#which is a STAGGERING amount of cognitive dissonance

[faggotry-enjoyer]

oh i'm definitely gonna lose some friends for this one huh

[chosenofyffre]

So, as a transfem who has been around tumblr for a fuckload long time... I have some context. There's a certain group of Very Online transfems who, incidentally, find a vicious bully (who is often but not always POC) to flock around, half to feel "safe" from the massive amount of transmisogynistic shit flung at all of us regularly, and half to have a token "see, they said it was okay to be a raging bigot in this instance" person. This cult (and it really is a cult) has been around in some form for decades now, and a lot of the prominent (white) transfem folks are part of it. Currently, their bully of choice is Benjanun Sriduangkaew, a.k.a. Winterfox, a bully of such infamy that there's probably hundreds of victims, if not thousands. They conveniently ignore (and rationalize and defend and gaslight) any evidence of her past transmisogyny, of which there's a staggering amount. She's their pet bully now, and she just happens to be rich and funds many of their transition expenses in order to have a firmer hold on them.

That all said, these transfems thrive on being in the middle of and creating drama, and often just fling wild and bizarre and frankly stupid accusations at random people to see what sticks, and to have a target to attack to stay relevant I guess. They're so far into their victim mentality that anything can be and is an attack on them personally, including another transfem's different experiences (ask me how I know!). Plus, they have a crabs in the bucket mentality, so if you're involved with them and dare to step even a millimeter out of line, they will attack (again, ask me how I know, I'm sure you can guess).

So, what they are doing is shooting themselves in the foot (sowing confusion about what is and isn't transmisogyny, among other things) while creating a lot of their own problems, then lashing out at everyone to alleviate their cognitive dissonance or whatever. Also, many of them are very openly racist when they have a POC target, which has driven many of us non-white transfems away one way or another.

All this is to say that if you see some really weird, and/or stupid accusations of transmisogyny, check for connections to Winterfox and you'll almost certainly find them within one degree. These assholes do not speak for all transfems even though they desperately try to position themselves as the only voices, viciously shutting down any opposition. The rest of us are harder to find because so many of us have been badly burned and/or chased offline by this cult. I'm still here almost entirely out of spite, tbh.

I think the weirdest accusation of transmisogyny I saw was years back, when I reblogged a cute anecdote from a trans guy who would meow back and forth with his cat, and his cat lowered the pitch of their meow to match the guy's new voice and the guy thought it was really cute

Apparently this anecdote was transmisogynistic? Not sure how and I can't check because unfortunately I was much younger and had accidentally fallen into a tirf group whilst trying to avoid NB-phobic and aphobic trans people, so I deleted the reblog

Wild. One of the ones I’ve seen lately is that transmascs making jokes about how their parents misgender them no matter how far into their transition they are is transmisogynistic. As in “mothers will tell you about their beautiful daughter but then he looks like this <insert picture of House M.D. or something>” jokes. Because apparently it implies that people with those traits should Always be gendered as men (it doesn’t). But apparently it’s fine when transfems do it like in this beloved post:

I think some transfems get dysphoric whenever they’re reminded that people perceive certain traits they may have as masculine. So transmascs celebrating things like deep voices and facial hair as masculine makes them uncomfortable, and they have to come up with a reason why it’s wrong. That’s not just a transfem issue, transmascs can get dysphoric about others celebrating feminine traits too, but you can see it a lot in the way transmascs can’t talk about enjoying masculinity without being called toxic or transmisogynistic, while enjoying femininity is considered just good feminism. No traits are inherently masculine or feminine, but their perceived masculinity or femininity can be extremely important to trans people, and it isn’t transphobic to experience gender euphoria.

[sladvlactia]

The Division 2 and Dissonance

No one with a platform seems to be talking about the Division 2, other than a few more liberal or collegiate papers. And what can be said of it that wasn’t already said about the first Division? A fetishistic gun-porn cover based shooter. One that asks you to uphold all that ‘Makes America Great” but not in so many words. A strong game so far as mechanics goes, that has forced me to exist in a state of cognitive dissonance as I enjoy my way through multiple hours of the kind of violence so expertly mocked and denigrated by Spec Ops: The Line.  It has the potential of being a masterful story, if they only knew what it was they wanted to say.

But let’s start with the strengths the game has, which to be fair, are many. A tight cover based shooter that incentivizes creative tactics and strategies, a well-balanced progression system for your gear that makes you care more about what you use on a more complex level than whatever has the highest numbers. Excellent level design with environmental puzzles and storytelling that require you to look beyond your next place of cover and allows for a more expansive story as well as smaller, side-stories you can ferret out if your curious and determined enough. In fact, these side stories are generally more well thought out and nuanced than the main storyline is.

               With cover based shooters, there’s always the danger of having the game devolve into a stagnant hide and seek punctuated by grenade explosions. The mix of enemy types, various elevations of cover, and the myriad of different skills makes each battle feel unique, even if you are replaying a mission, you’ll need to adapt to the different enemies or the different paths they may take to flank you or catch you out in the open. The result is a fast paced challenge that requires you to constantly adapt to your surroundings. You have to keep an eye out for anyone with specific gear, do they have a grenade bag? Wait for them to be near someone else and shoot the bag, taking out them and those around them. Are they near a breaker box? Shoot the box and shock them, buying you time to line up a headshot, or to reposition if you’re being flanked.

That attention to detail, and the effort made obvious by the positioning of each element in the game world, leads to the first issue for the Division 2. Of the four different factions, each has specific strategies they use to combat you. Military tactics from the remnants of a battalion with the True-Son’s. Fast and Furious kamikaze and fire with the Outcasts, or the chaotic and “street-tough” style of the Hyena’s. To explore what I’m getting at, let’s start with the Hyena’s; a faction made up of either black people or, “inbred” white people. The “animals” of the Division world, specifically likened to “Black-Bloc” in the in-game descriptions. Whereas the other factions will rely on the cover given, or use their various tools to flush you out of cover, the Hyena’s will rush you, They’re designed to be chaotic, to be an embodiment of anarchy. A miss-step at best when they’re all brown or poor people in the game world, but outright racism/classism is more likely. The Outcasts are villains because of what they did in response to being rounded up and put into a concentration camp, because they want revenge and took it too far.  Is another uncomfortable portrayal; as a friend put it, “I can identify the most, with the outcasts…” They’ve become terrorists to be sure, but when the alternative is to trust in the same government agencies that left you to die in the first place, it’s hard to judge. Especially when the faction that is more or less responsible for their suffering, is the military remnant known as the True-Sons. A fascist proxy force clearly meant to be the more jingoist aspect of America, and those that just “Follow-Orders” a step in the right direction for acknowledging the dangers of power and following orders, one that seems to be mysteriously missing from the Division agents themselves. Perhaps portraying a faction of almost religious fanatics known for nursing a grudge from being forced into concentration camps by fascists wasn’t the best idea.

The gear itself is balanced and nuanced enough to allow for customizing your play style, and giving you the option of spending hours going through your stash of goods, trying to get the right amount of attack, vs, skill, vs, Defense boosts to make use of your various talents or skill modifications. Something that is enjoyable to a great number of people who appreciate such fine-tuning. (myself included) As I go through each armor piece, I find myself attempting to match my branding, as each brand has specific perks unlocked by stacking pieces together, modifying my weapons with various scopes, or larger magazines. It’s well designed, and each piece carries a benefit and a detriment to the stats of the gun. It’s easier for me to ignore that narrative behind it, the oh so blunt tagline in the beginning cinematic “Did you have a gun?...Did your neighbor?” A Jingoist, refrain that all but screams that all that keeps us from turning on each other is the threat of punishment. Of violence, Of Death and the end of a highly customized and lovingly crafted weapon. But it’s always there, in the back of your mind that everything in this world is solved by shooting it, even locked doors, in most instances. In fact, the only real interaction the player has comes via bullets. A sacrifice for streamlining the work put into gameplay, models and animation of course, but maybe I just want experience this world without destroying it.

Which leads into the beautiful level design, and the amazing work and the evident love that went into making DC.  During missions, you can generally tell where it is you need to go through clever use of extension cords, or discarded shell casings, or even blood smears. Letting you know that THIS door, of the many available, is the one you want to open to proceed.  Every alleyway, abandoned parking garage, or small nook in the sewers has sleeping bags or tents, discarded food wrappers or even torn pages from a notebook, telling someone to be strong, that the writer has gone to look for food. Taken together, the level designers have obviously put in a staggering amount of effort and thought into their work. You can find small treasures, hidden easter-eggs or simply little oasis of peace or an excuse to put something silly in. Searching the sewers, I found a small room full of plush animals, in front was a turtle with a miniature Hard Hat on it. Looking around you can see several plushy snakes wrapped around the pipes. There’s nothing else that’s important in this room, no reason to go through the effort of resizing a hard hat to fit on a plush turtle, just the knowledge that some players will find this room, feel a small bit of levity, and be encouraged to stop and explore before moving on. At one point, I came across an area enclosed in wood, a place that you cannot access as a player. And I hear a blues harmonica playing from somewhere inside. Again, no real reason that I’ve found, just something nice to put into the world, something to break up the unceasing “gritty-ness”. Which is, perhaps, the most damning bit of cognitive dissonance in the Division 2. Each faction has found footage style “intel” little cinematic clips that illustrate just how capitol “E” Evil they are. It quickly becomes absurd; the Hyena’s leave a child alive after murdering the adults because they think it would be “funnier to watch him starve”. The outcasts ritualistically murder the builder of their camp, by literally beating him to death with a hammer. The leader of the true sons, true to his 80’s villain trope, kills a doctor in cold blood when she dares tell him that they cannot just abandon the victims of the plague. Each video, or audio clip is entirely serious, each faction is irremediably evil. Only the heroes, the good guys are allowed to be morally grey.

Which, all told, is I think the largest issue I have with the Division 2, the narrative.  Helpign defend America, to rebuild it, restore what it once was. The settlements you are tasked with helping in the game are closed off areas within the city. Large walls, armed guards and patrolling squads of armed militia keep the area more or less “safe”.  Loudspeakers tell anyone nearby that they cannot simply take in more people, than only the worthy are allowed inside. ���If you stay here, you have to pull your weight” is a literal quote from one settlement. As you help to strengthen each, more American Flags, and colors of red, white, and blue crop up. The sun shines brighter, the guns get bigger. The people inside are kept inside, safe with work rotas, physical training time, clear rules and regulations. A prison to be blunt, one that only allows in those they deem “desirables”.  You find recordings and messages from the leaders or residents of the settlements, hear the radio broadcasts from those inside. They struggle with the knowledge that they cannot allow everyone in, that they live the life of prisoners or impose that life on others. Each recording found reinforces that it is “necessary”, that they are simply doing what must be done for now for a brighter future. Commendable, but worryingly fascist in its execution. Especially when the difference between the good guys and bad guys, functionally, is non-existent. The Hyena’s control the drugs, The True-sons have the most guns and the best gear, the outcasts are weaponizing their own infection, ingeniously turning their outcast status into a weapon itself. Each group is attempting to restore control, or some semblance of a reason to continue to live, through demolishing the past, through exacting revenge, through imposing order, or by preserving what’s left of a lost empire. It’s difficult to feel any different from any other faction, when all you do, all you are capable of doing, is killing and destroying. Even the end game enemies, Black Tusk; a clear nod towards Blackwater, are ambiguously evil. The only thing you know about them is that they oppose you. Finding more of the hidden story pieces, through abandoned cell-phones, laptops, and found footage begins to show a clear breakdown of government. The almost saccharine portrayal of congress “putting aside their differences” to help the sick and wounded is shown in counterpoint to how they fled as soon as things got bad. The current president may or may not have seized control after the assassination of the previous administration.  

In all, maybe my issue with this game is that it gives me no choice but to accept that America is corrupt, broken, and racist. That we as a society are one bad day away from warring factions. That the “best” of us, people sworn to defend us and rebuild us, or little more than glorified trained killers. Who scavenge colorful sunglasses to snap selfies in front of their slaughter. Maybe that’s the whole point of the Division, America is great for a small group of people, who are only kept safe by murdering anyone and everyone who doesn’t fit. “Good-Job!” You’ll be told. “By recruiting this camps only doctor, you now have a barber!” Good thing you can look good while fighting people who revel in killing those weaker. To bring it full circle, your mission here was to re-activate your magic SHD network, one you managed to complete relatively early on, why are you here now? A question asked hauntingly in Spec-Ops. Not addressed or entertained in The Division.

[smokeybrand]

Sober Truths

I was talking to my mom about this the other day. I'm 36. I've never known the US she grew up in. Her first president was Eisenhower. Mine was Reagan. Sh*t was, by no means, easy for her growing up. She grew up during Jim Crow and the Civil Rights Movement. I don't know about that. That's stuff I learned in history books. I do know about Reaganomics, the Crack epidemic, and that whole 90s war on Black people perpetuated by grossly prejudiced legislation championed by the Clintons and Biden. I do know about three recessions and being at war for eight percent of my life. I do know about how college for me at a State school would have cost about thirteen grand and, seven years later, was closer to twenty-six thousand, when my kid brother was attending. I do know that, in my lifetime, the US has been slowly becoming a dumpster fire culminating in a goddamn racist reality star and real estate crook becoming president of this entire sh*t show. When i said to her that i don't understand a US outside of Reagan the blood left her face. She understood immediately why i dislike this country so much and how i, as a black dude in America, have so much disdain for the "American dream." Everything i have ever experienced about the US, has been a violent oppression upon the working class, using race and religion as a distraction, in service to the mass accumulation of wealth for the bourgeoisie. Everything. The US is inherently racist but, to the people at the top, we are all n*ggas in the fields and that insidious notion is perpetuated by these same people to make sure they can steal our labor for themselves. And it's working.

There's a reason why MAGA cultists are almost always poorer, uneducated, Boomers. It's because they remember a US where there was socialized schooling and strong unions which forced business to be honest. They remember a time where bread didn't cost six dollars and gas was less than a buck. They remember a time where money was worth what it was supposed to be, inflation wasn't out of control, you got to work for a livable wage, and the richest paid the highest percentage in Marginal Income Tax rates this country has ever seen. They lived during a time where we were the wealthiest and strongest as a nation. They lived during such a prosperous time that, the Frugal Four, the Nordic countries with the strongest Socialist programs in the world and systematically polled as the happiest nations on earth, cribbed their entire system from that US blueprint. Went to he f*cking moon and lead in technological innovation, man. We once championed science and education. My mom was able to mail away for radioactive isotopes for her baby's first chemistry set. Boomers have no idea what it's like for us, the kids who experienced none of that, because they remember what it was like when they had all of that. They have a point of reference for a country that wasn't overwhelmed by this wave of anti-intellectualism and caustic individualism. Their nostalgia for a time where you can live as a nomadic hippie is as strong as our Millennial nostalgia for 80s Saturday morning cartoons and it's that discrepancy that keeps us at odds.

I don't know what its like not to spend at least ten grand a year on State college. I don't know what its like to have a reasonable, affordable, mortgage I can pay on a gas station attendant or janitor salary. I don't know what it's like to go to the doctor when I'm sick and not dread the million dollar bill after or pay a reasonable amount for my medication without having to sell my actual f*cking kidneys for them or have an entire third of my check go to healthcare under penalty of a tax that is half of what I pay to avoid it. I don't know what it's like to have forgivable student loans or paid internships or a salary that allows me to afford both rent and groceries in the same month. I don't know what it's like to have sh*t made in the US as a way of life and not some novelty corporations use to manipulate commerce. I don't know hat it's like not to have our jobs outsourced to other countries so billionaires can make an extra few hundred thousand or having CEO received seven figure salaries for effectively persecuting their entire workforce in an effort to squeeze every ounce of their profit potential with no regard for their health and well being. And that's not me getting into all of the f*cking racial bullsh*t I have to endure as a black man in the US. I don't know this country the way a Boomer knows this country. Everything my Mom grew up with, during, experienced, is history for me. I learned it secondhand. I learned it in school. It's literally academic for me.

Reagan dropped that marginal tax to, like, nothing and then opened up all sorts of tax loopholes for the richest to hide their money. Dude single-handedly gimped the US economy for years to come because he bought into what Gordon Gecko was selling. Between that, and the consistent deregulation of sh*t like banks, unions, and labor laws, we, the people, were quietly f*cked off for decades, by the representatives we put into power to keep our interests at heart. You don't have to look far to see the consequences of these anti-labor, anti-worker policies. 45 didn't pay taxes for decades while being one of the largest slum lords in all of New York. The loophole he used to avoid paying literally billions wasn't closed until 2016, after he took office. It was legal for him to effectively steal more than his fair share, for decades, after Reagan put the fix in for his cohorts and that sh*t crippled the working class in the US ever since. Because of those sh*tty, Reagan Era policies and a racist ass, unwinnable, War on Drugs, the One Percent robbed America blind for years. Today, the concentration of wealth at the top is insane, man, and that money had to come from somewhere. Because of that unprecedented greed and transparent neutering of what protected the working people for so long, we lost all of the sh*t Boomers hold dear. This isn't the America they know and they're upset about it. They look back on what they had and get angry about it, manifesting is vitriol for our complaints about their obvious advantages. They act out in aggression for what was lost but installing  Trump, because, even if it's subconsciously, they know that “the Swamp” as it's called, robbed them of the US they remember from their childhood.

The cognitive dissonance between their perception of what is lost, and the responsibility they have for allowing it to be lost, is staggering. My first president was Reagan. He is the turning point for all of the maladies that ail the US. Reagan was the first president a lot of these Boomers could vote for. They swept the snake into office and, years later, want to complain about the venom that has infected our legislature. They really believe the country was great once but refuse to take responsibility for their complicity in allowing it to fall from grace. I don't know their version of this country. I can't. I was born decades after the fall began, during the decade where it really started to accelerate. The America i grew up in is the one where corporate greed was fueled by corrupt politicians in service to the cruel gods of capitalism, with the populace used as labor sacrifice for their gaudy profit margins. The America I know is the one where I watched my mom work for thirty years at one place, only to be forced out when the stress from her job afflicted her with a congestive heart condition, weeks before she would have received a massive raise that would have bumped up her monthly retirement by hundreds a month. The America I know is the one that found three trillion dollars in two days, to bail out the stock market while hundreds of thousands of us died from a pandemic that is so much worse than it should have been, because the government refused to push through fiscal legislation that would allow the citizenry to stay home while we figured this sh*t out. It too expensive to just stop the economy for three months while giving the people enough money to live in isolation to flatten that curve. The America I know is one that is forcing the notion of “herd immunity” upon the populace, knowing that millions will die and that's the best case scenario. This is the America i know. How the f*ck can i even begin to understand what it means to be great when all i know is awful? How the f*ck can they begin to understand awful when all they remember is great?

[samingtonwilson]

Loot - Part 4 - Jim Kirk

Loot masterlist

Word count: 2,486 Warnings: language, mentions of abuse/injuries

A/N: another long part filled with nonsense. this part really got away from me tbh, it’ll be totally back on track soon. it just doesn’t feel believable to me to have something intense happen every time (although, arguably, believability is shot to hell when you’re writing about a sci-fi franchise). i wanted this story to be more about the reader and their feelings and jim and his feelings. i hope his feelings toward the reader are obvious without me having to point blank write them-- like i hope you can tell through mannerisms. anyway, i’ve had a trying week and apologize if i missed some typos. lemme know if you wanna be tagged! ENJOY AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

The artifact was becoming a pain— something you could say literally after the ancient hunk of metal scalded the skin of your palm and wrist, and something you could say figuratively after you were forced out of your oven-like temporary quarters more often than not for the past three days.

According to a drunken, loud-mouthed Ensign Chekov, the Enterprise had flown through a nebula that threw off the ship’s electrical balance. It caused the air systems, the warp core, and practically every electronic on the ship to be knocked out of equilibrium and into much more volatile, unpredictable states—  a statement you could confirm due to the onset timing of the artifact’s volatility.

When it came to the air systems, cool air would blast out of the vent when warm air was desired and vice versa. As for the warp core, several engineers found themselves in the medbay clutching burns from the core’s overheating while electronics such as communicators and PADDs shorted out, shut off, and came back to life upon whim.

Hearing that all the malfunctions were due to a nebula was a relief but the initial worry you experienced lingered a little. You wondered if the problems were being exacerbated by the artifact and almost had your suspicions confirmed when rumor had it the ship’s chief engineer, Scotty claimed this particular nebula couldn’t have been the only cause for so many issues.

You found yourself wishing you’d taken Jim up on his offer to explain to you why the artifact was so important. You also found yourself wishing you could pry a window open and throw the damn thing into the dark abyss of space— no amount of tuition was worth the pain it was causing you and the potential pain it could cause the hundreds of people on board.

As you sat atop a biobed in Exam Room 1 of the medbay, you swung your legs in order to appear more nonchalant than your ever-circulating thoughts actually had you feeling. You watched McCoy stand with his back against the edge of the counter, his hazel eyes narrowed as he read the screen of his PADD with his most casual frown.

“You can tell me if I’m dying— I’m strong enough to take it.”

“You’re not dyin’,” he snorted, his typical peach cobbler Southern drawl sounding thicker somehow. “You want to tell me how you keep gettin’ these burns, though?”

You clicked your tongue. “I told you all I had to tell three days ago.”

“Yeah, yeah— the malfunctions are making your replicator short out. It’s just, these don’t look like burns from hot dishes.”

“Then pray tell, Doctor, what do they look like?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “They’re too extensive to have been caused by what you’re suggesting— a grab-and-drop scenario. It’s like you held onto whatever it was while it burnt you.”

He softened his features then— his nostrils were no longer flared, his eyebrows were knit together, and his frown shrunk. He pulled a stool and placed it in front of you, sitting upon it and taking your hand in his.

You looked at him confusedly and blinked.

“You’re not doin’ this to yourself, are you, darlin’?” he asked in a quiet voice filled with a degree of understanding you didn’t know any human being could be capable of. His eyes seemed to melt like chocolate before you. “I can see from your file you haven’t had it easy. Treatments for the odd bouts of internal bleeding, spiral fractures, burns— it's all typical of something that raises a red flag.”

“Yeah? A red flag?” you asked with overly mock curiosity. “Indicative of what?”

“Abuse.”

You scoffed. “I was a student athlete,” you told him easily. So easily, in fact, that you weren’t worried about your voice shaking, nor were you worried about it heightening in octaves. You were able to keep your gaze steadily in his. You’d said those words too many times for them to not come out flawlessly. “Everyone broke a fair share of bones and was covered in bruises.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What about the burns?”

“Recent burns or historically?”

“Historically, sweetheart.”

“I’m a terrible cook,” you shrugged again. You once again had no issues keeping your voice still and your gaze steady. “Resilient, since I keep trying, but terrible. Had the fire department at the ready each time I picked up a pan.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“(Y/N), —”

“Enough, Bones!” you almost shouted, the nickname flowing out naturally most likely due to the extensive amount of time you spent with Jim. As blood rose to the tips of your ears and the base of your throat, you clutched onto the edges of the biobed. “Right now, these burns are because of a replicator and healing them should be your only concern. My history—” you sighed out a curse and shook your head once. “I don’t even know most of my history.”

“You know, your past can impact your future,” he added after a few beats of silence.

“Thank you, Sigmund Freud,” you said dryly, smiling when his lips curved upwards and he shook with silent laughter. You set your hand on his shoulder. “I’m aware of what the past can do. But you have nothing to worry about— not with past me, or current me. It’s just a replicator.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “All right, I’ll take your word for it.”

He rose from the stool and kicked it aside with the sole of his boot. He picked his PADD up once more and began tapping on the screen. “I’ll give you a salve to take back to your quarters— an extra large jar because you don’t seem to be learnin’ your lesson with that replicator.”

“I won’t have to come back here?”

He glanced at you and snorted. “Don’t look so happy ‘bout that. It hurts my ego.”

You laughed. “Sorry. It’s not you. It’s this exam room, this medbay, this ship.” You shook your head and wet your lips. “I just want to be back on Earth— forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“Careful who you say that to, sweetheart. You might break a heart without realizin’ it.”

Though it was nowhere near the path you were meant to be taking, you stopped at the observation deck prior to even contemplating sending the turbolift to Excited Ensign Village. Of course, you were prompted to do so by a transmission McCoy received on his communicator and didn’t go on your own accord— a fact that, alone, decreased your cognitive dissonance tenfold only to have it shoot back up the moment you felt your own excitement.

You weren’t dating Jim. There was no feasible way you, a cadet with sticky fingers, could date Jim, golden boy and captain of the best ship in the fleet. You were aboard his ship, for crying out loud— a ship you were only still on due to medical orders and a ship you originally boarded due to the artifact which was metaphorically, and quite literally, burning a hole in your quarters. You were just sleeping with him— nothing more, nothing less. It was a violation of goodness knows how many rules, but Jim never made you feel for an instant that he didn’t think the infringements were worth it.

You were having trouble convincing yourself that you didn’t want to actually date Jim, that you didn’t like Jim as much as your body would have you believing. Your heartbeat would slowly increase at the sight of him, grinning thuds almost bursting through your ribs whenever he touched you— your skin would react as well, goosebumps rising in the wake of his lips and fingertips, and your knees would betray you at any opportunity. It was unlike the feelings of attraction and fondness you had previously experienced and the whole thing, beyond physiological reactions, made you sick.

You were disgusted at yourself for the way your body reacted to him, yes, but you were more disgusted at the tendency of your mind to drop whatever guard you had. In your mind, you shouldn’t have been so comfortable around him and you should have kept yourself away from him the moment he went from being a stranger to someone you wanted to call your own.

You pulled your sleeves over your hands so the ends reached your fingertips and cleared your throat as you stepped into the observation lounge to gain Jim’s attention. When he turned halfway to meet your gaze, you nodded towards the extremely large window he stood before. “This is nice.”

He hummed in agreement, turning back around. His hands were in the pockets of his trousers, his back straight in tense-Captain-Mode as his jaw was hardened into sharp lines. “Yeah, it is. It’s my favorite place on the ship.”

“Aside from your chair?”

He laughed through his nose, looking over at you when you stood beside him to stare at the thick glass. You saw in his reflection that the smile over his lips was small, but it touched his eyes. He leaned towards you and said softly, “Including my chair.”

As you turned your head to face him, your nose brushed against his. You watched while his posture lost a bit of staunch. You had to stop yourself from kissing him the instant he momentarily glanced at your lips. “Including? You must really have a thing for this window.”

He hummed again. He bumped his shoulder against yours so you staggered to the side, a smile playing at his plump lips. “I come here whenever I’ve had a stressful day and it just… it puts everything in perspective.”

“So you had a stressful day?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “Just wanted to share this with you in case you’re ever stressed, uneasy, or upset. On the Enterprise, on Earth, wherever you end up, looking at the stars really puts things into perspective.”

“The whole ‘we’re so small, our problems are so small’ thing?”

He clicked his tongue. “The whole ‘there’s always light’ thing.”

You wanted to smile but frowned in consideration instead. “That’s awfully poetic. Why me, though?”

He hummed questioningly without looking away from the view before him.

“Why did you decide to share this with me? Does it seem like I’m upset, or stressed, or uneasy?”

He ignored your question. “I know you aren’t a fan of where your quarters are, but injuring yourself to take up residence in the medbay is somewhat excessive.”

“I’m not injuring myself.”

“Then how do you explain that?” he asked, nodding his head towards your gauze wrapped wrist and forearm.

You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes on the glass, staring at his reflection rather than letting your eyes meet his. “Well, I don’t explain it. Because I don’t feel the need to.”

Jim snorted and shook his head. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers wordlessly.

“I understand that this window makes you emotional and deep, Jimbo, but I’m not going to hold your hand for support,” you said dryly, trying to suppress a smile when he clicked his tongue.

“Give me your damn arm, Cadet.”

You turned your body to face him entirely and set your forearm in his hand with admittedly a bit more force than you should’ve, a sharp pang of pain coursing up your limb. You weren’t able to hide a hiss and wince.

His eyes flew to yours as he heard the sharp inhale through your teeth. The baby blue of his irises and the concern overflowing from them made your breath hitch in your throat. For your own good, you wanted to look away but, for the life of you, you couldn’t.

“What happened?”

“My attitude overtook my better judgement.”

“Consider it a punishment for insubordination,” he mumbled as he undid the gauze wrapping. He narrowed his eyes at your arm and sighed. “These look bad.”

“They’ll be fine soon enough— probably won’t even leave a mark.”

He looked at you incredulously. “Why would marks be my concern?”

“I can’t imagine why any of this is your concern.”

If you’d thought there was no way he could look more outraged, you were proven wrong then. He didn’t speak on it, though, only winding the bandage once again. He reclasped the metal hook so your wound was bound tightly and turned your hand over, looking at your palm. “The burns hurting you, the cause of the burns— those are my concern.”

You averted your gaze and took your hand from his. You set your fingertips on the glass, your palms flat against the surface. You caught a glimpse of his reflection and noticed his eyes on you, his arms crossed over his chest. “Chekov told me your chief engineer’s trying to track down the source of all the electrical shortages. He doesn’t think it’s just that nebula?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jim answered, his eyes watching your fingertips as you absentmindedly pressed them in each place you saw the glow of a far off star. “Scotty thinks the effects of the nebula should’ve worn off by now, but next to nothing’s returned to homeostasis. You know, you can’t count the stars no matter what system you use.”

You frowned, stretching your arm to reach higher stars. “What do you think?”

“That you may be smart, but every system fails. There are too many stars.”

“About Scotty’s theory, you idiot,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“I think I have no knowledge on anything pertaining to engineering.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion.”

“My opinion is you should stop burning yourself.”

You glared at him and pinched his arm with as much force as you could muster, his hand slapping yours away as he yelped in surprise pain. “Is he going to investigate it further?”

Jim kept rubbing his bicep. “He’s planning on it. He thinks he can detect where the frequencies are highest and go from there.”

“Frequencies?”

“Electro… something. I told you I have no knowledge on anything having to do with this stuff.” He eyed you for a second with a single eyebrow raised. “Why are you so interested?”

You did your best to look nonchalant. “There’s nothing else to do on this ship. No one’s doing anything noteworthy— Uhura and the Vulcan are being amicable about their break-up, McCoy won’t fuck the nurse he’s into, Chekov refuses to shit talk anyone even when he’s drunk, you’re only sleeping with one person—”

“You.”

You laughed as you spoke, smiling up at Jim as his arms wrapped around your waist, “Yeah, but you could sleep with few more people! Give me something to talk about, something to focus on!”

He pressed his lips to yours for a moment that was much too short. “I’m not looking to sleep with other people.”

“Really? Your fanclub was wrong about you.”

tag list: @outside-the-government @daughterofthebrowncoats @multifandom-slytherin @buckyy3s @cinema212 @caaptain @dani-fae

[cryptovalid]

Afraid of the Revolution

I’ve been struggling to put something into words lately. It has to do with violence. What it means, and more importantly whether I can do about it.

I am afraid of the revolution.

 Some of you may know that I’ve been working with a pacifist peace organisation these past few years. Christian Peacemaker Teams is part of a movement of spiritual nonviolence that seeks to undo oppressions all over the world, including the violence inherent in capitalism and the state. 

In working with them, I have come to understand that violence is much more than simply causing another person bodily harm. There is systemic violence, such as destroying the conditions that allow others to survive. There is psychological violence, such as that which causes trauma and self-hatred.

I’ve come to understand that, even though most people claim to reject violence, it is so normalized that it is not recognized as such. From the use of slurs and harmful stereotypes or humiliation, to letting people die preventable deaths because they don’t have enough money, to the violence the state performs to keep out refugees, punish criminals or secure its diplomatic interests. These are so common that most people don’t even think of them as violence. And because this violence is inherent in the capitalist nation-state, we are all complicit in it.

Since their founding, this violence has been part of a deep cognitive dissonance in every democracy. Rich nation states have been framing themselves as victims of parasites and foreign interlopers (the poor and historically looted communities), all the while humiliating, exploiting and endangering those very marginalized groups.

There is still very little solidarity among these communities, despite their intersections. I feel alienated everywhere, and I’m not even oppressed on most axes. I feel like I have to be on guard wherever I am, because casual racism, misogyny, cisheteronormative ableism and classism are very common. 

I don’t feel like I have a comfortable place in any community. 

This is particularly scary because I feel that violence is on the rise. I feel like the way our societies our structured is not going to last through my lifetime, and I fear whatever replaces it will involve a lot of violence, perhaps for the rest of my life. I’m not hopeful that things will get better soon. 

I don’t know how to survive that. It scares me.

At the same time, I realize that non-violent action is not easy, or safe either. The late Rev. Martin Luther King Junior is a testament to that. It is harder, and less safe. His work is not done, and he was killed for his work. The amount of emotional labour it must have taken to confront the hatred and violence of others without responding in kind is staggering. 

I feel like I don’t have the strength to do that labour.

 I certainly don’t feel like I can expect others to commit to nonviolence. We are all already complicit in the violence of capitalist nation-states. I can’t even imagine what it would take to confront and undo that violence.

A lot of my friends are advocating violence in response to the rising tide of fascism. A lot of my friends are advocating nonviolent direct action in the vein of King instead. I wish I had the courage of either conviction.

I am angry, and sad. I get urges to hurt myself and other people. I am tired. I want to hide all the time. I feel like a useless coward.  

In case you were under the impression that I know what I’m talking about.

[sometimes-ihavethoughts]

So, why are you a vegan?

A question I get asked more times than I can count. And my most honest answer is: because I can’t think of a single reason to eat meat, when I know the disastrous effects it has on every realm of our life.

Let’s start at square 1. My body. My body is the shell that will house me until the day my energy passes on to another realm. If I don’t keep this physical part of me in its best condition, how do I expect to live the best life I want? And so many people tell me, “you don’t get your protein, you don’t get x and y,” but the fact of the matter is, I get all of those things, and in their purest, most original form. Clearly many people do not understand scientific fact. The topic of my diet is no different, so allow me to explain. In order for you to get any nutrients from slaughtering a cow and eating its meat, that cow must first eat plants, in order to absorb its proteins. However, a cow can eat 1,000 grams of protein, and you would only receive 10% of that, and in a much more harmful and toxin-fulled form. Outside of people not understanding how nutrient consumption works, it’s been scientifically proven that a plant based diet will keep your body in its most healthy form. Don’t believe me? Watch Forks over Knives if you have a few hours, and if you only have a few minutes, head over to NutritionFacts.org and watch some of Dr. Gregor’s videos. 

Now, I used to be the first person to ignore things that were best for me, especially when it came to my health. So I understand if “health” just isn’t quite enough to make you want to make such a significant life change. So let’s move on to something much bigger than myself. Ethical treatment of animals. Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t trust people that look at any sweet little furry face and don’t think, “this is the cutest and most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and how did we get so lucky as to have these lovable companions that show us unconditional love.” Now I get it, some people don’t have that intense love for animals, but then moment someone wants to hurt them, we call them sociopaths and serial killers. So, why do we let slaughter happen on a massive scale? Well for no other reason other than “that’s the way we’ve always done it.” 

There’s this thing called cognitive dissonance. If you have heard of it, you may know where I’m going with this. If not, let me explain. In psychology, cognitive dissonance is the mental stress or discomfort experienced by an individual who holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values at the same time. Meaning, they perform an action that is contradictory to their beliefs, ideas, or values, or they are confronted by new information that conflicts with existing beliefs, ideas or values. So for example, you claim to love your dog and all animals more than anything, but you have no problem scarfing down a hamburger that was raised for slaughter. You justify this by saying “well not all places are like that,” or “some of them are raised humanely,” as if that makes up for all the others that were not (and, by the way, farm-raised animal agriculture, while slightly more humane, is worse for the environment than factory raised, because you are using the same amount of resources and emitting the same amount of greenhouse gases, for less meat). This cognitive dissonance is so pervasive in our society that we actually convince ourselves that some animals lives matter more than others. This is dangerous and costs billions of lives every year. Why would you not want to do your part to help reduce the suffering in the world?

Okay. So, health isn’t a good enough reason for you, and you just don’t care about animals because they just “taste too good.” So how about your air? Do you care about breathing? What about water? Do you care about having clean water to drink? Animal agriculture emits more harmful greenhouse gases into the air than all methods of transportation: cars, trains, planes, etc, COMBINED. Let me tell you what has already happened and will continue if we do not get our animal consumption in check. 

Too many greenhouse gases are emitted into the air every second. These gases increase the intensity of the “greenhouse effect” that our Earth has in order to keep us alive. In response to this increased effect, the earth starts to warm on a global scale. Ice caps start to melt and have displaced thousands of refugees who used to call islands their home. Gases in the air get put into our oceans, causing it to acidify. Acidification has destroyed over 90% of our coral reefs in the last few decades. Without the abundant life in those reefs, ecosystems start to fall apart, causing mass extinction. Not to mention the earth we are destroying in order to make room for this animal agriculture. More than half of earth’s rainforests have been destroyed in the last decade to make room for MORE MORE MORE meat (because we have MORE MORE MORE people), causing thousands of species to go extinct. This throws food chains out of wack and makes conditions even more unstable. 

Raising animals for food (including land used for grazing and land used to grow feed crops) now uses a staggering 30% of the Earth’s land mass. Out of all of that land, we could grow enough food to feed everyone in America on a plant-based diet using just 1 PERCENT of it. It takes up to 16 pounds of grain to produce just 1 pound of meat. Fish on fish farms must be fed 5 pounds of wild-caught fish to produce one pound of farmed fish flesh.

The world’s cattle alone consume a quantity of food equal to the caloric needs of 8.7 billion people—more than the entire human population on Earth. Nearly half of all the water used in the United States goes to raising animals for food. It takes more than 2,400 gallons of water to produce 1 pound of meat and only 25 gallons to produce one pound of wheat. Animals raised for food produce approximately 130 times as much excrement as the entire human population and animal farms pollute our waterways more than all other industrial sources combined. Run-offs of animal waste, pesticides, chemicals, fertilizers, hormones and antibiotics are contributing to dead zones in coastal areas, degradation of coral reef and health problems. 

“By replacing your ‘regular car’ with a Toyota Prius, the average person can prevent the emission of about 1 tonne of CO2 into the atmosphere. By replacing an omnivorous diet with a vegan diet, the average person can prevent the emission of about 1.5 tonnes of CO2 into the atmosphere. That’s 50% more CO2 saved!”

So why do we continue to do this? Why, with all these facts glaring in our face do we continue to make this situation worse? And do you know why? It’s money. The powerful make money off of feeding you lies in order to make you think that this world is one way, when it is really something completely different. 

People have this tendency to believe whatever they have been told to be true. As a society, we have been taught that authority is the truth, rather than truth being the authority. I have watched way too many documentaries to be drinking the Kool-Aid our government gives us. Anything they are trying to tell us and convince us is good for us, I don’t believe, because everything they convince the people of has a motive, usually a monetary one. I have a general distrust in much of our government because they have billions of dollars of self-interested money from agri-business, big pharma, etc. Would you not rather give your body the nutrients to treat issues at the source and become a healthier, stronger, version of yourself, instead of paying for drugs just to mask the pain and make the rich richer? 

The more I educate myself and learn about this world, and the more I discover how things happened throughout history, and the interests behind world events and propaganda intended to sway public thought in order for the powerful to get what they want, the more I see that humans have really been lied to by those powerful people for all of history. We have been taught that just because this is how we’ve always done it, that it is right. That we must do what we are told, or there will be consequences. And we don’t even question it. But if we don’t learn from our mistakes, and quickly, we won’t have a future to argue about.

If you believe in God, I cannot imagine that you truly believe that this was his intention for us when he created a beautiful abundant, living, breathing, earth. For me, veganism all comes full circle when you begin to see these lies. “The more you begin to investigate what we think we understand, where we came from, what we think we’re doing, the more you begin to see we’ve been lied to. We’ve been lied to by every institution.”

To quote from a good friend of mine and an amazing human being, Morgan King, “The influence of money on politics impacts the way we live our lives. The dairy conspiracy is just one piece of this corrupt puzzle. An ideal citizen, in the minds of elite capitalists, is one who is misinformed, sick, and distracted. They misinform us and give us dietary guidelines that are formed with special interests in mind. Because the guidelines aren’t based in empirical evidence, we are sick from many preventable diseases and have to pay big pharma thousands of dollars to keep us “healthy”. And of course, we are too distracted to notice any of this because we are being constantly bombarded with advertisements and expectations of how we should act, and we are not taught mindfulness and meditation in school, which would help us see what is really going on. But to do the right thing ethically, to teach people ways of sustainable living and empower them to take care of their own health, this doesn’t make money for the powers in place. If you’re eating animal products, you are buying into the lies that the US government has bestowed upon its citizens in order to make money for special interests. The US government does not have your interests and well-being in mind when they tell you animal products are part of a healthy diet.” I think she just hit the nail on the head.

“The bottom line is that the government is getting what they have ordered. They do not want your children to be educated… they do not want you to think too much. That is why our country and our world has become so proliferated entertainments, mass media television shows, amusement parks, drugs, alcohol and every kind of entertainment - to keep the human entertained. So that you don’t get in the way of important people by doing too much thinking. You had better wake up and understand that there are people who are guiding your life and you don’t even know it.”

A new consciousness is developing among youth who see the earth as a single organism. Living, breathing, thriving. We all come from the cosmos and are a part of this beautifully interconnected and patterned earth, many just do not see it anymore because we do not connect with our roots. We do not connect with the earth and we surround ourselves with things that don’t matter. Taking time to just be in nature and experience all it has to offer will bring you clarity. Our mother earth is calling to us, we just have to be willing to answer her.

“The whole system that we live in, drills into us that we are powerless, that we are weak, that society is evil & crime ridden and so forth… it is all a big fat lie! We are powerful beautiful - extraordinary. There is no reason why we cannot understand who we truly are - where we are going. There is no reason why the average individual cannot be fully empowered - we are incredibly powerful beings.”

So I encourage you to learn for yourself. Empower yourself. Find the truth for yourself. Don’t just listen to what you see on TV and believe things because that’s how they’ve always been. Seek truth. Know truth. "You have to know the truth and seek the truth and the truth will set you free.”

Sources:

The Global Benefits of Eating Less Meat by Mark Gold and Jonathon Porritt

“The Food Revolution” by John Robbins

Forks over Knives documentary (on Netflix)

Cowspiracy documentary (on Netflix)

Earthlings documentary (on Netflix)

Before the Flood documentary (on YouTube, NatGeo, and others)

NutritionFacts.org

Zeitgeist: The Movie