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Raineship / Transawesome / Raine Scott / Michael Scott/Rainydazer - Zoe Quinn fanboy/Otherkin/E-beggar/Transtrender/Neckbeard Fucker

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Raine is a transtrender neckbeard fucking e-beggar that the amazing @Hellfire found when researching Zoe Quinn. Kudos to @Hellfire this guy is a mess.

Interested in fucking Raine? You probably won't fit his high standards unless you're Striker Wolf.

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Bask in that after-fuck glow

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Sailor Moon is some real shit to Raine. Raine missed out on Sailor Moon as a kid because his parents tried to prevent him from becoming a faggot, but he has determination.

I wish I could say I grew up watching Sailor Moon, however that wasn’t the case. I was raised in a way that to embrace anything feminine was inherently negative for me as a boy. It wasn’t until I got older, roughly 16 years old that I really went back to watch it. The original series was interesting, and carried with it a sense of universal justice within the plots. When I went to watch it, I ended up doing so by watching the Japanese version with subtitles. There was a lot of “filler” also, though oddly it never seemed to bug me.
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Here he is totally passing as a sailor girl in the most feminine way possible.

http://transawesome.com/sailor-moon-reminds-me-of-my-feminine-potential/
http://archive.md/eu1H6
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http://transawesome.com/sailor-mercury-punk-look/
http://archive.md/8e3DW

Gender identity seems to be a sore spot with Raine. What confuses me about his objections to being misgendered is that it is not entirely clear what gender he is, or even how he identifies. Gender is a paradox with this guy, and as complex as he makes it, he becomes frustrated when people question his gender. He literally has shouted down people for telling him that he "looks really fucking gay", when he really does look really fucking gay. He wants unwavering support and for no one to question why he looks like a faggot viking.

Raine also spergs up a mighty storm about what he feels gender is, tracing his gender issues back to bein bullied at naptime when he was a child.

I was picked on during nap time, picked on during class time, and in fact I am sure my teacher didn’t like me. Mostly because everyone was trying to toughen me up. To make me into a real “boy”, that the bullying and the picking on would be relevant later because I’ll be able to “handle” myself. I would be strong enough to handle the world, starting in kindergarten apparently. After all, a young child should be fully prepared to handle the world at the age of five, right? After all, my mother claims I never told her how bad the bullying was, but I remember trying. However, when the adults at the school tell her one story, why would she listen to her son? I guess my gender identity is a long list of not listening, and vague hints at who I am without every getting a word in edge wise.
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Gender is essentially something tied to problems he had fitting in with his mom, mates, and is basically a way to re-create himself because he is a whiny cunt as a male.

I learned how to run away, my mother says it’s still a problem. Me running from tough situations, like the time the kids trapped me against a wall and threw rocks and branches at me. They knew I wouldn’t do anything back, but like my uncle said, it toughened me up. He also told me to fight back, and be a man. So one day I fought back, I took out one of the tough kids by choking him unconscious. Then I ran, because I was so ashamed of the fact I fought someone. I used violence to solve a problem. My mother had me talk with the kids parents, and I got in trouble. I get in trouble for being picked on for two years and being tired of it.
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https://www.facebook.com/notes/raine-scott/my-gender-paper/10151761564806073
http://archive.md/u4TyF
My Gender Paper
Foreword : I am really proud of this essay I did this year on my gender identity.



to talk about it. I was dealing with how I was to “girly”, to “quiet”, to everything a boy wasn’t my whole life. From family, from church and even from teachers they all had something to comment on my actions.


Most of my gender issues have been relevant since I was as young as five years old. When I was young, and up until my first year of high school, I was very quiet, and very shy. I was also a bit more emotionally sensitive than others, so it made me an easy target for all kinds of bullying. In fact, I am almost one hundred percent positive that I am one of the only children to have been picked on by an entire kindergarten class. I was picked on during nap time, picked on during class time, and in fact I am sure my teacher didn’t like me. Mostly because everyone was trying to toughen me up. To make me into a real “boy”, that the bullying and the picking on would be relevant later because I’ll be able to “handle” myself. I would be strong enough to handle the world, starting in kindergarten apparently. After all, a young child should be fully prepared to handle the world at the age of five, right? After all, my mother claims I never told her how bad the bullying was, but I remember trying. However, when the adults at the school tell her one story, why would she listen to her son? I guess my gender identity is a long list of not listening, and vague hints at who I am without every getting a word in edge wise.



I guess that’s the best place to start, how do you start to talk about something like a gender identity? The most relevant is going to be my family. My family, during this discuss will consist of my mother, my grandparents, my uncle, and my male cousin Richard. I wish I could say I feel my gender was defined by my mother. However, I don’t think it was. Up until I was about ten, I don’t really recall her being too important to my gender identity or at least too important to my early life. That’s not to say she wasn’t, it was just I only remember her being around for things that really didn’t shape my gender. I have talked with her about it since, and she always just says she felt I needed a man in my life. She also worked weird hours at her job, and being a single mother it was kind of restricting for her in that regard.

However, I did hang out with my cousin Richard a lot. I always considered him a sibling, and in some ways I still do. We haven’t spoken for more than a minute in almost ten years now. I don’t think he ever wanted to be weighed down by me, I was quiet and shy. He was out going and brave. I was “his puppy”, I would follow him around. I just attach to people oddly I guess. I remember talking with his dad about it, my uncle, and he would tell that. He would also say that it is okay for me to be meek, but maybe I should try to play football more. I shouldn’t cry, and I should man up. So I would, I would play the sports, or at least try, sometimes they wouldn’t let me. So I would watch. Then him, and his friends would let me play, and I would be the “it”. The “it” would be anything, the one who held the wall well they all tried to punch me, or the “it” who was the one to tackle. To see if we can make “it” cry, or...

I learned how to run away, my mother says it’s still a problem. Me running from tough situations, like the time the kids trapped me against a wall and threw rocks and branches at me. They knew I wouldn’t do anything back, but like my uncle said, it toughened me up. He also told me to fight back, and be a man. So one day I fought back, I took out one of the tough kids by choking him unconscious. Then I ran, because I was so ashamed of the fact I fought someone. I used violence to solve a problem. My mother had me talk with the kids parents, and I got in trouble. I get in trouble for being picked on for two years and being tired of it. To be fair, I never had friends except them really until I was eight. They also had days where they were nice, and wouldn’t be mean to me. They would let me follow along, and then eventually I learned how to be alone. I found ways to be alone, because being a man was hard on a eight year old.



Around the age of seven, my mother decided to follow my uncle’s advice to go to church. It was a southern Baptist church; you know the really friendly kind of church that is all about happiness and kindness? Well… kind of. It was also mostly about making me a man, and making me ashamed of me. It was also mostly about looks, and how going to church on Sunday validates having their fifteen year old son throw a football at my head, because I cry easily and it’s funny. However, it was okay because I would be told to toughen up, and that I need to be a man. I spent most of my church years, until I was about twelve or thirteen being kind of the odd one. I was still a bit quiet, but I had begun to force myself to be more outgoing. However, I wasn’t really good at being social, in a lot of ways I wonder if that is still true. My lack of major interaction that involved actually interacting was greatly limited until I had my first friend around eight. Even then I would move away, and lose those friends or be the fringe friend. The awkward friend who no one would say no to hanging out with, but no one really wanted to go out of their way to hang out.



This reflected in church greatly up until the point I would eventually leave the faith at the age of thirteen. My biggest flaw was being a boy who didn’t like sports, so I would lose a lot of the team games from the start. I would be the one, that if I wanted to play I had to be the “queer” in smear the queer. Which if you didn’t know what that game was; it’s a game where one person has the ball, while everyone else has to try to hit that person as hard as possible to get the ball. Still, my mother would have me try to hang out with other kids, and their fathers because the church had convinced her that I needed a “man” in my life. To help me, toughen up again, and to stop being so “sensitive”. My mother would also tell me that she used to be sensitive, and that she grew out of it. That I would grow out of it, because I had to as a boy. In the church, I was considered weird and not liked by many. The adults would invite me along to the boy weekends, and even at church camp I was kind of left out. I never like sports, and I still only like them because I’m competitive, not because I enjoy them. I never was like the other “boys” I’d much rather have sit around, and think about the universe, and god.



I was more into nature, and the spirits around me, and the energy around me then I was with socializing. I was considered to different and to religious to be a part of the church. So I would stop, I wouldn’t tell anyone I read the bible, I would pretend I didn’t know. Then I would get picked on for not knowing, I would get picked on for knowing. No matter what I did, I was the one who wasn’t enough of a boy to be a part of anything. I wasn’t tough enough, mean enough, or strong enough to be the “boy”. So I was left out, because I didn’t like the same things everyone else did. In the faith, it was always about what you were doing wrong, that if you weren’t being perfect you were doing something wrong.



Just like in school, I was always awkward; my mother said I was always just a bit to mature for everything. I agree with that on the extent that when you realize everyone dislikes you, you kind of just have to be. However, I was also greatly immature in how to respond to people and social situations. Perhaps I was just to awkward for everything until after high school, which I think was exasperated by the fact I was home schooled for seventh and eighth grade. Mostly because the bullying in middle school became so bad, that I was threatened to be killed. Mostly because I was to “girly” and “too weird.” I was picked on pretty bad, which is something to this day I still don’t understand fully. I was beat up in my Spanish class when the substitute refused to do anything, because she couldn’t see them punching me, kicking me, and spitting on me. Because I was “gay”, a word I didn’t even fully understand or realize held so much behind it until high school.



I remember in the first month or so of high school, before I had any friends. I sat with someone who I had gone to church with prior to school on the bus. I remember crying to her because I liked boys, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Then I just ripped the band aid off and came out as gay across the board. I would then spend most of high school, being quite loud and “very gay”. It wasn’t until I was around fifteen that I started to question my gender and reflect upon my gender. I looked into what it entailed, and how to go about it on a very superficial level. One night, I decided to talk to my mother about it, because she was so supportive of me being gay. It was so uncomfortable to hear her response that, I was gay wasn’t that enough? That she drew the line at me being gay, because she would have to hide it from her parents, my grandparents. I still don’t talk to them about anything concerning my gender, or sexuality. It’s not something I’m “allowed” to talk about with them, because they’ll talk to everyone about it. So I had to keep myself a secret from everyone, and so I learned to keep myself a secret from myself. I started to bully any other boy who was in anyway slightly feminine, I remember giving this one kid such a hard time in high school because he shaved his body hair, and painted his fingernails. I was an actively anti-feminine, as a gay person. I decided that because I couldn’t be feminine without it being deemed bad, no one else could. If at that moment, the line in the sand was drawn, and I began to deny myself and hate so much.

My gender identity isn’t simple, or easy for me to deal with. Mostly, because I stopped dealing, with everything emotional that would de-“man” me. I needed to have psychogenic seizures, seizures that were caused with my minds inability to cope with outside stressors. Some so severe I almost died, and spend months of my life in and out of the hospital. I had issues with dealing with my emotions, so much so I was dealing with emotional detachment. I would feel emotions but never register them; I would react in extremes that made no sense to anyone. I would just go through the “emotions”, and then I would have a “reaction” emotion. Dealing with my own emotions was too much. Dealing with the traumas of being a child was just too much, that I carried that burden with me until “adulthood.”



It was in counseling to deal with the emotional detachment, and anxieties, and social phobias that I began to reshape my identity. I faced the fact I was molested in day care as a child. I remember when my mother saw the bruises that the molester left on my body and got her fired. I was very young, around four or five years old, but they say a child who faces a trauma never forgets. We never forget to hide it, that’s for sure. My counseling once questioned me, if that incident reflected on why I began to hide more and more as I got older. I hid how bad the bullying would be, and hid how bad the pain got to be. I’m not sure there is an easy answer to that; I’m not sure why I remember hearing “little boys don’t get molested by women.” I was a child who felt trapped on an island, and never learned to leave. So I just drifted further from it all, and forgot how far away I was.



My gender identity is just now something I can take a hold of for myself. I was raised to be tough, so I took away my fears and sensitivities to pain. I would latter gain sensitivities to noise, sounds, and lights. I was raised to be a “man” who could “stand up” for himself, so I was a bully and I was mean. I’m still mean, because I don’t know how to not be mean, when you get so used to being something how do you just “switch” it off? I wish every day, I could become the child I used to be. Perhaps then I wouldn’t feel so forced, so obligated, so… loud. I can’t be that child anymore, the fractures are too great. I’m also not sure if that child would be relevant to whom I am. Who I am isn’t a boy anymore, it’s a female. A strong woman, who just happens to be male sexed. A strong woman with whom my mother is now proud of, someone whom she never meant to make feel unaccepted. I am an accumulated person full of projected beliefs, bullying, and misunderstanding. However, I have adapted those into making me the person I am today, in healthy ways. My gender identity, isn’t complicated anymore, I am a two-spirit bi-gendered individual who exists as a bridge. A bridge between my co-existing genders, and spiritual path, even if my gender is a bit complicated it is my own
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This guy seems to like playing the victim as well. In this post on the NC bathroom bill he explains that someone yelled "gross" when he left the bathroom before, and that he was called a fag for wearing heels in public. He didn't elaborate on whether the bathroom was a glory hole or not. He also recently came out as trans, however judging by this pic I think they knew at least 116 weeks ago.

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He even set up a YouCaring to solicit money so he could take care of his mom instead of work because he lost his job and then tied it to his mom having a broke leg. He also tied in some ableism by mixing in te difficulties of working with fibomyalgia.

Raine's mom has since regained consciousness, but she's in a rehab facility waiting on her next surgery. Raine is struggling to get their footing and figure out a path forward. Bills pile up quickly and with both family members not working for the foreseeable future, things can go downhill fast. Though Raine is helping pursue workman's comp for their mom, it's uncertain when funds or support will actually get to them. Your help will also give Raine time to manage their existing health conditions, celiac disease and fibromyalgia. The support will also allow them time to find work accepting of Raine's nonbinary identity and medical concerns. Funds will also allow Raine enough time to address their mom's health care as she is looking at 5-6 months before she has mobility to do much of anything. Funds will also allow them the opportunity to set up their home to allow her to move out of a rehab facility. Raine has also been looking at moving her into a elder based apartment complex to better support her long term (this was originally the plan prior to any of this happening - an apartment with appropriate support will help with concerns like shoveling snow in winter, etc).
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And he keeps begging...

http://archive.md/ujb9e
Her workers comp has started to come in, but 300 dollars a week isn't enough to cover everything. I'm still struggling to find work, though I've applied to a lot of places. My grandparents are helping to repair some of the more costly issues, such as replacing our screen door and fixing the flooring by our door that got damaged due to a bad storm. I appreciate all the amazing support we've gotten. I've also been able to visit and fix my relationship with my grandparents in this time due to not being so stressed. You also gave me to the comfort to graduate on time and so much more! Shares are appreciated! Lots of love and thanks, so much gratitude to everyone!
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And begging...

http://archive.md/G7RlU
Hey all,
I'm still applying to jobs. I just found out I didn't get one because someone had more customer service experience than me. I have tens years but okay.
My mother had a doctor's appointment recently. She has 6 more weeks no walking. She's talked with disability and SSI, and it looks like she won't be getting it until October, and will only get around 200 a month.
I know a lot have helped already, and I appreciate any shares.
Thank you.

We've had to pay around 300/400 towards accessibility things that we won't be reimbursed for, for awhile it seems. Not to mention prior costs, and just the month to month things. Thank you all again.
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Check how he starts the YouCaring
https://www.youcaring.com/raine-ship-559508
http://archive.md/pU7ro

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For all the whining he does about being out of work, his linkedin seems to indicate he has had consistent employment and his resume corroborates this, however some dates seem to be different on the two. Probably lying.

https://www.linkedin.com/in/rainescott

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But yet he is worried about looking like a "raging tranny". I think he needs to shave his beard before he even looks like a tranny tbh.

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Facebook - http://archive.md/DKGbF
Instagram - http://archive.md/9FJ8h
Linkedin - http://archive.md/rgvwr
YouCaring - http://archive.md/pU7ro
 

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AnOminous

AnOminous

each malted milk ball might be their last
True & Honest Fan
Retired Staff
kiwifarms.net
I like how assholes like this say they "don't care" what people think of their fucked up gender and dressing like a Goodwill exploded onto them, and then they immediately start chimping out if you "misgender" them.
 
Ol' Slag

Ol' Slag

Pouring a fourty for the shorties!
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
I was waiting for this thread. As always, good work @yawning sneasel. After this weekend, I will try to help and dig up some juicy tidbits on this exceptional individual.

Also, what the fuck are up with these trannies with full fucking beards now? Do they not give a shit about passing?
 
女鬼

女鬼

人就是鬼、鬼就是人。
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
I move how he calls himself no less than a "thaumaturge", probably in a bid to make himself sound cultured... then manages to spell it wrong throughout his CV.

image.jpg


Trying to use complicated words when you don't understand them makes you look stupid.
Misspelling said words when the right spelling is in the very definition you just copypasted makes you a look like a fucking retard.

yawning sneasel said:
Btw, he's a furry.
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What a surprise.
 
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