#Paste buys Jezebel

[mudwerks]

G/O Media chief executive and parasitic bozo Jim Spanfeller has finally succeeded at something. He managed to find a buyer for Jezebel, the popular feminist publication that he shuttered indefinitely on Nov. 9 after determining that he and his lackeys couldn't align its content with their company's overall business strategy. The New York Times reported Wednesday that Jezebel was purchased Tuesday by the music and entertainment digital magazine Paste, for an undisclosed amount. The deal also includes the transfer of long-defunct politics site Splinter, which was shut down by Spanfeller back in 2019. Paste's plan appears to be to bring Jezebel quickly back into operation—the Times reported that Paste co-founder and editor-in-chief Josh Jackson said the site could resume publishing as soon as Wednesday, which, uh, is either today or one week from today—but Jezebel remains unstaffed after the site's bare-bones crew was laid off en masse when G/O Media abruptly pulled the plug. The Daily Beast reported Wednesday that Jackson is acting fast to staff up the re-homed site, extending offers within hours of completing the deal to "some staffers who lost their jobs when Jezebel was shut down." Jackson reportedly will aim to choose a new editor-in-chief for the site early next week. Jezebel's last editor-in-chief, Laura Bassett, resigned in August amid brutal staffing shortages and the sudden appearance of AI-generated crap across the network of G/O Media properties, and what she described as the company's refusal "to treat my staff with basic human decency." The interim editor-in-chief at the time of Jezebel's shuttering was senior editor Lauren Tousignant, who was also the site's lone full-time editor.

#parasitic bozo Jim Spanfeller #Paste buys Jezebel #also Splinter

[republikkkanorcs]

[blackwomeninstarwars]

And, like, to expand on the commentary in the recent post. I'm kind've emotionally past the point where I'm expecting or demanding fully realized Black characters from either white creatives, or predominantly white-driven shows like Stranger Things, or even platforms like Netflix.

There's holding systems accountable, and then there's realizing that a lot of these systems depend, if not demand, that you're always exhausting yourself, asking or demanding better from them. It's like a kind've warped dependency, or game of stringing someone along and knowing you won't make good on those 'implicit promises'. Y'know, like the American political system, basically.

Do a smidge of something so folks back off, but never make radical change, y'know?

Like, if I want something like Stranger Things (i.e., a period piece set in the 80s, or whenever) for Black characters, then it's up to someone like myself to give that to myself. (And I started doing that when I was fourteen, I just failed to going at it until recently!) And I also have to make peace with the fact that, no, maybe no one will pick it up for book publishing or film/tv production. It'll be just for me.

Because characters like Lucas, Erica, and even Kali (who is South Asian, yes, I know), are always going to exist because, let's face it, white creatives don't know how to see Black and Brown folks as people (if not human) with layers, and lives outside of them. (Did something like Turning Red really need a white BFF character? I'm pretty sure First Kill didn't need the white vampire love interest, etc.)

Not in the way that said communities are (almost required) to see yt folks as people with layers and dimensional lives, if only out of survival or necessity.

Like, maybe every once and a while you'll get something like Attack the Block, Fast Color, Captive State, or KIN, but unless it's coming from a Black creative, you're always going to get a Stranger Things, a Star Wars, or a Lovecraft Country kind've show.

Something that either minimizes Black/Brown characters or exploits particularly painful/violent eras of that community's history without merit or balance.

And you'll always be expected, if not asked, to sympathize or empathize with (white) characters within those stories who are either extremely racist, abusive, or fascist, and see their humanity (because they had such a rough time of it in their past!), while the Black character remains on the margins of that narrative.

Like, I can respect that the experiences of two white director brothers probably didn't include a particularly varied interaction with Black folks, but sometimes I kinda wish they'd just leave Black folks out of it. Esp. if they're output is basically "Unrealized Black Character who moves plot elements for white characters forward". But I also know that'll just start the cycle of, "Where are the Black folks in this part of the US that has a healthy Black population?" convo/criticism that Friends is taken to task for all the time.

I dunno. I'm emotionally past it, but at the same time, I'll still chime in and post something like the Jezebel article because it's right.

And, in some warped way, we'll just keep talking about it until we collectively get to a place where we're not expecting it anymore from theses shows, creatives, or platforms. And I don't mean that in a "buy Black/the Answer is Black Capitalism" kind've way either.

#screenwriting #stranger things critical #lovecraft country #star wars #anti blackness #blackwomeninstarwars

[naram--sin]

I met Dani filth when I was 12 and I was so starstruck that I literally could not say a word. Sarah jezebel deva got me backstage bc my mom refused to buy me tickets. I've heard Dani is a huge diva but surprisingly has remained unproblematic and has remained a metal icon. Folks who were haters in the past... man I wish I hadn't listened to them!!!! I will always remember that time as a time of being bullied and otherized, mom laying down on the ground crying and me taking care of her, my dad gone, etc

Yet I will always look so fondly on my metal days. Dimmu borgir and the embarrassing af cradle of filth 😭😭 Black metal, extreme metal, thrash metal, symphonic black metal.... who cares? Cof almost won a Grammy. ICONIC!!!!!!! FUCKING GOLD!!!!

[pontevoix]

how did you get this scar ? - todo. from here

dear @cloistress : for  now,  he  stands  by  jezebel.  he  drains  from  his  water  bottle  &  surveys  the  gym  with  a  comfortable  sort  of  languor.

&  of  course  :  jezebel  interrupts  the  peace.  she  asks  how  did  you  get  this  scar?  &  todo  slides  his  gaze  sideways  to  survey  her.  he  wipes  stray  water  from  his  lip.

it’s  easy  to  assume  that  maybe  jezebel  is  asking  about  the  glaringly  obvious  -  about  the  strike  across  his  face.

however:

todo  shaves  every  morning.  the  blades  he  buys  are  neither  cheap  nor  horribly  expensive  -  they  are  adequate  enough  to  minimize  any  chance  of  razor  burn.  &  that’s  fine.

he  uses  mouth  wash.  he  puts  product  in  his  hair.

he  looks  at  the  mirror  &  thinks  nothing  of  the  reflection  of  his  scar.  it  is  natural.

&  it’s  funny:  the  same  logic  does  not  extend  to  other  marks  that  litter  his  body  —  there’s  a  silver  scar  of  a  bite  at  his  bicep,  scattered  &  fading  injuries  of  shrapnel  lining  his  back  like  freckles.

his  knuckles  are  a  collage  of  residue  from  hand-to-hand,  &  it’s  mostly  inconsequential.

these  are  the  marks  to  which  jezebel  must  refer.

it  is  with  the  utmost  seriousness  that  he  considers  a  fresh  scar  at  his  forearm  —-

these  are  the  marks  to  which  jezebel  must  refer.

he  can’t  be  bothered  to  recall  past  injuries.  they  hadn’t  mattered  at  the  time.  they  don’t  matter  now.

although  .  .  .  takada  would  like  a  man  with  scars,  most  likely.  he’ll  have  to  ask  her  the  next  time  they  meet  —-

even  so,  he  considers  his  injury  utmost  seriousness,  he  answers  with  adequate  detail:

‘  have  you  ever  wasted  your  time?  ‘

whatever  the  cause  of  the  injury  :  it  had  been  unsatisfactory.

it  is  the  greatest  tragedy  of  all.

#dfgdf todo said wdym #1. question #cloistress #ddfgdf im so sorry for this #100. c. todo

[hanphira]

Day 1 of Seeking God

Dear God,

You had brought the Jezebel spirit to my attention the recent days, how she always has to have her way, how she can't take No, how she always manipulates things around her to get her way and be in control. Because of this, I learned that maybe the reason why I haven't been invited to heaven is because this spirit somehow resides in me too. As I try to remove its attachment from me, I noticed opportunities appearing to test if I would dwell in you or in it.

I wanted to buy this land from an aunt who had brought this land from my family last 2 years ago, she wanted to donate it to the church. I wanted to buy it because the price is good for the amount of sqm you would get.

She said no, the urge for me to do things to get my way raises but the holy spirit you put in me reminds me "God is in control", "his will not yours", "love of God before the love of self" and deep in my soul I know I have to back down, I know I have to give way, I know you already planned things for the good of all.

So today, let me say this short prayer concerning my heart.

Lord, in the past I did everything in my power to get my way. Your Yes exalt me but your No made me bitter and angry. Deep in my soul, I know what is right from what is wrong, and I would admit that my wicked heart wanted things to be easy. my wicked brain whispers things like how unfair you are and how you always bless others before blessing me. but my spirit knows it's not like that, my soul knows that worldly things are not the ultimate gift we can receive from you but your yes to my soul once I reach heaven. So my lord, allow me to mourn for a little while, give my wicked heart the time to cry, please don't discipline it for I can assure you my spirit can discipline it

In Yeshua's name, i pray for strength to over come this lost and look at you at all times no matter how painful the rejection is.

Amen.

[xumelanatedmusic23]

Might as well

In Richard Wright's "Long Black Song," we are introduced to the character Sarah. A black woman grappling with a longing for a life outside the one she is currently living. As Wright unravels her character we begin to see she longs for her past lover and has become bored with her current husband. A situation that is often shown in drama series across television. However, what complicates Sarah's character is the infidelity she engages in with this white male stranger. The debate surrounding her character is that of whether is she a sort of Jezebel figure or did this white man sexual assault her. From my viewpoint, I feel as though it's a mixture of both. She's a black woman in the south who was taken advantage of by a white man, but more so than that she was an unhappy housewife longing for something new. With all of these circumstances swirling I viewed her actions as her saying " I might as well go along with this." Because she had much more to lose than she did to gain. That is how Summer Walker's song "Just Might Be" ties into the text. Like Sarah, Summer Walker in the song states she struggled with love so therefore she should just be a... I see Sarah buying into that same ideology of course with complications, but a similar mindset.

#chase

[super-unpredictable98]

Spicy Chocolate | The Umbrella Academy AU

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Klaus x Vicky (OC - The Eighth Child’ Verse)

Word Count: 1,5k

Warning: Strong language, mild sexual content

a/n: I was gonna post the first chapter of my new Simon series, but I finished this little thing in time for @sheehanksgiving XD

(Masterlist)

I hate the expression guilty pleasure. It's almost as if you are only supposed to like certain things, liking something embarrassing or uncommon is a reason to be guilty. That said, my guilty pleasure is definitely watching telenovelas, more specifically Brazilian telenovelas (sorry other Latin countries, we do it better...), even more specifically 2000s Brazilian telenovelas.

As we all know already, dad was a dickhead and wouldn't let any of us do what we wanted, but that never stopped us. When you raise kids with that level of strictness, you're just raising better liars and more resourceful runaways.

Tv was strictly prohibited during the week, our only day to watch our shows was Saturday, and of course Allison would always monopolize the fucking thing all day to watch Buffy or The OC. The rest of us never got the chance to watch anything else!

We had to find our own ways to get to the tv. At the time I ended up buying one of those tiny portable ones, the only problem is that it didn't connect to any channels with telenovelas. For that we had to assemble a team: Diego, Klaus, and I sneaking around the house on Saturday to watch the reruns of the week.

At the time, 2003, we had just turned 14 and the telenovela we were all watching together was Chocolate com Pimenta, still one of my favorites to this day.

It was basically about this very small town in the late 20s, home to a famous chocolate factory owned by two siblings. Jezebel, an evil woman who took advantage of everyone, and Ludovico, a kind old man who ends up finding out his sister had been stealing money from the factory.

He then becomes very good friends with one of the employees, Ana Francisca, who was a total loser from a poor family, but ends up getting pregnant with Danilo's baby (Danilo, who is dating the other villain, Olga, Ana Francisca's bully).

After getting humiliated Carrie style, Ana ends up marrying Ludovico platonically just so her son would have a father, and by consequence, she also became the sole owner of the chocolate factory once he died, finally getting the chance to seek revenge against the ones who humiliated her in the past.

Yeah, it sounds a little complicated and there are at least thirty other characters and a million other storylines happening at the same time which included: cousins getting married after an enemies to lovers slow burn, four weddings that were interrupted by something dramatic happening (one of them being the groom getting arrested at the altar), a girl who wants to steal her sister's boyfriend, a painter who falls from the sky in a hot air balloon, chocolates that make you horny, a young boy who doesn't know he's a boy because he was raised as a girl, five moments of 'no, I am your mother/father', a fake kidnapping turned real, a hotel owner being exposed as a former prostitute, communication with ghosts, and a father who loses his daughter at a poker game to a disgusting old man she has to keep distracting every night to avoid having sex with.

I am not kidding, those were all parts of the story at some point.

And we loved it, we ate that up! It was a high risk operation to sneak upstairs into the television room, but we didn't care. It was better to be punished than miss out on a chapter, we had our priorities sorted back then.

"Klaus! Klaus, put that out and come here," I hissed from the hallway.

"Oh fuck, it's telenovela night," he quickly put out the joint he was smoking and hid it under his mattress before joining us. "Nice to see you, D. I thought last week was 'the last time you ever did this'."

"Shut up!" Diego muttered, making him laugh even more. "This week Aninha is coming back to Ventura, I just wanna see that, but I won't be here next week. Telenovelas are for girls."

"Sure you won't..." he snorted as we made our way to the room. "I'm not a girl and I love telenovelas."

"I know, but you are... You know."

"What? What am I?" Klaus loved to make people uncomfortable in that kind of situation, especially our siblings.

"Different," Diego mumbled, unsure of how to explain without sounding like a dick.

"Different how?"

"Stop that," I laughed, shushing them. "Someone will hear us!"

All of our efforts to stay hidden went downhill when we opened the door and found Luther watching the football game. He jumped, tossing the remote across the room. Klaus yelped, and I had to cover his mouth to keep him quiet.

"W-what are you doing out of bed?" Luther asked, folding his arms angrily.

"The same thing as you, genius," Diego huffed. "Can you get out? We're gonna watch the... Futurama."

"No! I got here first!"

"Come on, Spacey, please," I whined. "We really need to watch it tonight, it's the only night when they show the reruns, you can watch this game any time you want, or a billion other games just like it!"

"You shouldn't even be here, it's bedtime."

"Neither should you," Klaus countered. "You have just as much to lose here. If you tell anyone, we'll tell dad you were watching porn. Something really twisted like bestiality or that thing when people sit on cakes and fart for the camera."

"What?" the three of us asked nearly at the same time.

"Don't tell me you've never seen it!" he rolled his eyes. "You all know exactly what video I'm talking about..."

"I really don't," I grimaced, that mental image was probably one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen, and I've killed people. "What were you even looking for? How did you find that?"

"It doesn't matter, I'm not leaving," Luther insisted.

"Okay, we're not really gonna watch Futurama," I sighed, hoping Diego wouldn't be upset. "We're gonna watch the telenovela, would you like to stay and watch it with us?"

"Telenovela? Isn't that for girls?"

"No, man! You'd think so, but it's actually a lot of fun," Diego shrugged.

"It's literally the only time we can watch it, I'll make you a cake," I offered and immediately winced remembering what Klaus had just said about that video. "Not like that, just a cake."

"Fine, but it has to be red velvet," Luther gave me a pointed look.

"Anything you want!" I ran to get the remote and change the channel.

We all gathered in front of the tv, Diego and Luther on each side and Klaus in the middle, with me sitting between his legs, my back against his chest. Thankfully we only missed the first five minutes of the first chapter.

There were English subtitles, but Luther was still lost, every two seconds he would ask something different, which was understandable, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

"Who's that?"

"That's Bernadete."

"And who's with her?"

"That's Cassia, the girl he likes."

"She's a lesbian?"

"No, he's actually a boy. He was adopted as a baby and raised by the maid, who never told his adoptive mother he's a boy, he doesn't know, but he feels like there's something different about him."

"Oh, I see... Maybe they did that to Klaus. That's why he's so weird, maybe he's actually a girl."

"Asshole!" Klaus barked. "Boy, girl, who cares? It doesn't mean anything. Even if that was true it wouldn't be a bad thing. At least I have kissed a girl, unlike you!"

"Your sister doesn't count."

"Funny you should say that..."

"Who's the mother?" Luther went back to interrogating me.

Needless to say, he was way more interested in Chocolate com Pimenta than we anticipated, and who could blame him? It was actually really good. He ended up joining our Saturday group.

He was the first to be converted, before Allison (who I think just wanted to spend time with him) and Ben. Vanya was the only one who didn't seem interested, but now that I look back maybe we did exclude her a little bit.

All I know is that some of the best moments we had at the time were sneaking around the house every Saturday night, trying to find snacks to munch on while we watched our show.

"So what did Celina do to escape Count Klaus?" Ben asked after accidentally falling asleep before our watch party the night before. By the way, yeah, there was a lot of teasing due to the fact that one of the villains' names was Klaus.

"The priest told him he'd have to pray like 450 Hail Mary's every night before having sex with her, he always ends up falling asleep before he can do anything. Now she wants to legally divorce him," I explained.

"What are you kids talking about?" Pogo asked, joining us in the living room.

"A... Book, that we are all reading," Klaus said the first thing that came to mind.

"A book?"

"Yeah, it's a period drama Vicky found at the library."

"What is it called? I'd love to read it after you're done."

"It's um... Spicy Chocolate."

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @seanfalco @holidayspirits

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy klaus #tua imagine #tua klaus #tua fanfic #tua #klaus hargreeves x oc #klaus hargreeves #fanfic #the eighth child #sheehanksgiving 2021

[comparativetarot]

The Big Queen. Art by Katelan V. Foisy, from The Hoodoo Tarot. 

Prepare the table, watch in the watchtower, eat, drink: arise, ye princes, and anoint the shield. — Isaiah 21:5

Plant: Jezebel Root/Louisiana Iris

The image A Carnival Indian queen smiles as she displays her Black Hawk bucket. Black Hawk (1767-1838) was a leader of the Sauk and Fox tribe. He was a powerful warrior who was well known for his bravery and resisting colonial encroachment on his land and way of life. A Spiritualist leader from the Midwest named Mother Leafy Anderson petitioned the spirit of Black Hawk for protection in her temple. Today many Spiritualists and rootworkers in Louisiana and beyond work with Black Hawk to ensure victory against their enemies. 

The tradition of Carnival Indians in New Orleans, as we know them today, dates back to the early eighteenth century. When enslaved Africans arrived in Louisiana, many of them sought refuge among the Indigenous people and were offered it. As a result, the cultures and bloodlines mixed, and their descendants still pay homage to the spirit of love, freedom, friendship, and resistance that brought their ancestors together. This thereby made the Carnival Indian a symbol of boundless beauty and invincibility. 

Though most Carnival Indians may be considered patriarchal to some, due to the hypervisibility of men and boys, the Big Queens play an essential role in their tribes. The archetype of the Big Queen is not only a vision of beauty, with her ornately embellished garments, but she is also an artist, a teacher, a peacemaker, and a protector of this sacred tradition. 

The Big Queen is everything. 

Meaning When The Big Queen appears in a reading, you are being asked to consider your roots in regards to “mother wit.” What would your ancestors say about whatever is going on in your life? What advice would they give? How would they handle the situation? The wisdom of our mothers is a portal to the past. That doesn’t mean that you must do things exactly as they did or perceive the world exactly as they perceived it, because that would be impossible. What it does mean is that they should be given an opportunity to speak to you via your consideration. This not only connects us with the women in our bloodline but also with nature as a whole. The change of the seasons and the cycles of birth, death, and decay will always be, but it is the space between that  a Big Queen inhabits. It is the spirit of continuity and the joy that its tru comprehension brings that ensure nothing is ever truly lost, even if it can’t be found for now. Therefore there is always abundance, always beauty, and always a reason to celebrate. 

If you receive The Big Queen in a reading, consider the following:

• How do you give and receive pleasure? How do others, and the world, come into play?  • Do I accept abundance into my life? How?  • Eat, drink, and be merry! • All that glitters isn’t gold, but it sure is pretty! • Do I accept compliments for my beauty and/or style with grace?  • What aspect of your life do you nurture most? What aspect could use more nurturing?  • Which family members or friends do I nurture most? Am I neglecting anyone who deserves my attention?  • Do I purposely seek reasons to smile and laugh out loud every day?  • How often do you reflect on the beauty of being alive and of being you?  • Am I still connected to nature and the Earth, or have I lost my way?  • What might I do on a regular basis to help me restore my sense of balance in a hectic world?  • Go camping, take a walk in the park, and maybe buy a plant or three.  • How does all the knowledge I’ve accumulated, or spiritual work I’ve done, benefit my family and my community? What is my legacy?  • What does your mother or mother figure have to say about that? 

Text by Tayannah Lee McQuillar.

#Katelan V. Foisy #Tayannah Lee McQuillar #The Hoodoo Tarot #The Empress #Major Arcana #Tarot #African American #Black Tarot Decks #Racial Diversity

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Really trying not to get into another bar fight

My five companions and I fell through a portal into an unfamiliar land and are trying to find information on a vampire we are supposed to kill. In a bar, we find a Dragonborn who turns out to work for the vampire. Conveniently, he owes the vampire a debt. Two of our party have already approached to talk to him on separate occasions and both failed their charisma rolls miserably. Finally, the Dragonborn throws his drink in my Changeling Warlock companion’s face and we roll initiative. 

  Me (lawful good paladin) to my party: We really need to avoid fighting him so he can lead us to his employer. For once, can we not attack everyone we meet? 

Me to the Dragonborn pretending like I’m there alone: Some folks are awfully rude. But can we talk? I think we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

  Spooks (changeling warlock who caused the fight by shapeshifting into that exact Dragonborn): I’m going to run away and try to hide behind the table so I can shapeshift back into a Tiefling. 

  DM: You’re only partially hidden, so the Dragonborn sees you change. The Dragonborn, freaked out by shapeshifting, charges to attack Spooks. But…he rolls a nat 1 and drunkenly falls prone. 

  Jezebel (monk): I go up to the bar and buy him a drink to replace the one he threw in Spooks’ face. Do I have enough movement to bring it to the Dragonborn?

  DM: Nope.

  Neville (cleric): I take the drink from my sister and head towards the Dragonborn with the peace offering. 

  DM: It’s the barkeep’s turn. He’s got his crossbow raised to break up a brawl, but he lowers it. He figures things must be back to normal if people are still buying drinks. 

  Me: Someone should offer to help the Dragonborn up off the ground.

  Filbur (chaotic-aligned druid): I still want to fight the Dragonborn, so I wild shape into an ape and attack. 

  Neville: Maybe the Dragonborn won’t realize Filbur is part of our group if we try to stop him. Can I use an opportunity attack to grab him as he goes past? 

  DM: Roll for dexterity to see if you can slow him down. 

  Neville: I rolled a 3. 

  DM: Filbur in ape form charges past you, knocking you off balance and spilling the drink on the floor. 

  Everyone groans. 

  Me: I shield the Dragonborn from my own companion’s attack. 

  Jeph (wild magic sorcerer), still hanging back in a corner of the bar: I raise a hand under the floor to tip the table on top of the Dragonborn.

  Me: Why? 

  Jeph: To heighten the drama. 

  (I offer my hand to help the Dragonborn up off the floor. Eventually, we do stop the fighting and intimidate him into giving us intel to find his boss.)

#shit my players say #dnd #rpg #submission #shareable #long post #drunken debauchery #why npcs hate pcs

[dazedinaphase]

Anywho, I’m only on episode 2 of the new season, but I have a theory about who Jada had an affair with and who is Ryan’s father.

Mind you, I’m still catching up, so with that in mind I am fully prepared to be wrong, and not so prepared but (apparently) willing to look stupid for this crack theory, but here it goes.

Either Lucius. or Bruce is Ryan’s daddy, partly due to her story about knowing (or not knowing) Bruce, that I absolutely did not buy. Lucius, because of Jada’s past dealing with Wayne tech regarding a mysterious employee, and Bruce, the more crack theory of the two, because of who I believe Jada Jet is based off. That character would be Jezebel Jet from the comics. She was a wealthy black woman, secret villain, and former lover of Bruce Wayne, who was beheaded by Talia. *If I’m right, thank GOD they changed her first name, because holy fuck, the racism!

I have more to add but Imma wait to see if I’m totally off base before I potentially throw more egg on my face.

#batwoman cw #batwoman season 3 #ryan wilder #jada jet

[thisismisogynoir]

I just post a drawing of three of my OCs and someone already made a horny comment... and it is worse since one of that OCs is a little black girl :/ I hate people. I just can't understand what motivates men to make s*xual comments on a picture with kids, even if it is a drawing...

Oh my Gosh...I'm so sorry. I wanna say men are disgusting, and, well, they are...but I feel like that would be invalidation/enabling in this case.

The other thing is that I also drew my own OC for the Disney film Encanto, who is a Black teenage girl. And, well...it's only a matter of time before some m*n has something shitty and gross to say about it.

Men see all women, of any and all demographics, as nothing more than porn categories. To them, we aren't humans, we're nothing more than buy-and-sell commodities for them to fuck. They rate us according to our fuckability and desirability. They only value us as potential romantic partners, objects to look at, holes to penetrate, and are incapable of seeing us as anything else. So being a girl and existing? To guys, you're just another option that they could date, fuck, ogle, sexualize, rape, etc.

And then they throw their hands in the air and say that women are just more beautiful than men...according to your male gaze, that is? You don't think women attracted to men see men as beautiful? You don't think women see men as potential sexual partners? You don't think women consider your fuckability and desirability to them? But the thing is, due to how the genders are socialized and how patriarchy works, women still manage to see men as HUMAN despite that. Women could literally rate every single man they walk past or see on the earth on a scale of 1-10 according to how attractive or sexy they are~and we'd still see y'all as human. Men don't know how to do that in turn. Because to them, we're simply pretty objects to be consumed, looked at, and to do with as they wish.

And of course, the further you stray from privilege and a perceived right to childhood, innocence, white femininity, and respect, the less men(especially wh*te m*n) see you as a human. Because if white women are sexual objects to be used, Black women are even LESS worthy of being treated with humanity and respect, so where a white woman would be at least treated faux-sympathetically, Black women get to be a platform for all of white men's most violent and animalistic rape fantasies. This stems all the way back to slavery, which I'm sure you already know how this horror story is gonna go, but of course, it's where the Jezebel stereotype comes from: that Black women are sex-crazed, violent, rough, animalistic succubi. Do whatever you want to their as violently as you want! Rape them! Mistreat them! They don't have souls and they don't need the care or intimacy that a white woman would be afforded, if anything, they like it! And if they don't see Black women as humans, then of course they won't see Black girls as humans either, or as children.

That's where the adultification bias steps in. Black girls get all of the same violent and rapey stereotypes placed on to them as their adult counterparts do. They get this, of course, because white slave masters raped underage Black slave girls too. They didn't just stop at adult women. Even if you weren't fertile, even if you didn't yet start puberty or menstruate--if he had some sick urges that he couldn't inflict upon his delicate white lady partner, he'd just go down on the closest Black slave girl there was. And yet somehow she was the horny brute. Which is exactly why these men feel comfortable sexualizing even fictional little Black girls, such as your OC. Don't hate people. Hate men. They are truly gutter-minded and fantastically dehumanizing and apathetic to the humanity of anyone who is not male like them. Remember that.

To end this post on a positive note, though, I would be really interested in seeing your OCs, if you don't mind! And even if you do, I'm sure your OCs are gorgeous and have great characters, and the right people will appreciate them! Never stop drawing and writing! I believe in you!

#black women #black girls #misogynoir #black female characters #black female ocs #hypersexualization of black women #hypersexualization of black girls #tw: jezebel stereotype #tw: slave rape #white femininity #adultification bias #misogyny #sexism #fandom misogyny #fandom sexism #fandom misogynoir #men are pigs #men are stupid #men are disgusting #men are atrocious #men are evil #evil white men #female sexualization #female objectification #black female representation #masculinization of black women

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

i wanna hear more about your oc for alois!!! and mayhaps ill be brave an submit a moodboard type of thing for charles grey with a ,,,, boyfriend 😳 a scandal i know

honestly at least half of this blog’s writings are probably scandalous so please scandal away >:D

OKAY SO in regards to Lea and Jezebel--

Lea got very heavily reworked to the point where her backstory is entirely different than what it was originally. After revamping, her backstory goes a little like this... and be prepared, it’s sad.

When Lea was young, she and her family (herself, her two older brothers, and her mother) were very poor, living in a small town where basically everybody knew everybody. Her oldest brother became very sick, and through a series of unfortunate events, Lea’s mother literally sold her so that they would have money to buy medicine for her brother.

The woman Lea was sold to was basically a middleman in the Victorian equivalent of the human trafficking business. She considered Lea “too plain” to be sold as a pleasure slave, so instead Lea was auctioned off to a man who used her for physical labor on his farm. She worked alongside a few other slaves, feeling she became even uglier with each day that passed. And after another day of abuse, she would lie down in the hay and dream of a different life -- one where she was lovely and powerful and rich and didn’t have to worry about a thing.

Eventually, she got her wish. A snake demon who called herself Jezebel showed up on the farm one day, starving and desperate, and slaughtered everyone. Only Lea was spared, and only because, as the demon laughed at her, “You’re so unremarkable, I didn’t even notice you!” The two of them struck a deal, with Lea willing to trade her soul for a long life of safety, beauty, and wealth. Because it had been so long by this point that she no longer remembered her original surname, she took the name of the man who’d run the farm; Hawthorne, passing herself off as the sole survivor of a tragedy as she moved into London proper.

With Jezebel’s help, she built a small name for herself very quickly by getting into the business of agriculture. She hired new people to run the farm she now claimed as hers, treating them far better than she and the other slaves were ever treated, and moved into a modest manor in the city. It’s not a sprawling empire on par with Funtom, nor does she have as much wealth as the Trancy estate, but it allows her and Jezebel, plus a few other servants, to live comfortably. Many people think that perhaps Jezebel is running the show through Lea -- the truth is that every single business decision is Lea’s. Perhaps that threatens people, a young girl barely sixteen years old being so successful.

In the past year, it’s become clear to Lea that if she wants to keep her business running, if she wants to keep herself looking legitimate and serious, she’s going to need a husband. Jezebel has compiled a list of potential suitors for her, and rather quickly Lea has run through them as being too old, too condescending, too controlling, NO.

And so it comes to the last possible husband for her; a one Alois Trancy, someone who is apparently closer to her age, who she violently wishes that Jezebel would have put first on the list. Of course, the young earl does have a bit of a... reputation. Also, as Jezebel lets Lea know when they arrive, he has a house full of fucking demons.

This should be interesting.

#fic #imagine #headcanons #abuse tw #slavery tw #submission #mod post #OC #Lea #I'M LOVE HER AND I NEED TO WRITE ABOUT HER EVENTUALLY #anyway HECK go for it follow ur dreams be a scandal!!!!!

[nikryderr]

the things which are not seen are eternal (RoD)

a/n: This is an idea that’s been floating around in my head for a while, and I had a bit written down, before I did major overhaul and just rewrote this one on the fly (oops). Fair warning, this is angsty as hell, and IDK, I am just a ball of angst right now even reading this myself (lmao). Constrcutive criticism is always welcome, and I’d love to hear y’all’s thoughts!

pairings: Colt x MC angst

summary: So when he says we’ll stay here forever she believes him, wholly; entangled in his holey sheets and fingertips, they are Eighteen and Twenty for eternity. 

rating: R, brief mentions of sex

content warning: mentions of parent death, sex, drinking

length: 1438 words

tags: (first off, I’d really like to thank y’all for wanting to be tagged in my works. ;_; like seriously, I’ve never pinned myself as a “good” writer, so again, eternally grateful for all of you!) @lovehugsandcandy @brightpinkpeppercorn @omgjasminesimone @liamzigmichael4ever @desiree-0816

Seven months

He is a remote memory, a far-off fling at this point that she almost decides against calling his name. He’s been demoted to an icebreaker trivia tidbit nowadays; one of her trusty truths in a game of Two Truths and a Lie, an interesting fact that almost always gets the conversation rolling. She’s told the story of him long enough that it was just that; a story, weaved in with nostalgia and an artificial wistfulness for that past. But something overtakes her – perhaps it’s the nostalgia (or maybe the whiskey) – and so she calls his name.

She is drunk, and she suspects he is too. When she falls into his arms, it’s like jumping into cold water– the shock lasts for a nanosecond, before her body acclimates to the liquid. And when she comes up to take a breath, it’s far too cold. His lips, his hands, his skin are the only solution to her shivers, toxic in the best possible way.

Take me home?

His apartment is small, and his bed is even smaller, but they end up on top anyways, pillows and comforter on the floor. With hands running down her waist, mouth on her neck, fingers between her thighs, he knows how to turn her into his time machine. And right as he finds her spot (his spot), they’re back six years, Eighteen and Twenty, wild without abandon, rebellious to a fault, addicted to each other’s touch.

So when he says we’ll stay here forever she believes him, wholly; entangled in his holey sheets and fingertips, they are Eighteen and Twenty for eternity.

Six weeks

They are both liars though. He lies about eternity, and she lies about the ring. She is six weeks away when she reveals her deceit to him, in her bed, with her Egyptian cotton sheets and silk pillowcases. They are both stubborn fighters, and he sneers when he sees the expensive metal band and shiny lump of rock, offended and perturbed. He wants to leave, take away their eternity, forget about being Eighteen and Twenty. You hate silver, and all the while she still thinks he’s told her the worse lie, but he says that forever can’t exist with us if you’re getting ma –

She screams before he can say the word, because if he doesn’t say it, it isn’t real, and they can last, right in the crevices, snuck in between the letters of the word. Cardinal sin be damned. She screams and he leaves her bed, her room, her home, but her bed was never the time machine. He’d slept fretfully on her extravagant bed. He’d leave her imported coffee untouched. Her designer night creams and makeup always received a scoff.

The second time she screams that day is when the call comes from the station. Her father is dead, just six weeks away from her big day, and she can’t remember calling him but she must have, because his leather-clad arms surround her soon enough, and he chants:

You’re going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, you’re going to be okay

It’s hours before she utters anything other than sobs, and when she does, she asks, does it ever stop hurting?

The pause is deafening, and it speaks louder than anything he could’ve said. When he talks again, it is a whisper:

You’re going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, you’re going to be okay

Four days

Four days before, he surprises her with a motorcycle ride down the Atlantic coast. They make small talk, like acquaintances, and she asks him about Mona and Ximena and Toby, and he asks her about Riya and Darius. In the daylight and the great outdoors, his torso and back feel like a stranger’s, but she holds on, observing the celeste waves claw at the sand.

At sunset, he buys her three fish tacos from a food truck by the beach, and they eat quietly, having run out of things to talk about an hour ago. She wishes she was back in his twin, pretending that the sun wasn’t setting and that four days wasn’t only 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345600 seconds away but she knows it’s inevitable, and this is supposed to be goodbye, forever.

Tell me these aren’t the best tacos you’ve had, ever.

And she wants to tell him that they are, despite only being six dollars and 87 cents, but she thinks that would offend him, so she keeps her lips zipped and nods her head.

When night bleeds into the sky, they lie on the sand dunes and he points out the constellations he finds, both real and original. And she searches for their eternity in the twinkling stars, hoping for a sign that she should leave with him, extend their time.

She doesn’t see one.

Twelve hours

She’s always had a weak stomach. Clutching the toilet seat, she heaves, retching, but an hour and a half in front of the bowl, she had nothing left to give. She gets up, slowly, fumbling for the thermometer, half-hoping she is truly ill – but the reader beeps ninety-eight degrees and she is perfectly normal and healthy.

She thinks of the aisle, the white dress, the veil, and a small current of nausea overtakes her.

They had promised each other they wouldn’t see each other anymore, but she texts him a white lie, and he is on her doorstep, a can of soup and a DVD in hand.

Chicken noodle soup and an action movie, the patented cure for any illness.

She smiles, and before they can reach her bed, they are one, lips on lips, palms on backs. I am Eighteen and he is Twenty, she imagines, and his offerings are left by the door, her ring on the nightstand.

He enters her, and she is ready, wanton with his scent, and her mind enters a haze, thoughts crude and instinctual. All she can gasp is his name, and when he finishes, he does it inside of her, and then she floats back down, down, down the pull of gravity stronger than the force of her lust.

You don’t have to go through with it. Just say the word. We can leave –

Her senses return to her, her mind blowing away the mist. Forever doesn’t exist, she thinks. Eternity is a lie.

Zero months, zero weeks, zero days, zero hours, zero minutes

“Do you, Ellie Wheeler, take Daniel Moore, to be your husband, to have and hold –“

We’ll stay here forever.

“ – from this day forward, for better or for worse –“

You’re going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, you’re going to be okay

“ – for richer or for poorer –“

Tell me these aren’t the best tacos you’ve had, ever.

“ – in sickness and in health – “

Chicken noodle soup and an action movie, the patented cure for any illness.

“ – to love and to cherish, until death do us part?”

You’re my driver forever.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Patchouli and smoke, leather and lips. That’s what he tastes like, and she’d burn for him if she had the chance. His hands, roughened by his steady grip on the bike handles, traces her outer thighs, the curve of her stomach, the dip of her breasts. This is it, she thinks, and she drowns in him, willingly, unyieldingly, until Dan was a distant planet in space, and all she could see was him, him, and him, bright and fiery stars all around her body. He is like rum and danger and caramels. He is all of her sins, rolled up into a neat little gift, all wrong and deadly– yet here she is, a jezebel flushed as red as Hester Prynne’s bright red ‘A’.

“You don’t have to go through with it. Just say the word. We can leave all of this behind.”

She swallows. “No. I – I can’t.”

“You don’t have anything here anymore. It’s all a fucking lie. Your friends, your job, your apartment, your fiancé. Tell me you don’t miss LA.” He takes a breath. “Tell me you don’t miss me.”

She glances around her apartment. He is right, as always, but not right enough. Their eternity is too short, but she can’t tell him that. It’s torture, uttering the words, but she says them anyways. “I don’t miss you, Colt.” She twists the silver band around her finger, a sorry reminder of her transgressions. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of his face. It’s inscrutable, but she feels his pain, radiating.

“Fine. I’ll leave.”

And he does.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #choices fanfiction #ride or die #the things which are not seen are eternal

[ademocrat]

Investigating Trump’s Promises to America’s Veterans

Secretary of Veterans Affairs Robert Wilkie personally sought damaging information about a congressional aide who said she was sexually assaulted in a VA hospital, according to an anonymous complaint to the House committee the woman works for.

The written complaint was obtained by ProPublica. In addition, a former senior official with direct knowledge of the matter said Wilkie discussed damaging information he collected about the aide and suggested using it to discredit her. Another person said he spoke with other officials who were in those discussions, and they corroborated the former senior official’s and the written complaint’s account. The people interviewed spoke on the condition of anonymity, saying they feared retaliation.

Wilkie denied inquiring into the aide’s past. “I never would do that to a fellow officer,” he said in a statement. “It is a breach of honor.”

The aide, Andrea Goldstein, is a Navy reserve intelligence officer and a senior policy adviser for the House Veterans’ Affairs Committee’s Women Veterans Task Force. In September, she said she was sexually assaulted at the VA medical center in Washington. According to Goldstein’s account reported in The New York Times, she was buying a snack in the cafeteria when a man slammed his body into hers, pressed against her and told her, “You look like you could use a good time.” Goldstein said she did not know who the man was, but he was not an employee.   Get Our Top Investigations Subscribe to the Big Story newsletter.As required by VA regulations, Goldstein’s allegation was turned over to the department’s inspector general to conduct an independent criminal investigation, working with federal prosecutors.But the complaint alleges that while the inspector general and prosecutors investigated Goldstein’s allegation, Wilkie initiated what the complaint described as “his own investigation into Ms. Goldstein’s credibility and military record.”

The House committee said it is considering how to respond to the complaint, spokeswoman Jenni Geurink said. While the committee has oversight jurisdiction over the VA and often fields complaints from employees and patients, it is in an unusual position since this complaint relates to one of its staff members.

“We have been contacted about possible actions taken within VA which may have utilized government time and resources to attempt to tarnish a member of our staff’s character, discredit her and spread false information about her past in retaliation for her reporting of a sexual assault at VA,” Geurink said. “This ordeal has been draining and unfair to Ms. Goldstein.”

According to the complaint and the former senior official, Wilkie repeatedly shared the information he had gathered about Goldstein with his senior staff, including officials responsible for public relations, between October 2019 and January 2020. One of the officials present, Assistant Secretary for Public and Intergovernmental Affairs James E. Hutton, did not respond to requests for comment.

“Wilkie’s energies are directed toward attacking her character,” the complaint said.

Wilkie did not specify the source of his information but said he wished his findings could be used to undermine Goldstein’s account of the assault in the Washington VA, the complaint and the former senior official said. While Wilkie did not direct anyone to do anything with the information, he wondered aloud about how it might become public, according to the complaint and the former senior official.

Wilkie, through a spokeswoman, denied saying that.

Wilkie also met in his office with Rep. Dan Crenshaw, R-Texas, who is a former Navy commando. After the meeting, Wilkie told his staff that Crenshaw agreed with the allegations that Wilkie made about Goldstein’s credibility, according to the complaint, the former senior official and the other person with knowledge of the meeting.

Wilkie denied discussing Goldstein with Crenshaw. Crenshaw, in a brief interview in the Capitol, confirmed that he met with Wilkie. “I had breakfast with him once,” Crenshaw said. “I know where this rumor’s coming from. So you have a bunch of Democrat staffers who are leading you guys down a really stupid path. I’ve never been asked about the case, never been told about the case.”

Wilkie and his staff have not publicized the information he collected about Goldstein’s past. But after the inspector general concluded its investigation and federal prosecutors declined to bring charges, Wilkie sent a Jan. 15 letter to Congress calling Goldstein’s complaint “unsubstantiated” and saying it “could deter our veterans from seeking the care they need and deserve.”

Wilkie’s letter prompted an objection from the VA’s inspector general, Michael Missal, who said calling Goldstein’s allegations “unsubstantiated” was “not an accurate description of the results of our investigation.” The Times reported that the criminal probe was hindered because video cameras that might have captured the incident at the hospital weren’t working.

“Neither I nor my staff told you or anyone else that the allegations were unsubstantiated,” Missal wrote to Wilkie. “Reaching a decision to close the investigation with no criminal charges does not mean the underlying allegation is unsubstantiated.”

Goldstein, in an op-ed published Monday on the website Jezebel, criticized Wilkie, saying that his letter to Congress was retaliation for her reporting the assault and that she had also faced retaliation from a military commander when she reported sexual harassment while on active duty. She said she receives treatment at the VA for conditions related to sexual trauma during her military service.

“He used coded language, but the words still stung,” Goldstein wrote. “The Secretary of the second largest federal agency knew how his words would resonate. He was implying that a fellow Navy veteran was a liar. He was implying that I was a liar.”

Asked about the subject at a post-State of the Union press conference on Wednesday, Wilkie said he was “not satisfied with the resolution of the Goldstein case” and wants to reexamine it.

“I met with the [inspector general] yesterday,” he said. “We’re going to make a renewed push to get answers.”

But the inspector general’s office later said the investigation remains closed. “We are not working with anyone to seek additional information at this time,” a spokesman said.

A spokeswoman for Wilkie later clarified that he wasn’t asking to reopen the investigation but wants to receive more details of the inspector general’s findings. “At a minimum, the IG should let VA and committee leaders know if its investigation found any wrongdoing so the department can take action to protect and safeguard our patients,” VA press secretary Christina Mandreucci said. “We need this help to make sure our facilities are safe.”

[apparelvon]

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