
Tag: haven being haven

just sitting, very quiet and contemplative, with my coffee
it’s an isolated feeling, things getting a little better but not quite there yet. the end of a depressive spiral; i hope; while the things that created it linger.
i’m going to sit with my discomfort, instead of pushing it away again. try to examine it, up close and real, and then let go if i can.
for now, thank gods for warm mocha coffee with alcohol in, and soft fluffy friends.
Dreaming 8/27/18
I woke in a clearing that may or may not have been The Clearing.
Every tree was choked in vines and I could hear the shrieking of what might have been only monkeys but might have been something Else entirely. The whole of my vision made it look as though the entire world only existed in shades of brown, green, and grey. I could not see the sky, no matter how I tried to look upwards through the branches, or out to the edges of the jungle. There was nothing but the trees, long and tangled undergrowth and everywhere the same vines choking the life out of it all.
I had left an earlier Dream of the Estate to get here. A pleasant atmosphere and better company for the most part. I had not left of my own volition, I had been compelled. The three men I left behind, and the pews full of people would just have to understand. I certainly felt no shame in their company, nor had I when the pews began to fill as we took our sweet time before or on the altar. Blasphemy is its own sweetness, and I take mine where I can find it some days.
It felt oddly familiar, in the same way that most Dreaming feels familiar. Like I should know where I am, or that it will come to me if I just wait for long enough. I was climbing through trees that were tangled and covered in the vines. Every so often, I found a desiccated animal corpse in the trees, wrapped and choked in vines as if they’d been used as a water source. I’m amazed now, looking back on it in the Waking, that I did not react with more disgust or recoil in horror.
People were talking around me in a language I did not understand but understood all the same. They wanted me to go to the Top; the Tree? the Mountain? I don’t remember or perhaps I never really knew; and talk to Mother.
I did not want to go. I knew even then what people would say of me if I followed where they led. If I did as I knew I was going to be forced to. If I met who I would be forced to meet. I wanted to leave. I found I could not. No method open to me worked despite my struggle.
These people, in skins and leather and weaving, their bodies covered in mud and paint, their hair knotted and plaited ornately and ALSO coated in the same mud or paint were the very opposite of me. No matter what Aspect I wear, or what Witness I am called upon to wrap around me like a cloak, but that is not what made me recoil. It was the known response I would receive should I speak of what happened. I am still being compelled to write about it. To share. I want to leave, but I am Awake now and I cannot.
The next thing I knew, I was halfway up the Tree. Following these People higher and higher; scrambling over root and rock alike. Trying to ignore what is held in branch and vine.
When we reached the top, there was a small knot of people who had made it. Others we’d lost or left behind or they’d given up. Maybe it was the difficulty of the climb, maybe it was the horror of seeing something drained of life before your eyes. I don’t and probably never will know for sure.
We came to a ledge, wrapped in roots, branches covered in lichen and dripping moss like grey-green curtains. We found a pool, set in the face of the green-grey cliff face. The rim came just above my navel and the inside was coated in what looked like yellow ochre. A seeping, poisonous, sulfuric yellow.
In it, a wizened old woman sat, crouched, like a frog. Her wrinkled skin was as brown as the earth beneath my feet, her hair was tangled with more of the vines and leaves, thin and grey and matted down her back and shoulders. When she lifted her head, I could see the vines growing beneath her skin.
In spite of how clear the water was; crystalline and cold; I couldn’t see the bottom. I don’t know whether it was algae, silt, leaves or some other reason; but I could not see the Woman below the shoulders. She looked as though she were absorbing the water, and being absorbed at the same time. Taking from and giving to the Tree and the vines that strangled and grasped at it.
Immediately upon taking this in I was uncomfortable and on edge. I knew what would be required of me without being told, and I had half a mind to refuse. To back away and hurl myself into the void beyond the trees and the cliff face. To find some Beyond to entrust my long fall and eventual death. I knew it would be useless. The trees would never end, and the cliff face was a lie or a supposition- I had not seen the sky since the Dream began.
Instead, the same compulsion began anew and I was driven forward, and the People surrounding me drew back.
When She spoke it was as rough as bark and as thunderous as the mountain’s tectonic energy that had given it birth. As silent and imperious as a deep forest pool. Inexorable. Commanding.
There was no way for me to resist as my arms were, untouched, plunged into the water to the elbows. I wanted to scream. There was only silence.
Immediately there was a pulling sensation, as though blood was being drawn from my veins. The water and the Woman remained the same, no light no red no new change in feeling or expression. I wanted to fight, to pull away, but I couldn’t move! The draw was stronger than iron chains and bound me fast. I could do nothing but struggle mentally and try again and again to scream.
When she released me, I could breathe again. I hadn’t realized I had stopped. She poured more water over my hands, and I saw that hers had the same vines and leaves growing beneath the skin. Her nails were black, and the water was numbingly cold.
She spoke or I heard or I was made to understand that now I was in the water and the water was in me. Chosen, and no way back. Caught, like a rat in a trap no matter what I thought or felt or wanted for myself. Helpless, and both terrified and enraged by it.
Someone younger and narrower of body than I was brought forth. Struggling, water was poured over their hands as well. I neither heard nor understood what was said, if anything. I wonder now, in the Waking, whether the water pulling out and rushing in was to make me acceptable, or wash something else away so I could receive the same, dubious, blessing.
I wonder if that was why I was made to go first.
I have the impression fires and darkness, keeping the prowling things at bay. I know She will eventually be consumed, though she is Older than Old. I don’t want to know. I want to leave. I cannot. I don’t.
I wake to the Dreaming again at the base of the mountain-tree. My hands do not work, and I am uncomfortable beyond measure. It burns in my veins and I want to rip the skin from my hands. It will not leave me, and I cannot leave it. I want more than anything to leave the Dream. I cannot. I don’t.
The earth felt like it was vibrating beneath me, and I couldn’t see; like I was no longer wearing my glasses. I felt crazed. Like I was searching for something. Supposed to do something. Seek something out before it was too late. Something required that I’d forgotten.
I woke from the Dreaming uncomfortable, disoriented, nauseous, and knowing i don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to deal with whatever aftermath it drags in its wake. I still feel compelled to write out the details and to post it.
I hope this is enough.
(Further) thoughts on vacation
I’m home now, and basking in the dubious affection of two demon-hellspawn cats and reminiscing about my trip to Minnesota… in order, more or less:
- Hotels have thin walls. We’re lucky we were placed near to the pool, and that there were very few people on our side of the hotel. It was a glorious reunion, and I’d forgotten how good Bucca’s calimari can be. Yes, even if they are tiny baby squid.
- The Mall of America is even bigger; and smaller; than I remember it being as a child. I still ate the mini corndogs with relish and enjoyed every minute of spoiling my sweet boy.
- Kilts are Awesome…. maaaaaaaybe just not in Texas Heat. Unless it’s canvas/denim.
- I cannot get a leather top hat back to Texas safely…. and definitely not for $225. No. No matter HOW awesome they look.
- Hamburgers are great, but so are loaded fries. Choose appropriately.
- I still have a thing for sun dresses because they are cool when everything else is hot.
- Pursuant to that, a dress is a tunic is a robe… just wear it. It’s comfy.
- Flogging him was even more fun than imagined. Even better that I got whimpers and twitches instead of screams…. thin hotel walls~ Imagine!
- The Midwest has some of the best god damned scenery… holy FUCK does it have some of the best god damned scenery. HELLOOOOOO Minnesota!
- Smaller toy companies are amazing. I wanted to buy the entire store, I left with lunch and a burning desire for a certain steel cuff. (It’s stamped with ‘my’ constellation. C’mon!)
- Heat Exhaustion is a dangerous thing… ask for what you need, or risk cutting the happy vacation time pathetically short. (Ry got an AC unit before I went up, and we camped out in the living room a total of three nights out of 17, three were spent in hotels)
- His cat loves me! This is amazing… ow, ow ow…. tongue like sandpaper and rocks… ow… THIS IS STILL AWESOME… ow~ aww, she’s so… cute~
- Snacks and rain is a hell of a combination. Especially when it comes after an uncomfortabel night. The next two weeks were almost all fair weather with rain and a breeze, except for a few afternoons we got heat advisories. SO NICE~
- Coffee is good. Coffee with donuts is even better.
- Yoga on a super cushy half-inch mat in front of a bay window while it rains, the windows are open to the breeze, and your favorite playlist is playing is divine.
- His cat is truly beautiful…. damn it I wish she’d sit in my lap.
- I can make truly good food with only a few ingredients if I’m not burning to death slowly~ (‘fried’ chicken with stirfry veggies and rice noodles~)
- Even laundry day can be fun and goofy. I like partners who can make the boring pretty awesome!
- A&W is better than a remember. Holy shit is it better than I remember!
- HOLY FUCKBALLS MINNESOTA IS BEAUTIFUL~
- Holy shit MINNESOTA HAS BEAUTIFUL HOUSES~ WHY are they all subdivided into apartments…? Tragedy.
- Sunsets off the levee are gorgeous af.
- Small town comic shops are GREAT. So are trade paperbacks of my absolute favorite discontinued story… thank you, elskede~
- Wisconsin has good vineyards, who the fuck knew??? more importantly. Who the fuck KNEW AND DID NOT TELL ME??? Frantic text: Sir can I please drink? Apple Wine. Seriously. Look up Seven Hawks and their Apple, and their Chocolate and Cherries wines. Istg. fucking HELL its tasty~
- Bonfires and celestial gazing are awesome. Bug bites are not. Next time, bring bug spray you dingus.
- Minnesota and Wisconsin have incredible ice cream. I’m going to miss the ice cream.
- Cats will generally prefer the box to the thing that came in the box. Even if it’s their first ever cat tree. Don’t be offended…. play with them in the box.
- Kisses taste better through the giggles.
- Cats are assholes. Yes, even the pretty ones. Ok…. especially the pretty ones.
- Good gods he’s pretty when he sleeps…. I wanna take a picture. Ok, a dozen. Ok… I’ll show him when he wakes up and see if he’s ok with it and delete them if he hates it. Aw, he’s ok with it. Awwww he let me keep them. Yay. …. god he’s pretty when he sleeps.
- Fish tacos. OMG fucking home made fish tacos wtf wtf how did I not make these sooner???
- Holy SHITBALLS Minnesota has some great looking houses…. can I move here?
- God the scenery…. I’m gonna miss this scenery.
- Wandering around small towns is GREAT~ Hello old fashioned soda fountain. Hello tiny greek bar for no apparent reason. Hello Arak! Hello Mon Pastis! Hello Ouzo~ HELLO cajun eatery! HELLO MOTHER FUCKING ALLIGATOR TAIL!!! WOO!! (we had Two Shots. Between us.)
- Hello Antique Mall! Oooohhh fuck I’m really really gay aren’t I? OHHH Vintage Gloves! …. Damn it yeah I’m gay. As FUCK. But c’mon, they have pearl buttons.
- Damn it not this shit again. BABE we’re gonna go camp out in the living room. Oohhh…. you know what, we COULD bring the mattress from the bed. Why haven’t we been doing this all week? Fuck the pullout couch babe, BRING ON THE MATTRESS!!!
- This cat screams for food every morning at six. … why am I gonna miss this so much? Oh. Right. Because she’s soft and she’s pretty and she has a red nose. Duh.
- …ok what is it with Minnesota and victorian houses???
- Fucking hell. I already miss this scenery. Damn.
- Hello little tea house where I NEED to stop for lunch! Babe, babe c’mon, fuck culver’s lets do uhhh…. the Violet Twig? Yeah, I know I’m a fag. Guess what? it’s CUTE. Also damn, High Tea for Two for only 30?? Why can’t SA have shit like this!!
- Ooohhh, a waterfall and park you say? Let’s go! We don’t have to check in at the hotel for what, another three hours? Let’s DO THIS!
- ow ow ow bug bites, ow… yes but fuck it’s PRETTY! Shade, trails, the small rapids… so cool! God I miss nature…. damn it I need to go hiking more. Just… maybe not in a Texas Summer, yeah?
- Damn it why is he so pretty in this light? Fuck I’m gonna miss this…
- WHY DOES MINNESOTA HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH VICTORIAN HOUSES??
- Ok, the question here is why do I have an obsession with victorian houses. Admit you have a problem. that’s the first step, right?
- This room smells like peppermint. Why does our hotel room smell like peppermint?
- Pools are fun. So are hot tubs. So are both when it’s only the two of you, because you’re swimming at 3:30 in the afternoon. Also holy FUCK they have good acoustics in here~
- I stg if you sing the rest of Stars I will …. idk. I’ll splash you. yeah that.
- Damn it why does this have to end…? How the hell did TWO WEEKS go that quick??
- Hotel sheets feel divine when you’ve been sweating your butt off the past two days. Also damn it why does this have to end??
- Even the sky is crying. Well that’s appropriate af. Also where was this rain two days ago??
- I hate flying. I hate airports. Gods damn it all I don’t wanna go. Six months, yeah? Just six this time? I think I can make that work. Gods please let me make that work.
- HOW IS DFW worse than O’HARE??? What is a light rail? How does this work? wtf how does this work. Are they changing my gate AGAIN?? Oh god food need food…. ok, had food, oh god please don’t change my gate again-
- Damn it DFW doesn’t even have a good airport bar.
- Oh hello text from Sir…. well yeah of course I can change into the black sundress and long socks…. uhm, no underwear? Oh gods… well. Uhm. y’know what? Yours to command~ If You want it, You got it!
- Damn it this plane doesn’t serve a full drinks menu because it’s too short. Good on them, bad for me… Drown my sorrow in a short bottle of dasani. Sure that works. I probably shouldn’t be drunk in this outfit…
- HOME HOME HOME HOME…. oh god it’s hot, of course it is it’s TEXAS…. hot~ oh no, WIND!! grabs at skirts
- Damn, car trouble… WHERE IS THE NEAREST BAR? AC, Alcohol, and Appetizers~
- Drinks drinks drinks drinks~ Water? Drinks~ Oh hello slutty bathroom pics for Sir, where have you been the past coupla weeks?
- Baby I made it, and there’s some car trouble, but I’m with Sir and we’re drinking before dinner, I love you!!
- Tow truck toe truck tow truck toe truck~ (I’m a happy drunk when I am allowed to drink~)
- Damn it that comic got smushed in transit…. at least it wasn’t the Paperback~
- mmmmm takeout asian food~ yay! God I love lemon chicken…. fucking hell I love Lemon Chicken~ It’s nice to be back. Damn it I miss my boy.
- Can we please just all move to the same city soon, PLEASE? ❤
Thoughts on Vacation
I’ve been in Minnesota ever since the 15th. I won’t be coming back to Texas until the 1st. In the midst of all the travel, the anxiety over little things like meeting my love’s family and friends, and fitting myself into his world, there is love and tenderness and beauty. A sweet, warming balance to be found in the tangle of multiplicity.
I’ve made it my mission this trip to spoil my sweet elskede as far as my Sir-given budget allows. To improve where I can, and create good memories where I cannot. To make quality time, and to just SPEND time. To replace the worn out, to offer the never-had, and make a gift of my presence. In return, he’s been spoiling me as well. Allowing me in, opening his space and his life to me, inviting me deeper into his world. It’s been an awakening of sorts, and a homecoming as well. Where love is, I am Home.
Today, though, after two days riot and ramble in Minneapolis and a week of workdays and one sweet weekend… my beloved boyfriend is having a rough day at work. He can’t come home early of course, and I can’t really go to him either. So all I can do is prepare the way with dinner and a clean space, and wait to soothe and appreciate him when he comes home, because this is where I am present right now.
Meanwhile, back in Texas, Sir is having a good day. We teased and flirted as we do, my beautiful, ever-loving Sadist, and He asked me to be ready to prepare something for a Cultural Potluck at His work when I return home again. I made some suggestions, He made His pick of them, and so we are decided. But, at this distance and for another week away… I want to do something special for Him as well. And so He responded with love and pride when I told Him I wanted to spoil Him with something new He’s been wanting. Received my offer with joy and pleasure, and still. And still, He told me to go ahead and spoil my boy first instead of waiting for Him to choose.
Sweetness and happiness in my presence, anticipation and joy to come in my absence.
For all its complications and the snarl of its existence, my life has expanded, not contracted. I am so, so terribly blessed to have these men in my life. To be offered such precious delight in my presence after so many months apart, and delight and pleasure in my service…. even at a distance.
For all I sometimes feel as though I am caught between two sides of a dual nature, today I find myself in harmony and balance, and it is beautiful.
Blessed, and Twice-Blessed, and healing from the wounds of my past. Time, care, compassion, dedication, and service make it so.
Where there is Love, there I am Home.
Blessed Solstice, my friends.
Hey newbs! Welcome to whatever fucking cluster fuck the fuck this is…..
I don’t know, the last 100+ followers don’t know, and my fandoms are weird and varied. Basic run down:
I’m the Greywalker; a Dreamworker and Pagan; personal pantheon + The Morrigan. Specifically Morrigan, Badb, and potentially another. Also maybe Cailleach.
Polyamorous; my Sir is @almightyalmighty, my boyfriend is @gladiatoroftheorists; both are incredible for different reasons. I submit to my Sir, and I play Butch to Ry, when we’re not engaged in weird switch-y non-D/s shenanigans.
I’m a gender-weird Trans Male; transmasculine drag queen. deal with it. die mad about it. No, that doesn’t make me a bioqueen, yes, I’ve got some issues w/ bio queens. {Go ahead and ask if you want a rant, but keep in mind my personal opinions have no bearing on the actions of others. do you, have fun. over there.}
I’m In Transition, no longer Pre-Everything. I’m in recovery for a hysterectomy after a really terrifying cancer scare. Thankfully, it was all high-level pre-cancerous cells, which means post-hysto, my spread risk is basically zero unless I contract HPV. Pap smears for life, basically, barring a few circumstances.
I’m a non-vegan; iron processing doesn’t work the same, eggs make me nauseous, lactose intolerant, B12 supplements make me sick. Deal.
I’m a Pseudo-Leatherboy. Boot black, leather worker, boot licker. Earned my harness just before Pride last summer; 2017. Leather History Is Gay History. Gay History Is Leather History. If you can’t acknowledge where roots are tangled, you probably shouldn’t be here.
I’m kinky af. I don’t post porn here generally speaking, but I DO write about scenes. I’m NOT and NEVER WILL BE SSC. Risk Aware Consensual Kink, or Personally Responsible Informed Consensual Kink ONLY. That means what I do isn’t particularly safe, it’s not particularly sane, but I and my Partner[s] have done independent research and come to our own conclusions about our acceptable circle of risk. I play with my PTSD, I engage with my demons, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. It’s not for everyone, and def not for people who’ve only read a few online journals. Do your research, BE INFORMED, or get out of the pool. This is risky shit. Retraumatization is A Thing, and so is requiring therapy for life if something gets fucked up. I’m personally ok with that, most people aren’t. That’s where PRICK meets BORK: Balls Out Risky Kink. I get off on that, but I’m also probably not particularly sane when it comes to the dungeon. Deal.
I’ve got a lot of religious, relationship, and and interpersonal baggage. I do my best not to use that as an excuse; and to keep my explanations of behavior just that. Sometimes that doesn’t work. Sometimes shit gets messy, and emotions aren’t fucking logical. I own my shit as my own shit, and I suggest you do the same if we’re gonna share a playground.
Common Tags Include: Greywalker, Dreaming, Adult Relationships Are For Adults, Use Your Words, Gay History Is Leather History, Leather History Is Gay History, Haven Being Haven, *LOUD MIDWESTERN LAUGHTER* and various and sundry others I can’t be arsed to write out. You’ll figure it out eventually.
The ask box is open, so is messenger. Please be a decent human being and don’t ping me after 12a Central… don’t need my phone going off while I’m trying to sleep and recover from missing organs somewhere in my abdomen, friends. Thanks.
I post in #post op adventures, and I’m back in the gym working on my post-op weight. I’m also really really against ED blogs interacting with me, because I’ve Been There Done That and avoiding relapse is hard af when you’re actively trying to lose weight~ Disordered thinking is a bitch and a half, but I’m working on changing my general attitude from bitterness and rage to celebrating all the ways my life is EPIC~
Why concentrate on how my life prior to 2015/2016 was shit, when everything SINCE THEN has been fucking incredible?? I’ve got real friends who support me, two partners who adore me, and a super comfy lifestyle that, while in no way perfect, is MILES from where I started out in 2010/2011.
you want to know what recovery sounds like….?
It’s wanting a bath because it’s your favorite form of self care… and knowing that since you were spotting the prior evening, you might have torn something healing internally because surgery was only three months ago and it takes much longer to heal completely from a hysterectomy. It’s wondering if epsom salt really does suck out water weight; you know it doesn’t; and if cold water really does burn fat; not appreciably and it might actually make you GAIN weight because your body is trying to warm itself back up….. it’s wanting to go on yet another bike ride because you feel like maybe you shouldn’t be eating so much; less than 900cal for the day; and maybe you should try to burn off more of what you already ate. Even though you went over seven miles on the bike in the gym, and burned just barely less than you would out on the hills.
It’s wishing you hadn’t eaten a protein bar after the gym, even though you know protein helps repair muscle and you won’t build more if you don’t repair what’s already present. It’s wanting to go do more crunches, hidden in the bedroom, even though you’re sore internally and you already bled the evening before doing that, because your stomach isn’t flat yet and you KNOW you have more weight to lose….
It’s disordered thinking, all the time, in the background, because that’s what an ED IS. Body dysmorphia and unhealthy thoughts that crowd in until you’re forced to listen. That’s what I’m dealing with, every fucking day, and have been since fucking 2008 when I was 18. You want to know why I don’t want ED blogs anywhere near me? Because those voices don’t need any fucking help. I don’t need to see your bony avatars, your “skin and bones” references, your Winter Girls romanticization of a disease that kills and causes permanent physical harm. I don’t need to see the encouragement and “tips” aimed at minors who shouldn’t be losing weight, but gaining in preparation for puberty and their next growth spurt.
I shouldn’t have to see that shit, just because some self-entitled asshole thinks anything “low cal” belongs to the ED “community.” I shouldn’t have to scream obscenity to be left alone, after asking nicely for WEEKS and changing my blog description. I shouldn’t have to draw the distinction between healthy weight loss post-op, and an eating disorder just because I posted my goal weights to help motivate myself every time I log in, so I can track my progress. This shit is pervasive, and it’s everywhere because yeah, it’s in my HEAD. That’s how mental disorders WORK, children.
I’m not a brat for wanting my fucking space, and stating that clearly. And I know what the fuck I’m talking about, and there’s a REASON I’m scared of therapists and psychiatrists, and there’s a REASON I don’t talk about this shit. Because it’s all too easy for someone else to be triggered by it, and all too fucking easy for someone to get the wrong idea. Just because I don’t POST about it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist for me. So you can get the fuck off my blog, and get fucking bent, because I am DONE playing nice.
Fandom as a whole is not “minor-friendly”
Nor should it be.
If you want to live in a “Children of the Corn”-style bubble of innocence and purity, well, to me, that’s a startling approach to adolescence, but every generation’s got to find its own way to reject the one before, so: do as you will. But you can’t bring the bubble to the party, kids. Fandom, established media-style fandom, was by and for adults before some of your parents were born now. You don’t get to show up and demand that everyone suddenly change their ways because you’re a minor and you want to enjoy the benefits of adult creative activity without the bits that make you uncomfortable. If you think you’re old enough to be roaming the Internet unsupervised, then you also think you’re old enough to be working out your limits by experience, like everybody else, like I did when I was underage and lying about it online. If you’re not old enough to be roaming the Internet unsupervised and you’re doing it anyway, then that’s on your parents, not on fandom.
If you were only reading fic rated G on AO3, if you had the various safe modes on other media enabled, you would be encountering very little disturbing material, anyway (at least in the crude way people tend to define “disturbing” these days; some of the most frankly horrifying art I have ever engaged with would have been rated PG at most under present systems, but none of that kind of work ever seems to draw your protests). In the end, what you really want is to be able to seek out the edges of your little world, but be able to blame other people when you don’t like what you find. Sorry. Adolescence is when you get to stop expecting others to pad your world for you and start experiencing the actual consequences of the risks you take, including feeling appalled and revolted at what other people think and feel.
Now, ironically, fandom’s actually a fairly good place for such risk-taking, as, for the most part, you control whether you engage and you can choose the level of your engagement. You can leave a site, blacklist something, stop reading an author, walk away from your computer. Are there actual people (as opposed to works of art, which cannot engage with you unless you engage with them) who will take advantage of you in fandom? Of course there are. Unfortunately, such people are everywhere. They will be there however “innocent” and “wholesome” the environment appears to be, superficially. That’s evil for you. There are abusers in elementary school. There are abusers in scout troops. There are abusers in houses of worship. Shutting down adult creative activity because you happen to be in the vicinity isn’t going to change any of that. It may help you avoid some of those icky feelings that you get when you think about sex (and you live in a rape culture, those feelings are actually understandable, even if your coping techniques are terrible), but no one, except maybe your parents, has a moral imperative to help you avoid those.
In the end, you’re not my kid and you’re not my intended audience. I’m under no obligation to imagine only healthy, wholesome relationships between people for your benefit. Until you’re old enough to understand that the world is not exclusively made up of people whose responsibility it is to protect you from your own decisions, yes, you’re too young for established media fandom. Fandom shouldn’t be “friendly” to you.
So this whole minors-in-fandom seems to be the big hot button topic right now, and this post pretty much sums up everything I have to say about the issue. But after reading this post, I had an epiphany while cooking dinner. While I usually don’t jump into The Discourse myself, I needed to share my discovery. So a few years ago I read this excellent article “The Overprotected Kid” – if you haven’t read it, go do it. Now. Seriously. It’s ostensibly about “millennials” but it’s talking mostly about kids that were 5-15 at the time the article was written, i.e. kids who are 8-18ish now. So, basically, this entire white-knight age group of kid crusaders.
Basically, all of this boils down to a generational divide on how we were raised. Like, I could have told you that, but. Really. Basically every line in this article is solid gold, and completely explains the phenomenon we’re embroiled in right now. The article specifically talks about how playing in “dangerous” playgrounds helps children mature and learn how to safely take risks. Well, fandom has long been called a sandbox for a reason, and the parallels are so close it’s bizarre.
Like, navigating your way through fandom spaces that have explicit content or disturbing themes?
“The idea was that kids should face what to them seem like “really dangerous risks” and then conquer them alone. That, she said, is what builds self-confidence and courage.”
Or
“At the core of the safety obsession is a view of children that is the exact opposite of Lady Allen’s, “an idea that children are too fragile or unintelligent to assess the risk of any given situation,” argues Tim Gill, the author of No Fear, a critique of our risk-averse society. “Now our working assumption is that children cannot be trusted to find their way around tricky physical or social and emotional situations.”
Or
Even today, growing up is a process of managing fears and learning to arrive at sound decisions. By engaging in risky play, children are effectively subjecting themselves to a form of exposure therapy, in which they force themselves to do the thing they’re afraid of in order to overcome their fear. But if they never go through that process, the fear can turn into a phobia.
Basically, the problem is this: the 14 and 15 and 16 year-olds on this sight have been, largely, helicopter-parented for every moment of every day of their lives. Many of them have never had to take care of themselves, or navigate difficult emotional situations without parental guidance. When I was a kid, the internet was the wild west, and parents universally told us that everyone on the internet was a pedophile who wanted to kill you, so you had to keep yourself safe. Now, kids always expect there to be a parent there to take care of their emotional needs, and when they go onto online spaces, the just assume that the nearest adult will fill in that role for them, whether that adult is interested or not.
Now, kids are out here saying shit like “i dont know how you dont know that as an adult its your responsibility to maintain a safe environment for children, just as much as it is their parents. for ex not swearing around kids or letting teenagers drink alcohol like every adult knows that.. “
I am not your mother. It’s not my responsibility to ensure that there isn’t underaged drinking. If I walk past a couple of teenagers drinking beers on the street, do you know what I’m going to do about it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, because I don’t care and I’m not their mother, and I’m not your mother either. I’ll watch my mouth if I notice that there’s a kid near me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t swear in public, even if there could be kids around me that I haven’t noticed.
This expectation, that every adult is there to monitor you and watch out for you, and if they aren’t willing to do that then they’re a bad person?
“in all my years as a parent, I’ve mostly met children who take it for granted that they are always being watched.”
Or how about this chilling factoid?
“When my daughter was about 10, my husband suddenly realized that in her whole life, she had probably not spent more than 10 minutes unsupervised by an adult. Not 10 minutes in 10 years.”
These are the kids on here shouting “I need an adult!” and then getting offended when no adult rushes in to take care. It’s baffling to me, honestly, but. I didn’t grow up this way. My parents taught me how to make good decisions, take care of myself, and navigate difficult situations, both in the “real” world AND online. I… don’t really know what to say to kids whose parents didn’t.
I’m not your mom. If I want kids, I’ll have my own. And I won’t raise them the way your parents raised you.
Adolescence is when you get to stop expecting others to pad your world for you and start experiencing the actual consequences of the risks you take, including feeling appalled and revolted at what other people think and feel.
I’m not your mom. If I want kids, I’ll have my own. And I won’t raise them the way your parents raised you.
We paid good god damn money to make sure I cannot reproduce; the health risk was just a side factor; I am not now nor will I ever be your parental figure. Adults do not owe you a safe place to explore whatever it is you’re dealing with. It’s nice to have, and there are people willing to do that…. but it is not and SHOULD NOT be an acceptable expectation of EVERY ADULT YOU ENCOUNTER.
You are not our responsibility. Your experiences in adult spaces are not our responsibility. By entering an adult space, you are broadcasting to the world that you think you’re capable of handling it. You show up in a club underage, you are putting other people at risk and not just yourself, and the people who “molest” you are doing so under the impression that YOU ARE AN ADULT. It’s the same in fandom.
If you hit the M tag on AO3, WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU FIND. We didn’t make you click it, we didn’t make you read it, and we sure as fuck aren’t holding a gun to your head demanding you read about bad relationships, abusive situations, or other things that squick you. Get mad at people who don’t tag appropriately all you like, but keep in mind… these are adult spaces and have been since before you, or in many cases, your parents, were even a concept.
We don’t and won’t sanitize it for you, and we certainly won’t be pushed out of spaces WE BUILT FOR OURSELVES just because you feel entitled to it. Come back when you grow up.
Instructions for a walk in the woods
- Never turn around to check behind you. You’ll see nothing, but once you start doing it you won’t be able to stop, and an ominous feeling will follow you until you don’t lock your house’s door behind you.
- If you stand very still and listen you will hear the woods calling for you. Don’t answer. Never answer.
- You’ll hear things quietly following you, hidden in the trees by your sides. It’s okay, they’re just checking on you.
- Don’t be scared, but be really, really wary.
- If you have a bad feeling about taking a certain path, don’t. You’ll avoid whatever is waiting for you at the end of it.
- You never know what may be buried under the soil you’re walking on. Remember that every time you take a step. Pray that whatever it is, it won’t wake up.
- Be careful not to step on any beetle, or you’ll never get rid of them.
- If you bring a knife with you, name it. Otherwise the blade will turn against you as soon as you try to use it.
- Make sure you remember the way back home. As soon as you get lost, you’re just another piece of fresh meat.
I expected this to be wholesome and now I’m vv scared
A little creepy
This is what being stalked by a cougar is like when you’re in the woods.