or whatever it can get deleted.
