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rwbyrg · 1 month

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How do you stay positive seeing all the negativity we get for shipping this?

I don't typically talk about discourse, but I know this is something pretty much every RG shipper has faced at some point. So I'll make an exception this once. For anyone that doesn't want to hear about it, I strongly encourage you to keep scrolling.

I'm gonna keep it brief(ish) and vague, but content warning for topics of mental health, abuse, general fandom toxicity and ship discourse.

The short answer is that I've had to completely remove myself from large fandom spaces. I left Twitter last fall, I'm not in any big Discords, and I never check the fandom Reddits. I block bullies, bystanders, and bad faith arguers liberally. I mute words and phrases I don't wish to see, I don't engage with the bad faith takes, and I don't go looking in tags much either.

I surround myself with a small group of friends that I enjoy spending time with and can trust. So I still have outlets to be able to geek out without risk of dealing with the wider community's negativity. This blog was also created as a safe outlet to ramble, join together, or spread positivity about the ship. I know how rough it is for us out there - in the RWBY fandom as a whole, as well as within our own RG shipping spaces. So since I can't be an impartial community leader that helps run events or bigger spaces for us like I used to, this is kind of all I have left to offer.

The slightly longer addition that got way out of hand:

I'm not going to say it's not lonely. That I don't miss being part of a more active, wider group of people that we should have every right to join. But despite how hard some of us tried, there was nothing we could do to change the toxicity that is so deeply rooted at the core of this fandom. The fact that I even tried as hard as I did was 1. a trauma response and 2. just ended up with me - and too many of my friends - getting hurt anyway. I can't regret it because it's how I made the friends that are so dear to me now. But none of us should have had to deal with the cyberbullying, harassment, dog-piling, backstabbing, suibaiting, or any of that other garbage to find the group we have today.

It's extremely fucked up. There's no way to sugar coat it. All of it is abuse and is genuinely traumatizing to many people. I am not using these as buzzwords either. Myself and a handful of my rg shipping friends have literally gone to therapy to help us heal from all the things we've experienced in this fandom. So I have it on the authority of multiple psychiatrists, therapists, and social workers that what I am saying here is true.

Rosegarden and its shippers have become the scapegoat of a toxic community. There are big name fans who've staked their entire platforms on the idea of a rival ship being canon. And so, when they see any of us suggesting a Very Likely alternative to their reality (even if we're minding our own business), they become violent and go out of their way to try and defend it. There are entire servers and friend groups built on bullying this ship and its shippers for similar reasons. Anyone that argues against them, no matter how valid their stance, or how articulately its delivered, is going to become a target. Because we are seen as a threat to a system they directly benefit from. If any of them were to acknowledge how unreasonable or ridiculous all of this is, what would that mean for the circumstances and relationships they've built for themselves? It would all fall apart, wouldn't it?

This is why we also see fellow RG shippers invalidating or blaming us for what we go through. Because some of them have become convinced that if they side with the bullies and paint themselves as "not like those shippers", then they'll be "safe". Which as we all know isn't true. Because the antis attack each other for the smallest offences that don't have anything to do with us anyway.

The RWBY fandom is not alone in struggling with this. Fandoms everywhere are seeing these same patterns play out in different ways. A lot of people without as many stakes in the arguments will often scoff or dismiss it on the basis of it being "so serious, when it's just about fictional characters". And to that, I say: bullshit.

First of all, the people on the other side of the screen dealing with all of this are Real People with Real Feelings and their own lives that are already hard enough as it it. And these sorts of environments, as previously mentioned, can and do cause severe harm. Second, none of this hate has anything to do with fictional characters. That is part of the reason why I am still able to enjoy this ship and this show despite everything I've been through here. Because the fictional characters are simply the means to an end. And while that end is different for everyone, for the bullies - by and large - it offers them power in the face of their insecurities.

The only reason this space is as toxic as it is, is because the loudest voices are often the most emotionally immature. All the reasonable people see the infighting going on and know that engaging with it is a pointless waste of energy. As someone that did try to fight it, I truly don't blame any of them for staying uninvolved. But power comes in numbers; so until a large enough group of the reasonable ones come forward, this fandom will only continue on the course it's headed.

I rambled a lot and I'm not even sure how much of this is relevant to your question. If i were to give a tl;dr to answer you, it is this:

You need to curate your own experience by setting boundaries for yourself that cannot easily be crossed by people or content that is going to upset you.

Recognizing the reason people behave the way they do towards all of this has very little, if anything, to do with the show, the ship itself, or the people shipping it is very liberating.

Don't be like how I was. Don't try and force it when it isn't working. If you are in an environment or a habit that you are getting more harm than joy from: leave. It doesn't always feel like it in the moment, but it is better to be alone than to be surrounded by people who suck. And when you shed the ones that don't treat you well, you open yourself up to more like-minded people that will want to be friends with you anyway.

I say this genuinely with only love and support in my heart, but: touch grass. As often as you can, as often as you need to: get offline. Read a book, engage in other hobbies, connect with people in real life, go for a walk or just get outside if you can. When you start connecting with the reality on your side of the screen more, it puts how pointless and absurd so much of this discourse really is into perspective. Moderation is key.

I'm sorry that all of the negativity has got you down. No one wants to acknowledge how much this sort of thing can affect our well being, but I know first hand how bad it can get. None of it is fair. The feelings you're having are valid and aren't anything to be ashamed about. If you have friends or family you can rely on for support, reach out to them when you need it. If you're in a place where you think the help you need is a bit more specialized, you have my support and encouragement in making the call or doing the research to get started. Therapy isn't accessible and doesn't always work for everyone, but it's not the only option. Before I could afford it, I micro-dosed by reading self-help books and following therapists on Instagram, lol.

I'm not sure what else I can say, and have said more than I meant to anyway. But hang in there, you're not alone, and take care of yourself, okay?💕🫂

#ask #asks #discourse

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 2 months

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The Strawberry, The Sheriff, and the Cartel Sheriff Beau Arlen (Big Sky) x PI!Reader

Chapter One: Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!

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~Before we Begin~

A/N: this is part one of an ongoing series. If you like the story and would like to be part of a tag list: please let me know, either through dm or comments. Still looking for a beta reader, dm if interested! :) Icons are by me! As always, any and all interaction is appreciated!

I really love Big Sky, even for all its faults. And to be honest, I was genuinely hoping for a season four. Since we aren’t getting that, I’m writing this. I’m no expert on PI/Detective work, but I’m doing my best. This is a work of fiction after all.

Anyway, I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’m not going to give any background and let the story speaks for itself. :)

Content/Content Warning: Nothing too crazy yet, but I’d rather a 16+ audience on this series for what might happen later. References to drugs and kidnapping. Cursing. Canon typical violence will occur.

~Without further ado, Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!~

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Who commits real crimes in Montana, anyway? I guess I’d always figured that there wasn’t enough of us to do so in the first place. But, as it turns out, no place is too small for shitty people. Go figure.

Part of me has always hoped for a big case. Something high stakes, something that might actually make me think. I had always been resigned to the throes of missing pets and cheating partners. Maybe a B&E or a purse-snatching here and there to spice things up. Sure, those are still crimes, but a kidnapping tied to a cartel?

Now we’re talking.

Wait. That sounds bad. Of course I feel bad for the victims, I’m not a jackass. It’s just that this is where things in my career finally get interesting. Where if I solve the case, I’m solving something bigger than Whitefish. Which would really make me feel better about myself, if I’m being honest. I don’t really feel like I’ve made a difference with any the cases I’ve solved. Sure, it’s good to see Mary-Jane get her cat back or tell Kathy-Lee that James was in fact cheating on her and seeing her so liberated after breaking up with him. But none of that is bigger than Whitefish, where I’ve been since I was born. I needed something important, something big.

And this certainly is that something big.

Something big enough that I’ve had to travel almost seven hours from my hometown to Big Sky. Bertha, my truck, needed to get out of the house anyway. But seven hours… damn. Especially considering Whitefish could be renamed ‘Small Town’- I don’t think I’d had driven more than two hours till then.

Something big enough that literal drug cartels were involved.

No one would expect Montana to have so many ties to cartels. It’s so random, right? I mean, who even thinks about Montana in the first place aside from hikers and outdoorsy people? I know I wouldn’t if I didn’t live here. But I guess that’s the draw for these weird mob families. There’s not much of a radar to be on up here.

Big Sky had barely cleared out the Bhullar family maybe six months ago. A friend of mine, a fellow PI named Cassie Dewell, had told me all about it. She had been involved; her friend Undersheriff Jenny Hoyt had been one of the major players in taking them down. But in the end, as I understood it, the family had more or less taken themselves down. Serves them right.

But when one pot empties you’ve got to fill it with something new, I guess. That’s where I come in.

See, I’m a PI because I couldn’t be bothered with the how rule-abiding proper detectives have to be. Rules don’t get things done in the justice system, in my opinion. I’ve seen too many people either go down or get off when they shouldn’t because of it.

Rules are good guidelines, but just that- guidelines. Something to guide you, but not something that’s always right. If you want to get things done, you need a little more independence.

But with that independence comes cases that folks in the Sheriff’s Department wouldn’t even have come across their desks. Like the cheating, or the missing pets. So be it: I get paid more; and anyway, sometimes the “dumb” stuff is what’s best to get you ready for the “good” stuff.

María Almería had been the one to reach out to me. Her and Felix, her husband; as well as her three kids, Anna, Josue and Carolina; are neighbors of mine. They’re good people, and I’m pretty close with the family. I like them a lot, from the parents to the kids.

Usually I get hunches about people- its why I’m good at my job. When Kathy-Lee asked me to investigate her husband, I could’ve told her off the bat that he was cheating. Not because I’d explicitly seen him, but for whatever reason I could read it on him. It’s like a sixth sense.

That sense must’ve been dormant every time I went to the Almerías’, though, because I had never once gotten a bad vibe about Felix. María’s husband was always kind, a good father- his kids would attest to that, a good husband- María never once had anything bad to say about him, and he actually carried his weight around the house. Cleaned dishes, did laundry… yes, the bar is low, but he is certainly better than most of the fish in the world’s hellhole of a sea. Not to mention that he was always genuine: never a bad word about anyone or anything, not even about cockroaches (those damned things are my mortal enemy). And you could see that genuineness his eyes, which are usually what gives someone’s story away if you know how to look at them.

Honestly, he was the last person I was expecting to go missing. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of him having enemies. With most people in cases like these, there’s at least one aspect about them that makes their disappearance make sense. Maybe it’s in how they act, or maybe it’s in the people they were most often around. I could rule out the first one: Felix has never had any senility issues, nor would be one to be prone to just run away from his family with no explanation. But that leaves the second option, the harder one.

When you know your client and the person that’s gone missing, things are immediately both easier and harder. Easier in that you know the client, and they know and trust you. Sure, that’s not every case, but in this case I was 99% sure that María nor her young children had anything to do with his disappearance. You’ve always got to have that slight doubt though, even if it’s just one percent. That’s detective work rule #1.

But in the same breath, it also makes it harder- the expectations and the stakes are higher. And also, you realize just how much you don’t know about people.

I had exhausted my every resource in Whitefish for a week, but there was absolutely no trace of Felix. María had even called him in missing to me before she could to the police- damn the wait 48 hours rule- and yet I still couldn’t get the jump on the blues.

The story was that María had taken her daughters clothes shopping while Josue was staying over at a friend’s for a sleepover. When they came home, Felix was gone. However, his phone was sitting on the table and his wallet and keys still on their kitchen counter, and the idea of him not taking any of those things was preposterous. He was one to always have them on him. That was why she called him in as missing after he didn’t return for a few hours. Her and her kids’ alibis checked out with both me and eventually the Whitefish Sheriff’s Department.

While researching Felix I had come across the name Bobby Ramirez. They had been in a news article together, set in Big Sky. And something about this Bobby, even from the pictures, didn’t seem right. His smile was just a little too crooked, his eyes betraying something stronger than mischief.

When I had asked María about his next of kin, she had said there was no one. But this Bobby looked so similar to Felix, to the point that I just had to ask. Apparently Bobby Ramirez’s real name is Roberto Almería, and he’s Felix’s estranged brother who lives in Big Sky. Never would’ve guessed.

Apparently the brothers had had a terrible relationship because, in María’s words, Bobby is “a nightmare.” I didn’t really get much more information than that, but the look in her eyes told me more than enough, along with the fact that she was visibly trembling. And the last time she saw him, before she even had kids, he had talked about going into a lucrative business (presumably drugs- fentanyl, maybe?) and promptly dropped off the grid. He’d asked Felix to join him and he had given a hard no, and I guess the falling out was so bad that the kids didn’t even know they had an uncle on their dad’s side. Once she had even gotten the feeling that Bobby could be involved in this, she begged me to back off. Even though her beloved husband was at risk, she begged me to back off. But I couldn’t: this family had shown so me far too much kindness in the past for me to just give up on Felix.

Bobby Ramirez apparently owns a repair shop in Big Sky. Bob’s Motors. Super creative, I know. It’s been open for about ten years- probably since around the time of the falling out. But from the shitty reviews online I have a good feeling it’s a front, since it’s still open, and the best lead I’ve got. María had mentioned that Bobby was in with a weird crowd, and that he was friends with Kory Jefferson. That’s where the presumed drug involvement comes in.

Kory, or KJ as he’s known on the streets, was and is bad news. He’s managed to weasel his way out of at least five arrests despite being a part of multiple drug cases. You know how? By being a CI for the police against his own employers in exchange for full immunity. It’s honestly impressive how many times he’s gotten away with the stunt, but I guess people wrongly figured him to be unimportant. Bobby being tied to him and Felix going missing just as KJ was buying mass property in Big Sky… it’s too much of a coincidence not to investigate.

Hence, the seven hour drive in the truck I’ve had fifteen years. Got it at the end of high school, a gift from my dad. But she was only supposed to last ten years. Emphasis on supposed to, cause my intention is to run her until she drops dead.

Thankfully my dad was a mechanic and he taught me how to fix just about any problem with the engine and the car in general. So, just like a truck that’s actually within its warranty, the only thing I usually have to worry about is me being a dumbass.

And a dumbass I am.

I had wisely decided to test the limits of the infamous last bar of gas- look, I only had to stop once so I was thinking maybe I could make it.

I thought wrong.

“Whoops,” is what I most definitely did not say when my car actually stopped just a few miles beyond the “Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!” sign. What I really said was a string of profanities so colorful and vulgar that I genuinely would rather not repeat them. I had smacked the hazards button, and then stepped outside and kicked the tire with enough force to almost break my toe, because one dumb decision wasn’t enough for me that day.

So yeah, that’s about where we are right now. I’m standing outside of my car with one hand on my hip and the other holding my phone, weighing my options. The nearest gas station is naturally twenty miles away, and one thing’s for sure is that I’m no marathoner. It would probably take me until tomorrow to get there. On the other hand, I could do the normal thing and call a tow truck. But if there’s anything my frugal mother taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t pay for anything unless you absolutely have to. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but it’s sort of ingrained in me, and in this instance, I don’t really want to call a skeevy tow trucker.

Of course; there’s always the third, very rational option: I turn into the Hulk and push the truck. Obviously that’s the most plausible of the three.

Just as I’m getting ready to be a normal person and figure out a towing service to call does a sign of life appear. Up until now, somehow, literally nobody had passed through this road. It’s another truck, burgundy and bulky.

I wave, my face still stuck in a scowl as the driver approaches. It rolls to a halt near me on the opposite side of the road, before the hazards flash and the driver steps out.

“Car troubles, I’m assuming?” a strong Texan drawl greets me.

“You’re assuming correctly,” I smile sarcastically, taking in the stranger. He’s handsome, classically so, and he sure does fill out those Wranglers. Looks straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie, sans the cowboy hat.

“What seems to be the issue?” he cocks his head cordially, taking a step closer. Normally I’d be one to back away, but I don’t have a bad feeling about this guy. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t read his eyes, but something tells me I don’t have to.

“Ran out of gas,” I mumble, more than a little embarrassed to be admitting it out loud.

“Hey, we’ve all been there,” he assures me. “Do you want me to take you to get gas?”

“I don’t usually step into stranger’s trucks,” I tell him warily. As kind as he seems I can never be too sure. Ever.

“Well if it helps any, I’m the Sheriff around these parts.” He pulls his jacket to reveal more of his belt, showing off his Sheriff’s badge pinned to it. He taps it once, for emphasis. Oh, wait, this must be… “Beau Arlen,” he introduces, interrupting my thoughts. He outstretches a hand and I shake it. His hand is huge compared to mine, callused but still soft somehow.

“Your reputation precedes you, Sheriff Arlen,” I tell him, letting go of his hand.

“That so?” It’s endearing how he perks up at that.

“I’m friends with Cassie Dewell,” I explain.

“Oh! Cass is the best! How do you know her?”

“I’m a PI- we all know each other.”

“Huh, y’don’t say.”

“What, you sheriffs aren’t like that?”

“Can’t say we are.”

“Shame,” I say melodramatically. He chuckles.

“Can’t all be PI’s, now can we?”

“True that.”

“Soo, that ride?” he tilts his head towards his truck.

“Yes, thank you,” I say sincerely.

“Anytime.” I follow him back over the middle line of the road to his truck, where he opens the door for me and offers an arm to help me step up. Huh, chivalry. Refreshing.

He stars his truck and drives a little down the road to make a u-turn before presumably heading towards the nearest gas station

“So what brings you to Big Sky?” he asks, making small talk.

“A case, actually… it’ll probably be on your radar soon enough. I’m thinking cartel, not a hundred percent sure yet.” I decide to keep the details to myself; there’s just too much at stake here.

“Another cartel? In this county? Y’know the last one ended with the boy killing his pops. And the pops had left the kid for dead too. Not to mention that the daughter was a pain in our ass, moonlighting as a real estate agent… but don’t get Hoyt started on that Tonya ‘cause she still can’t stand the sight of her… sorry, I’m ramblin,’” there’s a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks, and it’s adorable. But frankly I don’t mind his chatter, he’s nice to listen to. I like how he gets lost in his own stories.

“No worries, I like listening,” I shrug. My dad always said ‘listening lets you hear the things you wouldn’t’a heard if you weren’t.’ It’s sort of a ‘no shit’ phrase, but it’s true.

“There’s a first- Cass and Jenny like to get on me for talking too much,” he muses, no offense in his voice.

“That’s ’cause they don’t know ‘too much.’ I once had a client who told me his entire life story from birth to present day,” I reminisce, not even hyperbolizing. “I learned all about the std he got from a prostitute back in the 60s at Woodstock, and about his five wives: Maryanne, Georgia, Gina, Kevin, and Sade.”

“Kevin?” he laughs incredulously, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at me.

“Yep. That was during the eighties though, so apparently it doesn’t make him gay,” I laugh, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“Wait, what was the STD?”

“Chlamydia,” I answer, without missing a beat.

“Wow, you have a good memory, huh?”

“Just for cases.” Which is true: in my daily life I would probably forget my head if it wasn’t attached to the rest of my body. I genuinely couldn’t tell you what I ate yesterday, but I do know that at 11:25 am I booked the motel I’ll be staying at. You know why I know that? Because I had just made the KJ break. See?

“That’s damn useful in your line of work,” he compliments.

“Yeah.” We ride in silence for a little bit because my dumb ass can’t hold a conversation. It’s not my fault that my only friends are my mom. Well, and Cassie Dewell, I guess, but I don’t see her all that often.

“Okay, so the accent- Texas?” I ask. Trying to bring back the conversation.

“Born and raised,” he confirms, emphasizing his drawl. I smile at the effort. I like his drawl, it compliments the deep and roughness of his voice.

“Cowboy country, nice,” I say.

“Hey, not all of us are cowboys!” he defends playfully.

“The first thing I thought when I saw you was ‘cowboy,’” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“Touché,” he laughs. “Truth be told I was literally raised on a ranch, so I can’t really be talking. Y’know, I had a really nice dog named Juniper. She herded the cattle, while I would pretend to “help.” By “help” I mean stand towards the side, scared of getting stomped on cause I weighed little more than a plastic bag from the grocery store.” More stories- I have a feeling he could write a book.

“Puberty must’ve hit you like a truck,” I mused, referring to the last part of his story.

“That or the gym,” he laughs.

“You a gym rat, Sheriff?”

“More or less,” he takes one hand off the steering wheel to flex his jacket-covered bicep. I wolf whistle, and he laughs. He’s a very large man, from his stature to his statuesque physique.

“Is there even a gym around here? I feel like I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I’m from fucking Whitefish,” I joke, referring to the fact that the only signs of life we’ve encountered are the gorgeous trees bordering the open road.

“Preaching to the choir,” he smiles.

“So, why’d you stick around, then? I heard you were just an acting sheriff,” I inquire, wondering why the cowboy-or anyone, for that matter- would want to stay here.

“I’ve got my ghosts in Houston,” his voice turns subtly melancholic, telling me not to pry. So I don’t, knowing the feeling. “But back to your question, there is a gym,” his tone returns back to its lightheartedness.

“It’s abandoned, isn’t it.”

“Well, there’s me. And uh, me. And sometimes Denise, who I think just wants an excuse to see my ass,” he laughs.

“Denise Brisbane? From Dewell and Hoyt?” I only know the name, nothing more.

“Yeah, she’s sweet- she cooks for me too, even though I’m a grown ass man.”

“Someone’s got a fan club,” I tease.

“Population one,” he retorts.

“Well maybe I’ll see you or you and Denise there at some point.”

“I’d like that… hey, you’re not joining the fan club are you?” he raises a brow from behind his sunglasses.

“In your dreams, Sheriff,” we both smile, and sit back for a second, the silence less awkward this time, at least for me.

“Y’can call me Beau, y’know. If you want to, anyway,” he tells me, breaking the half a second of quiet.

“Mk, Beau it is.” I like the way his name feels coming out of my mouth. And what a fitting name it is… he is objectively gorgeous.

“Hey, I just realized I never got yours,” he says suddenly.

“Huh? My what?” I say confused. Look, the road trip’s got me exhausted.

“Your name,” he clarifies.

“Oh. It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N- that’s a really nice name,” he compliments.

“Thanks,” I can’t help but be flattered.

“Where’s it from?”

“My dad- it was the name of some book character.”

“Cool! That’s a lot more creative than how my kid got named,” he laughs.

“You have a kid?” I ask, mildly surprised. Not that I think he’d be a bad dad after the half hour of knowing him, but just because since I don’t have kids I don’t usually expect people my age to either.

“Mhm. Emily- she takes after her mom, though.”

“You’re married?” I don’t see a ring, that’s the only reason I’m asking.

“I was.” There’s that melancholy tone again… something tells me there’s more to this cordial cowboy than meets the eye.

“Well in any case, Emily’s a pretty name for what I’m sure is a beautiful daughter,” I say, changing the subject.

“You callin’ me handsome?” he teases.

“All I’m going to say is that your mama was real on the nose with the name… Beauregard.” I decide to mix the compliment a little bit.

“You really think that’s my name?”

“No,” I confess, giggling.

“Good, I was hopin’ I didn’t come across as a”-he shudders comedically-“Beauregard.”

“Cmon, it’s not the worst name,” I chide.

“Well it’s certainly far from the best,” he retorts, and I shake my head with a smile. “Alright, we’re coming up on it now.”

I look up ahead, taking in the sight of this gas station that’s literally the only building in sight. It’s a bit on the dinghy side, half of the letters in the neon sign don’t work, so it says “De Ass Ton” instead of Del’s Gas Station. Go figure for this town.

But wait…

“What the fuck?” we both say in unison, taking in the sight before us.

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Until Part Two, dear reader! <3

#beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen fanfiction #big sky #big sky show #Jensen Ackles #fanfic #ongoing series #hehe #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction

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spiderbitesandvampirevenom · 7 months

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ok guess its time to make a

pinned post

or whatever (below the cut)

enjoy my poasts? show me on cshpp or vnmo (i am currently moving so it is appreciated)

anyways this is the new home of the blogger formerly known as absolvedGravitas! i got nuked. now im back! i'm a native american genderfluid dyke (she/her) in my early 20's and i've been on tumblr on and off since like... 2014 or so. i'm deeply annoying and i'm not sorry. if you see me using we/us to refer to myself its not a system thing i just like using the royal we. reblog nsfw stuff (mostly artistic nudity) so consider yourself warned.

got my history BA (emphases on medieval Islamicate & colonial studies) in may of 2024 🎉

real name rights belong to mutuals only if you use it and we arent mutuals im blocking you <3

yes i have a nsfw sideblog but you need to ask me for it

^literally me (my fursona is a wabzhashi/marten)

unless were mutuals i prolly wont answer your dms but my ask box is always open

i dont actively vet followers but know that if i catch you following me as a minor i WILL block you

i'm not gonna type up a whole DNI because they never work but just know that i block very liberally and i dont tolerate bigots. if you believe in transandrophobia/transmisandry or don't like the terms tma/tme we won't get along. i check the dni of my followers and block hypocrites so. make damn sure before you follow that im not in your dni.

if you have "[insert identity label] DNI" (for example, "bi lesbians dni") in your dni we wont get along. go away

also please go away if you're into incest ("fauxcest") i'd rather not associate with you.

my main tags are:

#spinning my web - original posts

#caught in the web - asks

#social spiders - mutuals moment!

#👽 - aliens and space stuff

character tags:

#has anyone seen my wife? - posts that remind me of eldfrithr, one of my D&D characters

#dirgeposting - posts that remind me of my BG3 character Dirge

the main takeaway from this post?

my house, my rules

I dont owe you anything and if you act like I do you can go fuck yourself. This is my blog and I'll do what I want with it.

this post will get updated if and when i feel it needs to be

#spinning my web #caught in the web #social spiders #has anyone seen my wife?#dirgeposting #👽

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raplinesmoon · 11 months

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hi everyone, i just wanted to come on here and make this post. like a lot of you, i’ve been deeply affected by what’s been going on in Gaza the past few weeks. It has quite literally altered my brain and the way i’ve been able to live my life day-to-day. even though i’m not Palestinian, i’ve grown up learning about the fight for Palestinian liberation. my real name (bless my parents), literally references the land of Palestine.

i know there’s a lot of grief in our hearts, watching genocide happen live on our screens in front of our very eyes. It’s heavy and it’s traumatic and the human body isn’t built to withstand this much grief and trauma without it fundamentally altering us. I’ve been struggling a lot with my grief recently, and how to make sense of it, and in doing so, i’ve tried to challenge myself that whenever i need a “break” from the news, or i just need to do something that makes me fundamentally human (like watching a movie, listening to music, making food), i’m going to try and engage with content from Palestinian creatives as a way to stay dialed in and to never stop speaking up. i thought i’d share some of what i’ve been engaging with in order to keep learning about Palestine and its people, and to make sure their voices are always heard.

disclaimer: this list is not meant to be comprehensive or exhaustive, as I still have a lot to look through, but feel free to reblog with your own additions!

Read:

A Woman Is No Man by Etaf Rum - In Brooklyn, eighteen-year-old Deya is starting to meet with suitors. Though she doesn’t want to get married, her grandparents give her no choice. History is repeating itself: Deya’s mother, Isra, also had no choice when she left Palestine as a teenager to marry Adam. Though Deya was raised to believe her parents died in a car accident, a secret note from a mysterious, yet familiar-looking woman makes Deya question everything she was told about her past. As the narrative alternates between the lives of Deya and Isra, she begins to understand the dark, complex secrets behind her community.

The author just released a new novel, Evil Eye, which is also on my to-read list.

Against The Loveless World by Susan Abulhawa - As Nahr sits, locked away in solitary confinement, she spends her days reflecting on the dramatic events that landed her in prison in a country she barely knows. Born in Kuwait in the 70s to Palestinian refugees, she dreamed of falling in love with the perfect man, raising children, and possibly opening her own beauty salon. Instead, the man she thinks she loves jilts her after a brief marriage, her family teeters on the brink of poverty, she’s forced to prostitute herself, and the US invasion of Iraq makes her a refugee, as her parents had been. After trekking through another temporary home in Jordan, she lands in Palestine, where she finally makes a home, falls in love, and her destiny unfolds under Israeli occupation.

Susan Abulhawa is also the author of Mornings in Jenin, a fantastic novel that describes the Nakba (Catastrophe) of 1948, in which 750,000 Palestinians were expelled from their homes by the Occupation Forces, and The Blue Between Sky and Water, a story about four generations of a Palestinian family in a refugee camp in Gaza.

Salt Houses by Hala Aylan - On the eve of her daughter Alia’s wedding, Salma reads the girl’s future in a cup of coffee dregs. She sees an unsettled life for Alia and her children; she also sees travel, and luck. While she chooses to keep her predictions to herself that day, they will all soon come to pass when the family is uprooted in the wake of the Six-Day War of 1967. Salma is forced to leave her home in Nablus; Alia’s brother gets pulled into a politically militarized world he can’t escape; and Alia and her gentle-spirited husband move to Kuwait City, where they reluctantly build a life with their three children. When Saddam Hussein invades Kuwait in 1990, Alia and her family once again lose their home, their land, and their story as they know it, scattering to Beirut, Paris, Boston, and beyond. Soon Alia’s children begin families of their own, once again navigating the burdens (and blessings) of assimilation in foreign cities.

The Beauty of Your Face by Sahar Mustahfah - Afaf Rahman, the daughter of Palestinian immigrants, is the principal of a Muslim school in the Chicago suburbs. One morning, a shooter—radicalized by the online alt-right—attacks the school. As Afaf listens to his terrifying progress, we are swept back through her memories, and into a profound and “moving” (Bustle) exploration of one woman’s life in a nation at odds with its ideals.

Light In Gaza (anthology) - Light in Gaza is a seminal, moving and wide-ranging anthology of Palestinian writers and artists. It constitutes a collective effort to organize and center Palestinian voices in the ongoing struggle. As political discourse shifts toward futurism as a means of reimagining a better way of living, beyond the violence and limitations of colonialism, Light in Gaza is an urgent and powerful intervention into an important political moment.

E-Book is available for free on Haymarket Books’ website!

The Butterfly’s Burden by Mahmoud Darwish - The Butterfly's Burden combines the complete text of Darwish's two most recent full-length volumes, linked by the stunning memoir-witness poem A State of Siege.” Love poems, sonnets, journal-like distillations, and interlaced lyrics balance old literary traditions with new forms, highlighting loving reflections alongside bitter longing.

Orientalism by Edward Saïd - In this wide-ranging, intellectually vigorous study, Said traces the origins of "orientalism" to the centuries-long period during which Europe dominated the Middle and Near East and, from its position of power, defined "the orient" simply as "other than" the occident. This entrenched view continues to dominate western ideas and, because it does not allow the East to represent itself, prevents true understanding.

THIS IS LITERALLY ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS I’VE EVER READ

Watch:

Farha (2021) - After persuading her father to continue her education in the city, a Palestinian girl's dream is shattered by the harrowing developments of the Nakba.

Born In Gaza (2014) - The documentary follows the story of about ten children who tell what their daily life is like after the horror of the war on Gaza in the summer of 2014.

Omar (2013) - Arrested after the death of an Israeli soldier, a Palestinian baker agrees to work as an informant, but his true motives and alliances remain hidden.

Mo (2022) - Mo Najjar straddles the line between two cultures, three languages and a ton of foolishness as a Palestinian refugee constantly living one step away from asylum on the path to U.S. citizenship.

Listen:

Saint Levant - born Marwan Abdelhamid, is a Palestinian/French/Algerian/Serbian artist based in California. He was born in Jerusalem during the second Intifada due to complications in the city where he would eventually spend his childhood years – the Gaza Strip.

Check out: From Gaza, With Love

Nehmasis - Nemahsis is the stage name of Nemah Hasan, a Palestinian Canadian pop singer from Toronto, Ontario

Check out: i wanna be your right hand

Zeyne - Zeyne is a Jordanian/Palestinian singer, songwriter and musician. A voice passed down from her grandmother down to her mother and then to her, 'songbird' zeyne seeks to create music that shares her truths and perspectives in the hopes of connecting with others worldwide.

Check out: Balak

Belly -Ahmad Balshe, known professionally as Belly, is a Palestinian-Canadian rapper, singer, songwriter, and record producer. Born in Jenin, Balshe was raised in Ottawa.

Check out: Xion

Eat:

Mxriyum - Mariam is a Palestinian home cook behind the ever popular account TikTok and Instagram, Mxriyum.

Heifa (fufuinthekitchen) - I’m a first-generation Palestinian American raised in NJ but now calls Chicago home. I am the founder, recipe developer, and food photographer behind Fufu’s Kitchen. And if you are wondering, Fufu is my nickname-it just stuck!

Hanan Saeed (palestinianfoodie)

Joudie Kalla - Joudie Kalla is a Palestinian-British chef and food writer. She is the author of two prizewinning cookbooks, Palestine on a Plate: Memories from My Mother’s Kitchen, and Baladi: A Celebration of Food from Land and Sea, and has featured in venues like The New York Times, The Guardian, and Al Jazeera

Shop:

Nominal - co-founded by Lena Sarsour, a Palestinian, Nominal creates Arabic-inspired jewelry. They are currently donating 100% of proceeds to Pious Projects, an on-the-ground aid organization working in Gaza, until October 31, 2023.

PaliRoots - Founded in 2016, the PaliRoots mission is to bring awareness to the world about the Palestinian culture by crafting specialty products inspired by its people and identity. They work with Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA), to donate a meal to children in Gaza for every order.

West Bank Apparel - West Bank Apparel was established in 2014, guided by a singular mission: to offer our customers products that resonate with a sense of purpose and contribution to a greater cause. They work with Islamic Relief USA to donate a portion of each sale to various charities providing meals and aid in Palestine.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza

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help-rawan-muhammad · 3 months

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🇵🇸 PLEASE DO NOT SCROLL! 🇵🇸

Below is a written piece by Rawan Muhammad, a Palestinian woman who needs our help. Please read her writing and donate to her GoFundMe. We have not even made 1% of our $50,000 goal. Please help us! If you cannot donate, please, please, please share her words and her donation link!

WRITING FROM 6/10/24

Peace be upon you. I will tell you part of my story, which began on the seventh of October. The morning came and it was six o’clock in the morning. It was the first day of a new university for me. I was very excited to go after the summer vacation period. I did not reach the top of the street to secure myself transportation to take me to the university because that It was something we always suffered from, as we were on the border in front of this usurping occupier, with only a few meters separating us, until I found myself as if it was a great day that the heavens and earth could not overcome. I was very happy at that time, which...

It's happening in front of me. This did not come out of nowhere. Indeed, this was implanted in the blood of every Gazan from the day of his birth in order to liberate his occupied land and his violated sanctities. For him to do that is a great honor. I contemplated and did not know what was happening at that time, but I understood at that moment that this was a great honor on our part. I returned home and was proud of what had happened. He was healed. The people of Gaza have been released for 70 years, and we have been under a permanent siege. There are no crossings or corridors. Everything is violated. We have our situation. We are not like the people of the world, who own everything with complete freedom. We are not like us, restricted by a usurping entity. I collected some of my things and we were displaced immediately, as we were directly in front of the border, and we know what will happen then. The great event that defeated the strongest army in the Middle East, despite its dangerous security system, in exchange for an organization with little equipment and equipment. He went relying on God only, but achieved a victory that amazed the world and created an unforgettable event that will forever be written in history.

The entity's terrorist system began to regain its strength at that time, and the afternoon of that day had not yet arrived, and we found ourselves as if we were on the Day of Judgment. Successive belts of fire measured in tons of internationally banned explosives. No one escaped from them. They burned the body and cut it into pieces, and from its horror, it descended what it destroyed deep into the earth over a distance of up to several meters. Meters away, no trace of the rubble remains, even despite its horror.

Night came then, and for the first time in my entire life, my body was shaking in this way from the horror of what I hear and see, and how they are going to annihilate us all. I sat in the corner of the living room of the house in which we were displaced, which is only a few meters away, and the fiery belts began to appear around us, as if it were a literal earthquake. I waited my turn then, contemplating whether... We will become pieces. This is how the idea took root in my brain. Then everyone went to sleep and I was left alone thinking about how all these high floors above me would fall on ourselves and destroy us and cut us into pieces. This was all my thinking. I went to my prayer and as soon as I prostrated, another belt of fire began. I stopped my heart while I was prostrating. I stayed for a while and I could not. Imagine what is happening, and I cannot get up from prostration. I say, “Whose turn is this until it is over?” I thanked my Lord for saving me then, and I remained in the corner of the house, seeing everyone sleeping in front of me. He wakes up only to the horror of the missiles, then returns to me, and I think until the morning comes. Everyone was laughing at me, but this was not in my control. My mother would check on me then, whether I had fallen asleep or not, and she would find me in the same place. Day would come and night would come, and I could not eat. Even then, I remained like this for two consecutive months without a single hour of sleep.

I remember, on my birthday, the entire Internet was shut down in the Gaza Strip on October 14. A week had passed since the war, until news came to me in the evening that made me collapse in tears. It was the martyrdom of my teacher, dear to my heart, for expressing only the word of truth. May God have mercy on her. My friend and her entire family were studying human medicine in the third year, and the sounds of the fire belts began throughout the night with the illumination of the lanterns. It was not until morning that the news came of my other friend with her family and my doctor at the university. Then I said that we will not stay in this life at all. Our turn will definitely come. It is all their fault that they are civilians in Gaza only.

The events began to increase and they did not know what they were using to annihilate us. They did not leave an internationally banned weapon until they tried it on us. The annihilation continued until the largest massacre occurred on 10/17. The first massacre took place in the Baptist Hospital near us. Half of my family was there, may God have mercy on them all. Then I heard the explosions and their sound was strange. As usual, it was in the form of a complete fire. My friend sent me that the number of victims had reached 500 martyrs. I collapsed in my corner and could not move, and we all started crying and trembling. Then we got up to pray and our tears fell and we prayed until she sent me again that the number of martyrs of the massacre had reached 800. Then I did not wake up from the shock. I said that it was inevitable. We will not survive, and we will become pieces like them, who are displaced civilians, since it is a hospital that has international protection, and that our turn will come. We continued praying, and our hearts were definitely trembling from hearing that. We did not sleep that day, we were all from the severity of the situation, waiting for our turn.

Until the morning came and the fire belts began to surround us again. My mother, my little sister, and my brother were just going out to get a meal from the nearby groceries. At that time, no one could go out and move from his place and area to another place. Whoever went out was immediately killed by their damned planes, until a fire belt happened in... The area around our residence was destroyed. An entire residential square. Fragments of the belt and rubble began to fall on us everywhere. I did not care about that. I remembered that my mother had just left that place. I ran quickly in my prayer clothes, without which I could not sleep for 9 months. I found myself moving on body parts, dismembered bodies, and dark dust that I could not see. From it and wounded women and children coming out with their blood. Then I completely collapsed and said that my mother and those with her were martyred until the dust of the rubble disappeared a little. I found my mother hugging my sister who was not more than 3 years old in front of that horrific massacre at a neighbor’s door. She was stained with dust and rubble. I hugged her and prayed to my Lord so much that she was alive. Life, and I was crying even when I returned. I could not control myself. Everyone in this square was gone, except for one young man who was no more than 20 years old. His father had taken him out against his will to the grocery store on the other street. As if he knew their fate, he kept crying and imploring his Lord to take him with them and not feel sorry for them. This is how he told himself. A lot because he left at that moment for a few minutes that changed his life and took all of his family 💔😭 I returned home and I could not talk to anyone. Then I stayed in my corner awake and prayed for peace for my family and the martyrdom was not off my tongue for a single second because I knew that my turn would truly come with them.

Every night we were miraculously saved from God until one day they threatened our entire square. We started running, looking for the street number. Are we within this square or not? We sat thinking and writing what the threatened street numbers were. We found out that our street number was near those threatened, but it was not among them. We thank God. Until night came and we found ourselves inevitably between death, surrounded by successive tanks, fires, and bombardments. We all became those who were in the entire building, in the corner of the house at the bottom, from the horror of what was happening. Shrapnel was hitting everywhere, and quadcopters were hitting anyone who left or just looked out the window or door of the house. Until the morning came, we thanked God that we were still alive after everything we had lived through that night. We began to collect our things and decided to go out to the southern region, as this accursed occupation was claiming, that it was a safe area. We went out until we said to ourselves, “Death for once,” and when God’s decree comes, let us die in Our house and we do not leave it. In fact, we returned that day and the battle became more and more intense. We were alone. The ground war surrounded us with tanks and planes. They prevented us from getting even a drop of water. They withheld fuel and electricity. They shut off fresh water and closed the crossing. Since the first day, nothing had entered. We could barely get some water to drink and a little water. The sea is very salty for ablution, not for anything else. From that day on, we began to cook over the fire, wash on our hands, and wash the dishes without taps, only in a clean bowl. We were not able to fill the barrels of water and use them as before, due to the scarcity of water. We were satisfied with all of this, as it is God’s command and will. Every one’s destiny is written with God.

Until the day of the massacre of the shelter school for the displaced, where we had displaced my family on April 12, that day will never go away from my memory. My mother and I woke up and wanted to go to my grandmother and uncles to check on them because there was no transmission at that time. We continued on our way until I found myself directly in front of the tank. I did not know what was happening. My mother and I moved away directly and returned. We do not yet know how. We changed our route by which we came and did not cross our path until we heard the sounds of violent explosions. I began to look behind me to see what was happening. I found it happening in the school in front of me, and I on the other side cried. Then I wanted to check on who belonged to me there. Until I saw my uncle running to us and saying, “My grandmother was cut into pieces, and no one survived.” I held myself together because I was on the road and did not know what was really happening. We waited for hours, was this news true or not? He did not see them. He only escaped from under the tanks alone until we found my grandmother barefoot, covered in blood. The martyrs on earth were unable to walk at the time. That child said, “What is her fault for being like this?” She did not know that this child was dearest to her heart, and whom she had promised moments before her martyrdom to rejoice her on her birthday. She did not know that the date of her birth would also be the date of her death, and she was searching for her children and grandchildren. On the way, we calmed her down and said that everyone is fine, and we do not know what is happening in front of us. It is all in front of us, and we cannot move. We found the girl’s father, covered in blood, and she said, “My daughter was martyred in my hands. I could not save her, and she collapsed due to her helplessness. We could not control the news, and we calmed her down a little and did not.” She did not know that her daughter was injured, alone, hugging her little brother so that she could save him. She went to treat herself alone in the clinic next to them until she saw my other uncle’s bus carrying the martyred and injured people on it. She searched among them and kept looking at them to see her family. She found her little sister, hugged her, shrouded her, and placed her in front of the clinic’s door, and my father quickly went to get her. And her brother was among the tanks and snipers with my brothers. He brought her at night and also went in the morning to bury and honor her sister. They were sitting with us the day before in the school corridor and I was joking with her and talking to her. I did not know that it was the last time I would be able to see her, may God have mercy on her. It hurt our hearts.

We took the family and they were very sad and we took them to my grandfather’s house. As soon as they arrived, a massacre occurred next to us, killing 300 martyrs. From its horror, the windows of the entire house fell on us and some of the walls fell. I went out to look until I found pieces of children’s body parts at the door of the house. I could not control myself and quickly returned and went out to the roof of the house. I saw and saw a person, may God have mercy on him. The wounded were being transported first, quickly. The street became stained with blood. Everyone was running with their own wounded to rescue them, until they came to Bakara, the one transporting the donkeys, and they started dragging the martyrs on it, which consisted of chopped up, burnt body parts that you could not distinguish. And all the women were alone at that time in prayer clothes, all of them covered. This is the condition of all the women of Gaza, cannot sleep even in their prayer clothes for fear of being martyred while they are not covered. I and my family, who are sad for their daughter, began to cry intensely as we looked at ourselves at how we had survived. As soon as the night came, I was sitting waiting for the morning because of my intense hatred for the night and what happens at night, until I found glass on myself and my mother. And on my little sister and my aunt, we did not care about that. We bandaged the wounds and looked at where that massacre had taken place until we found it in the house of my brother’s friend in front of us, hours before he became a martyr. He was talking to them and promising them that if he came out in the morning and there was no martyr, he would distribute to them the lollipops that he had bought. He was working on. He spent two full months in the Civil Defense, and he survived every time without his friends, but his turn came and he knew it, may God have mercy on him.

This is part of the story that I will continue later in a more tragic way than that. Every second we have a story and miraculously survived, so how did we endure for 9 months? God is the one who gives patience to our hearts, and this is His will and judgment. There is no objection to His judgment.

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metamatar · 1 year

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ok so i am very much uninformed on politics, i decided at a younger age that i wasn't interested in it and therefore would not read or keep myself particularly informed about it. obviously this is a bad idea, and i want to change and keep myself informed on actual politics and well, abstract[?] (wrong word but cannot think of another, basically mean like. knowing which political .. stance ?? [idk. like marxist or communist or whatever] i might be.) ones as well. what's a good place to get started here? where do i look for actual politics going on in india since i'm pretty sure ndtv or whatever isn't exactly the best source? or maybe it is? idk, like i said i'm pretty uninformed on the matter but would like to learn more

so one thing is, in india you have to accept the media landscape is just dire because being a journalist with integrity is a bit like signing up to have your life ruined. all major media has been bought by hindutva already. what you have to do is more learn to read between lines, understand people's motivations, which is a matter of practice. a good way to start is to read analysis (not news reports) of the same incident in different media and you'll start noticing patterns. even more important imo is to talk and bounce ideas with a friend at a similar place as you or someone interested in politics who won't overwhelm you with their perspective. you can try online but idt its safe or advisable anymore to do that experiment online. i had debate club in university (sad) and some socialist reading groups (better) after. the thing is this journey to self education is kind of personal and im also not pedagogically oriented or trained? so lots of first person description instead of prescriptions.

i still check what's up on ndtv because it gives me a good pulse of what english language media and liberals are thinking. major newspapers i scan hindu and the indian express sometimes. online i have a look at newslaundry (also has some youtube content) and the wire, they're reader supported and haven't turned full hindutva yet. i read longer form things in the caravan and epw, but these are subscription based. i keep tabs on the latest round of hindutva fake news when alt news debunks it.

for the abstract things, i literally did an online course bc i was frustrated by what all the liberal arts grads seemed to already agree on. i did ian shapiro's moral foundations of politics which is available online as both youtube lectures and a textbook. if you want to go that route feel free but it's not necessary, you can also try to read the entries on wikipedia or stanford encyclopedia of philosophy (more expertise) when you encounter something unfamiliar and build up like that. podcasts like bbc in our time will often interview academics to give intros to many political philosophy concepts and thinkers. whatever your learning style supports! i think the important thing is to find something you are actually interested in, and take that tack. i like history, so i might read books about historical revolutions or historical forms of organising society or listen to podcasts like mike duncan's revolutions.

For communism the usual starting points are these very short pamphlets:

Principles of Communism by Engels

The Manifesto of the Communist Party by Marx

Wage-Labor and Capital by Marx

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific by Engels

feel free to ask for more specific questions!

#asks

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bisolationist · 3 months

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You know being a woman abused by a woman I feel like I will never ever be able to connect with them fully.

Like even if we get along and all that I know it's all conditional. That kindness and female/feminist solidarity they all talk about is all conditional.

The second I mention the sex of my abuser and suddenly I'm seen as a gender traitor, they turn angry and attack me. And like you said now I know too much like I can't be expected to trust women, let my guard down with them stand with them etc...

And when I say this the way people talk to me its like sooo condescending like yeah I know misogyny is still a thing I'm a woman too !!! But you can't tell me to ignore women's wrongdoings towards me because men are worse.

Truth is they'll only show me kindness if I had the right type of abuser, went through the right type of abuse and had the right type of sexuality.

I mean I remember whne there was this girl who kind of did something sexual to me I told her to stop but I just kind of like gave in and whne she told everyone about what happened all my female friends were acting super weird towards me as if I was some sort of creep and then when I told them what happened they said smth along the lines of oh come on youre like down for everything (just bc I was seen as bi).

And the problem is I can't discuss this anywhere like literally anywhere if I post smth on my blog I'll have feminists and women say to me oh but you don't know hwo society treats mothers maybe she doing the best she could, oh well that never happened to me etc etc... like I can't deal with this. And on normal spaces like men don't care they'll use my abuse as an excuse to be misogynistic it's such an isolating experience. I don't expect feminists to fight for me like feminism is about female liberation they don't owe me anything but why did they have to go out of their way to attack me, mock me, call me a liar, belittle what happened to me, tell me I'm exaggerating, treat me as If I was betraying tye feminist cause for speaking up like i was a fucking mra, and I'm not even allowed to let my abuse affect me if I have one negative sentiment towards women I'm a pick me I'm sexist I'm this I'm that.

Sorry for this fucking wall of text I'm tired of them treating me this way then turn around and pretend it's not happening you knwo

I'm really sorry it took me a while to get to this. I think I'm starting to dread looking in my inbox and I keep putting it off.

Obviously I'm not in exactly the same boat as you, so I can't fully address the parts about being a woman. But you're definitely not alone - all of the women in your position *I've* talked to feel the same. I have at least one friend that's voiced very similar things (don't worry I asked for permission before linking; she said she'd be open to talking to you if you want). And while I haven't experienced it first hand... I mean... I've seen it. I've seen the anger and vitriol that gets sent you way, the way your trauma is scoured for any excuse to be dismissed, the way you get excoriated as anti-feminists for not pretending it's a lesser deal. Not that you need me to reaffirm it, but you're definitely not crazy.

And I do understand the loneliness. Sometimes I wonder if this is why I subconsciously isolate myself despite having lots of people that express they care about me, enjoy my company, etc. Because I can't fully trust any of them would take this topic seriously, and I just... couldn't bear it if they didn't. Sometimes trying to find people that will accept this, *and* my bisexuality, and have compatible values... I don't know, it feels way too unlikely you know? And that's just for friendship, throw in attraction/sexual compatibility in there and it's like... do these people exist...

The condescension is unbearable. Again, obviously not the same for me, but I'm so TIRED of people throwing it in my face like I'm saying misogyny isn't real? It's so frustrating that bringing this topic up at all invariably gets me listed as an MRA despite my beliefs being the opposite? Or they tell me things like that men are more likely to be the perpetrators against either sex... as if they ever took me seriously with that either? Either way, my bisexuality gets used against me, too. I don't think I've ever been in a situation where the excuses ran out - I guess that's the really disappointing thing. There's always someone willing to come to bat for these people, and they always try to justify their view as the moral and sensible one.

If you feel like you're suffocating about it all, I think you might as well blog about it. Who else are you going to blog for? It's your life! You're the only one that can give your voice power. But at the same time - yeah you're going to get weirdos and rape apologists. If that's too much to bear, that's completely understandable, too.

Anyway I'm not sure I managed to say anything new, but I hope you know I believe your experiences and how you've felt. I hope you know I'm angry on your behalf because you don't deserve to deal with any of the bullshit of how people treat you for it.

#btw I'm sorry about your friends your friends fucking suck #I hope you have new friends

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alluralater · 5 months

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opinion on the renee rapp/fletcher/ethel cain/hayley kiyoko genre of music?

i like girls and i would say that i enjoy the largest array of music but ive never been able to find myself able to get behind the hype generated by that specific genre ? like both the lyrics and melodies seem bland

kinda just comes across as conditioning oneself when i hear abt friends going out of their way to insert themselves into social media communities surrounding these artists and occupying their free time with discourse around who u wanna kiss. it seems forced as in why cant we like girls casually without the 50lbs of baggage and would that even be the case w/o the baggage

cultivating a minority group that struggles to exist outside of the internet and within the public sphere, if you will

i wish i could tell u that i was high when i wrote this to dispel some of the terrible reception im expecting but noo these are organic thoughts that have been pressing my mind and i don't rly have anywhere else to put them :')

fight/entertain/accept me on this!

let’s do this <3

i personally don’t really care for renee rapp. like not because she’s not talented and cool but literally just because her songs were overplayed to me and it’s a huge thing for me if someone listens to the same thing over and over and over i build up this weird repulsion to it and end up getting icked out whenever i hear it. so she is cool as fuck but i don’t listen to her stuff. i like fletcher in a way but both of these artists are kinda just the white gay trending artist templates rn, like i don’t personally find them to be intriguing. ethel cain doesn’t really fit in this group i think since she’s like folk (right??) and these other people are pop/indie but her stuff doesn’t really get me either so it’s cool. hayleyyyyy my love. i love her. i think she makes really good music but its been a bit since any bangers. hayley makes the music for the gays that remember what it was like before gay marriage started to become legalized in the us. her music is really sweet and buzzing with baby gay energy even though she’s an experienced gay.

what i tend to notice about people who listen to fletcher and renee rapp like a LOT is that they also pretty much only listen to other white trending artists as well. the lack of melody and variety in lyrics comes down to the fact that all of these artists are in the exact same niche— white x queer x woman x gen z pop/indie. i’ve heard both fletcher and renee rapp have fantastic stage presence and their shows are supposedly amazing so regardless, they’re still dishing out a show worth watching and i like that.

you can build an entire community around one small interest and people will invest their time and energy and care into whatever that interest is. they feel connected to the topic as well as each other, which is a whole huge conversation i could get into about lack of third spaces in the irl world today and by extension the decline in irl music communities but i’m sleepy so we’ll skip that. i think stan culture is oftentimes what that gets around to (did that sentence make sense?? my eyelids are falling)

btw girls can’t be normal about kissing girls because there is excitement in journeying the paths you didnt know you could take. we relive that feeling each time we have opportunity or desire to kiss other sapphics. it’s panic and thrill and nervousness and glowing miraculous enchantment with the idea of being able to enjoy someone freely and wildly and without men, which is a concept many of us have to drag ourselves away from. kissing other girls is like a repeating shout of liberation yk?? plus it’s super hot ;) okay i am falling asleep though so nighty night <3

#asks #anons #allura.addressed💌

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diabolicalcunt · 5 months

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I feel the need to pin this cause I’ve always been notorious for people loving me when they first meet me, and then finding out that my political views are not extremely liberal. So here’s all the reasons you will hate me once you get to know me. Or not. I honestly don’t care I’m just sick of the ‘You aren’t who I made you out be in my head!’ conversations.

So my unpopular opinions in no order-

1. They/them is something that’s being encouraged by big brother to see yourself as non or less human.

2. DID isn’t real and you just disassociate a specific way. I look like I’ve been drugged cause I fall down ‘inside’ myself like a well and have no reaction time and can barely speak. I’m like a sloth. You pretend to be a anime character. It’s just coping.

3. The concept of trans genocide is fear mongering by big brother and means to keep boundaries between social groups.

4. To build off 3, the push to medically transition underage children is a move by big pharmaceutical companies to create a permanent customer. Because whether you decide to stay transitioned or de transition, you’re going to be on medication for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. There’s also the whole issue with child exploitation. You’ll be judgmental against Dance Moms, but you won’t say anything about a mom who transitioned her child when they were two years old and made them a social media star.

5. Trans men and women who have been charged with a crime belong in LGBT prison wings. Because we have created a culture where male rapists can put on its dress and be rewarded with a permanent stay in the hen house where they can victimize more women and the system will just cry transphobia and call the victims liars. You got a problem with that? I have never seen a trans man pushing to get put in men’s prison. I wonder why… 😐

6. Blair White is queen.

7. I will fight Henry Cavill on sight. I don’t give a shit how bad you want motorboat him. He’s a fucking pedophile.

8. Same goes for David Bowie. When I get to the afterlife I’m gonna make him wish he could die again. Ask me if you want my full on sight list. 😂

9. I stand with Palestine. Yes I think Islam is a horrible religion that is anti woman. I still don’t think kids should die for the grievances of adults and I think it’s fucked up Israel is doing the same shit Nazis did to them and expect us to nod and smile!

10. Qu**r is just as much of a slur as f*g*t or n*gg*r. I don’t use it and if you do I will block you no questions asked. Say gay! Say lesbian! Say…bisexual! 😱

11. Butch women are valid as fuck and I adore y’all . They aren’t trans men, fuck your lesbian phobia.

12. To build off 11, the new LGBT movement has been infected by woke homophobia and the new trans movement is nothing but conversion therapy in a mask.

13 . Radical feminists are women’s last hope.

14. Marvel movies always sucked, we were just kids and ate up the pretty colors.

15. Dune is a white male savior story.

16. Your fave is not autistic, trans, gay or whatever. You just need validation cause you have no confidence.

17. The Boys should have never cast Jensen Ackles and the Supernatural fandom needs psychological help.

18. Too many of y’all try to primp and posture as the gods of your fandom and yes I say that as someone who did the same and stepped away when I realized how cringe I was. Lording over autistic adults and actual children is pathetic. Get therapy and a real hobby.

19. While gender neutral fanfiction has its place. The trend that all fanfiction needs to be gender neutral is literally killing the creativity and frankly the spice to fanfiction. I hate this trend where piece of media needs to be sterilized so it can be consumed by anyone, even people just passing by. It goes against the concept of creating at its core. Sometimes things are made for specific groups. Sometimes it’s made just for you. The things you create do not need to be sanitized to the point there’s no substance, just a hollow consumption. Think of it this way. Would you rather have a hot pizza of your preference or would you prefer to just drink a bowl of water because someone on the other side of the world might not like pizza?

20. The WWE Divas belt was iconic. I get the whole take women wrestlers seriously movement and I agree! But god damn it, it’s a Bratz belt!!! Gimme!!!!!

21. I fucking HATE koalas. They literally only exist because humans have dumped millions of dollars and keeping them alive. If natural selection were allowed to take his course, they would’ve died off 100 years ago. The food they consume has so little nutrition that they have evolved to have the smallest brain to cranium capacity of any animal to create a built in helmet!! Why? Cause they are so stupid they literally fall out of trees and drop their infants!!! They shit on their young and have permanent diarrhea due to the 0 nutrition thing. They carry chlamydia. They’re so fucking stupid they can’t fuck and have to be artificially inseminated to continue the population. If I couldn’t get laid on my own, the government would not drop millions of dollars into making sure I do!! So why did koalas get it? Literally a waste of resources that could be going to feed thousands of hungry children and instead we’re keeping a fucking retarded (I’m on the spectrum fuck you) animal alive who should have gone extinct hundreds of years ago cause it’s supposedly ‘cute’!! God! I hate koalas!

#get to know me #unpopular opinion

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cryptidfuckery · 2 years

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Your old social media was literally my first ever introduction to anyone identifying beyond the gender binary. In 2014, I was watching youtube videos in the small UK city I grew up in, and your videos were recommended. And I felt instant recognition when you talked about gender things, because I'm non-binary and I'd never heard of anyone identifying or expressing themselves that way when I was younger. You were the LGBT+ elder that I really appreciated advice from. (Even if you are only a few years older than me, you seemed much wiser). So I just wanted to say thank you for being your out and authentic self for so many years. Wishing you a good week. P.S. if you like cute animals, I highly recommend looking up photos of bog turtles, they definitely made my week better.

I'm really, really glad that I was able to help you!!

This definitely isn't the first time I've heard this. Notably, when I was at an anime convention years ago during that time, I had someone approach me and say essentially the same thing and also cry. Wonderful experience, also a fucking wild experience!!

It's one of the things I'm proudest of my younger self for. I was lucky enough to learn through my close friends at the time, but I definitely saw that there just. Wasn't enough information readily available for the people who might be interested. So I dug my heels in and allowed myself to be a resource, because it was important. Most of what I was doing was regurgitating what I was learning from my own elders and community, but it was important for people to have a face to the idea. Someone they could talk to and be validated by.

That was either around or over 10 years ago now. I've identified as genderqueer for over 10 years. I sometimes think about an the people who might have a similar time line just for the sake that I talked about it openly.

That time also helped me realize that I didn't want to go into activism full time. I love it, its important, but it made me realize that it would take too much out of me. Maybe I was able to handle it better because I was still being supported by family, and my only obligation (that I shirked a hell of a lot of) was highschool.

That doesn't mean I Completely stopped though. I'm one of those people you can make the joke "they'll trans your gender." I have a joke that the only people who don't end up more trans by the end of dating me are Very cis men. (I have a theory that the people who do end up "more trans" are attracted to the androgy for a reason, whether they realize or not).

I like to think it's because I know what questions to ask, not to push too hard, but more than anything, let them describe how they're feeling about their gender/sexuality with no judgements. Letting them explore it in a safe space. So my activism kind of happens there.

But more than that, I'm a hairdresser that caters toward queer/trans/gay people. That's where I feel I actually do my activism.

And I'll be real with you, I'm not out to all my clients. I work in a mixed bag neighborhood (old conservatives, young liberals, EVERYTHING inbetween) so half of that is keeping myself safe. The other half is not wanting to put extra work on myself trying to fight to explain my identify to someone who 1) doesn't actually care and 2) most likely won't actually hear a thing i say. I talk to the clients that bring it up, and come out to them if they ask. I'm not necessarily tight lipped about my queerness, but like all of us, at know how to illude without specifics. I let my clients decide their comfort level.

But my TRANS CLIENTS. They are SO important to me. I'm able to surround myself with the people I love, who I can crack a gender joke at and know I'll get a laugh. People I can really talk to about dysphoria, about hormones, about surgeries, about relationships, about sex, about family, about friends, about life in a way I don't get to with my other clients.

Even more important than that, I can make a huge step in their transition that much easier. I had a good amount of freshly cracked eggs find me after quarantine/the pandemic (it's not over). As we all know, it was a huge self reflection time. But I got to be there to be the first to validate their gender through their hair. That in itself can be an extremely nerve wracking process. My trans clients coming to me have allowed me to figure out the best way to naviagte the situation in a way where they feel comfortable and validated. It means the world to me. Seriously.

This is where I feel I actually do my activism. It's not explaining what gender is, it's not explaining pronouns. It's getting to assure someone they're on the right path. That what they're doing is good, and it's happy, and there's someone who's proud of them for going through the hard, hard process. I have people I've now been seeing for years who I've gotten to support through hormone changes, through identity changes, through relationship changes.

But one of the things I really try to stress is that being trans, while it absolutely has it's difficulty, it's supposed to be joyous. It's supposed to be the joy of being who you feel you really are. The joy of being loved for who you are. The joy of loving as you are. The joy of being loved by your community. The joy of loving life. Being trans is the joy of love, and the constant readmission that you love yourself more than anyone else can take away.

I cried a little bit writing that ngl.

Last thing I wanna say is that if I did happen to touch your life in a way that helped you become more fully realized, pass on the favor. The next time you have a friend or loved one you're getting the signals from, ask the questions. Be patient with them. Let them change their answers. Nudge but don't shove. Crack a joke. Meet them where they are.

Do it with love.

#making my OWN DAMN SELF cry before work #this stuff is still. really important to me #this got really long but if you've been here for a while you know me. this shit gets long

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