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orenonahaichigoda · 5 years ago

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About Me, and Some Things to Know About (Being Queer in) Japan

日本語でどうぞ。

とは言っても、より多くの人数が読めるように、以下を英語で書きます。

Se habla Español.

30s/trans male/California.

Grew up in Koube. Left in the early '90s for NYC. (Then left there because Giuliani ruined everything)

WHEN THE TRANS TALK STARTED IN JAPAN:

If I had stayed just a*little bit* longer, I probably would have learned that trans men exist, too, and so does hormone therapy. Activist-polititian Kamikawa Aya took her activism to NHK news spots shortly after I left. My grandparents listened to nothing else. (My dad was either NHK or Yomiuri, and I watched Asahi, the latter two not sure if they're national or only Oosaka-Koube broadcast region, but whatever) I mention this because it would be very easy for Ichigo to learn enough to figure it out before high school. And everyone's grandparents watch NHK, And a lot of parents, too. It's like BBC in Britain. PBS is the closest to an American analogue that exists, but the point is public advocacy for trans people became a thing in 1995, so it's not too hard to imagine someone born in the '80s would have enough information to figure it out early in life. Japan was a couple decades ahead of America on that.

FAIR NOTICE ABOUT MY SPANISH:

I'm mixed Japanese and Italian, I picked up Spanish to communicate with my new friends when I came to America. It's not native or anything, no relatives spoke it, and do expect some mixed words from different dialects.

Si estamos escribiendo en Español y se confunden mis palabras, siempre me puede pedir. Por ejemplo, ya sé que la palabra "la bodega" significa cosas diferentes entre Español Puertorriqueño y Español Mexicano.

PAIRING THREADS:

I'm essentially aroace. That doesn't mean I'm not totally down for *well-thought-out* ships. That's not my sole purpose here, but I do welcome it. Well-thought-out is the qualifier, though. And I don't get anything out of PWP, either. I'm only writing all this because I know a fair amount of RP strays into X rated. Shipping, yes, PWP, no.

ETERNAL DISCLAIMER:

My info about Japan varies, but a lot of it may be out of date. I was kinda cut off after leaving until I came to CA, and now more connected with the Web, but anything I say can carry the risk of being up to a few decades out of date.

BEING TRANS IN THE JAPANESE SPEAKING WORLD:

That being said, I can definitely say that while berserko right-wingers, who tend not to leave Japan, as trump voters tend not to leave the US, might be different, know when writing with me that being trans tends not to be a big deal among Japanese people. Now, IN Japan, yes, you'll have to deal with the right-wing Japanese, and in school, kids will pick on each other for anything--kids will pick for someone not liking the "right" bands, but among more progressive Japanese, like the Shin-Issei that I've been around since coming out, telling someone you're trans is not gonna cause fire to rain down on your head. It's gonna be the conservative/regressive bunch that'll be misgendering and all that. Trans kids will get bullied, there will be some also coming from conservative adults, but it doesn't make sense when writers juxtapose 1980s America on Japan.

HOMOPHOBIA AND "YAOI"/"YURI":

Which reminds me, you all have probably seen a lot of "yaoi." Here's the thing: it's gay fetish for straight consumption. Why do you think one guy is always "manly" and the other's "womanly"? It's a homophobic genre. "Yuri" is used for both that kind of thing and actual stuff by and for lesbians, but it's exactly like all those straight men googling"lesbian porn" on RedTube. To this extent, I'd probably need an extra amount of back and forth for shipping with a male character of a female mun. I'm not gonna rule it out, but I'm gonna be a little picky there. Not so much with any other gender. Most NB people I've met tend to really get this kind of thing, although it's a small number that I've met.

ABSOLUTE RULE:

Also, if you wanna play in Japanese, こうして日本語で書くんだ。*全部を* If you can't do that, write in English or Spanish. I've gotten my face punched in for legit broken English. It's not a "cute aesthetic uwu."

HOMOPHOBIA IN JAPAN:

There's a lot of... homophobia came with Admiral Perry for the most part, and it's...gay is not called evil or anything, but it's also difficult to actually *walk down the street holding hands with another man.* I can't speak on it too much, because I only started dating until after high school when I was already here. It's definitely not Regan's America, but it's also not free of homophobia. Unfortunately, I can't quite say how it is.

OTHER ABSOLUTE RULE:

But I also...it really grates my nerves when I see m/m shipping fic throwing around the word "sin" like it's the best thing ever to call queer people. It's not. It's the worst thing ever.

JAPANESE GEOGRAPHY/"KARAKURA TOWN":

One thing that non-Japanese speaking fans of Bleach always miss is what a town is in Japan. So, let's set this up with one a bit south of where I lived that has "town" in its name. Ninomiya Town is in Central Ward of Koube City, which is in Hyougo Province, which is in Japan. There're more divisions, but those are the ones you need to send a letter. It's kinda like how Compton and Wilmington are both in Los Angeles, as in part of the city. Karakura is an imaginary town in Tokyo. I'd say it's like having an American comic set in a place called Lawndale, except THERE IS ACTUALLY A TOWN CALLED THAT. It's one of L.A.'s suburban nearby towns.

NOT A RULE, BUT SOMETHING I DO ASK:

Some RPers really love to abuse the format buttons. I can't read stuff that looks like House of Leaves. Please don't do that with me, even if you do it with others.

Sum:

My life has not been easy. I've actually outlined two big triggers I run into a lot in this fandom (they send me into a rage): the "garnish human default English with exotic Japanese" (which is also bad writing. Look at Edgar Allan Poe. Murders in the Rue Morgue is really terrible writing in many ways, and random French thrown in is one of them) and the "hot sexy sinful gay." I'm also not sure I can handle running Ichigo through a transphobic scenario. Beyond that, I don't think I really have anything that will get my blood pressure up and you instantly blocked. I urge you to also share yours with me and others you play with.

DON'T PANIC WHEN I DON'T IMMEDIATELY REPLY. IT PROBABLY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU:

Finally, I work on-call. Sometimes, I have eight days off in a row. Sometimes, I'm heading back from getting groceries, and my boss is asking if I can be in the next city over in seven minutes and work graveyard for the next eight days. When I'm at home, I have no kids, partner, roommate, or even pet goldfish. As long as writer's block stays away, I have no impediments to replying. When I find myself with long stretches of work-sleep-work, I'll be sure you know I'm gonna take time to reply. If I find myself suddenly called in, I won't be able to do it same day. If I'm having trouble proceeding the plot, I'll bounce ideas off you. Generally, you'll know what's up by the next day at latest. So don't freak out if I don't reply pronto. I'm kind of a desk jockey sort of, but in social work with severely physically ill people, so it's not exactly a job I can just be looking at the Web during. Lots of emergencies. I don't approve of goofing off at work anyway, but I do always need to have an ear out. (And I already only have one functioning one!)

"YOU LOOK FAMILIAR":

Blog username means "My name is Ichigo." It was the only thing I could think of that named it for its purpose. I've rp'd before, but that blog was attached to other ones where I drew the ire of trolls, or that shared permissions with people who turned out to be very bad people. I didn't have a whole lot on my rp blog, wasn't terribly active, so I decided to start fresh.

Feel free to ask questions!

#about mun #about rules #about Japan #about setting

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thattahoeecojournalist · 7 years ago

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Partners In Crime

Title: Partners In Crime Word Count:2,120 Project/Pairing: Saint Bellamare RP, (Spacey Macnealson/Geneva Lascelles) Genres: Horror, Adventure Warnings: Cussing? Maybe? Window damage? Notes: So Luke and I were discussing how Raph and Sebastian came to be at Saint Bellamarre and we ended up figuring they'd be recommended by alumni they're close to. Raph because his aunt was an alumni and Sebastian because of his mother being alumni. Then we started talking about who these people were and I ended up accidentally coming up with a drabble about the both of them and how they met while they were attending. This is that drabble that evolved into a short story. Hope you guys enjoy the beginning antics of Geneva and Delilah

I stared at the ceiling patiently. Teresa tends to take a while to go to sleep and she never wanted to explore the school grounds with me. She says she needs to ‘focus on her studies, not risk her life’. I lifted myself into a sitting position and looked over at her. She was faced away from me, her breathing at a steady pace. I put one foot on the floor making sure not to cause the one squeaky board to complain. The other foot followed and I stood up carefully. She still didn’t stir. I hadn’t changed into my night clothes yet so I could save time. I picked up my flats and threw another glance at her. The moonlight spilled over her and I could tell standing up that her eyes were closed and twitching once or twice probably in the midst of a peaceful dream. I gently lifted my notebook and paints off the table and slipped out the door, closing it without a sound. I looked both ways down the hallway. The moon cast a blue glow on the hallway, visible in the large windows across from me. There was also no one else beside me. I smiled and dropped to my knees, paintbrush in hand. I ripped out seven pages from my notebooks and arranged them in the biggest improvised canvas I could manage. Hm, what to draw. I pondered for a short moment before dipping the tip of the brush into the yellow. It was hard to tell exactly how it was coming out in the dim hallway but within a minute or two my painting had been complete. I drew a large circle around the doodle and scribbled small sigils around the outside. I picked up the notebook and paints, ready to jump back a few feet just in case. I touched the nearly dried doodle with my open palm. My whole body began to tingle. That’s the signal. I jumped back and tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet landing hard on my butt. Slowly but surely a figure rose from my circle, struggling against the confines of its paper like an insect struggling from water. As soon as it freed itself it began to glow brightly, casting long shadows on the walls. I smiled smugly. Exactly how I had hoped it’d emerge. I gathered the papers and shoved them into my notebook in case I needed to control it later. It was an ornate paper lantern, drawn shapes making shadows dance on the wall as it floated to a spot near my shoulder like a faithful spirit. It was easily half my size and just as tall. I stood up and brushed off my dress. It moved just far enough for me to not brush it. Like it was intimately aware of how I’d move and when. “Alright then, me ducky,” I said quietly. I knew it wouldn’t respond but addressing it seemed like the proper thing to do. “Ready to go on an adventure?” I said over my shoulder with my notebook under my arm, and paints in a hidden pocket. It bobbed along silently as we sauntered toward the garden. The Saint Bellamarre hallways were mysteriously paranoia inducing, shadows lurking in the hiding places provided by the archways and columns accentuated by my companion. The garden was no less imposing. During the day, my house sported fresh sprouts and saplings, gently aromatic flowers and little weeds. At night it’s a different story. The fountain water threw off any sense of sound direction and muted all other activity beside an ever-present whistling wind. Even the lantern couldn’t penetrate this darkness, only lighting up the sprouts nearest to us. It was practically peaceful. I walked toward where I knew the marble bench was and gazed around at our cozy surroundings. It’s surprising that no one else was here. I would’ve thought the peace would be a prized commodity since this place is bustling with activity. I was proved wrong. I wasn’t alone. “Shit!” I heard somewhere in the darkness. A growl that seemed to shake my bones followed afterward. I whirled around looking for the source of the sound. Off to my left, a large glass pane separating us from the outside air shattered. I turned around just in time to see a wildly red haired girl spill onto the concrete at my feet. I backed up a few steps as she stood up, seeming unaware that she’d just crashed through a window. “Excuse me miss, are you alright?” I asked reaching out a hand for her. She sprung to her feet and looked around trying to gauge where she was. Her eyes glanced around frantically only sparing me the briefest of looks. The growl this time was closer. We both turned toward the hole she left, pieces of glass falling to the ground. In the hole was a giant creature with too many eyes. Its snout reached in the hole sniffing around loudly. Two graceful spider legs followed, clacking on concrete. “Move lady” she said, leaping past me for the door to the hallway I was just in. The creature looked up toward us, hearing her talk. It locked eyes on me and snarled in such a low pitch that I could feel it more than hear it. I wish I could say that I handled it well. I shrieked loudly and ran after the ginger, stumbling every so often on flats that weren’t meant for running. The lantern bobbed up and down in the air staying close to my side as we ran with the spider mole in hot pursuit. I was able to catch up to her as we hit the door, legs already burning. It crashed into the entrance with a loud smack. I wobbled as its impact tremors shook the ground. Then my flats failed me. I stumbled and came down to the ground hard but not before blindly reaching out for support on the ginger’s leg. She cursed as we went down, bouncing on the carpet once or twice. I backed up on my hands and feet away from the door. It reached in with a leg or two groping around for where we could’ve gone. After a few moments it stopped reaching around and disappeared from the door. I slipped my flats off my feet and put them in my pocket before turning to the ginger. I opened my mouth to say something. At that moment I was lifted off my behind and shoved roughly against the wall, knocking the wind out of my lungs. “What the hell were you thinking, tenderfoot” she hissed, glaring into my eyes. “Unhand me, you brute” I demanded trying to shake her off. She only pressed harder with her arm across my collarbone. “A delicate girl like you shouldn’t be out after curfew. Don’t you read the rules” she reprimanded, finally letting me go of her own free will. She turned around and began to head toward the exit, shaking her head condescendingly at me. I jogged in front of her, trying to slow her down. “Excuse me miss,” I put extra emphasis on the last word causing her to sneer at me, “Why are you out here then” She spat on the carpet and wiped her face of dirt which only caused a larger smear of dirt to mark her cheek. “That’s for me to know and you to f-,” she stopped, her eyes darting to the side as though something in her peripheral caught her attention. I put myself in front of her again and opened my mouth to deliver a witty retort. I was stopped by her staring wide eyed at the window behind us. I turned around. The mole spider had a running start toward the large window and showed no sign of slowing. I tugged on her arm and took off at full sprint down the hall, our way lit by the lantern that took off ahead of us by a few yards. The glass window exploded behind us followed by the impact of a very large creature. I spied a left turn coming up. I grabbed the ginger’s arm and pointed down the hall at the lantern, hoping it’d got the message. I yanked her to the left and we were in a sitting room. The lantern took off straight down the hall followed closely by a sprinting spider mole. “He’s not gonna be fooled for long” she muttered as quietly as she could. I looked around the room. A large high backed couch stood near the fireplace. “Behind the couch” I replied just as quietly and sprinted over the couch. She followed just behind, her back hitting the couch as she landed next to me. I pulled out my notebook as quickly as I could and took out the seven lantern pages. Just down the hall, an angry hiss echoed through the hallway. It was onto us. The spider legs clacked on the floor as it grew nearer. My hands shook as I arranged the seven pages in the right order. “What the hell are you even doing” she whispered angrily. I shook my hand in front of my downturned head signaling to her to stop talking. With brush in hand, I dipped it in the paint bottle and marked down some new sigils as fast as I could. The spider legs hit carpet. It was in the same room as us. I finished the last sigil as she shook my shoulder. Something dripped down onto my head and I was sent into a full panic. I looked up to see a snout mere feet away from us and behind it were eight eyes focused on both of us. I could practically see our terrified faces reflecting back at us. “Shut your eyes” I said, slamming my hand down on the paper. The lantern appeared in front of it’s face and began to shine brighter than anything I’d ever seen. I covered my face with my arm. The last thing I saw was the room lighting up a brilliant white. The mole spider screeched loudly, the high pitch penetrating my ears but I didn’t dare remove my arm from my face nor my hand from the papers. Then something like the sound of bacon erupted from above us. Then just like that the light was gone. We uncovered our eyes just in time to see the lantern had burned itself into oblivion and the mole spider’s eyes had shriveled like raisins attached to its skull. It wheeled backward slamming into bookshelves and a fireplace before final barreling out into the hall and through another window screeching the whole way. We didn’t move until we were absolutely positive it was gone. Then she chuckled and leaned back against the couch. She tilted her head up and sighed deeply. “Man, was it good for you?” she said, smiling mischievously. My heart was in my throat, my pulse was racing, and it felt like I was electrified. I couldn’t help but let out a bubbly giggle. “We did quite well didn’t we” I said finally taking my hand off the papers and shoving them all into my pockets. “Yeah, you didn’t do too bad, tenderfoot” she said. “Geneva,” I extended a hand, “Geneva Lascelles” I said. “It’s a better name than Tenderfoot” I added. She smirked and took it, looking me in the eye. “Delilah. Delilah Macnealson” she answered. She stood, pulling me to my feet. “Call me Spacey though. It’s what my friends call me” My heart skipped a beat. The thought that’d I’d befriend this wild troublemaker would make my parent’s blood boil. The idea of our friendship seemed all the sweeter after this thought. We chatted loudly as we walked toward the exit. “-So then I was like ‘Well if you’re gonna talk to me like that maybe I should trash your personal garden’” she said, gesticulating to enhance her story of why she was out that night. “You’re so terrible” I laughed, punching her in the shoulder. She punched me back. It stung a little. “I know right” she replied, opening the door. She turned back still chuckling. “Hey next time we should check out the forest. I hear there’s some cool shit there” “Next time?” I asked hopefully. She nodded once. “Sure. Tomorrow night? Right here? Nine o'clock?” she asked. I nodded emphatically. “Cool. See you tomorrow, Tenderfoot” she winked at me. “See you tomorrow Spacey” I said winking back. She shut the door and I twirled around in the empty hallway. I have an adventuring partner now. I skipped the whole way back to my room.

#Saint Bellamarre #Original Work #original rp #cussing

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