My first experience with ROGD was in 1987 when I saw Barbie had a realistic house and car and clothes and all Luke had was a laser sword and a giant mechanical mammoth to fight.
“Why does Kimberly get all the cool toys?”
“You don’t want a dollhouse, that’s for girls.”
My first experience with AGP was in 1997 when “cybersex” became less and edgy buzzword and more a mundane teenage reality, and since it was all IRC back then, why not be a girl? I mean, given the choice?
“What are your measurements?”
“Shit, shit, where are my notes?”
By 2007 I had buried most of this shit and just assumed I was bisexual, not fitting into any heteronormative dating rituals but also feeling extremely alienated from cis gay male circles.
This may seem a bit more complicated if you’re not married and you’re still dating, but really it’s not. If you plan on getting physically intimate with someone and you have hang ups, it’s on you to disclose that. Would you attack a cis woman for a tattoo she didn’t mention?
“But MJ I want kids!” you protest “ffs take mine, or at least get them out of the house for an hour,” I joke. (Seriously I don’t want them anywhere near you transphobic kids and you probably shouldn’t be having children because you have untreated issues but that’s another story)
Once again, the MtG Arena setup seems designed to punish you for wanting to play the game as a strategy game.
Just my own anxiety I’m sure, but the timer HATES it when I tank and lets me know. It’s like 4 y/o, “can we buy this?” while I’m frantically adding up shit in the cart.
Me: this is an interesting Ultimatum. I Brew next turn, but if I let them have the Lili, they can pick that keep the token. I could Spear then Brew, which spends my all my mana and then they’re on Yorion and get the token back. Can I gain life?
Brain: there’s a BOMB hurry up!
I realize I could just turn the sound off because the fuse sound is half the anxiety, but then the completely immersive game music/sounds with my headphones on is half the reason I’m playing sometimes — neighbors are LOUD af and it’s more anxiety-producing that scrubbing out.
Cooler head: clearly it was mass-reporting from the Hogwarts Mob and not the tone of the Vagina Museum thing, because I was struggling to come up with a way to phrase it and decided I should be working on dinner and came back later. Then bam “limited.”
Which suggests the first.
And idk if “limited” is even working because I didn’t think randos could see your stuff but there’s this after I change my screen name.
So I don’t understand it or it doesn’t work or I’m cool enough to have a Twitter spy because that’s how dumb this apocalypse is.
Regardless this goes back to my point about how fascism will co-opt language and gas-light you: silence you while complaining about being silenced.
“They’re bullying me!” a famous author writing op-Eds in papers yells, and her peers nod eagerly. “They don’t want me to stand up!”
Oh cool cool I’m in Twitter jail for making fun of transphobes. They can harass people, threaten people, misgender people which is SUPPOSED TO BE AGAINST THE RULES but no one cares, and I’m the one who has to sit in the corner.