Reblog If You Support Equal Rights Because I Do

Reblog if you support equal rights because I do 💕

It's not about Anne With An E just being cancelled. It's about the fact that every Anne of Green Gables installation is about Anne and Gilbert and their story and for once, it was about more than that, it was about the consequences of racism and physical/sexual assault, indigenous history and residential schools, slavery and bullying and knowing your past and exploring it, it was about understanding your own beauty and living it and it was about friendships and it was wholly, completely about a girl way a head of her time. But they still managed to make the finale about Anne and Gilbert and now there are storylines, important storylines, in this show that'll never be addressed, that are just hanging there waiting to be completed and I just can't seem to understand why they cancelled a show that still had so much to talk about.

bleeding love—frat boy!harry sneak peek

Harry throws the gauze into the small trash bin beside the toilet before grabbing a clean cloth. The bleeding has finally stopped, but the burning sensation you feel in your nose doesn’t go away. Harry gently holds your face in his hands and stares at your nose. You don’t know why your heart starts to race. His fingers gently press into the sides of your nose and you groan.

“Does it hurt when I press on your nose?”

You roll your eyes at him. What a stupid question. “Isn’t it obvious? I just groaned in pain,” you snap at him.

Harry glares at you. “I’m just making sure. I think you may have a broken nose. I’m going to grab a bag of ice to put on your nose and some Advil.”

“What?!” you shout at him. “How do you know that just by touching my nose?”

“I’m a nursing major. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You stare at him in complete shock as he hurries out of the bathroom, shutting the door slightly. You had no idea that he was a nursing major.

I’ve been seeing some posts here and there about how some of the people closest to Cam haven’t posted about him or his death on socials.

Hot take: they don’t have to. They are fully entitled to grieve privately and in any way they want. They do not owe you anything. We all know how much they loved him they do not need to prove it to us with an Instagram post. Let them grieve in peace.

Compromise (Harry Styles)

a/n: Just a little something, duckies!

Part 2 is here.

The worst part of his comment was that he made it without thinking it would hurt her.

The second worst part is that he couldn’t, even after she explained, understand why it hurt her.

They’ve been together for three years. Three wonderful, beautiful years according to Harry in his latest interview but when the interviewer had asked if there was a wedding and babies on the horizon, Harry had laughed and said “Yes to babies, no to wedding. I just don’t think we’re those type of people.”

But the problem was that Hollis wasn’t aware that they weren’t those type of people because she’d always assumed that’s what they were working towards. Marriage and babies and a life combined and now she’d had one of those things snatched away from her without warning and it left her dizzy and floundering. It hurt even more when she realized the interview was done months ago and Harry had failed to mention anything to her about the fact that he suddenly decided they weren’t the marriage type.

She had read the article at work and had promptly developed a severe headache and went home. There was a part of her that wanted to call him despite the fact that he was in the studio and demand to know what he meant by all of this. There was another part, a more rational part that had already accepted this with a sort of cold determination, that kept whispering he said what he said and he meant it.

Harry knows something is wrong the minute he gets home.

Hollis loves their home to have ambiance. Soft lighting, dinner always almost ready, candles and music and the smell of home and being in love. But when he opens the front door, their house is dark. There’s nothing cooking, no Frank Sinatra crooning- even the Christmas tree had been turned off. It sent a jolt through him and he calls her name out loudly, already thinking the very worst. He’s in the kitchen, her name on the tip of his tongue again when he hears her say, “I’m upstairs” and it erases the thought that she’s been murdered but now he’s worried that she must be very sick and he takes the steps three at a time, rushing down the hall to their bedroom.

She tells him she’s not sick, she just lost track of time. But it feels like a lie and it twists his stomach into a knot because Hollis has never lied to him before but now she suddenly can’t- or won’t- look him in the eye.

The worst is that she doesn’t want him to touch her. She skirts past him, tells him dinner will be ready soon, and he trails her to the kitchen, tries to knead her tense shoulders but she shrugs him off, complains that her neck is sore. She lets him kiss her cheek, just once, but when he cups her face and moves to touch her lips, she wiggles out of his grasp the way a puppy does and tries to explain it away by saying the sauce on the stove needed a stir.

So, he’s frustrated when they sit at the table and she sits far enough away that he can’t put his hand on her knee and ask about her day, the way he has every day that they’ve lived together for the past 18 months. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I just to guess?” Harry finally asks, pushing his dinner around his plate.

There’s a long moment of silence while she processes that he’s aggravated with her and is adopting a tone he usually reserves for stupid questions, and it hits her so badly that she promptly bursts into tears. “Were you ever going to tell me that you don’t want to get married or was I just supposed to guess?” She shoots back.

He’s at a loss. He knows Happy Hollis and Moody Hollis and Hollis That Loses Her Cool Over Cruelty, but he’s never really had to deal with Weeping Hollis and he’s drowning here, really, hands uselessly reaching for her, as she buries her face in her hands and starts crying in earnest.

“What’s this about, love?” He questions, dropping to the floor by her chair. It feels like a good sign that she lets him take her hands in his and kiss her tear streaked cheeks until she calms down enough to answer him.

“I read the interview.”

“Ok,” he says slowly. “And it’s upset you?”

“Did you really say we aren’t the marrying type?”

His concerned expression morphs into a soft smile and all the anxiety in her stomach lifts as she realizes how stupid she’s been. Of course she knew the media twisted things for a more compelling story and of course Harry didn’t say that. Of course not.

“I’m sorry, button. I know you don’t like when I talk about us but it got brought up and I didn’t see the harm. I’ll be careful next time, ok?”

Dread, cold and black and clawing, works its way back into the pit of her stomach. “I’m not talking about that. I don’t care that you said something, I care about what you said.”

He’s confused, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m sorry, I’m not piecing this together. What exactly did I say wrong?”

She’s horrified, flight or fight kicking in when she says, “Do you really not want to get married? Ever?”

He opens and closes his mouth once, twice, before he says, “I don’t. I don’t want to get married.”

It feels like her heart is being pulled out through the bottom of her feet and she struggles not to start crying again, heartbeat pounding in her temple. “You never told me that.”

“I thought you knew.”

There’s a strange sensation tugging at his navel as she slowly slips her hands out of his. It’s like a warning bell but he can’t quite grasp what it’s warning could be because the most steady thing in his life was Hollis and their relationship and there was no reason for him to suddenly fear why she was looking at him like she had no idea who he was.

“We talked about children,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to be married to have kids.” He tries to cup her knee in his hand but she pushes his hand off.

“I’m not going to have kids outside of wedlock,” she tells him firmly. “I’ve gone against a lot of my beliefs since I’ve been with you but this is the one thing I won’t do, Harry. No marriage, no kids.”

She hates when he adopts a soothing voice, speaks to her like she’s a scared bunny about to dart off with an injured leg. “Button, you know my parents went through a nasty divorce and I don’t- I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to put us in that position. It’s just a piece of paper. Meaningless.”

“It’s not meaningless to me.”

They don’t talk as they scrape off their uneaten dinner into the garbage disposal, wash dishes, and wipe down counters together. He hopes they can move past this, that their whole evening isn’t ruined, but when he sits on the couch and pats the space beside him, she ignores him so thoroughly that his heart hammers wildly as he watches her head up the stairs.

She doesn’t come back down.

It’s hours later before he goes to bed. He’d almost expected to find their bedroom door locked but it isn’t and he slips out of his clothes and into the bed, slotting himself behind her. It feels like a good sign that she doesn’t pull away but when his palm cup the softest part of hip, fingers slipping beneath the elastic band of her panties, she firmly tells him no.

Neither of them sleep very well.

Harry feels like he’s just dozed off when he feels her slip away from him and he blearily glances at the clock, notices it’s a full hour before her alarm would go off. He waits to see if she’s just going to the bathroom or to let the dog out but she reappears fully dressed and he says, “Where are you going?”

Her answer is curt, focus on the buttons at the top of her blouse. “Work.”

“Little early, isn’t it?” He tries to reach for her, sends up a little prayer that their row last night is forgotten, but she easily dodges him, sits on the far end of the bed to pull on her shoes.

“I have some things to catch up on.”

“Alright,” he says slowly. “How about we go out tonight? Sushi?”

She shakes her head, already shouldering her bag. “I don’t know.”

She’s almost to the bedroom door when he says her name softly, tears edging his voice. “Hollis. I love you.”

There’s an awful moment where he thinks she’ll ignore him, ignore his love and his feelings and the panic welling in his chest, but she sighs, defeated. “I love you, too. I’ll see you tonight.”

Harry thinks that maybe being apart for the day will be a good thing. She’s obviously genuinely stressed about this marriage thing and while he thought they were on the same page, it hurts him to know that he’s caused her even an ounce of pain. He mulls it over, a way to compromise, a way to make her happy, and inspiration hits him and he knows he should wait until she’s home but he’s so eager to lift her mood that he calls her on her lunchbreak.

“I think I’ve come up with a compromise,” Harry tells her.

What she wants to say is that there isn’t any compromise on this one, but she loves him, loves the way he sounds so excited, and she’ll hear him out regardless. “Ok?”

Hollis had almost had a good day. Almost. She was still reeling from the shock of being blindsided by the fact that the man she dedicated her life to never planned to be more than her boyfriend, but the day hadn’t been a total loss. She’d had morning coffee with her favorite coworker and talked to her new friend at the market, accomplished a bunch of little tasks that she had been putting off.

But now she was sitting in her car, quietly crying as Harry excitedly explained this great compromise which wasn’t a compromise at all, not to her. Because a compromise consisted of both people getting something they need out of the deal and while Harry was still getting out of a marriage, Hollis was only getting a party. A party with their friends and family and they could get rings, but no officiant, no certificate, nothing that made it legal.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that it isn’t good enough. Doesn’t know how to tell them that she wouldn’t waste her parents or siblings time with a fake wedding. Doesn’t know how to tell him that she understands he’s making it as easy as possible for himself to leave when he finally decides he’s had enough of her.

So she just hangs up on him.

And when he tries to call her back a dozen times, she powers her phone off.

She’s an hour late coming home.

When she pulls into the driveway, Harry is sitting on the front steps and he pops up, hair wild, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he watches her walk up the sidewalk. He’s angry, she can tell, but she’s angry, too, and for the first time, his angry suddenly shifts into fear because she stops at the bottom step and says, “We need to talk.”

They sit at the kitchen table facing each other and it feels surreal to them both, hands nervously tugging at rings and bracelets until Hollis takes a deep breath. “I did a lot of thinking today. About us.”

“You don’t like what I came up with?” He asks, a touch annoyed. “I’m trying to compromise here, Hollis.”

Some people explode when they reach their wits end, when they’ve had enough. Harry is a screamer, a fit thrower, but Hollis is a different breed, words steady and measured when she’s angry enough to throw a punch and Harry recoils from how calm she is. “That’s not a compromise, Harry. That’s you getting what you want and me getting scraps like a yard dog… the way it always is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her hands clench into fists and she moves them off the table and into her lap. “It means that you’ve never given up a single thing in this relationship. It means when you didn’t want to live in the States, I gave up my family and friends and a job I loved to move here with you despite the fact that you’re gone a good chunk of the year. It means when I wanted to live in the country, but you wanted in the city- we lived in the city. It means you picked out what car I got, what color we painted the house, what furniture we got. It means when I tell you I want to go home for Christmas but you want to be with your family, we stay here and I get to see them after the New Year. Scraps. You get a full fucking meal and I get crumbs and I am sick to death of it.”

He opens his mouth to defend himself, to apologize, to do something but she slams her fist on the table and says, “I’m not finished! Listen to me for once!”

He nods carefully, shocked.

“I have had this overwhelming need to please you since the day we met. And that’s not your fault but I’m starting to realize you don’t feel the same way about me. I’ve given up all of these things, I had sex before marriage for you, I moved in with you, I moved half-way across the world for you, I have left little chunks of myself behind in order to make you happy and you have done nothing, nothing of the same. It feels like I’m convenient because I make myself available to you and that’s it.”

Harry isn’t sure when he started crying, but he’s shocked when he feels tears slip down the corners of his mouth. “What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think you love me. And I think we’re wasting each other’s time.”

Harry doesn’t feel like he’s in his body anymore. It’s a weird sensation, ears buzzing loudly as his heart thump thumps erratically in his chest, but not feeling like he’s connected with this body that has done so much wrong as if his soul is literally trying to break ties with him so some part of him can still be loved by her.

“You don’t think I love you?” He questions softly. “How- how could you ever think I- as if I could even- there’s only you- what are you saying?” He pushes back from the table when she does. “What are you saying, Hollis?” He demands.

“I’m saying I think we need to br-“

“No,” he says it so loudly that she jumps. “Don’t you dare.”

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do, Harry. But I can’t keep doing this. I love you with every fiber of my being but… I love me, too. And I have to take care of me.”

It hurts. It hurts so bad because he’s always thought it was his job to take care of her and he’s had it thrown in his face that he’s done a piss poor job of it. That stupid, fighty bastard inside of him wants to tell her that none of this was his fault. He wasn’t a mind reader, couldn’t tell if she didn’t want to move or hated the color of the living room or the couch when she never spoke up, but it wasn’t true, was it? She might have never said no, but he had seen the way she had wrinkled her nose at the furniture, the way she had longingly talked about staying in Georgia, the way she had cried so bitterly the entire first month she was in England. And he had ignored it because he had gotten what he wanted.

What a wretched son of a bitch he was.

He doesn’t know how to fix this and he knows he should give her a moment, give them both a second to recover because all he’s going to do is make things worse, but he can’t keep himself from following her into the bedroom, mind reeling when he sees her pulling clothes out of her closet, suitcase already open on the bed. It doesn’t make sense, even to him, when he drops to his knees in front of her, tugging her hands into his. “Marry me. Hollis, marry me. We’ll go tomorrow and make it official. Or we can having a big wedding. It doesn’t matter. I love you. Let me make things right. Marry me, button.”

She looks shocked, eyes wide, and her mouth trembles as she leans down, cupping his face in her hands as she kisses him. Kisses him like she loves him because she does and he pushes back just as fiercely, murmurs be my wife against her lips when she starts to pull away.

He’s expecting to see her cry. He’s expecting she’ll be happy and he’ll be happy, too, really because the only thing he’s ever wanted is Hollis and it scares him to makes this compromise but if it’s what she wants, it’s what he’ll do.

What he doesn’t expect is to see pity with a flash of anger in her eyes as she gently thumbs tears off his cheek. “Why did you think this would solve anything?”

Harry is made of lead, still on his knees as he watches her pack. She pauses, touches the top of his head reverently and says, “I’ll call you in a few days.”

She’s almost to the front door when she hears him call out, “Hollis. I love you.”

She pauses at the door, calls back, “I love you, too.”

And before she changes her mind, she leaves.