theirs- an assembly of anecdotes from the croft's, picani's, and others

= Who Needs Pronouns When You'll Be Dead Before Age Thirty? =

•Mid
•XX16 - XX28 (see bottom bullet)
•Remy's POV
•Contains: cursing, second hand embarrassment (aka might be a little awkward at some points near the end)
•a catalogue of gender throughout the ages. there's no specific date given because this covers multiple days throughout a decade or so. enjoy.

(only he/him will be used for remy until they *figure it out*, since this is his kinda internal monologue, btw)

•~~~~•

Even though Remy would inevitably end up getting arrested before he could even get a third of the way through his senior year of high school, he didn't know about any of that until it was happening to him. So being a sophomore, he thought it important to at least get some of his work done. Especially at the very beginning of the year.

The first week of school was always pretty simple, which was good, since most of the students were all burnt out from starting and then finishing their summer work the week before school started up again. And of course Remy had done the same, but it wasn't exactly procrastination that got him there and more spending all of his summer going from house to house to get rid of the annoying people at his school he didn't feel like dealing with for the next three years of his life. All in all, though, it was nice to have a break from thinking for a bit, his only homework this particular night was a Google form.

Yes, a Google form. Pretty classic, he hadn't looked at it yet but as he was bringing it up on his computer he could suspect it would only be questions along the lines of, what is your name?:) and why are you taking this class?:) and how confident are you in the subject material?:). Just classic bullshit so teachers can figure out who they need to look out for in regards to misbehavior and such.

He clicked on the link to open in. With a sigh, he started clicking on the questions and going through them. He was right, the first three questions he'd thought of were the exact ones he had to answer first. And they were all simple enough, he knew what his name was, he was taking the class so he could graduate in three years, and sure, he could say he was confident in the material. Though to be honest he'd forgotten which class this was even for. It didn't matter all that much.

He scrolled down.

What are your pronouns?

That one made him hum to himself as he went to click on the text box- it wasn't something you'd expect to see in such a Floridian school, but perhaps now that all the conservative people had mysteriously moved across the country the school was making a bit more of an effort to be inclusive. It was a nice thought, even if half the teachers would ignore anyone actually wanting to be called something different.

Remy began to type- he/him. And yet he blinked, furrowing his eyebrows, and hesitated before scrolling down further. Why didn't that feel right?

It had to be right, of course, Remy had never been anything other than a cis white gay man, aka the absolute nightmare of pretty much every single other person in the lgbt community. Clearly any hesitation he had was just... dumb.

It didn't matter anyway. If he was anything other than a guy, who the hell could he tell? Everyone he'd ever been close to was now either dead or had moved on to befriending other people. And whatever role he had in the story he lived in, it didn't give shit about who he was.

He scrolled down to the next question. Is there anyone you'd like to be seated next to in future seating chart arrangements?

Remy met his gaze in his mirror. A cold gush of wind brushed up against his side. Yep, he was alone.