#just go read women race & class

[molsno]

when I read about the potential future of housework in women race & class I was kind of surprised that I hadn't even considered the solution angela davis describes as a possibility before. because yeah actually the way housework is currently done is really primitive when you get down to it, and there's no good reason for it other than to keep women occupied with tiresome, thankless work.

housework could be a public service where trained professionals go door to door and use specialized tools to clean more effectively in a fraction of the time. capitalists don't even invest in creating the kinds of tools that would make housework more efficient because it's simply not profitable in most cases, and even when they do exist, they're too specialized for the average person to justify spending the amount of money necessary to buy one for their own use (just look at the price of roombas for example).

in any case, any communist movement needs to seriously address structural misogyny so that women are no longer forced to do intensive and repetitive manual labor for no reward. the solution should not be financial compensation for women, it should be freeing women from the burden of housework altogether!

#txt #sorry for making this one unrebloggable I'm still sheltering myself #just go read women race & class

[lasciviouspoison]

my first full length smut fic! this shit took weeks to edit ngl, but it was worth it. with that being said, there are probably still some mistakes so excuse those, lol. tw: breeding, eren calls himself “daddy”, word “mommy” is used, reader and eren are extremely (heavy emphasis on extremely) frustrated. not a tw, but like i always say, this is for my chubby black women, but all are free to read <3

eren has loved you for an extremely long time. he’s spoiled u, fed u, he’s even dressed you head to toe while you were sick.

yet, all of this spoiling and caring for u, does not warrant your brattiness right now.

he’s been studying tirelessly for his midterm for about 2 weeks now, finally on his last day of review before his test in a couple of days. yet, he can’t seem to focus because you keep coming in and out of your shared study every three seconds.

“‘ren, where are the extra washcloths?”

he looks up from his textbook, glasses falling off his nose a bit. you’re even dressed like a brat, skimpy little white tank top and baby pink panties. it makes his head hurt worse than the passage he’s read over 4 times now.

“there’s no way you’re asking me where fucking washcloths are right now. there’s no way.” he says with some bite to his voice. he just needs to finish these last two pages and the longer it takes him, the more it kills him.

your arms cross over your chest, pushing your bra-less chest up and exposing a bit of your chubby stomach. “does it look like i’m joking with you? where are they?”

he clenches his jaw and in a very clipped tone, he responds that they’re under the sink. you scoff slightly and walk out, making an effort to slam the door a bit harder than necessary.

he sits back in his chair and throws off his glasses, big tattooed hands wiping his face. eren knows he’s been neglecting you, and it’s killing him just as much as you. he’s tired of coming home from class too tired to touch you. he’s tired of you having to tell him to go lay down after his head rocked one too many times over his dinner plate.

he’s tired, but he’s not gonna let you act like a bitch just to get what you want. simply because it’s fucking working.

he pushes up from his desk and walks out of the study. he hears the bathroom cabinets opening, so he does everything but sprint to get there.

you peer over your shoulder at him and roll your eyes, “they weren’t under the sink. in fact, they’re all dirty cause, you know, you act like you can’t help with laundry anymore-“

erens grabbed you by the nape of your neck and brought your body close to his. you can hear his semi-heavy breathing despite still being bent over, which caused your heart to race a little. although you knew eren would never hurt you, it doesn’t mean that his pent up energy won’t go to waste.

“a couple things: one, don’t talk to me like i’m a fucking child. two, i do still help with laundry, there’s a whole basket full of folded shirts sitting on the bedroom floor that i didn’t get the chance to put away. and finally, you that cock hungry, or are you genuinely mad at me?” he finishes with a finger running up your spine, back arching at the feeling. he knows this rills you up, which is perfect for him. you don’t get to frustrate him and remain unscathed.

your eyes widened a bit, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop eren’s hand from moving. you could feel just how hard he was and it made you think that he almost had it worse than you. however, that doesn’t mean your just gonna lay here and take it.

“get the fuck off me eren” you said through tight lips. his hands now steadily making their way under your top, with you making no advances to stop him.

he bent down towards your ear as his body almost covers yours entirely, with his fingers now gently pulling at your nipples.. “you know what’s funny? you can act mad at me all you want, but this pretty pussy is never ever mad at me. maybe i should gag you and let her do the talking, at least she’s not a fucking liar” at this point, eren’s hands feel like hot coals against your body. while they slowly make their descent back down your body, you can feel your resolve slowly melting away under his touch.

before you could reply, his fingers begin to softly move along your covered slit, causing your breath to hitch. you push your hips back a little and eren gives you a breathless laugh in return.

“i know i’ve neglected you pretty baby. daddy’s really sorry, just let me make it up to you. i promise, you can have me all night if you just tell me what you really want”. sometimes, you swore that you could hear the smirk on eren’s lips.

you shook your head no and felt a soft slap to your pussy. you wanted to scream at him and tell him just how badly you missed him, but your mouth refused to open. you bit your lip once he began touching you again, attempting to coax a confession from your pretty lips.

you felt him bend over once again, this time to place small kisses behind your ear, kisses that started to travel down your neck and onto your back. the entirety of his ministrations were torture, but it was when he stopped kissing you and replaced his lips with his tongue to lick a stripe up your back that you really wanted to cave.

eren’s middle finger finally found your bare clit, the initial contact causing you to jump hard against his body. small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to maneuver on his fingers before he stilled your movements.

“m’not doin anything more till you tell me the truth. what do you want from me baby? tell me and i’ll give it you ya”.

you try to grind against his fingers once again before a hard smack to your ass forces you to stop. his grip on your hips tightening, letting u know that he’s really gonna deprive you until you speak.

“want you to touch me ren! wan’ you to fuck me so fucking bad!” you finally scream out.

every gives you a small chuckle before his middle and index finger burry themselves into your cunt. his body almost shakes at warmth you provide. blood rushing straight to his dick, making him indescribably hard.

“that’s it baby, that’s all i wanted to hear.” he sounds breathless, almost like he’s the one that’s been getting teased.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, a small squelching sound coming from your sopping pussy. your grip on the cold marble counter top has your knuckles turning white. at this point, you’re so desperate for more that your meeting his fingers half way.

with tears threatening to run down your chubby cheeks, you make pleas for more. “ren please, please gimme more. i’ll be good i promise!”

he feels so bad. you’ve never acted like this, even when the two of you were still forced to live separately on campus. the desperation in your voice is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.

because he knows you like it when he fucks you with his hair down, he pulls his hair from his already loosening bun and all but rips his sweats off. dick hitting his bare stomach with a heavy thud.

he takes his fingers out of you and rips those pretty pink panties off, he makes a mental note to buy you another pair.

he rubs himself between your sticky folds till his cock is shiny, hitting your clit a couple of times in the process, drawing more whines from you. all he can do is look down in awe. it’s amazing to him just how wet you get from just a couple of fingers, but who can blame u? his dick’s been throbbing for four days straight.

he finally anchors himself and spits, emitting a soft puh before he smiles. you’re such a mess underneath him and he can’t wait to make it even worse. he finally starts to push in, but your tight little cunny won’t let him in no matter how gentle he tries to be.

“lemme in baby… please lemme in” his voice is so strained it’s making u gush even more.

“i’m tryin!” you say with a pout, tears running down your face.

eren knows you’ve always been big on eye contact when the two of you fuck, it’s almost necessary… so, he hooks his fingers into the side of your mouth and forces your head to lift. finally you were able to see that tattooed chest and pretty face, and he was able to see those pretty eyes and beautiful tear stained face.

almost immediately do you loosen up and he accidentally on purpose pushes all the way in, causing the both of you to moan loudly.

“there you go baby, take it for me ya spoiled fuckin brat”. his hands have found purchase on the fatness of your hips, his grip so tight that you think he’ll bruise you. not that you’ve ever cared.

“fuckfuckfuck” is all you can say as you watch his facial expressions through the mirror. his hair is down and there’s tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. he’s gone slack jawed while stroking you, a relaxed expression gracing his pretty face. no matter how many times he’s buried himself in your warm walls, he’s never gotten used to how good u feel. once his green eyes make contact with yours and that smirk graces his face, it makes u realize just how in control he is no matter how gentle he may look.

“squeezin’ me so tight baby.. u miss me that much?” he says with a breathless laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm. the both of you know that going this long without touch was both odd and frustrating. it caused the both of you to miss each other equally, hence why this could be categorized as some of the best sex you’ve ever had.

at this point, he knows you’re gonna cum soon, he can feel your walls pulsing and eren feels like his dick is gonna pop.

“g’nna cum rennie, g’nna make a mess on yo- ugh fuck!” your little hands balling into fists as he hits that spongey spot in you. you can hear just how hard he’s thrusting into you, each stroke sounding more sticky than the last. it’s making your eyes cross and toes curl.

your convinced he’s gonna kill you with that horse dick of his one day.

“let it out baby, i’ll clean it up the mess, wanna feel you cum on me.” even he’s getting whiny now, so it’s only a matter of time before you-

“-ohmygod eren!” you cum so hard that your body’s shaking and your knees are buckling. thankfully, eren’s always there to catch you.

despite chasing his own nut, he desperately wants to see you ride out your orgasm. he’s so desperate that he’s picking you up by your hips, forcing you to do small circles against his waist cause he knows it drives you crazy.

however, it doesn’t take long before he’s digging deep into you again, the force of his thrusts causing your head to bounce a little harder than intended.

“god i’m gonna cum so hard in this pretty pussy. i’m so fucking sorry i neglected you baby.. never again, god i’ll never do it again baby i promise. gonna fill you up okay? awe, you like the sound of that yeah? make you the prettiest mommy for me. promise i’ll take care of you forever. god i love you”. he’s rambling and his voice is getting rough. it’s only a matter of time before he cums.

after finding some strength, you finally look back and smile at him and that’s all it takes for eren to cum. his face screws up and his warm hands slide up your back to make you arch a little deeper. you wish you could run your fingers through his hair so badly, but you couldn’t ask for a better view of your beautiful boyfriend.

after a few moments of silence, eren finally comes down from his high with a big huff of air. gently, he spins you around so you face him. he moves your curls from out of your eyes and gives you a slow kiss on the lips, hands resting gently on your chubby, tear stained cheeks.

after a few moments of silence, he starts to speak, “i meant what i said. i’m sorry i left you alone for so long baby. i just gotta pass this test.” his eyes full of remorse.

“i know eren, i just wanted some attention… it’s really easy to miss you, even if we live together”. small smiles find both of your faces and eren finally pulls out to run the two of you a warm bath.

he strips you out of your tank top and carries you over to the tub, where he holds you tightly.

after some comfortable silence, you can’t help but look over your shoulder and ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, “you really wanna get me pregnant?”

he looks towards the ceiling and let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “i mean, eventually yes. right now? fuck no”

the two of you fell into laughter while the smell of lavender filled your noses and achy bones were finally allowed to rest.

#eren #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager #eren smut #eren x chubby reader #eren x black reader smut #eren x y/n #damn….. i love writing for this man

[edonee]

The belief that gender is a feeling, something interior and unrelated to sex is not only false, but it also upholds gender stereotypes. What does a transgender person mean, when they say they identify as the opposite gender? I've actually posed the question to a lot of trans people, and the answers were always something along the lines of "I liked things made for boys as a kid. I felt different from other girls. I don't feel connected to my biological gender because I behave differently" (coming from women who identify as trans) or "I preferred girls toys as a kid, I was always drawn toward dressing more femininely, wearing make-up, etc." (from men who identify as trans). I then ask, why does that mean you are a different gender? I thought we were all on the same page with the whole "boys can like pink, girls can like blue" argument. I mean, everyone has been saying that for decades, and we all agree that those are gender stereotypes, right??

So I always asked myself why transgender people used those as arguments to prove their point. The other argument, that a lot of trans people might bring up after reading this, is "Well, sex dysphoria is a thing though". And yeah, it is a disgnosable mental disorder, and there are people who seriously suffer from it. But so is anorexia. Do we see doctors performing liposuctions on people suffering from anorexia, though? Of course not: mutilating the body of a mentally unwell person is inhumane. People who suffer from eating disorders are offered therapy in order to recover and create a healthy relationship with their body. So why would dysphoric people get "gender affirming surgery" (which is an interesting name, because I thought y'all said gender isn't dependent on sex???) instead of analyzing the reasons why their body brings them distress? The whole narrative of "being born in the wrong body" is so...vague. And, *trust me*, I've tried to put myself in transgender people's shoes and comprehend their arguments, but they are just insubstantial. I see why for some of them (especially women) identifying as the opposite gender would be favorable: for women, because it's an attempt to escape their fate in a misogynistic world. It's freeing (I speak from personal experience here, I identified as non-binary for a while). It feels like saying fuck you to the patriarchy. You feel the rush of eluding womanhood (or at least you think you do). But, at the end of the day, it's truly just that: eluding. And (unless you medically transition, to the point you pass as male) it's not going to change anything. People hate us because of our sex, not because of our "gender identity". Men won't care whether you identify as ftm, non-binary, agender or anything else. They hate you because you are Female. That's what misogyny is at its core. And, if you push the idea that gender is just a feeling, something that you can identify as, and that biological sex doesn't matter, and that "anyone can be a woman, actually!" you are inevitably going to water down the definition of Woman until it is just that: a sensation, something intangibile. How can we fight for a category of people, if we can't even define who we're fighting for? Also, Women are the only class this applies to. Take Race as an example: the movement of resistance against racism knows exactly who they are fighting for. The definition of a Black person is not up for debate. People who identify as "transracial" (mostly trolls) are heavily criticized, and they are obviously not included in the Black movement. Why do we have to accommodate males in our movement? Use whatever pronouns you want, get all the surgeries you want, take whatever hormones: it's not going to do anything to defy misogyny. @kieransskin

#radblr #radical feminism #radical feminists do interact #radical feminist safe #transgender #terfsafe #misogny #gender critical #feminism #nonbinary #radical feminist community #terfblr

[red-hot-kick]

Theory: Ryuji was popular, before.

I'm not entirely sure if anyone has really talked about this but I maintain my interpretation that, in the canon of Persona 5, Ryuji used to be very (or at least moderately) popular prior to the events of the story.

This is something I've gotten into before when talking to friends who like the game and the character, but I haven't really considered writing it down until now. The main argument I have is based on three things:

Things Ryuji alluded to in canon (but no one believed him on)

The deliberate choice of making him a track athlete

Typecasting for voice actors

1: "There were girls all over me!"

I don't really have the time to go on a deep dive through all the instances in which he hints at his reputation before the Kamoshida incident, but I think the most clear-cut representation of this was during the scene where he and Ann spend the day with Futaba during her post-palace social rehabilitation:

So here's the thing...I don't think he's lying about this. Nobody in the room would be that impressed to find out whether Ryuji was popular since they are already friends (or in Mona's case, he really just doesn't care), so it wouldn't make sense for him to lie.

Regarding everyone's reactions though, here's my impression: Ann was simply not aware of what was going on with the track team, being predominantly focused on dealing with rumors, her friendship with Shiho, and her modeling career (and eventually Kamoshida's advances once he started doing that shit) and she mentions a few times that she and Ryuji weren't actually close before joining the PT; they were just in the same class in middle school. Futaba hasn't interacted with anyone her age in years and isn't the most reliable source when it comes to what people generally find attractive; just because she doesn't have any interest in Ryuji doesn't mean that nobody her age would. And Morgana is a cat that brags constantly about how cool he is, so he shouldn't be throwing rocks.

There are many other times in the game when you get little glimpses of his social savvy, and from my understanding of Royal (I'm an OG vanilla P5 player and haven't done 3rd-semester yet, so don't kill me) when the track team returns to "how it was", he is getting along extremely well with everyone. Not only was he the team's ace: this kid was also expected to become the captain by his senior year (as briefly mentioned when he bumps into his former senpai at the gym, iirc). That's huge! If his team held him in such high regard, then the general student body of Shujin surely had a similar opinion. This brings me to my next point:

2: Girls like boys that run fast(???)

This is honestly something that baffles me. It's also really difficult for me to substantiate; any source material on this is obviously in Japanese and if I could find any of it, I sure as hell can't read it. The only English-language source I know of I cannot find anymore; I think it was an old Tofugu article? However. If you've watched any romance anime set in a high school during the last 20 years, you might have seen this trope at some point: the school sports festival is happening, and the relay race is kind of a huge deal (it's the final event! a make-or-break moment for the class!). The boy thinks to himself "If I win this race, I'll be able to win her heart/ask her out/etc." Low-stakes drama ensues. Maybe a confession happens.

This is (from what I've been told) based on a long-standing trend of girls and women self-reporting in surveys about how, oftentimes, their crushes in junior or senior high school were simply "the boy who ran the fastest in the races". I have no idea what this means in a broader cultural context. It makes no goddamn sense to me at all. Do not cite me on this. But I think it's worth keeping in mind, even if it's almost entirely speculative (and possibly outdated) information. And even if it's just based on rumors, don't you think it's pretty in-character for Ryuji to go for a track scholarship—despite being adept at other sports like baseball and football/soccer, as mentioned in P5 and P5D—because he was aware of the potential of being more popular with girls? Of course, his priority would be getting the scholarship and paying his way through school to lighten his mother's burden, but hey, getting a girlfriend on the way up wouldn't be half bad!

I think this could also inform us as to why Kamoshida (as a predator who wanted attention from high school girls) felt so threatened by the track team in particular, and why he felt a need to specifically knock Ryuji down a peg and sought out a weakness to do so (as opposed to targeting any of the probably just-as-popular boys on the many other athletic teams and clubs in the school). Just some food for thought on this one! Also, if anyone can find a source or has any insight on the relay race thing, please share. I am so confused about it.

3: Typecasting

So this is something that you really only notice if you are very into keeping up with seiyuu in Japan. I am not one of those people. But I do have some favorite voice actors! One of these being Mamoru Miyano.

So I freakin' love this dude. He's voiced a lot of my favorite characters, sings incredibly well, and has an unreal sense of comedy. He's stated in interviews that his acting inspiration is Jim Carrey, and let me tell you: it shows. He is also quite consistently typecast into certain roles, predominantly as princely pretty-boy types, Coolguys, or complete fucking nutcases. Sometimes all three at the same time (shoutout to my boy Ling FMA!)

ATLUS definitely cast him for P5 because of his comedic chops. But I think they also cast him because having him voice someone like Ryuji is a great way to subvert expectations for the player. I think it's supposed to give you whiplash—"what do you mean the voice of LIGHT FUCKING YAGAMI is coming out of this guy's mouth?" "why does the delinquent character sound like king of the host club Tamaki Suou?" "isn't that Rin Matsuoka's voice?" etc. etc. etc.

(here's a quick list, just to really get the idea across. maybe you recognize a few.)

This is obviously a non-comprehensive list, but something that a lot of the characters he's voiced over the years have in common is that they were considered cool, handsome, or popular. Not just for fans, but within the canon of their stories! So...what does that mean? What does that say about how we should see Ryuji?

I think players are supposed to expect that he will fall into one of those categories too, and then be surprised to find that it's not the case—that he's been isolated and made bitter and resigned by what happened to him the year before.

Speaking of his tone, I think it's very telling that Ryuji actually forgets to keep up the delinquent act a lot in the original JP audio, which unfortunately doesn't really carry over in the ENG translation. The delivery of his JP lines sounds a bit more subdued in comparison too—yeah he's got a lot of energy and is very hotheaded, but when he gets to talking about serious shit, he sounds a lot more regretful and melancholy as opposed to the EN delivery which depicts him as more resentful and outwardly angry. I think before Shit Went Down, he probably had the Coolguy vibe. Still a bit of a rowdy idiot and a showoff, but I think he probably came across to most people as a very friendly, sincere, and popular guy.

So yeah, the girls probably were all over him, at least for a short while.

#persona 5 #ryuji sakamoto #character analysis #LONGASS POST SORRY #I JUST REALLY LIKE HIM AND WANTED TO THINK MY THOUGHTS FOR A WHILE #pita.txt

[tangibletechnomancy]

The (Personal) Is (Political)

~7 hours, Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, generated under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

Or, Dear Microsoft and OpenAI: Your Filters Can't Stop Me From Saying Things: An interactive exercise in why all art is political and game of Spot The Symbols

A rare piece I consider Fully Finished simply as a jpeg, though I may do something physical with it regardless. "Director commentary" below, but I strongly encourage you to go over this and analyze it yourself before clicking through, then see how much your reading aligns with my intent.

Elements I told the model to add and a brief (...or at least inexhaustive) overview of why:

Anime style and character figures - Frequently associated with commercial "low" art and consumer culture, in East Asia and the English-speaking world alike, albeit in different ways - justly or otherwise. There is frequently an element of racism to the denigration of anime styles in the west; nearly any American artist who has taken formal illustration classes can tell you a story of being told that anime style will only hinder them, that no one will hire them if they see anime, or even being graded more harshly and scrutinized for potential anime-esque elements if they like anime or imply that they may like anime - including just by being Asian and young. On the other hand, it is true that there is a commercial strategy of "slap an anime girl on it and it will sell". The passion fans feel for these characters is genuine - and it is very, very exploitable. In fact, this commercialization puts anime styles in particular in a very contentious position when it comes to AI discussions!

Dark-skinned boy with platinum and pink [and blue] hair - Racism and colorism! They're a thing, no matter how much the worst people in the world want you to think they're long over and "critical race theory" is the work of evil anti-American terrorists! I chose his appearance because I knew that unless I was incredibly lucky, I would have to fight with this model for multiple hours to get satisfactory results on this point in particular - and indeed I did. It was an interesting experience - what didn't surprise me was how much work it took me to get a skin color darker than medium-dark tan; what did surprise me was that the hair color was very difficult to get right. In anime art, for dark skin to be matched with light hair and eyes is common enough to be...pretty problematic. Bing Image Creator/Dall-E, on the other hand, swings completely in the opposite direction and struggles with the concept of giving dark-skinned characters any hair color OTHER than black, demanding pretty specific phrasing to get it right even 70% of the time. (I might cynically call this yet another illustration against the pervasive copy-paste myth...) There is also much to say about the hair texture and facial features - while I was pleased to see that more results than I expected gave me textured hair and/or box braids without me asking for it, those were still very much in the minority, and I never saw any deviation from the typical anime facial structures meant to illustrate Asian and white characters. Not even once!

Pink and blue color palette - Our subject is transgender. Bias self-check time: did you make that association as quickly as you would with a light-skinned character, or even Sylveon?

Long hair, cute clothes, lots of accessories - Styling while transmasc is a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation, doubly so if you're not white. In many locations, the medical establishment and mainstream attitude demands total conformity to the dominant culture's standard conventional masculinity, or else "revoking your man card" isn't just a joke meant to uphold the idea that men are "better" than women, but a very real threat. In many queer communities, especially online, transmascs are expected to always be cute femboys who love pink (while transfems are frequently degraded and seen as threats for being butch), and being Just Some Guy is viewed as inherently a sign of assimilationism at best and abusiveness at worst. It is an eternal tug-of-war where "cuteness" and ornamentation are both demanded and banned at the same time. Black and brown people are often hypermasculinized and denied the opportunity to even be "cute" in the first place, regardless of gender. Long hair and how gender is read into it is extremely culture-dependent; no matter what it means to you, if anything, the dominant culture wherever you are will read it as it likes.

Trophies and medals - For one, the trans sports Disk Horse has set feminism back by nearly 50 years; I'm barely a Real History-Remembering Adult and yet I clearly remember a time when the feminist claim about gender in sports was predominantly "hey, it's pretty fucked up that sports are segregated by sex rather than weight class or similar measures, especially when women's sports are usually paid much less and given weirdly oversexualized uniforms," but then a few loud living embodiments of turds in the punch bowl realized that might mean treating trans people fairly and now it's super common for self-proclaimed feminists - mostly white ones - to claim that the strongest woman will still never measure up to the weakest man and this is totally a feminist statement because they totally want to PROTECT women (with invasive medical screenings on girls as young as 12 to prove they're Really Women if they perform too well, of course). For two, Black and brown people are stereotyped as being innately more sporty, physically strong, and, again, Masculine(TM) than others, which frequently intersects with item 1...and if you think it only affects trans women, I am sorry my friend but it is so much worse and more extensive than you think.

Hearts - They mean many things. Love. Happiness. Cuteness. Social media engagement?

TikTok - A platform widely known and hated around these parts for its arcane and deeply regressive algorithm; I felt it deserved to be name/layout/logodropped for reasons that, if they're not clear already, should become so in the final paragraph.

Computers, cameras and cell phones - My initial specification was that one of the phones should be on Instagram and another on TikTok, which the model instead chose to interpret as putting a TikTok sticker on the laptop, but sure, okay. They're ubiquitous in the modern day, for better and for worse. For all the debate over whether phones and social media are Good For Us or Bad For Us, the fact of the matter is, they seem to be a net positive-to-neutral, whose impacts depend on the person - but they do still have major drawbacks. The internet is a platform for conspiracy theories and pseudoscience and dangerous hoaxes to spread farther than ever before. Social media culture leaves many people feeling like we're always being watched and every waking moment of our lives must be Perfect - and in some senses, we are always being watched these days. Digital privacy is eroding by the day, already being used to enforce all the most unjust laws on the books, which leads to-

Pigs - I wrote the prompt with the intention that it would just be a sticker on the laptop, but instead it chose to put them everywhere, and given that I wanted to make a somewhat stealthy statement about surveillance, especially of the marginalized...thanks for that, Dall-E! ;)

Alligators - A counter to the pigs; a short-lived antifascist symbol after...this.

Details I did not intend but love anyway:

The blue in the hair - I only prompted for platinum and pink in the hair, but the overall color palette description "bled" over here anyway, completing the trans flag, making it even more blatant, and thus even more effective as a bias self-check.

The Macbook - I only specified a laptop. Hilariously ironic, to me, that a service provided through Bing interpreted "laptop" as "Macbook" nearly every time. In my recent history, 22 out of 24 attempts show, specifically, a Macbook. Microsoft v. OpenAI divorce arc when? ;) But also, let us not forget Apple's role in the ever-worsening sanitization of the internet. A Macbook with a TikTok sticker (or, well, a Tiikok sticker - recognizable enough) - I can think of little more emblematic of one of the main things I was complaining about, and it was a happy accident. Or perhaps an unhappy one, considering what it may imply about Apple's grip on culture and communications.

Which brings me to my process:

Generated over ~7 hours with Dall-E 3 through Bing Image Creator - The most powerful free tool out there for txt2img these days, as well as a nightmare of filters and what may be the most disgustingly, cloyingly impersonal toxic positivity I've ever witnessed from a tool. It wants to be Art(TM), yet it wants to ban Politics(TM); two things which are very much incompatible - and so, I wanted to make A Controversial Statement using only the most unflaggable, innocuous elements imaginable, no matter how long it took.

All art is political. All life is political. All our "defaults" are cultural, and therefore political. Anything whatsoever can be a symbol.

If you want all art to be a substance-free "look at the pretty picture :)" - it doesn't matter how much you filter, buddy, you've got a big storm coming.

#ai art #generated art #dall-e 3 #bing image creator

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

Omg fic idea I NEED but can't do

Reader is a teacher in a kindergarten and elisa comes and surprises her with lunch. She introduces elisa to the class and the little girls go crazy all over elisa because they have a crush on her 😭😭

(I really need to study ap bio 💔)

kindergarten painted hearts [e.de almeida x art teacher!reader]

prompt: elisa surprises you by bringing your forgotten lunch to your job and it seems some kiddos gained their first crush.

author notes: this plot is actually so cute tho like ugh elisa with kids>> anyways hope you like this bestie! (and you need to lock in on that studying fr).

you and elisa met nearly fourteen years ago. with you both playing at the same youth club in y'all's hometown. football at the time was just a way for you to fill your schedule after school and on the weekends. you were an energetic kid, so your parents decided you needed to work out some of the energy with athletics. meanwhile, you could tell football was an passion for elisa. the first day you saw her show off her defensive skills at practice, you just knew she would go far; and that she did.

you two became best friends after a while of playing together. getting ice cream after practice or games, sleepovers that one of you always begged your parents for, being separated at practice because y'all distracted each other, and more became a part of you two's blooming friendship. eventually that friendship turned into something more. with elisa being the one to ask you out at your highschool graduation party. it was nearing the end of the party with elisa laying on your bed. her eyes half focused up at the ceiling and half focused looking at you sitting beside her. you were looking at some turkish telenovela on your tv.

"uh, y/n?" she murmurs, barely audible. still you hear her, looking down at her with a smile.

"yeah, eli?" she bites down slightly on her lip as you speak out the words. god her heart was racing and she swear she could feel her palms starting to sweat. "not that it matters or anything, but.. do you like girls?" elisa asks. closing her eyes in slight embarrassment the moment you narrow your eyes at her.

the embarrassment fades once she hears you say, "yeah. do you?"

elisa feels a string of confidence go through her as she sits up. scooting back so she is shoulder to shoulder with you. "you already know the answer to that," her head is turned so her nose is touching the tip of yours. "mhm. i just wanted to confirm.." you say softly. your eyes looking into hers. the nervousness elisa was feeling is so evident in her eyes that it almost makes you giggle.

"i hope i'm not reading this all wrong, but.. can i kiss you?" she asks, licking her lips. you don't even give her a response back. just pulling her into a kiss as your hands go to hold onto the back of her neck.

yeah, that was elisa and yours first kiss. that kiss led to you two now being a loving, committed relationship.

after graduation you proceeded to forget about your soccer days and put all your energy into your university. long days filled with studying in an elementary education major with an art minor. being creative was a passion that had been simmering inside of you for years, it was your calling so after getting you college degrees, you went and became a kindergarten school art teacher. that entire time elisa was by your side. supporting you in your studies. and you were supporting her too. elisa went into professional women's football just like you thought. the defender spent some time at different clubs before eventually landing a contract with paris saint germain, her current home away from home. you were there the entire time; coming to games, bringing her snacks to practice, and massaging elisa's body after a long day of training.

now you two are happily engaged and planning a wedding. your relationship is known to the public, but is kept quite private in general with you just wanting things to be kept simple.

your students at your school obviously knew you were engaged to someone. the decently sized diamond ring on your finger is an automatic attention grabber for a bunch of five year olds. all they know is that you have a pretty ring and sometimes mention how your wife is sorta chaotic like them sometimes & that's it. you did plan to introduce elisa eventually since some of your students loved football. you felt it would be such a cute moment, but with elisa's busy schedule it was hard to find a good time for her to come in. unknownst to you that moment would come sooner than you thought.

all because you forgot to bring your lunch to work one day.

it was an wednesday which was usually the most chaotic and messy day of the week. it's the middle of the week so the kids are already feeling tired from monday, but excited for the upcoming friday. those two emotions together make for rowdy students who can't seem to focus on anything.

the first half of the day before lunch is exhausting to say the least. one of the newer students, léa, kept refusing to sit next to her bestfriend ameila over "such a big problem." in reality, the little French girl didn't want to sit next to her bestie because ameila shared her breakfast apples with another girl; typical kindergarten friendship jealousy. resolving this problem required you to stage a mini intervention. five year olds are surprisedly stubborn when it comes to apologizing, but it ends well. with the two bestfriends going back to being their usual clingy selfs to each other.

then another problem was a little boy named samir who has been your student since the beginning of the school year. the boy was tall for his age with him reaching your hip and he took advantage of that too many times to count this morning. grabbing toys out of his classmates hands then holding them up above his head, touching things he shouldn't like the glass heart you have on the top of a shelf near your desk (it was a gift for your birthday from your fellow teachers), and constantly taking out toys that would usually be out of someone of his age range's reach. an absolute pain in the ass; even with his adorable big brown doe eyes and little afro. still, an absolute pain.

by the time lunchtime comes around you are wondering why you even picked this career. kindergarteners eat in their classrooms at your school, so you couldn't even escape the little rascals for a single moment but it's all good. usually the students are more quiet and focused on eating than doing something they shouldn't.

you pull out the cart of lunchbags from the closet. calling up the tables by number to come grab their lunchbags. once all the little kiddos have their lunch it's finally time for you to sit down at your desk and enjoy the lunch you packed.

you start to search through your bag, looking for the lunchbag you always bring. remembering that you cooked and packed some fried chicken with fried brown rice with vegetables makes your stomach growl. yeah, you need to find that lunchbag right now.

"what the..?" you mumble to yourself as you come up empty handed. you swear you remembered packing the lunch in your bag the night before, but apparently you didn't.

you stand up, planning to just go ask ms. janie who is the first grade math teacher to come watch your class while you go out and buy some lunch. just as you open the small closet next to your desk to get your coat here comes a knock at the door.

"someone's at the door, ms l/n!" shouts out manon. she's one of the loudest and chaotic kids in the entire class, so you knew the moment she said that all the other little rascals would get hype too. all the kids are not very interested in the door. the knock from before made some of them perk up earlier, but their food and whatever kindergarten level conversations they were having were way more interesting then some knock at the door.

léa and ameila are now gossiping about who could be at the door. "i bet it's mr. walker or ms. bernard!" ameila speculates loudly. her ponytail wearing bestfriend shakes her head in disagreement. "nope. it has to be mr. martin. he said he would bring candy on friday, but maybe he wanted to do it early," léa says.

you just ignore the conversations going amongst your students as you open up the door.

standing there is elisa with your lunchbag in hand. a mischievous smile sitting on her lips, "forgetting something, babe?"

the surprise that comes over makes you stay silent for a moment before fully processing that your fiancee was standing in front of you at your work place. "what are you doing here?" you ask with a smile as you take the bag out of her hand. opening it to look inside and see if it has the right contents inside. "practice was cancelled and when i came home i noticed you left your lunch so i decided to bring it to you since i missed your face," she says. her words make you roll your eyes lovingly.

you can hear your kindergarteners (barely) whispering about who is at the door. with your body covering up most of elisa's as you stand in the doorframe, they couldn't make out who it was.

"that doesn't look like mr. martin," léa says as she tries to sit up more in her seat to catch a glance of who is at the door. ameila does the same thing, "i think it's some boy. maybe that's ms. l/n's son! i knew she had a kid and just wasn't telling us."

you hear everything clearly since kindergarteners are a least good at projecting their voice unlike with whispering. "well come inside and come meet my children away from home," you turn and come more into the classroom. going back over to your desk real quick to set your lunch aside. elisa walks inside and closes the door behind her. the french player's smile grows wider as she look at all the eyes on her.

your students look at her in half confusion and half curiosity. you just know they're going to ask way too many questions. most of which are going be a little too personal. "alright you guys.." you say as you come and stand next to elisa in front of the class. "meet my fiancee, elisa. she's a footballer," the moment you say that the boys in the class look more hype. a few girls as well. especially gabriela who sits with her ronaldo jersey on in the back of the class.

samir is the first to raise his hand. you sigh before signaling him to speak. he smiles as he says, "have you played with mbappe?" the question is innocent enough but it makes elisa laugh. you give her a light slap on the arm and she stops. clearing her throat before saying, "no. girls and boys don't play together at my age," elisa says.

that one question and answer makes all the other little kindergarteners in the classroom want to say their own questions too. with it being only ten minutes left of lunch, you allow elisa to handle all the questions while you go munch on your lunch.

those ten minutes pass quickly as you chew happily on your food. you finish half of it by the time class is supposed to start, so you pack it back away and leave the lunchbag on your desk. a warm smile graces your lips as you look over to see elisa sitting at the back of the classroom with a small group of the girls in the class.

the conversation they are having makes you almost laugh, but you stop yourself. you come over, saying, "it's time to go put your lunchbags up in your backbags girls."

gabriela is the first to groan. pouting as she looks at elisa. "you look strong, elisaaa. can't you put it up for me?" she whines as she pouts at the french player. the sight is adorable but makes you question a few things since gabriela is probably one of the most independent kindergarteners you have ever since. now she wants elisa's help? elisa just smiles at the compliment. patting the five year old's head.

manon and ameila who were also at the table pout at elisa too. five year olds can be quite impressionable at the worse moments. now you have three kindergarteners who don't want to get up and put up something themselves.

"girls, those are your lunch bags not elisa's" you say, but still five year olds are stubborn at times too so the three just continue looking at elisa.

"it's fine, babe" the french player says before standing up. you sigh at her; she was basically going against your words in front of your students and now you just know for the rest of time elisa is here, those three will be listening to her not you. still elisa just shrugs as she grabs the three lunchbags laying on the table. "which backbags are y'all's?" you hear elisa say as you walk back to the front of the class.

you can see the puppy lovesick smile on all three of those kindergarteners faces and knew the rest of class was probably going to be more difficult than usual.

and you were completely right. the whole rest of the class ameila, manon, and especially gabriela trailed behind elisa.

when it was time for math and you were going to hand out the materials, those three wanted elisa to instead. same thing when it was time for science and you were helping everyone get on their experiment gear. gabriela clung to elisa's side and asked her with a pout to help her out. ameila stood on elisa's other side and asked the same thing. both blushing once the french player finished helping them. it was very cute to see and what happened at the end of the day was even cuter.

it was the last few minutes of the day with the kiddos finishing up their art projects. the assignment was to draw something that represents love. gabriela was hyperfocused on hers. making sure to make it way more beautiful than she usually does for art projects.

at the end of the class as you were telling the kiddos goodbye as they one by one got picked up by their parents, gabriela walks up to elisa who's sitting at your desk. Chewing on some gummies you had laying around (they are for children but she really doesn't care). the little girl shyly taps on elisa's thigh. "hm? what is it, gabs?" the french player asks as she sits up a bit, smiling at gabriela.

the little kindergartener's heart was racing so fast as she holds out her little card. It's pink construction paper with a red heart on it. on the heart it says my favorite footballer. "before ronaldo was my favorite but now.. i think i want a elisa jersey," gabriela says. elisa smiles as she accepts the card and pulls the five year old into a small hug. "this is so cute, thank you!" elisa says as she pulls away.

you just smile as you see how happy gabriela looks. she gives elisa a shy wave before grabbing her backbag and coming to the door. you pat her head as you say, "have a good evening, okay, gabs?"

she smiles up at you and shakes her head as her mother approaches the classroom. you speak to her for a few minutes before letting gabriela go. closing the door once she was fully gone. thankfully all the parents were on time today and all the little rascals were gone.

you turn to elisa and smile, "she's totally crushing on you." elisa just shrugs with a smug smile, "can't be helped i guess?"

you come over to your desk, still smiling as you ruffle elisa's hair. she pouts slightly. not enjoying the feeling of her hair being all messy. "always knew she was sorta into girls. i think she has a little crush on ameila," you say.

"oh? so i wasn't her gay awakening?" elisa jokes. you roll your eyes before saying, "oh no you definitely was. you made her realize she may be a little into girls. i bet that tomorrow she will be showing her crush for ameila way more than usual."

and you were correct as the next day gabriela wore a jersey with de almeida on the back and was sharing her snacks with ameila. you caught the two giggling as ameila braided gabriela's hair. an obvious blush sitting on gabriela's face.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics

[manicformunson]

Holding my breath until you write red handed part two 👀🥺

red handed pt. 2

master list

pairing eddie munson x fem!reader

summary part one here! i really wrote the first one based of a dream i had lol. reader goes back to eddie's trailer under the impression of tutoring, but things take a turn for the best

Y/N literally thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest as she fumbled with the hem of her gym shorts. Was Eddie serious about meeting her and taking her to his house? She was excited to see his trailer, she'd heard that he lives in the trailer park with his uncle, although she'd hoped they'd be alone.

Y\N mentally rolled her eyes at herself, why would she even wish that? It's not like she expected something to happen between them, but then again,

"I like my women sweaty."

That's what he had said right? She wasn't imagining it? The way he had looked at her after saying it sent shivers straight down her stomach and she had to calm herself down in the bathroom before class. It was a little embarrassing, he probably just was a flirty person and didn't mean anything by it, and here she was getting hung up on it.

On the other hand he had asked around about her, so he had to know her name right? Y/N wonders did he only ask about her brains or was he fishing for something else? She'll most likely never know.

So she chewed her lip to calm her nerves, looking around until she sees his poofy brown hair merged with the sea of students walking towards her, Y/N breathed a sigh in relief knowing that he hadn't stood her up.

"Sorry I'm late, I had a deal and didn't think you'd wanna be there." He said, waving his hand like it was the most mundane thing ever to be doing a drug deal but also to him it probably was. "That's okay! I'm just happy you, you know your here."

Y/N sounded way to excited and she wanted to slap herself, but Eddie smiled down at her, "Well yeah, where else would I want to be."

Want to be? Okay she's definitely reading into things. She just shrugged and followed him to his van, blushing like a school girl when he raced in front of her to open the door.

"Thanks."

"No problem princess."

If he doesn't fucking stop acting so fucking flirty she's going to read too much into things and ruin everything. Y/N had her bag in her lap, playing with the straps the whole ride and admiring Eddie's hands banging on the steering wheel in rhythm to whatever was playing.

She wanted to hold his hand, is that weird? She wanted to see how big his hands were compared to her dainty ones, wanted to feel the rings again her fingers and she wanted know if his hands were cold or warm.

After a good 15 minutes, they pulled into the trailer park stopping in front of Eddie's. Y/N saw there was no other cars there so maybe they'll be alone?

Eddie got out first and once again opened the door for her. "Here we are, my castle." Y/N giggled and stepped inside, looking around. "Looks nice." She complimented, and she wasn't lying she liked it, it had a very welcoming and homey feeling.

"My room is back here."

He seemed to ignore her compliment and disappeared down the short hallway. She was taking her time looking around until meeting him in his room. Looking at all the posters and stacks of cassette tapes, not even noticing that Eddie was sitting on his bed watching her. "Sorry for the mess-" She cut him off, "It doesn't bug me, it's comfortable."

"Yeah?" Eddie seemed shocked and she just smiled and nodded, "Yeah."

Y/N finally joined him on the bed, sitting a good few inches away from him and pulled out her English notebooks. "Okay so, what did you need help with?"

Short answer was basically everything.

Y/N and Eddie spent a better part of 3 hours going over To Kill a Mockingbird for tomorrow's quiz and she could tell he was getting a little frustrated.

"I'm never going to fucking get this."

He huffed slamming his book closed and burying his head in his hands. Y/N hesitated but rubbed a few circles in his back, "Yes you will, it's a little complicated for everyone! I remember the first time I read it there was a lot that I had to reread to really understand."

With her hand still on his back, she smiled at him in hopes of reassuring him but it didn't seem to work as Eddie jumped up, "Maybe we should take a break, this book is giving me a headache."

She watched him open a metal lunch box and pull out a bag of what she could only assume was pot. "Oh, I've never," Y/N felt a little stupid, like Eddie wouldn't think she was cool enough to hang out with if she's never smoked anything besides cigarettes.

He just glanced at her before fishing in his pockets for his lighter. "You've never smoked a joint before?" At least he didn't sound as judgy as Y/N thought he would've.

She just shook her head.

"I can teach you, it's just like a cigarette , you do smoke those right? I've seen you around town smoking." Y/N giggled, feeling so much more comfortable around him than when she had first arrived, mainly his carefree attitude which seemed to be having an effect on her too.

"Stalker." Y/N found herself laugh at him, blushing at the way he smiled back and took a puff before passing it too her. It couldn't be that different from a cigarette right? Just breath in and blow out.

So Y/N inhaled a shit ton of smoke which led to her coughing up her lungs and nearly falling over on the floor. Okay so definitely not like a regular cigarette.

Eddie took the joint from her and breathed out a laugh before patting her on the back, "Here, this'll be easier for a beginner like you." He inhaled what seemed like a hell of a lot more then she did, then held her chin between his fingers before blowing the smoke into her slightly agape mouth.

Wow. Um. Okay.

Eddie watched her with slanted eyes, keeping her chin in his grip and enjoying her face go red.

"How was that?" He asked with a smug ass smirk. How was she even supposed to answer that? Hot as fuck? Made her tingle inside? "Um, it was...good?" Suddenly, with the blunt now between his lips, he let his other hand fall on her thigh and rub it ever so slightly.

"Just good?"

Y/N couldn't even focus on anything other than his hand inching closer and closer to her now nearly soaking cunt, his strong ring fingers gripping the inside of her thighs. The best she could do was squeak out a, "'was great "

Eddie hummed in response and pulled his hands away from her, making a small whimper escape her. "Don't worry sweetheart, just need you to lay in my chest okay?"

He readjusted himself so he was leaning against the bedframe and Y/N in his chest. Jesus fucking Christ was this actually happening?

One of his hands gripped her waist while the other wasted no time to spread her legs apart. Her mind was a little foggy now with him still breathing the smoke right next to her face, muttering in her ear about how seeing her like his turned him on.

"You gonna let my hand in those panties princess?" Eddie mumbled, moving the thin line of her gym shorts out of the way to reveal her wet underwear. If she wasn't so horny and high she would've been embarrassed but it was hard when his fingers were playing with her clothed clit.

"Come on baby, you gonna let me?"

Y/N nodded and couldn't help but moan when she felt his other hand move to play with her breast. She needed something to cling to at this point, feeling around behind her before choosing his jean clad legs to sink her nails into as he teased her clothed entrance with his middle finger.

"Please, please Eddie."

Jesus Christ Y/N felt hot all over. She didn't even know what she was begging for but Eddie seemed like he did. He tapped the blunt out in the ashtray on the nightstand and slid his hand under her shirt, grasping the plain white bra she'd worn.

Y/N felt Eddie smile against her cheek and oh god hearing him moan in her ear seemed to send another wave of arousal straight to her pussy. Y/N arched her hips towards his fingers just as he pushed the annoying material out of the way and very slowly circled her clit.

Her nails dug deeper against his jeans, "Say, shit say my name again, just like that." Eddie breathed in her ear before sliding his middle finger inside her desperate hole. Y/N was more than happy to oblige, scrunching her face up in pleasure and softly chanting his name along with a dozen pleas for something more.

Y/N had never done anything like this before, nothing as risque as this, especially with someone like Eddie. God her mind felt heavy. Eddie the literal man of her wet dreams with two seemingly expert fingers deep inside of her, it felt like heaven.

Eddie could tell that she was close with her euphoric pants and the way she had started to grind her hips down to meet his fingers, all of it was making his erection less than bearable especially the way her hips moved against it.

So he runted up against her back and picked up the paste with his fingers, moaning in her ear as he did so before taking his hand out of her shirt to grip her jaw to kiss her.

The kiss was what Y/N had needed to completely lose it along with feeling Eddie's hard on behind her, nearly screaming as her vision turned white and clawing his arm and neck as she came.

Their forehead rested against each other, both gasping for air as Eddie slowly pulled his fingers out and rested his hands on her hips.

"Jesus sweetheart, that was fucking hot."

Y/N could only hum in response and silently plead for another kiss, which was granted. This one felt different, with a tad bit more emotion rather than heat of the moment sex kiss.

She pulled away first sitting up and admiring once again how beautiful and blessed out Eddie looked before noticing a wet stain on his pants. "Jesus, did you?"

"Cream my pants? Yes, but you should've seen yourself you were so fucking hot." Eddie grabbed her face again, kissing her desperately.

With his hands still holding her, she whispered, "I've, uh I've never done anything like that before." Y/N felt her face go red, but Eddie just smiled, "So my girls' just a natural?"

Y/N literally felt the air leave her lungs, "'My girl'?" Did she hear that right?

Eddie nodded and couldn't help but giggle at her shocked expression, both hands going to hold hers.

"I mean yeah, I'm not letting you go now sweetheart."

"Good."

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you smut #joesph quinn #joe quinn #hellfire club #stranger things fic

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Thanks to my post about the 28th, it’s come to my attention that a significant portion of humanity don’t read history books for fun, so here’s a few broad strokes of what, exactly, is going on with the cultural connotations of race within Dracula, as understood by an American:

European racism of the day was predominantly based on cultural ethnicity rather than skin color, and one of the main sliding scales (other than how old and prestigious the ancestry was) was how far west you were on the Eurasian continent. The further east you went, the less “civilized” things became, until you hit Asia and Oceania and just became inundated with absolutely rancid racist caricatures. Stuff from the “Orient” was there for exotic/shiny toys and moral lessons about how much better the West was, and not much else, so you can imagine what depictions of actual Asian people thus became.

(We’re faced with this east vs. west scale in Jonathan’s very first entry: Budapest straddles the line between the “civilized” western part of Europe and the “uncivilized,” opulent, and exotic world of eastern Europe. Jon is going from the known and familiar city into the mysterious, unfamiliar wilderness, an extremely common Gothic horror archetype.)

Both the fear of the unknown and the exoticizing/othering of Eastern Europe play heavily into Dracula’s themes, with the sexually predatory Count Dracula coming to England to do all sorts of unspeakable sordid things to innocent English women. (Not exactly Stoker’s finest hour, but this was a typical attitude of the day.)

Following that, it was also thought at the time that one’s moral character was essentially genetic. Certain people of certain races were predisposed to be “better” or “worse,” and your own moral character was also influenced by your parents’ status in society and behavior. A prostitute mother or a criminal father meant you would inherit their dubious moral quality, which is partially where “this person has bad blood” comes from. Bad blood is literally the negative morality passed onto you from your parents: you’ve inherited the bad qualities carried in their blood.

Linking back to the east-west thing, the further east you go -you’ve guessed it- the worse this supposed ancestral bad blood gets. People of “lesser” races included the Romani, Jews, Slovaks (and sometimes the Russians), and they were just supposed to be, like, naturally inclined to be bad. They were Programmed For Crime from the moment they were born, so you didn’t need to explain why such a character was evil when they showed up in your novel: I mean, they’re [INSERT RACE], aren’t they? It’s in the blood. No explanation needed. Everybody knows that. 

The assumption of the time was that such people were literally born bad, which of course naturally justified how they were treated. When they showed up on a page, you were supposed to distrust them on sight. 

Occasionally, low-class people were also treated as a race all their own, like poverty was some kind of moral failing. After all, the older, more prestigious, and wealthier your family was, the better their inherent moral quality, so poor people are obviously uncouth and have bad blood, right? 

(It’s an extremely stupid circular way of thinking, but that’s bigotry for ya.)

Dracula is a nobleman with old lineage, but he’s also steeped in the flavor of Eastern Europe: “barbaric” and proud, yet initially treating Jonathan with extreme courtesy; threateningly exotic and yet also familiar with English customs. As we go through the book, you’ll see that he almost exclusively hires Romani, Jewish, or extremely poor for his henchmen: he’s a force of evil that uses other “evil” tools, who bend easier to his will than “normal” people of “proper” races. 

(By all means, please pause here a moment to scrub yourself of the nauseating feeling that such a bullshit attitude evokes.)

In any case, Dracula himself is a pretty good example of all these racial ideas converging, which was also why he made such an effective monster to the Victorians: there’s just enough that’s familiar and proper in him that they couldn’t quite properly Other him, which links back to the transformative horror of vampirism turning something formerly good into something very very bad, which with their worldview of “you are born with this moral code because of racial predisposition and lineage” is just shocking. You mean this Eastern European man can infect our formerly good and pure citizens and make them act his way, just by an act of force? Uh-oh.

Anyways TLDR Dracula is a book steeped in the cultural traditions and expectations of the day which means that it’s lovely horror but also an absolute crock of shit at times due to racism (and several other -isms, which I will not cover here because I am trying not to make this an essay). 

#Dracula Daily #cw: racism

[natsfirecat]

Master of Death

wassup besties, I wrote a story for my creative writing class with the intention of one of the characters representing Natasha, and I decided to change some things and make it into a fit to post here! It's in 3rd person, which isn't my fav to read but idc I'm not changing this entire thing to second person </3

ANYWAYS enjoy!!

Nat x fem reader as always

Laying in her lover’s arms, Y/N looked up and let out her final breath. Natasha’s heart stopped as she felt the rise and fall of her lover’s chest come to an end.

Nothing was clear during the following moments. Not even screams of agony could be heard from the surrounding teammates. A gust of wind circled around the two women, engulfing them in the dust.

The enemy began to draw back. The Chitari forces moved farther and farther away from the tornado brewing atop the hill. The rest of the Avengers backed away too. There was another force driving everyone away, and it certainly wasn’t the wind.

Inside the tornado, Natasha’s heart raced faster. The girl in her arms was holding the Eternal Life Source. This was what the Chitari had been seeking, and it would make them immortal, as well as their rule over humanity. Now, the source began to fade in Y/N’s hands. She began to fade too.

“No.” Natasha muttered. She squeezed her shoulders, shaking her, yelling into her ear; anything to get her to wake. But Y/N stayed still.

Green and white swirls of light formed around the Eternal Life Source. As the light became brighter, Y/N’s image began to fade more quickly. The yelling grew louder, but the swirls of light only continued to grow.

Within minutes, everything Natasha had been holding was gone. Now, she lay there crying over mere empty space. The tornado died down as well, revealing what had happened to the surrounding fighters.

Even the Chitari drew back, while the heroes ran up to Natasha. The five of them surrounded her, each offering out an arm for support. She scowled, ignoring everyone. There was nothing anyone could do for her.

Y/N was gone… and Natasha was alone.

-

She couldn’t stay. She had to avenge Y/N. The Chitari needed to be wiped out so they could never hurt anyone ever again.

It was just after midnight when she left. She had trained as a spy all her life, it was no issue to deceive the people closest to her. Her red hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail as she crawled out the window down the side of the building. Natasha jumped on her motorcycle, then sped off.

The Avengers had been looking for the Eternal Life Source for years. Its power is great enough to immortalize an entire civilization. They agreed that no one should have that power, especially not the Chitari. So their plan was to find it first, then destroy it.

After so many years, its power finally showed up on their energy readings. Unfortunately, that meant the Chitari knew about it as well. So that’s when they set off on their mission. It was located in an isolated field in the North, and they were able to get there within a few days.

But there were only seven Avengers; the Chitari army was thousands. Y/N and Natasha were the only humans without any enhancements (besides Clint, of course). So it only made sense that they fell in love.

It started out from training sessions. The two girls would exchange lingering looks after spending hours sparring. Y/N was always the one to heal Natasha when she was hurt. She wrapped her wounds so delicately, it made the pain lessen.

After a losing battle, Natasha was there to comfort Y/N as she was for her. She would stroke her hair, holding her close. She’d tell her everything was going to be okay, and despite everything going wrong, Y/N would believe her simply because it was Natasha.

Their first kiss took place when they had the building to themselves. Music was playing quietly in the corner, and Y/N had gotten up for a snack. Natasha happened to be in the kitchen for the very same reason, staring into the refrigerator looking for something to eat.

No words were said as Y/N made her way over and wrapped her arms around the redhead to pull her into a hug. She rested her chin on her shoulder, breathing in her scent. Natasha grabbed her arms, and moved in a swaying motion. Y/N smiled as she realized what was happening, and leaned into her.

Even if they were the only ones without powers, there was magic that night. When they kissed, that’s when Natasha immediately knew that Y/N was her soulmate. She would do anything and everything for her.

-

And now, she would do anything and everything to get her back.

-

But Y/N wasn’t actually dead. No one knew, but the Eternal Life Source didn’t kill her. Its power was too much for one person to hold, so her life force ended up getting drained. But she wasn’t exactly dead, either.

Instead, she was just here. Nobody could see her, but she could still see others. Now, she was following her soulmate as she set off on a quest to bring her back.

Y/N wished more than anything that she could talk to Natasha, and let her know that she was here. But instead, there was nothing she could do except watch the woman she loved suffer like never before.

-

Natasha knew what she had to do. If the Eternal Life Source’s power is what ultimately killed Y/N, then she would simply have to harness the power of the Eternal Death Source. Then, she could get to her.

It had only been a day, but she was able to pick up on the readings. Of course, as soon as she noticed, she erased the data so the others couldn’t figure out her plan and stop her.

She rode her motorcycle as far as she could, but had to go on foot once she reached the cave system. It was dark and cold, both physically and emotionally. Natasha’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking since Y/N’s death; her lover would hold her hands close when she was nervous, and it always made her feel better. Now, there was no one to hold her hand and stop her heart from pounding against her chest.

Natasha’s fists were clenched as she walked in further. The feeling of dread was beginning to grow, which meant the Eternal Death Source was close. Tony and Clint had tried to check on her, to make sure she wouldn’t do something exactly like this. But she wouldn’t let them stop her.

The only light came from her screen, showing the energy readings of the Eternal Death Source. Just a little further, and she’d be there. She’d be able to reach Y/N.

The cave grew cooler, and her insides began to twist. She was here.

The Eternal Death Source showed a sacrifice. That’s what she needed to do to wield its power. But it couldn’t be anyone meaningless, it had to be someone she loved; that was the only way it would work.

As soon as she touched the glowing skull, a portal opened up, pulling Clint through. Besides Y/N, he was the one closest to her. He was there for her too, just in a different way.

He looked up and saw the Eternal Death Source. “Natasha, what are you doing?” Just then, a glowing knife appeared on the mantle next to the Eternal Death Source. She picked it up and looked down at him, trembling.

“It’s the only way I can get her back,” she muttered.

“Natasha, you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t want to… but it’s the only way.”

He had been her friend all these years. She loved him, but she loved Y/N more. Clint tried to use his abilities to fight back, but he seemed to be frozen in place.

Black and purple light began to swirl around the knife. Natasha let out a shaky breath as she looked at her friend. It was all for Y/N.

Stifling her cries, in a single motion, she swung the knife down to end her friend’s life. It was done.

The black and purple light began to grow, completely engulfing her. Lightning crackled from the knife connecting to the Eternal Death Source. For a moment, Natasha was lifted off the ground. When she saw the dead body of her friend, she felt nothing.

Now, she wielded the power of the Eternal Death Source.

“Show me Y/N L/N.”

She felt the new power surging within her. The first thing she was was Clint’s spirit staring at her in shock. She still felt nothing about him, she couldn’t feel when she had this newfound power.

One movement, and an entire population would go extinct. One motion, and she could kill whoever she wanted.

And yet, it was all for nothing.

Y/N was there, in between life and death. She saw the woman she once loved wielding the power of death. She had killed her closest friend, and she wasn’t afraid to kill anyone else to get to her lost lover.

That was the moment Y/N lost hope. Natasha would spend eons using the power, massacring peoples, causing endless destruction. And it would all be for nothing.

Natasha Romanoff had the power of death. Soon, the Avengers would attempt to take her down, but it would be unsuccessful. She would stop at nothing to get back to Y/N.

The Master of Death was born that day, cursed to spend forever searching for the one spared by Life.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x fem reader #Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fic #black widow #black widow fic #black widow x reader #black widow x fem reader #black widow x fem!reader #Natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #Natasha Romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #natalia alianovna romanova

[specialagentartemis]

Public Domain Black History Books

For the day Frederick Douglass celebrated as his birthday (February 14, Douglass Day, and the reason February is Black History Month), here's a selection of historical books by Black authors covering various aspects of Black history (mostly in the US) that you can download For Free, Legally And Easily!

Slave Narratives

This comprised a hugely influential genre of Black writing throughout the 1800s - memoirs of people born (or kidnapped) into slavery, their experiences, and their escapes. These were often published to fuel the abolitionist movement against slavery in the 1820s-1860s and are graphic and uncompromising about the horrors of slavery, the redemptive power of literacy, and the importance of abolitionist support.

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass - 1845 - one of the most iconic autobiographies of the 1800s, covering his early life when he was enslaved in Maryland, and his escape to Massachusetts where he became a leading figure in the abolition movement.

Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom by William and Ellen Craft - 1860 - the memoir of a married couple's escape from slavery in Georgia, to Philadelphia and eventually to England. Ellen Craft was half-white, the child of her enslaver, but she could pass as white, and she posed as her husband William's owner to get them both out of the slave states. Harrowing, tense, and eminently readable - I honestly think Part 1 should be assigned reading in every American high school in the antebellum unit.

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl by Harriet Jacobs writing under the name Linda Brent - 1861 - writing specifically to reach white women and arguing for the need for sisterhood and solidarity between white and Black women, Jacobs writes of her childhood in slavery and how terrible it was for women and mothers even under supposedly "nice" masters including supposedly "nice" white women.

Twelve Years a Slave by Solomon Northup - 1853 - Born a free Black man in New York, Northup was kidnapped into slavery as an adult and sold south to Louisiana. This memoir of the brutality he endured was the basis of the 2013 Oscar-winning movie.

Early 1900s Black Life and Philosophy

Slavery is of course not the only aspect of Black history, and writers in the late 1800s and early 1900s had their own concerns, experiences, and perspectives on what it meant to be Black.

Up From Slavery by Booker T. Washington - 1901 - an autobiography of one of the most prominent African-American leaders and educators in the late 1800s/early 1900s, about his experiences both learning and teaching, and the power and importance of equal education. Race relations in the Reconstruction era Southern US are a major concern, and his hope that education and equal dignity could lead to mutual respect has... a long way to go still.

The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois - 1903 - an iconic work of sociology and advocacy about the African-American experience as a people, class, and community. We read selections from this in Anthropology Theory but I think it should be more widely read than just assigned in college classes.

Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil by W.E.B. Du Bois - 1920 - collected essays and poems on race, religion, gender, politics, and society.

A Negro Explorer at the North Pole by Matthew Henson - 1908 - Black history doesn't have to be about racism. Matthew Henson was a sailor and explorer and was the longtime companion and expedition partner of Robert Peary. This is his adventure-memoir of the expedition that reached the North Pole. (Though his descriptions of the Indigenous Greenlandic Inuit people are... really paternalistic in uncomfortable ways even when he's trying to be supportive.)

Poetry

Standard Ebooks also compiles poetry collections, and here are some by Black authors.

Langston Hughes - 1920s - probably the most famous poet of the Harlem Renaissance.

James Weldon Johnson - early 1900s through 1920s - tends to be in a more traditionalist style than Hughes, and he preferred the term for the 1920s proliferation of African-American art "the flowering of Negro literature."

Sarah Louisa Forten Purvis - 1830s - a Black abolitionist poet, this is more of a chapbook of her work that was published in newspapers than a full book collection. There are very common early-1800s poetry themes of love, family, religion, and nostalgia, but overwhelmingly her topic was abolition and anti-slavery, appealing to a shared womanhood.

Science Fiction

This is Black history to me - Samuel Delany's first published novel, The Jewels of Aptor, a sci-fi adventure from the early 60s that encapsulates a lot of early 60s thoughts and anxieties. New agey religion, forgotten technology mistaken for magic, psychic powers, nuclear war, post-nuclear society that feels more like a fantasy kingdom than a sci-fi world until they sail for the island that still has all the high tech that no one really knows how to use... it's a quick and entertaining read.

#Black History Month #books #history and the world #I did this instead of grading papers

[molsno]

I've already written about why male socialization is a myth that needs to be discarded, but in the responses to those posts, I sometimes find tme trans people who concede that yes, the concept of male socialization should be rejected, but refuse to let go of their own supposed female socialization. this always makes me quite reasonably angry, for two reasons:

I dislike it when people hijack my posts about transmisogyny to talk about things that aren't transmisogyny.

rejecting male socialization but embracing female socialization is still innately transmisogynistic.

you might find yourself wondering how that second point could possibly be true. it's true for a lot of reasons, and I'll explain to the best of my ability.

"female socialization" is the idea that people who were assigned female at birth undergo a universal experience of girlhood that stays with them the rest of their lives.

right off the bat, this concept raises alarm bells. first, it is a bold (and horribly incorrect) assertion to claim that there is any universal experience of girlhood that is shared by all people who were afab. what exactly constitutes girlhood varies greatly based on culture, time period, race, class, sexual orientation, and many, many other factors. disregarding transness for a moment, can you really say that, for example, white women and black women in modern day america, even with all else being equal, are socialized in the same way? the differences in "socialization" only become more stark the fewer commonalities two given people have. to give another example, a white gay trans man born in 2001 to an upper middle class family in a progressive city in the north is going to have a very different life than a cis straight mexican woman born in 1952 to an impoverished family and risked her life immigrating to the us in the deep south. can you really say anything meaningful about the "female socialization" that these two supposedly have in common? I think that b. binaohan said it best in "decolonizing trans/gender 101":

Then in a singular sense we most certainly cannot talk about 'male socialization' or 'female socialization' as things that exist. We can only talk about 'male socialization**s**' and 'female socialization**s**'. For if we take the multiplicity of identity seriously, as we must, then we are socialized as a whole person based on the nexus of the parts of our identity and our axes of oppression. ... Indeed, it gets complex enough that we could assert, easily, that each individual is socialized in unique ways that cannot be assumed true of any other person, since no one else shares our **exact** context. Not even my sister was socialized in the same way that I was.

and while I could just leave it at that and tell you to read the rest of their book (which you should), it wouldn't sit right with me if I just debunked the concept without explaining exactly why it's transmisogynistic at its core.

now, I should preface this by saying that I believe trans people have a right to identify however they want, and I think that trans people deserve the space to talk about their lives before transition without facing judgment. there are tme trans people who consider themselves women and there are trans men who don't consider themselves women at all but nonetheless have a lot of negative experiences with being expected to conform to womanhood. I don't want to deprive these people of the ability to talk about their life experiences. however, I do want them to keep in mind a few things.

first of all, "female socialization" is terf rhetoric. terfs talk all the time about how womanhood is inherently traumatic, which they regularly use as a talking point to convince trans men to detransition and join their side. when your whole ideology hinges on the belief that having been afab predestines you to a life of suffering, who is a better target to indoctrinate than trans people for whom being expected to conform to womanhood was a major source of trauma and dysphoria? the myth of female socialization is precisely why there are detransitioners in the terf movement who vehemently oppose trans rights.

that's why when tme trans people talk about having undergone female socialization, it's almost always steeped in the underlying implication that womanhood is an innately negative experience. even if they don't buy into the biological determinism central to radical feminism, that implication is still present. because, you see, womanhood can still be innately negative because the result of being viewed as and expected to be a woman is that you are inundated with misogyny.

that right there is why clinging to the notion of female socialization is transmisogynistic. it allows tme trans people, many of whom don't even consider themselves women, to position themselves as experts who understand womanhood and misogyny better than any trans woman ever could. that's why I find it disingenuous when a tme trans person claims to reject male socialization but still considers themself as having undergone female socialization; how could they possibly benefit from doing so, other than by claiming to be more oppressed than trans women, by virtue of supposedly experiencing more misogyny?

by being viewed as more oppressed than trans women on the basis of female socialization, they gain access to "women's only" spaces that trans women are denied access to. their voices are given priority in discussions about gendered oppression. people more readily view them as the victims when they come into interpersonal conflict with trans women. they become incapable of perpetrating transmisogyny on the basis of being the "more oppressed" category of trans people.

how exactly could such a person not be transmisogynistic, though? if they believe that gendered socialization is a valid and universal truth that one can never escape from, then what does it even mean for them to reject the concept of male socialization? if they were to actually, vehemently reject it, then they would no longer be able to leverage their own "female socialization" to imply that trans women aren't real, genuine women on account of not having experienced it. and make no mistake - there are very few tme trans people who subscribe to the myth of gendered socialization that even claim to reject male socialization. most of the time, they're very clear about their beliefs that trans women have some "masculine energy" that we can never truly get rid of after having undergone a lifetime of being expected to conform to manhood. and as a result, they continue to treat trans women as dangerous oppressors.

that's why gendered socialization as a concept needs to be abandoned wholesale. there's nothing wrong with talking about your experiences as a trans person, but giving any validity to this vile terf rhetoric always harms trans women, just like it was intended to do from its very inception.

#txt #transmisogyny #my writing #1k

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Attached at the Hip

Steddie!Dads

Notes: ok I kind of ran away with this but basically: girldad!techer!Steve (also little league coach) and boydad!mechanic Eddie having kids who are besties and both of them are sick of the heteronormative bullshit other parents at the school put on their kiddos

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses dangling from his other hand, as the first grade classroom reached a fever pitch. The excitement for the first day of nice weather was clear, and recess was just a few short minutes away. The kids were supposed to be having free work time, but they had all gathered around the windows watching the kindergarteners play. There were complaints about the “babies” tearing up the nice new mulch and excited squeals about the colorful equipment that had been added to parts of the playground in a much needed renovation two weekends before. Only a few of the kids were actually doing work. Connor Munson was one of them, sitting quietly in the corner reading a fantasy book that was probably several grades higher than the average reading level in the class. 

“Alright kids, one you were just like those ‘babies’ last year and two its independent work time and you should be doing something quietly in the classroom for the next fifteen minutes. I know we are all excited, but we need to finish up the morning before we can run around.” With several annoyed huffs, the kids found their way to the small tables or on comfy spots on the floor. many took up reading, but a few pulled out some materials to do other things and Steve’s head stopped throbbing as he watched them return to a hum of excitement rather than the reverberating yelling from before. 

The first and second graders raced onto the playground, immediately swarming towards the new equipment and the screaming started almost right away. Steve and the rest of the teachers were clumped in a few different spots to ensure full coverage of the playground, quietly chatting. 

“Daddy!” Steve turned his attention to the little blonde who was running full speed, knowing he would catch her into a big tight squeeze. Claire giggled, pressing her face into his shirt. 

“Did you have a good morning?” She nodded as he set her down. 

“I told everyone how you let me bring leftover pizza for lunch!” Steve let out a chuckle, as did the other first grade teacher, Claire’s teacher in fact. 

“Well why don’t you go play. I think Connor went over that way.” Steve gestured in the direction he had seen the little boy go towards and she gave his leg a tight squeeze before skipping off. 

“Oh those two, attached at the hip. They’re an adorable little couple.” Steve tried not to let the cringe show on his face, just plastered on a little smile to keep the peace and made up an excuse to check another part of the playground. It had been going on for two years, the commentary. Connor and Claire, attached at the hip, then immediately to couple. It enraged him, and he knew it made Connor’s father angry too. The heteronormative bullshit had been pushed on Steve throughout his lifetime too, forcing it to take years longer than it should have for him to realize he definitely didn’t only like girls. He did his best with Claire at home. She knew he went on dates with both women and men, and she adored her Aunt Robin and Auntie Nancy, but Steve could see that the six year olds heard the comments. 

The rest of the day came and went. He also ate leftover pizza for lunch, not because he was such a fantastic father, but he hadn’t made it to the grocery store this weekend while he was preparing for the soccer little league. Connor loved soccer, Claire did not, but the girl still did it and Steve appreciated, maybe a little too much, the fact that Eddie Munson would be there every weekend, right where Steve could ogle him without making a playdate excuse.

“Cooooonnooooooooor.” The loud voice cut through Steve’s lack of focus and he looked up to where Eddie Munson appeared, wearing a slightly grease stained shirt, his hair tied up behind his head in, what Robin said was, a messy bun. The little boy who had been sitting beside Steve and Claire leapt out of his spot and ran to his dad, tossed into the air and then squeezed into a tight hug. 

“Hi dad.” Steve stood up, sticking out his hand for a shake as Eddie came over. 

“How was my boy today?” 

“A little angel as always,” Steve laughed, handing him Connor’s backpack. Claire had stood up too. It was a little routine they had, Steve staying after with the kids so that Eddie could finish his shift. There were a number of kids that had parents who couldn’t pick them up at 3 on the dot, since they had shifts that ended on the hour of the half hour, and with Claire and Connor wanting to spend time together, Steve had never had a problem being the teacher who stayed. And if it meant he got to see Eddie Munson one more day of the week, well five more, well no one had to know that. 

“We’re still on for this weekend?” Eddie’s eyes had gone soft and Steve did a quick look around, all of the rest of the kids and parents had gone. He gave Eddie a smile reserved only for him. 

“Always.” Sure their kids might be attached at the hip, but not because of some stupid expectation that they would fall in love when they were older, more because they were practically siblings at this point. 

#I would so happily write more of this pls give me the word #steddie #steddie parents #Steve harringon #dad!steve harrington #dad!eddie munson #Eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #loving them #notsopersonalcharlie #charlie writes

[olderthannetfic]

While I do feel the entire "read books my X minority" can and often is useful, I also feel that it falls under that same sort of individual consumer choices over systemic change problem we encounter a lot. Because while it is good to expand your horizons and help support authors who might be disadvantaged in the current publishing industry, what is far more important for long-term change is addressing systemic inequality in the publishing industry. It's like how it's good to recycle as an individual but it's not going to fix global warming.

You cannot tell an author's race just by reading the summary or even the book itself. In this way books can be surprisingly equitable when reaching an audience in terms of an individual looking at a bookshelf and deciding what to read (though of course the contents of the books can impact a potential reader's choice to pick it up such as the main character being non-white, as well as what they've heard about what others think of the book which can be affected by the author's demographic). But how does the book get on that shelf in the first place?

And on how many shelves? How does it get to be advertised? How is it marketed? How does it get published in the first place? What of the internet and the algorithms? What of industry connections? What allows a book to be written, when that takes time and effort in a capitalist society where women often are assigned more domestic labour and class is heavily influenced by race and the lack of support we have for disabled people andandand–! And of course many authors have managed to write under even worse circumstances but if we're talking about the general trends in the industry, where the privileged merely need to be good (or not even that) while the disadvantaged must put in double the time and effort to get a foot in the door and still they might face discrimination from publishers who do not first see a book but are dealing directly with the author first–

Not to mention I am very uncomfortable with how marginalized authors need to expose themselves to the masses' scrutiny for judgment, often at great risk of harassment with focus put on really vulnerable parts of themselves, for even a chance at success now. Making them essentially sell their status as marginalized to the public is not a good alternative to the publishing industry not publishing or marketing books by marginalized authors.

This is basically just a long way of saying we need to deal with capitalism and get a UBI.

--

And like film and such, while it's nice to have a minority author or actor, it's a fuckload more helpful to have a major publishing exec or producer.

[yelenasdiary]

Read this or don't, that's completely fine. I was going to explain everything in a reply to an ask that I was sent but an anon that has nothing to do with this, they are lovely! I just think a post on its own is more appropriate.

Below the cut I warn you that topics like, Sexual Assault, Physical & Mental abuse are spoken about. Please do not bother to read this if you're not comfortable. I literally do not expect anybody to read this, I am simply posting this because of how I am feeling towards the asks I received before I went to bed last night.

I just want to say that I've been open about certain things in my life on here and that is simply because I want my blog to welcome everybody (within reason). I want those who unfortunately have been through similar stuff to feel seen, heard and know you are loved! I want those who feel alone to know that you're never alone, I am here for you, my blog is here for you.

This isn't the first time I have received asks about my sexual experiences. A month or two ago I received a spam of asks that I never answered because of how disturbing and outright disgusting they were. Now, after last night, I feel that I need post this. I am not asking for anything in return, I just want to make that clear. All I want is for people to understand the hurt I am currently feeling.

I've always been open on here about the fact that I am a virgin. It's nothing that I feel ashamed about, I don't think there is anything wrong with it. I know there are plenty of people like myself who are also virgins. I wish there were more people who are open about being a virgin, if people can be so open about the fact they aren't a virgin, why can't we be open about the fact we are?

So when this anon asked if I was a virgin, I was honest and said yes. My mind was already racing with "oh god, what's next?" and I was just hoping whoever they are was jus being curious. But instead, I feel like they've made me ashamed of the fact I am a virgin, 25 and write smut.

TW; SA, Physical & Mental Abuse Mentioned -

A few of you would already know that unfortunately yes, I am a victim of sexual assault. I was a child and it was something that happened daily for a couple of years. Due to this, I have trauma, PTSD, depression and anxiety. I grew up with little knowledge on the basics of sex because of how triggering it was for me. I couldn't sit in on sexual education classes, I couldn't joke around about penis's with my friends let along look at one. For so long, I genuinely believed what happened to me was normal. I was 12 when I realised it wasn't.

It took me years to even be okay with the topic of sex, to see it in movies or even think of it. My sexuality wasn't something I always questioned, I had a big crush on Bieber during my teen years and there were a few other male celebrities that I found rather attractive, it wasn't until I was 17 that I saw women in a different way and tbh, the feeling I got from thinking about myself in a relationship with a woman was a lot more comforting then it was to thinking of myself with a male.

Did my abuse make me bisexual? Maybe. I don't know. I don't really care. I like women a lot more than I like men, I feel more comfortable talking to women than I do men.

Did my abuse stop me from having 'normal' teenage experiences? Yes. I have never physically been with anybody, I have never kissed anybody nor have I ever been on a date. Is that sad? maybe to some, to me? No.

I have little to no trust in males. Given that my abuser also physically abused me for such little things and mentally, I don't know what it feels like to not have the thoughts I do about myself. This person has ruined so much of my life and has had control over what I do because of the trauma they caused me.

But all that aside for a moment, I am still a human. I am a woman who still feels things. I am learning every day of new things. I have done plenty of research for the things I felt I missed out on in school. I have a best friend who is so fucking patient and understanding with me that he will explain things to me if needed.

Writing & reading smut over the last year has been really good for me. I don't mean that in a weird way, I mean that in a way it has helped me explore things I didn't know were a thing, it has helped me grow more comfortable with sex and that sex is a normal thing. Don't worry, I know what is written in smut is purely fiction, I know what happens in porn isn't real. I am not stupid.

But I can't sit here and say that smut has been really helpful. Some of you might not understand that and that's okay. But I have come a long way with being comfortable and finally feeling like I can be open about things I enjoy.

Back to this anon.

Yes, I am 25 and never had sex. I have never voluntarily sucked a guy off. i have never voluntarily slept with a male, touched a male or seen a males body. Why any of that is important to you makes no sense to me. You have brought back things that I wish to not think about. You have made me feel triggered and as though I shouldn't be writing such topics because of my lack of experience. You had no consideration whats so ever and I believe found it rather funny.

I am feeling so many feelings and having thoughts that I wish to express but I know you'll most likely see it has a sob story and make matters worse. What I do hope though is that if you have read this that you understand that your words and actions hurt. I am not weak for telling you this, I am not weak for not having any sexual experience, I am not weak for asking you to understand that your thoughtless actions were not called for.

I do not need to have sex to know what I am doing. I do not need to have sex with a cis male to know how to write about dicks. I do not need you to make me feel ashamed of this either.

This is already such a long post and I don't even expect anybody to still be reading this but if you are, please, please remember to always be kind! spread love, support and happiness. You honest have no idea what your words and actions can do to somebody. Be aware and be considerate, you would never want your closest friends to feel that way I am currently feeling.

I am sending love to everybody, if you ever need a friend to talk too my DMS//asks are always open. I will listen and be whoever it is you need 💜

[nivtee]

: ̗̀➛ FEMININE. roronoa zoro

roronoa zoro x fem!reader

fluff ! mutual pining ! flirting ! university / sports team!au

zoro likes the look of the new cheerleader who can't keep her eyes off him

it had been exactly a week and three days since you'd moved to the grand university, and your new life was turning out much different than you'd espected.

exactly three minutes after walking into your first class, you'd learnt almost everything about the red haired girl currently on your right, and had already agreed to try out for the cheerleading team.

nami, the read head, was extremely friendly and never let you go anywhere on your own, and due to just how large the school was you'd never been so greatful.

shaking your head, you paid attention to the way your skirt flittered slightly around the top of your thighs, the bike-shorts underneath peaking at the bottom. the uniform was orange overall with white accents, the skirt sitting just above your hips and the top cutting off just below your ribs.

nami, who was already dressed and ready to go, had been helping you set your hair right. this was the first game of the season and you were, understandably, nervous.

"stop frowning, you'll crease your foundation." nami flicked you in the forehead slightly, kicking your shoes towards you.

"i can't help it." you sat on the change-room bench and changed your socks, making sure to keep your feet off the ground until you placed them in your shoes. "i've never done anything like this, nami."

"you're a natural," she sat beside your and threw an arm around you. "besides, people won't really pay attention to you much since you're on the side." you let out a sigh and smiled at her.

"okay okay, we're gonna be late, c'mon!" grabbing her pole, which she used in the routine, the two of you made your way towards the stadium.

"nami!" you glanced towards nico robin, one of the taller girls on the squad, before looking back over to the field, where the school's team was wandering over to the three of you. nami had her arms wrapped around you, trying her best to warm you up. the rest of the girls had gotten used to the cold win, but you had yet to. "give me a kiss for goodluck?"

"not a chance, sanji. don't you have a game to prepare for?" blackleg sanji was one of the boys who nami had tried to keep you away from, claiming that while he never really overstepped boundaries, he was obsessed with women.

"i can always spare a minute or two for my girls!" he winked, his eyes rolling over to you. "oh-ho! who might this pretty thing be?"

"none of your business, sanji! go away" nami took her arms from around you and pushed on his chest, leaving you just as cold as before.

you all watched them interact, sanji thanking nami for speaking to him and her responding by kicking him in the shins. you shivered, pulling your arms around you.

your routine had gone perfectly, and the entire squad had congratulated you on it, so your nerves were no longer an issue. however, the tips of your fingers turning blue happened to be.

the horn sounded before you could think, and the boys raced over to the middle of the field, nami happily skipping back over to you.

"hey, is that zoro's?" it took you a minute to realise she was looking at you, pointing at the jacket that sat around your shoulders. you hand't even noticed it, but now that it was slung on your shoulders you felt much warmed and shoved your hands into the pokcets.

"who? i'm- i don't even remember putting it on." nico rolled her eyes at you.

"he put it on your shoulders before the horn sounded." you lookaed around the field and then glanced back at her. "he's got the green hair." you glanced out on to the field in time to see zoro wink at you before turning back towards the game.

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x yn #zoro x reader #zoro one piece #zoro x you #zoro x yn #✎dosiewrites #one piece #nico robin #nami one piece #blackleg sanji #fluff #oneshot #mutual pinning

[menalez]

erotica is just another term for porn. change my mind. intellectuals have always used erotica to enact the same misogynist sexualized violence against women that pornographers do.

i am a grown ass lesbian with a high sex drive. i don't read lesbian erotica, i don't look at lesbian porn or art and i don't use sex toys. i use my bloody imagination.

you are going to melt your brain if you don't do so.

i don’t think anyone needs erotica or sex toys or anything to get off, but you have quite an extreme & conservative idea. someone using sex toys or reading something with sexual content within it or looking at an erotic drawing isnt somehow going to melt their brain. we are not that fragile that anything sexual we witness will somehow make us spontaneously combust.

there is nothing inherently wrong with something being sexual. the problem with porn isn’t that it involves sexual content, it’s that it involves exploitation and coercion and depicts misogynistic acts a lot of the time.

from gloria steinem:

"[E]rotica" is rooted in "eros" or passionate love, and thus in the idea of positive choice, free will, the yearning for a particular person. (Interestingly, the definition of erotica leaves open the question of gender.) "Pornography" begins with a root "porno," meaning "prostitution" or "female captives," thus letting us know that the subject is not mutual love, or love at all, but domination and violence against women. (Though, of course, homosexual pornography may imitate this violence by putting a man in the "feminine" role of victim.) It ends with a root "graphos," meaning "writing about" or "description of," which puts still more distance between subject and object, and replaces a spontaneous yearning for closeness with objectification and voyeurism. The difference is clear in the words. It becomes even more so by example.

Look at any photo of film of people making love; really making love. The images may be diverse, but there is usually a sensuality and touch and warmth, an acceptance of bodies and nerve endings. There is always a spontaneous sense of people who are there because they want to be, out of shared pleasure.

Now look at any depiction of sex in which there is clear force, or an unequal power that spells coercion. It may be very blatant, with weapons of torture or bondage, wounds and bruises, some clear humiliation, or an adult’s sexual power being used over a child. It may be much more subtle: a physical attitude of conqueror and victim, the use of race or class difference to imply the same thing, perhaps a very unequal nudity, with one person exposed and vulnerable while the other is closed. In either case, there is no sense of equal choice or equal power.

The first is erotic: a mutually pleasurable, sexual expression between people who have enough power to be there by positive choice. It may or may not strike a sense-memory in the viewer, or be creative enough to make the unknown seem real; but it doesn’t require us to identify with a conqueror or a victim. It is truly sensuous, and may give us a contagion of pleasure.

The second is pornographic: its message is violence, dominance, and conquest. It is sex being used to reinforce some inequality, or to create one, or to tell us that pain and humiliation (ours or someone else’s) are really the same as pleasure. If we are to feel anything, we must identify with conqueror or victim. That means we can only experience pleasure through the adoption of some degree of sadism or masochism. It also means that we may feel diminished by the role of conqueror, or enraged, humiliated, and vengeful by sharing identity with the victim.

. . . While the sexual objectification or women is common to all pornography, women are the recipients of even worse treatment in violent pornography, in which women characters are killed, tortured, gang-raped, mutilated, bound, and otherwise abused, as a means of providing sexual stimulation or pleasure to the male characters.

#anonymous