We waver—between passivity and anger, steeped rich in disappointment; between a resignation blended with hope that this could be enough, and a rejection, filled with the knowledge that we are worth more than this.

It is hard to know whose is whose.

I suspect the answer is “submission”, “submissiveness”, or even “being a submissive”—not just an occasional partaker of, but as core.

What am I if not someone that earnestly desires?

Fuck, man. Those words formed themselves without my input. There we were, not long ago at all, contending with the issue of having no contact with our desires, of not knowing at all. There’s embers smouldering under wraps, and I think it is f i n a l l y time to fan those flames fully.

What, if accepted, would let me go even further in my quest for self-knowledge?

I’m inclined to believe that all my identity labels can be bound up in one another; that each can be a lens unto the others. If it’s not obvious, it probably just means there’s a surprising takeaway to be found. I don’t mean to be dogmatic about it, but let’s run with it and see? Quoting our homepage:

• Trans. Well, this one’s kind of obvious. (You have to admit some gender essentialism, but this kind of lens work necessarily admits essentialism on every axis it looks at. I think that’s unavoidable.) tl;dr: gender, with all of its norms, ascribes submissive, obedient behaviour to one of its two main categories. Doesn’t take much thinking to realise which. If I were born cis, I don’t think I’d be trans. (Which is a funny way of validating my transition choices, really.)
• Plural. Developing plurality gave my identity the flexibility and leeway it needed to lean into new spheres. A lot of our internal work has been developing an internal sense of obedience; of testing out and playing with the idea of one of us (Ashe) being subservient to the other (Lia). Wherein Lia’s been acting as the frontrunner of our identity, this inner-play has been one way of promoting behaviour in the main front, Ashe; the identity we desire to embrace is that of a submissive, and so we provide space within for Ashe to submit. Lia’s dominance isn’t fake, but it’s also not the goal here; it’s a scaffold. Frontrunning is complex; here it’s closer to shaping.
• Poly. This basically indexes “non-traditional relationship style”. I think the Venn diagram of relationship escalators and compatibility with the depths of my submissiveness are two completely separate circles.
• Furry. I’m a fucking bunny. This identifier alone got us into our only actual correctly-oriented D/s relationship so far—“so, the bunny thing written on your AD account… is that like, a kink, rope-bunny thing? or a furry thing?” “well.. I only really meant the latter when I wrote it, but the former too now that I think about it?” nek minit I’m tied up on her living room floor.
• Asexual. This has taken quite some time to resolve completely, but exploring it in depth has provided clues, maybe even answers. Asexual as in “doesn’t experience sexual attraction”, yes. But even a hint of dominance, of assertion, of even just presuming that part of me might be yours to take, and I am suddenly extremely, intensely needy. As with almost every part of my self that I’ve come to embrace, “subsexual” is the kind of term I would have scoffed at even just months ago. Now I think it’s probably the closest thing to a ‘sexual orientation’ I might possess. I get turned on by submission, by obedience, by enforced compliance; by boundaries disregarded in a wider context of consent. By accepting what I am; by being brought to that acceptance.

We’ve a lot to contemplate.

MAX 300 was the first¹ level 10 song I cleared at the arcade. I learned to play DDR with my older brother; I distinctly recall the sensation of finally being better than him at a game—whether it was Descent, StarCraft, anything, he always had such a lead.

I started DDR a bit later than him and had some catching up to do, but eventually crossed the level 9 mark before he did. It turned out rhythm games would be a good place for me to excel.

He lives overseas now, and at some point got an L-TEK DDR pad. I was a bit envious, but felt the shipping expense—far worse to Australia than the US—was too hard to justify. Pandemic closing the gym made it muuuuuch more palatable, and plus it’d mean I’d get to play DDR with my brother again in a way.

It’s been a very good way to get fit again, and hitting old milestones again is a lot of fun. I’ve done some other harder ones already, but today was the day for clearing MAX 300 again. My scores are much better than my 13-year-old self’s, even though my endurance isn’t.

1. Not counting 桜 or bag here. ↩

I’m fucking sick of feeling like I’m talking past everyone; like none of my words actually register.

I don’t know if it’s this pandemic or what, but so decreasingly do I get the impression anyone cares to actually see me, to communicate soul to soul, real living being to real living being. (My nestmate is a beautiful exception, but then that’s why we’ve endured as we have.)

I’ve had it with lowering the bar. Fucking get on my level.

Cleared PARANOIA survivor (new 15, old 10) again today. After re-clearing Utopia (11 from ITG) a week ago, I think I’m finally up to where I was a decade and a half ago!