deleted a bunch of chronic pain and chronic illness posts from blogs they’ve left (like mine)
This isn’t just about ‘oh no you can’t look at people fucking anymore’ (even though lots of sex workers are losing their means of supporting themselves). This goes a lot further, with a lot more chilling effects.
The sexualizing of things like ‘top surgery’ or declaring all ‘trans’ tagged things to be … sexual… is really, REALLY fucked up. Never mind the fact that ‘chronic pain’ had NOTHING to do with sexiness, and we’ve been given no explanation as to why disabled people were considered acceptable collateral damage.
ALSO I had a post flagged earlier today for a cartoon picture of Mario in a bathing suit. Mario, from Super Mario Brothers.
Someone else reported a picture of a cartoon scorpion with a hard hat on being flagged as pornography. Tagging things as ‘queer’ or ‘gay’ gets them flagged NSFW. (Hey, guess what I’d been tagging my t-shirts, because they’re pride stuff? Oh right. Queer. Gay. Pride.)
This is a fucking problem, let’s not blow it off.
I know some people are too young (or simply weren’t involved in fandom back then) to remember what went down with livejournal and a couple of other sites “back in the day”, but it all started out as “it’s okay, we’re just removing the nasty porn”, and then “okay well, just make sure you put your porn behind a cut, no, wait jk you need to host it externally, a link is fine, maybe” and pretty much devolved swiftly into “actually sweety, LGBT content is inherently NSFW by default because it might make the kiddies gay if we expose them to it, so y’all need to leave now byyyeeee”.
Like…that happened. And it took nearly a decade for the fandom spaces to recover and stabilize and to get to the point where LGBT content creators could host their content without being told “you’re not welcome here” and I’m just sitting here, watching as youtube demonetizes LGBT content creators, and Facebook flags up LGBT ads as “inappropriate” and now tumblr is going through the queer and gay tags and just mass blanketing it as inappropriate, while actual pornbots and nazis wind up in my recommended feed.
(As an interesting aside: isn’t it funny how all these sites attribute these things to an algorithm error? Itsn’t that funny.)
Like I am uncomfortable y’all. I am looking around at everything I’ve built and all the friends I’ve made and I know we’re all looking for the next safe space to jump to while hoping we don’t lose each other overnight like “the olden days” where you’d wake up and your fave blogger was just gone.
And usually it was because they’d drawn or written something as simple yet explicit as a kiss. It was just the wrong kind of kiss.
So yea, the sky is not falling, but the ice under our feet sure is making worrying sounds.
As U.S. President, George H.W. Bush, among other things, cut AIDS research funding, banned HIV-Positive people from entering the country, encouraged “behavioral change” to the exclusion of comprehensive sexual education, and extended/expanded many of the murderous AIDS policies of Ronald Reagan, for whom Bush served as Vice President. By the end of 1993, over 194,000 HIV/AIDS related deaths had been reported in the United States. Approximately 133,000 of which were during Bush’s one term as President. Between 1987 and 1992, the median age at death among men in the United States that died from HIV/AIDS related causes was 38; among women the median age was 34. George H.W. Bush died November 30th 2018 at the age of 94. May he rot in Hell alongside Ronald Reagan! 🖕
And yet the BBC said he was a ‘straight-forward, decent person’.
Imagine being a kid in school. Your teacher comes up with an idea for class picture. Every student will draw pictures of their friends.
Everyone starts drawing enthusiasticly, and can’t wait to see what they look like in the drawings. When pictures are ready you notice that popular students have more pictures than rest, but nobody has done a drawing of you. The teacher notices that too, and asks if someone would do your picture. To your horror the class clown takes the job, and comes up with a caricature of you. Others are laughing, but you’re not. You feel awful. The teacher notices that. and asks again someone to do a drawing of you. One of the ‘good students’ starts drawing, but the result is forced. It’s just a drawing of a generic child wearing a shirt of same color as you a wearing. There’s no spirit, no soul in it. You start sensing that the class is geting frustrated with you. They want to be done with this. You ask quietly the teacher if you could do a drawing yourself.
After school your classmates confront you. Why did you have to make such a big deal out of it? The first picture was funny. The second picture was just fine! The drawing you did yourself wasn’t right, do you think you are that good-looking? There were other kids who got only one or two pictures of themselves. Who are you to demand special treatment? Maybe there would have been a picture of you if you weren’t such annoying baby, nobody likes you anyway, and nobody’s going to if you keep on being like that, you don’t deserve a drawing!
This could be story of bullying, but it’s also about how I see portraying LGBTQ+-people and PoC in mainstream entertainment.
i don’t think people understand that people can ‘love’ you and not actually love you
like my grandmother ‘loved’ me, but she also was always trying to change me. she tried to take me away from my (catholic bisexual) mother. she made me wear dresses when i was there. she always tried to get me to go to church and was always asking me if i was dating a boy yet
i spent years feeling guilty that i wasn’t what she wanted me to be until my mom told me one day “she never bothered to know the real you”
and it’s true. any time i tried to show her something about myself, even cook for her, it would be dismissed, and a replacement would be offered. even northern food was somehow a sin.
she loved me what she thought i should be, she never loved me.
bc people who love you, they love you for all the stuff that makes you you. they never consider that it makes you inconvenient.
“It was true: the other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold.“
Loving someone like a prized possession is a very different thing from loving someone like a person you care about.
Today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance. Honor those killed in anti-trans acts of violence; mourn the lights in our community that have gone out; say their names and tell their stories; and vow to fight for those still with us.
I don’t often get political… but something has happened
Trump. He and his administration are trying to change the law so that whatever gender you were “born as” is your unchangeable sex/gender.
[1.4 MILLION AMERICANS]
This is from a new New York Times article, regarding the technicalities of what has been said. They go even further to discuss what they accurately call “biggest battlegrounds” for transgender students: the bathrooms and locker rooms.
We can’t be quiet about this. They are trying to erase who we are. To make it so that we just DON’T EXIST. As a transgender male who lives in America, this scares the shit out of me.
As I said, I don’t normally get political on my blog, but you all need to know about this.
don’t let this happen
“wrongfully extend civil rights protections to people who should not have them”
If that doesn’t send a chill down your spine I don’t know what to say
List of people who throughout history have thought that people “Shouldn’t have civil rights protections”
1) Fascists
2) That’s it that’s the whole list
I cannot believe you just reblogged a post i made,,,, you know it’s bad when a popular blog you like reblogs a political post you made.
After your parents found out you are gay and kicked you out, the only place left for you to go was the magical forest. Write about your life.
The birds began their chirping at the first signs of sunlight. A disgruntled yawn startled some of the birds that had been singing away in the treetops. As soon as Roderick finished stretching, he hastily took off his boots and clothes to streak into the lake. He was butt-naked and he felt no shame. Not here at least. There were no people living in or around this part of the forest. It was rumored that many dangerous creatures found their home here and that the darkest parts had swallowed men’s souls whole. Roderick thought it was perfect. Legends like these kept people at bay. He felt safe here. And being an outcast himself, he almost felt at home. Sometimes he could not sleep as he saw eyes preying on him in the distance. However, it seemed as if the birds enchanted their surroundings with their songs, keeping the darkness out. Once Roderick had finished his morning routine, he spruced himself up to the best of his abilities, strapped on his sword, and set out for the nearest town. Birds would sometimes stop mid-song as he passed underneath them, wondering where a roaring growl had come from – which, of course, had come from Roderick’s stomach.
He had not eaten in days and his hunting skills were practically nonexistent. Luckily, he was familiar with a bakery in the nearest town, Rosebarrow, and it had the most delicious bread throughout the land of Estria. On top of that, it was free for him most of the time.
The townsfolk would look at him in disgust from their front porches as soon as they laid eyes on him. His muddy boots and tattered clothes were almost certainly a sign he was an outcast. Roderick clenched his hand around the pommel of his sword when he heard two women talking in hushed voices as they walked by, glaring at him. It was the usual. It was the world he lived in and he had come to accept.
Roderick turned a corner and the air was suffused with the smell of freshly baked bread. He exhaled deeply, trying to release the tension in his body from encountering the townspeople and sauntered into the bakery. A bell chimed and soon after a young man came hurrying from the back room to welcome his customer.
“Roderick!” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s good to see you again.”
Roderick looked around, his eyes carefully inspecting the place. He had come here every week for the past six months and had learned to be cautious. The young man twiddled with his fingers, seeming to wait for Roderick to say something back or, at the very least, make eye contact.
“Is he here?” Roderick finally said.
“No”, the young man replied, his smile sobering up. “He is seeing some investors. He wants to go into the gold mining industry or something.”
Roderick didn’t reply. The young man took that as his cue, turned around to collect an arm full of loaves from the shelves behind him, and placed them on the counter. Roderick opened his bag and put the loaves inside. They were still warm, and for some reason a wave of sadness passed through his body.
The young man looked at him, his eyes trailing Roderick’s every movement as if he might disappear at any moment. When Roderick shoved the last loaf in his bag, the young man leaned over the counter and gave him a kiss.
Roderick recoiled. “Not now, Charlie!” he snapped. “In broad daylight?”
“Calm down, no one saw us,” said Charlie. But Roderick’s eyes widened in fear. “I just told you my dad is meeting up with investors and you know I would never kiss you if anyone was around. Trust me. Why are you always so anxious about this?“
His body stiffened at the remark. “Why?” shouted Roderick. “Are you seriously asking me this question?” Roderick swiveled on his heels and made for the door.
“Wait. Wait!” Charlie hurried after him. "I am sorry. That was foolish. Please stay.”
Roderick stared at him incredulously. “Do you know how many of us are killed every single day, Charlie?” Tears crept up in the corner of his eyes. “For real, what were you thinking? If we continue to keep this up, it’s going to get us both killed! Fucking killed, Charlie! The Royal Guard kill people like us on the spot!”
Charlie stepped closer. His fingers gently wiping away the tears streaking across Roderick’s face. “I know,” he whispered.
“Don’t you dare touch me like this!” Roderick batted his hand away. Roderick reached for the doorknob, but before he could open the door Charlie had slapped him in the face.
“You are the man I love,” his fist pulled back, ready to deal a heavy blow. “You…,” he stammered. “You… of all people. Don’t you dare…,” Charlie lowered his fist and started sobbing.
Roderick knew where Charlie was going. He used to be more certain of himself. But the more he got to know himself, the less of him was left. The people of Estria didn’t accept two men loving each other.
“This is not good for any of us, this secrecy. It’s eating us alive!”
“It’s eating you alive” Charlie retorted.
When I was about to leave the house for good…,” Roderick said, clenching his fist, “…my father walked up to me, opened the door, and said he was not going to judge me, but he’d be happy to break my neck so God could do the judging a little sooner, and shoved me outside.”
Charlie fell silent. Roderick had told him everything about his past, and he could not possibly forget something like that. "I understand,“ he whispered.
“No!” he shot Charlie an icy stare. “I don’t think you understand.” He opened the door and stormed out. The bell chimed violently as he smashed the door shut.
The steps on the stairs creaked. “Charlie?” came a voice. Charlie jerked around and froze instantly.
“I… I thought you were out of town,” Charlie said, his face pale and his eyes wide with terror.
“You are a sin, my disgrace of a son.” ———————— The next morning Roderick woke up exhausted. He barely slept and the few dreams he had were all about Charlie never wanting to speak to him again. Charlie had only tried to reconcile, he shouldn’t have stormed off like he had. Roderick packed his things and once again set out for Rosebarrow.
Upon arriving at the bakery he noticed that a rather large crowd had gathered around its entrance. As he made his way through the crowd, he passed a man who said, “I heard his own father has done him in. Praise that man.” Another woman said, “It’s probably going to take a while to scrub that sinful blood out from the floor.”
Terror swept quick as lightning over Roderick’s face. His heart raced as he made his way to the edge of the crowd. He noticed a woman speak to two men in red cloaks. ‘That must be the royal guard,’ thought Roderick. “Could you describe to me what the man looked like?” inquired one of the guards. “Man? He’s an abomination! Just like that scum Charlie you found dead on the floor this morning.”
Roderick’s heart almost pounded out of his chest and he could barely make out what the woman was saying among the thunder in his head. “He has curly hair and green eyes and is about this height,” to which the woman rose her hand a foot above her head. “And he has a sword with a very distinguishable guard. An owl!” Roderick’s heart might as well have stopped at that very moment, but instead it was pounding so quickly and loud that people around him might have heard it. He glanced at his sword, quickly covered the guard with his hand, and made his way out of the crowd as fast as he could, fighting back the tears that might give him away. All he wanted was to get out of that place, out of that town.
He arrived in the woods two hours later. Charlie was dead. Roderick’s only reason to live had been murdered by his own father. He stared blankly into the lake. The water looked serene and darkly inviting. He trudged off into the lake and continued walking limply against the rising water that slowly swallowed him whole. He dived in and tried to stay underwater by holding on to the vegetation growing on the bottom. But no matter how hard Roderick tried, he wouldn’t drown. His head parted the water and he gasped for air before disappearing into the lake again as quickly as he had surfaced. He kept trying to drown himself, but after failing a dozen times he finally gave up. Roderick crawled out of the water and slammed the bank with his fists, making water and sand splash up around him. “Is this what is left of me?” he cried. “How could I have let this happen?” He unsheathed his sword and pressed the point to his chest. But upon seeing the sword he remembered Charlie’s words: “This sword is an heirloom. But we never even look at it. Here, you can have it.” He remembered how Charlie looked at him as he handed Roderick the sword. “May it protect you in the forest and guide you to greater heights. There’s something about you, and I’m not quite sure what it is, but I think you can change this land for the better. I think it’s your eyes…they look so determined.”
Roderick had accepted the sword rather hesitantly. “Well if you insist, then I shall hereby promise that this sword will not only serve to protect my own ass, but will also serve to protect you.” And then they kissed and laughed, and kissed a little more. Roderick had no idea where his determination had gone since that day, but he started to suspect that it wasn’t the forest that would swallow his soul whole, but rather the people living in Estria themselves.
A breeze rustled through the trees when suddenly the wind picked up. Birds chirped loudly as their branches swayed. Roderick clenched his sword, his eyes darting around the trees. As quickly as it started, the wind fell silent. Roderick’s mouth fell open in utter bewilderment. It might have been his imagination, but there, only a few feet in front of him, stood Charlie with his back turned to Roderick. His eyes widened as he used his arms to crawl forward, his hand trembling violently as it reached out for Charlie.
“Charlie!” his eyes welling up. His face was soon a mixture of tears and cold water that had dripped from his hair. “I am so sorry!” He forced his body up despite the exhaustion and ran towards Charlie. But he could not will his body for long, his legs were shaking and quickly gave out, making him fall back to his knees. Charlie did not move. “I am a coward,” Roderick began, “I promised I would protect you but even that I couldn’t do.” He waited for a response, but none came. “Charlie?” Still nothing. “Charlie, I love you.” Roderick was desperate. “Charlie, what do you want me to say? Say something. Please…,” he said as he dragged himself forward. And just when he was almost able to graze Charlie’s feet, Charlie turned around and held out his hand, smiling.
Roderick could feel his blood gushing through his veins as he looked at Charlie’s hand hovering in front of his face. He grasped it, and Charlie helped him up. For a moment they looked at each other. The storm raging in Roderick’s eyes calmed. The wind started to pick up again, and his lover vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
Night fell and Roderick’s sobs turned into anger as he rummaged in his bag and found that the once warm bread was cold. “Estria and all its people can go fuck themselves!” he shouted at the clouds above him. ‘You were always there for me. Your kind and loving self. You gave me this sword and bread and picked me up when no one else would,’ he thought as he clenched his fist, nails digging so deep into his skin that it began to bleed.
All of a sudden, it was as if the fire the townsfolk said he would burn in for all of eternity filled his heart. Roderick stood tall. “No one will define me! I will define myself, and if their God doesn’t praise me, I will praise myself!” The wind continued to howl. “I promised I would protect you with this sword and I will.” He lifted it high in the air and looked at the sword as it glistened in the moonlight. “Do you hear me?!” He shouted. “In your memory…,” tears welled up in the corner of his eyes, “… I promise to protect everyone who’s different like us. Even if it costs me my life.” He pounded his chest. “Do you hear me?” he shouted again. “I shall fight. Nor the king’s army nor the people of Estria shall defy me. I am going to train and I will proclaim myself a knight to make sure anyone can be whoever the hell they want to be and love whoever the hell they want to love. I will look after them as you looked after me. This ends here!” And even though tears were rolling down his face, his eyes grew more and more determined.
—–3 years later—–
Roderick had taken on an apprenticeship as a blacksmith. He’d promised to work diligently and refused any form of compensation as long as the blacksmith taught him how to use his sword. He worked the iron, and with every blow of the hammer he remembered his vow. Each evening he practiced his stances and technique as if his life depended on it – and it did. After three years of toiling every day without pause, he felt confident in his skills. Roderick took the final test, forged his own armor, and passed with flying colors. “Remarkable, the owl elements you managed to put in this armor,” said his teacher, his face beaming with approval. “It’s outstanding.”
The blacksmith had gifted him a black stallion. Together on his horse Valicius, Roderick forged ahead, looking for other knights to join his order. He galloped to all quarters of the compass, sleeping in the scorching heat of deserts and camping in the darkest of caves.
Seven months passed and the clatter of hooves that long had been the only sound to keep him company was soon a rolling thunder that would turn the heads of anyone who heard it. For now, riding beside Roderick were seven other knights that had joined the order:
The Pink Eagle, a princess whose father ordered the death of her beloved Anna, by lashing her until she collapsed.
The Black Arrow, who never missed a shot except when it comes to romance. He carries a bow made of entangled vines.
The Gator, a pan knight who was banished and left to his own devices in the swamps of Argar, where he wrestled alligators and gained strength.
The Eclipse, who was excommunicated after a church member found he took too much liking in men and women, and his non-binary sibling Deimos, who is so strong they can uproot fully grown trees with their bare hands.
The Diamond, a trans woman to who people threw stones at after a fellow mine worker once caught her wearing a dress. Her armor is made out of the strongest materials, inset with a diamond placed over her heart, that no stone will ever be able to scratch.
And the Ace, who refused to make love and have children after she was betrothed to a handsome nobleman. She was thrown to the wolves but was quickly accepted by them.
Grass streaked underneath the thudding of hooves, but vanished as they came to a halt. There they stood, side by side on their horses, on the edge of a cliff that overlooked Rosebarrow.
“Today”, began Roderick, “I am honored and blessed to have you as my friends. Three years ago I made a vow…,” he said, looking up, thinking about Charlie “… that I would protect anyone who is queer with this sword.” He heaved the sword to show the other knights. “The king’s army and the people of Estria kill us for what? Because I like men? Because they don’t understand you are a woman? We are a disgrace they say. Say we should burn. But I don’t believe that! Nobody but me decrees what I can and cannot be!” He banged his chest. “We share the same pain and I have nothing but respect and admiration that you joined me on this mission. This isn’t my mission anymore, it’s ours.”
“There are kids, people, who go through life with their heads down, ashamed of who they are. They have been taught that who they are is wrong and they can’t even be themselves, and if they are, they get punished. Accepting yourself, loving yourself, being proud of yourself, it’s something all those people in Estria have. They are probably not even aware of what a privilege that is. And they call us a sin? Us? Fuck them. Being able to be yourself is a goddamn human right! And nobody, nobody, is going to take that away from us.”
“We have been through a lot. The battle is by far not only fought in the realm of the physical. The hardest battle is in our mind and hearts. But we are strong, we have overcome many trials, and you have given me the courage to stand up for others! To walk with pride!”
“Tonight we ride for Rosebarrow and let it be known we have arrived!
That we have their back
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!” the other knights bellowed, their horses rearing up.
“The king’s army does not expect us to win
But we will never surrender!
Weakness is not in our hearts!
We will look at our fellow queers who struggle and fight day in and day out
And we will draw strength from them!
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
“Never will we let them fall, never will we let them down
We will protect them
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
“It’s just the eight of us now, and it might be the eight of us forever
We cannot expect others to ride with us
But we continue to fight for them!
And welcome everyone with open arms
So we can walk with pride together!
Because who are we?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
“WHO ARE WE?”
“WE ARE THE PRIDE KNIGHTS!”
This made me tear up
As someone who has struggled with his orientation for a long time, this story hits really close to home and is very important to me. I reached out to @caeryth asking if we could do more with it. We want to have a website and create more Pride Knights’ content to inspire and empower others. We want everyone to know that your differences are what make you unique and that you are valid no matter how you identify yourself. We are both students and are short on money to buy a website but this is going to happen no matter how long it takes. However, we’ve made merch for our fellow Pride Knights who want to help out. Meet us:
There are t-shirts, sweatshirts and hoodies. The print is on the back and the Pride Knights’ logo on the front.
Join us and inspire and empower others. Show that it’s okay to differ from the masses. Show your support for others and your pride in yourself – celebrate what makes you, you.
We have each other’s backs!
We stand up for our fellow queers who fight day in and out and we draw strength from them!
Headcanonsandmore 