Jul. 10th, 2014

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Happy THURSDAY, my lovelies! Early post today because I’m going to Anime Expo this weekend! And in celebration of that and the premiere of Sailor Moon: Crystal: 

Fandom Inspired: “Sailor Moon” - Sailor Senshi Inspired


(And hey, if you’re gonna be at Anime Expo this weekend and you see me, PLEASE run up to me and say hi! I’ll be delighted! More info on when I’ll be there and what I’ll be wearing in the link above ;) Happy weekend, my lovelies!)

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man, check me out
getting angry at friends
telling friends they’ve upset me
calling friends out on behavior
setting boundaries with friends
i am just on a roll these last two months

hashtag i even cried at my dad about how much my mom’s worrying me lately
and actually brought up the phrase ‘emotionally abusive’ as frightening and
WRONG as it has to be so as to really get his attention
hashtag i guess these are good things???
hashtag mkp introspects
hashtag mkp in real life

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((hey, persephonesidekick, if you don’t feel comfortable with this post
being up, let me know and I’ll take it down.))

Weirdly, one of the things I’m proudest about from my experience at Camp is
also one of the most upsetting?

I’m not going to go too in depth into the story here, because it gets kind
of complicated, but the gist (well, long gist) of it is this:

There was an event at Camp that was kind of transphobic. Not intentionally,
and I’m sure the actual event would’ve been fine, but on the surface of it
and in the description given, it was pretty actively hostile to any

I was pissed off and complained about it at my lunch table, thinking out
loud that maybe I could find the people in charge of the event and call
them out on it.

That might or might not have come to anything - I might have chickened out
of actually pitching a fit, or never found out who was in charge of the
event, etc etc.

But then the people sitting next to me started cisplaining at me (and if
that’s not a word, it needs to be one) about how it absolutely WASN’T
transphobic and how I was being ridiculous and overly sensitive and just
wouldn’t listen to what I was saying, making me angrier and more upset by
the minute until finally I just burst out crying because I was so angry.

This. uh. kind of threw people, I think. Hysterically outraged crying tends
to do that.

Anyway. I left. Not much later, a friend of mine came up to me asking if we
could talk.

I told him that if it was about how this thing wasn’t transphobic, then no,
no we could not.

He ignored that and started cisplaining at me anyway. The straw that broke
the camel’s back, so to speak, was the patronizing way he was talking to
me, like I didn’t understand what was going on and was a small child.

I’ve very rarely been so furious with someone. It was like getting hit.

I’m lucky in that persephonesidekick was there and she MADE him stop when
he would have kept going when I told him the conversation was over and that
I couldn’t talk to him anymore, because I think that if it had continued
the damage to our relationship might well have been irreparable.

(protip: if I say I can’t talk about something with you, the correct
response is NOT to keep talking about it at me.)

the rest of that day was awful - I was already upset about the incident
itself, but I could have dealt with that. It meant a lot to me, but it
didn’t personally affect me, and anyway I’m used to dealing with that kind
of outrage.

What I couldn’t handle was how my friend had treated me. I felt betrayed on
the deepest level. Not because he hadn’t understood that the thing in
question was transphobic, or because he’d tried to defend it, but because
he’d treated me like an ignorant child.

(This was especially upsetting because he’s a part of the ageplay scene and
is one of the people I’m probably littlest around. Which had always been
okay because he still treated me like a full person and adult, even when he
was also saying hello back to my stuffed bear and stuff like that.)

Persephonesidekick was the only person around I could have talked to, but
she was having her own reactions to the day and couldn’t help me on top of
that. (Which was perfectly legit and understandable, especially since the
whole thing had a whole lot more to do with her than it ever would with me,
but still kind of left me spinning out all by myself.)

So the rest of the evening was me being angry-sad-upset-hurt-betrayed - so
angry I wanted to hurt myself because I couldn’t stand it.

Eventually though, even this kind of thing passes, and so by the next day
the fury had kind of settled into a cold distant anger.

I’m not good at staying angry at people I care about. I hate it. I hate
fighting with them. Most of the time I end up convincing myself it was my
fault in the first place and end up apologizing to *them*.

This time? I didn’t. I stayed angry. So, so angry.

I’ve let many things go in my life. Forgiven, but not forgotten. This
wasn’t going to be one of them. Something fundamental in our relationship
had been broken and I wasn’t going to try to just paper over the cracks.

Either he apologized, or we were done.

And as the day went on, and I saw him several times, it became more and
more apparent that he wasn’t going to, even though I knew from
conversations with Persephonesidekick that he did understand now how uncool
his behavior had been.

(She kicked some serious fucking ass that day and changed shit for the
better. Respect, yo.)

He did apologize, eventually - he hadn’t realized just how upset and angry
I was, so he hadn’t set it as a priority and had just let me be when I
looked busy.

I didn’t just forgive him, which was another amazing thing. I made sure he
understood just exactly how badly he’d hurt me before accepting his apology.

Then I slowly started to let it go.

I’ve forgiven him now, but it’s only forgiven, not forgotten.

and as horrible as the whole event was, two good things came out of it.
first, on the macro level, persephonesidekick got the organizers to cut
that shit out.

second, on a more personal level, I realized for maybe the first time that
I could be that angry at someone and *could* just not let it go.

And I’m kind of strangely proud of that. As much as I wish it hadn’t
happened, it still feels good (in that painful, growing sort of way) to
feel strong like that. I might have felt like I could shatter at the barest
touch, but there was this cold hard certainty inside me that someone I
cared about had hurt me and that it *was not my fault.*

I’m always making excuses for loved ones and friends when they hurt me. And
they’re important, reasonable things to take into account!

But now I know I *can* have that kind of clarity (even it wavered now and
then) and that. I don’t know. that’s important to me.

I feel like something hardened inside. Which sounds bad, but it isn’t.

It’s like instead of collapsing under pressure for once, I turned as fierce
and hard as a diamond instead.

(think i’m not a goddess? try me. this is a torch song. touch me and you’ll

hashtag camp camp camp
hashtag mkp introspects
hashtag this is probably kind of dumb ngl

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but I just now noticed Mimsy’s Santana tag and I am just so fucking pleased

santana: the girl on fire

motherfucking *yes*

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&;&;&;&;DO NOT REBLOG&;&;&;&;

As I’ve said in previous posts, one of my goals for Camp was to push myself
and some of my limits, particularly sexual ones.

To that end, I gave myself one specific goal and one
mostly-wistful-wishful-thinking goal.

I’ve already written about achieving my first goal; now I’m going to talk
about the second one.

I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to do it, which was why it was never a
“real” goal, but lo and behold, the last day of Camp, I took a turn on the


As you. ah. may have picked up from various posts and bits of conversation,
forced orgasms are kind of a &;thing&; for me. As such, it may not come as a
surprise that being held in place while fierce streams of water pounded at
my ladybits has been a longstanding fantasy of mine.

(Confession: I definitely at least once concocted a story in my head about
James Potter doing this to Lily Evans.)

That you could hear ladies loudly enjoying the clitwasher most hours of the
day all of camp just made it even more enticing.

But naked! And &;man&;! and being SEXUAL in front of people!

It just didn’t seem possible.

Next year, I kept wistfully saying to myself. Maybe next year I’ll be able
to do it. Next year in Jerusalem.

I managed to visit Jerusalem early due to a strange series of events:

First, after bemoaning why sexy things had to be so scary (and explaining
what I was talking about) to Starshine (I’m pretty sure I can use that name
on the web. I’d better double check tho.), she suggested I take someone
with me if I was nervous, and actually suggested a specific person who
happened to be perfect: I knew them well enough to be comfortable with
them, but not well enough that the thought of them seeing me be at all
sexual freaked me out; and older enough to be reassuring, but not old
enough to remind me of my parents.

Second, while doing nails at the Spa, I happened to overhear a woman (who
turned out to be the clitwasher-guy’s wife) talking about how she was meant
to go operate it soon and how the lady she was talking to should really
give it a try. I couldn’t help but ask her, and it turned out that
(although she warned me she’s not nearly as good at it as her husband) she
sometimes ran the machine and was more than willing to do that if it the
person in question preferred a lady operator.

Since men. uh. scare me, this was an enormous relief.

I think I might have still been riding the adrenaline high from my previous
successful experiment, but somehow I managed to ask the person if she’d go
with me and she said yes. (She even took care of getting me signed up for a
time with the lady operator!)

I got there a little before my allotted time, which meant I had a very nice
vantagepoint to hear a pretty lady’s pretty cries and her calls to her
‘daddy’ which was uh. pretty hot.

It turned out they were way behind, so it was another hour or so before
they got to me, and by that time the person who’d came with me had to go in
very short order.

She still came with me to get me set up. And before it ever started she
gave me a big hug and made me tell her what I would say if I wasn’t okay

(That seems like it shouldn’t be a big deal - safewords are standard at
Camp or the club, and probably should be in general - but it was actually
reassuring to say it out loud and have that reminded that it was there and
I should use it if I needed to.)

I went up to the thing with a towel wrapped around me. The lady operator
was like, you know you’re going to need to be naked, right? But I was super
clever, okay, I brought TWO towels. One for drying off later and one for
covering most of me up. And/or hiding my face in.

Her husband was leaving for some reason and was like, I’ll be back in a few
and I kind of was quietly like, no that’s okay take your time! and they
sort of looked at each other and then he didn’t come back into the area
until I was done, which I thought was pretty cool of him.

I was kind of lightheaded and scared as the lady put my legs in the straps
- it was weird, because I was naked, and she was naked, and my ladybits
were all exposed, and there was a lot of just hiding my face under my towel.

It was - I hesitate to use the word fun. I was so freaked out I couldn’t
really relax and enjoy it.

It still felt really fucking good, but I wasn’t able to get off or anything
- too self-conscious. I might have been able to if it’d gone on longer -
next time I might try to sign up for TWO timeslots in a row, if they let
you do that - but as was, afterwards I was kind of hot and achy down low,
if you know what I mean.

I kind of freaked out when we finished, because I realized I sort of knew
the people next in line, and I didn’t want them to see me. The lady was
super nice about it; she let me cover my head with my towel and walked me
over to my clothes.

(It was kind of hilarious; I overheard her loudly mouthing to her husband
over my head that “She’s really shy.”)

I was kind of shaky and really turned on and sort of wanted to cry, even
though I wasn’t sure why, so I was really glad the person who’d orginally
came with me had made sure I knew where she was and that I could come get
her if I needed a hug or anything afterwards.

I. uh. might have cried on her a little. She didn’t seem to mind tho.

It didn’t feel like sex - more like masturbation. Despite the fact that
another person was involved. (and god I was glad I had the lady doing it
and not her husband because I had not realized before hand that there would
actually be touching of my ladybits even though it really should have been
obvious in retrospect because how else are they going to hit the right
spots, I mean really?)

All in all, it was another kind of unreal experience - one I’m glad I had,
but still kind of have trouble believing it actually happened.

(But if I’d dreamed it up, I’m pretty sure I would’ve had an orgasm. Next

so yeah. that’s my second TMI self-report from this years kinkstravaganza.

Yay me?

&;&;&;&;DO NOT REBLOG&;&;&;&;

hashtag camp camp camp
hashtag nsfw like whoa
hashtag tmi tmi tmi so much tmi
hashtag kink for kate’s bls
hashtag mkp is kinky


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fanfiction always escalates so quickly like one moment they’re on their first date and the next they’re fucking on the apartment floor.

either that or 200k words of foreplay and sexual tension

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Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest that just sounds nice and cozy, but if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die.

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lol i’m making an amazon wishlist just because it’s like online window shopping, and so far it consists of lingerie, school supplies, and peanut butter cups

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not be mentally ill

have good grades

to dislike reading

have a happy family

enjoy exercising/not enjoy exercising

to have different opinion

to reblog/not reblog certain posts

to be a gay white boy

to be a straight white boy

to be a bisexual white girl

(to be any race/gender/sexual orientation)

to not like porn

to not ship destiel

to not be in a fandom

to be in a happy relationship

amen to this post

ALSO 100% ok TO

-have tentacle
-swim in ocean
-attack ships and blue whale
-get suction cups on tentacles stuck on computer key so u hav 2 type with ur beak
- so u type slow
- because u r giant squid
-it’s ok to be giant squid

#wow so glAD someone’s finally standing up for people who aren’t mentally ill how brave#my god the stigma you must experience is insane likw i bet derision for your state of being is built into our very linguistic patterns#it’s madness#so to speak#UGHhhhhhh

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'why are you sitting in the dark' excuse you I've been sitting here all day and it got dark around me I did not choose this

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IMPORTANT FACTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




This can get pretty extreme. I was abused by my parents but they were safe enough that some of my friends hid from their own parents in my house.

Look sometimes abusers are nice. Sometimes even to the people they are abusing. It can be a good strategy. And even when it’s not calculated manipulation but an genuine internal conflict inside them, it’s can still be true that no amount of “nice sometimes” can really undo what they’re doing.

Seriously it’s hard enough to have the moral clarity to complain about abuse from somebody when they are “sometimes nice.” If somebody is complaining about somebody they care about or are supposed to care about, then odd’s add they’ve already factored in more excuses than the person hurting them deserves, especially if they’re family.

Don’t be one more voice arguing for minimization along with all the other voices they overcome to speak up at all.

See, this makes sense and all, but (and admittedly it’s not like my parents are abusive) when I’m going to my friends about family members that have hurt me, I kind of ~do~ want reassurance that they didn’t mean it the way it came out, *along* with the validation that yeah, the way it came out was pretty terrible.
So this is hard for me to do when other people come to me. I try, and especially for people I ~know~ have actually abusive relationships I try very hard to actually verbally condemn the abusive actions and call out the manipulations for what they are, because I know that’s what my friend needs - but if I ever do this to you, please understand that I am not trying to minimize what’s happened to you. My automatic kneejerk reaction in most situations* is to reassure you and help rationalize why it wasn’t so bad, because that’s what I do ~myself.~

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