#its like i have to do a schrodinger's sexuality on myself

[yoshistory]

got this weird thing always where im always wondering if im a gay man or a bi dude-kinda or a bi girl-a-little-bit or a gay man-also-woman-a-bit, and its like. whenever im like "OKAYY I DONT CAREEEEE MAYBE I DO LIKE GIRLS" .... IMMEDIATELY my thoughts about liking women are gone like. when im trying to appease that. and then im like "hmm maybe i DONT like girls??" the thoughts about liking girls comes back

[epiceneandroid]

a popkern system member's meditation on xyr butchness

the particular definition of butchness from s. bear bergman's butch is a noun resonates with me so strongly. my butchness is a deviant gender, a gender that is separate from both man and woman, and every other gender, but encompasses female masculinity, and both maleness and not-man at the same time.

like, this description of butchness, as a gender wholly apart from male and female and binary constructs as a whole, yet is also female masculinity in its purest form, yet is also a schrodinger's man gender that is so "man" that it steps out of the male binary...i feel all of those Elements of butch

like. this is what i've struggled to accept for so long. like. the idea that i CAN be butch even though i'm bisexual/pansexual, the idea that i CAN be butch even though i'm "available to men"/"prioritize men" by simply being bisexual/pansexual (even though i prioritize my gf and bf equally)...

like the biphobia and panphobia against bi and pan butches who claim butch as a gender because they've had similar experiences to lesbian butches gender wise, like...experiencing butchness as a sort of pangender schrodinger's woman schrodinger's man wholly other gender...i know i'm butch because being any other way, including femme, including presenting in anything more feminine than a cotton torrid flower dress, which i myself perceive as butch in the way plus size women's clothing is inherently degendered in a butch way, makes me dysphoric. it's not me. it's not me to be femme

but like. the insistence that bisexuals and pansexuals can't be butch, even if they deeply identify as butch as a gender identity in ways other butches like s. bear bergman or jack halberstam have described, just hurts me.

like. i remember my very first gender goals as a child before i was aware "gender goals" existed. they were not hyperfeminine pretty magical girls or feminine pretty boys. they were trainer kris from pokemon, the butchest female pokemon trainer there was at the time, and haruka tenoh.

like i LITERALLY tried to get my hair cut consistently like haruka tenoh's whenever i had hair as soon as i turned 12 and started searching for "sailor haruka" thinking i'd find may from pokemon (lol). i wanted to dress like her, i wanted to look masculine and at the time have a flat chest.

(the dysphoria over not having a flat chest is gone but it's more because my Fatness makes my chest indistinguishable from REALLY large moobs at this point.) i just. past the time when i was 4 and would only wear dresses, i never wanted to look feminine.

i would straight up describe myself as a "half-tomboy". i would try to use the boy's bathroom as often as i could in secret because some part of me got a euphoric thrill out of being seen as or mistaken for a boy while not BEING a boy. i wanted men's haircuts. i wanted to wear suits as formal wear

i was basically stereotypically butch in all but name, including (at the time) sapphic desire; i wanted "romantic friendships" with female peers and even my mom said "you've always questioned your sexuality since middle school", suggesting i thought of myself as somewhat woman attracted

like. even now regarding being apapangender/gendercurry, i still do perceive part of myself as a woman who is attracted to multiple genders including women as my gender. like. butch woman as a gender, yes, but butch as a transgressive, transgender gender overall

i'm bi and pan. i'm transgenderqueer. i'm butch as a gender, butch as an entire system identity. my bisexuality, pansexuality, transgenderqueerness, and system identity do not diminish it. thank you for listening

[genderkoolaid]

do you have any advice for figuring out if you're multigender? i think i might be, but in a kind of "both all and none" kind of way? (i actually use the term schrodigender like schrodinger's cat) but i'm really interested in hearing any thoughts you have on determining if you're multigender!

To give you a feel for what my personal journey of multigender discovery was like:

It heavily involved me going back and forth between identities, basically constantly questioning, since I first realized I was queer. I would identify as one thing, then start questioning it (often out of longing for another identity), and then be thrust into the questioning cycle, find something I felt worked, and rinse and repeat. I'd go from being a gay trans guy to a nonbinary lesbian repeatedly over months and years, and it caused me a lot of distress because I felt completely unable to understand myself on any level. At lot of this was worsened by the fact that I was influenced by a lot of exorsexist exlus rhetoric, so any connections I had to multigender identities (like omnique, for example, or even genderfluid!! exclus exorsexism was/is actual poison) was cut off and I forced myself into the idea that my identity had to Make Sense and Fit The Rules. At some point I started getting out of that worldview and accepted, on some level, that I was multigender, but I mostly identified as transneutral and kind of downplayed every part of my gender. It wasn't until I started learning about the idea of transandrophobia that I really started embracing my male identity strongly, which then allowed me to interact more strongly with my womanhood & really, truly accept the entirety of my multigender, multi-sexual identity.

If you have found yourself constantly going back and forth, never being able to be satisfied with one identity for long and continuing to find yourself envious or longing for other identities, that may be a sign you are multigender. For me, I've also experienced a weird mix of... every gender option, including neutral, feeling like a "technically yes, but actually no" kind of thing? Like, if I have to check a box, picking "woman" doesn't feel like the worst, but it also doesn't feel right. But the same goes for "man" or "nonbinary" (which is why I usually pick "decline to say"). Every option feels like its almost right, but the assumption that I have to be only one makes any one response feel like a lie. There's also a sort of feeling of never being entirely comfortable in any gender-based group, like you can never fully belong no matter where you go and will always be some kind of pretender. On a more positive note, I've found myself the happiest so far when I have multiple different groups of people gendering me differently. Last semester I had some teachers/classmates that called me Antonia and used she/her, some that called me Antonio and used he/him, and some that used either/or and would use they/them, and it made me really happy! Being able to be seen as one thing by one person and something totally different by another has been the most validating gender experience ever, far beyond any single incident of gendering.

This is all just my experience, but I hope it might be helpful to compare it to whatever you have experienced and see if anything strikes you. Gender is a messy thing & I wish you good luck <3

[freedom-of-fanfic]

It doesn't matter if it's reclaimed, it's still A Slur. People need it tagged for various reasons, I need fucking butterflies tagged because otherwise I have panic attacks, like 99% of people don't mind doing that, but as soon as someone says they need q/eer tagged (even though it makes much more sense and is much more widespread in both its use and its negative effects) people throw up in arms

Okay, hold up. This ask is conflating trigger tags/content warning tags with reclaiming slurs and using them as a personal label.

Triggers don’t have to be logical. If someone needs the word ‘queer’ to be tagged for because it gives them panic attacks/flashbacks/other trigger reactions - or even just because it’s an upsetting word to them - they are within their rights to ask for someone to tag it.

But ‘this word is upsetting/triggers me’ is a valid reason to ask for a tag all on its own. ‘Queer’ being Schrodinger’s Slur doesn’t ever have to come into the equation if you need it tagged for emotional/mental health reasons, and it doesn’t have to be remotely reasonable. Brains are weird and pick their hangups at seeming random sometimes.

Otoh, if you want ‘queer’ tagged or censored by someone else *because* you define it as a slur, you should probably be ready for a fight - especially if the person identifies as queer. because consider: you’re functionally telling them ‘that word is only for your oppressors to use against you. trying to take away their power to hurt you with this slur by taking it for yourself is not allowed because I - an unrelated third party - have not chosen to reclaim it myself or feel the word as a reclaimed label does not apply to me. As such, anyone whose experiences may be adjacent to mine should also not use this word in a positive way.’ It’s just invasive. And, if you’re not personally reclaiming ‘queer’, not really your business!

(On that note, I’m curious if you’d feel comfortable telling people who call themselves these other reclaimed or partially-reclaimed slurs that they can’t call themselves that/they need to tag for it/they need to censor the word in their posts because it’s a slur: Dyke. Slut. Whore. Bitch. Even Gay (which, incidentally, was the ubiquitous insult of my youth, treated as synonymous with ‘stupid’.) and this list is far from exhaustive.

I think the reason ppl are primarily going after queer as a reclaimed slur is because of a deliberate effort to ignore & erase the reclamation history of ‘queer’ - a reclamation that was so near-complete (in the US) that college classes were named ‘queer studies’ - so that a label with purposefully fuzzy edges and definition would pass out of common, unquestioned use, making it easier to determine who is ‘allowed’ to be LGBT+ and who isn’t. But that doesn’t mean everyone has to claim queer as an identity or that it hasn’t been used to hurt anyone. I just want people who accept ‘the q word is an unreclaimed slur and always has been’ narratives to think critically about where they got it from.)

The point is: identities are messy, and a lot of minority identities (and ppl in widely denigrated employments, like sex work, and/or nonmonogamous sexually active women and/or ppl misgendered as women in general, etc) have names that are or were slurs. Some people choose to reclaim and own those slurs, and telling them ‘it makes me uncomfortable so please censor your label’ is kinda shitty.

So if someone uses a word as a label that you cannot stand to see, even in the context of being reclaimed as a self-identifier/proud label, you should probably just block that person so you can’t see it anymore. You can also use blacklist functions and tumblr’s tag filtering features to help you avoid slurs being used as reclaimed labels. (And This is also where I remind people - including myself - to carefully consider what to censor with asterisks or slashes b/c doing so can put triggers past blacklist functions. and remember to tag if you do choose to censor certain words.)

[dassala]

In Focus

Rated M - Chapter 7/7 (Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6)

Emma Swan’s CEO fiance Graham Humbert has hired a wedding photographer to capture every aspect of the wedding planning process. Killian Jones usually hates these stuck-up, spoiled rich brides he captures on film, but Emma is different.

Disclaimer: This fic contains elements that may be squicky or disturbing to some of the CS audience. I want you to know that both Emma and Killian have sexual relationships with other characters in this fic (NOTE: NO SMUT). They also both get very drunk at different times throughout the story. So if you have an aversion to alcohol abuse (especially as a crutch), and you can’t stand the idea of Emma and Killian being with other people, this may not be the story for you. However, that said, you should know that I never write CS fic without a happy ending. :) So if you can stick it out, I promise satisfaction.

@awkwardnessandbaseball is totally responsible for everything good about this chapter and I love her for it. <3

Read it on AO3

This was his happy place. Killian was stretched out on the Captain’s chair on the deck of his boat. He lifted a beer to his lips, watching the horizon as he sailed down the coast, taking in the sight of the small fishing villages along the way. Roger padded up beside him and laid down.

“This is it, Rog,” Killian said to his pet, “we’re getting out of that insanity. We’re heading out on our own, no troubles to think of, and just...relaxing.”

The dog sighed heavily and flopped over onto his side, closing his eyes as the waves gently rocked the boat.

Killian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. They weren’t far enough from the shore to lose signal. He silently wondered if it might be worth it to head a few more miles out, just for the sake of peace. Instead, he lifted the phone from his pocket and swiped.

Message from Liam: You need to come back.

He groaned and replied.

Why? I’m happy out here.

Message from Liam: The wedding is off.

Killian swallowed hard and stared at the wheel in front of him. What would happen if he did return? Did he think Emma was just going to run into his arms? Unlikely. His brow furrowed. Damnit. He had to turn back. Emma had put the kibosh on her wedding because of him. He had an apology to make. Grabbing the wheel, he gave it a tug, shifting the rotor to starboard to turn his course North.

--

The bar was much quieter than the night of her bachelorette party. Emma sat on a bar stool, swirling her drink slowly with its thin black straw.

“Hey,” Ruby said, approaching. She took a seat next to Emma and asked the bartender for a water.

“Water? Drink with me so I don’t feel like an alcoholic,” Emma muttered to her friend. She leaned over and rested her head on Ruby’s shoulder. “Am I an idiot?”

Ruby swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around Emma. “No, you did what you thought would bring you happiness. I’m proud of you.”

“I hope I did the right thing,” Emma sighed and pulled back to look up at Ruby. Only in that moment did she realize her friend looked, well, awful. She wore no makeup (completely weird) and had red-rimmed, dark-bagged eyes. “Woah. You look like shit.”

Ruby frowned. “Thanks, exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Sorry, I’m...just...is there something going on with you? With Mulan?” Emma realized she hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to her friends’ relationships since things had gone sour with Graham.

“I need to tell you something,”  Ruby whispered, her voice cracking. “And I need you not to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Emma laughed incredulously.

“I’m late. Like...two months late. And…” Ruby trailed off, staring at the bar top. “I’m sorry.”

It took a moment for Emma to register what her best friend was saying, given the overall mental fog and alcohol combination. She cocked her head to the side. “You’re pregnant?”

Ruby shrugged, a tear running down her cheek. “I might be?”

“And it would...have to be Killian’s,” Emma breathed.

With a bitter laugh, Ruby nodded. “It sure as hell ain’t Mulan’s.”

Emma wrapped her arms around her friend and pulled her close. “How many tests have you taken?”

“None,” Ruby answered quickly, “I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Have you said anything to Killian?” Emma paid for her drinks and grabbed her handbag. Ruby shook her head in response. Emma took Ruby by the hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m going to buy you a test, and you’re going to take it. You have to know for sure, and then...we can...I don’t know. Call him, discuss options…”

The brunette drew in a deep breath and nodded, angrily wiping at her face with her free hand.

The pair climbed into a cab. Emma never let go of Ruby’s hand as they rode down the street to a corner drug store. What it all meant for Ruby and what it meant for Emma herself were two very different things. She considered Killian’s reaction to a child. He had seemingly hinted before at wanting kids of his own. But with Ruby? Each of them had agreed that the relationship was hardly forged from a deep connection. But would that change if they shared a baby? Handing a tip to the driver, Emma hopped out and hurried into the store.

As the cab idled outside, a terrified Ruby within its back seat, Emma rushed through the store to the family planning section. She eyed rows and rows of condoms before coming upon pregnancy tests. In her younger years, she and Graham had experienced a scare of their own. They were young and stupid and they stood for what felt like hours in the aisle, trying to figure out which one to buy. Experience had now taught Emma that brand was not important, but quantity was a more reassuring quality. She grabbed a three-pack of tests and hurried to the counter.

The cashier lazily swiped the barcode over the scanner and yawned out the total. Emma paid with her phone. “Good luck,” the clerk said with a smirk. Emma rolled her eyes before jogging back out of the door to the waiting cab.

“I got three,” Emma exhaled as she scooted closer to her best friend, who seemed absolutely wrecked with anxiety.

“Three? Why do I need three?” Ruby’s eyes widened.

“If you get three tests with the same result, the results are more...reassuring,” Emma rubbed at Ruby’s arm. She gave directions to the cab driver.

Despite the supposed pregnancy not even being her own, she was a mess. Emma’s eyes remained on the asphalt in front of them as they weaved their way downtown to the hotel where she was staying. Ruby was silent, with the occasional rubbing of a tear from her face. It was obvious that Ruby hadn’t had the ability to go through with taking the test on her own. Despite everything, Emma was glad she could be there for her friend.

Inside the hotel room, Emma fought with the packaging on the box. She pulled out the plastic-wrapped sticks and waved them at Ruby. The taller woman stared at the tests as if they were alien species.

“You pee on it,” Emma urged her, shaking the tests. Ruby took the sticks with a shaky hand and disappeared into the bathroom.

“How long does it take?” Ruby asked from inside, her voice echoing in the small room.

Emma grabbed the box, her brow furrowing. “Uh, three minutes?”

“Jesus,” Ruby muttered, followed by a string of curse words and plastic wrappers.

After a few minutes, Ruby emerged. “I left them on the sink. You’ll have to look for me.”

“Sure,” Emma nodded. She reached out and pulled Ruby into a tight hug. “Listen, no matter what, I’m here for you. And I promise everything will be okay.”

Silently, Ruby nodded in response and feebly hugged her friend.

Longest. Three minutes. Of their lives. Emma flipped on the TV and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She tapped the ‘Channel Up’ button on the remote, surfing through to find something watchable. Surely that was three minutes’ worth of time, yes? She looked at the clock. 2:46. Ruby had taken the test at 2:45.  Jeez.

Ruby paced up and down the hallway next to the bathroom door. She was biting her fingernails, staring at the ugly hotel room carpet as she moved back and forth.

Emma tapped her fingernails on her cell phone. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. If Ruby was having Killian’s baby...how would she even fit into this? It was ludicrous to think that she could just adopt the baby on a whim and offer to raise it with him, right? Right. Stupid. Don’t make plans like that until you’re sure about all the moving parts.

“Is it time?” Ruby asked, turning to the clock. 2:47. Emma shook her head and flopped back onto the bed.

“Why does this take forever? They should have made an app for this by now,” Emma muttered.

Ruby snorted. “I’m not peeing on a phone.”

The tension in the room broke as Emma laughed. She scrubbed at her face with her hands. Ruby howled with laughter alongside her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. God, the whole situation was ridiculous.

“I can’t be a Mom yet, Emma. I’m not ready,” Ruby said finally, after their laughter died. “Just...give me some good news, okay?”

Emma glanced at the clock. 2:48. Three minutes were up. She bent to give Ruby a hug and kissed her forehead before stepping into the restroom. The three sticks were laid out on the counter. From her angle, she couldn’t see the results. At this very moment, it was Schrodinger's Pregnancy Test. Both positive and negative until she looked. Taking in a deep breath, she leaned forward.

Each of the white sticks showed only one pink line in the indicator window. Emma raised the box, examining the directions.

“Well?” Ruby shouted from the bed.

Emma grinned and bolted from the restroom. “No baby!”

Ruby screamed and threw her arms around Emma, dancing in the hallway with her. “I’m not pregnant!”

The two women laughed loudly, screaming away their nervous energy.

After a moment, Ruby shook her head. “I thought I had ruined it all for you,” she confessed. “I want you to be happy. So you need to talk to him. Tell him how you feel. And maybe don’t mention this?”

“Yeah, probably not the best thing to tell him right now,” Emma laughed, relieved. She hugged Ruby one more time and grabbed her phone, thumbing in a message to Killian.

--

Maybe his timing wasn’t the best, but Killian knew what he had to do. He’d made arrangements already to meet with Emma later in the day to talk things out. But for now, here he was, standing outside of Graham Humbert’s apartment. With a deep breath, he raised his fist and knocked.

There was some motion inside. Someone was there. As the door swung open, Graham appeared and sighed.

“Last person I expected to see,” the Irishman muttered. “What do you want, Jones?”

Killian cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize. For what happened with Emma. I never intended for any of this to happen.”

“You’ll go out of business if you keep seducing the brides. Can’t say my online review is going to be particularly stellar,” Graham raised a brown bottle to his lips and took a swig.

Blinking, Killian nodded, supposing that was deserved. He shifted his weight. “Mate, look, she kissed me and...yes, I kissed back for a moment. But I was already having second thoughts about this gig. I knew I was in trouble right around the time we had the engagement photos, and…”

Killian never saw the fist coming. He stumbled back against the elevator, white light before his eyes, his jaw aching. He groaned and pushed himself up, spitting blood onto the fancy marble floor.

“How dare you. You should’ve bloody left the moment you thought you had feelings for my fiancee. She was going to be MY WIFE, you idiot!”

“You weren’t right for her!” Killian shouted in return, clenching his own fists. “You never had her interests in mind!”

Graham stepped back and took in a deep breath. He stared daggers at Killian for a moment, then sighed. “You’re right. I let her slip away. You’d better treat her like a goddess.”

“I don’t know that I have any intention --” Killian had to be honest, here. He wasn’t sure an actual relationship with Emma was in the cards. Especially after all of this.

“If you love her,” Graham interrupted him, pointing a finger, “you had better keep her. She’s the most amazing woman in the world.”

Of course he had to agree at the moment, but the question was, did Killian even deserve a woman like her? He was a brooding drunk most of the time, and he had no money or connections like Graham did. Would she accept him? After all of this, after calling off a wedding so huge it was in the society sections of the New York Times, would she even want him?

“I know she is,” Killian licked his lips, tasting blood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck up your life. But if I’m being completely honest about this, she wouldn’t have come looking for me that night if she wasn’t dissatisfied with your relationship in some way.”

Graham’s gaze fell to the floor. He shook his head. “Too much work. She and I started this company together, you know. But at some point, I just wrestled it away by myself. It wasn’t fair, and I ended up overburdened. The thing is, I liked it. And instead of nurturing my relationship with Emma, I nurtured the business.”

Killian listened in silence. He let the man vent.

“Every time I turned down a dinner arrangement with her or canceled a Saturday excursion, I could see it in her eyes,” the Irishman looked up at Killian once more. “I saw those pictures you took. You got her to glow. She was happy when you were there. And with me, that same look wasn’t there.”

“Had things been different, mate,” Killian began, but he couldn’t finish it. He merely shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” With a nod of acknowledgement, but he suspected not acceptance, Graham stepped backward and pulled the door shut.

Killian stepped out onto the street minutes later and sighed. He’d been Robert Gold in this situation. He’d stolen someone else’s woman, and he felt like the scum of the earth for it. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Liam and made his way back out of town.

--

“What?” Liam whispered into the phone as he answered.

“Did I wake you? It’s almost noon,” Killian frowned, glancing at his watch.

“No, I’m just trying not to wake Elsa,” Liam muttered.

He couldn’t help but smirk on his brother’s behalf. “Way to go,” he congratulated him before continuing, “I just apologized to Graham.”

“And?” His brother’s voice was louder, and he suspected he was in a safer spot to speak.

Killian sighed. “Got a bag of frozen peas I can borrow?”

--

Elsa poured a cup of tea for Killian before shuffling back to the kitchen. He smiled at Liam, who looked way more rested and happy than he had in ages.

“I told her I’d handle this, but...she insists,” Liam had a hint of pink in his cheeks as he watched Elsa work in the kitchen. “Did you know she runs one of the top architecture firms in New York? She’s the Queen Bee there and yet she’s spending time with a lowlife bartender like me.”

“Quit,” Elsa rolled her eyes as she wandered back in and took a seat next to Liam. Killian gave a slight smile and pressed the peas more firmly against his bruised jaw.  “How are you feeling?” She asked, picking up her own cup of tea.

Killian shrugged and put the peas down to take a sip of his tea. “Like maybe I shouldn’t talk to Emma later.”

“I think you need to, little brother,” Liam warned. “She’s given up a lot for you.”

“I wish I’d have known,” Elsa sighed, “but I guess Ruby did.”

Killian’s eyebrow raised. “Even when…”

“No, no,” Elsa insisted, raising her hands and waving them quickly, “I mean after you guys broke up, Emma told her she had a thing for you and was worried about the state of the wedding.”

Putting down his teacup, Killian groaned and leaned back against the armchair. “It’s just so fucked up. How do you start a relationship on the tail end of this?”

Liam and Elsa shook their heads. It seemed an impossible task. Facing their feelings for one another and apologizing for the mistakes of the past and then trying to piece together some semblance of a relationship?

--

They’d agreed to meet uptown at The Chipped Cup on Broadway. She hadn’t wanted to be there too early, so Emma walked the three blocks from her hotel. As she approached the coffee shop, she drew in a heavy breath and closed her eyes. This would be her first time meeting with Killian as an unattached woman. How would he act? Would he kiss her again? Her lips ached to be kissed like that once more. Or, would he dismiss her entirely, as he had at the bar? She had to keep reminding herself that no matter what, she had not left Graham for Killian. She had left Graham for herself. To become her own person. To define her life outside of the company they had built and the life they had forged under the context of their professional relationship.

Emma was dressed in jeans and a flowy pink top. She walked down the stairs to the entrance and stepped into the rustic space. Killian was at a table near the windows. He looked up as the door chime sounded in the mostly-empty shop. She watched him fumble slightly as he stood to greet her.

“Hi,” he said, almost dropping his phone as he attempted to put it on the tabletop next to his coffee.

“Hi,” Emma echoed, pausing and licking her lips. She forced a smile, her heart pounding with overwhelming anxiety in the moment. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Have a seat,” he attempted a smile, but it looked pained. Emma then noticed the bruise developing along his jaw. She reached out to him. He flinched slightly and cleared his throat. “I went to see Graham this morning.”

Her eyebrows raised and she sighed, taking a seat at the table. “Well that wasn’t the best idea,” she muttered.

“I had to apologize,” he replied, sitting back down in his creaky wooden chair. “I ruined everything.”

Emma paused and watched him, her head crooked slightly to the side. “You know I did this for me, right? I didn’t leave him for you.”

Killian looked as if he’d been slugged again. His lips parted, but he seemed unable to form words.

“I mean, yes,” Emma nodded, “kissing you was kind of the catalyst and it gave me a boost to do what I needed to do. But I was unhappy with Graham for a while. I left to figure myself out.”

His shoulders slumped slightly. “So you’re not, you didn’t...you aren’t interested in…”

“Oh, I’m interested,” she laughed nervously, a blush in her cheeks. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Very much so. I just don’t know if now is the right time to jump into everything.”

Killian sat for a moment and touched his tongue to the spot where his lip was split, presumably by Graham’s fist. He reached out a hand. Emma glanced at it and moved to give her own to him, but he shook his head.

“Your phone,” he said.

Emma’s brow furrowed. She took her phone from her pocket and placed it in his hand. She unlocked it, as she assumed he’d want access to it.

Killian took the phone and fiddled with it for a moment, then handed it back to her. She glanced at the screen.

“Killian from the Coffee Shop” was now his name in her contacts, as opposed to ‘Killian Jones Photographer’ as it had been. She cocked her head to the side and glanced back up at him. He had obviously fiddled with his own phone as well. He held it up to her. “Emma from the Coffee Shop” was next to her number in his contacts.

“I don’t get it,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Killian offered his hand once more and Emma moved to put her phone back into it, but he laughed. “Hi, I’m Killian. I’m a photographer with no money, I’m divorced, I live on a boat with my dog, and I hate hazelnuts. It’s nice to meet you.”

Starting over. Forgetting everything. She let a grin creep slowly across her features and slid her hand into his. “I’m Emma. I have no job, a lot of money, I don’t much care for boats, and I’m freshly out of an eight-year relationship. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Can I buy you a drink, Emma?” he nodded toward the counter. “The coffee’s pretty good.”

She bit down on her lower lip. “Sure. Hazelnut if they’ve got it.”

“As you wish,” he stood and wiggled his eyebrows before sauntering to the counter.

It felt right. It felt natural. She was starting over in every way possible. No longer had she been involved with her wedding photographer. Now, he was just some guy she met in the coffee shop (at least to them).

[musingsofamurderess]

Compassion as a Taboo

It occurs to me as I am flooded with messages and friend requests that I may do well to elaborate on my modus operandi a bit to aid in your understanding of what “makes me tick.” The following are my thoughts and opinions, and are not meant be imposed on anyone for any reason or in any way.

I believe in people. Whereas I am glad to share my thoughts and opinions on any matter with anyone who is genuinely curious or interested, I am much more interested in how our combined experiences can positively impact our existence. My experience has led me to the conclusion that we are not simply rotting meat sacks, but precious animals, each beautiful in its own way. I, therefore, am open to a plethora of new ideas, relationships, and understandings. You and I both have the right to learn and grow at our own rates, and each of us to surround ourselves with the thoughts and ideas that help us each feel more complete, whole, safe, or however else we may desire to feel, be, and/or become. To avoid waxing philosophical any further at this point, I would like you to know that I will respect you no matter what, and would be thrilled if you would do me the same honor. Yes, to truly know another is an honor in my book.

Many of us have turned to FetLife as explorers, to find out more about the things we enjoy and find others to share our time, thoughts, ideas, and our love with others; to make new experiences with like-minded folk and find out more about interests we never even knew we had or never dreamed we could have imagined. Being a professional in daily life, I feel like I would never be able to “come out” to the people in my day-to-day life with some of the parts of me featured on this site, nor would I wish the “burden” of those thoughts on any of them unnecessarily. Discretion has its use in society, but the shame and guilt we “deviants” undoubtedly all feel at some point for “being different” is truly problematic.

Let me elaborate for a moment, for instance, my work is a “business casual” type desk job where we are permitted to wear all body piercings we may have, wear our hair however we like (providing it’s clean) and have tattoos, and yet I choose not to because I know the consequences. Despite my polite mannerisms, eagerness to help others and learn new things, and despite the exceptional work I may produce, I would be denied upward movement because of my choice to look beautiful in my own eyes. Societal taboos are truly one of my biggest pet peeves, and sadly, few people I have met share the depth of forgiveness and understanding for human thoughts and actions that I may dare to share with you in the following, should you choose to read on.

Think of the worst thing you can think of that a single human has ever done (as you, too, are but a single human.) Maybe Hitler, baby rapists, mass murderers come to mind, maybe even people in your own life that hurt you so deeply that you may never forgive them, perhaps life itself for taking away something that you would give anything (including yourself) to get back. I forgive Hitler. I forgive baby rapists. I forgive mass murderers. I forgive the people who have caused and will cause me pain and suffering. I forgive life for everything I thought was not supposed to happen that did. I know that I am not in control, and neither were any of those people. By “not in control,” I mean that I cannot and will not ever know everything in all moments in such a way as to avoid ever being harmed or causing harm to others. My experiences have made me the person I am, and I choose to accept as truth that this happens for all other people as well. I hold them accountable, but offer compassion, forgiveness, and any other warranted kindness because I know that in my heart, I would want the same for myself.

I do not believe that we are all here for some divine purpose or reason, per se, but I do believe that human life (in particular) is to be cherished. People are the way they are for a reason. I reassure myself with that phrasing on a fairly regular basis to remind myself to be humble and try to understand others rather than to judge. Negatively judging others preferences and interests undermines their experience and perception, leading to feelings of shame and guilt; whereas compassion, kindness, and forgiveness, when shared between two or more people, can lead to a greater understanding of the situation in its entirety. The goal therein being something along the lines of taking the experiences and perception of one individual and expanding upon them by adding the experiences and perception of another in order develop a "shared experience" that surpasses the view of the individual alone and facilitates further growth and learning within their relationship. To avoid digressing to further vague expressions of internal foundations, let me shift focus now to you, the FetLifer.

Some of us come here to explore, as described above, and some come to escape. What are they escaping? For too many, it's the shame and guilt of having thoughts, interests, and relationships that “deviate” from the societal norm. What is deviation? Webster’s defines it as: “EVERYONE'S PERCEPTION IS DIFFERENT AND THAT'S OK!” In other words, it doesn't matter. This is my point, we deviate from the "norm" sexually and are shunned. Yet, simply by each having our own self-contained consciousness, we are (by definition) deviated from all other humans. We are physically and mentally bound to being different in this respect. We share and can share many things in our respective journeys. True, we are all related physiologically (and perhaps in other ways), but we are also plainly separate. We both are and are not, it’s a Schrodinger’s cat hypothesis.

My deduction is that those times when we can share our innermost thoughts, feeling, emotions, actions, and desires, are the times when we are most human. By this logic, it would seem we could escape the trappings of labels and taboos that come with the shaming of others for their differences (and guilting ourselves for the same) by accepting Schrodinger’s cat as it is. There is truly a power in togetherness. Live and let live, and, when you can, share something real with someone who shares something real in return. Forgiveness does not hurt, and neither does understanding. I am here to share real experiences with real people. By exploring together, we can grow our shared experience as we learn to better understand, appreciate, and celebrate each other, and ourselves. I hope, above all things, to love and to be loved.

Perhaps it's much more taboo to be compassionate, forgiving, and to actively engage in the pursuit of understanding than it is to play out the nastiest fantasy you’ve ever imagined.

Never stop learning. Please.

Jul 31, 2017

[lesetoilesfous]

14, 19 & 28!

Hey you! Thank you which you can find here!

So!!!

14. What advice do you have for people struggling with their identity?

19. What helped you through coming out/realising your identity?

28. If you’re polyamorous, how do you go about that?

14. What advice do you have for people struggling with their identity?

Oh boy ok. Right. 

1. Find someone to talk to. It’s ok (I mean, it sucks, but you’ll be ok, I believe in you) if you can’t talk to family. Talk to a friend. Talk to a teacher. If you don’t feel comfortable with that, there are anonymous phone numbers in the UK (like Childline or the Samaritans if you’re over 18) who you can call and talk to, no strings attached. There are LGBT+ support groups for a range of ages everywhere. I went to one when I was figuring myself out, and it really helped. Talking helps. Sometimes, you need to step outside of your head. It can be scary, but it’s worth it. You can do it. 

2. Use fiction!! If you’re anything like me (which hey, you might be), I find using fiction to explore my identity super helpful. Are you a wlw who’s scared of that? Try writing a story from a guy’s point of view about a girl you’ve got strange feelings about. Read stories about ladies loving ladies and non-binary people and maybe no one at all and that’s ok too. Webcomics and youtube series and podcasts are especially great for finding representation, but if you’re not comfortable with that yet, it’s ok to subvert hetero narratives as like, a less scary place to explore your identity. I wrote like 60 chapters of doctor who fanfic before I realised how in love I was with Amy Pond/Karen Gillan. You’re allowed.

3. Try ‘What If’. Again, if you’re anything like me, for a long time you might try to control thoughts you think might be Not Ok, that might make you ‘weird’ or make your life more difficult. You might be doing the mental equivalent of putting your hands over your ears and singing real loud. If you’re doing that, I’m going to ask you to do one thing. Try what if. Just, let yourself think those things. See what happens. You don’t have to tell anyone. It doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want it to, it doesn’t even have to go outside your brain. Just let yourself think those things, and kind of see what happens. It could help.

19. What helped you through coming out/realising your identity?

Kinda covered this above but basically My Queer Story ™ went something like this. When I was 8 years old I knew I liked girls and boys and didn’t know being gay was a Thing until one of my ‘best friends’ said I was acting a bit gay. I immediately stopped and didn’t know why. Then I went to Catholic school and thus entered what I’m affectionately calling The Denial Era. I had an entire noticeboard of pictures of girls (and one or two guys) taken from magazines and didn’t realise that this was suspicious material. I got bullied for allegedly being a lesbian - I didn’t know what a lesbian was - because I was shy of being undressed in front of the other girls.

Then I started writing fanfic. I still didn’t know what Gay was, but I had now heard of Yaoi. (Yep, one of those kids, not proud of it.) This led to me forming an idea of what liking girls might look like. Captain Jack on Doctor Who sort of helped. I still didn’t really know by the time I was 16 - Catholic school was on lockdown on any mentions of this stuff so my knowledge was patchy. But I realised that I definitely liked boys, and didn’t know if I liked girls. I had Not Platonic thoughts about girls, but I thought that was me being attention seeking. (In my own brain, don’t go there.) And then one day when I was 16 I was like damn, it’s not attention seeking if it’s just in my brain. So I tried it out, I tried let myself think the things I’d been stopping myself thinking. And oh boy, was I gay.

In a proper answer to the question then, finally: I went to an LGBT+ youth group when I was 17. I told my (new) boarding school it was a mental health support group, and the organisers (accustomed to homophobia and its risks) went along with it. I met a whole group of people my age who thought they might be queer. I learned what bisexuality was. Some time later, I learned what pansexuality was. I went on my first date with a girl, and kissed her, and I knew who I was. I knew because I got as giddy if not more about her as I had with any guy. I went to university, and I kept writing and reading fanfiction - and I found fic and webseries (shoutout to Carmilla) and comics (DC Bombshells) and podcasts (all) that represented people like me. I read a bit of queer theory, and poetry, and books by queer people. I learned about queer history, and developed a more and more sure understanding of who I was. For the past six months, I’ve been volunteering with an LGBT+ news and current affairs podcast called ShoutOut. I continue to explore my identity, but I’m a lot more confident now.

28. If you’re polyamorous, how do you go about that?

I feel like Schrodinger’s Poly. I’ve been in a poly relationship with 2 other girls, and I’ve had lots of casual sexual relationships with multiple partners. Sometimes I’ll meet someone and very much want to be in a polysexual relationship with them, or a polyromantic relationship with them, or neither! For me it really depends on the individual and the chemistry we have.

I will say, the part of me that thinks I might be poly in the end desperately wants to be in a trio or a quadruple with some people, and when I see those relationships in media I want to cry and I also just want. But who knows.

As to the mechanics, I think every poly person will say: communication, communication, communication!!! Be very clear about what you want and what you’re expecting from your partners. Pet names? Cuddles? Kisses? Kisses but not sexy time? Sexy time but not kisses? Dates? Not dates? I think stuff can go wrong when these things aren’t clear. Please do not be that asshole who grabs a person at a party and throws them into a threesome without talking to them first and telling them what’s going on and letting them make an informed decision.

I will also say: emotions happen. If human beings were able to flip a switch and control our emotions, wars wouldn’t happen. Gay rights wouldn’t be an issue. Crimes of passion wouldn’t happen. Etc. And everyone needs to feel all their emotions - that includes anger, and jealousy, and insecurity, doubts and fear and sadness. People need to feel those things, always. I think a minefield that people often hit in poly stuff is that they imagine it’s always going to be happy and loving and no problems. And it’s often really great!!!! But it’s also super important to be able to say, ok, I understand this is unreasonable but I’m mad/insecure/sad about that. Communication is crucial to consent, in every respect.

If you feel like you can’t provide that emotional support to someone you’re involved with, tell them. They will find a friend or someone else to give that to them. But you have to tell them. Otherwise they’ll expect something that you can’t give them, and things will get sour.

In the end, almost nothing is so ugly that you can’t just say it and move on. In silence lie the monsters - don’t let them live there. Turn on the lights.

(In true poly pansexual fashion, she mixes all the metaphors)

Thank you!!

[sadborg]

i apologize in advance for my ignorance on ace/aro spectrum stuff and if ive misunderstood or said something rude by accident then let me know and i can fix it and learn from it, im just rolling thought around in my head.

so ive been looking at ace spectrum stuff out of curiosity and its like. with lesbianism i knew it was true because i can look at a woman and be attracted to her and imagine loving a woman and ive DATED women and im attracted to them, but not attracted to men. thats straightforward enough for me at least, for now i guess??

but with asexual stuff, in my personal experience, unless its like asexuality or aromanticism its hard to tell; like you know if you dont like sex or romance, right? but with things like lithosexuality (enjoying sex but not wanting reciprocation during sex) for example its like, it feels like i have to have sex to know if i am its like schrodinger’s ace spectrum lmao.

i do have feelings of not wanting to be touched sexually but idk if thats lithosexuality i feel like im just insecure. i dont want to adopt a label that people use to describe themselves without knowing more about myself especially since i just came out as a lesbian.

idk!!

[princeasmodaios]

Did I actually mean this, once upon a time?

Let me start by asking you this one, very common, exceptionally over-analysed question:

What is love?​

To some it's the rush of endorphins flowing through the body when your crush's hand grazes ever so softly against the delicate skin of your knee, for others it's the wind blowing through ones hair as they throw their arms wide with spiked adrenaline in an attempt to encompass life while they reach constant velocity on their free-fall to the surface of the mighty globe we call earth. Perhaps for you it's the awkward hand scrawled letters to the girl that sits across from you in chemistry that inevitably make your heart leap into your throat and silently strangle you under your teachers piercing gaze. Now go on, I dare you- ask me that same question... What is love?

To me, love is the tapestry of evolution.

Let me explain.

People spend their lives going through relationships, dating, figuring out who's traits are best suited for them. Since the art of courtship is decreasing, the real gentlemen are becoming more difficult to find due to the fact that every man that will hold the door open for a woman is inevitably taken already. Desirable traits, be it looks or personality are crucial in finding true love, you wouldn't want to settle for someone substandard with a bad attitude now would you? Part of the Darwinism effect is survival of the fittest- it's part of evolution- when you find your one true love it's the person whose traits are best suited for you, the person you click with will be best for you physically and mentally, regardless of how others view them. No one is free from evolution, let's be real- And for me, nature's paired me up with the best of the best. You see, I've been gifted with a beautiful brunette with long luscious curls that cascade over her shoulders and rest above her chest, a girl with teasing eyes that are constantly lit up, whispering the undiscovered tales of life under the bright blue canopy of the ocean, a woman whose dimples reflect the childhood innocence of days long past, and whose figure displays the painstaking effort of late nights out in the gym perfecting the ageless art that her inner heart compels her to do. Let me tell you my friends, this woman is the one nature destined me to be with. Fret not though, if you're still fighting the Copenhagen Interpretation- with all of the potential outcomes- only one will will be suited properly for you and she will absolutely and undeniably tear you from the roots of your world and send you spinning out of earth's mere atmosphere. The undeniable pull of endorphins, the rush of adrenaline that comes with the first kiss- that is what you look forward to right? Well you have yet to make it through the first date. Good lord- let's talk about the first date. Simply put, the girl(or guy) you're with is either going to be everything to you, or nothing. For the time being however, you are a living interpretation of Schrodinger's cat. Neither of you can tell, nor can the rest of the world, your partner is either a decaying nuclear atom that will trigger the geiger counter and utterly end the life of your passion with one another in one swift blow, or an atom that hasn't yet begun to decay, and therefore you're intimacy remains alive. Only after the progression of a tragically beautiful thing can one tell if your love lives on or is suffocated in poison- much to the same effect as the cat. So now let's say the first date goes exponentially well and you're feeling like you won a million bucks- and the odds aren't exactly in your favor since you would be 1 in 750 million.. But that's besides the point. First date went well- hopefully the two of you feel pretty comfortable and confident with yourselves and each other- inevitably the two of you will end up sleeping together- which is again, another make it or break it scenario; you'll find out if you're actually in love or just in lust with your partner; you see-  Biologically, love is a powerful neurological condition like hunger or thirst, only more permanent. We talk about love being blind or unconditional, in the sense that we have no control over it. But then, that is not so surprising since love is basically chemistry. While lust is a temporary passionate sexual desire involving the increased release of chemicals such as testosterone and oestrogen. In true love, or attachment and bonding, the brain can release a whole set of chemicals: pheromones, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin and vasopressin. However, from an evolutionary perspective, love can be viewed as a survival tool – a mechanism we have evolved to promote long-term relationships, mutual defense and parental support of children and to promote feelings of safety and security. Reflect on that for a minute. So at this point I believe I've effectively communicated my understanding of the act of love, so perhaps you might be wondering how I feel when I am struck by the unnerving power of love without the scientific portion. Per- say, you want to know the "magical" side of the emotion, the soulmate principle and what-not. Go ahead, ask me again;

What is Love?

Let me tell you my friends, it is one of the most painfully exhilarating, passionately destructive things in the world. It's the draining trek through the Himalayan mountain range- the long frigid nights, sore feet, blisters, aches and pains; But it's the view from the peak- the hawks soaring eons below, the clouds drifting over the gently rolling hills into acres of farmland, the lakes and ponds, feeling the dizzying sense of life as you face the crest of the cliff, toes peeking out over the edge of a 5,000 foot drop. It's the waves cascading over your body in the ocean- throwing your helpless figure against the unyielding sandy floor, causing painful discombobulation and excruciating burns; but its also the thrill of discovery, the excitement of something new, the sensual cooling whisper of the water against your shoulder-blades, in a spot where the scorching tongue of the sun landed for a little too long. Love, god it's such a difficult thing to explain. The moment it happens you can feel it in your chest, the building of pressure, suppressed excitement, impossible to contain just aching within you to be released but to the rest of the world you look completely normal but something inside you just has to give! You can't contain all of the emotions inside of you, pouring over you, drowning you in a tidal wave of wants, needs, desires- oh, the insatiable desires just for that one person! Nothing else has that effect, that soft brush of their skin against you will make you want to swoon, landing in their arms, your face flushed with exhilaration. the choking desire to have them close to you, to feel their soft lips parting, the quick breath before a kiss, the minty taste it has- the tug of their teeth against the sensitive skin of your unprotected throat and oh the glory of them touching you! The ache behind your rib cage, the yearning of just wanting to hear their voice again.. But wait.. I'm getting ahead of myself, let me elaborate..

Have you ever sat down next to someone, had them look at you sideways out of their eyes, feeling the ghost of a smile lurking around the corners of their mouth, not noticing until it's just one moment too late that their hand had traveled the short distance between the two of you and now rested on your knee? Have you ever felt the jolt of electricity run through you, starting at the point of contact, a literal spark lighting your system on fire- you now hide behind a curtain of hair, smiling coyly at your partner as if this were a hidden game only for the two of you to play? There's that quick catch of air in your throat, the hot rush of blood to your cheeks, every nerve ending in your body is tingling as her hand brushes up your thigh and comes to rest almost too close but simultaneously too far from what you really truly want. Just that simple movement from your knee to your inner thigh has you on fire. You're aching for a more intimate caress, and your very face reflects your thoughts as you draw in a shaky breath and bite your lower lip, eyes travelling from her hand to her face. Your eyes meet and you see something more sinister lurking in the depths of your partner's eyes, she's squeezing your thigh now, digging her finger into that one spot that drives you wild- your ability to focus has decreased, your breath comes quicker, you lean towards her, feel her lips part on your throat, trailing steamy kisses up to your ear- whispering to you, pulling you in... her hand travels up your shorts and strokes the thin silky fabric of your briefs and you know that you've lost all inhibition, you want more..

The trust, the lust, it's part of love. Try this for taste too:

She comes to pick you up, arriving at 7:15- exactly on time. Standing in your driveway adorned in grey vans, jeans, and a blue flannel shirt; She puts her keys in her pocket and walks up to your door, not once reaching for her cell phone to text "I'm here". You can't resist smiling at her old fashioned way- she hadn't once ceased to make you feel anything less than the only girl in the world. The door swings open. Excitement shoots through you as you rush to greet her at the door, to introduce her to your father and siblings, hopeful that they will like her as much as you do. Semi- formal introductions bring laughter from your family and most importantly from her, and relief cascades over you knowing that she will fit in here just fine. She places her hand against the small of your back to put you at ease and let you know that she would be there, that you could relax now and that everything would be okay.

You see, Love is expressed differently in both scenarios, but it's the same beautiful irresistible love in both, and that creates a more pristine and perfect relationship than any other- a true bond between two people- a passion, a mission, an unconscious addictive feeling. God, god bless those that fall in love.

-Allie

[brandynewgradstudent-blog]

Feelings about the whole Me Too thing

This turned into an essay.  Oops.

On the one hand, solidarity is great.  The sexual assault rates for women are terrifyingly high, and while I’m not aware of statistics on how many women have been sexually harassed, I’m going to go ahead and bet it’s near 100%. We deserve to know we’re not alone.  There is healing in unity, and we deserve to recognize each other and offer that solidarity.

On the other: This isn’t being promoted as a way to support one another.  It’s being promoted as raising awareness to convince men that this is a real and serious problem, presumably so men (particularly men in positions of power) will do something about it.

And I just don’t believe that will happen.  Frankly, we’ve done this before.  We’ve shown how common this is, via our anectodes, via surveys and studies and statistics, via whatever methods we can possibly think of.  In spite of that, men regularly tell me that catcalls are compliments.  That tells me that your average dude would rather live in a fantasy world where he’s comfortable than accept a reality where he might be challenged to change his own behavior.  And if the average man can’t be bothered, just think how much more strongly the powerful people benefiting from the status quo will resist change.

If we’re going to ask victims of sexual assault and sexual harassment to stand up and share their stories, I want it to be done in such a way that the work they’re putting in will have a decent chance at achieving its goals.  For instance, let’s talk networking among women--how can we minimize risk to people who step up and let others know who to avoid? How can we spread this information widely, so people outside a handful of individuals’ networks can access the information?  Can we share scripts for getting out of bad situations in professional environments without completely sacrificing our careers?  What can we do to recognize bad situations in other environments, how can we help each other in those cases?  What can we do to support one another through both the trauma of big attacks, and the simple wear and tear of plain old everyday harassment?  

But I don’t think ‘inspire men to change’ is a realistic goal.  I’ll believe men are capable of that when I see it.  Men, if you want to do that, learn to recognize rape culture.  When you talk to a woman, when you talk about a woman, when your friends and family members and coworkers talk to or about a woman--learn to hear those remarks in the most paranoid possible interpretation.  Could it possibly suggest treating her as a thing rather than a person?  Could it possibly be read as dismissing her attempts to say no, verbal or otherwise?  If it could...you need to step up and push back.  Yes, even if it was just a joke, even if you know they didn’t really mean it that way, even if your friends will criticize you or stop hanging out with you over your new attitude.  You’re in less danger here than we are.  

Until I see all of you doing this, all the time, I’m sticking to “yes all men”--because all of you, even those of you who would never consider assaulting or harassing a woman, benefit from the consideration and deference we give you out of fear of the men who will do those things.  

In case you’re not convinced, here’s my latest MeToo moment:

I was walking home from class a couple weeks ago.  A guy catcalled me.  I hate that, but it’s normal around here--I ignored him and kept walking.  Six blocks later, in a relatively deserted area, he turned up right next to me and started talking to me in a way I couldn’t reasonably pretend not to hear.  He told me he’d following me, and that he’d come this way just to try and talk to me.  

He asked what my name was.  He asked if I went to the school, told me he was a student too.  He asked if I had a boyfriend.  He asked if I wanted to get lunch.  Now, these questions would be fine if we’d met at a social event on campus--but he had just followed me for six blocks.  

He scared me.  I didn’t know if he’d waited to talk to me until we were in an isolated area on purpose, or if it was just coincidence.  I didn’t know if he’d accept me turning him down, or if he’d get angry.  If he got angry, I didn’t know if he’d just yell and call me a bitch, or if he’d take it further.  I did know that he was the kind of guy who would follow me for several blocks out of his way, and that’s not a good sign.

I pasted a polite expression on my face and let him talk until I saw a couple other people nearby.  Then I told him I had a boyfriend (I don’t), declined lunch, and he wandered off without any fuss.  In hindsight, knowing how it turned out, I really don’t think he meant any harm.  I bet he thought it could be a rom-com meet-cute, “She was so pretty she caught my eye on a busy street, it took me ages to work up the courage to talk to her!” kind of thing.  He was probably just a normal guy thinking he was maybe? overstepping a bit? but probably in a cute way right? and definitely not THAT big a deal.

The thing is, though, he put me in a position where I had to seriously consider that he might hurt me.  I didn’t get to react the way I wanted to; I had to suppress myself.  I had to react in a calculated way to make myself as safe as possible--which meant putting on an interested expression while hearing him out, turning him down in a way that suggested “aw I’d love to but I’m already claimed sorry!” rather than “ew no way”, and not calling him on his bad behavior.  He got much better treatment than his behavior deserved, because in that moment, he was Schrodinger’s Rapist and I didn’t feel like I had a choice.

He also did harm, even though I doubt he intended to.  He scared me.  He cost me probably an extra hour out of my day, as I didn’t want to risk him maybe following me home and therefore went several blocks further than I needed to and stopped in a store for a while to minimize the risk.  He made me feel unsafe in my neighborhood (where I’d recently moved), as I worried about potentially running into him again, and as I worried about whether this was considered ok in my new community and whether other men (possibly with worse intentions) might also try it.  I doubt he realizes he did all this--after all, he backed off the moment I told him no!  But he did it anyways.  

Guys, can you honestly say you’ve never done anything like this?  Something you thought was innocuous, but in retrospect could have caused a woman fear or harm?  I’m betting a lot more of you are the perpetrator of someone’s MeToo than you think.  

[monsterqueers]

Reasons why I use queer exclusively now whenever I can as my orientation:

Spite

In order to be fully accurate id have to launch into a several full paragraphs long rant every single time of really tmi shit that is under the cut and thus not suitable for like 70% of the people who would be hearing it.

Right so first off I have auto distrust for humans due to trauma and in the event that sentient entities that are nonhuman(aliens and/or monsters) would be a viable relationship choice I care not for their anything other than that they are adults and capable of consent and also willing id go for it and be ok with romo and or sex and or whatever else 100%. Like teratophile would be the best choice for a orientation label but people dont accept that as a proper orientation label or just go ‘lol straightie’ despite the fact that I cant actually be straight due to my gender being as it is(Schrodinger’s clusterfuck) And people might get the wrong idea and think my love of and hcs about charas who happen to be nonhuman and under 18 are something sexual or romantic when they are Really Really Not because my fixation on the inhuman is not inherently(or even Maybe 60%) sexual At All and more a comfort/trauma thing. Thus this Whole Fuckin Zoo.

On the romo side(from now on assuming all partners are humans), while I get about 2 day max long maybe crushes(extremely attached and want to follow forever and nuzzle and take care of idk what romo looks or feels like but I dont think thats it?) on people of any and all genders ive just met or havent seen or talked to in a long long time, if they show any interest whatsover any attraction is immediately negatived and falls into the pits of hell forever partially for trauma reasons and after the 2-ish days it falls back into a slightly intense friendship feeling things. Romantic intent squicks me out when relating to me in any capacity and makes Any sexual attraction disappear as well. But romance when not relating to me at all? Fucking Love It. So over the years ive ID-ed as quiroromantic, wtfromantic, aromantic, and lithoromantic when trying to describe this in one word and because people want to know your ‘’’’real’’’ orientation because they are under the misconception that a-spec ids are modifiers then pan? omni? Also add in the fact that im never gonna try to date cis people Anymore Ever. 

Then we get into the fact that im polyamourous and in the hypothetical event I could drag myself through that clusterfuck and really date someone I absolutely cannot be in a monogamous relationship. It would be uncomfortable on many levels starting with the fact that id feel like im trapping someone in a relationship that they will never get the love they want out of it, then moving to the fact that I can and will continue to get the 2 day maybe-crushes on people and im polyam on the qpp level and will continue to find others sexually attractive and never be able to fuck the person im dating so I cannot promise monogamy in good conscience because even if I dont act on it it would be emotionally social contract violating. Also the sex side is also super polyam because being FWB and one night stands are pretty much a polyam thing.

Sexual attraction is almost 90% decided by me being a kinky jackass and -300% decided by gender. For trauma reasons Any and All interactions have to be as far removed from vanilla sex as possible if I can even maybe handle that(though most likely not bc when people irl find me attractive I tend to immediately no longer feel any attraction here too). But Im attracted to fictional charas all the fuckin time. Attraction is solely based on my list of fetishes lining up enough times on someone and Nothing Else. Like kink is 100% more important than the gender here and I am well aware that makes me a a non-respectable evil dirty queer person because I dont fit into the marketed for straights box with that and this I cant actually use that as my professed orientation. Ive IDed as lithosexual, auto/ageosexual, bisexual, pansexual, and omnisexual before and while ill still use bi or aspec when I have to choose a singular ‘non queer’ label depending on my current company but like, its not quite right.

And like saying even aromantic bisexual and polyamorous is still long as shit and requires a powerpoint and a 3 minute explanation to most people because they cant conceptualize that for some people romo and sex Do Not go hand in hand and also that people can be anything other than gay or straight on a monogamous relationship and Nothing Else.

So on top of this and that I barely(if at all) even hit the Respectable Gay criteria with bisexual only and the Straight folk are gonna be pissed off that im not conforming to the monogamous cis girl who is attracted exclusively to men and wants and does date and fuck One Man Only anyway, so I might as well just go the whole damn hog and grab that shiny label of queer that people love to spit because fuck that noise. Im not gonna be polite and im gonna choose the all option rude umbrella term thats only one syllable and needs little explanation.

[lunger42-blog]

Out of Chaos - Laing Gallery

Out of Chaos is an exhibition of works taken from the Ben Uri gallery in London. The gallery was created in 1915 to encourage Jewish artists as their work was not widely accepted by the public around that time.

The exhibition explores the themes of migration and fleeing from oppression predominantly as a Jewish artist.  It contains pieces from artists such as David Bomberg, Marc Chagall, Frank Auerbach and Behjat Omer Abdulla. It contains paintings, photographs and sculptures ranging from 1915 to modern day.

The exhibition explores a wide range of issues, many of which are still relevant in 2017. The artworks delve into topics such as identity, immigration, religion, persecution, poverty and sexuality. The curators of this exhibition have certainly tapped into a raw nerve of modern day Britain. Whether this was intentional or coincidental, it certainly adds an additional dimension to the exhibition.

Many of the earlier artworks explore the impressionism, abstract, futuristic and vorticism schools of art. This is an area of art I am finding myself more and more drawn towards. It is something I wish to explore within my practice of photography. Being able to see this work has certainly helped to increase my understanding of the genres.

I found the works by David Bomberg and Frank Auerbach particularly inspirational. The use of line and colour is intriguing to me. They produce very different works and they appeal to me for different reasons. The dynamism of Bomberg’s vorticism paintings excites me. The use of impressionist blocks of colour in Auerbach’s work is fascinating. I enjoy how he can say so much with so little.

David Bomberg - The Mud Bath 1914

Frank Auerbach - Mornington Crescent, Summer Morning II 2004

Josef Herman was a Polish Jewish painter who fled Warsaw in 1938. His emotionally charged painting Refugees shows a scared Jewish family fleeing during World War II. The buildings in the background represent an archetypal Polish village, a demonstration of what once was. The large cat devouring a rat is used as symbolism, alluding to the fate of the refugees.

This was the last piece of work I viewed at the end of the exhibition. It shook me and made me feel very emotional.

Josef Herman - Refugees 1941

The exhibition ran across two rooms. I was quite amazed at how much the Laing were able to exhibit in these two rooms without it impacting on the works on display and the quality of the exhibition.

I was disappointed that there wasn’t more seating available. The only seating provided was for the above video installation. I like to be able to sit and absorb works, to be able to take in the collection as well as individual pieces.

I found this exhibition to be rather emotional. I left feeling sad, low and angry. I felt I was in a loop of history repeating given our worrying relationship with refugees in Britain, and across the world, at this moment in time. If proof were needed that art, in all its forms, must continue to engage with challenging issues, this exhibition demonstrates it in spades.

Key points of learning

For me, there were two key points I took from this exhibition.

Firstly, there is a need for challenging artworks. The art community, including myself as a photographer, has a duty to draw the public’s attention to difficult and challenging issues. It is all too easy to be guided by sensationalist headlines in the mainstream media. However, the real stories of the people involved are usually lost. The hardship faced by many who flee persecution is often replaced with stories of benefit scroungers or stealing our jobs. The media would rather dangle this ‘Schrodinger's Immigrant’ line of attack it would seem. The work shown in this exhibition hits you with the real emotions of those caught in this trap of fear and despair. With some imagery, there is a dark humour that simultaneously raises a smile and a frown. It creates discomfort. It would be interesting to try and recreate this using photography.

Secondly, I understand more and more that it will benefit me as a photographer to engage with more forms of art. I have a tendency to stick with researching other photographers work. I realise that this is actually quite restrictive. Whilst the emotional aspect of this work, and how I connect to it is very clear, I feel it is how I can use line and colour in a different way that has been equally beneficial to me. It has shown me that there are other ways to explore photography. Also, that experimentation is certainly valuable for my progression.

Quality of my learning

I have taken so much from this exhibition. It has been an excellent learning environment. 

Being exposed to such a multitude or work of varying styles and methods of display has opened my eyes to new streams of research and different methods of working. It has inspired me to spend some time experimenting with what I can do with the camera, along with trying out different ideas in post-production.

I will research into photographers who have an abstract or impressionist approach to their photography. I would like to see what methods they use and how they approach their subjects. 

A key point for me was being able to see the works ‘in the flesh’. Understanding the scale of the work was important. You do not get a sense of that in a book or online. Web sites or books may state the original size of the canvas or photograph, but this does not help to replicate actually seeing the image in a gallery space. It also allows you to see the textures and materials used. Again this is often lost in translation to a two-dimensional media. 

The curators have assembled a wide-ranging and effective body of work for the exhibition. This is something that adds to the experience and has expanded my learning. The expertise and knowledge of the curators is something I simply won’t get from web searches and trawling through a library. It creates a condensed hit of knowledge and learning from experts in a specific field.

[woodlandnationalanthem-blog]

h8 being a victim of sexual abuse esp. within the first few sexual explorations..... i dont care to count how many times ive been raped but technically ik its a lot. doesn’t feel like it tho but ik it is given the trauma tturned me into a RAPIST!!! 

and the worst part now is that my ex is making posts abt me again all bc i made that stupid dumb post abt seeing her sweatshirt on my sister and not wanting to return it....... and then her friend reached out to me and was like “some people can’t afford to buy new clothes u entitled scum of the earth!!!” (when i never thought of clothes as such like... in my head u can always pick up something from the thrift store for real cheap but w/e)

like i should just die right.... i should tbh..... the most noble thing to do would be to disappear into the woods and maybe/maybe not kill meself like become a schrodinger’s connie converse situation. i should definitely remove myself from society though it’s really the right thing to do.... that’s why i’m going to france the dirty fucking french people can have and keep me there 

it’s weird that she (mine ex) still thinks about me bc like.she wants me dead she wants me dead she wants me dead and i kno she’s right but it’s been so long and i haven’t thought about her but i’m scum and an asshole and a horrible person and in my head she’s reading this GET OUT!!!!!!!!! im horrible im horrible im horrible