#blessed to be a massive fag on this fine night

[aeoris4lovers]

“i’m attracted to men, unfortunately”

well i just spent the last two hours watching the men of critical role play just dance on repeat and i for one have never felt more fortunate to be a man lover so jot that down

[weston-hcs]

Do you think you could do pros and cons of each house? (Such as the people in each house). Ex (Violet Wolf): Pro: they’re very creative. Con: they have no motivation Sorry if it’s hard to understand.

Sen: I’m crying. This is a great ask. I love this. I will give my LIFE for this ask. I love you. You mean the world to me anon. I tried to go with stuff that isn’t mentioned in the manga so forgive me if I end up going off on a tangent.

Sapphire Owl

Positives:

People are generally friendly when it comes to helping someone studying. If you’re having difficulty in a certain subject, there’ll always be someone who’s a specialist that is willing to help you out.

They’re surprisingly superstitious and love their tradition. Not only do they have their “welcoming parties” but they have weird rules like “don’t mention Alexandria in the library or your fail exams” and “first to finish and clean up during meal times is exempt from fag time” - while it doesn’t seem so positive at first, it helps to build a lively atmosphere for the dorm.

Being in the Upper Years is a blessing. With the fags and all, they’ll do pretty much anything you say. Though, it’s slightly easier on the Lower Years as well since the sixth formers don’t ask for too much. Generally, the whole brotherly relationship is fine within Blue House.

Negatives:

There’s no sneaking out past curfew! Not only are Lawrence and Clayton looking around, but most likely one of these guys is going to rat you out if you disturb them from their sleeping/studying time.

The second you get a bad grade, everyone in your dorm will know. That means the prefects will know. Prepared to be absolutely grilled with questions as to why you did badly. While Clayton takes the bad cop role, Lawrence is slightly more lenient but harsh if this is your second meeting with him. The gossip goes away after a week but people’ll be watching you to see how you do on the next test.

None of them are ever down to hang out. They have next to no social life because they always insist that they need to be studying 24/7. None of them know how to take a break and when they do… it’s for about five minutes.

Emerald Lion

Positives:

They’re the most encouraging people you could ever meet. A little loud and embarrassing if you’re not used to them but they’ll always support their fellow teammates in a match. They’re definitely chivalrous towards their opponents as well, wanting a fair match from them - they’ll even cheer them on to make sure they face them with all they have.

They have an outstanding care for justice. As far as anyone’s aware, there’s hardly any incidents of bullying or fallouts within this house. Everyone cares too much about dignity and all to get into a scrum.

They genuinely care too much about others. Whenever someone’s in trouble, these boys will bend over backwards to help out, even if it’s not deserved at times. Skipping class to go help someone isn’t exactly the most virtuous thing but their morals and worry for other people says otherwise.

Negatives:

6.30am may be normal rising time but everyone here gets up at 5am to practice. It gets annoying when you just want to stay in and there’s a massive ruckus of someone in your room getting ready to go jogging or something… some people just don’t realise that SLEEP IS VALUABLE.

They’re pretty girl crazy. The second they hear that one of their mates did anything remotely romantic with a girl, the whole lot of them devolve into chaos. “What do you mean you held hands?” It gets absolutely crazy when they hear someone’s gotten their first kiss so you might want to keep that a secret.

Not in the mood for exercise? Yes you are. Pretty much everything is solved with a good sweat, according to the Green House kids - if you just want to lie in bed and sob, they’re not exactly helping that much if they’re pounding on your door to get out and face the world bravely.

Scarlet Fox

Positives:

Their care about appearance extends to others. You won’t get two feet outta your room like a hot mess without someone telling you what’s wrong with you and how to improve. CONSTRUCTIVELY. Some people even have small sewing kits on them for unfortunate wardrobe accidents - these are the gods among men.

This is a party dorm. There’s always something going on. There’s always someone’s house to crash at on the weekends. Sure, maybe the lot of them get caught past curfew, but everyone takes the brunt of the punishment together.

They’ll always talk you out of a bad mood. They’re great conversationalists so they can pick anyone out of the dumps with a little chat. For some reason, even if you don’t feel like it, their persistence is enough to get someone to give in and they’ll make things feel a little better after that.

Negatives:

Since everyone’s of noble birth, there tends to be some friction in terms of who’s daddy is more powerful, or who’s more handsome. Fights like this can last anywhere from two days to two school years.

Drama always happens. Beneath the bullshit black tea is some actual tea. There’s a lack of trust in the Red House dorm because everyone has the power to ruin absolutely everyone with just a few words of gossip.

They’re pretty stubborn. Spoiled rotten, they really do think that they can get whatever they want. When things don’t go their way, they end up all pouty and annoyed for quite a while and it takes a good stern talking to from someone else to get them to grow up.

Violet Wolf

Positives:

It’s quiet at night. As rambunctious as this lot can get, they know that everyone needs their sleep so they’re respectful of that. To be honest, it’s only because one time Violet gave everyone a right scolding with 4 Ys for waking him up once. Never again do they want to face his wrath.

A lot of the dorm works together when it comes to the efforts of the drama department; musicians, artists and pretty much anyone in the Violet Wolf dorm will be helping out with the school productions. It might as well be just their show.

Once you get to know them, they’re the type to ride or die. Their loyalty is unbreakable (unless you’re an absolute idiot that betrays them) and they’ll take the code of help your friends and harm your enemies to the max. Your enemies best be worried for what’s coming to them.

Negatives:

Trying to practice your musical skills during free time in the dorms is a bad idea. Everyone else is trying to do the same thing as well, even though there are tons of free music rooms on the main campus. If you’re trying to study during then however… good luck.

You’ll have pretty much no social life outside of the Violet Wolf dorm; you’re branded as an eccentric weirdo, even if you do happen to be a normal and charismatic person. Good luck with that social stigma.

They can be self-sufficient but it means they keep to themselves a lot. When others attempt to make contact with them, they shut themselves off and refuse to actually communicate properly. Maybe that’s why their perception to the rest of the school hasn’t changed yet.

[writingcommons-blog1]

“God Hates Gays” by Micah C.

It’s wasn’t new information. I’ve known it about them for a few years now, but that doesn’t mean I understand it. Even now, as I write these words five years after these events transpired, I can’t understand how they ignored and even endorsed the aching heart of a 13-year-old boy who longed for acceptance from people who will never fully give it to him. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve waited this long to speak my mind, so I guess I can wait a bit longer.

Now, up until the age of 13, I understood myself and who I was. I also understood who my family was. My father, a stubbled professor whose blue eyes penetrated even the most fortified lies my young mind could concoct, grew up in a deeply religious, Southern Baptist house hold. My mother, a plump woman whose rosy cheeks light up at the sight of her children running down the hall early in the morning, was also raised in a deeply religious, Sothern Baptist house hold. So, it goes without saying that I was dragged to King’s Village Baptist Church every Sunday by 8:00 sharp.

So far, this story is nothing out of the ordinary. Most children are brought up with certain values passed down by their parents that the child might not (probably won’t) agree with in the future, but this story doesn’t concern the moral obligations of my parents. The real conflict occurred over Christmas break the winter after my 13th birthday.

Every year for the holidays, my family takes a strenuous road trip to visit my grandparent’s home in Memphis, Tennessee for two weeks. Now, if my parents are deeply rooted in their religion, my grandparents are the soil from which those roots grew. My dad’s parents pride themselves on their devotion to all the teachings of their faith. Going to see my grandparents always held some excitement before, but after this winter, I longed never to go back again.

Now, the festivities were fine. They are always fine. Not great, just fine. But then, we the people born from the loins of house Culpepper are forced to go to the Christmas Eve service at Belview Baptist Church every year. My siblings and I were packed into the musty back seat of their sun-bleached suburban and given the “Church Talk.”

“Now kids,” my grandmother would purr in her thick Sothern accent. “When we’re in church, make sure you are payin’ close attention to the words of Pastor Bart.” Ahh yes, Pastor Bart. We’ll get into that one later. “He’s gonna deliver a message for us, then we’ll take y’all out for some ice-cream! Sound good?” That was always the tradeoff. Ice-cream to buy our respectful silence.

Well, once we arrived at the massive church that holds 30,000 people to this day, we found a parking space over a mile from the door. If possible, I hated walking more at that age than I do now. Many complaints and sobs later, we arrived at the ornate wooden doors that either marked the entrance to a castle, or a crypt.

Now came what before this day was my least favorite part of these Christmas Eve services; the chatting. “Oh Martha!” My grandmother exclaimed at a hobbled old lady with knobby knees and a hunched back. “How’s little Marry Sue doin?” “Ahh Bill!” My grandfather slapped a burly man in a red flannel on the back. “What are you up to these days?” Oh, the talking! And they wouldn’t even let me bring my DS! But anyway, back to the narrative.

Ding-Dong… Ding-Dong… The tole of the Christmas bell called everyone into the sanctuary for “the message.” Now, I know you’re picturing some hallowed place with stained glass and maybe a cross on the far wall with the smell of ceremonial candles in the air. That was not this church. Have you ever been to a concert where they shine blinding colored lights on the performers who stand on a raised platform with their adoring fans all around them? Good, cause that’s this church.

My grandparents always sat us as close to the back as humanly possible. To this day I’ve no idea why, but I was immensely grateful for it later that night. Now, the first hour of any Baptist church service consists of as many cliché gospel songs as can be squeezed into that time frame. “Amen!” My grandparents would join the throng of people ‘filled to the brim with the love of God.’

After this tedious hour, it was time for “the message.” Pastor Bart was an old man. A VERY old man. His sharp and quite expensive black suit only highlighted the wrinkles that covered his lose, white skin. His sagging black eyes looked over his flock with a sickening pleasure as he began to shout in his booming southern accent, “Welcome to the church!” Cheers filled the sanctuary that gave the space even more of a concert feel. “I am glad to see all y’all folks here on this blessed night.”

At this point, I’d already gone through three peppermints and a Magic Treehouse book, so I was more than ready to go home, but what he said next boiled my blood so quickly I thought I might burst from the pressure. “I’d like to spend the night talking about the gays.” My heart rate quickened immediately. Why? Why on Christmas Eve did we need to talk about “the gays?”

In my initial panic I blocked out his next few words, but picked back up when he said, “Now, I know the act of Homosexuality is absolutely revolting, but we need to address it as it has become a problem in our church. The gays are asking to join us in our worship.” A laugh rang out across the sanctuary that sliced me clean through.

“They say that it’s not a choice and that they are just born that way, but I’m here to tell you that that is bull shit!” Cheers rang again, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “Homosexuality is a sin. Pure and simple. The gays are evil sinners who seek to deceive us away from our pure faith. NEVER let ‘em convince you that ‘gay is ok’ cause that’s not the damn truth!” The tears were flowing now, and my brother looked over at me with sympathy, helpless to save me from my suffering. “Gay is not ok!” The resounding amen that followed that abhorrent statement wouldn’t have cut me so deeply if it was not shouted by my grandparents.

“Know this people of our loving and accepting lord. God hates Fags!” That did it. Broken. Cowering. Sobbing in my seat. Standing. Pushing. Running. Leaving. Down the hall. Past that door. Into the bathroom. Inside a stall. It was there that my opinion of my grandparents was ruined forever. They who follow this religion that proclaims to love and accept all no matter what, would rather have me whipped off the face of the Earth than accept me for my differences. I don’t remember the rest of the night. All I recall is the faint beating of my broken heart.