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Putting all tabletop players into a college level ethics class and forcing them to turn in a paper on moral philosophy before buying a new book

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E.M. Forster from Maurice (1971)

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Me and the beauties I pulled by being unable to open doors

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Had low motivation so I've been practicing drawing Perpetua, as one does

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there are a lot of people on this website who are incredibly, flamboyantly wrong about things, but theyre also like……clearly in gigantic amounts of pain, and arguing with them on the internet isnt going to change the situation of either their wrongness or their pain

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1. Timesplitters 2 (the franchise in general - future perfect could also be mentioned here.)

2. Dragon Age Origins (first game I played with queer characters.)

3. Elder Scrolls: Oblivion (the sheer autism bait of this game.)

4. Civilisation IV (I like V too but it didn’t have the same charm I think.)

5. Tony Hawks Underground (the soundtrack alone absolutely influenced my music taste a lot.)

Need for Speed Underground, Midnight Club 2, Mercenaries: World in Flames, Black, Quake II.

Honorable Mentions: Mech Warrior, Doom !&II. 

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" Forget splitscreen... Forget slowdown... Forget GoldenEye! "

EDGE Gaming Magazine n102 - October, 2001.

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Guys, queers. Specifically my fellow queers.

I work at a library. We do this thing where, every so often, we weed the collection. It hurts to see books go, but it's necessary to make sure there's room in the library for new materials.

I have seen so much support for the library in text, and I've seen folks pass around those beautiful "queer your library" flyers. Keep doing that. That's great. Nothing wrong with that. But you HAVE to turn your words into action. We MUST remember to actually go to our local organizations and libraries and actually, with our own fucking hands, interact with these materials we want to see more of.

My branch is medium-sized for a library, maybe a little small. We don't have as many materials as I'd like, but we have fundamentals. Tell me why, even with all the verbal support I've gotten from my local community for the library as a resource for our LGBT+ community, every single trans biography and a good chunk of our vaguely queer theory books were on the list. This isn't a scheme to take the books off the shelves, it isn't another bigoted American governmental push. The only thing we look at when we weed is how long it's been since the last time the item was checked out.

Three years.

No one in my community interacted in any meaningful way with the few books on trans life and history we physically had on the shelves for three fucking years.

I promise you the materials you want and need are there, but this isn't a horde. This isn't a static safety net. You have to use them. You MUST use them or, in the future, maybe in three years, they *won't* be there anymore.

This isn't a vague post, there's no one person I'm hinting at or calling out. I'm not even talking directly to anyone who's directly in my line of sight. I just want everyone to hear this. Big library, small library, whatever. Doesn't matter. Please, we cannot be losing our shelf visibility like this.

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"Masculinity is rewarded" have you ever spoken to a transmasc or a butch or a tomboy or any masculine woman/person perceived as a woman. Have you ever spoken to a gnc transfem.

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coronabeth based on this look

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I think it's very funny how many online gay ppl seem to either be uncomfortable with or altogether not understand the simple fact that sometimes dykes and faggots fuck each other. Like not even bisexually like idk girl sometimes it just happens it's fine

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Write a fic based on your 13th most played song atm

Fandom: Resident Evil

Characters: Jake Mueller, Sherry Birkin

Content: hurt/comfort, angst, tragic fluff, Shake (Jake/Sherry), trans man Jake, nonbinary Sherry, nightmares, trauma, dark themes

Song: Darkness at the Heart of my Love - Ghost

—

Jake groaned as he woke up, he was thrown for a moment as he wasn’t aching and cold. He’d been on the dirt ground, covered in blood, and shivering, and now he was curled up underneath a soft comforter in a warm, dark room. He sighed in relief as he realised he was home asleep, it was still a little disorientating when he was reminded that this place had become his home. It was strange how in a few months Sherry’s apartment had become theirs’. He yawned and as he realised how quiet it was, he didn’t hear his partner’s soft snoring. He turned around to see an empty space, wrinkled sheets, and an old stuffed yellow dog Sherry called Pompom edges in between the screwed up blankets.

Jake sat up suddenly, anxiety filling his body. He threw the quilt off of his legs and stood up. He shivered a little as his bare torso got used to the temperature change from beneath the cosy bedding, his long thin, jagged scars under his nipples were red against his skin and he wore only a pair of grey shorts covered in a Batman symbol based pattern. He stretched, and when he left the dark room he didn’t bump into anything any more. He slipped out of the bedroom door, and immediately knew where Sherry was. He heard the whirring of the treadmill, he headed towards the spare bedroom. It was one Jake was supposed to be sleeping in when Sherry offered for him to stay when he first came back to the US with them… He’d slept in that bed on the first night and never again.

He stood in the doorway and watched Sherry running with headphones in, they wore one of Jake’s black t-shirts which drowned them and a pair of starry pyjama shorts. When Sherry caught Jake out of the corner of their eye, they jumped but managed to keep their cool and slowed down rather than stumbling. They took their headphones out and stopped the treadmill, taking a large gulp of water.

“Sorry! Did I wake you?” Sherry gasped, sounding far more anxious than they intended.

“No, but… why’re you training at this time?” Jake asked, stifling a yawn.

“I- erm- I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I worked that out.”

“I thought maybe working off some energy would help,” Sherry admitted awkwardly, Jake noticed that they didn’t blush when seeing him half naked any more, it was nice.

“Is it?” He asked, perching on the unused bed.

“No.”

“Huh. Yeah. Makes sense since-”

“Intense exercise before sleep causes the brain to become more active where as basic, relaxed aerobics and yoga calm it down and prepare it for sleep,” Sherry interrupted with a sigh. “I know.” They sat next to him and fell back with their legs hanging off the end. Jake shuffled and laid next to them, perched up on their elbow.

“So, wanna talk what’s keeping you up?”

“It’s… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Anything to do with the date?” When Jake asked, Sherry did a double take, their eyes widened with surprise.

“You noticed?”

“‘Course I did, babe.” Jake gaze a lazy smile, one that relaxed Sherry just slightly.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s because- because of the whole anniversary thing,” they paused and swallowed. “Fifteen years to the day tomorrow.”

“Ouch. Yeah. No wonder you can’t… yeah.”

“It’s- normally it’s fine. I mean, not fine but the nightmares have petered out, mostly. I mean, only so many times you can see your dad turning into limbs and a giant eyeball before you get desensitised, you know? But…” Sherry yawned and shuffled onto their side so both their’s and Jake’s fronts were facing each other. “The orphanage. That’s a new one.”

“The orphanage?” Jake didn’t bother to hide his confusion, that was something Sherry liked about him - how blunt he was around them. “What’s the deal with the Orphanage?”

“Erm. It was owned by Umbrella and there was experiments on kids done there.” They didn’t look at Jake as they answered, looking uncomfortable as they didn’t want to mention the part their dad had in that.

“Were you…”

“Oh, absolutely not, no. But- I erm-” They paused and exhaled. “The chief of the RPD, Chief Irons, he infected with the G-virus and tried to blackmail the antidote from my mom by kidnapping me. I mean, Claire saved me, so it was fine in the end. But having that creepy, serial killer and sex predator leering at me and chasing me down as I tried to hide from him was… Wow, yeah. I mean. I just keep having dreams where I’m stuck in a maze and this huge sweaty beast is hunting me down.”

“Holy fuck,” Jake said quietly. Sherry gave a small, humourless laugh, shrugging awkwardly in a position that it felt odd to.

“I know, it’s not worth-”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all,” he interrupted. “Babe, that sounds really fucking traumatic. Seriously, no wonder you can’t sleep.”

“Really?” Sherry sounded stunned and confused, something Jake struggled to understand.

“Yeah. I mean, getting chased and captured by a pedophile-”

“I mean, he might have been- mostly I think it was necrophilia and bestiality.”

“Yeah, I don’t think pedophilia is beneath a guy like that,” Jake teased, a soft, small smile showing his good intentions.

“Okay that’s a fair point,” Sherry admitted a little embarrassed. They quickly elaborated, and spoke a little too fast. “He didn’t touch me though. I mean, he hurt me and imprisoned me but just physically not sexually.”

“It’s still definitely nightmare fuel, babe.” Jake turned onto his back and raised his arm out, smiling sleepily as Sherry shuffled over and rested their head on his chest.

“Maybe. I dunno,” they yawned. Jake smiled as he saw Sherry suddenly feel their body be overwhelmed by exhaustion, finally seeing them relax after getting the weight off their chest made him feel just as tired.

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Fucking achievement unlocked.

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But, staring at Ida, who stood before the window of the Harlem kitchen, seeing that she was no longer merely his younger sister but a girl who would soon be a woman, she became associated with the colours of the shawl, the colours of the sun, and with a splendor incalculably older than the grey stone of the island on which they had been born. He thought that perhaps this splendor would come into the world again one day, into the world they knew. Ages and ages ago, Ida had not been merely the descendent of slaves. Watching her dark face in the sunlight, softened and shadowed by the glorious shawl, it could be seen that she had once been a monarch. Then he looked out of the window, at the air shaft, and thought of the whores on Seventh Avenue. He thought of the white policemen and the money they made on black flesh, the money the whole world made.

— James Baldwin, Another Country