The sex panther has devoured me and I shall not want and THIS IS THE PROBLEM
-I was watching a fairly decent porno and it was all sensual and prettily photographed and the performers were hot and everything, but even as I was a bit aroused, I was still pissed off because none of it could ever be as erotic as this
AND I AM ANGRY AT CONNIE FOR DOING THIS TO ME. Seriously. I can watch something that's intended to be erotic and actual porn-porn with guys who know how to top and know how to fuck, but it's still maybe about *one tenth* of the confidence and the hypnotism and the control and the sheer all-devouring erotic power this guy possessed. I know I always go on about this, but sometimes it's frustrating, because I've reached the peak of what makes me tick and nothing comes even close. Like how I get whenever I see attractive people. I may go 'unf' and my bits may react but I won't go into full, foaming-at-the-mouth apoplexy and PLEASE, DADDY at them the way I do with Connie. And for someone as sexually as voracious as I am, that somehow feels wrong. I sometimes wonder if death isn't near because this is *it.* I've experienced the highest erotic thrall and ecstasy knowable to Grousekind and there's nothing after this. Nothing. The world of romance and eroticism is one big howling void after Connie, like he fucked it hard up the arse and left it gaping. BASTARD.
-And I am also (lovingly) frustrated by this whole thing where the joy you get out of slash, of subverting things, of slapping gay things and girly things onto (presumably straight) dudes in slash being nonexistent with this guy. It's hugely entertaining to put pink frilly knickers on Thor and weave flowers into his hair because he's this big manly Viking, but when it's Connie... nope. I was just looking at this (NSFW) and thinking 'Ha! That's so what Strasser does in his bathroom while dreaming of Renault!" but then it's just NOT AS FUN WHEN I REMEMBER THE GUY WAS A FUCKING TRANSVESTITE AND IN THE PENIS FANDOM. One of the greatest bits of fun in slash is this insane, wheedling illusion of the AUness of it all, this mirror universe where things are queerer and crazier and you can just plunge into that and normal rules don't apply and there's this carnival atmosphere to it, a sense of the otherworld, like this ecstatic religious ritual. A festival. It's a step outside of the norm, of heteronormativity, of the patriarchy, of people being stuck up, a big shrieking Dionysian leap into erotic craziness and full emotional and sexual fullfillment, enacted through the sex that's usually not allowed to feel, emote and to basically do 'female' things, one big genderbending, equalising force. Aaaand then I look at a photo like that and go 'wait a minute. If Connie saw that, he'd GET AN ACTUAL FUCKING BONER.' And I'm not even joking. AND THAT KEEPS FUCKING WITH MY HEAD. Not in a bad way, because how could that ever be bad? But STILL. He *is* what women write guys into in slash, for fuck's sakes!
*FLIPS TABLE*
Basically, can someone do some hypnosis on me and just wipe this guy from my mind so I can start a) feeling like I'm deliciously subversive and b) feeling arousal at non-Connie things again? This fucker has spiritually completed me and I'm not sure what to do about it all! Help! I'm in a Veidt-induced erotic nirvana and I want out! I want to be reborn as a sexual ant once more!
P.S. have a doodle of Torsten in drag because I hate you all:
P.P.S. I MEAN IT! SOMEONE RESCUE ME FROM THE EROTIC EXPLOSION AND THEN EMPTINESS THAT IS DIE VEIDT!
AND I AM ANGRY AT CONNIE FOR DOING THIS TO ME. Seriously. I can watch something that's intended to be erotic and actual porn-porn with guys who know how to top and know how to fuck, but it's still maybe about *one tenth* of the confidence and the hypnotism and the control and the sheer all-devouring erotic power this guy possessed. I know I always go on about this, but sometimes it's frustrating, because I've reached the peak of what makes me tick and nothing comes even close. Like how I get whenever I see attractive people. I may go 'unf' and my bits may react but I won't go into full, foaming-at-the-mouth apoplexy and PLEASE, DADDY at them the way I do with Connie. And for someone as sexually as voracious as I am, that somehow feels wrong. I sometimes wonder if death isn't near because this is *it.* I've experienced the highest erotic thrall and ecstasy knowable to Grousekind and there's nothing after this. Nothing. The world of romance and eroticism is one big howling void after Connie, like he fucked it hard up the arse and left it gaping. BASTARD.
-And I am also (lovingly) frustrated by this whole thing where the joy you get out of slash, of subverting things, of slapping gay things and girly things onto (presumably straight) dudes in slash being nonexistent with this guy. It's hugely entertaining to put pink frilly knickers on Thor and weave flowers into his hair because he's this big manly Viking, but when it's Connie... nope. I was just looking at this (NSFW) and thinking 'Ha! That's so what Strasser does in his bathroom while dreaming of Renault!" but then it's just NOT AS FUN WHEN I REMEMBER THE GUY WAS A FUCKING TRANSVESTITE AND IN THE PENIS FANDOM. One of the greatest bits of fun in slash is this insane, wheedling illusion of the AUness of it all, this mirror universe where things are queerer and crazier and you can just plunge into that and normal rules don't apply and there's this carnival atmosphere to it, a sense of the otherworld, like this ecstatic religious ritual. A festival. It's a step outside of the norm, of heteronormativity, of the patriarchy, of people being stuck up, a big shrieking Dionysian leap into erotic craziness and full emotional and sexual fullfillment, enacted through the sex that's usually not allowed to feel, emote and to basically do 'female' things, one big genderbending, equalising force. Aaaand then I look at a photo like that and go 'wait a minute. If Connie saw that, he'd GET AN ACTUAL FUCKING BONER.' And I'm not even joking. AND THAT KEEPS FUCKING WITH MY HEAD. Not in a bad way, because how could that ever be bad? But STILL. He *is* what women write guys into in slash, for fuck's sakes!
*FLIPS TABLE*
Basically, can someone do some hypnosis on me and just wipe this guy from my mind so I can start a) feeling like I'm deliciously subversive and b) feeling arousal at non-Connie things again? This fucker has spiritually completed me and I'm not sure what to do about it all! Help! I'm in a Veidt-induced erotic nirvana and I want out! I want to be reborn as a sexual ant once more!
P.S. have a doodle of Torsten in drag because I hate you all:
P.P.S. I MEAN IT! SOMEONE RESCUE ME FROM THE EROTIC EXPLOSION AND THEN EMPTINESS THAT IS DIE VEIDT!