#lol liberalism confirmed mental illness

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

[vaspider]

Hey I saw on a reblog you made on a post, you said you had two wives! Bro I almost cried, I'm 20 (almost 21) and I've just flunked out of school, I'm getting my first full time job and I'm getting an apartment with my boyfriend and my other boyfriend had to stay home with his overbearing father. But he was going to join us in the apartment.

I didn't look at much else about your blog, so I don't know much else. My boyfriends aren't dating each other, but idk how I got so lucky for them to be instant best friends. I'm on the cusp of telling my parents, I don't think it'll be a huge deal, a sigh of overwhelming concern for my sake from my mother, and just plain confusion but "I'll accept and support you because that's what a good liberal father like myself is supposed to do" on my dad's end.

I was just excited to see other polyam people who might have a similar set up as me. Funny enough, the only issue between the three of us is that when it comes to eventually getting married, they both want to be my legal spouse. I live in the United States, so that's simply not possible. One of my boyfriends is a gay transman, and the other a straight cisman. I'm collecting every bi label possible (bisexual, biromantic, bigender, bicyclist) but I mostly identify as a woman and it's a strong part of my personhood. I look like a girl, I act like a girl, I was born a girl, etc. I've only been with both of them a handful of months now. They both really want to raise children and do a good job doing it, they both wanna live in the same part of the state I grew up in, I met them both on their way to well-paying job fields and they're both determined to take care of me like their Italian father's taught them a man should do. I came from a mother of a strong women lineage with a father who resented every ounce of his Italian upbringing. All three of us have mental health concerns and issues, trans gay bf has a list of mental illnesses and practically confirmed nurodivergencies. I'm very likely ADHD. The straight bf is a thick boned adrenaline junkie who doesn't understand what pain is (aka a masochist. the other doesn't understand what cold is 🙄😖. So maybe it's a good thing they both chose a little know-it-all who constantly nags them to make sure they're taking care of themselves, and somehow they don't really mind it.) is probably ADHD too, and struggles with depression.

My apologies for the absolute vent. Respond or don't respond however you will. Ig this is my first time interacting with a polyam person who might have a vaguely similar situation. I suppose I was just looking to connect with others. Thank you for your time to even read all for this lol.

Kynthia (idk let's just go with that online name lol)

Well, we are a triad - an equilateral triangle - and not a V, but I'm glad us existing made you happy. :)

[latulasbian-1]

what are your thoughts on kankri? personally i never understood the appeal and im interested to hear your take since he Was on the b tier of your list

OK! Sorry for lateness but I only noticed your question at like 2:00 AM and needed a full tank of brain-gas to be able to convey my thoughts even semi-coherently. 

So Kankri’s a weird one, probably one of the most convoluted and self-contradictory characters in Homestuck. Its fitting given he’s pretty much a one note joke and hussie’s one-note joke characters actually wind up being either his most oddly complex (see: equius and feferi for instance) or most sympathetic (see: Nepeta). Kankri’s a bit of both imo, though I wouldn’t call him a favorite for me. 

Kankri’s characterization is built almost entirely on one fuckin’ note: “LOL AIN’T TUMBLR SJWs FUNNY AND ANNOYING!?!?!?”. If you disagree with this then I don’t even know what to tell you, bc everything from his style of long-winded monologues (that wind up running up on Hussie Ableism Moments bc in-narrative his infodumping is supposed to be annoying???) to his inability to take social cues to his supposed-to-be-interpreted-as-excessive use of trigger warnings to his unapologetic killjoy attitude to his supposed hypocrisy/”privilege” are literally all just a fucking layer cake of anti-SJW stereotypes. This is where the issue of how the fandom interprets Kankri kicks in, as people’s opinions on him (aside from a few diehards) tend to scale from “DAWWW CUTE WIDDLE UPPITY BEANBOY” to “fucking annoying neoliberal”. For the matter, neither of these are intended by Hussie, while he did design him to be cute he wasn’t meant to be hateable for leftist homestuck fans as a (neo-)liberal or faux leftist. Hussie just designed him after everyone hussie found annoying in the social justice community primarily on tumblr. Even his political monologues, though not WITHOUT hypocrisy and bullshit, tend to actually skew towards “pretty fucking reasonable hussie just thinks people being upset by bad stuff is stupid”.  

Now, people cite Kankri being ableist in his criticism of certain other dancestors for ~conforming to stereotypes~, which yes from an in context scenario is pretty fucking bad. If someone IRL is dealing with their disability in a way you think seems pretty stereotypical keep that thought to yourself. HOWEVER, AS ONE OF THE MOST CRUCIAL POINTS TOWARDS KANKRI BEING GENERALLY SYMPATHETIC, WE GET THE META ELEMENT. Hussie, in writing a hypocritical mansplainer who goes on and on and on about everything thats politically incorrect about the people around him, practically beat-for-beat replicates talking points PEOPLE HAVE USED TO CRITICIZE HOMESTUCK ITSELF. YES! MITUNA’S PRESENTATION AS A CHARACTER IS 100% UNAMBIGUOUSLY AWFUL IN ITS PORTRAYAL OF PEOPLE WITH BRAIN INJURIES AND MENTAL DISORDERS. DAMARA IS A RACIST STEREOTYPE SO BAD HUSSIE SHOULD GET THROWN IN JAIL. INCEST IS BAD. If ANYONE in homestuck should’ve pulled the meta knowledge shit in post-canon, kankri would’ve been a WAYYYYYY better candidate than dirk for it, especially since kankri seems halfway to realizing he’s fictional just by political analysis of the story he’s in! Kankri seems to exist at the apex of Hussie’s confusion about fandom, given he’s baffled enough by people being obsessed with his work yet so intensely negative that he can only seem to think of them as obsessive manchild wierdos with no sense of rational thought. As someone who myself unironically loves Homestuck and yet have an entire third of my brain dedicated to ripping it apart on an ethical level, I can see some of myself in that turtleneck’d contrarian. Just because someone is a fan of something doesn’t mean they will or should unthinkingly defend it from all recourse. This is something homestuck as a whole struggles with, I think back to the aspect or extended zodiac quiz where one of the questions amounted to “someone is talking shit about a show you like, how do you respond” and there wasn’t even an answer for “actually listen to what they’re trying to say and consider if they could be right”. Kankri is a symbol of sorts for those critical enjoy-ers, in a way. A stupid silly not-that-meaningful way, but a way. I think people should reclaim him. 

I’ve touched on it a bit before, but the last main sympathizing aspect of kankri for me (aside from personality things like his frankly unearned patience with a friend group that entirely fucking hates his guts) is a trait share by almost all the dancestors: Hussie’s fucking disturbing use of mental illness & psychiatric disorders with them. Between Kankri’s unwillingness to observe common social cues, his overtly poised and practiced manner of speaking, his obsession with using trigger warnings to warn off confrontation in leu of not just speaking his mind with everything, his tendency to cling to certain articles of clothing for long periods of time, his implied difficulty taking care of himself physically, and the fucking insulting “mom-friend useless-manchild-who-needs-nannying” dynamic he has with Porrim, he comes off (intentionally or no) as a beat-for-beat embodiment of an autistic person as seen through Hussie’s tropey and horribly ableist worldview. This is a common trait he shares with both Aranea and Mituna, as well as many of the other dancestors to lesser degrees (many of them, like Mituna, also have OTHER mental disorders flat-out-stated in such a way that makes their depiction just fucking confused and bad). For me, and for at least SOME other people, it makes unbiased critical reactions to them damn near impossible. They deserve better than how hussie can write them. In a lot of ways I have friends like Kankri, and Hussie’d almost fucking certainly find them just as embarrassing and annoying as he meant for Kankri to be. 

So yeah, Kankri isn’t my favorite by any means but i don’t feel like i can or should condemn him. He’s fun. I’d watch his video essays. 

And this isn’t even BEGINNING to touch on how much I loathe Porrim as an example of “good cool fun feminists that hussie can sexualize!” And her more open bisexuality than other trolls being both a tool for fetishization by Hussie and a fucking skin-crawling thing to use as a contrast for Kanaya’s status as either “the only confirmed lesbian in homestuck (until postcanon showed rose was a lesbian too)” or “the only lesbian troll in existence ever bc thats totally how sexuality would work with aliens” (sorry if you ascribe to the “all trolls are bisexual bc they’re supposedly binormative as a get-out-of-jail-free card for hussie’s hetero-ass ship tease shit” then. well get better soon) 

(seriously though everyone who pulls the “kanaya is the only lesbian alternian” shit owes every lesbian 100 dollars) 

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 7

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

AO3 - Ko-Fi (100% of coffee’s bought go towards buying @adognamedkillian toys and treats!)

A/N: Chapter 7!!! It comes with some trigger warnings i’m afraid, because I am just that kind of writer *evil grin*  TW: domestic abuse. I don’t know what else to call it without giving anything away, which i do not want to do.  As always, if in doubt, message me.  This chapter has the answers everyone has been waiting for, and some other good news!  Ch 8 is already done!

Fantastic artwork by @kmomof4​ so give her some love and beta’d by the lovely @hollyethecurious​ And as ever, thank you to all the ladies in Discord! Thanks ladies!

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious​ @shardminds​ @kmomof4​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ and @ineffablecolors​ for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist:  I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ itwontalwaysbelikethis@gmail.com) and I’ll add you!  I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious​ @shardminds​ @kmomof4​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @thisonesatellite​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @hookedonapirate​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @carpedzem​ @courtorderedcake​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615​

——————————————————————————————

A week was going to be far too long. It was only seven days but in the grand scheme of things, Emma worried that it might feel like forever without the Alpha she was now sure she was in love with. Of course, she hadn’t told him that. Like an idiot, once he had declared his feelings, she had pretended she was asleep and let him pull her harder into his embrace where she had spent the rest of the night. Morning had come and he was gone but she didn’t blame him. After all, she was well aware that Graham was having the apartment watched, making sure that neither of them broke the terms of his precious contract.

Maybe this was a blessing. Maybe they had been spending too much time together. As much as Emma wanted her bastard husband to be wrong, maybe he was right. For the next seven days she was to accompany Ruby to a very exclusive spa where they would get some much needed rest and relaxation, or so Graham had told her. In truth, he had been angry at how much time she was spending with Killian, his loyal henchmen having told on them and their extra meetings. She should have known. Graham was far too connected to not find out, and Emma had only agreed to go with Ruby because she was afraid of confirming the reality of his paranoia.

Emma did have feelings for Killian. They were more than she had ever felt before, powerful and robust and she was sure that not even seven days apart would change them. The time would be perfect for her to process her own feelings, and how to let Killian know that she felt the same. Emotions had ever been her strongest point, and to play along with his little game, Emma had told Graham that she would be glad to get away from all the men in her life, which also meant, however, that she had to be careful of what she told Ruby. Best friend or not, she was still a spy for Graham and she had no doubt that Ruby would sing like a songbird given half the opportunity.

All Emma had to do now was tell Killian.

It would crush him to see her gone. Emma knew what it meant for an Alpha to declare their love for another. Most of the time they never did until they were sure they had found that perfect someone, but she had never known a single Alpha to pair with a Beta as their mate. Ever. That was half of the confusion currently swirling around inside Emma’s head. She was a Beta, and a broken one at that, illness rife within her body, and she was damn sure she wasn’t worth the love of any Alpha, let alone one so perfect.

She paced up and down the apartment, stopping briefly to draw the curtains. The metal rings scraped across the metal rail, but the sound was quickly drowned out when a car sped passed outside. Emma pulled one curtain back a little in case it had been Killian, but the bright red tail lights at the end of the street dashed her hopes in a second. With a sigh, she shut the curtain again and resumed her steady pacing around the apartment.

She had never been a worrier before, but suddenly she felt herself apprehensive for Killian’s arrival. Years of mental control at the hands of a so-called husband would do that to anyone, but rationally Emma knew that whatever she had to say, Killian would be okay with. In a way, she kind of agreed with Graham, not because she thought they needed to be apart, but because they had been spending so much time together even she was starting to realise that she only smiled when she heard Killian’s voice. Graham was a lot of things, but he was not blind.

Emma only wanted to tell Killian one thing; that she felt the same way and she would be back with the same feelings in her heart.

Her attachment to Killian had become so much lately that she didn’t even recognize herself anymore. She had become someone else, someone liberated and where she had previously been quick to argue, she was now willing to accept whatever pleasure or punishment was dealt out to her. Killian had awakened that inside of her, and she was not ready to let it go. She knew Graham would never give her a divorce, but over the last few hours she had found herself trying to fabricate ways of getting rid of him for good.

A soft knock on the door woke her from her murderous daydream and she was up and racing towards the door before she had even looked in that direction. She knew it was Killian. She could smell him, even through the door, cedarwood and sea salt with a dash of darkness that only she had been privy to. She grabbed the door handle and pulled hard, the wooden panel jumping from the frame without a single sound. She gasped, because somewhere between drawing the curtains and plotting her husband’s death, it had rained, obvious by the fact that Killian now stood in her doorway dripping wet.

He was out of breath having raced from his car, but had been unable to avoid the downpour. His clothes were soaked, clinging to every definition of muscle that Emma could see, his dark blue t-shirt moving with every heave of his chest. Her eyes moved down, over the outline of his bulge now defined by the dampness of his pants and she felt herself suddenly become short of her own breath. When she looked back up to his face, hair dishevelled and clinging to his forehead, she noticed a drip as it fell from the tip of his nose and his eyes were wide with worry, the blue much brighter than she remembered as he searched her face for an answer.

“Emma,” he whispered, like it was the only word he could say. It held so much meaning, a question he needed to know the answer too, but as he searched her face for what he sought, Emma burst into tears.

Killian was over the threshold in a heartbeat, slamming the door behind him just before clutching her face in his hands and dipping his head down to attract her gaze again. Watery eyes tried to focus on his features but Emma couldn’t speak. All she could do was shake her head to tell him something was wrong, and Emma grabbed his hands, holding them to her face in an attempt to keep his warmth on her skin. Even after standing in the rain he was hot, a true Alpha trait, and Emma felt herself immediately calmed by his touch.

“Shh, my love,” Killian said calmly, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away her tears, but his words caused a new wave to burst from her eyelids. “Oh, Emma,” Killian soothed, placing one hand on the back of her head and pulling her to his chest.

Her arms wrapped around him immediately, fingers interlocking behind his back and holding him tightly. Killian let her cry, let her expel all of her wails into the fabric of his t-shirt as he stroked her hair, his own tears burning the rims of his eyes. He pinched them closed in an attempt to halt the sob in his chest at how much she was hurting, and a single tear rolled down his still wet face and fell onto the fabric of Emma’s oversized shirt.

After rubbing her back for a good few minutes, and letting her cry until her energy was almost gone, Killian smoothed his hands over her shoulders and pulled her from his body. Her eyes were red, as was the rims of her nostrils, and she quickly wiped at her nose with the extra long sleeve of the white shirt. “Is this one of mine?” Killian asked her with a small smile and Emma coughed out a watery laugh at his attempt to distract her.

“Maybe,” she shrugged weakly.

“It looks good on you,” he said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow playfully.

“It smells like you,” Emma sobbed, a fresh set of tears causing her vision to blur again.

“Hey, now, don’t start that again,” Killian pleaded, rubbing her arms lovingly. “What’s got you all upset, love?”

Emma’s bottom lip quivered and she was unable to stop it. She opened her mouth to speak but the lump in her throat stopped any of the words from coming out.

“Is it something I’ve done?” Killian asked her urgently, the tips of his ears blushing with pink. Emma shook her head and real panic rose up from within him about their last encounter. “Something I’ve said?”

“It’s…It’s…,” Emma stammered, unable to find the words she needed.

“Is it me?” Killian forced himself to ask, his jaw clenching straight after the words left his mouth in nothing but a whisper. He hated himself for being so selfish but Emma instantly reassured him.

“Never,” she breathed, placing her hands on his face. “You’re everything to me.”

Killian heaved a sigh of relief. Emma’s words were exactly what he needed to hear, even if they were not the ones he wanted to hear. He hastily gave his face a wipe, another stray tear having fallen in joyous comfort.

“Then please, love, tell me.” His hands slipped down to hers, clutching her fingers in his and giving them a little shake.

Emma gave him a small nervous smile and a nod of assurance before giving his arm a gentle tug and leading him to the couch. Killian followed, letting his hand slip from hers just long enough for him to slip off his jacket and hang it over a stool as they passed by the kitchenette. Emma was already settling against the arm of the couch when he got to her and reached out to take her proffered hand.

“I have to go away,” Emma said softly.

“Away?” Killian repeated, his stomach falling away from him as he sat down and made sure there was no gap between them.

“To a spa,” Emma said, hanging her head. “With my best friend who is also Graham’s mistress.”

Killian let out the breath he had been holding and a nervous laugh. “Is that all?”

“For a week.” Emma looked over to him and he was still smiling.

“Love, that’s nothing. I’ll be here when you get back,” he promised, rubbing a hand over her knee.

“Graham says we are getting too close. He’s been watching us.” Emma’s confession had Killian narrowing his eyes and an envious rage boiled inside of him.

“How?” Killian licked his lips and shook his head. He didn’t need to know the answer really, because he had seen the same car parked outside with the same distinctive henchman behind the poorly blacked out windows as she had. “Are you safe?”

“I think so, but I don’t want to go and have Ruby fish around for information I know Graham has told her to obtain. It’s going to be so fake,” Emma pouted. “I don’t have a lot of people in my life I can trust anymore.”

“You have me,” Killian told her. “You’ll always have me.”

Emma was suddenly overcome with a warmth pooling inside her that she never thought could be felt at a time like this. Killian’s concern meant more than she could say, more than she could describe, and all she could do was launch herself across the sofa and into his awaiting arms. Killian fell backwards onto the cushions and Emma fell onto him, her mouth seeking his for a passionate kiss. He let her fall onto him, nestling her against his chest as she scrambled for his touch, clinging to his wet t-shirt and holding on for dear life, forgetting all of her troubles in an instant.

Emma kissed him hard, like he was going to be gone the second she opened her eyes, and Killian let her, his lips parting ever so slightly and tracing the seam of her lips. Emma obliged, her tongue slipping passed her teeth and into his mouth where it duelled with his in impetuous passion. Her hands clawed at the hem of his shirt, desperate to rid him of the fabric as quickly as possible, but her weight pinned it to his body because she was reluctant to let even a slither of light pass between their bodies.

Killian grew hard despite his intention to not become aroused and he could smell that Emma was too. She was coating his senses in a cloak of visceral need, the animal within him roaring to life at the mere scent of her, and before he could rationalise any thought, his fingers were fumbling with the buttons of the shirt she was wearing, desperate to get to the skin beneath. Emma shifted her position until her knees were on either side of his legs and tore her lips from his, pushing herself into a sit and helping him divest herself of the shirt.

“Are you alright, love,?” Killian breathed, his words a whisper.

“I am now,” Emma sighed. She was in such a haste to rid herself of the shirt that she tore the bottom two buttons off before wrenching it off her shoulders. She was naked underneath, expectantly or not Killian wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help but watch the sway of her breasts as she wobbled atop his groin while her hands went to work on his pants.

“No, Emma, stop,” Killian ground out, hating his rational brain and grabbing her hands, halting her advances. It pained him to his very soul to stop her, and the look in her eyes, one of pure hurt, sliced right through him.

“Don’t you want me?” Emma whimpered.

“Aye, of course I bloody want you,” Killian assured her with a sure nod. He still found it absolutely baffling how someone as beautiful as Emma had such a low self esteem, but as usual, the answers to his many questions led right back to her sorry excuse of a husband. He sat up, a huge flat palm spreading out over the middle of her back to make sure she didn’t topple backward, and gave her a loving smile. “I know you’re scared he is going to stop this,” he began, skimming his other hand down the length of her arm and massaging her fingers. “Only the gods can express how unbelievably frightened I am of the same thing.” Confident she was well balanced now, Killian slid his hand up her back and buried it in her hair, cradling her head and holding her face to his. Their noses were pressed together side by side and he felt his breath hitch before he pressed his lips to hers for a quick, chaste kiss. “I meant it when I said I loved you, Emma, and I don’t think I know how to stop.”

Emma pulled her head back and Killian’s hand moved to comb her golden tresses through his fingers, eager as ever to reassure her that whatever worry she was feeling would be over with soon. She blinked, swallowing hard. Emma had never told anyone she had loved them, not even Graham. Sure she had told him, but it had always been after he had said it first, as fleeting as those times were, and she wasn’t exactly sure what it meant to love somebody as openly as Killian clearly loved her.

“I can’t-,” she began shyly, but Killian cut her off.

“You don’t have to say it,” Killian added softly, recognizing the turmoil in her features and giving her a boyish smile that melted her heart. He reached behind her for his shirt she had discarded and pulled it up over her back to cover her once more. “I just want you to know that you are loved, Emma, and despite what you might think, you are not worthless.”

Emma’s lips curved into an unsure smile, little ticks of the corners that were accompanied by a rosy blush across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose that told Killian she was not used to such compliments, something he thought of a as grievous crime against the beauty of both her body and soul. She deserved more than she had ever received and if Killian could offer her just a small piece of his heart, he would wait forever for her to fill the void it had left with the gift of a piece of her own.

“Not to me,” Killian added, reiterating his feelings with a smile. “And I do love you.” He stroked the back of his knuckles over the apple of her cheek and his heart warmed with how deep red her cheeks grew. “But we shouldn’t do this, not here, not if the place is being watched.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “You’re right,” she pouted.

“I’m always right, love,” Killian winked. “And when you return I promise to show you just much I want you.” There was a darkness to the tone of his voice that had a shiver running down Emma’s spine but as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared in his next words. “And luckily for you, I’m soft.”

“Soft?” Emma asked, confused.

“Soft,” he repeated with a nod and a grin. When Emma’s brow furrowed he chuckled and took pity on her, sliding her from his lap and wrapping one big strong arm around her. “It means I like cuddling too, even without sex.”

Emma snuggled into his side, stretching an arm across his still soggy midriff and hugging him tighter with a content purr. “Me too,” she said softly, a smile breaking out across her face as wide as a mile when Killian turned his head and kissed her on her forehead. “I mean, the sex is great, but,” she teased and Killian’s chest rumbled with laughter.

“But?” Killian prompted her to continue with a little nudge.

“But this is nice too.” Emma had never really had much physical affection like Killian had given her, little touches here and there and now a full blown snuggle on the couch as if they were a real couple. It made her feel special, more than she ever had done, and somehow she was okay with tonight being a different kind of intimate.

–

Angry didn’t even begin to cover what Emma was feeling right now. Thank the Lord for small favours and her chauffeur being on call, because when she had insisted on her driver staying at the resort too, and Graham had obliged, more than likely because the tall, skinny man with small round glasses and a hat Emma was pretty sure was glued to his fake hair piece underneath was actually one of Graham’s many little birds whose favourite song was the Killian and Emma show, she’d had no idea that after just two lunches with Ruby, she would need him to drive her home.

Even thinking about that invasion of marital privacy had her blood bubbling with fury, let alone what she had been stewing on during the drive home after less than half the week at the spa. Was nothing sacred to the man? Emma had been trying so, so hard to fight her growing feelings for Killian, despite everything thrown at her, if not for Graham than for the sake of her reputation as a lady of elite society, a reputation that had helped her fashion out a little niche existence of her own. It wasn’t about being rich, or being able to rub shoulders with these people, but instead about her identity as an individual without Graham, and she still had friends in high places, and many endeavours that would not look favourably at an affair, but did Graham care?

Fuck no.

Clearly not, because if the truth bomb Ruby had just dropped in the lap was anything to go by, Graham didn’t give a flying fuck about her or the meager life she had tried to build for herself in his shadow. Ruby was pregnant and her ever doting husband was the father, apparently something he was thrilled about. However, perhaps the most telling indication of who he was as a person, was when, after telling Ruby how delighted he was for an heir, he told her that Emma would raise the baby with him, as if they had sired the next CEO of the Humbert empire together, totally disregarding the feelings of a mother who would have her tot ripped from her bosom quicker than he could wish he was an Alpha.

The only reason Ruby had told Emma was because she was leaving town to get an abortion and regardless of what had happened between Graham and herself, she still thought of Emma as her best friend, and the whole thing with Graham had been fun and games until she had missed a period. She would tell Graham the baby was dead and knew he wouldn’t waste resources following her to check. Emma understood completely. Ruby was one of her most valued real friends, someone who had been there for her through so much already, and she couldn’t imagine taking the woman’s child and trying to raise it as her own. She just couldn’t. And if Graham knew either of them, he would have realised how insane the idea even was in the first place.

The ride home hadn’t abated Emma’s vehemence towards her husband one bit. It wasn’t about her, and it wasn’t about Ruby, or the life inside of her, but it was about how he had, for so long, managed to breeze through life treating people like property. Emma was sick of it. She was sick of how he had treated every single person and events around him with such frivolity, like his life was a game and his actions had no real consequence. Maybe she was taking it a bit far, storming out of a spa and wellness resort in the middle of the afternoon with nothing but the clothes on her back, but Emma just had to give him a piece of her mind whilst her temper charged storm of emotions swirling inside of her still fuelled her every being. If not for any other reason than he deserved it.

The time it had taken Jeeves - Emma knew that wasn’t his name, but Graham had never let her know his real one for fear they had, ironically, begun an affair - to get her home, Emma’s rage hadn’t fizzled out one iota. She launched herself from the car quicker than it took Jeeves to put it into park, and raced across the expansive gravel driveway in the fading light of afternoon. The sun was heading down for the evening but Emma was wide awake knowing that Graham would be home at this time too, and with any luck, she would be interrupting something he deemed of the utmost importance.

As usual, when the door was opened for her, the lobby of their mansion was empty, cold and uninviting despite the rays of sunshines currently warming their mark into the stone floor. Absentmindedly Emma wondered if they had owned a dog, would it be sunning itself in the beams the way dogs often did, desperate to catch the last warmth of the day. Equally as unnecessary in her thought process, Emma wistfully wished for the carefree life of a pet, free to do whatever she wanted all day without being constantly reminded of how she was nothing but a dissatisfaction wearing an expensive wedding ring.

Boy, was Graham in for some kind of shit storm.

Eventually she found him in his study, after a few pointed directions from staff who thought better than to get in her way, and didn’t even try to hide her ire as she strode across the expansive Persian rug between them and, just as he turned to look at her in shock of her actually being there, slapped him across the face with an audible smack. Hard. Graham’s previously relaxed stance stiffened up in an instant, his eyes fluttering closed as he rearranged his jaw from one side to the other before clenching it closed. Emma was seething, positively vibrating with wrath, the tips of her fingers tingling from the impact that had left a rather telling mark across Graham’s cheek.

“Hello wife,” Graham spat, peeling his eyes open to give her a cold, dead stare. “Back so soon?”

“Don’t ‘wife’ me, you bastard,” Emma yelled, jabbing Graham in the shoulder with the heel of her hand.

“I take it Ruby opened her fat mouth,” Graham mumbled to himself, sighing dramatically. “I guess you know the rest, judging by the pain in my shoulder,” Graham sneered.

“Why the fuck would you think I would raise someone else’s child with you?” Emma shouted, eyes wide with her words.

“It’s not someone else child, Emma, it’s mine,” Graham growled, his voice low and his words ground out through his clenched teeth.

“Oh, that makes it all better!” Emma laughed.

“What are you so angry about?” Graham shrugged. “It’s not like you aren’t getting what you want out of this arrangement.”

He meant Killian and Emma knew it, swallowing the spiteful words that threatened to fall out of mouth back down where they could fester in her stomach some more. “And what about Ruby, huh? You think she is just going to give up her child?”

Graham turned and Emma was taken back by his calm demeanour. “The child is a Humbert. It will live with me and you are my wife, and as such you will be expected to raise it accordingly.”

“Accordingly?” Emma shook her head. “What the fuck, Graham? You really have no idea how your actions affect everyone around you, do you?”

They stared at each other, Emma shaking with exasperation and Graham as cool as ice, still and motionless. Emma watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, slowly and deliberately like he even had control over his body’s most basic instincts.

“The child will be raised a Humbert,” Graham repeated slowly, pushing his hands into his pockets and taking a few menacing steps towards her. Emma didn’t back down, squaring her shoulders and met his gaze with the same intensity he was giving her. “You will raise it as a Humbert.”

“I’m not some fucking wet nurse for your bastard, Graham!” Emma sniggered. “I will not raise someone else’s kid, and I will not let you manipulate this situation in your favour like you always do. This is a life, a human being, Graham, surely you realise that!” Emma waved her hands, trying to find any empathy behind the blue eyes staring back at her, but all she saw was a wall of stone.

“You are my wife,” Graham ground out. “You will obey me.”

Emma laughed, loud and heartily, her entire body moving with the deep, belly rumbling hilarity of Graham’s statement. “I won’t, and there is nothing you can do about it. What are you going to do? Divorce me?” Graham’s furrowed brow meant she had struck a nerve.

“Pity,” he huffed, looking down at his feet. He knew there was no way Emma wouldn’t do as he wanted. She might want to be with the Alpha more than him, but he was pretty confident that if it came down to it, she wouldn’t leave a defenceless babe to fend for itself. Graham would simply take the baby form Ruby and leave it with Emma, sure nature would take its course and she would be unable to not help, and over time they would become one big semi agreeable family. He smirked to himself, and Emma scoffed a laugh as if she could read his mind.

“I’m so sorry I’m such a fucking disappointment!” Emma spat at him and with her words, Graham snapped, his biceps bulging under his sleeve caps as he clenched his fists in his pockets.

“Disappointment?” He snapped. “What do you know about disappointment, huh? Maybe if you’d been the wife I was promised-,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma cried, moving towards him and grabbing his arm as he attempted to turn away.

“Nothing, forget I said anything.” Graham shook her off and made for his desk, the decanter of whiskey already halfway to the bottom.

“No, no, go on,” Emma insisted sarcastically. She followed after him, giving him a little shove that spilled the whiskey right out of the glass in his hand. “I’d love to hear about how yet another one of your problems in life is caused by me.”

“Not this one you wouldn’t,” Graham cautioned. He lifted the cut glass tumbler to his lips and took a sip of the burning liquid, exciting all of his taste buds at once.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Emma screeched, running her hands through her hair. “Ten years of marriage and you won’t even be honest with me?”

“You wouldn’t want honesty, Emma, trust me.” Graham finished the whiskey, pouring the last of the honey coloured drink into his mouth and swallowing the lot in one gulp. He pinched his eyes closed until the burn at the back of his sinuses passed but when he opened them, Emma was still as disgruntled as before.

“Trust you?” she said spitefully. “Graham Humbert, the almighty, the all powerful, the good for nothing burnt out Beta who wishes he was an Alpha so badly? Where has that ever got me before?”

Graham spun around and advanced on her, making Emma jump back for a second. His hands were on her face, clamping her jaw in his grip and silencing her long enough to stare into her eyes and cause real fear to spark behind the green hues. “I can tell you where it will get you if you don’t stop with this Ruby bullshit.”

“Well it won’t be a divorce, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” Her words were compressed through her lips but they made her point. Humbert men didn’t get divorced, or so Graham had pounded into her brain from the second she had married him.

He pushed her head aside and released her jaw and Emma immediately rubbed at the soreness there. He walked by her as if she wasn’t even there, like she was nothing, like he hadn’t put his hands on her and hurt her. “Oh there are worse things to do to you, Emma. Don’t push me.”

“Don’t push you? Oh, honey, I haven’t even begun!” Emma ground her teeth, stalking after him with heavy footsteps that echoed off the vast ceiling above them. “You’re a bully, Graham, plain and simple,” she shouted. “You use other people to get what you want and you always will, and I don’t know if this is some kind of bullshit Alpha complex run amok, but I’m sick of it!” Emma caught up with him and dipped sideways, reappearing in front of him and halting his escape attempt. “I’m sick of the lies, the cheating, the galas and fake smiles, pandering to all your important friends, and most of all, I’m sick of you!” Emma took a breath, balling her fists at her side. “You’ll never be an Alpha as long as you live so-”

Her words were cut short by an overwhelming thud and the instant Emma’s eyes filled with the stinging sensation of tears, she knew he had hit her. The moment was in slow motion, like an out of body experience, and Emma felt the point of Graham’s knuckles hit her under the eye in a back hand punch. It shook her, physically and emotionally, and her body flushed with white hot prickles of adrenaline that blinded her so much she didn’t see the next blow coming.

“Shut up!” Graham shouted, his words hidden behind the slap sound. “Shut your dirty whore mouth!” Graham roared, spittle dripping from his lower lip in his rage. He raised his hand again but paused when Emma cowered away. “You want some truth? Here, how about this for a truth. The only reason we took you in was because you were an Omega and I was supposed to be Alpha, that’s the only reason I married you.”

“What do you mean I’m Omega?” Emma snapped, the pain in her cheek radiating through her entire jaw as she gently pawed at the underside of her eye socket where the skin felt like it had split open.

“Come on, Emma, don’t be dense,” Graham sneered. “Have you ever wondered why you couldn’t remember seeing a doctor for your ‘illness’? Ever wondered why my family were so insistent on your medication? It’s a supressant, you dumb bitch!”

Emma’s entire life flashed before her eyes. It all made sense. Everything was much clearer. She was Omega, a completely different gender class that she had always believed, and the entire Humbert family knew about it, but had suppressed her nature with drugs. For a second Emma imagined what her life might have been if she had never had the misfortune of crossing paths with the Humbert family. Would she have married an Alpha? Would she have pups of her own? Her mind swirled with scenario after scenario, all of which had been ripped from her grasp by Graham and his family.

“All this time,” Emma whimpered angrily, shaking her head. “You knew and let me think I was sick.” Her rage boiled up inside of her and she felt her fists ball at her sides again, her feet carrying her closer to the man in front of her.

“And you would have never have found out if it wasn’t for that fucking Alpha,” Graham rasped, his nose wrinkling at the thought of Killian being more than he had ever developed into.

His misplaced rage was evident and Emma was quick to interrupt his fury with a balled fist pounding on his shoulder. “Leave him out of this. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Aww, did I hit a sore spot there, darling?” Graham leered, cocking his head to one side in mock sympathy. “I’m not a fool Emma. I know you two have been fucking without my prior consent!”

“Your prior consent?” Emma yelled. “Listen to you, trying to control my life, what I do and who I see.” She laughed, scrubbing her hands over her face with a sigh. “Well, newsflash Humbert, I’m not your property.”

“Newsflash, Emma, I’ll be suing the fuck out of Killian Jones to recover all of the money he took whilst still fucking my wife, and then, when he has nothing else left, I’ll take his brother’s bar. I know people who could get that place shut down like that!” To emphasize the power he had to do as he had threatened, Graham clicked his fingers right in her face, and Emma blinked in an attempt to fight her flight response.

“Why are you like this?” Emma asked, her voice turning softer, more sympathetic. She had been fond of Graham once, and they were friends for so long before they got married, so the man in front of her right now, the man who had dared to lay hands on her, was not the man she had once known. “What happened to that sweet, charming guy I married, huh? Look what you’ve become, Graham. Spoiled, hateful and with so much anger-,”

Another blow took Emma by surprise and she had no time to brace herself. Graham’s clenched fist hit her again in the same place and Emma was sure that that blow had split the skin under her eye now. She tumbled backwards, falling flat onto her butt and only narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the marble fireplace surrounding behind her.

“Because of you!” Graham bellowed, looming over her, the vein in his forehead bulging.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t become an Alpha!” Emma slapped the floor beside her to highlight her point. “That’s not on me!” Emma snapped.

“They said an Omega presence would draw it out of me, make me into the most powerful Alpha my family had ever seen, but no!” Graham yelled, shaking with anger. “We paid good money for you!” He accused, pointing at her. “You ruined me, you poor, good for nothing ungrateful Omega whore!” Graham raised his hand again, intent on making sure Emma felt this one, but she scrambled backwards across the floor, pushing herself to her feet when her back hit the solid door frame. “Now do me a favour and get the fuck out!”

When Emma pulled open the door, the cold air from the hall hit the welt under her eye and halted the throbbing pain when she blinked. Graham was hot on her heels, shoes pounding the stone floor and sending echoes into the hall. One of the staff was barged out of the way by Emma and stumbled into Graham’s path, slowing him temporarily and Emma took the opportunity to race for the front door. She yanked it open and couldn’t stop the tears from falling any longer. One of her shoes came loose and she kicked the other one off, ignoring the searing pain shooting up her legs as she tore across the gravel driveway.

“And don’t come back!” Graham yelled after her, the door knocker clattering as he slammed the door and cast her out into the night.

[marieabanga]

Picture taken 06.05.18 Healing eye was still taking its time too lol

God is God, God is not Man…He has done it again in my life period.

Watch this 18 seconds celebratory clip lol

It has been with tremendous honour and humility that I cycled on, braving it uphill amidst sometimes intense emotional, mental and physical challenges, some from quarters hard to imagine; while also at other times, sometimes steadying my balance as I sloped downhill especially towards the end of each stage of the journey started last March 01 2018.

These notes may make another memoir someday right?

Can we say this was a spiritual journey or what? It can’t be explained to anyone’s satisfaction –  I just came to conclude; I can only share some to hopefully inspire and motivate so that anyone set out on any dear project of theirs, especially one of a ‘spiritual cum purification’ nature, will brave on and hang on … yes it was worth it. Let me try to sum it more…

So, this was a four stage spiritual journey dictated to me by my inner voice (call this crazy am ok with that – I do work in a psy ward anyway); and you could refresh on my preparedness for each stage by clicking 1, 2, 3, or 4. 

I got to find out the names of the stages and the reason for their breakdown into 7, 14, 21 and 28 days on the first day of the 4th stage last April 23rd (this happened to be the anniversary of my beloved Grandma’s passing and I was real emotional). So, the stages were dictated to me to be:

Stage 1: Stage of New Beginnings (7 days were sufficient for me to see how new it would be if I persisted)

Stage 2: Stage of Determination (14 days was ample time to get real and hang on)

Stage 3: Stage of Discipline and Dedication (This was the make or mare stage and only perseverance for 21 days could take me on)

Stage 4: Stage of Grace (28 days to feel the Grace to my core amidst all what can go wrong and right full cycle)

Come on someone say wow, this happened and happens to me… am so in tune with my spirit and my world inside out, my prayers have been answered, I guess this is the price I was thinking I am very well prepared to pay, to benefit from and deserve to keep benefiting from all these gifts and responsibility and the accompanying graces…I am so proud of me, I am my own heroine…dare to be yours for you sure can…

I will be writing more in the days ahead, today I am simply in awe of my tenacity and resilience; including the 3 days break in between stages; I fasted and watched myself like a hawk for 79 days…

Eating some day with near fire and fury after I broke my fast – captured by Alain lol

I’ve got to learn to eat and do other stuffs again lol, but I don’t miss not shouting, getting angry and having attack thoughts…serenity and discernment are really my daily portions now… Aw I love this new me and am so proud of her…she is indeed a brave lady and will live her purpose in all faith…she self-evaluates herself at 85% and this is an A PERIOD!!!

For tonight, let me celebrate with my muskeets at this new Ice cream house (opened in January but we had to have a big reason to go check it out lol – with us it’s always about making memories out of moments) in our neighbourhood. We had decided in our last family meeting to draw a budget and save to go check it out when I crossed the finish line of my official spiritual cum purification journey. I know it is a life time journey, and am ok with this… I am well passed lesson 100 student manual in A Course in Miracles, and taking it in strides with the other sections of the book. One day I may write about my journey studying and practicing all am learning in there…

  Don’t worry about the price tags, am ok negotiating the amounts lol

David has started real business with his drawings too

Gaby is definitely coming up bigtime lol

A very soulful expression of deepest gratitude to all those who encouraged and motivated me with encouragements or otherwise. You may have been very few, but quality has always mattered to me over quantity.

I just got struck by Marianne Williamson’s quote on our deepest fear yesterday and I find it so apt to summarize this journey I so bravely undertook. Some reached out to me, seemingly concerned about the length of the fast and the physical effect especially with an inflamed eye quickly confirmed by them to be a result of the food deprivation – come on, food was the least I was working on or fasting from. Others were scared I had joined a sect or was visibly mentally ill/challenged and should seek professional help – I think my Age and tenacity saved me. I was left in awe and near mute where all this fear came from, why some could be seeming led by fear to the edge of outright panic attacks? So what is this deep fear?

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Cycling all the way to the finish line…it was worth it…thank you God, thank you Universe God is God, God is not Man...He has done it again in my life period. Watch this 18 seconds celebratory clip lol…

[ladystylestores]

Coming-Out Stories From Young Black Creatives – WWD

https://ift.tt/3jqG7jv

For Pride Month, WWD asked young Black creatives to share their coming-out stories. While Pride Month is over, the challenges facing the LGBTQ community, and their experiences, require more than a once-a-year focus. So WWD reached out to more Black creatives about their own coming-out stories to keep the conversation going.

  El Lewis

My coming out was more of an invitation in. The first person in my family I felt most comfortable enough to tell was my mother. I remember the moment being fueled with liberation and I just proceeded to tell her the full truth about myself and my interests. It was a candid conversation that was uncompromising, yet vulnerable. It felt like I opened the door and it was her choice to walk in and have a seat.

Lex Porter

First, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Lex, my pronouns are she/her/hers and I identify as a lesbian. I recently started a podcast called “She|Her|Dyke” to create a space where masculine-presenting women can share their stories and day to day struggles.

“Coming out” was never a thing to me. At a young age I knew I was different, but I was unaware of the need to “come out” about it. I didn’t have any influences, and I honestly didn’t know what being gay was, I just knew I wasn’t attracted to men whatsoever. At the age of 14, and after quite a few failed boyfriend attempts, I decided to act on my attraction to women.

After about a year of me acting on this attraction, I was outed by Myspace. For context, since many may not know or remember, Myspace had a variety of in-depth surveys that you could post on your page and they allowed you to delve into your personal and love life. Of course, I posted my answers to my page because I wanted the ladies to get to know me. One day, I was out grabbing a sandwich from the deli and my mom called me and asked, “Who is Denise?’ In this moment my heart skipped quite a few beats because Denise was my girlfriend at the time. I tried to play it off like, “Oh, that’s my friend, mom — why?” My mom then told me that she saw my Myspace page and the survey said Denise was my first love.

At this point, the cat was out of the bag. I explained to my mom that Denise was my girlfriend and that we had been dating for maybe a year or so. My mom was heartbroken, she saw it as something she did wrong, as if she failed as a parent. We then had the talk about my lesbianism being a phase or if I needed some kind of counseling, essentially trying to figure out how this “problem” could be “fixed.”

After coming out, there was a bit of turbulence between my mother and me because we were both figuring out how to come to terms with it. Although it took some time, I am grateful we were both able to find peace and acceptance with me being her daughter who is also a lesbian. During one of the many conversations we had, I explained that this is who I am and this is what makes me happy and from that point on she understood. At the end of the day she wanted nothing more than for me to be happy, but she had to release those preconceived ideas of what happiness looked like for me.

My mother and I have been on this journey for 15 years now and I am so proud of how she has embraced me. She still sees me as Lex, loves me all the same, and actively accepts the fact that I am a lesbian. The most unexpected moment of growth for me is that she now finds herself being a support system for other parents who have trouble accepting their queer children. It definitely hasn’t been easy over the years, but words can’t express how grateful I am that we’ve been able to rebuild and strengthen our bond. Her support of not only me but all queer people is a coming-out story that you don’t always hear in Black families. I am so honored to share my story in hopes that it may soften the heart of a parent struggling to help their masculine-presenting lesbian daughter, or give a queer person hope that there is light at the end of the coming-out tunnel.

Jash Jay

The interesting thing about my story is I’ve actually never come out publicly.  As a professional disc jockey, I’ve always felt comfortable in any room. Why shouldn’t I?

My journey has been solely about me being comfortable with myself and sharing aspects of my life with others as I see fit and on my own timeline. Currently, I’m the most confident in myself and my space than I’ve ever been. I won’t allow anyone to shift that.

I was raised in a New Orleanian Southern Baptist household. My parents’ beliefs were deeply rooted in Christianity. My father is a reverend. We were very involved in church, attending services multiple times a week, including rehearsals on weekends. I was also no stranger to the word “sissy” being used in both the confines of my home and four church walls. “Don’t be a sissy. There are too many sissies running around here” rang in my head. At a young, impressionable age, this weighed on me tremendously.

I began to realize how I felt in terms of my sexuality around the age of 12, but I had no idea “why” I felt this way nor “who” I was at this time. The only thing that resonated with me during this period in my life was being taught that this “feeling” was wrong…and nothing else. I couldn’t discuss this with my friends; kids were cruel at this age. What would their parents think? Adults can be just as mean, surprisingly. They’d think I’m “mentally ill.” They’d stop their kids from playing with me. And God forbid my parents find out. They’d hate me or ask God for a new son. These are all thoughts no child should be burdened with, but here I was with all of these scenarios in my head.

During my adolescence, I dated several girls in an effort to “find myself.” I tried to be the guy society “taught” me I should be. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be accepted. I remember discussing my sexuality with my mom twice. LOL. Once at 15 when she brought up the topic (she considered it to be a phase, of course) and again at 22 when I initiated the conversation upon relocating from home. My mother has always expressed her unwavering love for me regardless of any circumstance. Thankfully, this time around, she was incredibly open and willing to listen with the intent to understand me not only as her son, but as an adult coming into his own. During our discussion, I recall saying to her, “Now don’t go running around telling everybody, Mom.” She loves to talk. She replied, “Don’t worry. I definitely won’t.” I knew this was code for not only being concerned about how others would view her as a God-fearing woman, but figuring out how she would protect her child from cruelty and ignorance of the world, even in his adulthood. Although I felt an overwhelming amount of relief, her response let me know that I still had quite a process of a journey ahead.

Starting out as a disc jockey, I dealt with many internal struggles over the years. Will I lose a gig based on my sexuality? Do I not fit the image? Is someone in the room whispering about me? But then I asked myself, why do these things matter? I’m an artist first; my work speaks for itself. And if anyone has an issue regarding my sexuality or identity, It’s more than likely an issue within themselves. I always strive to break down barriers because “artistry knows no bounds.”

My move to Georgia has been the most gratifying experience of my life, both its shortcomings and blessings. June marked my 10th year as an Atlanta resident. I’m also grateful to enter my seventh year as a full-time disc jockey. At the age of 32, I’ve encountered individuals and acquired friends from all walks of life. I’ve also found myself to be confident in any room, DJ’ing for crowds of people of all demographics, identities, and sexual preferences. My job is to create unity and inclusivity through art, music and storytelling. I strive to educate others in the same fashion. I’ve never felt pressured to parade my sexuality, but I’ve also learned to never disguise who I am. I’m very proud. As a DJ and simply as a human-being, anyone who feels uncomfortable or insecure in a space around myself or someone else based on gender identity or sexual preference, a space created for love, needs do some soul searching themselves. Life is never about creating false perceptions for others’ approval. It’s about living in your truth to your fullest potential.

Antonio Thompson I grew up in Birmingham, Ala., in a very Christian home. For a long time, I played a heterosexual role because being a gay man in a Christian home was unheard of. I will never forget the summer before junior high — I lived around the corner from the middle school I attended. This one kid called me the F word the whole walk home. My mom was just getting off of work and was pulling into the driveway.

She overheard the kid calling me names and directed me over to the car to figure out why he was behaving this way toward me. I replied with “Mom, I don’t know.” She asked me if I was gay, and I told her, “No.” My parents instilled in me to be firm, to stand up for what I believe in at a very young age. She said, “You’ll always be Antonio, if you are nothing will change.. you know that right?” I said, “Yes ma’am…” She paused and said, “Well, Antonio, go defend yourself. Never let someone call you something you’re not.” I got into my first fight that afternoon. Sophomore year of college I was home for the summer, finally in a place where I felt confident enough to say I’m gay without feeling ashamed or scared. The first to know were my sisters. I flew back to New York and the minute I landed I got a call from my mom wanting to know if I had made it safe. She went into saying she had just had a conversation with my sisters and in that moment I knew someone had spilled my tea (haha )! I confirmed and apologized to my mom for not telling her when I was home. She assured me she knew for a very long time and she was just waiting for me. She told me she will forever love me and I will always be her son.

Jade Mayo

Can’t say that my story is the most climatic. But I basically crawled out of the closet over the course of a couple years. Most of my life, I grew up in a very religious household and had a very small circle of friends and family. I always wanted to try other things and explore outside of my circle. In my younger days, I always had short-lived interactions with men. Quick flirtations that always usually fizzled into friendships or ghosting, but never anything intimate. I always felt like an oddball and could never understand why. But after my parents’ divorce and slowly backing away from my religious beliefs in my early 20s, I began to hang out more in New York while expanding my friend circle.

I had just started working in Manhattan for an Indian beader and manufacturer, who had a lot of high-profile clients at the time. I eventually met the first woman that piqued my interest and our initial friendship turned into something more intimate. Even though she was far more experienced and more open with her sexuality, she made me feel safe enough to explore the new feelings that were starting to manifest.

Over time, my initial situation with my friend ended and we went our separate ways. I spent most of my mid-20s partying and working at my first big job in fashion, while sorting through my feelings about women. I clearly felt being gay was where I belonged. I had not felt that much clarity about my dating life or sexuality ever. Working in fashion helped this transitional period greatly. I didn’t feel like I worked in a field where I had to hide my sexuality to keep my job. Fashion has a way of bringing out our truths through clothing or imagery. I felt I could form my new authentic identity without shame.

But I really was a late bloomer to the community, so I felt like I had a lot of catching up to do. I was still learning how to approach and date women. I didn’t grow up or know anyone who was openly gay and I didn’t know any lesbians until I met my first. Most of my friends at the time were very straight, but one of my homegirls at the time helped me as much as she could.

Fortunately when I met my first, someone she knew eventually became sort of like my gay Yoda. Eyeris took me to all the lesbian haunts for the first time. Cubbyhole. Henrietta Hudson. Lesbian night at Escuelita’s (RIP). Took me to my first Pride. We got to bond over our love for Nineties music, ups and downs of dating and navigating our social lives. She really helped me learn so much about the LGBTQIA community that I now felt a part of and we are still great friends to this day.

Mostly everyone in my life knew I was gay after a certain point. I told my older brother first since we spent so much time around each other, I was honestly tired of hiding it. Then my younger brother, but I still had not told my mother anything. I’m extremely close to my mother and we literally talk about everything. But we never discussed my dating life. I felt no need to really come out to her before because I wasn’t seeing anyone seriously for a long time.

Eventually I did wind up dating someone that I was really falling for at the time and I was approaching 30. It was time. I knew that I wanted to introduce her to them. So finally I got up the courage to tell her. I think we were on a long drive somewhere and I finally told her that I was gay and had been seeing women for some time now. She was naturally shocked. But not appalled. Just confused that she hadn’t really taken notice. I think she thought I was joking because she said, “Really” or “Are you serious?” like five times. But then she took a long pause before she started asking the serious questions, “When?” “How long?” “Who?,” and most importantly, “Why?”

I told her that I wanted to be the one to tell her and not one of her old friends running into me on a date with someone and make it seem something salacious or tawdry. I wanted the same things most people want out of a potential partner or dating. I wanted her to see nothing drastic throughout the years of us being around each other, I had not really changed. Who she knew me to be as her daughter never changed. Except for the gender of the person that I really wanted to date and hope to marry.

Her main concern overall was that it’s hard enough to be a Black women in America, but even more dangerous to be a Black gay women. She was quiet for a while after I came out, but shortly after, she came around. She saw that it had not changed me to be someone she didn’t recognize. Plus she knew that a lot of her other hang-ups were based on a lot of ignorance and preconceived notions. She knew I was finally being my authentic self.

Julian Spencer 

My sexuality hasn’t always been so straightforward. Before I knew what “gay” was, before I was able to even make a decision whether I was gay or not, I was labeled as effeminate, soft. I loved dolls, I was obsessed with Lil’ Kim and “Spice World.” I showed “signs.” I’ve never fit a mold. Society labeled me before I could label myself. Routinely, my father and I would attend car shows, visit the barbershop, and circle the block to look at girls. So imagine my surprise when my father asks me, “Yo, are you gay?” in the most masculine way possible. I hadn’t thought about it. “Am I? I’m 14. I, I don’t think so.” A few months pass, it’s the second semester of my freshman year in high school, and in walks Robbie. He’s beautiful. Something, just, clicked. It felt right. I start chatting with guys on Myspace. Junior year, my play sister Bri knows I’m attracted to men, I had just broken up with my girlfriend, Latisha. She asks, “So, who are you attracted to at school?” I say, “Justin, Curtis,” both athletes, internalized homophobia early on. The next day, the whole school knows. Some sister. Luckily, the boys didn’t try to fight me, just stared at me in the hallways.

Regardless, coming out was never my own. My sexuality initially was not my own. My first sexual interaction with a man was not my own. I took back that power, which was taken from me. I’ve learned to own my sexuality. Writing has allowed me to own my story and tell it my way. I own my experiences and who I am. I’ve vowed that no one will ever have the power to write my story again.

BMAJR I never had a picture-perfect “coming-out” story nor a simple “coming-out” moment. Growing up in urban Detroit, I always felt that I had to hide my sexuality from everyone. I played every sport under the sun to appear more hetero and masculine to my family, friends, and to myself. I went through most of my adolescence living a lie — even having a girlfriend at one point when there was no attraction, it was what I thought I had to be to “fit in” and to be accepted. It wasn’t until I started to mature and experience things when I left home, that I started to live in my truth and be my authentic self. I had to become comfortable in my sexuality and identity before even thinking of coming out to the world.

I grew to learn what “coming out” really means and it is different for everyone. Coming out doesn’t have to be a verbal declaration — but self-love to not have to hide who you are in life. I don’t have a specific public moment or instance of me officially coming out to the world or family and that is OK. I want young people to understand that it is OK to not be ready for the public coming-out — it is your right to be yourself and not owe anyone an explanation. Be proud of who you are and live your truth. I wouldn’t change any of my experiences, both good and bad, that allowed me to walk in my truth and embrace my sexuality. Living in my truth has allowed me to become a more confident DJ and scientist — enabling me to walk into any space and own it. I hope another young boy in Detroit sees my story and knows that it is OK to feel like you don’t owe anyone an explanation of how you feel and be comfortable with your sexuality and yourself first before giving a public declaration.

Tim Hell I actually feel like I had to come out of the closet twice. The first time was back in middle school (seventh grade to be exact). I used to stay home by myself after school and at the time I had a crush on a boy that was in the neighborhood over so I thought it would be best for me to draft up a note and put it in his locker, pretty much confessing my love for him. (yikes, right?) I ended up getting too scared and never did it, but I left the note in my backpack just in case I ever got the courage. Little over a week later, report cards went home and I was never the greatest student so I tried to act like I didn’t get my report card when it was time to present it to my mother that evening. My mom is far from dumb so she knew exactly what I was trying to accomplish and went through my backpack to find the “missing report card.” Among the balled-up report card was also the note I forgot I left in my backpack.

The second she grabbed the note I knew there wasn’t anything I could really say to get me out of it but I tried my best. I knew I was gay since I was a child but I never actually shared that information with anyone ’cause I wasn’t fully ready to accept it myself yet. I wouldn’t say there was an interrogation but a lot of questions were asked and after maybe 30 minutes (what felt like hours) I finally decided to tell my mother that I was in fact gay. What’s crazy is she wasn’t upset with me being gay at all, more so that I hid the report card, which I feel like actually repressed my whole coming out.

The following week I attempted suicide for the first time ’cause I just felt like such a letdown. I didn’t really know what I was doing, luckily, so it was unsuccessful but I remember telling her that I did try to kill myself and her reaction was the most unconditional outpouring of love I ever received at that point in my life.

But don’t get me wrong, coming out didn’t change much about my life. I grew up in a religious household so I still was forced to go to church and even “therapy” sessions with my pastor, which ended with him just telling me that being gay is a sin. But that’s a story for another day.

The “second” [time] was a little better. My senior year in high school I was just tired of having people who knew I was gay constantly ignore my lifestyle and try to hook me up with girls, or even my mother calling one of the girls at church her “daughter in law” ’cause she just knew we were going to get married. Before I left for school one morning, I told my mom I needed to talk to her about something; later that day when I got home I chickened out of course (LOL) but I ended up just breaking down and telling her how I felt and I believe it helped our relationship tremendously. But even in the following years, I could tell my mom wasn’t too sure how to handle it because I wasn’t fully confident in being a Black and gay man.

Ten years later, I can’t lie, I still have moments where I struggle with my identity. I actually think my style is a prime example of that; a quick conversation with me and you’ll know I’m very in touch with my feminine side and have no problem “queening” out at moments but I definitely present very masculine in my style choices. I think that’s due to me having to hide or conform most of my life whether it was back in grade school or now currently in my military career.

If I could change anything about my coming out, it would be just having it be more on my terms than rather push out. I say all that to say “coming out” isn’t always rainbows and sunshine; sometimes it’s just a start of a never-ending identity search/battle. Also, the confidence you have in yourself sets the path for the confidence everyone else is going to have for you. One thing that I have learned through life is loving yourself is the most important thing in the world. Come out when you are ready.

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About Me

Name: Ronnie (Ron/Ronn or Ronnster is an okay substitute) | I also go by Tequila sometimes. (or Tequi for short). So that would leave ~5 suitable names to address me by! I have no preferences out of them.

Age: in my 20s (probably older than you :P)

Sex+Gender: CisFemale Sexuality: Heteromantic Pansexual (*maybe* more on demiromantic range in romantic-ness... or i’m just super awkward/easily entertained. maybe all of the above, haha) Height: 5′5″ (i don’t rp as myself really so it’s not like this info is relevant. lol. i wish i wasn’t quite as tall.. like being like 4′11 - 5′2 would have been nice... but i’m under 5′6″, albeit just barely, so that’s good at least i s’pose..) Ethnicity: Italian/Eastern European/English/German (+small bit of Turkish) American (basically Caucasian but I have a dark skin tone for a caucasian - olive skin from my Southern Italian and Eastern European (Slavic) [plus that tiny bit of Turkish in me] heritage). I’m technically Jewish as well as my mom’s mom’s mom (my great grandma) was Jewish and so on, but my grandma and mother were raised Catholic, and my dad was raised Catholic so I was raised Catholic (before I left the church as a teen / around 9th grade i left. Shortly after being confirmed in reality, ahaha xD;) Job: Unemployed atm *sobs* but sometimes i help friends or family with odds and ends for money. i used to do colouring commissions (digital). But I usually too to long and would end up feeling guilty about that so i stopped... And now I’m busier than before so I’d like to create content on my own terms with the free time i have. i’m also a student again. Psychology was a mistake. Now going for a International Politics/Studies/Relatioins | Global Peacekeeping degree and my goal is either to do something for state department or work for a non profit or something. I don’t aim to be rich and super successful. Simply being safe, happy, and satisfied is good enough for me. Though perhaps this stunts my motivation towards bettering myself (through good work ethic and stuff. i’m kind of a procrastinating potato person). Likes: G/t (hence having two G/t blogs; G/t is giant/tiny. if you aren’t cool w/ that then idk why you are here??? this blog is for G/t. Not necessarily sfw stuff either. This blog is NC-17+! (so if you are 16 or younger gtfo); I also like everything International - cultures; politics; languages ; architecture; art; FOOD :9 ; places; fauna; I LOVE CELEBRATING THE DIVERSITY OF THIS PLANET  TTvTT ; I’m  a rather liberal person socially, politically and so on. I will never be okay with bigotry of any kind. And I will not tolerate it. Nor bullying. Uhm. Let’s see. i’m kinda sorta socialist and thus kinda have some disdain towards capitalism I’m pro-choice but I hope that you have a good reason for it and not just because “it feels better w/o the condom”; if your all about that, i’d suggest maybe female condoms - though a little wonky at first - they allow for more sensation on both sides. They also can be used as ‘dental dams’. And i’m fairly certain they are free  w/ most insurances. And they can be put in and stay in for hours before use - so you (if female) good go out and have fun and hook up and not ruin the heat of the moment by condom putting on and stuff. Just saying. (hey this IS a nsfw blog, might as well give some nsfw advice haha.) I’m agnostic though I’m sorta leaning towards atheism. I’m just do paranoid/unsure of everything to totally discount religion/a higher being/etc. I just  sorta seriously doubt it. I am not fond of how religion has affected this planet now and throughout the past. But I can’t deny there are benefits to being religious and don’t hold it against people for being religious nor do i blame certain religions for the world’s problems. And Islamophobia, Antisemitism and anything anti-religion in such ways as the two before mentioned things counts as bigotry in my book and if you recall i don’t tolerate bigotry of any kind! I think the world kind sucks because people kinda suck in general, haha. I will never judge anyone personally. I may feel on the inside personal/hurt/angry feels, but I will do my best not to let it cloud my judgement of anyone permanently and it would take a LOT of hate and harassment for me to block anyone. I don’t like blocking people. I feel that is sorta like denying a person’s existence and sorta says ‘you aren’t worthwhile as a person’. And you have to be a total all-encompassing shithead for me to think that. That being said, I know some people with block very easily and my blog just being nsfw content-friendly would lead to blocking. a message stating why you are blocking me - especially if it’s nothing personal - would be nice, however, as I’m a VERY PARANOID person. Speaking of paranoia. I’m mentally ill. This is really  why I write and/or talk a lot. It is a habit out of nerves and awkwardness. And my poor attention span makes long conversation hard - barring if going off into tangets is okay. I will do that a lot. I have one mode and that mode is stream of conciousness. I know my use of many many words can be annoying. Trust me. I know. Please don’t harass me about it. If it truly makes you anxious, reach out to me, and I will try hard to be more concise when reblogging you or if ever addressing you. That is if you’d feel comfortable asking me this. I may not block people easily, but that doesn’t mean won’t. And that’s just a reality that I have to live with. I accept this. But yeah, basically if I upset you in anyway, let me know! I am always trying to better myself. The hardest thing for me would be to not ramble. If it’s something like a certain topic or word bothers you. And I’m currently not tagging it. Let me know. I’m gonna try and be super diligent (and not so rambly) with tags on this particular blog at the very least. though i should do that on every blog tbh...) Anyways, back to being mentally ill. I have Bipolar Disorder Type II (maybe, that is. just switched psychiatrists and my new one things I may just have regular general depressive disorder as my “up” moments are very infrequent and all I really do is be more impulsive/talkative/jittery/etc than usual... and my mood tends to be good when ‘up’.. too bad it comes with the loss of common sense. I don’t do anything physically dangerous though. Worst would be buying something expensive and stupid for no good reason. I’ve done that a few times. 0/10 would recommend, haha. I also have OCD (which is like useless. it gives me extreme focus, but mostly with dumb things - lists, aphabetizing things, researching stuff on the Internet, basically the only good thing is that I can research like a boss, though bad thing is that i end up spending way too much time researching and over do it... I already mentioned my anxiety awhile back, but I’ve been diagnosed with both General Anxiety Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder (i can practically be agoraphobic sometimes and have reculsive spells both online and off - which is why i probably will disappear at some point. maybe i’d come back. maybe i wouldn’t. and if i come back, it could be years before i do. i don’t know so you definitely wouldn’t know so puh-lease do not get attached to me ;___; G/t stuff: The truth is - I mostly like fluff and nice, kind, sfw stuff. At least as a viewer. As I content creator, I like to experiment and broach all kinds of topics, some sensitive. I will have characters that are genuinely bad people. Often I like dark characters that go through some sort of redemption. But I’ve toyed with doing something that is akin to ‘the making of a villain’ where a character starts out benevlent and than after going through some stuff, becomes malicious, perhaps downright evil even... a loss of self maybe have ocurred. I am not shy in having characters with imperfections, but in a realistic way that isn’t bad. I mean, it’s not ideal, but it happens. like blindness or a missing limb. many scars. mental illnesses are frequent in my characters and sometimes in a criminally insane way. However, I aim to reflect reality in such sort of topics, so of course criminally insane characters would be a very small minority compared to perfectly safe mentally ill characters. But, in any case, as I said, I plan on using extensive tags this blog WILL have (some) VORE. But it is NOT the focus of the blog and I don’t really draw vore - well i haven’t really done so yet... And in writing, I tend to making a horror element. Though I am somewhat fond of  “safe” (platonic or not) vore.. I’m rather confused about it and have a hard time considering plausible within my own content. So in my writing it would be fatal and not with any main characters of anything...mostly just poor SOBs and such... Basically, it would be quality content for the vore community as it would likely portray vore as despicable and wrong. As, in a real life scenario, that would be a correct assumption. These would be worlds w/o safe vore (barring i guess immediate puking, but i’m actually kinda disturbed/freaked by things vomit-related. So I’m not sure i’d be able to write that... Maybe i could. It’s just RL vomit that causes me to panic and cry. Drawn stuff or written stuff, as long as it’s not too descriptive or realistic doesn’t really bother me, though i’m not sure i’d say i like it.). Some vore stuff actually upsets me. But thing with me is, I never know when something is going to upset (aka make me cry/angry/uncomfortable/panicky) or whatever, so I just live with any unfortunate run ins with feels as it happens and then move on. Unless, I feel it is condoning a poor behavior and gives a message that is not in line with what you (the writer) indicates it is, then I’ll just nothing. And if i do say something, it won’t be in a hostile way, it would just be hey, x action actually kinda indicates y because of z. just thought i’d let you know if interpretations of this that reflects what i just by readers would bother you. if not, or if you disagree, than that’s cool too. I was just staying that just in case that would bother you and thus maybe you’d want to change things. but it’s totally your decision and i’m not pushing either way. blah blah some rambling because i’m trying not be offending while likely saying things that may offend. I have a hard time not being blunt and firm with my words. So basically take anything I say with a grain of salt. Sometimes I open my mouth when i shouldn’t. If I made you upset, just let me know what i did and why it upset you and i’ll apologize (within reason. like if you were a jerk and i was just like ‘oh stop that shit already’, i’m not gonna say sorry if you were legitmately being a jerk. but otherwise, i’m quick to say ‘sorry’. i’m always saying sorry. sometimes i’m wanting to say sorry but i’m too anxious too. so keep that in mind as well. Uhm. I like M/f and M/m content the most. F/f is p. cool too. Poly Relations that mixes M/m, M/f and/or F/f are cool too (all types of combos as long as there are no “m” with a “F”...not to knock on that, just isn’t my thing.. So yeah, as I hinted, i’m noot really a fan of F/m.. and I’m not gonna make much content with that (though i do have a canon F/m pairing in one of my worlds/series/story/idk what to call it. don’t expect much of them though.). But in all honest, there’s a lot of F/m stuff out there and my content isn’t mediocre at best so it’s not really a loss to the F/m community that i’m not doing much of that.Also, please don’t request content. I may see on your blog at some point you wish there was ‘x’ and/or ‘y’ content and this may prompt me to write or draw something like that. but it might not either. In a nutshell, I do what I what when I want. I know that’s kinda selfish but that mindset - when in connection with just leisure activities keeps me sane!You can ask any question. I just might not answer. If I’m not gonna answer, I respond with something random. And I’m unlikely to respond with drawings. Too much effort. Sorry.In theory, I’d like to RP. But I’m just not the right kind of person for a serious RP. i’d only want to do a detailed, literate story RP and i’d only be able to do like one respond a day - if that. So it’s kinda a waste of someone’s time to RP with me.  And I think I’d just prefer to write drabbles/one-shots or draw my characters or whatever. I don’t give my characters enough love. They kind just sorta chill in my mind not doing anything a vast majority of the time, haha xD So long story short, I’m not RPing currently. Sorry. And if/when I RP, I am not myself. I separate my interest/fantasy of G/t with my reality. Just trying to keep sane. Not trying to knock on people whom identify as a giant or tiny or whateverIDK what else to say. Probably am missing important stuff, while writing too much frivolous stuff, heh... I’ll probably edit this every now and that ^^