Three houses for the price of one…

I went to a church in my new town this week. I’m not religious but I need to force myself to do social events, and this is a UCC so they’re pro-gay which is my main requirement. And it was mostly a lovely experience - nice people, great music.

But there was this odd moment

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let’s start a “queer kids identifying with monsters and villains because we grew up watching queercoded bad guys in every show and movie” club

like this is a thing that i think a lot of queer people do without realising even before they know they’re queer. i think the formula is that if you ever loved a villain chances are you’re most likely not straight. bc when i try to explain the love of villains to straight people they dont fully get it

Clive Barker said this was why he wrote sympathetic monsters, and why he thought gay people responded to them, because they had been treated like monsters all their lives.  (This was in the 1980s.)


The Fox Says: Where the Ace Spectrum Intersects With Bisexuality



So I read tristifere’s post about being bi and sex-repulsed, and how one kind of prevented her from figuring out the other. And since that bi-ace collaboration thing seems to have died a slow internet death (which is a pity, because I think that there are a lot of places where they intersect, and I’m obviously not the only one who thinks so) I thought I’d take the opportunity to chime in with my own two cents.

As tristifere mentions, the intersection of bisexuality and asexuality is especially interesting in that you have the intersection of two orientations that are often considered polar opposites. Bi people are often heavily sexualised; many biphobic stereotypes are rooted in this. Merely being bi is seen as sufficient evidence to provoke slut-shaming, regardless of actual sexual behaviour. Bi women are ‘sexually available to men’ and thus any sexual abuse they encounter at the hands of men is their own fault. Bisexuality is automatically equated to willingness to have threesomes, to cheating, to the transfer of STDS. To people who view us like this, being bi and ace-spectrum is basically oxymoronic.

For her, this directly impacted on a reluctance to identify as bi. For me, being ace-spectrum impacted my self-identification as bi in much more subtle ways, but it certainly did so. I suspect that one reason for this is that I identified as bi quite a while before identifying on the ace-spectrum, whereas she was asexual first and biromantic later.

A little bit of personal information for context: I’m biromantic and gray-ace/demi. (I use the two terms vaguely interchangeably, but also I think I fit the criteria for both even if one doesn’t view demi as a subset of gray, which I do, so.)

I first encountered the asexual community from a newspaper article I read at about 14, at which point I mistakenly equated it with aromanticism, and spent a little while hesitantly identifying as ‘asexual’. Society was telling me that I needed to view one gender differently from the other (yes, I know, gender isn’t a binary. 14 year old Fox didn’t know that); ideally, viewing boys in a way I didn’t view girls. I didn’t view either gender in a different way. I (probably) had crushes on a few people of various genders, but since I needed to feel something special for boys I didn’t for girls, these went unacknowledged. Of course, not understanding why everyone was suddenly so obsessed with sex and sex jokes and drawing dicks on things didn’t exactly help.

Then I got a boyfriend, acknowledged my crush on him, and boom! Just like that, I’d been straight all along! (Straight meaning heterosexual heteroromantic, obviously.)

I’m going to skip the details of that relationship. Suffice it to say that I thought I was allosexual and a ‘late bloomer’ for a while. We had sex, eventually, I enjoyed the sex even if I very rarely initiated it. Looking back I’m pretty sure I was confusing arousal for attraction, but that’s a big long complicated topic that can be talked about some other time.

Anyway. A few years into that relationship, I started to realise that maybe I wasn’t exactly straight after all. That’s where my ace-spectrum-ness came into play again.

So having confided my confusion about my sexuality to my then-boyfriend, he suggested that I should go and kiss some girls and see what I thought about it. But the idea didn’t appeal to me in the slightest, though I nodded and smiled and had absolutely no intention of acting on it. Like how do you explain to someone that you’re pretty sure you’re attracted to girls, you just have absolutely no desire to get physically intimate with any girls you know and definitely not with some random stranger? How do you explain that no, all his suggested threesome fantasies sound really unappealing unless you substitute in some hypothetical person whom you can’t actually visualise in your head at all except for knowing that you’d be really close to her? But you’re still pretty sure you’re probably maybe bi.

How do you explain that you actively seek out femslash fic (but skim over half the sex scenes), that you actively seek out queer media, that you fucking started watching Glee of all shows literally just because you heard they had a lesbian couple, that you really emphasise with everything you read about girls discovering they like girls – except for when you don’t, like that one book where she starts watching movies for the lesbian sex scenes when she’s like 13.

One of the things that stuck with me is Khaos Komix (written by Tab of Shades of A fame) which was a WIP at the time and which I rapidly archive binged and then loyally followed. I (naturally) especially cared about the Amber and Nay stories. Khaos has a short NSFW side-story featuring one of the couples after every two stories; I skipped them on my first read because they’re not essential to the plot (the website has a nice convenient button to let you do so, which is appreciated) but eventually curiosity got the better of me during a reread. I remember looking at this vaguely pornographic comic of two women and being puzzled as to why it wasn’t turning me on. If I was actually bi, surely I’d have had some sort of physical reaction, right?

Remember, at the time I was convinced I was allosexual. This combined with compulsory sexuality – everyone is a sexual being, romantic and sexual attraction must be experienced at the same time, sexual attraction is what really matters – drew out my self-realisation process for much longer than it needed to last.

Internalised bisexual stereotypes intersected with my ace-spectrum-ness, too. Demisexuality manifests itself in me as a sort of ‘serial monogamy’ – I will crush on a person to a kind of embarrassing extent. They will be the only person I’m interested in dating, I will be much more open to touch from them, eventually (a while after we’re dating) sexual attraction is (probably) a thing that happens. Anyone who isn’t that one person – nope, not interested, go away. But if you’re bi, clearly you need to be sexually attracted to multiple genders at the same time, which is incompatible with the above.

My thought process went in a kind of cycle: ‘Everyone is a sexual being. Therefore I am a sexual being. Orientations are centred around sexual attraction – romantic attraction is secondary to this. I believe I am bi. However, I do not feel sexual attraction towards girls. But I feel like I am bi. But as everyone is a sexual being, I must be a sexual being, and therefore must feel sexual attraction towards multiple genders in order to be bi. I only feel sexual attraction towards [ex]. Ergo, I cannot be bi. But I feel like I am bi.’

This also connected to a bunch of internalised biphobia. Most bisexuals weren’t actually bi, you see. They were all monosexuals claiming to be bi to reap the attention of others. As I didn’t usually feel sexual attraction towards women, clearly I’d just convinced myself I must be bi in a desperate bid to gain attention, to make myself feel special. (This train of thought is actually a really common theme with me; I might write something else on it at some point.)

Obviously, very little in life is mono-causal. My initial reluctance/confusion over being bi had other contributing factors. Much of what I have just written were things I felt, but did not articulate; it’s only now, looking back on it with the knowledge that I’m somewhere on the ace spectrum, that all the pieces start falling into place. Hindsight has its own set of biases, though.

The matter is also slightly confused by the fact that my sexuality is one big confusing mess of ‘definitely not allosexual but not entirely asexual either’. For example, upon realising that ‘wait, isn’t this porn supposed to be doing something for me?’, I am sometimes able to force myself to be aroused through sheer force of will. (I feel like I should clarify that I have a pretty small sample set, due to my not actually having any motivation to look for pornography, but.)

But basically, what I’m trying to say is that there definitely is an intersection between having an unidentified ace-spectrum identity and problems with coming to terms with other aspects of one’s orientation complex, and that us non-sex-repulsed members of the community can still have difficulties reconciling the two. Maybe bi ace-spectrum people have a bit more of an issue due to bisexuality being so hyper-sexualised, but I’d imagine this experience isn’t unique just to us bi-(and-pan)-romantics.

- Fox

Someone asked about this bi/ace crossover at the LGBTQ&A at Dash Con!  If that person was you, thedragonandthefox sounds like a great person for you to get in touch with.  

- Sarah


The graph of Nerdfighteria


The graph of Nerdfighteria

(via effyeahnerdfighters)


dedicated to all the anons who continue to feel the need to ‘explain’ to me that I shouldn’t love thorin cause he’s a selfish greedy asshole villain and his death will be justified in the third movie (✿ʘ‿ʘ)

(Source: hobbitunderthemountain, via aranelmereneth)




Tiny Thorin(kili fili) 4

I think I made a story?

1.Once upon a time there were three tiny little dwarves.They were very happy.

2.One day,the oldest dwarf could not find his nephews.He searched every where.But still cloud not find them.

3.He waited and waited.And the rain would come soon.

4.He was very upset.The nephews never come back.

If you saw them please tell this poor thing.

It’s so cute! now we just need it to be found by his nephews. <3

Congratulations, is very beautiful!

(via aranelmereneth)


makura-no-soushi said: Currently world-building for a story, and I'm curious about what you and your followers think about fantasy books set in worlds where bisexuality is extremely common if not the social norm; Tanya Huff, Ellen Kushner, Gregory Maguire, et al. I've loved that sort of fantasy since I was a child - as it feels more comfortable and natural - but part of me also wonders if it isn't just an easy way for a writer to avoid handling the issues bisexuals face in the real world. Thanks for your input!


I’ve been thinking about this ask for a few days, and I’m of two minds on it. On the one hand, when you create a world where everyone is some form of bi/pan/omni/queer/multisexual spectrum, but no one talks about it, you are dodging any discussion of the oppressions REAL bi/pan/omni/queer/multisexual spectrum people face. It’s a writer’s cop-out on important issues, for sure. And in many ways, it holds up all the fallacies of the “everyone is a little bi” argument. It undermines the fact that not everyone actually is bi, and pretending like everyone is generalizes the identity and waters it out so that monosexuals don’t have to feel uncomfortable with people who are different from them.* I think this is especially true when straight authors do it. They get to reap all the benefits of being thought an ally, while never having to deal with learning anything about the difficulties actual queer people experience.

 On the other hand, dang, a whole world full of bi/pan/omni/queer/multisexual spectrum people! Such paradise! One of the big criticisms that a lot of fantasy and science fiction get is that the genre gives you the opportunity to create a whole new society. You could create anything you want! But instead, so many authors choose to recreate the same white supremacist, cissexist patriarchal straight society that we currently have – only on the moon and with laser guns. And in that sense, writing predominantly bi societies is a good thing. It reminds us that the way our society treats queer people is not “natural” and we don’t have to live in a society like we currently have.

 I think the fact that you are asking yourself these questions is a really good start. If you are aware of the issues bi people face in our society, if you aren’t ignoring it, you can create a non-monosexual society while still being sensitive to the issues that face real-life bi people. It may even make your world more realistic, because it’s not like people in the future will just forget their monosexist ways so quickly or easily.

*Someone else on tumblr used phrasing very close to this to explain it, but I can’t remember who and I can’t find it now. If you know who it was, let me know and I’ll credit them.

~ Ellie

The kitchen's under enormous strain, we are almost out of wine.
How long do you think they will be with us?

um, somehow the way Lindir looks down and then back makes me ship them terribly…

(Source: whereisyourpippinnow, via the-hobbit)

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