#I'm rather indifferent but my partner likes it so I can do stuff for a little while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

venus-haze · 1 year

Text

Dawn Patrol (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: You never thought you’d see him again. Your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime-fighting, the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. It seems like the universe is giving you a second chance when you end up in this place with Homelander. Except, this one isn't quite like the man you remember, but he's not letting that stop him.

Note: Gender-neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also a different take on the “love of your life died and came back but something's wrong” horror trope. Title comes from the Megadeth song (which is about living in a dystopia). Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Extremely unhealthy relationship. Intense feelings of loss, confusion, and self-doubt on the reader’s part. Some elements of unreality? Homelander is extremely manipulative, possessive, and gaslights the hell out of the reader in this, but no physical harm is done. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The man standing in front of you wasn’t John, not your John, at least. He acted strange whenever you called him that. Homelander felt so impersonal, though, a title and persona rather than the man you loved your whole life. You silently scolded yourself. You shouldn’t complain so much, not when he believed you, against all reason, despite never having met you before in this version of reality. If it were even real.

You had crumbled the first time you saw him. Weeks of being locked in a lab, poked and prodded and tested before he entered with an unfamiliar coldness. It had to have been a cruel trick, these people using your greatest vulnerability against you. John had been presumed dead for years. The ache that consumed you at his loss made it hard to even breathe sometimes, and you’d spent countless nights alone in your formerly shared bed, wracked by guilt for not doing more as you silently implored the universe to give you one more chance. You should have known it’d come with plenty of strings attached.

His name echoed through the room in a desperate howl. You strained against the titanium cuff you were chained to, and he froze upon hearing one of the links break. Rabid, desperate, tears streamed down your face in your delirium. You needed to touch him, to feel for yourself that it wasn’t your brain tricking you again. It has to be real this time.

His breath hitched as he approached you, the way animal control does a feral dog–cautious and gentle, but still regarding you with a level of distrust. Your struggle subsided with each step he took, until he was finally in arms’ reach. Looking into his blue eyes for the first time in years, your hand trembled as you lifted it to caress his cheek. Soft and warm like you’d remembered.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m your–Gemini,” you said. “‘Cause I can–”

“Make duplicates of yourself, they told me. Who are you?”

“Not here, but somewhere else, I'm your partner in, well, everything. We grew up across the street from each other,” you told him. “Your powers showed up sooner than mine, but your mom always said we were a package deal, so when we started fighting crime together, it just made sense that we’d fall in love too.”

“My mom?” he whispered.

“She was the one who came up with the name Gemini for me.”

His gaze softened, his eyes turning cloudy. You recognized that look. Deep in thought, a million miles away, the only place John wouldn’t take you. This one didn’t seem eager to do so either. Did he and his mom not get along here? Was she dead, even?

He cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“We called ourselves Dawn Patrol because we’d get up before school to do our superhero stuff, and it stuck.”

“How did you end up here, then?”

“I already told them–”

“I want to hear it from you.”

You recoiled a bit. Your story began at the end, and while you managed to tell it to a group of seemingly indifferent white coats, recounting it to the man himself, or some version of him, was almost too much to bear. Still, you pushed through.

Phantom, that’s what he called himself, selfish and conniving with the ability to teleport in the shadows and seemingly shift reality itself. He was a particular menace that you and Homelander could never quite get the upper hand on, the situation imploding when Homelander, your Homelander, tackled the supervillain mid-teleport. The last thing you saw of him was his back as he disappeared with Phantom.

No one had seen him since. Despite Phantom’s insistence that he didn’t know what happened to Homelander, you kept an irrational, unrelenting grudge against him for taking the love of your life away from you. Guilt and rage fueled you, and in your most recent, and presumably last encounter with your arch-nemesis, you made the same mistake Homelander did, and ended up wherever the hell you were.

“Either you’re telling the truth, or you’re an unprecedented liar,” he hissed through his teeth, grabbing your wrists, “but I believe you.”

A beastial imitation of your first and only love transformed before your eyes over the following weeks. In his absence, your yearning had grown teeth, long and sharp, hungry to tear through flesh and for your flesh to be torn. This new man’s rib cage cracked open to offer part of himself to recreate you. You looked into the crimson void and saw his beating heart, a long-suffering shrine to you as yours was to his, or at least some memory of him. A loneliness you were all too familiar with was already settled deep within him. Why needlessly suffer though a monastic existence any longer?

You, in turn, indulged in him. Allowed your hunger to overtake you and break your involuntary fast as you devoured him. Insatiable, your lips pressed against the skin of this stranger that nevertheless you knew by heart. In your grief, in your anger, you’d pulled him out from the ether. You wondered if you could put him back together as the man you knew he could be, bloody your hands raw clawing back the damage that had been done to him by whoever came before you.

The first few days, you tried as much, the two of you hardly letting up from your entanglement in his bed. You stared at the mirror on the ceiling, taking him in with the attentiveness of the crowds that gathered around the tragically small Mona Lisa in the Louvre. Then, in the quiet moments, in tones hardly above hushed whispered, he’d ask you questions about this other life and upbringing he never got to experience, pensive at your answers, almost bothered at times.

Most of his questions seemed to be about his parents, especially his mother. Though your phone had been returned to you, it had no signal, but you were able to show him photos. Some of the last ones of you and John together was at a Fourth of July party in his parents’ backyard. One of his aunts had taken a candid photo of you, John and his parents sitting together at one of the patio tables, smiling and laughing. You had everything documented, from weddings to birthday parties to school days. John always poked fun at you for taking the phrase “take a picture, it’ll last longer” so seriously.

Now, reflecting on these times with his other, you clung to him as you watched him swipe through this other version of himself’s life. Studying it, silently reflecting on your stories and anecdotes as if to memorize them, be able to recite them by heart.

Despite the distorted period of reunited bliss, you could tell something was off about Homelander. He talked his way around your questions about his own upbringing, never quite giving you a straight answer and occasionally snapping at you when you pressed for more details. Your eyes widened the first time he did so, heart skipping a beat or two, you couldn’t recall John raising his voice at you like that before. Homelander noticed your reaction right away, soothing you with reassurances that he wasn’t mad at you, he could never be.

It seemed like he was mad at a lot of other people, though. He’d go on long rants about people at Vought, this corporation that didn’t exist where you were from but somehow controlled so much of his life and that of every other superhero. Walking around the tower with him, you noticed the way people’s demeanors shifted when he was there, a nervous submission he seemed to bask in but made your stomach feel sour.

His attempts not to scare you, to put you at ease with the prospect of spending the rest of your life with him were never quite as successful as he hoped. The warning voice in your brain knew something was off about him. You ignored it as best you could, figuring you could manage a way to handle him and chalking it up to the loneliness he was entrenched in before you came along. One night, a rarity wherein you were alone in his suite and finally had a chance to think the situation through, you panicked, hatching a messy escape plan.

Leaving a duplicate of yourself behind in the living room, you slipped out of the suite, walking down the long hallway to the elevator. The tower was so tall that it required switching elevators to get from the top floor to the lobby, and so you made the initial descent to the 50th floor.

The ride down was excruciatingly long, and every time the elevator stopped to let someone in, you felt yourself freeze up. No one acknowledged you at any point during the descent, filtering in and out, minding their own business.

When you switched elevators, you knew you were in the home stretch. Your heart raced as you pressed the ‘L’ for the lobby, the star next to the button assuring you that the ground floor would be your ticket out of there. By the time you were on the single-digit floors, you were alone again.

At least, you were until you reached the lobby. The doors opened, revealing Homelander waiting for you behind them. You backed into the wall on the opposite side of the steel box, as if that’d do anything to protect you.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And where do you think you’re going?”

He entered the elevator, reaching over to press the button back up to the 50th floor. Silence for nearly twenty floors, though you were sure the sound of your rapidly beating heart was deafening to him.

Finally, you spoke. “How did you know?”

“Your duplicate’s pretty convincing, but they don’t have a heartbeat,” he said.

John had never told you that. Your duplicates were perfect copies of you, your abnormal physical strength sapped to create each one so that they could take damage from attacks in your place. It never occurred to you that they were so blatantly lifeless.

The doors opened on the 50th floor, and instead of going in the next one over to continue the ascent, Homelander pulled you into an empty office. He closed the door, darkness engulfing the room. When you reached for a light switch, he caught your wrist in his hand instead.

“If you have a problem, you talk to me about it. You do not try to fake me out and run,” he hissed. “Do you really think the fucking white coats I saved you from would just let you walk out of here? You’d end up right back in that room. All of those things that he had, the loving parents, the pretty suburban life with your childhood sweetheart that's straight out of a fucking romcom? I didn't get that because of them."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "You didn't deserve that."

"No," he said, almost shocked at your acknowledgement of how horrific his upbringing was. "I didn't. You're here, now, though, so we're both getting what we want."

Not like this. Not you.

Yet, you were stuck with the hand you had been dealt. This corrupted imitation of the man you loved, who nevertheless was so desperate for the intense emotions you felt for him otherwise that he was willing to believe you despite all logic telling him otherwise.

The way he spoke about the people back in the lab you’d been held in, as if he knew, experienced what you did and even worse. Saved you from it. Maybe you could try. Maybe that could get you somewhere.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Being around him rendered you emotionally vulnerable. He looked just like him, and at times acted almost exactly the same. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could convince yourself it was him. How long could you go on doing that before you walked around blindly?

“Babe, did you hear a word I just said?” Homelander asked.

You looked up at him. “Got distracted, sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, the slightest smile on his face. “I’ll chalk it up to my good looks. I know you’ve been cooped up for a while, so I want you to do a team-up with me tomorrow night. It’ll be Dawn Patrol, just like old times.”

Old times? There were no old times. Not with him.

Nevertheless, you agreed. “Yeah, it’d be nice to get back out there. Haven’t done it in a while.”

“Once you’re back at it, you won’t even have to think about it, like riding a bike,” he paused for a moment, “I guess.”

His excitement the following day was infectious. You hadn’t done any crime-fighting in a long time, and doing so with him would surely help you ease into it again. He was always the best of the best, but it seemed like here, not only was he deified, but he reveled in it.

When he brought you to his superhero team’s private gym to train, he was almost shocked at how well your powers and fighting style seemed to compliment him. Elation filled your chest. Maybe you’d jumped to conclusions too soon about him. You just had to be more flexible, willing to compromise to make it work.

You were thrown off upon being presented with a crime-fighting schedule that night. A self-professed crime analytics team explained their methodology to you. When you looked to Homelander in disbelief, he seemed unfazed by the information. Being able to predict crime down to the minute just to bolster careers and social media followings seemed far from ethical, but from what little you’d learned of Vought in the weeks you’d been there, that wasn’t a concern of theirs.

Flying with him again was almost too overwhelming, bringing back memories of you and John in your teenage years. Instead of partying with your peers, the two of you would pick up fast food late on Saturday nights, sitting on suburban rooftops with your police scanner, eating burgers and listening for trouble. He’d grab you by the waist, flying off with you to stop some bad guys. Of course, people complained to your parents that you’d leave chicken nugget boxes and ketchup packets on their roofs in your haste.

By the time Homelander landed in an alley just a block away from where the crime would supposedly take place, you were crying.

“You okay? I thought you’d be used to it.”

“I am. It’s just been a while. Brought back a lot of memories.”

He smiled, kissing your forehead. “You won’t have to go so long without flying with me again. I promise, babe.”

You sniffled, giving him a weak smile. “Let’s go get some bad guys.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The next few minutes were silent as Homelander listened for the sound of a bank alarm. Late-night robbery, the crime analytics team had told you, it couldn’t be easier. You weren’t sure what time it was when Homelander grabbed you, the familiar gesture of his arm around your waist making you feel overwhelmed again.

When he landed, you could see the glass doors leading into the bank had been smashed, leaving shards of glass scattered on the sidewalk that crunched beneath your boots. There’d be three bank robbers, one lookout while the other two took what they could from the vault. You and Homelander already agreed that you’d take on the lookout and then join him in subduing the others.

You hesitated for a moment when you and Homelander split up, but you didn’t let it distract you too much. The lookout froze upon seeing you duplicate, his hand shaking as he pointed the gun between you and your temporary clone. Whichever one he shot, you’d heal fast enough, though you’d get less damage if he shot the duplicate rather than you.

His impulsiveness proved to be his downfall, as your duplicate began to walk toward him, and he pulled the trigger, nearly passing out when the clone de-materialized before him.

In his moment of distraction, you knocked the gun from his hand, grabbing a nearby desk phone and hitting him in the temple with it. You kicked the gun to the other side of the room before he could reach for it and hit him in the head again. He dropped to the ground, unmoving on the floor.

You set off to find Homelander. The vault was empty when you got there, a mess of valuable and still smoldering scorch marks in the wall where either the thieves had used explosives to break their way in, or Homelander had lasered them into oblivion. Regardless, there was no sign of anyone.

“Homelander?” you called out.

No response. You looked around frantically for any sign of him.

You couldn’t lose him again, not even this terrifying version of him. “Homelander, where did you go?”

Silence again. Your pounding heart rang in your ears as you turned around, setting off for another part of the building in hopes of finding him. There wasn’t anyone else you could count on here, and for all his faults, he was the only person you trusted.

Just when it felt hopeless and your brain was about to implode on itself at the sinking notion that maybe he was gone, a loud bang came from the other side of the bank where the vault was. You rushed over without a second thought for your own safety. Besides, the injury your duplicate had taken on your behalf was already healing. You'd do it a thousand times over if it meant keeping him safe.

Homelander stood in the middle of the previously empty vault, the two thieves knocked out, or maybe they were dead. It didn’t matter, because he clearly wasn’t.

“Where were you?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“No you haven’t. I came over here and there was no one. I called out for you and—“

“And what?”

“I wanna go home,” you cried, clinging to him. “Please, let’s just go home.”

He nodded, his superhuman strength allowing him to scoop you up in his arms with ease. You always felt safe in them, and you pressed your head to his chest, trying to focus on the sound of his heartbeat as he flew back to his suite at the tower.

His heart always beat faster than anyone else’s, having to maintain the life of the most powerful superhero to ever live. It was a heavy burden, though you tried your best to offset it, you sometimes felt too reliant on him. He never made you feel bad for it, neither version of him did.

You were still a bit dazed when he landed, shuffling into his living room and leaning against the back of the couch. He said he had been in the vault, but you knew it had been empty when you walked over to it. You knew what you saw.

“You did great with the lookout. I can help you train more, and we’ll try again in a few days,” he said. “I’ll get the crime analytics team to find us another softball one.”

“Homelander,” you began tentatively, “back there did you–did you do that on purpose? Disappear on me?”

“Of course not, darling, why would I do something like that after everything you've been through?” he asked, his voice soft enough that if you let yourself, you could pretend for a few moments he was your Homelander. “I told you, I was in the vault the whole time.”

“I can’t lose you again,” you said, your voice cracking. “I can’t—“

“You won’t. I’ve always been here. I love you.”

He’s lying, the voice in your head screamed, he’s not your John. There’s something wrong.

You ignored it, choosing instead to kiss him, to drown out the rational with the feeling of your lover’s lips again. You would take this Homelander over none at all. “I love you too.”

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #homelander x you

347 notes · View notes

okinawa-division · 9 months

Note

Aoba enters to the eagle's nest and approaching to Evelyn apparently indifferent to the men in the bar who looked at him enchanted by his cold,but sensual-almost mystique presence

who received him with a bit surprised but quickly smile at him

"hello Evelyn-san"-he said to his model partner-"i'm sorry for give this to you late but i was busy with some things,those gifts are from me and my team"

The first gift was two cheongsam dresses,a blue and another pink

-"those are from my last modeling gig,i rejected by part but the designer gaved me them,i think this type of dresses are more You taste than me"-he said pointing at his dark and a bit goth outfit

The next gift is a little velvet box with a Rose inside

The box have a only a little card with-"happy birthday little Rose"-from Kunio

With the last gift Aoba can't help but giggled -"this is from Natsume but before tell me something Evelyn...do you believe in magic?"-

To Evelyn's confused look Aoba take off something from his leather jacket

A tiny bottle with a intense pink liquid and a card

"happy birthday Evelyn chan,i normally not make potions if isn't a magical experiment but let me explain,this potion not make something feel love (the love is a feeling that magic cannot copy) but if this is used in a person that someone's someone's feelings for his loved one will be more intense (how intense are actually if who drink it not show affect very much) temporaly,only a drop it's neccesary"-from Nastume

While Evelyn was busy trying on the dresses that the strange person from Kumamoto left them, Ace was busy looking at the so-called "love potion", a skeptical look on his face.

"This stuff is obviously fake." Ace said, putting the stuff back down on the counter.

"How can you be so sure, Master Ace?" Rashaad asked, giving him a lopsided grin.

"Come on, Rash. You don't actually believe in this stuff, do you?" Ace asked, looking at his friend. "I mean, really. A love potion? This is, more than likely, just flavored pop and some other ingredients added to make it taste 'mystical'. So-called fortune tellers and mystics make stuff like this all the time to make a quick buck."

"Quite possibly." Rashaad stated, a shrug of his shoulders. "But if the people believe it, whose to say its not real?"

"Of course it's not real! Like I said, fortune tellers and charlatans hype this stuff up to get people interested. Anybody who wastes their money on this junk is either desperate, or needs their head examined."

"Hmm." Rashaad simply uttered, deciding it was better for the two of them to agree-to-disagree rather than continue arguing. Thankfully, Evelyn came back down at that exact moment wearing the blue Cheongsam dress Aoba had gifted her.

"How is it?" Evelyn asked, turning around letting the men see her.

"It definitely suits you, Eevee." Ace stated, a smirk on his face.

"I agree. You look wonderful, Miss Rose." Rashaad stated.

"Thanks guys!"

The birthday girl was prepared to head back upstairs to try on the other dress, but noticed the potion sitting on the counter. Walking up to it, she looked at it, a curious look on her face.

"Does this stuff, like, actually work?" Evelyn asked.

"Of course not, Eve." Ace answered, his skeptical look returning. "Like I told Rashaad, that stuff is fake."

"It is?" Evelyn asked. "So, it doesn't, like, work?"

"It does, just not in the way you think, Miss Rose." Rashaad answered.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Evelyn asked, cocking an eyebrow. Waving her over, the bartender whispered something in her ear, making her eyes light up. Ace, who wasn't interested enough to notice, was busy browsing his phone. Suddenly, he felt his girlfriend's tight grip on his arm.

"Come on, Acey!" Evelyn yelled, excited. "We gotta try this out!"

"Huh? Try wh- Ahh!"

Unfortunately, his question went unanswered as his girlfriend quickly pulled him out of his seat and upstairs, leaving the bartender by himself. For some reason, however, a small smirk was seen on the man's face as he was cleaning a glass. Within a few minutes, a variety of sounds were heard from upstairs, making the man shake his head in amusement.

"It may or may not function as a love potion, Master Ace." Rashaad said, speaking to no one in particular.

"Just like it may or may not also function as an aphrodisiac..."

#hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #evelyn rose #ace douglas #rashaad young #okinawa division #liberty guild #aoba yamamura #kunio chōten #natsume kurome #kumamoto division #strange magic #happy birthday evelyn 2023 #happy birthday

7 notes · View notes

syncopein3d · 1 year

Text

I used to do a lot of novella style text rp, first on Skype and then Discord, with people I picked up from mostly reddit, rarely here, and occasionally on Barbermonger. It wasn't because of ghosting that I quit looking. Ghosting is a frustrating inevitability of the process. It was mostly because of conflicting expectations. You see, to me there are two primary groups of rpers: storytellers and fuckers.

Storytellers want there to be a plot with a planned ending and for the characters to, if not change over it, do some interesting stuff during it.

Fuckers want to get their character laid.

There are a lot more fuckers. Sometimes they overlap. I would rp with both despite being largely in the story category because I'm aegosexual and I don't care if the characters bang or not, or in what combo of genders/sexualities. I would be looking for a good writer first, and if that meant I would be writing sex scenes, fine, sometimes those are hot. I've always loved writing dialogue and relationships, and romance and sex is a subtype of that.

The fact that I'm indifferent to my character's sex, gender, and orientation means I've written men and women both. (I always said that I'd happily play third genders, but no one asked.) I would ask partners up front what they preferred, they usually wouldn't admit it, and then I would pick the opposite gender to their stated irl one because most were straight people. People wanting queer relationships were more likely to write or respond to queer prompts, so that usually worked out. Playing gay women with a straight man was my least favorite, but in their defense, a lot of straight women wanted to play absolutely the worst yaoi twinks imaginable, and I didn't love that either.

To be clear, I love bottoms and subs; I'm a top who will reluctantly switch occasionally. My problem with these specific situations was that they ended up with me topping for characters who wouldn't exercise any agency in the story. They would want to be dragged everywhere. They wouldn't introduce lore. They wouldn't describe a room, let alone an interesting conflict or antagonist. What happens next? My character is the bottom, so it's not my problem! I asked someone to help me write a conflict once and they wrote, "then they fought some bandits, killed them, and moved on." Great. Thanks. I'll write with the bitchiest high maintenance brat in the universe before I'll write with a dead fish.

So you're probably wondering what's wrong with me that I haven't mentioned yet, like a perfect rp ad with suspicous adjectives in the partner description (open-minded towards what??). I'm a monsterfucker, kind of. I didn't care what species the other person was. I wanted to play nonhumans or humans that are altered. The closest I've come to playing a regular human was a woman with a red mutant eye she hid under a patch, and a human man with some severe scars from surviving a plague.

Basically picture a woman whose characters are never regular hot humans, who doesn't care which genitals they have, but does care intensely about story and grammar. I also wrote OC only, meaning we'd both make up characters rather than, say, the other writer playing Guilliman and me playing Yvraine or vice versa. I preferred original universes, but would write in Warhammer 40k, Fallout, and Elder Scrolls, all settings with broad, deep, relatively complicated lore.

Already you can see why it usually took me a while to find partners. I was about ninety degrees off from what most rpers wanted or were interested in, and I was picky as Hell. Frankly it's amazing I found as many partners as I did. I would end up talking at cross purposes a lot, because the other writer was focused on how to get the characters rubbing their bits together while I was trying to figure out how we get to the city where the big multispecies council happens. Eventually I found people who could do both, but I had to take the attitude toward rp ads that some men take toward dating, where you fire something off a hundred times to get one reply. Except I had it easier than straight men trying to date, because I would get at least one reply of some kind to most ads. Oh, and I'm also absolutely insufferable, if this essay so far has failed to make that clear. Like just a huge fucking twit. This has been less of an obstacle than you might suppose.

The sock puppet people were pretty funny when they were obvious. OC Only in an ad weeds out the people who want you to be Loki or Widowmaker so their horrible self-insert can knock boots, but I would still run across prompts that were very obviously someone looking for dubcon daddies and trying not to admit that directly. Originally I didn't understand why they wouldn't just say what they wanted. I eventually learned it was because actual erotic rp sites are revolting, and they were hoping to recruit someone without a lot of existing gross fetishes who would service their fetishes instead. They definitely wouldn't think of it this way. I think they probably were thinking something more like "can't we just have fun without it having to be about (X thing I'm super not into)?"

Normalcy is a shaky concept on the internet, my friends.

In the end, it ended up being easier and more fun to write and publish my own stories most of the time, whether as a novel no one reads on Kindle or a series of erotic and non erotic stories several people read on AO3. (The erotic ones get more views. By like, a lot.) I still write with a couple of friends, but I can't see myself doing public rp ads again. It's not just that I'm too old, although I really am at this point. I think the fact is that roleplay is different from writing, and I've never been very good at it.

#roleplaydiscussion #roleplaying #One time a dude sent me a prompt where he described my character in complete detail down to the outfit he wanted her to wear #said she was “zatfig”#damn girl you lookin like a medjool date

1 note · View note

aspecpplarebeautiful · 3 years

Note

i'm new to this and i don't want to offend anyone if i'm way off base, but based on what i've been reading about it, i don't know if i'm asexual? i know i'm at least different. long story short, i don't despise sex but i literally could care less about it. when i do it, it feels good but at the same time, i'm like not really there, i'm thinking about everything else i'd rather be doing. when i first got with my fiance, we did it all the time and i wanted it and 4 years later, i only do it because i know how much he wants it and it will make him happy and make everything go more smoothly. i know i love him, i want to marry him and would be so lost without him. but i don't like sex anymore. do you possibly know what that is? i appreciate any feedback at all.

Yeah, asexuality could be a possibility. So my favourite definition of asexual, and I think a useful one for people who are questioning, is someone who doesn't meet the criteria to be fully allosexual. Or someone who relates to the asexual community or asexual label, or finds the asexual label useful.

So to break that down a bit, an allosexual person is someone who experiences the full range of sexual orientation. And orientation is made up of a lot of different things, such as sexual attraction (a sexual pull to have sex/do sexual things with a specific person, being turned on by a specific person at least in part because it's them), sexual desire (a general desire for sex, feels similar to sexual attraction except it's not directed at anyone), sex drive (how often and how much someone's body wants a sexual release), level of sex repulsion (negative feelings during specific sexual situations, some examples include revulsion, nausea, irritability, anxiety, etc.). So asexual people may have low to zero sexual attraction, sexual desire, sex drive, or they may feel repulsion to the point of not feeling allosexual fits them. One example would be if your repulsion is the point of not enjoying sex.

Though sometimes people also identify as asexual because they feel like allosexual doesn't fit them for other reasons, for example being indifferent to sex or the sexual attraction, not really enjoying sex or being into sex. But the big thing is they will feel like allosexual is wrong for them, or feel alienated by it. Or they will feel like asexual will be a useful label or feel like they relate to other aces or the community.

The other thing is you do not have to break down your orientation if you don't want to, but some find it useful to do so. The only thing that matters is you find asexual to be a useful label.

Could it be something else? You mention you used to be interested in sex. It is possible for sexuality to change or be fluid, and some asexual people used to be not asexual or used to be more into sex and became less so. There's also some ace identities where people get less interested in sex the closer they get to someone. So that is a possibility.

If you had a sex drive and it died or got significantly lower, that can happen naturally too. It can also happen be caused by something, and I'd recommend mentioning it to your doctor and they will likely run some tests just to rule out any medical issues. It can also be caused by things like mental illness, some medications, trauma, and in that case it's up to you to decide if asexuality is still the right label for you or not. But you can still use it if it's useful for you.

There is a possibility something else is going on like stress, but you'd know better than anyone else if there's any likely external factors affecting your disinterest in sex.

A lot of aces talk about feeling like sex is a chore, like doing laundry. So that stood out to me too reading your ask.

As for the romantic side, and still loving your partner, a lot of aces still romantically love their partners or still want or enjoy having a life partner. So that's all very normal and doesn't disqualify you from being ace at all.

So yeah hopefully that gives you some stuff to think about and consider. I know when I was questioning if I was ace or not one of the most useful things was reading up on experiences from the rest of the community, following other ace people, etc. If you're not sure where to look somewhere like Carnival of Aces could be a good starting point, (and that's a monthly event where aces are invited ot do a blog post based on a topic) but it doesn't really matter where you look.

You don't have to decide if asexual is the right label or not right away either, you can take time to think about it and explore. But try not to think about it as an objective truth you're searching for, instead try and think about it more subjectively and if it would be a useful label for you or not. And the right or wrong answer is what feels right or wrong for you.

All the best, Anon!

82 notes · View notes

white-angel-magic · 3 years

Text

According to feng shui, tidy spaces attract feel good vibes! Not an unnecessary luxury, because autumn can also bring gloom with it.

Feng Shui clearing tips for more Chi (life energy) in your home. "As you are, so is your home. And as your home is, so are you," say the Chinese. That can be quite confronting when you stumble over piles of papers, lying clothes, bulging bookcases and dusty knick-knacks. What does that say about you? A home is not just a place with four walls and a roof, but the ultimate place to express your identity. The reverse is also true: it is also the most important factor that influences your well-being, your happiness and the lightness with which you live.

Chaotic chi

Your house and the things you have collected in it say a lot about who you are, where you are in your life, and how you treat yourself. Suppose there is a lot of disorder in your house, it creates chaotic chi – or life energy. That chaotic chi in turn creates disorder, chaos and confusion in yourself and in your life. The more stuff, the greater the chance that you experience your life as unnecessarily heavy.

That does not mean that Feng Shui pursues a minimalist lifestyle. On the contrary. Because we feel richer and more fulfilled when we are surrounded by things that are carefully made of beautiful materials. Objects that evoke a loving memory and are dear to us make us happy. They help define our identity. There is no healthy emotional frame of reference in a very minimalist interior. That can have a negative effect on your awareness of yourself. In addition, objects that stand in the way, are broken or worn out have a negative effect. They take away from you the space to live in freedom. Because every time you see them, they unconsciously trigger a negative emotion. It is therefore better to ban them from your home and from your life.

Cheerful and unhindered Chi in the fall

For a healthy energy in the house, Feng Shui advises to leave room to move. In this way, the Chi can cheerfully and unhindered provide your whole house, and with that your whole life, with new zest for life. This way you not only keep your house, but also your body and life in a healthy condition.

Below are my 8 tips to make space in your home and life:

1. Your home as a personal kingdom

Do you make conscious choices about how you handle your home? Who let you in what items come into your house; where you put them. Or do you blindly follow trends, advice from others or the opinion of your partner? When you become aware of the control you have over your own domain, you are more powerful and independent in life. Honoring your home as your personal kingdom makes it easier for you to see yourself as the queen or king in control.

2. Dare to say goodbye

Because we find it difficult to say goodbye to a certain period in life; from the person we were or from the one we've shared life with, we make up excuses to delay decisions. This way you can tell yourself that you might still be able to use that old blanket for something. But the real reason you're not getting rid of this one is because it reminds you of your dead cat who used to sleep on it. Well-known excuses:

"I'm going to make it soon"

"I'm saving it for my kids"

"Maybe it will be worth a lot"

"It's going to be fashion again"

"Maybe I still need it"

In doing so, you burden your life with baggage that belongs to another person or to another time and does not make a valuable qualitative contribution to your life.

3. Choose quality

Rather buy a single item that is carefully made of beautiful materials. And which you also know where it comes from, instead of a cheap mass product of poor quality. Such products devalue the energy in your home and therefore yourself.

4. Discover a deep wish

As long as you don't know what you're doing it for, cleaning up remains something that "should" and not something you are motivated for from within. If your study is clutter-free, there would finally be room for your long-cherished desire to paint. Examine yourself what you dream of. The more concrete and clearer your wish, the greater your motivation to make room for that wish and to improve the quality of the furnishing of your office, for example.

5.Honor that makes you happy

When it comes down to it, the things that really make you happy can be counted on one hand. More stuff doesn't make for more happiness: you find that much more in the little things. The softness of a wool sweater. The shine of a wooden table. The way the sun's rays draw a pattern on your wall. That one picture of your baby. If you honor what makes you happy, you lose much less attention to things that don't deserve it. Give that one photo a place of honor and don't hide it between a multitude of images.

6 Create regularity and rituals

Neglect makes dull and indifferent. It also draws life force from a space or object. Therefore, choose fixed times to tidy up and clean. Welcome the light into your home when you open the curtains. And thank your house when you close it again. Regularly incorporating moments for care and attention for your home quickly raise the frequency of the energy to a higher arrow. Even a small ritual like a greeting from your home every time you come back in quickly improves the relationship with your home. Your house changes from utensil to a sacred place.

7. Cleanse the room and reward yourself

When you're done cleaning up and organizing a space, it's always good to refresh the energy in that space. Open windows and doors against each other and let it blow through well, and wipe everything off with soapy water. Cleaning at a deeper level is done with the help of good quality incense or sounds of healing music. The crowning glory can be a beautiful, fresh bunch of flowers. Don't forget to reward yourself after a clean-up hour with a nice cup of tea, a walk in the woods or something else that makes you happy. Set a time limit ranging from 15 minutes to an hour, then stop cleaning up and celebrate the victory over yourself. Take a deep breath and admire the result achieved – even if it's only one drawer. This gives energy and courage to tackle the next job.

8. Make life force visible

Often a house is full of things that are not alive or that have not been brought to life. Beautiful, green plants or pets remind us with their presence that we are living beings and like to be surrounded by life and vitality. That not only makes a positive contribution to the quality of energy, but keeps your consciousness much more in the here and now. More grounded.

4 notes · View notes

valehirvas · 4 years

Note

I'm curious about the asexuality. How do you imagine a hypothetical relationship between you and a partner wpuld be like? Do you have any fantasies or just feel indifferent?

I want you to know that I wrote a long response to you and then managed to close the tab with a shortcut key. Ah, technology.

Either way, let’s start with the TMI.

I don’t really have sexual fantasies. I used to be much more hormonal and horny as a teen and in my early twenties, but by now I barely ever have to worry about it at all. Arousal itself is like sneezing, I don’t control when it happens and it just comes out of the blue for no reason, and dealing with it can be a major pain in the ass because next to nothing is sexy to me, and if I find a thought that’s sexy to me one time, whatever appeal it held to me is gone the next time I need the help. It really is just a physical need that I need to take care of sometimes, it isn’t kickstarted by any particular stimulus. Notably, I’ve never been aroused by another person, regardless of how attractive I find them or how in love with them I am. I never think of anyone real to get off, and the thought of a real person is only ever mortifying if it enters my head, rather than, you know.

I used to think that in a relationship I could give but didn’t want to receive. I’ve recently, within the past half a year, realised that that was just me trying to negotiate with my asexuality again. The thought is nice, yeah, but I want absolutely nothing to do with the reality of it. I don’t want to touch or be close to anybody’s genitalia. The smell, the textures, all of it is downright repulsive to me. I also don’t want anyone masturbating in my proximity, it makes me highly uncomfortable as a thought, even if I genuinely love that person.

In situations where sex is a possibility, my first and only reaction is intense anxiety and panic. I don’t know if I can assert my boundaries, and the thought of being pushed into it scares me, even by people I trust and so just because I couldn’t convey that I don’t want to have sex. Luckily, it hasn’t gone that far yet. I’ve been far enough to know, however, that even direct touch by a person I’m in love with does absolutely nothing to me. I know my body can do all the right stuff, but it just won’t respond appropriately. Same with my head, I guess, do anything sexual to me and I straight up turn on the lie back and think of England mode. I can’t stay focused, I forget I’m supposed to be getting excited, I just feel absolutely nothing even if I’m not scared of the situation. Might be dissociation, I don’t know, and I’m not interested in trying it out for science.

A hypotethical relationship with me would be like all the ones I’ve already had, I guess, only hopefully better - we’d love each other fiercely, be each other’s rock, be the person the other comes to for exciting and devastating news alike. I love physical affection like kissing, cuddling, holding hands, hugging, and some of my best memories are of me and a girlfriend lying down on the floor for hours doing nothing but kissing and being close. And I don’t mean just kissing on the mouth, either: neck and ears and shoulders are some of the best places on a person to kiss. I also like being kissed there myself. I don’t mind some biting, either.

Now for the notorious internalized... what, acephobia? Lmfao? I have a hard time believing anyone’s up for that package. I feel like I’m always teasing something more with the things I genuinely enjoy while withholding what the other person would want, the whole giving the impression but not following up thing. I’m worried anyone I’d be in a relationship with would ultimately get tired of being “led on” even if I’m upfront about my own needs. Sex seems to be very important to most everyone around me and I just... the thought of going through with it is a nightmare on its own. I just don’t want it. I like the thought of it, the idea of it, the catharsis and intimacy, but the reality is that it’s real and I don’t want any of that.

I’m also worried about people using my language against me: I’m perfectly able to pick up sexual language, like “being thirsty” to express attraction to a person, or just plain saying someone’s hot or the like, and - yeah. I mean all these things figuratively. I’m capable of attraction and society’s offered me the language to describe those feelings, the phrases just tend to imply the presence of sexuality which doesn’t follow for me. This makes me nervous at times.

It’s also worth noting that people’s genitals in general don’t offend me in any manner. I find the human body very beautiful and I’m perfectly comfortable being in the nude casually with other people - in Finland, it’s pretty common to go to sauna with perfect strangers naked, for example. Non-sexual or even sensual nudity doesn’t offend me, quite the contrary. It’s just the sexuality that I want no part in.

#ask

0 notes

sapphicscholar · 7 years

Note

hi so I didn't know who to ask but in my psych class we're learning about adolescent psychology, & there was this unit on developing interest in relationships. It went way into detail on how the brain changes during that time, which was interesting, but ofc my gay ass couldn't relate. at the end all it said was 'it's different for homosexuals.' I guess I'm wondering if you know of any way to learn about psychology relating to LGBT people? srsly im thirsty for anything in academia I can relate to

(same psych anon) that was a pretty specific question so I guess like do you have any info or know of any links/ websites/places to learn about lgbt history and lives and stuff like that in an academic way? bc I love school & learning but I’ve always wanted to learn more about myself and people like me, but they never teach that in schools.

Oh my gosh SO MANY THINGS! Okay, so, the psych stuff is pretty outside of my knowledge but I asked my gf (she does the science in this relationship while my gay ass just reads a whole lot of books), and she recommends Helen Fisher and looking at the researchers at the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality or the Kinsey Institute, as well as The Sage Encyclopedia of LGBTQ Studies (it’s an online resource a lot of universities subscribe to). But I’d also say that as far as thinking about developmental narratives, LGBTQ memoirs are a great place to start, especially since so many of them go through their own experiences of having to confront this heteronormative, cis-centric narrative that just doesn’t fit them and their lives.

So some good queer history authors are: John D’Emilio (comprehensive, if a bit male-centric), Lillian Faderman (writing all about lesbian history, including more recent history; very well-respected; she’s got some issues in her scholarship that by no means discount it as a whole, but I’m happy to talk more about if you want), Michael Bronski (his Queer History of the United States is really accessible), George Chauncey (it’s just of NYC, but still fun), Estelle B. Freedman, Foucault (though it’s not quite “history,” it’s a kind of history meets theory of regimes of power and how sexuality got tied up in that), Martha Vicinus (I adore her), Valerie Traub (goes all the way back to the early modern period), and so many others who really focus more on niche history, so I won’t list them here. There are some web resources, but I know a lot of them are databases that are subscription-based. I’ll see what I can’t dig up in the next couple of days as far as free websites. I know they exist; it’s just a matter of having the time to look…

Okay, you didn’t specifically say you were interested in literature but bc I taught literature and think it’s a great way to learn about the history of a group, I’m gonna list some anyway and you can feel free to disregard!

Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt (or Carol, depends on the year it was printed) – you can also check out the movie! I find the two to be complementary (the book gives you Therese’s POV almost exclusively, whereas the movie shows much more of Carol’s story)

Alison Bechdel, Fun Home is her graphic novel/memoir that’s really excellent, but the comic strip that sort of launched her as a public persona (at least within the lesbian community) was Dykes to Watch Out For, quite a bit of which is available for free online

Henry James, The Bostonians – one of the first recognizable depictions of a queer female character in literature (not really…I’d trouble that as a professor, but that’s how it gets taught in general, and it was one of the first books where even contemporary reviewers were quick to note that there was something “wrong” or “morbid,” which was 19th C. code for what would come to be understood as lesbian sexuality, about Olive Chancellor) – free online, though it’s James at his most….Jamesian, which means it’s not that accessible

The poetry of Emily Dickinson! It’s all free online. There’s a ton of it, though much of it isn’t obviously queer

James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room – gets into bisexual identity in a way a lot of works don’t do; on the sadder side…fair warning

Virginia Woolf! Especially Orlando or Mrs. Dalloway – the former has been called “the longest and most charming love-letter in literature” (to Woolf’s longtime friend and lover, Vita Sackville-West) and deals with the fluidity of gender and time; the latter has quite a few flashbacks to the brief childhood romance of the protagonist and her friend. Both of them are great, but Woolf, as a modernist, can have a writing style that’s difficult to get into at first (for instance, time really isn’t stable or linear, which is something I adore about her, but definitely takes some getting used to). They’re both available free online through Project Gutenberg

Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness – it’s a classic, in the sense that it’s one of those books people sort of expect you to have read if you do lesbian literature. It’s certainly an interesting story and told well, but it’s not even close to a happy ending and is rather conciliatory to prevailing norms (though even still it was taken to the courts under the obscenity laws) - free online, though!

Sarah Waters – a contemporary novelist who writes almost all historical fiction about queer women! Some of her stories are better known (e.g. Tipping the Velvet), but they’re pretty much all great. Varying degrees of angst, but definitely an accessible read

Maggie Nelson, The Argonauts – sort of experimental in form (it’s fiction with footnotes!); it deals with a lesbian woman coming to terms with her partner’s transition and her own identity during the process

E.M. Forster, Maurice – even though it was first drafted in the 1910s, Forster edited it throughout his life, and, given the subject matter, which was also autobiographical, and the prevailing attitudes at the time, the book was only published posthumously in the 70s

Colette’s Claudine series – it’s long (multi-volume) but sort of a classic – they’re all old enough to be free online, though the English translation is harder to come by

Eileen Myles – lesbian poet and novelist – I’d recommend Inferno but some of her poetry is free online

Rita Mae Brown – Rubyfruit Jungle and Oranges Are not the Only Fruit are both quite good, though, especially the latter deals with religiously-motivated homophobia, so I know at least my girlfriend, who dealt with a lot of that from her family, opted not to read it for her own mental health.

Tony Kushner, Angels in America – this two-part play deals with the AIDS crisis in America – it’s been turned into a TV miniseries, a Broadway play, and a movie, some of which are available online

Really anything by David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs – both are gay authors who deal a lot with short stories (a ton of memoir/autobiographical stuff) – the former is a bit funnier, but they both have enough sarcasm and dry wit even in dark situations to make them fast reads

Alan Ginsburg’s poetry

Walt Whitman’s poetry (though it can be really fucking racist)

Binyavanga Wainaina, One Day I Will Write About This Place – does deal with issues of sexual abuse as a warning

Anything by Amber Hollibaugh (she writes a lot about class and butch/femme dynamics – quite a bit of her stuff has been scanned and uploaded online)

Michelle Tea – was a slam poet; recovering alcoholic; fantastically funny and talented author and delightful human being if you ever get the chance to meet her or go to one of her readings

Randy Shilts, And the Band Played On – more a work of investigative journalism than anything, the work is a stunning indictment of the indifference of the US government during some of the worst years of the AIDS crisis, but it also provides a good bit of gay history

Terry Galloway Mean Little Deaf Queer – deals with one woman’s experience of losing her hearing and navigating the world and the Deaf and deaf communities as a once-hearing person – she’s sort of acerbic and always funny;

Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex – grapples with intersex identity in a way that’s still far too rare in literature

Theodore Winthrop, Cecil Dreem – just rediscovered about two years ago, this is one of the few pretty happy gay novels from the nineteenth century! Free online!

Leslie Feinberg, Stone Butch Blues – pretty clear from the title, but deals with a butch character’s struggles with gender identity (takes T to pass for a while, but then gets alienated from the lesbian community; eventually stops taking T, but still struggles with what that means for her) – Feinberg’s wife made it free online for everyone after Feinberg’s death (the book had a limited print run, which made finding copies both hard and expensive)

Harvey Fierstein, Torch Song Trilogy – trilogy later adapted for film about an effeminate gay man (who also performs as a drag queen) and his life and family

Oscar Wilde – his novels aren’t explicitly gay, but they often dance around it thematically, at least; his heartbreaking letter, De Profundis, which he wrote to his lover while imprisoned for “gross indecency,” is available online

Anything by Dorothy Alison

Audre Lorde, Zami: A New Spelling of My Name - great as a memoir and a cultural history

There’s so many more but this is so my jam I suspect I’ve already rambled too long

If you’re interested in film, here are a few:

Paris Is Burning (a film about drag ball culture in NYC)

Fire – Deepa Mehta (it’s on YouTube in the US)

Boys Don’t Cry – there is a lot of homophobia and transphobia in the film, so it’s definitely one you’ll want to be in the right mindset to watch (I, for one, have only watched it once)

But I’m a Cheerleader – over-the-top mockumentary-esque film that satirizes conversion therapy and the Christian “documentaries” that claimed to showcase their successes (RuPaul is in it as well)

Desert Hearts – one of the earliest films to leave open the possibility of a happy ending for the lesbian couple

Hedwig and the Angry Itch – deals with gender identity and feelings of not belonging (also a fabulous musical)

Philadelphia – about one man’s experience of discrimination while dying of AIDS

There are plenty of lighter films, but I figure these tend to also talk more seriously about some issues as well

I don’t know if anyone but me made it to the end of this post, but there’s also so much fun queer theory out there that I won’t get into here, but I’m always up for giving more recommendations!

#ask me #anon #professor rambles #lgbtq history #lgbtq literature #book recommendations #film recommendations

75 notes · View notes