#Actionable Account Maps

[bizkonnect]

Besides, gone are the days when marketing used to be the single and major challenge for marketers. Today, they need to identify and resolve every struggle that prospects are dealing with while buying. By utilizing a ‘customized organization chart for any company based on the target profile’ marketers can now resolve the above. Further, they can also create the most appropriate & iterative messaging tactics for better reach-out. After all, when ABM leverages account maps, marketers can quickly identify decision-makers and influencers, ‘map the references and pain point indicators on top of the organization charts.’

[fullstarlighttyphoon]

Demand Generation vs Lead Generation: Which Strategy Is Best for Your Startup?

Demand generation and Lead generation are the two most important strategies that make up a large part of sales and marketing. The main difference between the two is that demand gen aims at increasing your brand awareness while lead gen focuses on transforming brand-aware prospects into loyal clients.

While you may be asking which strategy is best for helping your startup to meet business goals, the two should be used together for maximum effect. As you cannot approach relevant leads and convert them into loyal clients without first attracting them to your startup. That's why it is said that demand generation directly helps with lead generation.

What is Demand-Gen vs Lead-Gen?

Demand generation creates awareness of a company’s products and services. Besides, its techniques can also be used to penetrate new audiences. On the other hand, lead generation is when you increase audience interest in your business offerings through nurturing.

It's really simple - If the audience doesn't know about your startup and what problems your products & services can solve, it is difficult to transform prospects into key clients.

As a result, demand generation helps you grow while lead generation helps you convert.

Let’s look at the key differences between demand generation and lead generation:Demand GenerationLead GenerationMake prospects aware of the problemOffers to solve the problemUse free & available resourcesUse gated resourcesIncreases your brand authorityPresent benefits of your solutionEngage wide audience at a timeFocus on capturing quality leads

The Role of Actionable Org Charts in Demand-Gen & Lead-Gen:

Regardless of which strategy you choose for your startup or even if you choose both of them, you would require specific data about the prospects' accounts. The data includes detailed information about prospect’s business, buying behavior, their needs & requirements, and much more. And to access these minute details, nothing can be more appropriate than leveraging a customized and actionable org chart of the target account. It would uncover details about the prospects including:

Organizational structure & business solutions

Key stakeholders, decision-makers, & influencers

Marketing strategies & buying behavior

Needs & requirements, and touchpoints

Multiple entry points within the organization

Hierarchical and authoritative order, and so on

Whether you want to attract prospects with your products & services or want to convert them into loyal clients, actionable org charts can be helpful at every stage. Without high-demand generation, lead generation is cost-inefficient. And, without valuable insights into org charts, both strategies are ineffective. Thus, leveraging actionable org charts for both strategies ensures the ultimate growth of your business while boosting the ROI of the organization.

CLICK HERE to know more with BizKonnect.

[jadevine]

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

--

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

[resourcesmasterposts]

Verified Ways to Donate to Gaza Directly

(updated Sep 2024)

Donate to a Palestinian family directly:

GazaFunds.com - Spotlights 1 stagnant/struggling GFM each time you visit the page. Donate directly to a Palestinian family in urgent need of evacuation, medical treatment or basic necessities. Site run by Palestinians, all campaigns verified.

(*If you can't decide who/where to donate, simply go to GazaFunds.com. They take the decision out of your hands.)

Masterlist of 200+ verified Palestinian families' GFMs: Operation Olive Branch

eSIMs: (*urgent!)

Guide to buy + send eSIMs to Gaza

Crips for eSims for Gaza: Donate any amount to this team of volunteers who pool funds to buy + maintain eSIMs for Gaza regularly (see their financial accountability document).

Food:

Cruelty-Free Meals for North Gaza: 4 Palestinian friends on the ground in Gaza distributing vegan-friendly meals & water to displaced families in North Gaza. Proof of their work found on their GFM page. (gfm)

We Feed Gaza: Palestinian volunteers in the heart of Gaza distributing food & water to 344+ families. Details & proof in their gfm. Vetted & promoted by LetsTalkPalestine on IG. (gfm)

Other reliable campaigns by Palestinian volunteers on the ground in Gaza distributing food & necessities to displaced families: Care for Gaza, Direct Aid for Gaza

Water: (*urgent and crucial)

Gaza Municipality: The Municipality of Gaza needs funds to rebuild the water pipes in Gaza City to restore access to clean drinking water & waste management. Crucial in combating the spread of infectious diseases e.g. polio.

Help provide tents:

The Sameer Project: Provides tents & transport for families in Rafah who urgently need to evacuate. Has a team on the ground in Gaza who successfully supplied tents to 1% of the displaced refugees in Rafah. Run by Palestinians. (paypal, venmo) (chuffed)

@helpgazachildren: Funds go directly to Hussam, a Palestinian in Rafah who hosts a refugee camp. Funds will cover the cost of tents & transport fuel. Managed by a Palestinian @fairuzfan. (gfm)

Medical Aid:

Gaza Wound Care: Palestinian doctors in central Gaza treating injured/sick children & mothers in neglected displacement camps far from hospitals. Severe shortage of medicines, equipment, & medical supplies. Raising funds to treat diseases in refugee camps. (gfm) (paypal) (gogetfunding)

international charities: Palestine Red Crescent Society, Palestine Children's Relief Fund, Medical Aid for Palestinians

How to help if you can't donate:

Share + amplify Palestinian fundraisers in your irl + online circles

Organize or help to run an online/irl event to raise funds for Palestine

Boycott

Get involved with a protest/strike/direct action in your area

Contact your reps

Educate yourself + others, irl + online

Daily clicks on Arab.org

(Longer masterpost of all ways you can help)

These links focus on Palestinian-run grassroots initiatives that will reach Gazans on the ground, so all of these except eSIMs, PCRF, MAP, OOB are by Palestinians. Donating to international organizations is currently not ideal, as aid is still being stopped at the border. Please focus on Palestinian-run initiatives on the ground in Gaza instead.

Remember, small donations always add up. Any amount counts, even $1!

If you are unable to donate yourself, you can even adopt a fundraiser campaign to regularly boost and make materials promoting it online, or print posters and flyers about Palestinian fundraisers to encourage others to donate.

Poster/graphic about gazafunds.com

Flyers about eSIMs

Flyers about GazaFamilyFunds

[supatroopa]

Hi! I’ve beaten Octopath 1 (not like the fully fully beat but I did all chapters) and Octo 2 (not extra fights but like closing in on 100% and I’m gunning for it just have super bosses left) for like qualifications

I found that for both games I never found the need to grind for money or levels (forgot to use money mid game after early game being frugal cuz I couldn’t afford anything then mid game most shop gear is meh), but also my gameplay experience was after the early game I tried to fully explore the map and definitely fighting those areas (and for Octo 2 also bosses I think my best was I fought a boss 20ish levels below recommended) put my levels either on par naturally with the progression or sometimes over leveled :) I will say I found lategame money becomes basically free especially if you typically use steal over purchase

octopath tumblr: give me your best tips and tricks on any and all leveling + money making in octopath (1, 2, or both!) im trying to compile a guide for a bud who is just starting to play

[tlou-reid]

Security ✿ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: reader calls aaron just as he arrives home from a case, needing a savior in her own home. aka baked goodies part 4

♡ WARNINGS: reader has the flu, criminal minds-esque violence, mentions of haley and her death, reader takes medicine for the flu and eats a frozen croissant and i do not wish to offend the French, not edited but when is my stuff ever?

𖤣 Part one here! 𖥧 Part two here! 𖡼 Part three here! ⚘

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

The flu. Of course, just as winter was finally wrapping up, your sniffles start and your throat starts to burn. The cold was no longer nipping at your nose, but you were still shivering at night. The fever you’d started a day ago didn’t feel like it was going away any time soon, so you’d decided to head to the urgent care a few minutes away.

The doctor had been surprised when your flu test came back positive, considering it was late march. “You’re probably the last positive we’ll get until thanksgiving time,” he had remarked as he signed the prescription for you. With a sigh, you made your way to the check out counter, got your prescription and headed to your car. You barely got your key in the ignition when your phone stayed to ring.

“Hi honey,” Aaron’s whisper filled your car as your phone connected via bluetooth. “Hi baby,” you mustered up all of the energy you had to coo at him, wanting to match his energy. He knew you weren’t feeling the best, so any energy you could give him was enough.

You swore he could feel the things you felt sometimes. You knew there was science backing the idea that your heartbeats could sync up, but this was a whole different level. Aaron knew you in ways no one else did, and no one else ever would. You’d been together for almost six months now, and you could very easily picture a lifetime with him. It was almost as if your souls were tied together, creating the most beautiful knot you’d ever seen. One that could only be named love.

“Feeling any better?” His voice was gentle, but you could tell he was keeping quiet. He was probably still in the Chicago Precinct, finishing up a very gruesome case. “I am now that I’m talking to you,” you flirted before breaking into a coughing fit. Your cover was blown. “Are you driving?” Aaron asks, ignoring your flirtation. “I have to get home, Aaron.” You were too tired for his overprotectiveness.

Once again changing the subject, he asks the million dollar question, “What did the doctor say?”

You winced at some dickhead behind you beeping at the car next to you as you answered, “The flu, he gave me some medicine.” You heard Aaron let out a sigh on the other side, “It’s spring time,” he declared, just as puzzled as you were. “I know, that’s what I said.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” You knew that would be his response. There’s nothing he can do but wish you well from about 11 hours away. He wished he could hop on the jet and come home to cuddle the virus out of you. But he couldn’t. He was here, in Chicago, catching evil criminals, and you were back home. You didn’t answer his sentiment, instead opting to sit in comfortable silence on the phone with you. He was alone in the conference room, mapping out similarities from the victims, so he put his phone on speaker and got back to work.

This was a comforting action for Aaron. It gave him some sort of peace he was always seeking when he was away on cases. The hairs on the back of his neck lowered and the pit in his stomach closed. Just a little bit, but the pit closed some.

A few minutes later, you were pulling into your driveway. You couldn’t help but peek out of your rear view mirror. It was as dramatic as a romance movie, the way you longingly looked at Aaron’s home, as if your gaze could spawn him in his front yard.

“Hey Aar,” You said, unable to hide how tired you were, “I’m home.” You couldn’t see but Aaron nodded, knowing that meant you were about to hang up. “Get some rest, please. And don’t forget your medicine.”

“I’m going to bed as soon as I get in the door. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.” You switched your phone to speaker, disconnecting it from the car and turning the car off. “I’m still going to worry,” Aaron guaranteed. “I know, but try to not.”With a sigh, he agreed“I can do that, I love you.”

Saying “I love you” was something that came had come unexpectedly easy to Aaron. He’d thought after all of the loss he’d faced of people he loved, there would be a hesitancy, a fear that he’d buried somewhere dark and deep. But it wasn’t. It came easy and truthfully, just as being in love with you did.

It was surprising to you how often, how delicately, and how meaningfully Aaron said it. It carried so much weight when he said it, it was a promise every single time. A promise to be there to say it again and again, a promise to fight through whatever awful things are thrown at him to be the best version of himself for you, a promise to be there for you, a promise to be the man you deserve.

Aaron Hotchner was a serious man, always had been and always will be. But he’s especially serious about the people he loves, you and Jack the most.

“I love you too, goodnight.” You joked as you stepped into your home. “Goodnight, get some rest.” Aaron was smiling as he hung up.

You’re not sure how long you slept. It had to have been a few hours, considering it was dark when you woke up. Your head was pounding and and your stomach was rumbling.

You slowly dragged yourself out of bed, fighting through the deep ache in your bones. You couldn’t understand why you were both hot and cold at the same time, or why the ringing in your ears wouldn’t go away. You, despite all of the rest you’d gotten, were feeling about a thousand times worse than you were yesterday.

You stopped at your sock drawer, pulling out the thickest, fuzziest pair you could find, before hobbling down to the kitchen. You’d just gone grocery shopping, so you were sure there was something you could throw into the microwave.

As you rummaged through your fridge like an injured raccoon, your phone buzzed from its spot on the couch, where you’d tossed it after you came in. A text of Aaron lit up the screen, ‘Just got back to the precinct. We just have to fill out some paperwork and then we’ll be on the jet home. See you soon.’ it read.

After taking a few, small bites of the frozen croissant you’d found in the back of your freezer, you responded to Aaron’s text with a simple ‘be safe, love u’, energy level matching what you were currently feeling.

Then you headed back up to bed. There was some kind of uneasiness flowing through your veins, so you pulled up some mindless video to help you relax. You were sure it was just the medicine making you a little queasy, so you did your best to relax so you could sleep away the pounding in your head.

It took a while, about two and a half youtube video essays, but you did slowly drift off into an uncomfortable slumber.

Once again, you were unsure of how long you’d been asleep. You felt groggy, as if you could use a few more hours to truly feel good, even with the flu. You weren’t sure what woke you up, however.

It was dark out, so you reached for your phone to see if Aaron had made it home. ‘2:36’, the screen that was entirely too bright read. You signed, swiping down on your screen to show your notifications. A text from Aaron 35 minutes ago read, “Just got in the door. I bet you’re asleep, give me a call when you wake up. I’ll be up for a while.”

Every muscle in your body hurt, you pushed through for just 13 of them to form a smile at his care of you.

Just as your hand hovered over the call button on his contact, you heard your front door swing open with a bang.

Your head immediately perked up. You inched your way back toward headboard, trying to put yourself in a position as far away from the sound as possible.

Your breathing stopped as you listened. “Hurry the fuck up, we got two more to go to tonight.” You heard an unfamiliar voice call out. It was obvious they were trying to be quiet, albeit unsuccessfully.

Without hesitation, your finger hit the call button. It rang twice before Aaron’s groggy voice was coming through the receiver, “Hey honey, how are you-”

You cut him off with a desperate whisper of his name, “Aaron,” He was stricken with worry immediately. You were sick, so sick. You’d been running almost a 103 degree forever. Despite your medicine, there was no way you’d be able to speak with such conviction in your voice already.

“Aaron,” you repeated with as you squeezed your eyes shut, “Someone’s here.”

Aaron’s heart stopped in his chest. The last time someone entered the house of a person he loved, they never came back out of it. Haley’s last moments alive were spent with someone who was in her house when he shouldn’t have been. And now that was happening to you.

“Where?” Aaron asked as he shuffled around, moving to his gun safe. He quickly input the code, checked the safety and began to make his way to your house. He could hear Jackson barking in the background, doing his best to protect you.

You heard a crash somewhere downstairs, and decided you couldn’t sit anymore. Faster than someone with the flu should be able to, you stood up to move to the bathroom attached to bedroom.

“They’re downstairs, please hurry.” He could hear the fear in your voice, the way you were choking back tears. Jackson’s bark was getting progressively louder had Aaron’s heart speeding up.

Aaron didn’t answer as he approached the door. His end of the call went silent, before you heard your door crash open again. “FBI,” his loud voice boomed through the house. Even Jackson paused at that, standing with his fur perked up and his eyes focused on the door.

Aaron then yelled and you could tell it was directed towards you, “Call the police!”

You did as you were told, hanging up the phone call to dial 911. You quickly explained the situation and gave your address to the dispatcher. You told her that Aaron was here, he was an FBI agent, he was seemingly making sure the intruders weren’t leaving, and to please, please, please, not let him get hurt.

Her calming voice assured her that she wouldn’t.

You sat on the bathroom floor, shaking, running your hands through Jackson’s fur as you waited for the police to arrive. You wished Aaron could handle it. That he had the power to arrest them and it could all be over. But he didn’t, so you were stuck here, waiting, shaking.

It felt like an eternity, but was probably twenty minutes, but you heard the sirens as they pulled up. Once the cops were in the door, Aaron informed them of what was going on, and then made a beeline to your room. The door was still shut from when you went to bed, but not locked. Aaron decided to lecture you later.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room as Jackson creeped out. Aaron gave him a few pats before following where he’d came from.

“Aaron,” he heard your tired voice call out. You were definitely crying, even if you hadn’t noticed it yet. “It’s me, honey,” he answered, finally finding you in the dark. He sat down next to you on the cold tile. He pulled you into his chest, completely enveloping you in nothing but Aaron.

You pressed your ear against his chest, searching for his heartbeat. You could hear how fast it was beating. The sound started to calm you down. As the adrenaline stopping running through you, the illness started to re-emerge.

Aaron didn’t speak as he held you. He held you until you stopped crying. He held you until your breathing evened out. He held you until you stopped shaking. He held you as Jackson curled up at your feet, also trying to protect you.

Ten minutes, then twenty minutes passed, then Aaron lost track of time. Still, he held you close with one arm, and gently combed his fingers through your hair with the other.

“You awake?” He whispered. “Mhm,” you replied. “Let’s go walk around the house.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his request. That was the last thing you wanted to do right now. Your bones hurt and you were scared of what could be lurking in the dark of your house.

“You won’t feel safe unless you know it’s clear.” You shook your head against him. “I won’t feel safe if you leave.” You promised him. Every word was true. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You knew every word of that was true, too.

“Can we go to your house tonight?” Somehow, you were even quieter. “Of course.”

Aaron moved to get up. He stepped over to flick on the lights and then help you up. You tried to ignore how lightheaded the shift in position made you feel, but stumbled as you got up. Aaron reached out, once again protecting you.

“Jackson’s not going to like being alone,” You sighed, with sad eyes. You didn’t want to leave him, but you weren’t going to feel safe. Against every part of his body wanting to tell you he’s just a dog and that’d he be okay, Aaron found himself saying, “He can come, too.”

“You don’t want dogs in your house.” You recalled the countless times Aaron complained about the dog hair. “I’ll make an exception tonight, you’re sick.” He justified. He could feel your body relax in his arms. With Aaron and Jackson by yourself, you knew you’d feel safe and secure. “Thank you, honey.” Aaron smiled at you using his favorite nickname for you.

“Well, let’s walk around and then we’ll head over.” You nod, following his lead. Aaron holds your hand as he guides you through the house, checking every nook and cranny he could think of. Jackson stayed right by your side.

As you made it to the bottom floor of the house, you could see two police cars still sitting, and two cops standing out front talking. You knew you’d have to give a statement or something eventually, but you were hoping Aaron could pull some strings due to how exhausted your body was.

“All clear,” You remark as you finish looking over the house. You’d have to replace your door handle on your front door, and your living room was in complete disarray, but you knew it’d be much worse if Aaron hadn’t come when he did. He was your savior tonight.

Aaron pulls you close again, relishing in your skin being against his. He was coming down from his own adrenaline high and all he wanted to do was hold you, so he could know that you were safe and alive, and opportunity that he didn’t have with Haley.

Something deep inside of him was gratified tonight. He knew that he could never replace Haley, that the love and the fear and the heartbreak he felt for her would always linger and would never, ever go away. But he also knew that he was a different man. He was a better man. A better father, a better lover. He knew that wherever Haley was, he was proud of the man Aaron had become. The man you helped him become.

Aaron pressed a kiss to your forehead, squeezed your shoulder, and then said, “Let’s go home.” You didn’t have to remind him about Jackson, as he moved to the closet that you kept his leash in. As if he could feel the heaviness in the air, Jackson didn’t put up an excited fight to put his leash on.

Aaron held your hand in his right, and Jackson’s leash in his left as he guided the two of you outside. You three took a few paces into the yard, before he was handing you the leash, mumbling an “I’ll be right back,” before walking to where the police were lingering.

You couldn’t hear what was going on, but you saw Aaron shake their hand after talking to them, and then he returned to your side. “They said you can go to the station in the morning to talk to them since I gave a statement. I told them you have the flu, so maybe we can get it pushed back more.” You nodded at his words, and slipped your hand back in his. Aaron ran his thumb along the soft skin of your hand as you walked across the street to his house.

Once you got inside, Aaron let you shower as he found a bowl that Jackson could drink from. The hot water helped your muscles relax, and unstuffed your nose. It felt good to be breathe for a couple minutes.

Aaron was already in bed when you made in to the room. Jackson was curled up on the floor at the end of the bed, softly snoring until you opened the door. “Come here,” Aaron gestured to the empty side of the bed. You complied and he pulled you tight against his side.

Even with the ache in your bones and burn in your throat returning, this was best you’d felt all week.

You tried your best to sleep. When that didn’t work, you tried your best to at least lay still so Aaron could sleep. When that also didn’t work, you sat up in the bed, frustrated. All you’d wanted to do all day was sleep, and now your body was still reeling from your house being broken into, so you could.

“You alright?” Aaron asked, hand moving to run along your thigh. “I can’t sleep,” You mumbled. You felt Aaron nod, before his hands slid up your body, guiding you by your torso to lay back down next to him. He pressed a kiss against your shoulder once he could reach it. “Let’s just lay here, then.”

You nodded, wiggling closer to him. His hand kept moving along your thigh, and you used it to slow your breathing down, matching it to the movement.

You weren’t sure how long you laid like that before Aaron broke the silence, “What would you think about moving in with me?” It was quiet, almost a whisper. It was easily the most timid you’d ever heard him be.

“Can Jackson come?” Aaron laughed at your response, a little less nervous than he’d previously been. “Of course,” he responded. It was quiet for a little bit as you pondered the question, before you replied, “If you talk to Jack and he’s okay with it, then I will consider it.”

Aaron nodded, know that was the best answer he could’ve received given your illness and how late it was. “Okay,” he replied, pressing one more kiss to your shoulder before laying back down next to you.

[makingqueerhistory]

Invitation: Making Queer History in 2024

The urgency around learning and uncovering queer history feels more present than ever. Queer stories are being suppressed globally, and much of that includes the queer community's long legacy. It is easier to erase a group of people when they are unaware of their roots. That's why in 2024, we are inviting everyone to make an active choice to learn more about queer history. That can look different for different people, but here are some suggestions:

Read queer books, there is a reason queer books are being banned. They are powerful tools to connect community, use them. Read them, request them from your library, support queer authors in these uncertain times. (The masterlist linked is an affiliate link)

Follow queer accounts on social media, if possible, social media is a regularity in many of our lives, and it's a great way to keep queerness and queer history present in your mind. Our social media are here on Tumblr, Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest.

Sign up for newsletters about queer history, email newsletters are a lot harder to suppress with algorithms. https://www.digitaltransgenderarchive.net/ https://www.makingqueerhistory.com/ https://www.glbthistory.org/newsletter https://arquives.ca/

Look for and record queer history in your local community, there are lots of city-specific queer history projects around the world, and they would love your stories. If you don't have stories, see if you can find some. Queering the Map is a great alternative if there is no queer center in your city.

Learn and share queer history with your friends, talking about queerness in history does more than spread awareness it builds a legacy for often forgotten figures.

Support queer history projects, queer history costs a lot of money to research. With academic paywalls, language differences, and active erasure, this job is not easy. Help queer history projects continue by supporting them financially.

As the year ends, most people start thinking about their goals, and many will be discarded as 2024 goes on, which is why I put a lot of options, both long-term and short-term ones, on this list. Almost all of them are immediately actionable, though. You can do them right now on your phone, and I encourage you to. A lot of people talk about the importance of queer history, but the active choice to preserve and uplift history is much rarer. Don't let queer history slip through the cracks, not when so many people are trying to sweep it out of the narrative entirely.

[tulliok]

What would be Sunburst's role in the AU, if any at all?

So I actually designed Sunburst already and made up a backstory for him and Starlight! Here’s the first explorations I did of him. I did try drawing him with the cute wizard beard, but a mustache was just more period appropriate and I had to take some liberties. The inspiration board included Harvey from Stardew Valley, Milo Thatch from Atlantis, and Newt Scamander from Fantastic Beasts.

I rewatched “The Parent Map”, and was disappointed by the way that the show failed to explore how Starlight and Sunburst’s parental figures affected their trauma and future relationships. (In general I think Starlight and Sunburst are severely underutilized.) Instead of their families being well-meaning socialites like in the series, they’re members of the Italian-American mob. Starlight and Sunburst have a lot more baggage in the AU as a result.

For Starlight’s father, instead of him being just a silly dad that coddles her too much, I figured it would make more sense if he was far more controlling of her life. It would explain her obsessive need for control and why she has so much trouble handling friendships in the future. Rather than the cutie mark cult, I made her an innkeeper that operates an underground speakeasy. @bixels suggested making her a loan shark as well.

Sunburst is still magically and intellectually gifted, but I scrapped the magic school dropout thing. My idea for his backstory is that he was a golden child that couldn’t take the pressure of being in the mob, so he was disowned by his mother. Him having to leave without a choice makes more sense to me as to why the event was so traumatic to Starlight, as Sunburst was her only friend. In the AU he works as a linguist and magical historian.

I sorta just made these up as my own responses to what I don’t like about their arcs and backstories in the series, while also taking the era into account. Starlight’s motive for her villainous actions in the show is honestly too ridiculous for me and it needs more details, and Sunburst is given practically no backstory.

[somewherebetweendisorder]

Gloomy

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: smut is so hard to write guys. I tried, but maybe too hard. As always like, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

~~

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY, REPOST, OR USE MY WORK IN ANY WAY.

~~

The air conditioner in your car has been out for two summers. Normally it's not a big deal. Normally you'd roll the windows down. Normally you'd dress for the season. Normally Jason's hulking frame wouldn't be taking up more than his fair share of the cramped cabin. 

But today the Gotham skies have released torrential rains, and the air is thick with uncharacteristic humidity. Jason grumbles from beside you, shifting around in the passenger seat. His fingers twitch against his denim clad knees, tapping out a restless beat. Suddenly he reaches for the AC button, turning it on and off and on and off. 

"God, you're sure the damn thing doesn't work?"

Despite the tacky, wet sweat blazing a trail down your back, and your general frustration with the situation a small smile tugs at your lips. "Yes Jason, I'm sure. The whole thing is bad."

He sighs, loud and long. "Why haven't you said anything? I could have gotten it fixed."

And that's just the thing. At any point over the past two years, if you'd so much as mentioned it in passing to Jason, or Dick, or Bruce -hell, even Tim- it would be a non-issue. You know this, know their generosity knows no bounds for family, and neither do their bank accounts, but this is yours. Be it pride, or independence, this was just something you want for yourself. Even if you're not making progress with the situation, but Jason for all his finer qualities, wouldn't agree. 

"I love you, Jason."

He sighs again, and fiddles with the volume. The rain comes down impossibly harder, and you slow accordingly, the white lines on the road indistinguishable. 

"Just pull over here," he offers, pointing to the parking lot out his window. 

The store is closed given the hour, and the parking lot is empty. Flicking on your turn signal you make the turn, pulling into a spot and cutting the engine. Now the only sound is the tinny patter of the storm on the roof of your car, and the distant roll of thunder. Jason sighs again, attempting to stretch out his knee, which cracks in response. An awkward giggle spills past your lips, earning a crooked grin from Jason.

"Some weather, huh?"

His face is pretty and haunted in the dim yellow light of the nearby streetlamp, skin warm and inviting. The little scars scattered across his face almost glow in the dark, splitting his lip, and running jagged through his eyebrow where the little hairs won't regrow.

"Yeah, some weather," you echo softly, gaze mapping his features. 

He closes the distance, planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth before retreating, but not completely. He lingers large in the narrow space between your seats, body twisted towards you. "What's on your mind, ma?"

"You."

It's an honest answer, neither unusual or surprising. He blinks slowly, quiet, waiting for you to elaborate if you wish. You bypass the talking option, twisting around in your own seat, bringing your hands up to cup his face, your thumb skidding gently across the prominent pink-white scar on his upper lip. He kisses the pad of your thumb, teal eyes raking across your face.

And it doesn't take a lot, hardly anything at all to lean forward and close the gap again, pressing your lips so softly against his. It's teasing, gentle, and not nearly enough. Jason lets you do it once, twice, three times before he's had enough and nips at your bottom lip, teeth sinking into the pillowy flesh. You shouldn't give in so easily, you know that, but the action has you breathing out a soft moan, chasing his kiss with fervor. 

You're caught in his web now, planting a knee up on the middle console to follow him as he cranks the seat back as far as he can. He's yanking at the sleeves of your jacket as you tumble on top of him, eager to get it off. Eager to feel more skin, more of you. You slot your knees on either side of his waist, your right knee digging into seat-belt buckle but you hardly notice. Sitting back you pull your arms our of the sleeves of your jacket, chucking it across the backseat as your shirt follows. Large hands settling on your hips he grinds you down against him, eyes darkening as you unhook your bra. His undoes the button on your jeans, tapping your ass so you sit up to help get them off.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful."

He can't seem to decide what to do with his hands. They flex restlessly against the doughy flesh of your hips before flattening against the expanse of your back and tugging you down to him. His lips are on yours again, nearly bruising as you try to form a coherent thought. 

"Want this off," you mutter, tugging at the soft cotton of his shirt, fingers wandering beneath them hem to run softly across the slip of skin. His abs tense in response, a groan getting stuck in the back of his throat. He leans up just enough to tear it off before he's leaning back and taking you with his, lips burning a wet path across your jaw, down your neck and between the valley of your breasts. He's impossibly hard beneath you, and you can't resist the urge to tease him a bit more, grinding down on his arousal just as his tongue licks experimentally across the hardened peak of your nipple. 

It's the same game every time, where Jason knows just what it takes to turn you into a whimpering, sticky mess, but feigns ignorance. Your fingers anchor into the soft hair at the base of his skull, tugging gently. He groans again, finding his way to your other breast to lavish it in the same sloppy love. You try to be still, you really do, his hands firm against your waist, but the calm facade is impossible to manage when he guides you back and forth over his bulge, the friction fanning the flames building low in your gut. 

"Jason please. Please," you gasp out just as his teeth sink into your nipple, just hard enough. "I need you." 

His belt jangles in the stifling air of the cabin, and you huff impatiently when his zipper sticks. Finally you're shoving the denim our of the way, and he slipping his boxers down to pull out his throbbing dick. You hover, too eager, too hot, too hungry to wait, and he's guiding you down, the sound of pleasure ripping from your lungs a little too loud, but he hardly minds. He builds a steady pace, the skin on skin filling the car, the smell of sex thick. One of his hands stays anchored in your hair, tipping your head back so he has easy access to the slick column of your throat and breasts, his other hand on your hip. 

And you're so close, his swollen tip hitting that spongy spot with every thrust up into you. You reach down to play with your slit, chasing that high, determined to hit it together. Your scrape your nails against his navel earning a throaty whimper from the main beneath you, and fuck, if that isn't the most delicious sound. You clench around your boyfriend as your climax crashes over you, dragging him along, and he lets out a harsh groan as his thrusts grow sloppy. 

"Fuck, baby, cum for me."

And that does it. The string that's been stretched tighter and tighter snaps as you gush around his throbbing cock. You collapse against his chest, thoroughly spent. 

"Good girl," he chuckles, knuckles brushing against your back as he pushes your hair over your shoulder. The heat that was so unbearable doesn't seem quite as awful now. 

As you come back into your body thunder booms overhead, startling you as you jerk in Jason's arms. He huffs a soft laugh, tipping your chin up to kiss you on the bridge of your nose. You reach an arm up and draw a heart into the condensation on the window as it begins to bleed little tracks of moisture down the glass. He draws a dick next to it, just for good measure, and pulls you into a kiss. And it's moments like there when you're really glad to be alive; really glad to be with him.

[bizkonnect]

Having a clear view of your target’s organizational hierarchy would always make your account maps more effective. So, plotting before mapping should be the way. You might be of the view that org charts are a tedious task where data inputs need to be manually conducted from the CRM. Thankfully, there are intelligent tools which can help you with most operative and diagrammatic org charts, ensuring you the right relationship mapping while covering all the tricky researches required.

[fullstarlighttyphoon]

Actionable Org Charts are being used by companies to empower their ABM Strategy and sell into large enterprises These Org Charts help sales, marketing and account management teams to transform their large account entry and expansion. These Org charts provide complete visibility to the decision makers and influencers, show multiple entry points and fast-track the sales process by providing a complete hierarchical view of the company's decision making tree. Visit to know more: http://orgkonnect.bizkonnect.com/demo...

[reasonsforhope]

No-paywall version.

"You can never really see the future, only imagine it, then try to make sense of the new world when it arrives.

Just a few years ago, climate projections for this century looked quite apocalyptic, with most scientists warning that continuing “business as usual” would bring the world four or even five degrees Celsius of warming — a change disruptive enough to call forth not only predictions of food crises and heat stress, state conflict and economic strife, but, from some corners, warnings of civilizational collapse and even a sort of human endgame. (Perhaps you’ve had nightmares about each of these and seen premonitions of them in your newsfeed.)

Now, with the world already 1.2 degrees hotter, scientists believe that warming this century will most likely fall between two or three degrees. (A United Nations report released this week ahead of the COP27 climate conference in Sharm el Sheikh, Egypt, confirmed that range.) A little lower is possible, with much more concerted action; a little higher, too, with slower action and bad climate luck. Those numbers may sound abstract, but what they suggest is this: Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders,

we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years.

...Conventional wisdom has dictated that meeting the most ambitious goals of the Paris agreement by limiting warming to 1.5 degrees could allow for some continuing normal, but failing to take rapid action on emissions, and allowing warming above three or even four degrees, spelled doom.

Neither of those futures looks all that likely now, with the most terrifying predictions made improbable by decarbonization and the most hopeful ones practically foreclosed by tragic delay. The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse.

Over the last several months, I’ve had dozens of conversations — with climate scientists and economists and policymakers, advocates and activists and novelists and philosophers — about that new world and the ways we might conceptualize it. Perhaps the most capacious and galvanizing account is one I heard from Kate Marvel of NASA, a lead chapter author on the fifth National Climate Assessment: “The world will be what we make it.” Personally, I find myself returning to three sets of guideposts, which help map the landscape of possibility.

First, worst-case temperature scenarios that recently seemed plausible now look much less so, which is inarguably good news and, in a time of climate panic and despair, a truly underappreciated sign of genuine and world-shaping progress...

[I cut number two for being focused on negatives. This is a reasons for hope blog.]

Third, humanity retains an enormous amount of control — over just how hot it will get and how much we will do to protect one another through those assaults and disruptions. Acknowledging that truly apocalyptic warming now looks considerably less likely than it did just a few years ago pulls the future out of the realm of myth and returns it to the plane of history: contested, combative, combining suffering and flourishing — though not in equal measure for every group...

“We live in a terrible world, and we live in a wonderful world,” Marvel says. “It’s a terrible world that’s more than a degree Celsius warmer. But also a wonderful world in which we have so many ways to generate electricity that are cheaper and more cost-effective and easier to deploy than I would’ve ever imagined. People are writing credible papers in scientific journals making the case that switching rapidly to renewable energy isn’t a net cost; it will be a net financial benefit,” she says with a head-shake of near-disbelief. “If you had told me five years ago that that would be the case, I would’ve thought, wow, that’s a miracle.”"

-via The New York Times Magazine, October 26, 2022

[eunuchmoder]

Girl who is imperceptible, uncanny, strange.

Her face disappears when you look at it, distorting into a blur of unfamiliar memories. Her motions make no sense, moving in directions you can't name. She speaks in words you maybe understand, possibly. You think you do, at least.

When you are with her, the frenzied blur of sex and body fluid says all that you both need to hear. but every moment prior and afterwards, she becomes that foggy humanoid presence that you can't parse even if your life depended on it.

She weaves her way into your mind; you remember why you were drawn to her (or why she was drawn to you), but you can't fetch the memory even if you tried. You have a vague memory of her smiling, or laughing, or making intoxicating sounds when your skin connected, and you know it was something you did that invoked this reaction. When you try to recall what you did, though, all you can see in your mind's eye is noise and turbulence.

See, humans are pattern seekers by evolutionary design, so every time you perform an action to her, you add the accompanying reaction to your mental map of her. But the pages of said map are soaked in coffee and bile, tearing to shreds each time you put your pen to it. You try to read it back, tracing your fingers across the same routes and landmarks, but you end in a different location every time, even if all variables are accounted for. Every attempt at navigating her unearthly self is futile and not without a massive margin of error.

Moments of clarity shine through, though, during sex – oases of respite in a desert of unfamiliarity. You see her face, smiling and contorting in pleasure. You feel her heart rate increase in direct correlation. Her hair is unusually soft – you aren't sure if you want to pull it and hear her whine and grunt, or if you want to run your fingers through it gently to really commit that physical sensation to memory. Her eyes, so emotive, speak grand poems in conjunction with her eyelids. You can hear her voice telling you to "keep going," pleading you to continue "just like that," and begging to reach climax. Through the overwhelming storm that is the connection of your flesh (you can feel her flesh for the first time in a while), you can enumerate every single vibration of her vocal cords and what it all means. It's understandable and crystal clear, even if for just an hour or two.

Afterwards, she silently retreats back into the glamer, obscuring every facet of her being and her influence once more.

You ask how it felt.

She replies ████████████, in a voice that is not just flat and devoid of emotion, but somehow entirely lacks tone to begin with.

You ask her if she needs a glass of water or a towel, maybe a shower. She gently coos at you, with a raspy emotion that feels like grit and silk, ◌̶̹̿⃤̶̰̌◷̴̲̒◌̴̞̇⃟̷̫̋

Once again, you can't scrutinise what she's saying anymore. She becomes a formless mass without weight or gravity. Did you do it right? Is she comfortable? Are you impeding on her presence by sharing the same blanket? The infinite questions burn a hole in your chest like white-hot coals placed onto a slab of ice.

There's an allure to her, of course, and you remember it clearly.

But the glamer begins to alter your own memory.

When she came into your life, did you read her face right? Did she even have a face to read? Did you remember that night clearly? Do you remember it at all?

Her otherworldly influence jabs at you, taunting you.

Or maybe it's just you taunting yourself.

It's impossible to tell. She melts your memory, synapse by synapse. You genuinely cannot remember anything about her without it being laid under a dense veneer of suspicion.

Most frustratingly of all, she gets along great with every other one of those formless, nameless humanoid presences that you know... Though you can't remember if those other "people" you see were always like this—like her—or if she's tainted your psyche to the point that everyone becomes unreadable.

Your own face is the only thing you're sure of anymore. But even still, you begin to worry if the expressions you consciously assume are the ones that the formless presences around you are expecting you to make in response to their dim gurgling and sweaty blinks. It's torture. You begin to move your focus from them to yourself. You manually emote so that you don't accidentally smile when you should frown. You watch every syllable that collapses over your lips to make sure they don't misconstrue your joy for entitlement. It's all in vain, though, because you never get a chance to verify if this output is correct. She stares at every part of you at once with an impossible number of eyes. You can't tell what the eyes say in return.

She is eldritch. She is dreamlike. She is unknowable, preternatural, and vague. The fact that you cannot understand a single aspect of her form is stressful.

But the sex was good. I wonder if she's free any time soon? Maybe I should just ask if she could use tone indicators next time.

[medusa-fem]

Not all trans women are innocent bystanders to the patriarchy

My trans girlfriend from highschool used to complain that I didn't want to sleep with her because "I didn't see her as a real woman". This was a coercion tactic, used against me as a traumatized female who simply did not want to have sex often.

Another trans woman I knew adamantly defended lolicon, stating that "they aren't real kids". Of course I later found out she got off to "legal loli"

Same trans woman as before adamantly defended the movie cuties. Did not give two shits about the exploitation of young girls. Even said that bullying maps online was wrong because "pedophiles need support to not act on their urges"

I have also had a run in with a male who clearly did not even care to be a woman, simply called himself one as a sissy to get a pass to get closer to female people. Absolute fucking freak. Abusive towards a younger female coworker using sexist slurs, kept touching me when I explicitly said to stop and said I lead him on after getting kicked out of my home, even used his fake label to try to get head from a trans woman he had known for 3 days who showed no interest.

I knew a trans woman who kept dating people younger than her. Saw a freshly 18 trans girl as a 23 year old. Consistently talked about how immature she was, which makes it clear to me she knew the power dynamic.

I had a trans woman I was hanging out with get permission from the other trans woman in the room to strip down to nothing, but did not ask me if I was comfortable with it. Then asked me if I wanted to see her botched circumcision scar. (I had only met her twice prior).

I had a trans woman use love bombing to manipulate me into jumping into a relationship with her. Once I realized how manipulative and mentally unwell she was I was going to break up with her. As soon as she figured out she drove to my house drunk to "get her things". She screamed at me and kept balling up her fist like she was going to punch me while I sobbed. I texted all of my nearby friends that if I didn't text them by x time the next day to call the cops, because I thought she was going to assault me.

I know of a trans woman in the area who was a friend of a trans man for about 6 months. He described them as something close to platonic soul mates. She raped him when he was too intoxicated to speak.

I knew a trans woman who would fully strip at any given opportunity while hanging out with a group of friends. Everyone was uncomfortable.

An abusive "friend" of mine from highschool began labeling himself nonbinary to sleep with traumatized trans men and nonbinary afab people who did not want to date men. He didn't do anything but use the label. He falsely accused me of rape because I began telling people about his abuse. He made comments about trying to get a trans male partner pregnant to trap him. Last I heard of him he was trying to sleep with my trans man friend, being extremely coercive, while I had to tell him to get the fuck out of there so he wouldn't get raped.

This isn't even all of it. I know some radfems who do not associate at all with the trans community may not realize it, but this is common place for trans men and nonbinary afabs. I have faced so much at the hands of trans women who were not held accountable for their behavior because no one wanted to hurt the reputation of trans women as a whole.

The concerns about bathrooms don't strike a cord because the trans community doesn't see it happen, that is actually rare. Please use the stories of the regular victims of trans women's actions, because these are stories I hope the lgbt community can take seriously. I'm not saying trans women as a whole are "men" or "just faking it", I'm saying they need to be held accountable just like other male individuals who harm female people.

[jenscx]

[11] DAYLIGHT — d-day

you stared unblinking at the webcam, your stream displaying the waiting animation sakura had created for you a couple years back. the moment karina accepted your friend request on discord, you started the stream.

“hello everyone,” you smile, “today’s stream is slightly special and i’ll explain in just a minute when our mystery guest joins.”

your mouse hovers over the call button as the chat floods with comments about the ‘mystery guest’. by now, everyone had sort of figured out who the mystery guest was. could it really be counted as a mystery?

karina finally joins the call and your party in overwatch.

“hello?”

the chat goes crazy. you inwardly grimace. there’s a wave of donations and tips coming in. you didn’t know of karina’s popularity until that moment.

“we have karina joining us today,” you cringe at your cheerful tone. you can only imagine karina making fun of you later. she replies, “hi everyone, i’m karina.”

seeing as your viewers had calmed down significantly, you start to explain, “so i’m sure some of you guys are wondering why we hosted this stream. well, karina and i matched in a game and became acquainted with one another after.” you leave out the part about how karina was the cause of your account being banned.

“acquainted? didn’t you say we weren’t friends?” karina teased. you already feel a headache coming.

you try to smile, knowing that most likely, she’s also watching your stream and reactions.

“let’s just play!”

karina lets out a boisterous laugh as you quickly start a 1v1 match.

“are there any rules?” you read from the chat, “nope, but respawn is not on and we can change heroes.”

your mouse flashes across the screen, and you see karina being locked in already. knowing her, the youtuber probably picked genji to prove you wrong. a chuckle escapes your lips and you pick symmetra. the game starts.

“i’m excited,” karina remarks.

“excited to lose?”

she merely laughs. the doors finally open and you’ve never been so focused in your life. the mere prospect of having yu karina do anything you want is already egging you on. you weren’t aware of her fanbase, but you were now. with the help of kim minju of course.

“are you hiding?” you ask incredously after scouring the map for a few minutes but with no karina in sight.

“of course not, stupid.” her silky yet raspy voice reverberates in your headphones. you can’t help your cheeks heating up.

a moment passes, and you hear quick footsteps behind you. your mouse swiftly turns. she isn’t there anymore.

“you’re so annoying,” you mutter. you can hear karina’s smirk in her voice when she replies, “you like me that way.”

“i don’t like you in any way.”

“yeah?” before you even get to answer, genji jumps out of nowhere and gets a couple hits on you. you instantly snap into action, symmetra placing down her sentry turrets, combating karina’s swift movements.

‘are they flirting or arguing with each other?’

‘this is very homoerotic.’

you ignore your chat.

her health depletes slightly before she manages to escape again. you grin, already knowing that her pride wouldn’t allow her to switch to another hero. and she was so predictable that you chose a hero that counters genji.

“stop hiding and running away, it’s defeating the purpose of a 1v1,” you say.

“only if you tell me nicely, darling.” the red in your cheeks return and your chat goes berserk.

you click your tongue, irritation at yourself boiling. you were so easily flustered.

“don’t call me that!”

the blurry image of karina smirking only sends another wave of heat to your face.

“whatever you say, darling.” you roll your eyes.

“okay, stop hiding. let’s settle this for real.” at that moment, karina chooses to strike. genji apparates out of nowhere again and deals massive amounts of damage. when you use your primary fire, karina can’t deflect it. you’re left with barely a quarter of full health. you assume karina has roughly the same.

“baby, just let me win.”

you don’t even hesitate to stop firing. karina giggles as she throws one last shuriken at you. symmetra groans and the screen goes into darkness. your chat pings continuously.

defeat, in large and bold letters, shows up on your screen. your jaw drops. you only gaze at the monitor in awe. in awe of how easy you were. just a simple command from karina and you were basically turned into a lapdog. how does someone so insufferable have such a effect on you?

“what. the. hell.”

‘choi yena gifted 5 subs; park yn, don’t tell me you just lost because you’re a simp?’ the robotic voice says. you continue gaping at the screen. the humiliation of your loss only eats you up, and there’s an overwhelming urge to just end the stream without saying goodbye. in your headphones, you hear karina laughing heartily. the chat is still being flooded with comments, mostly making fun of you. not only had you lost, you lost in front of 20k people watching your devastating defeat.

“uhm,” you mumble, “so, see you guys next time.”

“thanks for the game, yn! don’t forget about our bet,” karina laughs gleefully.

your entire face turns red at this point. with clumsy hands, you end the stream, vowing to never play overwatch ever again.

masterlist | next

TAGLIST ! @flolio @imahallucination11 @wallfl9wer @edamboon @seullovesme @twicesserafim @klvarchives @rinapomu @pandafuriosa60 @jisooftme @cwpiqwon @yoontoonwhs @limbforalimb @xen248 @r4cjh @dni-unavailable @yukianism @i3lia @ryujinsdimple @httpisaoki @haerinsloverr @masuowo @multiliker @edenzeepy @1luvkarina @yeetaberry127

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Tips & Advice for Writing Fiction

"Since advice is usually ignored and rules are routinely broken, I refer to these little pearls as merely 'suggestions.'....There’s nothing binding here. All suggestions can be ignored when necessary." —John Grisham

Love your story. Many writers create their best work when they’re deeply invested in their characters and plot.

Withhold information from your readers. When writing fiction, only give readers the information they need to know in the moment. Ernest Hemingway’s iceberg theory in writing is to show your readers just the tip of the iceberg. The supporting details—like backstory—should remain unseen, just like the mass of an iceberg under the water’s surface. This prevents readers from getting overwhelmed with information and lets them use their imagination to fill in the blanks.

Write simple sentences. Think of Shakespeare’s line, “To be or not to be?” famous for its brevity and the way it quickly describes a character’s toiling over their own life. There is a time and place for bigger words and denser text, but you can get story points across in simple sentences and language. Try using succinct language when writing, so that every word and sentence has a clear purpose.

Mix up your writing. To become a better writer, try different types of writing. If you’re a novelist, take a stab at a short story. If you’re writing fiction, try writing nonfiction. Try a more casual writing style by blogging. Each piece of writing has a different point of view and different style rules that will help your overall writing skills.

Write every day. Great writers have a regular writing habit. That means dedicating time every day to the craft of writing. Some writers assign themselves a daily word count; Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day. You might also join a writing group; being accountable to other people is a great motivator. Don’t worry if what you jot down is technically bad writing or you struggle to get something onto a blank page. Some days will be more productive than others. The more you write the easier it gets.

Set milestones. The average word count for a book is 75,000 words. That can make novel writing intimidating. If you’re working on your first novel, stay motivated by setting milestones. This will help you break the book down mentally so it is easier to manage and easier to stick with.

Understand basic story structure. Professional writers are well-versed in the framework most stories follow, from exposition and rising action through to the climax and falling action. Create an outline to map your main plot and subplots on paper before you get started.

Don't write the first scene until you know the last. This necessitates the use of a dreaded device commonly called an outline. Virtually all writers hate that word. Plotting takes careful planning. Writers waste years pursuing stories that eventually don’t work.

Learn strong character development techniques. There are effective ways to create a character arc in literature. Learn what character information to reveal to increase tension in your story. Your main characters should have a backstory that informs their actions, motivations, and goals. Determine what point of view (POV)—first person or third person—complements the character’s interpretation of events.

Use the active voice. Your goal as an author is to write a page-turner—a book that keeps readers engaged from start to finish. Use the active voice in your stories. Sentences should generally follow the basic structure of noun-verb-object. While passive voice isn’t always a bad thing, limit it in your fiction writing.

Take breaks when you need them. Writer's block gets the best of every writer. Step away from your desk and get some exercise. Getting your blood flowing and being in a different environment can ignite ideas. Continue writing later that day or even the next.

Kill your darlings. An important piece of advice for writers is to know when words, paragraphs, chapters, or even characters, are unnecessary to the story. Being a good writer means having the ability to edit out excess information. If the material you cut is still a great piece of writing, see if you can build a short story around it.

Don't introduce 20 characters in the first chapter. A rookie mistake. Your readers are eager to get started. Don’t bombard them with a barrage of names from four generations of the same family. Five names are enough to get started.

Read other writers. Reading great writing can help you find your own voice and hone your writing skills. Read a variety of genres. It also helps to read the same genre as your novel. If you’re writing a thriller, then read other thrillers that show how to build tension, create plot points, and how to do the big reveal at the climax of the story.

Read beyond what you like. Dutch writer Thomas Heerma van Voss says: "Read as much and as widely as possible. See how other writers construct their scenes, tease the reader, build tension. Don’t be afraid, especially when starting out, to steal or imitate – all arts begins with imitation. One of the Netherlands’ most famous writers began his writing career by copying out stories by Ivan Turgenev in an effort to master his rhythm and way of writing."

Read writers who do not write like you. Trinidadian-British poet Vahni Capildeo says: “Make friends with writers who do not write like you. Swap books. Show each other work. Take the long view and the wide view. Writing adds your lifetime to the lifetime of everyone else who has written or read, or who will read or write, including non-‘literary’ folk. All sorts of people work carefully or lovingly or effectively with words. You may find inspiration in a law report (ancient or contemporary) or a tide chart, or in an ‘unplayable’ play…"

Research. Critically acclaimed novelist Guinevere Glasfurd says: “Writers are often exhorted to ‘write what they know’. But what if your protagonist is a fourteenth-century nun? Or a drag queen from Kentucky (and supposing you, the writer, are not)? Start by reminding yourself why you want to tell the story. Research can be frustrating; sometimes the archive is silent, the answers are not there. There’s a reason for that and that should spark other questions. Research can also be enormously rewarding. It can, and likely will, reveal something unexpected. It is important to remain alert to that, to be attentive and open to surprise. Research is an iterative process. Research a bit, write a bit, research a bit more. Allow your writing to remain fluid at this point, open to question, encouraging of further enquiry.”

Write to sell. To make a living doing what they love, fiction writers need to think like editors and publishers. In other words, approach your story with a marketing sensibility as well as a creative one to sell your book.

Write now, edit later. Young writers and aspiring writers might be tempted to spend a lot of time editing and rewriting as they type. Resist that temptation. Practice freewriting—a creative writing technique that encourages writers to let their ideas flow uninterrupted. Set a specific time to edit.

Get feedback. It can be hard to critique your own writing. When you have finished a piece of writing or a first draft, give it to someone to read. Ask for honest and specific feedback. This is a good way to learn what works and what doesn’t.

Think about publishing. Few authors write just for themselves. Envision where you want your story to be published. If you have a short story, think about submitting it to literary magazines. If you have a novel, you can send it to literary agents and publishing houses. You might also consider self-publishing if you really want to see your book in print.

Ignore writing advice that doesn't resonate with you. Not every writer works the same. You have to figure out what works for you in the long run. If working off of bullet-point outlines gives you hives, then don't do it. If you work best writing scenes out of order, then write those scenes out of order.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References