#why do they always insist my imaginary best friend is gay?

[theasexual-jackson]

“Michael Jackson was gay and he liked man.”

Michael, seeing that he ordered the trans acearo lesbian, malnourished ass human project, that is me, on 2007 for nothing:

Michael Jackson was gay and he hated women.

Also Michael Jackson:

He was really out there giving it and doing charity.

[pellicano-sanguino]

A while ago I wrote that I was reading through an anthology of lesbian vampire stories to find a good one to read to White Rabbit, and that I was disappointment in the lack of lesbians and the amount of het sex and rape forced into the stories. I was especially disappointed because the authors of the anthology were women and they should know better. 

Well, I have now finished the anthology and the rest of the stories....   kept disappointing in one way or the other.

One story told of a woman who gets lost in the Amazon rainforest and is hunted and seduced by a vampire that lives there. The concept is good, a fascinating and a rather unusual setting for a vampire story. But the writing is very confusing and kinda pretentious and the sort of realism that thinks in order to captivate the true reality one must focus on all the disgusting things and describe them in great detail. Like, I feel every other sentence is TMI fest of going into the condition of the blisters in the main character’s feet or of all the bugs scampering over her when she stumbles and falls. And when we finally do get into the vampire bit, it’s just vaguely described and kinda weird and surreal and...   I don’t know, like from a completely different story. I suppose the change in writing style is supposed to symbolize the main character being under the vampire’s hypnosis or something? 

The odd writing style makes this a very tedious read for someone whose native language isn’t English, because most of the I sure am reading words but fuck if they make any sense. For example, the author talks about a person as if she’s there and it took me a long time to realize this person is NOT there, but is...   a ghost? A memory? A flashback into past or future? The main character’s imaginary friend/named sense of purity or some other symbolic shit? The author clearly intended this to be a story that you need to read several times to understand what happens and piece together the cryptic text. Hahaha nope. I am done with this pretentious fuckery.

Next story is...   sigh...   taking place in a gay club that is also into heavy BDSM. Because of fucking course that is how the hets see lesbians, to them homosexuality is a just a kink. Not only do we get descriptions of very brutal, bloody non-con sadism, we also have to read about men doing it (with women, of course. What, were you expecting gay men in this gay club? Or lesbians in your lesbian vampire anthology?). I know not all lesbians are actively grossed out by dicks but rather just completely disinterested in them, but still...   why would you write a story about a lesbian vampire and force the reader to read three - three! - detailed descriptions of a mens’ erections.

Boy, are the writers of this anthology pissed that they did not write their lesbian masterpieces in our modern times when identity havers are vigorously attempting to redefine lesbianism as “non-men being attracted to non-men.” Today, the authors could write all the dick sucking, male orgasm centered het sex they want and still call it lesbian sex as long as the penis-bearer doesn’t identify as a man. They no longer need to try to sneak in the het sex and then write some half-assed plot about them disgusting gay women.

Though, to be fair, I don’t think it’s just the het sex these writers want to force in their lesbian stories. They specificly want to write about rape, questionable consent and painful sex. And I have a theory on why.

When analyzing why some people are hell bent on putting certain elements in their vampire story, one needs to figure out why they were originally drawn into writing a vampire story in the first place. What is it about the vampire as a creature that fascinates them? What sets the vampire apart from other supernatural creatures is their parasitic nature. You take away the blood drinking and you could replace the vampire character with something else and not have it affect the plot in any way. However, surprisingly many people who write vampire stories aren’t that interested in the blood drinking (much to my disappointment) and more into the power imbalance this diet creates between vampires and humans.

Relationships between a vampire and a human have a massive power imbalance, even when the vampire isn’t the kind that has super human strength and other special powers. If a vampire does not drink blood, they will perish. This simple fact forces them to be at best harmless parasites, at worst dangerous predators. Even with civilized vampires who get their blood from butchers, blood banks or who use synthetic blood substitutes, the special diet of a vampire cannot be ignored when they interact with humans. Imagine a civilized vampire like this stranded on an island with some humans - no one can blame them for stealing blood from the humans for survival in such a scenario. No matter how kind, how sworn to be friendly to humankind, the very nature of vampirism makes it so that humans and vampires can’t coexist together as if there is not a power imbalance in place.

Some writers are very into this power imbalance. The act of drinking someone’s blood, even from a willing donor, is an act of parasitism. The human is harmed, their skin is pierced, their blood is drawn and their body will suffer consequences for it, even if for some donors those are mild. The only one walking away from the act having benefited from it is the vampire. You can romanticize the act, you can give the vampire powers to make their bite painless, you can make the human the one who asks for it, but the act remains the same. A human is wounded and will suffer from minor blood loss, the vampire takes from them and gives nothing in return.

I admit, the blood drinking is what draws me to vampire stories. I am fascinated by the concept of a creature that is by its nature forced to become parasitic. But unlike creatures that eat actual human flesh, the vampire has the option to choose between becoming a predator or becoming a parasite. The ability to be civilized, or pretend to be civilized, with humankind creates interesting emotional bonds between a vampire and their victim/host/donor. 

However, I am not interested in making blood drinking a metaphor for sex. It just does not work. 

A vampire’s very survival is depending on them securing a bloody meal regularly. No one’s survival is depending on them getting laid regularly, no matter what rape culture advocating men crying about sex being a basic need and a human right want you to believe. No one has ever dropped dead because they didn’t have sex. And that’s why the blood drinking as metaphor for sex is flawed. 

So, because the nature of vampirism demands that there must be blood drinking, that there must be harming of another living creature and stealing away a part of their body (blood is a liquid organ, consisting of living cells, drinking blood is an act of consuming living tissue), naturally people who are turned on by the idea of harming others or of being harmed and who are into non-con, would find the vampire as a concept fascinating. To them, a vampire attacking a human is equally arousing as fantasizing about rape, the idea of being bitten so deep that your blood is spilled as exciting as their other sadomasochistic kinks.

Bottom line: I get why people want to put so much sexual violence in their vampire stories. I hate it and wish they didn’t, but at least I see what motivates them to do so. 

Ahem. Back to the anthology.

The only good thing about the gross BDSM story is that there is an actual lesbian sex scene in it and that it makes blood into a plot point. Too many vampire stories just ignore the blood drinking and do it off screen, or have it be completely meaningless to the characters and story. Admittedly, the way blood is used in this story isn’t anything new or super interesting but at least they remembered to put some actual real blood drinking lesbian vampires in their lesbian vampire story. * sarcastically side-eyes the other stories*

After this we get what I consider the strongest story in the anthology. It’s still not particularly good, but the bar is set low, so yeah. This is a rather long short story, a scifi one, about a vampire and a single human sharing a space ship for a long journey, during which they start having casual sex and the human eventually learns about the vampire’s real nature. The characters aren’t that interesting, but the concept of a vampire in space is a fascinating one. I was disappointed that the writer didn’t make the endless darkness of space a place for the vampire to be free from the fear of the sun and instead still makes her react badly to some kind of day to night cycle (it’s space! There is no sun in immediate vicinity! Why would you react badly to “oh well, back in Earth it’s sun time by now”?). Another fascinating part is that this vampire doesn’t steal blood from the human in the traditional method, but instead, um...   performs certain sex act to her when she’s on her period. And this is the reason why she always insists on a female crew member.

Unfortunately not even this story is free from rape. The vampire tells her backstory, about how the man who turned her also raped her. Fortunately she does not describe it in detail but....   why must there be a rape in every single lesbian vampire story? Also, the sex scenes were a bit underwhelming, the vampire being very strictly stone butching the whole thing and not letting the human touch or pleasure her in any manner. Sigh. I know there are lesbians like this, but I can’t help but be reminded of the hets asking “so which one of you is the man?” Also, I wish I could read more lesbian romance, more flirting, more seducing and less of this no-emotional-bonds meaningless-fucking casual sex.

The last story is another pretentious one, this one even worse that the Amazon rainforest story. I...  think it’s about a vampire...   chatting with her parrot that has human-like intellect? I have no fucking idea what is going on. The writing is filled with snooty people talk and fancy words that no one uses in real life and it pisses me off.

“The parrot stuck its head on one side, began its swaying little dance shuffle, and gave a convincing rendition of “Viens poupoule.” It had nothing against lesbians and had been an admirer of Natalie Barney’s ever since a migrating cuckoo told it of the time Natalie, dressed only in a white nightgown, had herself delivered on Renée in a coffin full of enormous lilies. In its decadent period, when it has insisted on dyeing its feathers black and wearing World War Two dog tags round its neck, the parrot had even fancied itself Natalie’s ornithological opposite number, but John’s new slide rule, whom it was courting at the time, refused to attempt a Renée Vivien impersonation. That sour, unimaginative instrument had declared it had nothing whatever in common with the young, blond-haired poet, that anyone who could discern any points of comparison between any mathematical instrument and a blond-haired poet was certainly a surrealist, if not worse. The parrot had got a lot of satisfaction the day John came home from the university and declared, “With the mass production of the pocket calculator, the slide rule is dead.”

I’m gonna make a guess and say that the chances of an audience that enjoys this kind of pretentious fuckness aren’t going to be the target audience to look for their fancy-ass prose in a lesbian vampire story anthology. Just a guess.

I did find this bit funny, though:

“- - - Renée died in 1909, Natalie in 1972, but you have recently received messages from each. How is this possible?”

“Post took a long time,” suggested the parrot, ignored as usual.

You know, I could get behind the idea of a story where a lesbian vampire confides her adventures to a smartass parrot with a human intelligence. You know, if it was an actual story with actual plot and not this fake deep stream of consciousness word diarrhea “ask me what it means, ask me what it all means” garbage.

Well, if nothing else, reading the anthology through reminded me why I had forgotten most of these stories. 

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

Just Get Together Already

for @raaindropps happy birthday amor!!!

thank you to @main-chive and @an-absolute-failure for beta-ing!!

Summary: Janus and Roman are #dense. Everyone and their boyfriend is tired of this. Warnings: a couple death threats (in the vein of “i’m mildly upset with you but i’m not going to actually do anything”) Wordcount: 3257

“Amor, I hate to ask, but… are you cheating on me?”

“No! I would never!”

His reply comes a little quickly, however, and Rose narrows her eyes suspiciously. “So I have no need to fight anyone for your hand?”

“I will fight you!” Someone leaps out from around the corner and both of them gasp at the newcomer. They’re wearing a domino mask, obscuring their identity until they declare, “It is I! Janice! I have come to win Vincent’s heart!”

“Then fight me!” Rose responds, drawing her sword, and Janice mirrors her. They both crouch, each watching for the slightest twitch that will give away the other’s attack. At the same time, they lunge towards each other, sword meeting sword and steel clashing together.

“And now I’m too lazy and also it sounds really tedious to make you take turns stabbing at each other, so we’ll just have you both roll and whoever gets higher wins the sword fight. Sound good?”

“But where’s the drama in that? The tension of their rivalry? The excitement of forcing one to yield?” Roman laments, then gasps. “Do we not even get to see who draws first blood?”

“Janice leaves her side undefended for a split second too long and Rose manages to nick her arm,” Remy deadpans. “Happy?”

“I suppose,” Roman groans.

“If you don’t think you’re good enough to beat me in a single roll…” Janus trails off, raising an eyebrow.

“Ha!” Roman scoffs. “Grab your dice, loser, I’ve got a +5 to dexterity and I am not going to concede victory to someone with a 0 modifier.” He pauses, looking over to Remy. “This is a dexterity roll, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Remy waves nis hand. Roman and Janus both roll, Roman so dramatically that his die falls off the table and he has to search the floor.

“Haha! 12 plus 5 equals 17!” Roman cheers, picking up the die, at the same time Janus calls out, “17.”

“What?” Roman asks. “No it’s not. Let me see.” He peers over at their die. “Huh. It’s a tie.” He looks up at Remy. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Virgil interjects, “that right as one of you is about to force the other to yield, Vincent cries out, ‘Wait!’ and runs between you.

“‘There is no need to fight for my hand when I have two,’ he says. ‘I can simply date both of you; it shouldn’t come to this. What do you say?’”

“Rose instinctively scoffs at the offer. Share Vincent? With Janice? Inconceivable!” Janus levels Roman a Look, and he continues hastily, “But when she sees that her close-mindedness would lose her her love, she acquiesces.”

“Janice accepts the offer at once, happy to stay with her lover and have a solution that works out for all of them.”

“And so the three of them—I don’t know, cuddle or something—and live happily ever after until the next adventure.” Remy concludes.

“Now that this plot is resolved, can we fight some dragons or something?” Roman asks eagerly.

“Yeah!” Virgil seconds. “This is DnD, not some reality TV drama; the relationship stuff is interesting enough, but it doesn’t really scream adventure.”

“Look, girls, I’m DMing the best I can, okay? If you don’t like it find someone else to deal with the three of you,” Remy tells them. “I promise next time it’ll be more exciting or whatever, but figuring out the relationship stuff is necessary.” Ne shrugs. “If that doesn’t ‘scream adventure’ to you then congratulations, the boring part’s over.”

“It’s not boring,” Virgil protests.

Remy stands up. “Whatever, doll. I’m gonna go get more Starbies.” Ne leaves.

Virgil slumps back in his chair. “I pissed nym off, didn’t I?”

“It was a group effort,” Roman offers.

“Ne’ll get over it; give nym some time to cool down and then say you like nis DMing and it’ll be fine,” Janus says.

“Alright.” Virgil nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem, dear.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

roman lettuce: you gays wanna go to the mall later?

too tired for this: sure

mr. snekman: sure

and suddenly: sure

roman lettuce: ew who said you could come

and suddenly: you asked the whole chat

roman lettuce: so?????

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still don’t see why he has to come,” Roman sighs.

“Because he’s my friend, and Janus’s friend, and you did ask the whole chat,” Virgil points out. “He wanted to come; just because you’re his brother doesn’t mean you get to ban him from hanging out with us.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Roman tries. “Surely that counts for something?”

Virgil hums consideringly, looking him up and down. “You aren’t that pretty.”

“Hey!”

Virgil snickers, bumping their shoulders. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

Roman huffs, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt. “I know,” he mumbles.

“Princey, seriously, I was joking. You’re gorgeous.”

“Princey?” Roman echoes. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, because you’re my Prince Charming.” Roman’s face flames at that, and Virgil smirks.

“Now, do you want to keep complaining about your brother being here when you really don’t mind that much, or do you want to accompany me to Claire’s so we can pretend you dragged me there and I can get new nail polish while maintaining my image?”

“Oooh, I wanna see if they have any new sparkly ones!” Roman says excitedly, then pauses. “Promise not to complain if I take a while looking at earrings and stuff?”

“Maximum of twice, and purely to keep up edgy appearances,” Virgil promises.

“Good enough! Onward!” Roman grabs his hand and drags him through the mall.

It’s half an hour later when they’re leaving Claire’s that either of them think to ask where the other half of their group went.

“Welllll, Remus will probably have dragged Janus to Spencer’s—” Roman starts.

“Right, and Janus will say they went along so they wouldn’t be alone but mostly went to look around, too—”

“—but by now they’ll be done looking and maybe have bought something, so probably best to not look there—”

“—and Janus will probably insist they need food if they’re going to deal with Remus any longer, plus they’re probably wondering where we are too, and they know how much I love snacking while wandering around the mall, so they probably dragged Remus to the food court to eat and also wait for us to show up.” Virgil concludes.

“Brilliant as always, amor,” Roman says, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Virgil flushes a little. “You too.”

“And so eloquent!” Roman teases. Virgil elbows him.

“Let’s just go find the others.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Remus stretches the word out until he’s completely out of breath.

Janus rolls their eyes. “Yes?”

“You wanna help me see how many fries I can shove in my mouth before I choke on them?” Remus wiggles his eyebrows.

“No,” Janus deadpans, wondering if it’s too soon to roll their eyes again. Is there a specific amount of time that needs to elapse between eyerolls? Not important.

“Okay!” Remus says, dropping the topic much too quickly. Janus squints at him. “Let’s talk about Roman, then.”

Janus squints harder. “What about Roman?”

“How you want to date him.” And there it is.

“Let’s go back to the fry thing,” Janus tries. Remus cackles.

“Nope!”

Janus sighs. “Fine. Why do you think I want to date Roman?” 

“Please, I’ve seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you! You two should get over yourselves and just kiss already.”

Janus ignores most of what Remus said to ask, “What about Virgil?”

“He’s dating both of you! He’s not going to care.”

“This is Virgil we’re talking about; he’d probably think we were leaving him for each other,” Janus points out.

“Yeahhh,” Remus agrees. “Hm.”

“And speaking of Virgil, just because Roman’s willing to be metamours with me doesn’t mean he wants to date me,” Janus tells him.

Remus sighs. “But he does want to date you.”

“Who wants to date Janus?” Roman interjects, he and Virgil walking over to them.

“Me,” Virgil says, sliding into the booth next to them and squeezing their hand, smiling at them.

“An idiot,” Remus says, grinning sharply at Roman. “Not that you’re an idiot, V, or that anyone wanting to date you is an idiot for it, JanJan.”

Virgil sighs lowly. “Thanks, Rem.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey! Do you guys want to see how many fries I can fit into my mouth before I choke on them?”

“Why?” Roman groans. Virgil simply scrunches up his face.

Remus sighs. “You’re all so boring.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So. Roman.” Patton perches on Roman’s bed and smiles widely at him. He doesn’t say anything else.

“So?” Roman echoes after a moment.

“You and Remus went to the mall today?” Patton asks. “With Virgil and Janus?”

“Yeah?” Roman asks. They’d told Patton that when they left, why is he asking when he already knows that? And, “What’s with the emphasis on Janus’s name?” Patton smiles cryptically.

“Get anything new?”

“I got some nail polish?” Roman offers. “Matte pastel blue.” Patton’s eyes widen with interest, but it doesn’t seem like that’s the answer he’s looking for.

“Anything else?” At Roman’s bewildered, get-to-your-point look, he adds, “Liiiiiiike a datemate, maybe?”

Roman blushes bright red. “No! Janus doesn’t like me like that.” Patton sighs. “No, don’t sigh at me like that, they don’t!”

“If you say so,” Patton singsongs.

“I do say so,” Roman says, a little disgruntled by how clearly Patton doesn’t believe him. “They’ve given zero indication that they like me, and I don’t even know if they’re poly or not! And even if they are poly, why would they like me? Just because we’re both dating Virgil doesn’t mean they’re interested in me too.”

“Ignoring the many indications that they like you that you’re just too oblivious to notice, they would like you because you’re pretty, and kind, and a good person, and you try your best and don’t give up, and you’re always unapologetically yourself, which is really admirable, and you’re amazing.”

Roman, embarrassed from such praise, skips over genuinely reacting to it to gasp dramatically. “Patton! You’re my brother! You’re not supposed to like me.”

“So you know you’re getting a critical, objective opinion when I say all this,” Patton grins.

“Doesn’t it being an opinion mean that it can’t be objective?” Roman asks.

“Irrelevant!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i’m the brother of an idiot: I’m going to go insane :)

i’m dating two idiots: elaborate??

i’m the brother of an idiot: Direct quote from Roman about Janus “they’ve given 0 indication they like me” yes they have???

i’m dating two idiots: ah

i’m dating two idiots: understandable, have a nice day

i’m the brother of an idiot: Thank u

im the twin of an idiot: can i pls just lokc them in a closet oh my god

i’m dating two idiots: u know what

i’m dating two idiots: lemme do my plan

i’m dating two idiots: and if that doesn’t work go wild

im the twin of an idiot: alright fine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aw, yeah, date night with the homies.” Virgil flops onto the couch in between Roman and Janus. “What movie are we watching?”

“Before the two of you say anything,” Roman starts, and Janus groans. “Before the two of you say anything, just hear me out.”

“Must we?” Janus asks.

“Unfortunately,” Virgil teases.

“You both may be wondering, ‘Roman, haven’t you watched this movie enough times to have memorized the script? When will it be enough?’ And to that I reply that there are never enough times you can watch Tangled.”

“Didn’t we watch that last movie night?” Janus asks.

“I refer you to ‘there are never enough times you can watch Tangled,’” Roman declares, and Janus sighs.

“At least you have the taste to pick a good movie to watch a million times.”

Roman doesn’t dignify that with a response, clicking play and settling in.

After Tangled, they watched Treasure Planet (or, well, half of it. They paused it in the middle to make a blanket fort and never got around to unpausing it).

“Roman. I love you.”

“I love you too!” Roman adds quickly. Virgil raises his hand.

“But I am going to kill you.”

“Corazón,” Roman tries. “Light of my life.” Virgil shakes his head.

“You looked me directly in the eyes and put that +4 wild down, Roman; you asked for this.” Roman sighs.

“I accept my fate.”

“Good.” Virgil leans over and kisses him, booping Roman’s nose as he pulls away. “Boop. You’re dead.”

“Alas!” Roman cries, dramatically falling back onto the floor and sticking his tongue out. He stays there while Virgil and Janus take their turns, then picks up his cards “stealthily” and cracks an eye open. “Uno,” he declares, putting a card on the pile, before dropping his cards and going back to being “dead.”

Virgil frowns at his cards, draws one, sighs and places it on the pile, then stands up. “I gotta go to the bathroom, be right back. You guys can play without me.”

“Alright,” Janus says.

Virgil hopes it’s not blatantly obvious that he’s leaving to try and get the two of them together. Virgil’s UNO deck has some of the write-in cards, and he’d taken that opportunity to create a card that said “Kiss one of the other players or draw 25.” And if he’d used his ability to count cards to make sure that Roman would get that one, knowing that Roman is fiercely competitive and hates losing, then, well, it was his and Janus’s fault for being so dense that he had to resort to this to try and get them to admit they like each other.

He just hopes Janus—who helped him learn to count cards in the first place—doesn’t put two and two together and realize what Virgil’d done. Or at least if they do, then they don’t ruin the plan.

He loiters in the bathroom for a couple minutes, eventually flushing the toilet, running the sink for a minute, and heading back out.

Roman’s holding a bunch of cards. Seriously? They didn’t even have to kiss on the lips; the card hadn’t specified. He could’ve kissed Janus’s cheek and called it good!

“Did you guys start another round without me?” Virgil asks, hoping his first instinct is wrong.

“No,” Roman says, smiling sheepishly. “I got a card that says I had to kiss another player or draw 25 cards, and you weren’t here, so…”

Virgil resists the urge to sigh loudly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i’m dating two idiots: @i’m the twin of an idiot alright

im the twin of an idiot: LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Remus!” Roman shouts, pounding on the door. “Let us out of here!” His only response is a cackling laugh. “Remus!”

He tries the knob, hoping it might be unlocked. No dice.

“Do keep banging on the door,” Janus snarks. “That’ll totally get us out.”

“You have a better plan?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. We text our friends and get one of them to come get us out of here.”

“Oh. Huh. That’s actually really smart.”

“Why, thank you.” Janus rolls their eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like you’re not usually smart!” Roman corrects quickly. “I just would never have thought of that.”

“Well, hopefully you thought to bring your phone in here?” Janus asks, a little sheepishly. “I left mine in my jacket pocket.”

Roman rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rom(an)eo: hey

rom(an)eo: remus locked me and janus in a closet

rom(an)eo: pls come get us out?

have a patton the back: Well,,,, I would,,,,, if this didn’t sound like a really great opportunity for you to finally confess to Janus,,,,,,,,

rom(an)eo: patton

have a patton the back: :)

rom(an)eo: patton cmon please

have a patton the back: :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rom(an)eo: amor remus locked both your loves in a closet pls come get us out??

like my soul: I’m driving right now and can’t respond further. I’ll see your message when I get where I’m going

like my soul: (I’m not receiving notifications. If this is urgent, reply “urgent” to send a notification through with your original message.)

rom(an)eo: darn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rom(an)eo: remy can you come get me and janus we’re locked in a closet?

excuse you: o tea??

rom(an)eo: no

rom(an)eo: no tea

rom(an)eo: just come help us

excuse you: idk babes

excuse you: first u don’t sound v sure of whether you’re locked in a closet or not

excuse you: now you’re denying me my lifeblood

excuse you: idk where all this attitude is coming from but it has Got To Go

rom(an)eo: wait remy please??

rom(an)eo: remy??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman sighs. “Our friends are all useless.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah; Remus is the one who locked us in here in the first place and Remy is more interested in the drama of it then coming and helping us,” Roman tells them. “I texted Virgil but he’s driving.”

“Emile?” Janus suggests.

“I don’t have faer number, and I’m guessing you don’t know it well enough to call faer?” Janus shakes their head, and Roman frowns.

“Well, what about Patton?”

“He said—I mean,” Roman corrects quickly, “he’s not going to help.”

Janus frowns slightly. “What’d he say?”

“Nothing,” Roman tries, but Janus isn’t having it.

“Did you annoy him and now he’s refusing to help because he’s upset, or something?” Janus demands. “It can’t be that bad, just tell me what it is or make it up with Patton so he’ll get us out of here.”

“He’s not mad at me,” Roman mumbles.

“Then why isn’t he coming?”

“I…” Roman pulls up his conversation with Patton and shoves his phone at Janus, hoping they’ll understand and he won’t have to say anything.

Instead, because the universe hates him, they look over at him confusedly. “‘Confess’?”

“Yeah…”

“What does Patton want you to confess to me?” Roman is going to kill Remus once he gets out of here.

“I like you,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

There’s a few agonizing moments of silence before Janus whispers back, “Me too.”

Roman lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, eyes popping open to scrutinize Janus. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Janus tells him, smiling a little at him. He smiles back.

Then he breaks eye contact, looking over at the door, and tells them, “Great news! The door doesn’t open with a confession. Any other ideas?”

Janus snorts. “You could tell Patton we confessed and have him come get us?”

“Or,” Roman suggests, eyes lighting up with mischief, “counterpoint: we don’t tell him and pretend we still haven’t gotten together to spite him—wait. Are we dating now?”

“I mean, I’m down if you’re down.” They lift one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“I’m definitely down.”

“Then I guess we’re dating now,” Janus says, snaking their hand into his. Roman squeezes it, and Janus squeezes back.

“So. Spiting Patton?”

“Oh, definitely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you got locked in a closet with him and you didn’t confess!” Patton complains. “I mean, I even brought it up! It can’t be that the idea never crossed you. And! This is literally the stuff of fanfiction and movies! It would’ve been perfect.”

“Maybe for you,” Roman points out, squashing down a smirk. “Can you imagine for me, though? I just got trapped in a tiny closet by my twin and all my friends refuse to help me. How is that romantic?”

“Still,” Patton pouts.

(Two weeks later, Patton walks in on Roman and Janus kissing and screams.)

[cobieeliseforsh]

I'm getting pretty annoyed with the amount of bullshit in the media right now. I just read an article about the "antisemitic" conspiracy theory Qanon. Calling Qanon antisemitic is like calling the KKK a group opposed to the career of Will Smith - technically true, but clearly a small subsection of a greater whole.

So, to remedy this...

COBIE'S FRUSTRATED GUIDE TO QANON FROM SOMEONE WHO LOVES CONSPIRACY THEORIES AND WISHES THIS ONE WOULD FUCK OFF BECAUSE IT IS BORING AS SHIT BUT NOT FIZZING WITH ENERGY, EVEN ON A MOLECULAR LEVEL, BECAUSE IT IS A DUMB AND LAZY REHASH FROM THE 80S OR EARLIER!

PART 1: DA FUCQ IS QANON?

Qanon is a grooming organisation for the Christian Far Right Death Cult that has held the Republican party in its sweaty hands since the ascent of Reagan in the 1980s. They believe in some bullshit I won't reprint here because I have no intention of spreading their ideology, but if you've heard of the Satanic panic, this is Satanic Panic 2: Now With Pizza!

Qanon is, by definition of their own supporters attacks on Muslim terrorism, a terrorist organisation. And, though it seems impossible, they're stupidier than ISIS ever were, because at least there was some twisted logic behind ISIS: poor young men fighting revolutionary wars against what they see as corrupt and immoral authorities and ideologies is nothing new. Qanon is literally the powerful declaring war on those without power out of fear that those without power (Satanists) live only to physically abuse their ugly, fat, prejudiced, stupid children. Despite the statistically most likely people to abuse them being them themselves, and there being plenty of evidence that many of these hypocrites have done that in the past (numerically many - one thing I believe Qanon followers on is that the majority are gullible Maud Flanders types, so statistically it won't be that many).

Donald Trump supports them over the "violent" Antifa (Antifa haven't killed anyone since 1993 (and that was a suicide), aren't actually an organisation, and are against facism, which Trump also claims to be against), despite Qanon followers carrying and firing weapons regularly, having shot up a pizza place in a terrorist act, refusing to wear masks, and other acts of violence designed to terrorise people.

PART 2 WHO DO THEY HATE?

Um... like, 98% of people.

Qanon is primarily an Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult. They believe in what they call SRA (Satanic Ritual Abuse) which happens at such a low frequency as to make it as serious a problem as being invaded by pookas. You might find anecdotal evidence here and there, but the majority of cases are hearsay spread by people who weren't there who were a part of or raised by people who were a part of the Satanic Panic. If you hear about it, it's likely bullshit. Just look at the West Memphis 3: accused of Satanic Ritual Abuse, they were sent to prison for wearing black clothes and being teenagers without any evidence. Now, whoever killed those boys is still loose, because Qanon, like all right-wing groups, is about being obeyed, not about justice.

So, with Satanic Ritual Abuse being fucking vapour, they can accuse ANYONE. And if there is no evidence, they cry COVER UP. There is no way, at all, to prove this mindset is wrong as it always self corrects, because being religious in origin, it is driven by BELIEF, not evidence.

So, whoever they believe is evil, is, as far as their reality tunnel goes.

Muslims? Evil child abusers. "But there is no evidence of that. In fact, the Muslim community is actually very protective of their children and other children. They're amongst the kindest people you can meet, even if their political leaders in their own countries are jerks." Well, says Qanon, that's because their community covers up the abuse. There wouldn't be any evidence. But my cousin went to school with a girl who was groomed by a Muslim. It's clear it is something all Muslims do. "But that's stupid. That's like saying that because Ted Bundy, a heterosexual white Republican, murdered loads of women, all heterosexual white Republicans want to murder women!" Now, says Qanon, you are just being silly. Besides, I believe Muslims are bad and Republicans aren't. You can't question my beliefs.

But we can, and we should.

Qanon followers use this vague structure to create complex webs that link up various conspiracy theories, but they aren't a complex web. They're just a list of petty grievances they have from living in their own personal echo chamber.

They hate women, they hate girls, they hate boys who don't conform to their expectations, they hate men who vote left-wing, they hate gay people, bi people, really anyone who isn't heterosexual, they definitely hate trans people (see: trans people want to use bathrooms to abuse children as merely an extension of the Satanic Ritual Abuse claims), they hate people with coloured hair, bright clothes, they hate Jewish people, they hate Muslims, they hate anyone from a fringe religion that doesn't look right, they hate foreigners, black and brown people... anyone they define as different. And to back this up, they claim to be "the majority" being dictated to be a "minority" - they aren't. They're a minority of gobby cunts, a Karen of Nazis (Karen being the best collective noun to describe these childish crybabies who were so desperate to remain in a state of childlike innocence they embraced both religion and then keep insisting their imaginary friend, Jesus, is following them everywhere, like a psychotic stalker ghost).

PART 3 WHERE DOES THEIR BULLSHIT COME FROM?

This is probably the most important part. Not what they believe, but where these ideas come from, and why they aren't new.

Qanon is a mixture of young-and-edgy YouTube/8chan influencer, white supremacist religious manipulation, pro-Capitalist Protestant religious "life is shit, embrace misery" ideology, pedophile hysteria, and "we hate the idea people have rights because we're power mad, but we're going to frame this as a backlash, normal people making their voices heard, a culture war, or whatever else we can rebrand PREJUDICE because even we don't want to admit we are bigots".

So, first of all, the angry white online teenagers: have always existed, will always exist. Their parents don't give a shit about them unless they cause trouble. So, they learn quickly that the best way to get attention is to cause trouble, which leads to kinship with other troubkemakers, forming an echo chamber of escalating troublemaking. But they're also angry, and often poor (in their eyes, or in actuality), so they're drawn to outrage, and like causing it. They're attracted to movements like this because they believe it's a chance to get some attention, someone to notice them.

And who notices them? White supremacists are always on the lookout for recruits. They feed their need for outrage and attention by misrepresenting everything. They take puff-piece news articles and shoddy journalism and further twist them into movements around positions that have no basis in reality. Vaccines? Designed to hurt you. "Uhhh, no," you say. "That's literally the opposite of what a vaccine does." I don't believe that, they say, and you can't question my beliefs. BLM? Terrorism. "No, they just want to not be shot." No they don't, they want to take over and put the Jews in power, and you can't question my beliefs! "You have no evidence!" COVER UP! they scream.

So it goes, so it goes.

Meanwhile, the Protestan work ethic of, "If you didn't suffer, you don't deserve it," goes on and on. They believe that shit things just happen, you can't stop them. Capitalism is founded on this very, very relugious principle: work should be pain for it to have value. This justifies promoting assholes, and making things difficult. But it also promotes the idea that you can't do anything to combat inequality, as that is natural, and you can't do anything to stop bad things happening, they always will, so why try? This lends Qanon a specific pattern: complain, do nothing, complain nothing is being done, still do nothing, repeat. It's wrong to intervene, you see. This allows them to say racism is bad, but God wants us to suffer so we deserve phony-heaven, a paradise they think is built on bricks of human misery... does that sound glorious to you? And if you have something, clearly you did suffer to get it, and so you are worthy, which is why Trump is a hero to them and they believe his every utterance of verbal diarrhea about him being persecuted (to be fair, he is, but he deserves it because he's lazy and incompetent).

Pedophile hysteria is also generally religiously motivated. Children should be protected, but they are not innocent angels. I've worked with children. Some are nice, some are sneaky, some are violent bullies, and so on. The one thing that unites all children is that they are ignorant. That's why we send them to school. And there are people who want to prey on children. The world we usually use to describe those who most often hurt, abuse and damage children is, "family". Promoting the idea of gangs of rampaging pedophiles snatching children into vans and harming them in shadowy rooms, or murdering them in some Satanic ritual, is laughable compared to the epidemic of children being harmed by those parents terrified the pedophiles are out there. Such fear motivates them to do untold harm to children, restricting their freedoms and their growth, teaching them that all sex is bad so they never enjoy it, forcing them to be things they aren't, and turning a blind eye to obvious abuse because those doing it are not the model of abuse being put out by the press and Internet communities. In that last way, Qanon is a driver of child abuse: it actively encourages Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult members to nit even ask the obvious question: if Epstein was abusing kids, and Epstein was hanging out with Trump, was Trump maybe involved in some way?

And then there is just the prejudiced crowd, most notably the American-exceptionalism delusional whack jobs. Let me be clear, all forms of exceptionalism are prejudiced, as they suggest that those who are exceptional are better and mire deserving than others, and the real world does not contain such hierarchies, just stuff that happens until it stops happening. A monkey may be the alpha, but one day they won't be. It's not a hierarchy, it's just a thing that happens that we project a power structure onto. Who knows what monkey culture is like? Maybe to them deference is more honourable and respected than being in charge. No-one has asked monkeys for their views of ideology or power structures.

This often manifests itself in ideas of, "We shouldn't be ashamed!" and that movements they don't like are, "Against us!" Well, if you're setting out to hurt people because you believe you are better than them, you should be ashamed. That queer Pakistani girl you keep out of college could have been the one to cure cancer! She might have had the unique perspective to make that breakthrough. And, yes, some of us are against Qanon, because Qanon is hurting people. That is the point of the movement: to harm its enemies, by denial if freedom all the way up to outright murder. It isn't a Pride parade or BLM demanding equality and an end to deaths, its a hate movement driven by a desire to punch down, and ultimately perpetuate the very system that isn't even working for those who follow its own ideology.

It's based on fear of the new, even if that new place is better than the old one, change can be scary. They think equality will hurt them, the way collective bargaining would hurt them. But we don't live in a system where resources are so finite you have to do without, we live in a system where resources are finite but we throw away an excess because capitalism couldn't make rich people richer by giving it to those who need it, so they dispose of it and introduce scarcity to drive up the cost. Working together would force them to stop doing that, which is why movements like this exist: to perpetuate a form of exceptionalism more like a cult, where only the leaders reap the rewards.

PART 4 WHAT IS THE END GOAL OF QANON?

It doesn't have one.

Qanon is a right-wing movement. Right-wing movements are about winning arguments now, and then feeling smug, even when the damage is undone later. It's about a sense of self-satisfaction, and not anything else.

Plus, Qanon has so many stake-holders who hate each other that the movement will eventually descend into cannibalism as all these things do.

Finally, being primarily religious in its design, it won't take long for many religious types to realise Q is kind if a God-like figure, a false idol, and when that happens, plenty if their leaders will become worried that their followers are so focused on Q they might "stray from the path" of donating all their money to their church.

Unless it turns out that Q is Q from Star Trek, in which case their end goal is to test Jean-Luc Picard.

PART 5 SHOULD WE FEAR QANON?

Nah. It's a group of fringe lunatics whose time in the spotlight will be fleeting. As I've already said, even their ideas aren't original - this is the Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult version of Fortnite stealing dances: everyone goes crazy about it for a bit, but it's so insubstantial in its original form, nevermind the cover band version, that almost all people with a lick of common sense will dismiss it. Plus, it doesn't serve any agenda: Trump could easily find himself on the receiving end of it, that one Qanon politician just elected will likely be marginalised the moment Trump vanishes, and having a single person won't sway any votes in such divisive times, which means they'll be proclaimed ineffectual soon enough, and with Epstein it is already showing that it isn't something which helps the powerful, meaning a lot of people who do have secrets will want it gone sooner rather than later lest it bite their own hands. Plus, they are actually harming people - and say what you like about the Republicans, they don't tend to respond well to the PR disaster of groups they side with directly attacking or killing people unless they are their own ACAB stormtroopers.

Plus, it's a bunch of saddos on the Internet. Chances are if you see someone screaming about Qanon and waving around a gun, they'd have done the same and screamed about lizards had it never got started.

PART 6 WHAT SHOULD I DO?

Stop giving them attention. This is one of the most BORING conspiracy theories ever created. Seriously, since 9/11, conspiracy theories have really gone downhill. They used to be about aliens and subterranean kingdoms, and now they're just attempts to misdirect pedophile hunters from the right-wing types who have covered up child abuse, and tie it to phony "think of the children" and "Satan is out to get us" religious hysteria.

With covid-19, the press is having a very slow news cycle, so they're desperately grabbing at anything that can drive search engine algorithm clicks to their sites, so they're covering Qanon because they've seen it trending. I doubt most people involved with it really believe in it, but it is so directionless that it wouldn't matter if they did. Qanon Con would descend into bloodshed fairly quickly because everyone would be angry and arguing that the tater tots are secret SRA code for cannibalising children or that it reveals that Hilary Clinton buries children beneath fields of potatoes. It's stupid, the people involved with it are stupid, and the bigger question is what they believe that led them to this:

Disenfranchisement. Having to respect the beliefs of others. Prejudice. Anger.

Well, boo-fucking-hoo. If these shitbags actually want to stop harm to children, maybe stop supporting gun rights so kids aren't being gunned down in schools, and black kids don't keep getting gunned down everywhere. Until you do that, Qanon, you're the child abusers.

[weaselle]

I want to share something hidden about myself.

I’m sort of a girl? so I started this tumblr as just, like, a catch-all and curation: anything I miss on other social media usually makes it’s way to my dash here, and it’s also full of cute animals and cool art - win. And I have almost no cross followers and irl friends here, like close to zero people from my facebook friends know me here, so it’s… almost like an alone place with imaginary friends. Anyway, I’ve slowly been filling with this desire to say something about myself for years, I want it out in the universe but I don’t necessarily want a bunch of people in my life to know it, so this seems the right platform, maybe. I’m going to be talking about being… some kind of non-binary. And I would like to start with a kind of disclaimer: I don’t want to move into spaces that I feel are best left for others, people who need those spaces more than I do. I’m not trying to join any communities or participate in other people’s identity situations. This disclaimer will make more sense as I go on. I’m 40 years old (still pretty tho ;) ) and I’ve always presented myself as, and mostly conceived of myself as: cis white male. But I’ve also always been … other than that. On the inside; like, both things. I feel, idk, like… I read about two-spirit shamans, and I think about how that kind of identity must have always been a reality for some people since the dawn of humans, and I feel something on that spectrum, maybe. And there’s a whole other dimension to it, which is that my mother died when I was young - I was very lucky to be adopted right away by her sister, but, since I was 6 years old, I have actively tried to let her spirit live on this earth through me. This is part of the reason for my disclaimer- I don’t necessarily think my experience is very representative of many people who are non-binary. Or maybe it mostly is, I’m more of an accepting-my-friends-as-being-who-they-present-as and less a delving-into-the-deep-personal-exploration-of-WHY-they-are-who-they-are kind of friend, but at least, I don’t think housing the ghost of a dead parent inside your own soul is a component for most people. Anyway, that’s certainly not the whole story with me, either, but I definitely started from a place of trying to live life how a woman would live it. Like, especially when I was in 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th grade, I was intensely curious about what it would be like to be a woman. In 7th grade I carried around books like Are You There God It’s Me Margaret  - which fact didn’t create a lot of social capital for me (but I feel ultimately that was a far better investment in socialization than I knew at the time). Along with LOTR and everything else a person who loves books reads, I read romance novels and stuff like Clan of the Cave Bear. Books by women that dealt with sexuality and women’s points of view - like The Mists of Avalon, which I devoured over the summer before freshman year. And the whole time I was exploring my sexual awakening, this curiosity of what it would be like to be a woman was present, and sometimes the focus. Women’s underwear, for example, feels super sexy and exciting to wear, if only it didn’t look ridiculous to me on my male anatomy. The thing is, I am DEFINITELY attracted to women. Like, I find some men attractive in a non-sexual way, the way a leopard in peak condition is beautiful, if that makes sense.. and I’ve known three or four men that I’ve thought “if only I wanted to fuck you, I would totally date you” - but, I’ve sucked a couple dicks over the years, and I’m just not that into it. I remember standing naked in the mirror trying to imagine what it would be like to just BE a girl, thinking about how as a late-blooming 14 year old physical body there seemed very little difference anyway, but I wanted so much to experience the entire reality… and trying to reconcile that desire with the fact that no matter how I tried to get into that fantasy, boys just weren’t sexy to me. In 1992 in a small town, with no internet access, I was definitely unknowingly trapped in binary preconceptions of gender and sexuality, while I tried to understand the possibility that I was a lesbian inside. But I never let that thought develop much. I mean the thought has been pretty omnipresent on the back burner of my being, but I’ve always kind of overlooked it with a “not really though”. The reasons are difficult to pin down, but … I had friends who were guys, and I heard their take on things, and I sort of felt that me getting off on pretending to be a lesbian would be participating in something similar to things I found kind of gross about the ways some of these boys were about women. I still wrestle with that. And, while I was lucky enough to have friends and family that I knew were sufficiently supportive that I could tell them I felt like a girl inside, I felt like that understanding would instantly shift to skepticism if I added “and I’m sexually attracted to women”. Like, that felt, and still feels, like one solid step too far to be taken seriously by most of my friends and family, hell, I barely comprehend it myself. Like, if I want to be a girl, but the girl I want to be would be described as a tomboy and I’m attracted to girls… what even am I doing? (It was weird, when I was young and imagined myself as a girl, I wanted to be a girl doing “boy” things like skateboarding and climbing trees and playing video games and fighting and playing in the mud - but when I imagined myself as a boy, I wanted to be a boy doing “girl” things, dressing up and singing and cooking and dancing and being the hub of a spy-network gossip circle. Now, as an adult in this the year 2018, with the exception of social-progression issues, it is utterly unimportant to me what things are “man” things and what things are “woman” things so this isn’t the same; like, I know men are often super gossipy and I’m no longer stuck thinking of ballet as a “girl” thing, so that part of my situation has resolved.) So I went on with my life, as a boy. I mean, sometimes people wondered if I was gay, and my theater-kid ass didn’t get into the overt parts of male culture by any means, but I was definitely a boy. And, as much as I fantasized about being a woman, I fantasized about growing into a man, too. A tall, lithe, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, ninja-werewolf man in a killer business suit with a harem of super talented funny smart women who were all lovers and let me be their beloved bodyguard and sex parter. Or whatever, I’ve never been good at having realistic goals. And I definitely grew into a man. Like, I still have to consciously check myself to make sure I’m not interrupting women or talking over them, because I didn’t learn how inherent a quality that was in me until I was an adult, because I grew up in modern America AS a MAN, in ways that are undeniable and very real. And while I still STRONGLY wish I could experience life in a woman’s body (y’know, for three weeks out of the month) I’m very comfortable with my male body. Despite my lifelong social and mental issues (or maybe because of addressing them my whole life?) I’m pretty well-adjusted. I like myself, physically, spiritually (liking myself mentally is a 50/50 proposition, but whatever). I’ve come a long way. From a clumsy, socially inept, tantrum throwing, ugly duckling with a scalp condition and a bunch of warts on my hands, I’ve grown into a physically and socially skilled, wart-free healthy-scalped adult man, with slim hips and decently broad shoulders (still no luck on the werewolf thing) and a good handle on my anger management; fit and kind and thoughtful and only a little crazy… I’m pretty damn happy and comfortable with who I have become. I have even wound up in a couple romantic relationships with women who almost exclusively prefer dating other women, and that has been a wonderful low-key way to sort of be this other thing I feel I am. I just ALSO feel this desire to be a woman on the outside, sometimes, because I still feel like a woman on the inside, in many ways. And that leads me right back around to my starting point. I have a huge amount of privilege, and I don’t want to give it up. I feel like it’s my duty to use that privilege on behalf of those who don’t have it, but I do have it, and I take full advantage of it, so, I don’t think it’s fair of me to “come out” as any kind of trans or non-binary person. I feel like I would be taking space away from people who need it more than I do. I am, for all intents and purposes, a cis white male, and I have enjoyed every advantage that comes with that: I get to talk about being attracted to the people I’m attracted to, and it is the “cultural norm” for them to be attracted people who look like me… I don’t even really have any body dysphoria or anything. I’m just mostly comfortable with who I am while wishing I could be more, and isn’t that the human experience anyway? And part of that privilege is getting to not have this, whatever this gender sexuality non-binary thing I experience in my soul, not be society’s defining characteristic of me - I get to have it NOT be the main thing that everyone insists on bringing up with/about me. I’m grateful that it doesn’t have to be what takes all my time and energy, because I have a lot of other things I want to focus on. I have a very real socio-economic revolution I’ve spent almost 25 years putting together that I’m finally starting to get off the ground, in fact- I can’t really afford to get derailed over this. I just… I don’t want it to be THE part of my reality, but the older I get, the more I feel like I need to acknowledge that it is A part of my reality, a real part of me. Somewhere, on the inside, and to whatever extent regrettably not on the outside, I am a lesbian woman… in as much as a person can be who has grown up being treated by society as a cis man. As much as it makes me furious and sad that I cannot avoid adding such an addendum, that I cannot simply say “I feel in my soul that I am a lesbian woman” the plain fact is I have spent 40 years enjoying the privileges of a cis man, and that experience does not a lesbian make. But just here. Just this once. I want to say it anyway. To just accept this part of myself without all those qualifiers and conditions. I am a woman who loves other women. It has literally made me cry now, to have typed that simple sentence alone. So thank you, Tumblr, for being the void I can say this into.

[misspandalily]

because Team Gai is so extra

Last entry for Nejiten Month! Prompts used: it isn’t my fault you’re perfect, gifts

AO3 | FFN

"Your new hurdle assessment piece: in pairs, you will be assigned an egg to care for over the next month. Now, please come up to the front to draw your partner's name."

.

.

Because she has no surname, Tenten is the first to draw a name from the weird, sparkly blue top hat that Mr Hatake insists on displaying year-round, even though it's a little frayed at the edges and losing the rich sapphire colour it used to have. She remembers Temari the Senior telling her that it's because he actually stores his porn books in it, though no one's ever come close enough to the hat to find one. He also wears a mask, for some reason, and she's pretty sure that it's against Departmental Regulations but Mr Hatake is also the coolest health teacher on campus so she isn't about to cross that line. Yet.

She dips her hand into the hat, swirls it around a bit, prays that she'll have a partner who'll help her pass and not shatter the egg, then picks up a piece of paper that's folded so precisely it's an exact square. Opening it up, Tenten is awarded by the most shocking revelation of her life. Who in the blazes is 'Neji Hyuga'?

.

.

Neji Hyuga, apparently, is that guy who sits right at the front with his hair immaculately tied into a ponytail and snaps out lines that border between poetry and insults. She honestly has never paid much attention to him, only now knowing that he's been topping the academic board for so long that no one - not even the teachers - bother acting surprised when he scores highest every year. Also, he's the cousin of Konoha High's wallflower, Hinata Hyuga, a sweet sophomore who's so quiet and kind that no one in the school wants to pick on her, ever. Which is why their relation comes as another shock to Tenten because Neji (who actually talks a lot in class, to her surprise) is probably the worst person she's ever met.

"Hi, I'm Tenten," she holds out a hand for him to shake. Their seats are being reassigned to whoever their new partners are, and amongst all of the shuffling and shouting that's going on, Tenten is one to always remember etiquette because she's a good girl who was raised right by the orphanage caretaker. The same doesn't seem to go for him, because he leaves her hanging and replies with a stiff nod. "Okay," she slumps into her new, disgustingly warm, seat, "nice to meet you too."

"Let's just get this over and done with," he says with an air of finality. Tenten sputters, her eyes darting between the egg sitting before them and his stoic face. He returns her incredulous gaze with one of impetuousness. "We only need to talk whenever the assignment entails it."

"Wow," she mutters to herself, then side-eyes him, and decides to completely skip over the part where she wants to retain her etiquette, "You are such a loser."

That gets his attention. Neji swivels in his seat, abhorred. "I don't think I recall you topping the school's academic board."

"I came first in PE, doucheface," she hisses back when Mr Hatake's powerpoint slides pop up - a sign for total silence that no one has ever listened to in the years he's been teaching here (so, five).

"Ah, a subject for men."

"Yeah, well," her brain is rifling through the vast database of insults she stores in her mind whenever she's in the shower and arguing with an imaginary person, "If you look at that list, you don't even qualify as one."

Neji stares. Mr Hatake finally manages to quiet down the class with a horn he keeps stowed away in his top drawer. Neji continues to stare, to her satisfaction. "I don't like you."

"Neji," Mr Hatake calls out, having caught him for breaking the Sacred Rule of Silence, "Kindly refrain from defying authority for today, thank you."

From her slumped posture, elbows on the table, fingers holding her pens and paper in place, Tenten tilts her head back and lets out a silent laugh.

.

.

"Look," Tenten sighs for the fiftieth time since entering the Hyuga Compound. It's a large mansion with marble floors, columns and staircases; she's slipped once or twice, because that's how polished it is. They're in Neji's room, deciding on a name for their egg (which apparently takes more than the six allotted hours of a school day when it comes to Neji Hyuga's 'List of Adequate Baby Egg Names, Condensed and Revised for Tenten's Stupidity') and timetabling their shifts. "Could you please stop thermoregulating the egg? Literally nothing has changed in the past two hours. Give it a rest."

He almost gasps in astonishment, but she counts it as a success when he finally removes his thermometer from the mini marble egg bathtub. Don't ask, because she'll tell you anyway, but Neji claims that his little cousin Hanabi has a Thing for collecting elaborate, custom-made egg-holders. Tenten doesn't buy it. At all. "Excuse you. My child will be cared for in the way I deem fit."

"Wow," she watches him fuss over his - their - egg like a mother hen and massages her forehead delicately. "I think I just understood something."

"Meaning?"

"Nothing flattering for you, that's what."

"I don't need flattery from you when I have Eggbert to care for."

"Hold up," Tenten places her palms in the air, affronted, "Eggbert? I thought we agreed on Eggs Benedict?"

Neji scoffs with his nose high up in the air. "No child of mine will be named Eggs Benedict. How barbaric."

"I'm sorry," she starts sarcastically, "It's not my fault you're so perfect. After we inaugurate the egg into your clan, shall we decide on Eggbert von Hyugastein's bedroom decor?"

"The best suggestion you've made since...well, ever."

Tenten groans. This is going to be a long month.

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.

.

.

Despite the looming threat of mid-year exams catching on, Neji sticks to their shift timetables like a slavedriver and insists on getting the compulsory 'joint parenting outing' out of the way so that he 'never has to see her face again'. Like he can even help that. They literally have every class together.

Because he's the one forcing her out of her procrastinatory slumber, though, she gets to choose where they go - egg-racing in the park with Lee, since he refused to pay for a huge dinner at Konoha's most expensive restaurant (The Golden Flower) for their family.

Reputedly the most active person in all of Konoha, tying only with Mr Gai, Rock Lee wears spandex-green jumpsuits on a constant basis and emulates his idol Bruce by spending almost every waking second in the gym and dojo, if not on his extremely sleek bob. He's overwhelming, but he's also Tenten's best friend, as well as someone Neji once described to her as 'pitiful' and 'annoying', so that's why they're meeting up with him.

Predictably, Lee's egg is painted forest green, complete with orange leg-warmers and a mini-bob, and is called the 'Springtime of Youth'. Tenten takes utter delight in the cringe that spreads across Neji's face when he realises that they have to spend the next ten hours with Lee unless he agrees to spread out 'joint parenting outing' over a month instead of a day.

Anyway, the race is amazing. Lee puts all of his energy into everything he does, so it's a complete obstacle course of sloping slides and mazes for the waxed eggs to roll through. She places all of her savings (so, fifty cents - she likes to buy things, okay? Shut up, Neji.) on Eggbert von Hyugastein and is shockingly backed up by Neji's big, fat, fifty-dollar bill. The gesture catches her off-guard, because he's actually smiling at her, but then Lee declares the betting pool closed and starts the race.

Here's a snippet of how it goes:

"Lee's winning. LEE'S EGG IS WINNING. SPRINGTIME OF YOUTH IS WINNING. NEJI."

Neji calmly squints at their egg, dressed to the nines in tailored Hyuga robes, to move faster down the padded obstacle course. It works; Springtime of Youth suddenly comes to a halt, giving Eggbert the precious few seconds it needs to gain ground. Tenten whoops and tackles Neji into a headlock.

"YOU'RE AMAZING. NEJ, WE'RE WINNING!"

Neji manages to claw his way out and straighten his robes with enough dignity to make the Queen feel ashamed. "I told you," Tenten's seconds away from crying tears of happiness when she looks at him, "Eggbert is telepathic."

"My baby's growing up," Tenten wipes a tear away from the corner of her eye as she leans her head onto Neji's stiffened shoulder. "Our baby's growing up."

.

.

.

.

.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Neji opens the door to his room and greets her. "I prefer being called Neji."

"I was talking to Eggbert, loser."

"Oh," Neji replies, trying not to look too disappointed.

Tenten places her bag on the ground and coos at the egg perched in its diorama-room, in between the mini-marble columns and Picasso paintings on the walls. "How's my widdle baby doing? Mummy's home now and she has a gift!"

Tenten extracts a decorative egg cup with 'SPELL-BINDEGG' printed in bold over the surface and situates it in the corner of Eggbert's room.

Neji joins her and smiles down at his child. "They grow up so fast. An hour ago Eggbert rolled over."

She gasps in delight before letting her face fall. "I've been meaning to ask," Neji turns around and quirks up an eyebrow. "Don't you think I should get some home-time with Eggbert now? You've already had your two weeks and I am the mother of our child."

Neji gawks at once. "But-what will I do in my spare time? This is just cruel."

"You'll still get to see Eggbert every second day and on weekends - it's not like I'm taking it from you forever."

Neji gives Eggbert a pained look and says, "I'm sorry this is the way things have turned out, son. But understand that your mother and I love you very much. It's just best for you to know what it's like to have a mother before you come back and live with me forever."

Tenten turns to him, aghast. "Forever? What happened to equal coparenting? I'm family too! I deserve to be with my baby and if you won't accept that then I demand full custody. In fact," she grabs Eggbert and the cup and seizes her bag from the ground. "Good luck seeing my baby again."

.

.

It's a little dramatic, even for her tastes, but it's her baby. She can't help it if eggs bring out the drama queen inside of her.

.

.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me?"

Tenten sniffs, like Neji sitting next to her like he always does in class these days is the beginning of the apocalyse. Eggbert is sitting on her side of the table for the in-class examination of egg-health.

"We have to make up someday. Eggbert needs both his parents. I'm sorry I tried to take you out of the picture, but I've thought about it and I think we can come to a compromise."

She turns to him with a slight smile. "You mean it? You don't think I'm a horrible parent anymore?"

"No," Neji shakes his head encouragingly, "I think we both have our strengths and weaknesses. It's up to us to give Eggbert the family it deserves."

Mr Hatake walks in twenty minutes late with his briefcase, and Tenten sniffles and slides Eggbert to the middle of their table. "Okay."

.

.

.

.

.

"I don't want to see Eggbert go," Neji whines when the alotted month is up. Tenten's sniffing beside him as they walk up the steps into their classroom. "You think you know a person but they're really just an inhumane teacher trying to steal our babies away from us."

They reach the door to the classroom, where they're greeted by Lee's strange green egg, Naruto and Sasuke's predictably smashed egg yolk and Sakura and Ino's bowtied egg, and Neji makes a strange hissing sound.

"My precious," he clutches Eggbert to his chest and glares at Mr Hatake, who's not late for once and rolling his eyes at them humourlessly. "You will not take my baby from me."

"It was never yours to begin with," their teacher calls out flatly, because yes, chickens lay eggs.

Churlishly, Tenten stomps to her desk and shouts, "You're never yours to begin with," Neji in tow with Eggbert still held tight against his chest. They take their designated seats at the front and glare up at the teacher in silent protest.

Mr Hatake ignores their passive aggressive intervention and drawls out the names of partnered groups to walk up to the front for presentations. Predictably, as Kakashi always calls people at the top of the roll, she and Neji are called up first. They make a show of whipping out her custom made shuriken USB drives when they go up, terror-inducing glares still glued onto their faces and aimed at Naruto, who's suddenly confused as Hell.

"It is time," Neji starts when their very detailed slides finally pop up on the screen, "to ask yourselves a question. Who are you?"

There's a groan at the back of the classroom that Tenten silences with Kakashi's blue whiteboard marker. Neji continues. "I am Neji Hyuga."

"And I am Tenten."

"Today we bring to you not a presentation, but an expression of our souls. Our time together with Eggbert von Hyugastein has taught us many valuable lessons." There's a slight cough when Eggbert's name is brought up.

"Humility," Tenten quips, slamming her closed fist into an open palm as each new word is accompanied by a different picture of Eggbert wearing different costumes, "Patience. Creativity. Respect. Cooperation. Bonding. Compromise." She shoots a megawatt smile at Neji that he doesn't have enough time to properly absorb but responds to with gusto nevertheless.

"We found ourselves struggling to juggle work with family, fun with stress, and sternness with flexibility - but in the end, we pulled through and learned the true meaning of parentage. And that is, responsibility."

Neji retakes the helm and places Eggbert on the front desk. Their PowerPoint presentation lands on the final picture - one of Neji and a Tenten smiling down at their baby. "After a month with Eggbert, I can safely say that if anything happens to my baby I will make everyone's lives a living Hell." She beams proudly at how he maintains his classic straight-faced, no-nonsense face. The classroom remains deafeningly silent. "Many times, I have considered electrocution, but apparently that's illegal when performed deliberately."

"Apparently," Tenten reinforces with a dagger-like glare at the audience.

"And now I ask you all - who are we? We are parents," the slides move alongside Neji's words. "Parents who love, hate and sacrifice for their children. I think I can vouch for everyone here that they would devote their lives to their children. Except you, Lee. You'll chase them away with green spandex."

"Hear hear!" Lee cheers from the back, causing several others to join in with the standing ovation. Neji and Tenten bow at the front with ear-splitting grins on their faces before walking back to their desks triumphantly. The whooping does down as Mr Hatake heads to the front of the classroom, mildly dazed.

"Thank you, Neji and Tenten, for that shining pearl of wisdom. You truly...outdid yourselves," he allows a brief silence to commemorate his words, "Now, who would like to go next?"

The classroom immediately shrinks back, leaving Lee to stand up from his desk exuberantly and march to the front with lines of determination on his face. "Me! Me!"

.

.

.

"You know, we don't have to hang out after school anymore." Tenten swings her backpack around her shoulder and smiles at Neji, who's standing beside her expectantly. They'd received an A, of course, though Neji's been whining about the lack of a '+' and Mr Hatake's lack of a spine, apparently, for not being able to stomach empty threats. She's just glad that they scored so high, really, and that they got to keep their egg.

"True, but I've been meaning to say something."

He waits for her to finish rifling through the rest of her papers and look up at him before continuing. "I think you're great."

"Oh. Thanks!" She replies brightly, pretending that Neji Hyuga overtly displaying his thoughts isn't throwing her off a ledge at all.

"I mean," he seems to retract a few mental steps, a little deflated at her reaction, "If you ever need anything, like lunch at The Golden Flower, or a movie partner, or perhaps-"

"Hold up," she stops him, her palm pressed directly over his sternum. He flushes a little at the contact but clamps his jaws together regardless. "What are you trying to say?"

"Date," he blurts out, face reddening, "Would you like to go on a date some time?"

"Sure. How about this Friday?" Grinning, Tenten lets go of her hold over his chest and skips a little when they exit the classroom. Neji positively beams.

"That sounds perfect."

[swipestream]

Bringing Diversity To Our Imaginary Worlds

I remember the first time a player pushed a pregen player character back to me at a convention game. He said, “I don’t play women. I don’t know how they would act,” and I was left asking myself, “What the hell does that mean?”

I’m pretty subtle in my speech so I think I said something like, “What the hell does that mean? Half of the people on the planet are women.”

That was the beginning of an important conversation within myself. Why wasn’t I putting more thought into the characters that I brought to the table? It was a transformative moment that pushed me to purposely choose to reflect the world in which we live inside of the game worlds I create. My fellow Gnome Angela Murray makes it clear in her own work that I’m not the only one that feels this is important. Representation in pregens has been discussed before but the conversation needs to continue.

Fear of racism

I’ve spoken to several GMs that are afraid of the possible prejudices of their players. They told me that they’re scared that having one or more African American or LGQTB+ characters on the table at a convention means that roleplaying stereotypes are inevitable. While I acknowledge that possibility is real I reject the idea that the fear of bigotry outweighs the need for representation in games. I’ve had some players try to lean into stereotypes and I dealt with it in the moment. It can be an uncomfortable conversation, depending on your personality, but it is a necessary one. Can I truly claim to be part of a welcoming community if I’m not willing to stand up and tell someone that is being racist/sexist/homophobic/ableist to stop?

I’m actively working to eliminate the idea that white male characters and a token white female are the only “safe” pre-gen PCs. The characters that I bring to the table must represent the variety of humans that I want to show up at my table. Some of my pregens will be like me, some different than me, but always as honest as I can make them.

A variety of PCs

It varies slightly from country to country but approximately 50% of the world’s population identifies as female. Around 63% of the United States’ population is non-Hispanic white people in the last census. That’s the lowest it has ever been. If you look at the non-Hispanic white population on a global scale that percentage drops dramatically. If games reflected our world as a whole they would be filled with Asian and African characters. If they represented the United States of America, where I live, they would be almost 40% people of color.

The PCs in the games that I run are thoughtfully created with representation in mind. The mix varies dramatically from games that feature all women, all African Americans, to a diverse mix of police officers. Other games fit a model that lets the players choose to be whomever they choose. The important part for me is that a historically underrepresented player has a solid chance of seeing a character that reflects some part of themselves. I have worked hard to include a spectrum of gender identities beyond the traditional binary roles in my characters but it’s still something that I struggle with. I’m getting better despite feeling like a confused fossil some days.

In the past couple of years I’ve seen an increase in representation found in the artwork and character options for TTRPGs. Many companies have made a commitment to diversity and inclusion in their games. If you look at the top RPG book covers you’ll often see, when humans are featured, a variety of skin tones and genders. I believe that the industry has begun the journey to creating more inclusive games and community. The tools, pictures, and intent are there so use them to create an imaginary world that includes all of the richness of our own.

Diverse games

There are an increasing number of games designed around the stories of marginalized groups. They tell honest and thoughtful stories that are not often told in the mainstream TTRPG world or by media in general. In the game Harlem Unbound by Chris Spivey you’ll be playing an African-American character living in the Harlem Renaissance as seen through the lens of Cthulhu horror. Darker Hue Studios has produced a great example of thoughtfully designed, extensively researched, and unexplored stories in a RPG. You can read John Arcadian’s review of the book here on Gnome Stew. 

The most common reason that I’ve heard from GMs for not running Harlem Unbound is a fear that they will get the “black experience” wrong. They don’t want to run it without a person of color at the table to make sure that it’s more authentic. It’s important to realize that it’s not the job of a POC/woman/LGBTQ+ to be your mentor and guide you through the world of all things “different”. They may choose to do the labor but that should never be your expectation.

Mr. Spivey does an excellent job of addressing the racial issues involved in the Storytelling section of the game. Accept the guidance offered from the person that wrote the game! The humanity of the game is lovingly crafted into every part of Harlem Unbound. Read it, listen to those around you, and do your best. Insist that your PCs be played as human beings and not stereotypes. Don’t be afraid of the mistakes you’ll make. Learn from the struggles instead.

While I commend people for understanding that daily truths of the life of a POC and women are different than that of a CIS gendered white male, treating them as an enigmatic mystery does harm to everyone. It prevents exposure of these games to a wider audience, which hurts the creators financially. It reinforces the ideas that white GMs bringing diversity to the table is too dangerous of a thing. With as much energy as I put into representation I am guilty of pushing its importance aside too.

I am a vocal fan of Sarah Richardson’s game Velvet Glove but I have struggled with the idea of running it. I had a chance to play the current ashcan version and loved the experience. I told myself I shouldn’t ever offer it as a con game because I fear making a mistake and dishonoring the heart of the game. I run games filled with female characters all of the time! Why is my initial reaction to push away the idea of running Velvet Glove? Why is there a disconnect for me? It deals, in part, with my discomfort with the sexual realities of being a teenage girl. All I can think of is every mistake I ever made with women. The truth is that I’ve kept myself from running this beautiful game because I can’t get over my own guilt at being a jerk.

Everything about that runs antithetical to the GM, gamer, person that I work to be. Ms. Richardson’s game needs to be celebrated and played as much as possible. I’m denying myself the chance to tell new stories and support a creator and friend that I admire. It looks like it’s time to make myself uncomfortable, learn, and grow.

Investing in humanity as a player

The one thing that I can bring to any character that I create or play is a sense of their humanity and an understanding that the color of their skin or gender identity is only one part of who they are. Figuring out how and why their marginalizing characteristics shaped who they’ve become is where the story lies. The why of the societal, social, and familial differences is where some of the best, most interesting, parts of humanity live.

Without a personal or researched understanding of these characters where should you start? When you don’t know what to do you should always fall back to their humanity. I keep repeating it because it’s true. Discover who they love and why they invest themselves in the people around them. Ask yourself what they have to lose and what price they are willing to pay to keep that from happening. Make them into real people and not caricatures based on media stereotypes. There are rivers that flow through all of us, despite different origins, that you can tap into. Maybe after you’re done with the game you’ll be inspired to read up or listen to folks talk about their real life experiences that are similar to those of the character you were playing. Then you can bring another level of understanding the next time you have an opportunity to play.

It shouldn’t be hard to imagine a stalwart gay female paladin with the ability throw herself into battle against a dragon. The courage in her imaginary heart should reflect the best ideals of the world that she lives in. If imagining a person from any marginalized group is an insurmountable barrier to you playing a pregen then maybe you should spend some time on a military base. You’ll meet real life warriors and see the diversity of bravery our world contains. If you visit firehouses, hospitals, or schools you’ll see that they contain the same spectrum of goodness and commitment to doing good. None of those places are perfect but they all contain flesh and bone heroes. Why would we want less for the people that we invite to share a gaming table?

Why is it important?

If I won’t demand diversity in the characters and scenarios that I create and play what does that say about my commitment equality in real life? It speaks volumes to new players if they sit at my gaming table only find a pretend world that is racially insular, LGBQT+ free, and limited in its gender roles and identities. It’s an ugly message that I would be sending if only a small portion of humanity represented my idea of heroism. I can’t expect players to feel welcome into our community if I present them with heroes and idealized worlds of adventure that don’t include them at all.

Kids need to see themselves represented as heroes. We all need it. A simple act of choosing character images that speak to the beauty and diversity of the world is a welcoming act. When we welcome the entire world to become our PCs, we also welcome marginalized groups to our real world gaming tables. That is important to me.

Do you have a favorite PC that you’ve created for your convention games? Do you have a favorite character from a convention that unexpectedly represented a piece of yourself? What steps are you taking to increase representation in your convention games?

Bringing Diversity To Our Imaginary Worlds published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

[kayawagner]

Bringing Diversity To Our Imaginary Worlds

I remember the first time a player pushed a pregen player character back to me at a convention game. He said, “I don’t play women. I don’t know how they would act,” and I was left asking myself, “What the hell does that mean?”

I’m pretty subtle in my speech so I think I said something like, “What the hell does that mean? Half of the people on the planet are women.”

That was the beginning of an important conversation within myself. Why wasn’t I putting more thought into the characters that I brought to the table? It was a transformative moment that pushed me to purposely choose to reflect the world in which we live inside of the game worlds I create. My fellow Gnome Angela Murray makes it clear in her own work that I’m not the only one that feels this is important. Representation in pregens has been discussed before but the conversation needs to continue.

Fear of racism

I’ve spoken to several GMs that are afraid of the possible prejudices of their players. They told me that they’re scared that having one or more African American or LGQTB+ characters on the table at a convention means that roleplaying stereotypes are inevitable. While I acknowledge that possibility is real I reject the idea that the fear of bigotry outweighs the need for representation in games. I’ve had some players try to lean into stereotypes and I dealt with it in the moment. It can be an uncomfortable conversation, depending on your personality, but it is a necessary one. Can I truly claim to be part of a welcoming community if I’m not willing to stand up and tell someone that is being racist/sexist/homophobic/ableist to stop?

I’m actively working to eliminate the idea that white male characters and a token white female are the only “safe” pre-gen PCs. The characters that I bring to the table must represent the variety of humans that I want to show up at my table. Some of my pregens will be like me, some different than me, but always as honest as I can make them.

A variety of PCs

It varies slightly from country to country but approximately 50% of the world’s population identifies as female. Around 63% of the United States’ population is non-Hispanic white people in the last census. That’s the lowest it has ever been. If you look at the non-Hispanic white population on a global scale that percentage drops dramatically. If games reflected our world as a whole they would be filled with Asian and African characters. If they represented the United States of America, where I live, they would be almost 40% people of color.

The PCs in the games that I run are thoughtfully created with representation in mind. The mix varies dramatically from games that feature all women, all African Americans, to a diverse mix of police officers. Other games fit a model that lets the players choose to be whomever they choose. The important part for me is that a historically underrepresented player has a solid chance of seeing a character that reflects some part of themselves. I have worked hard to include a spectrum of gender identities beyond the traditional binary roles in my characters but it’s still something that I struggle with. I’m getting better despite feeling like a confused fossil some days.

In the past couple of years I’ve seen an increase in representation found in the artwork and character options for TTRPGs. Many companies have made a commitment to diversity and inclusion in their games. If you look at the top RPG book covers you’ll often see, when humans are featured, a variety of skin tones and genders. I believe that the industry has begun the journey to creating more inclusive games and community. The tools, pictures, and intent are there so use them to create an imaginary world that includes all of the richness of our own.

Diverse games

There are an increasing number of games designed around the stories of marginalized groups. They tell honest and thoughtful stories that are not often told in the mainstream TTRPG world or by media in general. In the game Harlem Unbound by Chris Spivey you’ll be playing an African-American character living in the Harlem Renaissance as seen through the lens of Cthulhu horror. Darker Hue Studios has produced a great example of thoughtfully designed, extensively researched, and unexplored stories in a RPG. You can read John Arcadian’s review of the book here on Gnome Stew. 

The most common reason that I’ve heard from GMs for not running Harlem Unbound is a fear that they will get the “black experience” wrong. They don’t want to run it without a person of color at the table to make sure that it’s more authentic. It’s important to realize that it’s not the job of a POC/woman/LGBTQ+ to be your mentor and guide you through the world of all things “different”. They may choose to do the labor but that should never be your expectation.

Mr. Spivey does an excellent job of addressing the racial issues involved in the Storytelling section of the game. Accept the guidance offered from the person that wrote the game! The humanity of the game is lovingly crafted into every part of Harlem Unbound. Read it, listen to those around you, and do your best. Insist that your PCs be played as human beings and not stereotypes. Don’t be afraid of the mistakes you’ll make. Learn from the struggles instead.

While I commend people for understanding that daily truths of the life of a POC and women are different than that of a CIS gendered white male, treating them as an enigmatic mystery does harm to everyone. It prevents exposure of these games to a wider audience, which hurts the creators financially. It reinforces the ideas that white GMs bringing diversity to the table is too dangerous of a thing. With as much energy as I put into representation I am guilty of pushing its importance aside too.

I am a vocal fan of Sarah Richardson’s game Velvet Glove but I have struggled with the idea of running it. I had a chance to play the current ashcan version and loved the experience. I told myself I shouldn’t ever offer it as a con game because I fear making a mistake and dishonoring the heart of the game. I run games filled with female characters all of the time! Why is my initial reaction to push away the idea of running Velvet Glove? Why is there a disconnect for me? It deals, in part, with my discomfort with the sexual realities of being a teenage girl. All I can think of is every mistake I ever made with women. The truth is that I’ve kept myself from running this beautiful game because I can’t get over my own guilt at being a jerk.

Everything about that runs antithetical to the GM, gamer, person that I work to be. Ms. Richardson’s game needs to be celebrated and played as much as possible. I’m denying myself the chance to tell new stories and support a creator and friend that I admire. It looks like it’s time to make myself uncomfortable, learn, and grow.

Investing in humanity as a player

The one thing that I can bring to any character that I create or play is a sense of their humanity and an understanding that the color of their skin or gender identity is only one part of who they are. Figuring out how and why their marginalizing characteristics shaped who they’ve become is where the story lies. The why of the societal, social, and familial differences is where some of the best, most interesting, parts of humanity live.

Without a personal or researched understanding of these characters where should you start? When you don’t know what to do you should always fall back to their humanity. I keep repeating it because it’s true. Discover who they love and why they invest themselves in the people around them. Ask yourself what they have to lose and what price they are willing to pay to keep that from happening. Make them into real people and not caricatures based on media stereotypes. There are rivers that flow through all of us, despite different origins, that you can tap into. Maybe after you’re done with the game you’ll be inspired to read up or listen to folks talk about their real life experiences that are similar to those of the character you were playing. Then you can bring another level of understanding the next time you have an opportunity to play.

It shouldn’t be hard to imagine a stalwart gay female paladin with the ability throw herself into battle against a dragon. The courage in her imaginary heart should reflect the best ideals of the world that she lives in. If imagining a person from any marginalized group is an insurmountable barrier to you playing a pregen then maybe you should spend some time on a military base. You’ll meet real life warriors and see the diversity of bravery our world contains. If you visit firehouses, hospitals, or schools you’ll see that they contain the same spectrum of goodness and commitment to doing good. None of those places are perfect but they all contain flesh and bone heroes. Why would we want less for the people that we invite to share a gaming table?

Why is it important?

If I won’t demand diversity in the characters and scenarios that I create and play what does that say about my commitment equality in real life? It speaks volumes to new players if they sit at my gaming table only find a pretend world that is racially insular, LGBQT+ free, and limited in its gender roles and identities. It’s an ugly message that I would be sending if only a small portion of humanity represented my idea of heroism. I can’t expect players to feel welcome into our community if I present them with heroes and idealized worlds of adventure that don’t include them at all.

Kids need to see themselves represented as heroes. We all need it. A simple act of choosing character images that speak to the beauty and diversity of the world is a welcoming act. When we welcome the entire world to become our PCs, we also welcome marginalized groups to our real world gaming tables. That is important to me.

Do you have a favorite PC that you’ve created for your convention games? Do you have a favorite character from a convention that unexpectedly represented a piece of yourself? What steps are you taking to increase representation in your convention games?

Bringing Diversity To Our Imaginary Worlds published first on https://supergalaxyrom.tumblr.com

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

The Trump administration runs like a middle school (with nuclear weapons)

Adolescence can last anywhere from three years to 65 — at least in the case of the Trump administration.

Events of the past week have firmly placed the entire Trump White House in the "middle school drama" category on Netflix. Between Kelly, the loyal best friend forced to warn Tillerson about his upcoming breakup via tweet, a president who expresses his angst on social media in CAPS LOCK, and Jared being constantly in and out of the Principal Mueller's office, the parallels are just too alarming to ignore.

SEE ALSO: Trump reportedly fired Rex Tillerson on Twitter. Ouch.

It's worth noting that the Trump administration doesn't actually take place in a binge-able Netflix universe but in real life, where decisions have material consequences outside of "Benny's going alone to the school dance." 

Whatever. Adolescent psychodrama is alive and well in our nation's capitol. Let's analyze these stunted tweens for all they're worth. (Temporary bemusement.)  

1. General Kelly is the loyal best friend forced to manage his crazy BFF's drama

Everyone knew of a friend pair in middle school where one friend took on the role of the "personality" while the other played the "responsible friend who cleans up their shit." Loyal BFF Kelly reportedly had to inform Rex Tillerson recently that Trump was planning to fire him using Twitter. He's also tried to push Trump away from bad influences like Omarosa and get him to focus on the after-school activities they both love, like deporting grandpas and separating immigrant mothers from their children at the border.

2. Kellyanne Conway is the resident mean girl who'll always go to bat for the most popular boys in school, especially when they're accused of drunk driving

Image: giphy

You've got to hand it to Kellyanne — despite her chronic deceitfulness, imaginary massacres, and full-on, multi-agency ethics investigations — this lady has hung on. Kellyanne is the popular girl who's smarter than you think (she ran a respected polling outlet before joining the Trump campaign) and therefore painfully, persistently powerful. 

3. Sarah Sanders is the nerd who dropped her musical friends in order to hang with the "cool Steves" — Bannon and Miller

While you might disagree with everything Sarah Sanders has ever said or done in her life, her performance isn't the same crippling source of humiliation as Spicer's was. Every afternoon I watch Sarah on YouTube and think, "Everything she just said was a lie," followed up with, "Great use of independent clauses." Sanders scored an A on all of her midterms and recently took a chastity pledge. Go Sarah!

4. Steve Bannon dropped out of high school after reading a book of Nietzsche quotes he shoplifted from Urban Outfitters

Resident gossip and self-identified Leninist Steve Bannon loves nothing more than throwing around words that make him seem like an intellectual: Jumos, globalists, force multipliers. Stevie dropped out of school because it was "too easy" for him, but can't stop hanging around school (aka the White House) because the Italo Calvino-inspired "groundbreaking philosophical novel" he's working on, is, uh... in development.

5. Jared Kushner is the kid whose mom writes angry letters to his English teacher because she refuses to give him an A

"Critics call my book report on 'Ramona Quimby, Age 8' groundbreaking"

Image: NICHOLAS KAMM/AFP/Getty Images

Middle East Peace Prince Jared Kushner is still getting app platters with foreign dignitaries despite having a downgraded security clearance and absolutely no knowledge of what he's doing. He's clearly the middling middle school student whose parents harass his nice English teacher into giving him an A on all on his Babysitter's Club book reports because of his "prescient precocious intellect."

6. Robert Mueller is the principal who wants to retire but can't because everyone who'd replace him is too dumb

Robert Mueller left the FBI five years ago, but came back to be special counsel because no one else in Washington is competent enough to do it. Mueller *is* the middle school principal that's been there since the school's founding and will never, ever retire, despite pushback from conspiratorial parents on the school board. 

7. Jeff Sessions is the tiny friendly popular kid who committed a horrible crime in the forest

"Where was I last night? Oh, you know. Just hanging out by the river."

Image: win mcnamee/Getty Images

Jeff Sessions, with his Southern charm and throwback ideology, has always been an alt-right darling. Sessions could easily double as the polite popular teacher's pet who committed a horrible crime in the woods one day after school. Don't check his sock drawer!

8. Ben Carson is the kid who overperforms on standardized tests despite saying continuously crazy shit in class

The pyramids stored ... what?

Image: jabin botsford/The Washington Post/Getty Images

Carson killed his PSAT in math, but oh man, you do *not* want to know the explanation he gave for the pyramids on his social studies test. Also, why does he always insist on having the best desk in class?

9. General McMaster is the kid who is smarter than everyone else and is waiting for the day he can leave this small, dumb town

General McMaster reportedly thinks Trump has the intelligence of "a kindergartener" and is in a constant internal meltdown. Teenage McMaster is just waiting for his acceptance to a private school, where his genius can finally be recognized and he can launch his dream club, "Young Resentful Neocons of America."

10. Mike Pence is the quarterback who's so bland, the director had to make him a secondary character

As a servant in an administration surrounded by swamp monsters, you'd imagine that Mike Pence would at least be the *fun* kind of evil. Instead, he's become the kind of leader who gets into kerfuffles with teenage ice skaters. Netflix teen comedy Mike Pence would probably have *one* dramatic episode where he stands aside as his friends beat up a gay kid after school.

11. Ivanka Trump is the B student who is now leading her school's Model UN designation because her dad is the coach

Afterwards, Ivanka took the whole crew out to Pizzeria Uno.

Image: mark wilson/Getty Images

When Ivanka Trump delivered her speech at the RNC in 2016, it was absolutely totally fine — nothing brilliant — but fine. Now, she's representing the United States at G20. Teen drama Ivanka similarly dominates her school's Model UN designation despite her lackluster oratory —  but only because her father is the team coach. Sally Yates would thrive in that role, if only she hadn't been kicked off the team for standing up to her teacher.

12. Donald Trump is the class clown who accidentally sets fire to the whole school

Do not give this man a lighter.

Image: kevin diestch-pool/Getty Images

Teen Trump hates doing school work, prefers watching TV to reading, and thinks all of those students/cabinet advisors with powerpoints are suck-ups. This is why he's not allowed to go into any room unmonitored. Otherwise, he gets on the phone and kicks up drama with his "best friends"/allies, or he cyberbullies his teachers/the media from his Twitter account. 

If only the school had nominated Hillary Clinton to be their Student Body President. But ah! Her emails.

WATCH: These celebrities are getting behind March for Our Lives

[readbookywooks]

The Happy Home

One important result of the brush [with the pirates] on the lagoon was that it made the redskins their friends. Peter had saved Tiger Lily from a dreadful fate, and now there was nothing she and her braves would not do for him. All night they sat above, keeping watch over the home under the ground and awaiting the big attack by the pirates which obviously could not be much longer delayed. Even by day they hung about, smoking the pipe of peace, and looking almost as if they wanted tit-bits to eat.

 They called Peter the Great White Father, prostrating themselves [lying down] before him; and he liked this tremendously, so that it was not really good for him.

 "The great white father," he would say to them in a very lordly manner, as they grovelled at his feet, "is glad to see the Piccaninny warriors protecting his wigwam from the pirates."

 "Me Tiger Lily," that lovely creature would reply. "Peter Pan save me, me his velly nice friend. Me no let pirates hurt him."

 She was far too pretty to cringe in this way, but Peter thought it his due, and he would answer condescendingly, "It is good. Peter Pan has spoken."

 Always when he said, "Peter Pan has spoken," it meant that they must now shut up, and they accepted it humbly in that spirit; but they were by no means so respectful to the other boys, whom they looked upon as just ordinary braves. They said "How-do?" to them, and things like that; and what annoyed the boys was that Peter seemed to think this all right.

 Secretly Wendy sympathised with them a little, but she was far too loyal a housewife to listen to any complaints against father. "Father knows best," she always said, whatever her private opinion must be. Her private opinion was that the redskins should not call her a squaw.

 We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their upshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been almost uneventful, and now the redskins in their blankets were at their posts above, while, below, the children were having their evening meal; all except Peter, who had gone out to get the time. The way you got the time on the island was to find the crocodile, and then stay near him till the clock struck.

 The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around the board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was positively deafening. To be sure, she did not mind noise, but she simply would not have them grabbing things, and then excusing themselves by saying that Tootles had pushed their elbow. There was a fixed rule that they must never hit back at meals, but should refer the matter of dispute to Wendy by raising the right arm politely and saying, "I complain of so-and-so;" but what usually happened was that they forgot to do this or did it too much.

 "Silence," cried Wendy when for the twentieth time she had told them that they were not all to speak at once. "Is your mug empty, Slightly darling?"

 "Not quite empty, mummy," Slightly said, after looking into an imaginary mug.

 "He hasn't even begun to drink his milk," Nibs interposed.

 This was telling, and Slightly seized his chance.

 "I complain of Nibs," he cried promptly.

 John, however, had held up his hand first.

 "Well, John?"

 "May I sit in Peter's chair, as he is not here?"

 "Sit in father's chair, John!" Wendy was scandalised. "Certainly not."

 "He is not really our father," John answered. "He didn't even know how a father does till I showed him."

 This was grumbling. "We complain of John," cried the twins.

 Tootles held up his hand. He was so much the humblest of them, indeed he was the only humble one, that Wendy was specially gentle with him.

 "I don't suppose," Tootles said diffidently [bashfully or timidly], "that I could be father.

 "No, Tootles."

 Once Tootles began, which was not very often, he had a silly way of going on.

 "As I can't be father," he said heavily, "I don't suppose, Michael, you would let me be baby?"

 "No, I won't," Michael rapped out. He was already in his basket.

 "As I can't be baby," Tootles said, getting heavier and heavier and heavier, "do you think I could be a twin?"

 "No, indeed," replied the twins; "it's awfully difficult to be a twin."

 "As I can't be anything important," said Tootles, "would any of you like to see me do a trick?"

 "No," they all replied.

 Then at last he stopped. "I hadn't really any hope," he said.

 The hateful telling broke out again.

 "Slightly is coughing on the table."

 "The twins began with cheese-cakes."

 "Curly is taking both butter and honey."

 "Nibs is speaking with his mouth full."

 "I complain of the twins."

 "I complain of Curly."

 "I complain of Nibs."

 "Oh dear, oh dear," cried Wendy, "I'm sure I sometimes think that spinsters are to be envied."

 She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-basket, a heavy load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as usual.

 "Wendy," remonstrated [scolded] Michael, "I'm too big for a cradle."

 "I must have somebody in a cradle," she said almost tartly, "and you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thing to have about a house."

 While she sewed they played around her; such a group of happy faces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had become a very familiar scene, this, in the home under the ground, but we are looking on it for the last time.

 There was a step above, and Wendy, you may be sure, was the first to recognize it.

 "Children, I hear your father's step. He likes you to meet him at the door."

 Above, the redskins crouched before Peter.

 "Watch well, braves. I have spoken."

 And then, as so often before, the gay children dragged him from his tree. As so often before, but never again.

 He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time for Wendy.

 "Peter, you just spoil them, you know," Wendy simpered [exaggerated a smile].

 "Ah, old lady," said Peter, hanging up his gun.

 "It was me told him mothers are called old lady," Michael whispered to Curly.

 "I complain of Michael," said Curly instantly.

 The first twin came to Peter. "Father, we want to dance."

 "Dance away, my little man," said Peter, who was in high good humour.

 "But we want you to dance."

 Peter was really the best dancer among them, but he pretended to be scandalised.

 "Me! My old bones would rattle!"

 "And mummy too."

 "What," cried Wendy, "the mother of such an armful, dance!"

 "But on a Saturday night," Slightly insinuated.

 It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they wanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did it.

 "Of course it is Saturday night, Peter," Wendy said, relenting.

 "People of our figure, Wendy!"

 "But it is only among our own progeny [children]."

 "True, true."

 So they were told they could dance, but they must put on their nighties first.

 "Ah, old lady," Peter said aside to Wendy, warming himself by the fire and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel, "there is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me when the day's toil is over than to rest by the fire with the little ones near by."

 "It is sweet, Peter, isn't it?" Wendy said, frightfully gratified. "Peter, I think Curly has your nose."

 "Michael takes after you."

 She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

 "Dear Peter," she said, "with such a large family, of course, I have now passed my best, but you don't want to [ex]change me, do you?"

 "No, Wendy."

 Certainly he did not want a change, but he looked at her uncomfortably, blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.

 "Peter, what is it?"

 "I was just thinking," he said, a little scared. "It is only make-believe, isn't it, that I am their father?"

 "Oh yes," Wendy said primly [formally and properly].

 "You see," he continued apologetically, "it would make me seem so old to be their real father."

 "But they are ours, Peter, yours and mine."

 "But not really, Wendy?" he asked anxiously.

 "Not if you don't wish it," she replied; and she distinctly heard his sigh of relief. "Peter," she asked, trying to speak firmly, "what are your exact feelings to [about] me?"

 "Those of a devoted son, Wendy."

 "I thought so," she said, and went and sat by herself at the extreme end of the room.

 "You are so queer," he said, frankly puzzled, "and Tiger Lily is just the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is not my mother."

 "No, indeed, it is not," Wendy replied with frightful emphasis. Now we know why she was prejudiced against the redskins.

 "Then what is it?"

 "It isn't for a lady to tell."

 "Oh, very well," Peter said, a little nettled. "Perhaps Tinker Bell will tell me."

 "Oh yes, Tinker Bell will tell you," Wendy retorted scornfully. "She is an abandoned little creature."

 Here Tink, who was in her bedroom, eavesdropping, squeaked out something impudent.

 "She says she glories in being abandoned," Peter interpreted.

 He had a sudden idea. "Perhaps Tink wants to be my mother?"

 "You silly ass!" cried Tinker Bell in a passion.

 She had said it so often that Wendy needed no translation.

 "I almost agree with her," Wendy snapped. Fancy Wendy snapping! But she had been much tried, and she little knew what was to happen before the night was out. If she had known she would not have snapped.

 None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to know. Their ignorance gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to be their last hour on the island, let us rejoice that there were sixty glad minutes in it. They sang and danced in their night- gowns. Such a deliciously creepy song it was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their own shadows, little witting that so soon shadows would close in upon them, from whom they would shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay was the dance, and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out of it! It was a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was finished, the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who know that they may never meet again. The stories they told, before it was time for Wendy's good-night story! Even Slightly tried to tell a story that night, but the beginning was so fearfully dull that it appalled not only the others but himself, and he said happily:

 "Yes, it is a dull beginning. I say, let us pretend that it is the end."

 And then at last they all got into bed for Wendy's story, the story they loved best, the story Peter hated. Usually when she began to tell this story he left the room or put his hands over his ears; and possibly if he had done either of those things this time they might all still be on the island. But to-night he remained on his stool; and we shall see what happened.

[liddellxalice-blog]

The Sorting Test

Personal Questions

What is your real, birth name? Any nicknames? When and where were you born?

Alice Rosemary Liddell

What is your Myers-Briggs Personality Type? (If you don’t know go here, this question is optional.)

ENFP-A

Do you have a nickname? What is it, and where did you get it?

Sometimes my parents called me Ali but I mainly just go by Alice.

What do you look like? (Include height, weight, hair, eyes, skin, apparent age, and distinguishing features)

I’m about 1.65 m (5′5″) and 50 kg (110 lbs) with light blonde hair and warm brown eyes like tree trunks. I have very pale skin and people usually mistake me for about twelve when I’m much older than that. I think my eyes and my nose stick out as distinguishing maybe?

How do you dress most of the time? Do you wear any jewelry?

I like to dress very casually, it’s rather calming to know that I can’t be muddled by extra things so I would rather not wear jewelry. It gets tangled in everything.

What don’t you like about yourself? What kind of things embarrass you? Why?

I don’t like that I’m rather clumsy. I trip, but mostly because I start daydreaming and don’t pay attention to where I’m going. I don’t really get embarrassed easily though I suppose if I wore completely mismatched clothing it’d be rather embarrassing.

In your opinion, what is your best feature?

I like my smile. My mum told me it’s warm and makes her think of sunshine. I love it and I tend to smile most of the time.

Where do you live? Describe it: Is it messy, neat, avant-garde, sparse, etc.?

I’m currently living in Epcot Hall and I am not very organized. I’d consider my part to be avant-garde due to me leaving my art supplies everywhere. I was told that it was probably frowned upon to paint on the walls so my walls are bare but everything else is rather covered in art or art supplies. I also have a potted daisy on my windowsill that I’ve named DeeDee. She’s rather pleasant as well.

What is your most prized mundane possession? Why do you value it so much?

My plushie cat Dinah is my most prized possession since, living in the dorms, I don’t believe I could get a real pet. Once I’m on my own I’m going to buy a cat just like her.

What one word best describes you?

Curious

Familial Questions

What was your family structure like? (i.e. are you adopted, how many siblings, pets, etc.)

I’m an only child and my parents are very supportive of my art but not of my distracted nature. We had three cats at home: Dinah (that I named my toy after), Dina, and Diana. I thought it was rather sweet.

Who was your father, and what was he like? Who was your mother, and what was she like? What was your parents marriage like? Were they married? Did they remain married?

My father was a very busy businessman who I did not see very often but he did encourage some of my daydreams up until I was about ten and then he suggested I maybe grow out of it. He died when I was fifteen. My mother is a patient woman but a practical woman. She wants me to be serious like her.

When’s the last time you saw any member of your family? Where are they now?

I have not seen my mum since I came here. She’s back in England. I write to her on my homemade postcards but don’t really receive much back unless something important happened.

Who is your closest friend(s)? Describe them and how you relate to them.

The Logan Twins are funny and the closest things I have to siblings at this school. They keep me safe since I tend to wander, blindly, into trouble because I don’t pay attention. Otherwise I tend to be alone most of the time. I like those two.

Childhood Questions

What is your first memory?

My mum reading to me out in the garden

What was your favorite toy?

My stuffed cat Dinah that I’ve had my entire life.

What was your favorite game?

Chess or card games like Phase 10.

Who was your best friend when you were growing up?

My imaginary friends. I didn’t have real friends growing up so I made them all up especially since I was home-schooled.

What is your fondest, childhood memory?

Probably playing out in the garden and talking to the flowers while I drew “for art class.” I would tell them stories and listen to theirs. Seems no one else can hear them but I definitely can. They’re magnificent storytellers if you give them the chance. One time I stayed out there all day completely uninterrupted. It was brilliant.

What is your worst childhood memory?

Probably when I fell down and broke my leg tripping in a rabbit hole outside the garden. Mum apparently told me not to play past the fences but I didn’t listen and paid the price. She was livid.

Adolescent Questions

It is common for one’s view of authority to develop in their adolescent years. What is your view of authority, and what event most affected it?

I don’t have much stock in authority, not that I disagree or fight against it. I mainly just don’t notice when authority figures take over a situation. I believe that I have always been too bored with reality that it never sunk in.

What “clique” did you best fit in with? (Royals, Dark Royals, Wallflowers, Bookworms, Punks, Hipsters, Rejects, etc.) 

I believe I’m a dreamer, since I’ve always been described as a “dizzy dreamer” and my parents and professors have always been frustrated with my lack of attention.

What were your high school goals? What are your uni goals?

My high school goals were set by Mum and I never tried but now that I’m at uni I’m trying rather hard at my art classes but not nearly as much at my other ones. I’m here for art, why do I need other courses as much?

What is your favorite memory from adolescence? What is your worst memory from adolescence?

My favorite memory would probably be when I got accepted into WDPA and my least favorite was my mum’s insistent nagging that I focus on my studies instead of my art or that I try to choose a “sensible” career.

Do you own a car? Describe it. If not, describe your dream car. 

I wish I had an old-school teal Volkswagon Beetle, they’re just so adorable and the perfect size for an adventurer like myself.

Occupational Questions

Do you have a job? What is it? Do you like it? If no job, where does your money come from?

I do not currently have a job though I’m looking. My dad was a very successful businessman when he was alive plus my mum has become somewhat of a business tycoon as well since she gave up teaching me so she sends me money until I can find a job.

What is something you had to learn that you hated?

That food costs a lot of money as well as my lovely lovely tea.

Do you tend to save or spend your money? Why?

I did not used to but I’ve been attempting to save my money to avoid a row with Mum over how much I’m spending.

Likes & Dislikes Questions

What hobbies do you have?

Painting

Daydreaming

Humming

Sketching

Swimming

What bands/artists do you like? What song is “your song?” Why?

I typically listen to whatever others suggest. I’ve been listening to a lot of Twenty One Pilots recently and I rather like musicals as well. I usually just make up my own music for each situation but I rather like Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran and Starlight by Taylor Swift.

When it comes to politics, do you care? If so, which way do you tend to vote? If not, why don’t you care?

As an English girl in America for school I don’t particularly pay attention to politics unless they affect me personally. If my American classmates talk I’ll try to listen.

What time of day is your favorite? What kind of weather is your favorite?

I like dawn and rainy days but not at the same time.

What is your favorite food? What is your least favorite food?

Biscuits (or cookies for you Americans) and spaghetti.

What is your favorite drink? (Coffee, Coke, Juice, Beer, Wine, etc.)

Tea

My favorite tea is Raspberry Rose Hibiscus Tea

What’s your favorite animal? Why?

Either cats or rabbits. Cats because they’re clever and purr at a frequency that promotes bone health and rabbits because they’re adorable and are so free.

Do you have any pets? Do you want any pets? What kind? 

I miss Dinah, Dina, and Diana and want some cats of my own once I get a place of my own.

What do you find most relaxing? (Not as in stress relief, but as something that actually calms you down.)

Lying out in the garden

What’s a pet peeve of yours?

People who take everything so seriously and those who don’t clean their paintbrushes.

Sex & Intimacy Questions

Would you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, pan, or something else? Why?

Probably panromantic demisexual because I have a wide range of what I found compelling about people but sex isn’t important to me.

Do you currently have a lover/crush? What is their name, and what is your relationship like? What are they like? Why are you attracted to them? 

At this current moment in time I do not. I am honestly not even entirely sure if I have friends. I possibly focus too much on my work.

Describe the perfect romantic partner for you and describe your perfect date with them.

The perfect partner would be open-minded but definitely more organized than myself and the perfect date would be stargazing and talking about our dreams.

Do you ever want to get married and have children? When do you see this happening?

Possibly. I think it’d be nice to have a daughter or son of my own but it’s so far away. I don’t much like planning, especially not that far ahead.

What is more important – sex or intimacy? Why?

Intimacy, I’d prefer to feel close to someone than just mindless sex.

What was your most recent relationship like? Who was it with? (Does not need to be sexual, merely romantic.)

I had a crush on the neighbor girl growing up, her name was Eliza and I was in love with her but she thought I was mad so she wouldn’t play with me and her mummy yelled at my mummy for me to leave her alone. Needless to say, it didn’t work out.

What’s the worst thing you’ve done to someone you loved?

Probably scared them off by speaking of my imaginary friends because they think I’m too mad to be near.

Drug & Alcohol Questions

Have you ever tried any other kind of “mood altering” substance? Which one(s)? What did you think of each?

I have not yet but I would not oppose trying them. I’ll try anything once or twice.

What do you think of drugs and alcohol? Are there any people should not do? Why or why not?

I don’t mind if people partake but I haven’t done much yet mostly because, being underage in America, I have to be invited to where drugs and alcohol are. People should just be careful and know what they’re doing.

Thoughtful Questions

What about you is heroic?

Possibly my lack of caring what other people think of me? Yes, I’m a bit mad, it doesn’t make me a bad person.

What about you is social? What do you like about people?

I like the feeling of others around me despite both of us not understanding the other. People are so fascinating when it comes to how they react to struggles.

Are you a better leader or follower? Why do you think that? If you think the whole leader-follower archetype is a crock of shit, say so, and explain why?

I suppose leader mostly because I cannot find it in me to follow. I do not suggest it wise to follow me because I tend to get myself lost but I cannot follow people to save my own life. I don’t find it to be “a crock of shit” but I believe there are people who cannot be simply placed in the categories as easily as others such as myself.

[theasexual-jackson]

“Michael Jackson was gay and he liked man.”

Michael, seeing that he ordered the trans acearo lesbian, malnourished ass human project, that is me, on 2007 for nothing:

Michael Jackson was gay and he hated women.

Also Michael Jackson:

He was really out there giving it and doing charity.