#no we only care about rea- I mean cis men

[queeraliensposts]

Sick and tired of MRAs telling me I will "never understand what's it like to be a male SA survivor" just because I'm trans.

Yes, I know it's not the same experience!

Yes, I know people would be a lot more inclined to believe me because I was assigned female at birth!

That doesn't mean I don't know what's it like to have my masculinity questioned because of trauma, just like every other male survivor.

When I first came out as trans I was told BY A SELF PROCLAIMED MALE FEMINIST, that I wasn't trans because "that just doesn't happen to guys". I've had TERFS use my trauma to try to invalidate my identity.

The shitty part about being a survivor isn't just about whether or not people will believe you, it's about how people will see you differently. There is an entire video series by this channel called Pop Culture Detective which talks about how the fact that the sexual assault of male characters is treated as a joke in film and tv and how that is a result of toxic masculinity. That 100% applies to trans men as well.

This just goes to show how MRAs don't care about men's issues cause when trans men wanna have a nuanced conversation about how we face men's issues as well, MRAs do everything in their power to make it clear that we don't matter to the conversation.

[squiddoodle]

https://thehudsonindependent.com/why-im-voting-for-biden-and-why-you-should-too/

”

A week ago, I went to grab lunch with a friend I had­n’t seen in a while. We caught up about life, col­lege, and of course, the pan­demic. But af­ter we got through those top­ics, our con­ver­sa­tion shifted to pol­i­tics. Ob­vi­ously, we talked about Trump and his in­com­pe­tence in han­dling the va­ri­ety of is­sues our coun­try is fac­ing. But then we talked about the elec­tion. And I told him that I’m vot­ing for Biden. He told me he was­n’t vot­ing at all.

I was so con­fused. How could he not be vot­ing for Biden? And how could he not vote at all? I asked him, and he went on to ex­plain his rea­son­ing. He ar­tic­u­lated that the De­mo­c­ra­tic party needs to crum­ble so that we can build some­thing that can ac­tu­ally help peo­ple. The clas­sic, “Biden is a ter­ri­ble can­di­date,” line was used. And he very clearly ex­plained that his vote means some­thing to him: when he votes for a can­di­date, it shows that he agrees with all of their poli­cies. All of this made sense to me, and I re­al­ized that I have been so naive in think­ing that every­one thought the same way that I did. I am so grate­ful that I got to hear him speak about why he is­n’t vot­ing, be­cause I want to con­vince him—and other el­i­gi­ble vot­ers like him—to mo­bi­lize and vote for Biden this No­vem­ber.

I un­der­stand where you are com­ing from. It’s easy to feel hope­less right now. Trump won the 2016 elec­tion even though *most* Amer­i­cans did­n’t vote for him. Re­cently, we have lost so many Amer­i­cans be­cause our gov­ern­ments, lo­cal and fed­eral, blue and red, have failed to prop­erly ad­dress all of the is­sues that Amer­i­cans face. So it’s very un­der­stand­able that peo­ple have “tapped out” and lost hope in pol­i­tics. I know that this rhetoric comes from a place of dis­ap­point­ment or hurt, but I can’t help but feel like we are giv­ing up on a bat­tle we can win.

Some peo­ple have the priv­i­lege to re­frain from vot­ing be­cause they feel like De­moc­rats should “face con­se­quences” for their cor­rup­tion; these peo­ple can wait to vote for some­one to bring sig­nif­i­cant change. But oth­ers can’t. In fact, a lot of peo­ple sim­ply do not have the priv­i­lege to not par­tic­i­pate in pol­i­tics, be­cause they are fight­ing for their own rights. The rights of so many groups—Na­tive Amer­i­cans, il­le­gal im­mi­grants, dis­abled peo­ple, low-in­come Amer­i­cans, BIPOC, the LGBTQIA com­mu­nity (just to name a few)—are se­verely threat­ened by an­other term of Trump. These groups of mil­lions of peo­ple can’t wait four more years be­cause they are fac­ing life-threat­en­ing de­ci­sions right now. But even if you are so priv­i­leged to not be­long to any of the groups I just listed, your life is still threat­ened by Trump’s elec­tion, too. He has han­dled the pan­demic in the worst way pos­si­ble, and he will only con­tinue to worsen the state of our coun­try be­cause of his fail­ure to un­der­stand sci­ence and data. But if you think you’re care­ful and you won’t get the virus, I ask that you think about the en­vi­ron­ment. The earth can’t wait for rad­i­cal change in 4 years. Our en­vi­ron­ment is de­te­ri­o­rat­ing, and the Trump ad­min­is­tra­tion has re­versed over 100 en­vi­ron­men­tal poli­cies, which has only ac­cel­er­ated the rate of de­te­ri­o­ra­tion.

I’m list­ing only a frac­tion of the is­sues that are af­fected by Trump’s pres­i­dency just so you know what peo­ple are talk­ing about when they say that this elec­tion is a hu­man rights is­sue. Trump is the most in­com­pe­tent, un­pro­fes­sional pres­i­dent in Amer­i­can his­tory, and he does­n’t de­serve a sec­ond term. But more im­por­tantly, the mil­lions of peo­ple who need change right now should­n’t need to wait four more years. Some of these peo­ple won’t make it four more years. It’s re­ally that sim­ple to me. And we can’t say that it’s okay if we don’t vote, be­cause other peo­ple will. We must take mat­ters into our own hands, and we must vote to pro­tect the rights of our fam­ily, friends, and peo­ple who we might not know yet. We vote be­cause we are com­pas­sion­ate hu­man be­ings and care about other hu­man be­ings. Sim­ple.

We have the op­por­tu­nity to make this elec­tion a turn­ing point in our his­tory if and only if we vote for Biden. I’m not happy about vot­ing for him, but I will do it any­ways. I will vote be­cause I care more about the mil­lions of peo­ple whose lives are at risk than whether my vote per­fectly aligns with his poli­cies or sup­ports his past.

In twenty years, we will look back to this mo­ment in our lives, and I hope that you can re­al­ize that this elec­tion is much more sig­nif­i­cant than we can cur­rently fathom. Vote.”

Poltics is a journey not a wedding. Vote for Biden because he’s a step in the progressive direction from what you have now! Vote for Biden because he’s more likely to do good things than Trump is! Vote for Biden becausecatleast then you will have the vote on your side and you then have hope of things getting much better, safer for all because Biden just winning WILL already be better and safer than what you have now!

The planet, can’t wait for your perfect candidate!!!

The people dying, can’t want for your perfect candidate!!!!

It can’t wait for your ”great revolution”!!!

It needs ATLEAST THE BEST YOU CAN DO RIGHT NOW!!!

Your puritanism has already killed 100, 000s! The planet is already on fire! You KNOW things would not be as bad was hillary in power! Don’t let your self be fooled into doing nothing again! If you really care you should be doing everything you can to get any bit of improvement you can! Cause little bits add up. The right wing know this! That is how they are winning despite being a minority!!!!!

[exilevilifyrp]

                                          file: introduction

full name: theon wyndham age: 27 identifies with: the consolations of philosophy - max richter genesis: hybrid gender: cis-male (he/him) portrayal: dane dehaan 

                                                                        file: biography

2151 – Birth

Some people are sure to be disbelieving and say,

“But how can a computer possibly produce a great symphony, a great work of art, a great new scientific theory?”

The retort I am usually tempted to make to this question is,

“Can you?”

-          Isaac Asimov, Our Intelligent tools

2156 – Interest in robotics starts.

         It starts with a visit at a museum, a story about the ascension of technology in human history and a robot dinosaur. Lola Wyndham is not quite sure where the posters come from after that, but she suspects her husband. After all, he was known to spoil the little boy. They’re not so bad, she thinks. Better robots than those violent games, highly advertised on the vids. Still, the mother cannot quite remember the last time she saw her son socializing with other children or open one of those innocent little video games Granny gave him. She’s anxious. The only times they exchange words now are when she shows interest in the posters. Then words leave his mouth with excitement. The doctors had said that nothing was wrong with Theon, far from it actually. The young boy could speak and read at the age of three years old. A prodigy, they said.

         “Mother.” His voice is small and shy. Blue eyes, which he inherited, fall to the sweet features of his son’s face, attention now driven away from her work. A paper is placed in her hands and she closes the screen in front of her temporarily, setting her work aside in order to examine the gift she just received. A gasp escapes her lips and he frowns. Bringing her onto her legs, her long finger points at something on the drawing he just gave her. “Theon, dear. What does it mean?” It is with very simple words that her son explains the drawing. “It could help you walk.” A device to help her move around the house, since her legs do not work anymore. The drawing, if she could call it that, is not exactly the typical drawing usual five years old gave to their mothers with pride. It seems more like a blue print for a device, his small writing in the margins, arrows pointing from explanations to detailed pieces of the device. Lola’s heart cannot take it anymore and she kisses the top of his head softly. Five years old and Theon is already too aware of the world around him.

         A mother always worry. It is a curse and a blessing at the same time. Years pass and she keeps her eyes on her son. He is soft, and does not quite get why the other children cannot comprehend mechanics as well as he does. He is not unkind, though. He does not shout, or cry. He keeps to himself mostly, even from his own parents. Theon is well above his years. She thinks (she hopes) that he will let go of his obsession. Metal litters the floor of the room usually intended to be his bedroom. Now sleep evades him, a fickle companion. At least Arthur is not too mad when he trips over small inventions all over the house. Lola knows her husband would have preferred if his son would have taken interest in the arts or philosophy, like his father. They fear for him.

         Geniuses do not go unnoticed in Wrotham, especially from corporations.

2159 – First convention.  

         He is eight years old when he attends his first convention.

         The funny thing, he observes, is that the other attendees believe him to be another mindless child. They overlook him. It insults him a bit. He read already all of their research and he could find faults in almost all of them. It is worse when he is called on the stage, with the goal of presenting his new patent. Laughs erupt from the crowd when he realizes he is barely able to reach the microphone. His fingers drum against the desk in front of him. He tries to find Arthur and Lola in the crowd. Lola’s soft features always calmed his mind. But instead, his gaze falls on two weird characters, sitting in the back. Their clothes are different, more refined than the others. Wealth is exuded from their attitude, and Theon is fascinated. They are not laughing, he observes. He is glad.

         The crowd silences itself when he explains how using a different kind material for the IBA cell could improve efficiency by 15.8765%, thus permitting better hologram imaging and communication during certain situation, especially military ones. He rebuffs arguments with facts and calculations.

         Theon learns that adults are petty then. Words are thrown but his age is the only true obstacle to the veracity of his research. Arthur and Lola find him afterwards, Theon can see the worry on their face. How he hates it. They are not big fans of his experiments, even though they always show a positive front when he tried to explain them. He thinks, with regret, that perhaps they’re the same as the other adults. He loves them anyway. Will always do, of course. The young family is about to leave, Arthur navigating Lola through the crowd, in the hover chair Theon made her months ago. A featherlike touch on his shoulder makes him stop in his track and he turns. The two individuals he saw earlier are standing there, in front of him. Perfect skin, impeccable clothes. Arthur and Lola seem nervous at the sight of them. “Hello Mr. Wyndham, my name is Rachael. Here is my partner Rick. We work for Artificial Insights. We would like to discuss scholarships…”

         Theon later learns that Rachael and Rick are Synthetics. Humans with artificial and robotic limbs. In the car, where they explain him that they’re sending him to one of top robotic schools, Theon remarks how Rick is barely looking at him. It annoys him.    

2169 – Artificial Insights & Phase I: Synthetics process

         “We are delighted to offer you a position here at Artificial Insights, Mr. Wyndham. We hope our partnership will be long and fruitful.” Theon forces a small smile to appear on his face, the conventional response to this type of interaction. He would admit that working with machines most of the time did a lot for his social anxiety. Calculations and research do not argue or judge him. Androids did not have the mind to look at him, see only the bags under his eyes, his frail exterior. Androids did not care. Rachael smiles a little, quasi encouragingly. She knows him enough by now to know how uncomfortable he is. The show is for the people sitting on each of her sides. It is the first time Theon meets Rachael’s superiors. Serious men and women, barely looking up at the file in front of them. They tell him they are impressed by his curriculum. Top graduate from all his schools. He is a good return on investment. The sentence irritates Theon.  His fingers drum on the table, nervously. They think of him as a thing, expendable. Theon is now eighteen years old, and will probably become the youngest employee of the company. Numerous research of his are being published and applied already. It resonates in his head; an unwanted conundrum.

         “In this mindset,” Rachael’s voice shatters the train of thought, forces him to raise his eyes to look at them, “you will find all the details regarding the process for Synthetic transformation. You have to understand that we invested highly in you, and we would like our partnership to last.” Again, with the financial idioms. The woman in front of him continues to talk about the specifics but Theon’s blue hues are already reading the material in front of him. Excitement runs through his veins. He remembers the offer he made them, some years ago. Even with the scholarship that brought him where he was, a mind like his would be highly useful to any other corporations. His mind is the only thing that is not replaceable. He needs to protect it.

         Synthetic transformation in exchange of an 80 years work contract. His signature is barely readable on the documents, hand shaking with apprehension.  

2173.0 – Death of Parents in Riots

         Arthur and Lola Wyndham are only two more names among others in the already long list of victims from the 2173 riots in Krenel. The irony of their death does not go unnoticed. They are becoming more and more numerous, the protests against the rise of technology, against robots and androids.

         His hands won’t stop shaking as he listens to the man in front of him. The feeling resemble flying – no, more like falling. Theon inherits the house and becomes familiar with a new emotion, guilt. It envelops him and settles in his heart, heavy. Will it become his new home, he ponders.

         Grief. It is ugly.

         He should’ve called more. Should have listened to his mother pleas ‘come back home for once’. Should’ve done something. Anything. He hadn’t been a very good son. School had started and then work, both intertwined with an endless series of conventions. He was a rising star in robotics engineering, most efficient and useful engineer for Artificial Insights. But all of this, the title and the money, did not keep his parents from dying. Theon inherits the house and transforms it into a lab. With Rachael’s consent, he takes a few days off. Then his mind goes back to what it does best: work. At this point, Theon knows it is a defense mechanism. Some would drink their feelings away. He prefers being useful. Whenever he feels anxious or sad, he plunges nose first into endless calculations, experiments and research. He shuts more people off, mostly because they are distracting.

2173.5 – Theon meets Eliot

         Theon grows bored of the conventions after that. Arthur and Lola are not there anymore, anxiously waiting for their son to speak. Offering him small smiles in the crowd to encourage him. They are gone and he feels lost. Days look all the same to him. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. His heart is not in the research, these days. Sleep evades him once more, and his patience thins with each seconds that pass. Only the sound of the assembling machines calms his mind. Sometimes, he goes down, in the lowest levels of his building. He likes to watch them waking up, the androids. They’re not really alive, he knows that. But Theon appreciates the symbolism – starting new, a mind virgin of emotions and feelings. On the opposite side, he feels just like them. A simple cog in a bigger machine. He’s an investment, after all. Just like them.

         Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

         “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your presentation.” Theon lifts his eyes from his scientific journal, wonders who dared approach him in public. His colleagues usually stir away from him. After all, he is far from being an expert at conversations. The engineer recognizes the features of the man before him. The presentation had gone to hell, voice faltering when a participant decided to interfere. The problem wasn’t the interruption, actually. It was the fact that Theon never saw it. His mistake. He’s caught off guard by it and his mind obsesses over it as soon as the stage leaves his sight. Miscalculation, or simple Brows knit, he tilts his head. “Then why did you do it?” The question burns his tongue as the words leave his mouth. A chuckle escapes the other man’s lips and the sound shakes Theon to his core. He straightens up in his seat as the other man takes place on the empty chair in front of him. “Alright, alright. You got me. Would you look over the data, though? I really want your opinion on this.”

         He grabs the tablet from the other’s hand, their fingers brushing.

         Theon feels alive again. Even more so as Eliot’s lips, months later, become a recurrent light, fleeting touch.

2175 – 2175 Massacre

         Wind blows slowly through the opened windows. The silence is heavy in the darkness. The city stops moving for a millisecond. It holds its breath as the fire eats the void above their heads. Music can be heard in the background, faintly. A whisper murmured to the crowd. Its name is Destruction. It’s a glitch, he thinks. The sirens are crying in the night. This is just a simple, easily reparable mistake in calculations.

         He’ll wake up the next morning, and Eliot will be there. In his arms. Already awake, fully functional. He will kiss Theon, softly, tenderly. Run a hand in his hair. A whisper ‘wake up my love’ will flee in the air, will lose itself in the seemingly stopped time. Coffee will burn his tongue and Duke Ellington will play in the background. A normal morning. Theon will listen to the drunken stories of one of his colleague at work, might even try a small smile to show his appreciation for the tale. Eliot will go back to his research and come back after a hard day at work, head full of ideas and optimism.

         It’s only a glitch, Theon thinks. An irregularity in the system. He can repair it. He’s good at this. His eyes fixes the vids as red and bloodied crescents mark the fair skin of his forearm. Eliot is not there the next morning. Only Death kisses him back, brings him news of destruction and despair. For the second time in his life, he wonders ‘why not me?’

         Eliot dies in the riots, his mind forever lost.

2176 to 2177 – Data’s creation & Depression

A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.

-          The Three Laws, from the Handbook of Robotics, 56th Edition, 2058 A.D.

“According to the data–”

“Oh, please Eli. Stop with your data already. Everything is going to be fine. I did the calculations myself.”

“One, you’re not infallible and second, the dat–”

“You’re not him!”

         Data does not flinch at Theon’s raised voice, because Data is not human. An android, a perfect and flawless android. Top of his category, because he doesn’t fit in the usual categories. He’s made from scratch, from stolen equipment from his old job. All of Eliot’s research is incorporated in the main matrix. Data can learn. And speak. And asks questions.

         Theon knows he can get arrested. Company property theft, uncatalogued Artificial Intelligence. Non-tested research. Utilisation of rare materials for personal purposes. The list gets longer each times he thinks about it.

         The android looks like him, talks like him, smile like him. But he is not him. Data barely moves when his creator strikes him. Control is not something he has much, these days. The alcohol burns his tongue coming in and coming out. How inefficient. Theon hates himself with such fervor then. Especially as Data holds him there, on the floor, ignoring his creator trying to wrestle his way out of the robotic grip. Theon wakes as Data presses a damp cloth on his forehead. The engineer had never been so embarrassed of his own actions than now.

         Where is the line between genius and madness? When does one falls so deep into a pit of despair, he cannot see the way out anymore?

         Theon is crying as he erases this memory from Data’s core the next day. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

                                                                      file: known associates

NOOMI WEXLER - though wexler corporation was a mere enigma to most, you had uncovered the truth many moons prior. perhaps maintaining it as the unknown would make a far wiser idea, but curiosity would soon unravel a mass of torturous activities and an unwanted truth - actions so cruelly human. it’s a secret you have long since kept, but you wonder how long one can remain silent when another experiment has now appeared.

                                                                  THIS CHARACTER IS UNAVAILABLE.