#and I sincerely do not want to force anyone to engage with my kinks if they do not want to

[icaruskey]

I'm sorry I'm even asking, but what on Earth does "transandrophobia truther" even mean. Really poking the beehive with that one, but I've been drowning in the "radfem kool-aid" to borrow your very succinct phrasing, so I might as well, fuck it. - Yours sincerely: a very tired and confused trans man who hasn't been on Tumblr for a while. I'd send this off anon, don't give too much of a shit, but Karen has a reach greater than God it seems.

Basically, "transandrophobia truther" was coined by a person who decided a bunch of trans men loosely associated with a dude called Saint (who initially coined the term transandrophobia) were all bad, white, meanie TMEs who hate trans women despite several of the names belonging to POC trans people and many of the blogs explicitly supporting trans women as well as men and nonbinary identities. All because we want to talk about the issues trans masc people face and call a spade a spade when they're being a fucking idiot.

Let's break this down further...

Saint is considered an Awful Person because someone leaked screenshots from his password protected smut blog. He had been engaging in some squicky kinks that the person who leaked the screenshots decided meant he hated trans women and lesbians (despite all interactions being consensual mind you). They also label him a racist because he had been talking about omegaverse shit with the shorthand "abo", which apparently is also a slur against aboriginal tribes. Because you know, acronyms and shorthand can only mean one thing.

Anyway, this has kicked off a harassment campaign that's apparently lasted for months, and this blog eventually curated a "block list" with pretty much anyone who might've interacted with Saint or other people that's been victim to the harassment perpetuated and continued by two people.

This block list was apparently only supposed to be used by this person's followers, but it alerted every single person on the list through the @ system and of course was spread around. They also have been accepting additional names from anons and the like without apparently doing much background checking so. Yanno. Sure.

The term transandrophobia was created as an alternative to transmisandry in an effort to allow trans men to discuss the unique challenges that trans men face as trans men. Sort of the opposite side of the same coin from transmisogyny if you will (the coin is transphobia, but the metaphor breaks down when you remember intersex and nonbinary people are included in the umbrella as well. lol rip poetic language).

People protested transmisandry because it connected with misandry, which people (who argue against trans men having language to talk and make block lists because one person decided to force their followers to look at squicky kinks) don't believe exists (my feelings on misandry are far more complicated than what can be got into here without a massive derail). Transandrophobia is a step away from misandry, but since it was coined by Saint, people are using that as an excuse to shoot it down.

It's an excuse because elsewhere you find hints of their true intent: not allowing trans men and masc people the language to speak about their issues at all. First, there's the absolute asinine complaint that it's "basically the same thing as transmisogyny," like... okay, yes. They complain it's ripping off transmisogyny like transmisogyny isn't a ripoff of misogyny so. Whatever on that. Then you have people saying we should just use the word transphobia instead, completely ignoring the fact we're wanting to talk about issues that specifically face trans men and people who identify as trans masc. Shit like that.

Then you have the people who believe that trans women are the most oppressed and thus men should never have a say. This is rooted in radfem rhetoric, as with the advent of second wave feminism, one of the main schools of thought was that a radical (lol) shift away from men... wait let's not go so far back for now. That's another massive derail.

Anyway, there's a strong undercurrent of man hating that's been lurking around in feminism since second wave feminism. It's been evident through ideologies like lesbian separatism (see, gold star lesbians and how lesbians often treat bi women) and the "wombyn" movement that I in particular noticed in 2013 on tumblr -- I still believe TERF ideology against trans women is rooted in this explicit anti-man movement, but it was just under people's radar until trans women came more in the spotlight.

This man hating is even within trans circles, as you will often see trans women and femme people declaring T being a poison, hating their manhood and men in general, etc. It's understandable given their transition that they'd feel this way, but it's done in front of and oftentimes to trans men and masc aligned folks as well (re: the one poor trans boy who was talking to a girl and got told T was a poison in a gen chat. The girl apologized but claimed she was right. So this was both in a gen space but directly to a trans boy).

I also have a pet theory about how men are expected to be quiet in feminist spaces, and a lot of trans men and masc folks have grown up understanding the social struggle of women so it's easier for us to sit down and shut up, etc, etc but I won't get into that here cause that's it for explaining how radfem is everywhere let's move onto

TME/TMA mean Transmisogyny Exempt and Transmisogyny Affected. I won't get into the linguistics or where these terms originate, though I think it's from baeddel discourse --

baeddels being a group of trans women who mistakenly believe baeddel is a slur against trans women (and conveniently push out femme men and intersex people from the discussion) and started to "reclaim" the term, becoming extremely cultlike, narrowminded, and man-hating themselves, ending when the core group defended a rapist who had assaulted another member of the core group though there are people who identify with baeddels today

-- while TME/TMA might have its merits in a very limited context, it's become a way to say "trans women (TMA)" and "everyone else (TME)". This is incredibly stupid as it just creates another binary where trans women are the Most Oppressed but it locks the terms down so that they can't even be used properly (a cis woman getting beat up for using the woman's bathroom is, in that moment TMA. But she's not always TMA so...).

Soooo... because Saint is labelled a "bad man," transandrophobia becomes a really convenient scapegoat to try and push trans men from another word they can use to describe their unique situation in life.

But really, they don't want men to have language to speak about the things that hurt them.

Because in their minds men always have privilege... because they think every man is white, able-bodied, neurotypical, financially well-off and/or stable, passes perfectly, and never ends up in a situation where they must either out themselves and/or be forced off their HRT for some reason.

They think the pushback they are receiving is coming from above them (because we're men, so we're automatically above women), but it's not. It's a lateral push because at the end of the day... the world sees us as they do trans women. They don't see woman or man or person. They see trans.

And it's upsetting honestly that they don't understand that.

[livingdeadinsideyourhead]

Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

[vee-angel]

Upcoming Story Introductions

I just wanted to write a brief introduction to give a quick look at some of up-and-coming stories and story series I have in the works.

--The Pervert Pentet--

This is going to be a series of stories exploring the lives of five women who each embrace and exemplify a certain extreme fetish lifestyle. There is:

Potty-Mouth Piper- Skinny girl with Swedish ancestry and a punk-rock aesthetic. Piper is the epitome of a filth-fetishist. On top of living up to her name in the sense that she often insists that her mouth be used as a toilet, she speaks and acts in the most obscene ways possible. As an example, she has a tattoo on the side of her head (which is shaved into a green mohawk) which reads “Ass to Mouth 4Ever.” However, rather than the normal interpretation that anything that’s been up her ass must immediately go into her mouth, she insists that anything that goes into her mouth must have first been up her (or someone else’s) ass. Piper identifies as a lesbian, but is more-or-less free-use for any gender, due to her love of obscenity and bodily fluids. The early part of her story takes place in high school where she meets the love of her life; a timid filth-fetishist names Mackenzie; she becomes obsessed with Piper, who slowly helps Mackenzie open up to her fantasies. Mackenzie helps Piper feel as though she has someone who actually accepts her.

Sharking Sherry- Soft, feminine body with very pretty breasts, slightly large for her frame. Half-Japanese/Half Caucasian. Exposure/exhibitionism fetishist. Sherry grew up in a very Americanized family, but from a young age, she felt drawn to her Japanese ancestry. Her parents had no objections to her engaging in her Japanese culture (after all, things like Pokemon and anime were becoming increasingly commonplace). Due to their ignorance regarding how “adult” anime and manga could be, Sherry was exposed to themes of female humiliation/embarrassment as a form of comic relief at a young age and eventually started watching hentai in her early teens. As she became more adult, she became interested in a Japanese activity called sharking; the trend and fetish of exposing a woman in public against her will where it would be filmed and posted online. After high-school, she takes a year off to visit Japan where, much to her delight, she becomes the victim of a sharking video, but to her disappointment, only her panties are exposed. The experience re-ignites her interest and she later tries to make arrangements with someone online to participate in another sharking video in which she would get to shark another girl, but leaving her completely naked in public. However, due to a miscommunication resulting from her incomplete comprehension of the Japanese language, the people she meets with believe she wants to be the victim. With her having been so adamant about wanting to make the video, she ends up stripped completely naked and is forced to walk back to her hotel without her clothes. She finds the experience humiliating, but at the same time incredibly exhilarating. She decides that whatever else she does with her life, one thing she absolutely wants to do is to have her body and her sexuality exposed, and to expose the bodies and sexuality of other girls. In fact, this is how she ends up meeting Piper, who she ends up sharking, much to Piper’s amusement.

Non-consent Nancy- Nancy grew up as a shy, bisexual, African-American girl. She was bullied through much of her youth, but rather than resenting the bullies, she tried to befriend them in hopes that they would stop. She always tried to think of things they’d like, or ways she could be nice to them. Over time, she developed the coping mechanism of empathizing more with abusers and rapists and bullies than with their victims. In her mind, she often finds herself adamantly defending them and thinking that their victims should be punished. While in public, she maintains a persona of a typical college feminist/black lives matter/lgbt activist, she privately fetishizes victimization, often using her role as a rape-crisis counselor to arrange the re-victimization of women who confess their trauma to her, and to help and defend known rapists. She has an athletic build, due to exercising and women’s self-defense classes, but secretly, she uses her athleticism to abuse and rape other girls. She eventually develops a close friendship (in which she becomes something of a subordinate side-kick) with the artist Teira Volks.

Torture-lover Teira- German-born artist Teira Volks, average build, early 30’s, aryan features, straight blonde hair, perpetually serious expression. As a youth, Teira was close to her grandfather, who was a Nazi officer during WW2. She became fascinated with the idea of torture and suffering. Due to her connection to heinous war crimes, the idea of pain and despair felt very real to her. Not just like some abstract that people read in a history book. As she grew up, she became a controversial performance artist, often causing herself so much pain and harm that it became difficult for her to even find venues that would allow her to showcase such extreme self-abuse. In the past, she had sometimes employed assistants who would allow themselves to be abused, but she usually found them to be insufficiently masochistic, or unwilling to endure her forceful and pushy style of management. She eventually comes across Nancy, who she allows to participate in a performance with her. She finds that no matter how much Nancy hates what is being done to her, or how much she’s hurt or abused or humiliated; Nancy keeps coming back and never says a harsh word toward Teira. In time Teira takes on Nancy as a sort of full-time assistant, often treating Nancy as a slave; forcing her to participate in performances against her will. They meet Piper and Sherry at a performance near their college. The theme of the performance is “mirror,” in which anyone is allowed to do whatever they like to Teira, on the condition that they will allow it to be done to themselves. After Piper imposes her kinks on Teira, and subsequently submitting to having those same kinks imposed on herself, they become friends. With Piper, Teira, Nancy, and Sherry occasionally getting together and forming a tight-knit group.

Bimbo Bailee- Tall and pretty, in a trashy way. Bailee has huge fake tits and dresses in an incredibly exhibitionistic way. Her origins are a bit unclear as she seems too ditsy to remember ever not being a bimbo. Sherry, Piper, Nancy, and Teira meet her at a plastic surgeon's office. Piper makes an obscene comment upon noticing her (“Holy shit, look at the size of the fuck-bags on that little cock-socket!”), while Sherry discretely takes some upskirt pictures of her to post online later. After talking with her, they discover she seems to be profoundly stupid and impossibly gullible. As an example, after someone comments on her tramp stamp that reads “Butt Slut” she consistently says “Nuh uh, it’s a butterfly. That’s what the tattoo guy told me.” At times seeming to become flustered due to the fact that everyone keeps commenting that her tramp stamp (which she still insists is a butterfly) clearly reads “Butt Slut.” She seems to be so gullible that nearly any embarrassing trick or prank will work on her, regardless of how little thought is put into it. She’s consistently vain and often critical of the appearances of other women, generally contextualizing everything they do in the context of how attractive it makes them to men. She sometimes makes comments indicating that she doesn’t believe lesbians are sincere, and are only with each other as a way of getting attention from men. Despite her ditsyness and frequent critical comments about the other girls appearances, Piper, Sherry, Nancy, and Teira decide to invite her into their friend group due to how entertaining she is.

Each of these five characters will be getting their own story to start, and after they all meet up, there will sometimes be stories that involve all five of them, but more often stories will involve only a fraction of the full group.

--The Kinky Mass-Effect Fanfiction Trilogy--

This is the series that is the most fleshed out by far. This is going to be a trilogy of full length erotic novels set in the Mass Effect universe. The third book in this series was actually my first attempt at writing erotica (it sort of evolved from a sort of roleplay, and before I knew it, it was turning into a book). But a ways into the story, I realized that there was a lot of story leading up to the one I was writing, so I decided it needed to be a trilogy.

The story follows Dr. Biavalia Bi’tarah (usually called Beebee, by her friends), a dutiful asari slave and whore for her human master. Her playful sexuality and juvenile sense of humor belie her skill and competence as a fighter and engineer. The first book in the trilogy follows her as she deceives Commander Shepard (female) and Jack (aka Subject Zero) into helping her find someone who could aid her and her master into gaining an edge over the other slavers of the Terminus systems. Aria T’loak also makes an appearance. Throughout the first book, Beebee will happen across situations where sex and kink are preferable solutions to fighting (though there will still be a decent amount of action). And for those of you (like me) who were disappointed that Jack didn’t have any girl/girl romance options in the game, rest assured that the psychotic biotic will be having plenty of sapphic fun with the sapphire slut.

--Unnamed Female-Inferiority World--

At some point in the past, a genetic virus came about that only affected females. If untreated, it would degrade their DNA, and would eventually become fatal. It was discovered that the only way to repair the genetic damage was by administering incomplete pieces of human genetic material (i.e. human sperm). Early attempts to synthesize a more stable treatment were failures, and eventually society came to accept that all females would need to regularly absorb male semen, either anally, orally, or vaginally. This new sexual desperation among females reshaped how males and females interacted, with women having their very lives depending on how sexually appealing they were to men. Over the generations, women with unappealing bodies or personalities became scarce. Yet, every woman still knows that her long term survival depends on being more sexually appealing than the women around her, so even the most attractive and obedient females are still competitive.

Men in this world have become entitled and demanding as women have become more accomodating. Feminism is the greatest crime a female can commit and is punishable by a fate worse than death.

These stories will likely involve a strong emphasis on heavy and extreme kinks. Misogyny, rape, humiliation, torture, filth, and even snuff will be recurring themes. This is most likely going to be a series of stories exploring various aspects and characters of this alternative universe. While I’ve had multiple fantasies set in this universe, it’s probably the least developed so far.

[ladynonsense]

One Night in the City (TRR AU) Part 4: The Duchess

Let’s say rated M for some salty language and very light smut.

Liam x MC, Liam x Olivia, Drake x MC

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Tags (sorry if I missed anyone, I'm new to tumblr and don’t know wtf I’m doing) @theroyalweisme @pbchoicesobsessed @smritysriv @thatcatlady0716 @jayjay879 @boneandfur

Part 4 of a series. AU where Maxwell never brought MC to Cordonia. Liam never saw or heard from her again after the night of his bachelor party and social season went on without her. In this chapter, after his uncomfortable reunion with Riley, Liam realizes he was foolish to be hung up on someone he hardly even knows, and it’s time to stop holding part of himself back from his new fiancée...

Olivia arrived back at her hotel in a rotten mood. What the hell was Liam's problem? All day they'd flirted and toyed with each other, surviving the relentless tedium of the tail end of their engagement tour by focusing on the night they would have together. Then one minor disagreement about visiting a goddamn statue seemed to set him off, and he abandoned her alone at the ball without so much as a discussion.

She poured herself a glass of wine and lounged in a chair in her suite, marinating in rage and drinking to fuel the fire. She looked forward to the fight they would have when he finally came to see her. But as the night wore on, her rage slowly morphed into fear, and that ugly, insecure feeling that crept in whenever she faced the obvious truth: Liam may have chosen her for his queen, but he did not love her like she loved him. She would always have to struggle to keep his attention, to protect her position. As glad as she was to have won his hand and the crown that came with it, she still wasn't sure how to win his heart.

Annoyed at her own weakness, she poured another glass. Fuck him. She was a Nevrakis, not a lovesick little girl. No one was allowed to make her feel this way, not even a king. Finally she decided she needed to go for a walk to get some air. When she opened the door, she nearly walked right into his chest.

"Oh!" she cried, surprised and annoyed that she'd been caught off guard. "Where the hell have you..."

Before she could finish his arms were wrapped around her, nearly lifting her right off the ground, his mouth pressed passionately to hers. He led her back into her room, kicking the door shut behind him as his hands trailed down her back, pressing his fingertips into her soft flesh as he pulled her tightly against his body and they fell together onto the bed. She was tempted to melt into him and forget the rest of her awful night, but anger kept nagging at the back of her mind, taking her out of the moment.

She pulled away from him. "Liam, what is going on with you? You left me! Your guards wouldn't let me in your room, wouldn't even tell me if you were inside...did you tell them to get rid of me?"

Liam frowned and stroked her cheek. "Oh, Olivia, no! They're merely following protocol...no one is allowed to come and go from my suite in my absence, and they don't disclose my location to anyone. I should have told them to make an exception for you - it never occurred to me they would turn you away." His face softened, a smile creeping in. "Once we're married, they'll be your guards, too. And it won't be my suite...it will be ours." He moved to kiss her again but she pulled away, still upset.

"You're drunk," she said, stating the obvious. His breath was heavy with whiskey, his skin overly hot to the touch. He'd been three sheets to the wind by the end of the ball, and it seemed he'd continued drinking afterwards.

Liam's eyes wandered to the empty bottle of wine on the table across the room. "Looks like I'm not the only one, love." She rolled her eyes, but his word choice did not escape her.

"Why did you come to me, Liam? It seems we've spent our respective evenings drinking to forget how pissed off we are at each other."

"I'm not angry with you," he whispered, his face falling. "I came because I needed to talk to you. To tell you..."

"You didn't seem overly concerned with talking when you came in here," she interrupted as he trailed off. He laughed softly.

"I suppose I lost my senses a bit when I laid eyes on you, that's true. But I did want to tell you...Olivia...you need to know that I love you. I've always cared for you. My father...he was happy to care for you as a child, but as we got older, he started to discourage my affection for you. Once Leo abdicated, the pressure to turn my attention towards Madeleine started immediately, and he was constantly warning me of the dangers of a 'rash' and 'emotional' ruler. I guess I wanted so badly to please him and to be a worthy king that I forced myself to ignore what was right in front of me all along."

He reached for her hand, kissing it softly. "But he was wrong, Olivia. Aside from the fact that I never could have loved someone as cold and calculating as Madeleine...I also truly believe she was wrong for the crown. I tried not to be drawn to your passion and your fire, but with my father's influence gone, I'm realizing that I need that fire in my life, and Cordonia needs it in their rulers. I want to apologize for ever burying my feelings for you. I do love you, Olivia. And every day I spend with you by my side, I love you more."

Olivia bit her lip, afraid to speak for fear she would dissolve into tears. She'd known she loved him since before she knew what love was...since she was a scared and lonely orphan, and the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen took her back home to his palace. She didn't want him to know how desperate she'd been to hear these words. She buried her face in his warm chest, letting a few silent tears seep into the crumpled fabric of his shirt.

Liam held her gently, not minding the silence, giving her time to consider what he'd said. He began gently working the pins out of her hair, letting it cascade onto the sheets, a soft wave of red against the white linens. He gently combed it with his fingers, helping the odd kinks and bends holding the shape of her updo to relax and smooth out. His hand paused at the top of her dress's zipper, silently asking permission.

She shook her head and sat up, rejecting the whole thing - the "poor little orphan girl" narrative, the damsel in distress being rescued by her Prince Charming. She momentarily forgot that this narrative was taking place mostly in her own mind, but it was nagging at her, hinted at in his words...or was she imagining it? Something was off...he seemed sincere enough but...clearly he was here to make amends, to beg for her forgiveness after running off like an impetuous child at the slightest provocation. But he hadn't exactly said as much. Olivia rose to her feet.

"Liam, where the hell were you. Did you go to the statue of liberty?"

He looked away, gazing out the window beyond her shoulder. Carefully considering his words, guarded, even now, tired and drunk in his lover's bed. "I didn't. I saw her last time I was here, in this city, and it was magical. I wanted to again but...it's better off as a memory." He laughed softly, nervously. "I did run into Drake and Maxwell, though. And Bertrand and Hana. I think I was a bit hasty in my departure when I realized I should be here with you...I may have stiffed them with the bill."

Olivia laughed, glad to have some of the tension lifted. "Bastien probably paid it for you the minute you turned your back. You're lucky to have people around who keep you from making a complete ass of yourself."

Liam thought back to Drake's scolding of him at the bar. "Yes, I certainly do need help in that regard at times. To be honest I don't think I even had my wallet on me...what was I thinking?" He sat up and reached into his pocket instinctively, checking for it, and pulled out a small bundle of lace instead. "Oh..."

Olivia smirked. "You seem to have something of mine..." She stepped closer to the bed and suddenly Liam's hands were on her hips, pulling her closer to him, remembering that there was nothing but the silky fabric of her short dress keeping him from her. He leaned his head against her stomach as his hands slid down her thighs towards the hem of her dress, grazing against her pale skin as he started to push the fabric up her legs.

"Wait," she commanded, tilting his face up to look at her. She slipped her hands underneath his suit jacket and pulled it off, tossing it into the corner. He grinned and removed his shirt and tie as quickly as he could, desperate to be free of all his designer clothes and just be himself. He wrapped his arms around Olivia's waist and pulled her into bed with him, rolling on top of her as she yelped in surprise. Olivia stared up into his smiling face, finding herself speechless. They'd been spending more nights together than apart throughout the tour, but something had shifted tonight. The expression on his face was so unguarded, so loving.

"You're mine," she said out loud, softly. Then louder, commanding, "you're mine."

"I am yours forever and always, my queen."

[andveryginger]

SWTOR Fic: Time and Tides (Pt. 1)

Summary: An unexpected arrival provides for a potentially awkward reunion. (Emrys Legacy - Theron Shan/Female JK -- Annya x Theron)

Notes: A very definite “what if” that I’ve been playing with for almost a year now. The muses were finally willing to cooperate. At least for the beginning. I don’t know yet if this is canon for “Between the Lines.” I’ll get back to you on that. If it were, it would fall somewhere between Chapter 7 (”Holding Pattern”) and Chapter 8 (”Clue-By-Four”).

More to come.

Posted without beta and with minimal revision.

Sighing, Lana Beniko lowered herself into her desk chair, blowing away the steam billowing from her cup of caf. She was just reaching for her first datapad when she sensed a familiar presence lurking in her doorframe. “Good morning, Kaliyo,” she said. She didn’t bother to look up as she booted up the datapad.

“You Force sensitives are all so creepy when you do that,” the arsonist groused. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the bulkhead.

The Sith cast a glance upward, arching a fine blonde brow. “I could say something similar about your propensity to lurk in the shadows, but I’ll refrain,” she retorted. She tapped a few more commands into the device, unlocking a file for her perusal.

“Hey, I can’t help that you guys are more entertaining than a holonovel.” A suggestive smirk curled across her lips. “The only thing really missing are the gratuitous sex scenes. The constant fade to black does nothing for me.”

Lana heaved sigh and fully looked up for the first time. “Was there something in particular you needed? Or are you just here to discuss your voyeuristic tendencies?”

“A bit of both,” Kaliyo answered with a chuckle. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s a new arrival out there.”

“And?”

“And it might give our favorite super-spy the biggest cockblock in history.” Her grin widened as Lana regarded her with confusion, turning to offer her a sidelong glare. “Doctor Archiban Kimble is standing out on the shuttle pad.”

Shock swept over her, and she felt her grip on the datapad falter. Reaching instinctively into the Force, she bolstered herself, recovery almost instant. “Kriffing Hells.” The frown returned. “Has anyone told the Commander?”

“I said I’d take care of it.” An odd mix of amusement and sincerity lit the Rattataki eyes. “But I know Spy-Boy just got back from a two-week recruiting mission and the lovebirds haven’t exactly been spotted yet this morning. I figure having the ex rapping on the door might be bit of a rude wake up call.”

“That’s… unusually altruistic of you, Kaliyo.”

“What can I say? I ‘ship it.” Kaliyo shrugged, smirking. “And Kimble’s not a bad guy. He doesn’t deserve to walk in on that... It’s not his kink.”

“There’s no guarantee they --” The arsonist arched her own brow, and Lana sighed. She allowed her eyes to drift left as her focus shifted, seeking out the Force signatures of her two friends. As a Jedi knight, Annya Emrys had learned an unobtrusive manner of cloaking, one that projected a signature, but did not allow access to surface thoughts or emotions. While not effective for interrogation, it was exceedingly useful for infiltration -- and protection of privacy. So it was with a degree of difficulty that Lana found her signature, shielded though it was.

Theron Shan was an entirely different case. As a boy, he had learned many Force manipulation techniques -- in theory. His poor connection to the galactic energy, however, left little practical experience. Thus, like most good operatives, Theron had instead learned to block the possible mental intrusions of Force users by constructing what was, in simple terms, a wall around his signature. As a result, he appeared much like a singularity in the Force. It was this technique that frequently served as his default, usually when he was too distracted to harness his emergent Force abilities. It also meant he stood out like the proverbial sore thumb... exactly as he did at that moment.

Drawing back to herself, Lana closed her eyes and shook her head. “Right,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. She pointedly ignored the knowing smirk that spread across Kaliyo’s features. “I’ll meet him; get a read on what he wants. I’m sure the Commander will want to see him… at some point.”

“When she comes up for air.” Kaliyo paused. “You don’t think he knows about the Commander and Spy-Boy?”

The Sith frowned at her as she tapped a command on the datapad. It would, in the next few moments, dispatch a time-delayed message to Theron’s implant, strongly suggesting he contacted her at the earliest convenience. “You’re more than welcome to return to your duties,” she said.

“I’ll take that as ‘no.’”

Lana strode past her, heading into the corridor and toward the lift. To her frustration, Kaliyo merely fell into step beside her. An expectant silence fell between them. “No,” she replied at length. “I don’t think he knows. They were fairly discreet during the Revan matter but, from my understanding, there wouldn’t have been much to tell. The Commander was very much a Tythonian Jedi. At the time.”

Kaliyo gave a chuckle as they stepped into the lift. “They’ve tried to be discreet since before I got here,” she commented. “Fails pretty miserably when he doesn’t even live in his own quarters.”

“How did you --?” Lana stopped herself short as the lift doors opened, then strode out. Her scowl deepened when the firebug continued to follow her. “Let me guess: Jorgan.”

“Funny thing about training -- sometimes you get to know the person you’re working with.” She rounded the corner, keeping up easily with the woman beside her. “Turns out he likes not having to share, and I’m sure Theron prefers not having to clean furballs out of his shower drain… among the other perqs.”

The Sith drew a deep breath. She would have to speak with Jorgan… and, it seemed, with Theron. But first, there was another issue to resolve -- with or without Kaliyo in tow. Her feet covered the remaining distance to the landing pad quickly. She found the doctor standing just to the side of the transport, silhouette mostly unchanged since they last met.

“Doctor Kimble,” she said, extending her hand. “Lana Beniko. I’m not sure if you remember me --”

“Creepy Sith Intelligence lady,” Doc interrupted. He clasped her hand with his own, notably still wearing a set of well-fitted leather gloves. “Kaliyo said you were helping run things around here.”

“Yes -- acting as Director of Administration,” Lana explained. She pursed her lips, briefly casting a glance to Kaliyo. “I’m afraid Annya is in a debrief and won’t be available for some time. If you’d like to wait…”

His brow furrowed and he swallowed, averting his eyes for a moment before looking back to her. “If she doesn’t wanna see me --”

Lana sensed the flicker of pain -- worry, heartache, embarrassment -- he didn’t quite manage to smother. But then, she thought, he was never trained to. “Her crew was one the first things she asked about when we arrived,” she said. “I rather suspect she will want to see you. But she truly is otherwise engaged at the moment.”

Behind her, Kaliyo gave a cough. She turned a flickering glare at the Rattataki, then looked back to Kimble. “Perhaps you’d join me for a cup of caf? I was just settling in with my first cup when Kaliyo informed me you were here.”

If he noted the interplay between the Alliance personnel, Doc didn’t react. Instead, he pursed his lips and gave a single nod. “Think I could handle that.”

“If you’ll come with me then, Doctor, we’ll make our way to the mess hall…”

Turning, Lana drew a deep breath, exhaling discreetly as she led the way to the lift. Dammit, Theron, she thought, you’d better check your messages...

[tryingnottotalk]

Porn isn't the problem.

It might be a trigger for *you* I have no idea.

But it's not the problem in itself. Lots of people watch porn. It can be a relatively healthy outlet.

You might even personally watch too much, but unless you can't stop long enough to go to work or school or engage in life (which I didn't THINK was a problem...) then it's not the problem.

It's engaging with strangers for sex

And your inability to separate that from a warped idea of love.

I used to think it was purely anonymous and a series of infrequent one offs and you wouldn't even WANT to know who they were because of the huge complications it would **obviously** bring!

But you believe these people can truly love you? Not that zero of them could ever possibly, if they met you and got to know you in a healthy way...

.. but a relationship born of totally anonymous, no holds barred, depraved sex roleplaying over the internet with lonely, desperate strangers very rarely ends up in fairytale romance. Sorry to be the one to tell you.

Sincerely. Someone should have made this clear to you at some point. A relationship that begins in meaningless sex, using each other as interactive sex toys, objects..... Assuming the other party was even interested in finding a longer term partner, and then, interested in being with someone they met on these sites... The chances you make a real connection?

The closest you got (I think), with Kathryn... How genuine was your connection? How much did you actually have in common vs forced?

And how much of it was both of you just being sad, empty people, desperate to be loved by anyone who would?

...

Our culture is super fucked up about sex.

It shouldn't be this way. Where no one can share anything sexual about themselves outside the bedroom without being some deviant. How are we supposed to find people we're sexually compatible with?? Sex is this beautiful, powerful, life affirming and life *creating* thing that's been crammed down into the most shameful, guilt-laden, darkest corner we could find thanks to Puritan Values™, and polite society wants nothing to do with it. So only "lonely perverts" go near it on their own, capitalists exploit them and anyone else they can for it, and the CRAZIEST PEOPLE.... are the ones who figure out how to turn it back into something positive and beautiful, and want to share that view with the world. Sickos, right?

~~The Bible's~~ answer to finding a sexually compatible, emotionally fulfilling partner? Pray on it. Abstain from sex and all thoughts of it. God will *send* you a good partner, priority shipping. Also shame on you for even thinking about it. Go say some Hail Marys.

I tried to be a very understanding partner, offered to open the door to non monogamy (which you declined, and I was mistakenly grateful for because it simplified things, cue bitter laughter) and left the option to reassess, was as non judgmental as I could be about your stranger kinks (sorry! I really tried here and even role played with you but the REALITY of your kink makes me uncomfortable), shared almost all of mine with you (except one which you guessed at but showed obvious disgust in, and since I had no desire to do it in real life I thought it didn't matter if I looked at it in porn on my own... Maybe a mistake), read your erotic stories, shared my erotic art, played sex games together...

And I thought we had a pretty great sex life despite erectile set backs... even wanted to be more adventurous, actually. Considered threesomes, but (HA!) didn't want to risk the relationship!!!!!

You're very mentally and emotionally unhealthy Chris, and you need to do the leg work to fix it.

This is all without saying ANYTHING about your compulsive lying.

I want you to get better. I want you to get better for yourself, because it is the only guaranteed thing to truly make you happier. To make you a more whole person.

Start reading self help books written by actual therapists about habitual lying. About love addiction and sex addiction.

Get real help as soon as you can, prioritize it.