TEXT POST! Maybe don’t scroll through this one though - and I’m SO SORRY for those scrolling on their phones for the slab of text interrupting your porn, if that’s what you’re here for. I love you. I’d love it if you’d read this one… It’s about all of us here on this place. Because websites are “places” kinda, and social networks are kinda real in ways this 80′s kid couldn’t have conceived. And because in ten days you won’t be able to browse for porn here and that’s stupid. 

In my OTHER online life I’m prone to #rants and they just organically emerge these days. This one is about porn. Yep, that thing that most human beings in this day and age consume in one form or MANY others for all sorts of reasons. That thing which we CANNOT AND MUST NEVER TALK ABOUT… for SOME reason.

For Those Blissfully Unaware: Tumblr is, as of December 17th (the day AFTER my Birthday, dammit), arbitrarily BANNING and then REMOVING ALL “explicit” content from the site.  And in single person TMI news… I wasn’t too bothered by this impending porn ban because over the years I, and I’m sure most of we, have all gone through many different platforms and sources for things like… that. (is that TMI? or have I just admitted that I’m a human being? Let all keep our heads people)

But then I read THIS article, which highlights the ludicrous manner in which they are going about the process. And then I read ANOTHER article which highlighted how damaging and regressive the move is for, well, everyone. And then I thought to myself, heck, the LGBTQI, the marginalised and oppressed, the questioning and uncertain… they BUILT and MADE Tumblr what it is today. And today (for the next 10 days) it is a safe place for ANYONE consenting (they have had explicit content and blogs flagged without being blocked previously) to explore themselves.

This is worse than Melissa George disavowing Home and Away, because Tumblr, being built by the fringe and marginalised, actually HELPS people (Melissa George was just blonde and pretty and good actor needing opportunity who then decided her French bulldog and croissants in Paris made her better than her roots - no help for anyone there except her dog IMO). 

But in 10 days a “female-presenting nipple” will be a bridge too far and will be banned, unavailable, removed - except if it is “medically” useful or important. Apparently they’re breastfeeding-positive. Yay team. So AGAIN women’s bodies are reduced to their “primary functions” and further, queer bodies, other bodies, new and undreamed of personages and existences, are hidden, are denied visibility. They are made to be shameful or unworthy by dint of their being INVISIBLE. And it’s not just body parts, it’s attitudes, poses, suggestions… all incredibly arbitrary, unscientific, and SUBJECTIVE. Humanity, we’ve been there. It’s not fun. 

At the same time, AND THIS IS THE KEY, READERS, Nazi blogs, White Power blogs, any other hate speech blogs… they’re all fine (one wonders about those BIZARRE BDSM and gay Nazi blogs which, hopefully, SURELY, will also be banned).

THE HYPOCRISY IN A NUTSHELL:

Tumblr wants to make their platform SAFE FOR CHILDREN so they are removing “female-presenting nipples” and pictures of men kissing (and male models, and Garfield, and cartoons…) BUT leaving swastikas, Confederate flags, Hitler-love, lynchings and guns (sorry Americans, I truly love you but I’m an Aussie so guns get caught up in the hypocrisy for me when it comes to “child safety”)

Lady Nipple = BAD
Sexy Man = BAD
White Power = TICK

I’m (seriously) no social justice Warrior (apparently that would mean “leftist”), but I believe in social justice (apparently that would mean “liberal”? Or would it be “centrist?” Fuck it, I don’t care, I want my citizens, wherever they are, ALIVE and SAFE), and I agree with the fundamental principle espoused by Marian Wright Edelman that “you can’t be what you can’t see.”

Some of my Facebook connections are suddenly worried and concerned by the “tide” of trans* people in the media, or even just LGBTQI people. News Flash: it’s because you can’t be what you can’t see.

Ten years ago, as a gay man, I couldn’t see myself in many places except as an outrageous caricature, or as a tragic stereotype doomed to die by my own hand or others, or to “decide” to be straight and satisfy the status quo. But I saw myself in enough places to (eventually) fight through the stigma and social rejection and bullying to accept myself as I AM. Many, many queer folks are still going through this because despite our achievements we’re still not there. I was damn lucky.

Trans* people are really only barely beginning this process. We’re really only beginning to see trans* people on TV and film, and only barely beginning to see them as themselves and not as stereotypes.

So Tumblr is basically shooting it’s core client base in the FACE and expecting to continue on, business as usual. And corporate Earth being what it is, they’ll probably somehow survive. But they will be a pale remnant of what they were if they do. I hope fervently that the desertion in droves of users causes them to fail totally and collapse. Free market bullshit and all that.

OR…

novel idea…

…change your mind. Politicians, corporate juggernauts, men, HR Managers, cats, all find it very hard to do this simple thing which is CHANGING ONE’S MIND. In another life I would drop the wisdom that changing your mind is the true essence of MAGIC. Refusing to change one’s mind is a rejection of the covenant we enter into when we a born into this world - to live in it, to experience it, and to learn from it. The last one is the one we need to focus on. Not changing is not learning. 

THANK YOU for reading all of this (if you actually have!). 

As an addendum to this rant, out of curiosity I went to check how many followers my Tumblr has - yeah I’ve never really worried about that before. I have over 2,500 followers! That’s 2,500 people I’ve been sharing with that I don’t even know. And yet I you’re all awesome and marvelous, and you all deserve to be able to see and share what makes you happy. If you’ve actually read all of this #nickrant I applaud you and thank you. Now I’m REALLY angry.

Whumptober Day 30!

Link to the Ao3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/34210837/chapters/86724184

Title: Hypothermia - Darcie

Prompt: No. 30 ‘Digging Your Grave’ - major character death, left for dead, ghosts

Trigger Warnings: hypothermia

Word Count: 1948

Author’s Note: Bit of an out-there interpretation, but I’ve always thought of Digging Your Own Grave implying the idea of dying alone since there’s no one around to bury you. Best way to die alone: hypothermia.

Stormkrigeren had plenty of experience training in extreme temperatures, and as long as she kept moving, could survive with little to no protection in conditions as low as negative-forty Celsius thanks to her unnatural durability and high core temperature. She ‘ran warm’, as Dr. Schreyer had once described it, but that was not to say that Stormkrigeren couldn’t get cold.

It had been about negative-five out last time she had found a thermometer, which was three hours ago outside a small pharmacy in a town twelve miles south of her current location. Chances were it was about the same temperature now, though a combination of wind-chill and honest-to-goodness freezing rain of all things (fuck, it was only early autumn), Stormkrigeren doubted that it could be much warmer than below eighteen.

Four miles to go. Four miles to the nearest goddamn gas station where she could maybe, maybe buy her next few meals and a Greyhound ticket to Fort McMurray. Four miles of hiking beside the highway late at night in the freezing rain with not even so much as a ski jacket - just a pair of good boots, cargo pants, and a thick second-hand pullover from a charity shop. Four miles to go, and Stormkrigeren was well aware that she was running out of time with Stage II hypothermia starting to set in.

It wasn’t an issue - or at least, it shouldn’t have been an issue.

Almost to the day she had been found, it had been common knowledge among her caretakers that Stormkrigeren was a hardy little thing and much stronger than any human child. She never cried when she was hurt, did not flinch away from needles or machines during medical exams, and hardly seemed to notice when she got a cut, burn, or bruise during her training with Mr. Wilson. Stormkrigeren simply ignored the pain, and would carry on as she always did without ever allowing herself to be hindered.

But now with the clear symptoms of Stage II hypothermia - drowsiness, loss of fine motor skills, decreased heart rate, lack of shivering - making themselves apparent, Stormkrigeren knew that she would need to start addressing the issue soon. There was still at least another four miles to the nearest form of shelter, (a roadside gas station, of all things) so for now she kept herself busy alternating between vigorously rubbing her arms through the fabric of her sweater, stretching her fingers and toes to keep the blood moving, and stomping her feet on the icy asphalt as she jogged farther north. There was, of course, the chance that the hard movements plus a slow heart rate could cause her to go into cardiac arrest (which was why many doctors suggested against rubbing or massaging a hypothermic person to warm them up), but Stormkrigeren had already been in what was likely an unhealthy number of situations that could have lead to a heart attack even at her young age and it’d never happened back then, so she doubted that it would happen now.

The storm hadn’t been that bad when she’d set out that evening - fuck, it hadn’t even been a storm then, just a light drizzle that looked as if it would let up soon. Sixteen miles in that would’ve been a breeze, and the distance was nothing compared to some of the sprints Stormkrigeren had done during her training. The weather had turned nasty less than an hour later, but that was not to say that she allowed herself to slow down in her steady jog north, even when the asphalt of the highway she was running beside began to turn dangerously icy. Stormkrigeren ignored the hazardous conditions and maintained her pace, keeping to the shoulder to avoid any drivers that were stupid enough to be out in a storm like this after the sun had set.

Do not stop - that was the rule. Do not rest until the task is complete.

By her estimations, Stormkrigeren still had another two miles to go until she could rest.

The rain vehemently refused to let up, pelting her from all sides and soaking her to the skin while covering everything in a sheet of thin, icy frost. It might have been pretty if not for two very important reasons: (a), it was already quite dark out and even with her keen eyesight, Stormkrigeren could hardly see shit, and (b), it was too effing cold to be pretty. So Stormkrigeren dutifully ignored whatever sights might have been visible and kept running at her slightly-unsteady pace, refusing to acknowledge that she was definitely starting to lose her coordination, evidenced by every time she stumbled on the frozen asphalt.

Do not stop.

Do not rest.

Stormkrigeren had stopped feeling cold a few miles back, her feet like bricks inside her boots, but still she did not stop. Keeping moving, don’t stop, don’t rest-

The gas station seemed to appear very suddenly - one minute, she was still in the dark rainstorm in the middle of nowhere, and the next she was stamping her feet on the ground beneath a sign boasting of low diesel prices bordering the tiny parking lot. Two very contrasting thoughts swept through her head at the sight of the low building, simultaneously setting her on edge and almost dropping her guard in relief. On one hand, here was someplace where she could warm up and rest and prepare for the next leg of her escape in relative safety - but the other side of the coin was her fugitive instinct screaming danger at the sight of a gas station. Places like this had cameras, and the last thing Stormkrigeren wanted was for someone to have proof of her existence.

Then again, places like this were warm and Stormkrigeren’s fear of being recognized was just barely outweighed by her fear of significant frostbite. It was late, she was tired, she was hungry, she was cold, and she had just run nearly twenty miles in a storm bordering on sleet - in short, she didn’t have the mental capacity to be too worried about anything. With that makeshift courage bolstering her up, Stormkrigeren crossed the small parking lot and entered the convenience store beside the pumps.

One of the first things she noted (besides, of course, the location of the four cameras that could possibly catch a glimpse of her face) was a small coffee shop near the back - one of those little ones that was just a counter with a barista behind it and no chairs or tables in sight. But, Stormkrigeren also noted that it did have hot, black coffee fresh from the pot.

She made her way across the virtually empty convenience store, keeping her face out of sight beneath her cap from the nearby cameras, employees, and a balding customer currently browsing a nearby aisle containing medicine, sports magazines, and juice concentrate. The barista noticed her the moment Stormkrigeren looked remotely interested in the coffee shop, and immediately perked up as she approached, “Hi! What can I get you?”

“Canni-”

Stormkrigeren stopped herself mid-sentence, recognizing that she was slurring a bit - that wasn’t a good sign, maybe the hypothermia had affected her mind more than she had thought. She needed to be fully awake and alert, and the damn cold wasn’t helping much.

“Can. I. Please. Get. A. Large. Black. Coffee. As. Hot. As. You. Can. Make. It,” she tried again, forcing herself to pause between each word and say her piece slowly and deliberately so that she didn’t muddle it again. The barista shot her an odd look but didn’t push the matter and started calculating the total at the cash register.

“Alright, that’s one large black coffee to go. Your total is two-ninety-nine, ma’am.”

Stormkrigeren proceeded to pull out the exact amount in loose change collected in the front pocket of her backpack while the basista bustled about finding a cup and filling with steaming dark brew straight from the pot. She secretly hated coffee with a passion - it was bitter and had always brought up bad memories ever since she’d turned thirteen, but it was the quickest way to raise her internal temperature which was her highest priority at the moment. Accepting the hot cup, she paid for her drink and thanked the barista before promptly downing half its contents without so much as scalding her tongue. Stormkrigeren had a brief coughing fit afterwards but her insides felt all the warmer for it, so that could only be a good thing.

She proceeded to absently wander around the gas station, occasionally taking slow swigs from her coffee and mostly looking out for something to replace her thoroughly soaked clothes - there was a pair of clean jeans in her backpack which were probably only a little bit damp, though her pullover would definitely need to be replaced for something both dry and waterproof. Doing all of her shopping out of local Walgreens and gas station convenience stores probably wasn’t the cheapest or the easiest way to live on the run, though Stormkrigeren made it work simply because while gas stations were rife with cameras, customers were significantly less likely to be identified by the employees compared to someplace that had greeters like Walmart or Costco. Admittedly, gas stations often didn’t sell clothes (mostly because very few customers came in looking for anything more than a sandwich), but Stormkrigeren was in luck as this one had a few sweatshirts emblazoned with sights from a local tourist attraction. It would have to do.

After grabbing a few other necessities - including a hothands packet, a box of tampons, and six microwavable breakfast burritos - she made her way to the cashier with her total already calculated in her head. The man scanned the purchases and confirmed her math while Stormkrigeren counted out a few ten-dollar bills, made the exchange, and did her best to look like she wasn’t shivering violently throughout the whole interaction. Fuck, she needed to sit down. But even if it was warmer than the outdoors, the convenience store was in no way safe - too many cameras around. Except, Stormkrigeren reminded herself, in the bathrooms.

She scooped up her purchases and thanked the cashier before making her way to the little girls room on the other side of the store, shoving open the heavy door with her shoulder to discover that luck was with her and the place was empty. Not only that, but there was a heating vent embedded in the wall relatively close to the tiled floor. Stormkrigeren nearly collapsed in relief when she saw it and wasted no time in sitting down with her back against it while she stripped out of her still-dripping pullover and long-sleeved tee beneath. With her cold and trembling hands, it took her longer than she would have liked to put on the new, dry shirt and yank her damp boots and socks off her aching feet, but once she did, it was bliss.

She didn’t care that she had close to no idea where she was or where she was heading or what she was going to do next, that someone could walk in at any moment, that the cramped space reeked of toilet cleaner and the odd papery smell she had come to associate with public bathrooms - all that mattered was that she was out of the cold. Stormkrigeren slowly allowed her mind to temporarily let go of the razor-sharp focus that kept her alive as she pulled on a dry pair of socks, wrapped her travel blanket around her shoulders, and snapped the hothands packet to activate it. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to relax just the tiniest amount.