#after i came out as a lesbian that mechanism to convince myself of attraction to men became this
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endykelopaedia · 3 months ago
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omg, i thought i was the only person who felt that? like, when i picture a man i think i could be hypothetically attracted to, i only feel anything if i imagine him as a butch, and my mind sort of automatically does the switch if i try to imagine any real scenarios. even when i see guys i recognize as attractive irl, all i can think of is like why couldn't that be a handsome butch instead of a man 😭
omg yes its exactly like this for me too like yea this guy hes attractive but im always kinda disappointed he's just some guy & not a gorgeous butch. id much rather imagine gender non-conforming and genderqueer butches, who are so hot & handsome & perfect with some dude's aesthetic than the some dude himself. but i guess i keep trying to "find" that same attraction in men anyway? even though i know its just not the same.
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aloyxtilda · 2 years ago
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A Love Beyond Space & Time
CHAPTER 3: Brunch
Fan Fic: Aloy/Lis x Tilda (Romance, adventure, comedy, drama, space lesbian techno witch supreme.)
Author: GingerAnne aka @aloyxtilda
Chapter one is here. And Chapter two is here.
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“Lis...” The youthful Tilda happily spoke, smiling charmingly at her ex lover's clone. “Let's head over to the table. Shall we?”
“Tilda...” Aloy could barely release the name from her lips. She was still in awe that the woman she just buried a few weeks ago, was now alive! Tilda's beauty was striking. There was no denying it, no way to avoid it. The champions heart beat faster the more she stared at the stunning immortal.
The fashionista lead Aloy over to the round table at the top of the base. She pulled out a white chair for the huntress to take a seat. The brave Nora was a bit nervous to accept the offer. Could this woman be trusted even after what she tried to do? These thoughts ran through the redhead's mind. Caution was heavily advised.
“There we go.” Tilda smiled and took a seat beside Aloy. The Zenith then moved her hands about in an odd gesture. Suddenly, a specter came out of the doorway. This instantly startled the flame-haired girl.
“What the hell is this Tilda?” She quickly stood up in a panic, ready to draw her bow.
“Relax.” The data broker replied calmly and laughed. “It's here to serve us food and drink.” She stood up and tried to ease her strong, attractive yet startled guest.
Both the ladies sat back down but our hero still wasn't convinced this was a good idea. However, she played along, hoping to see if the answers she received would make sense or be nothing but lies. Something the ex spy was good at. Suddenly, A hidden compartment inside the robot opened up. A tray full of food and coffee extruded within the center of the mechanical beast.
“Ah, finally.” Tilda took the tray and placed it before them. “Here, enjoy.” She advised her brave hero to help herself while serving them both some coffee. The machine then quickly stormed off, allowing our champion to feel more at ease.
“You expect me to eat something that just came out of a robot's stomach?” The Nora asked.
“I assure you it's safe.” The blonde laughed.
Aloy took notice of Tilda's beautiful bright smile. She quickly turned her head away, struggling not to fall for her charm. But the moment she looked back, the blonde woman smirked and stared at her. She held her cup so elegantly it continued to make the huntress feel uncomfortably attracted. The Zenith made the hero question everything she thought she knew about herself. Her heart raced the more she gazed at those soft pink lips and golden short locks. Is this what Elizabet saw in her?
“Aloy?” The pale skinned art collector asked. “Are you alright?”
The huntress shook her head as if to wake up from a day dream.
“No!” Her voice rose. “I'm not! I'm confused as to how you're alive and now acting like nothing ever happened!”
“I can explain.”
“Then please do!” The fierce huntress replied in frustration. Her cheeks turned bright red. Aloy had trouble keeping calm, mostly due to Tilda's striking appearance. She then took a sip of the coffee to hide her emotions. However, it was so flavorful, it almost blew her anger away with a smile from it's pleasurable taste. It was the greatest thing she'd ever tasted.
“Is it good?” Tilda softly asked with a grin, taking notice of the girl blushing from the drink. “Coffee was Lis' favorite after all.”
“Tilda!” Aloy shouted, almost slamming the cup on the table. “Enough! Tell me everything or I'm leaving.”
“Ooo – so demanding.” The Zenith teased, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. “Very well.” She sighed and picked up her cup, looking away from the gallant Nora. “When you killed my old vessel, it released my consciousness into a cloned, more youthful copy of myself that I kept in cryo upon the ship. That's all.” The woman waved her left hand.
“That's all? No! Wait a minute! I thought the Zeniths failed digital consciousness. Isn't that what created Nemesis?” Aloy asked, confused.
“Correct.” She nodded. “But I had already studied and perfected transcending digital consciousness far before they worked on Nemesis. I just chose never to tell them how. Why would I? So I could have Gerard and Erik telling me what to do for all eternity? I think not!” Tilda took a sip of her coffee. “If they knew how to do this, then they would have become practically invincible.”
“So you kept it all to yourself.” Aloy replied.
“Precisely.”
“Where did you learn about all this?” The redhead asked.
“Well, far before the Odyssey took off, Far Zenith was a think tank, a secret organization for a select few. Exactly 77 members existed at the time. All anonymous of course.” Tilda took another sip of her coffee. She looked directly at the clone of Dr. Elizabet Sobeck sitting before her. “It was a futurist consortium.” She smiled, gesturing with her hands as she spread them wide in the air. “You see, before Ozvald Dalgaard, there was the original founder of Far Zenith and his name was Peter Tshivhumbe.”
“What was so special about him?” Aloy asked with a mouth full of food. Her hunger came back again with a vengeance. The battle with the blonde warrior left her famished. The data broker watched her, trying hard not to react to how cute the Nora looked eating the sandwich she had served.
“He was fascinated by the idea of transcending consciousness to any body. Machine or organic. He was a philanthropist, investor and futurist and known for funding experiments in digitizing human consciousness at the Center of Transhuman Studies. He had a vision for a better humanity. Where there was hope for us all. It was easy to be inspired by his speeches. It made you think anything was possible for us. Including true immortality and reaching the stars.”
“And how does any of this involve you?”
“I was one of those anonymous members. As I mentioned before, they sought out my expertise and welcomed me into their ranks.” She took a small bite of scone and looked down.
“But why did you accept the invitation? You knew what kind of people they were. Why be part of this elite organization?” Aloy's temper rose.
“Like I said, it was simply just a think tank at the time. It captivated me.”
“Why?” The redhead forcefully asked.
“Because I was also fascinated by what Peter talked about.” Tilda's emotions heightened. She had trouble looking Aloy in the eye. “I was curious about his vision of immortality, transcending the digital mind to any body you wanted. The idea that no one ever had to die again!” Her tone rose as she held back a sadness that swelled in her heart. “Then the idea of reviving the Odyssey and traveling to the stars, allured me.”
“Don't you think that's selfish?” The Nora questioned, criticizing the thought.
“No.” The Zenith looked directly at Aloy. Her gaze and tone more serious than before. “It was not just about living forever or traveling to other planets but advancing humanity. Taking us to the next step in evolution! To become the better versions of ourselves. And leave behind primitive behavior, becoming a wiser, faster and stronger human being. At least, that is what Peter sought after. ”
“Pff...human.” Aloy whispered the repeated word to herself followed by a long sigh. She could tell Tilda was getting upset.
“Obviously, I never thought at the time leading up to the Faro Plague that Far Zenith planned to take the elite and leave everyone else behind.” Tilda looked down. “It became a matter of survival instead of what it used to be.”
“This is a lot to take in.” The huntress spoke softer. But in the back of her mind, she knew not to fully trust every word the ex spy spoke. Deciphering which parts were truth or lies, was challenging. “So what ever happened to Peter? Did he die on Sirius?”
“No.” The immortal spoke calmly once more. "Peter died far before the Faro Plague. At least, that is what most people believed.”
“And you?”
“To be honest, not at all.” The art collector replied. “I believe he studied on himself, figured it out and is still alive today.”
“How are you so sure?” Aloy wondered, struggling to look into Tilda's bewitching eyes.
“Because after Peter's death, I hacked The Center for Transhuman Studies.” The data broker replied, refilling her cup. “I found loads of information on possible successful transfers of consciousness into machines!” She continued. “Then one tasty bit that mentioned an organic transfer experiment that lead to a success. However, a lot of that data was erased. So finding out who it belonged to was unattainable. But the dates all matched up to Peter's death. Coincidence? I think not.”
“Well, that's all very interesting. I assume you stole the information on how to perform this elaborate achievement?”
“Of course I did.” Tilda grinned, feeling very proud and pleased with her skills. “I was able to then perfect the experiment over the past thousand years. Manipulating the consciousness, adding special attributes and performances.” She paused, slightly making visual contact with her ex lover's clone.
Tilda struggled not to get distracted by the Nora's stunning green eyes. Her flushed cheeks covered in cute little freckles or her gorgeous long, flame colored hair that rested over her shoulders. It took every nerve in her body not to move closer to her – touch her. The fashionista fantasized of all the things she hoped to do. She was once again looking into the face of her truest love. Her heart felt like it could've burst from her chest at any moment.
“Tilda?” Aloy interrupted the Zenith's gaze which studied the girl's features.
“Sorry, where was I? Ah, yes.” She continued. “Transcending the mind allowed me to be the better version of myself. If you haven't noticed, I am able to do far more than I could than in my older body. I also altered the DNA sequence on my replicated self. Something else that was studied before the Faro Plague. I'm now much stronger and faster than ever before. My old vessel was simply in it's caterpillar form, awaiting to transform into a butterfly.” More hand gestures followed, expressing the metaphor.
Aloy leaned back in her chair, studying the elegant woman before her. “That explains your new skills I've witnessed.”
“Mm...yes. Do you like them?” Tilda asked with a smirk.
“No...” Aloy replied firmly.
“Rude.” The art obsessed Zenith laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. “Is that the thanks I get for saving your life for – oh I don't know, the tenth time?”
Aloy was not amused. Her brow lowered. “I never needed you to save me, Tilda!”
“Hm...tell that to the Apex Thunderjaw who almost took your life. Oh! And that Snapmaw who nearly snapped off your head or perhaps the-”
“Enough!” The fiery redhead interrupted.
Tilda's eyes widened as she lifted her right eyebrow.
“I don't need your help!” Aloy slammed her fist on the table. The stubborn huntress refused to thank the blonde haired warrior. Her emotions elevated the more she looked at the striking beauty before her. Tilda's lips teased her thoughts as she noticed a grin formed over Aloy's heated behavior.
“You're welcome, my love.” The immortal woman smiled, sipping her coffee.
Aloy rolled her eyes, sighed and looked away. The blood in her body finally began to cool. This woman would be the death of her. She struggled to make eye contact.
“So what now, Tilda?” The Nora asked. “Going to try and kidnap me again?”
“Not at all.” She shook her head in response. “I never meant to do any such thing.”
“Don't play with me.” The huntress sternly replied. “Did you forget or-”
“It was an act to get you to kill me.”
“I'm sorry, what now?”
“I never had it in me to do it myself.” The Zenith looked down at her hands on the table. “I saw what you were capable of from your focus. Even with Specter Prime, I never had a chance of defeating you. I knew you'd finish the job, quickly.”
“That's insane. You're insane.” Aloy replied with a short laugh.
“Is it?”
“Yes!” She continued. “Why not just ask me to kill you? Why the performance and all the lies?”
“If I had asked you to do that, would you have?”
The Nora turned her head to the side, looking away from the immortal.
“Thought so.” Tilda responded. “I knew you'd never go with me. And even if I did succeed, it wouldn't have lasted long. You would've just killed me anyway on my ship and then crashed it back to Earth. No?”
The flame-haired girl stayed quiet.
For a moment there was nothing but silence between them. The Nora didn't know if she could fully believe Tilda's words about not wanting to kidnap her. It felt like she was trying to excuse her own actions. But what if it was true? What if she really did want to help all along and this was her way of doing it? Tilda soon broke the silence.
“So... when do we leave for your base?” The blonde woman asked with a big grin full of excitement.
“Um – there is no we in that sentence.” Aloy replied sharply.
“You still don't trust me after all I've done?”
“I'd be stupid to trust you, Tilda.” The champion firmly informed.
“I protected you.” The immortal grew upset. “That's all I wanted to do! I've saved your life multiple times and even gave up my own body to become something better, stronger – for you. So I can protect you even more than before! Can't you see I'm trying to help you? Lis, I-”
“No!” Aloy stood up and walked away from the table. “That's enough! I don't need your help. In fact I never asked for it. That's what you don't understand." The hero fumed. "I'm not Elizabet and I never can be her for you!” The huntress looked away, placing her hands on her hips. Then continued. “She's gone Tilda! And it's about time you accept that.” The Nora turned and began making her way to the exit.
“You're wrong!” The Zenith shouted out to her. “She's still alive!”
“You're delusional!” Aloy yelled back, making her way to the stairs.
“Aloy wait!” Tilda called out. “Lis never died. She's you! Can't you see? You and I are the same now.”
Our champion paused. She made her way back over to face the blonde woman. Her temper rose as she raised her finger at the beautiful immortal's face. Both of them standing only a few feet from each other.
“She's dead, Tilda." She glared. "And you and I are nothing alike.”
“Aloy,” The data broker calmly spoke. “Gaia didn't just make some basic clone. I saw it the minute I found your focus. Lis created you so she herself would return in case she was needed. Her consciousness lives in you. You are Dr. Elizabet Sobeck. My Lis reborn.”
“That– That's absolutely insane.” The Nora looked confused.
“Is it?” The Zenith continued. “Lis worked along-side Far Zenith for a long time. She was heavily focused on AI before. The idea of Artificial Intelligence back then was questionable. It focused on studying consciousness itself. AI is just the digital study of mimicking human conciousness. You don't think she may have been fascinated by Peter's experiments too? If we could transcend consciousness into a machine, we could not just live forever but create AI far more advanced than anything we are.”
“Stop it!” Aloy's head began to hurt. Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Elizabet would never-”
“She uploaded her consciousness into you.” Tilda quickly interrupted. “She also altered your DNA sequence. Making you, stronger, faster, braver than she ever was.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You ever wonder why you're able to do the incredible things you do, Aloy?” The blonde woman asked. “You're capable of taking down any machine, facing fears most could only dream of. You're practically a God among the people. You are not just Lis, you are the perfected version of her. The butterfly to her caterpillar.”
Aloy let out a long sigh and shook her head. “I don't believe you.”
“It doesn't matter if you choose to or not.” The ex spy replied. “You are Dr. Elizabet Sobeck and so much more. She created you as a fail safe. The need for her to return if everything didn't work out to plan.” Tilda looked directly at her heated guest. “You are her. If anyone would know between an original or a copy, it's me.”
“Where' done here.” The huntress quickly stormed away towards the exit. “Don't follow me! I want nothing to do with you!”
“Aloy please!” The Zenith begged. “I can help. I may know how to stop Nemesis!”
“I'll find another way.” The Nora shouted. “Goodbye Tilda.”
Author's Notes: I hope you all enjoyed this one. A lot that Tilda mentions about the Far Zenith lore is all based off data points across both games. I theorized she knew how to transcend consciousness way before the dumb Zeniths took off due to Peter's early experiments from the early stages of Far Zenith. The game also hints that Aloy herself may actually be Elizabet with her own consciousness. Which Tilda points out at the end of Horizon Forbidden West. When she says to her "You are not just some inferior copy, but Elizabet herself standing before me once again." Tilda seems very convinced and I just doubt she is some delusional love sick puppy. Tilda is very smart. She knows something that we don't. And I think that is what the developers were trying to show. If Tilda transcended her consciousness, then it's possible Lis did too. Both of them still alive, a thousand years later to reunite their love and save the world. This time, Tilda being brave enough to stay behind and help. Becoming Aloy's protector to fight with her. To stay by her side when the flood comes.
Thank you for reading. Your comments mean a lot to me and every retweet means the world. It keeps me writing more. So appreciated. 🙏🌹
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sagestupidity · 3 years ago
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Upcoming long-ass post ahead. Warning you now. It goes deep and it is long. There is a lot of personal information, but I wanted to get it out there for pride month. There is a tl;dr at the end. If tumblr mobile allowed for a page break like the old days, I'd use it now
Tw: homophobia, religious bigotry, sexuality, biphobia
I remember the first time I heard about homosexuality. I was in 2nd or 3rd grade, at daycare, in a tree house with 2 other kids my age. They had just learned a new word and were throwing it around every other sentence that day. Lesbian. "What, are you a lesbian?", "so and so is a lesbian hahaha" "only a lesbian would say something like that". I had no idea what this word meant, I was a sheltered 8 or 9 year old. These daycare friends explained what it meant. "It's when girls like other girls, like boyfriend and girlfriend, but they're both girls". For a half second, my world was rocked. I had no idea that was something someone could do. That was a option? 🎆. Before I could even think about it further, the next sentence came out of their mouth "that's so gross, right?". Well shit, they were explaining it to me, they must have been the expert. "Yeah, that's so gross". I couldn't possibly be a lesbian, I'm not gross, I'm Megan, I like bubble baths and art and fairytale stories of princes and princesses. I'm not gross, and therefore definitely not a lesbian.
When I got a bit older about ages 10-12, my parent's signed me up for a week of vacation Bible school out in Pine Idaho every summer. For most of those summers, I went with my mom's boss's granddaughter who was about my age. Her name was Alex. She was super cool and a nice friend. Very much a typical tom boy. Had a bionicle collection, wore a lot of sporty clothes, even got some of her clothes from the boy section. I was sooo jealous of how cool Alex was. But whenever I was shopping with my mom, and tried to pick out less feminine items, I'd get lectured "that's for boys Megan, you can't have that, it's weird that you like this, Megan". no matter how much I liked it, how much I thought about how Alex was allowed to branch out like that. Why couldn't I?
From then to grade 7, I was in my femme bubble. I wore a ton of pink, because I looked up to Elle Woods from legally blonde. I'd have an occasional crush on the class emo. Loving long hair and eyeliner on guys, but otherwise despising everyone else in middle school because i was getting bullied mercilessly. I reclused into books and movies, like Harry Potter and Pirates of the Caribbean
I was transfered to Idaho arts charter school. Where the girl to boy ratio was about 7 to 1. We had no sport program besides competitive dance. My family started going to a WELS lutheran church, and for a while, none of this conflicted. Little did I notice, that my church and my upbringing were compiling into some bad homophobia on my part. I was taught that gay people were against God and were going to hell. Gay people were "gross" after all. I was told by my own parents that if I *became* a lesbian, they'd drag me to the pastor's house and have an exorcism performed on me. The idea of even kissing a girl with romantic intent made my stomach flip and my chest hurt. That's just proof of how disgusting and wrong it is... right?
But being in a school dedicated to the performing arts eventually caught up with that. Sure there were gay kids at my school. Our main export was musical theater and dance. But I wasn't friends with any of them, so it was fine. Until someone from my friend group came out. For his privacy, I'll call him A, since I still know people that know him IRL. I had been friends with A for a while before he came out as gay. I wouldn't say we were close, but I'd say we were friends. When he did come out as gay, it was like a dumb homophobic light went out. A wasn't any different just because he was gay, he was still my friend, and nothing changed except my worldview.
Nothing.else.changed.
Whenever I brought A up when telling a story to my parents, they'd interrupt with "you mean the friend that's going to hell" as if that was his name and they were correcting me now that he was an out gay teen. I dug my heels in and became a gay ally for my friend, A. Delving into gay rights as a special interest.
By the time I was 16, I was approaching the next metaphorical hurdle. I noticed I didn't really have any crushes... on anyone. I had friends. I liked fictional characters from books and anime and the occasional celeb. I just thought I had high standards for boys I would date. But I couldn't like girls. What would that even look like? It was pre 2010. The only girls into girls I ever saw were on posters in boy's rooms, or straight girls kissing to get male attention. It took a lot of work to realize God didn't hate gay people and even more work to realize that that could apply to me too. I came out as bi to only my friends at age 17.
I graduated, went off to college. Got a dorm mate, who we will call M. M was also bi, and she had the experience to back it up, supposedly. More experience than me, who hadn't really dated anyone at all. M somehow forced me back in the closet. She insisted I wasn't bi because I had never dated or kissed or anything with a woman. I had just barely had my first kiss with anyone that summer. I was only "bicurious" because how could I possibly know until I finally had experience like she did. So I shrunk myself, and only saw boys, because they gave me attention. Girls only saw me as straight, because I wasn't bi, I was "bicurious".
It took a lot of work to bust out of the bi closet a second time.
I lived my life as a bi woman. Constantly changing my spot on the kinsey scale until these past 7 years or so. I made a realization.
I don't really like guys. I'd sleep with them. I appreciated the validation I felt when I did. But I didn't really like them.
So I juggled with the queer label. Because my sexuality was complicated. Sure, I'd sleep guys, didn't mean I was attracted to them, it's not like it meant anything.
Any time I tried on the lesbian label, I'd get yelled at by a lesbian for being biphobic. They'd say stuff like "lesbians don't like guys", "stop bring men into lesbianism" "lesbians don't want to sleep with guys". No amount of me explaining that I don't like men would convince them. So back to the queer label I went.
I got married to a woman in 2019. And was content with the queer label.
But this year, 2021-
I started reading The Lesbian Document™. Learning that my occasional crush on a male celeb didn't really count as attraction to men.(sorry Bo Burnham).
I made a bit of a realization. I knew I didn't really like men, I was just ok with the idea of sleeping with them. But the idea of being with men felt similar to binge drinking.
They were both
Easily accessible
Toxic
Dangerous/thrilling
Coping mechanisms for deeper issues
I realized I was using the idea of sex with men as self harm, and I should probably stop that.
To wrap up this whole long-ass biography- I'm coming out a third time.
My name is Megan.
I'm 28 years old.
My pronouns are she/they.
And I'm a lesbian.
tl;dr:
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deamabilisworld · 4 years ago
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The first thing a gay person should do is find a community.
So blue is the warmest colour.
First things first, Emma's outfits make me fall in love.
We oftentimes understand genres from superficial features. Horror for instance by threatening situations, death, etc.
But once in a while a radical author arrives into the scene and triggers all the emotions related with the genre, without actually repeating any of its tropes.
It is easy to classify lesbianism as girl on girl relationship. And the relationship with sex, and so lesbianism with a girl on girl sexual relation.
It is more difficult for a trans lesbian such as myself to understand what it means and why was I not satisfied with relationships with women who saw me as male, even disregarding penetration and the assumption that I should be the dominant partner.
So when I try to realize what it means, I try, like many of us, to reflect on lesbianism in media. And throughout the past few months it helped me understand what I was missing, even though I'm yet to theorize or put it into words.
The first hour and a half of the movie was all that for me. I connected what was going through Adele. Especially when she sees Emma for the first time. Having a confident butch wrap her hands around you as you walk in the streets, seeing it from afar and longing.
As for her sex with men compared to the sexual fantasy, that's also interesting.
Men tend to be very focused on penetration. What's more interesting is that they almost have no discussion about their own personal enjoyment in sex.
Think about it: the market for male sex toys is very poor, and men freak when you discuss penetrating them, even though the anal region is filled with nerve endings which guarantee enjoyment.
This leads to their sexual interaction begging technique-driven. Very linear and centred on specific tasks in an almost mechanical way.
I obviously also talk from my own personal experience.
Maybe I'm not the right person to speak about it, but I couldn't find much pleasure when having sex as a guy. The experience was stale, repetitive and motionless. I was not driven by my sensations, rather by my imagination and the need to please the other. It reached to situations where I used to throw my used condoms as fast as possible since I didn't really climax in these interactions.
Which obviously also limits the other's capacity to enjoy the interaction.
The most affirming first experience in my transition was when I was treated as a woman in sex, and I actually reached orgasm for the first time in my life.
Having said that, the first actual sex scene with Emma also bothered me.
When I think of lesbianism and sapphic, I think of things I can actually do as a woman, and to what I relate. Which is obviously very gay scenarios, but rarely penetrative sex.
I imagine cuddling in the middle of the night, a dildo pulled out, we both climax and low key going to bed as if nothing.
I imagine looking her in the eyes as she plays with her fingers inside of me, her dominant eyes give me comfort.
Eating her up.
But having said all of that, vaginas gross me out.
I mean penises gross me much more.
I love breasts and buttocks.
But I really find it difficult being attracted to the vagina, playing with it, kissing it.
One time in the army, I sat with someone as she guarded the base entrance and she told me she usually finds the penis appalling, but when she has sex, it becomes the most beautiful thing in the world.
Dejana once made me insert my fingers to her in the shower, but I couldn't find joy in it.
Let's talk about Dejana for a second.
While she saw me as a hetero and despised lesbians, BITWC was one of her favourite movies. And I could see a reflection of our dynamic in that relationship.
I was stronger in that dynamic. I came from abroad, I had more money, I was her boss's daughter.
I read more, especially and of course philosophy.
Our relationship was a form of escapism.
She wanted the classical type of romance, that which doesn't exist in the rural parts of Serbja. Love, warmth, real human affection deeper than sexual lust.
I was looking for a simple relationship. Cooking together, travelling, I didn't want to think about the fact that I was a lonely outcast in an unfamiliar country.
We laid in bed. She was playing some game on her phone, I was reading for a philosophy essay. In truth, I was avoiding the need to interact with her. Because when we didn't do recreational activities, we didn't have a connection.
For someone who often speaks about the need to hear as many narratives as possible, to understand and relate to the earth, and to understand emotions rather than thoughts, I failed miserably connecting with her.
Dejana would have probably been content with such a relationship. She is used to male detachment, and she is very willing to deny issues in a dynamic, but I couldn't go on with it.
I didn't feel guilty when I broke it up. I felt relief.
Emma tried to change Adele, to educate her. But in so doing she clearly doesn't understand her.
Which comes to an analysis of the movie itself.
It is a classical rich-poor romance story. But instead of the American-dream infumed version of the story, we get a cynical, french depiction.
Emma tries to connect with the rural schick. Her last exhibit is presented in very oriental streets, that almost remind me of Jaffa.
Emma uses Adele to relate with this simpleton lifestyle. In all of her relationships, she is strong, in control, and she uses her girlfriends to tell her story.
Emma is open with her sexuality because her family is embracing, Adele hides her true identity because in her society she would be isolated and categorized.
Emma can study whatever she wishes, Adele needs to be practical.
She has the time to educate herself and discuss many worlds, Adele cannot, she has only her own experience to reflect upon.
And Emma doesn't understand why is she content with these lives, how can she live like that.
But is it better for Adele to dream big and see it get crushed?
Well sorta yes.
After all, when they break up, Emma bounces back but Adele is lost. Without anywhere to sleep, no one to love her or to understand her.
And yea, it is partially because of circumstances. Emma is far richer. But with these circumstances came the fact that Emma is groomed to live free.
And let's talk about grooming and praying in the gay community and why Emma is an awful person.
When I started to come out, I immediately joined the BDSM community.
When I had to move and lost my family, I digressed a lot.
I returned to my horse only when I met my rugby community.
A gay community gives you power, a place to discuss, to understand yourself better, friends to relate with and gossip who is dangerous within the community.
Two days ago I woke up a mess after 5h sleep and a lot of packing to do for my new flat.
Right in that morning, I received a message.
I met that girl in the philosophy common room.
She was an economics student. Like many other Bulgarians, she knew her way and got the code for the room from a friend to steal coffee, tea and food.
We became friends. She was always a powerful person, one of those Nietzchiens who understand everything as a power dynamic.
I told her my radical feminist theories and she was dazzled.
She graduated, moved to London, found a boyfriend and started dating.
It wasn't a common relationship.
That person was her feminized slave. I suggested to her that perhaps he was actually a she, but the person denied it. Until recently.
But she messaged me not to ask for help with her transitioning. The opposite, she was overwhelmed by the fact that her bae wants to transition and she wanted confirmation that her transitioning is wrong. I was horrified. That day, the Bulgarian convinced her bae not to go on hormones so she won't hurt her, and so the Bulgarian won't leave her.
In a society where people discover their sexuality and gender only in sexual surroundings, natural predators would abuse them as a means of gratification.
Adele could only discover her homosexuality in gay pick up bars. Emma naturally picked her up and raised her.
Adele, who didn't know anything gay other than Emma, relied on what Emma was willing to teach her.
Becoming Emma's toy, she was dependent upon her.
The first thing a gay person should do is find a community.
Although Emma tried to pamper Adele, pushing her to express herself in writing, she never introduced Adele to friends or to the community.
The only way Emma knew how to pamper Adele, was to try and make her a copy of herself. Which failed.
While the film attempts to escape the male gaze upon lesbians, it flirts very directly with the burgeois-gaze upon the poor and oriental.
Can that power dynamic be non-abusive? and if so, how?
We want to say that Emma should understand Adele's culture and embrace it as much as Adele needs to embrace Emma's.
But Adele's culture has unavoidable ugly aspects. It is grotesque, not refined, narrow-minded and closed. And it is a central aspect to her cultural as much as the other, beautiful, aspects are.
Do gays have any choice? Can you be gay and poor, gay and be part of the ethnic 'simpleton' culture? or are these aspects inherently negating?
My answer was to escape. I lived in poverty in the streets, away from my home, where I could define my own culture as a mix of orientalism, punk and classical beauty.
But not everyone is as lucky to do that.
When I write that 'hetero culture is boring' I fully say that I find it difficult to relate to Dejana. And part of me is sad because there are some morals and beauty in her world which I couldn't connect to.
For while I was attracted to my representation of her culture, I was not attracted to her, she was just a canvas for me, a cynical tool beyond my comprehension.
I could have found beauty in her only when I painted her in my own likening.
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knight-of-ashes · 6 years ago
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Bumbleby, Representation, and Validation
After this latest episode, I feel I have to write this and share my experiences as a RWBY fan, a Bumbleby shipper, and a slightly broken but still determined person. It’s a long tale, so I’ll try to put it under the cut, but if you’re at all questioning about your sexuality or your place in the world, I hope this post and Bumbleby help you.
When I first started watching RWBY, it was 2014. I’d just started at university for my mechanical engineering bachelor’s for the second time, after failing out the first time and then lying about it to my family for two years. I was pretty alone, but I made some friends who got me into the show. What got me hooked was the Yellow trailer, and sure enough, as I got caught up on the show, Yang continued to be my favorite. I’m extremely extroverted, enjoy violence, prone to deep anger and unbelievable excitement, with a maternal streak a mile wide and a penchant for boxing. I see myself in almost all of Yang’s behaviors. It was too easy to put myself into her place.
At the time, Bumbleby shippers baffled me. Yang and Blake just seemed like really good friends. I kept thinking about Korrasami and how much it upset me that Bryke put them together as a couple, instead of just leaving them as friends. I remember thinking “I wish they wouldn’t shove so many lesbians down our throats.” The fact that I saw myself in Yang only deepened that. I kept thinking back to high school, to my best friend at the time. She and I were peas in a pod, and while I could see myself living with her if neither of us found a guy, I wasn’t attracted to her, we weren’t lesbians, why couldn’t shows reflect that?
I met @wingzeroalchemist on Reddit while arguing this point with Bumbleby shippers on some fanart. We got to talking, and discussing why it upset me so bad. Over the course of a few months, a few more episodes of RWBY Volume 2, and more fanart, and the airing of Burning the Candle, we discussed it, and it dawned on me: I had a crush on my high school best friend, and I was very, very bi. This was news to me but to no one else I went to school with, least of all her.
That relationship never moved forward for a number of reasons including asexuality on my friend’s part, but the volume 3 finale hit me hard, and I was moved to try to come out to my family. I came out and got told that if I was really bi, I could just “choose” to be with men. I was made to promise that I wouldn’t bring it up again, and that I wouldn’t go back on my “choice”.
Fast forward to 2017. V4 and V5 disappointed me a bit but I kept with the show because I could still see the potential. I graduated with my bachelor’s and fought at Robogames 2017. I got a boyfriend and convinced myself I really loved him, even though things weren’t as great as I wanted. I got deep into the art of heraldry, and met Kim (@dustycymbre) through Reddit and Discord. My parents were super invested in my relationship with my boyfriend, until he wasn’t doing exactly what they wanted for me, and then they coerced me to break up with him. (I was also date raped somewhere in there cos the dipshit was never taught about consent but I digress.) Through V5, I realized my mother and I were a bit like Raven and Yang: wholly incompatible as mother and daughter, and I needed to get away from the emotional abuse. Her behavior was different from the fiction in a lot of ways, but the end result was the same: I never felt like I had support for my dreams, and I’d been set to wander aimlessly.
After the breakup, about a month went by before Kim told me she had a crush on me, the day after my birthday. I won’t tell as much of her side, but what I can say is that she was married to a guy at the time, and some incidents occurred that led to her cutting it off with him several long months later. I quickly discovered that as much as I feel like a proxy for Yang, she is absolutely a Blake, down to introversion and sleeping in sunbeams and being the sneakiest woman I’ve ever met. Where I’m hot headed, she’s cool and logical. Where I want to fight everything and look at blood like it’s no big deal, she eschews unnecessary violence and gets a bit squeamish watching Daredevil. Where my body runs warm, hers runs cold. Only our heights are off, and she’s convinced MM&K are the ones who are wrong.
From my side of things, I fell for her fast and hard. She was everything I’d been looking for and then some. She calmed me down when I was mad, she made me feel like I could achieve my goals, she gave me so much purpose and happiness. I got to be the post match interviewer at Robogames 2018 because I didn’t have a robot and she watched every interview, giving me pep talks and tips and praise and constructive criticism after every match. She helped me do better at work and weather my family’s absolute insanity. I convinced her to go back to finish her Masters and she trusted me and did it and now she has an awesome job. She helped me realize I needed to go no contact with my family, and I escaped and shut them down and will never have to face the fear of disappointing my batshit mother ever again thanks to Kim. She wants to help me build my next robot, and I want to help her with her garden and a podcast idea, and the future looks so bright with her in it.
I weathered my Raven and she weathered her Adam and watching the bees weather their trauma together in Volume 6 has been the ultimate form of validation. I never thought I’d ever get to actually be with the woman of my dreams, but I am now and seeing it in fiction, seeing so many of the exact struggles we’ve been through placed in explicit language on screen, has given me a whole new perspective. The representation makes the hate thrown at us feel less consequential. Yang and Blake have given us the confidence to become our true selves and seek a relationship that is comfort and softness and contentment instead of pain and anger and resentment. We can be whole, we can be weird, we can love each other and not worry about some misguided taboo.
Representation matters, whether you’re 15 or 50. We’re 25 and just figuring out our places in the world, and there are kids who will watch Bumbleby blossom in the show and figure it out a lot sooner than we did. I am so excited about that, and I hope that the representation of abuse with Adam and Blake also saves some lives. M&K have done a really great job writing Yang and Blake and it gives me so much hope for the future.
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sleepykitykat · 6 years ago
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Starting to share this story of our Exalted RPG Campaign
My name is Helena Pierce and all I ever wanted was to be free.  I never asked for responsibility. I never wanted any of this but I guess there isn’t anything I can do about it now…
    I was born to a wealthy family on the Upper East Side.   All of my life I knew privilege and luxury. As I grew my life became nothing but a reflection of my mother’s wishes, prestigious schools and debutante balls in conservative WASP society.  Ironically enough The Brearley School was everything a young closeted lesbian could hope for complete with the school girl uniforms. Unfortunately for me, none of the girls I dated there were interested in keeping up with it after the thrill of pissing off their rich daddies went away.  Despite those very many distractions I managed to graduate high in my class and convince my father that because of the many rumors of my sexuality that permeated our insular upper crust world that I should be allowed to go to a non-ivy league school and stay in a normal dorm, heaven forbid.  The day my acceptance letter to NYU arrived was the day I saw hope. For years I’d felt alone and lost but at least relatively out from my parent’s watchful eyes I might find some freedom, some release of myself. I write this now to indicate that that day was different from every other small ray of sunshine because it was at NYU that I found my first real friend.  You hear a lot about high society in movies or on TV being fickle and filled with false friendships but I lived that for years. One day you would have steadfast friends and the next they would be gone, booted by the very people who once loved them. I know this because I principally did the booting. I think it was my mechanism for defense, creating pariahs of others.  If people are talking about another scandal they cannot be bothered by something I did at a party or who I was seen with after cotillion. I digress, that letter from NYU was a gateway to my very first real friend.
    Cheryl Rose-Cross, born first daughter in a family of five was the first of her family to go to college.  Her father, Miguel Rose, was once part of a successful modern dance company that fell on hard times after a car wreck gutted the team.  Miguel, like the mythic phoenix sprang from the ashes and now runs a successful dance studio in Brooklyn. His wife, the incomparable Sylvia Cross, is a feisty woman who works all day and night sweating her ass off in a little corner bodega café which outputs a staggering amount of delicious tamales.  Working to afford an apartment in New York took all it could from their family time and as a result Cheryl raised her other sisters and little brother and held down a part time job all the way through high school to afford her art obsession. She is a saint. After graduating high school she applied to NYU partly to prove she could do it to doubters and partly in the hopes that she too could escape her role as den mother of her four younger siblings.  Her dreams were crushed, however, the moment she met me. In that moment, she tells me to this day, she knew I would need her mother hen treatment far more than any of her siblings.
    Truthfully it would have been better for Cheryl to never have met me but then I would have never been me and never been a danger to her so we shan’t know.  You read in places where people say that things and people changed them and up to that moment I never believed them but Cheryl changed me. For years I had fought my baser nature, fought my feelings for other women, and used my own doubts to crush my dreams but with Cher by my side I felt I could conquer the world, money or not and with her urging I came out to my parents.  It was a swift blow struck at them in anger across the Easter dinner table sophomore year in college. This is not to say that there hadn’t been rumors before hushed away for me or little glances and careful controlling of my associations up till then so they definitely should have known. This coming out was the ugly glaring truth staring them in the face across the table surrounded by aunts and uncles just as excited to see the ensuing drama as if it were the main event in a boxing arena.  Amid the fighting and witty banter my Grandmother, the family patron, stood up for me. It was one of those moments that you swear never happen except in the movies where someone says the exact right thing at the exact right time and it shuts down all other conversation in the room. Even now, some three years after my grandmother’s death, some of my aunts giggle at my mother behind their concerned expressions as they talk about me, or so I hear. As a result of the, now too obvious and public to hide, scandal my parents were booted by their wealthy friends like so many before them and moved to upstate New York to live among the normal classes.  I sometimes think of the life I could have had as an unhappily married WASP woman and laugh. There would be no room for rainbow hair and my retro punk studded leather slouch boots in that life and I would be miserable. Because of my Grandmother’s generosity I was able to stay on at NYU and pursue my dreams to become a researcher in medieval literature landing a job at the prestigious Cloisters and that’s where all the trouble begins.
    It was a normal shift.  I was piecing something in Latin together that was badly written in an illumination in the margin of some tome gifted to us from a museum in Italy.  It was really a hopeless attempt to find something important because I had been doing drudge work for weeks when all of a sudden I heard a loud clatter in the stacks.  It was never very dark there for security reasons but the shadows were foreboding enough for me to be cautious when I investigated. What I found was a giant beast hovering over the bodies of some security guards.  Don’t ask me to describe it because I couldn’t except it made me run. I ran and ran holding desperately on to the book I had but the beast caught me just as I entered a small reading room. It slung me to and fro finally letting me fly into a wall.  There crumpled on the floor I struggled to get up, dying, but I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live, survival was what I was good at mentally, physicality should not hinder that and that thing wasn't going to stop me from living my life. Then as I staggered to my feet dropping the book onto a table within reach a white light came upon me and something else.  It felt like purpose but suddenly I was knocked out and remember nothing else until the hospital.
    After that night I had changed again.  I was not mortal, that I knew. I had always known that I was a bit cooler than everyone else being damn mysterious and gifted with impeccable taste and style but now I really was singular.  I had been chosen for something amazing or horrible… or perhaps both. My powers were straightforward and almost intoxicating. I could transform into an owl or in turn a hybrid owl woman. The transformation was beautiful that first time though the novelty has somewhat lessened since.  It was all I could do those first few nights to not stay out all night flying across the city but I knew I needed rest. Flying was all I ever wanted it to be. Insulated by the walls of an airplane flying as a human is nothing like the same thing. Also, I was noticing things I never had before.  I felt the need to hunt and claim other forms. Rat was my first additional form and as an owl it was fairly easy to gain. About 4 nights after I first turned I became obsessed with watching this singular rat I saw scampering down an alley in Chinatown. It was as if my owl totem wished me to take another form so I followed it until I was able to swoop upon it and rip it apart.  Eating it was more than pleasure. It was like a prayer for the uninitiated and in that prayer I became the rat. In human form I also noticed that my eyes had mutated. They were no longer the brilliant blue of the standard WASP but instead were golden and giant as a Barn Owl. Though no one seemed to notice, during the day I began to wear round sunglasses just in case someone should freak out.  After the attack at the museum I had a hard time returning to my work. The authorities chalked it up to an escaped tiger or some shit thanks to my new friends. Oh, I didn’t mention those friends? Well that’s when things become a bit complicated. You see, I’m not the only one with powers…
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Helena's eyes adjusted to the muted lighting in the large briefing room.  It had been a few months since her 'exaltation' had changed her life and she was still getting used to the idea that she was some sort of chosen of the gods but that's what this council organization was telling her.  She adjusted her shades up her nose and surveyed the group around her. There were a few scientists, several soldiers dressed in fatigues bearing markedly not US patches on their uniforms, a singular young asian man who seemed to have stepped right out from an old kung-fu movie full white robe and everything, and sitting up in the front row was a man that looked remarkably like the movie star Donovan Hawke.  Shaking her head at the idea that Donovan Hawk, star of films such as Knife Gentleman and other action films, might be here she checked her phone. Sighing in frustration there was no signal in the ominously secret underground base but the phone did seem to indicate that whoever had called this meeting was already seven minutes late and that would just not do. Clearing her throat she looked to the woman on her left who appeared to be a relatively attractive scientist pouring over her notes.
    "Hello, I’m Helena Pierce, you wouldn't happen to know when the briefing should start do you?”
    Looking up from her notes the woman seemed to jump a bit then, “Oh, um… It can’t be long now.”
    And right on cue a large muscular man in fatigues entered followed by another female scientist and several other soldiers filled in the room.  The briefing was just that, brief. It was simple, the team was to be deployed to a point several hundred miles south of Denver where a portion of the city had been displaced in order  to minimize civilian casualties from an apparent outbreak of ‘aberrations’. No, hold on. They moved the rest of the city. Apparently that was easier? There was a tower with some sort of device used to disrupt this sort of activity but it had been attacked.  Their mission was to capture the tower and put down any aberrations that appeared until the disrupter could be put back in place.  Just as the meeting wrapped everyone began going out the door to the right so Helena stood up to follow.
    “Hey, where are you going?” the woman at her elbow asked.
    “I was just going to follow.  I mean we’re supposed to right?”
    She laughed behind her hand, “I mean you could if you don’t want any armor or weapons.  Come on”. Gathering up her clipboard and several files she also looked over at the Donovan Hawke impersonator and the kung-fu extra.  “You two too, you’ve got to suit up.”
    True to her word the woman led them in the opposite direction of where the soldiers were going and into a small room filled with yet more scientists all carrying clipboards.  On the tables and racks around the room were various weapons both modern and ancient in design with different properties. Helena found herself drawn to the rack of spears. During her weeks of training before calling her into action she found that the exalted soul she now shared with generations of other chosen of Luna favored polearms, spears and javelins to be exact.  One particular moonsilver spear a head taller than her own six foot two frame caught her eye and she did a few small moves with it to adjust the balance to her liking. The moonsilver in her hands adjusted its heft to her will as she knew it would and she smiled to herself. Across the room she saw the muscular man put on a heavy golden metal breastplate. Looking at his face she was almost sure it must be Donovan Hawk but.. no it couldn’t be.  Her own breastplate was easily strapped onto her petite chest and because of the fluid nature of moonsilver it fit like a glove despite her willowy build. To her pleasure the metal even formed a decorative pattern of wings and filigree. She waved off the matching pauldrons when they were offered to her. She needed to be extremely fluid in her movements and though the moonsilver would give to her will she felt it would be too much. Now ready, she found that the others had started out and down the hall.  Jogging to catch up Helena found that the hallway opened up to a large airplane hanger. Catching up to the group Helena climbed into the vaguely stealth fighter shaped transport sure to duck her head and will her spear to be a little shorter in the small space. She took a seat across from the other two who seemed to be looking for a place to strap in.
    “Well, Hello there, I’m Donovan Hawke,” The larger man said extending his hand across the aircraft.  “You might have heard of me. I’m kind of a celebrity”. On his hands were heavy metal gauntlets that when paired with his freshly pressed khakis, dress shirt, and breast plate seemed a bit heavily armored and out of place.
    She took his hand “Well, that answers most of my questions.  I’m Helena Pierce.”
    “You must be a lunar.  I’ve heard a bit about you guys.”
    “Yeah, well I guess that makes you a solar then.”
    “Yep!” He proclaimed smiling ear to ear.
    Quietly the other man piped up, “I’m Mr. Agi, and I’m a little different from you.  It’s complicated. I’d tell you but you probably won’t remember anyway.”
    Both Helena and Donovan made puzzled looks at this comment but any questions they had were cut off when their pilot walked through them.
    “Hey, we’re getting on the road, people, look alive.  I’m your captain and I’m hoping to get us there in one piece.  Buckle up,” he said tucking a wash of blond hair into his helmet.  With that the back of the plane closed up and the engine roar was audibly in the way of any conversation.
    An hour later and much more bored than she should have been flying Helena got up to look out the window to see a storm front seemingly approaching their trajectory.
    “Uh.. Mr. Captain man, I... do you….?” She shouted above the now almost static engine sounds.
    “I see it.  That’s gotta be part of the aberration.”
    Behind her Donovan asked, “How many of us are there?  Do you know?”
    “Just a few of you glow sticks and some soldiers.  I don’t know much more.”
    “Glow sticks?” Helena asked almost knowing what his answer was.
    “Yeah, you guys.  You glow when you’re fighting.  That’s not for me though I just do the flying, speaking of which we’re getting close.  You might want to get ready. It looks like the action is starting away from the main site.”
    “Ah, well I’ve used one of these before,” Donovan said pulling off one of the parachutes from the wall.
    The back was opening and by now they were in the storm cloud.  It was dark but Helena knew how far up they were. She had plenty of flight clearance.  “Well, I don’t know how to use one of those but I think I’m good.” Her transformation was smooth as she blasted out the doors.  She didn’t wait to hear comments on her warform. She knew what they saw. Her body was covered in light brown feathers and large wings had sprouted from her back.  Her face had flattened somewhat and softer lighter colored feathers framed her gigantic golden eyes, plumage she imagined as her hair had flared out and was helping to insulate her hearing from the high wind at her altitude.  Her hands were somewhat clawed as were her feet and she seemed taller and more robust than before. She was a monster but combined with her armour and spear she was fearsome. Righting herself looking to the west, she caught the wind and made her way in the direction of the city.  Breaking through the clouds, static tickled her feathers and she looked up to see a gigantic dragon sheathed in lighting flanked by what appeared to be mythical thunderbirds.
    “Well, fuck.”
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turbolesbo · 7 years ago
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anyway i have something i wanna talk abt
like 3 years ago i came out as ace here. well, i’m not.
after a good bit of introspection i came to the realization that identifying as ace was nothing more than me escaping from the reality that the only reason i didn’t want to think of myself as a sexual person, of myself in sexual situations, is because i was too uncomfortable with myself and my appearance. for my entire life i considered myself too unlikable, too unattractive for anyone to want to be in a romantic or sexual relationship with me, and so i convinced myself i didnt WANT any of that in the first place, as a defense mechanism.
it was also, undoubtedly, influenced by internalized lesbophobia. it was easy to identify as an aroace lesbian, someone attracted to women, but only in the abstract. not so easy to imagine myself having sex, being in love, getting married to a woman, etc.
all of the above is still true for me, i haven’t magically gotten over my hangups. but acknowledging why i’ve felt this way about my sexuality for so long is the first step on the path of getting over it.
anyway IM A LESBIAN AND IM READY TO SUCK SOME PUSSY ✌️🏳️‍🌈✨
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acecademia · 3 years ago
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What are your favorite games? What are book festivals like?
Hi, nonny!
I listed a few of my favorite video games in an earlier post, but I can elaborate on those (and name a few I missed and some awesome board games while I'm at it)! I'll put that below the cut and talk about book festivals first, though.
I went to my first book signing at 14, my first kind-of book festival (in that there was a book festival attached to a Harry Potter convention) when I was 16, and my first full-on book festival when I was... also 16 just a few months later. Since then, I've been to a bunch of book festivals. Mostly, I go to youth book festivals, but I've been to a couple larger ones that weren't age-specific, too.
The general structure of most book festivals I've attended goes like this:
Some sort of keynote
Panels/breakout sessions
More panels/breakout sessions
Yet more panels/breakout sessions
Maybe a closing keynote
Book signing
The one I've been to the most is the North Texas Teen Book Festival (NTTBF) which has a day exclusively for teachers and librarians and educators and then a full festival day that's open to the public. It's free to attend, and they get like 60-90 middle grade and young adult authors to attend. It's HUGE. It's grown a lot since I first started going in 2016 from about 8,000 attendees to like 15,000 attendees or something insane like that in 2019. I know 2020 was even bigger. It was the last thing I did before lockdown, and it's kind of my birthday tradition because it tends to happen around my birthday and makes me really happy.
I love getting to hear authors talk about their books. I get to hear authors I love talk about their work, and I get to hear authors I didn't know before talk about their books or even brand-new authors talk about debut novels that are coming out. It's a great way to keep up with youth lit--what's trending, what's coming out, which authors are attracting the most attention from librarians and teachers but also which authors are attracting the most teens and kids.
I met Angie Thomas at NTTBF like a month after The Hate U Give (the novel) came out, and she had like no one in her signing line. I'd been convinced to pick up the book by someone on Tumblr a day or so before the festival, so I asked the girl behind me to hold my spot in another line while I ducked over to get my copy signed by Angie Thomas. The next year, her line was insane. That's one of my favorite things about attending book festivals--you get to see that explosion of love for an author's work almost happen in real-time.
Also, I've met Ally Carter so many times now that she knows me on sight 😂 And Adam Gidwitz has dragged me over to a couple of authors now like "hey this girl was my student guide at a festival in 2013 when she was in high school, and now she's in GRAD SCHOOL and is a librarian! Wild, huh?" and it's super fun lmao
There's just something really lovely about being surrounded by people who love books and stories as much as I do. It's always completely confounding to me when I talk to people about going to school for youth librarianship, and they're like "oh-ho kids today don't read" and I'm like *gestures wildly at the 15,000 people who attended NTTBF* "literally where."
But yeah, book festivals are also one of the few places where my anxiety-override cheat code activates. By which I mean that I'm normally super anxious and very rarely interact with people I don't know and get really uncomfortable when I'm out by myself in public. But at book festivals (or honestly a lot of fan conventions), that just disappears??? And I'll like talk to strangers and initiate conversations and can somehow just exist in the world without stressing over it. It's amazing.
Games I love time!
Video Games:
Gone Home - amazing storytelling. (Also, there are no dead lesbians no matter what media has trained you to assume will happen)
The Stanley Parable - fun, creative, hilarious, and a great examination of the dichotomy between player and character and the player's relationship to narrative agency (aka exactly my jam)
Dragon Age - high fantasy awesomeness and also you can declare yourself queen in the first one (which I did). Dragon Age 2 is fantastic and narratively the best in the series but reuses the same handful of locations/maps over and over and over... and over.... and over again. I still need to finish Inquisition, and I'm super hyped for the fourth one
Tomb Raider - Lara Croft is my girl. The first one is the best one, the second is bomb af, the third is both fascinating mechanics-wise but not as interesting narrative-wise imo
The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask - I love most of the series, but Majora’s Mask is my all-time fave
Fallout - sci-fi post-apocalyptic with a futuristic 50s vibe. It's a bit of a mixed bag (Fallout 3 is good, New Vegas is 💯, and Fallout 4's main plotline is boring AF and not engaging at all)
Assassin’s Creed - the Ezio trilogy is great, didn't really care much for AC III, loved being a pirate in Black Flag, skipped Rogue, stopped playing Unity because I got annoyed at how much it tried to push co-op, loved Syndicate, working my way through the rest
Overwatch - I play on PC and I'm a support main (Moira and Mercy, for the most part)
The Sims 4 - I make people do things and give them good lives 🥺
Long Live the Queen - fantasy stat building game where your goal is either to survive the game or to die in the most interesting way, depending on your preferences
Board games:
Mysterium - you're psychics solving a mysterious death by communing with a ghost who can only communicate using really vague and trippy art cards (great to play with people you know really well, also there's an online version and I have played it so much since the pandemic started)
Codenames - spies and word association hell yeah
Letter Jam - cooperative word game with spelling and limited communication
Ex Libris - you get to be a librarian in a fantasy library (enough said)
Castles of the Mad King Ludwig - you gotta build a castle for a king who has weirdly specific tastes
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