#like i don’t think people understand how bad sex repulsion can be sometimes after watching these scenes i get physically ill | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xlady-saya · 5 years

Text

I want this touch to be familiar [fic]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

They're having a movie night when the idea sinks its hooks into Andrew's brain. He’s not blaming the Foxes, but their bad choices in films is the catalyst to a milestone Andrew didn’t think he’d have to deal with so soon.

In a swift motion, he brings the hand that's not on Neil's thigh to itch at the back of his own skull, unsettled. He almost thinks he should ban himself from these get togethers, if only to avoid these ideas from taking root. Though, if he's being more honest with himself for once, he'll admit it's not the first time it crossed his mind.

It's possible that's the problem entirely.

No, this idea is more comparable to a mosquito, swarming around in his head and beating against the grooves at random points in the day. It's so powerful, so persistent, it's like this one mosquito is a whole swarm, poking around the ridges in an indecisive process to figure out where it finally wants to dig in.

The movie night is just the point in which it finally latches on and doesn't let go.

It's a predictable action film; Andrew doesn't understand why every director in Hollywood keeps trying to recreate James Bond, but he stopped caring about the movie two minutes in. Neil is boneless and relaxed from the shower they shared after practice, fingers drumming beats against Andrew's wrists while his brow furrows at the film. It has enough explosions and suspense to keep Neil somewhat entertained, though Andrew suspects the focus is mostly due to Neil trying to pick apart the inaccuracies of it all.

Most of the time, Neil ends up staring at Andrew for a majority of the film. Andrew finds it easier to not mind in the darkness, where he can feel the brightness in Neil's eyes instead of actually seeing it.

Essentially, this is the only reason he comes to movie nights.

He's almost at the point where he's ready to ignore the thing completely, along with the Foxes’ scathing commentary, but then the scene comes on.

It's not hard to see coming, but as crude and rough as the Foxes are, their movies don't often include sex scenes. Andrew isn't usually bothered by this type of thing, but it does nothing for him. He's neither repulsed or intrigued; the man isn't his type (or Neil, his brain says, unhelpfully), and the scene isn't aggressive enough to feel like assault.

No anger or heat surges under his skin as the slow orchestra plays, the woman's dress falling to the floor in what he's sure is supposed to be a good shot but has been so overdone it's pointless. Suddenly there's skin, and chests, and the actress' loud gasps turn into louder moans.

It's obnoxious, how fake it sounds, the camera angle cutting to show just enough in between movements.

"Ughhh," Nicky groans, and Allison turns to give him a look. Nicky sags in his chair even further just to spite her, almost falling out of it. "Why do they always do this? I don't need to see two straight white people suck face and bone in every movie! What is this doing for the plot?"

Aaron's head perks up, and he pauses his mid mouthful of those stupid chips Katelyn got him. "What's wrong with straight white people?"

"Everything."

Matt raises his third beer of the night. "Cheers bro, I'll drink to that."

Aaron looks to the wall, as if it will offer him anything better than his current company.

Andrew's eyes fly back to the television, right at the moment the hero slots himself between the actress' legs.

The swarm in his head digs in.

Andrew's hands tighten in the couch cushion, but he keeps the hand on Neil's thigh steady so he won't notice. Neil can be so perceptive when he wants to be, when it comes to Andrew specifically. It's infuriating, sometimes. Andrew never asked to be known so well, yet here they are.

Neil cracks a smile at Nicky and Aaron's fighting, more fond of it now than anything, and Andrew tracks the curve of it with his eyes. On screen, the spy starts thrusting.

"It's romantic!" Allison counters Nicky's claims, and he chucks a pillow at her with a surprising amount of force. Some of the feathers float out.

"They met not even a day ago!"

Aaron's chips are forgotten, which is about as serious as his brother gets nowadays. "I think you've hooked up with dudes you've met within an hour, you asshole."

"This ain't about me."

It's at this point Neil decides to speak, his brow arching in a way Andrew is pretty sure he didn't do prior to starting their this. Andrew's eyes fly up to catch it, and he realizes he'd been admiring the slope of Neil's neck, the discoloration where his hair meets his nape. "Honestly Nicky, what right do you have to talk about plot? Didn't you make us watch that terrible beach movie last week just because you liked the actor?"

Off to the side, where they're trying to become siamese twins, Dan and Matt chime in with some 'ooo's and air horn noises. They’re loud enough to startle Kevin from whatever he’s texting Thea about, and Allison’s cackle follows. Renee’s smile has a slight sharpness to it, the evillest she can look nowadays.

Andrew can't be bothered by the antics; his focus keeps returning to the movie, and the fact is nearly enough to startle him. But he stays still, calm, and doesn't give anything away. It's the best defense he has for the war about to rage inside him. His mind, two seconds from overdrive.

"Et tu Neil?" Nicky sniffs, and then the actress has some kind of orgasm, since she makes a noise akin to a dying bird.

And, because when is it ever about the love interest, the man keeps going, chasing his own release. Andrew's throat feels scratchy.

Andrew spares a look at Neil's face, and finds the striker's attention divided between the screen and Nicky's ramblings. Andrew doesn't care about whatever Neil says in return, he's too set on the slide of Neil's tongue over his bottom lip, the heat of his skin under his palm. Andrew moves his hand more towards Neil's inner thigh, and his breath hitches when Neil's legs widen on instinct for him.

The idiot isn't even aware of it.

Andrew would only need to slide his hand deeper to graze the place where he and Neil could be connected, as close as they can get. He'd be able to work Neil open, savor the twitch of Neil's hips.

Neil is mouthy enough in bed with how they do things now. Would he be louder? Uncontained?

Andrew allows himself to watch the rest of the scene play out on screen, the two rehearsed 'rough' thrusts, the groan of pleasure. But this time, it's hard to be disinterested. It's hard to not let his mind, so gifted with spinning fantasies on account of his cursed memory, put him in the spy's place.

What would Neil feel like, he wonders. Tight and warm probably, strong legs locking around Andrew's hips until his ankles are crossed and knocking against his lower back. Neil can get so greedy sometimes, even with his obnoxiously high consideration for Andrew's boundaries. When he's allowed to take, he's desperate about it.

Would Neil let him go that far? No, would he want to?

Does he want--

Andrew stops the train of thought there, but doesn't cut the journey short. He has no choice but to be stuck here now, and thus, Andrew can no longer swat the idea away like the pest it is.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he could avoid thinking about after a certain point. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

Bile rises in his throat on instinct, and he squashes it down. Sex with Neil is not something he needs to feel terrible about, and he doesn't. It feels the opposite of terrible, and Andrew hasn't worked through all those troublesome thoughts yet. He can't pin a label to it.

He remembers when jerking off in the shower, mouth pressed to Neil's, had felt like a huge thing to give. Now it wouldn't be enough.

Neil touches him now, Andrew asks him to touch. He's used to Neil's weight on top of him and his hands sliding suggestively over his abs, his biceps. His hands are used to resting comfortably over the curve of Neil's ass, grinding against him.

And it hasn’t stopped there. He's had Neil's mouth on him, his blue eyes on every part of him as the striker sucked him off after a particularly good game.

Andrew had shut down the goal, and the look in Neil's eyes had made him feel far too much. Overwhelming, dizzying.

So they'd taken the next step, not without hiccups, not without caution, but they'd done it.

And that's the thing with Neil; once they cross a certain line, it's a snowball effect. They're incapable of going back.

Neil blew him then for the first time and suddenly Andrew couldn't get the image out of his head, Neil's lips around his cock, trying to adjust to get the best reactions out of Andrew, to make it feel good.

Neil, so stupidly determined about everything he does.

And Andrew, the fool he is, got used to it. He never expected it, because routine was not a yes, and some days he preferred to not be touched at all.

But now, when Neil sinks to his knees or asks to jerk Andrew off, the initial anxiety Andrew might've felt months prior isn't there. It's been burned away into something more concerning, addictive.

Because Neil will stop if he needs him to.

So, Andrew let go, and the floodgates opened.

Shared handjobs turned into frequent blowjobs, which turned into heavy petting without clothes. Andrew feels stripped down, raw, with how much trust he's given this single person.

Every now and again, he searches deep in his soul for some ounce of disgust, regret for any of it, and it makes him angry to find none.

The only thing that does make him angry is how good it feels, a natural reaction Andrew can’t just drop cold turkey. Yet, his body doesn't just enjoy the progressions he and Neil have made together, so does his mind.

Again, he derails the train there, not willing to admit it, and returns to the thought of plowing Neil into their mattress.

It was only a matter of time before he ended up at this crossroads, only so far he and Neil could go before reaching the logical 'next step.'

But, it doesn't have to be a step at all if Neil decides against it. If Neil doesn't want to, they won't. The itch in Andrew's brain is mostly due to the fact they haven't discussed it. He has no idea how Neil feels, if he even thinks about it in the way Andrew does.

There hasn't been time, but Andrew knows if he's reached this point he has to bring it up.

He's not afraid to; he and Neil aren't like that. It's about framing it in a way Neil's exy-only brain won't read into it wrong.

He needs Neil to be able to say no if that's what he needs, he doesn't want to imply he wants this from Neil, that there's a pressure to take it there. Because as stubborn and rebellious as Neil can be, unwilling to be pushed around, Andrew is a weakness.

So, Andrew won't accept anything from him other than the absolute truth. 'Always' doesn't exist with things like this.

The movie turns back into a mindless explosion show while the fantasy in Andrew's brain is paused, mostly because indulging in it feels wrong at this point. If it's something that'll never happen, there's no point letting it play.

What he already does with Neil is enough, more than enough. Andrew never thought he'd ever be like this with anyone, and he's still not used to it. His pleasure during sex came from control in the past, on being able to dictate how it all went, to touch without being touched and have the person like it.

Neil turns everything upside down; where control once stood undefeated, something else sits, unmovable. White-hot, blinding desire.

A danger, unacceptable.

Andrew's eyes rest back on Neil and the heat coiling in his abdomen subsides, softened by the unruliness of Neil's bangs and the glow against his cheek. That's another problem too, about Neil. Desire isn't alone.

But, Andrew sets that issue aside for now.

Feeling Andrew's pensiveness, Neil turns his head, blinking so slow Andrew can see the flutter of his lashes. He nearly pushes his face away.

He's not sure what Neil sees in his analysis; Andrew knows he can't read minds, but it's unsettling and calming all at once to watch him trace the wrinkles in Andrew's face. He asks himself if maybe Neil can feel the itch too.

Neil hooks his fingers over Andrew's lightly, and Andrew realizes all too late how tight his grip on Neil's thigh had gotten.

"Okay?" Neil asks, and fuck him for doing so, for catching Andrew slip. He curses himself for slipping at all, or maybe the better term is falling.

Andrew taps Neil's hand once, twice, three times, and squashes the urge to kiss him.

"Yes," he says, and it's not a lie.

It's not a lie, and he doesn't have the energy to think about why that is. He just knows that soon, it will become a bigger problem. He puts it to rest.

Instead, he watches Neil nod and smile, and when Andrew finally turns back to the television, his brain gets to work on the words he needs to say, and knowing how they’ll probably come up short.

Andrew's mind is a vault mechanism. When one part of the lock is cracked, there's usually another waiting behind it.

He hasn't realized it yet though, couldn't possibly, with Neil rutting in his lap.

Andrew grunts as his nails dig into Neil's hips, where the brunet's sweatpants are dipping dangerously lower by the minute, a consequence of the force of their dry humping.

He's not quite sure how they got this carried away in the span of ten minutes, but all Andrew knew then was this wasn't a bad day, this was a day where Neil could pin Andrew to the couch without consequence.

So he let him.

Neil is shirtless, scars on display along with hard nipples and a twitching abdomen, the heat building and building.

Because of Andrew.

The position should feel stupid, immature, maybe even high school, but Andrew's brain is swimming with a pleasure comparable to nicotine.

It's nothing he thought he'd feel before, because the weight of someone on him never used to lead to good things.

"Fuck," Neil breathes, hips stuttering against Andrew's and wiping the dangerous path away before Andrew can even take a step towards it. Neil gives a rough jerk, barely able to fight Andrew's grip, but he prefers when Neil works for it. He doesn't let up, because he knows the striker is nothing but determined.

Neil whines, surging forward to pant into Andrew's mouth. He growls; part of him was enjoying the show and doesn't appreciate the interruption. The other part of him can't get enough of Neil's mouth, the wicked tongue pulling his out and sucking on it like it's another part of Andrew's body.

Neil is always so scatterbrained; he'd do it all if he could.

Andrew's breathing comes out heavy, wet, and they've fallen out of position quite a few times as a result of their desperation. Neil's clothed cock is barely grazing Andrew's now, but he doesn't have the will to stop Neil from moving so fast, so needy. There's a small wet spot forming against Andrew's pant leg, and he watches Neil fight to keep his head from lolling back from the dizziness of it.

It makes something smug burn through Andrew's chest, seeing Neil sigh and whisper incoherent nothings which don't amount to much more than 'yes' and 'more, Andrew, more.'

Andrew leans back into the couch cushions and bucks up, earning him a sound so Neil he can't take it. It's a cross between a gasp and a groan, devolving into another string of curses. At this point, Neil's pants are low enough to reveal the coarse hair of his groin, the criss crossing scars almost as tantalizing as the hardness pressing against Andrew's leg.

Andrew suddenly doesn't have enough hands. He's torn between pressing his palm over the scars, keeping Neil under his grip, or digging into Neil's hair to expose the column of his throat.

This is why this kind of thing can still get a bit overwhelming, but not in a discomforting way like it used to.

It's still fairly new, the dry humping. At first, it had started as slow and experimental grinding in the morning, Neil pressed up against Andrew's front while he rocked forward. The first time, Andrew had to stop, too taken by the newness of it, the unfamiliarity.

He hadn't had time to really pick it apart and think about why he was doing it or if it made him anything like them. If pressing Neil down and chasing his own relief didn't reveal something uglier about him.

By that point, he'd had Neil's hands on him on a regular basis, jerking him off and pulling him into his throat. Those things were becoming less daunting.

He's used to letting Neil get him off now, to getting off in front of him with his own hand. It's just...this is so much more shared, intense. Andrew isn't quite used to it, but the movie night sits heavy in the back of his head still, and he thinks it might make a little more sense now.

The process to get here had been the same, a slow evolution; they'd use grinding as a means to get worked up, to cause friction before moving onto blow jobs or heavy makeouts. It turned into a thing when Andrew didn't have the patience to separate from Neil for even a moment. Humiliating, but in the heat of the moment he hadn't thought twice. He remembered asking for his yes between biting kisses before humping Neil into their bed, and when he came, the rush had been blinding. The heat running through his veins carried all through his spine and down to his toes, intensified even more by Neil's body jerking against his.

Close, intimate.

And so very, very close to the real thing.

Before that thought threatens to ruin everything, Andrew bucks up again and Neil's moan blocks the path again.

Andrew is so hard it's painful.

Before Neil can press down in kind, Andrew tightens his hold until Neil can do little more than squirm, leaving them stuck like that, with Neil's hands making a mess of Andrew's hair and unable to give them the sweet friction. Andrew rubs circles into Neil's hip bones until he hears the sigh he's looking for.

Watching Neil blink, eyes blown wide in a desire fueled haze, makes Andrew lick his lips in anticipation.

Neil blinks down at Andrew, not really seeing, breath stuttering as he fights the grip. "H-hey--"

"Hey," Andrew replies, feigning innocence. It's not effective, when one of his hands snakes around to Neil's back, looking for any trace of discomfort or even a silent 'no.' When he finds nothing but want, he presses his fingers down onto Neil's lower back to force him forward. Neil's back arches like a cat, like Andrew pulls all the strings. "Move up."

Neil exhales shakily as he shifts, legs spreading and putting him back to where they initially started. Andrew takes the time to rid himself of his jacket, way too warm, and unzips his jeans to help the tightness.

Neil's gaze flies to the prominent bulge under Andrew's boxers instantly.

"Right there," Andrew says with his hands back on Neil's ass, squeezing the muscled flesh greedily and trying hard to avoid the thought of spreading him open like this. He aligns Neil so their cocks are settled against each other again. It's a struggle for them to stay still; Neil leans forward so Andrew's neck muffles most of his groan, and sucks on his pale skin. Andrew's voice is nothing short of strained when it comes out. "That's it."

Neil smiles when he pulls back, and Andrew has to look away. Idiot, always so pleased with proof of Andrew's unraveling. "Can I--"

"Yes," Andrew growls, and he meets Neil halfway. One hand flies to the back of Neil's neck, digging into the hair at his nape to pull him close again. His skin is scorching to the touch.

Neil doesn't hesitate. His hips move fast as his hands dig into Andrew's biceps, intent on chasing the orgasm for both of them. Small, jagged whimpers leave his mouth with every thrust, his cock brushing right against Andrew's. Neil is practically bouncing, and it doesn't take long for Andrew to realize he's moving too, just as fast, just as rough. The head of his cock pokes out of the slit in his underwear, smearing precum on Neil's pants.

"Oh fuck, fuck," Neil moans at the same time Andrew starts grunting with each jerk of his body, unconcerned with the volume. If anyone knows what's good for them, they won't be back early. Andrew's vision starts to blur, his movements less coordinated, breathing loud. He's close, so close and the heat pooling in his abdomen makes his head swim.

It should unnerve him, this lack of control, this animalistic urge to keep going, take and take. But Neil looks the farthest from afraid above him; he's matching Andrew in his entirety, grunting loudly and rotating his hips in just the right way for them to feel every inch of each other. His hands are dutifully clutching Andrew's shoulders, unwilling to move. Because Neil knows, he knows this is Andrew's most vulnerable moment, seconds from orgasm. No matter how close to the edge they are, Neil won't risk Andrew's discomfort, he won't let Andrew's pleasure be overridden by shock or the disregard for his boundaries.

Andrew hates him, he hates how Neil is the only one who will ever make him feel this way, because now no one else is good enough.

In more ways than sex.

Andrew snarls from the anger of it all, from how inaccurate it feels to call it that. He brings a hand up to wipe the sweat off Neil's brow, pushing aside his bangs so he can see those eyes for all they are, the ring of blue a bottomless pool Andrew no longer tries to escape.

Neil's mouth falls open from whatever look is on Andrew's face, and he's no longer able to keep his eyes open, throwing his head back as his orgasm rips through him. He trembles in Andrew's arms, and Andrew feels the warmth of Neil's cum against his cock, even through his sweats.

Andrew's arms lock around Neil's waist as he thrusts up harshly, and in the last split second before he comes, he imagines they're not just dry humping like dogs in heat. He allows himself to imagine he's inside Neil, that they're as close as they can possibly be, and it makes Neil feel good instead of pained.

Andrew comes, but it's with an unexpected dose of shame. Despite that, he comes hard. It's full body, enough to make his shoulders shake, his breath hitch. It's that same tingling sensation running over him, stronger at the points where he and Neil touch.

It doesn't make sense to him.

He hadn't meant to let his brain go there, to let the fantasy rear its ugly head again, but it had felt so...

He didn't have the right to think about it without Neil's yes, not in this case. Because it means some fucked up part of him craves it, needs to take it.

He won't, he won't do that. He knows he won't, but then why does it make his stomach swirl?

Andrew sighs before going rigid, and Neil must take it as his cue to separate. That's one thing which hasn't really changed, Andrew's need for space. It's gotten better, he can normally stay pressed against Neil for ten or so minutes, and it's weirdly comfortable. However, eventually his brain will begin to overthink or itch with a need for room, and he'll have to push away.

This immediate stiffness is unusual though, and Neil catches it so fast Andrew should feel vulnerable about it.

Neil goes still as soon as he senses something is off, and removes his weight from Andrew in a blink. He's never seen Neil move so fast away from him, not out of fear, but concern.

Neil is mistaken here though; he's not the one who's done something wrong.

Neil puts as much distance between them on the couch as he can, bringing his knees to his chest and only grimacing at the wet squelch of his pants.

His chest is still heaving, and part of Andrew finds excitement in that. He made Neil feel good, it's proven by his mussed up hair and swollen lips, the high blush. Neil waits, eyes scanning the lines of tension in Andrew's body, the soft parts of his face.

Andrew watches him for a long time as he thinks, trying to find evidence he's right, that he took it too far. Neil can't read his thoughts, but for a moment Andrew worries he can.

Did he feel it, Andrew's body claiming him, using him in a way Neil maybe has never thought of?

Andrew glares, but he knows Neil will be able to tell it's not at him.

Andrew is usually able to begin the long dissection of these issues in his own head, revealing the threads he can offer to Bee to pull at and untangle into something more manageable. But right now, he's at a loss.

They sit like that so long their breathing evens out, and only at that point does Neil reach out. He extends his hand forward, not commanding, but offering. Yes or no. "Andrew?"

Shit.

He hasn't moved in minutes. Time is never something he managed well in his head, always pulling him back to the past in a blink while the future pulled apart like dust, disintegrating before taking a full shape. He inhales shakily; Andrew hates to show so much, but this is Neil. They're alone. He scrubs a hand over his face in frustration, trying to bring it back to its blank state before he reaches out to pull Neil closer.

They're still not touching anywhere else, Andrew can't handle that yet, but it's enough of an acquiescence for Neil to understand the problem isn't him.

He moves to the cushion next to Andrew, his bare feet settling against the carpet as he waits for Andrew to say something.

And well, this is where he brings it up. There's no point in waiting, beating around the bush is useless and pointless and not something they're capable of doing.

Andrew's words come out blunt as ever as he stares into nothingness. "Before I came I thought about fucking you."

The harshness of the words, and how removed they are from any emotion should probably make any normal person flinch. Neil isn't just anyone.

Neil, for all his usual drama, doesn't react to that, and Andrew feels the ghost of relief. Once, Neil told Andrew his lack of reaction to otherwise terrible events made Neil feel better about them. Andrew hadn't really understood, but now he just might be seeing the logic.

Neil's gaze on him during their vulnerable moments typically makes Andrew want to jump out of his skin, far too exposed, but with this it's less difficult to plow forward. Neil stares at Andrew, as blank as he can manage, while still letting the curiosity furrow his brow.

Andrew wants to wipe off the sweat there.

He cracks his knuckles, mulling over the words and trying to find a way to say them where he won't have to admit too much. Unfortunately, it's impossible.

He scowls at the coffee table as he speaks, like the words are vile. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I haven't been able to stop."

Why can't he stop?

Because part of him can't help himself, is that it? He can't control himself, even after years and years of limiting every possible stimuli so he could.

If he sounds angry it's because he is; how dare Neil push him this far, so unintentionally. Yet even then, Andrew knows the blame is all on him. The irritated tremble in his voice should not fucking be there, just like the thoughts shouldn't be. He shouldn't have given ground enough to make such a confession, to make Neil think he's torn up and ugly.

Andrew should be a blank slate, but Neil is chips in the stone, splashes of paint which Andrew cannot scrub off.

He told Neil what he's always told Neil: the honest version of how he feels, even if he wishes he felt nothing.

Long before the movie night, long before he cares to remember, and he remembers everything, he's thought of slotting their bodies together, of pulling Neil impossibly close so they're intertwined in every way.

At Andrew's aggravated scowl, Neil finally chooses to speak. The confusion is more obvious on his features now, the ring of blue reappearing and threatening to wash Andrew in waves.

"You don't have to stop," Neil says, like it's the simplest damn thing in the world.

What the hell does he know? He's not in Andrew's head, he's not--

"Neil--" Andrew almost growls, a warning Neil should be all too familiar with. Stop while you're ahead.

Neil is a very bad listener, with a short fuse to match.

"I think about it," the striker bites out quickly, almost challenging. Those blue eyes widen with the admission, rocking on the balls of his feet. Andrew's entire body freezes up, hell the world might have stopped for all he cares. Even Neil bites down on his bottom lip, as if to cut the words off, before realizing how stupid that would be. He knows how Andrew feels about regret, and he's not lying in this moment. Andrew would be able to tell. A few seconds of quiet pass, they hear some muffled music through the windows. Neil's voice is a silky whisper to his ears, despite how cracked it sounds. "I think about it too. So...there, stop putting this just on you. I think about it a lot so, you don't have to do...that."

It's so stupid, how Neil can remain so interesting even when Andrew's feeling this on edge. It's a welcome distraction for a second, before the words really sink in.

Neil thinks about it.

Viciously, Andrew steps on the small slug which resembles hope as it crawls through his brain. He ignores the mess in his pants as he turns to face Neil, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

Andrew raises a brow, daring Neil to elaborate on the that he's referring to.

"Hide it so I don't have to know," Neil supplies, waving his hand in the air. "Shoulder it all yourself like you always do. This way I've made it both of our problem."

Neil winces, no doubt scolding himself for the poor choice of words.

Andrew's face is back to a blank slate. "A problem, is it?"

That's certainly how he saw it, but having Neil echo the sentiment makes him feel more, which would be terrible enough, but the feeling isn't even good.

Neil's gaze is a freshly sharpened blade. "No. Not to me," Neil says, firm. "You know we don't have to, but--"

"But you think about it," Andrew echoes, unable to help it. The coils he tries to wrap around the realization are slippery and can't get a grip, so he repeats it. Neil thinks about it, the desire is shared.

What is he supposed to do with that information now? One step forward, two steps...somewhere.

Neil swallows, and the redness on his cheeks is oh so appealing to even Andrew's hazy mind.

Neil thinks about it.

But that doesn't mean they can just...do it. Andrew doesn't know if he can; the disconnect between what his body wants and what his brain can manage is a minefield and he's never wanted to scratch at gray matter so badly.

Briefly, he understands why Aaron values normalcy so much. Normalcy would allow Andrew to just be the horny college student he could've been, instead of having to deal with all these speed bumps and cones in the road to get to the ultimate goal. And even if he were to get there, there's a big chance he'd decide it's better to turn back around to prevent a crash.

But he is not Aaron, and he does not value normalcy.

He values--

"I do," Neil states, so understanding, and maybe a little flustered. Flustered, not scared, not unsure. "I like doing that stuff with you Andrew, but how it is now is good, more than good. Hell, that was so...wow. You know I've never felt this towards someone."

Neil's smile is so far away from what Andrew can handle he has to ruin it.

"Horny?" He says, and hates how even when he's deflecting the thought sends a shiver through him. The thought of Neil only wanting him, only giving himself to him. Andrew squashes the possessiveness, uncomfortable.

Neil gives him a look for that, but isn't deterred. "Technically yes, but you know what I mean."

Unfortunately he does, but that's even more uncomfortable to think about than the physical desire. Neil has never been shy about his feelings for Andrew, not since Andrew actually acknowledged their this and showed how he was going to make zero moves to push Neil away. Even if Neil did hold back his bluntness, he gives Andrew those fucking looks like he's the most amazing thing he's ever laid eyes on, not some delinquent with a crooked nose and a hostile disposition.

And still that can't be it. Neil's desire, like his feelings, are so intense they can't possibly be fake. The eagerness, the desperation with which he receives Andrew's advances...it's not the issue. Neil is trying to tell Andrew he doesn't need to feel pressured, like Andrew doesn't already know that.

He thinks he's getting closer to what his real problem is with it, but it's just out of reach. It's a shared desire, he checks that off. Neil thinks about it, another check. And Andrew...

No matter how he tries to kick it aside he wants it. His body craves it and his mind can't let it go. He wants and it's so nauseating in how it's not, instead it's light and tender and all things he is not supposed to be.

So, where is the issue? It's him, it's--

"Stop avoiding the truth," Neil says, and when Andrew looks back at him those pale blue eyes are intense, almost deadly. They pry Andrew apart, flaying the flesh from bones and seeing the rawness inside, like Neil has managed to pin down the anxious animal inside him with talons sharp as knives.

The words 'shut up' die on his tongue; what truth? What can Neil see that he can't?

Andrew doesn't have fears. He briefly entertains the idea that what bothers him is the fact Neil thinks about it and that means one day he'll really want it and won't be able to hold the urge back. If Andrew can't give it to him, if he decides he can't go through with this, Neil will be like everyone else, just someone who wants more than Andrew can offer. Then he'll leave.

But Andrew doesn't fear. And it would be stupid to fear; anyone who would leave for something like that simply isn't worth the time of day. Yet...yet...

Andrew thinks of life without Neil, and he remembers emptiness crashing down, an empty stadium, and true darkness.

Frustrated beyond all reason, Andrew retreats into the bedroom to change into clean underwear and sweats. There are no footsteps behind him, no annoyed sighs or disappointment in his wake. He hates how Neil knows how long he needs before following, how trusting he is, because he changes right in front of Andrew a few moments later, needing no boundary.

"There's no 'truth' in this to avoid," Andrew answers, delayed, as he tracks the curves of Neil's body, the scars making him feel safe and angry all at once. Angry at those who would hurt his person, safe knowing Neil doesn't shy away from the ugliness.

Neil shrugs as he sits on the bed, beckoning Andrew over. He follows, of course he does, it's automatic.

What he says isn't a lie; he hasn't figured out the truth of this. Neil grins at him, infuriating. "No, I just think you're avoiding thinking about it. Don't get me wrong, I have no idea what you're actually thinking about, I'm not a mind reader. But if something else weren't bothering you I don't think you'd be this antsy."

"I'm not antsy."

"I told you, I'm the better liar so you should stop trying," Neil says with a smile, kicking his legs out in front of him. There's bruises on his knees from their last game. Andrew reaches out to press his palm against them, frowning at the yellowish color; there was no helping the fall, but Andrew had still checked him out afterwards. Neil sighs into the touch, leans into it, and it hits Andrew that this level of vulnerability he's been given is not something he's ever asked for, but he couldn't let go of if he wanted to.

Can’t let himself betray.

"I haven't made up my mind," Andrew says, not like he has to. Neil is normally good at knowing when Andrew isn't ready to give his final answer, but something about this feels different. It makes Andrew say as much as he can. "I don't know yet if I can do it."

What he thought would be devastating to admit aloud feels more like one weight has been shed. Neil doesn't even react, apart from prying Andrew's hand off his knee to trace the veins on his wrist.

"That's okay," Neil whispers, and there's enough encouragement in the tone to make Andrew growl.

"Shut up."

Neil freezes, his fingers hovering over Andrew's knuckles, and has the audacity to squint at Andrew. The man always did have a death wish. "It is."

Andrew turns away, in what to others would read as a clear dismissal, the cold shoulder. Neil has never cared to accept those things.

"Andrew," Neil says, and it's with conviction this time. No gentleness. "I'm not going to...leave if we never do it, I don't care about that, I just care about you. But if it is something you want, it's a yes--"

Fury spikes.

Andrew bites back the auto-response of 'I don't care if you leave' because it's a deflection he won't bring into this. He doesn't have time to keep that wall of his intact during a conversation like this. Neil will fight it and see through it and it'll waste their time.

But honestly, screw Neil for seeing through Andrew so easily. For pulling out fears that shouldn't be there and aren't, they aren't.

When Andrew turns his scowl on Neil, the striker doesn't so much as flinch. Andrew is here, giving away too much, showing too much, and Neil takes all of it.

"That doesn't have to be your final answer," Andrew stresses, voice tight, and this time Neil does have the decency to look surprised. Those pretty eyes soften with it, and Andrew sees the exact moment he puts something together which Andrew hasn't yet touched. "We don't have to. That goes both ways, I won't take that from you unless you're 100% sure so you better be and fuck you if you don't tell me the truth when the time comes. And it's not going to be you letting me, or doing it for my sake, or some other half-assed reason. If you don't want to, we won't. "

If I can't, I won't.

And the only reason he wouldn't be able to is if...

Andrew feels a stone settle in his stomach, and almost grins from how amazingly stupid this all is. Bee would be so proud, him getting to this point, on the cusp of figuring out what the hell is going on in his head.

All of a sudden Andrew is tired, too much energy pulled out of him, a war of emotions, all for him to come to the obvious conclusion.

It always comes back to Neil.

And Neil seems to have figured it out too; he stares at Andrew for a long time, scanning his face, giving him that look, the one which burns Andrew from the inside. Warm.

"The next time one of them says you're soulless, I might have to fight them."

All Andrew's words, and Neil manages to find the sliver of realness buried in it. For a moment, Andrew thinks Neil will let it go, for Andrew's sake. But, he should know better. They're no longer at that point, and Bee would call that progress, but Andrew doesn't know what to do with it yet.

All he knows is that if Neil thinks he can soothe any of Andrew's thoughts, he will, no matter how many times Andrew tells him he doesn't need it.

It's quiet, when Neil finally speaks. "You wouldn't hurt me," he whispers into the small space between them. Andrew hadn't realized they'd gotten so close, but there's his forearm, pressed right against Neil's. No wincing, no queasiness.

Andrew starts to turn away, and Neil risks blocking him with his hand. Andrew's vision is all blue, Neil's bangs such a mess he wants so badly to push them back again. "You wouldn't hurt me Andrew, if that's what you're worried about. You couldn't. I trust you. Of course I want to, but it's not a deal breaker. Stop treating it like one."

Andrew doesn't move, it's amazing he can even look at Neil, but he can't stop. There's so much he could argue in return, lots to prove wrong. Neil doesn't know anything about this, he can't possibly get it, or know what he's really giving Andrew, or what he’ll want in the future.

Their future; another subject to flood Andrew's brain. Too much at once, too much.

And yet, Neil is a deadly weapon, except with Andrew the slicing wounds give way to blooms instead of blood.

Neil strikes. "If you decide it's a yes, and I come back and say no, would it be a deal breaker for you?"

Andrew twitches from the mere thought, which is as good as a full body jerk. Neil could say he never wanted to have sex again and Andrew wouldn't push, he'd stay. "No," he seethes, unable to keep it out of his voice. Neil goes right for the throat every time, making one of Andrew's arguments null.

As for the other...

"I want to," Neil says, and for once, he seems embarrassed. It's a rare thing on Neil, the worried lip, the giddiness. Like he's excited. It's not even about the sex, he's pretty sure Neil did this when Andrew first held his hand too. Andrew's stomach flips itself over in half, the bastard.

"You wouldn't be taking either," Neil says, and Andrew flinches internally. Hurting Neil...he could hurt Neil, he could-- "We'd be...sharing, like we always do. So you can stop beating yourself up over my decision, and think about yours."

In Neil speak: Do whatever you need to do to figure out what you need, I'll be waiting.

Andrew hates the assumptions, mostly because they're right. This is not something he can resolve with one conversation. The thought of somehow ruining this for Neil, for making his first time something horrible, is too much for him to unpack this quickly. Who knows how long it will take him to reach a decision, or what the decision will be.

Yet, Neil's here, telling him he doesn't care how long it takes, or where Andrew lands at the end of it. He'll be here, now and after.

What percent is Neil even at? The millions maybe. Andrew's blood boils before it comes down to a simmer, then fades completely. Andrew never asked to feel, but Neil is wearing him down everyday.

The thought repeats: Andrew doesn't know how to stop.

He clenches his fists, grabbing Neil's shoulder and forcing him down onto his side to lie next to him. Words won't work for him anymore, and he's not capable of touching or even kissing right now. But it's a concession, a thing he is learning to give without despising the weakness of it.

Neil gives a small yelp but goes with Andrew willingly, not resisting. His curls fan out on the comforter, one decorated with cats that Nicky gifted them. Andrew sighs; Neil has yet to make any sense to him, even when the entrance to the messy path ahead of him has cleared.

He'll need as much rest as possible to figure this out. It's too early to go to bed, but after all this Andrew needs sleep, and he hates how Neil being next to him has become the new normal.

"I fucking hate you," he says in the small margin of space between them, and closes his eyes before he can be blinded by Neil's idiotic smile. "Go to sleep junkie."

Andrew's memory feeds him Neil's smile anyways.

Neil sighs across from him, and Andrew immediately feels drowsy, like it's a spell over him. He falls into it, not resisting.

As the world fades in and out, the most important thoughts stay afloat, and he embeds them in his head. They're less like mosquitoes now, more like additional grooves.

Neil wants it, Neil is ready. There's no sense in Andrew dwelling on that issue further for now, so he bypasses the first lock of his mind. Of course, he was never so optimistic to think that was the only thing holding him back, and Neil pulled that out of him too.

The big issue, the one holding Andrew back. The striker's words flood his mind, blurred and echoed. 'You wouldn't hurt me.'

But is that the truth? There's only one way to find out, and Andrew isn't sure if it's something he's willing to risk. Neil never was and never will be someone fragile, but that’s not the point. That’s not what Andrew means.

Just the realization he has the power to hurt Neil with this, the way Andrew was hurt…it makes him shy away from any attempt.

After all, he decided long ago he wouldn't risk losing Neil, not for anything, returning words said on rooftops. And yet…Neil makes him itch to prove those things wrong.

He's not sure yet where to go from here, but he pushes it aside to think about later. He has as much time as he needs. With the first lock conquered, the tension in his shoulders relaxes. Neil thinks about it, wants it. So can Andrew.

Just like that, Andrew finally concedes; he lets the idea of want flood in.

This time, there's no guilt to be found. Neil, with all intentions, made sure of that.

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #aftg

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serendipitous-posts · 4 years

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Doctor Who Q&A!

Who is your Doctor?

Matt Smith! Funny story about him actually-he was the first doctor I ever watched-it was Time of the Angels, but at the time I watched that episode, Matt Smith’s run was over. I went back and watched Nine and Ten, and then rewatched Eleven before hitting Twelve up. Eleven has always had a special place in my heart

Your favourite Doctor?

Funnily enough, Twelve. He faintly edges out Eleven in this regard. I think I just really enjoy his humour, dry and sarcastic, and the character arc of wondering whether he’s a good person or not really spoke to me. Yeah, stinky eyebrow man wins in this regard

Least favourite Doctor?

Either Nine or Thirteen? I found Nine to be somewhat boring, I liked his humour, but most of the time was spent setting up his backstory, or that weird romance thing with Rose, and since romance has never interested me, except in certain areas *shrugs*

Thirteen isn’t anything to do with Jodie Whittaker, it’s just that the best moments of Doctor Who are when the Doctor is sad, or vulnerable or angry. The Oncoming Storm is a big part of it all. And it seems that she never really has the oppurtunity to be emotional in this yet. That’s the scriptwriters fault, not hers, and I’m happy they’re starting to change it with the new season.

Best regeneration?

Oh god, that’s actually a tie between Ten, Eleven and Twelve for me

Ten dies alone and it is awful. His last lines brought me to tears, and there’s something so sad about him being killed protecting one of his friends.

Eleven had me sobbing. Out of the three, he’s the only one who met this whole thing with acceptance, and he’s the only one to not be alone when it happens. His was the nicest out of the three, but because he was MY Doctor, I was bawling like a baby. When Amy appeared I b r o k e

Twelve is heartbreakingly realistic. He’s not resisting change like Ten is, he just wants to rest, for once. Like Ten, he dies alone, with only memories to comfort him, and I remember tearing up when he told Thirteen what he told Clara

Who is the most human Doctor?

Either Ten or Twelve. Both of them are conflicted about their morality and whether they should do the right thing or not, both of them try and fail and try again. Twelve is just the one to realise he’s not good or bad, he’s an idiot.

Best Companion?

Donna Noble or Amy Pond and Rory.

I am a sex repulsed ace-aro, this means I would rather stick my hand in a woodchipper than be in a relationship with someone. Platonic friendships and family have always been my bread and butter and these three are perfect for the Doctor.

Donna Noble? Bold, sassy, determined. Her mom is constantly putting her down, and yet she’s the saviour of the Universe. She doesn’t hesitate to call Ten out on his bullshit, and her departure hurt me on so many levels. I have loved her ever since Pompeii, and I will decry the erasure of her character as unfair until the end of bloody time

Amy Pond and Rory. I’m putting these two together, because I only really started to like Amy when Rory came in. I love their character arcs, growing and changing. Their relationship is also fun to watch, once you get over the drama. I like relationships like Chandler and Monica, natural, fun to watch, not Ross and Rachel, dragged out, on and off again, and after a brief buffer period, these two sorted out their differences and their banter was amazing to watch. Also, the fact that they’re the Doctor’s in laws? They are the epitome of found family and I am LOVING IT

Shoutout to Martha Jones btw, runner up as always. I wish we got to see more of her when she WASN’T enamoured with the Doctor, watching her call him out in the Poison Sky was magnificent.

Worst Companion?

The Companions relationships with the Doctor are the most important thing in the show; what they think of him, how much they trust him, what extent are their feelings towards them, and to me, none was quite as boring as Rose and the Doctor.

I HATE will they-wont they plots, and that basically sums up their entire run together, getting jealous of eachothers partners, vaguely alluding towards their attraction to eachother, but not saying it, it drained all of the fun out of Rose. Her making out with a clone of the Doctor, in front of the Doctor was the final thing for me.

And while I’m all for the return of a Companion, she seems to linger throughout Ten’s run. I can understand why for Martha’s; that was her entire character arc after all, learning to expect better of yourself, but she didn’t need to be there for Donna’s; they very easily could have thought of another way to create DoctorDonna. Her presence was everywhere throughout David Tennants run, and I found it annoying

Favourite Doctor Who Ships?

River Song with Eleven, Twelve or Thirteen. As I said, banter and comedy is how you establish a good relationship, it shows how relaxed two people are together, and River with whichever Doctor she’s with at the time always has this flirty back and forth going on between them. They’re very open about their attraction to eachother, and I love it. Also, Thirteen and River because if you don’t think Thirteen is a raging pansexual then I have news for you.

Amy and Rory for the reasons I listed above; they sort through their issues, have good repartee and are a very enjoyable couple to watch

(I briefly shipped Eleven x Amy x Rory before I found out they were in laws, so shoutout to that.)

Least Favourite Doctor Who Ships?

Rose x Doctor. It would have been fine if they ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING WITH IT INSTEAD OF JUST HINTING AT IT

Martha x Doctor. Martha’s whole arc is about learning that the Doctor is treating her badly and that she doesn’t need him. To go back to him would invalidate that whole thing

Controversial Thought?

I know a lot of people hate Clara, but to be honest, I’m more apathetic/warm towards her. I loved her relationship with Twelve, and how she was almost a caretaker towards him. She starts to act like the Doctor after a while, but then that’s what the Companions DO, they become more versatile, more able to handle tough situations. I’m not happy how they made her immortal and gave her her own TARDIS, but other than that, I’m pretty mild towards her

Best Two-Parter Episode?

Heaven Sent and Hell Bent. It was one of those episodes, ones that are genuinely, deeply horrifying. I got chills when I realised how long the Doctor had been trapped in the Confession Dial. I wasn’t really happy with how the brought Clara back from the dead, but I was okay with it, because watching her read the High Command the riot act for how they treated the Doctor was so, so worth it

Best Doctor/companion pairing?

Ten and Donna. Loved their brother-sister duo relationship

If Two Doctors could meet, who would you choose?

Thirteen and Four would be fun; they have similar energy and scarves after all. Think that would be fun to see. Thirteen and Twelve would also have a nice energy between them I think. Maybe throw in some height jokes.

If any Companions could meet, who would you choose?

Donna and Amy would probably end up flirting with each other. But, at the same time, I think Donna may help Amy come away from her hero worship of the Doctor.

Martha and Rory would bond over how they sometimes feel like third wheelers and probably share medical knowledge. Martha and Clara would be fun, caring for the Doctor’s health.

If any Companions could meet any Doctor, which would you choose?

Martha meets Twelve. Twelve is actively trying to figure out whether he’s a good person, and I can see him trying to make amends for the way he’s treated her.

Thirteen meets Amy and Rory. She probably wouldn’t tell them who she is, but she would be so excited to see them again

Donna meets Nine. They would spend the entire time snarking at eachother

The Fam meets Ten. He would be so overwhelmed when he sees how many people are joining him right now

#doctor who #Twelfth Doctor #eleventh doctor #tenth doctor #ninth doctor #Thirteenth Doctor #rose tyler #martha jones #donna noble #amy pond #rory williams #clara oswald #bill potts

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nuria-schnee · 4 years

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HEY THERE DEMISEXUALS, IT'S ME, YA GIRL

Hey, it's Ace Awareness Week so... I thought, why not talking about my experience? I don't see enough demisexuals sharing stories and, really, it's fine. But it would've been very helpful for me a few years ago if I had read some, so, if my story helps someone, it'll be worth it.

So, let's start. It's quite a ride.

Right, so... Looking back now, I think the first time I realised something was up with me was when I was 12. I was starting high school and, suddenly, one day, I realised I was attracted to my best friend. And I was like *ALARM*, because she was a girl and that was enough of a crisis for me then. So, I thought, maybe I like girls? And, for my life, I couldn't accept that. So I forced myself to date a guy who asked me out one year later. It lasted one month. Didn't end up well. Kissing was fine some times but bah.

Things that happened too that year: I tried watching porn. My honest reaction? I laughed. I laughed hard. I didn't find it arousing at all. I found it ridiculous. Also, I started masturbating which was 10/10. But no porn. Kind of repulsed me even, after the first experience.

(Brief note about me, for context's sake: I'm very sexual. I always fancied the idea of sex. I even had kind of crushes with people but not the way most people had. So, problem? If you're reading this, you probably know which is.)

Anyway, after that year, I thought that maybe I truly liked girls but... I hadn't been attracted by anyone else but her.

I kept dismissing this feeling, trying to convince myself I was perfectly straight, just... Maybe... Prude? I had a couple more of opportunities with guys after that first bf and I... Couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to even kiss them for a while. I didn't feel anything.

When I was 15 I was in a very bad place mentally, very low self esteem, thought no one would ever want me. A guy popped up and I dived into a relationship with him like a dumbass. It lasted a year and a half. If you are triggered by sex issues maybe you want to skip to the next paragraph, it wasn't pretty and he was a huge dick. Thing is, he was older, wasn't caring at all, and kind of forced me into things. I don't think I liked one single time we had sex. It was kind of awful but I felt guilty and when I was that age the no is no movement hadn't reached our lives yet. Well, it left me with a bunch of traumas, which included a bit of vaginitis.

I had another bf after that. Wasn't so awful, sex, cause he was a nice guy and I thought I still didn't feel how I had to because I was a little traumatized.

And, then, I met HIM.

We were 16, in the same class. We grew close, ended up being great friends. And, hey, my dudes, this girl fell head over heels, in love, hard. And OH OH THERE COMES THE ATTRACTION.

It was crushing, the sensation. I went crazy inside sometimes, when he was close. Also, I had the luck that he had fallen for me too.

It's been almost six years and, let me tell you, the sensation just grows. It gets bigger as fast as the love grows. But, well, maybe it's because he's the love of my life and all and I'm just absolutely crazy about him. The love is strong here.

Even so, I didn't discover I was demipansexual since two years ago. And it's been quite a ride. I'm gonna make a list, more organized.

Trauma time baby: well, the consequences of that fucked up relationship caught me, in the end. I had a fit (and I know it's stupid) over not liking porn, of not understanding why I couldn't say a thing whenever someone asked me who would I fuck if I could, why I felt uncomfortable if my friend talked about hook-ups, why my bf could say or like those things (did it mean we loved differently?). It was a bad year, when all this plagued me. I was in the middle of a crisis with everything in my life and this was one of the things. Why I was different? I felt prude and meek. I felt if I was just repressed and didn't want to accept it. I felt wrong and cried over it a lot. I was 20, then.

Demisexuality term pops up: I don't know where I first saw it, but I remember searching it and being like hmmmmm. And then, the moment™: I searched 'am I demisexual test'. Which, my friends, we all know that you don't need the results, if you search this. It's water clear. Whatever, I saw the light, but I still didn't dare to call myself demisexual. Not because I wasn't sure, deep inside, just because I had certain doubts and nobody to compare myself with.

Doubts: I felt too sexual (still detaching from thinking myself prude, back then, still thinking I was repressed), I had crushes on fictional characters, could fancy them (it was quite a discovering to know the brain can't make distinction between real and fictional people; if you get attached, attraction can come too) (btw, I was really embarrassed by this one), I thought maybe I was still traumatized and that it was a matter of trust and not lack of attraction, and I'd had other relationships, not loved them, and sometimes liked the sex. So, I doubted. The resulution of those doubts, Demisexual. Demisexual as fuck. None of that mattered. None of that invalidated me. But it took long to realise.

Demipan epiphany: Remember I said I was attracted to my girl best friend? Well, after noticing it had happened a few more times in my life (not as strong as with my boo, even so) I thought, maybe I'm biromantic? But then I realised I didn't give a damn about if my boyfriend was a man or whatever. I loved him. He could come out as trans tomorrow and I would still be head over heels for them. So, demipansexual here.

BONUS - Writing epiphany: One of the things that helped me realise and clear my relationship with sex was how I write smut. And the kind of smut I read. AND what moves me while reading sex scenes. Yeah. Basically (and what a surprise, really), FEELINGS. I don't really feel much if it's just body parts and fluids and all that. But if there's a lot of feelings, you have me there. (Craving representation in media? Maybe. Probably. Yes.)

So, briefly, this is all.

Now, just so you know, I still have days when I feel lonely and I doubt myself. We all struggle. Actually, I've come out to just two persons and real life. No one in my house knows, mainly because I still don't know how I'm gonna explain this. But I'm not closeted anymore. (I’m sure I'm gonna here but that's what happens to everyone and I'm gonna be like NO). I have the love of my life and my friends who are incredibly supportive, so, it's alright.

So, my dear ace friends, wherever you are, however you identify, no matter if you're closeted or not or doubting or totally sure, know that you're not alone. And that you're cool. And that you're VALID.

Love to all of you. Stay safe.

#ace awareness week #ace week 2020 #Ace #Demisexuality #demipansexual #asexuality #Grey umbrella #Such a long post omg #Sorry #tw: sex mention #tw: trauma

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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This is going to sound weird, but I think I'm an ace?? I don't really know though. I've looked it up before and it's kinda confusing all the labels and such, but also makes sense to me??? Since the description says carey is an ace, could you please explain it? Like what's it about, and how did carey find out she was one? How does she know that she's not Pan? Does she come out to others? Sorry if this is a bad ask :(

Hi, Anon! Well, like Carewyn, I identify with the asexual spectrum, though I’m still romantic...so hopefully going into my experiences (which colored Carey’s) might help? Naturally everyone’s experience is a little different, even if they’re the same or a similar sexuality, but sometimes one can find common ground. all the same.

First things first, one must split asexuality up into some categories, for it is a spectrum:

Asexuality (Ace) is feeling little to no sexual attraction. One can feel romantic or even aesthetic attraction even if they don’t have much interest in or are actively disinterested in sex. Some ace people are also sex-repulsed, meaning they are actively turned-off by sex, but a lot of ace people aren’t. People who are asexual can still have sex or masturbate and even enjoy it, but generally don’t have as much interest in it as straight/gay/bi/lesbian/pan/etc. (A.K.A. allosexual, meaning “feeling any kind of sexual attraction”) people do. Some people on the asexual spectrum like to use this word rather than any of the following terms as it’s the most all-encompassing and recognizable, even though asexuality in general still isn’t very well-understood in mainstream society.

Demisexuality (Demi-Ace) is only feeling sexual attraction after creating a close emotional bond with someone.

Graysexuality (Gray-A) is only feeling sexual attraction very sparingly or in limited amounts.

Asexuality can also be refined further depending on what if any kind of romantic attraction one feels.

Some asexuals don’t feel any romantic attraction at all. These people are asexual/aromantic, or aro-ace. These sorts of people are perfectly happy just experiencing platonic love. They also sometimes enter into what are called queerplatonic relationships, which are individualized and customizable relationships that sort of play with the conventions of what’s generally classified as “romantic” and what’s classified as “friendship” (for instance, some queerplatonic relationships involve hand-holding, others don’t; some involve sex, others don’t; some involve two partners living together, others don’t; some involve exclusivity with one partner, others don’t).

Some asexuals, however, do feel romantic attraction, at which point they can be split in a similar way as sexualities are, except romantically. This is how you get people who are asexual/homoromantic (being romantically attracted to the same gender), asexual/heteroromantic (being romantically attracted to the opposite gender), asexual/biromantic or panromantic (being romantically attracted to multiple genders), and so on.

For me, I only first suspected I might be asexual as an adult, as when I was a teenager I hadn’t even known it was a thing. Before then, I’d been romantically attracted to and dated both a woman and a man, and looking back on my experiences, I was very aware of how much less interest I had in intimacy compared to my partners. I just always found myself getting bored whenever we’d share long, deep kisses or restless whenever we were cuddling too long, even if I really enjoyed being with my partner. Whenever sex would come up, I was just never really that interested -- especially in comparison to how interested I’d be in going out and doing things with my partner, like going to the movies or watching a show or even just having a spirited debate about something. When I was younger as well, I always felt very out-of-the-loop whenever anyone my age gushed about how “hot” a celebrity was or made sexual innuendos. It’s not that I didn’t know what the innuendos meant or that I was a prude, either -- there were plenty of times I’d use those terms myself or write “lemon” fanfictions for my fandoms, to fit in -- but I always felt like the things that drew me to people were different than what drew other people to them. My crushes were almost never about how “sexy” someone was -- if anything, I most frequently ended up getting crushes on people for their singing voices. (Yes, I’m serious. XDDD) I’d also have trouble relating to people talking about a certain woman having a great ass or a certain guy’s muscles because my brain really just doesn’t split people up into pieces like that. I’m much more likely to find someone beautiful because of their sparkling eyes or their bright smile than because of their body -- it’s not that I can’t see someone as beautiful all the way around, but it’s much more of an aesthetic attraction, like one might feel toward a piece of art, than anything that gets you hot and bothered. And it took me a long time before I really could figure out the difference and therefore why I had such difficulty relating to the allosexual people around me. At times it made me feel stupid or, worse, like there was something wrong with me. I felt like maybe I’d just been born missing something, and it made me that much more afraid to even open myself up, because I felt like I wouldn’t be able to be what anyone I might fall in love with would need me to be. Fortunately I learned otherwise, and now I feel a lot better, now that I understand this aspect of myself. It also makes it a lot easier for me to talk about LGBT+ issues and about romantic relationships with other people, now that I can better explain where I fit on the spectrum!

I see Carewyn, like me, only really learning about what asexuality is as an adult, and once she did and did the proper amount of soul-searching, she came out to her friends about her identity. I personally HC her “unofficial twin” and fellow Fireball Charlie Weasley being aro-ace and her future love interest Orion being gray-A, so that definitely helps a bit...and I also HC several of Carewyn’s other friends as LGBT+ too, including her ex-boyfriend Andre Egwu, so they’re all pretty accepting. ^.^

#ooc #personal #carewyn cromwell #asexuality #opinion #analysis #lgbtq pride

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silvensstorycorner · 4 years

Text

Things I wanted to say

My friends have been having a holiday/New Year's sleepover every year on New Year's Eve since high school. We'd see a movie, then go to one of our houses for hot pot, then hang out until the ball dropped, drinking sparkling apple cider and white grape juice out of wine glasses as we watched, chatting in a blanket pile oozing off the couch until we dozed off to Netflix and woke up to make a sleepy breakfast in pajamas. Things have adapted over the years: we don't go out to a theater for a movie anymore usually, and oftentimes not all six of us can be there, but it's still New Year's. And usually I love it.

I don't really know what happened in 2018. It was at Sophia's house that year (the regular spot), but for some reason, it was a lot more...all-out. She invited us plus boyfriends plus anyone we wanted to bring. She told me to invite my roommates so they all could meet them (my roommates declined). My family was invited. So Mom, Dad, my brother, and I all went this time instead of just me, and even though I had been going to her house for seven years and was comfortable with the normal level of unusual chaos that passed through its walls, this time I walked through the front door and very quickly felt...bad.

There were at least ten more people than just us six, some old friends (not as close but still friends) from high school, some I hadn't met before. Her three kid cousins were running around the place. The entire kitchen island was made into a bar, with twenty or thirty bottles of alcohol and a handful of types of edibles. Some were probably already tipsy. There was hot pot and fondue and trays of snacks and charcuterie and so much lying out for the picking.

It wasn't New Year's. It was a party.

And I do not like parties.

From that evening in 2018 for over a full 24 hours into 2019, I was choked up, holding back tears, not saying much most of the time because talking made it harder not to cry. My family left after a couple of hours because they weren't going to stay the night. I mentioned that I kinda might’ve wanted to go home, too, feeling like shit for breaking tradition but also currently feeling like shit from whatever new anxiety-inducing thing was happening to me, but my parents are bad at subtext and listening and laughed and asked what I was talking about and left.

I remember a few moments when I felt okay. Exchanging gifts, I think, and the following day, when only three of us were still there, we watched a bad low-budget horror movie. I felt content then. On the other hand, I lost hold and ended up crying three or four times, alone or in the dark or behind my hair so no one knew because no one likes a downer.

But then it's New Year's Day, and the sun is beginning to dip, and it's finally acceptable for me to go home. I go into the master bedroom to change out of pajamas into clothes, and Sophia's there, collecting things to go take a shower. I forget what small talk happened before because after a beat, she says, "Hey, are you alright? You didn't seem as joke-y earlier."

I choked up again because typical goddamn bodily response. We're turned away from each other, and I was either halfway through putting on a shirt or in a bra and holding my shirt. The silence stretched too long, so I squeaked out something. Probably "I'm fine." She looked over and asked if I was sure, and I broke.

She goes into mom friend mode and asked what happened, what was it, and I said it was nothing, I had been trying not to cry since first stepping into the house, and she immediately hugs me from behind as I'm standing there crying. My throat won't work without making the tears worse. I want to tell her I didn't know exactly what happened but I knew the pieces. That I had developed depression 4-6 months prior. That I had failed the semester because of it. That I was put on academic probation because of it despite my prior 3-year, 3.6 GPA. That I didn't know if my international internship and scholarships were in jeopardy. That I didn't drink because alcohol is repulsive, in scent and implications and cultural obsession. That I can smell the moment someone opens a bottle of wine from two rooms away. That the scent sometimes gives me a headache. That the smell of weed is even worse and gives me a migraine. That I was paranoid that college had changed my friends so much that they'd give me alcohol or weed without telling me. That talking about relationships and making innuendos and teasing me for not understanding them made me want to hide under a blanket. That even though everyone was nice and amicable, they weren't supposed to be here because it was our thing. That I don't like children and having to listen to and entertain her three cousins for twenty-four hours made my spine bristle. That I was afraid my discomfort around children would be taken as insulting her family. That the usual blaring kitchen stereo and the shouting from stairs and the scream singing and the mock nagging yells about how I was cleaning dishes slowly and wrong when I could've been not doing them at all really hit a nerve this time. That I was hiding this from my very best friends because I was confused and felt silly and illogical for not having fun at my favorite event of the year, the one time I see some of these people anymore after we spread out across the world for college and life, especially when everyone else was enjoying themself. That maybe everyone had grown up and outgrew me in college because they enjoy drinking and smoking and dating and sex and I don't, and I was just a buzzkill in an environment no longer fit for me. That I knew I was wrong. That most to all of this was a product of depression putting thoughts in my head and amplifying responses and that there was no way to anticipate or adjust to it, and that I didn't know when it would get better. That she wasn't a therapist and had her own troubles to worry about and I had no right to shoulder my own onto her, too.

But while all that and more is flying by in bits and pieces in my mind, my throat betrayed me and knotted up, leaving me standing there, clutching my shirt, staring up at the ceiling with tears streaming and breaths quickening to stuttered hyperventilation as my friend hugged me, and all I managed to choke out was that I didn’t like alcohol before the meager admittance activated a defense mechanism and shut me up with unabated sobbing.

Eventually, it subsided. She asked me if I wanted to take a shower instead, but I declined. I put on my shirt proper and sat on the bed, wiping my face while she took a shower with the door open so she could ramble nothings and tell me about new books she got and stuff her animation professors said.

We've never talked about it again, and I don't know if she told our other friends. Within the hour, one friend made another innuendo and laughed with a teasing reminder that sex and love exist and there's nothing I can do to stop it, and while Sophia didn't say anything directly, she looked at me and then changed the subject to something unrelated.

She checks up on me every few months, asking how I am with a little more insistence than someone who uses it as a casual opener.

The following year, I was worried whatever that was would happen again. I still had depression, I had failed one class for a second time, and both my childhood dogs and my grandmother had died within six months. I even put off going to Sophia’s a bit by going to see Star Wars in theaters with my family beforehand.

But when I walked in the door, the last to arrive, it was already better. My family didn't stay--they didn't even come in with me so they wouldn't rile up the dogs. There weren't crowds or kids or deafening music or a kitchen littered in liquor. There were just my friends, standing around the hot pot, with meats and gyoza and only one or two bottles of wine and sparkling juices and a whole roast ham.

I walked up to the table, bags in one hand and petting giant dogs with the other, but before I even get a greeting out, Sophia asked if I was okay. I froze, afraid my fears were that obvious and thinking they thought I was avoiding them and didn't love them anymore and feeling a weight begin to form in my throat. But she said my complexion seemed off or pale or something. I said I was fine, she said cool, the broth just started boiling, come get meat, and that was that.

That night, sitting in front of the fire, opening presents by the tree, I did cry again, because I was laughing harder than I had in a long time.

#Something I was thinking about again tonight #Gonna just tag all the content shit #Depression #Alcohol #Marijuana #Death #Story #Fairy Magic #Long story #Long post #Don't wanna do a read more because that would break it up and be an unwanted effect #New Year's

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szopenhauer · 4 years

Text

Do you believe in any conspiracy theories? some

What trends do you refuse to give in to? basically all of them What types of perfume/cologne do you like on your preferred sex? none How do you get rid of anxiety? wish I knew! Are you a more of a homebody, or someone who’s always out with friends? homebody Are you materialistic? been told - in a sentimental way, not rich way Would you consider yourself open-minded? no Is there anything in your life right now that needs fixing? my body/mind Would you say that the simple things in life make you happy? they make me smile, I enjoy them Do you come up with your own words or sayings often? yes What’s the first thing you think of when I say ‘pearl necklace’?

Gummi worms: Yay or nay? nay What do you do when you have ‘me time’? why after the question before it sounds so... ekhem... What’s your opinion on Weird Al Yankovic? I liked his SW song Have you ever met someone online that you wanted to meet in real life? yup and met but only one person When was the last time you entertained yourself with shadow puppets? not that long time ago tbh as I like to do that randomly :D

What do you think S.H.C. stands for? school lmfao

Have you ever heard of Salad Fingers? mhm *I like rusty spoons

How do you feel about oldies (50’s-70’s) music? depends on the song

Ford or Dodge? Ford What’s your favorite element: fire, earth, wind or water? I think that most spectacular, in a movie/book, is fire, then wind, earth is most lame but I still dislike water, when it comes to real life then eart would be most interesting instead hahaha but I’m either wind or earth probably

Do you visit craft/hobby stores often? nope

How do you feel about spiked collars? cool

What’s keeping you from going after the person you like? I’ve been writing about it plenty of times...

Who/what brings out the best in you? depends on your definition of “best”

Have you ever watched or read A Clockwork Orange? no and don’t want/plan to

How do you feel about plastic pink flamingos? love

Do you like your ice cream super frozen or somewhat melted? in between

Fill in the blanks: I wish _____ knew _____. I wish I knew what’s wrong with me and how to fix it. I wish I knew what’s good and bad and what I should do. I wish I knew who I am and what I want/need.

Do you enjoy playing with magnets? :3 I collect them but don’t play with magnets

How do you handle an awkward moment? depends

The Beatles: totally amazing or horribly overrated? overrated

Have you ever felt like you belonged in a different century? not really

Pretend you just saw a shooting star. What do you wish for? health *not that it will work

Was your first phone a flip phone? nope What is an old website that closed down that you miss? polyvore forever <3 Do you listen to Grace VanderWaal? If yes, what’s your favorite song of hers? I know/like one of her songs - I don’t like you What is the grossest thing you have ever vomited up? everything about puking is disgusting so... If you had had a baby in high school, what would you have named him or her? omg...

Are you foreign-born? I was born and live in Poland Do you drink coffee with your breakfast? I don’t drink coffee at all

Did you know that dolphins & whales are mammals? I did Are all of your grandparents still alive? no

do you need to take a smoke break? I don’t smoke honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? I won’t be a parent :P what kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? uh... have you ever been tutored or tutored someone yourself? been tutored would you rather wear necklaces, bracelets, rings, or earrings? hmm... is everything you have on actually yours? sure when was the last time you wore a band-aid and why? wbiłam sobie metalowy drut w palec what would you do if you discovered that you had a 7 year old kid? ... how? moon sand or play doh? Playdoh do you honestly believe that someone will waste their time reading this? I know she will pfft what’s something you need to get done soon? don’t remind me... your grandparents just died in a plane crash, what are you doing? sit confused as why would they be in a plane in the first place? :o if i came to your house, could i find any kind of chocolate? ask my mother do your parents allow smoking in your house? hell no last person you left a voicemail for? I don’t like voicemails what is the last thing you charged? cellphone have you ever held a snake? I wanna describe to me the nearest stuffed animal to you. there’s shitload of those around me do you ever wear sleep masks when you sleep or shower caps when you shower? neither zebrah print, cheetah print, cow print, polka dots, or stripes? stripes would you rather go to a beach, and amusement park, or a water park? beach or amusement park, definitely not water park

Have you ever thought about becoming a crime scene investigator? yep

If I asked around, would people say you’re an actually good friend? doubt it

Where are your siblings at right now, if you have any? most likely her apartment

Do people say you complain too much? I know I do, sorry not sorry?

Have you ever considered changing your sexual orientation? there was a moment

Do you miss any of your past best friends? kinda

Have you graduated high school yet? If so, what color were your cap and gown? we didn’t have caps and gowns

Does your significant other complain about the way you dress? does she? XD

Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? would say so

What would you do if a stranger smacked your ass and whistled? dunno

Do you understand the game of Monopoly? why not

Do you ever make fun of short people? I’m short...

Would you say you’re reliable to be a good babysitter? I don’t like kids

Do you feel replaced in any way at all right now? when my dad plays with my niece :( also when I see/hear about my ex friends and exes in general?

Do you think it’s actually possible to have a ‘beautiful nightmare?’ yes

Have you ever held an intervention for someone before? I don’t want to participate in such a thing

Do you ever blame your problems on someone else? only if they’re at blame

As a child, were you ever made fun of? What about right now? I’ve been bullied my whole life

Are you more of an open, optomistic person or lonely and pessimistic? loner* and pessimistic but I’m also quite open about who I am, because I’m an introvert doesn’t mean I’m shy

What is the last thing you tried on in a store? not sure what was last

When did you realize you are no longer a child? this question makes me sad Is sleeping naked more comfortable then in clothes? no idea Are you comfortable enough around your friends to change in front of them? I don’t care most of the time anymore tbh Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? smth more more often than just kissing which is weird Do you prefer to fix the problems or just end the relationship? depends Have you ever accidentally stepped on a cat tail? possibly

Did you know that when a worm is cut in two both pieces grow again and continue living? been told Do veggies gross you out? why Have you ever dated someone in secret? :x Do you bring pillows and blankets on road trips? nope Does walking by yourself make you nervous? might When dog’s bark, do you think it actually sounds like ‘ruff’? no What about when cows moo? yup Do you kiss your pets? yuk Have you ever forgotten where you parked your car? I don’t drive Does your leg itch right now? not rn Would you rather marry someone repulsive or be alone forever? be alone When is the last time you saw a monkey on TV? I don’t watch TV Would you be sad if you were 50 and still not married? nope Is it dark out yet? mhm Do hugs help when you’re sad? sometimes Do you buy more things online or in stores? stores Do online dating sites ever work? not for me

Do you find kite flying boring? if for a long time Have you ever released a paper lantern? I’d like to

Do you ever listen to Jpop? not anymore What is the best summer camp you have ever been to? been to two and both had good and bad sides Is your bed next to a window? it’s not

Have you ever ran a cash register? I have

Does anyone appreciate your talents? what talents? Do you ever write letters and send them through the mail? used to Have you ever had an allergy test at the doctor’s? even recently

Skeletons or scarecrows? scarecrows

Do you own pumpkin earrings? - Have you ever walked through a haunted house? no thx Have you ever asked someone to be your Valentine? and they laughed at me?...

Do you like the name Ellery? sounds like Celery so no

Do you find cemeteries pretty? yeah Does your phone screen freeze a lot? could say so

Do you tend to wear the color blue the most? as a kid Did you kiss anyone on New Years? never Who did you spend your last velentine’s day with? by myself

Is there anything plugged to your computer? two pendrives and powerbank Anyone ever got you something while you were with them without you knowing? sort of Are you more of the indie or mainstream type? indie Where is your favorite place to be massaged? I don’t receive massages When did you last speak with your grandparents? years ago Don’t you hate it when something limits the amount you can type/write? very Do you live where there are a lot of cows? nope Have you ever went an entire day without looking at yourself in the mirror? as a person who avoids mirrors... Do you like the colors purple and orange together? depends? Honestly, do you smell nice at the moment? do I ever? my partner tells me I do but I’ve been told I stink several times before

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imaginationstimulation · 4 years

Photo

Highlighted Excerpts from Miranda July’s “The First Bad Man” 5 STARS, absolutely loved this book, it literally changed my life.

The NPR book review:

This cataloging of unglamorous inner life could be grotesque (and sometimes is) but there is something hugely generous about it. Writing about sex is a particular skill of July's — it is beautiful but real, not rapturous or misty or scene-lit.

Her humor comes from a careful literalness: a dragging out of the truth, and placing it in startling juxtaposition with the surface of things.

Quotes and highlights below. Expand to read.

YOUR KINDLE NOTES FOR: The First Bad Man: A Novel

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 7

“When in doubt, give a shout!” “Excuse me?” “I’m here for you. When in doubt, just give me a shout.” What silence. Giant domed cathedrals never held so much emptiness. He cleared his throat. It echoed, bouncing around the dome, startling pigeons. “Cheryl?” “Yes?” “I think I should go.” I didn’t say anything. He would have to step over my dead body to get off the phone. “Goodbye,” he said, and then, after a pause, he hung up.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 19

Once Carl had called me ginjo, which I thought meant “sister” until he told me it’s Japanese for a man, usually an elderly man, who lives in isolation while he keeps the fire burning for the whole village. “In the old myths he burns his clothes and then his bones to keep it going,” Carl said. I made myself very still so he would continue; I love to be described.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 22

As I walked to the door the map of the world detached from the wall and slid noisily to the floor. Not necessarily an indicator of anything.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 28

He was nervous—men are always sure they’ll be accused of some horrific crime after they talk about feelings.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 40

“Does it feel like we’ve known each other for longer than we really have?” “Kind of.” I could tell him or I could not tell him. I decided to tell him. “Maybe there’s a reason for that,” I ventured. “Okay.” He blew his nose again. “Do you know what it is?” “Give me a hint.” “A hint. Let’s see . . . actually, I can’t. There are no little parts to it, it’s all big.” I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. “I see a rocky tundra and a crouched figure with apelike features who resembles me. She’s fashioned a pouch out of animal gut and now she’s giving it to her mate, a strong, hairy pre-man who looks a lot like you. He moves his thick finger around in the pouch and fishes out a colorful rock. Her gift to him. Do you see where I’m going?” “Kind of? In that I see you’re talking about cavemen who look like us.” “Who are us.”

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 43

“She’s big-boned,” I said. “A lot of men think that’s attractive.” “Sure, a woman with that kind of body has a fat store that allows her to make milk for her young even if her husband isn’t able to bring meat home. I feel confident about my ability to bring meat home.” The words milk and fat store and meat had fogged up the windows faster than leaner words would have. We were in a sort of creamy cloud.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 44

“You’re the female me.” My heart started swooping around, like it was hanging on a long rope.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 45

I must have sat across from him at a hundred meetings of the board, but I had never let myself really study his face. It was like knowing what the moon looks like without ever stopping to find the man in it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 47

His hand had a heat and weight that only real hands do. A hundred imaginary hands would never be this warm.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 53

This was probably the sign of a good therapist, seeming familiar to everyone.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 59

At the Ethiopian restaurant I requested a fork. They explained that I had to use my hands, so I asked for it to go, got a fork at Starbucks, and sat in my car. But my throat wouldn’t accept even this very soft meal. I put it on the curb for a homeless person. An Ethiopian homeless person would be especially delighted. What a heartbreaking thought, encountering your native food in this way.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 64

Our relationship is much more powerful and moving to me if we don’t compact our energy into our genitals.”

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 67

It’s one of those things that seems like a drag at first and then becomes second nature, until not doing it feels rude, almost aggressive.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 70

Suddenly it occurred to me that nothing might be happening. I’d done that before. I had added meaningful layers to things that were meaningless many, many times before.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 72

We’d been prehistoric together, medieval, king and queen—now we were this. It was all part of the answer to his question What keeps us coming back? He wasn’t done with me, and I wasn’t done with him.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 80

When she shoved me against my own desk I head-butted her and everyone else who wasn’t capable of understanding how nuanced I was.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 81

My eyes fell on the gray linoleum floor and I wondered how many other women had sat on this toilet and stared at this floor. Each of them the center of their own world, all of them yearning for someone to put their love into so they could see their love, see that they had it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 82

I ate a pastry made out of white flour and refined sugar and watched the couple next to me feed each other bites of omelet. It was hard to believe they played adult games but most likely they did, probably with their coworkers or relatives. What were other people’s like? Perhaps some mothers and fathers pretended to be their children’s children and made messes. Or a widow might sometimes become her own deceased husband and demand retribution from everyone. It was all very personal; nobody’s game made any sense to anyone else. I watched seemingly dull men and women zooming past in cars. I doubted they all had written contracts like Ruth-Anne, but some did. Some probably had multiple contracts. Some contracts had been voided or transferred. People were having a good time out here, me included.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 83

This is nothing. We’ve seen fire and we’ve seen rain, I’d reply, quoting the song.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 85

Before every raw impulse there was a pause—I saw us through the homeless gardener’s eyes and felt obscene. Being outside society, he didn’t know about adult games; he was like me before I met Ruth-Anne, thinking everything that happened in life was real.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 90

Any two foes can fight in anger, but this was something rare. I was reminded of the Christmas Day soccer game between enemies in World War I or II. She still repulsed me, I’d still shoot her in battle the next day, but until dawn we’d play this game.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 92

Laughing like friends always emphasized that we weren’t. This wasn’t real like the laughing she did at home.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 92

“So what if it’s real for her?” she said, suddenly dropping her hands. “Real comes and goes and isn’t very interesting.”

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 103

The noise shook everything out of my head. What a magical way to get around. I’d always thought of these types of machines as toys for uneducated people who didn’t care about the environment, but maybe they weren’t. Maybe this was a kind of meditation. I felt connected to everything and the motor volume held me at a level of alertness I wasn’t used to. I kept waking up and then waking up from that, and then waking up even more. Was everything redneck actually mystical?

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 113

HER COWLIKE VACUOUSNESS DIDN’T REALLY bother me anymore. Or it didn’t matter—her personality was just a little piece of parsley decorating warm tawny haunches.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 114

She furrowed her brow and looked at the V my fingers were making. I had no idea what I was doing.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 120

It wasn’t really an appropriate card for a young girl; a group of rough-looking birds in rakish hats were playing cards with cigars in their beaks. It said something I can’t remember, but on the inside was a phrase like a virus or a self-replicating parasite waiting for a host. When I opened the card it flew out, gripping my brain with merciless talons: “Birds of a feather flock together.” It couldn’t be said just once, only repeated and repeated and repeated.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 123

It sort of worked. It wasn’t like saying abracadabra to make a rabbit disappear, poof. It was like saying abracadabra billions of times, saying it for years, until the rabbit died of old age, and then continuing to say it until the rabbit had completely decomposed and been absorbed into the earth, poof.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 125

Of course the point of being on the board was to be near him, but taking his place was interesting too. Almost better. For the first time I understood cigars and the urge to light one up and lean back.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 128

She looked utterly betrayed, as betrayed as the most betrayed person in Shakespeare.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 130

A cool breeze moved past and I knew how nice that must feel on his sweaty face, but that was all. I didn’t know how anything else would feel to him.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 131

We listened to the squeals change as the animal approached death; the pitch had entered the human register, every exertion contained a familiar vowel. If words began to form then I would go out there and break it up. Words, even crudely formed ones, would change the game entirely.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 145

“Do you really think it’s necessary?” “Necessary? No. All that’s necessary is that you eat enough to survive. Highlight (Yellow) | Page 147

I could see it so clearly, the zygote—shiny and bulbous, filled with the electric memory of being two but now damned with the eternal loneliness of being just one.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 148

All these years I’d been looking for a friend, but Suzanne didn’t need a friend. A rival, though—that got her attention.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 148

When the meeting adjourned we both went to the staff kitchen and made cups of tea in silence. I waited for her to begin the conversation. I sipped. She sipped. After a while I realized this was the conversation; we were having it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 151

But eventually she wanted it more than he did, and this made her lower than him. There was no way to knock down a woman who was already lying on the ground.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 152

He walked to the elevator. He pressed the button and we both listened, my therapist and I, and waited for this part to be over—the part where he had already left but was still with us.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 164

“This is the worst you’ll ever feel.” “Ever?” “Well, maybe not ever in your whole life. We don’t know how you’re going to die—that might be worse.” I had veered off course. I put my face right in front of hers. “You can do this,” I said.

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A bag of blood was rushed in; it was from San Diego. I’d been to the zoo there once. I imagined the blood being pulled out of a muscled zebra. This was good—humans were always withering away from heartbreak and pneumonia, animal blood would be much tougher, live, live, live.

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Her braids lay on her chest and she looked leaden with sorrow, like a picture from the Dust Bowl. You just knew her whole life was going to be hard, every second of it.

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After a long time, ten or fifteen minutes, the kissing slowed. There were a series of closing kisses, goodbye kisses, kisses placed like lids on boxes—then the lid would pop off and need to be replaced. There, this is the final kiss—no, this is the final kiss. This one is, it really is. And now I’m just kissing that kiss good night.

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Soft was the wrong word. Satiny? Supple? A new word, I would come up with it right now—which letters would I use? S, for sure. Maybe an O. Was this how words were made? How would I announce the word? Who would I contact about that?

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followed the doctor across the room. I yearned for a lawyer and the right to make a phone call. But those rights were for arrested people. We got nothing. Whatever he told me would be the new reality and we’d just have to accept

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They belonged here, both of them equally, as did the nurses and the doctors and Clee. None of them recognized the interloper among them, but they would soon. I’d gotten swept up in the drama of the situation and mistakenly involved myself.

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Almost! I said. There was no good way to be, so I was being cavalier, lancing my own heart. We came pretty close. See you next time!

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The last of her crying came out in a clotted sigh after the first kiss.

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We began a series of impatiently off-center ones, as if we were too hurried to land them properly; then our mouths became fingertips, moving blindly over the bumps and hollows of each feature.

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It was like a dream, where the most unlikely person can’t get enough of you—a movie star or someone’s husband. How can this be? But the attraction is mutual and undeniable; it is the reason for itself. And like a surprise on the moon or a surprise on the battlefield, astonishment was native to these parts.

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They were terrible people, even slightly worse than most.

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Should I introduce myself or try to kill them? Not violently, just enough that they wouldn’t exist.

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Was I like honey thinking it’s a small bear, not realizing the bear is just the shape of its bottle?

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WOKE WITH A START like a passenger on an airplane—for a moment I could feel how high I was and had an appropriate terror of falling.

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A howl was curdling inside me; the ache felt inhuman. Or maybe this was my first human feeling.

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Anyone who questions what satisfaction can be gained from a not-so-bright girlfriend half one’s age has never had one. It just feels good all over. It’s like wearing something beautiful and eating something delicious at the same time, all the time.

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“Can the writing be a little more fun?” she said. “You mean a different font?” “Maybe.” I put everything in chubby cartoon letters as a joke. “That looks good,” she said. She was right. The cartoon letters had a love of life in them, and wasn’t that what we were celebrating here?

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Suzanne fired him on the spot—her face shaking with regret about things she had not nipped while they were still in the bud.

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Clee held me from behind and our bodies interlocked like two Ss. “Not many people could do this,” I said, squeezing her arms. “Everyone does this.” “But not fitting together so perfectly the way we do.” “Any two people can do it.”

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I didn’t bathe him because I was too afraid he would slip out of my hands or his belly button would open. Then one night I woke at three A.M. certain he was rotting like a chicken carcass. Only as I lowered him into the sink did I realize this was a crazy time to wash a baby and I began to cry because he was so trusting—I could do anything and he would go along with it, the little fool.

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Clee asked if he could see in the dark like a cat and I said yes. Later I caught my mistake but it was five A.M. and she was asleep. The next day I forgot. Each day I forgot to tell her he couldn’t see in the dark like a cat and each night I remembered, with increasing urgency. What if this continued for years and I never told her? My body was so tired that it often floated next to me or above me, and I had to reel it in like a kite. Finally one night I wrote “He can’t see in the dark” on a slip of paper and put it by her sleeping face. “What’s this?” Clee asked the next day, holding the slip. “Oh, thank God, yes. Jack can’t see in the dark like a cat.” “I know.” Suddenly I was unsure how this had begun. Maybe she had never asked. I dropped the subject with dark thoughts about my own mind.

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But as the sun rose I crested the mountain of my self-pity and remembered I was always going to die at the end of this life anyway.

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If you were wise enough to know that this life would consist mostly of letting go of things you wanted, then why not get good at the letting go, rather than the trying to have?

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I began to understand that the sleeplessness and vigilance and constant feedings were a form of brainwashing, a process by which my old self was being molded, slowly but with a steady force, into a new shape: a mother. It hurt. I tried to be conscious while it happened, like watching my own surgery. I hoped to retain a tiny corner of the old me, just enough to warn other women with. But I knew this was unlikely; when the process was complete I wouldn’t have anything left to complain with, it wouldn’t hurt anymore, I wouldn’t remember.

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After smiling came laughing, then rolling over. The days and nights began to unwarp; three A.M. became an ordinary time. The first few months were hard for all new parents, a test, really—and we had passed!

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For the first time in my life I understood TV, why everyone watched it. It helped. Not in the long run, of course, but minute by minute.

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what it felt like to be a mother, to be terrifyingly in love without the option of getting off.

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It must happen all the time, a fleeting passion overwhelms someone’s true course and there’s nothing to be done about it.

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one lone voice in an infinite cathedral, climbing and echoing and praising. The singer was lifted up and illuminated with gratitude, not for any one thing, but for the whole of this life, even for the agony.

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Rainbows are alone; they’re the only thing like that. The crystal began to wind the other way, sending the bright fleet back across his body. I could tell he didn’t believe me; it did seem unlikely. I racked my brain for others of the species. Reflections, shadows, smoke—these things were morose and distant cousins at best.

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I cleared my throat. “I love you.” His head shook with surprise. My voice was low and formal; I sounded like a wooden father from the 1800s. I continued. “You are a sweet potato.” This sounded literal, as if I was letting him know he was a root vegetable, a tuber. “You’re a baby,” I added, just in case there was any confusion on that last point.

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we had only spent a few hours a day in the NICU with him. That wasn’t enough. It was enough for us at the time, but now it haunted me. Twenty hours a day he’d lain there alone. There would be other unpardonable crimes, I could feel them coming—things that in retrospect would become my greatest regrets.

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Ruth-Anne, I would say, can we put the past behind us? Better not to phrase it as a question. The past is behind us. That was good. Who could argue with that?

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It was like being accused of a crime committed in a dream.

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As she looked up at him her whole bearing shifted; she became luminous. Not with the light of life, but like a husk lit electrically from within.

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Just his name on a piece of paper could set her off. Even a word like Broyard—barnyard, backyard—sent her into an exhausted loop of fantasies. Everything else in her life, including her own therapy practice, was faked. The spell consumed 95 percent of her energy but she was surprised to see that no one noticed; the wafer-thin 5 percent version of her sufficed.

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Something strange was happening with Ruth-Anne. It didn’t seem good.

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Each word he said was boring, but collectively the melody of them lulled me.

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I tried to resist, but just the weight of him, in pounds and ounces, was a relief. Always being the heaviest person in the house had been exhausting.

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“Of course I’m here for you,” I said. It was a relief; being angry at him was hard work.

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I’m the woman who just told her her feet smell; I could still see her enormous smile and how it fell.

#miranda july #the first bad man #book review #bookstagram #bibliophile #writing #quotes #writing inspiration

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fictional-worlds-are-exquisite · 5 years

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How did you know you identified as ace? I’m just curious because I’ve always had trouble understanding ace and demi. Like I lowkey think I identify as demisexual and biromantic but because I didn’t really get? It? So I didn’t want to say the label out loud. So when ppl ask I usually say bisexual just because it’s easier. Could you explain it? Sorry for being so long, I’m just a lost puppy at this point 😅

This is such a hard question and it doesn’t have an easy answer, for me, at least and sometimes I still wonder. The thing about asexuality is it’s just straight up a lack of sexual attraction-how do you know you’re missing it if you don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like? Being biromantic is like yeah crushes on girls and occasionally guys for me, I know that. But asexual? Am I not feeling sexual attraction? Am I and I’m just not aware that this thing is sexual attraction? What even is sexual attraction?

I’ve talked a bit with some allosexual friends but I’m still not entirely sure I get sexual attraction. A lot of stuff that apparently is real sexual attraction is something I always thought people meant as a joke (you know, I’d have sex with them or walking down the street and seeing a stranger like yeah I would-that doesn’t seem real to me, I always thought people were joking but? As far as I’ve learnt that’s genuinely how some people feel).

For me it was a trip, I’m afraid you’re going to have to get some background here-I’d been in a relationship that was emotionally abusive in it’s own right-I didn't learn that until years later though when we did a workshop at school on what counts as emotional abuse. I wasn’t doing great. I also started to question my sexuality at the same time-not a great plan. I thought I was aro/ace. Truthfully I’ve really only got back into having crushes like I used to this year, which is 3-4 years after everything happened. The relationship impacted me badly in that sense. Relationships? Completely a no-go for me. Even now I’m not sure if it’d be fair for me to enter into one despite the progress I’ve made. So. Anyway. I went through a lot of sexualities on the ace/aro spectrum-lithromantic was a big one and I was sure that was me. Truthfully my mental state was just utterly wrecked and I was entirely lost.

But even then I just felt like...nothing really fit. It felt wrong. I dropped it entirely, I knew I wasn’t interested in relationships at that point and that’s all I really needed. But I went through therapy for depression and anxiety and pain management and I never brought up my relationship but I started to heal mentally. Eventually I realised yeah, my mental state is doing pretty amazing, but you still have a HUGE issue with relationships. We need to work through that. So I did...it still took a long time but I got better. And better. And better. And I’m still getting better. And I started to question my sexuality again, this time in a much better place to.

I had a great friend at the time who was part of the LGBT+ community and every time I tried out an identity, he was all on board. I think I changed it a lot. I remembered back to when I was hm, maybe 11 and I realised I definitely liked girls and it was tricky because I’ve very rarely had crushes on guys but like, I was in a relationship with one so...I guess I couldn’t just be gay. Now I know I could’ve been but I also know now I still do rarely have crushes on guys-probably less so than before, still working past that relationship sfhsdf but still. Anyway I was like pan? bi? poly? there’s honest to god so many sexualities out there’s it’s overwhelming. But I started watching shadowhunters and saw magnus bane and knew bi was the label for me. I just felt comfortable with it after seeing someone else wearing it proudly.

Didn’t really solve my ace question though. I wondered if I was demi (a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone) and I decided to stick with that for awhile. I figured relationships were a no-go still so I wouldn’t really KNOW but ace felt like a scary word. Like I was saying there’s absolutely none of that when I just, HOW could I know that for sure? So demi felt safe. MAYBE I would feel sexual attraction in a relationship after awhile-there was no way for me to know. I thought maybe I was a gray ace (one definition on google puts it as experience sexual attraction very rarely, only under specific circumstances, or of an intensity so low that it's ignorable), that covers more area than just demi. Maybe I did feel sexual attraction and I just...the time hadn’t popped up.

I felt a bit like I was lying to say I was ace because what IF-the truth is, maybe I will get in a relationship and experience this so-called sexual attraction. Maybe I really just do need a strong emotional bond or whatever. Maybe I need the most specific circumstances-maybe this, maybe that. It doesn’t particularly matter in the here and now though. In the here and now I don’t experience sexual attraction. Based off conversations with people, what I’ve managed to figure out about sexual attraction...I just don’t experience it. I still question it sometimes though because are people REALLY attracted to strangers like they want to have sex-apparently anyway. And if ANYTHING ever changes, if I EVER experience it for whatever reason-I just alter my identity. I’m not lying. This is who I THINK I am and sometimes people just aren’t right. If I’m not right, it’s not a crime, I was merely missing some information to lead me to the correct identity.

Plus, asexuality is something you really have to look into. It’s not just people who don’t have sex or whatever. Some asexuals enjoy sex, some asexuals are neutral, some asexuals are repulsed by it. I’m more in the neutral area but I have shifted sometimes to a bit of nausea or feeling uncomfortable with that sort of thing. Sometimes I don’t mind the thought so much-maybe if I really loved the person I’d be okay sometimes (NOT in a forcing myself way, in a it probably wouldn’t bother me that much even if I don’t much see the interest in it. DO NOT force yourself to do ANYTHING. If I was NEVER comfortable with that it would NOT happen. I’ve heard too much shit about people forcing themselves. Don’t.). I feel like it’s meant to be more of a set spectrum-this is where you fall. But it’s always been fluid for me if I’m repulsed or neutral or whatever. I think that’s okay.

I never had a sexual sort of relationship with that one guy, I was too young for starters and it was long distance. The sort of long distance you’d pass off as just kids being dumb and I’m sure I’d laugh about it now if it didn’t go so badly for me. So I don’t really think he hit me all that hard there. I don’t think my asexuality is influenced by that at all. I feel pretty confident actually. It took me awhile but I mean seeing Raphael from shadowhunters and just that little bit of representation, I felt pretty comfy wearing the label.

I mostly just tell people I’m bi if they ask or if I wish to share. The asexual part is more personal to me, less understood, I’m no less proud but people don’t quite get it a lot. It’s just. Not out there in the way homosexuality is or whatever. There’s always a lot of questions with saying you’re asexual and a lot of the time people don’t really care to understand correctly. Even people in the LGBT+ community don’t always fully understand. And it’s always good to teach and help people learn but it’s also a bit hard when people just leave you with a ‘I don’t really get that but nevermind, whatever.’ Because not having sex? People can understand that. Not experiencing sexual attraction? People think it’s a choice a lot, but people can also understand that. But then you bring into play the actually, some aces love sex! You’ve absolutely lost the person.

I can’t say for sure I would’ve understood either if I wasn’t ace, it seems perfectly understandable now but I did my research and all.

So if you think you’re demi and bi, that’s totally cool! You only experience sexual attraction with a strong emotional bond which doesn’t HAVE to be romantic, sometimes it’s a platonic relationship that’s gotten really strong. If you think you’re ace and bi! That’s also cool, identity buddies! No sexual attraction at all-but maybe you enjoy or will enjoy sex (I don’t know how old you are if you’re actually really young DON’T go there sdklhfsdhf).

I wish I could give you a straight forward answer like well you just-but unfortunately some of my history REALLY played into me figuring things out. If I was to give you advice, if you’re not entirely sure you’re on the ace spectrum at all, talk to a close allo person. It’s a little weird to say hey, what’s sexual attraction like for you? I wish I could point you in the direction of a post that details sexual attraction (I don’t know one but if anyone reading this does or has advice, please add to this!! we don’t all have really open friends that are chill with this topic shfdsf) but I don’t know any. Sometimes questions more like ‘do people really experience sexual attraction to strangers like in movies?’ are a little more comfortable but still weird if you’re not that close.

Also, if you’re young, don’t stress it. I know, or at least I’ve HEARD it sort of becomes a thing of interest when you start going into your teens, sometimes earlier I guess. But everyone’s still figuring things out at that age. And your friends are probably less open to talk about it. Not that it’s bad! I was so stressed to figure my identity out I didn’t realise I was making everything worse, it turns out giving it time and waiting was what I personally needed to do and I think not rushing the whole process is generally good advice. If you’re really struggling-take a step back. It’s not the end of the world if you can’t find a box to put yourself in comfortably. Labels AREN’T for everyone.

If you know you’re on the ace spectrum for sure but can’t figure out where-again, labels AREN’T everything. Maybe in time you’ll settle on something but if for now you just want to go yeah I’m not interested in sex-that’s totally cool! You don’t need an exact label to be valid. You can just say ‘somewhere on the ace spectrum’ or ‘questioning on the ace spectrum’, you don’t even have to be that specific. There’s uh, hm. What was it called. Here: http://wiki.asexuality.org/Main_Page I know I ended up on this site a lot when I was questioning things. Wondering about new identities. Haven’t been there in a while but maybe you’ll get something out of it if you haven’t seen it yet. You can also probably find sites on google that give you a bit of insight into what sexual attraction details if you’re unsure like I was (am).

I hope I answered your question somewhat, I’m coming back to the demi vs ace thing and if you’re wondering exactly that-ace is none, demi is sexual attraction after a strong emotional bond which is often a relationship. So maybe you’ve been dating a person for idk, say awhile and you really love this person then maybe you start to feel sexual attraction. That’s demi-I think anyway, it’s sort of hard to tell when you just haven’t felt that before skdfjsdf. Oh and also, like how I said if I realise I’m not ace but demi or whatever and that’s okay, it’s also okay vice versa. If you’re in a relationship and realise you’re definitely ace, not demi, that’s cool too! If the person isn’t willing to accept you as ace, that’s not really a relationship you want to be in.

There’s also this:

this helped me a lot identifying some things I was feeling? When I was trying to figure out sexual attraction I’m pretty sure I realised I’d been getting it confused with aesthetic attraction for awhile. I can’t remember exactly what this picture did for me but it DID make me realise SOMETHING important so I’ll just put it here anyway.

You think you were being long 😂 sorry for being EXTRA long.

ALSO I in NO WAY want to associate aro/ace with not being mentally okay. i KNOW that’s where I went when I was struggling but I’m mostly fine now and still identifying as ace and the aro was more there was no way I could emotionally open up to another relationship at the time. I simply mistook that. People that are ace or aro have NOTHING wrong with them. Just want to make that clear.

#thank you anon!! I hope this answers something #if you can be bothered reading it all sfhsdf #don't stress yourself out over it though like I did #fixating on it and panicking when you can't figure it out doesn't help you at all #take a step back and a deep breath and try it another time #the more you try to figure it out the harder it'll get if you're pushing yourself too much #i wish you the best of luck though #hope you find an identity you feel comfy with!!#and i'll absolutely support you no matter what you settle on or if you never settle on anything (:#Anonymous

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theatricalplacenta · 6 years

Text

Just having some early morning thoughts on relationships. Contemplating and reflecting on how trauma affects your ability to connect with people or have basic fucking emotions, or how to trust people, or connect with them.

Growing up with a literal bat shit crazy biological mother, who was narcissistic and didn’t love her children beyond loving them as possessions, beat them to shit, verbally abused them, left them in situations where they were sexually abused, and on one occasion even sexually abused her eldest (me) herself; /REALLY/ fucked up my ability to form relationships of any kind. I’ll never leave my friends, and I consider them family because they are much more to me than my birth parents were, and I love them like I love my siblings, but they can leave me, and i will “understand”, because I see myself as unlovable.

Years and years and years of therapy didn’t fix it. Didn’t help it. Years and years and years of seeing a psychiatrist didn’t help either. Everyone always says “see a shrink”, like it’s an instant fix. Sometimes, things take your whole life to work with, to understand, to make peace with, and learn and teach yourself to do things you would have learned as a child. (Or maybe you had, and became unable to process a certain strain of thoughts, or feelings after a certain situation or occurrence. Sometimes things are never fixed. Most of the time, you learn to live with it. Ptsd can be reversed... as can depression... but it is not something to expect. Aiming for “normality” can set you back. Striving for perfection instead of taking baby steps towards living with your mental illness; living with yourself, is just setting yourself up for failure. the need to “fix” can make the world seem so much bigger, or can make the path you want to walk seem so much longer as you haven’t planned any pit stops. I use to cry when people would hug me when I went into foster care. My foster mom would ask to hug me, and I had never been asked before. I would say no, until one day I said yes, just to see what it was like. To see what a hug that wouldn’t be accompanied with crazed whispers, or spindly, dagger fingers clawing into my back, keeping me captive as my birth mother conveyed her love and care; love and care that was never present, but she desperately tried to make it seem like it was, and it wasn’t very believable after being beaten to hell and back, screamed at and taken down with verbal assault until she foamed at the mouth and turned red and blue in the face with hatred and anger, or after she would make me watch her beat and abuse my baby brother and sister, my children, that I raised, because I was too strong to be hurt physically. Because hurting them was the only way I would understand how much she “loved me”, and hugging me- making me look, constricting my body- touching the body she so vehemently made me aware of being ugly and disgusting, putrid- What would it be like to be hugged by a mom who respected me, and thought I was good, and kind, and artistic, and wanted what was good for me; genuinely... Well... I can tell you. It still repulsed me. Not her- never my foster mom, but the touch. The memories that came with it. The physical feeling of nausea and revulsion, and the instinctual panic and fear that came with it- it was all there. It still is to this day- BUT, just because I am not over it...does not mean I didn’t learn to rationalize, and live with it. See, hugging was bad for me. It still is- but back then, I started going out of my way to welcome hugs, or to initiate them, because I needed to condition myself at the very least, if not train my brain to expect positive interaction with hugs. I do now, but the initial trauma will always be there, and I think I will always feel sick when being hugged, or touched in general- But... I learned to live with it. Not to say that I- nor ANYONE else has to learn to just... “live with it”, because that’s ridiculous... but if you work towards it... just baby steps... things might get better. Hell, I still panic at the sight of shoulder-blade length, wiry, curly, dark hair. I had a full on crying my eyes out silently, breath taking panic attack on a bus from seeing a woman with her hair on the road outside the window. ANYWAY The point is, shit like this affects your relationships on a primary level, and it can stay that way. I don’t have the tools to apply to my own ptsd, nor to attempt to try and help another work past their trauma, and who fucking knows if others do... I honestly haven’t found anyone who gave me factual life advice to ease these sorts of problems, but in general these people, the psychiatrists and therapists, gave me a better understanding of what is happening to me, and why... but I've come to the obvious conclusion that you can’t just /fix/ what is broken when it’s trauma.I can’t make myself attracted to people. I can’t make myself okay with being touched, even if I can become accustomed to it. I can’t just decide to have a relationship with someone like I see so many do. But does that make me broken? Does that make me strange? Does that make me less of a person? I’m not sure... I love people in my life wholly and unconditionally, and I want to love someone some day in the way of romance.... but is my want for romance simply a want for the idea of romance? I’m a private person... I don’t like to be nagged or when people are super clingly- or expect to talk to me every single day.... I could never not have my own bed (But i’ll peg that on my bed being my safe place, and only my closest friends may share a bed with me) I’m just.... maybe I’m just meant to die alone. On a sort-of-less-serious note: WHAT IS LOVE- HOW DO I FIND IT. DO I GO ON TINDER!? DO I HAVE TO BE SKINNY FIRST AND LOOSE ALL THE WEIGHT I PUT ON FOR THE SOUL PURPOSE OF SCARING OFF ANYONE THAT COULD SEE ME SEXUALLY- AND NOW I’M LIKE “Damn, i wonder if sex with a person is cool. The fuck do I do- do I make a craigslist add? Hire an escort? LOL “HELLO, I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT SEXUAL INTERCOURSE IS LIKE WITH A HUMAN BEING. IS IT AS DISGUSTING AND AWKWARD AS IT SOUNDS? OR IS IT AS HOT AS WHAT I WRITE ABOUT?” SHOULD I JOIN CHRISTIAN MINGLE AND SHOW UP WITH MY RELIGION-HATING ASS!?

AMERICA, ESPLAIN. This has been a delusional 1 am self reflection with Thea. Who should have used those two golden hours of awake time from not sleeping off her pneumonia, to finish colouring her villain deku zine piece! It’s so close to being done, and yet, HERE SHE IS!- wondering about how people could possibly be comfortable getting married, how they find and keep love- how the hell they’re having babies, and living happily- while she’s over here, crying into a bag of mcsweenies original beef jerky, with a dog at her side, and has a 95% expectancy to be living in her car or under a bridge at any given moment. Life is really something else. I really don’t expect any of you to have read this, but if you have, share your experiences! Maybe you have pointers! Tips! Pick up lines. Maybe you can just re-affirm i’m stupid af and I should just shut the fuck up.

#rant? maybe?#mental health #ptsd #coping #movng forward #self help #relationship talk #self reflection #stupid questions with no answers #life is ass #i think everyone wants to be loved once and a while #just to have a person #this is probably my lack of oxygen and period talking #I cried over an old man i saw walking on the street with a walker as i drove by #i'm a big baby lol #someone slap the fuck out of me

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takaraphoenix · 6 years

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“I want a dog.” - “I want a cat.” Jagnus

“Pansexual, huh?”, grunted Jace curiously, tilting his head.

Isabelle grinned and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s what Simon calls it. Never heard that before either, to be honest. But the color-combination is interesting.”

Apparently, Simon was pansexual – whatever that meant – and was going on a pride. And as his new girlfriend, Isabelle was going with him. Shadowhunters barely had a grasp on gay and bisexual and neither was quite tolerated. That there was even more…? Jace, sprawled out on Izzy’s bed in boredom, looking over her shoulder onto her laptop. She was working on some color-coded clothes for the pride. She also wanted to drag Alec along, because it might help him settle with his sexuality more. He was still struggling a little. He might have come out, but he still struggled with living it out in the open. He had been endearingly flustered when John Underhill had asked him out on a date the other week. Izzy and Jace were still having fun teasing him with that.

“There are a lot of sexual orientations, you know?”, offered Simon with a broad grin. “Don’t tell me the big, bad Shadowhunter’s always ever just seen… straight.”

“I’ve just never thought about… a name for it”, shrugged Jace thoughtfully, looking over at Simon. “I don’t really care. Girls, guys, Seelies, vampires, warlocks… whatever.”

“Maybe you should read up on it too?”, suggested Simon, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, that color-scheme is nice”, noted Isabelle, not minding their conversation.

Tilting his head, Jace turned to look over her shoulder again. Black, gray, white, magenta. Yeah, that looked more like a color-combo that Izzy could rock. He scoffed lightly when he read what that was the flag off. Crossing his arms behind his head, he collapsed back onto the bed.

“Don’t tell me you’re aphobic, Jace”, grunted Simon with a frown.

“I just don’t get it”, shrugged Jace with a frown. “How can you not want sex at all? It’s fun. And how can you not want anyone at your side…? That’s just… lonely.”

“That’s not…”, started Simon and sighed. “That’s not what asexuality is, Jace.”

Jace frowned confused. He didn’t really have an understanding on any of this – all those mundie terms for what they liked in bed or didn’t like in bed. To Jace it all was just… whatever. But the way he saw it, the way the term made sense, asexual meant no sexuality.

“For one, asexual doesn’t mean aromantic. You can still want someone at your side even when you don’t want sex. And you can still want sex without wanting romance”, started Simon carefully. “And being asexual doesn’t have to mean you never have sex.”

“Yeah, that makes somehow even less sense, Lewis”, pointed Jace out, eyebrows raised.

“Being asexual means not experiencing sexual attraction. But not every asexual is sex-repulsed”, continued Simon. “Some are. Some don’t want any kind of sex. Others are very fine with masturbation, because orgasms are fun. Some don’t mind… uh… you know, getting each other off. Others don’t mind sex at all – for the, you know, release. It’s just that they don’t feel sexual attraction. That’s… really all there is to it.”

“My boyfriend is a walking encyclopedia of sexualities”, chuckled Isabelle amused.

Jace just frowned confused as Simon continued babbling on about the Pride and how excited he was to go with Izzy and how this could be a bonding moment for Simon and Alec and all.

/break\

“I did not expect you to tag along too, Jace”, noted Alec.

“I didn’t expect you to agree to this”, countered Jace amused. “Willingly spending time with Simon? And… you know, being this open about your sexuality.”

Alec shrugged, mildly uncomfortably. He had a rainbow button attached to his black shirt and that was the highest of his feelings, but it was still so much for him. Jace wore a pan button. He had never really thought about labels and such, but he figured there must be something to it. To feeling like being part of something – of a group. A community was what Simon had called it.

“I don’t know”, shrugged Alec, avoiding to look at Jace. “I… took John up on the date. And I figured I should… grow more comfortable with being open about it, because as soon as I start dating someone… I will have to learn to be more open about it.”

“Wow”, grunted Jace surprised, eyes wide.

“What… What about you, Jace?”, asked Alec gently, looking at him.

Jace paused and shrugged awkwardly, not looking at Alec. Everything had been awkward in those past three months. Since they had broken the possession. Since Clary had… died. Jace still didn’t know if he felt anything about that. The potion Magnus had brewed for Lilith, it had effectively broken any feelings he ever might have had for Clary. And even though Magnus gave his magic to break the possession, the potion had nothing to do with the possession, it was strong and irreversible magic. Sometimes, Jace was glad about it. They had told him he had loved Clary and her death would have only broken his heart anymore – with everything he was dealing with at the time, he didn’t know how well he could have been able to handle that on top of everything else.

Over the past three months, Jace had concentrated on getting better. He had been at the City of Bones for two months and had only returned back home three weeks ago. He was better now, mentally. Now he could focus on other things again. Like his sexuality, apparently.

“I’m not interested in anyone at the moment”, shrugged Jace. “I guess.”

“My, my. Unexpected colors on you, blondie.”

Blinking slowly, Jace turned to see Magnus Bane. He hadn’t really seen Magnus since his return from the City of Bones. It was mostly guilt, because Magnus had to give up his magic to save Jace. Apparently, while Jace had been gone, Magnus had gotten his magic back.

“Magnus”, stated Jace awkwardly.

The warlock looked gorgeous in bi-colors. Dramatic and fashionable as always. Handsome as always. Magnus smiled delighted, wrapping an arm around Alec’s shoulders. The two had become friends. While Magnus had flirted with Alec in the beginning, Alec had shot him down, being too deep in the closet at the time. So Magnus accepted it and settled for a good friendship, helping Alec come around on his own sexuality. It was good, seeing Alec actually make friends.

“Ah, so he does still know my name”, chuckled Magnus amused.

“Jace! I didn’t expect you to come along too!”, exclaimed Simon, interrupting them.

Jace scowled and scoffed as they started walking together. “Guess I’ve been… thinking about stuff. You made me think about it, I guess. I never really thought about sexuality before.”

“And you came to the conclusion that you’re pan?”, asked Simon with a broad grin.

Jace elegantly dodged him when Simon tried wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Only that being pan wasn’t the only thing he had been thinking about. He had also been thinking a lot about asexuality. It was weird, but the things Simon had said had really confused him, mainly. And the whole thing about sexual attraction and all… He tried reading up on it, on people’s individual experiences. But they all differed so much and he… he kind of wished he had someone to talk to. A real, actual human being who might be able to help him. It was borderline painful to consider asking, but Simon seemed to be the only one who had an actual grasp on anything so Jace might be forced to talk to Simon. What a horrible thought. Making a face, he watched Simon and Isabelle, dance around and kiss. Alec and Magnus next to him were talking casually.

“Why do you look constipated, Jace?”, asked Alec curiously after a little while. “If you’re uncomfortable here, then… you know you don’t have to be here.”

“No, it’s not that. This… is actually pretty cool”, whispered Jace, looking around at all those out and proud people. “I just… think I have to… talk to Simon. Because I might need his help.”

“How utterly dreadful”, noted Magnus. “Well, what is it? I have a few centuries on Simon, I might be of more help than him, you know?”

“I…”, started Jace, shifting a little. “I think… I think I might be… asexual.”

Alec nearly stumbled at that. “You? Sorry. I don’t mean it like that, I’m just… you have so much sex. Seriously, with everyone. Hence that… button?”

“That’s actually not what asexuality means”, supplied Jace. “And that’s why I’m confused. I figured that it was just… not having sex. Not wanting anyone. But it’s just… lack of sexual attraction.”

“But aren’t you more like… sexually attracted to nearly everyone?”, argued Alec doubtfully.

“Not… really, no. I never looked at someone and thought ‘damn, I really wanna have sex with them, in particular’…”, replied Jace with an awkward, little shrug. “I look for someone willing and take them home, without really, you know… thinking on it.”

“And you think Simon is the right person to talk to about your sex-life?”, mused Magnus.

“No”, grunted Jace and made a face. “But he seems to… know a lot about it and I’m just… I’m confused. I’ve been thinking about this for the whole last week and went like… through the different stages of grief or some shit. And I’m just… at my wits’ end.”

Magnus sighed and reached a hand out to rest on Jace’s shoulder, squeezing a little. “How about you come by the loft this weekend? I do know someone who is asexual. Talking to someone with personal experience is definitely more helpful than… Simon’s google search skills.”

“Really?”, asked Jace hopefully, perking up a little bit.

“Why—y are you back there? Come on, guys!”, interrupted Simon with a broad grin.

“He’s right. Come on, brothers”, ordered Isabelle, hooking arms with Jace and Alec.

With that, the conversation was ended rather abruptly, but it was still somehow… fun.

/break\

“I am only doing this for you, papá”, stated Raphael very pointedly. “Because I know what he means to you and because I owe you one for bringing me back to New York. But this is a one time thing, you hear me, papá?”

Magnus smiled pleased and pulled Raphael in to kiss his cheek. “Let’s not mention what he means to me in front of him, please, mijo?”

Raphael huffed but nodded. Magnus’ feelings for Jace did not have to be brought to Jace’s attention. The blonde had made it very clear over the past month that he didn’t care for Magnus’ company anymore. Not that Magnus could hold it against him. It was Magnus’ fault that Jace had lost the love of his life and now he couldn’t even properly mourn her because he didn’t remember ever having any sort of feelings for her. Magnus was the one who had made the potion, after all. It broke all feelings he had for her and as an after-effect to it, Jace had been fully possessed by Lilith. How could Magnus possibly expect Jace to ever return his feelings like that…?

It wasn’t like Magnus had planned to fall for Jace. It had happened gradually, after Jace had moved into the loft with him. Magnus had grown fond of Jace, more than just fond. Perhaps it had been a bit selfish to invite Jace here. He was still trying to make up for what he had done. Yes, he had given up his magic to get him back, had gone to Edom and talked to his father, all to get Jace back. But it still didn’t feel like enough. The potion had been a whole different issue though and Magnus was the one who had brought it on Jace. There was nothing he could have done about it.

“He—ey, Magnus”, greeted Jace awkwardly as he entered the loft. “So who-”

“Let’s get this over with and make it the least amount of painful, yes?”, sighed Raphael.

Jace stared wide-eyed at Raphael for an awkward, long moment. Raphael heaved a sigh and sat down on the couch, motioning for Jace to join him. He was mainly only doing this because he knew Magnus was in love with Jace, but a part of Raphael also did it because he remembered how lost he had felt for years, before the label asexuality was truly a thing to be used. He knew how out of touch the Shadowhunters were with the mundie world, they most likely had no idea about most of the newer terms when it came to sexuality. They were still stuck in their homophobic ways, he doubted they could look much past what else there was.

“Okay, tell me about it”, prompted Raphael, grabbing the glass of wine next to him that Magnus had provided. “Why are we here? Why do you think you might be asexual?”

Magnus left for the kitchen. Out of sight, but still in ear-shot. It was not okay to eavesdrop but he couldn’t help it. Jace all the while shifted uncomfortably, glaring. Raphael Santiago, of all people? The two… No, actually he might be a rather safe choice. The two had absolutely no personal history. Neither positive nor negative. A neutral party, in a away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever experienced sexual attraction”, stated Jace carefully. “I’ve had a lot of sex. But… But it was never about wanting to have sex with that particular person.”

Raphael had to admit, he was a bit intrigued. “Then what was it about for you?”

“Exercise, mainly”, shrugged Jace thoughtfully, pulling his legs up against his chest. “When missions aren’t satisfying enough, it gives me that last kick of adrenaline. Exhausting my body. Sometimes, it’s about… distraction. When I’m having a shitty day, because it’s…”

“It’s…?”, echoed Raphael when Jace didn’t continue.

“Let’s just say, Valentine wasn’t exactly into hugging and family-cuddles”, drawled Jace dryly. “I’m not exactly… used to seeking physical comfort. When I was a teen, I learned that sex is an acceptable form of physical comfort, I guess. I don’t know. Izzy and I, we got drunk a lot and went out to bars to hook up with people. And…”

“And it was kind of what was expected of you?”, suggested Raphael, voice nearly gentle. “A young, strong Shadowhunters, while everyone else was starting to have sex, it’s the thing to do?”

“Kinda, I guess”, shrugged Jace. “Yeah. And I realized it was a good way of blowing off steam and… it was oddly comforting. But I always… loved the part after more, I guess.”

Raphael sighed. Why had he allowed Magnus to drag him into this? He understood what Jace was talking about. Back in his youth, it had been the same for him. A young Latino not wooing the women, back in his day and age? It wasn’t exactly something a potent young man should skip out on. There was a certain social pressure and especially for a young man who had no idea that asexuality even existed…? That there was a term for it, that he wasn’t alone or broken…?

“And that’s it?”, asked Raphael, watching how shifty Jace was.

“No”, sighed Jace, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s… that… relationship with Clary. I mean, I don’t remember loving her, so I have a… neutral look on it and… it wasn’t… it wasn’t good. This girl really mainly wanted my body. She was constantly groping me, even before we got together and that’s kind of… rather inappropriate. And after we got together… After… After I died and absolutely no one but her knew about it, she… She came to my room, not to talk to me, to see how I was handling having died, she just… came to me to make out with me. On the second day we were together, when I was planning a romantic date, she… threw a fit afterward, about how I must not desire her because we hadn’t fucked. In the two whole days we had been together. Back then, I think, it were the pink glasses I was wearing that were so desperate for her attention. But now, when I look back… I just wanted to be… valued. Loved, I guess. I didn’t even really want to have sex with her, because I thought being in an actual relationship meant… more. But she wanted just the same things I had done before, for years. She… didn’t appreciate my attempt for a date at all, even though… that was all I really wanted from her. A proper relationship. Mundie dates, holding hands, all that… cheesy stuff, you know. She… wasn’t really interested in any of that. That was, I think, where I started really… questioning it. Myself. That something must be, you know, wrong with me. Dating a gorgeous girl but wanting everything but sex.”

Raphael nodded slowly, observing Jace carefully. “So you’re not… angry about the potion?”

“No”, huffed Jace with a frown. “I don’t think my love for Clary was ever a good thing. From the get-go. I jeopardized my relationship with Alec, I nearly got us all killed on multiple occasions. She… She brought out the worst in me, when she was around, all I could see was her and I put everyone else at risk, just because I never felt that way for someone and I didn’t know how to handle that. So I… became desperate for her attention… any kind of attention, even when it wasn’t the kind of attention I wanted. I wanted her to love me. Not just to desire me… I guess it’s biased for me to say it, since I don’t actually remember what it felt like to love her, but I’m glad I don’t anymore. What… good would it do me? She’s dead. I hear Isabelle and Simon cry about it sometimes, through the walls… But to me, it’s just… a stranger. So, what do people want? That I’d want my feelings for her back, so I can be heartbroken over her death…? No. She wasn’t good for me, our relationship wasn’t good for me. It literally got me killed once before, it would have gotten me killed again for good in the end, probably.”

“You truly think that your love for Clary is what got you killed?”, asked Raphael.

“She made me more reckless. I made her more reckless too. We weren’t good for each other”, shrugged Jace with a frown. “We went there, alone, just the two of us. And in the end, that’s what got me killed. Running head first into danger with someone as reckless as me. We wanted different things from each other and we brought out the worst in each other. We… we weren’t good together and it would have never ended well anyway.”

“And what is it you want?”, wanted Raphael to know. “Not sex, apparently.”

“I mean, I don’t mind it”, shrugged Jace. “Like I said, it’s… exercise. It’d be something I could do with my partner, I guess. I don’t know. So does that… Can I really be asexual then? I just…”

“Of course”, offered Raphael, his voice unusually warm. “If it is not what you truly desire. If you think you can go entirely without it. If you feel like asexual is the right thing to describe you.”

“Damn”, grunted Jace with a frown. “I didn’t expect you to be this… insightful? Understanding?”

“I remember what the struggle with myself felt like when I went through it”, replied Raphael after a beat. “Feeling like you are only half a man for not enjoying sex the way others expect of you…”

Jace paused and nodded slowly. Right. Raphael was older than he looked. Back in the day, it must have been even harder. It was an odd thing to think, but perhaps Raphael really did just understand what Jace was going through right now and just… provided some guidance that he himself had missed back then. Jace blinked a couple of times and sighed.

“But is it even possible to have such a relationship?”, asked Jace softly.

“Mh?”, grunted Raphael, frowning curiously. “A relationship without sex? Of course.”

“But for… me”, sighed Jace, rubbing his face. “Been doing so much soul-bearing, why not some more…?” He heaved another sigh and sat up straighter. “I can’t quite imagine someone loving me for who I am, I suppose. Love is… not exactly what Valentine liked teaching, you know? And the only thing that ever attracted people to me… is my body. I somehow can’t quite see it ending any differently than it did with Clary.”

“Here. You need a drink”, sighed Raphael and handed Jace a glass.

For the next two hours, the two of them drank, mostly accompanied with silence but also with some stories from Raphael, sharing about his own experiences. Jace seemed to relax more and more into it and talking to Raphael actually seemed to help settle his nerves.

/break\

An unexpected friendship started forming between Raphael and Jace, but both knowing they would earn odd looks from their respective peers, they continued on meeting at Magnus’ loft. Magnus slowly started to join their little meetings, the three of them enjoying the moonlight on the balcony. It took a few weeks before Magnus managed to naturally bring it up how he had thought that Jace was avoiding him. Raphael was running late with clan business.

“It’s good to see you again more often, puppy”, smiled Magnus gently.

A light blush lit up Jace’s face at the familiar but somehow old nickname. Magnus had given it to him when Jace had moved into the loft, saying Jace had looked like a sad, homeless puppy and that Magnus always took in strays in need of shelter. Jace somehow really liked the nickname.

“Mh…? It… really?”, asked Jace slowly, turning toward Magnus. “I… didn’t think you’d want to see me, because you… you lost your magic because of me.”

“I got it back. And I didn’t lose it, I willingly gave it up”, corrected Magnus. “I gave it up to save you, after… after I put you in danger. I made the potion that took your love for Clary away, that allowed you to be possessed by Lilith… I thought you were avoiding me, because you were still… angry about what I had done.”

“She… didn’t want what I wanted. And I didn’t want what she wanted. The logical and best solution would have been a break-up anyway. And… she’s dead, Magnus”, pointed Jace out, eyebrows raised. “And it’s not like you did what you did on purpose.”

“It might look that way though”, sighed Magnus and returned his attention to the moon.

“Why would you?”, scoffed Jace. “Unless you really hate me and wanted me to suffer.”

“Or I really loved you and… me using magic to break your love could easily be seen as me trying to kick the competition to the curb”, offered Magnus casually.

“Yeah, right”, snorted Jace before he started laughing.

He stopped surprised when Magnus didn’t join the laughter but rather looked subdued. Clearing his throat, Jace adjusted to also look out at New York again. Magnus, loving him…?

“So… you were in love with me…”, drawled Jace awkwardly.

“Am”, corrected Magnus cautiously. “I am in love with you, Jace. I worried so much about you while you were in the City of Bones and when you returned… I have to admit, I used every cabinet meeting trying to… get a glimpse of you… Getting over you was a nice concept, but it didn’t work. You being back only brought that back full force. Having you here, now… I just…”

“Mh…”, grunted Jace and nodded, still not looking at Magnus. “What… What do you… want…?”

“You”, offered Magnus honestly, turning to look at Jace’s profile, illuminated by the moonlight. “You know… I’ve… always thought I was strictly a cat-person. Always just wanted cats. Lots and lots of cats. But now I think… I don’t necessarily need cats. I think… I want a dog.”

“I want a cat”, replied Jace and tilted his head. “I mean, I don’t need a cat, but… since… the guy I like really likes cats, I wouldn’t mind cats…”

“But I’d prefer a gentle, soft puppy, if I can have him”, mused Magnus gently, reaching out to cup Jace’s cheek. “You wouldn’t have to… to hang out with cats, if that’s not what you want.”

“Please, stop talking in metaphors, that’s just painful to watch. Jace, Magnus loves you… for who you are. Magnus, Jace while willing to have sex, would like your relationship to focus on… other things. Now, I was promised wine”, interrupted Raphael with a sigh and a roll of his eyes.

Jace and Magnus were both mildly flustered as they turned to look at the exasperated vampire. Magnus cleared his throat and summoned the wine before turning toward Jace one last time.

“I’d like to take you out on a date, Jace”, offered Magnus gently. “And I’m more than willing to take the relationship at your pace. All I want is you, Jace.”

Jace gulped and blinked, unsure what to think of this. “O… Okay. Dazzle me, Bane.”

/break\

Magnus was good at dazzling. Jace couldn’t deny he had a crush on Magnus before, the man was absolutely gorgeous, inside and out. But dating Magnus effectively made Jace fall in love with the warlock. It was all about the romance, the gentle comfort. Dates, walks under the moonlight, traveling the world with portals. There was an insane amount of cuddling.

“Hey”, whispered Magnus with a gentle smile, lifting the blanket.

It was late, or early, depending on how one looked at the night. Jace had just gotten home from a long-running mission. Home. The loft had become home again three months into dating Magnus, because he loved to be with Magnus, to fall asleep in the warlock’s arms, be kissed awake by his boyfriend, have breakfast in bed with Magnus. Groaning softly, Jace collapsed face-first onto the bed. Magnus smiled and carefully pulled the blonde closer until Jace could properly curl against him his head resting on Magnus’ chest and nuzzling against him.

“I love you”, whispered Jace softly.

Magnus’ fingers stilled in Jace’s hair, the warlock laying stiff for a second. “Not… how I expected for you to to tell me that you loved me for the first time.”

Jace paused and slowly looked up. “Is… Is that really…”

“The first time you told me that you love me?”, asked Magnus amused. “Yes, it is.”

“…Ooops?”, offered Jace sheepishly. “I thought I…” He paused and frowned. “I… I didn’t expect to really fall in love with you, but… I did. I love you. I love you. And it… feels right to say. Yeah.”

The smile Magnus offered him at that made his heart flutter. And while Jace knew Magnus desired him, he knew by the looks, the intensity of Magnus’ eyes, he knew that Magnus loved him. They did have sex, because Jace didn’t really mind, but he only felt secure enough in their relationship after he had moved in with Magnus. Feeling like sex was not the only thing Magnus would want from him. That it was more like a bonus. And for Jace, it was still a good outlet for stress, a great coping mechanism and a good way for exercise. He also found that it helped deepen the trust between himself and Magnus. And now he was just absolutely in love with the warlock.

“I love you too, puppy”, whispered Magnus with gentle eyes before kissing Jace.

And oh he did. He had thought he loved Jace before, but ever since they got together? How affectionate and cuddly Jace could be, when he trusted someone, loved someone. Magnus smiled as his cuddly puppy snuggled up to him, sprawled out on top of the warlock, seeking warmth and affection – something Magnus was more than willing to give, knowing he got it back in return.

Slight change of schedule, because what’d be a better time to post my first asexuality-headcanon fic if not Asexual Awareness Week? ;)

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3

#jagnus #divergent-raven #magnus bane #jace herondale #shadowhunters #asexual jace #phoe's tumblr drabbles #OTP: keep it in your pants

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kittycat-plisetsky · 6 years

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Mental Disorder Analysis of Killing Stalking

I did a bit of a project (for school) here where I analyze the actions in Killing Stalking from the perspective that Yoon Bum and Oh Sangwoo are mentally ill individuals. I attempt here to explain and defend the characters, as well as try to educate the fandom to alleviate hate rooted from ignorance. I’ll share a preview tand then add the rest under a read more bar; I went a tad overboard.

So maybe you’re a fan of Killing Stalking. Maybe you’re an anti. Maybe you’re a closet fan who’s ashamed to admit having a liking for the manga. For me, upon my first interaction with the fandom, I’ll admit it, I was nearly repulsed, but I’ve come a long way since that time and become an active member in the fandom, and even cosplay! After some consideration, I’ve realized the themes presented here aren’t much different from any crime-themed tv show, like Criminal Minds or something similar. Then I began to question myself and why I was even an anti to start off with, and the answer to that boiled down to ignorance. Upon a first glance, it isn’t hard not to view this simply as a toxic relationship that gets its readers off on some BL sadomasochism about a killer and, who I assumed at the time to be a kidnapped boy, who gets tortured. That’s simply not what this manga is, and it’s belittling to pass it off as much. If you know of killing stalking, you can bypass the next paragraph, but through my little ramblings here I’m hoping to defend this manga for what it is and to explain to you all (whether you’re a fan or an anti) some realistic reasonings for the actions/reactions of these characters centered around some potential mental illnesses here at play. The creator and these boys need some defending in this fandom, and so do us fans (who some of you, like me, I’m sure have been told we’re gross, need to kill ourselves, etc. We deserve more credit 😉 )

Killing Stalking is a psychological thriller manga with one protagonist being a stalker, and the other a killer, as the name suggests. Our first protagonist, Yoonbum, is a man in his late twenties who stalks his crush Oh Sangwoo, who he met in the military and later during his time in college. Yoonbm excessively follows his crush on social media and spends months trying to unlock Sangwoo’s house passcode. Upon entering the code correctly, Bum enters the home, where he discovers a naked woman bound and gagged, struggling to free herself. Panicked, Bum tries to help, but is then found by Sangwoo, and confesses his love before being pushed down the stairs, knocked unconscious, and later wakes with broken legs. Rather than ending Bum’s life, Sangwoo spares his life, keeping him in the basement for some time before allowing him upstairs, and eventually out of the house, though he’s kept close. As the story progresses, the two characters, in my way of seeing, develop a sort of symbiotic relationship with each other. Bum feeding off of his theorized love with Sangwoo, and Sangwoo feeding off the power he has over Bum. Thinking about it; these two need each other.

Now the above mentioned point, the theory of their symbiotic relationship, is often the basis for the fans to send their ships sailing, thinking, “clearly their in love”. Sure, why not, Sangwoo spares Bum’s life but murders others, treats his wounds, kisses him, and Bum still pines for Sangwoo and tries to please him, not to mention their physical moments together, but a story this deep deserves a deeper insight. Plus, the author herself said she hasn’t intended their relationship to be viewed as romantic. So instead, through my rather messy thoughts, maybe I can guide you into your start of deeper thinking based on real life mental disorders that should be considered here. This explanation should help you realize why Sangwoo and Bum’s relationship isn’t simple enough to be viewed as “traditionally romantic” but also I really wish to address fan’s individual outlooks on these characters and defend their characters for what they’re written as: mentally ill (I’m not knocking shippers here; ship what you want. I myself ship their theoretical existence, though I understand in canon it can’t be viewed that simply).

To begin, the words Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) appear in the first season of the manga, already giving insight to one of the disorders that Bum possess. Though I plan to cover a few disorders in this post, for the sake of my analysis I’ll be showing evidence for BPD as well as psychosis at the same time, as psychosis is a symptom versus an illness. Many people with BPD have the symptom of psychosis (psychforums.com), and in the case of Yoon Bum, I believe this to be true. For starters, according to the National Institute of Mental Health, BPD is defined as “a mental illness marked by an ongoing pattern of varying moods, self-image, and behavior” with symptoms such as impulsive behaviors, self-harming behaviors, problems controlling anger, feelings of dissociation, and a distorted/unstable image of oneself (NIMH). Psychosis then is a delusional disorder, characterized as disruptions to a person’s thoughts and perceptions that make it difficult for them to recognize what is real and what isn’t. Found from a discussion online, it isn’t common for stalkers to suffer from psychosis (aminoapps.com). Though right off the bat you may recognize Bum as possessing qualities from both of these, I’d like t point out too that for those who have BPD, it isn’t uncommon for them to have a favorite person (FP), which in Bum’s case would be Sangwoo.

Looking at BPD from the standpoint of someone who suffers with the disorder, one person reports having issues with obsessing over people, “almost to the point of stalking them” (medhelp.org), and in relation to how someone with the disorder views an FP, their FP is their everything. To quote someone that this applies to, having an FP is “dangerous. It’s needing someone so bad it’s physically painful when they leave. It’s apologizing for every tiny thing because you don’t want to give them a reason to leave you (TheMighty.com), or “[that FP] is sometimes all I can think about. Male or female. I think about them 24/7 romantically or like a friend, but that person just becomes so perfect and put on a pedestal” (medhelp.org). The above quotes can all sympathize with Bum, especially if we’re choosing to look at Sangwoo as his FP. From chapter one, we’re shown that Bum obsessives over Sangwoo; stalks his social media, watches him on the train, and even fantasizes about him sexually, wondering “how he would have sex”. Through internal monologue we see how Bum views him; perfect, while noting “his empathetic, considerate, gentle aura”. Even after being hit by Sangwoo, he recalls his perfect image of his crush, noting, “The Sangwoo I know is a much more considerate person.”

Because those with Borderline Personality Disorder have troubles or inabilities regulating their emotions, Bum has a hard time maintaining his image of Sangwoo and is often caught having many back and forth emotions. He’s caught up on his love one moment, and during the next, he’s trying to convince himself that he hates him. Of course, things get harder on Bum when we realize that Sangwoo too is emotionally unstable, but we’ll talk about him later on.

For those with BPD, “relationships build quickly and intensely. They are unable to see the faults of their partner” (borderline-personality-disorder.com). This isn’t surprising; Bum’s always had troubles seeing the faults in his crush. Even upon discovering Sangwoo was a murderer, he apologizes, realizing he’s upset him, and takes blame for the situation. He resorts back to his idealized image of Sangwoo after remembering the reasons that he fell in love with him, claiming to love him despite the current situation he’s in. Not only that but he even confessed repeatedly to liking Sangwoo as he’s being assaulted, calling out, “I like you” over and over even as Sangwoo shouts at him to shut up. He’s unable, in many situations to see the faults that Sangwoo has (even though Sangwoo’s faults are pretty extreme). Recall too Bum questioning the police, asking “could you kiss somebody like me? Could you love somebody like me?”, etc. To him, he doesn’t view himself to be likable by anyone but Sangwoo, as he truly believes that Sangwoo has feelings for him.

If, as I suspect, Bum also suffers from psychosis, his inability to regulate his feelings for Sangwoo could be amplified. This could explain why he can’t quite rationalize what is real about their relationship and what isn’t (or any of his relationships, for that matter). Below, remember when he was under the impression that him and his female classmate were dating when she removed her shirt in front of him? And then he believed that all along he and Sangwoo were dating when Sangwoo said such a thing to the police.

Psychosis in Bum’s case not only prevents him from knowing what reality is in terms of his relationships with others, but it also alters his perception of the reality surrounding him. Psychosis can cause hallucinations and delusions. Hallucinations aren’t new to him, just recall the hallucination of dead bodies in Sangwoo’s washing machine, the hallucination that made him see Sangwoo murdering him on the kitchen floor, and he even hallucinated that the Jieun was the girl from his past during his fist semi-forced murder.

Since psychosis is a delusional disorder, it’s also known that those who suffer from it may believe that events or objects hold personal meaning or significance. Going back into Bum’s past again with his female friend, remember that he held personal meaning to objects that he otherwise should feel no connection to, objects that simply belonged to her. He’s stolen not only her bra, but her nail polish, and because he had such a connection with these items, used them to calm himself down when he would go into mood shifts.

He’s mentally ill, and because of these disorders that alter his reality, he lives unaware of his problems. So, no, he isn’t stupid. To him, he’s doesn’t think his thought processes are out of place. In the first chapter, he claims that it’s complexly normal to stalk his crush and to want to know everything of his personal life. In regards to his obsessive behaviors and his kleptomaniac actions, he’s convinced it’s “because of love” over and over.

Though Borderline is the confirmed disorder at play here (and we can find many more examples to agree with it) it’s not a bad idea to toy around with some other possibilities. Other disorders are very likely in the cases of these characters and can help you reason with their actions. Take Stockholm syndrome for example. Stockholm syndrome is a condition that causes hostages to develop a psychological alliance with their captors as a survival strategy during captivity…Victims of the formal definition of Stockholm syndrome develop "positive feelings toward their captors and sympathy for their causes and goals, and negative feelings toward the police or authorities" (Wikipedia).

I’m sure you all remember this scene here, where the police officer tries to come to the rescue, yet Bum crawls away and keeps himself hidden. Or even the part where he chooses being back with Sangwoo over admitting to the police that he is need of some help. However in the case of Stockholm syndrome the positive feelings are rooted to the idea of survival, “captives often fear that their affection will be perceived as fake, they eventually begin to believe that their positive sentiments are genuine” (Wikipedia). Though I believe BPD is a bit more of Bum’s situation versus Stockholm syndrome, I think it’s worth a mention whilst defending Bum, anyways.

Though I haven’t really heard this one talked about prior to my mental disorder research for this analysis, I think Obsessive love disorder is worth a mention. Obsessive love disorder (OLD) is an extreme form of love that transcends into an obsession over time. It is characterized by an unhealthy attachment towards someone and can be triggered off by many factors such as anxiety, insecurity, and vulnerability (Buzzle.com). OLD is very similar to Borderline Personality Disorder, attachment disorders, and even erotomania, and so this could easily apply to many of my examples in the BPD paragraphs above. However, “depending on the intensity of their attraction, obsessive lovers may feel entirely unable to restrain themselves from extreme behaviors such as acts of violence toward themselves or others” (Wikipedia). Though we see that Bum has had self-harming instances in the past due to his living situation, we see the return of self-harm when Sangwoo was unpleased with these stories of his past. Bum spirals, feeling worried about the reaction and he quickly tries to make Sangwoo feel better, yelling at him to take it out on him physically. Sangwoo remains unresponsive, and Bum resorts to self-harm using a knife on the countertop, while shouting and sobbing that he knows he is disgusting.

Though my main focus here seems to be on Yoon Bum, it’s definitely no surprise that Sangwoo would fall into some mental disorders of his own. I’ve read fan discussions claiming that he too suffers from BPD, but I think too that he has psychosis, and sadistic personality disorder. Yes, that last one is a thing. “Sadistic personality disorder (SPD) can be defined as a type of personality disorder in which an affected individual inflicts sadistic, cruel, manipulative, aggressive and demeaning behavior on others. Violence and abusiveness are the hallmarks of the social relationships of a sadist. Such people lack empathy and concern for other individuals and derive pleasure by hurting or humiliating others” (hxbenefit.com). This shouldn’t need much textual evidence, as this is practically a description of the character as a whole. Backing up to psychosis, which remember is a delusional symptom, it wasn’t uncommon for Sangwoo to hallucinate or become delusional when panicked. For example, remember when he carried Bum’s fainted body to his bed to tuck him in?

He becomes delusional, hallucinating that his mother is outside of the door, telling him to clean up his messes downstairs. His hallucination of his mother becomes angry and she rattles the door handle viciously, screaming at him. Then, he even hallucinates that Bum (who in reality is passed out beside him) raises his head to remind Sngwoo that he’s becoming his father.

So now to reiterate my point; these characters are not dumb. They are not “asking for it”. Bum is not a “creepy, gross attention whore”, but he has trouble regulating his emotions and has a hard time grasping a distinction on his reality. One of the largest reasons for hate in this fandom is ignorance to the reality and depth that this story possesses. Especially to younger fans, who simply were seeking some twisted BL, it is important to consider this story in terms of our mentally ill paired protagonists as honestly being mentally ill. Because this story is talked up as “horror yaoi”, many people aren’t aware or don’t consider the seriousness that this story aims to share. This is why there is a “you’re gross”, “go kill yourself” stigma on readers of Killing Stalking. Instead, us readers should be viewed as readers of a psychological thriller who analyze and respect the depth here for what its intended to be. The romanticizing and narrow-minded interpretation of this storyline is what causes so much hate and controversy. I’d love to see more serious consideration and in-depth analyzation going on in the fandom to remove the stigma that us fans are nasty, twisted, or gross.

I hope this was easy enough to follow and that you’ll give this story another read-through with these points in mind, and even change your outlook with the soon release of season 3. Let’s work to defend the author, these boys, the storyline and us fans with some knowledge! Also, again, disclaimer that I’m no professional nor am I “attacking” anyone with these disorders. Remember too though that psychosis is one of my most prominent beliefs here (so even if you suffer from BPD for example, without psychosis some of this may not sound accurate in terms of your own self).

#ks #killing stalking #killing stalking meta #killing stalking analysis #koogi #yoonbum #sangwoo

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