social justice barbarian
Never met a nazi they wouldn't punch.
Never met a cop they wouldn't call a nazi.
Treats the soft animal of their body like a lance
to the heart of a tyrant.
Their anger is a gift from God–
it transubstantiates.
social justice necromancer
Reads her history.
Says their names.
Goes through cemeteries
leaving flowers, grave-borrowing tactics.
Coaxes the spirits from their beds
to let them dance; we realize
we have always been beautiful.
social justice rogue
Unplucks the landlord's tapestries at night.
She covers her face, she code-names,
wipes the prints from her hand
after shaking. She's a lot.
A blade in the dark that daylight can't soften.
She hums a mantra called mission;
it's all the warning you'll get.
social justice bard
Makes his sincerity a lute
and plucks fingers raw upon it.
Has brass knuckles on the inside of his throat.
Knows what to say to soothe
the scared guy sleeping rough,
to make the officer laugh
instead of shove.
social justice druid
Gives you grace and space to grow.
Makes a weird balm to calm your hurts.
Turns into a panther once a day
dispensing courage;
turns into a dove once a day
dispensing peace. Serves the world
from the half-empty vessel
in their heart.
social justice warlock
Sold her soul to do DEI
for a Fortune 500 company.
Walks each day through thicketed razors,
carving footholds in a hill of glass.
The job takes its pint of blood so slowly,
it is possible to believe
she doesn't feel it.
social justice paladin
Always knows the words.
Is afraid of what will happen
if they forget them.
It's not an excuse, but it is sandpaper,
truths nailed into the shoebeds.
They're implacable
from the outside.
They can't believe I would love them
without their fury.
social justice cleric
The people tell her, "Your mouth
ruined our movement. You suffer in silence
all the time–what's one more?"
She believes in a love whose demands
cut friends and enemies alike.
She cleanses, sad surgeon.
She is martyred twice.
From the ground where her tears fall,
a perfect flower grows.
social justice warforged
Has a fuckin' truck!!!
He rolls up to mutual aid
and the people rejoice at his truck.
He is become a mover of things,
a Christ-bearer: mattresses and gasoline,
the girl who needs a ride across the state.
She says bless you, bless your truck,
and his heart swells.
He never knew he could be so needed.
social justice giant crab
Strength +1. Intelligence -5.
She is a crab. She has 13 hit points
and claws for hands–
but she can breathe water and air.
She knows what the surface looks like
from underneath. She carries wisdom
in her crab body that the arc of the universe
will always bend to rediscover.
Don't you get it?
That we all have gifts to give?
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