#complicating asexuality

[acelacealex]

I'm going to say it again

Cis Heteromantic Asexuals are Queer.

Cis Aromantic Heterosexuals are Queer.

If you are Ace or Aro you do not need another signifier to be Queer full stop.

[sadisthetic]

the madness frustration loneliness of the dissonance of a mismatch of the rotten heart to the rest

allosexual aromantic swag happy pride *peaces out*

[kaijugroupy]

ok but hear me out. how fun and crazy would it actually be if we talked about asexuality as a spectrum more?

consider this? aces who like sex but don't like being touched themselves? aces liking and getting off on pain stimulation but not pleasure stimulation? Aces who don't like getting off but like sex? Aces who use a one to ten scale to gauge sexual ability but never fully make it to ten. Aces who are happy at a level seven, or four, or two. Aces who like some aspects of sex but not all. Aces who get bored in the middle of sex and stop. Aces who are super into over the clothes stimulation. Aces with boundaries.

[tobercat]

aro/ace themed valentine's day teddy bears ^^ because i just recently found out i might be arospec but also just cuz like..... why not

[battlekidx2]

“Do you like girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like boys?”

“I don’t know. I think I like TV shows.”

I remember when I was in middle school all the other girls were talking about the guys they liked and I said I didn’t like anyone. I just wanted to do my own thing.

I didn’t really get why I would want to date anyone. I understood friendship, companionship— having someone to share my interests and mutually info dump to sounded cool— but I struggled to understand the appeal of spending every day and every night with someone else. Of holding hands and going on dates. 

This led to a lot of homophobic bullying and a few of them would act disgusted that I might be into them. Constantly acting like I was looking at their boobs and sexualizing them (I never made eye contact with anyone and would frequently look at the wall or space out while looking in their general direction). Or make a big show of not being interested and many other things.

I didn’t get this either. I didn’t know why I would be interested in any of them. They treated me poorly and I thought attraction was something people made up and simply just claimed to feel towards other people.

Just like I never understood celebrity crushes. You don’t know the person so how could you possibly know you liked them? And I never understood how people “chose” who they dated. Did they just choose whoever they liked hanging out with the most?

But any time I voiced this it was always met with worse and worse reactions. It led to isolation among peers and my family. My parents made it pretty clear I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. That I wasn’t normal.

I soon learned to fake it. Pretend I understood it.

The idea of not being attracted to anyone seemed like a foreign idea to most people I met. Even when I branched out and moved away, I met a few people in the lgbt community who couldn’t grasp it either and reacted poorly and it made me feel stupid. Like maybe I wasn’t just screwed up to people who fit in the neat little box society wants you to fit in, but to everyone else as well.

Maybe I was wrong. If it’s an impossibility even in this community that champions diversity and acceptance then can that really be my reality?

I kept trying to force it. To date, but every time I did I always felt that same skin crawling discomfort and it always petered out. It didn’t matter who it was or what gender. It always felt wrong. It was suffocating.

I don’t think there’s a movie that better portrays that all consuming, suffocating stagnation of feeling so out of place– knowing you’re out of place compared to those around you– and in response forcing yourself to fit what other people expect of you than I Saw the TV Glow.

Whenever I think back to growing up or whenever I return home that same feeling this movie is centered around always drenches my experiences.

And even now it’s hard to put into words when I talk to other people what I’ve felt when it comes to this aspect of my life.

That comment from Owen about knowing there’s nothing there when talking about romance and attraction, but being too afraid to look and knowing that his parents know something is wrong with him hit harder than any other scene from a movie I’ve watched this year.

It’s that absence of something that is at the heart of asexuality that makes me always question what I choose to identify as when I have to explain it to someone. Because for the most part my explanation boils down to (in broad oversimplified terms): I’ve never felt attraction, I’m more interested in watching a Spider-Man movie than I’ve ever been into even just the idea of dating, every time I’ve attempted to date it’s been uncomfortable and I’ve actively dodged anything beyond friendship while in the “relationship”.

And when I try to voice that to another person it always feels like those experiences don’t hold water. That’s describing the absence of something. There’s no real proof of the identity.

With being bi or gay or lesbian there’s something you can I don’t know—point to?— that can help you know your identity.

And that’s the fact that you’ve experienced attraction towards one or more people of one or more genders.

It’s defined not by the lack of something but the presence of an experience.

And so every time I try and explain it I end up feeling stupid. Like I just haven’t tried hard enough to find someone compatible. That I need to get back into the proverbial saddle and try again. I always in some way feel ashamed and backtrack as a result.

This is in no way to say that it’s harder or easier to be one identity or the another. Everyone’s experiences are different and everyone experiences are valid. This is just a struggle I’ve found that’s unique to asexuality that many people I’ve talked to have also experienced.

I haven’t felt that part of my experience be seen in media until I saw this movie. Maybe I’m latching onto what I can get or maybe that was an intrinsic part of the movie. That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s something I felt seen in even if it was literally just one scene.

This is my really long winded and roundabout way of saying that I really think this movie is going to stick with me much longer than any other thing I’ve seen this year.

Things can be hard to put into words and as a result I tend to keep things inside. I’m fairly certain I’m ace but it might turn out I’m on a different romantic spectrum then I thought or I fall somewhere different than I thought on the ace spectrum. I don’t know what I’ll discover in the future.

I’m likely not going to express my label out loud to anyone but a select few. I still can’t express this particular label out loud to many people. My family is definitely never going to hear it. A friend or two might.

It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. I’m fine with identifying with the label in my head—in a lot of ways it makes me feel comfortable and happy— but any time I try to voice it the words die in my throat and I can’t help but feel ashamed. It’s easier to just tell people I don’t want to date right now. That there are all these factors in the way (finances, time, jobs, etc) than it is to try and explain what I’ve just rambled about above.

I know many people have felt and understood that experience and I hope people know they’re valid. You can express your identity with your full chest, shout it from the rooftops and let people know, or you can keep it to yourself, identifying as your label solely in your head. Both experiences are valid. And if your label changes at some point in your life that doesn’t make what you chose to identify as at this point any less valid too. People are always learning and growing. You can gain a new understanding of yourself as time move forward.

Sorry for the way too long ramble. This movie made me feel things.

[oxymoronicdumbass]

yes, i am aroace. yes, that person is hot. no, i did not mean that platonically

[filenameghost]

it's asexual awareness week. be aware of me

[innitmarvellous]

I was thinking of a good way to use up the materials I had left over from my ace bag and so I made a (really shoddy, pls don't touch lol) pillow case. The actual pillow case is made from my leftover purple velvet (which was such a bitch to sew -.-) with the crochet part on top. Oh, and this is the first time I did the virus pattern in a square...looks alright for a first attempt, I think.

[mossy-aro]

why do allos insist on viewing relationships in the most boring ways imaginable

[deadchannelradio]

my fanfiction abortion morgue is gaining another jayroy victim that is not long enough to clean up for ao3. this was going to be a very long and meandering noodle about in the river that is jason's mental health and trauma and relationships of all types and healing and the asexual/aromantic spectrum (not that that's the verbage jason would use or language hes even aware of) and low sex drives all that beautiful muck and mire but i have not put a single word on it in well over a year now. so i'm letting her go. be free little fish.

-

They’re better now, anyways, better than they ever were before. Jason had a crisis a few months back, stopping himself from reaching reflexively for his phone to give Dick a call about- nothing important. And then he had realized that he had reflexively gone to call Dick about nothing important, and had gone and stared out the window for 15 minutes, trying to work himself into a different, less horrifying conclusion than the one gathering in his brain like an avalanche. Roy had come home in the middle of it, taken one look at his face and dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who died?”

“I like him,” Jason said, somewhere between incredulous and horrified. “That cunt, that motherfucker- he made me actually like him-,”

“Who?”

“Dick!” Jason had shouted. “That piece of shit, I want to spend time with him, hours out of my actual human life that I can’t get back-,”

Roy had proceeded to laugh in his face for a solid ten minutes, positively gleeful about Jason’s horrible emotional crisis. “He does that to you, man,” he said once they’d settled in, still chuckling as he cracked open a can of soda, posted up on their couch with Ethiopian takeout in his lap. “One minute you’re sitting there thinking oh my god, this guy, he’s so loud and annoying-,”

“And he never fuckin’ stops moving,” Jason groaned from his spot laying on the floor below him. “His body or his mouth. And he chews loud, he’s obnoxious on purpose, and he’s a model and dated Kory but half the time he dresses like something a goodwill dumpster threw up-,”

“Have you seen his new shoes?” Roy asked. “I dress like dogshit, man, but those things-,”

“Wally got them for him,” Jason said, and then immediately slapped his hands over his face, horrified that he knew that. Roy laughed again. “He’s constantly in your fuckin’ business! Constantly! Last time I saw him he knew the social security numbers of the baristas in the coffee shop I’d been going to-,”

“He gets enabled,” Roy muttered, shoveling injera into his mouth.

“He gets enabled!” Jason said. “Everyone enables him! I enable him! And god, his fucking- puns, man, his quips, we’re all guilty of it but this is a fight, not comedy hour, and even if it was you’d get booed off the stage-,”

“He texted me what he said to Mr. Freeze two weeks ago and I wanted to eat my phone,” Roy said. “It’s amazing no villains kill themselves after he hands their asses to them, I would be humiliated.”

“He sucks!” Jason snapped. 

“He sucks,” Roy agreed. “And then you look around one day at your life-,”

“And you go oh shit, I think this motherfucker’s alright!” Jason mimed hitting himself in the face with Roy’s abandoned house slipper. “Fuck! What’s fucking wrong with me?”

Roy laughed at him, again. “Dick Grayson Derangement Syndrome gets us all in the end,” he said. Jason curled a hand around his bare ankle, and Roy looked down to smile at him, the smallest touch making his whole face bloom open like a rose. Jason had to look away from it, wanting to say: stop. No. You know I’m not enough. You know I’m not like you. You know I can’t give you enough.

He’s been wanting to say that a lot, these days. Toss Roy off the sinking ship with a lifeboat before he has to wake up one day, years on, and realize he’s wasted years with Jason, who can’t love that loud.

He wanted to call Dick about it, which was another horrible realization. Hi big bird, I’m having boy problems. Dick would probably tell him that it means more that Jason has to try, that wanting to try for it is selfless, makes it more significant, which is the kind of thinking that lands a motherfucker in bed with Barbara Gordon, who is enough like Jason to warrant a comparison, but not enough to call her and ask what he should do. Babs loves like the Bolton Strid, and sometimes Jason isn’t sure he loves at all. Not like that.

Jason isn’t nearly as selfless as Dick is convinced he is, not deep down. Because he doesn’t want to let Roy go at all.

It’s late, well into the witching hours, and they’re laying in bed in what was formerly Roy’s bedroom but now holds them both, blinds cracked to let the streetlights through. Jason doesn’t like the dark. Roy’s threatening to buy an eyemask. Jason thinks it’s stupid to blind yourself to potential attackers. Neither of them have brought up going back to sleeping separately. Roy’s nose is pressed between Jason’s shoulder blades, breath humid through his shirt. Not asleep yet, but close. Jason’s books are proliferating on Roy’s shelves, his boxers in Roy’s laundry basket, garrotte wires coiled next to bow strings on the desk that has framed photos, past-Jason’s mouth a little white slash in the bar of orange streetlamp.

Something is clawing at the inside of Jason’s chest, scrabbling like a wild little animal. Trying to dig its way through his spine, into Roy. It hurts.

He shifts, turns over, pushes Roy over onto his back and rolls on top of him, propped up on his elbows to look down at him. Roy grunts, half-awake and confused, but takes his weight. He blinks blearily up at Jason, a crease between his eyebrows- Jason must look intense right now. “Jaybird?” he starts, quiet.

Jason knows this feeling- as all-consuming as it is- is fleeting. It’ll be gone in the morning, and he’ll forget it was ever here. He won’t be able to recall its bite until it comes back around again, like Halley’s comet. He should say something now, while he has it. While he feels it. So Roy can know it’s real. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

“Jase,” Roy says, sounding more concerned, “Jason, what’s-,”

“Something in here,” Jason interrupts, putting a hand on his own chest, a thudding sound of muscle on muscle, “Wants to eat you.” God, he feels dumb. He’s not good at this, he sounds so much better in his head. His words come out of his mouth sour and curdled and stupid, there’s a reason he doesn’t try to talk about this shit-

Roy lights up, slow at first, then all at once, his face creasing up in his smile like old paper, following familiar folds. Jason feels his toes curl next to his calves, his feet pointing and flexing in excitement. Jason wishes he could make himself smile back, anything other than the dead-eyed concentration he knows he’s wearing right now, but the weight in his ribs is too real and too wild for that- if his teeth come out this might get literal. He wants to crack open Roy’s sternum with his bare hands, climb in like a contortionist and slam it shut behind him.

“Really?” Roy asks, small and soft and giddy. Jason nods, serious. Roy’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, smiling so wide his nose is wrinkling up, little inky lines in the artificial twilight. “Cool,” he says. 

Jason’s hands spasm in the sheets next to Roy’s head. “Roy,” he starts, “Can I-,” stops. Doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe just to look at him until the sun comes up, just to watch the light turn his freckles from a smear in the dim to pinprick-sized marigolds. Maybe to go to sleep on him like this, the thunder of his heart under Jason’s cheek. Maybe he wants everything. Maybe he wants to be the greediest son of a bitch in Gotham. 

“You can do anything,” Roy promises, and the sincerity in his voice makes the thing chewing on Jason’s lungs shake. “Anything you want. I’ll let you do everything.”

Jason drops his head against Roy’s chest with a grunt like he’s just been punched, unable to choke it back. He pushes himself up- Roy makes a quiet, sad noise, grabbing for him- and fumbles the bedside lamp on. He wants to see everything. Roy’s pupils are huge, even in the light he’s flinching from, irises that strange half-color, too dark for blue or green and too flat for hazel and too light to be brown. His cowlick’s sending his hair in every direction at the left temple, and he’s still smiling at Jason, like he can’t help it. Jason doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s here. A restaurant with an infinite menu. What he wants is strange, probably. Not how normal people want things, not what they want. Jason is off-putting, sometimes on purpose, frequently not, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. But Roy said he could have anything. Whatever he wanted. Giving up all of himself, for nothing. For free. 

Jason should take it. Roy will stop him, if he needs it. He puts his mouth on the cowlick, not a kiss, tucks his nose into Roy’s hair and breathes in deep. The nothing-smell of hair that’s not clean but not dirty. Roy’s hands are pressing into his lats, his legs spreading and crossing behind Jason’s thighs, holding him there. Jason curls both his hands around Roy’s skull, presses gently, cradling his head- all of Roy is in there, somehow, and he needs to be careful with it. His skull feels too small to hold something so important, too fragile. 

Jason drags his thumbs over his eyebrows, presses a thumbnail into the scar bisecting the left one- string snap, Roy told him, nearly took that eye out. Roy’s looking up at him still, and they’re close enough that Jason could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. He runs his fingers over Roy’s ears, feeling the cartilage, gently pinches the flesh of his earlobe, over the hole where he used to have gauges. He moves down to Roy’s neck, puts his hands around his throat, doesn’t squeeze. He feels it when Roy’s breath hitches. Roy shuts his eyes, swallows, his Adam's apple moving under Jason’s palms. 

Jason bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, hard. He thinks about being normal, trying to make it a hickey- but Roy jerks hard beneath him with a strangled noise and that thing in Jason’s chest makes him hold that position until Roy stops moving, until the bolt of his jaw aches. He lets go, spit shining around the deep purple indents in Roy’s skin. Roy lets out a shaking breath, eyes still shut.

Roy already knows he’s an inscrutable freak, Jason decides. He’s going to do everything he’s ever looked at Roy and thought about doing, everything he thought might be weird that he’s ever refrained from. Roy won’t run.

If he does, well. Jason will chase him. Roy is the one who said he was locking Jason down, said nobody in or out. He can’t get too mad if Jason takes him up on it.

He presses his nose near Roy’s armpit. The sharp, live smell of his sweat in Jason’s lungs, muted by whatever axe deodorant he uses that always makes Jason think of a cold wet morning. He rubs his mouth over Roy’s deltoid, teeth dragging. Jason pushes up and kneels with his thighs on either side of Roy’s torso, picks up an arm, runs his hands over Roy’s bicep, digs his thumbs into his elbow. Puts Roy’s thumb in his mouth, tastes skin and salt, bites the draw calluses on his fingers, gentle. Does the other arm too, to keep it even. Roy’s breathing slow and even, looking at Jason again as he shoves his mouth into Roy’s wrist until he can feel the pulse against his lower lip. Roy’s trying to caress his face with that hand, can’t quite manage more than a brush of his fingertips against Jason’s ear. 

Jason knows what he should say here. What he hasn’t been saying, because he knows it’s not the same as how Roy will say it, thinking that it will somehow be a lie because the meaning’s different. But it’s words, which are only stories. There is nothing in a story that is a lie, and no analysis that is wrong, with supporting evidence. Which Jason has, which Jason has always had. Roy at his right shoulder. Never wanting anyone else at his back. Saying to Dick: if there wasn’t Roy, there wouldn’t be anybody. The way they keep finding each other at the lowest of lows, facedown in bottles or looking down barrels of guns to see if they can spot the bullet. Standing there feeling stupid in the holes they’ve dug, pickaxes in hand, before turning and finding the other, just as deep as they are. Saying: gimme a boost and I’ll give you a hand.

Even if he doesn’t mean it in the same way, he means it. I want you, I want you, I want you. The inflection changes the meaning, but only by the barest degrees. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and he’s not lying, because he means them, even if it’s not always how he thinks he should.

[foone]

(Sorry if this sounds mean) If you’re ace why are you looking for mind control erotica? This isn’t a bad faith question, as someone who’s aro but not ace I’m genuinely curious. Maybe expounding on it would help your followers point you at new things?

Also have you read Human Domestication Guide? It’s very mind controlly, though it does have pet stuff if you hate that or whatever.

Short answer: it's complicated.

So to answer in reverse order: I have read some HDG stories: not enough to remember what I read, but in general I like them. And petplay doesn't bother me. So I'll probably read more in future, it's just that it never triggered that "I should read all of this!" urge in me. Which isn't an indicator of how much I like it/the quality of it, that's just a thing that sometimes happens to my brain.

As for why I'm reading mind control erotica despite being asexual... It's complicated (as you might guess).

Basically I'm asexual in the "not attracted to men or women (or anything else/between)" sense. I don't experience sexual attraction, at all.

But that's only one part of sexuality. It may be the primary part for allosexuals, but it obviously can't be for me. I'm still interested in some sexual things, and I'm interested in them for sexual reasons, but it's just that those reasons are never "this person is hot" or "this sex is hot".

Like, not to give a complete listing of my kinks or anything, consider basic rope bondage as a fetish. You could look at the fetish from multiple angles:

It's sexy getting tied up, because of the physical sensation of being tied up.

It's sexy to be tied up, because you don't have control.

It's sexy to tie someone up, because of how they look tied up.

It's sexy to have someone tied up, because you have control and they don't.

It's sexy to have sex while tied up, because you can't resist it (in the scene. This is fantasy, there are safewords)

It's sexy to fuck someone tied up, because they can't resist (in the scene, fantasy, safewords)

And then in fiction you can do the last two minus the watsonian-bdsm: it's not a scene. (I won't discuss this further because discourse)

Only 5 and 6 really need sex itself to be a part of it. You can have the eroticism of bondage and no one has sex, or needs to be attracted to anybody.

I don't have a huge amount of experience here, but from what I've heard this isn't that uncommon in the bdsm community: there's plenty of people who show up at bdsm events solely for "non-sexual" tying/getting tied.

Anyway, once you understand that you can have a kink (even one that seems sexual) for reasons other than sexual attraction/sex* itself, you can probably see why an asexual person might still want to read about it.

Also there's elements of, like, exploration of personal impossibilities? As jms said:

So I cannot forgive. Which makes the notion of writing a character who CAN forgive momentarily attractive...because it allows me to explore in great detail something of which I am utterly incapable. I cannot fly, so I would write of birds and starships and kites; I cannot play an instrument, so I would write of composers and dancers; and I cannot forgive, so I would write of priests and monks and Minbari...

It can be interesting reading stories of people doing things you can't for reasons you never experience, obeying urges you don't have.

* "sex" is also a difficult thing to define, because especially in BDSM terms it gets very fuzzy. What things count as sex? Generally when I say like "they're spending too much time on the sex" or "the mind control is just an excuse to get to the sex", I'm defining sex as something like "some kind of insertion/licking/vibrating for sexual purposes", when many allosexuals (especially, uhh... What's the word for non-bdsm people? Them) would define it more narrowly, and many BDSM kinksters would define it more widely, including a lot of the things I'm not here: I've heard people call getting tied up or impact play as sex, for example.

Anyway you'd think this sort of perspective I've got on erotic fiction, where I'm here for the non-sex sexual fetish things, would be more common? After all, I'm talking about literature here. I tend to associate the allosexual attraction urge as a visual thing: this person looks sexy, so you experience sexual attraction towards them.

I can see how that'd work if you're talking about visual mediums: movies and photos of real people, even drawn images, but this is just words. I guess maybe people without aphantasia can imagine how someone looks from their description, and can experience some attraction based on that? I don't know. I've never really experienced attraction to written characters, so I can't say how it works. Feel free to enlighten me, anyone who does.

But you can definitely tell reading erotica which stories are "this is a sexy story because it has sexy people in it doing sexy things (sometimes kinkily)" and which are "this kink is the primary focus: any sex they have is in service of the kink, or is just a momentary distraction from the kink". I prefer the latter, by far.

Anyways, I think maybe I'm giving everyone a slightly misleading impression of how much I'm into mind control. It's more that I've found a few stories that actually were interesting to me for a couple reasons (first person submissive perspective, rules-based mind control, some worldbuilding) and then I've been looking for other stories that explore the same ideas as well (or better: the particular ones I liked had a little too much bimboification focus for me, which isn't one of my kinks) and failing. Thus I complain a lot about not being able to find the sort of stories I want.

Which, you know, makes sense? I'm an asexual reading through porn. Despite my explanation in this post, this is still not a great fit for me, so of course I'm disappointed. It'd be like if I was scrolling through a football site and not liking football, complaining about how much sports focus this site has. It's a little silly, you know?

But I'm a lot silly, so I continue.

[svnflowermoon]

btw please block me if you feel the need to gatekeep the queer community. cishet aspecs ARE valid and they ARE queer. the "they don't experience discrimination" argument is possibly the most stupid thing i have ever heard because aspecs experience insane levels discrimination and people are extremely dismissive of them. we our more than our suffering. our community is not yours to gatekeep it isn't fair to invalidate people's queer identities just because you can't fit them in your stupid little box of specific labels.

[orange-artblog]

O.M.G. THEY‘RE ON THE SAME COVER ART???? AND THEY‘RE MATCHING??? This MUST mean the next album will feature both bands guys TRUST—

close up/no colouring versions :p

sneak peak:

The very obviously disguised as Interviewer-Paparazzi comes closer and closer towards him, „Please, just one question!“ Dream rolls his eye „I‘m not supposed to speak with strangers… But alright! I‘ll bite! What‘s your question?“ the ‚interviewer‘ gets out a notepad and pen, the moment dragging on into annoyingly endless territory, then comes the question; „Do you have a father?“ The room goes quiet is an understatement.

Rock band + Rock Band!Killer by @zu-is-here

Rock band Dream (idea? + partially design) by @help-im-a-gay-fish

art and other details/changes on designs by me!

[merely-a-caricature]

Yes, I’m ace, and have a dirty mind-

[rest-your-head-in-my-lap]

<3

This blog is a cozy place for everyone with a complicated relationship to sex and sexual attraction. I'm an asexual who doesn't experience much sexual sensation (ie; I don't physically feel horny or sexual pleasure, at least alone.) I've gone through quite a few phases having to do with my feelings on sex in general, and I'd like to write about them here. And if it helps anyone that'd be lovely.

To all the hypersexuals, people on the ace spectrum, or just any fae with complicated thoughts on it all, This is my love letter to you. I'll be tagging my commentary or rambles on sex and related things separately to any porn or similar content, just in case you don't want to see it. Tags: Commentary/Rambles- Let's talk about it Erotic shit/Horny comments- Let's fuck about it

[uncelebratedjuvenescence]

This design came together rather well….

Here’s Mallory my 27 yr old goth girl who talks the dead