raevenk

[raevenk]

if you’re reading this

a lump sum of money is on the way to you

[raevenk]

“You can’t have a character with big boobs and not sexualise them”

“There aren’t any feminist female characters that want to do things that are typically feminine”

“There aren’t any badass gay characters”

“There aren’t any cool/badass disabled characters”

“Okay well what about disabled POC characters?”

“There are no interesting or complex villains! None that ever question their morals, or have an interesting motive”

“There aren’t any women characters that don’t just do things for men”

“I want a poc character that fights against racism”

“There aren’t any cool characters that aren’t young and healthy”

“There are no male characters that like feminine things”

Need I go on? Go watch Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood.

[raevenk]

@cspan

[raevenk]

Let me tell you what happened to me an hour ago:

So I’m at the bus terminal and this guy (who’d been following me and hovering over me for 10 minutes) comes up to me and says “hey beautiful. Can I talk to you?” So I said “no thank you.” He goes “I just want to speak to you, though.” And I said “yeah I know that and I’m not interested in talking to a strange man at a bus terminal. Please leave me alone.” So he stands there watching me. Finally he says “listen, there’s no need to be difficult. I approached you politely like a gentleman so I don’t see why you’re saying no. Now just let me speak to you.” I said “nobody’s being difficult my guy. You asked a question, I gave an answer so we’re done.” Then he says “yeah but the answer you gave me made no sense. Why don’t you want to talk to me? You don’t know what kind of person I am. You’re judging me before you know me. You’re being ignorant and prejudiced so”- Just then this other guy who’d been sitting close to me said “my nigga shut the fuck up! I saw you following her and stalking her like a fucking animal or some shit, like you didn’t think she didn’t notice? She’s probably scared of your predatory ass and I don’t blame her. Mans need to understand you don’t follow girls and shit. That shits corny.” So the guy goes “yo, mind your fucking business.” And the other dude says “nah because I see you harassing this girl and as a man this becomes my business. You thinking you were polite doesn’t mean a girl has to speak to you. Be nice because you’re nice, don’t use that please and thank you shit and think somebody has to speak to you. You’re not a “gentleman if you don’t respect her. Take the L and go catch your bus you fucking creep.” So the guy starts swearing and then walks away. The guy who’d defended me is like “you okay tho? Like real talk I don’t really like men because of shit like that. They’re fucking predators man. I do what I can when I’m able to for women because you don’t deserve to be hunted.”

This is literally how you do it.

[raevenk]

Reblog the 500,000 dollar written check from Seto Kaiba and money will come your way.

[raevenk]

[raevenk]

This ain’t on no bragging shit. I just want y’all to know that your time is coming. Everything is on the way! That career you want? On the way. The person that’s meant for you? On the way. Your dreams? On the way. Your own car/spot? On the way.

It’s all on the way.

[raevenk]

BEYCHELLA 2018

pt.2

[raevenk]

GO 👏 THE 👏 FUCK 👏 OFF. Also, the American educational system is trash. I applaud this child’s parents for giving her a voice and standing up against bias authority.

[raevenk]

Start reblogging the money blessings post…

If you haven’t already done it…. Go hit that reblog button. Do what you have to, just do that too.

Like seriously. Just find one and reblog it real quick. I post a couple yesterday and put into the universe that I actually wanted it

Only been at work for a couple and I get this at as a tip! (tips ain’t normal at ALL in here)

Come on now!!

Let it work for y’all too

[raevenk]

“Go ahead. Call me the snake hidden in your garden. So this isn’t pretty? So I don’t forgive the right way? So you wanted something soft that sparkles? So you never asked who I wanted to be. Call me FEARLESS and DEFIANT in the same breath. Watch me be the lightning that only ever strikes my own tree. Both the VICTIM and the GOD COMPLEX that caused this. I’ve got two good hands (for burying myself deeper in this hole). Got a target on my back and a venomous bite. STARLET at the top of the charts; NIGHTMARE in all the headlines. So, I’m the snake. So I’m the woman with a hundred different faces and nobody can agree on a single one of them. So, this is over, right? I buried myself alive. Burned my own bones. But a snake still sheds its skin. Finds itself with a tougher layer every time you try to kill it.”

— LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO, Angelea Lowes

[raevenk]

I loved this so much

what if medusa was a real woman. i mean: what if the woman with snakes in her hair was once a tiny girl with beautiful braids in her black hair.

what if the stories came from her smooth hands. when she was six she could make pottery that looked like flowers blooming in your palms. could carefully create replicas of any plant she saw.

and medusa was smart. ran from home, tucked up her hair so it looked short, made herself into a little boy. besides, they liked pretty boys. medusa at school with top grades, sending her unknowable stares at the other men. because the whole time she’s learning the planes of their faces, the way they look while they’re thinking, the slight twist of their hand that meant they were lying. 

medusa going home to sketch every little figure. comes to school in the morning with her hands caked in pottery clay. medusa learns. scrubs dirt on her face to mimic their planes. tilts her head the right way when she’s thinking. doesn’t twist her hand when she’s lying.

in her back yard, a little garden grows. statues of ceramic boys only three feet tall. at first, she can’t quite get the faces right. men are not the same as plants. there is something weird about the proportions she uses. medusa frowns.

she starts making animals instead for a bit, annoyed and disheartened. she’d always just been naturally good at it, and the fact she couldn’t just make something felt as if she’d lost her gift.

she makes cats and dogs and her neighbor’s birds and keeps going.

the snake wasn’t her favorite. he just wouldn’t leave her alone, so she gave up and let him sleep on her in the cold nights. besides, he was a small garden snake, couldn’t even bite her hard, just wanted a place of warmth. she let him rest on the angles of her shoulders, right near her neck, even if he sometimes forgot and held her too hard. that was okay. when she was little, she forgot too, sometimes, and shattered the slim walls of her pottery. the snake had a lot of growing up to do.

she loved no one. not because she was cold-hearted. just because it wasn’t something she wanted. she was busy with her artwork.

she chose an apprenticeship under a master craftsman. his sculptures made her breath stop. she was careful in the workshop, kept her things simple, kept her mouth shut. he called her stupid often. she would duck her head. sometimes she would make mistakes on purpose. all the while he only made sculptures of men. said there was no beauty in women. often made savage remarks about those they saw in the market.

and all the while, she watched him. she watched him and she went home and sketched. this is how his hands were when he made a vine. this is how they were when shaping a nose.

and her back yard garden would grow. little boys became her master, over and over and over, until she could get his jaw right. ceramic became sculpture.

he was who took her to athena’s temple. who shouted at her about how beautiful the statues were against her own. every week he’d come back and shame her. asked how the women there were smarter than the man she was supposed to be. medusa ducked her head and grit her teeth.

in her back yard, she made them. she made every god and goddess she’d seen in the city. her favorite was athena. she ached over her features. had spent so long in the world of men, was blinded by the beauty of women.

it was a black night. and medusa thought her master had left the temple before her. she loosened all the bindings that kept her from breathing. took her hair out. worshiped in peace. placed on athena’s alter a small and beautiful thing. the goddess, head tilted, thinking.

when he found medusa, what made him angry was not her small frame. it was the statute. a delicate thing. much better than the ones he had ever made.

he took it and snapped it in half. threw it deep in the temple’s well to rot. pulled her by her hair. demanded to know where it had come from.

medusa, angry, tired of hiding, tired of late nights and being a boy and pretending: medusa, athena-mad, spat on him. “I did it,” her voice is strong and full of hatred, “A woman made something better than a man could.”

He meant to kill her. To bash her head into the temple steps, claim it was an accident - or better yet, the spite of a god made flesh.

when he grabs her hair, the goddess bites back. athena, patron of creators, patron of the arts, patron of girls and those who are smart - she turns medusa’s hair into snakes. 

it is a quick little thing, darts out and draws blood, almost falls from her hair as a result. she catches the creature and runs, runs until she feels numb.

and what if - while her master is making up a story about poseidon and athena’s rage, explaining medusa’s back yard full of frozen men as being evidence of her evilness - what if medusa finds friends in blind women. and they teach her how to feel what she is seeing. how to use her hands with her eyes closed to make maps of whatever she holds. she starts with plants again. her snake is big now, and has babies. she moves on to their little wiggling forms, amused when they make tiny rings around her fingers. she does not live in a cave. she dresses as a man again, goes to market, sells her roses and vines and beautiful (simple) things. buys herself and the women a nice house out beyond all the noise of it. fills their garden with frozen men.

when the men come to kill her - because now her name is known, it is whispered, sticks in the throat - they don’t find her. they find a tall man who tells them: look in the mountains. when they don’t come back, it’s no fault of medusa’s. frankly, she thinks they should have brought more supplies than their swords into the deep woods. she’s not cruel. when they leave, she makes a statue of them, as her version of a memorial.

but one man is not like the others. he finds her with her hair down, humming, dancing around a marble stone. her snakes are warming in the sun.

medusa? he asks her. it’s a name she hasn’t heard in a long while.

she is tired of being hunted. she just wants to make art. she waits for the sword point. but he hesitates. looks at her full in her face.

strikes a bargain. if she makes him a head for his shield, he will tell the others that she is good and dead. and he will sell her art to better patrons when he could - although he suggests at least hiding the signature she has with maybe a little less snake-like scrawl - he would make her name known.

but medusa knows men. knows they will chomp down on a horror story faster than that of the artist. she is already permanent. she says: no, here’s what happens.

after many months, he has his shield. she wouldn’t let him leave with the first nine hundred versions, always found something wrong with them. he grows fond of her in this time, agrees to her terms. even he can’t really look at the shield head-on. she has captured a scream, a rage, too much. it is so utterly human and at once not that it makes his skin crawl.

where medusa’s blood drops, serpents sprawl. or at least, that’s the code she uses. when he finds little girls who can make art, he sends them to her. 

medusa does not expect to be known for the school that she starts. she is a women artist in a time of men, and her name is already dead to them. but i know medusa. i know her. she is known for her work.

after all, who can speak about medusa without mentioning how she froze the world?

[raevenk]

Such a look I’m inspired

im getting a tattoo later moodboard 

[raevenk]

IF YOU DON’T REBLOG THIS BABY CHERUB, YOUR MELANIN WILL CRACK LIKE FISH IN HOT GREASE.

[raevenk]

[raevenk]

Hellzapoppin 1941. Black ppl are magical creatures.

[raevenk]

reblog for good things to happen to you

the universe will listen