#Bachelor of Mass Media

[noidainternationaluniversity]

Exploring the Bachelor of Mass Media Program at Noida International University

In today's fast-paced digital landscape, the need for skilled professionals in the field of mass media has never been greater. Noida International University (NIU) offers a comprehensive Bachelor of Mass Media (BMM) program that prepares students to thrive in various media-related careers. This blog will explore the key features, benefits, and opportunities that the BMM program at NIU provides.

Why Choose a Bachelor of Mass Media?

The Bachelor of Mass Media program is designed for students passionate about communication, journalism, advertising, public relations, and digital media. Here are some compelling reasons to consider pursuing a BMM at NIU:

Diverse Curriculum: The BMM program offers a well-rounded curriculum that covers various aspects of mass media, including print, broadcast, digital media, and film studies. Students gain a solid foundation in media theory, communication skills, and practical applications, ensuring they are well-equipped for the industry.

Hands-On Experience: NIU emphasizes practical learning through workshops, internships, and projects. Students have the opportunity to work on real-world media campaigns, participate in media production, and engage with industry professionals, providing valuable insights and experiences.

Expert Faculty: The program boasts a team of experienced faculty members who are industry veterans. Their guidance and mentorship help students navigate the complexities of the media landscape and foster their creativity and critical thinking skills.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: NIU provides access to modern media labs, studios, and equipment, ensuring students receive hands-on training with the latest technology. This exposure prepares them for the demands of the ever-evolving media industry.

Networking Opportunities: Studying at NIU opens doors to networking with industry professionals, alumni, and potential employers. The university regularly hosts guest lectures, workshops, and seminars, enabling students to build connections that can significantly impact their careers.

Career Opportunities

Graduates of the Bachelor of Mass Media program from Noida International University can explore a wide range of career paths, including:

Journalist: Covering news and events for print, broadcast, or online media.

Content Creator: Producing engaging content for various platforms, including social media, blogs, and websites.

Public Relations Specialist: Managing the public image of organizations and handling media relations.

Advertising Executive: Developing and executing advertising campaigns for brands and products.

Media Planner: Strategizing media buying and placement for maximum audience reach.

Conclusion

A Bachelor of Mass Media from Noida International University equips students with the knowledge, skills, and experience necessary to succeed in the dynamic field of media. With a strong emphasis on practical learning and industry connections, graduates are well-prepared to make their mark in various media-related careers. If you are passionate about communication and eager to explore the world of mass media, NIU's BMM program is an excellent choice to kickstart your journey.

[ushamartinuniversity]

Journalism Diploma in Creative Writing: Admission, Fees, Eligibility, and Career Opportunities

Diploma in Creative Writing Course Details – Overview 

One of the journalism courses at Usha Martin University (UMU) is the Diploma in Creative Writing for Print and Broadcast Media. The Faculty of Journalism and Mass Communication at this university offers this course. The students can pursue the course for a 1-year duration. This 1-year duration is divided into 2 semesters. After each semester, an exam is conducted. Students who clear the exams for both semesters receive a diploma. During this 1-year tenure, students undergo practical training, project work, and industrial visits.

Faculty of Journalism & Mass Communication

The Faculty of Journalism & Mass Communication at Usha Martin University is highly acclaimed and coveted for its eminent and diligent academicians who strive to impart sublime education in media, training, and research. The UG and Diploma programs offered at the Faculty of Journalism and Mass Communication, a sublime blend of practical and theoretical pedagogy, imparts a solid theoretical foundation supported by the applied research into the dynamics of communication, robust industry-academia collaboration, and professional expertise that meets the needs of the different media industry.

In the context of academic infrastructure, Usha Martin University is one of the best Universities in Ranchi where students learn the fundamental concept of journalism and mass communication through formal lectures, seminars, computer-based learning, individual and group project work, guest lectures and industry training. Our objective is to foster the growth of creative, eloquent, and skillful media professionals with the latest inputs from industry, well-trained faculty along with state-of-the-art infrastructure.

Admission Eligibility & Duration- Diploma in Creative Writing Course 

Eligibility Criteria:

Candidates must have successfully completed their 10+2 (or equivalent) from a recognized board.

Duration:

The course duration is 1 year.

This course is structured to provide comprehensive training in creative writing, helping students develop their writing skills across various genres.

Journalism (BJMC) Course Admission Eligibility & Duration:

Bachelor of Arts in Journalism and Mass Communication (BAJMC)

Duration:

3 Years (Full-time)

Program Eligibility:

Candidates must have passed the 12th grade (10+2) from any recognized board, in any stream.

The Importance of Creative Writing in today’s world

Creative writing holds significant value in today’s world for several reasons. Creative writing skills are important for creating excellent content, marketing materials, and engaging communications that attract audiences and drive success for any business. As the world continues to evolve, creative writing remains a vital tool for innovation, connection, and influence. These factors create a huge demand for creative writers. So, pursuing writing courses will open the door to a rewarding career.

Future/Job Prospectus after Diploma in Journalism Creative Writing Course

One can choose any field from the diverse career options provided by the program

Print Media (newspapers, Magazines, Publishing House)

Journalist

Editor

Designing Head

Writers and authors

Graphic Designer

Radio Industry

Radio Jockey (RJ)

Copywriter

Creative Head

Advertising and Marketing Strategist

Program Producer

Music Director

Television Industry

News anchor

News Reporter

Script Writer

Camera person

Video Editor

News Producer

Program Director

Research Analyst

Corporate Communication Officer/ Public Relations Officer – for leading government and private institutions like central and state government communication officers, TATA, Reliance, UNICEF, etc.

Social Media

Blogger

Influencer

Content Creator

Social media Specialist

Digital Advertiser

Marketing Manager

Film Industry

Film Director

Documentary Film Maker

Art Director

Cinematographer

Advertising Industry

Ad writer

Ad producer

Read More: The Future of Print Journalism & Creative Writing: Trends for 2024 

Diploma in Creative Writing Course Objectives –

The aim is to equip mass communication students with essential skills and knowledge, enabling them to create captivating stories for diverse media platforms such as print, online, radio, and television.

The goal is to prepare students for specialised writing techniques meant for specific media formats such as news articles, feature stories, scripts, and broadcast segments.

Diploma in Creative Writing: Course Highlights –

The UMU Faculty of Journalism and Mass Communication is known for its experienced faculties who impart quality education in media, training, and research.

Students in this diploma course learn about print journalism, broadcast media, and online content creation through a blend of theoretical knowledge and practical application.

They learn to adapt their writing styles to different formats.

In the journalism course, students learn to produce engaging content for newspapers, magazines, radio, television, and digital platforms.

Students receive training to develop writing skills for various formats, including articles, scripts, and features.

The university provides placement assistance to its students. The university conducts regular placement drives on campus.

Curriculum Details –

This diploma course at UMU structures its curriculum to provide a balanced education by combining theoretical insights with practical applications. In this course, students learn the art of creating compelling narratives for print media, including newspapers, magazines, and online platforms, while also gaining expertise in writing for broadcast media such as radio and television.

Diploma in Creative Writing Admission Requirements –

Application–

The diploma in creative writing for print and broadcast media is currently ongoing. Candidates from all over India can apply for the course. They can apply both online and offline. For online applications, the entire application process can be done online. Candidates can access the application form on the university website. Online applications include uploading scanned copies of required documents, paying the application fee, and submitting a filled-out application form.

As far as offline applications are concerned, students can obtain the application form directly from the university campus or designated centers. They need to send the application form, DD of the application fee, and copies of necessary documents in person or via registered post, speed post, or courier service to the university’s specified address or city office.

Admission –

University officials inform the candidates about the admission process within 7 working days of receiving the application form for this journalism course. The qualifying exam merits determine admission to the course.

Job Placements after Diploma Journalism Writing Course-

To ensure that students in this mass media course secure promising careers in the field of creative writing, Usha Martin University provides placement support. The university offers personalized career counselling, helps with resume building, and provides necessary guidance related to the interview process. The university regularly organises placement drives at their campus. It has strong ties with various organizations in journalism and mass communication.

Career or Job Opportunities after Creative Writing Course –

A Diploma in Creative Writing for Print and Broadcast opens the door to many exciting career opportunities on various media platforms. This specialized course prepares aspiring writers with the skills needed to create compelling narratives, whether for newspapers, magazines, television, radio, or digital media.

The following are some of the job roles where students can work –

Content Writer

Feature Writer

Copy Editor

Scriptwriter

Content Producer

Broadcast Journalist

Radio/TV Show Writer

Digital Marketer

Media and Event Planner

Entrepreneur

Conclusion –

Choosing to pursue a Diploma in Creative Writing for Print and Broadcast at Usha Martin University is an excellent step for aspiring writers who are looking for a rewarding career in creative writing. This course not only provides training in various forms of creative writing but also prepares students for the dynamic world of print and broadcast media.

[the-flaneur]

matchmaker pets (mv1) | pt3

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: in a world where one's furry best friend is secretly their cupid, the drivers' love lives are sure to be entertaining for everyone (written from the pov of the pets!)

warnings: none (i think)

wc: 1011

[masterlist] [requests]

young!jimmy and sassy who max names after two of monaco's clubs, jimmy'z and sass cafe.

young!jimmy and sassy who rarely ever grace max's social media, let alone visit the paddock. their presence is like a once-in-a-lifetime comet for almost everyone.

young!jimmy and sassy who live a life of lavish opulence in max’s penthouse apartment. they are arguably some of the most pampered cats in the world, free to rule over the kingdom that is max’s bachelor’s pad. 

young!jimmy and sassy who however, do need a caretaker; someone to watch over them whilst max is away, winning races and fighting for championships across the globe.

that’s you :)

unruly!jimmy and sassy at first, are of course hesitant about your newfound presence in their home (i mean it is their domain after all).

unruly!jimmy and sassy who meow and hiss at you when you come too close to them, muttering about your weird aroma and uncanny ability to accidentally knock over their feeding bowl every time you open the door.

unruly!jimmy and sassy who love snatching things out of your handbag, sometimes too happy to see it lying out in the open before sticking their noses in and rummaging around

unruly!jimmy and sassy who like to sit on the dining table, watching you do some work on your laptop. eventually, they’re so bored, they’ll lay across your laptop, conveniently stopping you from completing work, before nodding off to sleep.

adorable!jimmy and sassy who however, eventually warm up to you, once they find out with a few cute meows and yawns, they have you wrapped around their tiny little paws.

you’re practically obsessed with them

(and their owner, but he doesn’t need to know that either)

adorable!jimmy and sassy who leverage this for snacks and cuddles, which you’re all too happy to give and spoil them with

adorable!jimmy and sassy who even max considers to have grown a bit fatter and more lazy after the first couple of overseas races, but he lets it slide 

(for now)

older!jimmy and sassy who eventually grow so fond and love your presence, that they consider you their mum

older!jimmy and sassy who refuse to be looked after by anyone else other than you.

older!jimmy and sassy who get to yowling loudly on the days where you’re too busy to come in to sit for max, and are now forced to be strictly supervised by some random person

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who team up to make the “caretakers” lives’ hell. they refuse to ever work with the pair again (much to their delight).

cocky!jimmy who eagerly convinces sassy to start scratching up max’s apartment, including his couch (which he doesn’t sit on) and his sim racing chair (which he does sit on)...

shameless!sassy who manages to sometimes manage to lock the caretaker outside on max’s balcony, forcing them to call the driver (who also doesn’t answer for numerous hours), before resorting to calling the emergency services

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who cause an absolute ruckus when you’re not with them

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who are perfect saints and angels whenever you come over. they don’t touch a single thing, they eat and drink whenever you call them over, they love lounging in your lap, purring contently as you rub their backs and cuddle them

how could they possibly be two terrible troublemakers? 

even at the beginning, they were just two little cats who wanted to play with you, not cause mass destruction

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who manage to make max employ you almost full time, begging you to tame them and save him the headache.

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who now needs to get you add max officially together, considering that they are basically your children, and you’re employed almost full time.

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who have also seen max’s wandering eyes when you’re lounging in his home in a very casual outfit 

(still respectful of course, but definitely not the uptight business casual you were wearing the first time you met) 

and your lip bites watching max flex his back muscles as he reaches up to the top cabinets for the cat treats

(which you definitely didn’t put there on purpose)

naughty cupid!jimmy and sassy who relies upon a tried and true romancing method: trapping you in a locked room (as tested very professionally by sassy that one time)

naughty cupid!jimmy and sassy who manage to get you and max to each chase one of them into a closet room, before conveniently knocking over a broom, wedging the door shut.

“max?” you whisper in the silence, the room barely illuminated by the light seeping through the gap at the bottom of the door.

“yeah?” he responds, his warm breath far too close to your face to even think.

“d-did the cats j-just lock us in here?” you laugh nervously, trying to reach into your pocket for your phone.

unexpectedly, you brush something firm near your leg, and you hear max’s hiss as you accidently move past it again. he mumbles something to you, but even with the heart-pounding close distance, you ask him to speak up again

“you’re not grabbing what you think you are, lifeje,” he groans, snatching your wrists and slamming them into the wall behind your back.

“don’t do it again unless you me to do something about it,”

“oh…but i do,” you smirk, before yanking your wrists out, and pushing him back. even in the dim lights, you can see him lick his lips, as you climb on top of his thick thighs…

purrfect!jimmy and sassy who after about two hours greet charles at the door of max’s apartment, looking very pleased with themselves

purrfect!jimmy and sassy (and charles) who see you and max tumble out of the closet, clothes slightly dishevelled and hickies splotched across your necks. 

“i’m not going to even ask now,” charles sighs and side-eyes the pair of them, but was it really all that bad?

permanent f1 taglist

@charlesgirl16

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[bennettuniversityindia]

7 jobs that a Bachelor in Mass Media can fetch you

New-age profession alternatives are increasingly emerging in the realm of public communication. The nature of developing employment opportunities is vast and varied nowadays, thanks to the introduction of digital space and media. Previously, the scene was different. Previously, the possibilities in advertising, journalism, and public relations after pursuing a Bachelor in Mass Media were limited to straightforward client service and generating creatives for print/TV commercials, developing press releases in public relations, and reporting in journalism.

Expanding beyond metros to Tier 2, and Tier 3 towns, reaching out to highly segmented and fragmented consumers (especially with the usage of the internet) is becoming increasingly important. As a result, the digital platform has opened up opportunities in digital marketing, public relations and journalism, online advertising, content authoring, and digital creative, among other fields.

Article Credit- https://www.bennett.edu.in/media-center/blog/7-jobs-that-a-bachelor-in-mass-media-can-fetch-you

[ienjoywritingfilth]

the blue burrow

what if you could have everything? Well, almost everything.

trope: sugar daddy PP character: Dave York x f reader summary: money has always been a hard thing to come by, so when a handsome man offers you everything you've ever dreamed of, you'd be an idiot to say no, right?

warning: alcohol. strippers. smoking. my usual friday night. just so you know this story is gonna get 18+ in later chapters

words 4.4k

wanna see my other stuff?

part i - the blue burrow

The parking lot is already packed when you arrive at the Blue Burrow in your black shorts and white tank top, a typical uniform for the girls that sell booze and food while the others dance on stage. 

"Evenin' sweet thing," a tall black bouncer croons to you as you approach. 

"Evenin' handsome," you parrot his accent with a playful wink as you make your way inside. 

Randy the bouncer was the first person you met on your first day on the job. It was Randy who pulled the hand of the lecherous old creep in the third row off your ass when you froze up in shock. 

You've been working as a server here for almost six months, saving up for more night classes. You couldn't afford college right after high school so years later you're finally getting back into your studies. The only issue is saving enough for both that and rent in a world that seems to grow more expensive by the day. 

You make your way to the back of the club, past the gyrating woman on stage and the glassy eyed regulars in the front row. A few men sit near the back, a bachelor party by the looks of it. Those are usually good for two things: big tips and drunken fights. You pray it's the former tonight. 

You open your locker in the back room, placing your purse inside before sliding the lock back in place. The club is in a decent part of town, but you can never be too careful. Unlike the others here your locker is free of stickers and photos, free of anything that makes it personalized. You don’t want to get too comfortable here.

A leggy brunette walks up beside you, covered in glitter, her lips puffy and glossy. It's Tiffany, one of the best dancers here. She's impossibly sweet and when she's not dancing she's working at the seniors home her grandmother lives in. 

She looks tired tonight, her forehead damp, obviously having just finished her shift on stage. When she pulls open her locker you see the framed photo of her and her boyfriend in his truck from the summer along with a magnetic mirror, a bag of makeup and a few changes of clothes.

"Good night? You ask, watching as she pulls the stack of bills from her bra and tucked into the side of her panties. She packs them into the locker and closes it, giving you a wink.

"Great night. When are you gonna get your ass up there and make some real money?" Tiffany teases. 

"As soon as I don't care what I look like naked," you shoot back with an eye roll as she giggles. 

The truth is even if you had a figure like a Hadid sister, you still would never get up there and strip for the masses. You don't judge the girls who do; it's just not for you. And contrary to what the media wants you to believe, lots of these girls are like you and me. They do this as a job, meaning it’s professional, they have goals and dreams and they’re some of the nicest coworkers you’ve ever had. From your very first day they took you under their wing when men said disgusting things as you brought them beers. You’re used to it now, used to the gross way they talk and act.

You’re used to the stale cigarette smell inside the club, used to the streaked mirrors in the bathroom and the occasional coke-head you find in the toilets. You’re used to the smell of lotion the girl’s wear and finding glitter stuck to the bottom of your shoes. You’ve become used to a lot.

You walk back onto the floor ready to start your shift, going behind the bar to grab your ruffle apron and circular drink tray. You prepare to make the circuit when something stops you mid-turn.

"My girl!"

A slurred voice sounds out from behind you and you hold in a cringe. A man in his fifties wearing a Hawaiian shirt is curled over the bar waving at you. 

"Hey Pat," you say trying to keep your tone happy as you approach. If your boss is around he'll be pissed to hear you anything less than chipper. 

"Hi honey," Pat says giving you a weak smile. "Can you get me a beer?"

You glance over at Brian, the bartender and overall terrifying figure at six foot to and three hundred pounds.

"He's been here for hours," Brian tells you sharply over the bar as he wipes it down. "I cut him off forty minutes ago but he said he wanted to wait and see you." 

“Thanks, Brian.”

You sigh before pasting a smile onto your face and heading over to the slumped-over figure who slurs something when you approach. It’s garbled, thick with mucus and alcohol and you can’t decipher it.

"You know I have to work, Pat," you say patiently. "Let's go get you a taxi." 

Pat goes to protest but you fix him with a stare that tells him you don't have time to be messed with. Like a whipped dog he stands, trailing after you over the sticky floors, past the women who wave him out with sweet goodbyes. They like him, he never messes with them or makes them feel less than.

When Pat stumbles a third time on the way out you pull his beefy arm over your shoulder and you help him out the front doors of the establishment. He’s sweaty and reeks of old booze. You wrinkle your nose.

The two of you move past some approaching men who take one look at Pat hanging desperately onto your shoulder and then smirk at one another, murmuring loudly.

“Kill me if I ever get that bad.”

You glare at the two of them, about to say something when Pat’s sour breath is on the side of your face. 

"I never see you anymore.” 

"Been busy," you inform him, grunting as you attempt to guide him to the nearest taxi. "I thought you were gonna cut back on the booze?"

"I have been I swear."

“Uh huh.”

The taxi pulls up to the curb and Pat sniffles right in your ear, a wet loud thing that make you grimace as you pull the taxi door open. You herd him towards the taxi, trying not to let your irritation get the better of you.

"I just miss her so much," Pat says and you feel your heart break. 

"I know." 

He pulls back when you motion to the open taxi door.

"Pat, I don't have time for this," you say trying to keep your tone light. "They're already going to be pissed that I'm out here instead of serving drinks inside. So help me out, huh? Or would you prefer I lose this job?"

Pat's watery eyes meet yours. He nods and he now shuffles towards the open door of the taxi. 

"There we go," you sigh, helping him into the cab, making sure he doesn't knock his head against the low roof. 

When you straighten to go to the driver’s side you notice a man standing outside the club watching you, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. He's dressed in a suit, his dark brown hair tousled fashionably. He doesn’t look like the usual clientele.

For all you know he watched the entire display so far. The thought is embarrassing. You can't see his face but you're sure it holds judgment. 

You shift your attention away and tilt down to the driver’s window to give the tired looking cabbie Pat's address. 

"I didn't bring my wallet," Pat moans from where he's seated in the back. "And I used up all my cash inside." 

You hold in the urge to scream at him. 

"I've got it," you sigh, digging into your shorts for the rumpled twenty you put there this morning. It's the money you were saving for dinner after your shift. The shitty greasy fare they serve at your job isn't exactly stellar. But you'll manage. 

The dough-faced cabbie takes it and you know from experience twenty isn't enough to take Pat home. But tonight you're hopeful he'll take pity. You give him Pat's address and he holds up the twenty as if disgusted. 

"This won't cover it."

"C'mon man. It's all I've got."

"I'll take him twenty bucks worth," the sneering cabbie tells you. "Then he's out on his ass."

Thoughts of Pat in a gutter somewhere make you panic. 

"I'll pay you the rest tonight after my shift," you plead with the cabbie. "All my tip money. Just make sure he gets home."

"This ain't a charity."

Pat is half propped up in the back seat, looking ashamed of himself and your heart breaks. You feel frustrated tears starting but you blink them away. Maybe you can borrow another twenty from Tiffany.

Before you plead for the cabbie to give you a minute to dash back inside a masculine hand moves over your shoulder, not touching you, holding a fifty in between his middle and pointer finger. The cabbie takes it, knowing full well a fifty by itself would cover the entire trip plus a tip. You turn, about to tell the mystery man just that. 

Your words turn to sand on your tongue when you recognize the man from before. Only up this close you can see he's very handsome with pouty lips and eyes the colour of mahogany. The kind of handsome that ties your tongue.  He smells amazing, something expensive you're sure.

It all combines to distract you long enough for the cabbie to take off with Pat slumped over in the back. When they peel off you have enough sense to step back, lest you get your feet run over. The man is still staring at you, his cigarette smouldering, forgotten.

"He scammed you," you finally croak. "Only costs thirty to get Pat home." 

The man shrugs, watching the taxi speed off into the encroaching night.

"Thank you for that," you tell him. 

"It's okay." The man surveys your face and his voice is soft molasses. "He always act like that?" 

"Pat? No. Not always. He's a really nice guy. Just drinks too much lately." You swallow. "His wife passed away a few months ago and he's been a wreck ever since."

The man nods, taking a drag off his cigarette. 

"I can relate," he finally says quietly.

You glance to see his ring finger free of any gold band and you understand his loss. 

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" He asks sardonically. "You didn't kill her. Unless you moonlight as lymphoma?" 

His dark humour takes you by surprise. Before you can reply he offers you a cigarette but you shake your head politely explaining you don't smoke. 

"I better get back before I'm fired," you say. He nods, wishing you goodnight and you’re fairly certain you feel his eyes following you until the door to the club swings shut behind you.  

----------------------------

You're reading on your dinner break several weeks later when two familiar black shoes stop next to you. Gucci, if you’re not mistaken. Though you were never one for brands. You glance up the long legs to see the dark haired man from last time and your heart trips in your chest. 

"Evening."

"Hi. 

You're sitting in the alley between the club and the shop next door. It's clean and quiet and a great place to catch up on your coursework. A diet coke and crumpled bag of Cheetos rest next to you on the bench you’ve made of old crates.

The man glances at your seat before his eyes move to the book you hold, your thumb acting as your bookmark. 

"What're you reading?"

You hold up the book to show him the cover. 

"Tess of the d'Urbervilles." 

"A classic," the man says lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. You watch the smoke curl around his lips, but its his chocolate eyes make you want to keep talking. “I was never a Hardy fan though.”

“No?”

“Nah, more a Vonnegut guy. Breakfast of Champions, Sl- ”

“Slaughterhouse Five. Of course,” you say rolling your eyes. “I bet you really love Kerouac too, right? Every man does.”

“And every woman loves the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen,” he lights his cigarette before motioning to your book, “and Hardy, apparently.”

"It's for the course I'm doing,” you laugh. He joins you, a warm chuckle sounding from deep in his chest.

"Which course is that?"

"English lit." 

He nods thoughtfully, looking at you before glancing over to the stream of people entering the club. It's going to be a busy night. He must see your chagrined expression because his gaze turns sympathetic. 

"You like working here?"

"It pays the bills." 

���If you had all the money you needed, what would you do all day?"

The answer comes to you immediately. 

"Paint, drink coffee overlooking the water somewhere warm," you smile dreamily. "How about you?"

The man looks surprised, scuffing the bottom of his shoes on the low brick of the alley. "Me?"

"Yeah," you nod. "What would you do if you had all the money in the world?" 

Dave quirks a smile before answering. 

"Try to make other people happy."

"Oh that's a much less selfish answer then mine," you say with a laugh that the man joins in on. 

"I don't think you're selfish. Just honest."

He seems to be about to ask you more when the side door squeaks open and your name is hissed out by your boss; a stocky bald man that's is perpetually sweating. 

"Breaks over. We're bottlenecking in here."

"I still have ten minu---"

"You'll have all the time in the world if I fire you right now," he snarls back at you. "if you'd prefer that?"

You sigh, wiping your dusty fingers on your shorts. You cast a look at Dave that reads this is my life. Dave is glaring at the bald man who ducks behind the door before you're headed back inside after your asshole employer. 

-------------------------------

You saw him the second he entered the club a few weeks later; the man in the suit. You watched another one of the girls wait on him, deflated that you wouldn't get the chance to chat with him again.  You liked him, liked how he talked to you without raking his eyes over your chest or ordering you to fetch him another vodka. 

So you were disappointed that it was the men who did just that, that you had to wait on that evening. You ignored their leers as they watched the girls on stage. You held in a grimace when they wafted their onion and beer breath over your face asking for a refill.

You try not to be jealous when some of the dancers come out to the crowd, offering lap dances. You see several approach the man in the suit - why wouldn't they? He's dressed clean, he's handsome, he smells gorgeous and he looks like he has money.

You hold your breath, covertly watching him as they approach him. He shakes his head politely, waving off their offers. He seems perfectly content to watch in the back row nursing a glass of whisky. 

A pathetic part of you is delighted. It's not every man that can turn down Tiffany and Candi. 

But the man in the suit catches your attention a short while later as you dropped off a beer at a neighbouring table, murmuring your name. You didn't realize he'd known it. The sound of it in his silky baritone make you break out in tingles.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

The man gives a calm smile up at you and you attempt to hide your delighted beam. He was hoping to see you. You can’t deny thinking about him lately, hoping every shift that he’ll be there. He’s become a bright spot to your shifts, a dream of something you’ll never have.

Men with money who drink top-shelf alcohol and wear fancy shoes. Men who comes to strip clubs when they feel like it and go home to frosty girlfriends with manicured nails. You imagine his apartment, sprawling, with leather furniture and massive televisions in every room. Despite his fondness for literature you don’t imagine bookshelves, only marble floors and sterile rooms. Plush beds for him to fuck pretty, fragile-looking girls on. Girl’s with trust funds or high-paying jobs, girls that smell like Dior and not old grease from the oil trap you often help to clean.

You’ve already got him squared away in your head, the handsome man in the suit. He’s not for the likes of you. But that’s alright, you enjoy his company when he gives it. You don’t want to ask for more.

He twists in his seat, lowering his voice to a purr that only you can hear.

"How much for a private dance with you?"

All the goodwill you'd held for him is lost in an instant. He is in fact just like the rest of them. You balance your drink tray on your hip, swallowing your disappointment but you keep your customer service expression.

"I'm just a waitress here," you mutter, your face heating under his scrutiny. 

"I'm aware." The man nods his head. "I asked how much it would be for you to do a private dance for me." 

You blink at him still unsure that he understands what's offered. But you've seen him before; he obviously knows what goes on in here. 

"I don't know how to dance," you explain, fumbling for the right words. "Sexy, I mean. I don't know how to dance like those girls on stage." 

You motion to one of your friends who is twisting around the pole with feline grace as men wolf-whistle. The man doesn't follow your gesture; he just stares at you with his arms folded over his chest. He has a look on his features that reads that's not what I asked. 

You feel sweat accumulating at the back of your knees, the commotion of the girls on the stage and the men cheering making the room feel small and suffocating. Yet the man still waits for your response with what feels like cool appraisal. 

Fuck it.

"Five hundred," you say, biting back a smirk. 

Most of the dances are from fifty to a hundred for three songs in one of the back rooms. You know it's too expensive but that's-

"Done."

"What?"

The man is standing and pulling his wallet from his back pocket and you can see several crisp hundred dollar bills stuffed inside. He pockets the wallet, straightening. 

"I'm good," he says. "Lead the way."

You stare at him a full moment before cheers for the girl onstage shake you. You nod, twisting and making your way to the back rooms. The champagne rooms. Rooms where the girl’s take the men that pay extra for private dances.

Randy looks you over, smirking as he unhooks the red ropes allowing the two of you to pass. 

"Pulling double duty tonight are we?"

You give him a pointed look. Don't blow this for me. Five hundred dollars is a good chunk of your rent. 

"Room three is open." Randy's smile drops as he looks at the tall man behind you. "Three songs, no touching the talent, you remain seated the entire time. Break the rules and you'll be fined and banned."

"Understood." 

"Enjoy your evening," Randy says nodding at the both of you before hooking the ropes behind you. 

You enter the room with its leather couch and dim lighting. There's a pole in the centre and on the far side is a set of speakers. Beside the couch is a bucket of ice and a waiting bottle of champagne. You don’t drink enough to know if it’s good or not.

"What's your name?"

He surprises you with this question. You glance over your shoulder to see him standing with his hands in his pockets, casual and nonplussed. 

You think of all the things you've overheard working here for the past year.

Never give your real name. Never go home with a guy here. Never walk to your car alone. 

"Aurora," you answer quickly, the first name you can think of as your eyes search the floor before they dart to his face. It's clear that he doesn't believe you, but there's bemusement in his expression. 

"Sleeping Beauty," the man replies in a throaty rasp. "Nice to officially meet you, I'm Dave."

"Hi, Dave."

He smirks before taking a seat on the couch, looking sidelong at you. You swallow anxiously before setting up the speakers with the music player that permanently resides there, stocked with an array of sexy tunes. 

You click the first one and the speakers blast a slow, sensual tango. You lower the volume a bit, so it's not so shrill but you don’t turn around.  

You feel Dave's eyes on your back. Is his name really Dave? It doesn't matter. You have to dance for him. For three songs. You've seen the other girls do this. They rub themselves on the clients, gyrating along to the music. It can't be that hard, right? 

You finally turn and make your way shakily over to him, forcing a smile. 

Dave makes no move to touch you, no desire to degrade you. He simply watches you sway from side to side like a middle-schooler at a dance. You can feel the money slipping away second by second. 

Here goes nothing. 

You prepare to peel the tank top off your body, painfully aware that your old bra is full coverage and likely not the sexy piece Dave was hoping for. Neither is your body which can't hold a candle to the women he's been watching on the stage. 

You hesitate.

"Do you want to take it off?"

Dave's voice reaches you as you consider your options. Five hundred dollars is on the line right now. 

"It's what you paid for."

"I asked if you want to take it off."

You nibble at your lower lip anxiously. 

"No."

"Then don't." 

Dave continues staring at you with a serious expression until your hands fall to your sides. The first song ends, the next track beginning. He settles back in the leather seat, arms wide on the backs as if he’s watching a movie.

You shift from side to side, painfully aware that this is the most awkward experience of your adult life. 

"Do you have a song you want to hear?"

"I don't really care about the music," Dave answers honestly. "I thought maybe we could talk." 

"Talk?"

"Yeah. Communicate. Exchange words." He smirks up at you before patting the seat next to him. 

“You want to talk?”

“If you don’t mind.”

You hesitate a moment before striding over and placing yourself at the edge, prepared to take off if Dave tries anything. 

"How's your class?"

"Uh, good, good," you answer truthfully.

“You’re still enjoying it?”

“Yeah, I am,” you smile. “No Vonnegut on the syllabus this semester so I’m in luck.”

Dave leans back against the sofa, chuckling a bit. You feel a flush crawling up your neck, but you maintain eye contact with him. He tilts his head slightly to the left, taking you in.

"Are you taking more classes after?"

"Yeah I wanna get my degree," you confess. "But classes aren't cheap hence me working here at night and at a coffee shop during the day."

"You have two jobs?"

He looks so incredulous you can’t help but giggle.

"Yeah."

"When do you sleep?"

"Whenever I can."

Dave nods thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin in thought. 

"Must be hard."

"It's not easy," you confess. "How about you? How many jobs you got?"

Dave smiles at your question, showing off perfect teeth. This doesn't surprise you. Dave screams money and money people always have perfect teeth. 

"Just the one."

"You like it?"

"Sometimes." 

The third song begins while he glances around the small, humid room with its soft lighting and brass pole. He turns back to you. 

"Why do you work here?"

You give him a sardonic laugh. 

"Why does anyone work? To pay the bills."

"Yeah, but why here? At this club?"

"Because they were one of the only places hiring when I was looking. And because I don't have a degree it's hard to find jobs that pay well and I need the money. Plus the people here are really nice, sometimes the tips are good and I get a free meal every shift." 

"I see." 

The music ends, leaving the two of you in absolute silence. Only the muffled sound of the main room is heard. There’s a gentle rap of knuckles on the other side of the door, Randy making sure you’re not being worked overtime. You give a half shrug to Dave, almost apologetic.

"Times up."

Dave nods, not looking upset. 

"When do you work next?"

This is another one of the rules. You should never tell a guy your schedule.

The only thing is you kinda want to see Dave again. Even if it’s just to sit here and chat with someone who finds you interesting enough to talk to. You so rarely have the opportunity to do that these days.

"Friday."

"Okay."

He stands up, pulling the wallet from his pocket. He pulls out the bills, folding them and handing them to you politely. Despite everything the action makes you feel cheap. You look down, shocked to see he left you eight hundred dollars. For three minutes of work. 

He's moving towards the door where Randy waits just outside. 

"Wait," you say quickly and he pauses, turning to look at you with surprise. 

"I'm sorry, I lied to you before. Dances are only, like, a hundred max, not five. Here."

You hold out all the money to him, feeling ashamed. You did a terrible job, not worthy of being paid at all. 

"Here,” you repeat, shaking the bills at him. “I didn't even dance."

You've never been one to lie and if he'd treated you like shit then maybe you would have kept his money. But as it is he was kind and gentle. He helped you with Pat. You don't feel right keeping his money. 

Dave looks at the money outstretched in your hand, his liquid chocolate gaze moving up your arm until it leads to your down turned face. 

"I know dances aren't five hundred," he says smoothly. "I paid what I thought you deserved."

"I didn't deserve almost a thousand dollars for a chat," you say huffing a laugh. 

"It was worth it to me," Dave replies. "Keep it."

You hesitate and then finally lower your arm, shoving the money into your shorts. He takes a moment to linger at the door, a wry smirk on his face before he taps the door twice with his knuckles. 

"I'll see you Friday, Sleeping Beauty." 

[ladyknight33]

I want the deep storytelling of multi season shows.

Streaming services can no longer be trusted with series.

Forgive the rant, but the streaming services have enraged me these past few years.

First they dare to call 8 episodes a season. Then they treat that season like a blockbuster film rather than episodic stories. And Disney insists on dropping a single episode a week rather than the entire block all at once.

Either make a movie or make an episode.

And they cancel shows just because they are not widely loved by the masses. Hate to tell you this, but there are genres for a reason. Not everyone likes the same kind of story. Nor is there any variety when Everything is generated for the masses.

If we are so lucky to get a second season, it takes an eternity for them to announce it and even longer to produce it. By the time the next season comes out, we've forgotten most of the plot or why we enjoyed it in the first place.

Fantasy and Sci/fi gets hit the hardest. We get fantastic shows and then no follow up on the deep storylines. A proper series allows for a long form of story telling, like that of a novel. A way to watch many different characters evolve and chase their dreams. Streaming services begin the process and then truncate the story, turning it into an edited mess for the sake of the 8 episode cut off. And then they cancel it with thousands of loose ends that could have been wonderful.

Netflix, Disney, Hulu, Amazon, none of them have the guts to produce long form media. If it is not an instant hit, they kill it. And to determine this, they have the nerve to compare scripted fantasy to "unscripted" reality. IT IS NOT THE SAME.

I'm tired of a hundred new scripted shows that get canceled. I'm tired of a hundred rehashed "reality" shows being renewed. I don't want the umpteenth iteration of Survivor/Bachelor/BigBrother. I'm actually getting tired of documentaries that have no narrator or path of story. A collection of stitched together interviews is not a documentary. It is a cheap way to make another reality show.

I miss being able to return to the same characters for weeks on end. Years on end. To watch characters grow, evolve, betray, redeem. I want to have the breathing room of idiotic little episodes or scenes within the grand scope of a great looming evil.

When so many plot points are thrust into a single 8 episode crunch, there is no time to truly learn about the characters. Ten minutes of silently watching the character wander through extravgant scenery is not building character. Jumping from fight scene to fight scene with minimal dialogue is not compelling.

The current trend has removed attachment to characters in favor of cinematic and CGI pretties. The shock and awe treatment in order to gain viewers works fine with reality shows, but not with epic stories.

I am disappointed in how every show I enjoy gets mistreated and canceled before it can tell the story it was meant to.

I want my long form entertainment back. I want stories that last 3-4 seasons of 20-26 episodes. I want shows that unexpectedly and pleasantly extend into 100 plus episodes or 15 seasons. I want that experience of watching an episode and falling in love and discovering the deep lore of multiple seasons.

[strawbebehmod]

Ok I've had enough of this "Alastor doesn't know about gay stuff" I keep seeing around. As a history nerd I honestly can't take it anymore.

Kiddos it's time to learn you a few things. First of all, compared to subsequent decades,

The 1920s were incredibly gay

Was it still illegal to perform homosexual acts, yes. Were gay people still abused and lost jobs for being gay, and were even socially excluded from cishet white society? Oh absolutely. Did most individuals have to stay closeted? Duh. But you know what wasn't a wide spread thing yet? The medicalization of homosexuality. Conversion therapy wasn't fully approved of by psychiatrists until the 40's. Crossdressing wasn't considered mental illness, scandalous, yes, but not mental illness. The haze codes were not implemented yet, and the combination of prohibition, the two decades prior of progressivism, and the horrors of world war one left the youngest generation with a rebellious spirit and a desire for breaking the law. And if you lived in a big city, being LGBT in the twenties was often better than being LGBT in the 30s, 40s, or even 50s.

Young rich kids would seek out queer cruising spots in cities as a form of tourism. Harlem was famous for it's yearly drag balls, and many of the most famous black artists at the time were infact lgbt. Broadway and Hollywood were full of individuals who people knew were not entirely straight. Hell, jazz was born in red light districts home to black queer people. In places like New York there were people famous for being openly gay and despite sodomy laws police would not care in the slightest about them.

And though the South was as fucked as it ever was with Jim Crow Laws and the race riots, New Orleans has always been one of the more progressive cities in the South and has always had a very large gay community. Between the inherit campiness and debauchery of Mardi gras to being the birth place of jazz, to new Orleans being the easiest place to get away with breaking prohibition laws in the south, Alastor as a mixed race black radio host playing jazz in New Orleans in the 20s ABSOLUTELY is familiar with the LGBT community of the time.

The thing is, the language used by the community at the time was so fundamentally different that alastor would not know what you are talking about if you spoke to him about modern LGBT issues. The pride flag did not even exist yet. Gay still meant happy to him in his age. "Bisexual" at the time was more akin to the term "trans" than being attracted to multiple genders, and transgender didn't exist yet as a word. But if you called yourself "a confirmed bachelor" he would understand you were a man who liked men. If you called yourself a "fairy" he would know you weren't cis. If you were a woman and told him you liked sapho or Peter pan, he'd know you liked women. And if you were wearing lavender, or a green carnation, a red bowtie, a violet (if you were a woman), or were a man with a peacock feather in your ensemble he would give you a knowing nod. He's not ignorant of the lgbtq. He's a man out of his time. He speaks a different language entirely to modern gay slang, so it seem he doesn't know anything about it. But he does. Gay and trans people have always been a thing and as a radio host, literally being on the forefront of mass media at it's beginnings, in arguably the best decade to be gay in the 20th century before the 60s, in a city so comfortable with what was considered debauchery that it gave birth to "devil music" and embraced it before anyone else, yes he knows what they are. He just doesn't have the modern language to express it.

[beardedmrbean]

The Uber passenger charged with a hate crime for pepper spraying a Muslim driver in Manhattan is a former sorority girl who was fired from her PR job over the shocking incident.

Manhattan College graduate Jennifer Guilbeault, 23, had just started a promising career at a New York public relations firm when she was caught on dashcam springing forward to spray her rideshare driver in July, horrifying the pal who was with her.

However, her employer, D Pagan Communications in Melville, fired her over the shocking incident. Agency president Debra Pagan confirmed to PR Weekly that Guilbeault had left the firm, without saying when she left.

“We are aware of the actions of this former employee and we don’t condone this behavior,” the company, which specializes in PR for tech companies, said on X in August.

Guilbeault’s attorneys argued that the case should not be handled as a hate crime — and that a full review of the evidence would prove that.

“Ms. Guilbeault was not motivated by race, religion, national origin, or any other discriminatory factor,” Michael J. Alber said in a statement.

“This case needs to be looked at with all surrounding circumstances which include assessing all of the evidence and lack of evidence,” he added. 

“We look forward to working with the District Attorney’s office to fully vet all of the facts in the proper forum, which does not embellish or exaggerate the claims, especially where the integrity and credibility of claims can properly be tested.”

Guilbeault, a native of Northbridge, Mass. earned a bachelor’s degree in public relations, advertising and applied communication at the Bronx university, where she also served as the VP social chair for her sorority, Sigma Delta Tau, according to an online profile.

Glitzy photos posted to the Manhattan College chapter’s social media page show her and her sisters dressing up for formals and celebrating scholarships.

Guilbeault was indicted in New York State Supreme Court on two counts of assault as a hate crime and aggravated harassment for the Upper East Side attack, the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office announced Tuesday.

Guilbeault was riding in the backseat with the other woman at around 12:15 a.m. when she suddenly sprayed the noxious substance in the 45-year-old driver’s eyes, according to a viral clip circulating online.

The driver, Shohel Mahmud, later claimed that Guilbeault launched her assault simply because of his skin color. He said he hadn’t spoken to the at all women when he picked them up near Lexington Avenue and East 66th Street in Midtown.

“Her friend, she is yelling, ‘Jen, Jen, what the f–k, what are you doing? What’s going on?’” Mahmud told The Post days after the attack. “Her friend is asking ‘Why did you do that?’ And she say, ‘He’s brown.’”

Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg said Guilbeault attacked the driver when he began praying in Arabic just as he approached a red light.

The father of three jumped out of the car, thinking the women were trying to rob him and his vehicle. When he hopped back inside as the car started to roll, she maced him again.

Cops arrested Guilbeault at the scene, but initially only gave her a desk ticket.

[noidainternationaluniversity]

Bachelor of Mass Media at Noida International University

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[five-miles-over]

hello!! Can I request Villian Tom Hiddles in which the reader is a journalist who is asked to do an interview on him and she beings to snoop around and she gets caught and a bit of teasing ensues. He decides to claim the reader as his own.

You're Never Leaving - Chapter One

(T/W: Mentions of murder, homicide, drug overdose deaths, and drugs)

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience with me, @omgsuperstarg ! I hope you enjoy this fic.

CEO, billionaire, genius, philanthropist, patron of the arts, enigmatic bachelor…Thomas William Hiddleston was a man of many titles and if he wasn't such a terrifying man, he might've been your hero. 

For a long time, no one in the world had ever heard of the name Hiddleston, let alone in Great Britain. But that all changed in 2015, when the blue-eyed, dark-haired CEO of Imperial Pharmaceuticals graced the cover of Forbes magazine as one of the most influential people in the United Kingdom. It was then that the world was first introduced to Mr. Hiddleston.

He vaguely spoke about his childhood during his first interview, claiming Scottish origins and something about British people having difficulty pronouncing his surname. And then he narrated a story to the reporter about him re-vamping Imperial Pharmaceuticals in honor of his late father, who was a physical chemist that often working in matters related to medical science. And that was what inspired him to turn an unknown factory from the 1960s into one of the greatest drug manufacturers in the western hemisphere. it was nothing but a simple wish to honor one of the most intelligent men in Mr. Hiddleston's life…and a yearning to make healthcare accessible to all, despite their socioeconomic status or age.

The media ate it up like a bunch of hungry hyenas. 

But along with all the press related to Thomas Hiddleston's tenacity, business talents and of course, his charisma, a few secrets about the CEO's past began to trickle into the public eye. The most notable secret was that Thomas Hiddleston was allegedly involved with one of London's most powerful mafia gangs, the gang that was known to carry out assassinations for a price, and manufacture cheap copies of prescription drugs for the black market. Some even said that he used money from his criminal activity to fund the drug research that took place at Imperial Pharmaceuticals.

The people at Imperial Pharmaceuticals did their best to hush all related rumors and possible allegations of criminal activity to their best avail. And thanks to their efforts, Thomas Hiddleston continued to remain in the public limelight as a non-scientist trailblazer in the world of drugs and medicine. 

And Thomas Hiddleston's possible criminal past might have all faded into irrelevance if it hadn't been for two deadly coincidences.

The first coincidence was the mysterious death of three corrupt members of Parliament who'd recently been caught in a money laundering scam. They'd all seemingly died in their sleep on the same night, but their times of death were all different due to their bodies being discovered at different points. And the murder took place just two days after Imperial Pharmaceuticals launched their new line of pills to cure insomnia. 

The second coincidence was the infamous mass overdose death that took place in South London in 2019, nearly the same day as when Imperial Pharmaceuticals launched a drug that would help heroin addicts combat symptoms of withdrawal and provide a placebo effect in the place of heroin. 

As if the proximity between the drug launches and the deaths wasn't enough, the mere idea that the CEO of Imperial Pharmaceuticals was linked to a mafia that manufactured counterfeit drugs for the black market was enough to make you speculate that something might be going on behind closed doors. And that there was more to Thomas Hiddleston than meets the eye.

Your initial hunch was bolstered by the claims from a detective living in Baker Street who happened to be very familiar with the drug addicts living in the area of South London affected by the mass overdose. He told you about the drugs taken by the addicts living there, and how similar they appeared to be with respect to the ones from Imperial Pharmaceuticals. 

Now all that was left for you was to approach Thomas Hiddleston himself, the CEO of Imperial Pharmaceuticals. His past and his links to the crime world were the whole reason that this new company could be linked to these two instances of homicide. But none of your speculations would be valid if Thomas Hiddleston didn't confess to his links with a London mafia group. 

And thanks to Lady Luck, you - a journalist for a small magazine - managed to bag a twenty-minute interview with the man himself, one-on-one. No PR team to speak to, no red tape…it was too good to be true. Almost to the point where it made you wonder why someone so famous and busy as Thomas Hiddleston would eagerly accept an interview with a nearly-unknown magazine.

Still, the prospect of interviewing him made you giddy during the entire journey to the headquarters of Imperial Pharmaceuticals. If all went well, and you asked the right questions, you would be on the forefront of uncovering the crime of the decade. Alright, maybe not the crime of the decade - let alone Pulitzer-worthy - but still, this would be far juicier of a story than anything you had ever written about.

When you arrived at the building, a receptionist directed you towards the ninth floor of the building. There, a blonde young man dressed in grey with a thick Essex accent led you to a pair of tall doors, gently pulling a gilded handle towards him. "This is Mister Hiddleston's office, madam. He'll be here in fifteen or twenty minutes - would you like some coffee, some tea, or a glass of lemonade while you wait?"

"No…" You took a breath, knowing it would do nothing for the butterflies in your stomach. "No, thank you. I'll wait here…thanks."

"No problem, madam." He gave you a quick nod, and closed the doors behind you. 

Unbelievable - you were actually inside the office belonging to the CEO of Imperial Pharmaceuticals Thomas William Hiddleston. Everything about his office screamed old money, whether it was the large, Baroque-style mahogany desk in the center adorned with a human skull a la Hamlet, or the mahogany chairs adorned with green cushions and gold accents. He may be shady, but goodness did he have taste.

You reluctantly allowed yourself to explore, first picking up the skull on Mr. Hiddleston's desk. Underneath it was a sticky note that read, in cursive,

'Silence the Baker Street Boys'

Silence the Baker Street Boys...What could that possibly mean? You thought to yourself for a moment before remembering the one testimonial you received...from a detective living on Baker Street. Oh my gods, did he already know about your interest in unveiling him as a criminal?

Anxious to know more about what Mr. Hiddleston did and did not know at this point, you found yourself rummaging through the drawers of his desk, and even opened some of the drawers underneath his bookcase.

You managed to uncover quite a few details, including a recipe for counterfeit cocaine using cornstarch, counterfeit heroine that doubled as a poison, a few emails about a shipment of sleeping pills and methanol, and even a diary filled with notes about different types of medication.

"Can I help you?"

You swiftly turned around to find none other than Mr. Hiddleston, standing behind you in a blue-black, double-breasted coat over a white button-down shirt, black trousers, and an ebony tie. His cerulean eyes narrowed in your direction, but the rest of his body showed no sign of tension. Not a single muscle in his face was tense, and 

You swallowed, trying not to tremble as you stood up, and ignoring the ringing in your ears…almost as if you were slowly losing consciousness. But you knew where you were, and you knew how to maintain a professional demeanor…well, almost. "G-g-good afternoon, Mr. Hiddleston…It's-it's s'wonderful to meet you…in person."

Mr. Hiddleston crossed his arms. "You didn't answer my question."

At that moment, you were lost for words, your throat as dry as a stale biscuit. Mr. Hiddleston took a step closer, and looked you up and down while you closed the drawer, holding the knob to steady yourself. Taking your silence as the signal he has the upper hand, Mr. Hiddleston began to pace the room. "Shame, really. I was looking forward to talking to you today."

You blinked, still trying to process his words all while trying not to slip to the floor.

"You know, most of the journalists that talk to me are from these well-reputed magazines - Time, New York Magazine, Forbes - ones you'd find even in a supermarket or a dentists's waiting room. When my secretary came across your request for an interview, I was intrigued. A budding writer, graduated from university two years ago from…Bryn Mawr, yes?"

Your skin began to tingle, and each muscle in your hands went rigid as iron. Had he conducted a background check on you? Of course it was protocol that you did your homework before coming to an interview, but researching the interviewer? Not something that you could say any one of your interviewees had ever done before.

You nodded, and a small, minuscule smirk formed on Mr. Hiddleston's face. "Bryn Mawr…a women's college in Pennsylvania. You probably have a set of protective parents who didn't want their little daughter falling into the company of the bad boys. Can't blame them for wanting to shelter their princess." He sauntered towards one of the chairs facing the desk, placing his long fingers around the smooth arched top.  "A major in political science, with two minors in the history of art and in English literature. You wrote exactly one-hundred and twenty articles for the Haverford and Bryn Mawr Bi-College Newspaper over the course of your four years of study."

Mr. Hiddleston casually pulled the chair out and sat down, keeping his legs almost half a yard apart. "I read some of your pieces while I was on a plane to Mumbai two days ago. I have to say, I was impressed - the things you wrote about student protests and action films were good enough. Good enough to cater to the tastes of liberal arts majors and washed-out professors who settled on teaching when they've failed to make an impact in their fields. But…" Hiddleston paused, touching his bottom lip with a finger, "I saw potential in you. I thought you could do better. I saw a drive, and perhaps a sliver of professionalism. What a shame, really." Mr. Hiddleston shakes his head, closing his eyes for a moment. "Now perhaps I'll never know."

"What do you mean?" You blurted, eyes wide open for the first time since he entered the office.

He chuckled darkly. "Are you familiar with the term 'intrusion claim'? A method of invading one's privacy that involves interfering with one's seclusion or solitude?"

"These documents belong to the company!"

"A private company." He leans back, "Well, my dear, you've just provided at least three reasons for me to sue you. You've intruded on a private matter of mine; by your tone, you've declared that your intentions to invade my private documents was intentional; and…any reasonable person would find your little transgression to be highly offensive.

That puny little publication that pays for your bread and butter will be out of business faster than they can hide their tails between their legs, seeing as how my company's lawyers are unbeatable. And you, my inquisitive little Amanpour, will be nothing but a disgraced failure with a legal stain so conspicuous that no newspaper or publishing house will ever want to hire you."

"NO!" You shrieked, covering your mouth in horror at the possibility of losing your job, as well as being responsible for the magazine's collapse. "No, please…no!" You gasped heavily, your chest heaving through your blouse. "You can't do this….please, please don't do this. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have done it if -"  You faltered almost immediately, seeing as how Mr. Hiddleston's expression did not change the slightest.

Mr. Hiddleston pointed to the ceiling. "This office is wired with security cameras, recording our each and every move. One display of this footage in court, and your case is over."

"I'll do anything," you boldly declared, placing both hands on his desk. "Anything at all, just don't sue me."

"Anything at all?"

"Anything." You swallowed, holding your head as high as possible…even if all you wanted to do was crawl under his desk and disappear. At this point, you needed nothing more than to save your job, and the magazine you represented. Even if it required…surely he wouldn't, not in his office…whatever it was, you'd still do it. Nothing else mattered.

Mr. Hiddleston smirked a little wider, putting his hands together. He'd easily found your kryptonite, and it would be a shame to turn down a chance to have some fun with it. "There is one thing that you could do for me. Perhaps then I might take back my earlier claims about suing you." He stood up from the chair and placed both hands on the desk, mirroring you, and leaned slightly forward. "You could work for me instead."

Baffled, you took a step back and shook your head. "I'm…I'm not in science…I've never even wrote for a scientific article before."

"You wouldn't have to." Mr. Hiddleston merely replied. "I would hire you as part of my own public relations team at Imperial Pharmaceuticals. You would be the person answering journalists on my behalf, those writers from the most well-reputed magazines - places surely you've dreamed of working at. All those journalists will be begging for a chance to interview you, to spend a meager twenty minutes in your presence just to gain an insider's perspective."

Now was your turn to cross your arms. You may have been desperate, but that didn't stop you from sensing something fishy in Mr. Hiddleston's proposition. "Why would you do this? You just threatened to sue me for an "intrusion claim". Now you want me to work for you?"

"Well, darling…." Mr. Hiddleston apparently decided to switch from 'my dear' to 'darling'. He looked up at you with a devious glint in his cerulean eyes. "Your transgression wouldn't be considered an intrusion if they were belonging to something you were a part of, since you would belong to this company. Unless you would prefer to never work in journalism again."

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a breath. "Fine. Just…bring me the paperwork."

"Why?" He asked, not even asking what paperwork you were referring to. 

Opening your eyes, you forced yourself to look at Mr.Hiddleston at his level. "I'll take the job."

"What job?" Mr. Hiddleston teased, daring you to say it.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to muster the words as best as possible. "I'll work for you. For…your PR team."

He tutted. "That's no attitude to bring to your new boss, darling."

Taking another breath, you stretched the corners of your mouth to form as convincing of a smile as possible. "I graciously accept your offer to work for your public relations team."

"And what else do you say to me?" Mr. Hiddleston smirked again, walking behind the desk so he was standing next to you.

"Thank you."

"Thank you who?"

You closed your eyes. Goodness, this man was going to milk everything out of this. "Thank you, Mr. Hiddleston."

He leaned in and briefly pecked your cheek, his lips barely touching your skin just enough for you to feel it. "That's more like it." Mr. Hiddleston began to walk away, striding towards the entrance of the office.

"Wait!"

He turned around on his heels.

"What about the interview?" You asked, picking up the notebook and pens you brought with you.

Mr. Hiddleston stroked his chin for a moment, and put his hands in his pocket. "I'll have my secretary reserve a table for two at Circolo Popolare. 6 PM, and the dress code is cocktail. Don't be late, darling."

Tagging: @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @thatdummy-girl @holdmytesseract @icytrickster17 @winterfrostlovetriangle @cakesandtom @mischievoushiddleston @lady-rose-moon @turniptitaness @jennyggggrrr @the-haven-of-fiction @fantasyfan4life @hellomadamebutterfly @sallymagnoliaposts

[mpu-promotion1]

Empowering Media Minds: BJMC at MPU for Aspiring Journalists.

In today's rapidly changing media landscape, Journalism and Mass Communication play crucial roles in shaping public opinion, influencing societal norms, and providing real-time news updates. Mind Power University (MPU), nestled in the tranquil setting of Bhimtal, Nainital, offers two in-depth programs designed to equip students with the skills needed for success in these dynamic fields.: the Bachelor of Journalism & Mass Communication (BJMC)  (👈Click Here). This programs equip students with the skills to thrive in the media industry. Whether you aspire to become a journalist, media producer, public relations expert, or content creator, MPU’s journalism programs provide a gateway to diverse career opportunities.

Bachelor of Journalism & Mass Communication (BJMC) at Mind Power University:-

Course Overview:-

The BJMC program at Mind Power University is designed to offer an in-depth understanding of mass media and its role in society. This undergraduate course emphasizes theoretical knowledge, hands-on training, and the development of critical thinking skills required for a successful career in media and communication. BJMC students gain exposure to various forms of media, including print, television, radio, and digital platforms, ensuring they are well-prepared to navigate the demands of the industry.

Duration of the Course:-

The BJMC program at MPU is a three-year undergraduate degree that is divided into six semesters. During these semesters, students delve into subjects such as Media Ethics, Communication Theories, Reporting, Editing, Digital Media, and Public Relations. The course structure is designed to balance classroom learning with practical workshops, internships, and project-based work.

Eligibility Criteria:-

To enroll in the BJMC program at Mind Power University, candidates need to have completed their 10+2 education from a recognized board with a minimum aggregate score of 50%. The program is open to students from any stream, making it accessible to a wide range of applicants. Some institutions may require entrance examinations, while others may offer admission based on merit. Mind Power University implements a holistic admission process that evaluates both academic performance and personal aptitude, ensuring a well-rounded selection of candidates.

Course Content:-

The BJMC program at MPU covers a broad range of subjects, including:-

Introduction to Journalism: Understanding the history and evolution of journalism.

Mass Communication Theories: Exploring how media impacts society and vice versa.

Media Laws and Ethics: Legal and ethical aspects of media practices.

News Writing & Editing: Practical training in writing and editing for different media platforms.

Radio & Television Journalism: Techniques in audio-visual media production.

Public Relations & Corporate Communication: Managing public relations for organizations.

Digital Media & Online Journalism: Embracing the rise of digital platforms and the role of social media in journalism.

Media Research Methods: Learning techniques to conduct media-related research and analyze audience behavior.

Career Scope After BJMC:-

Graduates of the BJMC program from Mind Power University(👈Click Here). have an expansive range of career opportunities. Some of the prominent roles include:

Journalist: Reporting news for print, broadcast, or online media outlets.

Content Writer/Editor: Crafting and editing articles, blogs, and online content.

News Anchor: Presenting news stories on television or radio.

Public Relations Officer: Managing a company’s public image and communication strategies.

Social Media Manager: Handling the social media presence of organizations and brands.

Photojournalist: Capturing visual stories for media publications.

Advertising Executive: Creating campaigns to promote products and services.

As the media industry continues to expand, BJMC graduates are well-positioned to take advantage of the numerous opportunities in both traditional and new media fields.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Christina Buttons

Published: Nov 16, 2023

Hamas’ October 7 terrorist attacks represented the worst single-day massacre of Jews since the Holocaust. In the west, the most common reaction was grief and shock. Yet there’s also been no shortage of anti-Israel activists around the world who’ve taken to the streets, lauding the killers as “martyrs” and “freedom fighters.” Many of these events have been overtly antisemitic, with some even breaking out into chants of “gas the Jews.”

Young people, particularly those who self-identify as members of the progressive left, are disproportionately represented among those who’ve downplayed, dismissed, justified, or even celebrated Hamas’ actions. Claims of “genocide” and “ethnic cleansing” are now casually lobbed not only at Israel, but Jews more generally. Not surprisingly, this has been accompanied by a substantial increase in antisemitic hate crimes.

A survey of 2,116 registered U.S. voters, conducted in mid-October by The Harris Poll and HarrisX, revealed a striking generational divide on the Israel-Palestine conflict. Approximately half of those respondents aged 18 to 34 expressed the belief that the mass killing of Israeli civilians could be justified by Palestinian grievances. As the age of respondents increased, support for this proposition declined significantly. A similar pattern was reflected in the responses to other questions about Israel.

This result cannot be blamed—at least not entirely—on the political atmosphere on U.S. campuses, as only about 35 percent of Americans aged 25 and older in the United States have a bachelor degree. Almost all Americans consume social media in some form, however. And these online spaces are where much of the pro-terror radicalization seems to be occurring.

Video is an especially effective propaganda medium. From October 7 onwards, social media channels have been flooded with clips posted by high-follower accounts linked to Hamas. Some of the individuals spreading this content present as “journalists,” even though they’re known to have ingratiated themselves with Hamas’ leadership. In one notorious case, a CNN freelancer posted a photo of himself holding a grenade while he accompanied Hamas on the 10/7 rampage. 

Even mainstream media outlets trying to act in good faith have been caught repeating fake news that’s been fed to them, directly or indirectly, by Hamas. In other cases, online opportunists, some of them with purely financial motives, have exploited the 10/7 attacks for personal gain, using AI-generated imagery and pro-Hamas bots to flood the internet with clickbait.

Instagram has become a particularly active arena for pro-Hamas propaganda. At last count, the hashtag #freepalestine had appeared on over 5.8-million posts, exceeding #standwithisrael’s 220,000 by a geometric factor of more than 20. Similarly, #gazaunderattack has amassed 1.8 million instances, an order of magnitude more than #israelunderattack’s 134,000.

Israel may have the upper hand in the unfolding military conflict within Gaza. But it is evident that Hamas and its allies are winning over many youth by weaponizing the pre-existing idioms of social-justice advocacy. Since 2020, Instagram, like all social-media platforms, has been awash with dubious slideshows purporting to educate users about “systemic racism,” “decolonization,” and the need for non-white people to rise up and “disrupt” our supposedly white-supremacist western societies. The formula worked as a means to promote Black Lives Matter protests. And anti-Israel groups are now seeking to copy this formula in their campaign to support Hamas.

In particular, these groups seek to replicate the powerful public reaction set off by video of George Floyd’s murderous mistreatment by Minneapolis police. War is hell, as the expression goes. And so in Gaza, as in every other military conflict known to history, there are instances of civilians being caught in the crossfire, or victimized by attacks against nearby military targets—scenes that are played up incessantly as evidence of supposed genocide.

I recognize these propaganda techniques because back in 2020, I was responsible for curating and creating content for an influential progressive Instagram account with more than 730,000 followers. My role was to keep people engaged and enraged. Like many other old-fashioned liberals, I’d mistakenly perceived the social-justice phenomenon as a moral extrapolation of the civil-rights movement. In time, I realized that what I was really doing was signal-boosting the values of far-left academics seeking to destroy liberal values. Part of that Marxist-inspired academic movement involves slotting whole swathes of humanity into boxes marked either “oppressor” or “oppressed.” Having put the Palestinians in the second box, these ideologues are inclined to support any action, however monstrous, presented as a strategy of liberation.

As it turns out, being an anti-oppressive social-justice revolutionary can be quite lucrative. Among the most prolific disseminators of anti-Israel propaganda, for instance, is the Institute for Middle East Understanding (IMEU), a well-funded California-based nonprofit founded by “concerned Americans.” The IMEU Instagram account now has 700,000 followers, over 200,000 of these having been recruited since 10/7.

According to IMEU Communications Director Omar Baddar, who draws a $100,000 annual salary from the organization, the group has had the most “success” with young users. In a 2021 online workshop, he discussed his strategy of leveraging “social justice content” on Instagram, while citing studies that show Americans’ growing reliance on social media for news. He noted that, unlike mainstream outlets (which typically employ stringent fact-checking techniques and attempt to provide balanced reporting), social media allows him more direct control of a desired narrative. When it comes to the narrative surrounding violence, for instance, “Israel, as an occupying power, is inherently the initiator of [all] violence.”

As noted above, a key part of this strategy involves drawing linkages to pre-existing social-justice ideas and memes. “Jim Crow segregation is obviously something that every American understands, so explaining how the parallels between Israeli apartheid and that are very useful,” Baddar told his audience. He even hints at exploiting Americans’ feelings of guilt over slavery (and white guilt, more generally) as a useful tactic.

As the Jewish Institute for Liberal Values has noted, this type of approach can seduce even some Jewish groups, many of which now tend to prioritize trending social-justice slogans and buzzwords over the actual interests of Jewish people. This includes Jewish Voice for Peace, whose influential Instagram account is nearing the million-follower mark.

Sayf Abdeen, who made a name for himself as a “Diversity, Inclusion and Overseas officer” at the London School of Economics, is another well-heeled propagandist who’s become an expert at attracting the attention of young, low-information Instagram addicts. His popular account is called Let’s Talk Palestine, a nod to a popular 2020 social-justice slideshow page called So You Want to Talk About. He notes that “anger or frustration is really good at galvanizing people and attracting attention.” And once you’ve gotten them riled up, he advises, hit them with a “call to action” that transforms ordinary youth into activists.

In this regard, Baddar is particularly interested in getting his audience to enroll in Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions campaigns; and, of course, to donate money to the IMEU. The group has ramped up its Instagram activity to between four and eight posts daily, with each depicting Israel as the sole aggressor in an unprovoked attack on Palestinians (which the IMEU naturally characterizes as “genocide”). The strategy has proven effective, as the IMEU is gaining approximately 5,000 to 10,000 new followers every day.

As a means of sensationalizing its content, the IMEU often parrots the high casualty figures sourced from Gaza’s Hamas-controlled health ministry, figures to which U.S. President Joe Biden assigns “no confidence.” (While any loss of civilian life is tragic, Hamas has a history of dramatically inflating casualty counts as a means to garner sympathy for its cause. Such figures are often debunked after follow-up investigations.)

The IMEU has posted claims that deny or downplay the horrors of October 7, even in the face of forensic evidence confirming Hamas’ atrocities. Their posts sow distrust in more credible sources, including the White House, with the apparent goal of keeping users inside a propaganda cocoon. IMEU posts that spuriously blamed Israel for a deadly October 17 explosion on the grounds of Gaza’s al-Ahli Arab Hospital remain uncorrected on the group’s feed, even weeks after evidence revealed that the deaths—dozens, not hundreds, as Hamas had initially claimed—were the result of a misfired Islamic Jihad rocket. The fact that Palestinians killed their own people and then tried to blame Israel for it apparently isn’t part of the preferred IMEU narrative.

Numerous posts accuse Israel of targeting hospitals and civilian areas, while neglecting to mention that Hamas has long used these locations as headquarters and ammunition depots. The IMEU also passes over the fact that Hamas has instructed civilians to stay in the most dangerous areas; and in some cases has physically blocked non-combatants from heading to safer areas in the south of Gaza, as part of an apparent strategy of maximizing Palestinian civilian casualties for propaganda purposes. One might think that a group devoted to a proper “understanding” of the Middle East conflict—that’s the U in IMEU, remember—might see these facts as significant.

Despite the manipulative and deceptive nature of IMEU’s propaganda campaign, Instagram— which is owned by Meta Platforms, formerly known as Facebook, Inc.—doesn’t seem to have taken measures to fact-check, correct, or contextualize any of its posts. By contrast, on X (formerly Twitter), users are better protected thanks to the new “Community Notes” feature. Earlier this year, the IMEU posted a video that, it claimed, showed “Israeli soldiers attack[ing] Palestinians,” which went viral after being shared by U.S. congresswoman Rashida Tlaib. In fact, the video showed Israeli police officers breaking up a fight among Palestinian teenagers. Embarrassed by the correction, the IMEU deleted the post. 

To be fair, the Instagram platform wasn’t designed for in-depth political discussions: Following its initial release in 2010, it was mostly used by users seeking to show off pictures of nature, vacations, fashion, pets, shopping “hauls,” and recipes. Unlike X, it doesn’t encourage users to embed clickable links and launch into multi-thread arguments. As a result, there’s been less public scrutiny of the role that Instagram plays in forming public attitudes on serious political issues, as compared to Facebook, Twitter, and TikTok. As the IMEU example shows, that needs to change. 

A dominant conceit within the social-justice movement is that its leading activists are plucky, grass-roots figures powered by big hearts but small budgets. But the IMEU's financial statements indicate assets of over $3 million. In 2022 alone, the group received $1.49-million in donations, and held a gala event that netted $659,000. Prominent donors have included George Soros; and the Rockefeller Brothers Fund (which has donated millions of dollars to dozens of anti-Israel causes and BDS campaigns).

What would a true “understanding” of the Middle East conflict look like? It might start with an acknowledgement of the fact that Israel’s military has repeatedly instructed Gazan civilians to evacuate areas in which it intends to conduct ground operations—the exact opposite of what one would expect from a “genocidal” military hegemon seeking to round up and exterminate a civilian population. Because Hamas hides its operatives in hospitals, schools, and civilian homes, and ignores the principle of distinction, it is the terrorist group, not the Israeli soldiers fighting it, that should be held responsible for civilian deaths, according to international law. Investigations into alleged crimes committed by Israel during past wars or conflicts haven’t resulted in formal charges or convictions, which says quite a lot given the enthusiasm that many international leaders have for turning the Jewish state into an international pariah.

Being a sovereign state and a member of the United Nations, Israel is bound by the laws of war, and has every incentive to minimize civilian casualties where possible, while Hamas has every incentive to maximize them: Indeed, for Hamas’ propaganda purposes, there is scant difference between a dead Jew and a dead Palestinian—the former being held up as purported evidence of Hamas’ military prowess and the latter being presented as evidence of Palestinian victimization.

Hamas, which became the dominant force in Gaza following Israel’s complete withdrawal from Gaza two decades ago, has operated as an Islamist kleptocracy, hoarding hundreds of millions of dollars while 80 percent of Gazans languish in poverty. How morally grotesque is it that western activists and hash-taggers who fly the banner of social justice have tied their cause to a terrorist group that steals humanitarian aid and uses women and children as human shields?

The group’s founding covenant, drafted in 1988, endorses the extermination of Jews and their state. And Hamas leaders have vowed to repeat the mass murders of October 7 until that goal is achieved. The idea that Israel must now grant a “ceasefire” to this same group, as many activists are demanding on social media, is absurd. The proper time for a ceasefire was October 6. The idea of Israel willfully calling off its military operations so that Hamas can have the chance to better redeploy its remaining forces in Gaza City is ludicrous.

* * *

“It’s just social media,” some may say. “You can just log off.” But it’s not that easy. Rightly or wrongly, many of us have come to see our socials as a window into what the rest of the world thinks. And the Jewish people I’ve spoken to on Instagram have told me that these last few weeks have been some of the worst of their lives—in part because every time they look at their phone, they see legions of users cheering on the same terrorists who murdered defenseless Israeli men, women, and children.

One Jewish man told me that he’d recently purchased a gun, and was now enrolled in firearms training. Others told me that they’ve upgraded their home security systems. One woman told me that she’s had talks with her daughter about not advertising her Jewish faith in public—“because I’m genuinely afraid of hateful people who’ve been brainwashed.” Meanwhile, efforts to fight back online can have unpredictable results. One woman I know, who’s employed in the progressive nonprofit sector, confided that her own colleagues attempted to have her fired after they saw her pro-Israel social media posts.

Calling out terrorist propaganda disguised as social-justice mantras shouldn’t be a lonely or professionally risky task: We should all be doing it. Not just because there’s inherent value in promoting truth, debunking falsehoods, and fighting antisemitism (in both letter and spirit); but also because some sizeable fraction of the young Instagram junkies who are now spreading Hamas propaganda will come to actually internalize the proposition that terrorism is justified in the name of social justice.

The 10/7 attacks won’t be the last mass-casualty Islamist terrorist massacre. And Israel is hardly the only country that Islamists target. If—god forbid—the United States suffers another 9/11-scale attack, will these same pro-Hamas meme peddlers similarly excuse it as the righteous fury of the world’s oppressed? As awful as post-10/7 Instagram has been, it has at least supplied us with a cautionary glimpse into the hive mind of the online social-justice community. If these repugnant attitudes spread and metastasize, none of us can say we weren’t put on notice.   

[haggishlyhagging]

Media critic Jennifer L. Pozner has spent thousands of hours and an immense amount of patience watching both cable news and reality television, and understands better than the average person how alike they've become. "We treat stories that we would have never treated as journalism twenty years ago like headline news," she muses. And we treat reality TV the same way. More relevant to feminism, however, is how the reality genre has harnessed the belief in a postfeminist world and, in doing so, reframed retrograde gender dynamics as expressions of freedom and empowerment. Far more than any backlash could have predicted, the feminist rhetoric of individuality, opportunity, autonomy, and choice has been co-opted by a consumer media that has very non-ulterior motives for presenting women as willingly sexualized, hyperfeminine ciphers.

In Pozner's 2010 book Reality Bites Back: The Troubling Truth About Guilty-Pleasure Television, she asserts that one of the most jarring features of reality TV is the way it urges its female participants—and often, the women and girls who watch them—toward narrower and narrower definitions of beauty, self-worth, and success, as well as a truncated sense of what kind of life is possible and desirable, all while encouraging them to see other women only in terms of competition and comparison. But "reality" functions as a magic shield against accusations of racist and sexist cliché and regressive storylines: producer and participants alike will reason that if you put twenty-five women in a room with a man they barely know, of course the evening will end with the women sobbing, yelling, yanking each other's hair extensions out, calling each other sluts, and drunkenly slurring, "We're meant to be together" to floor lamps. Reality TV is part of an ongoing narrative of postfeminism that, like Wonderbra billboards once did, assures women that feminism has granted them the power and the freedom to be whatever they want to be. And if what they want to be just so happens to conform to a smorgasbord of insecure, catty, vapid, and villainous stereotypes that even Walt Disney's frozen head would reject as too cartoonish, who's to say that's not empowering?

Let's take The Bachelor because, since it's one of the highest-rated network shows for more than a decade, we kind of have to. Since its debut in 2002, ABC's reality flagship has drawn in advertisers' favorite cash-cow demographic, women 18-34, by the millions, and has served as a barometer of how young, heterosexual, and mostly white women are encouraged to alter their ambitions, personalities, and behaviors to compete in the dating market. The show, mused media critic Susan J. Douglas when it premiered, "offers highly normative female ‘types’ into which most women allegedly fall ... urged to place themselves on a post-feminist scale of femininity to determine how far they have to go to please men without losing all shreds of their own identity and dignity. In the process, young women calibrate, for better and for worse, what kind of female traits are most likely to ensure success in a male-dominated world." For twenty seasons, the series has confirmed centuries' worth of entrenched beliefs about what women want (marriage, money, the knowledge that they've beaten out masses of other women for the a man they barely know), and what men seek (a thin, deferential woman who's only as ambitious as she needs to be to bag a husband).

-Andi Zeisler, We Were Feminists Once

[autistic-alexithymic-female]

Men's spaces we need to talk about

Male dominated fields and male friend groups

Strip clubs and brothels

Trafficking rings

Man caves and bachelor pads

Gentleman's clubs

-

Kingdoms (notice it is 'kingdom', not 'queendom')

Action movies (soldiers, army, explosions, violence)

-

Everywhere at night (at nighttime, predators roam)

Male sports teams (and how men become genuinely violent during matches)

Reddit, and other online incel/MRA/MGTOW forums (the manosphere is seriously worrying; it is digitalized male extremism in the Fourth Industrial Revolution)

Online networks for male-dominated fields; men working in the same fields send one another posts about how they are together in their men's clubs (male record producers and male sound engineers do this a lot).

-

Lawmakers

Police officers

Terrorism and shooters

Gun owners

-

Presidents

Politicians

NHS and education system (men are training and socializing doctors and teachers to obey trans ideology)

Mass media (men use headlines, articles, TV shows, and other forms of media to promote trans ideology)