#I am forcing myself to just produce and am doing very little research all of which is the antithesis of how I normally do this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfbetweenrivers · 1 year

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When the pandemic started in 2020 I was hit very hard by its effects. I lost so much. I spent months alone, struggling with motivation to continue because everything that happened was such a massive blow on me.

Art has always been my passion for as long as I can remember. I wanted it to be my career from a young age but was constantly told I would never get anywhere with it. I believed the people who told me that. As a result I never explored what I could do with it and never tried opening commissions years ago and thought I should only keep it as just a cute little side thing. I was posting art on Deviantart during my late teens. But then Deviantart started getting worse so then I deactivated and started over on Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. I kept activated and deactivating new accounts because I had confidence issues that extended to my art. I realize now how counterproductive that was.

When I was affected by the pandemic, I had no path forward. A path forward is something I have always desperately needed even before the pandemic started because my current situation, even before, was not and is not exactly desirable. So when I lost the best chance at changing things as soon as possible, I was obviously crushed by all this. After months of struggling, I was able to pick myself when I started becoming more active online but still not doing much as an artist. I was mostly just consuming content while also doing lots of research because I was in a period in my life where I was trying to figure out who I am. By the end of 2020 I decided that I would ignored everything people told me about not being able to get anywhere with art and decided to just give it a go. I had sought out advice that was publicly shared by many young artists who were successful. I decided that I would try to actually apply myself as an artist and try to create a path forward. I wish I didn’t wait until it was the only option left before finally doing this.

So 2021 begins and I attempt to post one drawing everyday and I promised myself that instead of deleting my current account I would commit to it and keep going. Let my work show my growth and improvement. This was challenging though because I was using a shared home computer. And that computer was very cheap and did not even meet the minimum specifications for a digital artist. There were also many personal issues beyond my control that kept getting in the way. Despite that, I was able to accumulate over 100 followers on Twitter which was honestly more than I ever thought I’d get. But I knew I couldn’t go on with the aforementioned restrictions. I needed a new laptop that met minimum specs for digital art. So out of desperation I opened commissions, started a Ko-Fi account, even knowing that in my place on the developmental timeline at the time, I probably wouldn’t have much luck. I was able to get a few. But in the end, I couldn’t get enough. The situation forced my hand so I had to pull together what I got from commissions and Ko-Fi donations along with my personal savings to order a new laptop. I had hemorrhaged so much money for this laptop that I currently use. So I kept commissions and donations open by default since then.

2022 started and I decided to try again. The amount and quality of work I could produce was so much better. During this time I had finally figured myself out and mustered up the courage to try and reach out to others who were like me and shared similar interests and try to befriend them on Twitter, since that’s where most of them are. These people have become my closest friends ever since and have been very supportive of me.

This motivated me to keep going as my growth as an artists started improving significantly at an exponential rate. I have slowly been getting more commissions and just recently, I celebrated 800+ followers on Twitter.

You may have noticed while reading this that I am mentioning Twitter a lot. That’s because Twitter is were I have the most support as an artist. This has been the case ever since early this year when I fully embraced my art niche which is drawing handsome buff guys. Twitter is where the target audience is for the most part, which is also why most of my close friends are also there as they are also fellow guys who like drawing handsome guys.

And recently, I managed to secure a personal commitment that would significantly speed things up in terms of being able to improve my situation. If everything goes well, I should be able to finish the commitment in around 2 years. Then it’ll be easier for me to find ways to achieve financial stability, while still continuing as an artist. That would in fact make it even easier for me to go full freelance sooner than without the commitment.

I’ve worked so hard for 22 months. I’ve come so far. But now everything I built up on Twitter is at huge risk of collapsing because of the ego and greed of one spoiled man child.

On Twitter, I’ve been offering my followers the other places they can find me but I wonder if that will be of any substantial use. Instagram is also progressively getting more and more user hostile. Tumblr is good, but here’s the thing; I used to have lots of support here, but ever since I embraced my niche in art, it’s been a lot less than before. From what I’m seeing, there really aren’t a lot of artists who are like me, in terms of niche and target audience, on this website, especially ever since the end of 2018.

I really don’t know what do if Twitter ends up getting tanked because of him. I mean sure I could keep posting on Tumblr and Instagram but progress will be a lot slower in these places and I’m desperately trying to build a stable income from my art so that I can go on to live in a better situation that would not only be better for my mental health, but would also allow me to draw more of the things I wanna draw but currently can’t.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I really needed to vent this out. I’m still unsure what to do, but all I can do now is hope for the best.

#vent #not gonna tag the man child #just in case #twitter #my posts

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vonquephotographs · 9 months

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Nude photography is a very complex subject, one that can be viewed from thousands and thousands of points of view. The final product can range from what most would consider straight-up porn to what many would think to be fine art. But why do people on both sides of the camera do it?

Before diving into the article, let me make some statements of my own beliefs on the subject of nude photography, so I don’t have to reply time and time again in the comments section. First and foremost, I have absolutely no issues with nude photography of any sort when it is done freely between two or more adults, that being the photographer and the person or people being photographed. Let me be even clearer on another part of the subject. If the images involve minors or any person of any age that is forced to be photographed, then that act and the resulting image are totally and completely unacceptable. I don’t shoot nudes myself, not because of any moral or principal issues, but rather because I don’t have an interest photographing nudes.

I started to think about this subject one day as I was scrolling through galleries and I noticed a fair amount of images that included nude or at least semi-nude subjects. This started me to wonder, especially for the model, why were they willing to post these nude images? They are certainly not being paid by these portfolio sites to have their pictures posted, and I imagine for a good portion of the photos, the photographer did not pay the subject. Of course, this is only speculation on my part. I would like to hear from the people who have posted nude images here on Fstoppers if the model was compensated for modeling or if the photographer was paid to produce the photographs.

As I stated earlier, I have no issues with the nude images. And I don’t mean to insult any of the photographers and models who have posted such pictures, but I noticed there seems to be a significant number of images that were merely nothing more than a nice photo that also included a nude person. The picture would have been a nice image without the nudity, and I’m not so sure the nudity added to the image. I also noticed images that seemed to convey a sense of freedom, and the nudity appeared to complement the theme or the point of the image. Then, just as there were numerous images expressing freedom, there seemed to be just as many that implied a sense of being trapped. Of all the various images I saw, I would say that almost all of them were tastefully done. However, there were more than a few �� in fact, lots — that were so cliche. For example, images of a pretty woman in front of an exotic car showing some portion of her body not typically seen in public.

So at this point, having more questions than when I started thinking about this topic, I decided to do a little research on the subject. Luckily for me, our very own Fstoppers writers community not only has a person who has photographed but has also modeled. I reached out to the multi-talented Anete Lusina to ask a few of the questions I had. Not only was Lusina kind enough to answer my questions, but she was also kind enough to share these beautiful images that are scattered throughout the article. Please be sure to check out more of her work at Anete Lusina.

I, of course, started with the first question anyone would ask, what is your motivation for shooting nudes? “Initially, being a nude model for me meant experimentation, breaking away from the box I was placed in and rebelling,” Lusina said. She continued, “Nudity itself to me is quite unimportant, but I feel more free that way instead of wearing tight pieces of clothing or overly sexualized or glamorous ones. Being nude isn’t actually erotic, it’s more primal and raw. My motivation has generally been to gain my own acceptance of who I am, but equally, it also has helped me celebrate my body by looking past the flaws or the pain… and instead focus on the beauty it brings, such as the strength, speed, or either feminine or strong shapes.” I find Lusina's statement about it not being erotic to be very true. It doesn’t have to be; however, I believe too many people fall into that easy trap of creating a sexual aspect in their nude photography that in the end detracts from the image. As Joan Smith wrote in The Guardian: “Nude pictures, in other words, are not always or not only about sex.” So the motivation for many is not about being sexy or erotic. For many, the motivation is, while sounding like the 1960s, about expression. Smith stated she too posed nude: “I first posed nude in my 20s, when it seemed important to me to explore the meaning for nakedness.”

For many, shooting nudes either as the photographer or the model is an artistic motivation, a motivation to express feelings of angst or perhaps the complete opposite by conveying confidence and contentment with one’s self. Again, Smith captures these feelings when she addresses being photographed nude later in life: “I was a lot older, and it raised different questions; I’m a size 12, but the body gets less elastic over time… It was about being comfortable in my skin as an older woman,” The photographer needs to understand these motivations so they can capture and convey them accurately in their images, “instead of a mere snap,” as Lusina told me.

Even with an artistic motivation, pursuing the first nude photo shoot, either as a model or as a photographer can be intimidating and nerve-racking. We all know or should know the camera can be a wall between the photographer and the talent. Add in the uncertainty of nudity, and this wall can become an iron curtain. But it doesn’t have to be. As mentioned earlier, Lusina has worked on both sides of the camera and said the first time behind the camera was actually harder for her than the first time in front of the camera. Both instances were not planned. For her first nude in front of the camera, it came about naturally and by her own choice when she decided to remove her top and didn’t bat an eye. But when it came to working on the other side of the camera, it wasn’t so easy. She was tagging along with a friend of hers who was doing a shoot, and she felt nervous because it was his shoot. He helped her ease into shooting, but she can still fill a bit uneasy, because she ends up worrying about her models too much.

This article only addresses a couple of people’s thought concerning nude photography. I’m sure there are thousands more reasons people both in front and behind the camera create nude images. If you are one of these people, why not add to the conversation in the comments below. I’m sure others would like to hear your reasons; I know I

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trustkosher · 2 years

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Aim sucks on shotgun farmers

Aim sucks on shotgun farmers movie#

Aim sucks on shotgun farmers tv#

The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down A Mountain. Set Fire to the Stars IMDB - An aspiring poet in 1950s New York has his ordered world shaken when he embarks on a week-long retreat to save his hell raising hero, Dylan Thomas.

Aim sucks on shotgun farmers movie#

The movie is mostly in English with parts in Welsh and Yiddish. Solomon & Gaenor IMDB - A tragic love story between a Jewish young man and a Welsh woman in the beginning of the century. Very Annie Mary IMDB - After her father suffers a stroke, his daughter is forced to take care of him. Patagonia IMDB - A young Welsh couple travel to Argentina to work on their relationship in Argentina. gay activists work to help miners during their lengthy strike of the National Union of Mineworkers in the summer of 1984. Rick Steves Europe - North Wales: Feisty and PoeticĪmerican Interior IMDB - In 1792, John Evans, a farmhand from Snowdonia travelled to America to discover whether there was a Welsh-speaking Native American tribe walking the Great Plains. Great Performances at the Met - Bryn Terfel & Friends in ConcertĬurious Traveler - Curious Southern Wales Live from the Artists Den - Marina And The Diamonds It would be great if PBS stations could have a ‘Wales night’ and dedicate a couple of hours to a travel documentary, a music special and maybe a movie. The Welsh are the 23rd largest ethnic group in the USA, but seemingly have very little representation. Would it be possible to add screen some of the following PBS shows or Welsh films on or around March 1st for St. For more information about CPB’s stewardship of the federal appropriation, you can view its Business Plan online: CPB’s commitment to funding diverse content creators is reflected in its longstanding investments in organizations such as the Independent Television Service (ITVS), the National Multicultural Alliance, the Firelight Media, Native Voice One, Urban Alternative, as well as support to individual producers and programs reflecting the diverse American experience. Within the statutory formula, CPB supports public radio and television stations, independent producers, and diverse informational, educational, and cultural content and services. Each year, CPB distributes the federal appropriation for the public media system in accordance with a statutory formula outlined in the Public Broadcasting Act. Note from CPB: Thank you for contacting the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) about CPB’s FY 2024 federal appropriation from Congress. Please stop this and just let us what your shows. There are plenty of podcasts to listen to while I'm doing housework.

Aim sucks on shotgun farmers tv#

I was listening to NPR before COVID and I've been watching TV more now, but I am NOT willing to go without myself just to watch your programming. I get it that you can't charge stations like WKAR even more for your programming. Maybe it helps you get by,but couldn't you at least be honest about it? Like maybe donations were $100 million to keep reporters all over hte world all the time and donations have fallen to $80 million since COVID, but couldn't you tell us just how bad it is and what you'd have to let go if you don't get the $20 million that you need? And I don't need to hear from Depak Chopra and some guy who does brain research mainly to suck money out of me to buy their products. I like Finding your Roots, but I don't need a summary of what Henry Louis Gates has already provided and I've seen.ĭo you think I have the power to give you some kind of award for providing these documentaries? I don't. Now i can't see a 60 minutes episode and for the same reason, you actually interrupt PBS News Hour for the same old, same old tune. I'm on a fixed income during a time of high inflation. I'm a green donor to my local station, WKAR in Lansing pre-empts some of some of my favorite shows, like 60 minutes in favor of ways for you to nag viewers to donate. Have I been asleep at the switchor are you increasing the number of fundraisers you incorporate into programming? In any case, I resent it.

#Aim sucks on shotgun farmers

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goldenmist · 3 years

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"Could I please have Kokichi with a tall, curvy S/O who is very insecure? He flirts with her constantly but she always thinks he’s teasing or making fun of her because she doesn’t think anyone would like her. They’re not together yet."

Of course. I decided to give myself a little break from studying, so here I am. I hope at least somebody still remembers that I am alive. It's interesting how most of my posts include Kokichi, even though he is not my favorite character. Enjoy!

Tw: D*ath mentions, suggestive content, swear words, indignity.

Finding yourself in the midst of a killing game, your prerogative is to put your personality aside and strive towards surviving. To be less memorizable and interesting, to potential murderers. That is what every rational person would conclude. Nevertheless, the situation becomes a bit more difficult, when your persona is not a signature trait.

How uncomplicated it would have been for you, to be a timid little girl with a thin frame. Blending in with the crowd, would not be a problem at all. However ever since puberty, your body attracted some wishful gazes here and there. It enraged you, so many individuals earning for a night with you, but not for a talk. Your character was no more than a bonus to people around. No matter how hard you've worked towards obtaining honorable achievements, or how interesting of a person you where. And at the moment it didn't seem to ever change.

You truly expected, that the minds of your peers would be occupated with a more troublesome matter. But even as the situation called, teenagers stayed true to their hormones. The tingling sense of stares laying on different parts of your body. Awkwardly meaningless conversations, that seemed to be phrases memorized from the same "pick-up" textbook. Nothing out of the ordinary. Most of them put on an oblivious act, in the attempt to come off as having good intentions. However there were a bunch of outgoing exceptions.

One If these labeled "exceptions" was heading towards you at the moment, which resulted in a drained sigh. All you wished was for was some peace and quiet. That is why you hid in the secluded library corner in the first place. But you figured, the individual's eye-sight was sharper than most.

"Hey there Y/N!" Dragging the syllables, Kokichi approached you, leaning against the book shelf carelessly.

"Why did you run off yesterday? That was a bummer. I just wanted to hang out with you!" The corners of his lips dropped. The action, almost making you believe that the male was on the brink of crocodile tears. But in a split second, the expression was wiped off as If It never appeared. Sometimes you wondered, If the shorter male carried around ceramic masks in his pockets. And switched them to correlate with the mood. Such an actor.

"That's a lie by the way!" You scoffed. There wasn't much time for you to observe Kokichi's personality in-depth, in fact you never planned to. But his intentions were so opaque. It was unknown for you, as to why he kept following you around. Somewhere deep inside, you longed for an answer.

"You're pretty boring you know?" Your classmates innatentive phrase, caused annoyance to spread throughout the fibers of your body. What was his point? Just plain mockery? You've had enough of that over the course of time.

"What do you want." A statement, rather than a question. You slammed the book you were trying to concentrate on shut with such force, it rang out through the premises into the hallway. Kokichi was quick to pick up on that, avoiding your gaze and examining his nails. As If they were the most interesting sights in the world.

"No need to get so worked-up, jeez." He briskly slid down the rows of paper-prints, slumping next to you.

"It's not my fault, that you can't see the obvious."

His hefty presence was the last thing you wanted to sense in your free-time. So you decided to escape as swiftly as possible. If your memory was correct, Kaede invited you to her research lab. The girl was surely a better option, than getting upset over this douche. However the same person striked something, that caused you to stop in your tracks.

"I mean everyone" the purple haired emphasized, "They're all so lovey-dovey to you. What a bunch of try-hards." He kept approaching you, menacingly. "And you surely enjoy the attention, you little whore. I can see that in you! I mean you totally rubbed against Shumai today on purpose."

The Supreme Leader poked his cheek in a childish way, that contrasted so much with the words he was producing.

"I wonder who will be the first one? I'd lie If I said I am not invest-" he was cut-off midway by the look in your eyes. Pain, hatred, disbelief. All mixed into one steely gaze. Oma was bringing aloud, the exact memories you've tried to forget for such a long time.

"Aww, are you ups-" Once again the male was interrupted, this time however physically. That slap will leave a heavy bruise for sure. In fact, the impact from your side was so forceful it made the male lose his balance.

"Shut.The fuck.Up." It took all your strength to force out steady words. But you decided not to give Kokichi the pleasure of witnessing you at your weakest. You knew that If you kept talking, there would be a breaking point. With many thoughts overflowing your mind, you stormed out of the library.

Raising himself off the ground, Kokichi put a hand over the place of impact. He hissed, not sure, in agony or delight. Your state, no matter how wicked the thought, it excited Oma. So much pure, powerful emotion awakened in you at that moment, he was fascinated by the reaction. Finally, someone decently interesting. And he wanted to witness that again. Trying to shove away the thought at the back of his mind, that he slightly cares about your well-being. Ever so slight the worry, that it was too tiny for the Supreme Leader to notice. But the seed was planted, steadily sprouting, as the male collected himself to follow you and apologize. Just to hurt you again, no more, no less. He didn't register, how wrong his beliefs were soon to be proven.

#mod junko #danganronpa #imagines #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa x reader #kokichi oma imagine #kokichi oma x reader #kokichi x reader #reader insert #kokichi oneshot #kokichi #kokichi oma #submission

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Update on Requests

So I feel bad, but in the effort of transparency Im going to post the dreaded list of requests that i'm probably never going to fill. To be honest, the list has stayed out of control, even though I tried to pair it down considerably. I look at it and it makes me feel guilty about the projects I want to work on.

I want to produce the best stuff for you guys, and i don't feel like i can do that if i force myself to write about things I'm not passionate about and/ or realize i don't have the knowledge or research base to finish. I think in this instance it's about quality over quantity. This is supposed to be something I enjoy and looking over the list turns me into a giant stress ball, and then like no writing gets done.

There are several requests that will stay on my active list, and won't be listed below. I am 100% committed to filling these (you can ask just about any person i interact with because i talk about it all of the time).

If you happen to find one of your requests listed below and are upset, please message me. I will explain my reasoning and it's 100% plausible that we can come to a mutually beneficial resolution.

I'm sorry guys, i just want to do the best i can and enjoy doing it. I hope you understand.

The Dreaded List

binoe as parents where r comes out as trans? you don’t have to, i just thought it’d be kinda cool to read especially as someone who is trans.

Binoe x toddler reader where the Team meets super shy reader after a football game. Reader is like small and cute but fast as hell and in the end runs around with a couple player

hey could you do a christen x reader where r plays for arsenal and chris is at man united and they have to play each of and arsenal wins so r feels bad so decided to take christen on a date to make up for it if that’s ok ?

Christen Press’s daughter and moves over the play in europe for arsenal to prove she’s not only christens kid so when r has to play against tobin and christens she plays the best she ever has and scores a hat trick and some cute mother daughter moments at the end if that’s ok?

Emily sonnett imagines where the reader meets The team and Emily family as well? Like R plays softball and Emily takes her family and the ones that she is close to from the team to the game and surprise R as well?

Alpha sonnett x omega reader. Reader has to stay with Kelley during one of her heats until sonnett gets back from quarantine or something and bc sonnett trusts Kelley and reader knew Kelley in college she knows she’ll take good care of r and when she gets back r had gotten sick on top of having her heat so she has to take her to the doctor for it but r is scared of them

Krashlyn x child reader being adopted

Tobin x alpha press and reader fic, that was so good!!! Obviously if you don’t want to don’t feel pressured or anything but would you do one where it’s the same pairing but the three of them are the best cowards in the league. Like ATM was for the wwc but with alpha reader x alpha press x omega Tobin? Like in a game everyone knows there specific roles like Tobin is the quick dribbling creative and sometimes defensive one while press scores the goals and the reader is the more physical one. And like during a game someone sees Tobin ass the weak link and targets her but ends up with not only two very pissed mates but also a whole national team?

little!reader x krashlyn about the reader waking them up after she has a nightmare and then cuddling her and take her back to bed with them and giving her a bottle to calm her back down?

Alpha!Rose x Omega!Reader: Where R is close with Sonnett and Rose doesn’t mind it at first. But then fans decide to ship them together even though R and Rose are together publicly. She starts getting more jealous and possessive of R and finally snaps when R starts smelling like Sonnett’s scent... angst + fluff pls

cute Alex x reader? Maybe the team makes fun of them about being so attached but they are so unbothered because they enjoy their time together.

little r where the reader is new to the team and doesn't have a mommy or a caregiver and one of the other littles is getting jealous because all the other mommies starting to fuss over the new teammate?

uswnt x baby reader, were the reader has type 1 diabetes?

uswnt x baby r where r is really shy but also really good at snowboarding and basically shows off during team bonding?

team with a reader whose always cold?

Tierna imagine?? maybe where reader and t are standford roommates and they start to get closer but reader isn’t out yet and panics when T nearly kisses her. angst and fluff ensures

reader is a famous snowboarder and her and Tobin have been dating for a year or two and they met at like a ski resort one year. And the reader takes them back to finally teach Tobin how to snowboard and ends up proposing to Tobin?

Our troublemaker universe - Kellex x Reader: (set in troublemaker universe) R starts getting closer to another dom for whatever reason and to Kellex, it’s like she’s slipping away from them and not really needing them anymore. So, they start getting a bit jelly and possessive over R to the point where they start setting rules to keep R by them, but it backfires bc they get into an argument that leads R into seeking comfort from the said dom. But in the end, they make up and everything gets good again

Can you do a ash and Ali request where they and the reader are together but the reader has been away for awhile (job or quarantine in a different state) and the reader surprised them at a game?

Hey! You Reached the Bottom! Thank you so much for your compassion and understanding.

More fics are definitely to come, including the Gravity pt. 2, Just In case Pt. 2, The survivor one, Playing with fire prequel (which will me multi-chapter) and so many more.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine

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perfectlymarilynmonroe · 3 years

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Hey babe, I had a q about your last photo caption. The bit about Marilyn refusing to be a kept woman is somewhat misleading to me- didn't she live with Johnny Hyde for a time, and didn't his influence grant her favorable notice during casting for films like The Asphalt Jungle? Maybe I'm not remembering correctly, but I don't think their relationship was precisely sexual even if he clearly doted on her for a time. Obvi she got further on her own merit, but I do think that's an oft unexplored moment in her life that was definitely instrumental because of her choice to link up with him. Just wondering about your thoughts on this! Love the blog <3

Hi! Thank you for your sweet comments about my blog :) Sorry for the delay in response, but I wanted to give a thorough response to this. I’ve actually received a couple of comments on Instagram lately regarding this, and I don’t mind addressing this confusion.

*Disclaimer to everyone reading: This is based on the research I have done and is to address a number of issues. This isn’t to glorify Marilyn or deny any flaws or imperfections, but to state the facts. I’m publicly sharing this so I can later refer back to it. It’s a longer response to answer any follow-up questions I may get but, of course, you can still ask any you may have. ♡♡

It can be deceiving, but I think the bigger concern is what she took for what she got, rather than vise versa. If she was looking to be a gold-digging, role-stealing actress, she would have married Hyde the minute he asked her to. She would have inherited his millions and could have bought her way through Hollywood. For a young woman with hardly anything, she chose herself and said no.

Just before she met him, she was getting help from John Carroll and Lucille Ryman, so when she said, Johnny was the first to believe in her, that isn’t entirely true. Due to her lack of a father-figure as a child I think that when she saw the belief in her from a man like Johnny, at a reputable agency, who was willing to do anything for her, she latched on to it.

Hyde’s co-workers at William Morris later reported being furious with him because he slowly began to abandon his other clients and focused only on helping her. In the case of The Asphalt Jungle, since you asked, it was actually the help of both Hyde and Lucille Ryman that she was given an audition. However, director John Huston later said she didn’t get the “role because of Hyde...she got it because she was damn good.”

In my personal opinion, based on the facts, whether did not sleep with Johnny - some historians even refuse to believe they were ever sexually involved - it was never for roles, auditions, etc. As I mentioned, if it were, she would have married him, taken his money, and used that to her advantage. She actually stopped seeing him - both personally and professionally - by Fall 1949 because she was so sick and tired of being called, “Mrs. Johnny Hyde” by him and hearing from colleges that he was calling her his wife.

When it came to being a “kept” woman, she was referring to the large number of “casting directors” or studio execs, etc, who faked an upcoming film to lure her into their office and attempt to seduce her, or held their hand on her thigh while she auditioned, almost forced her, etc... and each time she managed to walk out.

She wrote an article entitled, “The Wolves I’ve Know” that was published in a number of places like Motion Picture in 1953, The New York Daily News, and more. When she met with Ben Hecht for her autobiography interviews, she also spoke of them and it was published in a London newspaper in August 1954, and in Australian magazines in 1955.

He did leave his family and move into a bigger place and invited her to live there, but she never officially moved in. She did spend quite a bit of her time there, but by early Spring she was living on her own and was very low on rent. This is why she posed nude on red velvet in May 1949. She admitted to thinking of asking men she knew for money to help her, but felt she wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself, and it made her sick to even think of it.

For everyone reading this, remember, she was twenty-three. She was still a very young girl and had grown up with little guidance in her life. She was abused, and was in and out of so many school and homes, she was never taught how to do things. She figured it out on her own, and of course, like anyone in that situation, maybe didn’t always make the best decisions or have the best thoughts.

I know this answer was very long, but I felt I needed to address a number of points because things are rarely black and white - especially for Marilyn Monroe, who is the subject of much scrutiny, then and now - and there are many things to consider in regards to a sensitive subject like this!

I hope I’m not missing anything, but I hope it answers your question! xo

Below is a list of various quotes said by Marilyn that I hope everyone will find helpful :)

From “The Wolves I’ve Known” published in The New York Times:

The first real wolf I encountered should have been ashamed of himself because he was trying to take advantage of a mere kid. That’s all I was and I wasn’t suspicious of him at all when he stopped his car at a corner and started to talk to me.

He looked at me all over and then came up with that famous line: “You ought to be in pictures.” That was the first time I’d ever heard it, so it didn’t sound corny to me.

He told me he had an office at the Goldwyn studio and said why didn’t I come and see him and he would get me a screen test. It sounded pretty good to me because I was crazy to get into the movies.

I was modeling at that time and I asked the people who ran the agency where I got my jobs what they thought of his offer. The manager called the studio but never was able to get in touch with my would-be benefactor. However, the wolf called the agency and I made an appointment to go to his office on Saturday afternoon.

I didn’t know then that the producers and other movie officials don’t make Saturday afternoon appointments. I found that out later. I also found out that he didn’t really have any connection with the Goldwyn studio but had borrowed a friend’s office.

He was fat and jovial and, of course, drove a Cadillac. He gave me a script to read and told me how to pose while reading it. All the poses had to be reclining, although the words I was reading didn’t seem to call for that position.

Of course, there are other ways a girl could survive until another studio came along. A starlet could take on a lover, usually a well-heeled married man who could pay her bills, or she could become the mistress to an old man and through his connections help advance her career. Believe me, there were and still are many starstruck girls that do get by that way. But for myself, respect is one of life’s greatest treasures. I mean, what does it all add up to if you don’t have that? If there [is] only one thing in my life I [am] proud of, it’s that I’ve never been a kept woman.

And believe me, it wasn’t because there weren’t opportunities to become one. I think I had as many problems as the next starlet keeping the Hollywood wolves from my door. These wolves just could not understand me. They would tell me, “But Marilyn, you’re not playing the game the way you should. Be smart. You’ll never get anywhere in this business acting the way you do.” My answer to them would be, “The only acting I’ll do is for the motion picture camera.” I was determined, no one was going to use me or my body—even if he could help my career. I’ve never gone out with a man I didn’t want to. No one, not even the studio, could force me to date someone.

You can’t sleep your way into being a star. It takes much, much more. But it helps. A lot of actresses got their first chance that way. Most of the men are such horrors, they deserve all they can get out of them!

The one thing I hate more than anything else is being used. I’ve always worked hard for the sake of someday becoming a talented actress. I knew I would make it someday if I only kept at it and worked hard without lowering my principles and pride in myself.

#ask #Johnny Hyde

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for mermay, 24 indruck nsfw?

Here you go! 24 was Lighthouse, and I made it a continuation of this space mermay fill. NOTE: this fill contains oviposition.

Communication Log between Lieutenant of the Amnesty and Chief Astrobotantist Duck Newton.

Joseph: Storm is forecasted to last four days at least. We won’t be able to land on Atlantia to pick you up until it passes.

Duck: Roger that. We should be fine here; ‘Drid says the storms are dangerous for spacecrafts and travel but not for buildings. I’ll keep testing the specimens we found in the meantime.

Joseph: if it gets too dangerous, let us know and we’ll try to get an emergency retrieval ship to you.

Duck: Will do. Duck out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Atlantia, one of the four moons of the planet Oceana, is off limits to most. It’s home to precious minerals that the residents of the moon Aquaria have been known to go to war over, fighting to see who controls the territory in which the substance resides. To avoid these conflicts, the whole moon was declared a public resource, and all but the native Atlantians must acquire elaborate permits to visit. Outsiders are practically forbidden.

Unless said outsider is married to one of the most valuable individuals in the whole lunar system and said individual is suddenly very willing to throw his weight around for the sake of his beloved’s research.

Indrid’s negotiations were only able to secure permission for him and Duck, not the rest of the Amnesty, and so Duck spent the better part of two weeks scouring the plant life and trying to discern if the mineral make-up of the soil produced plants more likely to contain the curative properties he’s searching for. When the storm picked up, rendering the surface of the moon unsafe, Indrid apologized profusely for not foreseeing the change in the futures. Duck pointed out that it was sudden enough that the two of them had already arrived at the pick-up spot before the storm turned violent.

Of places to be sheltering during a storm, an Oceanic Beacon is at once an excellent and terrifying choice. It’s a combination of a lighthouse and landing strip, alerting travelers to the presence of land and the location to dock their craft. Because light from the beacon has to reach a massive distance into the sky and across the waves, the building lives beneath a dome of specially engineered, see-through glass. A storm has never so much as cracked one. But it means that Duck has a perfect view of the gigantic waves washing over them which, while awe-inspiring, makes his lizard brain certain he’s about to drown.

So he spends most of his time in the terrestrial rooms researching to keep his mind off the weather. Except for when Indrid swims up from the heavily fortified subaquatic portion of the lighthouse to visit him. Then he devotes every last bit of his energy to his husband. Most of the Aquariads he meets are shocked to discover he’s not only happy to be married to the eerie, formidable seer, but that he actively misses him when he’s out on his missions.

“The others are not too worried I hope?” Indrid swims to him as he comes down the stairs from the communication pad.

“Nope.” Duck pulls off the top of his uniform, “once you knew we had food to last over a month if we had to, I got a hell of a lot calmer too.” He drops into the pool, water carrying a hint of heat, as Indrid curls the celestial expanse of his tail around his waist. Duck is a strong swimmer, but Indrid’s ability to carry him to and fro without getting so much as winded makes him want to feign helplessness and spend his days in those undulating scales.

“In that case, sweet one, care to join me for a swim before dinner?”

Duck smiles, “You know it, sugar” and draws the alien in for a kiss as the lights of the beacon make gemstones of the salt spray on the glass.

--------------------------------------------------

Two days down, two to go, and Indrid wishes he could enjoy their little impromptu second honeymoon to it’s fullest (he’d taken Duck on a proper one his first visit back after joining the others on their expedition). His body has other plans; it seems to have caught on to the fact his partner keeps coming and going, and that if he wishes to have offspring with said partner, he needs to be ready (never mind that he and Duck cannot have offspring through any sort of biological means). So when Duck’s scent fills his nose and his laugh floods his ears, his body decides to fill his ovipositor.

Thus, he’s spent the last three days increasingly uncomfortable, the weight noticeable in his abdomen. His initial plan was to excuse himself early in the evening when they got home and masturbate until they were all released. But the beacon, while spacious, has very few rooms closed off, and the water is so clear that there are a high number of futures in which Duck catches him in the act.

Which is why, as the human sleeps a very safe distance from the edge of the pool (“‘Drid, if I fall in the worse that’ll happen is I get a hell of a wake up call” “yes but I cannot bear even the slightest risk of you drowning”), Indrid is squirming in an attempt to get comfortable. He doesn’t even realize he’s chirping in frustration until Duck murmurs his name.

“It, it is nothing sweet one, go back to sleep.”

“Darlin, your spots are goin’ green.” Duck indicates the flickers of sickly chartreuse in the water, “you feelin sick?”

“No. Or, ah, not in the sense you are thinkingoh, ohhh” he sighs, rubbing his face against Duck’s palm as the human gauges whether he’s feverish, “but I am achy and restless.”

“And hot, christ ‘Drid, there are med supplies here right? I mean, I got some in my bag, but they’re for humans-”

“I am not sick. It’s this” He rolls onto his back so Duck can see his cock straining to emerge.

“Sugar, you know you can ask for help with that any time.” Duck’s smile is sweet sin.

“No, it’s” Indrid whines as the tip emerges, the bulge of the first egg painfully obvious.

“Oh. Huh. Kinda figured you weren’t due for that again for a year or so. Not sure why; guess I just assumed Aquariads had a matin season.”

“Unfortunately it can happen quite often. If, if you do not mind, I will excuse myself and deal with it. It’s to the point where the eggs need to come out sooner rather than later.”

“Sure. Or, uh, if you want, I could, uh, help you out?”

--------------------------------------------------------------

The widening of Indrid’s eyes and the shock of orange that travels up his tail and fin suggests Duck has just done something remarkable.

“Surprise you, sugar?” He tucks a strand of silver hair the behind the aliens fanned out ear.

“Yes. There, there were no futures where you offered, why in the name of the deep did you?” His colors have turned nervous, but Duck spots occasional bursts of desire.

“Because” He sits up, patting his lap so his husband will rest his head in it and let Duck rub the knots in his neck, “you’re my ‘Drid; I wanna help you out, make you feel good too. And uh, I gotta admit, I been a little curious about it. Plus that holo-porn compendium you sent me while I was gone time before involved it a lot and it seems like it could be fun.”

“So you did watch it” Indrid looks up, grinning.

“Course I did. Gotta learn how to please my Aquariad husband.” He teases, kissing Indrid’s forehead.

“You need no help in that area whatsoever. I could not ask for a finer husband, human or otherwise.” Indrid kisses Duck’s belly through his thin shirt, then pauses, “you are not offering this out of a feeling of obligation, right?”

“Right. I want to do this with you, ‘Drid. Cross my heart.”

Red eyes skate up to his face, “In that case, disrobe and get in the water at once.”

Duck sinks into the clear depths the instant he’s naked, Indrid swimming back only long enough for him to get in before crowding him against the edge of the pool.

“My love.” Indrid purrs, kisses so languid and gentle they almost disguise the heat in his fingertips as gropes Duck’s ass, the force with which his tail forces his legs apart.

“You know itAHhh, fuck, fuckin love that” he groans as the tendriled tip of his cock teases Duck’s own, “so, uh, this gonna be that different from the way we normally do this?”

“For starters, I will not cum until all the eggs are deposited.” Indrid’s fin flickers pink, “and it will be more intense on your end, not only because of the stretch but because I have to be rather, ah, vigorous in order to make sure they all come out.”

“As opposed to all those times you don’t fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.” Duck snickers, wrapping his legs around the dark scales to help ease Indrid’s cock into him.

“It’s not my fault you are the most delectable, ah, ‘piece of ass’ I have ever seen. Did I use that correctly?”

“Yep” Duck tips his head back, allowing Indrid to kiss it as he pauses his thrust so his tendrils can stroke his G-spot before continuing deeper, “you been watchin earth porn for ideas?”

“Indeed. I also found some featuring an actor who looks rather like you, and watched it an embarrassing amount during your absences.” He chirps as he bottoms out and Duck toys with the sensitive band in his fin as Indrid positions them so the bottom half of his tail is flat against the wall, which lets him keep Duck pinned to it.

“You are going to squirm, and I do not want you doing so and coming off my cock.”

“Seem mighty confident you’re gonna get that reaction.” Duck nips his ear.

Indrid’s sharp-toothed grin takes on a hungry glint, “The futures tell me so. But since you seem to doubt them…”

“AhFUCK!” Duck’s back bangs into the wall as Indrid pulls halfway out and then drives back into him, “fuckyeah, sugar that feels so fuckin goodOHwhatthefuck” the bumps in Indrid’s cock are moving, the ones towards the base of the shaft grinding on Duck’s dick as they do.

“Nmmmm, I told you I was pent up, oh, oh yes, yes sweet one, get ready to take the firstAHhhnnn.”

“Jesusfuck” Duck bucks his hips as the first egg pushes into him. It’s not hard like a birds egg, more soft and squishy, but all the same his body convulses as it registers something inside him. His brain, however, sends a moan from his mouth because as alien as the sensation may be, the fact it’s Indrid doing it makes him wetter and harder than he’s been in weeks.

Better still is the look on Indrid’s face, his head tipped back in bliss as he fucks him. It’s only when he looks down that Duck sees the tears threatening his eyes.

“You, I, I’ve, you are letting me lay in you, letting me mate with you, no, no one has ever let me do this before.”

The heat spiking through him on the word mate changes to fierce affection at the thought that Indrid was denied such closeness, or any closeness, for so long.

“Oh darlin, c’mere” he guides the alien into a kiss, then moans as another egg presses into him. Indrid swallows the sound down, keeps Duck in the kiss until the pressure has subsided.

“Such a lovely little mate.”

“Do my best.”

Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “That is why this has been so frequent, you know. I am so very enamored with you that the primal parts of my system want nothing more than to fill you with my eggs, keep you here pampered and fucked out until we have a whole little school swimming about the house. I, ahhhn, I could even look after them on my own while you are away. Or, or if we decide that is not for us I want to lay in you every day so no one else will ever dare to think you could be theirs.”

“Not a fuckin chance, fuck, darlin” his thighs tighten around his tail as another egg pulses out of the tip, “it’s so fuckin hot when you talk like that.”

“Really? I was afraid I was babbling. OhOHohdear, ah, this is unexpected.”

“Uh-”

“Not in a bad way, but I am so aroused the eggs are going to start coming out more quickly. Which means, my darling husband, I suggest you hold on.”

“Way ahead of youUUUshit, fuck” his hands switch from gripping Indrid’s shoulders to thrown around them for dear life as Indrid bounces him roughly on his dick. There’s not pause between the fourth and fifth egg and he’s starting to feel full, squirms when the sixth egg almost pushes Indrid’s cock free.

“I, I told you so.” Indrid purrs, hands holding tight to Duck’s ass as another egg emerges, “but you are not going anywhere, little human. You are, nnng, staying right here, taking every last one of them, because you are my mate and if I want you full to burst you will be.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid” Duck buries his face in his husbands neck as his cock shifts backwards. The tip opens wider, covering all of Duck’s folds as the tendrils return to his dick, “fuck, fuck, sugar I’m gonna cum.”

“Yesss” Indrid growls, tail rippling as he forces the next egg into place, “that’s it, sweet one, cum for me, cum while I stuff you full, my perfect, perfect, wonderful one.”

Duck can’t even get words out as his orgasm races through him, muscles spasming in new ways around the eggs. He whines as Indrid continues bouncing him, eggs shifting and keeping his muscles from relaxing, tendrils keeping a rapid tempo on his dick.

“Oh, ohohohoh I am close, ohyes, Duck, my sweet Duck, you take me so well, take a little more, be a good mate and take the last one, take my cum, you are going to hold all of it until I am satisfied that you are mine AH, ahhhhyes” he trills and Duck grunts as he’s stretched wider by the last egg and flood of cum. Indrid clings to him, chirping and trilling as his tail twitches, until his cock retracts. Then it’s just the storm and the sound of their joint panting as Indrid swims them weakly backwards to a shallow section of the pool.

“Here” the alien guides Duck to recline half out of the water, “if you spread your legs and relax, most of them will fall out on their own.”

“Gotcha.” Duck can neither keep his eyes open nor stay upright, so Indrid adjusts so the human is resting atop him, back against his chest. One by one, the eggs slip out dissolving in the water after a few moments. The last two prove stubborn and Indrid massages his abdomen, cooing about how wonderfully he did, until they too slip away.

“Thank you.” Indrid murmurs, nestling his chin on his shoulder.

“Any time, darlin. Or, uh, maybe not too many times back to back. Not sure my junk can take it. Still, better we did that than tryin it up my ass. Woulda lead to some awkward med records and my crew never lettin me live it down.”

“Do not be so sure. I suspect Joseph would have been envious.”

Duck snorts a laugh, looking over his shoulder in surprise.

“I read his sexual preferences on those forms they made you each submit.” Then he smiles like a sunrise welcoming Duck home, “but I think I made the right choice, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sugar, I do.”

#indruck #indrid cold/Duck Newton #mermay #mermay fills #terato #exophilia

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

Text

Worthy (pt5)

A/N: I thought I would try to get on top of things and cue a chapter. @rampant-salamander @bolontiku

Markus, as it turned out, was the goofiest guy I was likely to ever meet. His passion for clean energy was matched only by his passion for collecting vintage pop cans. He was the only person on the team who had an office, and it was cluttered with partially finished projects, and mountains of proposals. And his bookshelf had not a single book on it, but instead was lined with pop cans, right back to the dawn of canned carbonated beverages. It was impressive. He pulled his chair around to sit beside me instead of across the table. And in a move that proved the clutter to be a highly efficient filing system, he pulled my proposals from the middle of one of the stacks of papers.

“Your three proposals have all been greenlit by Pepper and Tony, but I won the coin toss, so I get you first. I suspect that your green washer was your back-up proposal, but I love it. I think it’s important to make clean energy available to every household. Your washing machine is economical to build, and that will make it accessible to all income levels. But it also takes into consideration some pretty fantastic advancements in water reclamation. I was impressed by the various disciplines you worked with to put the proposal together, some clearly not your areas.” His speech was relaxed. He flipped through my proposal, certain areas highlighted.

“I’ve lived in university residences for the last nine years. I assure you, access to space and energy efficient washing machines at an affordable price was something I got quite passionate about as more and more of my clothing was destroyed by or stolen from the communal machines,” I laughed.

“I was particularly impressed with the water reclamation technology you managed to build into the machine. That’s usually a very cumbersome apparatus.” He flipped to the schematics I’d included in the proposal.

“I took inspiration from Mr. Stark’s arc reactor miniaturization, and consulted with one of the senior engineering professors to ensure my calculations wouldn’t decrease the output capacity,” I explained.

“You were the only applicant who not only admitted to consulting, but credited the colleagues you consulted with. My department is a well-oiled machine, and every person has a role to play. Your dedication to teamwork is why I pushed for you to work on this project first. Well, and that it’s really cool.” His compliments were making me feel overwhelmed again. I shook my head and looked away. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about the fall-out when you all discover I’m not as amazing as you think I am.” My laugh was stilted. He clapped me on the back.

“By the time that happens, we’ll have the washer on the market and you’ll have secured your place at Stark,” he laughed. His comment made me smile, but it was seriously terrifying to have so many really amazing people telling me that I was awesome. I was untested, fresh from school and so inexperienced. The only reason I hadn’t hidden in academia longer and gone on to my PhD was because I wasn’t exactly sure what I would do with a PhD in engineering that I couldn’t do with a Master’s.

“What are the other interns like? I didn’t get a chance to meet them last night,” I asked. Markus’s forehead wrinkled in thought.

“Well, one of them no-showed. So we’re down to just two of you. And the other seems okay. Arrogant. Maybe a little too arrogant. I looked over his proposal and passed on it. It seemed way too easy to weaponize,” he explained.

“Which one is he?” I had a hard time believing someone would give up the opportunity of this internship, but I understood the feelings of inadequacy that came with the pressure of accepting on a visceral level. I probably feel somewhere between the guy who showed and the guy who didn’t on the confidence scale. So I was desperately curious about the one who showed up. Know the competition, and all.

“The kid who proposed the mag-lev technology for automobiles. His proposal discusses crumbling infrastructure, and suggests that a mag-lev device in the shocks of vehicles would help protect the structural integrity of vehicles. He completely neglected to mention that it would also be helpful to the military in hostile situations where IEDs and mines can compromise troop safety. I wouldn’t have been suspicious about the proposal at all if he’d included that application and some research on it, but it was really conspicuous in its absence. I think the first thing Tony has asked him to do is flesh out the proposal with the appropriate defense department research. Like we’ve all said, you’re a stand out.” It was in that moment that I finally clued into why I was feeling so out of sorts. I wasn’t used to being recognized and lauded for my work. I was used to producing and working hard. I was used to long hours of research, long hours of application, long hours of revision. But I wasn’t used to even five minutes of praise like I’d been receiving since I showed up at Stark Industries. And as a result, I felt uncomfortable.

“Can I get you to do me a favour?” I asked, suddenly changing the subject.

“Is it legal?” Markus countered.

“Can you dial back the compliments? I appreciate that you are impressed with me and excited about my work. But I’m not used to anyone being thrilled with me like everyone here seems to be. I feel like an imposter. It’s a lot of pressure.” It felt good to say the words aloud. Markus leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms, and just looked at me. Assessed me. Then he nodded.

“Sure, kid. No more endorsements, praise or approval until you prove yourself,” he agreed. “I give that about a week.” I think he thought he’d mumbled the last part quietly enough that I didn’t hear him. I let out a huff of resignation and shook my head.

“I appreciate it, Markus.” I pushed myself out of my chair. As frustrating as I found the golden child treatment to be, I could step back and appreciate it more knowing Markus was going to let me find my feet. I shook his hand again and headed back out, astonished to see how much time had passed while I was meeting him. Angela was back at my desk, and was holding a paper bag.

“I intercepted the distribution delivery to your room. Check out the towels you ordered.” She handed me the bag. I pulled a towel out and snapped it open. It was even smaller than the towels I already had.

“This said it was a bath sheet in the order book,” I protested. Angela laughed.

“Well, now you have hand towels for eternity. Let’s go get you some decent sized towels. Can’t have Thor seeing you in the altogether again, can we?” She linked arms with me, and started to lead me away from my desk. I barely had a chance to grab my purse and the bag of towels before she dragged me off. “I just need to drop this file off for Pepper, so we’re on our way up before we go down.”

We were intercepted in the elevator by a woman who was obviously fed up with the guy who was with her. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her mouth was set in a thin line. Every time she breathed it was like she was counting in her head. Slowly in, slowly out. I guessed it was my fellow intern, and I wasn’t wrong.

“Ladies.” He winked at Angela and smirked at me. I bit my lip and tried to hold back a snort of amusement. What a dork. Angela smiled at the woman with him.

“Marie! How is day two going? Are you settling Matt in?”

“You could say that. We’re just headed up for a little chat with Ms. Potts about policy and procedure,” she nodded. I looked at Angela in alarm. We hadn’t done that. Angela met my panicked look with a serene one, and just barely shook her head.

“Ella, this is Marie. She works in the same capacity as I do, and has been assigned to orient the other intern to Stark Industries. Matthew Emerson is from MIT. Ella came from CalTech,” Angela offered. Matthew offered his hand and gave me a once over that was overtly unprofessional. I rolled my eyes.

“A pleasure, Ella. I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of one another over the summer.” The way he said it made me want to bathe in bleach. I forced a smile and withdrew my hand from his sweaty grip. I turned back to the front of the elevator without saying anything in return.

The elevator stopped on the 77th floor and the doors opened. Thor stepped on, munching on what appeared to be a pop-tart, and nodded at us. He pushed the button for the top floor. Apparently we were all headed up to see Tony and Pepper. He was holding the hammer loosely in his grip, and the way the light caught on the surface, I could see the writing on it again. My mind flashed back to the moment I’d lifted it, and the shock that had coursed through my body.

“So, Ella. You don’t look like a CalTech girl,” Matt started. I gave him a questioning look. “I would expect you to be beach ready, with a perfect California tan. Tan lines optional.” He winked. I turned and faced him.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, come on. We all know you only got the internship because you’re the closest thing to attractive out of the women applicants. Pepper needed a sort of pretty chick for the face of her Women in STEM campaign. I just figured you’d be more summer girl than science girl.” His laugh was a derisive snort. Before I could respond, he slapped my ass. I saw red. The rage bubbled up so quickly, I wasn’t even sure where it came from. But I’d been dealing with asshats like him since I’d started university and I was not going to let his type win this round. I set my jaw and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back and pushing him into the wall. He made another disgusting comment. I’m not entirely sure what happened next, but when I came back to myself, I was standing over him, panting, and holding Mjolnir in my left hand.

“Ella!” Angela reached for me. Thor put a hand up and prevented her from getting close. The elevator doors opened and Pepper and Tony were greeted with what was probably the strangest tableau they’d ever seen. The god of thunder looking on hopelessly as a raging intern held his hammer over the other intern. I could feel the lightning from the handle coursing through me again, but this time it wasn’t as painful or startling. It snapped me back to the present. I looked down at my hand in surprise and back up to Thor, meeting his gaze. I held out my hand without breaking eye contact. He took the hammer from me, and held out his other hand to stop the elevator door from closing on us.

“I don’t recall seeing anger management issues in your background,” Tony had come over to investigate.

“It was a warranted response, Tony. The boy spoke vulgarly.” Thor was in my corner, even if he was irritated that I kept stealing his hammer. Tony looked at Angela, who nodded.

“We were just on our way up to drop off this file,” Angela held the folder out to Pepper, who accepted it. She stepped back onto the elevator, and pulled me to the back with her. I think she was hoping we’d get away with leaving.

“And you?” Tony looked at Marie. Marie stepped off the elevator and gestured for Matt to follow her. He scuttled past me and pulled himself to his feet.

“Matt needs a policy and procedure orientation,” she replied. “From Pepper.” Tony raised an eyebrow, and in that moment, I realized that was code for something else completely. He stepped aside and let Marie and Matt pass him. Angela leaned over to punch the button to return us to the ground floor.

“Not so fast,” Tony intercepted the attempted escape. “Ella is going to have to explain exactly how it was she came to be holding the hammer. Again. You don’t need to stick around though, Angela.” I sighed and stepped off the elevator, anticipating the worst. Tony led me over to the far side of the room, to the bar. Thor had followed, wordlessly. He dropped a couple of ice cubes into a pair of glasses and poured two drinks. He handed one to Thor and the other to me.

“Vodka, rocks, right?” He confirmed. I nodded. He nodded at a chair and I sat, smoothing my skirt over my knees. “Elizabeth Carmichael. Who exactly are you?”

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animatedminds · 4 years

Text

Splash Mountain, Br’er Rabbit, and the Tragedy of Being Represented By Other People.

So, this is probably going to be the realest post I’ll make for a while - or at least until The Boondocks arrives, but it seemed apropos. Immediately after this I’ve got rants about sci fi and Star Wars and other unrelated things coming up, but for now we have my earnest opinions on a decision I feel should have been better thought out than it was. This is going to read more like an article or an essay than a review, but I think it needs to be said.

It hasn’t come up too often on this blog, but I am African American. It’s my life and my perspective. And as an African American, a lover of animation and - though this definitely doesn’t come up on the blog - a passionate folklorist in what you could call an academic sense (in that I’m a writer and a student, and folklore is the subject of most of my research), people I know in real life have asked me more than once what my opinion on the removal of Splash Mountain in favor of Princess and the Frog, how I must be glad it’s finally being removed, what my take on the history there was, and…

Well…

To really give that opinion, I’ve got to start at the beginning. Not Song of the South - that, if anything, is the very middle. We have to start with Br’er Rabbit and who that character was. Sit back students, info dump incoming.

Br’er Rabbit is an folklore character of African American origin with - like many folkloric figures - a difficult to place date of origin, but he was known to have existed at least since the early 19th Century, He has obvious similarities to the far older figure of Anansi - with several Br’er Rabbit tales even taking elements of Anansi stories verbatim - though with a the notable difference that unlike Anansi, Br’er Rabbit was more often a heroic figure: an underdog and seemingly downtrodden figure who used his wits and his enemies’ hubris rather than physical force to win the day. The meaning of that kind of figure to an enslaved people is obvious, especially when you compare Br’er Rabbit to another, contemporary trickster figure in African American history by the name of John. Br’er Rabbit’s stories could even arguably be seen as a more child-friendly version of the John tales, in which a human trickster pulls the same kind of momentum turning ploys on villains - but those villains tended to be explicitly slave masters or overseers, and John’s payback often came with explicitly deadly results. The existence of John as escapism for the enslaved or just-post-enslaved (IE Reconstruction) populations is clear: a person who with no power who could fight back with nothing but their mind, preying on the fact that their enemies see them as incapable and helpless, and the connection of Br’er Rabbit to that message is difficult to deny. If anything, Br’er Rabbit comes off as a somewhat more child-friendly version of the concept.

But the most important thing to glean from this is who and what Br’er Rabbit is: a product of the African American community and its history, as a means of those people to express themselves and their values in the face of oppression.

Now we fast forward to 1881, and along comes Joel Chandler Harris: a white Georgian. Harris was a folklorist himself, and travelled the country collecting stories - most famously Br’er Rabbit stories. His stated reason was to bridge African American and white communities by sharing stories, but he was tainted by the perspectives of his world and his place in it, infamously creating a framing narrative for those stories in which the character telling them exuded the imagery of subservience and simplicity that was typical of perceptions of African Americans from the post-Civil War Southern environment in which he collected them: Uncle Remus, in other words. Harris is hardly the only white curator who adapted stories of black or brown peoples in a way that played up the people the stories came from as something of a theme park piece, as if noble in unintelligence and simplicity, but he’s one of the most famous ones to do so - and that’s because of the adaptation. To note, when people criticize cultural appropriation, this is the kind of thing that really triggers the outrage. Not any situation in which a white person is inspired by someone who isn’t white and creates something accordingly, but situations where someone else’s creation is taken and used for the fame and profit of others, to the detriment of the people who made it. It’s these situations like the one Joel Chandler Harris created centuries ago, specifically, that people are trying to draw attention to - even if sometimes social media gets a bit trigger happy sometimes, that’s the real, underlying problem. With that in mind, let’s put that aside and move forward.

Fast forward again to 1946. Walt Disney Productions, then less the company of grander, wider scale stories of epic quests and emotional upheaval that make us all cry and more a company more known for folktale adaptations in general, were looking for a but of American folklore to headline a live action, animation mix - a medium that allowed a bit more financial benefit, as straightforward animation was not always particularly profitable those dates. This wouldn’t be the last time they produced an adaptation of an American folktale or short story - their version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow a few years later being actually one of the more faithful adaptations of that short story put to film. Disney, who evidently read Chandler Harris’ stories, put together a project to see if they could adapted. Which they did. Pretty much verbatim. This is actually worth pointing out: the actual Br’er Rabbit stories in the films are very accurately adapted, and the actors involved in the story (including James Baskett, how also played Uncle Remus) did a fine job characterizing them. The issue is that Disney also adapted Chandler Harris’ stereotypical and offensive framing device pretty much verbatim, bringing Uncle Remus. And therein lies the problem.

To put the issue with Song of the South in perspective, the movie - with the framing device - can be categorized as something called Reconstruction Revisionism - which is basically a genre of post-Civil War media meant to present the pre-war South was perfect and idyllic, and that people are racially more natural in that environment’s dynamic and never should have left. One of the most infamous movies in history, Birth of a Nation, is the crowning example of this genre. Obviously, Song of the South is nowhere near as awful and inflammatory a movie as that, but there’s a degree to which it was seen as the straw the broke the camel’s back for black depictions in media, only a couple of years after Disney’s Dumbo also did the same. The end result, an African American creation was used in a film that ultimately demeaned the African American community, a decision that Disney has been ashamed of ever since.

Fast forward to now. Disney is removing Splash Mountain, the sole remnant of Song of the South that focuses exclusively on Br’er Rabbit - a choice we’ve had reason to suspect was coming for about a year now, but which was unveiled conspicuously in the middle of protests and campaigning for better treatment of people of African descent worldwide. The reveal was a rousing success, with people applauding the decision to finally wipe away the rest of that movie - though remember that for later, that the response relies on the perception of Br’er Rabbit as something that starts with Song of the South - and replace it with something else. Surely, as a black person I should be happy that they’re finally getting rid of that racist character for good and replacing him with something more positive? And again, well…

To put short, Br’er Rabbit has finished his journey from African cultural symbol to discarded pariah, all because others used the character in racist ways that they themselves now regret. And for that… let’s be clear, I’m not angry so much as saddened. I’m not railing against the company for making the choice, since I can see how from their point of view it was the wisest and most progressive thing to do. Song of the South is a badly old fashioned movie that they’re right to want to move on from, and it’s their right to downplay characters within their purview if those characters reflect badly on the company. I’m just outlining the tragic waste of it all.

For now, compare Princess and the Frog - the thing they’re replacing it with. I do love the movie, or at least any problems I have with it have little to do with representation, and I definitely don’t have anything against Musker and Clements and their beautiful visions and creations, but it’s difficult to deny that its an adaptation of a European story, adapted by a collection of mostly white creators (with Rob Edwards comprising but one third of the screenwriting team, but not of story conception), that’s ultimately just dolled up with African Americans characters and a very Hollywood-esque depiction of a African diaspora religion (Voodoo, which unfortunately has a long history of such portrayals). If we’re talking about representation specifically - which this move had definitely been presented as a champion for - it’s not the perfect example, more of a story with a surface covering of the black experience than one with an especially strong connection. That wouldn’t necessarily be a problem (Tiana and her story do well depict strong black characterizations, and approach an interesting (if light_ implication about racism and hardship during the 1920s) if Disney had yet created any other franchise that was another actual adaptation of an African or African American tale or story (with involvement from such actual people), but Song of the South is actually it. They legitimately have nothing else to call on.

This is something I feel we should do more to remedy. I am a writer/prospective screenwriter myself, and trying to put more stories out there is one of my primary focuses and goals should I ever truly enter the industry, but at the moment we just don’t have very many options.

This is hardly the only time that people of color have had little control over depictions of their own culture - literary and film history is full of such situations in both minor and terribly major ways - but it’s something that stings especially hard due to being such a current example, and because of sheer irony of the end result. Now we have a situation where African Americans are being told that something their people created to represent themselves is negative and wrong, because years ago other people appropriated that creation and used it to paint a negative picture of the people who actually held claim over it, and now the enterprise that those people created wants to save face: another example of culture being treated like a possession of the ones who are poised to make money of off it. And what’s worse, while the culture is used and abused like trash, the people are now presented with this removal like it was a prize - like they’re finally being given something - when little has really changed.

Ultimately, the Splash Mountain news - though it had been coming for a while - made me rather upset for that reason. As a studier of folklore, I suppose I knew better than most where these things came from, and so the buzz around the move being a belief that Br’er Rabbit was an intrinsically racist character just highlighted the tragedy of how African Americans and their culture tended to be tossed about by American media. So no matter what, I can’t feel particularly happy about it.

Let me iterate, in the film industry, being represented by people who aren’t of your culture group is basically inevitable. That’s essentially how the industry works. I’m not saying we should rail against anyone who would try to represent cultures that aren’t their own. The people who produce and create are few, and eventually the truth is that you have to be represented by other people - at least for the moment. We shouldn’t be railing against representation by others in general, as that wouldn’t be cognizant of the situation and thus self destructive. What I’m saying is that we - both we trying to be represented, and those doing the representing - should be aware of the problem there: that when others choose to represent you in media, you essentially have to trust them to have a real interest in you and your best interests when doing so, and when they don’t that depiction is there forever. So it behooves us to try to be the ones who are representing ourselves as much as possible, and in situations where we can’t, to remind those who want to represent us that they have a responsibility to do so effectively.

This is Animated Minds for Animated Times, and really this blog is ultimately about emphasizing what makes animated media work, what makes it fun, and what makes it worthwhile no matter how old you are. And so in several years of sporadic and infrequent reviews, reactions and fandom posts it’s been rare for me to get this real about a topic, but this is something that is a serious issue feel was overlooked. Representation is complicated. And more often than not solutions that are handed to us are more band-aids that look like cures than necessarily being actually helpful, and that’s what happens when ultimately the decisions about how you’re represented lie in the hands of other people. Representation is one of the biggest things we need to work on in coming years, especially with stories and adaptations - which refer to history and culture that are often not widely known or accepted. Ask someone if they think there should be an African princess, and they’ll tell you they didn’t even have kings and queens in Africa - something that’s bluntly wrong, but is widely believed simply because those elements of culture are never represented.

And that’s the sum of my thoughts on the subject. I hadn’t updated the blog in months because this whole thing was stewing in me, and I couldn’t really go back to cheerful posts about new things until I got it out. I’ve got great thoughts about the Owl House, Amphibia, the new seasons of BH6 and Ducktales that are totally coming up soon. But for now, just a few sobering thoughts from someone who grew up loving cartoons, and desperately wishes people like me had more to look at in that field beyond apologies and promises.

#splash mountain #disney #song of the south #the princess and the frog #brer rabbit #social commentary #black lives matter #representation #walt disney world #joel chandler harris #uncle remus #cultural appropriation #real talk

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oss-crime · 3 years

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Chapter 2-Project “Ma” –Eve–; Scene 3

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 23-37

Apparently the carriage’s speed was enough to outrace their pursuers.

After they arrived at Nemu village, they headed for Eve’s house, which was also the residence of the village chief.

This village had no clinics. As he had some medical knowledge, the village chief also acted as the village doctor.

“Welcome home…And who are these people, Eve?”

Chief Zvezda’s eyes went wide when he saw Eve carrying in two men, one of them injured.

“They were attacked on the plains by the white army. This one’s wounded.”

“It looks that way…Well then, you sit over here. I’ll examine you.”

Seth obeyed the chief’s words, taking a seat in a chair set deeper in the room.

After watching him silently, Eve spoke up to Adam “Are you alright? You didn’t get injured or anything?”

“No, luckily for me. More than that—”

Before Adam could continue his sentence, the village chief cut in as he wrapped a bandage around Seth’s head, “Judging by your outfits…you two are researchers from the royal capital.”

“Ho, you’re quite well-informed.”

“Director Horus of the Royal Research Institute is an old acquaintance of mine. Is he still working hard on research artifacts as usual?”

Adam hesitated for a moment, before telling the chief, “No…He’s passed on. Two years ago. Right now I’m working as director in his place.”

“How…I see, I hadn’t known. I’ve stopped going to the Twelve Royal Capitals lately. And so that would make you—”

“Horus’ adopted son, Adam.”

“I’ve heard your name from him, but I suppose that would make this our first time meeting like this.”

“Yes, and—"

This time Seth butt in. “Erm…I’d appreciate it if you could patch up my wound first.”

“Oops, sorry.”

The chief flusteredly resumed wrapping bandages.

“…Hm?”

He made a puzzled expression, peering at Seth’s face.

“Your left eye looks funny. Is that injured as well?”

“Ah…No, it’s always been like that. I haven’t been able to see out of this eye from birth.”

“A defective left eye…Horus was like that too, as I recall.”

“Ha ha, that’s right. Just a coincidence.”

After Seth’s treatment was finished, the researchers bowed their heads to Eve and the village chief and said their thanks.

The chief offered for them to rest at the village for a while.

“The white army wouldn’t go as far as attacking us here,” the chief revealed.

Adam replied, giving him a courteous smile, “Is that because this place is a village of sorcerers?”

“…My my, so the son of Horus is able to glean that much.” The village chief sat down in a nearby chair, a hand on his aching hip. “Let me ask you a question instead, Adam. For what purpose did you all come to this remote place? I’d think that scientists would have little interest in an excavation site, of all things.”

“That’s not so. After all is said and done we’re researchers of the old legacy. It wouldn’t be all that strange for us to want to see where it’s excavated.”

“But up until this point we have never once had a scientist go visit there. Your aim is not the excavation site.”

The village chief’s tone had hardened, but Adam wasn’t intimidated. “Chief Zvezda—No, esteemed sorcerer Raiou Zvezda. It seems you have something in mind already. As it happens, we also have several things we’d like to talk to you about.”

“So I’m the one you’ve been after.”

“Actually, to be more accurate—” Adam turned to Eve. “—We came here to meet her.”

The peaceful atmosphere that had been in the room just moments ago changed in an instant.

Eve could feel a sense of unease.

This wasn’t a light matter; especially considering they had come here with a retinue of soldiers.

Appearing to guess at Eve’s anxiety, the chief said to her, “Eve, please go outside for a minute.”

But Eve shook her head.

“If there’s a reason why these scientists are interested in a humble village girl like me, then I want to know what it is,” she said, somewhat challengingly.

It wasn’t like she’d never done anything of note. Depending on the situation…there was a chance that she would have to drive off the scientists that she’d rescued herself.

“Oh dear, let’s all calm down now, everyone.” Seth stood in the center of the group, remonstrating all present. “Sorry for being rude. …I’m sure you are as well, aren’t you Adam?”

“…”

“None of us wants to see this turn out like what happened with the ‘Witch of Merrigod’.”

Upon hearing that name, the village chief’s gaze turned even sharper. “So…you two are on a ‘witch hunt’ after all!”

“You’re quite knowledgeable. I suppose you…suspected us of that from the start. You not knowing about Dr. Horus’ death—was also a lie, I imagine.”

“I said this earlier, but I haven’t gone to the Twelve Royal Capitals in some time. I rarely even go outside the village. …But sorcerers have a network that allows them to share information.”

“The spell that uses green onions? Talking to people at long distances…Well, leaving that aside you have several misunderstandings here, so I shall explain.”

Adam looked at Seth with dissatisfaction. “No, I’m the one who—”

“Just leave this to your underling. Mister Director.” After cutting Adam off, Seth once more bowed to Eve and the village chief. “I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Seth Twiright. I work for the Royal Research Institute, and I am the late Dr. Horus’ top apprentice.”

“…Self-labeled top apprentice,” Eve heard Adam quietly mutter.

Levianta was called a “Kingdom”, but at present the position of ruler was not something gained by heredity.

In this country that was born to protect the temple and flourishing through the legacy bequeathed by the gods, the “gods” were absolute, and all people were little more than their servants.

The one who ruled the country had to be someone who could hear “the voice of the gods”. And the one they deemed most suitable for that was a virgin who commanded extraordinary magical power.

For that reason Levianta was ruled through the ages by a “queen”, but there were various institutions that existed for selecting that queen.

The special orphanage owned by the Loop Octopus family, the Lighwatch temple managed by the Asayev family, the Royal Research Institute run by the Vaju family, etc…

This also served as a source of political conflict in the senate. Because whichever establishment the queen was born into decided who was the next head of the senate. The current queen Alice Merry-Go-Round had once been a child raised in the special orphanage.

“Naturally, the other families don’t just passively sit and watch. There are a lot of senate members who get worked up over making the next queen show up from their own facility. As for the Vaju family, they’ve been seeking out results from a certain experiment…”

The village chief covered his face with his hand as he listened to Seth’s explanation. “Scheming to artificially birth a child with strong magical potential…How frightening.”

“Be that as it may, if we hadn’t then the institute wouldn’t get its funding for the legacy research. Dr. Horus couldn’t afford not to comply.”

“There have always been shady rumors about the Royal Research Institute. That to birth the ‘next queen’ they abduct potential mothers from all over. …Though Horus never told me anything himself.”

“That’s another misconception. It’s not like the research institute is forcibly making off with these women. It’s all out of their consent—if it means performing a service to the gods then everyone is quite happy to participate in our research.”

The village chief snorted, clearly not believing him. “It hasn’t been like that recently, at the very least. You’ve all been carrying out ‘witch hunts’, even using troops for it.”

“To be accurate, they’re a peace-keeping force. And, well, we’ve found ourselves in certain circumstances that require we hurry.”

“Why is that? As I recall the current queen is still in her forties. Her dynasty should last for another twenty years more at least.”

“…The institute is no longer searching for someone to be the ‘mother of the queen’.”

“--? What do you mean?”

“We are trying to find a woman who can become queen. And the new queen will also become the mother of the gods…The ‘Ma’.”

“You can’t mean…!? The ‘Ma’ is little more than a fairy-tale!”

Seeing the chief’s astonishment, Eve asked, “Father, what’s the ‘Ma’?”

“…It is said that when catastrophe is on the cusp of visiting this world, the dragon god LeviaBehemo with two heads and two wills will have a second coming in this world as human children. And the woman who births these ‘Twins of God’ is ‘Ma’…the divine mother, Mem Aleph…It’s an old myth passed down from long ago.”

“Erm…” Eve then said to Seth, guessing on her own what the conclusion to the story she just heard was then. “…So if the gods must be reborn in this world…Then does that mean that there really is a catastrophe coming?”

Seth briefly clapped for her. “That’s correct, Miss Eve.”

“But what’s your basis for that?”

“It was none other than the dragon god LeviaBehemo who prophesized thus. Through the queen. We’ve never had an oracle be wrong before. The senate needed to come up with a countermeasure post-haste.”

And the countermeasure drafted by the senate head Miroku Loop Octopus was project “Ma”.

They changed the role of the next queen selection measures to search for a woman who could become the mother of the gods.

Once she had safely birthed the children that would become receptacles for the gods, she would obtain the position of queen in place of Alice, as reward for her service. …That sort of thing.

“But if you do that then the current queen will have to step down. Can the senate really decide that on their own?”

“The current queen agrees with this project as well, you see. …I mean, I think that the members of the senate wouldn’t be able to move with this much forward momentum if she didn’t.”

The one who managed to produce the mother of the gods from their institution would achieve glory as the savior who protected the world from catastrophe.

And also the position of next head of the senate.

“…Anyhow, the Royal Research Institute must also search for ‘Ma’ candidates under orders of the Vaju family.

Upon hearing that the village chief gave a sideways glance to Eve with a sullen expression. “And so…you’ve selected my own daughter as an ‘Ma’ candidate.”

“The Royal Research Institute is seen as the most plausible source for completing this project. So the head of the senate has given the institute several authorizations. Such as to freely make use of security forces and their information.”

“But if the Royal Research Institute were to successfully carry out Project ‘Ma’, Miroku will lose his position as senate head. Is he alright with that?”

“Well, I don’t know that far…But I imagine it would be pretty difficult to find the ‘Ma’ in Senator Miroku’s special orphanage. And so…maybe his plan is to be able to continue to wield some influence in the senate even after stepping down by collaborating with the facility most likely to succeed.”

“What an awful power struggle.”

“I agree. Well, anyway, it’s thanks to our information that we were able to learn of some rumors around here…”

That was, the rumors of the “Witch of the Forest” that supposedly would appear in the sprawling “Forest of Held” to the south of the village.

There was a girl who would use magic to drive off the tribesmen that would appear every now and then…She had green hair, and would cast lightning with a blue spoon…Supposedly.

“According to what we’ve heard, she’s the bearer of significant magical power. Only, this region is currently being terrorized by that savage clan. That’s why we brought along minimal guards with us…Though conversely, that seems to have just spurred them on.”

Listening to all that, Eve was reminded of the soldiers that they’d left out on the plain. “I wonder if…those guys are alright.”

Adam had been quiet this whole time, but he replied, “The peacekeeping unit…especially Gammon, are all strong men. They can’t use magic, but they are proficient with swords and guns. They won’t be defeated by the likes of those tribesmen.”

“But—”

“In the worst-case scenario, they’ll seek out reinforcements from the royal capital…Right now it’s us I’m worried about.”

Eve felt her cheeks flush from being looked at by this man so close to her in age.

There weren’t any intrepid, intellectual guys like him in the village.

“Hmph…It sounds like you two are mistaken about something.” The village chief cut in between Eve and Adam. “This ‘Witch of the Forest’…I’ve certainly heard of that story, but that isn’t Eve.”

“B-but, she has the same green hair, and her magical ability—”

As Adam tried to argue, the village chief quietly shook his head. “Green hair is a trait shared by the people of the forest…And as for magical ability, everyone in the village has it in varying measures.”

“…Let me ask then, Chief. Are there any other green-haired girls in this village—”

“No. We’re immigrants who originally wandered here from elsewhere. But Eve is different. She was abandoned and set adrift in a nearby river when she was a baby. My late-wife scooped her out. We raised her as our own daughter.”

“So then—”

“Did the intel you gathered claim that the Witch of the Forest was someone in this village?”

“No, it…didn’t say that…”

“If you’re looking for a girl with green hair, I’d suggest going to the Forest of Held. You’re sure to run into the people of the forest immediately.”

“…Seth.”

Adam gave Seth a prompting glance.

“O.K. Now it’s time for this.”

What he brought out was a small iron rod that forked into two prongs.

“This is an artifact. It can measure someone’s latent magical potential by holding it out in front of them like this…Augh!” Appearing to have realized something, Seth looked up to the ceiling and held his head. “We don’t have the output device! I left it in the carriage.”

“What!?”

“No…It’s understandable. With the way things were there wasn’t any time to take out something so heavy…”

“…Nothing for it. We’ll have to go back there and get it.”

Adam asked if they could borrow Eve’s automated carriage.

Given that it would be dangerous to bring a woman over to where there might still be some tribesmen, he apparently intended to go get the equipment with Seth.

“But you need magical ability to run the carriage.”

“Don’t worry. I have enough myself.”

Thinking on it, he had been riding in a large automatic carriage. Adam must have been driving that one too.

“Don’t break it. It’s very important to us.”

Adam nodded at Eve’s words, and started to move to leave the house with Seth along.

--But that moment, they heard the shrieking sound of a car wheel from outside.

“Huh!? …Could it be?”

Adam leaned out the window.

And there he beckoned over someone who was outside.

After a beat, a long-haired man walked into the room.

He had a gun and a sword sheathed at his hip. He appeared to be a military man.

“So you’re alright, Gammon.”

This man named Gammon exchanged a handshake with Adam.

“It was no big deal. There were just quite a lot of them, so it took some time.”

“You only have the one carriage? And I can’t see the other soldiers outside of your driver.”

“I sent everyone back to the royal capital. They’ll need to appeal for information, and reinforcements, depending on the circumstances.”

“Reinforcements?...If you were able to repel the tribesmen then there’s no need for that, is there? Don’t do anything too dangerous. This is supposed to be a peaceful—”

“I won’t be turning my sword on any witch. This is incidental. I want to take the opportunity to make a decisive strike on the white army.”

Adam heaved a sigh.

“…I suppose that is the official job of a peacekeeping force. But don’t forget. Your responsibility is—”

“Guarding you, I know. Naturally I will accomplish that properly myself.”

“Alone?”

“Is that not enough?”

“…It’s enough. You’re dependable.”

“You could stand to be a bit cheerier. I did bring you back what you forgot.”

Packed in the luggage compartment of the automated carriage that the captain of the security forces, Gammon, had rode in on was the device that Adam and Seth had left behind on the plains.

Once more putting together the magic measuring device, Seth started to take note of Eve’s magical ability.

“Though this isn’t a standard instrument. Using it in itself is quite simple. Please just stand perfectly still right there.”

Seth turned the iron rod's prongs in Eve’s direction.

After a while the box that was attached by wire to the bundle of metal let out a “be-beep”. Seth set it down and started to examine the numbers displayed on the box’s screen.

When he did, his expression grew crestfallen.

“…Your M count is 72. And your other numbers are average. That means you’re only a little bit stronger in magic than the average person.

Adam stood next to Seth and peered at the data output device.

“You’re sure the device isn’t broken?”

“I could check…Hey, Gammon.” Seth did a reading of Gammon’s magical ability just as he had done with Eve. “…M count of 0. Alright! You are, without a doubt, ‘magically impotent’!”

“…”

While breaking out into something of a cold sweat as Gammon glared at him, Seth then measured the magic potential of Adam, and then the village chief.

“…Amazing. The village chief is 200, and Adam exceeds 300. If you two were women you’d most certainly be candidates for ‘Ma’—At any rate, I think the device is working correctly.”

Upon hearing that outcome, the village chief slowly stood before Adam.

“And now we’ve satisfied you that Eve is not this ‘Witch of the Forest’.”

“…At the very least we’ve established that she can’t be an ‘Ma’ candidate.”

“I see…That’s good then, Eve.”

Eve wondered if it really was.

Maybe she had just let a chance for her to become queen slip out from under her very nose.

Queen…huh.

It was an unbelievable honor for a citizen of Levianta to obtain that position.

But I doubt my father would let me become queen.

Eve knew quite well that he was a man who hated politics.

It was only because there was no one else who could fulfill the role of village chief that he had bitterly accepted the role.

I’ve had to work specifically because he rarely takes in any taxes.

She thought her father was a splendid man.

But that didn’t mean she had no complaints.

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ocpdzim · 3 years

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I think overcompensation for symptoms is something that doesn’t get enough attention in personality disorders. I have not been able to find any research on this (none that either supports or contradicts it- nobody has bothered to check, apparently) so this is just a personal hunch based on personal experience, but I’ve certainly managed to flip some symptoms such that the presentation shows up as “opposite” even though the internal mechanism remains the exact same.

Personally, I’ve experienced this most dramatically with “obsession with work to the exclusion of friends and family,” “excessive rule following,” “refusal to accept disorder diagnoses,” and “perfect formal language.” These are nearly all things I used to have the traditional OCPD presentation of, but for personal reasons have strongarmed them into something that looks very different at a glance but isn’t really that different from a psychological perspective.

For large chunks of my life I just straight up never spent time with friends unless forced to because I was too busy working. I still do this to some degree with in-person hangouts (I do not ever really tend to initiate them), but in general nowadays I will drop everything I’m doing for friends and family, regardless of personal cost and even if the proposed activity is something I hate doing, as long as they have initiated the interaction. At a glance that obviously seems like a completely opposite symptom. However, it operates on the same mechanism. I do not do this because I like hanging out with people (I like my friends and sometimes I have fun with activities but this isn’t really a factor in the decision) - it is because I did many, many hours of research and introspection about ethics and philosophy and political systems and came to the conclusion that making others happy by doing helpful things and not giving disappointing responses to invitations was a more important component of being a perfect person than producing a work output valued by capitalism, and as such have switched to doggedly pursuing that as an essential component of my identity to the detriment of all else. I haven’t even stopped with the work obsession, either, I’ve just learned to quiet down about it in public a little bit and switched which things I abandon first. Instead of relationships it’s self care now, followed by non-work important tasks such as paperwork or email responses. If I fail at the interpersonal relationships I go into a tailspin. If I fail at the work I still go into a tailspin, too, but quieter than I used to.

Excessive rule following is another symptom that I have “inverted” but not really, once again because obsessive moral and ethical rigidity is probably my single most prominent symptom. In middle and high school I used to fly into an actual rage, sometimes to the point of violence, if people did extremely minor things wrong such as jaywalking, not paying what I considered an adequate level of attention in class, sitting in a seat other than their assigned one, saying a swear word, etc. Without a doubt, I was an absolute nightmare to be around. However, once again, after a great deal of research and introspection and picking everything about myself and other people and the world apart to the minutest detail, I discovered that actually, many laws and rules are bullshit and/or tools of oppression, and so obviously could not continue strictly demanding that they be followed to everyone by the letter. All the rules I am rigid about now are ones I personally decided on (not necessarily ones I came up with, though - of course plenty are just ones I saw other people come up with that I agreed with) and many of them directly contradict “official” rules. I would characterize my contempt for most official authorities as “all-consuming.” Once again, this kind of looks like I’ve abandoned the rules thing at a glance... but I’ve actually got approximately nine fucking million strict rules I personally follow and a far smaller but still substantial quantity of them that I become very, very upset if other people don’t follow. The strict rules just aren’t immediately obvious to an outside observer because I don’t go about loudly declaring them all of the time and they aren’t the same as other people’s rules. I haven’t written my personal legal code which I made up down anywhere, because it would take days to finish due to its length and would require constant revision due to the fact that I am constantly adding and removing rules based on new info. If anything this symptom has become more debilitating for me, albeit far less deleterious to everybody near me. There are way more rules now, and I have to constantly think about and revise them instead of just being told them and therefore knowing.

Refusal to accept a diagnosis for fear of admitting a flaw is something else I often see listed as a symptom, but out of this list, it’s the only one I haven’t ever had the apparent usual presentation of. This, too, is due to personal philosophy. I honestly find the inclusion of this as a common OCPD symptom absolutely baffling - if you’re functioning poorly, but don’t want to admit any personal imperfections, and you go see a doctor and she says “It’s not your fault, you have a disorder, this isn’t a personal failure,” how on earth do you NOT latch onto that right away to prove that you aren’t a fundamentally flawed person after all??? I’ve actually had the opposite symptom here for my entire life - the second I notice any sort of physical or mental problem, no matter how insignificant, it’s a mad scramble to discover what’s causing it so I have something else to blame, haha. I don’t just claim to have things randomly, because I also have a desperate need to be correct about everything, but I can, have, and will spend countless hours of personal research and subject myself to countless unpleasant tests at various doctors to try to figure out what every single little thing is. That’s why I have so many professional diagnoses! If I notice something may be amiss, the only thing that ever prevents me from pursuing it to the ends of the earth for a diagnosis is if I’m severely concerned that I could face medical abuse about it. Even then, though, I never make a self diagnosis without hours and hours of research that I redo every couple of months just to check and be sure that it didn’t go away somehow. I’ve done exhaustive research on every single disorder I could think of and also all the ones I see other people mention, even when I obviously did not have them and didn’t even need to research to figure that out, just to be 100% sure. I probably know more about diagnostic criteria of various disorders than a lot of doctors do. I’ve definitely had doctors google stuff in front of me before, more than once, after I brought up disorders I thought I might have that I then turned out to indeed have and received professional diagnoses for.

Perfect formal language doesn’t require such a long explanation. I have simply changed which language I find appropriate for situations. It isn’t in this post, at least not to that high of a degree, but my typical writing style could be described as informal but with big words. However, that approachable charm is a front! I don’t say anything without running calculations first, and as long as I don’t have a time limit like I do in a real time conversation, I never say anything that I haven’t read and made edits to many, many times. I certainly can speak and write with proper formal language, but quite frankly it’s become very difficult for me because I don’t consider it to do an adequate job at conveying a full range of meaning and so even though I can easily meet the technical requirements, it is painful to turn it in for anything because it inevitably reads to me as bad writing. Does everything i say and write have to be perfect? Absolutely. Does it have to be perfect by official standards? No, and in fact, if it is, then there is no way in hell it will possibly meet my standards for perfection, which are entirely different. I have a similar thing going on with personal appearance. I tend to look somewhat bizarre, sometimes to the point that strangers ask if they can take photos or express loud disbelief, especially if I have the time and energy to put together a really well thought out outfit (this falls into self care and is therefore a lower priority), but it is not that I don’t care so much as it is that I have a very specific image that I am very careful about maintaining and which I care a lot about.... but that image is NOT the same one most people would consider “proper,” and in fact I’ll often make careful and deliberate efforts to avoid looking too much like I’m “supposed” to. It simply isn’t the message I want to send.

I don’t really have a conclusion here other than that I wish this was studied more. OCPD in general is understudied even though it’s a pretty common personality disorder. I would like to know if this is something common, but it’s a little hard to tell if nobody has checked and it isn’t often talked about.

#posting from mobile #oh NO this took way too long to write it has become late 😔#rip my good nights sleep i was planning to get #ocpd #actuallyocpd #swearing -#medical abuse mention -#(just a brief mention)#longpost ?#violence mention -

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 3 years

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Ownership - Chapter 23 (A Kylo RenxOC AU)

Cora Ardmore and Kylo Ren work for rival companies, but they don’t know that until after they spend the night together. Once their identities are revealed to each other it’s a question of who will cave first?

This fic is mostly porn, pure kinky porn.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. If you would like to be tagged, let me know.

Warnings: I LOVE THIS CHAPTER, I AM PROUD OF WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN, BUCKLE THE FUCK UP BECAUSE A LOT HAPPENS, Sex/BDSM Club, Fetish wear, Collars/Leashes, Dominatrix Phasma, Dominatrix Cora, Alcohol, Slapping, Language, Beware of Armitage Hux (he may try and steal yo gurl), Riding Crops, Cock rings, Restraints, Humiliation kink, Pain kink, Overstimulation, Smut, Sex, Vaginal sex, Oral sex, Face sitting, Hair pulling, Dom/Sub themes

Chapter 23

Cora Ardmore

One Month Later

Kylo presented my outfit for tonight to me, waiting to see if I’d like it. On a hanger was a black latex bra. Beside it was another hanger that was holding a high-waisted black and red striped skirt. Definitely not as bad as what I thought he would have picked out for me. This I could see myself feeling quite comfortable in. It wasn’t too revealing, and all the important parts of my body would be covered. It was figure hugging, sure, but that didn’t bother me. “Is this custom?” I asked. “Yeah, I wanted to make sure it fit you perfectly.” “Do I wanna know how much that was?” “No.”

“Okay, what are you wearing?” Kylo led me into his walk-in wardrobe to show me something he’d already picked out for himself. On a set of hangers was a leather jacket and matching trousers. Simple, but he’d fit in. And look damn good in it. “What time do we need to be there?” I asked. “The club opens around nine. I was thinking we have dinner around seven. Then that gives you two hours to get ready before we leave. Ten is when things get more interesting. And we won’t have to worry about queuing either. They know who I am so we can go straight in.” The way he said it sounded like he wanted me to be impressed. But in reality, it just made me worry about how close him and Phasma were, that’s the only reason he got to jump the queue.

Whilst I was mostly excited for tonight, I was very nervous about meeting Phasma. I knew nothing about the woman other than she used to dom Kylo, and they were still friends. But was she competition? Was she prettier than me? Was she sexier than me? Was she better in bed than me? Probably. But I was the first sub that Kylo had taken to the club, which was a good and promising sign that I was special compared to the others. I suppose I had to be when we were working on the story together.

Later after dinner I changed into the outfit, noticing it didn’t come with panties nor did it look right with panties on, the outline showed. “No panties, huh? Were you going to tell me or try to be sneaky about it?” I asked Kylo. He smirked softly, “maybe I just want easy access to you tonight.” Heat pooled in my stomach at the thought. I continued to get ready, pulling my hair back in a sleek high ponytail and applying makeup. My lipstick matched the shade of red on my skirt. The heels provided were a little on the higher side, but it made me seem less short stood next to Kylo, so I’d be able to put up with the discomfort.

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We arrived at the club, Kylo and I being let straight inside. He took my coat for me, handing it to the cloakroom staff before leading me down the dimly lit corridor. Music could be heard from the main area, getting louder when the door was opened. Inside the main club area, or play area as it was referred to, there were people in all sorts of fetish wear. Some wearing a lot less than others. But I knew better than to stare. Before we could go any further, Kylo placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Almost forgot. Just so that nobody thinks your up for grabs, you’ll need your collar,” he mentioned. Producing the black leather from his pocket, he fastened it around my neck before clipping a leash to it.

With the collar around my neck and the leash in his hand, I felt safer. People would know I was his, and that he was mine. Hopefully that meant Phasma too. Kylo led me straight to the bar where he ordered drinks. Sat on a barstool, clad in black leather with his hair gelled back, was Armitage Hux. My eyes widened at the sight and I nudged Kylo. Before we could slink off with our drinks, he spotted us and came over. On closer inspection Armitage was wearing a military styled outfit, complete with a leather great coat and riding crop on his belt. “I didn’t expect to see you here, especially with company,” Armitage mentioned, his eyes raking over my form. “Cora made it very clear to me that she was ready for this. So why not?” Kylo replied.

“We got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to apologize for my previous behaviour,” Armitage addressed me. Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms over my chest, which only seemed to accentuate my breasts. “So you’re not an insufferable asshole all the time?” I asked. Armitage laughed at that thankfully, “Ren would agree with you on that, but it’s just business, my dear. Nothing personal.” The club had a large stage in the centre, meaning the crowd could gather from every angle. The four corners had an array of different activities. A set of spanking benches in the far-right corner, another had people tied up and suspended. Hopefully Kylo didn’t expect me to do any of that tonight.

A staircase led upstairs to another area which had god knows what going on there. Likely the more extreme stuff, like piercings and medical play. I’d done my research before coming here so I hopefully I wouldn’t be too shocked by it all. The music took a sudden change, going from upbeat and fast pace to slow and seductive, a song that I didn’t recognise. But it gathered the attention of the whole room, most of them looking to the staircase. That could only mean that Phasma was about to make her grand entrance. Three figures appeared at the top of the stairs, the centre figure standing tall, very tall. The other two figures were on all fours and they led the way down the stairs.

As they crawled into the light, I noticed they were both on leashes, both only in the simplest of black underwear to cover their modesty. One was female, the other was male. It was like an owner taking their dogs for a walk…well, in a place like this I’m sure that was much more common. Finally, Phasma stepped into the light and I felt my stomach drop. She was breath-taking. She had to be at least over six foot and that was without the heels. Her stocking clad legs were long and muscular, with thighs that looked like they could crush a watermelon. It was obvious that she took good care of her body and worked out a lot. Phasma wore a black lingerie set that was very reminiscent of Bettie Page. Around her waist was a black PVC corset that was cinched so tightly it looked almost uncomfortable, but there were no signs of discomfort on her face.

She even wore a silver-lined cape that trailed behind her as she continued to descend the stairs. Her expression was one of pure confidence. She owned the room, and she knew it. Her short blonde hair was wavy but styled so that every strand was perfectly placed. When she reached the final step, the song finished. This entrance had been thoroughly rehearsed, and it paid off with the applause she got. Phasma smiled, and the room went back to what they had been doing before. Phasma made her way to the bar, standing on the opposite side. She ordered a drink, both her subs kneeling at her feet. Neither of them said a word or looked up from the spot on the floor. Phasma looked up and over at us, her lips curving up into an excited smile.

She unclipped the leashes to her subs and removed her cape, handing it to the female. They were both then dismissed before she sauntered over, ignoring Armitage and I. “Kylo, darling. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she beamed at him. They embraced, and she kissed both his cheeks. My fists clenched at my sides. Was I suddenly invisible? Did the leash in his hand attached to my collar mean nothing to her? “You look beautiful as always,” Kylo complimented her. My shoulders slumped at his words. He could take the time to pay her compliments, but he hadn’t said a word once he saw me in the outfit he picked for me.

Finally, her gaze turned to me, looking me over and sizing me up. The smirk that worked its way across her face was not one I liked. “And who is this?” She asked. “Cora. She’s been my submissive for a year and a half now.” “You’ve never brought a sub here before.” Phasma took my hand in hers, placing a gentle kiss to the knuckles. Normally I would have been flattered by such a gesture, not this time. Not with how she’d practically thrown herself at Kylo in front of me. “He’s lucky to have someone as beautiful as you by his side. He’d be wise to not let you out of sight,” Phasma mentioned.

I forced a smile. Her compliments wouldn’t work on me, “maybe I should be the one not letting him out of my sight.” Phasma laughed, taking the slight bitcheness in my tone well, “Your right about that. Kylo’s always gotten a lot of attention here.” I bet he fucking did. And now he’d likely get more that I was here. “I’ll leave you both to it. Enjoy your evening,” Phasma excused herself. Phasma retreated back to the other end of the bar, sipping her cocktail. Kylo turned to me and unclipped the leash from my collar. “I’ll be back in about half an hour. You can take a look around if you want. Just avoid the upstairs area, it’s the more hardcore stuff,” Kylo explained. He couldn’t be serious? Before I had a chance to protest, he had stalked off after Phasma.

Angrily, I took a seat at the end of the bar and ordered another drink for myself. My first time in a fucking BDSM club and Kylo just abandons me for his ex dominatrix. He was sure as hell gonna get a piece of my mind later. Armitage was still lingering, strangely quiet. “I’m going to the smoking area if you wanted to come with me, I’ll only be five minutes if you don’t want too,” he spoke, a kindness to his tone as if he pitied me. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Armitage!” Armitage nodded and headed for one of the exits. The bartender placed my drink in front of me before going to take someone else’s order. My discomfort grew the longer I was alone.

Glancing over at them, I noticed Phasma was laughing at something Kylo had said and he looked just as amused. They were probably laughing about me; how stupid I was to let him dress me up and drag me here only to abandon me. Well, I wouldn’t make this mistake ever again. Half an hour quickly passed, but Kylo made no move to come back over, still in deep conversation with Phasma. I ordered another two drinks for myself this time. The thought to leave kept playing over my mind. It was obvious he didn’t give a shit about me, so why should I care enough to stay? An hour passed, then an hour and a half. Still, neither of them had left the bar.

“How long has it been now?” Armitage asked, taking the free bar stool next to me. “If you here to gloat, I’m not in the mood.” Armitage faked offense, “me, gloat? Never,” he glanced over his shoulder at them, “so how long has it been since he told you to stay put?” Glancing up at the clock behind the bar, it was getting close to midnight. “Almost two hours now,” I answered. “I didn’t think you’d be into humiliation, or is this more for his benefit?” Armitage asked. “You really are an insufferable asshole.” “Would an insufferable asshole buy you a drink? And keep you company from your two-timing dom? No. I understand your frustration, Cora, but keep your anger directed at him rather than those who want to help.”

Rolling my eyes and huffing, I gave in, ordering my fifth drink of the evening. Armitage put in his own order before paying with card. By now I had a good buzz going, my body a lot more relaxed, but the anger at Kylo was still brewing. “So, I assume the story is going well?” Armitage asked, interested. “Mostly. We have enough evidence to put Tarkin away, but we still need something concrete on Krennic and Snoke.” “Well, one out of three isn’t so bad.” Glancing at Armitage, I managed a small smile, “your trying to distract me, aren’t you?” “Is it working?” He asked, returning the smile.

“A little.” My smile quickly faded as I noticed Phasma’s hand on Kylo’s shoulder, both of them laughing about something he’d said. Not once had he even bothered to look in my direction or offer me a sliver of attention. Armitage shifted, now occupying my vision instead of them. “Why don’t we get out of here?” Armitage suggested. My eyebrows raised at him; unsure I’d heard him correctly. He couldn’t really be propositioning me. “What? You can’t be serious?” “I am.” Now I was suspicious, “why? What do you get out of it? Other than pissing Kylo off.”

“Wouldn’t that be a bonus for the both of us? He shouldn’t neglect you like this, consider it karma. If I didn’t proposition you, then I’m sure someone else would have. Besides, I still have ways to prove that I’m not an insufferable asshole, as you so eloquently put it.” Meeting Armitage’s gaze, there was a newfound tension between us. I really was considering it. His fingers ghosted down my bare arm before he took my hand in his. “No rules, no strings attached. Just say yes.” Armitage continued to convince me. The word was on the tip of my tongue when Kylo appeared by my side. Armitage let go of my hand quickly, his face falling. If Kylo had seen it, he didn’t show it. “You ready to go back to mine?” Kylo asked.

Not even bothering to look at Kylo, I have a short nod. Grabbing my drink, I finished what was left of it. “Thanks for keeping me company, Armitage,” I spoke. Armitage smiled softly and nodded. The look on his face told me he knew I had been about to say yes. Kylo led me out of the club and to the cloakroom to retrieve my coat. Neither of us said a word to each other. The ride home was silent, and tension filled. If he couldn’t tell I was pissed off, then he was stupider than I thought. Once inside his house I decided it would be best if I slept in one of the guest rooms. As much as I didn’t want to stay, I wasn’t in a fit state to drive. Kylo closed the front door behind him, sighing heavily.

“Are you going to talk to me? Or is it silent treatment from here on out?” He asked, impatiently. He had some fucking nerve. Whipping round to face him, I folded my arms across my chest. “Are you going to acknowledge my existence now that she isn’t around?” I snapped. “You think just because you’re my sub you have some kind of ownership over me?! No. That’s not how this works. I can talk to who I want and fuck who I want regardless of your stupid feelings!” The anger that had been simmering for most of the night now reached a boiling point as I slapped him hard. What I didn’t expect was the soft moan that left his lips as my palm collided with his cheek.

Both of us stood there in silence for a few moments, unsure of the others’ previous actions. “Hit me again,” Kylo softly requested. I remembered the conversation we’d had last year about how he liked pain and humiliation when he’d been a sub. The slap must have reawakened that part of him. And sub space was far out of reach for me currently. To appease him and make sure I could take this as far as I thought he wanted, I slapped his other cheek, both of them now tinged red. Stepping forward, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled back hard. Kylo whined at the sting. The sound was strange coming from him, but it still brought a heat between my legs. “You have five minutes to get upstairs and get undressed. And you better be on your knees when I get there,” I ordered before releasing him.

Kylo kicked his shoes off at the door and almost ran up the stairs. Heading to the kitchen, I got myself some water, downing the glass. Glancing at the clock, I decided he’d likely waited long enough and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Entering the room, I found his clothes first, thrown on the floor carelessly. And then I found him, naked and on his knees at the foot of the bed. He kept his gaze to the ground. If it was this easy for him to go into subspace, we’d need to explore this side of him more. Instead of paying him any attention, I went straight through to his wardrobe to find some suitable toys. Looking through the assortment of cock rings, I eventually settled on the one that came with a small vibrator attached. Restraints were chosen and a riding crop.

When I emerged from the wardrobe Kylo was still in the same position. A part of me wondered how long I could get away with making him wait. He couldn’t deny he wasn’t liking this, not with how hard he was, his cock jutting up proudly against his belly. Stopping in front of him, I used the tip of the crop to tilt his chin up, so he’d look at me. “Your behaviour tonight has been unacceptable. And I will not tolerate it. Do you understand?” I asked. “Yes, ma’am.” “Get on the bed, hands above your head.” Kylo did as he was told, making himself comfortable amongst the pillows. Taking his wrists, I secured them individually to the headboard. Next, I secured the cock ring before standing between his legs and pondered my next move.

Kylo Ren was completely at my mercy. Something I never thought would have been possible in our relationship. Cruelly, I placed my heel over his balls, resting it there for now, but I’d press down if I needed to. “I still don’t think you understand how unacceptable your behaviour was,” I frowned. Gently I applied pressure with my foot, noticing how he stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly panicked. “What was that?” I asked, wanting him to repeat it louder and like he meant it. Applying more pressure, Kylo winced at the pain. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, louder this time. “You will be once I’m done with you.”

Finally, I released his balls from under my shoe only to harshly swat his inner thigh with the crop. It was dangerously close to hitting his cock. Luckily for him, I had sobered up enough for good aim. Kylo cursed, his whole-body tensing at the pain. Yet there was already pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock. Swatting the other thigh had him gripping the restraints, his hips bucking up into nothing. “Please,” he whined. “Please what?” “Please touch me. Fuck me. I don’t care, just give me something, please.” “What makes you think you deserve my cunt?”

Another pathetic whine escaped his throat as he knew he couldn’t give me a good answer. Smirking, I crouched down and turned down the viberator attached to the cock ring. It wouldn’t be enough to make him cum, but it would be very good at teasing and working him up further. This control over him was something I could get used too, although it was likely I would never have such a chance again, so I need to make the most of it whilst I could. By now Kylo was a panting, whimpering, desperate mess. Climbing off the bed, I undressed myself, thankful to be rid of the skin-tight latex. “Its quite pathetic that a man like you secretly enjoys being slapped around by a woman,” I smirked.

He nodded in agreement, likely in the hopes of some form of contact. Instead, I delivered a series of swats to his chest and stomach. Kylo let out a shaky breath once I stopped my assault. I got onto all fours, hovering above him to make sure no part of my body came into direct contact with his, denying him that skin on skin feeling. Leaning down, I started to mark him up with my teeth, starting with his neck. Kylo groaned at the pain, tilting his head so I had better access to his neck. Next, I marked up his collar, moving down to his chest, then his stomach and finishing with his thighs. “Mine,” I spoke, looking over the purple marks across his skin. Kylo nodded once more, so desperate to please now. Grabbing his face and digging my nails into his cheeks, I made sure I had his full attention.

“Just because usually I’m the submissive of this relationship does not mean that you aren’t mine. Understood?” I asked. “Yes, I’m yours.” “You’ll be wise not to forget it.” Finally, I gave him some much craved contact as I kissed him. It was quick enough that he craned his neck for more as I pulled away. The more time passed, the more frustrated and needy he became. “Let’s put that mouth of yours to better use than whining,” I suggested. “Please let me taste you.” Shifting position, I gently lowered myself on to his face, his tongue lapping at my wetness eagerly.

Gripping the headboard, I moaned softly. Kylo groaned hungrily as he continued licking and sucking at my clit. “Keep this up and I might let you cum,” I teased. With the potential of him being allowed to cum, Kylo seemed to double his efforts of getting me off. An orgasm was building quickly from how desperate I’d been for attention and contact all evening, but I quickly climbed off, denying myself release and Kylo the satisfaction of my release. Kylo was breathless, cheeks flushed and his pretty plush lips shiny with spit and my juices. It was a good look for him. “Please fuck me. I don’t know how much more I can take,” Kylo pleaded. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Straddling him, I rolled my hips so that his cock would be covered in my juices. Kylo’s hips bucked as he was reaching his limit. Finally, I gave us what we were both craving, slowly sinking down onto his cock. Kylo’s fists clenched as he groaned loud. “T-thank you,” his voice wavered with pleasure. I rewarded his manners by riding him fast and hard. I’d dragged this out long enough. My hands rested on his chest to keep me steady as I fucked myself on his cock. Kylo hips bucked against mine before he tried to match my pace, but he was too needy for release that he couldn’t get the timing right. Not that it mattered too much. “Cum for me, Kylo,” I encouraged.

Within seconds Kylo cried out his release, his back arching off the bed in what was likely an intense orgasm. I worked him through every wave as I chased my own release, the added stimulation from the vibrator helping. Kylo shook as overstimulation set in. The sounds that left his throat were small and whinny. My walls clenched around his already spent cock as my orgasm washed over me. I moaned his name over and over as my nails raked down his chest hard enough that he’d have more marks in the morning. Tears lined Kylo’s eyes from overstimulation before I finally climbed off him. Before I laid next to him, I removed the cock ring and freed his wrists.

Luckily for him, most of the anger had been fucked out of me. Enough so that I let him rest his head on my chest and held him as he came down from his orgasm. Tenderly I stroked and ran my fingers through his hair and murmured words of praise. “When you can move again, we can take a shower,” I smirked. Gently he nodded, “I am sorry about tonight.” “I know.”

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @sweetsec-93, @cltex84, @jana-banana-fana, @jynzandtonic, @neeharlow

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