#my entire online history is gay. my house is full of gay. my life is recorded in rainbow ink.

[novelconcepts]

It’s really something else to try to focus on finances and yard work and whether or not we need a new roof, all while the constant threat of a fascist removal of any and all rights i hold dear just, uhhh, hovers stage-right of things. Really just. The kind of adventure that most has me craving boredom, tbh.

[venivivividi]

headcAnon ✨ here! How great were the Rosa and Michael moments?! And Jones is Michael’s dad! He and Alex should start a support group. I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons about Michael and Alex and fatherhood. If you think they ever thought about it and what. What kind of parents they would be. If you think they will have kids in the future. Adoption or using a surrogate or some other alien option. Maybe dog or cat children also or instead.

I know, right?? They definitely speak the same language even when they disagree with each other. Also, I have a feeling that Michael has taken to send Rosa every picture of a dolphin he finds online with the same commentary: "look. it's you ahaha" I love them.

Oooh, fatherhood, you say? What a wonderful topic to tackle after the latest episodes...

I have to say, I tend to separate what I think realistically would happen, informed by canon, vs what I'd like for them to be in my headcanons, and to this day we canonically know:

Michael has thought about fatherhood: this is something he wants in his future and has dreamed about in the past; we learn this in two separate occasions, in 2x10 when he offers to father Isobel's child and in 2x11 when he tells Flint he wanted to start a dad band.

We have zero insight on Alex's thoughts on matter: we know his childhood was not a happy one, his relationship with his father is extremely negative and his entire family's dynamic is skewed, unhealty. That could reasonably push him towards two completely opposite directions: either he wants nothing to do with kids and a "traditional" family, deemes himself unsuited for fatherhood or he wants to somehow "avenge" his lost childhood and create the happiest family in the world, proving to himself that he can and will be a good father. Either could be and anything in between, honestly. (I'm not gonna delve into that but let's also remember that Alex grew up in a reality where gay marriage was not legal until he was like 23 and adoption was a pipe dream even after that, so that has clearly influenced his mindset even without considering the military of it all)

But for the sake of the HCs, I choose to believe that Alex is at least open to the idea of having children:

I dont think this is something they would go for very early in their relationship. They've had such a turmoiled past, they overcame every possible obstacle so that once everything settles down, they just enjoy each other's company for a while. They still can't believe they just get to be together without jumping through hoops.

As far as pets are concerned, you heard it from Mimi first: a beagle is written in Alex's future. But first, he tries to convince Michael to get a reptile. You remember Willow, his pet lizard? She was so cuute, Micheal, it's basically zero maintenance (completely false, but hes' trying) and it's so cool to have a lizard, c'mon.

Michael, as we know, is incapable of looking Alex in the eyes and deny him something. But it takes one google search for him to veto Project Lizard. There is no way he's allowing a lizard in his house after learning what they need to be fed. Also, lizards escape their enclosure. No thank you, the same night he learned too much about it he had a nightmare about waking up to a lizard stuck to his curls. Always protect the curls. No lizard.

Alex pouts. A lot.

Once the beagle settles in the truck ready to go to his forever home, Alex stops pouting. (and Michael starts because Alex is now cuddling the beagle at night. woe is Michael.)

As this thing usually go, Michael is instead adopted by a kitten, one of those impossibly small black balls of fur. Their first encounter at the junkyard went disturbingly High Noon, but after they claimed each other, the kitten is now stealing Michael's body heat and Michael is stealing all the cuddles Alex is so rudely denying him in favor of *scoffs* The Beagle.

Speaking of Sanders' Auto, once Rosa(...linda) starts picking up stray kids and unexplicably bringing them to Michael, it comes to be a place where kids who need to escape orbit around: with Sander's blessing, Michael always finds some easy work for them to do and earn some money, and when a couple of them seem truly interested, a question here and a question there quickly turns into a Michael Guerin lesson on mechanics. Those of them who are not interested, are free to just hang around as long as they dont wreak havoc or make a mess out of the place.

The thing is, Michael is completely unaware of the irony in all of that. Sanders is not, and he just hangs around smirking to himself about how much of a grumpy old man Michael is shaping up to be and laughing at history repeating itself and things like that.

It takes Isobel talking about them as Michael's junkyard children for Alex to bring the topic up. I mean, Michael is basically already doing it, and if they start fostering teens they could give some of them the happy childhood Michael never got. After that, not every kid who passes through the junkyard stays with them but some of them do, and some of them keep hanging around even after aging out of the system.

There is a panicked moment after their first foster kid gives him the silent treatment, where Alex runs to Greg for guidance; Greg has to politely remind him that he's an elementary school teacher, and his 16 years old kid might not react with the same energy to glitter glue and a happy song, so he has to figure out a different way.

Eventually they start to foster smaller kids too, and of course sometimes it's sad when they have to go and the house feels empty, but they always try and remember: it's not for them, it's for the kids. And during those nights The Beagle™ needs to find cuddles in the now domesticated ball of fur, because Michael is in very big need of a snuggle that Alex is more than happy to provide. It's how he recharges too, after all.

As far as their parenting style, Michael's a lost cause: he is incapable of not spoiling the kids because, why deny them the little joys if there's no harm in it, right? They deserve them. But he also realize the kids need structure, and he is pretty no-nonsense about it, also because, on the other hand, Alex is very much afraid of being the strict parent. It's a new chapter with every new kid, as every instance of parenting is, but the baseline of a good home is always there: love and safety.

I also can't seem to decide whether Michael would be the kind of hip parent who knows all about the youngsters culture, uses the correct terms and shares the right memes or the most embarassing dad who watches instagram reels about tiktoks and is always six months behind the last big thing. But I feel there's no in between.

Alex, sadly, despite being a cyber intelligence specialist, still mourns last.fm and that tells you everything you need to know.

Somewhere down the line, once they've collectively bought enough land to build a communeplace for all of them to live together while still maintaining a semblance of privacy (Isobel's broad interpretation of boundaries has not changed, sadly), the possibility of a full Oasian becomes a reality. The thing is, this is not just Isobel's baby, this is the podsquad baby, the triad's baby. Isobel and Michael might be the biological donors, but this is their baby.

As you can easily imagine, this is the most spoiled baby ever, because each one of them expect the others to be stern, when in reality, the baby has them all wrapped around their little fingers, and this is without powers, yet.

The first time Alex holds the baby he is completely overwhelmed: they seem so tiny, so fragile, but when he gently strokes his thumb on their forehead, they open their big, staring eyes, and everything else disappears.

Michael, you ask? Ooh, Michael is gloating. He never thought he could have half a thing in his life and now he has everything. He also self-appoints himself as the defender of the baby's curls: that entails slapping the hand of everyone that tries to play with a lock of hair to make it bounce. Do you know how annoying that can be? Leave the baby alone.

Of course, Michael is also a little shit and as soon as the baby starts talking and figuring out a way of calling them all, he tries to make them refer to Max as grandpa, to the utter hilarity of Liz and the total indignation of Max. He has yet to succeed, but the baby's still young, so Only time will tell.

[whattaloser]

Why I’m a Leftist

I know I’m probably just some dude who reblogs cool stuff to most of my followers but I’ve got a nice long story/rant about my political beliefs here that I’ve been wanting to write for awhile

I am a leftist first and foremost because I value human life. Everyone matters. No person is inherently more important than another person. Everyone has inherent rights that should not be infringed. People who infringe on other’s rights are morally wrong to do so. In essence my leftism is based on doing what is right. Obviously everyone has their own opinion on what is right but what is vitally important is knowing why your moral code is right. This is why so many people become liberals or conservatives or otherwise rather than leftists. They simply do not know enough about how the world works. There are a lot of reasons they don’t know, not the least of which is intentional covering up history and preventing education. I don’t believe people who aren’t leftists are stupid, but I do believe leftists know more. It’s kinda fucked up but it’s the only way you can explain inconsistencies in other’s values.

My path to leftism was full of cringe. When i was 7 years old Al Gore was running against George Bush for president. I did not know enough to have a real opinion on it but I am happy to say that I wanted Al Gore to win. This thought was based on very little if any logical reason. I basically flipped a coin in my head I think. Or maybe there was some outside influence that I wasn’t aware of, like my older sister who I looked up to might have said she liked Al gore. Either way, from then on I was in favor of democrats and did not like George Bush. When 9/11 happened I remembered thinking how dumb it was that people lined up around the block to get gas. Even as a child I knew that some buildings going down wasn’t going to end the great nation of the United States. In general I thought the United States was a great country. I knew from movies and tv as well as elementary school history that the United States was the most powerful country in the world. 

I recall in Sixth grade my teacher mentioned she liked George Bush because he was against gay marriage. Somehow at the time my opinion was the opposite despite being raised Catholic. I believed in god until I graduated high school and suddenly my desire to be religious slipped away and so did my belief. I do not consider this a great loss. 

Sometime in middle school or early high school I had solidified my opinion that the war in Iraq and Afghanistan was pointless and George Bush was a bad president. I was heavily influenced by movies and somewhat by video games that had imparted plenty of anti-war messages. Talks with my dad about nuclear missiles, watching History channel shows about world war 2, and playing Metal Gear Solid which had explicit nuclear disarmament messages, all informed me on the horrors of war. This was not enough to make me totally anti-military. In high school I wanted to join the military because I thought it was an easy way to get life experience and eventually pay for college. I was attracted to the Marines because of how cool movies like The Rock and video games like Call of Duty made it seem to be a Marine. I thought they were the best of the best. I was simultaneously against war, against veteran worship, and very pro-military. I was indoctrinated by years of government propaganda but also disillusioned by all forms of media including the book All Quiet on the Western Front which was about a soldier becoming disillusioned by witnessing horrors of war and the negative impact it had on everyone in his country. I spoke with a recruiter during my senior year and expressed my desire to be a Marine but I told him I wanted to wait a year after high school so I could get physically fit enough. The recruiter did not care that I was underweight and out of shape. He didn’t even care that I was very enthusiastic about joining, he was still putting on his best salesman demeanor which made me incredibly uneasy. The experience is supposed to pressure people into signing up on the spot, I think they even had forms for me to sign (i can’t really remember though) but I was not ready and was aware enough how I was being manipulated although not entirely cognizant. After that I no longer wanted to be in the military.

I also have to point out that I grew up in an unstable household. My parents were both loving but they were flawed and made mistakes and had problems. My dad was a typical Gen x man’s man. A little bit too emotionally repressed, but actually really good with kids when it came to play time and still is. He worked a lot because my mother couldn’t. My mother has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder as long as I can remember. Her medical bills related to her problems combined with other financially bad decisions by my parents caused my home life to be fraught. I lived in varying degrees of poverty until my parents separated and me and my siblings moved with my mother to her parents’ house away from my father. Prior to moving though, we endured great financial difficulty. We were unable to afford school lunches but could not apply for free or reduced lunches because technically my father made a lot of money, however it was all garnished for medical bills. My father always tells about how he bought a car that had hidden frame damage and when he attempted to sue the dealership for selling a bad car he lost and was garnished for that as well. Despite making over 25 dollars an hour in 1999, my father could not afford school lunches for three kids and couldn’t afford to pay the gas bill. Without going into too much more detail, life sucked and continued to suck until I graduated, at least financially. I still found plenty of joy and it wasn’t always that bad. We still found ways to have good things like video games and we could always rewatch old movies but there’s a lot of psychic weight that comes with being that poor as a child and I’m sure it affects me and my ability to empathize with others who in bad conditions. 

So i watched a lot of movies and documentaries, read a lot of books growing up, discovered internet forums at the age of 11, played video games, moved to a town that had a very large Hispanic population, and I even grew up poor. All of this life experience turned me into a very average liberal upon graduating high school. I was a very optimistic 18 year old. I thought science could save the world. If I was 18 today I would be an average redditor stereotype probably. The point here though is I still wasn’t a leftist. Only vaguely progressive and full of optimism. This is when I got sucked into the anti-feminist pipeline.

I can’t remember what exactly what I had going on in my life but I remember it was around the time of Gamergate. Everyone on the internet, celebrities, and pop culture were saying “if you believe in equality between genders you’re a feminist” an did not like that. And there was a ton of people online to tell me I was right in not liking that. They all said feminism was not necessary anymore because legally you couldn’t discriminate against women and I agreed. Gamergate made it worse for reasons too complicated to get into in this already long post but suffice it say I was “pro Gamergate.” This put me at odds with my closes friends who thought feminism was great and had no qualms with it, and were already embracing the idea of being a “social justice warrior.” Despite reading all kinds of anti-feminist think pieces and reveling in the discourse, I was still very progressive and liberal minded person. Still thought the military was bad, that black people were discriminated against etc. But so many aspects of anti-feminism were appealing to me as a white guy who tried their hardest to do what they’re told is right, had low self esteem, undiagnosed adhd and depression, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what feminism was. Two things got me out of anti-feminism though. The first and most important thing was having friends who were patient with me about it. I didn’t reveal how into anti-feminism I was because I was ashamed but they could sense it and pushed back when they could. The second thing that got me out of it was actually finding feminists online and reading what they had to say, staying away from poorly written clickbait articles that fueled misogynist tirades against feminism. After reading and learning from feminists it finally clicked. Our society is patriarchal and that affects how people interact with each other regardless of what is legal. Many of the complaints of anti-feminism talk about how men have it in society, so how can society be patriarchal. It’s because of patriarchy that men are put in bad positions. Some of the more self aware anti-feminists had retorts against these ideas but they were emotionally charged. There’s still some anti-feminists I have respect for because of how well prepared and logical they were when it came to disputing feminism. But when it came down to the fundamental tenants of feminsim all they could respond with was anger or outright denial of reality. (If you’re like I was and don’t understand how anyone can thing modern feminism is good please feel free to ask me more, I just can’t get into specifics in this long ass post) Anyways, once you understand patriarchy and how it affects an individuals actions then you can start seeing how other institutions and cultural norms can affect an individual. This is basically fundamentals of leftism. I’d say about 90% of my path to leftism was just naturally absorbing cultural and historical information through consumption of media. The most conservative people I know are people who haven’t read very many books or seen very many movies. I’m not saying watching Austin Powers at the age of 10 will make everyone a leftist but constantly recontextualizing the world by learning something new, even if you learned it from some dumb comedy movie, can give you better grounding in a shared reality.  Don’t know how to end this but I want to say when I was a teenager I thought “communism is good in theory but it doesn’t work in practice” and I had almost no historical basis for it other than the vague notion that USSR = bad despite having consumed a massive amount of media. None of it taught me what communism actually was, I didn’t know who Karl Marx was, and I had no clue why communism in the USSR failed. You can know a lot without knowing the truth so if you’re struggling with a loved one who is mind poisoned by conservative keep in mind that they know a lot but they’re missing something important to give clarity. 

This has been my Ted Talk

[dirtyfilthy]

The True Story Of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer: on the limits of transparency, or why you should stop feeding your quarters into the dopamine slot machine

Gather round children, and I will tell you a tale. This story is a hundred percent true. It occurred sometime in my late twenties, which would have been in 2008 or thereabouts. I had just taken the biggest acid trip of my life, eight tabs, but of fairly weak acid, I’m guessing around 400 micrograms total or close enough. Still, it gave me exactly the experience I was looking for. We went to the beach, and as a good friend of mine used to say: “got gay with nature”. Everything had been building to this point. First we took one tab. Some weeks later: we doubled down and took two.. After another month had passed, we gobbled up a four strip. Eight tabs only seemed logical at this stage. And man…

It was exactly how you imagine acid is going to be when you’re a kid. Everything was beautiful and melting  and there were colours I don’t even have the words for.  The trees were full of fractals, the ground was a river flowing beneath my feet. The sky was bright green. The sand dunes: a brilliant purple. It was like that cheesy chroma-keying effect they used to use to represent drugs in old movies from the 60’s. I even nearly went blind staring at the sunset like some hokey old LSD urban legend. Getting gay with nature?  This was a little more than merely getting high with one of your straight friends and perhaps sucking each others cocks and then never, ever mentioning it again, this was…  I wanted to settle down with nature and build a whole new life together, I wanted to get married, buy a house, maybe even adopt a couple of children. Don’t laugh, this isn’t fucking funny. We were in love!

Anyhow, acid, drugs, beautiful uplifting experience yada-yada. The thing is, on acid you tend to get these… ideas. Crazy, completely off-the-wall, gorgeously bent ideas. And I had just had a real doozy of an acid thought.  “Why lie? Why don’t I just be exactly who I am all the time? Why not be completely and utterly transparent with everyone?”. Now this is hardly some kind of grand cosmic revelation. I think that in most individuals this would have cumulated in a simple but genuine effort to be more honest with the people around them, or maybe simply faded with the trip, but in me…

So let me preface this with a couple of things about me that will make the following point make more sense: 1) I tend to take ideas and run with them, generally off a cliff 2) I am very good with computers. To the point where I am a professional hacker these days (as in I break into systems for a living), but back then I was only a hopeful amateur. 

So in me, the way this idea came out was I decided I was going to publish my entire browser history, online, in real time. Every site I visited would be available for the whole world to see, should they wish to, seconds after I had clicked the link. I won’t bore you with the technical details, they really  aren’t that complicated -- and neither are they honestly that interesting -- but suffice to say I built the thing. I named it on a whim after a Beatles song I happened to be listening to at the time: “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”. And then it was done. Every link I visited was put in a database and displayed on a web page. It was in the form of a giant, constantly growing list, newest at the top. For general purposes of  convenience, I had colour coded everything. So all social media sites would be say, purple. Wikipedia would be blue. News was green etc. 

So one great and terrible thing about LSD is it has a way of teaching you things. This generally happens while you are tripping, or maybe afterwards when you re-integrate the experience. In this case, acid had decided Maxwell’s Silver Hammer was the to be the terrible form my teacher took. And boy howdy, it would certainly teach me some lessons 

So I told all my friends about it. And they told their friends. And then word began to spread. And so I embarked on this slightly weird experiment in radical personal transparency, bouncing down the road like a complete asshole with nary a care in the world, full of hope in the promise of the dream, but I was to very quickly to discover it’s limits… 

The first limit should have been the most obvious one. Porn. At the end of a hard days labour avoiding working, I liked nothing more than masturbating for a solid three or four hours over the choicest and rarest sweet-meats the internet had to offer, before eventually collapsing on my bed from sheer sexual exhaustion. The thing is… porn is a very personal thing. I mean: what really spins your wheels, what you get off to. At the time, I wasn’t ready to admit to my friends that I still really liked women ok but sometimes when the mood struck me I liked to watch some massively hung black dude plow a white guy around half his size while fantasying that it was really m… Anyhow, porn is a deeply personal thing and can show quite a lot about someone. Besides, what if my Mum was watching… or my female friends? Sweet jesus. 

Well, if I was going to be consistent, I could either “rock out with my cock out” as we used to say back in primary school, or I could stop watching porn altogether. And that was the first lesson. Perfect transparency means constantly worrying about how you look because everyone can see everything. It means censoring, not just what you say, but who you are. it wasn’t just about porn of course. Maybe I should browse some wikipedia so I can look a bit more intelligent? What would the chick I had a crush on think if she knew I kept on visiting these horrible gore sites day after day? And so on and so forth, forever.  

I had thought it would be liberating, to be free of all secrets. In fact, it was the exact opposite. I wasn’t living a radically transparent life, instead I was an actor, just playing at performing one. 

The second revelation came in the form of the colour coding. I could see myself reflected in a sea of purple. It was obvious I had become obsessed with social media, particularly facebook. Constantly refreshing my homepage, hoping for that next sweet lick of dopamine, another little like on my post, a little sliver of ice from the great icicle of validation that would only ever melt away in the heat of the morning sun. I used to be a meth addict, and it’s exactly the same, that is: it’s never enough. You’re a fiend for it. It had revealed something deeply narcissistic and petty about myself that I really did not like. Why was I doing this? What did it matter? Did I really have three hundred “friends”? Of course not. I had the usual amount of people I cared enough about in my life to see on a semi-regular basis, a few close, ten or so I saw fairly often, maybe thirty total counting colleagues and co-workers and assorted demi-friends and vague acquaintances. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous. 

The third lesson came only after both of these things had been grating at me for quite a while. After this synthesis, suddenly, I became enlightened. There was a lot more freedom to be had by not being famous or observed. Privacy wasn’t just a haven for the liars and the hypocrites. In fact, privacy enabled you to be most truly yourself. Sure, be honest where it matters, but you don’t need to put your every card down on the table all at once. Seems like a basic enough thing to realise, but I really had to get slapped upside the head pretty hard to see it. There is a power in being invisible.

So I took down the site. Deleted my facebook. Watched all the “black tops white“ gay porn my little bisexual heart desired and, ironically, stopped caring so much what other people thought about me. Don’t get me wrong, I still get that little rush of validation when someone I respect likes my shit, but you gotta pick the individuals who’s opinion you’re gonna care about. The vast majority of most people are either dumb as fuck or completely antithetical to my values. Which isn’t to say I exactly begrudge them, but I’d still much rather avoid getting myself in a public fist fight, metaphorical or otherwise, unless I really really need to. I think in most cases, power doesn’t need to be confronted, it can simply be routed around. You don’t go and deliberately blow your weed smoke right up a cop’s nose, instead, just go get high in the disabled toilets like everybody else. I mean: it’s what they’re there for!

I guess that is the real moral of the story.

[scholarhect]

2 3 15 babey

HI BRO ILY

2. what’s your taco bell order

crunchwrap supreme. maybe a burrito, idk. i had a bean burrito today but i thought it was gross. plus the red freezy thing (starburst flavored, i think). except today i had baja blast and it was pretty good

i want you to know that this question is the entire reason i made this post. this was the germ, the mustard seed. “ask game: what’s your taco bell order”. and the rest was history

3. tell me about that one thing you wish someone would ask you about

(spoilers for tma if anybody’s gonna listen someday, i guess. literally major spoilers for seasons 1-4. turns out i don’t know how to shut up. thanks for indulging me)

okay. okay i’m gonna talk to you specifically. listen to me, i am talking directly into your ear now. i wish for the opportunity to tell you about ms melanie king. you’ve already heard about her as the inspiration for my haircut and also my fishnet outfit from that time i dragged you to that thrift thing, but she is such an icon. first of all she’s a YOUTUBER. (not like a vlogger, i guess, she hosts a show on youtube. but a youtuber nonetheless.) she hunts GHOSTS. on YOUTUBE. so, she shows up at The Magnus Institute, London, to tell them about that time she saw a ghost (but it was like ... a weird ghost. not a normal ghost. you know). immediately she insults the guy’s shitty old tape recorder that she is expected to speak into, in the year 2016. so they get snippy with each other and end up in a full-blown “The Girls Are Fightinggg” passive aggressive argument because they both view each other as pathetic, fake, not-respectable paranormal investigators. (and they both have A Thing about being respected & taken seriously.) like it turns out that the institute has a fucking laughable reputation in The Academic Community because they’ll just take a statement from anybody about their supposed supernatural experience. meanwhile jon thinks the people on ghost hunt shows are charlatans because their goal is entertainment and, yes, they “do ham it up a bit for the cameras.” ANYWAY. she’s all dragging the magnus institute and he’s like. “but you’re here.” it’s very funny. turns out she can’t tell the Serious Academic Community about her experience because it’s so wild that they’d laugh her out of her career. so she’s here. so she’s got no choice but to tell her story. so the episode continues, and ends, okay, and you’re like, “wow that was a fun and iconic one-off character. right?” WRONG.

season two... she’s BACK baby! after her experience at the military hospital, she wants to do research on War Ghosts, but the magnus institute wouldn’t let her in bc she didn’t have the Academic Clout for it, so the only way is to get an employee to vouch for her. so. she goes to jon like “please you’re the only friend i have here i need help” and they DO fight again but he does agree to help her (because they’re the same person. they are *spiderman pointing meme*). so, later, she’s back. she did some research on War Ghosts and broke into an old train graveyard (which is a thing apparently) and got stabbed by the ghost of an army medic and she got caught and arrested and she was screaming about how She Got Stabbed By A Ghost and somebody took a video and posted it online and then she BECAME A MEME for a couple days and nobody wanted to associate with her anymore. rip. but now she likes jon and she’s here to say goodbye (because she’s going to india) (she also sets off the climax of the season because she just happens to be that one person who can see that the monster pretending to be a major character is not, in fact, that character. she’s like “oh, which sasha? the new one? or the old one?” and jon’s like “what the fuck” and she’s like “there’s definitely two sashas. are you trying to gaslight me.” but whatever)

ok this is literally less than half her arc (i’ve covered. three episodes.) but this is long as fuck so i’ll wrap it up. “what a cool reoccurring character,” you may think! “i hope i get to see more of her!” well GUESS WHAT. she comes back from india (she’s been SHOT BY A GHOST) she wants to talk to jon but he’s not there (he was unfortunately in very close proximity to a murder and he’s on the run so he doesn’t get framed. double traumatic experience, very fun. anyway he’s staying at melanie’s friend’s house, whom she has conveniently namedropped a couple times so far (in the last episode she was like “she actually has nice things to say about you, why didn’t you tell me you knew her” and he’s like “we didn’t part on the best of terms”) because she is his ex-girlfriend, so, though he literally was just pretending that he didn’t know her, he now knows that she doesn’t hate him so he shows up at her place and she hides him from the cops because she’s literally the only person he knows outside work. but this isn’t about him.) so melanie has no job so elias is like “you want a job” and she’s like “sure?” so now she’s an archival assistant at the magnus institute (i realized i had to explain that. i don’t think you even know who elias is. head of the institute, everybody’s secretly evil boss, currently lowkey framing jon for the murder he committed. but lowkey) her coworkers don’t want her there because they’ve realized that their job is evil and they Physically Cannot Quit so they’re like “great now she’s stuck here too” but she doesn’t know that so she’s just like “why does everybody hate me. are you misogynists” because her Disrespect Alarm is going off in her head. and then they have a Department Meeting where jon comes back with an open knife wound on his neck and demands elias tell everyone about the TWO murders and then there’s a standoff situation where somebody wants to shoot elias but he’s “knife cat”ing at her and very dramatically forces her codependent friend slash partner (in the cop way not the gay way) to sign a contract as an archival assistant so that daisy (the cop with the gun) can’t hurt elias because, oh yeah, if he dies supposedly they all do too. so melanie is ... thoroughly disillusioned. and she becomes sullen, too, kind of. and she begins to try to murder elias. queen

things get worse (in a supernatural way. she gets Angry Knife Powers. there’s a Ghost Bullet from India lodged in her leg pumping murderous energy through her body and while she’s asleep jon removes it, it’s all very terrible.) but then she starts going to therapy because she wants to get better and she ends up making the difficult journey to Being Okay. (she also literally blinds herself to escape the institute, and that doesn’t really sound analogous to therapy out of context but it is, okay) and her arc is over and she’s the only character in the story who is currently Okay. we’re proud of her. her last appearance (so far. who knows what s5 has in store. hopefully not much) jon, who is in some deeeeep shit by this point, shows up asking for help, and she’s like “i can’t help you bc i can’t get dragged back into all that, but you’re always welcome in my life as a friend” which is not great for him at that point because he is kind of having a breakdown, but it’s still <3. much better than the beginning part of s4 when she wanted to kill him on sight. also she’s dating jon’s ex now lol

15. if somebody irl you didn’t know asked you how you feel about mcr what would you say (this question isn’t quite asking you how you feel about mcr, but it’s not not asking that)

i’d be like “yeah they’re pretty cool. i like them”

[kunsthalextracity]

The History of Queer Nightlife in Antwerp: Self-Interview in a Convex Mirror

In the framework of the group exhibition ‘Daily Nightshift’, Kunsthal Extra City collaborated with the Urban Studies Institute of the University of Antwerp on a lecture series. Due to COVID-19 we unfortunately couldn’t allow these lectures to take place at our premises.

To replace his lecture, professor Bart Eeckhout wrote an interview with himself.

In his text Eeckhout, board member of the Urban Studies Institute at the University of Antwerp, researches the history of queer nightlife in Antwerp and the spatial shifts that have occurred along the way. Where in the city were sexual minorities able to make contact? In what kind of places of entertainment? How did these change in shape and location? Which material traces of this nightlife remain?

Text & images: Bart Eeckhout

The History of Queer Nightlife in Antwerp: Self-Interview in a Convex Mirror

Q. So, professor, before Covid-19 changed everyone’s plans, you were going to give a lecture about the history of queer nightlife in Antwerp as part of the public program for the exhibition?

A. Well, not quite a lecture.

Q. But you were going to entertain our audience with lots of slides and flashy pictures?

A. Not really. As a matter of fact, I was wondering how to turn the presentation into something more than the delivery of an academic text, something that could satisfy an audience that is drowning in audiovisual information. The thing is that I saw myself forced to talk about a topic that is hard to illustrate, and to do so moreover as an amateur historian.

Q. How do you mean?

A. I actually teach English and American literature. But I happen to be the only board member of the Urban Studies Institute at the University of Antwerp who is simultaneously on the board of A*, the network of colleagues who specialize in gender and sexuality studies. There I have a reputation for being into queer studies and for stimulating the collaboration between queer academics and activists, since I consider myself to be both.

Q. And so the organizers came knocking on your door to ask if you could speak to the topic of queer nightlife in Antwerp?

A. Yes. And I accepted to do so because I have coincidentally been acquiring some expertise on the topic. Last year a colleague with whom I love to collaborate at the university, the media scholar Alexander Dhoest, got an invitation to contribute a chapter on Antwerp for an international book on gay neighborhoods in cities around the world – what used to be called “gay ghettoes.” We remembered that a PhD student of ours, the musicologist Rob Herreman, had spent a lot of time in archives to find out more about the recent history of LGBTQs in Antwerp in relation to music. Though we were hesitant to venture into terrain that should ideally be explored by skilled historians, we’re not aware of any Flemish colleagues doing academic research into recent LGBTQ history, certainly not with a specific focus on Antwerp. In addition, the book for which we were invited was being put together by architects and would thus probably cut us some slack. So we realized that the case of Antwerp would get attention in the collection only if we were willing to undertake the job ourselves.

Accepting to write the chapter has meant that we were forced to immerse ourselves quickly in the materials and sources we had at our disposal so as to develop a critical narrative that would meet the minimum requirements of academic scholarship. We were primarily interested in all the things we might learn from the exercise.

Q. And did you learn a few things?

A. I certainly hope so! One thing we hypothesized from the start is that the Anglo-American way of understanding gay neighborhoods would be only partially applicable to Antwerp, at best. And that is also what we argued at the more theoretical level. If you want to look for queer forms of geographic clustering in a Flemish city such as Antwerp, you should omit a lot of the social functions you find historically in the gay neighborhoods of New York or San Francisco. The “reverse diaspora” of sexual minorities from the countryside to the city that underpinned these metropolitan neighborhoods in the US never took place to the same extent, or in the same manner, in Flanders or Belgium. 

In addition, a historic city such as Antwerp is relatively small by international standards. Getting around, even on foot or by bicycle, is easy, so that there’s no urgent need to choose particular residential areas if you happen to be queer. For these and several other reasons, the first thing to note about gay neighborhoods in Antwerp is that there was never anything more than some spatially clustered nightlife.

Q. Let’s talk for a moment about that nightlife then. How easy was it to go back in time to undertake your investigation?

A. That was one of the difficulties. It’s not as if you can simply fall back on standard published histories of queer life in Belgium or Flanders, let alone histories that deal specifically with Antwerp. The larger context isn’t so hard to sketch, but the specifics are a bit of a problem. When you research the history of public sex in Antwerp – by which in this case I mean the institutional environment for nondomestic sexual interactions among citizens – it isn’t hard to figure out how the first red-light district emerged during the city’s historic heyday in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. As this red-light district catered primarily to sailors, it was understandably located close to the river, in the narrow streets just north of the City Hall that came to be known as the Schipperskwartier or Skippers Quarter.

This much is standard knowledge. But how did same-sex interactions ever figure into that lusting, lawless, lowlife milieu? What might possibly be the historic sources in which you might find reliable evidence for same-sex intercourse taking place in this environment? There isn’t much you can go by. You must hope that somewhere a slight flicker will flare up to evoke a fleeting image of what might have been going on. Let me illustrate this by showing the invisibility of our topic at its most palpable. Here’s the picture of a street in the former Skippers Quarter. Do you recognize it?

Q. Not immediately.

A. Don’t blame yourself. Though I personally love to roam through all the little streets of Antwerp’s historic center, I must confess I had never bothered to walk through this one before my research took me there. It’s called the Gorter Street and it’s a very short, narrow, one-way street that is about as bland and uninteresting as you can imagine. Do you see the red-brick house in the middle of the image? That wasn’t always there, of course. If we can trust the history of house numbers, it stands where previously the Crystal Palace was to be found, a gay bar whose building collapsed, literally, sometime in the 1960s. But before the Crystal Palace was a gay bar, it was a luxury brothel, as far back as the turn of the twentieth century and even earlier. And that’s where we were able to locate our first piece of not entirely reliable evidence for same-sex goings-on – not entirely reliable because it requires a detour via the fictive world of novels and a willingness to fill in the blanks. What do you remember about the Flemish writer Georges Eekhoud?

Q. Not much.

A. He was our own Oscar Wilde, if you like – the first famous gay writer in Flanders who, like Wilde, had to defend himself in court. Unfortunately, he wrote in French, which means we’ve forgotten him even more efficiently than if he’d written in Dutch. Anyway, he published a novel in 1888, La nouvelle Carthage, in which he appears to evoke this particular brothel in great detail as a cave full of mirrors in which “all stages of debauchery” took place. Given his own sexual orientation, it’s very easy to imagine that these must have included same-sex interactions, but in his description Eekhoud preferred to remain coy about the sexual acts, so that it’s really for our own 21st-century imaginations to flesh out the specifics.

Q. So for what period did you find the first evidence of same-sex activities in the Skippers Quarter that didn’t take the form of literary fiction but of nonfictional testimony?

A. We had to jump to the first half of the twentieth century for that. Mainly, what we then find is people testifying to drag performances taking place in the Skippers Quarter. Our favorite example is that of Danny’s Bar, a notorious bar for sailors where both the owner and his male staff were dressed as women and the sailors were being tempted into maximum binging.

On an online forum for retired sailors, we found some very juicy recollections of the kind of ritual that typically went on in this bar – how young sailors were being lured in as a sort of prank by older sailors, how these youngsters tended to be awestruck by the Hollywood-star prettiness of the women, and how they would be made to drink so much (and sometimes be drugged as well) until they woke up in bed upstairs only to find they had been sleeping with a man. It’s fair to speculate that some of the visiting sailors must have known they were going to be able to sleep with a man at Danny’s Bar and must have returned to the place to experiment with sexual desires and gender identities that fell outside the mainstream norms of their day and age.

Q. Are there any signs left of Danny’s Bar?

A. Not unless you have x-ray vision. The street is now almost entirely residential, though there is a modern-day “brasserie” in the house where the bar used to be. If walls could talk!

Q. These recollections of Danny’s Bar take us automatically into the second half of the twentieth century, I guess?

A. Yes they do. On the eve of the Second World War, we know that the Skippers Quarter had acquired a gay connotation to those in the know. Yet it didn’t stick to that area. After the war, its gay nightlife started to spread beyond the city’s traditional red-light district. A few of these new bars were still nearby, in the area around the Cathedral and the City Hall, but the majority sprang up close to the Central Station. This is also when we’re beginning to see some diversification. The Shakespeare, for instance, was a bar in the historic center. On the one hand, it was still occasionally visited by sailors and sex workers. On the other, and more importantly, it had a female bartender and gradually came to attract a female crowd – a niche for which there hadn’t been a market yet in the Skippers Quarter. 

Meanwhile, in the working-class streets leading toward the Central Station, a number of bars were opening that were all operated by men and served a male clientele – places like Fortunia, Week-End (later known as La Vie en Rose), and La Ronde. These were generally small operations. One of the streets, the Van Schoonhovenstraat, would go on to sport more than twenty such gay bars. In this picture I recently took, you get a sense of what this may have been like when you look at the structure of the street front, for instance the houses in the middle painted in blue and mauve (one of them surviving as a sex shop):

But the Van Schoonhovenstraat wasn’t the only street. Even if nearly all of the area’s gay bars have in turn disappeared, you might still recognize this iconic place, the one with the greatest staying power and cult status: 

Q. Ah yes, Café Strange! It’s in the Dambruggestraat, right?

A. Yes, and it still allows you to step into a time machine and take a trip down memory lane. We used it as our prime architectural case study, because its history shows you a lot about such gay bars in the second half of the twentieth century. A few facts and details hopefully help bring this history to life.

Café Strange was started by a gay couple as a gay-friendly “brasserie” back in 1955. The name, “Strange,” was meant to be suggestive without being explicit. In those years, the curtains behind the windows were still systematically drawn so that no passerby could look inside. You couldn’t just step inside either, but had to knock or ring a bell and wait for someone to let you in. To expedite this process, a small porch was constructed so that you could first step into the anonymous porch, close the door behind you and then open the door to the actual café – all with an eye to being as discrete as possible. 

Over the years, the bar became so successful that its interior had to be reorganized and expanded so that it could accommodate not only a buffet at the back but also make some space for a dance floor. The café had a good reputation for many years until one of the owners died in the mid-seventies and his remaining partner got into various kinds of trouble that ended dramatically with his getting killed. It was then that a new gay couple, Armand and Roger, took over – you probably know Armand as the remaining owner. This was in 1980, in the era of early emancipation, and so they decided to be less discrete by painting the building’s façade in a sort of pink and adding a drawing of a sexy sailor on the outside. Inside, pictures of semi-naked and naked men were hung on the walls. The buffet was moved to the front of the room and a professional DJ was hired to turn the place into a small part-time disco. For a while, the owners even produced their own little magazine to inform gay patrons about leisure opportunities – remember that this was before the internet made looking up such information a piece of cake. 

The first decades under the new owners went well: the place had the reputation of being at the same time modern, unpretentious, and laid back. There were a lot of flamboyant theme parties in which patrons could win grand prizes such as a flight to Athens or a weekend in Amsterdam or Paris. What’s interesting to observe also about the history of Café Strange is the shift in demographic over the years: while in the 1980s you could find a mix of gays, lesbians, and bisexuals from a wide range of ages and social classes in the bar, this narrowed down in the 1990s to mostly gay men, and then by the new millennium morphed again into a mix of gay and gay-friendly visitors. Indeed, by the nineties, these smaller gay bars in especially the area close to the station were increasingly being pushed out of business by a new type of venue, such as The Hessenhuis. 

A building with a totally different allure, of course. It’s originally from 1564 and part of the city’s historical patrimony. After undergoing renovation in 1975, it reopened as a temporary exhibition space, and then in 1993 a gay-friendly bar opened that doubled at night as a club for mainly gay youngsters. Soon, the Hessenhuis became one of their two favorite commercial nightlife venues, together with the Red & Blue. This new generation of larger, trendier, more spectacular, and essentially self-contained clubs gradually drove the small gay bars out of the market, and thus also put an end to the sense of a particular neighborhood or area in which many such bars were clustered.

Today, much of the city’s history of gay and lesbian nighttime entertainment has evaporated and become materially invisible in the streetscape. There was a time, during the second half of the twentieth century, that Antwerp contained literally dozens of gay and lesbian bars, but almost none of these survive now. Unfortunately, I’m not aware that anyone is actively trying to honor this material history by installing commemorative plaques or making exhibitions about it. It survives mostly in the memory of an aging cohort of participants, hence my insistence at the outset about the relative difficulty of bringing my topic to life to a younger generation raised on a constant stream of immersive images. But perhaps now that Alexander, Rob, and I have made our first archeological efforts and undertaken a basic form of mental mapping, a curious young historian will come along to flesh out our very schematic findings and dig up all the beautiful, funny, and naughty traces of queer nightlife that may still be hiding in public and private archives. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

[beccasfm]

𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐦. 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞. 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫.  ／  𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧  — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 ! 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐟, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐢’𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫-𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 !

                          𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟. 𝟚𝟜. 𝕖𝕤𝕥. 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪/𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞.

what’s up friends! first off: i’m moon, i’m a Certified Mess™ and this is my baby becca. it’s my first time playing her in a group, and i’ve tried to pin down some career claims that best represent her but there will be a couple tweaks so pls bare with me ?? that being said, on an out of character note… i’m very nice but salty trash. 99% gay. crazy energy. there’s prolly a tiktok of me passed out in a deep freezer somewhere bc i can’t control myself. i LOVE to talk 2 talk so come into my dms if u ever wanna hc and scream into oblivion. now, onto the actual important stuff:

𝕤 𝕥 𝕒 𝕥 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕚 𝕔 𝕤 , 

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘: becca park. 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘(𝗦): b, bec, becks, basically anything! 𝗔𝗚𝗘: twenty-one. 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬: february 23rd. 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥: cis female. 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦: she/her 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: panromantic. ( closeted ) 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: pansexual. ( closeted ) 𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧: 5′5 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧: neutral good. 𝗠𝗕𝗧𝗜: infp. 𝗛𝗢𝗚𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘: hufflepuff. 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗦: kind, gentle, hardworking, spineless, fearful, devoted, loyal, intelligent, adaptable, cautious.

𝕓 𝕒 𝕔 𝕜 𝕘 𝕣 𝕠 𝕦 𝕟 𝕕 ,

growing up on the set of a beloved family sitcom wasn’t a typical childhood, but it’s one becca is quite fond of considering the track record of child starlets and how they feel about their pasts. if you asked becca now, in private, she might say she wishes she had a time machine to go back to when she’d be eating sandwiches with her co-stars on set and doing the homework her private tutor had laid out for her between takes.

*( pls note i claimed both full house / boy meets world and that’s because becca’s show/history stretches from age 5 to her teen years, the timeline didn’t really add up but use ur imagination pls i did the best i could.. )

she grows up in front of a camera and absolutely loves it. acting is where she’s meant to be, even if it’s sitcom material. it’s good for her age, lighthearted, and she has surprisingly supportive people around her. she works maybe more than a kid should, but she finds that’s her default preference, and sitting alone for too long makes her restless. the show itself has quite the cult following and the diehard fans accumulate over the years. by the time becca is in her teens and social media is booming, her and her co-star are thrust into the spotlight. it’s all sweet, fun and games, becca now having a platform to get familiar with the fans she loves so much. the show’s success not only makes up her childhood, but the childhood of so many others, and something about that becomes irreplaceable to her.

however, all good things must come to an end. when she’s going on seventeen, the show is finally cancelled, the last episode finally giving viewers what they wanted: a happy ending for becca’s character and her co-star’s, the ship that had been over a decade in the making. cameras cut, lights off, and suddenly the team that was once so supportive of her is nowhere to be seen.

becca is desperate not to fall out. 

they tell her there’s not much room for her in the acting world, that having such a household name under her belt means people won’t associate her with anything else, and her team convinces her to give up on acting entirely. becca is crushed, but understands ( sort of ), and even if acting is where her heart is, she listens to ‘ what’s best for her ’.

thus, her pop career starts. it’s the formula for every washed up childstar, but becca is determined to make things work. she might not have the best pipes in the business or the most refined writing skills, but she has heart, and she will do anything she sets her mind to, anything it takes to be seen as good. so she puts triple the hours in the dance studio, recording studio, practices writing songs every day, does her scales until it finally clicks. her fans take to her well enough and becca doesn’t disappear long enough to be forgotten about. instead, she re-emerges as BECCA, all caps for her stage name, and re-invents herself to keep her claws in hollywood.

still, the rising fame in the cutthroat industry, especially as a teenage girl, is quite terrible. suddenly she goes from the beloved sweetheart of everyone’s favorite sitcom to a real popstar, someone that dates, someone that goes out, someone that’s seen in the spotlight. and as much as she’s praised, she’s scrutinized. for someone that takes criticism hard, it’s her biggest challenge yet.

rather than succumbing to the trainwreck trope, becca does the opposite. she keeps doing her yoga, rarely if ever drinks in public, always has a smile on, dates in private, dodges all potential scandals to keep the focus on her music and off her personal life. and so far, it’s working, but for someone that’s singing pop music written by everyone else instead of acting in front of a camera, how long can she keep it up?

𝕡 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 ,

at her core, becca is a kind, loyal and just person. she cares deeply for other people and finds it hard to cope with the immense pressure and materialism of the industry she works in at times. she hopes one day to return to acting, but growing up surrounded by opinions older and bigger than hers, she’s quite used to doing what she’s told.

she has a hard time trusting herself with choosing what’s good for her. instead, she listens to the opinions of others. she puts a lot of weight on it, and can come across as spineless. an industry puppet. she’s on stage dancing and singing, but her heart is somewhere else. still, it doesn’t stop her from putting everything else she has into it.

even when it’s something she doesn’t particularly want, becca is nothing but grateful. she works until she sweats and until she has blisters. she is nothing if not persistent. everything is done graciously, because becca doesn’t do much, if anything, out of spite.

at times it can all come crashing in on her, though. for someone that cares a lot about what people think, having ten million people look your way constantly can be overwhelming. she’s naturally introverted and leans on this during these times. lots of time at home with her cats, watching films, baking, hiding away from the world.

becca doesn’t date or party in public because she’s so intensely afraid of scandal or judgement. that doesn’t stop her from going out, but she’s more likely to hold the purses and help get someone home than she is to dance on a table. still, she avoids judging anyone herself. she worries for everyone else, and only wants to see the people around her succeed.

𝕨 𝕒 𝕟 𝕥 𝕖 𝕕  𝕔 𝕠 𝕟 𝕟 𝕖 𝕔 𝕥 𝕚 𝕠 𝕟 𝕤 ,

good influence. perhaps another pop singer that helps her out, works as a confidante, someone she asks tips of and helps her get into something she’s not fully adjusted to yet. ‘don’t play that venue, it sucks’ typa friend.

ride or die. someone that’s known her since her good ol’ tv days and has stuck by her. someone she tells all her secrets to, someone that she confides in with her secret of not really wanting to do music at all. basically, they’d tell each other everything and keep it under lock and key.

enemies. maybe a rival? it could be new, perhaps an award show slip up, or an old enemy from her tv days. it could be a two-way street, purely online beef, or some mutual dislike through the grapevine.

her personal mess. someone that’s messy as hell that becca takes care of. she gets them home after a wild night, or comes in to do damage control before any paps get a view of what’s happening. she helps protect them and their image.

friends turned sour. despite her kind nature, becca can easily be accused of living a lie or being inauthentic. someone that was once her friend but can’t stand her inability to tell people no, or do what she really wants. 

jump off the trainwreck. since she’s so obsessed with her image, perhaps she could have an enemy that was someone she abandoned after a scandal? the ‘i can’t associate with you’ type thing because it brings headlines, and they aren’t fond that she lets the media get in the way of their relationship. could be a platonic one or a romantic one.

behind closed doors. someone she’s seeing but refuses to tell anyone about because she’s afraid what people will think, or doesn’t want to be scrutinized for it. the other muse could either agree, or be frustrated with their situation.

shout out to my ex. maybe they dated and either they write a song about becca that goes viral or vice versa. names may not be named, but there’s tons of speculation by fans and there’s definitely some tension / drama about who and what it’s fully about, but maybe only they know!

and of course, any exes, hookups, casual friends, etc. are up for grabs !

[hoe-for-ares]

AU in which Red Rising is just a futuristic roleplay held in a chat full of teenage boys...

l posted once about it, but never went in detail. I was getting bored, so I wanted to make a list of the boyos from the AU - the homies behind the characters they are playing, duh! I imagine them having a roleplay chat and a homie-talking chat, that is mostly a voice-call never-ending conversation that is occurring while they are also roleplaying. Internet homies, also!

Feel free to add more.

Darrow - played by a 16 y/o Scottish boy, a know-it-all-mf, with an extensive knowledge. *Big nerd, fanatic of Ender’s Game and Star Wars. *Where does this dude even fit so much Ancient Greek history? *‘’Wait, why would someone even spend their time reading this crap???’’ - the homies in the chat. *All his friends created big, powerful Gold personas to shame him Red persona, but then Darrow went really deep with it and created a whole storyline about inequality and slavery, all in a long shower session. *No one took him seriously, but Darrow was dead serious - and also no one, maybe aside of Roque and Nero, didn’t really care what the hell he was talking about, but they followed him anyway because it was about badass warriors conquering and torn mfs apart! *He keeps deleting and rewriting his phrases, correlates everything with history and art, making the roleplay to seem wayyyy too serious. *He is anxious as shit if he doesn’t GET THIS LINE RIGHT! 

Sevro - played by a 14 y/o east-european boy, because no one can nail ‘em swearing better than an east european. *Moved to US recently and doesn’t seem to fit in, it makes him to not have many real life friends and not feel welcomed anywhere he goes. *He and Cassius are at the same high school, but since Sevro is a little freshman goblin, Cassius doesn’t fw him and ignores him. *Thus, Sevro acts like he hates him in the group chat and roleplay, but he only really is hella intimidated by him.  *His dad is a super cool dude and joins the gang’s games and conversations as often as he can. *Sevro doesn’t like that his father is much more liked than him within the group. *Listens to rock as a way of living and sunk in heavy metal as a coping mechanism.  *Big and proud furry. Has an IG dedicated to his fursona. *Relationships?? BLEAH. They are for suckers.  *But he has a ‘secret’ thing for muscular, tall and intimidating video game girls. Denies his affinity, though.  *Gang acts like they believe him when he insists he doesn’t care about those kind of girls and no girls in general, but Tactus is not fooled so easily and taunts him a lot by creating Victra.  *Also plays Uncle Narol because he wanted the chance to be the father figure since the gang always sees him as a little boy and treat him as such.  *He recalls every hoggish thing he heard from his father for Uncle Narol’s role, but creates his own expressions for Sevro’s.  Tactus - a 16 y/o french boy, neighbor with Roque.  *His only type of humor is yo mama jokes. *Gang is tired of Tactus’s obsession with their mothers, but Tactus doesn’t lose any chance and always recalls their mama in conversation... it is odd sometimes.  *He might have some mommy-issues.  *Also plays Deanna as a way to parody off Darrow’s real life mother, but he really started to get attached to the character. *He lives with his brother’s, that are always mocking him and embarrassing him every time he is in a voice-call conversation.  *But Tactus ain’t having any of this and screams at them - auch. *’’CLOSE YOUR MICROPHONE, COCK-FACE! YOU ARE FUCKING MY EARDRUMS!’’ - Sevro *He kinda wants to cry when his brothers do this, but he acts all tough. Homies can sense the shaking in his voice, but they act as they don’t hear it so Tactus can think he succeeded into fooling them.  *His brothers always force him to drink as a way of theirs of entertaining.  *Most of the time, he stumbles and vomits, no matter how hard he tried to act as one of them. This is the pure comedy his brothers are talking about! *Once he succeeded into drinking a whole bottle of beer without puking. He is really proud of his achievement.  *Groupchat knows all about it.  Roque - played by a 16 y/o french boy.  *Has a funny accent. *Homies are always laughing at him because of his fuddy-duddy accent.  *Tactus, too, which makes Roque hella sad.  *He doesn’t show his sadness and acts unbothered and way too stoic for being hurt because of their stupid charade.  *He really is deeply infuriated.  *Crushing on Tactus 24/7, but won’t show it - only his character is suspiciously close to his’. *Like...always privately sticking to him.  *No one knows what is going on in his private chat with Tactus. What are they roleplaying about? Hmm...  *He is really worried about Tactus’ mental health and brings him over his house as often as he can.  *Has some blessed asf parents, always lenient and nice. Accepted Tactus as part of their own family since his is way too fucked up.  *Rich as shit.  *Talks as pompous as possible. *Always reading and subtly bragging about what smart things he read, by quoting long and complicated verses out of his ancient poetry, early edition books, wrapped in animal skin.  *Kinda jealous of Darrow’s extensive knowledge.  *He was the one who brought Adrius in the group chat... no one knows how the hell he met such a shady dude.  Cassius - played by a 17 y/o american boy. *Knows Sevro personally, but won’t really give a fuck about him.  *Kinda ignores him irl and in game, too.  *His brothers all have curly hair, but he doesn’t - so of course his character has the perfect, craved-by-God, golden curls! ‘’Fuck you, Mother nature! If you didn’t want to give me the curls, I gave them to me myself!’’ *Doesn’t really know how curly hair works - did his character just went into a dirty ass fight and is full of grim? Bruh, whatever! His hair still shines and bounces like a little angel in Heaven! *He is bisexual irl, too, but tries to hide it. *His character is embracing his bisexuality, but he surely ain’t bisexual! No, nope!  *Hides his affinity for boys by making no-homo jokes and calling dudes gay for showing the slightest closeness to him - dayum, he carves for it, but no one needs to know!  *Thinks Darrow is cute, but as a homie, ya know? *I mean, he is totally going on a no-homo trip with Darrow. *He always listens to him and carves to talk to him the most, ignoring the rest of the squad most of the time.  *Also, always asks Darrow to teach him about ancient stuff he won’t care about irl, but once Darrow talks about them...ugh, they become so interesting! He is such a cool bro, dude, he like...knows how to explain thing to his bro!  *Praises the shit out of Darrow. Always mentions him when he is gone. You know, as a good homie does!  *Tactus ain’t fooled by any of it and makes subtle and snarky commentaries about his behavior.  Fitchner - played by Sevro’s dad. *A cool mf. *Proudly laughing his ass off when he hears how creative his son is with his language. *He knows damn well he is his son’s inspiration - beyond proud of knowing he created a genius.  *Single father.  *Joins the boys chat pretty often.  *Fakes reading something next to Sevro so he can listen what the squad is talking about via voice-chat or to keep up with the events in their roleplay because it makes him to feel good and young.  *He taunts his son irl and in game.  *Sometimes Sevro feels humiliated by his father, so he leaves the chat and/or the roleplay. Fitchner always brings him back and promises him not to mix in their game again.  *Squad doesn’t want him to leave, so they beg him to stay every single time when Fitchner says he about to let them play alone. *He can’t resist and promises them that he will come every time when he has a little spare time. *Sometimes acts like he is really busy and can’t join, when he really only wants Sevro to spend his time with his only friends being unbothered or mad by his father’s presence.  *Squad made him to be Ares because they worship him and call him the leader of the chat.  Adrius - played by a 16 y/o british boy.  *Has the stereotypical unintelligible british accent.  *Roque brought him in the group, out of nowhere, long after the roleplay started.  *No one really knows what’s up with this weird ass dude.  *Is online 24/7, but rarely speaks - he is the dude always peeking at the corners and watching everyone talking.  *When he shows up, his character has complex, long monologues when everyone else, aside of Darrow and Roque, can barely spell.  *He doesn’t fw with anyone’s plans and wreck them completely, by popping out of nowhere and destroying everything.  *But squad kinda enjoys it because he creates a good amount of drama within their rp.  *He types hella fast, like dude would spend his entire time sending messages. *Doesn’t he, like, has any friends?  *He never socialize within the group chat, he only breaths in the voice call.  *Squad created an anti-Adrius chat without him, but keeps him in the roleplay because his weird ass plan-wrecking character is interesting.  *He is so mysterious, with his character and all, that he resembles a chocolate egg with surprises. You never know what to expect.  Nero - played by a 16 y/o american boy. *Brought by Cassius long before Adrius came.  *Squad accepted him, but he doesn’t really fw them. *He is pretty shy and wanted to quit the group chat, since he wasn’t really talking much.  *Also, first time when Cassius suggested him to join roleplaying, he declined.  *A big history fanatic, always researching about war and dictators, corruption and tyrants.  *He will mainsplain every single detail in the lives of the big bad guy’s of the history.  *He will also get all ruffled if you don’t know the exact date in which WW1 started - like, are you even paying attention in the class, Karen??  *Gets excited every time Netflix drops a documentary about WW2.  *Cassius brought him the chat because he wanted to obligate him talk about anything else, but sad, miserable historic facts.  *Also, asked him to join roleplaying so, instead of focusing on the history of amok dictators, he can fight against them in a cool, space-knight way! *Became interested in roleplaying after he heard about Darrow’s plotline, all about inequality and war, thus considering it will give him the chance of shining and playing an old good tyrant. *Cassius hated the shit out of the idea, but Darrow was in ecstasy hearing they will have a big bad guy.  *Didn’t really join in the first part of the roleplay due still being really shy and clumsy at it, only joining when Darrow asked him for the execution part, but once he got used to it...oh, boy!  *He once joked about Adrius being Nero irl in the anti-Adrius group chat. Roque told Adrius about it and he liked the idea so much, he decided to make his character Nero’s son! Roque was kicked out from the anti-Adrius group chat just after that, Mustang - played by Cassius. *Why? Well, Darrow kinda cute... *He is just kidding, duuuh! It’s not about Darrow. It’s about playing a beautiful,tough girl so he can ‘’sharpen’’ his homies!  *He is a senior, so he has experience with girls, duh! He can play a girl just fine and give them tips on how to handle one. *OOPS! Sike! You can’t handle Mustang! Nice one, Cassius.  *Forced Darrow to chase Mustang as a way to entertain himself.  *He felt his soul going uwu when Meaper was going on.  *Expresses his feelings through a cocky girl as a way of coping with his feelings. *Made Mustang Adrius’ sister as a way of flipping off Adrius and his plans, thinking Adrius will lose his shit when someone will disturb his perfectionist plans and monologues just as much as he does to others, but it just fueled Adrius’ weird imagination and fitted into his agenda way too perfectly.  *Now he regrets his decision since he is obligated to spend a little extra time around Adrius.  Victra - played by Tactus *Created her for two sole reason. *Fucking around with Sevro’s not-so-secret passion for dangerously muscular fictional woman that can step on him any time. *Flexing fictional muscles in front of the squad by creating a super-giant-titan-ninja-classy-monster-woman to kick their space-knight asses. Even his own, too, because is funny to see women kicking metallic asses of knights, duuh! *And maybe for fw Darrow a bit, by making Victra all flirt with his shy ass. So, let’s say...three reasons.  *He gathered extensive knowledge from all the girls he knows about what the hell a girl likes - had no idea ‘till then, but now he knows what girls prefers the most: slaughter.  Feel free to add!!!

[aufbrechenumauszubrechen]

aufbrechen, um auszubrechen – Finding the love of my life in Ottawa

Hello world!

You might be wondering why this entry is written in English. The answer is simple: It's because this is a very special one for a very special person. Exactly two years ago I met a man that I've been in love with ever since. And this is how our two paths crossed...

I arrived at the Ottawa airport in the late afternoon. Compared to Vancouver it was freezing. Snow was covering houses, trees and streets. One could assume it was actually winter. I took an Uber to my Airbnb which cost me about $30. When I had booked the Airbnb everything around looked pretty close. I actually thought I could walk into the city within 45 minutes. Oh, what a fool I was. After I arrived at my apartment in Gloucester, a suburb of Ottawa, and logged into the wifi I soon found out that the next grocery store was a 30 minute walk away. Needless to say that there was 10cm of snow covering the streets.

But since I was hungry and the owner of the apartment was not home yet, I decided to go for that walk to buy myself some dinner. Except for that huge scarf I had bought in Revelstoke my winter gear was rather uncommon – two t-shirts, a sweater, a light jacket, a pair of jeans and runners. I'm still freezing just thinking about that walk. But when I came back I had dinner and some snacks in my backpack. So it was definitely worth it. I made myself some food and had great company – the owner's two cats. With my stomach full of spaghetti I went upstairs to my room. One of the reasons I went to Ottawa was to meet the OTM crew. OTM stands for One Track Mind and it's a group of people training for the decathlon. Kevin, head of that crew, vlogged about his life as a decathlete and put the videos on YouTube. I had been watching his videos for quite a while now and was eager to finally meet and train with the crew. Before I started my trip I had been emailing Kevin about the possibility of training with them. He liked the idea. So now I emailed him again asking about their training schedule for the week. While I was waiting for him to reply I opened up Grindr on my phone. I hadn't touched the app since Vancouver so I was interested to see if the Ottawa users were less creepy. And indeed most men on there seemed to be rather ordinary judging by their profile pictures. Also, I did not get any dick pics. So I was regaining trust in the app. Still, I did not use my real name on the app. I was Ben. Nice to meet you! Since I was still home alone I spent the night scrolling through numerous profiles of gay Ottawa men. If you are interested in a person you can either text them right away or send that person a flame to see if they like you back. Since I'm not good at taking the first step, I usually waited for people to text me or send me a flame. There was only one person that night that got my flame. His name was Brennan and I liked his greenish blue eyes. There was something faithful in his look. It did not take long for him to send me a flame back. My heart jumped a little when I saw that notification. Now it was time for me to take the first step. I started texting him on the app. Honestly, I don't even remember what my first lines were, probably something like „Hi, I'm Josef... I mean Ben. Nice to meet you!“. But whatever I said first, it must have worked because he texted back. I was super happy and we texted back and forth for quite some time. Finally, I got a text message from Kevin that there is training tomorrow morning and that he's gonna pick me up at 9am. It was 2am. Time to go to bed. I put my phone aside and fell asleep with a happy smile on my face.

I got up after less than six hours of sleep. But nothing could worry me because Brennan still texted back. After a quick breakfast Kevin picked me up to go to training. What I really like about Canadians is that they are so open-minded. I mean, Kevin just picked up a random German guy to take him to training. We had only texted a few times and soon after I was joining the OTM training session in the Dome at Louis Riel. I had never seen a 400 meter indoor track in my entire life. It was awesome! Unfortunately, none of the other OTM crew members showed up for that training. But two girls that I knew from Kevin's vlogs – Charlotte and Sveta – were also there. So that made it a bit less awkward. We spend the next two and a half hours doing long jump drills, short sprints, hurdles, med ball exercises, some weight training and finshed off with 2x300m. It was a lot of fun. I was super out of shape, but they still made me feel like I was part of the group. In the end, I got a cap from their coach James and two Ottawa Lions t-shirts from Zach, another coach from that club. I had a great time! Thanks a lot, Kevin!

Back at home, I took a shower, ate the rest of yesterday's spaghetti and went to a thrift shop that was next to the grocery store. I desperately needed a warm jacket. But I was unlucky. They did not have any jackets that I could wear with confidence. So I walked back to my Airbnb. I was lucky that I just made it before it started to snow like crazy. When I arrived I finally met the owner, Mark, and his girlfriend Kaitlyn. They were both super nice. While they were preparing their dinner we talked a lot about travelling and cats. After lots of laughs I went upstairs and started texting with Brennan again. We agreed on exchanging numbers and continued our conversation on WhatsApp. Since Kevin had told me that there was free ice skating Downtown and I needed to go buy a warmer jacket anyway, I knew that I was heading to the city the next day. So I suggested meeting Downtown. When Brennan did not they no right away I figured my chances were really good to actually meet that man with the beautiful eyes. Again, I went to bed with a smile on my face.

When I went downstairs to make myself some breakfast the next morning Mark offered to take me Downtown since he had a meeting there anyway. An hour later I found myself standing in the cold wind of Parliament Hill. I had booked 30 minutes of ice skating online. So I just rented some skates and had a great time on the ice without falling once.

After freezing my butt off on the ice it was finally time to get some winter clothes. So I went to the Rideau Mall to get a nice warm jacket and some shoes. I texted Brennan to see what his plans were for the day. He actually considered coming Downtown to meet me. But I had some convincing to do. He told me how gross he looked today and I told him that I would really like to experience his complete grossness first hand. It kind of worked. He agreed to come and meet me at The Highlander Pub. We had a date! So now I did not only need a warm jacket and shoes but also a nice pair of jeans and a sweater since I was wearing some super worn out travelling clothes. I found everything I needed, got changed in the bathroom, stuffed my old clothes in a backpack that was way too small and looked in the mirror. Just one little detail was missing. I was still wearing my glasses. But since I did not have glasses on in any of my profile pictures I figured to better not wear them. So I didn't. It made my vision worse but helped my confidence. I checked my phone and Brennan just texted that he was sitting in The Highlander Pub, in the left corner when you enter. I loved how specific he was because it lowered the chances of awkwardly not finding each other immensely. And that's when I walked in and saw him for the first time. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I said hi and the rest is history. We had an apple cider and some good talks. We was funny, asked smart questions and made me feel super comfortable. After our Ciders we had some pizza at The Grand Pizzeria and Bar. That's where he asked me if I was actually gay. I had a good laugh and confirmed my gayness. Time just flew by. He showed me around the city. He took the picture of me hanging from the T of the famous Ottawa sign. We walked through the snow.

To Parliament Hill where we saw a little light show.

After our amazing first date he drove me to my Airbnb. We hugged and said goodbye both knowing that this would not be the last time we saw each other. I went to bed with the biggest smile on my face.

After all the excitement the day before I slept super long. I went to get some Christmas presents for my family and headed to training after. This time the whole OTM crew was present.

We did some sprints, weight training and shot put. It was fun to get back into training. After a shower at home Brennan picked me up to get some burritos at Mucho Burrito. On our drive there I took all my courage and placed my hand on his that was on the gearshift. I asked him if that was okay. He said yes. That made me really happy. At Mucho Burrito I ordered a Mucho Veggie, the vegetarian burrito option, and was asked what kind of meat I would like on that. Classic. Brennan and I had a good laugh about that and ate our delicious burritos. We headed to his place to watch a movie. Julia Roberts ate, prayed and loved. And we cuddled. The weather outside got super ugly. Snow fell like crazy and the wind was picking up. We both decided that it was not the best idea to drive or be in a car right now. So I stayed the night. To not rush things I slept in the guest room which is something we now laugh about a lot. Whenever I visit Brennan nowadays he asks if I want to sleep in the guest room again. Probably I should some day to relive the memories.

They next day started with lots of cuddles and breakfast. It felt like the right place to be. Brennan took me back to my Airbnb so I could make it to training in time. At training we just did some running and pole vaulting. I took an Uber home, showered and prepared my dinner. I spent the night at the kitchen table talking and laughing with Mark and Kaitlyn. They gave me a little guestbook to sign. Here is what I did.

After that I went upstairs, packed my things and fell asleep right away. My Ottawa experience had been amazing so far. The next destination was Montréal although I liked Ottawa and especially Brennan so much that I just wanted to stay there.

The next day I left Gloucester and took the train to Montréal. The train ride was quite scenic so the time flew by and suddenly I arrived in the most populated city of Québec. When I left the train station to walk the few blocks to my hostel a windy negative 15 degrees celsius blew into my face. I had never experienced anything like that. It felt unreal. And very, very cold. I made it to the hostel in one frozen piece, checked in and got to my room. At hostel looked nice at first, but the eight bunk bedroom looked and smelled like prison. We had a little bathroom in there that probably hadn't been cleaned in two years. It was a mess. But it was cheap. I just put my stuff in that room and left it as fast as I could. The common area was nice though. And they had a big room for reading which nobody used. So I sat down there and started writing on my blog. After a while I could not concentrate anymore so I decided to go ugly Christmas sweater shopping. It's a family tradition that I started a few years ago. I basically put on every piece of clothing I had in my backpack and went outside. After a few failed attempts of finding a really ugly one I found this one.

After my shopping success I went to the Museum of Modern Art. They had a Leonard Cohen exhibition. All I knew about him was that he wrote Hallelujah. So I was eager to learn more. I walked out of that exhibition three hours later thinking that I learnt a lot. But now the only thing I remember is his quote: There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. I really like that quote, but still feel embarrassed about not being able to remember more. Not to blame anyone here but I was constantly texting Brennan while walking through the museum. One could say I might have been a bit distracted. After that nice educational visit I got a delicious falafel and went back to the hostel. The room was still smelly but so was I after the falafel. So I called it a day and fell asleep.

The next day I slept in a little, took a shower in one of the hallway bathrooms, got my breakfast and went into the city. I bought a few postcards and a nice sweater for Brennan as a surprise. After that I felt like I had seen enough of Montréal since all I could think of was Brennan. So I went to the train station to change my train ticket to be back in Ottawa earlier. That way I could spend one more full day with Brennan before leaving for Iceland. I paid $21 to change my ticket and was a happy man. Through the freezing wind of Montréal I walked back to the hostel to relax in that reading room nobody was using. When I went back into my room I met Charlie from London. He told me about a Christmas Market he wanted to go to and asked if I wanted to join. So we walked to that Christmas Market which felt a bit like a German Christmas Market. Just that it was trying too hard.

But it was at that place and time that I had my very first poutine. I felt super Canadian right away. The poutine itself was okay. It was more about the experience anyway.

After that Charlie went to a party and I went to bed.

The next morning I got up early to catch the train to Ottawa. On the train ride I watched Home Alone 1 on my laptop. It's the kind of nostalgia I like. With the perfect timing of Kevin hugging his mother in the end I arrived in Ottawa. Brennan picked me up at the train station. We went to our favourite – Mucho Burrito – and with a full stomach made it to his place. We spend all day watching movies and cuddling on the couch. I enjoyed every minute of it. Julie Andrews taught us the Do-Re-Mi as we were watching The Sound of Music. Later Melissa McCarthy food poison pooed in the sink in Bridesmaids. All in all, it was a successful day that ended with pizza and more cuddles. This time I upgraded myself to sleeping in his bed. We were both happy with that decision.

The next day it was time to say goodbye for now. I was headed to Iceland next and Scandinavia after. But I was already sure that I would pass on the last Scandinavia week and get on a plane back to Canada. I gave him the sweater I bought. And he gave me some beautiful gloves. I was so happy and so sad at the same time. He drove me to the airport, gave me one last kiss and the next thing I know is me waving him goodbye. At first, there was a lot of sadness knowing that this part of our story was over, that I was about to continue my travels and that I would not see him for some time now. But soon after I realized that it was just the start of it all. The start of something so beautiful words fail to describe. So I sat there at the gate waiting for my flight. I checked my phone. He texted. Heart emoji. This is just the start. There is so much more to come.

Ich liebe dich, Brennan.

[vinylexams]

INTERVIEW with Brian Cook of SUMAC, Russian Circles, Botch, These Arms are Snakes, and Roy 

Brian Cook of the MANY gnarly bands listed above took time to answer a bunch of questions that had been burning a hole in my mind for years earlier today. Did you know that aside from playing bass in some of the heaviest bands currently in existence, Brian is also an avid record collector and he also runs a very similar page where he posts all of his records and writes up a bit of history and personal context with each one? A man after my own heart! I’ve dropped a link to his Tumblr below and you’d be a fool not to go check it out and follow his work there.

https://bubblesandgutz.tumblr.com⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I really appreciated having a chance to talk to a very talented musician who also places a LOT of importance on physical medium and the recording process. All too often I get submissions from bands who either don’t know the in’s and out’s of the vinyl format or they took a lot of shortcuts and deprive their art a chance to really shine in the ways that vinyl allows. I picked Brian’s brain about his approach to creation of physical musical media as well as his history as a collector (and even tried to convince him to get These Arms are Snakes play my big gay wedding reception!). Thanks for taking the time to tell your story to us, Brian!

You've been a member of several incredible bands over the past few decades (Botch, Sumac, Russian Circles, These Arms Are Snakes), all of which have released pretty much everything they've recorded on vinyl. How important is the vinyl medium for you as a musician and creator?

Thanks for the kind words. It's really important to me for my music to have some sort of physical format. I realize that mode of thinking might seem sort of old school or outdated, but i've always been enamored by music as a kind of historical artifact. When I was younger, that meant it was important for me to have an actual Dead Kennedys cassette as opposed to a dubbed version from my friend. It was like the difference between owning a painting versus owning a xerox of a painting. When I became a musician, it was a sign of validation. By having a record with my name on it, I had created something that would potentially outlive me. And now in the digital age we've convinced ourselves that everything lives forever on the internet, but it's not true. Myspace just lost all their music. I've written for a lot of online music outlets that have closed shop or simply deleted old posts. Meanwhile, I have a trunk full of old zines that outlived the supposed permanence of blogs. So while the digital age is great for convenience and scope, creating a physical recording is really the more reliable way to make sure something exists for more than five to ten years, or however long it takes for the newest technological fad to become obsolete. Vinyl seems to be the longest lasting format, so it's my preferred medium. But if my music exists on tape or CD, that's fine too. 

Do you approach your recording and production processes with specific formats like vinyl in mind? If so, what do you do differently? Absolutely. The main concern is that we're dealing with the time constraints of vinyl. For bands like Russian Circles and SUMAC who have really long songs, it means we have to be careful how we sequence our records because we can easily exceed the 22-minutes-per-side rule. We've also been told by pressing plants that it's better to have long drones in the middle of an album side than at the beginning or end because there tends to be more surface noise at the beginning of a side and more warble at the end, and drones don't do much to mask these imperfections. But while one can complain about the limitations of vinyl, there are also issues with digital formats that can alter the way an album is put together. For example, the digital version of Empros has a longer drone at the end of "Batu" than the LP version, partially because of vinyl's limitations, but also because digital outlets like iTunes don't recognize records with long songs as full albums unless at least one track is longer than ten minutes. So we stretched it out on the digital version so that we'd be compensated appropriately for our work, but condensed it on vinyl so that we didn't compromise the sound quality.

Of all of the albums you've contributed to, which one stands out to you as the one you feel most connected to?

Probably Geneva by Russian Circles, if I had to pick one. We wrote that record over the span of several months at a house in rural Wisconsin. It was one of those ideal scenarios I'd always dreamed of---hunkering down in some isolated retreat and just immersing ourselves in the writing process. I've never walked away from an album feeling as accomplished as I did with that one. It just felt like we'd achieved something that had previously been out of my level of expertise. I think we've made better records since then, but I don't think I've ever felt as successful in making the sounds in my head translate to the recording. With regards to my other bands, I feel that way about Botch's We Are The Romans, These Arms Are Snakes' Easter, Roy's Killed John Train, and SUMAC's What One Becomes. But Geneva will always hold a special place.

How did you get into vinyl collecting and how does it play a part in your life?

I started buying vinyl around '92 because it was cheap. My first LP was Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet's Savvy Show Stoppers. I bought it for $2. Then I discovered 7"s, which was the dominant format for hardcore and punk bands at the time. Throughout high school, I mainly bought 7"s because i could buy 3 or 4 a week on my allowance. And let's be honest... most hardcore bands in the '90s had better 7"s than full albums. But vinyl was so dead at the time that you could also go to thrift stores and scoop up the entire Creedence Clearwater Revival discography for the cost of one CD. Even new vinyl was cheaper than their CD counterpart back then. So it's a bit of a drag now considering that vinyl is currently the most expensive format, but I still get a thrill from going to record stores, digging through crates, and coming home with a new LP. I can't say I buy that many 7"s anymore though.

What do you think about the relatively recent resurgence of large-scale vinyl production and collection?

It certainly has its advantages and disadvantages. I buy a lot of reissues just so I can have a clean, good-sounding copy, so I appreciate the resurgence in that regard. At the same time, the vinyl boom has made used record shopping a bit more of a drag. I don't know how many copies of Neil Young's Harvest I saw in used bins throughout the '90s and '00s, and then when I finally decided to buy a copy five years ago, it seemed like they'd all been snagged and the reissue was going for $50. When the Zeppelin discography got reissued a few years back, I mentioned wanting a new copy of Physical Graffiti to my husband. He went to our local indie record store in Brooklyn and asked the owner if they carried it and he totally balked at the question. "Why would we carry a reissue when you can buy a used copy of that in any record store for $5?" he said. My husband was like "every used Zeppelin record you carry is beat to shit and goes for at least $20... what the fuck are you even talking about?"

If you had to pare down your entire collection to no more than three albums, which would you keep?

What's the broader context? Like, are those the only three records I can listen to for the rest of my life? Or is it just a matter of only being allowed to own three records? If it's the former, I'd probably choose Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, Miles Davis' In a Silent Way, and a Can album... either Ege Bamyasi or Soon Over Babaluma. Ask me tomorrow and I'd probably list off a different three. If it's the latter... like, if i'm merely holding onto records because the actual artifact means a lot to me but I can still listen to music in some other capacity, then I'd probably go with the His Hero Is Gone / Union of Uranus split LP, Undertow's At Both Ends, and Sticks & Stones Theme Songs For Nothing, just because those seem like a pain in the ass to replace and they're important records to me. I have records that are worth way more money, but I'm not someone who buys records because they're valuable. 

Do you have a "white whale" record you still haven't found?

Not really. For ages I resisted the urge to buy used records online, but I've since relented. The record that finally broke my ordering embargo was Hack's The Rotten World Around Us. They were a band from Adelaide, South Australia in the late '80/ early '90s who sounded like a grungier version of the first couple Swans records. Super heavy and scary. I got turned onto them through a 7" on Alternative Tentacles, but the LP was never available stateside. The first few times I toured Australia i went to every record store I could find in hopes of finding a copy. No one had ever heard of Hack. The singer was in another band called Grong Grong, and members of that band had gone on to be in King Snake Roost, Lubricated Goat, and Tumor Circus (with Jello Biafra on vocals), but no one had heard of them either. In my mind there was this rich underground of Australian noise rock from that time period that was still vital and valid, but the reality is that it was largely ignored and forgotten. I eventually found a copy online and bought it for $20. A year later i found a used copy in Boise. Oh well. I'd love to find Acme's To Reduce The Choir..., or an original copy of Popol Vuh's second album, or the Neu! 7", or the Greenlandic prog band Sume's Sumut album.

Hypothetically how much money would I need to raise to get These Arms Are Snakes to reunite to play my wedding reception? My family will hate it but my partner and I will be very happy, etc.

We still talk about doing some proper "farewell shows" since we bailed on doing them back in 2009/2010. Granted, now they'd be reunion shows, but in our hearts they'd be our proper goodbye. We're putting together a vinyl release of various odds and ends for next year, so maybe that'll give us an excuse to finally book something.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

hey there, im very sick and sad at the moment, do you have super fluffy(preferably multichapter) fics?

Hey Nonnie,

Fluffy multichapters? I’ll see what I can do :-) Most multichapters will contain some angst, though, even when the story is mostly fluff.

Here are some virtual hugs for you in the hopes of making you feel a bit better XOXOXO

Marjan

A Month, A Week and Three Days by @it-avi

"Why does everyone take me seriously when I talk about that?" Kurt mused. "My Step-Brother, my Dad, my-" he stumbled over his words for a second. "-Blaine." He finished lamely, his cheeks turning quickly to a rosy, adorable pink.

A Place to Stay by ItsNotEasyBeingQueen

Kurt is a blogger who has reserved a room at a hotel for Fashion Week - a hotel which just happens to be managed by the charming Blaine Anderson.  Circumstances force them into each other's lives for the week in a way neither of them expected.  What exactly will happen when Blaine gives Kurt a place to stay?

A Universe Where Prop 8 And Other Related Homophobic State Laws Have Long Been Defeated by  @rockinhamburger

Fast-forward several years in the future. Kurt and Blaine are navigating the waters of marriage, and everything that entails.

Along for the Rides by @slayediest

AU.  Blaine and Kurt get their summer romance on. Mostly fluff, awkward flirting, a side of misunderstanding and some hanky panky.

Another Time, Another Place by elfinder

What if Kurt had met Blaine a year earlier? How would his life have changed? In his sophomore year, during the spring, Kurt Hummel ends up by chance meeting a charming young man named Blaine Anderson, who turns out to be in his own Glee club. The two begin down the road of becoming friends and then the journey that their relationship takes them. Will they be able to face any problems ahead? No matter what they may be?

Black and White by rainjoy

Kurt and Blaine do a crossword. Amongst other things.

Click and Press Send by @loveheartlover​

Blaine Anderson is 18 years old and in his final year at McKinley High. His best friends know everything about him- apart from that whole thing where he's in love with an online blogger.

ThreeDomsToRuleThemAll are the best thing to ever happen to Blaine; three friends who post audio and video that more than satisfies his need to submit, and Kimber is the man who makes every Thursday the best day of Blaine's week. It's just a shame that Blaine is little more than another number, another follower to him. He doesn't even know Blaine exists.

Until one day, he does.

This is their story.

Crema verse by @twobirdsonesong​

Kurt’s just landed a job at Vogue as Carrie Bradshaw’s assistant. One of his tasks is to bring her coffee in the morning.  Enter Blaine, the barista.  This is the story of how they change each other’s lives.

Equality by idoltina

Obligatory 'gay marriage becomes legal in New York and the boys react' fic.Also: Blaine just wants a blowjob. His elderly neighbor, Kurt's parents, and a plan that's been in the making for three and a half years all serve as sources to Blaine's seemingly never-ending sexual frustration.

Excited about things by @a-simple-rainbow​

"It's not fair because I'll never get to make fun of your pictures!" He whines and Kurt stops dead on his track. The silence is thick and then Blaine sighs and laughs "Relax, I'm kidding." "I'm… I…" "You're gonna have to get used to blind jokes if this is gonna work." Blaine announces, smirking as he leaves the kitchen, glass in hand. (Blind!blaine, Skank!Kurt, FLUFF)

Gourmet Rhapsody by @hazelandglasz

Kurt has been working as a designer in a high-end fashion house but he just reaches his emotional limit.He goes through a burnout and during the time he has been given to recover, he goes back to what has always been his way to cope with stress : cooking and more particularly baking.It acts as an epiphany : why does he keep on working for someone else who doesn’t really let him make the right decisions and put too much pressure on him, if he can try being his own boss ?With Blaine’s support and Adam’s collaboration, he opens “Nibble on”, a bakery that cares about feeding you, body and soul.

How Kurt Hummel Loses His Virginity by @scatter-the-stars​

Tired of being a virgin, and not having anybody be interested in him, shy and insecure, Kurt, decides that for his twentieth birthday, as a present to himself, he will hire an escort and lose the big V.  Little does he know, that when he meets Blaine, his escort, everything will change.

How Many Days... by @fictionallylost

How many days does it take to fall in love? For Music Producer, Blaine Anderson it’s just another day at the office working on a valentines record for an international, top selling artist; with the idea of love as far from his mind as possible…that is until he meets lead backing vocalist, Kurt Hummel.

In Want of Magic by @trufflemores

3.01-4.01. "I just want my senior year to be magic."

Italian Boy by @kookaburrito

Every Saturday morning Kurt takes the bus to Little Italy. During the ride he keeps seeing the same cute boy who reads Italian books, and decides to learn the language, you know, just because it might turn out useful in the end.

Jump by @scatter-the-stars

It's been over a year since the injury that took away his dream.  No longer able to take the questions and concerns, Kurt has escaped to a small town to think about what he wants.  What he doesn't expect to find are Blaine and his little girl, who both quickly steal his heart.  And it's not long before he has to make the choice of where his heart truly lies.

life is like a song (i want you to sing to me) by @luthien82​

Kurt and Blaine have been best friends since college. They would do anything for each other, which Blaine proves when Kurt confesses he has to go home for a wedding - a wedding where everyone expects him to bring his long time boyfriend. The thing is: Kurt doesn't have one. But he has a Blaine, who is willing to help. Enter one group of crazy, well meaning friends, a week full of wedding preparations, and lots of sexual tension and you've got yourself a mix that's just bound to blow up in their faces...

Loving You Is Easy by @mrscriss2012

Single parent Kurt is moving back to Ohio. Having been hurt before, will he ever find anyone to love and trust again?

Make the Yuletide Gay by @razorsharpquill

When the invitation comes, Blaine Anderson is delighted -- he can't think of a better way to usher in the holidays than an impromptu Warbler reunion to celebrate one of their own getting married. Unfortunately that includes ALL of the Warblers, including his ex-boyfriend Sebastian. Avoiding the ex might just call for drastic measures -- and Blaine knows just the man for the job.

Missing Pieces by @sunshineoptimismandangels

Even after living in New York City for three years Kurt Hummel still hasn't found love. He thought that the city of his dreams would make all of his dreams come true, but maybe he just isn't made for romance. That is until Kurt is home for the summer, helping his father run his growing Android Repair shop and getting to know hid dad's latest acquisition, a handsome and sweet android with curly hair, and a kind smile and a love for musicals. Maybe Kurt will discover that love isn't what he always thought it was.

NYADA Crushes by @notthetoothfairy

Kurt doesn’t think it’s going to be a big deal if he posts an anonymous message on the NYADA Crushes Facebook page about the cute guy he just saw fall on his ass in front of the NYADA main entrance. Little does he know that Blaine is going to be his dance TA once the new school year starts, and that Blaine has a history with NYADA Crushes, too.

Operation Secret Santa by @ckerouac

Kurt can't stop staring at the cute guy who comes by the coffee station near his desk every morning, but can never muster up the courage to say hello.  Until the assignment for their office Secret Santa is revealed and his reads 'Blaine Anderson'.  Written in pieces for Klaine Advent 2017.

Shiftings by @chazzam (check out the entire verse, it’s lovely!)

Shiftings 'verse #1 - The shift in their relationship didn't come out of left field at all.  Beneath the surface, things had been changing all along.  Set right after THE KLISS.  Kind of fluffy.

Somebody to Love by @bazllton

Klaine Coffee shop AU in which Kurt is a barista and Blaine is a dorky customer. Basically just lots and lots of fluff.

Sum verse by flaming_muse

The whole of Kurt and Blaine’s relationship is greater than the sum of its parts. Scenes of two boys in love.

Three Weeks of Summer by @antarcticbird

Kurt just wants to get some work done, Rachel just wants him to relax, and Blaine shows up and makes everything even more complicated than it is already.

Written On My Heart by @gingerfic

Kurt draws Blaine’s name in a massive secret pal exchange at work. He doesn’t know Blaine, and thinks he is giving to a female. Will he decide to reveal himself and actually meet Blaine at the end of the six weeks?Meanwhile, he has started noticing an attractive stranger...

Also, if you don’t mind me reccing one of my own fics:

Catch Me A Catch by lilyvandersteen

Blaine is a hard-working pre-law student and part-time barista, whose brother Cooper has snagged a role in Funny Girl. Kurt is a diligent NYADA student and intern at Vogue dot com, whose roommate Rachel is the new Fanny Brice. Cooper and Rachel hit it off immediately, and then start scheming to get Kurt and Blaine together.

[askemilydeanyo]

Hello, yes. We had a threesome.

Before I start, I’d like to say that for the bulk majority of my life, I have identified as a relatively jealous person. Not jealous in a comparative way, but in a “tell me everything about your past, in detail, and then comfort me when I get upset about it because I will get upset” kind of way. That being said, when my urge to have a threesome crept up, I was honestly taken off guard. Imagining my partner with other people in the past used to make me queasy, but suddenly thinking of them with someone else was making me seriously horny. What the fuck was going on? I’ll paint the scene for you:

I was on the front porch eating strawberries, reading my final pages of Karley Sciortino’s Slutever, when it first came over me. In a lascivious daze, I looked up to my partner, then cutting the grass, and said: “Do you want to have a threesome?” to which they plainly responded, “Yeah, sure.” So like any self-proclaimed horny millennial sex aficionado, I immediately took to Instagram. (Obviously, I realize that not everybody can hop on their social media account and solicit for a sex partner, but I have a majority of family blocked and let’s be real they are all pretty aware of my sluttiness, so it seemed plausible to me.)

My request, posted in typewriter font over a photo of my leather flogger, simply stated: “Seeking a third for play *devil emoji*.” And voilà, just like that, she was baited. I will say, I got about 9 responses in total, but none of the others quite fit the description. We didn’t want anyone we knew too close, anyone we didn’t know at all, or anyone younger than me. I suppose this is my first tip, being that it might take a while for you and your partner to find someone that you are both attracted to, and it is both okay and encouraged to allow yourselves to be choosey (like, sure it only took us about 3 hours, but I’d say we are an anomaly to the rule.) I know a lot of people take to bars, or get on Tinder, or hire a sex worker, and I think those are excellent options for certain kinds of people, but we didn’t want to just pick from a sea of faces, we wanted to have some sort of connection to our third.

So, when she slid into my DM’s, we were stoked. We both knew her, but very, very vaguely. She and I had met a handful of times in social settings, but never engaged in anything beyond surface level conversation. However, like many of these types of interactions in my life, we had, at some point, talked about sex. I speak very candidly about sexuality – and my online presence is certainly no exception. I run weekly sex polls, I post pre-smut photos of me in full rubber lingerie, and I have an advice column where I answer questions about sex and relationship issues. So the chances that I have given someone sex-related advice online, while only having a conversation about their dog in person is surprisingly high.

Since we had some back-and-forth in the past, she approached it by saying: “If it’s not out of line, maybe I can reach out to you two about joining in the fun? I’ve always thought you’d be fun and comfortable to be around.” Finally! My outward slut-ass-ness had paid off! I was sold on her. I took the idea to my partner and they immediately agreed. As I said, the entire process of deciding we wanted to have a threesome and finding our third took, quite literally, 3 hours, but I’d imagine it is comparable to when you go to adopt a puppy, and think “omg! This is the one!” – it just felt right, you know? We knew that she was hot, and she was kind, and wasn’t a sociopath looking to come in and wreck our relationship, so it genuinely seemed safe.

It became a massive topic of conversation. We began vocalizing our fantasies out loud while we had sex (“You want to see me eat a pussy?” and yes LORD I did), we discussed our expectations and boundaries in depth, and on at least a dozen occasions I said “oh my GOD are we actually doing this?” jumping around like an idiot while doing the dishes. The thought was so exciting. We are both sexually adventurous people, both naturally hedonistic, seemingly born with a desire to please, so adding a third into the mix felt more like an extension of us. Just something and someone fun to do. We ended up running into her that weekend and fucked like literal maniacs afterwards. It was amazing.

The timeline of deciding on the rendezvous and actually putting it into action took a whopping 10 days. The closer the event came, the more and more I became the most annoying version of myself. “Oh my god, she’s coming in 3 days. Oh my god, she’s coming tomorrow. OH MY GOD SHE’S COMING IN 4 HOURS.” When the time finally came, I prepped my body as if I was going to senior prom all over again (except honestly significantly more.) I waxed my bikini line, did a facial, did a hair mask, shaved my legs, exfoliated my entire body, rummaged my closet, took 10 minutes on my eyebrows. We swept the house, washed the sheets, shined all the latex, and boiled all the sex toys. The energy was fun and frantic and flirty.

Within the comfort of your monogamous relationship, it’s normal to begin to care less about these things, which is not to be taken as a diss. When you see someone essentially every day of your life, you care a lot less about deep conditioning your hair and more about paying your rent on time. Knowing that someone was going to experience our home, our bodies, and our relationship dynamic for the first time took us back to those butterfly-in-tummy vibes – when you actually made an effort to match your socks and tend to your ingrown hairs. It was so sweet knowing my partner was taking the time to landscape their pubes and make sure they looked good in their outfit. I felt like I was going on our first date all over again, which was a really welcoming and unexpected phenomenon.

I’ll fast forward and spare you the visual of me crouched over cleaning the toilet in leather pants (just kidding, there was the visual): She arrived. My partner and I were sitting in separate rooms when I saw her car pull up. As one might imagine, I literally screamed. The following is a rough description of what happened: She came in, we gave her the house tour, we chatted over a glass of champagne (that I admittedly took no more than three sips of because I had taken two power shots when I saw her car pull up) (that and my partner refuses to fuck drunk people which is one of the hundred things I love about them.) And then… we showed her ‘The Drawer.’

Okay, look. My partner and I are sex freaks. If you know either of us in person, I can guarantee that our sex drawer is exactly what you are visualizing. It is filled with latex and leather, and sensory deprivation accessories, and cock lassos, and butt plugs, and dildos and vibrators and weird medical equipment that even freaks us out at times. This was the moment of truth. When you open your sex drawer to someone, you are essentially showing them your lifespan porn history, your darkest fantasies, your bank statement and your daddy issues all at once. It is vulnerable and spooky and oddly exciting. Anyways, she was into it.

After some chatting in the bedroom, we were all clearly getting antsy, so I decided to take initiative. I asked our third to strip to her comfort level. I asked my partner to blindfold her. I took myself in the bathroom, got into a latex get up, and had a full blown Issa Rae style pep talk with myself in the mirror. When I emerged into the bedroom I found our third blindfolded and stripped to her panties, while my partner was rubbing her legs. My first thought was “Oh my god, am I gay?” I was so turned on. The roles of my partner and myself became immediately clear. Here they were, prioritizing comfort and consent, not wanting to overstep any boundaries (especially while I wasn’t in the room), and I come in wearing full domme gear, leather riding crop in hand, alarmingly ready to turn some asses red. My partner is truly the yin to my yang.

I won’t go into too much detail, partially because I blacked a lot of it out (adrenaline, not vodka, I promise) but also because this is meant to be less smut and more narrative; so let’s just say I was in a deviant bitches version of heaven. As someone who identifies as a 96% heterosexual woman, I was honestly anxious about having a vulva in my face. Believe me when I say I am a huge preacher of “vagina’s are snowflakes,” but admittedly, I’m picky (don’t come for me I am literally just straight.) I was so relieved that when our third was naked before us, I was in absolute awe. My dreamboat of a partner, a beautiful naked person, and a nightstand covered with sex toys; I could’ve died right then and been totally cool with it (except our third did not sign up for Necrophilia 101 and let’s be honest I knew immediately that I wanted to do it again.)

The one thing that put me the most at ease was our ability to prioritize comfort. This has to take form in various ways. Being comfortable enough to assert what you want: harder, deeper, lower, just spread my butt cheeks more, being comfortable enough to fumble (i.e. having to literally remove our third’s fingers from my body after dropping the magic wand on the floor and watching it vibrate its way across the room,) being comfortable enough to show someone a drawer filled with electric stimulation pads and urethral sounds (unused, before anyone freaks out), being comfortable enough to ask someone to swap gloves so you don’t exchange bacteria. It is seriously vital. In porn, we often see someone take their dick out of one vagina and put it in the other, and in reality that just isn’t safe. That being said, when our third hopped out of bed and put on gloves without being instructed, I felt like a proud mom (except like horny step mom that fucks the girl next door), because not only was she prioritizing our safety, but she was also simultaneously not judging us for wearing medical exam gloves while we fucked. Truly a win-win.

In summary, we all came, we cleaned up, and we sat on the bed after and recapped straight slumber party style. A visual: All of us are wearing crop tops and undies, drinking Moscato from the bottle, a murder scene of sex accessories littering the floor beside us. During this time, I was paying close attention to my emotions. I had been a third to a couple once in the past, and the girl told me that immediately after the horny feelings subsided, she cried a lot. I was waiting for this feeling to sweep over me, but instead, my thoughts were more “oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot to fuck her with the strap on.” It was all really, really pleasant.

After she left, my partner and I had sex once again, and for the next few days we brought it up at least once every hour or so. In the middle of an art fair: “Remember when you first walked into the room and grabbed her? That was my favorite part.” in the middle of eating pancakes: “Do you think she came good?” in the last few seconds of a Warriors vs. Clippers game: “My finger literally went into her ass on accident.” It was like a Facebook memory popping up to remind you that you are a sex goddess, rather than an unfortunate seventh grader with side swoop bangs.

In addition to these micro bursts of horny memories zapping me throughout the day, I also found myself feeling tremendously liberated all around. Suddenly, I felt like that bitch. I felt more sure of myself and my relationship than ever before. I felt proud of my ability to casually share my wonderful partner with someone else. I also experienced some unexpected but cutesy and innocent feelings of having a crush, like, omg I wonder if she’s told her friends, I wonder if she liked us, I wonder if she’ll want to come back. I still feel all of that.

Some people might read this thinking: Emily, was this really worth a 4000 word essay? It’s a threesome, chill, people do this all the time; while others might think: Hell no, I would never let my partner fuck someone else! Both to which I respond: I get it. A ton of people take comfort in routine, and monogamy, and would never think of sharing their partner’s bodies with someone else. Other people are more laissez faire, and are totally cool with the thought. I guess I fall somewhere in the in-between. The reason I am writing this is solely to inform others of one thing above all else, and that is: When you allow someone else to be with your partners body, it is solely that: their body. You must be able to compartmentalize your sexuality. The sex you have with your partner right after a fight, or at 7a.m. half hard and half asleep, or after a romantic anniversary dinner can never be replaced by a 10p.m Friday night Ménage à trois, nor is it meant to. You are not lending out your partner’s heart, you are lending out their oral sex game because you yourself find it to be phenomenal and you want someone else to experience it.

Your third doesn’t get to know the exact 45 degree angle at which your partner likes their penis stroked, or the exact string of words that’ll make you cum in seconds, or how you like your scalp rubbed before you fall asleep. They are there for newness, for fun, and for straight up sexual gratification. Their roll is essentially to cum and leave (after sitting cross legged blushing over the fact that you both have outie vulvas, and also, like maybe not leaving forever because you might want them to come back in the future!) not to rock your partner’s world and leave them looking at you like an old pair of beat up sneakers or whatever. If you are worried about your third outshining you, or your partner developing feelings, or your primary and secondary running off and having some kind of love affair, then a threesome just is not for you. Having a fear of infidelity as a result is a pretty clear indicator that something deeper is going on, and why subject yourself to unnecessary anxiety if you don’t have to? (PSA: You don’t have to.)

A threesome will not fix your relationship if it is on the rocks. It will not mend your trust issues. It will (likely) not cure your diminished libido. It will not grant you any otherwise unreciprocated respect in your relationship. You get no brownie points. A threesome is literally a novel concept. It is to witness your partner in action outside of your standard point of view. It is to learn new things that turn you on and turn you off. It is to remind yourself that you can be in a long term, serious, primarily monogamous relationship and still be able to experience the joy of other people’s bodies in a safe and controlled environment. It is to fuck, and to get fucked. To cum, and to make cum. It is to let someone eat you out that doesn’t eat you out every day.

If you came here for my recipe for a successful threesome, here is what I can suggest: (Please keep in mind that I am a literal amateur, but I do feel confident in my knowledge, so here you go:) First, plan accordingly. Plan around your menstrual cycle, around your work schedule, when you can get a baby sitter, etc. Then communicate! The communication is pivotal before, during, and after, but it is especially important beforehand as this can make or break your situation. Discuss your boundaries: What are your hard limits? What would you like to try? What are some things you know you like, know you don’t like? Which toys strike your fancy? What are some names you like to be called? What are your pronouns? What terminology do you prefer us reference your genitals with? Which parts of your body are off limits? When was the last time you were tested? Are you wanting to keep this between us three, or can I write a 4,000 word blog post about it? I could go on and on.

Other important things to discuss are rules and expectations (which fall under the umbrella of communication.) Some of my rules were that I didn’t want them being in contact without me knowing, so no exchanging of phone numbers or socials, and we also unanimously decided that there would be no penis in vagina intercourse. Some other rules to consider might be: Areas of the body that can and cannot be touched (anyone say asshole? Cause I sure didn’t), if the third can stay the night, certain sentimental pet names to avoid, etc. Some expectations that I outlined were basically just that everyone do what I say. Surprisingly, this was less of me being ‘the dick manager’ and more of me being more dominant in nature. Luckily, my partner and my third are (or at least were) more sub leaning, so they happily obliged. Other expectations were that everyone felt comfortable to speak freely, to take breaks, to vocalize their needs, and to stop if they needed to stop. Also I wanted to know a general idea of what I was expected to wear and what kind of energy I was expected to bring to the table.

Another massive thing to consider is safety. Do you have any transmittable diseases or infections? Are you feeling sick? Are you allergic to any materials? Are you willing to sanitize toys, change condoms, use gloves, use barriers, and wipe down the hitachi head when switching partners? If not, seriously don’t even consider. It is selfish, and potentially transmitting infections, getting someone sick, or GOD forbid pregnant is seriously not worth the extra set of hands. Clearly talk about safety, make it accessible (condoms and toy cleaner by the bed) and don’t let yourself get too drunk to forget about it.

Something that proved to be really important to us was someone who would honestly just accept us for the freaks that we are. Lack of judgement is important in any activity where you are putting yourself on display, but especially in a sexual situation. Imagine if you came to someone with your deepest desires and they crinkled their nose in disgust? It is honestly world shattering. So, plan your threesome with someone who you know is open minded. In my case, I am lucky that I am pretty outwardly filthy online, so our third likely had some type of idea, but in the case of anyone else, use your best judgement, and have some conversations around the topic. Be clear about your wants and your needs. You want to be able to proudly ask for someone to shove a dildo in your ass, not be hesitant and afraid. Both your orgasm and your dignity are on the line here.

Another thing I would like to highlight is that although the role of the third (in our case at least) is to essentially serve as a human sex toy, they are exactly that: a human. It is crucial that you are checking in, making sure they feel catered to, and safe, and comfortable. I’d like to think this is too obvious to state, but in the event that it’s not, I will say it: Everyone’s comfort and pleasure should be a priority. Only in some fucked up alternate universe does inviting someone new into the bedroom mean you start prioritizing one person’s body over the other. Everyone is equal and worthy of respect, and just because someone might get off on being called a slut in the bed, doesn’t mean they want to continue to feel like a slut once they leave your house. Be mindful. A good third understands that that their role is temporary and doesn’t need to be reminded through negligence of their basic human emotions.

My last point to touch on is how to bring up the subject to your partner, which will likely vary from relationship to relationship. My partner and I are very laid back. Our approach to sexuality is much less focused around ‘the art of seduction’ and much more on direct pleasure and connection. Like, instead of lighting candles to ‘set a mood’ we are lighting candles to pour the wax on each other… because it feels good… you know? So in my case, it was as simple as asking directly because we are always direct with requests. Other people might need more tenderness. You might consider saying: “While I am totally satisfied with our sex life, I was wondering if you would ever be interested in introducing another person into the mix? I think it would be a fun way for both of us to explore, together, and safely, as we would be in view of one another.” Clearly state your expectations, your desires, and your intentions. And if your partner declines, respect their decision. Nothing should be forced on anyone, and asserting time and time again that you want to fuck someone else will likely leave your partner feeling like they aren’t good enough. Then you don’t get your threesome and your partner feels like shit. Was it really worth asking that fourth time?

Returning to my first question (me questioning my overall sanity) – before, during, and after the fact, I realized what was going on inside of me was that I was finally dating someone that I trusted entirely. The reason that I was able to walk into a room to find my partner sitting in bed with a beautiful naked person and not literally vomit is because they weren’t doing anything to me, they were doing something with me. If you are proposing a threesome to keep your partner’s interest, or to prove something shallow to yourself, spare yourself the energy. I have said it before and I will say it again: Expanding outside of monogamy should always be from an abundance rather than a lack thereof. You should not be thinking “My girlfriend doesn’t let me fuck her in the ass, so maybe our third will.” You should be thinking “My partner does this really amazing thing with their tongue, and it would be really hot to see how someone else reacts to it.” (And maybe if you’re lucky your third will gladly take it up the ass?)

So, wrapping up, perhaps you should consider having a threesome if you: Are secure in your relationship, if you find your partner to be too hot to keep to yourself, if you have an abundance of trust and respect for one another, if you are both willing to respect boundaries and safety measures, if you are wanting to explore other bodies while keeping your partner included, or if you are horny hedonists looking for some good spank material. You should not consider having a threesome if you: Feel pressured to, if you think it will mend an otherwise crumbling relationship, if you are feeling insecure, if you have trust issues, if your partner has expressed romantic interest in the third, if either of you have had a relationship with the third in the past (could get messy), if you are not attracted to the third, or if it is a last ditch effort to impress your partner.

Realistically, there are probably hundreds of reasons why introducing someone into your bedroom is or is not a good idea, so please note that I do realize I am only speaking to a small percentage of people. The reality just is that: like a raw vegan diet is not for everybody, like funneling a beer is not for everybody, like adopting a cat, or backpacking through Europe, or learning how to unicycle is not for everybody, having group sex is not for everybody. It is okay to leave certain kinds of activities to certain kinds of people, no matter how intriguing they might seem from a distance.

By no means am I saying that all group sex configurations must be rooted in love. They can be rooted in lust, in adventure, in curiosity – but one thing that is absolutely CRUCIAL is that they are rooted in trust. I trust that you will switch condoms and sterilize shared toys. I trust that you will respect my body and my boundaries and my concerns. I trust that you won’t turn into a pussy crazed lunatic and start trying to have threesomes weekly. I trust my partner with everything from my social security number to my incest fantasies, which means, most importantly, that I trust that they won’t go off and try to fuck anyone without me. If you have any doubt in your mind that you are doing this for reasons outside of solely hedonistic, pure, and/or loving intentions, consider reconsidering.

Now to share some gratitude: Thank you massively to my partner for allowing me to fulfill my sexual destiny, for supporting all my impulsive endeavors, for prioritizing my orgasms, and for never making me feel small (unless I want to feel small, then thank you for catering to that too.) Thank you so much to you, dream third, for making us both feel safe, for coming into our dynamic with an open mind, for feeling comfortable enough to not only share your body with us but also your stories, and your requests, and your positive energy (and for tolerating my demands and recurring slapping.) And thank you to anyone who has read all of this x so so much love.

[blessuswithblogs]

Katsura Hashino is a Big Fat Creep and Other Observations

(for the record all uses of the word “queer” in this post are meant in the academic sense as shorthand for a wide umbrella group of gender and sexual minorities and not as a slur i hope that is evident from my past history and status as Big Gay Bitch Who Loves Girls but let it never be said i don’t cover my ass)

A few weeks ago, Catherine: Full Body Edition or whatever gross subtitle it got was released. Catherine has had a very checkered history as one of those games that is just kind of slimy, though it has endured with a cult following and a surprisingly successful competitive community by way of the game's multiplayer mode where you compete to see who can climb The Dream Sex Tower the best. Honestly, I don't know that much about Catherine because it is difficult to think of a game that repulses me more on a visceral level, but I want to do my due diligence and not talk out my ass. One of Catherine's initial claims to fame was that it was by Atlus Japan, specifically the same people who made the much beloved Persona games. This is evident in the game's art, music, overall style of delivery, and being basically hate speech.

The original Catherine was a greasy, misogynistic mess with some really vile politics about trans people in particular. Deadnaming your own fictional character in the credits is some next level petty malice. Full Body returns with, stupendously, a double down on this ideology that is actually kind of comical in how convoluted it gets in trying to decry the Degenerate Queer Lifestyle. The game adds a scene with Rin, who is apparently a gay crossdresser from space(???????), getting slapped away and running away crying from their love interest after he learns The Terrible Truth. In another game, with a different writing team, this could have been a teachable moment about the destructive consequences of taking too narrow a view of human sexuality and gender expression, but as it stands it's just another tiresome example of Trans Panic with a sheepish admonishment from the other characters that gosh maybe slapping their hand away was a mean thing to do.

So we're already firing on all cylinders here, but the best is yet to come. The bulk of the outcry comes from the addition of a weird "true ending" cutscene where Catherine, who is also from space, goes back in time to make everybody's life better. Or something. This is already pretty stupid on the face of it because its Fucking Time Travel Out of Nowhere, but the scene then depicts a pre-transition Erica, the game's trans character who got deadnamed in the credits the last time. There has been a lot of exceptionally tedious discussion about exactly when this scene takes place in the game's chronology and what it means for Erica, and some brain geniuses have tied their thinkmeats into pretzel shapes to prove definitively that all this means is that she delayed her transition in this Better Timeline, that might not actually be better, because Catherine is weird and selfish, maybe. And. Fine. Sure. Okay. Let's accept that for now. Given the game's previous track record, and continuing insistence on using Erica's pretransition name in the credits even in the rerelease, it is meanspirited at best to show her before her transition at all (many real life trans people would be utterly mortified for such a thing to happen to them) and overall just in poor taste and pretty lousy writing at that because it's so unclear what any of this actually means. Since the game has not yet received an official english localization, the context of this scene is to begin with muddled by amateur translators on the internet all with slightly conflicting interpretations of the scene. It's a fucking mess, by and large.

So I would disagree that this is a fake controversy manufactured by those damnable essjaydubyas. Even with the most charitable interpretation possible, it's still just really sketchy and gross. Erica's english voice actress, who seems to be very fond of the character, has been vocal about her dissatisfaction with the new scenes on twitter and has recently come out to say that the localization team is going to try and take some steps to make things less blatantly hateful. Between this and Jennifer Hale's recent tweet about it being time to grab our pitchforks in response to Activision-Blizzard's mass layoffs, I'm starting to think that voice actresses are pretty cool. I mean honestly I always thought that but we're getting off topic. One of the top competitive Catherine players, who was by all accounts really hyped for the release of Full Body, just straight up said on twitter that he was quitting the game because he couldn't support something like that in good conscience. I don't know if he's remained consistent on this position since, but it was a bold statement, to say the least.

Now, whenever an incident like this happens, the inevitable string of More-Progressive-Than-Thou white boys who watched an anime once and thought the bouncing titties were a little much appears to start pontificating about the cause of such untoward elements in media. And it's basically all just a bunch of Orientalist bullshit. Every time. For whatever reason, people still really love to be racist towards Japanese people because it's still sort of socially acceptable when couched in the language of "oh japan!!! ecks dee" and so the neverending procession of softboi neckbeards declared with confidence that Atlus's continual inclusion of Actual Hate Speech towards LGBTQ+ people was the result of the inscrutable Japanese Mind and its Mysterious, Antiquated Culture. Many mentions of the philosophy of Wa, wherein the nail that stands out gets pounded down, and lots of very lovely psuedointellectual claptrap. Evidently, people just seem to think that queer people don't live in Japan, or that they don't fight just as hard as we do for equal rights and protections under the law. They do live there, and they do fight as hard as we do. Obviously. You fucking imbeciles.

In their quest to clearly illustrate their moral and intellectual superiority to the backward, collectivist Asiatic Peoples, these highly reasonable and enlightened manboys forsook a very important logical principle: Occam's Razor. Sure, you could blame jApAnEsE cUlTuRe for Atlus's impropieties and just conveniently ignore all of the fantastic queer media it has produced in recent years like My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, Horou Muskou, Nier Automata, etc. Or you could go for the simpler and more logically consistent option: Katsura Hashino is a big fat creep. Who is Hashino, you ask? He is the director of every Persona game since 3, as well as Catherine, and all of these games' gross shit and self-contradictory themes of self-acceptance and rebellion against an unust society (unless you're gay, ew) can probably be traced to him and his gaggle of accomplices. In addition to the fact that Atlus games not by Hashino's team tend to just. not have these problems to nearly as large a degree or even at all, Hashino himself has gone on record saying some really kind of hilariously backwards shit. Most infamously, when asked why in Persona 3 literally all of your social links with girls ended up with Hot Makeout Sessions regardless of like. Previously Committed to Relationships. Hashino simply said he couldn't imagine friendships between boys and girls. So that's where his brain is at. Since subsequent games in the series graciously allowed the player the option to not be a Huge Cheating Bastard, one can assume either his moral development has progressed past early puberty or somebody on the team convinced him this wasn't actually a normal thing to think. Given the man's output, I would say it's probably the latter.

It is because of this man's decisions and behavior that so many people are simply unwilling to give Full Body the benefit of the doubt. The game's director is, quite simply, a well known louse, and not in the endearing, Roger Smith way. Once again, it requires far fewer leaps in logic to assume that Hashino is just being a bigoted creep again than to go through some fuckin galaxy brain Kingdom Hearts-esque dot-connecting to justify it as just a LITTLE BIT bigoted not REALLY SUPER bigoted, or simply blaming the whole ordeal on some strange ineffable property of the Japanese Character. He's a gremlin! An overgrown manchild with a warped view of human interaction and society put in charge of games about exploring those concepts for.... reasons. My bet is that his dad knew somebody and then Persona 3 was successful enough for the rest of Atlus to just go "alright fine let him do it while we do mainline games". Unfortunately, Persona became so popular that the mainline games sort of switched places and became side-projects, at least in the eyes of the Western consumer base (which let's be real is the only perspective that any of these Serious Online Commentators even pretend to care about).

So I would once again caution everyone against just assuming that Japan is some sort of quaint anachronistic country of weird gameshows and backwards social mores. This is both a gross oversimplification of an entire culture and the struggles of their own subgroups and minorities and simply a grand display of lacking self-awareness. Like have you fucking seen the guys in the White House? The preposterous media that gets routinely greenlit on prime time TV, theaters, and digitally? Don't make me laugh. The West has no claim to any sort of progressive superiority to anybody else. The white cishet bubble of comfortable middle class affluence might distort what you see of the rest of the world, but believe me: we got problems too. Big ones. Even the presupposed bastions of Demsoc Virtue like Sweden have an awful track record of discrimination and eugenics. But Dazzlyn that's different, you cry! All of these groups and forces don't represent the entirety of Western culture! Yes. Exactly. Oppression is not culturally bound like cuisine or art. It is a nasty, universal thing that worms its way into everything, and it will use any excuse it can find to murder and exploit. It's against Christian values! It represents a genetic defect that must be purged! It's ostentatious and immature! The list goes on. And every time you giggle and go "oh those silly japanese" you're just being another expression of the same vile ideas.

I'm going to relate some of my own personal experiences, because as a noted Big Gay Bitch Who Loves Girls, I feel like maybe I have some authority on the matter? Just a little? Enough that if I make a well reasoned argument it can't be dismissed out of hand? Let's hope. So, what's the gayest game I've ever played? Final Fantasy XIV Online: A Realm Reborn. Look yeah I know I'm talking about it again but come back this is important. Final Fantasy is a series that has had a lot of LGBTQ+ undertones pretty much since forever, and while they have largely been in keeping with the times in terms of tact and representation (the Crossdressing Cloud debacle is a deeply bizarre, uncomfortable sequence in a lot of ways but there's also some genuine Good Gay Shit in 7 like Cloud's surprisingly cute and genuine date with Barret. I think. It's... it's been a while.), by God, it was at least there, and 13 had honest to god Lesbians, Harold in Fang and Vanille. I don't want to say it has pedigree, but the series has dabbled. XIV continues on the tradition with a vibrant world that's actually got a lot of characters and NPCs that are just incidentally there and kind of gay. The adventurer couple that befriended the Tonberries in Wanderer's Palace, a vendor that appeared in the Rising cosplaying as Minfilia at her wife's behest, a miqote lady bathing in the oasis that lets on she wouldn't mind having cute girls stare at her instead of grabby boys, every horny Elezen in Ishgard, Samson and Guydelot (shoutouts to Lulumi Lumi), and probably more that I've missed. More than that, though, is that because FFXIV is an MMO, it is by necessity a social space, and in my experience it has been one that has gone out of its way to be inclusive to everybody, from the GMs handling reports of abusive behavior right up to the top decision makers who made same sex player marriages a thing just immediately on its implementation and letting boys wear the gold saucer bunny costume too (albeit after quite a bit of pleading). The game's got a huge queer community of which I am kind of part of sort of. It's one of the reasons I keep coming back to it. Hell, they've recently partnered with a pride group in Australia to have an FFXIV float in a parade. I usually turn my nose up at such things as meaningless corporate grandstanding, but it does seem to be more meaningful than two boy pastas getting married or rainbow colored oreos because like. Cheesy as it sounds, it's more than just a brand to a lot of people, it's a place, sometimes the only place, they can go to feel safe and accepted in a community. Having official, vocal support from the dev team means genuinely a lot, I think.

Now, there is one quality about this game of which I am speaking that might strike you as noteworthy: it is Japanese. It's made by Japanese people, in Japan, under a Japanese company. A middle aged Japanese man goes up on stage in Gunbreaker cosplay to speak in Japanese about the upcoming expansion, while a meme obsessed gremlin translates for him. It's not perfect, there are problems, etcetera, why do I even need to qualify that in 2019, when everything sucks, god. But it's better than most things. I hope that it serves as an example to people that even in the supposedly regressive countries of the world, queer communities are still living, fighting, and sometimes even being heard, and that the only thing you're enriching by dismissing them wholesale as socially backwards is your own internet penis. And nobody fucking cares about that you simpleton. I expect 5.0 to be gayer than ever before because they're taming up with Yoko Taro to do a Nier themed raid and by the 12 Warrior of Light Dazzyn Reed is going to kiss 2B or an equivalent model right on the robot lips.

[transstudiesarchive]

Poems from a young queer trans kid who eventually made it out

New offering for this project below (click “Keep reading”). Full text for the four poems above included below that. ______________________________

Four poems written by a young queer trans kid, raised Mormon, who didn’t know out queer people existed and had never heard of the concept of being trans. I lived in a small, conservative agricultural town with seemingly more churches than people. I was the fifth of eight kids. When I came across a bunch of my childhood poetry a while back after coming out as trans, they all made so much more sense…

Once I’d Seen Seattle

I think I’m glad I didn’t know sooner—

I’m not sure I’d have made it out.

I always knew I didn’t belong, but had no idea why.

I lived in a desert of ideas. Actually, it was worse than that.

I lived at ground zero where ideas that took hold were quickly censored or driven out; there was nothing in the air in my suffocatingly small, claustrophobic town to even let me conceptualize what I would later realize to be not only my truth, but my beautiful kaleidoscope of identities.

My town might as well have been an island because we never left the city limits. The only time anyone ever left was when my parents traveled to nearby towns for cancer treatments or other medical care.

I am the fifth of eight children raised in what I thought at the time was a staunch Mormon home. My dad was the eldest of six, all of whom lived within thirty minutes of us.

My siblings joked that I had to be adopted because it was clear I didn’t fit. Nothing fit.

But I kept trying.

I was a mama’s child and for some reason I was driven to be a golden child. I wanted to excel at everything and make my mom proud. But in my town, that meant Cub Scouts, then Boy Scouts along with church groups which became gender-segregated church groups and gender-segregated sports at school and at church. And outside school and church? Partying, partying, partying. And three-wheeling and fishing and shooting guns and hunting. But I never went hunting. (Even then, decades before waking to veganism, I couldn’t fathom how anyone could point a gun at a beautiful, innocent animal—a sentient being with a will to live—and pull the trigger.)

So I kept trying, sometimes channeling some fictional character to manifest some forced hyper-masculinity and jackass behavior. Somehow I survived all that and so did my closest friends. Even though at least a couple kids every year didn’t survive.

I learned about ‘homosexuals’ from the bible and felt a combination of curiosity and fear. Even as I sensed the repulsion and fear in others whenever it came up, I found myself fascinated. Was this me? Two close childhood friends later came out as queer.

Maybe, I told myself at the time, my discomfort in all-male spaces was because I was really attracted to guys and frightened it might show or that I would be tempted to act on those feelings.

But that didn’t explain how much discomfort, bordering on distress, I felt when I had to wear masculine church clothes—button-down shirts and jackets and slacks and ties and Oxford shoes. My mouth is getting that vomity sensation just writing this.

I remember the horror I felt one day when my sister pointed at my bare chest:

“You’re growing chest hair! You’re becoming a man!”

It’s the first time I remember feeling truly depressed. I found myself feeling more isolated as time passed and activities at school grew more polarized. Skipping events started to feel much better than staying and having to be one of the guys.

I loved nothing more than when I’d be invited to activities with the girls—but they were so heartbreakingly few! So I often stayed home, a devoted mama’s child, happy to help out with what she asked me to do.

In junior high school I had that rare teacher who loves what they do and has held onto the spark. He brought homemade borscht in when we were studying Russian literature.

I have no idea how, in a town like ours, he got approval to do this let alone budget, but he took us on an overnight trip to Seattle to see Shakespeare productions, art museums, art galleries and the science center. My world went from gray to a riot of color during that trip.

I don’t know if I saw something or someone in particular while there; if I did, it never registered consciously. But that trip lit something in me that gave me hope about who I was and who I could become. I knew there was someplace better for me.

In some ways, that made the next four years more difficult and more painful than the years before. Because compared to Seattle, my town was hell. Specifically, my town was a dull bathroom break in the red-state flyover part of hell. And I had four more years ahead with no clear path out even then.

I got contacts and became the class clown, but I lived under storm clouds I couldn’t dispel. My grades suffered. When I was at risk of not graduating, some friends of the family came up with a plan. I moved in with them and after graduation, at their encouragement, I left for a two-year Mormon mission to Japan.

Then I came back, moved to Seattle, met someone amazing, sang her Somebody by Depeche Mode without missing a word in the middle of the store at the mall where we worked. We got married in the temple because for some reason I was still doing that then. I struggled off and on with the feeling I might be gay. It was still all I knew; the only option that could explain the fact that I was different. That I didn’t belong.

I knew I’d made it out when I went back to visit my parents one year and the clerk at the drugstore asked my partner and I if we had ever visited the area before. I asked how they knew we were from out of town and they said, “I can just tell. Are you from Seattle or something?”

Almost thirteen years after saying “I do,” we divorced after giving an open relationship a try. I was a workaholic the entire time. A had a few relationships of varying duration, including some casual relationships with men. A couple months after swearing to stay single for a year I met the person I hope to spend the rest of my life with. We met through mutual friends, but both had online dating profiles and both had ours set to exclude vegans because WTF? How does that even work? Then we got together and went vegan.

Over the last several years before we met, the idea of being trans hit my radar. I’d talked with previous partners about it. I’d even gone through the not-atypical pattern of splurge-and-purge where I would embrace my sense of who I was and buy a bunch of skirts, cute tops, dresses and other things that never saw the world outside our house. My partners were supportive. But then I would panic and get rid of everything and go back to life in drag. I would do things like let my fingernails grow long, shave my armpits and some of my body hair, pluck my eyebrows—but never enough to “give me away,” as far as I knew.

Then at the age of 47 I learned my company was going through a restructuring and my department was being eliminated. Having grown up in poverty, I’d always let a stable job and reliable income take precedence over everything else. And my life history reflected that. But because of my partner, my circle of friends and who I’d allowed myself to become, I did something I never thought I would do. I left my job, volunteered at the local QIATBLG+ community center two days a week, did other social justice organizing and volunteer work, came out as trans, changed my name, updated all my legal documentation (including the non-binary X gender marker on my driver’s license) and enrolled in school full time. I had been on the fence on whether to start school or start a non-profit to serve the area trans and queer communities. When I learned about the brand new major at PSU—Sexuality, Gender and Queer Studies—I knew what I had to do. And I knew my life was right on track. - Iris @ Age 49

Signs of Humanity

Why can’t I be human? I’m called a child when I cry So I hold my feelings deep inside. Again I ask you, why?

Why can’t I be human? When I laugh, they think I’m weird. So I just smile to myself. Are feelings to be feared?

Why can’t I be human? When I’m quiet, they ask what’s wrong, So I think of something to talk about. Must I do this to belong?

Why can’t I be human? I’m scoffed at when I make a mistake. So I just turn and walk away, Though deep within, I ache.

Why can’t I be human? Why can’t I act like me?!?! Instead of just another model in… Series: Humanity. - by Iris @ Age 14

Close Your Eyes and Look at Me

Do not judge me by appearance. You have eyes but cannot see. Look at my spirit and my feelings. Close your eyes and look at me!

Hold your ears so you can listen. Hear my meaning, not my words. It is my heart that is speaking now. Is my language so absurd?

Quell your pride so you can feel. I know that you care deep inside. Why must these feelings that are so human Be held within, always denied? - by Iris @ Age 15

Balanced Confusion

Just sitting here, my mind is spinning With contemplative images. Caught in limbo between past and future, Unable to focus on the present. Trapped in a loop of unanswerable questions, I seek out nonexistent facts. Falling toward my termination— Groping for what is not there. Each time I sense a certain order And settle to a steady state, A new unknown begins to form And throws me into chaos. Emotions reign in my subconscious Running rampant, take their toll. I struggle to cling to reality, But slip across the line… Perceptions are nearly nullified. I no longer trust my senses. I crawl to the center of my mind And slumber in balanced confusion. - Iris @ Age 14

Sitting in the Oven

Sitting in the oven Wondering why the hell I’m here. I’m thinking and feeling something… Not sure what, but sure not fear.

It’s not too comfortable in here. I’m sitting on the wire rack; The bars aren’t big enough for my butt And there’s nothing to support my back.

Looking through the dirty glass I can see life passing by outside. Something is welling up inside me; I’m not sure what, but it’s sure not pride.

I guess I don’t like it here, But there isn’t much that I can do. Maybe if someone opens the door I’ll jump and try to make it through.

I’ve come to the conclusion That this is not the way to live. I’m thinking and feeling something… Not sure what, but sure not initiative. - Iris @ Age 16

[cathygeha]

Are you ready to spend a night with Xavier?

New Erotic Romantic Suspense from Rene Webb – Uncovering Lily out June 7th!

Follow the tour and enter to #win a $25 Amazon Gift Card or one of 3 digital copies of Finding Sunshine by Rene Webb

Enter at: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b050ef29529/?

Title: Uncovering Lily

Author: Rene Webb

Series: MacKay International

Genre: Erotic Romance

Release Date: June 7, 2018

Length: 33,000 words

Format: Digital

Purchase: Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Uncovering-Lily-MacKay-International-1/dp/1986515478/

 Businessman, Xavier Finch was at the brothel to meet with a potential investor. He never intended to spend the night. When he sees Lily he instantly recognizes her, but she doesn’t remember him.

 Now Xavier has only one night to make her his.

 Are you ready to spend the night with Xavier?

Virgin, Lily MacKay has been drugged, kidnapped and imprisoned in a Hong Kong brothel with no way of escaping. And she’s tried. Will the man she’s been given to for the night be her worst nightmare or her rescuer?

 Find out more at: Goodreads

 Excerpt One:

During the several hours we were all downstairs, I found myself watching him closely and making a mental list of everything I learned. One discovery I made was that he likes his scotch with only one ice cube, not the three or four that usually fill a glass. He also seemed to enjoy the mini crab cakes, if the amount of them he ate was any indication. Having stolen several of them myself, I would have to agree they were delicious. The house has an amazing restaurant-style kitchen and a chef that caters to any of the client’s tastes, no matter the time day or night.

The man also seemed to only be on friendly terms with the short, pudgy man who had accompanied him. The rest of the gentlemen, like the girls, he mostly ignored, though several of the gentlemen clearly wanted to impress him. The man’s face had been a cold mask of indifference the entire evening.

I had briefly wondered if he was married, not that it stopped any of his companions from enjoying themselves. When I handed him his drink, I noticed a lack of a wedding band. This could mean nothing, since not all men wear bands, but if my husband looked like this man, he would be wearing a huge one—telling the world he is taken. Maybe he’s gay?

This is the first time that any man has requested me, and I never imagined it would be this man stepping through the door. I’m surprised. The entire time we were downstairs the only words he said to me was a polite “thank you” as I served him. He barely even looked at me. Why did he request a room with me?

If I’m honest with myself, I’m a little—a lot—relieved. He’s at least not old, fat, or a disgusting combination of the two. And I admit, begrudgingly, that he is sinfully attractive. The thought of this man touching, kissing, and penetrating me doesn’t make my skin crawl or my stomach bubble with acid. It scares me, but maybe if I close my eyes, I can pretend we met during a night of clubbing and this is all my own choice. Or maybe not.

Excerpt Two:

Slowly I widen my stance, opening my legs, my heart racing at how vulnerable I am now. Not that I wasn’t before, but this feels worse for some reason.

I’m naked. Alone. And opening myself up to this man.

One of his hands moves to grab my ass firmly in his palm, holding me steady. With the other, he raises two fingers and places them on my lips. I open my mouth wordlessly, and he thrusts them inside.

“Suck,” he growls, his golden eyes sparking with desire.

I do what I’m told, trying to ignore how good his salty masculine skin tastes, and pretending not to imagine or wonder what sucking another part of his anatomy would be like.

“Enough.” The man pulls his fingers from my mouth. His eyes widen with shock when I nip at the tips of his fingers in retaliation, and I see another hint of a sexy smile.

He moves his hand down to my pussy and spreads my lips, using his saliva soaked fingers to probe my entrance.

“You’re fuckin’ tight,” he groans, slowly forcing not just one but two thick fingers into me.

“Please,” I gasp, grabbing onto his forearms, the strong thick muscles briefly distracting me from the burn of being stretched and invaded.

“Relax,” he snaps, squeezing my bottom roughly.

“Sir. Please,” I groan as his fingers continue their inspection.

“You weren’t lying,” the man says casually as his thumb pushes its way between my outer lips. My body jerks when it hits my clit. He begins caressing it gently with his calloused digit. My traitorous body responds, relaxing under his spell. The man’s fingers are still inside of me, and I can feel myself aching in places I didn’t know existed.

“How come no one’s ever fucked your gorgeous body before?” he asks conversationally. I look up into his face, which no longer seems cold. With every gentle stroke against my clit, my body is betraying me.

“I never met any man I wanted touching me,” I admit breathlessly.

“Do you like me touching you?” he whispers lazily into my ear as he nuzzles my neck.

Before I can answer, he slowly slides his fingers partially out of my sex, before sliding them back in, all the while continuing to tease my clit.

“No,” I lie as my sex floods with pleasure, wetting the man’s fingers with my cream.

“Liar,” he replies amused, continuing his ministration. “Well, I certainly enjoy touching you.”

 Excerpt Three:

Fuck!

I thought having Lily cover up her gorgeous, tight little body would make her less distracting—enticing. But seeing her sitting here in nothing by my shirt has me wanting to toss her onto the bed and fuck her right now.

My cock may think that’s a perfect plan, but I’m not that much of an asshole. I probably shouldn’t have made her strip, or fucking touched her to begin with. In my defense, I had to be sure they hadn’t harmed her, had to see with my own eyes there wasn’t any lasting damage to her body.

Once I got my hands on her, caressing her delicate skin and bringing her to climax had been instinctual. Watching her let go, embrace the pleasure I could give her, and forget about the world around her, made my cock ache and my heart light. I had sensed her attraction to me earlier, and I needed to see how she’d respond to my touch. Her wet cunt squeezing my fingers in orgasm told me all I needed to know.

Never in a million years would I have thought Lily was a virgin. A fucking virgin. Even though I’ve had my fingers in her tight pussy and felt her barrier, I still can’t believe no one’s ever fucked her. Miracle.

Lily’s innocence has me wanting to both corrupt and protect her in equal measure. Nothing is stopping me from doing both. She’s the type of woman I’ve been unknowingly searching for. Cultured. Intelligent. Untouched. It’s just my luck that I find her in a fucking Hong Kong brothel.

She’s mine now.

And I protect what’s mine.

 Author Bio: Rene Webb, a former Catholic schoolgirl and child of the ‘80’s, is a recovering Soap Opera addict who grew up watching General Hospital. She became weary with the relentless drama and sought out stories with happy endings that lasted. Now, Rene is an contemporary romance author, where there is always a happily-ever-after!

A graduate of The George Washington University in Washington DC, 05’, with a BA in History. Rene went on to get her Masters in Film Studies, 09’, from Chapman University, Orange CA.

She founded and runs the book blog Lit. 4 Ladies (a joint venture with her sister) and has self-published both a novella and full-length contemporary romance novel.

Authors such as Jane Austen, Kristen Ashley, Cherise Sinclair, Sierra Cartwright, Donna Fletcher, Jennifer Ashley, and Bianca Giovanni have inspired her. They all create strong female characters, swoon-worthy men, and stories that leave their readers with the hope that you, too, will find your own H.E.A.!

Rene also enjoys reading, baking, seeing movies, going to museums, and spending time with her friends and family.

Rene lives in Arlington, VA.

You can visit her online at the following places: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Instagram | Pinterest | Facebook Reader Group

  TOUR INFORMATION

Follow the tour and enter to #win a $25 Amazon Gift Card or one of 3 digital copies of Finding Sunshine by Rene Webb

6/4/18

Melody's Love 4 Books - Review

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 6/5/18

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 6/6/18

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 http://www.barclaypublicity.com/

[lubbuthedigitalnomad]

I hope you are happy and healthy. We are winding down the 13th lunar month here in the Boudha Stupa neighborhood of Kathmandu, Nepal. The year of the Male Metal Mouse/Iron Rat 2147 is about to end. On February 12, the Tibetan new year of the Female Metal Ox 2148 begins. In honor of the occasion (and for a little lighten-up from the heavier, more esoteric writing of the past few weeks) the next few weeks will be nothing but fun. This week’s excerpt is from the Fearless Puppy On American Road book. It is a small part of the chapter about my season and a half playing a biker on the TV show OZ. I hope it is as fun for you as it was for me.

FEARLESS PUPPY WEBSITE BLOG

FEARLESS PUPPY ON AMERICAN ROAD/AMAZON PAGE

REINCARNATION THROUGH COMMON SENSE/AMAZON PAGE

FEARLESS WEBSITE

Angels From Hell In The Land Of OZ

Welcome to a TV set like no other — Oswald State Penitentiary.

The first day on location scared the shit out of me. I would have had a more comfortable entrance into show biz had they cast me as lunch in a lion’s cage. OZ was shot on the entire sixth floor of a building that took up a full city block on Manhattan’s lower west side. A month’s rent for the space could likely feed a small nation. The whole floor was dressed up like a prison. Real cells with bars had been built into the walls. There was a common room, dining hall, infirmary, chaplain’s and warden’s offices, institutional kitchen, basketball court/exercise yard, and much more.

Also present were three hundred of the spookiest looking people ever assembled in one place. Over two hundred of them wore prison uniforms. Thirty or so wore prison guard uniforms. A narrator, warden, chaplain, the featured stars, and a few nurses rounded out the cast. The narrator, warden, chaplain, and nurses were professional actors with years of experience. So were most of the main characters that had speaking roles. Very few other folks were. Most were people who, like myself, just answered a classified advertisement. If we walked into the agency possessing “the look” that the agents thought would fill the position, we got hired. Our look earned us pretty much the same job as the painted background scenery. We had to go where the director told us to go and be silent.

The agents were very good at their job. The majority of these extras had a lot of personal history that fit in with their look, and with the show. Many of the men that played gay prisoners kissed each other even when the cameras were off. A lot of the extras who played felons, gang members, junkies, and assorted criminal types were currently, or had been — felons, gang members, junkies, and assorted criminal types in real life.

The casting department put me with the biker group. It was a select position. Unlike the gang bangers, skinhead racists, and other assorted cliques (not to mention the main general-prisoner population group), there were only about a half dozen bikers. This meant that every time a scene was to be shot that slated the biker group in it, we’d each get more individual face-in-the-camera time than the members of larger groups would. More exposure could mean that someone from the film industry might spot you, like your look, and give you a chance at some real acting.

The possibility of making the big time never impressed me much. Having fun was most important. But during the first day, my main concern was getting over the heebie-jeebies. It didn’t take too long for me to get relaxed, thanks to my association with the biker crew. Most of that had to do with Tattoo Mike. Tattoo Mike had earned his name for obvious reasons. The biggest (and only the biggest!) of the Muslim characters would joke with him, “Glad you came in today, Mike. I needed something to read.”

Finely crafted wording and designs covered nearly the entire body of this biker/actor. He had a tattooed necklace of skulls that summed up his body’s art museum. His long, dark beard finished in two braided strands resembling inverted horns. You didn’t have to meet Mike in a dark alley to be scared of him.

Looks can be accurate and deceiving at the same time.

Any so-called sane person who had been conditioned by a lifetime of media imagery would have run like hell from this man. I sat down next to him. It was the best move I made during my short show biz career.

Don’t get me wrong here. You surely would not want to see this person pissed off! That would be ugly. But on the set, Mike was a gentleman’s gentleman. He was soft-spoken, generous, and helpful to all. He had the air of a man with nothing left to prove to himself or anyone else. Mike knew that in any situation where intimidation was required, it was already accomplished. All he had to do was be present. But on set, he made every effort to counteract the fear that his presence might cause in others.

Introductions and conversation came easily. A few minutes in, I confessed about my nervous condition. “To tell you the truth, Mike, the set almost scared the shit out of me as much as the cast. At first, walking in and seeing the cells with bars, and then the guards — I mean the actors in guard’s uniforms! See, that’s the thing! The whole place is so real looking that it’s spooky.”

“Yeah, I know,” he winked.

I’m sure he did.

“C’mon,” he continued. “I’ll give you the tour.” We walked through various cell blocks, guard towers, weight rooms, etc. “The more you look around, the more real it seems, eh?”

I nodded in silence. The production crew were masters of their craft. The place truly was way too real to be comfortable in.

While walking back to the holding room, we passed through the kitchen section. Filming was in progress. Mike made the sshhh! sign with a finger to his lips. An absolutely chiseled brick house of a man who looked very familiar was screaming at a fellow actor and the camera. “I run the fucking kitchen. Nobody eats in this damn place unless I say so!”

My eyes bugged out as I whispered, “Holy shit!” Mike gave me a “what’s up?” look. We walked over to where we could talk without disturbing the shoot. “Mike! Is that Sylvester Stallone? He’s on this show?”

“Ha!” Mike laughed. “Well, that’s an easy mistake to make, man. There is a resemblance there. No, that’s not Stallone. That man there is a lot more dangerous than Stallone. He plays the head of the Mafia population in this make believe joint. In real life, he’s a Golden Gloves boxing champion and has two or three black belts in different forms of martial arts. He had to kick a famous karate-movie star’s ass on the street one night. Chuck didn’t want to do it, but the guy just kept pushing him. If possible, Chuck walks away from stupid people. A guy like him doesn’t want to fight people unless it’s in a ring. Street combat is too dangerous for opponents. The competition can get hurt very badly in that situation. He’s also my chief.”

This surprised me. “Your chief? Neither of you looks Native American.”

Mike laughed through his reply. “Not that kind of chief, Ten. Chuck is my road chief, and the president of the New York City chapter of the Hell’s Angels.”

“Well, if he’s your chief that means that you…”

Mike confirmed his status with a nod and a wink. “I’m a real one! Hey, it’s not just me. Many of the players on this set have had a lot more experience living their parts than acting them.”

Just then, “Mother,” the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound head of Oswald State Penitentiary’s gay pain-and-abuse faction sauntered through. “Hey Mikie, who’s the fresh meat? Y’know Mikie, I’d really like to run my tongue around the bottom of your balls for half an hour or so.”

Tattoo Mike gave that nasty Mother a stare that could have frozen a raging forest fire. Mother slithered off cautiously.

Mike introduced me to Ron the Muslim, Terry the Homeboy, and Hector, along with several of his Hispanic Knife-Fighters. Through them I met much of the rest of the crew. Once I got to know these folks, most weren’t scary at all.

Others were even scarier than they had originally appeared.

About the Author

Doug “Ten” Rose may be the biggest smartass as well as one of the most entertaining survivors of the hitchhiking adventurers that used to cover America’s highways. He is the author of the books Fearless Puppy on American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense, has survived heroin addiction and death, and is a graduate of over a hundred thousand miles of travel without ever driving a car, owning a phone, or having a bank account.

Ten Rose and his work are a vibrant part of the present and future as well as an essential remnant of a vanishing breed.

Follow him on Facebook, Doug Ten Rose

Travel Adventure Books can be an excellent gift to your friends and family, buy from Amazon.com

#traveladventurebooks #keepreading

The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through Amazon or the Fearless Puppy website, where there are sample chapters from those books. Entertaining TV/radio interviews with and newspaper articles about the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not limited to Buddhist monks and nuns.

If you missed the Introduction to the new book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier, or would like to see several chapters of it that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section. This is a book in progress. You will be reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story — and probably the only book ever written by and about a corpse journeying completely around the world!