#my cat says trans lives are sacred | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brandonwayneb · 1 year

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My commonwealth beloved tropes

anyone free to healthy pathology

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My cat 🐈‍⬛ called cool 😎

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My frog 🐸 to transmog ⚧️

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My mouse 🐭 mystery 🧐

My cricket 🦗 cherp church ⛪️

My lion 🦁 lords

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My doG 🐕 my OG 💯 on God original gangsta 💅🏿 mans best friend 🫂

My dragon 🐉 justice loud & proud drag 👗

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My May 📅 flower 🌸 (born May 6th) 6️⃣

Brandon Wayne Burdett

Lives Life with minimal regret 🤗

Living Life quality survival war vets ⛑️

decided I loved 💕 you ever since we met 🫱🏽‍🫲🏾

BEST WORLD 🌍 BEST NEWS 🗞️ EFFORTS 💥 PSY 🧠 PSA 🗣️ WORLD EARLS 🤴🏽 EARS

World Ordeals World Organizations World Or Again Gain Ordeals

denounce “www tess tesseract glass cube.”

denounce “stress issue tissue TIL TILE”

denounce “RUB-EX, RUBIX CUBE MIRRORS”

denounce “www white wire t rex wax vexlore”

denounce “mega micro mall tezz TIL Tess.”

denounce “TILT TALT TIZZLE FAULT ALT”

www wex ex line mega mall tesseract

tesseract coils CO OILS SOILS SEALS

tesseract glass mirror laser trip wires

www wex wire line micro megaphone malls

“galaxy EX EX PRESS PREZ candy throats.”

“tesseract cubes lasers mirrors glass wires.”

mega mall static noise generator “white noise”

“test TIL.”

🇺🇸🇩🇪🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿: America German England

🔵⚪️🟡: Blue, White, Yellow

🇮🇳: “blame Indian Chicken Hen Tye mix asain”

🏯: Blame any asain country ass PAN cUNtry

🪑🛏️: Red Indian Leather Jerk Pan Try Key 🔑

🪑🛏️: Red Irish blame greedy red cherrywood

🪑🛏️: African, can metal tin foil pan, star fish.

🪑🛏️🦖: Fossile Steel Sickle Foils Oils Ink

👳🏽‍♀️🕌⛽️: Blame Ass Odd Muzzle Fizzle

🌽🚌✏️: Corn KKK Kob Lore Door Knobs

🦈💉🚪: Vacuum Door Salesmen Genocides

🐢🕊️⏲️: Turdle and Dove Blender Horrors

🍎🍏🧃: Wear Down Programs, App Reels

🐺🐑🐏: Perverse Culling Cycles Genocide

🐻🐻‍❄️🐼: Bear Brothers Bully Gang

💩💰🐥: Cheap Chicken Checker Board Shit

🥖🏄🏽‍♀️🛋️ : Bread Basket Shopping Cart Box

🐓🏭🦠: Coop Co-Op Perverse Farm Cycles

🧊💉🐓🦠: Shingle Pox Chicken Pox

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🧊💉🐖🦠: Shingle Swine Spawn Pig Pox

🧊💉🥤🦠: Bubble Box Soda Pox

🥾👅💩: Boot Licker Desk Maggots

🍧🍦🤡: Crazy Clown Society Shop Programs

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🦅🦉🦆: Play Dumb Perverse Sportsmanship

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🥒🫒🌽: Sell “Genocide” Routes “que, olive.”

🥔🍎🌭: “pot of toes water office cooler”

🎬💿🍆: Movie “Show” “Set” CUTSCENES

💈💇🏼‍♂️🦁: Cut Scenes, Humiliation, Programs

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🛹🛹 🤕: Skat Skare skate Board Headache

🛷🛷 🤕: Slay Fray Dismay Speed Hate Rate

⛸️⛸️ 🤕: Ice Skate Blade Secret Assaults

⛳️⛳️ 🤕: “go off” “offline” escape to false lay

⛵️🤑🕳️ : “rift raft war raft send post broken.”

🏅🎟️🏅 : False Paper Badges, Stolen Honors

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⛸️🏄🏽‍♀️🛹: “skat pans, boards splitting FRAYS”

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🔵😰🥞: “blue bed pans down syndrums.”

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🦊🦊🦊 : FOX KEEN SWIFT INTEL

🐈🐈🐈 : CATS 🐈‍⬛ GENERAL WELLNESS

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💚🧡❤️ : Green Teal Orange Red Ruby

🍀🌹🎒: Brave, Bravo, Honors, Survivors

🔭🏐🎒: Telescope, Sports, Studies.

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🇮🇪🇮🇹🇫🇷: Ireland Italy France

🧡🤎🖤 : Orange Tan Brown Black

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🌶️🥭🥭 : Spicy Mangos, Healthy Vitality

🍫🚎🚂 : Chocolate Bus, Public Supports

🍻🍺🍹 : IRISH PUB, Public Wealths

🍃🪢🍷 : Twine Red Wine Vineyards

📞🍇📞 : Grape Vine Life+ 411 Lines

🪀🧘🏼‍♀️🪃 : Karma Health

⚡️🗳️🪁: Eletric Key 🔑 Kite Vallet Box Vote

📞🥌☎️ : Shuffle Sand Telephone System

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🧨🖤🐈‍⬛ : KKK Black Jackkk Kat

💋💄🧐 : Bio Lense Cyborg Eyes 👀 Health

🌪️👃🏽🌪️ : Two Tiny Wind Tornado Nasal Pass

🎀🍆🍬 : “mini peninsulas.”

👉🏼👈🏼

👉🏼💥🪙

👉🏼🌎👈🏼

🤘🏽🐰✌🏼

🧍🏼🧾🪡: Puppet Tree

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⛲️⛽️🌋🚁🛞🛟🕋📡

Brandons Health Upkeeps

Public News: 📰🏳️‍🌈🇮🇱🐰🐸

🍀☘️🌹🦜🦧🍊🐈🐈‍⬛🕷️🕸️🎹🐆🐘🦏🦍🐅🐫🦘🪶🦩🐉🦫🦔🌞🌚🌝✨🌬️🌪️🧞‍♀️🧞🧞‍♂️🧬⚙️⚡️🧶🎱🔮🧣🎒💍👑🧳🐌🦖🐩🦚🍠🌶️🍓🍒🥝🍑🥭🍍🍻🥂🍫🧋🏹🎻🐍🥋🧘🏼‍♂️🧘🏿🤸🏽‍♀️🥁🧚🏻🧚🏿‍♂️🧚🏻🧚🏿‍♂️🧝🏽‍♀️🧝🏽‍♂️🧝🏽‍♂️🧝🏿🗽🏰🏔️🌋🔭

A brief environmental scan.

Environmental; Tacoma Washington

Seattle Washington

Bad News: 🤑🐁🦠🐹🦠🐓🦠

🦭🦭🦭🦁💈👨🏻‍🦳🪱🍪🫒🎀🍕🤐🤐🤐🤡🎪🏥😵🪰🪳🪳🪳🐻‍❄️🐼🐻‍❄️🐼🐭❄️🎿🦉🦠🧺🗑️⛵️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🐮🦆🦂🦐🦈🐬🐳🐋🐃🐂🦬🐑🐏🐿️🐚🪸🥔🍗🥒🍆🍎🍋🍅🍳🥩🍔🍟🍩🎂🍿🥧🎂🌽🫖🥛🥤🎳⛸️🛹⛳️🏄🏽‍♂️🪂🎸🎬🎤🎯🎫🎲🛞🧛🏼‍♂️🧟🫐🥞🧈🌭🪵

#gay #lgbtq #trans #hispanic #spanish #italian #italy #allah

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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December Contest Submission #19: Strange New Worlds, Familiar Warmth

Words: ca. 4500 Setting: Star Trek AU (DS9 Dominion War Era) Lemon: No CW: Mild to Moderate Violence, Trans!Anna, Background character death, Injuries

It had been a rather long and laborious day, but Anna was finally returning to her village with a sack full of freshly skinned meat, the sustenance that would help to feed her village and let her people grow strong.

Anna found it a great honour that she was the huntress for her village, as her duty was deeply sacred one to their people. Their world was full of many strange and massive beasts and Anna was the only one of her tribe who had been trained to face them alone.

Her people worshipped four great spirits, and Anna, to her people, was the living embodiment of their strength, the fifth spirit. As such, it was her divine duty to care for her tribe and to bring them the food and meat they required to survive.

And what a feast she was bringing home. She’d carved up two Aurorasaurs, a Sytrac and even a rare Jagra cat that she’d tracked from its den. That was certainly something the people of her village hadn’t eaten in quite some time.

As she made her way down the long mountain path towards the village in the great forest that was just on the horizon, Anna stopped for a moment to take in the view.

These mountains, the forest, this was her whole world… and it was simply a thing of beauty. From the orange and red trees, to the blue sky, Anna wouldn’t trade her world for everything and yet… she often wondered if there were other worlds out there.

The legends of her people often said that the four spirits they worshipped originally came from the stars, from mysterious worlds unlike Anna’s own. Of course, these were legends, but Anna sometimes wondered if one day, she might visit them, to truly be among the spirits and all who dwelled in their domain in the stars.

However, as Anna was about to pick her sack up and sling it over her shoulder for the final trek home, she heard the sound of something streaking through the sky. Looking up, Anna’s eyes widened as she saw what appeared to be some sort of fireball falling from the heavens. She couldn’t make out what it was… but it was clearly going to crash into the forest.

By the spirits…! Anna thought. If that fireball hits the village, my people will be killed!

Dropping her sack, Anna quickly ran down the small slope towards the trees, watching the fireball fall down towards the ground at great speed. She leapt and jumped between the trees agilely, trying to get to wherever the fireball was going to crash down.

She prayed to the spirits to give her the speed to reach her village, but at the same time, cursed herself for not being there to protect her tribe. Fortunately for Anna though, there would be no innocent blood on her hands this day.

With a massive KABOOM, the giant fireball crashed into a small rocky outcrop in the forest, carving a path through the trees. As it hit the ground with a massive bang, Anna was knocked back and onto her rear, slammed into a nearby tree. Stumbling back up, Anna rubbed her head and slowly started to approach the impact site.

To Anna’s amazement, whatever had crash-landed was surprisingly largely intact. It appeared to be some sort of large, silver capsule, with a pointed nose and two strange protrusions sticking out of its rectangular body. It had a long red stripe going across its body and on its nose, Anna could make out some writing in a language she couldn’t really understand.

“You…Ess…Ess…” Anna managed to read outloud shortly before she was distracted by a noise coming from the battered object. It was a deep hissing sound, one that startled the redhead.

A door on its rear section opened and Anna hid behind some rocks, pulling out her hunting knife. If whatever was inside it was hostile… she preferred to have the element of surprise if she was to face it in combat. She kept hugging against the rock, eyes peeping out around the corner.

However, the hatch opened… and Anna saw a woman come stumbling out of it, carrying someone on her shoulders. The woman placed her companion on the ground, both of them visibly injured. If this woman was hostile, she clearly was in no way to start a fight with Anna.

Quickly, the woman took out some strange grey object from her pocket and hovered it over her friend. While they were both beaten and worn, Anna could see the woman’s friend was in a much worse state than her, with deep burns and scars across the side of his face.

The woman kept waving her strange grey machine over her friend, Anna seeing a pained, desperate expression on her face. She stared intently at her device, as if praying there was hope for her injured friend… only for it to only make a dull, monotone whine in return.

The woman let out a saddened sigh. “May the prophets be with you, my friend,” she whispered, taking the other person’s hand and holding it close to her chest.

Even though she didn’t know who this stranger was, she was able to empathise with her. She knew what it was like to say goodbye to someone she cared about. Her father in particular, as he lay dying of sickness, as he finally came to terms with Anna being his daughter.

Then Anna got a glimpse of the woman’s face and saw that she looked very different to her. She had short platinum blonde hair in a pixie cut, wearing a blue headband on her head. Her clothes were also quite different, a black and grey form-fitting outfit with a blue collar with two golden circles on it. The woman’s nose was also different. Unlike Anna’s smooth one, this woman had a series of bumps on the crest of her nose. On her ear, she wore a rather beautiful looking silver earring.

But her whole face was completely different from Anna as well. Instead of yellow eyes like Anna’s people had, the stranger had bright blue ones. She had normal ears as well, lacking the bony crests Anna’s people had on the sides of their heads. She also had five fingers on each hand, instead of the four Anna had. Yet, their skin tone was the same and Anna could understand her language… somehow.

Even though this woman was so… alien to her, Anna couldn’t help but think she was beautiful. Sure, she was covered in bruises and dirt, but Anna hadn’t seen a woman like her. She was fascinated by her.

However, before Anna could even think of trying to approach the strange woman, she suddenly remembered her hunting trip. She’d left all that meat on the hill when she saw the fireball crash. This stranger would have to wait, she had her own duties to attend to.

As the woman tended to her departed friend, Anna quietly made her exit from the area, the stranger completely unaware of her presence. Eventually, Anna made it to the hill where she had stashed the meat earlier.

Fortunately, it hadn’t been poached by scavengers, much to Anna’s relief. As she looked at the strange craft from afar, she kept thinking about the woman and where she had come from. She didn’t seem to be a spirit of any kind. Anna knew all the spirits, being empowered by them after all. Yet, whatever she was… Anna knew she had to keep her a secret from her tribe.

She knew they’d likely panic and as their guardian, Anna wanted to keep them safe. Besides, the stranger clearly had her own problems to attend to.

Slinging the sack full of the day’s catch over her shoulder, Anna started to make her way back towards her home.

xXx

When Anna got back to the village, it had been chaos. The people of the tribe had thought the end of the world was upon them. After stashing away her hunt in the village store, Anna saw a large gathering in the centre of the village, people surrounding the large fire that burned at the heart of their community.

So many occasions had taken place there. Weddings, funerals, ceremonies dedicated to the spirits, but this occasion was much dire than any of those.

The tribe’s elder, Yelena, was trying to assure her tribe to be calm, but there was no such luck. There hadn’t been a commotion like this since the last tribal war, where their tribe, the Northuldra, had fought their rivals, the Divalla over their hunting grounds.

The gathered members of the tribe were panicking and bickering amongst themselves, all of them fearful for what the fireball could have meant, and some fearful for their safety and the safety of their families and loved ones. Anna didn’t blame them. She was still a little scared herself.

“Calm down, everyone!” Yelena called for order. “Let us wait until our guardian makes her return!”

“And what if she was killed when the sky fell?” one of the tribespeople asked frantically. “What if she has been betrayed by her fellow spirits?!”

“Please, let us think rationally!” the elder spoke amidst the mounting panic. “We have been in harmony with the spirits for generations. There is no reason for there to be conflict between us.”

Anna then stepped into the village center, seeing the assembled crowd. “I’m here, brothers and sisters!” she called out to them. “There is nothing for you to fear!”

One of the tribe turned around at once. “It’s the Fifth Spirit!”

“Oh thank the Divine Ones!” Another exclaimed.

At that moment, a young woman turned around and ran over to Anna. It was Honeymaren, Anna’s Spirit-Sister. Anna’s family had been close to Honeymaren’s and after her father died, Honeymaren’s parents had adopted her into their own, as their spirit daughter. Born to different parents, but treated like family all the same.

Ryder, Honeymaren’s brother, was the tribe’s resident Akadeer herder, while Maren was a blacksmith, forging and carving weapons and tools for their village. Anna saw both of them among the crowd. As Honeymaren rushed up to her, she took Anna’s hands.

“Anna, thank goodness!” Honeymaren exclaimed. “By the spirits, we were worried about you.”

“I’m fine, sister, I’m fine,” Anna assured her gently. “I was fortunately nowhere near the shooting star when it fell from the sky.”

“You were uninjured?” Yelena asked her.

Anna nodded, putting her hands on her hips proudly. “I was. It would take a lot more than a shooting star to bring this fifth spirit down.” She hoped her usual sense of pride and cockiness would ease the concern of her fellow Northuldra.

The tribe indeed felt a little relieved at that, some of them chucking and others just smiling. Honeymaren however, sighed and rolled her eyes playfully. “Your hubris will be the end of you someday, I swear.” She smiled. “But I am glad to see you are uninjured. Did you bring much for the tribe?”

“Oh, today was a good hunt,” Anna replied cheerfully. “Our village will be quite fed for quite a while.”

“But what was the shooting star when it landed?” Yelena asked her. “What did it bring from the heavens? Surely you must have seen it after it had crashed.”

She didn’t think it’d be best to tell the tribe about the strange silver craft that had crashed into their forest. She knew her tribe would likely panic and try to kill that beautiful blonde woman she’d seen in the woods, thinking her to be some sort of demon. But Anna had seen her bleed, seen her cry. Demons did not do either of those things, but she knew her people wouldn’t understand.

But she still had to give them an answer.

“Well, what did it look like?” Maren asked.

“Oh, it was uhhh… a big rock,” was all Anna replied.

“Just that?” Yelena wondered. “A big rock.”

“Yes, a really big rock,” Anna responded. “I give you my word as the guardian that it hopefully will not cause us any harm. However, I would recommend we do not go near it… at least not until I remove it. It could still pose some sort of danger to the village that I am not aware of.”

Yelena nodded. “Very well, I trust your judgement, Anna. Alright everyone, you can go about your business now. The Fifth Spirit has spoken!”

As the people dispersed, Maren and Ryder walked with Anna to their hut, both of them still concerned. Maren in particular, since she was the closest to Anna. Anna knew she wasn’t one to be satisfied, even when Anna told her she had nothing to worry about.

“Please, don’t worry us like that again,” she said in a worried tone. “You are the only family Ryder and I have left.”

“I’ll be fine,” Anna told her. Honeymaren did tend to worry a lot. She was the oldest in the family after all.

“Still sounds pretty cool though!” Ryder gushed. “A massive ball of fire falling from the sky!”

Maren shot her younger brother a look. “Don’t you start too.”

Anna chuckled a little. As they went inside and Honeymaren started on dinner, Anna went to her room and sat down. She looked at all the various souvenirs in the room, tokens of her adventures.

Her life had been one of wonder and hardship. From discovering that she was a woman not long after she became the fifth spirit, to helping forge an alliance between the Northuldra and another tribe called the Saporilda, to losing her father to the sickness. All of that had been impactful on Anna… and yet, she hadn’t thought of any of that as much as that strange blonde woman and her craft that had crashed down.

She couldn’t get her out of her mind, even now.

Eventually, Honeymaren called Anna to dinner and she dined heartily with her spirit-siblings. But soon, when they retired to bed, Anna found herself thinking of the woman again, wondering if she was alright in the forest on her own. Where could she have come from? Why had her strange vessel crash-landed into their forest? So many questions… questions which were keeping Anna awake that night.

Soon, Anna realised she couldn’t sleep. She had to see that woman again, to know that she was alright. She jumped from her bed and grabbed one of her hunting spears before crawling out of the window. And then she headed out into the night.

xXx

As the stars hung in the sky above her, Anna kept making her way through the forest. Her mind was focused on seeing the strange woman again. Anna hadn’t seen a woman quite like her, and now that she was freed from her duties she could observe her for as long as hse wanted to.

Anna knew that Honeymaren would likely chew her out for rushing out in the middle of the night, but Anna knew this was for the best. After all, she was the representative of their people. If she did indeed want to talk to this stranger… she was the most qualified person to do that.

It didn’t take Anna long to reach the crashed craft. The woman had started up a fire near her ship and was sitting beside it for warmth. At the same time, she was tinkering with some sort of metal object. She’d brought other things out from her ship as well, strange machines that Anna did not understand.

Hiding behind a tree, Anna watched as the woman warmed her hands on a nearby fire she’d started, before she tried to activate the strange object. She grumbled, pressing a switch on the device, only for there to be no response. She sighed, trying to remain calm.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” the woman muttered to herself. She pressed a few buttons before speaking into the machine. “This is Lieutenant Iduna Elsa calling. any Starfleet vessel? Do you read me? My ship was attacked by a squad of Jem'Haddar ships. I managed to escape but have crashed on an uncharted world. I am all alone here, my supplies are low and I don’t know how long I can last. If there is any Starfleet vessel receiving this, please respond… please.”

The woman groaned, as there seemed to be no response.

“Oh come on!” she groaned. “Did I do something wrong? You were the engineering expert, Kristoff. If you were still here, I bet I’d have found someone by now.”

Iduna. What a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman. And Kristoff was likely the person Anna had seen Elsa carry out of their crashed ship. While Anna had a few answers now, she still had many more questions about this woman. Part of her wanted to talk to her… but she had a feeling that would only make things worse. The woman was clearly still grieving and a stranger interrupting would have been the last thing she wanted.

Iduna rubbed her forehead, clearly fatigued. Working on whatever that contraption was exhausting, not to mention her shouting at the contraption when it wasn’t functioning as intended.

Gazing curiously, Anna continued to watch the woman, seeing her open some sort of packet containing some food. Iduna seemed to express a certain disgust to the food, but ate it anyway. Clearly, it was the only thing she felt like eating, or at least, was comfortable eating.

At that moment, Anna thought about grabbing some fresh Javarro fruit from the nearby tree and offering it to Iduna, only to then realise it was probably best for her to observe and not interact. Still, she found herself in awe of the strange machine the woman had used.

While Anna didn’t know what its purpose was… it was clearly important to Iduna. Perhaps she was trying to send a message to the stars from where she came?

Eventually, after Anna had watched Iduna for a while longer with her eating, it was clear she was getting sleepy. The blonde woman sat back on the rock she’d been resting against and pulled a nearby silver blanket over herself. Anna realised she should probably leave as well. After all, she’d seen her strange visitor more than enough now.

And yet, Anna had another question. The woman’s face… it was no longer dirty and certainly no longer covered in cuts and bruises. Had the woman… healed herself somehow? In such a quick time?

As the woman was closing her eyes, Anna crept closer to the camp, wanting to take one final close look at the stranger.

However, just as she got closer. Anna saw something sneaking in the darkness. A faint red glow and two crimson eyes. Anna recognised them instantly. She heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards the blonde woman, crunching leaves beneath them.

Grabbing her spear again, Anna looked in the darkness. The red eyes were gone and the footsteps had stopped… but Anna knew whatever was out there was getting closer and she wasn’t going to let it hurt this strange woman. Clutching the weapon tighter, Anna listened for a low growling.

The woman may not have been a native of the forest or part of Anna’s tribe, but Anna was determined to protect her.

Suddenly, Anna heard the footsteps again, hearing the creature snarl and charge at the camp.

Leaping out from behind the tree, Anna tossed her spear at the creature as it leapt out at Iduna. The beast groaned, being knocked back from the force of Anna’s attack. The illusion wore off, Anna seeing the sight of a black, bipedal wolf creature with black and red fur. A Lukark. They were nocturnal, cloaking themselves in shadow to sneak up on their prey.

Iduna jumped up, seeing Anna standing before her. “What the hell?!” she exclaimed. “Who are you?”

“Stay back!” Anna cautioned.

The beast snarled, ripping the spear from its leg and tossing it aside., charging at Anna with its claws. Anna tackled the beast, punching it in the face with her fist. She tried to toss the beast down onto its back, but Anna’s own fatigue got the better of her, as the Lukark managed to slash her with its claws.

Grunting, Anna looked down at her bleeding wound, distracted. She tried to reach for her weapon, but she was already starting to feel weak. With the little strength she had left, she tackled the creature, pinning it against a tree. Her hands grabbed onto its neck, Anna trying to choke it, but the beast then kicked her square int the stomach with its feet.

Iduna, staring at Anna, realised she had to do something. She quickly reached for one of her devices, a sleek silver, handled device. She aimed the weapon, trying to get a good shot at Anna and the creature, but they were both moving too much.

However, the Lukark then tackled Anna down. It slashed at her and tried to bite at her head, but Anna, with what little strength she had left, tried to fight back, but the creature’s foul breath filled her face and its great strength pressed down upon her, claws digging into her skin.

As Anna thought this would be her end. She’d lost a lot of blood and knew the Lukark was going to kill her… but at least she would die knowing that gave her life for this woman, protecting this innocent stranger to her woods. She just hoped that Iduna was running away now, far enough that the creature wouldn’t catch up to her.

However, Anna was then saved herself. . A beam of orange energy fired through the air, shooting the Lukark off her, killing it instantly. Anna turned, seeing that Iduna had killed the Lukark. In surprise, she tried to sit up, but felt searing pain all through her body.

“Damn it!” Iduna shouted, rushing to Anna’s side and cradling her. “Are you alright?!”

Anna tried to respond, but her vision was growing hazy. She kept focusing on the woman though, those beautiful blue eyes gazing back at her. Iduna was clearly a mix of a cunning warrior and a gorgeous beauty… and Anna was glad to have given her life for her.

But, before Anna could thank her rescuer, she lost consciousness due to her blood loss…

xXx

When Anna awoke, she found herself wrapped up in the same silver blanket Iduna had been in. As her eyes widened, she saw that she was beside the fire… and Iduna was sitting on a rock beside her. She was looking at the fire, warming her hands again, but she stared at Anna when she realised the redhead was awake.

Startled, Anna jumped up, panicking for a moment. Iduna got up, trying to calm her own.

“Woah, calm down,” she assured her. “Everything’s alright… you’re safe now.”

Staring at Iduna a little warily, Anna looked down at herself after pulling the blanket off her form… and saw that the injuries she’d sustained had been healed. Was this strange woman magical? Did she have powers that could not only heal herself, but others as well? Anna stared back at Iduna confused.

The woman nodded. “Yes… I healed your wounds.” She sighed. “It was the least I could do for you saving my life.”

Anna felt grateful… and humbled. And she couldn’t help but admit that she loved the sound of Iduna’s voice. Melodic and gentle… like how she imagined the voice of the spirits.

“I’m breaking a ton of rules by even talking to you right now,” Iduna remarked. “But I couldn’t just let you die. I’ve already lost one person today and I wasn’t prepared to lose another.”

“Iduna…” Anna spoke.

The blonde woman turned. “Huh?”

“Iduna…. that’s your name isn’t it?” Anna stated.

“How do you know my name?”

Anna blushed. “I was watching you work on whatever that big grey machine of yours is. You said your name into it.”

“Oh…” Iduna responded, feeling embarrassed. “Well, I prefer to be called Elsa, if that’s okay. I never liked my family name much anyway.”

Anna was a little confused. In the traditions of her people, the family name came after the first name, but clearly, wherever Elsa was from, the traditions were different. If she was honest though… Elsa was a much more beautiful name. In her own language, it meant “white flower”, but she doubted it meant the same to her new friend.

“My name is Anna,” the redhead introduced herself. “I… I saw this ship of yours crash earlier”

“You saw me then too?” Elsa asked. “How long have you been watching me?”

“I couldn’t help it!” Anna argued. “I saw the ship fall from the sky earlier today. So did practically everyone in my tribe. Don’t worry… I didn’t tell them about you. They… probably wouldn’t understand you and Spirits, even I don’t know what you are? You’re so… different to me.”

Elsa rubbed the back of her head. “I guess you could say… I’m from another world. A world called Bajor.”

“Bajor?” Anna wondered. “Do you have spirits there too?”

“Spirits?”

“Yes… divine beings who protect you and you believe in?” Anna stated. “I am empowered by the spirits of my world and I’m considered the guardian of this forest.”

“Ah,” Elsa responded. “Well… I suppose we have something similar on Bajor. We worship the Prophets. They protect us and are there for us in our lives. They have someone like your Fifth Spirit too, an Emissary… I wish he was with me right now.”

Anna sighed. “You didn’t mean to come here, did you?”

“No, I actually thought your world was uninhabited so I figured it’d be a safe place to crash after my shuttle got shot down,” Elsa expressed. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this.”

“Hey, I dragged myself into this,” Anna insisted. She grunted as she moved. “Ah..”

“Easy,” Elsa insisted. “Just because I healed your wound, doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest.” She helped Anna lie back and tucked her into the blanket. “There… now you get some sleep.”

“What about you?” Anna wondered. “Won’t you be cold?”

“I’ll… I’ll be alright,” Elsa replied. “You need it more than me.”

“No… you deserve to be warm as well,” Anna stated. She opened up the blanket. “Come on… we can share. We’ll keep each other warm.”

Elsa felt a little reluctant, but nodded. She climbed into the blanket with Anna and they both snuggled up beside the fire. Anna relaxed, resting against Elsa, the Bajoran smiling at her. Anna didn’t know what the future held for her and the woman from Bajor… but she was certain that she wanted to be with Elsa now.

After all… she was making her feel warmth.

#elsanna #submission #december 2020 contest #prompt: warmth #cw: violence #cw: injuries

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nerdpiggy · 4 years

Note

Tell us about your ocs!! I'm genuinely curios bc of the tags

[ID: Meme of Hatsune Miku smiling. Top text reads "Thanks for sending me a message". Bottom text reads "You're very cute and I will be replying to you".]

Robin "Robbie" Fuller: The character i play in a DND campaign.

they/them pronouns. they're nonbinary and asexual and don't care to label their romantic attraction.

They're 22 years old and 5'9" (175cm)

Their birthday is November 12th. they're a scorpio

They started off as a Mundane MOTW character and they're now a level 7 warlock in DND. They're a human

They live in a small coastal town in massachusetts called Holyoak and they go to the local college to learn culinary. They live in a single dorm and they have a cute widdle black cat named Chickadee

One day (for various reasons) their life was flip-turned upside down with discovering the existence of monsters, portals, different dimensions, and rifts in spacetime

One of the reasons for them discovering all of this was them meeting a man named Thomas who's a human from a different dimension called the Palisades. He's a well-known Judge over there. (Thomas is @bevtastic 's character)

Robbie gets an offer to join the Interdimensional Defence Agency (IDA), says fuck it and accepts, and Robbie and Thomas stay friends by virtue of their similar jobs.

Robbie is tasked to go to a different dimension (A half-medieval half-wild west desert town called Argyle) to stop a threat that was growing there. Threat turned out to be a massive mind-controlling dragon who wanted revenge for the rest of her dragon species that were killed off by medieval "heroes". Robbie was not cut out for this as their first job. They (with help) subdue the dragon eventually but not before she burned down multiple towns including Argyle to a crisp. Robbie feels very bad about this.

Robbie, Thomas, and the rest of the party receive a mysterious letter leading them to an old abandoned mansion in Holyoak and get roped into a rescue mission to save Thomas's old friend Percy who has apparently been bodysnatched by a bad guy and trapped somewhere for what felt like thousands of years. This is the arc where we switched from Monster of the Week to DND, and Robbie gets connected to a nature deity Adelaide through a purple necklace. They also get a familiar, who is an owl with pitch-black feathers and glowing yellow pupilless eyes that Robbie named Mr. Muffins.

Robbie and Thomas become very good friends :)

Thomas dies.

Robbie goes to the Palisades to find out what happened to him. Turns out he wanted to reveal the secret of interdimensional travel to the public and work to make it open, free, and safe. The people in charge did not allow him to do this by legal means so he aimed to do it illegally, which was when he was murdered by a group of bandits.

On top of that, one of the main reasons why he wanted to reveal the different dimensions is because there is a HUGE interdimensional threat coming our way, and we need to act on it if we want to live.

Percy finds Robbie and asks them to help with this threat, who apparently is a singular person named Siris that has been locked in a prison for thousands of years and somehow got out. Robbie doesn't have much of a choice and accepts.

In the Palisades, there are monsters called Behemoths. they emerge from people who get bitten by a behemoth or who touch the black tar-like substance that runs like rivers in certain areas of the Palisades. During a battle, Robbie gets bitten by a Behemoth, and now they're a candidate for Behemism (aka turning into big giant monster syndrome).

Because Robbie has Behemism and Siris is part of the reason for Behemism existing, they're mind roommates now. Robbie and Siris do not get along very well.

There's more to Robbie but this is their main backstory!!!

[ID: a drawing of Robbie holding a chrysanthemum. They have short pink curly hair, and they're wearing a yellow floral button-up and a purple necklace. They have bandages on their freckled face and they're looking down at the chrysanthemum with a neutral expression.]

Emile Azarel: A character i play in a different campaign that does MOTW.

He/him pronouns, he's trans, demisexual, and demiromantic.

He's 19 and he's 5'3

He doesn't know his actual birthday but the day he celebrates is January 23rd

His MOTW class is The Expert. He's a fire genasi

He was born in central Russia but he doesn't know his parents well because when he was ~8 months old there was a big monster attack that unfortunately killed his parents. A monster hunter named Avery Azarel found Emile, took him in and raised him.

Emile learned to hunt monsters with Avery and the two traveled around together as monster hunters.

Eventually Emile wished to have a solid place to live rather than constantly traveling, because he wanted friends. He found a town in the pacific northwest called Salmon Peak that had everything he wanted: Russian culture, a fairly small easy-to-get-around layout, and some very weird mysteries going on. (Just because Emile wanted to settle didnt mean he wanted to stop monster hunting!)

He moved to Salmon Peak and has met a bunch of new friends! He's also learning more and more about the town, which is turning out to be somehow even weirder than he expected.

Emile is a very sweet, polite boy, but considering the fact that he's only ever been around one person mainly for his entire life, he has a bit of a ways to go when it comes to interacting with people. The monster hunting life means that when there's a monster, you kill it and that usually solves all your problems. Emile has transferred this logic to people as well (if they're a monster, kill em!) and he's learning through friend influence that maybe human lives are a bit more sacred than that.

His favorite color is blue because he loves the sky!

A lot of people underestimate his skills because he's little and looks very young, but he is a very good monster hunter. Because of Avery (the best monster hunter in the biz), his last name has a bit of a reputation.

Emile is blind, autistic, and has vitiligo!

I have much more planned for Emile but I can't say it here because it is MAJOR spoilers!

[ID: a drawing of Emile walking forward. He is wearing a blue shirt with stars on it, blue jeans, a fluffy white jacket, a belt with a star on it, star earrings, a moon necklace, and black shoes. His blue hair is swaying behind him and he's holding a white cane with a red tip. He's smiling slightly.]

Avery Azarel: Emile's parent! I've not played them as a character yet but I've made a character sheet for them.

they/them pronouns. They're agender, aromantic, and pansexual

their age is (???) and their height is 5'7

they have a birthday but nobody knows when it is

Their MOTW class is The Chosen. they appear human

They're widely considered the best monster hunter in the biz. Their name is well-known and they're requested for help all around the world

Because of this, they're constantly traveling and having a house would not make sense. They just pack their things, stay at motels/hotels/etc., camp in the woods and move around to wherever people need them.

Since they've been pretty much everywhere, they always seem to know at least one person from each town. They never seem to get too close to anyone, though

They are fluent in many different languages!

In the past they were paired up with another monster hunter and they made a great duo. That was a couple decades ago; they go solo now.

Years ago, an unexpected and incredibly destructive monster rampaged a small town in Central Russia. Avery came as fast as they could (they were nearby in the area) but they still couldn't finish off the beast before it tore the whole town to shreds. Dozens of homes were crushed, but surprisingly most people survived, with the exception of a couple of people who died under the rubble. Avery felt awful (this was their biggest failure in a while), and as they were searching through the rubble for any more casualties they found little baby Emile, miraculously unscathed. They took him in and raised him from then on.

Nobody, not even Emile, knows very many details about Avery's childhood, their family, their age, or really any information about them. (Emile has been trying to figure out Avery's birthday for AGES so they can celebrate, but Avery has refused to budge)

Their main weapon is 2 pairs of bolas! those are those chains with 2 balls on either end, usually made to be thrown at people's legs to restrain and trip them. they use the bolas both as restraining tools and as their main weapon, because i think weapons where you spin them really fast in front of you are cool

There's a scar over their left eye; whenever someone asks how they got it they always spin a different elaborate tale of an epic monster battle. Nobody knows which (if any) is the true story

there is a WHOLE LOT that I am leaving out if you couldn't tell. There's a huge chunk of their past that I'm leaving out because it's all a big bundle of spoilers. Someday I will be able to elaborate more on Avery!

[ID: a picrew made by djarn of Avery. They're smiling, their head is tilted slightly, and there's a scar over their left eye. Their hair is tied half-up half-down. They're wearing a black shirt with "òwó" on it and a blue jacket with an aromantic flag pin and a pansexual flag pin. the background is an agender flag.]

These are my main OC's! I have more (Orion, Nottwyrm, "Noodlearms", etc.) but these 3 are the main ones that I post about. :3 thank u for asking!!!

If you have any questions about any of my characters I always welcome asks!!! 💖

#oc robbie fuller #oc emile azarel #oc avery azarel #pinned post #i have never used a read more before and idk if i did it right #GOD i hope it works #if it doesn't im so sorry #thank u so much for asking !!!

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quesselfships · 4 years

Text

Fic parts

So like I said I wanted to do that fic with Elnor who I’m not even bonded to yet.

Its really just three scenes, without any transitions between them, so without further ado:

“Guys, she knows me,” Chris sauntered up a farm lane, passing a large sign reading Azteca Calla. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

The lane was lined with succulents, large blue agave with smaller species filling in the gaps. In the distance, Picard could see corn, along with smaller plants he couldn’t identify at this distance. But the imposing structure behind the house is what caught their eye.

“It’s Mesoamerican,” he said to no one in particular.

“Yeah it’s a temple to Quetzalcoatl.”

“Didn’t Captain Kirk encounter an alien claiming to be Quetzalcoatl?”

“Yeah, don’t mention that to her…”

“The fuck did you bring me this time Rios?” A voice called from the lane, with a rather angry looking woman standing with her arms crossed. Her tattoos shined from the sunscreen she had put on, and Chris just awkwardly waved his hand over the rag-tag group. “We need some supplies…a place to lay low for a little bit.”

She sighed, looking over the group. “I expect help, on the farm. In exchange for room and board, and not asking questions. Dinner is in a couple of hours, you can get settled in the side house, by the temple.”

“You’re the best Lea,” Chris grinned. “My ship…?”

“You can stash it between the corn fields.”

“The best!”

“I made the Tamal very mild,” she said, serving a platter of wrapped vegetables and turkey. She brushed the fringe from her scarf away from her face. “Mild,” she indicated one bowl of salsa, “hot,” the one beside it “and jalapeno,” the final green one. “I grew everything myself.”

Picard produced a bottle of his estate wine from somewhere and poured glasses. “How do you know Captain Rios?”

“He helped me bring supplies for this. It was him who sourced artisans who could create my sculptures.” She cut into a Tamal and drizzled a mix of jalapeno and mild salsas onto it. Elnor mimicked her.

“Aztec reproductions?” Seven cocked her head.

“Not quite. My own original ideas, inspired by sacred art and the Gods. I am a proud Anahuac,” She smiled. “That’s why I studied agriculture in school. Though I can barely keep houseplants alive.”

“You grew all of this?”

She nodded. “Yes, everything I eat here I grow, from the corn and chilies, to the chocolate and tequila. There’s only a few things I import or replicate, and most of it is meat. I don’t know how to butcher.”

“Are the cats bothering you?”

Sybill screamed again and Elnor smiled. “No. Are they all this chatty?”

“No, she’s a special one.” Sybill crawled up into Elnor’s lap and purred. “She likes you.”

“I had never seen a cat before now.”

“We have more living in the temple. They keep the rodents away from the crops.”

“Will you take me?”

“Sure, let’s go,” she extended her hand. Elnor carefully deposited Sybill onto a footrest (much to her anger), and grabbed Lea’s hand.

The temple was more impressive close up, with intricate star patterns and carvings. She pointed to one. “My birth chart, my sacred names and dates, all carved here.”

“It’s beautiful,” he looked around. The lights shone when they walked in the temple, stone echoing underfoot. “The lights look like fire.”

“I made sure they would be programmed like that. It felt more authentic to me. More fitting.”

Some cats, disturbed by the light, got up from their comfy corners and perches to say hello, purring as they rubbed themselves along Lea’s legs. Elnor bent down to pick up a white one with smooth fur. He smiled and pressed his face into her fur. She mruped, and purred, headbutting under his chin.

“Come, I’ll show you the kittens.”

The warm, secluded annex had two mothers with babies. One group seemed to be older, bounding around, and the other with younger ones who were just opening their eyes. The older kittens wobbled forward. “Sit down,” She said, handing him a few treats. “I make these too. They’ll come to you.”

Within moments, Elnor had kittens crawling on him, and the white cat he had picked up earlier was settling into a warm corner, far enough away that the Mamas weren’t upset. They were curious, cuddly and sweet. Elnor loved their soft fur and gentle nuzzles with their wet nose.

After a while, the mother cat called and her kittens came over to drink at the milk bar. They settled in in a row, dozing as they filled up on warm milk. The white cat followed them out, and perched by Elnor’s feet. He looked around at the stone, offerings and candled lined the walls. He could swear there was a scent of copal in the air.

He looked at Lea in the dim light, sparkles glinting from her headscarf, and he couldn’t help but ask, “can I kiss you?”

“Kiss me?”

He nodded, stepping closer. His hand was warm on her cheek and she felt her leg shake. She had noticed him, young and tall and handsome. Slender, lithe…things that she liked. “I’d like to kiss you.”

His lips were soft on hers, and his hair tickled her cheeks where it fell forward. She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers. She felt the stars carved in her temple glitter with delight. She couldn’t remember the last time she was kissed like this, with tenderness and sweetness and a hint of innocence.

He pulled away; cheeks tinged green with blush. “Thank you,” he said in a whisper.

Next part will be under a jump for smut. I really hope I did ok. I’ve never written a trans character before so like. I tried.

“Ah, fuck,” she said. It was early morning, but she couldn’t sleep. There was a festival coming up and that always made her wonky. But she noticed her hydroponics were running dry. She made her way to the en suite to get some water, fixing her ponytail with a yawn. She kicked aside a few clothes, probably clean but maybe dirty, and got the water.

Exiting the bathroom, she held the bottle of water but then dropped it with a gasp.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Elnor said. “I heard something, I thought you were in trouble.”

Forgetting the water, she scrambled to her bathroom door and snatched the first scarf she could, wrapping it around her head like a loose hood. “It’s okay, you just startled me.”

Elnor had stooped down and was mopping up the bit of water that spilled from the cap that wasn’t screwed on too tight. “I’m sorry if I offended you.” He nodded towards the scarf.

“No, it’s okay. It was an accident.” She crossed her arms, tugging her oversized shirt down a little. She was conscious of how bizarre it was to make sure her hair was covered, but she was pretty sure that if she turned her back, he would be able to see the bottoms of her ass cheeks hanging out from her boy shorts.

“I feel bad,” he said. “Can I make it up to you?”

“You don’t need to Elnor, really.” She pulled her scarf off. “It’s just hair. And while I haven’t done much to it in six months…” She smoothed the wispies. “I’ve been grey for half my life. I just don’t like showing it to strangers. It’s more of a comfort thing than anything.”

He nodded, “I have something like that too. Can I show you?”

“Sure.”

He stared untying the sash at this waist.

“Elnor, no, what are you doing?”

He sloughed off his robe to his waist, and traced thin scars under his pectoral muscles. “Double mastectomy,” he said, then turned to his side. “And unfortunately, I had to have my hysterectomy this way. I had a cyst so it couldn’t be done vaginally.”

“I had no idea,” she said.

“I haven’t had all the surgery, it’s hard to get on Vashti. I feel good about this body now, so I don’t know what I’ll do in the future.”

“Thank you for telling me. It makes my hair thing seem way less important.” She chuckled.

“It’s not, not at all.” He pulled his robe back up, but kept it loose. “Why are you up so early anyway? The sun isn’t up yet.”

“I don’t know. Couldn’t sleep I guess.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, and patted for him to join. Sybill jumped up from the basket of clothes and took it as an invitation for her. Elnor grinned and picked her up, placing her on his lap to pet her while he listened. “There’s a holiday coming up and I never sleep well before them. This is one I don’t really care for anyway.”

“Why?”

“It puts a lot of emphasis on sex, but I celebrate it alone. I try to make it about growth and purification, but everyone in the community talks about some muscular guy who was channeling a god and how they fucked in front of a bonfire.”

“So why don’t you do that?”

“It’s not my style. I want to know someone before I jumped into bed with them.” She laughed and sat crossed legged, facing him, “current company withstanding.”

“I don’t know if we’ll be here when your festival happens, but do you want to try it before?”

“What, you’re going to channel a god for me? Should we get the bonfire in my laundry or my paddle plant?”

“Maybe without that part,” he said softly. “But the other part…”

She smiled, “you want to be some muscular guy for me?”

“I think I’d like that.” He deposited the cat back into the laundry basket, and scooted closer, shucking his robe off all the way now. He wore loose fitting shorts, and was flushed from his navel to his chest. His kisses were softer than they were at the temple, more hesitant but with more hunger and passion.

She put her hand on his hip and raked her nails softly against his firm flesh. She felt his heart pound under her hand, while he slipped one of his hands under her shirt, hiking it up to expose her breasts. He rubbed his thumb over one nipple until it peaked and he trailed kisses along her soft jaw and neck. She whimpered when he broke contact to tear her shirt off, tossing it aside and kissing along her chest again.

She dragged her hand down his shorts to the mound between his legs. It was jarring at first, to not feel a solid mass, but her fingers still managed to tease through the fabric. She could feel the warmth, the wetness growing.

“I want to suck you off,” she moaned. “I want to have your cock in my mouth.”

He shuddered, quickly getting off the bed and out of the shorts. She crawled to the end of the bed to allow him to drape himself on her pillows. She settled down between his legs, against his thigh. She kissed and licked at his skin, using her fingers to gather his own wetness and spread it around his cock, which was now filling out. She followed her fingers with her tongue, swirling it around and taking it all the way into her mouth.

He moaned, leaning back into the pillows and shifting his hips. His eyes squeezed shut as he panted, feeling the pressure build. He wanted to buck into her mouth, but stilled himself. “Finger me too,” he whispered. “Please.”

She paused her sucking to lick her fingers, pressing them into him and hooking them up. His anatomy was different from humans, it took a moment for her to find the spot inside of him to make him gasp and let out a low moan. She grinned and resumed her sucking. She could feel him squeeze around her, and his hand found its way to her hair.

“Fuck,” he panted out. “Fuck, I’m close.”

She stroked her fingers faster, harder, stimulating his cock from the outside as well as the inside. He was panting and gasping as he kicked out his one leg gushing around her fingers. He whimpered with overstimulation as she pulled her fingers out to lick them clean.

She resettled herself on his chest, and kissed the mastectomy scars. He was still panting, leaning his cheek on the top of her head.

“What about you?” He asked.

“Later,” she pulled the blanket up over them. “Sleep time now. Round two later.”

#tag: elnor #what am I doing?#I can't even

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thegayfromrulid · 4 years

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Frkm 1 allll the way to 99. Also, the next SAO game eugeo lives as a sword and not die (thank GOD)

@2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars- I will not eat lollipops.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Cotton candy! I actually get super bad headaches from bubblegum.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably lonely genius...

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Soda bottles!! I feel so fancy!! And old-timey.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I guess tomboy even though I’m a boy??

7. earbuds or headphones?

Aren’t these the same thing? I think I prefer over-ear headphones, but I don’t really like either.

8. movies or tv shows?

Depends on the genre I guess. But as a main rule, live action- movies, animated- TV shows.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Potato salad.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Frankly, I wasn’t good, but I was really good at pissing all the jocks off-

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

I make myself these homemade egg mcmuffins. I enjoy them a lot. I am very picky about breakfast.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I only have one and it’s very generic: The Gay From Rulid’s Playlist. Yes it’s on Spotify. Yes, it’s 99% anime openings and endings and maybe Bet On It from HSM2. Be ashamed of me. Go on.

13. lanyard or key ring?

Lanyard! Mine is a BNHA one I bought from an artist at Nekocon!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Either Sweet Tarts or Nerds.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

I usually have one leg tucked up under me and the other stretched out.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

A black and white pair of Skechers. They look like shit. They almost never are replaced by another shoe. Not even in the gross muggy heat.

18. ideal weather?

When it’s just warm enough to wear a t-shirt and sit in the sunshine, but cool enough that I’m not hot, and a little breeze is going. I think of this weather quite often.

19. sleeping position?

On my belly kinda spread out like a shounen protagonist.

21. obsession from childhood?

J.R.R. Tolkien. Have always been obsessed with him and his works.

22. role model?

Redundant, but Tolkien again. Linguist and writer. Living my dream.

23. strange habits?

I unplug things like microwaves, lamps, and TVs when I am done using them. Very little remains plugged in at my place. The modem, the fridge, and the clock. That is it.

24. favorite crystal?

Amethyst. It’s my sister’s middle name. And I especially like the purple ones.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Blue by Eiffel 65. I don’t know why that song sticks out so much in my memory but it’s nostalgic for me. Tiny AJ hyperfixated on this song before anything else ya’ll.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Curl up in the sun on a blanket and nap.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Hot cocoa blanket cuddles.

28. five songs to describe you?

Uhhhh...I’m not very musically literate. Let’s go with Born This Way (the first person I came out to sent me that song so it feels special!), I’m Free to Be Me by Jamie Grace, Praying by Kesha, Shake It Off by Taylor Swift ( @delicateeuphorias would you believe it xD), and right now thinking about someone dear to me who’s been gone See You Again is stuck in my brain.

30. places that you find sacred?

Arboretums or big botanical gardens where I can get lost in the plants for a moment and take in how pretty they all are. And old monuments/big things people of the past built. A lot of things were built by people with no rights/freedom and I think about them and how despite the fact that they had nothing, they made such a lasting impact on our world.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

*slips on my Owari no Seraph cosplay* I will kick ass in this sweet ass cape-

33. most used phrase in your phone?

My phone seems to think it’s “Kirito’s ass” and I want it to not think that.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

O-O-O-O’REILLYYYYYYYYYY’S...Autooo PARTS.

35. average time you fall asleep?

I’m an insomniac it could be 10 pm it could be 3 am who knows I sleep for an hour I’m up again...

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Fucking CAN I HAS CHEEZBURGR cats.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

This all boils down to how much I’m packing. Going for a sleepover? Duffel. Going to con? My giant suitcase with room for all the bells and whistles of cosplay.

38. lemonade or tea?

Tea!

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Oh cruel I looooove lemon. The pie!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

In high school here- so, aside from me being the resident weirdo (I DID come to school dressed as the TARDIS), my senior class decided to squirt hundreds of bottles of chocolate syrup on the sidewalks. We were an open campus so it’s all in front of our classroom doors- we had no hallways. And then they. They fucking EGGED ALL THE DOORS. The whole campus smelled like...ick.

41. last person you texted?

My father and mother in a group text to cry about customers treating me poorly.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I prefer the jacket pockets because I still haven’t found a way to get men’s pants under the radar of my ever-watchful parents and women’s jeans pockets are SHITTY. Women gotta boycott this shit it is UNACCEPTABLE-

44. favorite scent for soap?

Peppermint...peppermint ^-^ I like to smell like...mint.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy!

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Recently I was reminded I live alone and my new favorite sleeping outfit...is...just some boxer shorts. Suck it dysphoria. Manly nightwear.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Pepper jack, Swiss, or ricotta.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Strawberry :3

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

I’m gonna sound so gay but when @disasterbikirito started laughing about a certain GIF and his laugh was so infectious I couldn’t help but laugh too.

51. current stresses?

Are you shitting me it’s everything. Every. Single. Thing. I cannot breathe. I am having meltdowns. Someone fucking save me I cannot deal with COVID well.

52. favorite font?

Garamond for writing in my free time, Doulous SIL for all the linguistics IPA symbols my greedy heart desires.

53. what is the current state of your hands?

Smooth but my fingertips have been gnawed on. I am stressed, okay?

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Gosh, lots of things. But the most important takeaway is that a good boss will genuinely care about you. I miss that man. He was so wonderful and so caring and taught me so much about theater. Technical things and artistic things and historical things. Sometimes I wish I could have made a career out of working under him.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Beauty and the Beast (AH...AH...I SEE YOU ROLLING YOUR EYES BECAUSE I’M TRANS. I KNOW. I *KNOW*.)

56. favorite tradition?

It’s a family tradition kinda unique to my household. Each year, we draw a name from a hat, and that name comes with a lot of words that describe us and what we liked over that year. We then each take a $20 bill and we go to a little hobby shop with cheap things in it and use that $20 bill to fill a Christmas stocking. We then hang them back up and empty the stocking full of candies and random silly things and have a good laugh and guess who filled whose stocking.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

The first one is coming to terms with knowing my dad has a severe illness. It really shook my family up, and it’s terrifying us right now with everything going on, but after a while, I learned that he was smiling, so I could smile, too.

The second one is my mother coming back from her tour in the Middle East on top of the murder of my godmother. Two very stressful things happened at once. My mother got very violent from her PTSD and her best friend died in a horrible way. It was an adjustment for everyone, and it kind of ripped my family to pieces. I can say, though, that my parents are still married and are getting better, and my sister and I are coming back to the family to be more open and healthy.

The third, and maybe some of my followers are aware, was getting rid of my ex-fiance. He was a man who sexually assaulted me repeatedly and I won’t go into details beyond that. It took me 5 years to get rid of him and accept what happened, but I am a much happier person now and while I work through the trauma that caused me, I have the most wonderful partner by my side and if you had told me back then I’d find someone as kind and patient and loving as him, I would have laughed and thought you were insane.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

Probably what I put on all my fanfic updates: “I know. I’m an asshole.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Some kind of shoujo romance but it’s bi also I want a sword.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

There was nothing more smartass than Alice Synthesis 30 in SAO 18 asking a reporter to open up his head and prove he was human I’m sorry like OOF-

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Get in losers, we’re playing Steppin’ Out by FLOW, Elle me dit by Mika, Blue by Eiffel 65, ADAMAS by LiSA, and Touch Off by UVERworld.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

I was on Webkinz more than I want to admit.

65. any permanent scars?

Yup. I have one on my toe where I split the skin in half. I tripped. I have three surgical scars from when I had my appendix removed. And...the mystery scar. I was supposedly born with a scar it’s at the part where my foot meets my leg on my left side and you can see how it’s stretched over the years if you run your finger over it. The joke is that the doctor taking out my mom’s appendix scratched me in the womb.

67. good luck charms?

Not really a charm but I do have a little Kirito keychain I carry everywhere I go that I fiddle with when I’m nervous.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Artificial bubblegum. Disgustiiiing.

70. left or right handed?

I am right-handed.

71. least favorite pattern?

Zig-zags.

72. worst subject?

History...I am ashamed. It’s interesting, I just suck at it.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Gingerbread and marshmallow. I am a bit picky about mixing foods and flavors, so this was the weirdest I could think up.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

Can you hear that? It’s my hysterical laughter. 12 on a scale of 10. I get up there pretty frequently. Thank you, chronic crippling pain.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I...I don’t remember...I don’t even remember...I think I had to be like what...kindergarten?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

THIS IS CRUEL I LOVE ALL POTATOS I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH-Au gratin.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Aloe!

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Coffee from a gas station. Mark my words...I will never get grocery store sushi. Ever. Again. My stomach has not forgotten. What a mistake. That was.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

So, my driver’s license hasn’t had an updated photo since I was 15 and just had a learner’s so I look like I want to murder a man but my school ID I had just run about a mile in the cold because the bus wasn’t running that day and my face is red and I look like I’m crying...probably the school ID...

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel tones~~

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

I am from the South and we call ‘em lightnin’ bugs.

82. pc or console?

Errrrr console. I’m not a gamer by any means but there’s way fewer things to press on a console controller.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Neither...what...no...neither...they will put me to sleep...I will be out in seconds...the most dangerous things...people talking...and then I’m out...

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, she’s a LOT easier to dress. Those rubber clothes. SMH.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies but they gotta be the soft ones.

87. your greatest fear?

Being swallowed in the ocean. By a fish or a whale. I don’t play. Church kid don’t play with big things in the ocean with big mouths.

88. your greatest wish?

To make enough of a difference in someone’s life that they learn to love themself.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

Such a selfish thought...gosh...the mere thought of prioritizing someone troubles me.

90. luckiest mistake?

Telling a cute guy sending me dog pictures was an excellent flirting technique as he sent me pictures of his puppy. I immediately thought “oh god I’ve fucked up bad” and at present we’re kinda head over heels for one another so maybe just be stupidly blunt once and a while you might find true love.

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes. My cat didn’t force me to say that. Not at all. Sock, buddy, off the keyboard-

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight. I like the sun. The sun is my friend. It is warm and would never betray me.

93. nicknames?

Sister calls me “spoony” when she’s being ridiculous. No, I don’t know what that means. Mama calls me “cakes.” I had friends who called me “Deku” because I’m a crybaby. Had a few people DM me and straight up call me “Eugeo” or “Eug.” AJ is technically a nickname.

94. favorite season?

Springtime!!!!! It’s...HERE!

95. favorite app on your phone?

I use like three apps...so Discord.

96. desktop background?

It’s. It’s Kirito and Eugeo. What did you expect.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

Mama’s, dad’s, mine, and my parents’ house number. And does the emergency 911 count (pahahaha).

(I answered the others in delicateeuphoria’s ask!)

#ask #ask me anything #weird asks that say a lot #ask game #weeaboo-god

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radicalrosesrevolt · 5 years

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Milwaukee Pride is a Fucking Disgrace to Stonewall and Here's Why:

Milwaukee Pride is a fucking disgrace to what Pride is all about and where it fucking started. There are too many reasons that I can name off, but I will just name a few of the pressing issues of this festival we call "Pride".

makegayhistory.org, Sylvia Rivera with banner.

milwaukeepride.org, Pride Fest 2019.

Milwaukee Pride is a celebration of overpriced fried food dipped in rainbow capitalism and drenched in the tragedies and issues of young queer and trans people (ESPECIALLY TQPOC) being swept under the rug.

I'm writing this article because I am fucking tired of Milwaukee Pride being a

cis white passively racist gay man's fantasy.

I'm writing this because I'm tired of the fact that there's less than a crumb of an attempt at a safe all-gender inclusive bathroom and that I have to see TGNC people lined up at the only single stall bathroom by the youth area with looks of discomfort and disappointment. Which leads me to my first issue:

1. No real gender-neutral / all gender inclusive bathrooms, No fucks given about what trans people have to say!

There are various reviews and comments on Milwaukee Pride / Summerfest’s social media pages addressing their inability to make an actual attempt at creating safe bathroom experience that have been ignored or deleted.. “Um, what the hell do you mean? There’s huge signs saying you can use WHATEVER bathroom you want! You should be grateful!” you might say. There’s still multiple “MEN’S” and “WOMEN’S” signs that are visible around these bathrooms; we aren’t actually creating a gender inclusive bathroom experience if cis men and women are basically still going to their designated gendered bathrooms. This is an issue because it causes trans people to stand out and continue to be targeted.

I speak from experience when I came out as trans last year and was more “androgynous” looking and decided to use the “gender neutral” men’s bathroom. One man commented on how my breasts looked nice and another man came out of a stall and made eye contact with me. Then, he came over and shouted, “Y’KNOW, WHY NOT HAVE GIRLS IN THE MEN’S BATHROOM?!” while throwing his arm around me and chuckling while I stood there uncomfortable and feeling unsafe. Milwaukee Pride needs to do better for trans people because we literally wouldn’t have pride if it wasn’t for black and brown trans womxn.

2. Pride was a RIOT. The Police were MURDERING US AND BEATING US: WHY TF ARE COPS AT MKE PRIDE?

I reached out to trans and queer people on social media asking what their experiences were at Milwaukee Pride and how safe they felt. Almost instantly, the response was about how bigots in Blue Lives Matters shirts and religious zealots violently screamed at black and brown QT people to repent for their existence during the Pride parade. Another QT Indigenous POC reported violent transphobia at a block party that happened after the pride parade. In all these violent accounts of racist, pro-police bullshit, the police of course stood by and did nothing. This is nothing new. We all know the cops don’t protect anyone and just enforce violence and mass genocide of black and brown people, so why the fuck are they at Pride? Have we really fucking forgotten the origin of all of this? Having cops at pride events erases what our trancestors and trans elders fought for in the first place.

3. Rainbow capitalism, alcohol and anti-lgbtq+ vendors: Stop profiting off of our queerness!

If having the same white DJs playing shitty EDM and 1 Cardi B song, despite her being transphobic, while a drunk man is grinding on your back without consent is not annoying enough for you - let’s dive a little deeper into MKE Pride’s non-sober space issue! Honestly, I don’t even know where the fuck to start because it’s such a fucking mess. “LADIEEEES!” vendors left and right cat-call at me and my black trans/nonbinary friends and continue to misgender us and meet us with disrespectful glares when I snap back saying we’re not girls. Bitch, do you even know where you are??

Milwaukee Pride forces already poor and working class LGBTQ+ people of color to pay an outrageous price of $18 just for corporations and vendors to cat-call and misgender young trans people because all they care about is getting a dollar in their pocket. Miller Lite doesn’t give a fuck about us not having sober spaces. The lack of sober spaces for young QTPOC alone in Milwaukee is alarming and dangerous. Isolation and depression is more common among QTPOC (ages 18-24) in this city than you think. Isolation and depression are main factors that lead to alcoholism, drug addiction, and suicide.

Young LGBTQ+ community members already face so much isolation, hate, and violence, and being outcasted left and right. They don’t have spaces to be themselves and for a lot of young people, their first time at Pride is something sacred. It’s a space that’s decorated in what seems like an invitation to be yourself and be safe doing so when it’s not. This reflects on both Milwaukee Pride being a dangerous non-sober place and the fact that Milwaukee is such a terrible place for young LGBTQ+ people, especially young black and brown lgbtq+ people.

When I went to go see Kim Petras at Milwaukee Pride this year, there was a couple wrapped in a trans flag holding each other behind me, and next to me was my partner. Even though I was being approached by white people all day asking me racist questions like if I knew how to “ninja stuff,” and asking me if the plastic sword I was carrying was a “katana,” I felt relief. I thought, finally, I can dance and have a good time and see an amazing live trans pop artist up close! It wasn’t even mid-concert when a tall drunk man shoved his way through the young LGBTQ+ people around him to get to the front. He was behind me, yelling, and began pushing his crotch against my back. Trying to not make a scene, I kept trying to move forward with the little space I had. Maybe he just balance issues, I thought. He brought his hand up to my side and started to touch me under my muscle tank before I jerked away and yelled at him to stop touching me.

I’m fucking tired. This is the 2nd year I’ve been sexually harassed and inappropriately touched at Pride. Why do I always have to be in fear of my trans body being violated, whether it’d be verbally or physically, at pride?

I wrote this not to shame Milwaukee Pride go-ers. I went this year. But, there needs to be change. There needs to be a call-to-action. Stonewall is an important part of our history and to capitalize off of a riot where police were beating our trans elders who demanded our rights, just to have marginalized identities get harassed and abused at Pride is a disgrace to what Pride is. Stonewall is still now. Stonewall is legacy that can not die. I’m urging this city within and outside of the LGBTQ+ community to reflect on what Pride is all about. I have never left Milwaukee Pride filled with so much shame. Many of us have walked away from Milwaukee Pride traumatized and violated.

I was surrounded by the smell of alcohol and drugs, in a fever dream of EDM feeling the weight of Stonewall’s history in my heart, thinking of how disappointed and disgusted Sylvia and Marsha would be, and the lives of so many black trans womxn that we lost. Milwaukee Pride is a fucking disgrace to the Stonewall Riots and contradicts everything the Stonewall trans activists stood for. You cannot run from our history. You can not deny our history. We Will Rise.

“This Queer Liberation movement is not over. It never ended. Stonewall is NOW.” - Still Here: Trans Alliance for Trans Rights.

#Stonewall50 #Milwaukee #Pride Month #Pride #lgbtq #wisconsin #midwest #queer #trans #nonbinary #fuck cops #no cops at pride #rainbow capitalism #QTPOC #social justice #LGBTPOC

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dirtymotherproductions · 6 years

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The Red Tent is Not For Sale

Albeit you can buy one and set it up in your back yard, but what I mean to say is no one can sell you empowerment. That sisters, comes from within. My intention is not to call out anyone else for their practices; everyone has a right to do as they feel in this world. What is most important for me to convey here, to all womyn considering starting a Red Tent, raising their own power or the collective power of divine feminine, that they do not need ever pay for enlightenment or certification to do so. There are two simple things I tell womyn they need to do to run a Red Tent. 1) Gather the womyn. 2) Honor the womyn. And hanging some sensual red fabric around the room never hurts.

Over five years ago I set-up my first Red Tent, it was not in the tradition of any collective, as I did not know at the time any other womyn were doing the same. I had finally decided to manifest a lifelong dream, to create space for womyn to empower with their sexuality. I took the dream on the road and set-up my tent at Pagan festivals and womyn’s gatherings. The mission; teach workshops about sexuality and reproductive health, sell toys and books and hold space womyn could gather in. I was planning to call this space, The Cat House, And then I read, The Red Tent. This shifted the paradigm for me, I was exploring sacred sexuality, I understood empowering with the divine feminine and I had held space for womyn before…but I had not truly embraced the power of my moon times and that book sent me down a path that showed me how. In a fit of manic creative madness, my inner voice said, call your space “The Red Tent.” And so it came to be. I bought some red tarps and that spring raised my Red Tent around the Mid-Atlantic region.

After a few years, I met someone who drew my attention to the Red Tent phenomena. Before that discussion I was completely unaware that there were other womyn holding Red Tents all over the country and in other parts of the world. So when I got home, I immediately googled to see what these other womyn were doing. I was amazed and filled with euphoric bliss. A big YES! filled my heart. In my spirituality it has always been the collective consciousness moments that reaffirm my life goals, it is truly my way of knowing I am on the path and to keep moving forward, that there is a Goddess, she lives within. She calls us to awaken. She is the collective mind and shall re-emerge when we light up our hearts aligned to each other. We have power and we can make change in the world as womyn with it. A big resounding YES! I was so very honored to have naturally found myself within this movement.

Shortly after this discovery, with my own struggles of self-worth, I started to ponder and compare what I was doing with what other womyn holding “Red Tents” had figured out. My space was slightly different in a few ways; I did not hold space monthly in a house, I travelled around, I set up an actual Red Tent, I emphasized womyn’s sexuality and I sold product out of my tent. I contemplated many thoughts; was selling product in the tent somehow sacrilegious? Was my inclusivity of trans folks and men to my space, besides “womyn only events” somehow less sacred? Had I excluded the maidens who needed sacred space too by focusing on womyn’s sexuality? I decided that I should trust my instincts and not judge myself so hard. Everything I did was for womyn’s empowerment and that the divine feminine was and is always held at the core of my work. I also reaffirmed that sacred sexuality is very important and necessary to the Red Tent collective and womyn’s empowerment. I decided to reach out to some of the other womyn that were emerging as leaders of The Red Tent collective. This is when I learned that there are women charging large fees to grant Priestess empowerment or certification to run a Red Tent through their programs. I started to feel the privilege of how this movement was being steered by these few leaders in the community and how that was harmful to the collective of womyn that would be made to think they needed to pay someone in order to run a womyn’s space or even feel powerful enough to do so, a sour feeling gripped my soul.

What monetary value can anyone place on their own power that wouldn’t undermine their ability to achieve it? The very fact that a womyn is made to believe that she has to pay for her power undermines what it is to truly be empowered. This creates a dynamic of power over instead of power from within and the very concept of The Red Tent becomes distorted. When women have to pay such large sums of money to feel sacred, does not that exclude the womyn that cannot afford the luxury of becoming empowered? So the questions I would ask womyn to consider before deciding if their monetary access to power is the right decision for them is this: How do those that would gain from your financial offerings make themselves accountable to the community? Do they give any services for free to under privileged womyn? Do they offer services and skills that they acquired through schooling as healers or counselors? Do they donate funds to any organizations that assist womyn in need? I also hope you hold me accountable for the very fact that I wrote this article as I try to achieve a yes to each question I pose for you. I do not take money for holding space, yet I do sell product in my tent and I spend a good amount of my time teaching and holding space in privileged environments, that many womyn cannot afford to attend, but I do balance that by offering womyn’s space outside of festivals and always for free, I have never gained any money from setting up my space ever. We can all strive to help each other and support each other, and that has always been my greatest reward for holding womyn’s space, no financial gain could ever compare.

The Red Tent is not for sale, it is truly free and it does not even have to be called a Red Tent to be powerful and necessary. Sacred space for womyn is as easy as gathering your friends together to speak your truths, to support, respect and love each other, to listen to each other’s stories and laugh and cry. It can be anything you imagine or desire. So I encourage you to not wait around until you can afford to become empowered or certified, call your sisters together today and celebrate being womyn, it is good medicine.

#red tent #divine feminie #women #womens empowerment #pagan

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violetsystems · 3 years

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#personal

The weather is back to being amazing again. This is the horrible curse about Chicago. For maybe five or six months out of the year, the temperature is gorgeous if not sometimes extreme. Now that the AC is on, my cat sleeps like a human in bed often. A little human. I wake up a few times a night to find her in different spots. Mostly just waiting for me to feed her wet food in the morning. I still feed the cat outside my door. My immediate neighbors do as well. I think when you think about common ground between people in society you have a good starting point there. They share the porch here. Sometimes it’s a little claustrophobic. But it is never trans or homophobic. I think people like myself who openly identify as straight and cis could do a better job at empathizing. But people are already bothered enough by society to where I try to tread lightly as to how I do this. Nobody wants to be patronized. It’s tacky. So it’s always the little things in this neighborhood that communicate the most. Hanging a plant for your elderly neighbor. Shoveling the snow early in the morning in the dead of winter. In the summer, it’s a little easier to be patient with the ways people try to communicate. And then there’s the glaringly obvious clues that people don’t really give a shit. I went to do the laundry yesterday. It’s a small building so not a lot of traffic down there. The trash is usually filled with laundry supplies. I went down there and somebody had deposited a U Kotex tampon box in the trash. This act alone baffles me but it’s such a familiar thing. I would call it a microaggression. And here’s how I would explain it. Back when I was shoveling the snow, somebody had scrawled a message in my immediate neighbor’s doorstep. Part of it had been snowed over but the message I could read simply said “Gay people live here.” I couldn’t tell who wrote it. I worried that my neighbors didn’t. In short, I cared silently about how this would be perceived. So I erred on the side of being inclusive and shoveled it last. Either way, it was information I could choose to respect or neglect. Months later, finding a tampon box in the shared laundry room when you know some of your neighbor’s identify as nonbinary at the least is sus. I did the same as I did back in winter. I disposed of it before anyone got the wrong idea. Again I’m no detective. But it’s obvious to me people don’t care about how that might make somebody feel. I do. I don’t go knocking on somebody’s door and loudly exclaim “why are you throwing your tampon box in the trash?” It could have been them for all I know. So like I do often, I fix the situation before an incident arises. And nobody knows it was me. I know for a fact certain neighbors of mine are completely passive aggressive. The couple behind me definitely gets off on not locking the gate behind them. It just so happens my immediate neighbors and I are the ones who seem to get targeted for package theft. I’m used to being targeted and smeared. When I see other people getting fucked with it largely concerns me. I can’t always erase the fact that people often play elaborate pranks on me in public. Where I live and sleep is a different matter. The problem with microaggressions in society is pretty simple. Bullying never went away. It’s normalized as a badge of courage. A rite of passing in society. A hazing and a reprogramming of sorts. Some of us feel pressured by society to fight back. To act up. To tear down. And then some of us have fought that battle alone for years only to be ostracized and explained away. I spoke with a friend recently about being bored with Chicago and alienated. They replied flippantly “Well everybody knows you aren’t really a big fan of being social.” Everybody also knows I flew to Asia fourteen times by myself over a five year period. The attention to detail only goes so far before it has jumped the shark.

Any sort of a sacred communication, writing or otherwise will eventually degrade into noise. People in Chicago definitely don’t like you being you outside of a clearly, organized group. I was reading something about Pride recently how the organizers did not want police involved at all. It sounds like a no brainer to me. Pride started as a riot. A necessary response to oppression and repression. As an aging straight white man I don’t really see myself at pride. Neither do I see police belonging there as well. And yet. The police feel left out or something? When Black Lives Matter makes a valid point about police being the number one threat to the very definition of the movement this is a threat how? When you’ve had your civil rights shredded daily in broad daylight just being a regular person and I mouth the words ACAB all of the sudden I’m a threat to society? Somehow me opening my mouth and speaking up for other people makes me a target. And yet I do it pretty clearly and succinctly under my rights of freedom of speech. It gets abused. Toyed with. Tampered with. Just like any basic infiltration of any cool thing or movement here in America. No matter how many years I see these people try to throw a wrench in independent movements thinking for themselves, I’m struck at how amateur they become. America can’t have you thinking for yourself without supervision. It bullies people into being afraid. It infiltrates with a smile and a well meaning look only to poison the well and look back accusingly. “Why aren’t you thirsty?” It sticks it’s fucking nose into everything and acts like its the champion or savior when it has done nothing except play the villain. Good cop. Bad Cop. Still a fucking cop. And it doesn’t actually have a leg to stand on. It uses other people to do it’s dirty work. Pits movements against each other to neutralize dissent. It takes over the core history and rewrites itself into the story as the main character. It buried people’s authentic narratives in favor of lumping them into a moderated congregation. It talks but never lets you speak. When it does, it talks over you and mansplains everything you’ve been saying all along wrong. It’s baked into the culture. Traditional American doublespeak is an advancement of Orwellian lying. People think they can smile so sweetly and say absolutely nothing of substance. That these little pockets of resistance need to be ironed out and managed. That autonomy isn’t an actual survival reflex. Of all the people you know who have been fucked with and survived. It’s me. And I am just some normal dude on the internet. And yet I can’t speak loud enough in mainstream society to get people to understand I have a point. That people gaslight, gatekeep, and gestapo their way into putting you in your place. The shit I’ve seen here in America let alone Chicago would have Germany in 1940 blushing. And yet, I don’t really put up with any of it. It’s fucking clown show level cosplay. Rich people who think they can walk through walls of ethics, privacy and culture to throw around their weight. People don’t like me these days because I interfere with them directly making a profit. Imagine that. I’ve been targeted for everything. Made to look like I’m crazy, old and alone. And now I have to deal with billionaires afraid of where I’ve invested my meager retirement funds. And I deal with it everyday. Sharks swimming around me in Teslas and T-Shirts trying to intimidate me into throwing in the towel. After the towel was thrown at me repeatedly. I can’t explain how ridiculous this is. I can explain how insensitive it is to throw a fucking tampon in the laundry room when your neighbors are gender queer. And then as an ally, people think it’s my job to confront this. I do. I put all in the trash where it belongs. Where the racoons and my civil rights still dwell. You don’t need these people in your business. You don’t need to feel guilted by the oppressor into thinking there is something wrong with you not trusting authority. They openly lie, plot and spread deceit. So don’t let them into your scenes, movements or personal lives and move on.

This is easy to say when you live outside the blast radius of culture war. I happen to enjoy the freedom of living in a city just as much as everybody. It is something else to manage the personal and organizational politics therein. New York to me is a little less pretentious and stuck up about the status quo than the midwest. The midwest is clingy and clumsy about how it asserts it’s power in a vacuum. And Chicago right now is just one huge lawless fucking vacuum. I would love to write about it. Maybe even sit down for a chat with the Mayor about how she plans to fuck up the next two years of being half in control. But we all know I’ll never make it as a journalist. I’ll never have the opportunity here to be acknowledged as a writer. I’ll never be recognized for anything I’ve ever done because it would require an inconvenient truth to be brought out into the open. You only make it in this town if you are connected. You only get to be free if you let the powers that be have their say. It’s only ok to survive if you are transparent in everything you do. And when you are, your information is spread out to the point it’s a liability at best. People already know everything about you including where you fit in the hierarchy of capitalism. I belong on the outskirts with all the “freaks.” Being bullied like it’s 1990 all over again. These people never learned to be better. So they simply get off on judging everybody else by their lackluster fucking standards. You can stand up to them. You can learn how to tell if someone is being genuine or trying to subvert your power. You can say no. You can not let these fuckers into your most trusted places and spaces. And you can fuck with them back if they do. For me, it’s not a good look for me to take the bait. This entire process has been hopeless to me. I have learned nothing good about how real society operates at its bitter core. What I can tell you is this. People tell you whatever they think will make you feel good. And if you question their motives, they will make you feel guilty first before getting caught in a lie. If you catch them in a lie, they act like you are crazy. And this is the rhythm of how protest, resistance, and freedom is squelched in America. Nobody is fighting back. I would know. Because I am literally exhausted making this point as an ally for years on the internet. We need to organize and yet we’re too busy ripping each other apart. We know we have common ground. We know we connect in genuine ways still. And people are scared to. They’re just coming out of their shells. I think the whole point of things like Pride were to create autonomous zones where people could feel free. To feel like they weren’t judged or watched. I know what it is like to be surveilled on levels I’m embarrassed to share. I live that hell every day of my life for reasons unknown. I don’t know how it was brought on me. It hurts. Every fucking day of my life to be watched and misunderstood. I created a sacred space for myself to communicate this. A place where I can be proud of who I was and talk about it. A place where I could catch my breath and continue to resist and to think. And there’s no shortage of right wing nuts who argue their stupid clubhouses need to be protected by a flag most people wipe their ass with. Respect is a two way street. I’m just directing traffic. And I’m warning people around my neighborhood specifically. I’ve seen the passive aggressive judgmental bullshit go too far and I’m not going to let it go by unnoticed. I know just who is completely full of shit out here and why. And people trust that I know because it’s my job to pay attention to detail. I don’t get paid shit to be a good person. But you don’t get away with being racist, homophobic, transphobic or any other shit like that on my watch. I will let you know on site. One tampon at a time. <3 Tim

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cleolinda · 3 months

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Weekend links

My posts

I have been amorphously unwell (migraines, dizziness, aches) this week, which is super great. I am, in fact, daunted by the complexities and unknowns.

See "Personal tag of the week" at the bottom for updates on the Tumblr happenings.

Reblogs of interest

Thousands of Israelis protest in Tel Aviv, demanding a hostage release/ceasefire deal and new elections.

I never know how to segue from a serious news item.

Theseus liveblogs the labyrinth, and it’s heartbreaking.

Before hbomberguy was going after plagiarism, he was playing Donkey Kong for trans rights.

“to touch is to interact, and when you put your hand on your dog the universe does not know that you are separate”

The universe knows you are separate from this cat’s Absolute Terror Field

Cats named Pigeon

The most dramatic cat

Figure out what starts your engine and ride the waves of your brain

This is not van fundamentalism

Lawful good werebears

The Godmother is not committed to the kindness

Escape room employees reveal the worst, or best, things they’ve seen on the job.

“So I explained to him the story of ‘Alice’s Restaurant,’ and he began to get MAD”

It seems that y’all do not understand that the Better Call Saul ads are just how we live in the US, and that I pass five Alexander Shunnarah billboards just to get a quesadilla.

1) Don’t take your native animals for granted. 2) This jay is the bluebird of happiness, apparently.

Wisdom from a Tumblr longtimer

Benign chain posts: the Money Garf

Video

Every now and then I fall apaaaaaart

Click through for a massive gothic rock playlist on YouTube

It’s a great dance contest entry--but then they tell you it’s also randomly-paired improv

Capybara capybara (capybara)

The sacred texts

You have not seen a sacred internet text until you have seen the Lolrus (2006)

Personal tag of the week

“the happenings” is my tag for all internet platform bullshit. This week, it’s Tumblr, as CEO Matt Mullenweg lost his shit and started harassing a trans user (including on another platform). This is a factual explanation early in the week of what happened and how it started:

predstrogen (the first blog) was allegedly deleted for “sexually explicit material” despite any posts that may have been labelled as such being marked with a community label and her blog recently being manually approved as NOT containing adult content. she also talks in this post, as well as here, about how she has had a support ticket open for several months for harassment she was receiving that has not been dealt with

the CEO of tumblr made a post wherin he publicly aired information regarding her deletion and threatened legal action against her , showing examples of the alleged death threats where no actual threats were made and telling people in the replies to just leave if they were unhappy with the moderation of the site

Specifically, he was upset by the expressed wish that he perish in a car covered in hammers that would explode multiple times, a serious threat that could surely come to fruition in reality. If you can't tell that I'm being sarcastic, congratulations, you're CEO material.

It spiraled from there, but suffice it to say, it ended with trans employees posting on the Staff account (reblog here with commentaries):

The reality of predstrogen’s suspension was not accurately conveyed, and made it seem like we were reaching for opportunities to ban trans feminine people on the platform. This is not the case. The example comment shared in the post linked above does not meet our definition of a realistic threat of violence, and was not the deciding factor in the account suspension. Matt thereafter failed to recognize the harm to the community as a result of this suspension. Matt does not speak on behalf of the LGBTQ+ people who help run Tumblr or Automattic, and we were not consulted in the construction of a response to these events.

While the post is sincerely emotional and brave, the real chess move is this part:

We appreciate the space we have been given to express our concerns and dissent, and we are thankful that Matt’s (and Automattic’s) strong commitment to freedom of expression has facilitated it. We will continue to fight to make Tumblr safe for us all.

Matt Mullenweg now either has to nod and go, “Yeah, yeah... I’m a great guy committed to freedom...” Or he can, I don’t know, shut the site down in a fit of defiant pique? All I’m going to say about this is that the day all this first went down, I started archiving any posts I’d put significant effort into last year, and I’ll be crossposting them on Dreamwidth and Patreon. I don’t want to lose Tumblr’s culture and unique platform--I mean, I think the Weekend Links themselves make a case for the fact that there is nothing else like Tumblr on the internet. And shutting down is not even necessarily the most likely outcome--but I’m not gonna be caught unprepared, either.

#weekend links #odds and ends #linkspam #the happenings #tumblr

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ailuronymy · 6 years

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back when i first wrote wc fanfic i wrote cishet abled characters, and now after a few years of now writing i want to write again. but i'm so afraid of accidentally being transphobic when writing a trans cat coming to terms with their true gender or evoking a cliche i didn't know about when writing a lesbian couple... i want to write diverse characters but i also don't, what do i do?

My dear Ruddles, you are asking me one of the biggest and most unanswerable writing questions of all: how do I not be afraid? I want to know the answer as much as anyone, so I can’t help you there, but I can tell you some of my observations and thoughts on ways of working through these kinds of paralysing fears.

The first thing to understand is that there is no version of events where you are safe from criticism. There is no safe option, where if you only write that kind of character or that kind of story, you will be protected from having to experience criticism. I think you, like many people, have made the mistake of thinking that writing only able-bodied cishet characters will insulate you from criticism, whereas writing characters who aren’t able-bodied cishets will open you up to criticism. That thinking can make the idea of branching outside what you’re used to very daunting, because you feel more vulnerable.

However, that thinking is wrong. You are always vulnerable. I’m not saying that you scare you more, or make you anxious. This thought is a liberating one, if you approach it from the right angle! No matter what you write, someone is going to dislike it, or be totally neutral about it, or disinterested in it, or might even hate it. That’s just what it is to be a writer of any kind–or any kind of creator. If you want to be a writer, you’re accepting that you will be criticised at some point: it could be for good reasons, it could be for silly ones, it could be because someone decides they just really don’t like what you like to write. It doesn’t matter! It happens to everyone. You cannot please everyone and you don’t have to. You only need to do your best work. You need to love your work enough that someone else disliking it doesn’t make you love it less.

I had the opportunity some months back to go to a writers’ festival, and listen to a heap of extremely skilled, established creators (novelists, poets, performance artists, journalists, all kinds) show their work, talk about their process, and discuss certain themes and topics on panels. One panel was about the anxiety and uncertainty that’s part of writing. There was a lot said during this panel that really helped me personally and changed how I thought, but the most relevant bit for you was said by Omar Musa: “Accept that you will face criticism. That’s part of the job. That’s the game you’re in.”

When you decide what kind of character to write–i.e., between able-bodied cishet characters or a more diverse cast–you aren’t choosing between “no criticism” (able-bodied cishet) and “criticism” (diverse). You are simply shaping what kind of criticism you might receive. If you write only able-bodied cishet characters, the criticism you will get will reflect that: you will be criticised for your lack of diversity, your work might be called boring or derivative, you might be accused of -isms based on how a story built only with privileged characters takes shape.

If you write diverse characters, your criticism will reflect that: you will be criticised for including diversity (”why does everything have to be X these days???” or “I don’t understand why Y was there, it wasn’t plot-relevant”) or accused of pandering, you will be criticised for how you write these characters by people who might mean well but have only ever read stereotypes (”next time you write about X character, I think you should do it differently, I just don’t think it’s realistic that [some nonsense opinion]”), you will be criticised for how you write these characters by people who are similar to these characters but in all likelihood different people will probably give you totally different feedback and have different responses to your work (person one: “I didn’t like how you did X, it was uncomfortable for me”; person two: “I was really into how you did X and it resonated with me, it was fun to have a character I could relate to like that”), and so on.

When I think about this, it makes the choice easier: I would rather take criticism for attempting diversity than criticism for not even attempting it. What also makes all writing easier is remembering that, although it can feel very personal to be criticised for something you made, at the end of the day, it’s just a chunk of words. It’s not sacred. It’s not you. It’s a thing that you made, and if you made mistakes, next time around you can learn from it and do better. We can all change as soon as we choose to, and therefore a mistake who wrote isn’t who you always have to be. You don’t have to be perfect to be doing your best.

If you do your best before putting your work out into the world, you don’t have to worry. If you’ve done your research and had a beta/sensitivity reader (if you can, it’s not always possible and not always necessary for every piece of work) and genuinely tried to do good and respond appropriately to feedback along the way, you don’t need to fret. You might still get criticism and if you do, that’s good. Constructive criticism is an opportunity to grow; you can see it as a slight against you as a person or you can see it as a chance to improve as a writer and expand your worldview/knowledge. I can really recommend the latter.

I can also strongly recommend working to separate your feelings of self-worth from your writing as much as you can, because then you can disengage from criticism on a personal level and engage with it on a critical one. Not all criticism is useful or good or relevant! Some feedback you will get and laugh at. I don’t respond to/post most of the negative feedback I’ve received running this blog, but wowsers, do some people use some choice words about me! If you only receive criticism as personal, you will be tempted to believe all of it or value it more than it needs to be valued, whereas if you look at criticism with a critical eye, you will be able to judge what’s helpful, what’s nonsense, what’s worth listening to and learning from, what’s someone airing their personal grievances and has simply selected you as a target, and what’s totally tone-deaf and inappropriate.

Also, it’s okay to know your limits. You’re a growing writer. You’ve got a lot of experience yet to have. The weight of curing the whole world’s problems isn’t on your shoulders alone. You don’t have to do everything. You don’t have to try to represent everyone in every story you write. Some stories are going to have a central focus: it’s what you’re passionate about. It’s the story you need to tell, because you can’t get it out of your head. If you don’t have it yet, you can’t force it. I’ll find you, and in the meantime, have fun with writing! Practice new things. Build skills. Read a lot. Read diversely! Experience living in the world, because that’s probably the best way to grow as a person and a writer. That way, when you do find things that feel right and good and important to write about, you’ll be able to do them justice. I really feel there is something uniquely powerful about sincerity and love in a story–it shines through, and the writing is always better for it.

So, basically, to try to make a long story short:

1. you will be criticised. You can either accept that, or not write. You can go, “Okay, but criticism isn’t the end.” You can go, “I want to be a better writer, and that means doing new things even if it’s scary and I might make mistakes.” For me, the love of writing outweighs the fear of criticism. The idea that things might go right (if I try my best) is more powerful than the worry that they might go wrong.

2. writing is a hobby. It’s an art that you can practice and improve. It might feel important and central to who you are, but it’s a skill, like riding a bicycle or juggling. If someone tells you how to ride a bike better, you can either go, “That’s sensible, next time I ride a bike I’ll sit on the seat instead of running alongside the damn thing,” or you can go, “I’m a terrible fool for not knowing how to ride a bike, I will never ride a bike again because I am worthless and bad.” When you handle sensitive material about the real world and real people’s lives, it’s important to do everything you can beforehand to learn about how to ride a bike–but if you do mess up and run over someone’s toes or be a hazard in some way, don’t cling to your pride: apologise, learn, move on, do better.

3. never write anything out of a feeling of obligation or fear. You will do it badly, because it’s very hard to write anything you’re not personally interested and invested in. You might be feeling guilty for only writing a certain type of character, but unless you can shift that guilt to genuine excitement and desire to write different types of character, don’t bother! If you write out of guilt, it will be miserable for everyone, including yourself. Also, recognise that you can write certain types of character without having to engage with stickier issues that might come with the character type–i.e., you give the example of trans characters, but if you’re not trans, it’s not really your business writing in-depth about “the trans experience,” especially if you’re not already very familiar with it and involved in the community and confident in working in that area. You almost surely can’t do it justice and will stumble into problems and will likely receive some harsh, and probably deserved, criticism. The solution is to write about well-developed trans characters whose “trans journey” (or whatever you want to call it) isn’t a central focus of their story or characterisation, because they’re already living as/accepted as their gender, etc.!

I hope this is somewhat helpful to you, Ruddles, and I hope in the future you’ll find your feet writing more diversely! Try not to put too much pressure on yourself to begin with. Pick one new thing and explore that. There’s no hurry. You can get there in your own time. Good luck!

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nickyschneiderus · 6 years

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Jordan Peterson: The hollow lessons of his summer tour

“Ladies and gentlemen there will be no heckling tonight,” shouts a man standing in front of the crowd. He’s 50-something with droopy eyes, beads of sweat dripping slowly from his glistening head into the coils of his greying beard. He’s exhausted from herding patrons outside the Moody Theater in Austin, Texas. “You will be escorted out of the auditorium,” he continues.

It’s late May, one of the first scorching-hot days of the year. There are a couple thousand people packed tightly in line to see the clinical psychologist, author, and alt-right icon Jordan Peterson on his “12 Rules for Life: An Antidote for Chaos” world tour. Many in line have studied Peterson’s rules closely, and they feel like they know him deeply because of it.

His book has helped them coach their lives with a psychiatric self-help formula that he doctored up himself: Stand up straight with your shoulders back, pet a cat when you encounter one in the street, and always befriend people who want the best for you. These elementary ideas are getting people unusually riled up.

Gage Skidmore/Flickr (CC-BY-SA)

“I don’t even know who Jordan Peterson is,” says one man in line with a pit-stained button-up shirt, jaded by the hype. Others can’t contain their excitement, drooling over the spectacle of Peterson just being nearby. One middle-aged white guy dances and skips, smiling to the sky. You’d think this was a Jimmy Buffett concert.

Peterson’s a self-described anti-social justice warrior and scholar who has previously denounced trans rights, feminism, wage gaps, and immigration among other progressive causes. Beyond the flowery language and smooth, Willy Wonka-esque mannerisms, he’s empowering fringe ideas on social media. And Peterson seems to think there’s only a matter of time before society collapses on itself—and it’s up to him to save the world, rule by rule.

The apostle

A former Harvard and University of Toronto psychology professor, Peterson first rose to prominence after he publicly pushed back on Canada’s proposed C-16 law that protects “gender expression and gender identity” as human rights in May 2016. (It became law a year later.) He argues that requiring people to refer to others by their preferred pronouns is a direct compromise of free speech.

His irreverent claims grabbed international attention afterward. For nations grappling with similar transgender rights issues, Peterson became a front-running devil’s advocate. His YouTube channel exploded with millions of views and subscribers who tuned in to hear his other spiels on religion, psychology, and honing in on “dragon energy.” Outsourcing his influence on other public figures with their own huge followings, his audience spans the likes of Kanye West, Seattle Seahawks head coach Pete Carroll, and Russell Brand. They willingly do Peterson’s dirty work for him through unapologetic co-signs.

Former University of Toronto professor and colleague of Peterson, Bernard Schiff, took notice to this meteoric rise, expressing sentiments of the danger surrounding his ethos in an essay he wrote for the Toronto Star: “I was Jordan Peterson’s biggest supporter, now I think he’s dangerous.” Within the piece, he explains that Peterson, a man once committed to “truth, integrity, and common decency” has abandoned those values as his influence grows.

In a phone call and one of his final conversations with him, Schiff says that Peterson revealed to him that Peterson’s wife had a dream about the end of society as we know it. Peterson told him that it wasn’t the first time that his wife had offered sacred revelations through messages in her dreams. If Peterson’s wife is the prophet, then he’s the patriarchal apostle who will deliver the intel for her.

“I do not think he intends to do harm. I think he is trying to save to the world.” Schiff tells the Daily Dot. “And perhaps along the way he distorts things because the facts don’t matter. He knows the truth.”

Schiff says that Peterson thinks he must save the world due to a destructing social order: Male privilege and patriarchy create standards of masculinity and success that men are expected to live up to. With privilege, men have become accustomed to social, political, and economic triumphs. Now that women are empowered, men face more competition and have, according to Peterson, begun to fall behind. He blames feminism for this modern angst and crisis in not only the lives of young men, but for society as a whole. Peterson feels that the imbalance is daunting and proof of a foreseeable doom for all of us if we don’t make a change, according to Schiff. (Peterson’s management did not reply to a request for comment about Schiff’s claim that Peterson’s wife has had end-of-the-world visions.)

“[Men] are taking away their job opportunities, they are encouraging a culture in which, as Jordan puts it, men are getting feminized, and they are upsetting the nature and necessary dominance of males,” says Schiff.

“I think he is not a bad person. I think he suffers, and now others suffer, because of his grandiosity. He has an extremely rigid and not scientifically or historically valid view of who we are and of what is, and it’s one that pleases many young people,” he says. “But not all of his followers are like that. There are thoughtful people who think some of what he says makes sense. They either disregard the rest or are not paying attention. I wrote the piece I did for them. I wanted to get their attention … I think he has a legitimate following, but my guess is that it is small compared to the angry young men who are potentially dangerous.”

Schiff’s article came with its own consequences once Peterson and his fans got hold of it. Many vilified Schiff, saying that what he wrote was misguided and not to be taken seriously. Peterson responded to the article in a series of tweets, brushing Schiff’s criticism off as invalid.

In the tweets, Peterson explains that Schiff’s anger is drawn from the fact that his daughter, who is transgender, is directly impacted by the C-16 bill. He says that Schiff is a tireless advocate for his daughter and that his sentiments on the issue come from emotion around her health. “I can truly sympathize,” he wrote while downplaying the situation.

Schiff says that his daughter’s illness was unrelated to her transgender identity, and it wasn’t psychiatric, either. It’s something that is fairly easily treated.

“The thing about the tweet in response to my story is that there is no question about what he was doing. His intention was to discredit what I wrote,” Schiff says.

Schiff wrote another piece in response to the original’s backlash in an attempt to bring clarity around Peterson’s motives. “He knows what he is doing. Smart, deliberate, manipulative, and a lie. He is very clever,” he adds. Indeed, Peterson’s tweets are friendly but sarcastic in tone.

In his first book, Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of Belief, Peterson explores belief psychology and the lengths people are willing to go for those beliefs. He also believes in reinforcing a natural social order and thinks that transgender people or same-sex couples can upset that universal homeostasis. He’s a harsh proponent for that arbitrary worldview, and he’s created mass popularity for the understanding of it as gospel.

Back in Austin, political satirist and opener, Dave Rubin, brings out Peterson: “Look around, look around, these are your people! … While the left enjoys diversity of race and sexuality, we enjoy diversity of thought … We are at the center of the idea revolution!” Tonight these 12 rules, no matter how simple, seem like they can change the world.

The Peterson hive

A photo posted on Twitter by political journalist Ben Shapiro on July 2 pictured five men at a table. Alongside Peterson were other talking heads who hang in Peterson’s hive: comedian and podcast host Joe Rogan, economics writer Eric Weinstein, Rubin, and writer and neuroscientist Sam Harris.

“Now this is a party,” wrote Shapiro in the caption.

In response to the photo, Twitter haters cringed, imagining their conversation. One user wrote, “If this was My last supper, I’d skip it and go straight to the crucifixion.” Another replied, “Oh I bet the discussion about the proper tip percentage was INTENSE.”

Peterson’s response, however, was short and simple: “The conspiracy mounts….”

I wonder how serious he actually is. His online presence mixes an academic mystique with savvy troll work to create an unrelenting buzz around the idea of himself. But what does he really want? Visions of doomsday or not, I think he wants us to believe in his vision for order and repair.

Hundreds of Facebook groups and Reddit threads are dedicated to the man and his work, filled with users hanging onto his every interview or tweet to unpack divine meaning and apply it to their lives. The groups are diverse, stretching as far as Christian study groups based on his writing, satirical communities who use his writing as a source of ridicule, or groups split by geographic region, intent on fostering Peterson fan meetups in real life. Some say they require “High IQ and above” as a necessary prerequisite for access.

He’s been normalized as an Oprah-like lifestyle guru who even sells the virtues of his diet. But his philosophy is crystal clear and far-right on social and economic issues: He doesn’t believe that the wage gap between men and women is a problem, he’s anti-gun control, and he thinks affirmative action is a mechanism of reverse racism. It’s not that his followers are purely disenfranchised young men looking for a leader—he validates their values. The problem is that the very issues that Peterson writes off actually affect most people, and by shifting the goalposts on cultural conversations, he’s always setting the agenda.

Gage Skidmore/Flickr (CC-BY-SA)

As Schiff notes, he structures his arguments in a way that reorganize widely accepted ideas or definitions and redefines them to serve his purpose. That way, disagreeing with what he says is nearly impossible, and eventually, you’re convinced that you understand what he’s saying and that you very well agree. Ironically, his 10th rule is to “be precise in your speech.”

He deflects opposing viewpoints with ease.

“I actually really don’t like left-wingers, it’s the philosophy and its ideology, and lots of people align themselves with that and because I’m attacking that and demonstrating its weaknesses then it’s either accept that a reasonable person can do that and there’s something wrong with the ideology or demonize the opponent,” he says in Austin. “If you’re ideologically committed the right response is to demonize your opponent and so that means I can’t be a reasonable and well-educated psychology professor who’s actually trying to help people lead better lives, I’m some sort of neo-Nazi.”

youtube

A mass survey of the official Peterson subreddit page conducted by its admins looked into the demographic makeup of subscribers. The survey was first introduced to the thread in August 2017. A new survey is taken periodically, about every five-to-seven months, with more responses each round. The most recent survey garnered more than 1,000 responses and was concluded in early July: 90 percent of his followers identified themselves as males, the majority between the ages of 26 and 35 years old. Over 80 percent of subscribers identified as white and most people on the thread were from the United States, single, and had at least a bachelor’s degree.

It may be a comically specific fanbase, but it’s plenty powerful.

u/Riflemate/Reddit u/Riflemate/Reddit

Idea wars

Peterson has amassed dedicated followers in a time of confusion, from a generation increasingly disinterested in aligning with major political parties.

He’s a convincing oracle and lion tamer. In Austin, a liberal city in a conservative state, there’s no ideological clash tonight. The danger is false intellectualism and disillusionment. Hustled applause, chanting, and standing ovations make the energy cult-like. Getting behind someone who reinforces prejudices about the world is easy; acknowledging the privileges of that person and your own is harder. And so Peterson delivers a sermon for the self, liberalism be damned.

“Are we fundamentally a member of the group or are we fundamentally individuals? That’s what the war is about,” says Peterson. “I’m on the side of the individual, and the people who are on the side of the tribe don’t like that, not a bit. And then they come after me with accusations that are within the identity politics realm.”

In a way, he’s right. There is an “idea war” going on, and he’s undoubtedly on the frontlines. But his response to the complex issues of a changing world is to stand up straight and pet a cat as if that’s going to help sort out public policy. Peterson offers simple solutions for people who resent their changing world. In their ardent defense of these principles, they fall victim to Peterson’s very lessons about individualism versus tribalism. They aren’t just internet trolls; they’re ready to mobilize.

from Ricky Schneiderus Curation https://www.dailydot.com/upstream/jordan-peterson-12-rules-tour/

#Ricky Schneiderus Curation

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