#and then turn around and spout all kinds of bigotry

[ghost-of-someone]

literally just saw some radfem bullshit on my dash, & then when I went to their blog to block them not only was it full of anti-trans half arguments & accusations of other people being childish, but one of the very first posts was about how a certain show would be better if one of the main characters was a young woman instead of an old man because they "don't like old people"

[peakyblindas]

History Repeats.

Taglist: @zablife @evita-shelby

Theodore Dormer was the eldest son, he was aware of the burden that lay upon his shoulders, to carry on the Dormer name, to be the shining example of the family, to create a legacy. 

His parents never forced his burden upon him, he was in truth, his Mother’s third child and his Father’s second, if you included his adopted elder sister Melody, but he was his Father’s first born biological child, and he wanted to make his Father proud more than anything.

Matthew Dormer was a good parent, he was kind and relaxed, not as strict as other Father’s, if the stories the boys in his school told were true, never once had his Father shouted or struck him, he was always supportive.

Which is why what Theodore was about to tell him was so difficult.

He lingered in the doorway of his Father’s studio, watching as he painted a landscape on a large canvas, completely unaware of the world around him.

It was now or never.

“Dad?” He asked, entering the room, it took a few moments for his Father to notice him, his gray blue eyes looking over at him from the painting.

“Theo!” He beamed, putting his paintbrush down “My boy I missed you at breakfast, your Mother said you had gone into town.” 

“Yes, I met up with some friends actually..”

He fiddled with his cardigan buttons

“We’ve all signed up.”

The smile momentary disappeared from his Father’s lips, before returning

“Good lad.” 

His Father walked away from his easel, and clapped a hand on Theodore’s shoulder. 

“You aren’t angry at me?”

“Why on earth would I be angry?” 

“Mum’s gonna hit the roof.”

“Never mind your Mother, I can talk to her, make her see sense.” 

“Good luck, sense has never been Mum’s strong point.”

His Father laughed and squeezed his shoulder before releasing it “I’m proud of you, son, I missed the last war, I was too sickly and I feel everyday that I was a coward, left at home while my peers risked everything..”

“I’d never call you a coward.”

“Then you are kinder than most.” 

A flash of sadness appeared in his Father’s eyes, Theodore ignored it. If it was a topic he wished to discuss it he would bring it up, that was the way in this house, never poke or prod, if you should know something, you’ll be told it. 

His Father turned around and went back to his painting, this conversation was over, no more needed to be said, there was no point drawing it out.

Now he just had to tell his Mother.

XX

Dinner was uneventful, Apart from the glare of his Mother every so often,Fionnuala Dormer could sink a battleship with her glare, but when the twins Enola and Juilius, only ten years of age, and joined at the hip were herded to bed did Theodore notice the atmosphere, only the adults were awake now, time for the serious topics.

Dorothy stoked the fire, Melody was reading her book, but both were looking from Theodore, to their Mother and then each other, they were waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Your Father tells me you’ve signed up for the army.” His Mother’s voice was level, never a good sign. 

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to discuss it with any of us?”

“I had talked it over with my friends, we all agreed it was the bes-”

“What do your friends know? You’re all barely off the tit!”

“I’m not a child!” 

Theodore was on his feet before he realized, which in turn made his Mother stand up, she wasn’t a tall woman, in fact he was a head taller than her but she always seemed ten foot tall, her anger made her bigger.

“No you’re not, I would’ve thought you were smart enough to not do this, Theo.” 

“What is the smart thing, To stay home and let others die?” Theodore looked to his sisters “To let the Nazis march across Europe spouting their hate? What if one of them went after Mel?”

“Your sister has dealt with her bigotry, Don’t drag her into this.”

“Fi, don’t make a deal out of this, what's done is done.” His Father stood up for him, not moving from his chair 

“No I will make a fuckin’ deal out of this!”

Oh God, Mother’s accent was coming out, the shift from Posh to Brummie was always a warning sign, like black clouds before a storm.

“I saw what the war did to the last lot who went off…” His Mother sat back down “Danny Whizbang screaming at invisible Germans…Arthur drinking himself half to death, Tommy’s nightmares..”

Theodore didn’t know who Danny Whizbang was, but he knew his Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tommy never spoke about the great war, they never wore their medals, even when his Uncle Tommy went to remembrance day for his MP duties, If it wasn’t for his Mother, he’d never even known they had fought at all.

“This war is different..”

“Different?” His Mother met his eyes, she wasn’t angry as her voice wanted you to believe, she looked sad “All war is the same, all war is death.”

Theodore felt light headed suddenly and left the room, his legs again were working on their own, all too soon he was collapsing into his bed, face in the pillows, he took a long shaky inhale of breath. 

He had made the right choice.

Hadn’t he?

[tuttle-did-it]

I have posted this many times, and I'm so sad to say this is still relevant. This episode of All in the Family aired 16 Sept 1972. This was a PARODY of the absurdity of pro-gun arguments and conservatives in the era.

Archie Bunker goes on tv and argues, ridiculously, for everyone to have guns, and is then promptly held up by people who saw his editorial on gun control.

Archie Bunker was an absurdity. He was NOT supposed to become inspiration for a future president. Every episode was Norman Lear (one of the best producers of television in American history) using Archie Bunker to beg and plead the audience to have some shred of respect and NOT be like Archie Bunker.

I am exhausted and ashamed that what was an outrageous joke 52 years ago is STILL an argument that not only we continue to have, but that some people literally take it seriously.

You know what the saddest thing is? Archie Bunker is better than most conservatives, and do you know why? Because every week he spouts this absolute garbage, and everyone around him tells him he's crazy and stupid and he needs to stop. Then, his horrible bigotry and sadistic insanity get him in trouble. Then, at the end of the episode, Archie realises that his argument was wrong, and he has to re-evaluate his stance.

[Archie is delivering en editorial on a local TV station] Archie Bunker: [on TV] Good evening, everybody. This here is Archie Bunker of 704 Hauser Street, veteran of the big war, speaking on behalf of guns for everybody. Now, question: what was the first thing that the Communists done when they took over Russia? Answer: gun control. And there's a lot of people in this country want to do the same thing to us here in a kind of conspiracy, see. You take your big international bankers, they want to - whaddya call - masticate the people of this here nation like puppets on the wing, and then when they get their guns, turn us over to the Commies. Edith Bunker: Oh, Archie, I'm glad they put you on a stool, you look taller sitting down. Archie Bunker: [on TV] Now I want to talk about another thing that's on everybody's minds today, and that's your stick-ups and your skyjackings, and which, if that were up to me, I could end the skyjackings tomorrow. Michael 'Meathead' Stivic: You could? Archie Bunker: [on TV] All you gotta do is arm all your passengers. He ain't got no more moral superiority there, and he ain't gonna dare to pull out no rod. And then your airlines, they wouldn't have to search the passengers on the ground no more, they just pass out the pistols at the beginning of the trip, and they just pick them up at the end! Case closed. Michael 'Meathead' Stivic: That's incredible, Arch.

I'm almost sad that Norman Lear lived to see the rise of neo-fascism and trumpism (same thing) in America. But for his 100th birthday, Lear wrote an article (linked above, excerpts below) reflecting on the America he saw in his 100 years. Absolutely worth a read.

How many times has a good guy with a gun deescalated a situation

[superectojazzmage]

It’s really interesting how the context of the real world or larger franchise that a story is written in can make a huge difference in its quality and how it’s received, and depriving it of that context can utterly ruin it.

I say this in regards to X-Men with the whole Krakoa Age which is fantastic for the most part and probably the best X-Men has been in years, but which can ONLY exist and be good in the specific context in which it was created; as a return to form making the best out of decades on end of X-Men as a series getting horribly mistreated and subjected to near-endless terrible stories with only pockets of hope between long stretches of shit.

Jonathan Hickman’s refreshing of the X-Men is built entirely around taking all the absolute rancid garbage the Merry Mutants have suffered through since Decimation and making something out of it — the repeated mutant genocides, the mass slaughter of beloved characters, the pointless revivals of characters that should’ve stayed dead, the derailments of heroes into villains, the woobification of villains into heroes, the snarled and convoluted or abandoned plotlines, the incessant misery, the demonization of humans, the refusal to let the X-Men progress in their goals, the constant spamming of Sentinels, and above all else, the general victimization the comic suffered from people like Ike Perlmutter and Joe Quesada for daring to have its film rights owned by somebody else or wavering off the status quo respectively.

Hickman took all the terrible writing decisions and awful point-missing revamps and stagnant status quos and he fixed them by taking them all to their logical conclusion.

The constant deaths and resurrections was reworked into the mutants conquering death, leading to all the crap deaths being undone and stories examining the logic of a world where death is a revolving door and even the most major of X-Men have lost all fear of it because they just come back when killed brutally. The Sentinel spam was developed into a brilliant larger idea of robots and transhumanity being the “third side” of the mutant-human conflict, then deconstructed by showing how the robots only become antagonistic because of how humans and mutants both mistreat them. The genocides are taken to their logical endpoint; the constantly-victimized and demoralized mutants are manipulated by amoral, power-hungry mutants who exploit the hate crimes and evil humans to get control over their people, luring them into embracing mutant-supremacist viewpoints, turning against humanity, and joining the creepy, radicalizing cult island where the manipulators are on top of course — all mutants equal, but some more equal then others. This, in turn, is used to make the derailments work, as the divide between mutant hero and mutant villain starts to break down, and the X-Men find themselves increasingly divided between those who reject this awful new path and those who embrace it out of despair and anger, creating the horrifying image of once loving and noble heroes like Cyclops or Storm happily standing next to mass murderers like Apocalypse and spouting the same anti-human bile that Magneto used to. Meanwhile, the demonization of humans is reversed and explored, with humans being manipulated with bigotry by amoral, power-hungry members of their own kind in the same way, led to believe that mutants are evil and seek the destruction or subjugation of “baselines” (and some are and do), which is what stirs the pot of tensions and drives humans into creating robots and cyborgs to defend themselves, which backfires and creates the three way man-mutant-machine conflict.

None of this could have worked prior to the rock bottom low point the X-Men were in when Hickman came in. If any prior X-Men writer in any prior time period had tried this, it would’ve been probably the worst X-Men story ever, something completely out of nowhere. But in this specific context of responding to and making the best out of years of mismanagement and bad writing, it ends up being one of the greatest X-Men stories ever instead.

It’s utterly fascinating.

[aces-to-apples]

Your Reputation Precedes You

A response to “On Fandom Racism (and That Conlang People Are Talking About)” because lmao that cowardly bitch just hates getting feedback from people that she can’t then harass into oblivion

i.e. God I Wish I Could Use The Tag Fandom Wank Without The Titty Police Nerfing My Post

-

To be frank, I'm not here because I think you or any of your little cronies are going to change your minds. If the 'name' wasn't a giveaway, your group of ~likeminded individuals~ have quite the reputation for espousing ableist, antisemitic, and, yes, racist views under wafer-thin the veneer of "calling out racism." I think we both know that what you're actually doing is using the relative anonymity of the internet and progressive language to abuse, harass, and bully fans that you personally disagree with. You and your group are toxic, hateful, and utterly pathetic, using many peoples' genuine desire to avoid accidentally causing harm and twisting it into this horrid parade of submissiveness to You, The One And Only Arbiter Of Truth And Justice In Fandom. Never mind that you have derided autistic people as lacking compassion and empathy, that you've used racist colonizer dogwhistles to describe a fictional culture based heavily on real live Maori culture, that you've mocked the idea of characters having PTSD, or that vital mental health services are anything more than "talking about your feelings with friends uwu." Let's just ignore that you have ridiculed the idea of adults in positions of power exerting that power over children in harmful and abusive ways, that creating transformative fan-content that doesn't adhere to the spirit of canon or wishes of the original author garners derision and hatefulness from you, and that you've used classic abuser tactics in order to gaslight people in your orbit into behaving more submissively towards you in order to avoid more verbal abuse.

Let's toss all of that crucial context aside in favor of only what you've written here.

What you've written here is nearly 3,000 entire words based on, at best—though, admittedly, based on your previous behavior, I am actually not willing to extend to you an iota of good faith—fallacious reasoning. You posit that a constructed language, to be used by a fictional religious group located in an entirely different galaxy than our own, is othering, racist in general, and anti-Asian specifically. This appears based in several suppositions, the first being that a language unknown by the reader will, by nature, cause the reader to feel alienated from the characters and therefore less sympathetic, empathetic, and caring towards the characters. That idea is patently ridiculous and, I believe, says far more about your ability to connect to a character speaking an unfamiliar language than any kind of overarching truth about media and the human condition. New things are interesting; new things are fun; the human brain is wired from birth to be fascinated with new things, to want to take them apart, find out how they work, and enjoy both the process and the results.

The second supposition this fallacy is based upon appears to be that to move away from the blatant Orientalism of Star Wars is inherently anti-Asian. While I find it... frankly, a little bit sad that you cling so viciously to the Orientalist, appropriative roots of Star Wars as some form of genuine representation, that's really none of my business. If you feel that a Muslim-coded character bombing a temple and becoming a terrorist and a Sith, a white woman wearing Mongolian wedding garb, a species of decadent slug-like gangsters smoking out of hookahs and keeping attractive young women chained at their feet (as it were), a species of greedy money-grubbers with exaggerated features and offensively stereotypical "Asian" accents, and an indigenous people wearing modesty garb based on the Bedu people and treated by most characters as well as the narrative as mindless animals deserving of murder and genocide are appropriate representation of the many, varied, and beautiful cultures around the world upon which they were "based," then that is very much your business. Until you pull shit like this. Until you accuse other fans, who wish to move away from such offensive coding and stereotypes, of erasing Asian culture from Star Wars. Then it becomes everyone's business, especially when you are targeting a loving and enthusiastic group of fans who are pouring their hearts and souls into creating an inventive and non-appropriative alternative to canon.

Which leads into the third supposition, that a patently racist, misogynistic white man in the 1970s, and then again in the 1990s, intended his universe to be an accurate and respectful portrayal of the various cultures he stole from. I understand that for your group of toxic bullies, the term "Death of the Author" holds no real meaning, but the simple fact of the matter is that George Lucas based his white-centered space adventure on Samurai movies while removing the cultural context that gave them any meaning, because he liked the idea of swords and noble warriors in space. He based the Force and the Jedi Order on belief systems such as Taoism and Buddhism, but only on the surface, without putting any real effort into into portraying them earnestly or accurately. He consistently disrespected both characters of color and characters coded to be a certain race, ethnicity, culture, or religion, and likewise disrespected and stole from the cultures upon which he based them. He was, and continues to be, a racist white man who wrote a racist story. His universe has Orientalism baked into its every facet, and the idea that fans who wish to move away from this and interrogate and transform the text into something better than what it is are racist is not only laughable, but incredibly disingenuous and insidious.

As I said, I am not writing this to change your mind, because I truly believe that you already know that "cOnLaNgS aRe RaCiSt" is a ridiculous statement. The way you've comported yourself in fandom spaces thus far has shown to me that you are nothing more than a bully who knows that the anti-racist movement in fandom can be co-opted for your benefit. If you tout your Asian heritage and use the right language, make the "right" accusations and take advantage of white guilt and white ignorance, you can have dozens of people falling at your feet, begging for forgiveness, for absolution. And I think that gives you a thrill. So, no, none of this will change your mind because none of this is genuinely about racism—it's about power, it's about control, it's about fandom being the only space where you have some.

So I'm writing this for the creators of this wonderful conlang, which has been crafted by multiple people including people of color, who don't deserve this nonsensical vitriol, and for the fans reading this manipulative hate-fest, wondering if they really are Evil Racists because they don't participate in fandom the way you think they should.

Here it is: fandom has a lot of racism, antisemitism, misogyny, queerphobia, ableism, etc. baked into it. Unfortunately, such is the nature of living and growing up in societies and cultures that have the same. The important thing is to independently educate yourself on those issues and think critically about them—not "think critically" as in "to criticize" them, but to analyze, evaluate, pick apart, examine, and reconstruct them again in order to come to a well thought-out conclusion. Read this well-articulated attack on a group of fans who have always welcomed feedback and participation, are open about their backgrounds, their strengths and weaknesses, and wonder who is actually being genuine.

Is it the open and enthusiastic group who ask for the participation of others in this labor of love? Or is it the ringleader of a group of well-known bullies who have manipulated, gaslit, and then subsequently love-bomb people who did not simply roll over at the slightest hint of dominance? The ones who spent hours upon hours tearing apart, mocking, deriding, and falsely accusing authors of fanworks and metatextual works of various bigotries and -isms, knowing that those evaluations were spurious and meant only to cause harm, not genuine examinations of the works themselves or even presumed authorial intent. The ones who made their own, quote-unquote, community so negative and toxic that even after the departure of a large portion of them, including this author in particular, that community still has a reputation for being hateful, toxic, and full of mean-spirited harassers who will never look critically about their own behavior but only ever point fingers at others. The ones who are so very determined to cause misery wherever they go that as soon as their usual victims are no longer immediately available, they will turn on each other at the slightest hint of weakness.

This entire piece of (fan)work is misinformed at the most generous, disingenuous at the most objective, and downright spiteful when we get right into it. The creators of Dai Bendu, along with various other works, series, and fan events that these people personally dislike, have been targeted because it is so much easier to harass, bully, and use progressive language as a weapon against them, than it is to put any effort into making fandom spaces more informed, more positive, more respectful.

As someone rather eloquently put it, community is not a fucking spectator sport. You want a better community, you gotta work at it. And conversely, what you put into your community is what you'll get out of it. This author and their friends have put a lot of hate into their communities, and now they're toxic cesspools that people stay well away from, for fear of contracting some terrible form of harassment poisoning.

Congrats, Ri, you've gotten just what you wanted: adoring crowds listening to you spout your absolutely heinous personal views purely to live out some kind of power fantasy, and the rest of us staying well away, because fuck knows nothing kind, helpful, or in good faith has ever come from Virdant or her echo-chamber of petty, spiteful assholes.

No love, bad night.

P.S. Everyone actually in the Dai Bendu server knows your ass got kicked because you didn’t say shit for a full thirty days and ignored the announcement that inactive members would be culled. You ain’t cute pretending like it’s because you were ~*~Silenced~*~ after ~*~Valiantly~*~ attempting to call out racism. We see you.

[kojoty]

gunna rant about fc5 for a second here, and a little of new dawn...

Back in the day I was turned off of fc5 bc the Fandom was... Unsurprisingly apologetic and horny over the white family that is objectively enacting protestant militant white Supremacist ideals, but I finally got around to playing it and it's such a funny game and really cool. first time I played a far cry game. 

It's super ham fisted in such an over the top way. I just don't know how you can play it and not see that it's commentary on the radicalization of disenfranchised people, particularly the way white Americans become militarized / scape goating when they are radicalized because It's easier to retain colonialist and imperialist whiteness than it is to actually address WHY you're really disenfranchised. I mean, one of the npcs literally spouts anti semitic conspiracy theories; both the cult and the rural hope County folk are largely bigoted people and while the rural folk are obviously in the RIGHT here to take down the peggies, and as ham fisted as the story is, the game does a good job of like... Portraying how all of these people have zero empathy and sympathy for one another. 

(and again, now having had played the game, i’m just astounded how much just overt thirsting I saw for a lot of the cult members... like... yeesh, they really uh got you huh.)

And it's why the dep is such a cool protagonist, because they are forced to work with both groups in various ways, and thru that, you can see how easy it is to get radicalized not just by an actual cult, but the 'cult' of americanism, patriotism etc. And there’s a very cool versimilitude and meta here where playing as this silent protagonist who has tasks to do, you end up blindly doing them, not asking as many questions, and the violence that you inflict directly has an impact on your own ‘soul’ in the game; it’s a playstyle that directly makes you ask yourself if you’re doing the right thing with such violence. At the end of the day tho, dep gets radicalized too! Not necessarily fully their fault since Joseph is such a cunning villain and knows how to push hurting people into his arms (a natural cult leader), and dep has hurt a lot of people primarily Bc of Jacob's conditioning to KILL, but they still do nonetheless and The Judge in New Dawn is SO fascinating...

Bc instead of addressing what they've done, they've allowed Joseph to radicalized them into not thinking, not being a human, just being Joseph's guard dog in the most pitiable and dangerous and scariest of ways. Partially this willingness to go feral is why I personally think, with the story and the clear wasp supremacy storyline, and deps willingness in the end to go with it, (’how else would they have gotten out of this?’ you ask and the answer is Kill Joseph in the Bunker DUH), is why I think deps story really only works as in the beginning, specially, a man's story, and honestly, white or white passing. Optically not good when they're non white imo, and very much not optically good when they’re a woman, considering the kind of abuse inflicted on dep throughout the game.

Them becoming a they themmie is very very funny and awesome though. NB KILLER representation.

 ANYWAYS, BACK TO THE POINT, the Fandom I saw took everything fascinating and distilled it into thirsting for Joseph and John and Jacob and faith and that's fucked up and is why people shouldn't be allowed to Fandom. LOL that’s a joke because it’s def a good universe ripe for playing around with it, I just, as usual, wish people were more respectful and ethical about their choices in fandom interaction and how they engage in stories that are overtly about bigotry. You know? It definetely soured my desire to play this game for YEARS.

But yeah, really fun games, really saucing me and my id Bc I like brainwashing stories and cult stories and as silly as the premise it, it does a good job of textually addressing some really interesting lines of thought on culpability, radicalization, brainwashing, patriotism etc. ANYWAYS just some thoughts, sorry for the wall of text. 

[dredreadsdrawing]

OC-Tober Day 24: Opposites

*flops while screaming* im not explaining this one, just read aaaaaaahhhhh

A hare joins a group of scientists. He’s a prodigy that’s been sheltered his entire life by his family and community. He’d only ever met fellow herbivores and only heard horror stories of terrible things happening with carnivores. How they used to hunt herbivores. How they find children’s meat like a delicacy. And how, even though peace treaties have been signed and they’ve moved towards eating only non-sentient animals, they can change at a dime. They are never to be trusted.

Welp the first face he sees on this expedition as he walks into the lab he will spend a year on is a tiny dog’s. He’s fascinated and terrified by it.

It’s tiny, it’s friendly, and it always follows protocol and orders. But it could slip up anytime.

Hare stares too much and the office suspects something is up. One of them strikes a conversation with Hare about it, acting sleazy, but Hare turns it from romance to uh. Bigotry. “Why is there a carnivore with us? Aren’t they all impulse driven? Am I the only one scared by this?” The team-mate is like ‘Oh shit, I didn’t realize we had a racist with us’ but he explains, the dog has proven himself to be intelligent enough to join. He has lived his whole life with herbivores, has gone through all the carnivore training, and to top it off, he comes from a family of dogs all known for their cooperation with herbivores. They are safe. Still, Hare isn’t so sure. Meanwhile, Dog has been steering clear from Hare, picking up on how tense he gets when he’s around. Living with herbivores, Dog is used to this. He knows it’s better to just stay away and not cause a fuss. But then they get sent to a mission outside.

At it, something goes wrong. Everyone escapes but Hare was hit with something and is bleeding from the shoulder. Dog is the only one that stayed behind with him. Dog has a medkit and tries to reassure Hare to let him use it. Hare is nervous, so Dog muzzles himself as a sign of good faith.

Dog manages to clean the wound and seal it up. He never showed any signs of wanting to bite Hare. After repairing Hare, they have to hold hands through (idk a blizzard? Something like that) to get to the lab/ship again. They make it and the crew is impressed. It’s only after this that Hare puts down his wariness and picks up an obsession instead. Dog saved his life. He wants to study the Dog.

Now everywhere and doing anything, the Hare is glued to the Dog’s side. The Dog thinks it’s because he helped the Hare, and while everyone in the ship finds it amusing if annoying at times, the Dog likes it and doesn’t mind it. He begins thinking it’s cute. Dog also breaks down the boundaries more by initiating more touching, asking Hare personal questions, and following Hare like he does when he is ordered to do something else. The more Dog shows genuine interest, the more Hare is floored with sudden feelings. Rationalizing them is proving difficult; but he still won’t admit it’s attraction. Doing so would be a death sentence… surely? Relationships like those never last….

(There’s a cute instance where Hare is put on another field mission and they panic about it. Dog sees how terrified they are, and though he had to stay in the ship for this trip, he manages to switch work with someone for the day to help Hare calm down. They pretty much hold his hand the entire time.)

Dog eventually confesses to Hare with a smile one day while they were alone. All he says is “I like you”, and that was it for Hare. All his anxiety, his denial and his fear go out the window. Hare goes for a kiss, and doesn’t let go until there’s tongue involved. Then Hare nicks theirs against dog’s teeth and there’s blood. A lot of blood. Hare surprisingly gets into it but Dog is concerned immediately. Dog has to push back Hare as they both gasp and look at one another. Dog sees Hare shaking and thinks he’s ruined things by scaring the sheltered herbivore again. Hare looks at Dog with their blown out pupils, heckles raised, and blood dripping from their mouth and thinks, “I’m okay being eaten by you.” So hooray for vore haha cries.

Dog makes sure to take everything slower now in the few more months they’re together, being very careful not to hurt or make Hare feel threatened. Needless to say, Hare is very impatient and finds himself thinking more and more of the taste of his blood. The feeling of teeth. He’s uh, going down a bit of a spiral. But this crashes with a nightmare of Dog’s waking both up. Dog had a flashback to a terrible childhood memory where they hurt someone. In real life, he did it out of necessity (some bully), but still, he was severely punished. In his dream, there was no one to punish him. And he just kept going. And he loved every moment of revenge.

Dog’s description of his violent dream sent Hare back a lot. Made them snap from their fantasies and go back to the fear they were so used to. Dogs are dangerous. Carnivores are dangerous. What used to be his delight became shameful. To run from confronting himself, Hare instead began blaming it on Dog. He became a victim in his mind. His jumpiness and avoidance of Dog returned the next day.

Then there’s an accusation that Dog messed with the test subjects, now found horrifically maimed and dead in their chambers. The accusation is taken seriously, even without proof.Dog insists that he was with Hare at the time, Hare’s heart starts to feel cold at the accusation. And his sheltered prejudice springs back up with the rest of the team spouting nonsense. Of course it was the Dog that did it. No herbivore could be that cruel. He doesn’t vouch for Dog, instead joining the team with stories of his own. On how creepy the dog could get sometimes, how he noticed Dog brought meat snacks into the ship, and the dream. He told them all about the dream. Dog was locked inside his room as they waited for the authorities to come in a few days. They were far from civilization afterall. But on the very first night, Dog finds a way to escape and run away. Into the frozen wasteland. This only solidified their guilt in the crew’s eyes. Hare felt disgust for the rest of the two days.

The police arrive. Even without Dog around ,they need to investigate the entirety of the lab for evidence against him in order to persecute him legally. The more thorough investigation quickly brings up facts that pile up better than rumors. Dog was right, it couldn’t have been him. It was the head researcher, who wanted to test new drugs for the sake of it, went too far, got drugged herself and went on a rampage. She didn’t even have to frame the Dog in the next morning, no one had noticed the blood on her shoes. She’s dragged away, and the team is left with guilt at jumping so readily onto prejudice. They were all biggots. The authorities search for Dog but nothing turns up. He’s disappeared.

Hare is a wreck. In his sheltered mind, he had felt so justified to quickly turn on him, but now it was clear. Hare was wrong. He has been the whole time. He only has himself to blame… or atleast… a part of himself. Again, his brain shifts the blame. His instinctual jumpiness. His growing up in a herbivore society. His fantasies. The problem wasn’t that Dog was a predator, it was that Hare was a herbivore and he couldn’t understand. He needs to fix this. Then he needs to find Dog. He has to be redeemed.

So in his twisted mind as time rolls on, he will conduct experiments.

Years later, Dog has been living in a cold, secluded European town. He had miraculously found a fishing boat near the ice and snuck inside. No one noticed him until they reached their town. He was cold, hungry, without a dollar and emotional. He explained his story after a cup of coffee and his first taste of jerky. The town was kind and full of carnivores. They agreed Dog was done dirty, and was right to run away.  He was welcomed in. They are glad to have Dog, particularly as company for one of their own. The town is mostly made up of older folks, with a newer generation now born, but only one person Dog’s age. They are eager to get along and help Dog, and they become inseparable. Dog feels valued here, and unafraid of being himself for the first time. But still. If there’s one thing he’ll always hate, it’s the cold. Cue it being winter time again.

“AAUGH I HATE THE COLD!” He yelled at no one as he shivers and stumbles in the snow to go back home. They’re covered head to toe and they still feel cold. Even his tail has a cover! His outburst caught the interest of a new stranger that was having a conversation with a local. He turns to look at the small figure shuffling by, obscured by all their layers of clothing. But his ears never betrayed him. To the old lady he was questioning, he reassures he’s just passing through and bids them farewell. The old lady gives him a look as she sees him slink off. She doesn’t feel right about this. He’s following the person that made the sound.

Dog shakily opens his door and barely steps in, sighing with relief at the warmth, when he feels arms around him. The door behind him closes. He drops his keys. Not alarmed at first, he suspects who it is. “Artemy?” The hare’s name isn’t Artemy. Hare squeezes harder and whispers this to Dog’s ear. Dog is startled as they remember the voice, and he scrambles away, his groceries also dropping to the floor. They look at eachother, Dog on the floor and Hare standing tall. Dog in a panic and Hare overjoyed.

Hare kneels down and straddles Dog as they remain speechless. “Let’s see what you look like now.” He hums as he’s taking off layer after layer, Dog’s body betraying him and letting him. Dog shivers once he pulls the last turtle neck. Dog glares up at him and Hare awws. Hare comments Dog has gotten fluffier. Cuter. But still so vicious. Hare goes for another hug, kissing Dog’s neck. “I missed you so much.” Dog isn’t buying into this. He finally gains back control and pushes Hare away. He gets up, picking up and putting back on his turtleneck.

Dog tells Hare to get out. That Dog is innocent and they’re not going back to be prosecuted. Hare shakes his head. He tells Dog he’s already been cleared once the police came in. That it was the head researcher all along.

Dog laughs. Hare doesn’t.

Hare asks why Dog left if it only made him look more suspicious. Dog said they knew what happens to carnivores in a herbivore court system. They just get blamed.

Dog looks at Hare, eyes still hard. Hare should leave, before they see what happens to herbivores in a carnivore court system. Hare shakes his head.

He’s not there to cause trouble. He came to apologize. Dog growls. Apology not accepted. Dog will never forgive Hare. Hare flinches and gets up. He starts his words slowly but Dog is moving away. Hare yells his immediate thoughts instead. He’s redeemed himself! He can prove it! Just… hear him out…

Dog turns around and sees the baby eyes. He hates how effective they still are.

Dog sighs. Fine. Dog picks up his strewn groceries and goes into his kitchen to make some tea. Before it’s done making, Hare better finish explaining. Hare wastes no time and goes into a tangent about how he knew his herbivore roots failed him. How he realized the problem in their relationship always stemmed from his insecurity in being born prey. So he had to correct this. To better get to know Dog. He slowly goes to Dog and Dog takes a step back. He reaches for Dog’s hands, takes them, and opens his mouth. The Hare has fangs now. He places the Dog’s thumbs to touch them, though the Dog only does so for a second before retrieving his hands and washing them off. “Okay so you modified your teeth. So what?”

It’s not just that, the Hare promises. Dog stares at him, still unconvinced, as the tea kettle begins to whistle. Time is up. Instead of leaving, the hare moves to the bag of groceries and picks up a packet. Pork. Hare smiles. He asks if he can stay for dinner. He’d love to taste Dog’s cooking.

[doctormage]

ok I don’t have a death wish so I’m not posting this on twitter but I am literally going to lose my mind if I see more people claim we didn’t like w****n bc she is a woman.

actually I didn’t back her bc she LIED about being indigenous, claimed that for 20 years, & used that to take opportunity away from ACTUAL indigenous women (and, in fact, contributed a plagiarized recipe to a cookbook called “pow wow chow”)

and because she has been explicitly asked by the Cherokee nation to renounce her claims of indigenous ancestry and she STILL has not, making her apology hollow and superficial

and because she believes more people should serve in the military and voted for an increased military budget as recently as 2017

and because she called herself a “capitalist to her bones” and stood and clapped when DONALD TRUMP said we would never be a socialist country in the 2019 State of the Union (here is a similar, but not exact, moment from the 2018 SOTU, in which she stands and applauds Trump for spouting platitudes about “American destiny,” which I can’t help but compare to “Manifest Destiny,” but of course this is my own attitudes entering a discussion of fact)

and because her plans were means-tested, NOT truly “for all,” which opens the door for others to decide who is “poor enough” to have access to things that are BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS

and because an understanding of the perils and exploitative nature of capitalism is KEY to not treating basic human rights as commodities, and we are well past hope of “reforming” the system that has let people DIE in the name of money since its inception

and because she promised to NEVER take super pac money because of her alleged belief that money should stay out of politics, then turned around and accepted a BIG ASS donation

and because she was a “diehard conservative” while Bernie Sanders has been fighting for marginalized groups since before he was even in office, but even more so DURING the 40 years he’s been in office

and because she defended additional military funding for Israel in 2014 during the war on Gaza, a conflict that lead to the death of 2,200+ Palestinians, including civilians; her record with foreign policy shows a failure to use her position of power and privilege for the benefit of others 

and because she doesn’t believe that all prisoners should have the right to vote, which aids in dehumanizing incarcerated people (a population which has a disproportionate amount of people of color), conflating morality with legality, maintaining the prison industrial complex, AND voter suppression

and because this year she supported letting the rules of the DNC “play out,” rather than backing the idea that the candidate with the most votes should win the nomination, which is yet another means of ensuring the voices of the american people are merely an afterthought to so-called democracy

and because no one wants to acknowledge that she started losing support once she started veering closer toward the center, she was doing quite well early on, so her change in approach had quite an impact on people withdrawing their support

I could go on, but for me, even 1 or 2 of these is enough for me to clearly state HER BEING A WOMAN DID NOT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH WHY I DO NOT SUPPORT HER. I am a woman. I am a woman who is getting ritually screwed over by government policy. I understand my privilege as a white woman and I FURTHER understand how the repetitive narrative that it was only her gender standing in her way is HARMFUL and ignores marginalized groups’ very valid criticism of her and her policies

I am far from saying that her being a woman had nothing to do with the downfall of her campaign, nor am I saying it wasn’t the dealbreaker for anyone. the kind of critique she received from plenty of people was gendered - but it is objectively untrue and unhealthy to assert that all of us who criticized her were being sexist. indigenous people, black people, and people of color deserve to be heard; the criticisms, thoughts, emotions, and ideas of the disabled, of the LGBT+ community, of the working class, of immigrants, of people in other countries, of the chronically ill, of the mentally ill, and of all the women who fall into at least one or more of these groups deserve to be heard. insinuating that ALL their criticisms are simply blinded by sexism only further highlights the racism, xenophobia, classism, homophobia, and transphobia that influence that assumption.

I fully understand the ability to learn and grow from your mistakes. I made a virtual 180 in my political beliefs - after working in politics for several years - when I was 19. However, when you’re an adult (and politician) your “opinions” have a tangible effect on others. It needs more than just an apology, and it sure as hell needs to be publicly addressed. No politician is perfect, of course. But at the end of the day, Bernie Sanders has been pushing the same progressive agenda since the beginning, and when a once-in-a-lifetime candidate like that is on the stage, I have to stand with him.

Also! This post isn’t about Bernie, but he is jewish and that 100% matters. Our country is run by a man who praises nazis. I hate to think of the anti-semitism on the rise as Bernie comes closer to victory. It is important that we acknowledge he is not free from the bigotry of others.

[a-room-of-my-own]

Authenticity & empathy: Meghan Murphy

Meghan Murphy is a freelance writer and journalist. She has been podcasting and writing about feminism since 2010, is the founder and editor Feminist Current, Canada’s leading feminist website and has published work in numerous national and international publications.

This is the text of the speech she gave at the 22nd meeting of Woman’s Place UK.

I’ve been thinking a lot about authenticity lately. We’re currently living in a culture wherein authenticity has been traded in for fakery. We support and reward virtue signalling and punish those who are real, those who tell the truth, those with integrity, those who insist on making political arguments based on critical thinking and what is right, rational, and ethical, instead of based on what is politically correct or popular.

I have a rather overzealous commitment to authenticity, which I think has played a sizable role in my insistence on pushing back against gender identity ideology and legislation. I know I have friends, or acquaintances, or friends of friends, or random internet followers with self righteous opinions who think maybe I should just back off of this. Or who claim I’m being ‘mean’ or unempathetic, because I continue to operate in reality rather than the fantasy land we’re told is the new normal, wherein black is white, up is down, and men are women.

But I see no empathy for women and girls on the part of trans activists, that is to say, those pushing gender identity ideology and legislation. What I see is bullying, threats, ostracization, and a misogynist backlash against the feminist movement and much of the work it’s accomplished over years.

I see no empathy for women who are now being forced to compete against male athletes in sport, essentially rendering women’s sport nonexistant, as they can no longer compete on fair ground, if forced to compete against men. I see no empathy for the female athletes speaking out against this reprehensible trend — instead they’re being smeared and threatened. I see no empathy for the lesbians being bullied right out of their own events and communities, as the LGBTQxyz+++ whatever movement does nothing to support them, and in fact seems instead to support the men pushing them around and hurling verbal abuse at them, simply for asserting that lesbians are females who are attracted to other females, not heterosexual men interested in playing around with lipstick.

We held an event in Vancouver earlier this month, addressing the issue of gender identity and kids, and our venue — the Croatian Cultural Centre — received so many threats they had to file a police report, hire their own security, and bring in the Vancouver Police Department to keep protesters off the property. They, for once, didn’t blame us — women, feminists — for the threats of violence sent their way, and rather asked, with disbelief, how it was us the trans activists were accusing of being ‘hateful’, while simultaneously verbally abusing and threatening violence against the venue’s staff.

Somewhere between 150 and 200 protesters showed up, and stood outside with signs saying things like, “Support trans youth”, “Love and Solidarity”, “Love trans kids”, “be careful who you hate, it might be someone you love” and “love wins.”

All this branding around “love” has been incredibly successful, of course. We — women fighting for women’s rights, people fighting for the truth, those of us who insist on acknowledging that biology is real, that females and males are real things, and that, no, there is no such thing as a “female penis” —have been painted as hateful, intolerant, and bigoted, despite the fact that we are the only ones engaging (or trying to engage in) respectful, civil, rational debate and discussion, and being shut down over and over again.

Despite the fact that WE are the ones concerned about male violence against women and how gender identity ideology and legislation will hurt women, as well as kids, who are now being sent down a path towards hormones and surgery that will destroy their bodies permanently, simply because they don’t conform to sexist gender stereotypes, it is trans activists who have positioned themselves as caring and politically correct, and us as cruel and intolerant.

As I was leaving the venue after that event, the stragglers screamed at me that I had blood on my hands. Which of course I do not, and which, of course, is incredibly ironic considering how many times I’ve been told I should be murdered on account of my belief that you can’t change sex, and that it is not possible to be ‘born in the wrong body.’

I see no empathy in trans activism for the girls who will lose scholarships and opportunities to boys who can easily beat them in athletic competitions.

I see no empathy for women and girls who don’t feel comfortable with naked men in their change rooms at the pool. I see no empathy for youth being put on hormones that will have a lasting impact on them, including permanent sterilization, all to accommodate adults who don’t want to see trans ideology questioned under any circumstances.

I see no empathy for the women and their children who will have nowhere to turn if their local transition house is defunded on account of a women-only policy.

I see no empathy for Kristi Hanna, a Toronto woman and survivor of sexual assault, who had leave her room at Palmerston house, a shelter for recovering addicts, because she was made to share a room with a man, and did not feel safe.

I see no empathy for the 14 female estheticians who were asked to give a male a brazilian bikini wax, then dragged to court when they declined, saying they only offered the service to women.

I see no empathy for the girls allegedly predated on by this man, who is being protected by our very liberal, very progressive society that’s choosing to put male feelings and desires above all else, under the guise of ‘inclusion’, and thanks to trans activism.

Women and girls are being told they may not have boundaries. That they may not say ‘no’ to men. And this is what we are told it means to ‘choose love’. This is what we are being told is ‘feminism’.

Trans activism says women may not define their own bodies as female. That we may not have our own rights, services, and spaces, that ‘exclude’ men. It says gender stereotypes are real and innate, but the female body is a social construction. It says that ‘woman’ is based only on adherence to or an affinity towards femininity, something feminism has fought against for years.

So much of what women fought for over the past century is being rolled back, and progressives are insisting we all shut up and take it, because it’s ‘nice’, and of course, women must always be ‘nice’, even if it means putting our lives, autonomy, safety, opinions, and rights aside.

NOTHING about the trans movement is progressive and nothing about it is feminist.

I brought up authenticity earlier on, partly because I am sick to death of this social media based culture wherein we put forth personas we believe our audience will like, modeling perfect faces, lives, and thoughts, which I find incredibly boring and depressing, but also because I see this devaluing of authenticity as having an incredibly destructive impact on political discourse, and certainly it’s manifested itself powerfully in the trans movement.

I don’t believe that, aside from a few exceptionally delusional or troubled people, a majority of the population believes it’s possible to change sex. I don’t believe that all these so called progressives look at a man we call him ‘she’, and believe he is literally a woman. I don’t believe all these people claiming ‘love wins’ and insisting women be more ‘empathetic’ as they give up all their rights and spaces, while these activists spout vile, hateful insults and threats at us, are really very loving at all.

I think people are not telling the truth. I think they are repeating mantras and going along with ideas and policies in order to appease their Facebook friends. I think they value social status a lot, and are willing to give up ethics and truth in order to be liked. And I think it’s pathetic. I think that these people are throwing women under the bus and even selling themselves out in the process, knowing that they’re spouting lies for virtual cookies and using us all to fake politics.

And I refuse to be used as some kind of stepping stool for empty headed, cowardly hipsters — these extremely privileged people who have fetishized oppression, but have no idea what marginalized groups actually face and deal with on a daily basis, because certainly it’s not ‘misgendering’ that is keeping people poor and vulnerable — who can’t be bothered to read, listen, or think before announcing, boldly, that women with actual politics, who actually understand history, and who are bold enough to take a stand against actual bigotry and oppression should be silenced, punched, or even killed.

The wrong side of history is an embarrassing place to be.

But unfortunately I worry that, by the time these people realize how much damage they’ve caused by going along with such a destructive trend, it will be too late. What does give me hope is all of you. This massive and growing movement of people standing up and saying ‘no’, we won’t take this silently and sitting down. This groundswell of people insisting on telling the truth, despite the fact that we lose friends, jobs, social status, and sometimes safety, for doing so.

And the more we keep doing it, the more will join us.

Meghan Murphy

20th May 2019

[merrylittlehogwartsrp]

Happy Holidays, Elva! We are thrilled to “invite” Neville Longbottom (fc Justice Smith) back to Hogsmeade for a little forced Winter Cheer. We loved the short evocative notes in your app that clearly put to mind 7th year as well as where Neville is today.

Please pack your bags and send in your tumblr. Additional information can be found here!

OOC DETAILS:

NICKNAME: Elva

AGE (must be 18+): twenties

PRONOUNS: she/her, they/them

ACTIVITY ESTIMATE: I check the dash daily, and try to post at least once daily, though sometimes replies take me a little longer to write. 

CHARACTER DETAILS:

FULL NAME & NICKNAMES: Neville Longbottom

BIRTHDATE: July 30th, 1980

BLOOD-STATUS: Pureblood

* GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender male

* GENDER PRESENTATION/PRONOUNS: Male, he/him

* SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pan-Demi Sexual

CHARACTER SITUATION:

OCCUPATION: 

Auror. After the battle of Hogwarts, there was little life could throw at Neville that he wasn’t ready for. After early graduation from Hogwarts, Neville went straight into work as an Auror. He’d already fought the battle that ended the war; he passed his training with flying colours, better than any exam he sat at Hogwarts. Neville is proud to have brought many a Death Eater to justice, but the job is wearing on him. If he’s honest, it was wearing from the start, only he was more used to it then. It was war and so what if he was tired if he was still alive and kicking? But the war ended three years ago. Why is it they’re still fighting? Neville needs a change of pace. He needs what his parents never got the chance to have, a life beyond being an Auror. He needs quiet, time to be in his garden, and he doubts the Department of Mysteries can offer that, but even if there’s just a small chance it’s better he has to try, right?

HOUSING: 

Neville rents a small two-bedroom cottage in the middle of nowhere, outside Norwich. It’s easy enough to get to if you possess magic, meaning despite having no neighbours it’s not remote by a long shot, but the space is a necessity for Neville, who dreams of having a large garden. The garden is there, but Neville wouldn’t deign to call it one yet on account of the weeds that have wreaked havoc on it. He simply hasn’t had enough time to work on it, between his job and catching up with the DA. Each time Neville steps outside his door he’s confronted with his shame; for neglecting his plants, for taking so long to figure out this life he’s built isn’t for him anymore, shame for avoiding his own unhappiness, all so he doesn’t have to admit to Gran and the rest of the world that he can’t go on being the grandson or the wizard they all want him to be. 

SOCIAL STANDING: 

Being a pureblood on the right side of the war, not to mention a celebrity, Neville’s social standing is pretty good. Of course, Neville is oblivious. He doesn’t put much store in such matters. It’s all nonsense; doesn’t actually say the first thing about you. But if he looked at the facts, son of an Auror who became an Auror himself, he would guess he was relatively successful, and he knows people treat him differently now (Gran does, that’s for sure). But enough of the boy who was “practically a squib” remains that he doesn’t recognise his worth in the eyes of others. And he doesn’t let himself think about it either, lest he slip back into old habits. He values himself, finally, and for the most part that’s enough. 

CHARACTER CONFIGURATION:

TALENTS/WEAKNESSES 

+ Herbology, Duelling, Negotiation and Leadership. 

- Potions, Flying, Lying

STRENGTHS/FLAWS 

+ Courageous, Resolute, Kind

- Still clumsy (yes, he did just spill this tray of four mugs of tea over the entire sofa), Insecure (Neville isn’t only trying to live up to his parents’ accomplishments, but who he has been these past four years. All his old insecurities are still there, he’s just stopped listening to them so much.) 

CHARACTER HISTORY: 

FAMILY BACKGROUND: 

Neville’s magic made itself known only when Neville was tumbling out of a window, dropped by his great uncle Algie who forgot about him at the mere sight of a meringue. It’s a defining moment for Neville. Not only does it say alot about his magic and how it works (stubbornly–his magic voiced the defiance that Neville was too shy, too insecure to put into words), but it also says a lot about his family. They didn’t hang about waiting for his magic to show. They forced it and him. Neville wonders if it’s always been this way–if this is the method that worked on his dad–or if it’s because his dad is no longer around for a casual chat that his family treats Neville this way, if grief has settled into their bones, reshaping their personalities into something slightly more gruff and heavy-handed. All Neville’s life his parents have lived in St Mungo’s, but he feels their absence keenly every time he’s around Gran or his great aunt and uncle. Even more so now that he’s an Auror. It’s like they’re all trying to pick up where his dad left off. But how long can you be an Auror before you start to lose pieces of yourself? And how many pieces can you lose before you’re not yourself anymore?

LIFE DURING THE WAR:

If you need someone who isn’t there, sometimes you have to step up and fill that role yourself. This is how Neville came to be one of the leading figures of the DA in Harry’s absence, along with Luna and Ginny. They all needed someone to follow, someone to tell them this fight needed to happen; that even in defeat, they could still make an impact and keep the fight alive. Neville will tell you that if it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else. And he’s not wrong. But he’s glad for all the hits he took on behalf of others, especially the younger students; that he became the human punching bag for the Carrows, absorbing whatever blow and hex they threw at him. It hurt, alot, but there was a silver lining to that cloud–the DA finally got to practise their healing spells.

Neville has never been one to stay on the ground when he’s down, though it used to take him longer to find his feet. During the war, Neville bounced right back up. He survived, despite mouthing off Carrow and Voldemort at every turn, speaking up when they spouted their bigotry, and defending other students against their cruelty. And he has a whole host of scars to show for it. Some wounds healed magically, and some took time, either because the spells were too difficult for the DA, the cut too deep, or Neville refused the help because there was another student in greater need. (There was always another student in greater need.) They’re on his face and torso mostly, dozens of little nicks on his skin and a few thicker scars from deep gashes, including one on his right cheek, one of the final cuts he received. Some days he wears them with pride. Others, he hates them, seeing nothing but the marks the Carrows left on him, on his skin and his mind. Neville response to pain is undeniably shaped by his experience during his seventh year. It makes him feverish, almost excitable. Neville has found what he’s good at. He doesn’t fear getting knocked down anymore, but maybe he should.

LAST THREE YEARS:

Neville threw himself into his work, and when he wasn’t on the clock, he was as good as working, checking in with his friends, scraping together the remnants of the DA and shaping them into something resembling people. Sometimes this meant having a drink down the Leaky Cauldron, and others it meant making sure they had food in the fridge or that their laundry hadn’t piled up. Either way, Neville kept on filling the role of DA leader that he’d gotten so comfortable in during his seventh year. That way he didn’t have to inspect his own damage. But if anyone wants a glimpse into Neville’s state of mind, all they have to do is look at his garden. The wildflowers hide it well, but anyone with a passing knowledge of plants would know instantly that Neville is not okay.

HOLIDAY DETAILS:

Neville’s one family tradition which he absolutely upholds is visiting his mum and dad at the hospital every day of the week before Christmas. He decorates their hospital room with paper chains and tinsel, and brings Christmas cookies and sweets. On the bad days, he only stays for a quick hello and goodbye, but on the good days, he spends hours with them, telling them about the good things, like the plants he’s planning on putting in the garden, or various anecdotes about Seamus or the lovely thing Luna said during their last meet-up. Neville doesn’t ascribe to any religious beliefs. He observes Christmas because it’s time he spends with his family. It gives him a reason to be at the hospital more often, doing something for his mum and dad. Neville loathes that he’s involved in the celebration. He would have nothing to do with it if it wasn’t compulsory (a fact which is setting off alarm bells in Neville’s head), except Gran is ecstatic. She wants to parade her grandson in front of everyone, talk about what a hero he is. Neville can’t wait…

OOC SUPPLEMENT:

SHIPS: Neville/Chemistry. 

CHANGES: Nope! All the bios are wonderful. I love them. 

FACECLAIM: Justice Smith, Henrik Holm.

[nerdgasrnz]

This is so stupid and frustrating bullshit bc like... I'm VERY new to navigating concepts of gender and sexuality from a new, non cis/het lens. There's terms and history I need to learn. That I'm STILL learning.

But then there's these super popular posts with all this Ace Discourse word soup that is just hard to decipher. WORSE for people who lack even more energy and patience.

Posts whrre I'm not fucking sure if I'm actually surrounded by people that support me, or just see me and others like me as a "special snowflake" trying to fit in, wanting to be oppresssd. Adding to the confusion about if I have enough "gold stars" on my queer card to qualify me to get "in."

Those posts with tens of thousands of notes talking about how """Exclusionists""" deserve to die. The "logic" for who they mean and why is needle buried in a 7 paragraph haystack.

On that side, you have the Intellectuals™ who flower up their bigotry at the length of an SAT Essay so they can fool impressionable people** into into thinking that what they're saying is worthwhile. But when they talk about "Exclusionists?" You don't know if they actually mean ignorant people excluding all Aros/Aces from what it "really" means to be queer, or if they're saying "all those filthy gays should die along with their allosexual* bretheren"

And then those people get mad when it's explained MULTIPLE TIMES how a word is horrible, because it lumps queer people with cis/straight people? Does that really sound like it makes sense? That is why "Allosexual" is an actual not good word!!! like sheesh just trust us on this one okay? "Non-Ace" works fine as a distinction.

So on the other side, you have those **Impressionable People who are blown away by these big words that don't actually make sense together.

"BUT HEY the post has a lot of notes, so they must be right! Now, let's throw together some similar-sounding words on topics where I actually don't know my stance. Let's contribute to a volatile, negative discussion to feel Valid™!!!"

So then, this leads to not just excessive use of the word "Allosexual" in reference to people that donot want to be categorized the same way as cisgender, heterosexual people: You also get people throwing around "terf" like it's just a quirky, acceptable tumblr insult.

But those people don't know that a "Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist" is actually a gigantic warning for other peoples' safety. Transgender safety. Because RadFems like them want to oppress everyone they don't consider "real women" Like transgender people.

(re: the "Kill All Men" mantra, which to them, includes and misgenders Trans/Nonbinary people under the guise of "Womens' Rights" lmao)

With Buzzword Bigot's popularity, and naïve Mob Member #476, you get this Ace Discourse garbage: where you can't really tell which side hates you? Or if both sides hate you? Do THEY know why they hate you? You'll never know, because nobody will SAY WHAT THEY MEAN IN PLAIN LANGUAGE!!!

That's not just Acecourse, that's the minority experience!! When it used to be easier to tell who hated you, by whoever punched and spat on you!

But now everyone tries to duck and weave being (rightfully) accused of being a bigot.

I do not blame ANY queer person for standing up against blatant homophobia and transphobia and kicking people out of their spaces. When some fucker, who HAPPENS to be Aro and/or Ace, has a lame-ass agenda to create a shitstorm for publicity, yeah, you need to gtfo!!! Nobody fucking cares if you "deserve" to be at the VIP venue, or if you "paid your dues" to be there: if you're disruptive and destructive, the bouncers are kicking you out because of the damages you're causing!!!

I do not blame ANY queer person for hating people from MY spectrum of sexuality: because people from MY community are repeating toxic, hateful behavior and ideas that already wreaked havoc on queer people's safety. Because then you get shit like an "Ace-centric," apocalyptic, Young Adult novel pitch where "people die if they're physically intimate" sounds like a good plot; but that was already a thing in real life called the HIV/AIDS crisis in the United States. Which mostly plagued queer people. But yeah talk about it like it's just fiction because "those dirty allosexuals will die from that gross intercourse!"

If you're cis and on the aro/ace spectrum, and you're spouting shit that misgenders people, then yeah, trans people have every right to exclude you.

When you talk about gay bars with disdain, wanting "G-rated" alternatives, as if Queer people and Gay Bars are ALWAYS sexually explicit and never "turn it down"; you probs don't know how much you sound like one of the police officers that would arrest a queer person just for minding their fucking business.

If you don't experience attraction to the same gender in ANY way, and you're on the aro/ace spectrum, but you repeatedly talk about anyone/everyone who has interest or experience with sex like they're filthy, cursed, or diseased? Then yeah!!! Queer people don't fucking want you here!!!

Because you sound like every homophobic speech deliverer that we've EVER heard who goes on about "purity" and "innocence" and "virginity" as if they're the most sacred thing on the planet, as if lacking those things makes us "unworthy" of a happy and full life, or whatever!

Even aro/ace queer people don't want you here, because you're throwing us under the fucking bus too and you fucking know it!!! Don't pretend to feel "betrayed" as if you didn't know that Asexuality and Aromanticism are NOT cookie cutter experiences? There's sex repulsed people who aren't virgins; aros/aces that have sex. People with STD's who are WAY more pure and kind than most of us, who are putting effort in these stupid, divisive concepts on this hellsite.

If any of us wanted to experience the shit that you goddamn homophobes/transphobes were serving, we'd go crawling back to the cis/het people that already made our lives miserable! We'd listen to the family that already doesn't accept us! The public speakers that used their platform to tell us we deserve misery and death for the "debauchery" we live! We'd go back to the peers that always harrassed us!

We don't give a FUCK if you're Aromantic or Asexual spectrum; if you're gonna be hateful and not examine yourself to fix it, Queer people have every fucking reason to want you fucking gone! And it's NOT because of your sexuality or lackthereof, it's because you're just like all the other assholes that have been in our lives!!! So fuck off!!!

[creativitytoexplore]

Liberty Station by Dan Rice https://ift.tt/2zvRwN3 On a space station populated by humans and aliens, a lowly teacher must face a growing climate of bigotry; by Dan Rice.

My students, styluses to tablets, work studiously on the math quiz - except for Ben, a top-notch pupil if a bit entitled, and Felix, a quiet and kind lad. The polka-dots covering Felix's skin pulse yellow, contrasting against his otherwise light blue complexion. His arms are crossed before his chest, and he glowers at Ben, who is whispering something and has a broad smile plastered on his face. I stop myself from sighing. Disciplining my students is far from my favorite task, but I can't let this go on, or the boys will disrupt the quiz. Putting on my best stern teacher face, I march in between the neatly arranged desks toward the boys. "You know, Governor Spade is going to let us throw all your polka dot faces out the airlocks," Ben whispers to Felix. "You Starlight Missionaries aren't good for anything but taking our jobs. Good, high-paying human jobs. You're going to suck vacuum - " "Ben!" I say, hardly believing the vileness coming from the boy's mouth. Since the election of a Governor Spade four years ago, this kind of talk has become commonplace in the hallways of Liberty Station but never before has it entered my classroom. I'm very aware everyone is looking up from their tablets and gawking at me. "Ben, that kind of talk is unacceptable in this classroom. You know better." Ben turns red in the face and stares up at me with disdain. "Humans first. When Governor Spade wins the next election, he's going to throw all the aliens off the station, starting with polka-dot faces. That's what my dad says." "Ben, go to the principal's office immediately," I say, struggling to keep my tone neutral. "Why?" Ben asks, whiny. "Go, or I will be forced to call Principal Montoya to the classroom."

I stay late, grading math quizzes on my tablet when the door to the classroom slides open. Looking up, I smile at my visitors: Felix, and a woman who must be his mother. "May we come in, Mrs. Musashi?" the woman asks demurely. Her galactic common is easy to understand but carries the accent of a non-native speaker. "Please. You are Felix's mother?" I say and stand up. "I am. You may call me Lilly. I just wanted to say thank you. Felix told me what you did for him today. Standing up for him." "It was nothing, really. Any other teacher would do the same," I say. "School policy is crystal clear. Interspecies bullying is strictly prohibited." "You're wrong, Mrs. Musashi," Felix pipes up. I glance at him, nonplussed. "What do you mean, Felix?" Lilly says something in her native tongue that sounds like an admonishment. Polka-dots turning yellow, Felix stairs at the floor, and scuffs his feet. "It's true. Kids have said things in other classes, and the teachers don't do anything," Felix says. "We used to all get along before Governor Spade. I hate him." "Felix, wait outside," Lilly says, her polka-dots momentarily flaring bright orange. "Yes, Mother," Felix, says and steps outside. "I'm sorry about that, Mrs. Musashi," Lilly says. "No need to apologize," I say, shaking my head. "It's been hard. Especially this past year with the lead-up to the election. Governor Spade's rhetoric is divisive. He's stirring up old grievances." Lilly walks across the classroom to stand next to me, beside my desk. Held in her hand is a small coin, like the ancient currency of Old Earth. Only this token is translucent, and inside it, swirls what I can only describe as a glowing micro-galaxy. "This is a star coin. My people use it as currency on our home planet. Please, take it as a gift showing my gratitude." Staring in wonder, I pluck the star coin from Lilly's palm. It is smooth, featherlight, and warm to the touch. I can't help feeling like I hold a galaxy in my hand. "It's beautiful," I gasp. "I'm glad you like it. Thank you for your kindness and understanding." "I don't deserve this," I say and try to hand the coin back to Lilly, but she is already striding to the door and shakes her head.

I lay in bed half the night dreading my students will arrive the next morning ready to parrot Governor Spade's hateful rhetoric again. I finally fall sleep, but my alarm startles me awake far too soon. I arrive in the classroom almost an hour early to finish grading the math quizzes and prepare my lessons for the day. Periodically, the star coin sitting on the desk next to a "Galaxy's Best Teacher" coffee mug captures my gaze, and I smile. I don't deserve the gift, but I do appreciate it. At 0800 Liberty Station standard time my students arrive, and I take attendance. Everyone is on time except for Ben who is absent for the entire day. Turns out my anxiety the night before was misplaced, and class proceeds without any of the governor's rhetoric repeated by my students. It's a relief, really. At the end of the school day, I settle down at my desk to grade homework when my tablet pings. It's a message from Principal Jayleen Montoya summoning me to her office. "Great," I mutter and stand, knowing that if the meeting goes very long, I'll be staying up late grading papers instead of catching up on much-needed sleep.

I sit across a desk from Principal Jayleen Montoya, and stare out the porthole at the swirling orange and yellow clouds of the gas giant that Liberty Station orbits. Some people claim the churning billows are hypnotic if you stare at them long enough. I don't experience the mesmerizing effect because to my relief Jayleen wants to get right down to business. "Grace, Ben Hartman's parents visited me today," the principal says. "They are putting in a transfer request to another school. Do you know why?" The relief I felt moments before goes up in smoke. "Are you serious? They want to transfer him because of what happened yesterday? Ben is a good student. He is studious and usually will behaved, but what he said was totally out of line." "Grace, you are being accused of taking an anti-human stance in class and favoring aliens," Jayleen says. My jaw drops. "I do not. I treat all my students equally." "Several other parents filed complaints. Some of the students felt intimidated by, and I'm quoting, Mrs. Mushashi favoring alien students' well-being to the detriment of her human students." "Watch the classroom recording," I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "I didn't favor any species above any other. Ben threatened to throw Felix out an airlock. What was I supposed to do?" "I've reviewed the recording. Felix was clearly acting aggressive. At the very least, you should have sent them both to my office. This is a severe lapse in judgment, Grace. I'm afraid I'll have to write you up." "It was a clear case of interspecies bullying," I say, jumping up from my chair. "Is that allowed now?" "Governor Spade has made it clear that the new station policy is humans first. You're one of us, Grace. It's time you do your part to implement Governor Spade's policies in your classroom. I suggest you go home and think long and hard how you're going to do that. Oh, and the gift that Starlight Missionary gave you. Don't display it on your desk. Take it home or something." "Fine," I say and storm from the office. I leave the star coin on my desk in the classroom. The small show of defiance makes me feel like a rebel as I walk through the bustling halls of the station and head for the mag train platform. I arrive at the platform about 30 minutes before rush hour, so when I board the train, I'm surprised it's standing room only. The cars are chock-full of men and women wearing the green jumpsuits of the asteroid miners' union. It's odd that so many of them are on the train. The miners work long hours extracting precious hypercrystals, the 100% pure kind used in the lasers that cut the fabric of space-time to facilitate faster than light travel. I hold onto a pole and shift my weight with the acceleration and deceleration of the train. Brooding about my meeting with Jayleen, my mood turns into a sour soup of anger and sadness. A ragtag group of miners standing in front of me starts a boisterous conversation. "I lost my job to one of those blue faced freaks. The foreman told me they will work for half what I make. That's slave wages." "Corporations need to pay them more." "Damn Starlight Missionaries are hogging all the jobs." "They need to be given a choice. Leave our station or suck vacuum." Cheers erupt around the car at the last statement. My chest tightens. It's no wonder Ben is spouting off xenophobic garbage in class. Before Governor Spade people kept such views to themselves, but since Spade's election for years ago, his rhetoric has normalized anti-alien speech. There's even been violence, humans targeting alien businesses and the like. At times like this, standing on the train surrounded by angry humans, the station feels like a powderkeg waiting on a single spark to explode. An automated voice comes over the intercom. "Next stop the Starlight Missionary District." My relief is palpable. I can walk home from the train terminal and not have to listen to any more xenophobic ranting. To my surprise, the miners surge toward the exits. What's going on? I hear what sounds like chanting. As the train slows, I begin to make out the words and stare out a window in utter disbelief. At the terminal, a mob of riotous humanity chants: "Starlight Missionaries leave our station!" The miners rush off the train as soon as the doors open to join the mob. I see men and women in grimy jumpsuits assaulting two Starlight Missionaries. "Oh my God," I whisper. The victims are Felix and Lilly. The polka-dots covering their blue faces are bright yellow, like stars. I join the crush squeezing onto the mag train platform. The racket is deafening as I fight my way through the crowd toward Felix and Lilly. A burly man in an oil-stained jumpsuit pushes Felix to the ground. I barrel into the man, knocking him aside, and suck in a whiff of sweat and industrial solvent. I take Felix by the hand and pull him onto his feet and snatch Lilly by her arm. They quiver in fear. Too outraged to be afraid, I try leading them away from the immediate danger. Through the throng, I see a service hallway free of rioters. "This way," I say. A towering woman blocks our way. She holds a metal pipe overhead. "Get off my station." My heart roars inside my chest like starship thrusters in atmosphere. I expect the pipe to crush my skull, but a Starlight Missionary, polka-dots burning red, tackles the woman. We race into the hallway and stay on the move. "Are you all right?" I gasp. They nod. I let go of Lilly and use my handheld to summon station security, but the device fails to connect. My insides turn cold. From behind us comes shouting and the heavy clomp of boots against the metal floor. I glance over my shoulder and see three men in pursuit. I have no idea where this hallway leads, and the men are closing the distance fast. Up ahead, the hall gently bends, and to my relief, I see an abandoned electric cart. "Get on," I say. I jump into the driver's seat, and Felix and Lilly clamber into the passenger seat. From behind us come enraged screams. I slam my foot onto the accelerator, and the cart careens forward. "Watch out," Lilly says. Something flies over my head, just missing me. Whatever it is, it hits the wall with a metallic thud and falls to the floor. Fingers rest against my forearm and I realize it's Felix. Our eyes meet. The polka-dots covering his face still blaze bright yellow. "It's okay, Mrs. Musashi," he says. "They can't keep up with the cart." I draw a deep breath to calm myself, but I can't find a sliver of tranquility. The angry bellows of the men echo through the hallway. I don't even want to consider what will happen if they catch us. I check the cart's charge gauge on the dash. 15% charge. I clench my jaw. That might be enough to get us to safety. Looking over my shoulder, I don't see the men, and I swear the sounds of pursuit are fading. I ease my foot off the accelerator. The last thing we need is for the cart to run out of juice before we're safe. "Does your handheld have a signal?" Lilly says. "I lost mine in the riot." I fish my handheld out. "Oh, thank goodness. Yes." I connect to station security. The bored face of a middle-aged officer fills the screen. "There's a riot in the Starlight Missionary District," I splutter. "We're trying to escape. We're being chased." "Whatever," the officer says and disconnects. "Did he just..." Lilly says. "That bastard," I say and glance at Felix. His eyes are saucer-wide. "Pretend you didn't hear that." I retry security. "You again," the officer says. "I want to talk to your superior," I say. "Right now." I hear a voice from offscreen. "What's going on?" "It's nothing -" "Rioting in the Starlight Missionary District!" I yell. "Get out of the way." The officer moves aside. A woman slides into his place. "I'm Sgt. Chen. What's the emergency?" In rapid-fire, I tell her about the riot and the men chasing us. "Okay. Can you get to safety?" "I think so," I say and listen to our surroundings. I only hear the electric hum of the cart. "I think they stopped chasing us." "Good," Sgt. Chen says, her gaze flicking offscreen. "It looks like you're about five minutes from your apartment. Get inside and lock the door. I'll be around to check on you in ten minutes. Don't open your door for anyone else." Safe behind the locked door of my apartment, Lilly and Felix seem calmer. Their polka-dots are still yellow but aren't shimmering as brightly as before. Lilly takes my hand, her skin smooth and warm. "Thank you for helping us." "I'm sorry for what's happening," I say, not believing I deserve one iota of thanks for doing what any decent individual would do. After convincing them to sit down at the kitchen bar of my sparsely decorated open layout apartment, I make tea for Lilly and give Felix a cookie. "Thanks, Mrs. Musashi," he says. A few minutes later, the doorbell buzzes. I check my handheld, expecting to see Sgt. Chen at the door and the device nearly slips from my grasp. It's the three men who were chasing us. One man with a bushy beard bangs against the door with a wrench. I tap the talk button on the screen. "Go away," I say. "Open up. We know you have those polka-dot faced freaks in there. Give them up, and we'll leave you alone," comes a gruff voice from the screen. I turn to my guests, who are cowering behind an off-white couch in the far corner of the living room. I put a finger to my lips for silence. Their polka-dots are orange and emit an eerie luminescence. "They ran off. I'm alone." A short man climbs into the electric cart. "8% charge," he says. "Open up, lady. We just want the missionaries." "Leave. Please." The man thumps the wrench against the door. "We can get a torch." "I've called station security," I say, and bite my lower lip. Sgt. Chen is late. The miners confer in the hall. I try to listen in on their conversation, but they must be whispering because I can't make out what they're saying. It looks like they're about to leave, but then the one with the wrench starts rummaging through the electric cart's trunk. He hefts a plasma torch. His compatriots high-five each other. The dull blast from the torch is audible through the door. I don't know how long it will take them to burn through the door, but judging by the orange glow around its edges, not long. I race into the kitchen and grab a knife from the counter. I sprint across the living room to stand in front of the couch that Felix and Lilly cower behind. I hold the knife out before me and wait. I might have been standing for 10 seconds or 10 minutes when the door collapses inward to strike the floor with a resounding thud. The edges of the door and doorframe glow orange. The miners step inside and eye me warily. The one with the beard uses his wrench to point at my student and his mother. "Let us have them, lady," he says. "Nothing bad needs to happen here." "No," I say through clenched teeth. The bearded miner glances at his cohorts. "We rush her on three." The miners grunt their approval. "One." I draw a shuddering breath. "Felix. Lilly. I'll hold them off." "Two." "Just... just make a run for it." "Thr-" "Station security. Don't move." Standing in the doorway is Sgt. Chen with her stunner drawn and aimed at the men. Two miners spin and rush the security officer. A fizzle followed by a loud pop fills the air once then twice. Two miners drop to the floor, stunned. The bearded miner is still on his feet and hurls his wrench through the air. It crunches into the officer's shoulder, and she falls. The miner charges her. Screaming, I run at the miner's broad back. He whirls to face me with a maniacal glint in his eyes. His fist flies through the air. Out of nowhere, Felix comes between us. The polka-dots covering his body are bulging and pulsating red. He catches the man by the wrist. "Leave my teacher alone," he says in a low growl that I barely recognize. Bone cracks. The bearded man is yowling. Felix's fist smashes into his jaw. The miner's eyes roll back into his head. Felix is going to strike again, and I'm afraid he'll kill the man, but then I hear the most beautiful humming. It makes my insides vibrate, but at the same time, it's calming. Felix releases the man, who drops with a thud. Swaying, my student falls to the floor. Lilly, still humming that glorious sound, kneels next to her son and caresses his head. Felix is unconscious; his polka-dots aren't bulging and are fading to blue. Lilly stops singing and stares up at me. Her polka-dots still have an orange tint. "You weren't supposed to see that." "He could've done that the entire time?" I say. "It's an extreme fight or flight response," Lilly says. "A small percentage of our young males are burdened with it. Most can repress it by adulthood. We don't want you humans to know about it because you're scared enough by us as it is." "I didn't see anything," I say. "I didn't see anything either," Sgt. Chen says. She is sitting up now with her right arm hanging limply at her side. "What about him?" Lilly asks, gesturing to the man her son had knocked out. "Don't worry about him," Chen says. "He'll be on the next prison transport off station for assaulting an officer. I have a cart outside. We'll head to the nearest security station." I sit at the security station on a folding chair next to Lilly and Felix. Officers in body armor and carrying automatic rifles move purposely about the office. Occasionally, a man or woman in a green jumpsuit is led past us in handcuffs. A newsfeed plays on a monitor near the ceiling. The chaos playing out on the feed is terrible. Station security is authorized to use live fire to end the riot. It's only a matter of time before some semblance of order is restored. The scabbed over wounds torn open by the day's events will take a good deal longer to heal. Unable to watch more of the violence, I turn to Lilly. Felix is conscious and sits next to her, but seems in a daze. "The humming you did earlier," I say. "It was beautiful. Magical." "We don't find it so. It just stops the rage."

After the riots, I consider returning to the Inner Planets. I have family on Bali XI. But I can't stomach abandoning my students, so I stay, despite feeling like an asteroid adrift between solar systems. A month later, Lilly comes to my apartment with a tentacled Drakonusian and an officious looking young man in tow. The Drakonusian smells pungent (it's a species trait), forcing me to concentrate on not crinkling my nose, which might be interpreted as impolite. "We need to talk," Lilly says. "May we come inside?" I'm not thrilled to have visitors after a long day of refereeing my fifth-grade class, but I can't say no to Lilly after what we've been through. We sit down in the living room, and Lilly begins the conversation. "We think you should run for governor." "What? I'm not a politician. I'm a teacher." The Drakonusian speaks, a triangular device around the alien's neck translates guttural growls and high-pitch clicks into galactic common. "A teacher is what we need in our next leader. Someone who will remind all of us why our ancestors chose to live together on Liberty Station. My people have run mathematical simulations. If the current regime continues, there is a chance humans will turn against my people. That will have tragic consequences. Peace between our species is mutually beneficial." "You can win," the man says, leaning forward in his chair. I laugh and say. "You need name recognition to run for office." "You haven't been watching the newsfeeds?" the man says, turning his tablet toward me. "Your story has been trending this month on all the feeds. About how you saved your student." "I've been avoiding the news," I say and stare at the feeds displayed on the tablet. Truth be told, I'd heard rumors. A comment by a student or someone in the teacher's lounge. Still, it's unfathomable that the headlines are about me. I didn't do anything special. All I did was protect my pupil like any good teacher. That shouldn't make me famous or bring me accolades or qualify me to be governor. "Anyway," the man says, flipping the tablet around so the screen faces him. "You have a real chance at winning. Especially if we get out the alien vote." "They don't vote," I say without thinking, then blush because I'm afraid I might have embarrassed my alien guests. "We will vote for the right candidate," Lilly says and leans forward. Her gaze is intense, and the polka-dots covering her skin are glowing emerald green. I've never seen a missionary produce such a color, and I'm not sure what it means. "The riot has changed my people's opinion on voting," Lilly says. "We always found it silly. A human eccentricity. Now, we understand that if we are to live side-by-side with humans, we must be cognizant of how the station's leader is chosen." The translator interprets the Drakonusian's growls and clicks. "You are the candidate humans, Starlight Missionaries, and Drakonusians can support." I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling, trying to find my center. My pulse tap-dances, and I feel woozy. I don't want to be governor. That's insane. Then again, can I really pass up a chance, no matter how crazy, to prevent the current regime from having a second term? I turn my gaze upon my guests and take a moment to compose myself. When I speak, there is steel in my voice. "I'm in. I'm in for the victory."

One years after that fateful meeting in my apartment, I stand in my campaign's office in a converted diner located in the Starlight Missionary District on election night. My supporters surround me: humans, Starlight Missionaries, and Drakonusians. The room is silent with anxious anticipation as the returns play out over the newsfeeds on a supersized monitor attached to the wall. I'm head-to-head with Governor Spade, it's too close to call. I want to win for my supporters; but for myself, I want to lose. Governor Musashi? It has a nice ring to it, but I'm not qualified, and all I really want to do is teach. Aliens and humans alike roar in approval as newsfeed after newsfeed declares the election in my favor. By midnight, I'm told by my advisors I should proclaim victory if only to force Governor Spade to admit defeat. My head swims in the ecstasy and terror of triumph. Lilly and Felix, their polka-dots pulsating blue, usher me to a podium before my supporters, so many that they spill out of the campaign office into the hallway. I gulp, certifiably a nervous wreck. I've never spoken in front of a crowd this massive before. I feel a tug at the sleeve of my jacket, it's Felix. "It's okay, Mrs. Musashi. Just pretend this is your classroom. You'll do great." I turn my gaze back to the throng. Starlight Missionaries. Humans. Drakonusians. Just like my classroom. I can do this. I begin the lesson.

[thekaijusleeps]

“Hate on both sides,” that’s what he said. Both sides, really? Well then, let’s see… Two sides, black and white, day and night, this and that, us and them, Ali and Fraiser, Tupac and Biggie, Green Goblin and Spidey… okay yeah, those I understand. Two distincts, two things separate… fine, those make sense. But then there are unifying ideas, common knowledge, basic fucking facts that should always be a constant. Look both sides crossing the street, be kind and open-minded to the people you meet, treat others the way you want to be treated and all Nazis are absolute fucking evil. Period. And all you had was one job, one thing you needed to say, “Nazis are bad," that’s it, that was the bare minimum, just enough to maybe pass the class…maybe. It shouldn’t have been that hard, you just needed to bring your dumb, little dinosaur hands and pasty white fat ass up the steps, to the podium and stand right in front of the stupid camera and say those words,  those three simple little words, “Nazis are bad,” that’s it, that was all, History gave you a goddamn cheat sheet for the test, it’s not even elementary anymore, it’s fucking kindergarten. But no, you couldn’t even get that one right, you threw out your free point opportunity to show your humanity. “Hate on both sides,” what kind of shit is that? How do you actually mess that up? How in all frozen, icy blue Hell do you not even get that one right? “Hate on both sides,” no, you know what? I’m not convinced, let’s take a moment to break down those sides and see where the hate truly lives and resides. First side, left side, strong side, black side, not a cult, not a gang, not some militant organization, not even a formal group or party, just an idea, an observation, a collective statement that shit still ain’t right, that black brothers and sisters are still and have always been statistically more likely to be victims of crimes such as harassment, assault, rape and murder, and will still be statistically seen less frequently as the true victims  of those crimes, and will still be less likely to see true justice and retribution for those crimes and that even though people will turn a blind eye minimize the importance, gloss over, or otherwise invalidate their struggle that there will still be some of us that will stand proudly by their side and say in one loud, unified voice that, “No, it’s not okay! We won’t stand for it anymore either!” and remind them that even should the world continue to turn it’s head that we’re still there, that they are still there, that they still matter, that their lives truly matter. Second side, right side, supreme white side, stupid, cracker-ass, trailer trash side, zealot morons and worshippers of hateful, archaic dogma and doctrine, members of the most malicious, most violent, but also most stupid-looking clan of cowards to ever dare try to roam the earth backed and supported by blind followers of the biggest, losing party of the 20th century, hiding their hate and xenophobia under the banner of “preserving history” well you know what? It isn’t our fault your dumb ass can’t read a fucking book, okay? Feeling all proud and cocky walking around with tiki torches made in China, sold seperately for $3.99, plus shipping and handling, confident that under the rule of your Clansmen-sympathizer, Cheeto-colored führer that you can spout your ignorant nonsense of fear, hatemongering and bigotry and still have the audacity to call it “freedom of speech” and think that after all that you can fly home on Sunday just in time for your 9-to-5 on Monday well you know what? We sure got the jump on some of you whiny, gutless cowards, huh? “Hate on both sides,” man, can you really believe that? And really, this is to everyone else, everyone privileged enough to still have had the naivety to boast until now that we live in a “post-racial society,” whatever the fuck that means, you know what? Before you stand up and start talking about nonviolence, and looking for words of love and coming together with open arms and shit, before you start preaching being able to see “eye-to-eye,” how about you take a step back, take another long hard look, and then tell me why that shit’s still too soon to say? “Hate on both sides,” and for the record no, there isn’t hate on both sides by the way. The hate is on one side, and the other, well… the other is just really, really fucking tired of having to explain it all over and over again, and still see nothing change.

“hate on both sides,” really? (8/28/2017), thekaijusleeps

A late reflection on the events at Charlottesville, and the ridiculous response that followed from Not-My-President Trump.

[namea]

Pride questionaire

the following questions are meant to make people familiar with the various shades of love, attraction and identity, feel free to add your own. happy pride 🌈

what is your sexuality? Pansexual. Generally I just say bisexual since a lot of people don’t know or believe in pansexuality. 

what do gender do you identify as? Female

how long have you been aware of your sexuality/gender? I’ve been aware I was bisexual since I was probably 6 or 7. I didn’t become aware of the term pansexual and the differences between them until my junior year of highschool so about 11 years ago. 

do you have any preferences? I highly prefer women physically. I find them much more attractive and sexually attractive. I have had more success in relationships with men however so if it’s something other than physical I tend to lean towards men. Female relationships have always been far too dramatic and mind-gamey to me. 

share a positive memory about coming out! I told my Dad when I was about 14 and he just said “Yeah? And?” I’m pretty sure he knew. My family was always really accepting of sexualities and we’ve always had gay, trans, etc people in our lives thanks to my mom’s diverse group of friends and my Dad’s sister who is a lesbian. My older sisters are also both bisexual so our family is pretty chill.

how do you feel about pride month? I think some people take it too far to the point of excluding others. However all in all I think it’s a wonderful thing and I am happy for a month to celebrate the accomplishments of the LGBTQ+ community, remember our struggles, and show support for everyone around the world who is a part of it both here and those we’ve lost.

do you participate in pride related events? any other events? I used to. I had a very bad experience at a pride parade here in Nashville once and since then I have not been comfortable with the lgbt community here. I have found it to be a very hostile and dangerous place that shows far more bigotry than even the most conservative straight people I know. 

how do you feel about lgbtq roles in media? I am very excited by the growing prominance they hold. I don’t believe in the “bury your gays” conspiracy theory. I am a bit miffed at the stereotypes shown and the lack of variation from them but all things in time. For now every bit of exposure and normalization of non-hetero relationships is a step forward. 

do you feel pride in who you are? Absolutely but not just for my sexuality. My sexuality is only a very small part of who I am. I’m more proud of the changes I’ve made to myself, how I’ve matured, how I’ve changed and become a better person. How I’ve become a good mother and a good friend, daughter, sister, and wife.

who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery? My Dad for one. He’s straight but he’s always been supportive of everything I do and who I am. Also Xena...XD My mom is a great source of inspiration as well. For as long as I can remember she taught us that love is love and kindness is not optional. 

tell us about your first crush? Xena. I had a crush on her before I ever had a crush on a boy. It wasn’t until my first boy crush that I realized I felt the same way about boys and girls. I didn’t really think anything of it or address it though. 

what sort of advice to have you lgbtq teens? Love yourself. Even if your family doesn’t approve, even if your friends turn on you. Love yourself and know that you are loved. There are so many of us who have been through what you’re going through and even if we’ve never known you we love you and support you. We want you to grow up and join us and be accepted. Someday the world will see you as the shining light that you are. Please don’t give up. 

have you come out to friends and family? Yup. I’m completely open. It’s not like I tell everyone the moment I meet them but there’s no hiding it. If someone asks I tell them straight out. Anyone who doesn’t know by now is just ignoring it and lying to themselves if they actually care about me. 

how do you feel about the term “coming out” ? I think the term means different things to different people. I don’t really feel like I have the right to answer that because I didn’t so much as “come out” rather I kinda just “confirmed what my family already knew”. I had a very easy time of it. 

do you believe there is a “closet” to come out of? For some people I’m sure. 

any tips on coming out? Again, due to my relatively easy experience I can’t speak for the difficult ones. I can say that if your family has been supportive of lgbt issues in the past it’s best to be honest with them and yourself as soon as you can. 

what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtq characterization in media? The constant pervasive idea that any lesbian or bisexual woman will immediately turn her head for a man if he’s hot enough. Also the idea that every single gay man is obnoxiously effeminate. And lastly, probably the most angering to me: The gay bff trope. It causes straight girls to treat gay men like fetish objects. Accessories. They think they need a gay bff but what they really want is basically a piece of jewelry to spout sassy quotes and talk about boys with them. They don’t care about them as people and that bothers me so much. 

what’s your favorite parts of lgbtq characterization in media? That they’re there! This is such a huge evolution from even when I was young. I remember how Xena and Gabrielle were in an obviously romantic relationship but they had to cover it up with subtext and make sure it was just shown as “best friends”.

what did your teachers say about the lgbtqa community in school? I went to a very open school in High School. When we learned sex ed there were portions on the LGBT community. Several of my teachers were openly out even. One of my most religious teachers who had a cross in her classroom even spoke happily about gay rights and was in full support of them. We had projects in which we had to “marry” a classmate and the teachers allowed gay marriage. We even had an LGBT club that ran events and had a ton of fun. 

do you practice safe sex with the same gender? ABSOLUTELY. Always. Pregnancy isn’t the only thread with sex. Even having sex with other women it is important to erm...clean your instruments...between uses and/or use condoms for them. 

what’s an absolute turn off for you in the opposite/same gender? My biggest turn off in men is arrogance. If a man comes off as being full of himself I don’t find it sexy, I find it annoying. My biggest turn off in a woman is immaturity. Not in a playful way but the kind of immaturity that leads to high school level head games and drama. I’m comin’ up on 30, anyone my age should be done with that crap. 

what’s an absolute turn on for you in the opposite/same gender? My biggest turn on with men is humour. I love goofy guys and I married the perfect one! My biggest turn on with women is also humour. I like a woman who isn’t afraid to be silly, even in public. Let’s dance in the grocery store or tell silly jokes in the restaurant. If we’re together we should be able to have fun without fearing judgement. 

how do you feel about lgbtq clubs/apps/websites? Not for me. To be honest I’ve faced more hatred and cruelty from the LGBT community than I ever did from straight people. I was friends with a group for YEARS here in Nashville but the minute I stopped just sleeping with my husband and actually got together with him they turned on me as if dating a man suddenly made me “not bi enough”. I got insulted, bulliled, had drinks thrown on me, and was almost beaten up at a pride parade. It was humiliating and awful, all because I was with a man. Since then I’ve been wary of LGBT groups. If they can’t accept me even married to a man then they aren’t as open minded as they should be. 

how do you feel about the term “queer” ? I have no issues with it. 

how does you country view the lgbtq community? Totally mixed bag tbh. I live in the south but I’m in the most progressive part of TN so at least it’s not bad here. 

favorite lgbtq actor/actress? I adore Ellen Page, Zachary Quinto, and my very favourites are Sir Ian McKellan and George Takei

any tips for heterosexual and/or cisgender people on how to handle lgbtq events/news? Just be supportive. You’re welcome at my table at least. I don’t exclude anyone who wants to be friendly and an ally. Be kind, don’t sling inappropriate jokes or slurs, and apologize if you’re corrected on something. 

what’s the most annoying question you have ever gotten? “So if you’re a man now you’re straight, right?” No. My sexuality doesn’t change just because I’m now with a man. Still like ladies, still look at them, just can’t touch. 

how do you feel about receiving questions about your sexuality/gender? Happy to answer for myself any time. I can’t answer for others since there’s such a huge varied spectrum. 

[gengarprotectionsquad]

the whole thing with "you're supposed to be uncomfortable" is...that's mostly used when referring to like, white people who say they're not comfortable with discussions of racism but should stay in the picture anyway because being uncomfortable means they have to reassess their internal biases and place of privilege, so on so forth. same with men who are 'uncomfortable' with discussions of sexism, or straight folks 'uncomfortable' with LGBT discussions. if you're talking about, say, The Nonwhites TM (ESPECIALLY if you yourself are white), you really shouldn't end up alienating the people you're trying to defend? it's the same logic as white social justice bloggers still being asked to tag racist violence or particular slurs "even though" the posts containing them are intended to spread awareness

the thing with this and people not down for Connie being called a pet is that the audience (particularly marginalized kids) don't necessarily ~need~ to be shown legitimate 1:1 microaggressions on TV? being Not Down with terms like "illegal alien" has been like...my entire existence atm. especially coming from content creators who sure as hell haven't lived through that specifically, i'm just of the stance that those creators shouldn't have thrown those specific terms at all. all the encounters of bigotry we've seen up to that point in the show at least had a thin layer of Space Fantasy painted over it--you could've just as easily gotten a 'bigoted uncle' story with him being an ass towards, say, Garnet specifically, that'd stay in line with what the creators actually have real-life grounds to draw from. if you told me an episode of a kids cartoon actually used the term "illegal alien" i'd be hoping it was at least a Very Special Guest Episode written by jorge gutierrez or something. i wouldn't want an episode about the struggles of bi folk coming from butch hartman.

i never said they justified Andy, but he was also dealt with remarkably quickly and easily and even then turns out he Was Really Just Sad after all. if they WANTED to keep him around, that's fine i guess, but it should've been a mini-arc, and he should've been a legitimate bigot who has to really unlearn what he's spouting. once we get to the "this episode teaches kids" bit we immediately have to ask "but will kids be reaching out to bigoted relatives, expecting it to not be an arduous process and with the idea they Just Need Somebody, and inevitably start some shit"? most racist relatives are in fact Not Just Sad, but are...actually racist. and that could have very real consequences. RS specifically has talked about experiences that make the redemptions of certain characters feel understandable from an escapist "unrealistic fantasy" perspective (even if i don't agree), but if you're not even facing a certain kind of marginalization, it's probably in everyone's best interest to either treat it as seriously as it should be or then probably just not touch it?

if andy was a vague "i just don't like The New" geezer then the "i'm just sad and confused" route makes sense

if andy's going to be a legitimate racist then either greg should've stepped in and dealt with his definite send-off (since adults do have the power to cut people off and to show kids "your family isn't always made up of good, but good parents will hopefully intervene and resolve bad situations you can't yourself, even that bad situation is another part of your family" is also a decent message for a lighthearted kids show)

in the case they wanted to use him more, he should've stuck around and gradually unlearned the most active and conscious of his bigoted beliefs & behaviors. love takes time and love takes work, so does developing self-awareness, and consciousness of your privilege + the ramifications of your ideals

let's be real, if rebecca sugar and the crewniverse were all straight white men, no one would nitpick su as much as they do

[theliterateape]

The Fallacy of Relying Upon Lived Experience When Dealing with Societal Issues

by Don Hall

It’s all the rage.

Relying upon lived experience over increasingly manipulated media and the thoughts of experts to form tiny individual world views. “Listen to my truth,” say those who refuse to rely upon data and science to guide us. “My truth is illustrative of all truth.”

After a few months of economic shutdown and what I’ll call mild American quarantine (you know, the kind of extreme measures that allow for going outside pretty much any time you want and access to grocery stores and gas stations), it was time to cut the hair. I have a fairly nice beard trimmer, so Dana and I didn’t look like throwbacks to Woodstock, but it was time.

A Supercuts appointment, now necessary, is made. I sit, getting shorn, and am forced to listen to two women (one cutting my locks) wax on about how the pandemic is a hoax.

“Hmmmm.” I interrupt their whining for a moment. “Why do you think it’s a hoax?”

“Well,” she says with the air of someone speaking to a six-year old with a toy car up his nose. “I don’t know anyone who has it. I’ve never met anyone who knows someone who has it. All I know is that they shut down the world for something no one has seen.”

“I could be wrong but my guess is that at least 100,000 people know someone who has had it and died from it.”

“They could’ve died from anything. They’re just inflating the numbers to control us.”

For her it was easy. Her lived experience dictated that no one had the virus and, thus, the virus didn’t exist.

A few weeks later as the protests raged in the streets of every major American city, on the casino floor:

“The police in this country are monsters. All they do is kill black people like they were animals. I mean, its just gotten worse since the Civil Rights movement in the sixties.”

“It’s gotten worse? I could be wrong but according to the numbers I’ve seen, police shootings of unarmed men — both black and white — have consistently decreased every year since 1970. In fact, I read that since 2015, police killings of unarmed black men has decreased by 75%.”

“No. Did you see the videos? All the brutality? I don’t care what your numbers say, it’s way worse now. Have you listened to the personal stories of black people who have been traumatized by microaggressions and continue to live the generational trauma of 400 years of slavery?”

Common sense would tell you that anecdotal evidence or lived experience is by far the most accurate form of information. These people lived it so how could it not be on point? Common sense would be, as it often is, dead wrong.

The claim that eyewitness testimony is reliable and accurate is testable, and the research is clear that eyewitness identification is vulnerable to distortion without the witness’s awareness. More specifically, the assumption that memory provides an accurate recording of experience, much like a video camera, is incorrect. Memory evolved to give us a personal sense of identity and to guide our actions. We are biased to notice and exaggerate some experiences and to minimize or overlook others. Memory is malleable.

Memory doesn’t record our experiences like a video camera. It creates stories based on those experiences. The stories are sometimes uncannily accurate, sometimes completely fictional, and often a mixture of the two; and they can change to suit the situation. Eyewitness testimony is a potent form of evidence for convicting the accused, but it is subject to unconscious memory distortions and biases even among the most confident of witnesses. So memory can be remarkably accurate or remarkably inaccurate. Without objective evidence, the two are indistinguishable.

SOURCE

Lived experience relies on memory and the new culture of the narrative is a shift away from objective fact or even the search for it to place the individual experience as the top of the truth hierarchy.

Simply put, the move to position personal experience at the top is to say ignore what the experts tell us, ignore what data says, go with your gut and believe everyone at their word.

One of the most interesting catchphrases of the latest in a long history of mass protests sparked by the visible murder of a black man by police is the white ally phrase “I understand I can’t understand, but I can stand.” It’s sticky like a good song lyric written by Pete Townsend but it is mired in the concept that unless you have lived with marginalization and discrimination, you are unable to comprehend it. Bullshit.

A more accurate and responsible version would be “I can’t understand how it feels but I can understand the science behind your pain and would like to help with potential solutions.” I mean, it doesn’t resonate on a t-shirt but it is by far a smarter, less blindly religious approach. The Enlightenment was a turning point in Western Civilization that disputed the superstitious adherence to dogma and elevated humanism, reason, and scientific study. This about face to ignore facts for feelings is like switching that light off and stumbling around in the dark.

As odious aspects of society come under the scalpel of progressive change, the mushier the defining elements, the more difficult they are to pin down. As bigotry, something definable and recognized by most blurs into implicit bias (which, contrary to notions to the contrary, is not the same as unconscious bias) it becomes harder for society to see bigotry. We suddenly have to take into account eye witness testimony and the feelings of those suffering it without any corroboration.

Feelings matter. Personal experience matters. Individual decisions made are more often decided due to personal failures, slights, perceived wrongs than because of undeniable facts. It has become the worst part of the Left’s communication style toward the Right in that we love nothing more than to spout facts to demonstrate the wrongness of their position yet double down on our feelings and lived experience when the facts are in conflict with our own perspective.

Is it any wonder that the Right resists our logic when we resist logic ourselves?