Acquired tastes, they don’t leave you; they stick to you like mud. March on bold, unique, in your shoes that fit, because you’ll be like that forever. Unabashedly muddied with your own tastes, for the world to see. Admire your grunginess. Don your crazy style. Indulge in whatever gave you such an acquired taste.
It’s not often you find a saved blank page in your documents. If you do, you’re like me, dedicating hours of a day to figuring out what you want to put on a page. You’re paranoid of the silence that threatens to fill your head. You become deaf to all reason. The filling of the page becomes your ultimatum. And not being able to fulfill it means only one thing, the thing you dread, which is the thing you are if you don’t fill it. Uncreative.
So, if you see a blank page, caress it. Begin to fill it with your love and appreciation, thanking it for wanting to listen to you and be a canvas for your feelings. “Thank you, page, for listening to me,” you’ll say, and then you’ll find all that you need to write down on its flesh. All that you couldn’t tell it, because you were focusing on your emptiness, and not its inspiring willingness.
I want to jump your bones right now. Tell me where to start. I can start on my knees, sucking on your huge head, tasting your flesh between my lips. Riding your cock with my mouth. Well, you want that. I want you. Right now, anything goes.
Come. Show it to me. That fucking cock.
Now. Please. I need it in my face right now.
I want it.
Sex. That’s all I think as it bobs before me. That’s all I want to do to you as I stare at it barely containing itself. I want you to take me. I say put those hands to use, from behind. You know what to do. So when are you gonna do it? I want you…dipshit.
Sometimes you wanna scream. But do we talk about those times were we’d rather laugh and quit the drama? That’s where I am now. I have been part of a system of alternate personalities where the host has been aware of it for 3 years, and one thing I’ve noticed about all this is that you know what’s truly in your mind. you know what’s been there since you’ve been small, what’s been hiding since you started to grow and understand the world for what it really is, and subconsciously what still haunts you as you try to ignore the horrors of growing up in the world. There’s some things that I’d like to prescribe to our host in particular that we know, have always known, and will never forget now that it has been realized by our conscious mind: we are afraid of the dark, afraid of interacting with people, and afraid of letting people know who we are (which includes our thoughts and feelings – the stuff that makes us up on the inside).
The first time we can remember being scared of the dark is when we were a child, feeling that she shadows shifted when our eyes had to refocus within the darkness, and that they made shapes, of – who else but those we fear encounters with? – people. Strange people, people that seemed bigger than us, dressed weirder than us, and even a different gender than us. There were more things in the dark, we were sure, because if we could only see a few things and barely guess what they were, what else could be hiding in those silhouettes we could barely make out?
Now, did we ever grow up from being scared of the dark? No. We started to like it and submerge ourselves in it and beg for the TV to be off when we sleep. We ended up needing the darkness to rest. But something in us ticked when our young adult body experienced its first sexual assault. Somehow, darkness became related to strangers which became related to fears that related themselves to our sexual assault, even though our assault was done by a friend and it wasn’t super dark when it happened, either. We could see everything. But something regarding taking a risk and diving into our fears head-first was halted when the assault happened. We noticed danger. We noticed that reaching into our fears to see them staring back could have consequences, and that reaching forward into recovery for even that recent trauma could have consequences, and so could reaching backwards into past trauma to heal it. So, everything we’d done to this point as a unit to get over our fears retracted itself until there was no progress. We are now afraid of the dark. We are now afraid of socializing again even though we’ve come to be a social butterfly in our later years. And we now have had a hard time getting into and keeping interest in things that we like, and having the world be in on it as well. The progress we have made, did it ever really exist if it could unravel from one traumatic experience?
So, I say you know who you are, and that you will never change. You can work around it, make improvements, and even act in spite of your fears and quirks, but in the end they will always find you. And that is how my system’s host found out about its probable Dissociative Identity Disorder. The host “became different” as a child, and then that way of carrying themselves switched off when they had to fend for themselves as an adult in an oppressive household. They didn’t know why they changed as a child: they went from caring about their elders to despising them, and from being cheerful to having less than an affect. They went from assertive to submissive and they went from wearing their emotions on their sleeve to emotionless. But they were simply a child, and just getting older and tougher were easily able to explain away what happened to their personality. It would be different if they grew up into that person completely, but they tore away from that person that they put on like a shawl to hide themselves from the world the moment it mattered. The host discovered cloaking and what it meant. It meant not being yourself, and fooling everyone around you so that you could be safe in who you were without judgement, prying from others, or fear of what them finding out meant. Just being yourself in silence. The person they cloaked themselves from was their father, and somewhat their mother, who enabled his abusiveness. Now that their father has been ejected from their household for two years now, what else does the host have to cloak from? Well…now it’s the fact that they’ve been cloaking all their lives, and that cloaking has led to sides of them that haven’t been expressing themselves for years. Now, as they each unveil, they are different, want their own lives, and have their own suggestions on what things should be like for themselves, now that they have the opportunity to make life what they want it to be. But the host wants them back under the veil.The host wants to pretend they are whole and never let their personality fragment in the first place.
It’s that thing that you do when you want to show off, be somebody. You sit in front of the camera, surroundings adjusted, and stare that lens right in its center. You adjust your outfit, probably itchy lace or some body stocking that starts to come down from your breasts. You wait for someone to enter your digital room. It doesn’t take long.
Show your tits. Moon us. Flash us a smile. Tips, here, there. More. Heavy tipping. Ridiculous donations. What do they possibly want you to do? Pee in your own mouth.
You’re a squirter but not that flexible. Is pee prohibited on Chaturbate?
Sex is now on your mind. You’re horny and want to use your vibration wand.
Talk about their day while you masturbate. Penetrate your vag with your fingers while your vibrator works on your clit while a viewer tells you what hobby their auntie has been getting into lately, what their brother said to them recently, what adventures their kids have been on. Talk about the day, the weather, the holiday season, with your consistently growing audience. Laugh and genuinely smile at the camera again. Stream your emotions. Feel happy. Show your happy.
You are now chaturbating.
A/N: I have recently had another alter introduce herself to me. She likes to write and socialize, so I made her a space on my blog for her. These are her thoughts.
4:27 PM, 12/9/20
Living as a multiple is so dumb. I come to in wherever the host alter was sitting, am wherever they were, and am doing whatever they were doing. Usually, I’d like to sit inside the head a bit and doze off and get lost. I’d be back to when things were great and happy and I’d never leave unless the body was in some imminent danger, which happens more than you’d want to believe. But even then, I’m not “out”, just inside, dormant, waiting to think about the good times again.
Just two days ago, I appeared, and we were wearing ink all over our bodies from a previous show the host alter Kuudere did. Permanent marker streaked across our pillow. The words “slut” and “Daddy’s toy” were already fading across our body. We aren’t sexual, maybe are even asexual, so this was jarring and uncomfortable. When she looked at porn of herself last night, I feel that I was maybe already co-conscious or triggered into being and was disgusted to see that. She enjoyed it and I didn’t.
I’m named differently from the alters. I’m Ashley. The other alters typically have J names. They’re the ones most cooperative with Kuudere as well. There’s Joey, Judy, Joy, and Jack. The others are Little Me, Littlespace Me, and Nothing. That makes up 7 alters other than Kuudere and me. So many of us and so many different preferences, ways of thinking, an everything.
One day, I hope therapy ends for us and that we can be okay. But I know the healthy journey is a long one and that we may never be able to stop receiving therapy with our intense conditions. I just wish we had a therapist who understood and believed us, but those people are far and few in between.
Where is the force that pushes me in your direction?
Where’s the side of me that dies to be around you?
I feel you rush through my fingers like you were never there.
Where’s the love that’s supposed to be in the air?
Why am I so irritated by your presence?
Why is it that every moment with you I regret?
Is this what the feeling of having no connection is like?
The spark never existed, it’s dead and won’t light.
Maybe if I leave you alone I’ll be fine.
But I’ll be lonely, again searching for someone to be near my side.
I. What am I doing on here? This looked a lot like my first question on OnlyFans.
II. How will I make money? More like how would someone find me in this wasteland of nudes and videos when I just came up into this world?
III. Why would someone follow me alongside others? Because they’re not flowing only me. They’re following everybody, AND just happened to follow me. So, I shouldn’t feel like I’m getting compared, but I’m sorely being compared as well as honored to be in the same subscribed-to list as some ultra- hottie who knows how to work this system better than I do.
IV. What does advertising this like like? There’s SFW media which we all have, and then this sticky place called NSFW (which I had to describe to some lucky adult soul who didn’t know what it was, recently). Not just anyone had to plan a NSFW page. Either they were dabbling in consuming the shit – like vacuuming it into their browser history – or they were intent on creating it from the beginning. Either way, I wasn’t in either of those categories. This was new shit for me. I had to make new social medias and then grow them up like they were my babies (which they were!). And some social medias I had to merge together in some way, like merging contacts with or something, to kick my NSFW social medias into gear. The forbidden, unforgivable.
V. How to retain my few fans? It’s hard getting a few. In fact, it’s so hard that we wonder how to get them and don’t really get as far as wondering how to keep them. That was a real doozie to figure out. I mean hard reads, soft reads, and lots of reading articles, too. I even had to create lists. LISTS. I even budgeted for what NSFW props I’d need to boost my content to the next level. I prepared so hard to start the OnlyFans but here I was promoting its continuity to the max – through even more preparation…So are you exhausted from reading this stream-of-consciousness journey, yet?
VI. When will be my first payout? How the hell did we even get here? We just started! Well, it’s still important. My first question was truly how to get my first payout, but since that’s answered swifty by the how to get fans question, the better answer to seek for at this stage is when will the money be coming? Not only does OnlyFans take out a percentage (20% in fact) of all the money (yes, even the tips) you make on OnlyFans, but it only pays you once you get into the $20 range.
So feasibly, when will YOU get there? That determines when you’ll get your first paycheck. And there’s weekly and monthly versions of your paycheck. Chose which one is most satisfying and watch as it takes days, weeks, and then maybe even months to get anything above a subscription price and if you’re lucky, maybe a few. Then at some point, once you specialize in something or perk a few eyebrows up, you’ll get that famed tip.
But who knows how long it will take you to make it to $20? The minimum tip is $5 and the PPV (Pay Per View) messages are actually a minimum of $3 – but why would someone want to pay to view your message? If anything, that message, but free, is keeping your page from being anything equal to being not subbed to, because its entertaining and rewarding, which your content, being amateur TO ALL HELL, probably isn’t.
Payouts can take a while, especially if you’re relying on subs to get you there. Small sub prices mean you must get a larger number of subs. Like a ridiculous number. A number you can barely imagine you’d keep even for a month – especially because you just started. A larger sub price means less people – increasingly less – will sub to it. And that price holds expectations so if you don’t meet them, or even if you do, you may just be losing a sub the next week. So payouts…you were wondering when you’ll get then again?
If you get one within the first month, you’re one of the lucky ones. If you get yours within the first two months, you’re successful. If you get one within the first three you’re doing something right. If anyone thinks making this bank is easy with a couple of titties, they have sorely mistaken. Too many titles exist for that to be possible for just having some titties, alone.
VII. How do I keep the fire alive? This is a sub-model platform. That means people are expecting you to bring your A-game every month. How will you manage the burnout? How will you keep it squeaky fresh? What drives you to continue this path of making freaky content? If you don’t have the answers to those questions or at least make them up as you go along, you will find yourself quitting, and that is when you truly stop making money. Fuck losing money. Stopping the ability to make money is really the worst enemy in this business.
You can have dry spells, but don’t give up. Your next big break is a matter of timing and being in the right place, not a matter of grace. You have to work your butt off and find a way to have nothing else you’d rather be working your butt off to. I believe in you if this is your choice, but know it is no lazy journey. It’s got you on all fours, carrying the sexual load of the world. And it’s fearless and won’t stop until you feel like you’re just another egirl.
Sex is a woman. Smooth and sleek. Fearless and bred to bring men to their feet. Sly and foxy, slippery as dew. Slithers into your heart and makes her cocoon.
Sex is a diva. Sultry and sweet. Taste her if you dare; she’s a deadly treat. Meek and mannerful, shy like flames that lick lightly at every corner until they devour the remains.
Sex is a womb. Small and tough. Built to withstand growth, death, and love. Expansion at the highest caliber of the bodies that we were all born of.
Sex is a queen. Bow down to your leader. She is no tyrant, yet you should still fear her. Shaking and moving at the slightest hint of her sound, dance to the rhythm of the queen and her drums, NOW.
Linda is the host of Stream Of Consciousnesses Saturday Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “medium.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy! ~*~*~ Thoughts need a medium to express themselves Words could be either prose or poetry Paintbrush, a pencil, or a lump of charcoal Drawing or sketching on paper or […]Stream Of Consciousnesses Saturday- Medium — Keep it alive
Selling panties, nudes, sexy vids, and your soul, online.
“What’s your favorite thing in your shop? Just curious”? It took me forever to hear those words. In fact a week. I felt that a week was too long. I’d gotten on the site and already knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to sell, and I wanted men to buy what I had to offer.
Sex? Well, in a way, the idea of sex. A woman’s panties have a lot to say about a woman – her character, her pheromones, and her daily comfort levels. I’ll just say my underwear aren’t as cute as what’s under them, because then they would be impractical. But I was still ready to sell them – every impractical panty, too. But what really drew me aback is when a buyer asked me what I liked in my store. I never thought I’d hear that, regardless someone hinting that they were curious, which were other words for “I want to buy something from you because I appreciate you and what you do”. It dind’t matter what he saw. It didn’t matter what he could see.He just wanted me ton know I had his support.
At the moment I’m waiting for his reply to my comment, “what’s the point of doing it if you’re not passionate, yknow?” I was passionate before I joined. For quite a while I wanted to sell underwear. I knew that culturally some places were more advertised as kinky than others (ahem, Japan), but I didn’t know that instinctually, almost every man is brought to his knees by a pair of panties, regardless of his nationality or upbringing or culture, or that of who is wearing them. There are preferences, though. Men like certain nationalities sometimes, certain body types, even hair colors (blondes, brunettes, redheads). But some men just like you. They like a sexy, confident body. They like exhibitionism. And surprisingly I have it all. So do you, if you will embrace it and take hold of the opportunities nested in the world wide web this year, like I have.
We’re spending a helluvalot of time in front of the computer screen in 2020. And one thing I’ve learned is about what men like to consume. I’ve dipped my feet into panty, video, and nudes-selling. I’ve breached the top of the video game streaming culture that’s just right below the affiliate line with Twitch. I’ve social media’d my heart out and made a Twitter, Instagram and OnlyFans. I’ve binged anime, games, and the latest nerd news. And what I’d like to say is that I’m surprised that I never imagined that a guy would like my personality and then be led to buy something from me from there, and that my looks were just a window through which to notice my presence to say hi and really get what he was looking for post-discovery. I didn’t know a guy would wait that long to get interested in a girl outside of her body – especially on a site like that, catered to selling fetish items.
Ladies and Gents…men are quite the interesting creatures. I am eternally flattered for how they support adult and sex work with not only their money but their kindness and understanding. They embrace us. So why shouldn’t we?
So, if you want to get into my newfound hobby, go ahead. Become a merchant. That may be in the line of egirl, nudes seller, sexter, panty seller, premium Snapchatter, influencer, or another path. Maybe you’ll write sexy literature like I aspire. Maybe you’ll create an OnlyFans or Patreon. Maybe you’ll curate kinky animations or make pornos. Whatever you want to do, the market is open. And yes, it will take more than one day. Say, a week. But then again, I’ve been aggressive as hell on this, and I hope that you would be too, with whatever you put your mind to. Get yourself out there and live it up. Tell me if you get there earlier than a week.
when I thought I was alone in my depression, i notice I was in a sea of other depressive people. wading was hard. someone at least taught me how to swim. I wondered how others would cope with the tidal waves. I pushed on, knowing others wouldn’t make it. for my life. for the hope that one of us in the sea would live.
because depression is an environment. it’s not who we are. we were placed in it against our will, but we will get far. our strength is too precious and our passions are too deep to sacrifice to these overarching difficulties.
we’ll own this sea. we’ll glide. we’ll meet on the other side. I know in my mind that these others are alright. they will be. my strength will help then survive.
And the bullshit they put us through.
I…I have been getting treated, prodded, told I’m too smart to wait, that I just want to be told what I am, what I’m going through – not to really feel it, know it, relate what it is at it’s heart. I just want to know of it, be done with it, then throw it in the trash. When I say I want all this, it means I also don’t want to know what I’m going through, at its core. Years of personality development and anguish? No thanks, I want nothing of you in my life. I want to be lifeless, nothing, never existent. Not knowing that by me feeling these things, it means that everything I experienced is even more real.
It comes down to what are your psychiatrist and therapist doing to make sure that you are…at the best you can be right now. Not in the future. Not yesterday, but now. Right now, the best I can do is recognize me and my trauma and my happiness. My coping skills and my falters. My PTSD and that other thing we didn’t talk about. That other thing we’re still looking for. That other piece to the whole puzzle.
I can’t say if I’ll ever know what exactly we are looking for. But I decided today that I can ask my psychiatrist what they think about my diagnosis so far. About the results in the diagnostics I showed them.
The thing I can’t do…is ask them to diagnose me.
Why? Because that will come in its own time. I hate it. I want it to be fast. I want it to be now. I want to know everything. But so many methods are in place to find out and be sure what’s up, just as there’s so many factors at play making me a confuddled mess.
Excuse me, I mean confuddled masterpiece.
Get a load of this.
I’m me but a different form
Time to change faces.
I’m still here
and fully sane.
In-tact in fact;
no more am I restrained,
Because I found a voice
in trying to claim
My freedom to live
in a world which maims.
This world has brought me trouble,
but I’m a fisherman and so have caught
many things in it –
From yeast infections to many bad
from the deepest feelings of love to the
most amazing of luck.
If life is a box of chocolates,
i’ve definitely learned not to say “yuck”.
Even after I’ve tasted those bitter fucks –
i’m still here.
Picking up each and every one,
I shun whoever put me here in this endless
sogno di un cioccolatiere sadico.Continue reading “🍫 Endless Chocolate Wrappers 🍬”
when you like somebody. when the infatuation is strong…maybe no longer infatuation…maybe forever something more.
when that somebody turns you on so much that you can’t help writing porn about him. when…they light you up inside with being so similar…so strikingly beautiful. so understood, but not…
when they’re yours…just a few more years.
when they’re here. now.
and that matters. it’s all that does.
when the wait begins…to be loved…to be trusted…to benefit someone’s life with your companionship and appreciation…and the countdown. starts. now.
By Troy Headrick
I don’t think this is going to be anything like any of my other blogs. Actually, I’m not for sure what this is going to look like or how it might turn out. That’s why I’m calling it an “experiment.”
I will conduct my experiment by asking a series of personal, self-discovery questions and then answering them. Each response will be used to generate another query and answer. I will repeat this several times.
I want to be slow and deliberate each time I create my questions, but I want to be quick when writing my responses. Answering quickly is my way of allowing the ideas to flow. I want to get them out very spontaneously and then go back and clean up the language afterwards. I don’t want to edit my responses in any sort of substantive way other than to make them more readable.
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Today, I had an Otaku Attack. A slither of realization that I really am an otaku. It shocked me, shook my heartbeat, froze my mind in time. My hands trembled along the thought, catching it, stretching it like taffy, and then molding it into something pretty. Me. It is my identity. And I shouldn’t shirk it for any reason.
There were moments where I wondered why I was at home all the time. I’d watch my sister reach into the unknown with her hands and feet, tumbling through the wiry brush of the city geography of cars and charity, protests and deep consumerism. Tagging and skateboarding, laughing and loving.
I’d sit thinking, trapped, tortured, mentally unwell. My body would mimic the style of chaotic organization within. My room would stay like a hut of objects with no real order or reason to be there, and my sister, though out of her room more than I am, kept hers clean even on days where she was bored of home or tired from outside ventures. Energy was her name. Order was her breath. I had no order. So…
I was dead. My mind hooked up on headphones and bitrates. Graphics and aesthetics. Color…HD and 1080p. Life simulated before me.
In the days I was trapped, that’s what I had. My mind and myself. It didn’t make me mad. It made me thoughtful, concerned. Sensitive towards art and expressive. I communicated through screens and buttons and competed amongst the best of them. Pushing out my aggression into controllers and pounding out exclamation points into my keyboard. I came…saw…and conquered a world of the digital era.
My words meant something. They either stung or soothed. My inputs were fatal, though I’d respect if I’d lost, because sometimes you lose. In the eyes of my monitor, I glistened a humanly hue. I listened to an electronic beat but felt a human tune.
Art became my life, and an extension of my fingers. Anything I touched became a commentary or a creation, and I believed I was a leader.
A listener that enjoys absorbing other’s news. A person of culture. An otaku.
Are you an insomniac like me
Staring at the sunset
Which you mock every morning because
You’re up before it?
Are your thoughts clean
Or do you scrub them at 6
Wanting the floors to be spic and span
Are you a crow
Picking over the day’s turnout of events
Peering into the mysterious tomorrow
Almost throwing up over filling you beak too high
With expectations for
Stigma is when someone sees a person or group in a negative way because of a particular characteristic or attribute. Stigma leads to discrimination. When someone treats you in a negative way because of your mental illness, this is discrimination. Approximately 75% of people with a mental illness report that they have experienced stigma. TYPES […]THE IMPACT OF STIGMA ON PEOPLE WITH MENTAL ILLNESS
Almost 2 years ago, I got this wild idea to open a bookstore. What could be better for an extrovert with an immense enthusiasm for both people & books, right? Except that I tend toward the risk-adverse. And I have a well-documented history of sticking with what I’m good at. Running a business? Well, that […]Book Nerd Love (a Thank You)
I crunch this dirt,
This hard, ungiving ground;
I blister, I falter,
Wearing Uggs throughout fall, summer, winter,
As hardy as my soul –
I go on until my soles go asunder.
Hi, so decided to put up a little list of small things in life that you can apprecriate at anytime. Now it is partly a coincidence that I happen to be writing this considering the time period that we are in. However knowing that this is somewhat-very difficult for anybody, regardless of your situation, I […]Small things in life which we can appreciate at all times
Foreward: Penny Berry read my mind. I was going to respond to her post on findom with a post of my own, but she decided to give me an interview on it anyways. Yes, we share a telepathic connection.
Here’s some of the questions she wanted me to have my way with. It’s time to see me dominate this interview. ➡️
Good Evening Friends! I hope you all have had a restful weekend. Tonight we are slowing things down and re-visiting a topic which we touched upon in Tiny Talk Tuesday: Financial Domination. My dear friend, Kuudere, was kind enough to share her insights and experiences with financial domination as it is a regular part of […]A Closer Look at Financial Domination: Spotlight Interview with Kuudere!
Or am I afraid? Washed with disgust as they join the same train.
Mind’s just backwards of course, definitely, nothing worse. I see the colors of hatred and thirst
For power, superiority, something that masks all the insecurity of the history that’s passed.
Where’s all the ones that do support those like me? All I see on media is blacks murdered on the scene.
When will I get back to the way before Floyd? Once I got used to college, color melted into a void.
Now it stands out so clear and I cry inside my skin.
Brown…burning with fear and confusion.
It’s back to ground zero. This isn’t stage four.
I feel very frightened to go outside anymore.
My city’s so fragmented, big, built on lies.
The racism’s so big I can’t tell when it’s absent or disguised.
I wait till the second the train doors open, here on my stop, Lincoln Park. Richest neighborhood, clearly. Full of whites, yes, atop the cash chain. But I’m going to see my black friend who lives there – who hopefully she helps me stay sane.
It is now time for that mantra’s ring to die down.
The one you made last year.
It’s lined paper crumples at the edges, yellowing with smudged ink.
What did you even intend it to mean?
How did it serve your life’s purpose?
Is it fresh now? Is it recited everyday?
Or is it lost amongst the to-dos?
A dead list
Whose breath ceased
Once you stopped chanting it?
By Sarah Bellamy June 8, 2020
When the weather warms up I feel two things: excitement and trepidation. My body longs for the warmth of sun on my skin and my heart remembers that summer is the season of death. It has been this way for a long time, but I think I started counting when I was a teenager. That’s when I learned of the “Red Summer”; in 1919, white supremacist terrorist attacks and riots resulted in mass murder of Black civilians in more than three dozen cities across the United States. Often in the summer I am in the presence of young people who, as teenagers, are just coming into their awareness of the brutality that is cyclically enacted against Black people. Often I need to hold space for their rage, their grief, their fear. I am tired of summers beginning this way.
Continue reading, here:
As we go through our lives, one of the most important things we learn is how to connect with people. No wonder we, humans, are known to be “social animals.” Feeling heard is a human need, and all of us want to feel understood. Often when I would have an argument with someone, I would […]The Highest Form of Knowledge
Wake up amongst the stars
Who burnt out last night just like you.
The day gives you time to rejuvenate
And deal with all the bad news.
In the evening when no one sees what living has gone and done to you…
You can sleep and shine in your sweat and achievements,
Remembering you’re burning out,
But it helped me cope with depression, anxiety, PTSD, even
I am not myself, but that’s in order to keep breathin’.
Daily tantrums erupting from the Earth’s crust force my hand;
They threaten to break my mask.
And although it may crack
It will never shatter.
Stronger than ever
Will my strong façade stay:
It may be fake, but in order to be so consistent,
I think it truly mimics the very strength I need for the day.
I chose the coldest wind and the darkest day as backdrops to my thought; what was I doing and what did I want from him?
I really shouldn’t wonder and should focus on myself. It isn’t good to be in relationships that make you mentally unwell.
Do I take the epiphany from this dark, thoughtful trek as a revelation from hell? “To be in a relationship is to be unwell.”
Why are there happy couples that have yet to fail? – And why were their glass hearts so tentatively held?
Reflecting values of the truths that they tell, did they not deceive and only meant well?
My heart was stained glass stained from experience. Mine was not nearly so beautiful and had no absence of weariness.
My stained glass heart had become a shattered mosaic. Once I had put the peices together, there was supposed to be another person there to receive it.
But no one wants to touch sharp edges. I let my heart be fragile, and now there was no one to carry it.
Those couples, with glass hearts, that are tentative with their care…They must not have yet met the partner that’s willing to drop it.
They must have replaced their mosaic hearts with new ones, because the result of a handled heart? Who or what can actually stop it?
Do you like treats? Well eat this post from one of my favorite bloggers who’s often very balls deep in producing great BDSM literary material. *a slurp, to show appreciation for its deliciousness*
Good Morning Friends! We’re back with another day of The Dominant’s Den, and this morning we are breaking down how your body language, communication, and behavior can make you more approachable while in dom-space. This is especially helpful if you have a Little or a tender-hearted submissive. How you carry yourself matters, and today we […]Day 21 of The Dominant’s Den: How to Make Yourself More Approachable in Dom-Space — Penny Berry
Sometimes novels just aren’t your thing. This may look closer to what you may have written, instead. (My drafts of NaNoWriMo.)
I. I can’t wait to leave this place…
II. Final Paper for Psy 302
III. Nature Is Fun!
The trees shed their skin and expose their veins to the cold north wind.
Cute thin needles of life. Hibernating for now. We will see them grow their skin back again. Luscious pink and white, tender flower-pores will give way to wrinkled green newgrown skin as the virgin white and pink flesh matures again and again, and then ages.
The water crackles and pops on each and every surface. Look out. There’s an intruder coming your way. Swift and unexpected like the Raven, but persistent and loud like its Nevermore. Is that the sound of a sniffing dog dragging its wet paws along the concrete, or the sound of the wooden roof above me creaking steadily at the water’s weight is stretching its beams?
Bulbs of little liquid make big things, like little ones do. A net of support for Big you.
Puddles are sad and quicksand-like. I step in one very full of fright. Which one will grow deep and take me down tonight? To night, the stealer of innocence, dreamer of ‘mares, and emitter of anxious light. The baker of insomnia’s cookies, of which I’ll take a bite…
Shadows. Transitioning from the primitive to paint the modern – just a similar dull hue.
I watch shadows, but are they watching me? I’ll be dead or caught by now, or sneaking past with their help, I’ll be free. I’m a goner during the daytime where my fears often find me. But in the nighttime you shadows must be here to hide me within your reach. Play with me. Again. Tonight. Lull me to sleep. In the dark my calmness approaches me in the form of Zzzz.
Stars aren’t so bright when you zip away their disguise; dark red pain and blood now bursting through the skies.
Moon. Mooo. Moooo. Cow jumped over the…dinner plate. Round and white as the moon. Do I drink milk in the morning or mourn that cow’s doom?
No one is mistaken when they say an ass is a grocery. If one says otherwise, they must have never seen a peach!
Eat, eat. Please don’t delete. You won’t be strong. You will be weak. Your little nails need not be flimsy. Paint them like rainbows and think. Don’t be hasty, look at their colors and remember that to grow strong, you need to cultivate your beauty. Not through tearing away at what is meant to be.
I’m pretty. Cute. A Girl or Boi. Someone full of importance who brings Daddy joy. My little is 2, 3, or maybe even older, like maybe 15! But that would never make me older than my Big. And no little one is ever to old for Mommy’s kiss!
I like cookies. They’re Gingerbread myths. I put them on hats and shirts and shoes. I make them real, so my Gingerbreads may live!
IV. Dead Cells (made the list because it was modified on December 2nd, a date very close to November. Yes, I cheated!)
I think of zombies as the equivalent of human demons. They feel nothing. They know nothing. They want everything. Munch-munch. Chew-chew. Are they satisfied? More, more. Brains, brains. Give-give, or I’ll take-take. Them all away from you. So you’re mindless, like me. I steal, because I can’t think, but to have these desires of the zombie.
V. Puppy’s Pact (Literally Just my BDSM Contract)
Baby girl and Daddy Dom unite today!
Nov 1, 2019
Daddy’s Princess: [Dom’s Name]
Puppy’s Alpha: [My Name].
And it was actually signed by us. Yay!
I edited or wrote a few blog posts doing December that are unpublished. But other than that, ya guys know what else I was doing during in December. Needless, stay tuned my faithful comrades for my personal January’s musings and literary art!
Emergency P.S. But wait. Isn’t #3 technically the beginning of my poetry book in the making, that I wanted to make? Omg I wrote (part of) a book during NaNoWriMo!
A small writer’s summer.
*It flourished before it didn’t.
A small babe’s steps.
*They weren’t before they were.
The first light.
*It darkened before it lightened.
The first breath was taken in turmoil.
– A poem. By Kuudere1
P.S. Poetry Keeps Me Writing. I Will Keep On And You Will See Interesting Things To Come. A Small Hi(W)a(i)tus Will Bring About A Certain Vernacular Relief. Or diarrhea. Your choice. I may just be willing to vomit this all out. Spit it in your faces. Pit you face to face with what’s coming next. Thanks for reading!
feel good, not abashed
those societal eyeballs staring at you? gouge them out and smash
style is great, so if you have an ass, show it, or if you want one, grow it with contouring and know that you know it – you’re beautiful and stoic, cliché and open, full of shit and worry about what makes you look best, and stowing all the style for the rest of the season, and shining out loud for what weather is out now.
Style is great. Your style. Own it as if those others don’t know how. Coming back in style with cute poems about what I’ll be doing each post about! Maybe. This post is a little interlude to the posts I scheduled about bdsm. This, and other lifestyles, have their own style to them. And now that humans left and right are squeezing the style out of summer’s past and the incurring fall to the best of their advantage, I’d like to address the beauty of this.
BDSM, like the way you dress, is a way to express yourself. Many dress themselves down in corsets, lace, chokers, and even lingerie in public. Buckles and o-rings hang from bondage-pants, and pleather chest harnesses display a cross-culture of witchy symbols across the chests of Hot Topic hipsters, while their candi jewelry sways across their collarbones. Accessories and handbags tip their hat to bondage ideas, all the while looking mysterious. The world shows us this.
So here’s more ways you can show your bdsm-specific lifestyle to the world, if you’re a little girl or like little girl things! This can be through clothes. Accessories. Handbags…
* * *
These are in so much style that no one will suspect you for the taboo version of sexuality treason! You will probably be called a country girl before you are called a little girl, if you get my drift. Are these worn in the country? I don’t know, but it may be a popular media trope! One that disguises you well. Or you maybjust be cobsidered to be following the trend! Little do they know that this was a favorite among littles before it was reincarnated back again into a modern fashion favorite!
2. Reverse Sequins (Anything)
Let’s see the list of reverse sequins there are. Pillows, keychains, lanyards even probably, bookbags, and I think even shirts may fit that category. Notebooks, journals, and diaries. And beautiful plushies!
Plushies. You can buy then as purses, y’know? Or as reverse sequin purses! Now that you can see how versatile they are, may I introduce you to plushie keychains and plushie…plushies! Use them however you like. Especially for therapy purposes.
4. Pins and patches!
My favorite has to be an original buildabear patch. You can get a pin or patch with almost any type of graphic, now! Lots of name brand products and characters have them in bunches. You can chose one in any shape, though the sizes are usually small enough to put on clothes, bags or any other type of pinable or patchable material. For pins, I prefer putting them on thick canvas material. Thin cotton material highly tends to retain the holes to a high visible degree! As for patches, there are different ways to apply them. They come in iron-on and in stitch-on! Chose your poison! Er-bonding method!
5. A Smile
If you’re often smilely, it can give off an innocent or hospitable vibe. Perfect to pair with a subby or little outfit!
6. Graphic Ts.
Get these because why not. It’s just another way to get a kiddie or cartoon or fun character on your outfit!
7. Graphic Leggings and Stockings
This includes graphic fishnets. They exist. *slow mischevious grin*
I hope you liked my list on things you can still wear to show your little/sub, or generally BDSM side in the fall! I truly wish you, too, a fashionable winter. The hint to pulling that off is wool, wool, and more wool! And stylish scarves! And cutesy boots! There. You now have your fall and winter wardrobe planned. Don’t throw anything away that you can repurpose!
Food. Family. Women. Things that he couldn’t live without but had a terrible relationship with.
Events. Appointments. Bills. Things that he needed to be aware of that he couldn’t remember.
Alcohol. Weed. Depression. His crippling dependency expressed through abusing these coping mechanisms.
Direness, therapy, and recovery. All integral to getting out of the destructive cyclic behavior, but prone to drawing him back in it.
Need. Want. Apathy. A controlling, confusing sick ideas-bundle created by life.
Hunger, suicide, self-harm. A trio of trigger warnings for a person who has felt so too many triggers.
Triggered, triggered, triggered. So triggered.
Agoraphobia. Social phobia. Self-phobia. Is – he – a – monster?
Leave Iraq. Leave conflict. Leave war. A thing that can be done physically. But not so effectively mentally.
Leave self, leave world, and leave pain; A three-fold wish that is also proved futile upon creation.
*trigger warning: PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, SAD, domestic abuse, sexual assault, criticism, self esteem*
A new blog post is in favor of the month switching over really soon. The season is, too. Snow already coated my backyard, and has started to blanket my soul. I wish it were nice, but mental illnesses make the changing of seasons very hard. At one point are the family celebrations bringing you to the brink and you to your knees, and on the other hand is loss of sunlight. You get short tempered. Nothing is good for long. If you break up with a SO around this time, you will feel empty, like you’re enduring the winter alone, like a bear without enough sustenance for hibernation.
Thus, I am saying my mental health side of my blog could use another post. I have a couple of diagnoses at the moment that are shaping how I live life, and did so before I knew it. I had to go to trauma therapy in order to deal with it. I, however, will be returning to it very soon after taking a, what seems to me, very short hiatus of about 2 months. It was getting too much to bear, is all.
PTSD. That’s one of my illnesses. It’s more like a spectacle through which to look through, more than being ill. Here are my superpowers: hyper-vigilance and hyper-arousal. Basically, I have spidey sense to the max. And I don’t only sense these senses I sense…I react to them, no matter what reality is telling me through my eyes and ears. Because subconsciously, I’m feeling a whole other thing. My father leaning down over me from his haughty position as head of the crumbling and begging household he led. Fingers from an ex-friend barring away the essence of my safety by ripping away my physical comfort while his eyes pried away at my privacy. I also oftentimes feel the wind kiss my skin like I’m about to take a drop on a roller coaster, while I’m simply crossing the street to the next campus building, the next meeting, the next cafe where I sit and ponder my life, and pick up the phone to tap on the screen and watch it show me doing my homework.
I write. I’m an English major at (as I mentioned in my NaNoWriMo blog post) DePaul University. And everyday I walk into a writing workshop in the college of Liberal Arts and Sciences, there, I actually feel my soul dodging criticism. The imaginary bullets coming out of several college student mouths sometimes fly and hit their peers instead of their workshop piece that is supposed to be the target. And when coming from the least expected mouth, it makes you deem them an enemy of your craft, forever, and scared to shit, feeling that letting anyone critique you means they would do it in a incision type of fashion.
No part of my life is easy. I’m a bean. I mentioned that in the beginning of my blog life, here. I grow, I’m tiny, and I have lots of potential. But people look at who I am now and judge. Who grows into a beautiful plant right away? Fruitfulness is a few smiles and soothing words away, we all as fruitful sprouts feel this, so we reach to the hopeful sky, out of our muddy worlds of darkness, hoping to grab that hope. But everyday brings harsh storms and winds and scalding heat, keeping me and others like me away from their goal.
Living with a mental illness can be hard. You’d think our worst enemies as mentally ill people are the thoughts within our own minds. But, the truth is that it’s the people who belittle us for the existence of these thoughts who actually solidify the reality of our worst fears – it is then at that point when we feel like our internal and imagined nightmares come to life.
a post by Kuudere1
A Parent’s Love Embers of amor engulf us as you touch my face once more. Held in your arms as closely as the day on which I was born. You have loved me from the moment my heart began beating. A childhood spent with you, If only time could be repeated. Although I will grow […]Poem: A Parent’s Love — HearAndSeek.blog
No Novel Writing Month.
It’s going to be a real crack at it this November. I will actually write a novel this time. Why is that? Is it because I’m as sure as that person that makes their unteenth New Year’s Resolution with too much unrealistic optimism? And fails. Of course. Well, that cannot be me upon any circumstances. I have what is called a Capstone – the proof of my college experience being worth something. Whatever I create in this class called a Capstone where I write the equivalent of a thesis, it will be what anyone and everyone sees in my hire-me portfolio. Idk who will read a whole novel, but anyways, that’s what the Capstone topic is for next school quarter.
You can tell the teacher of this class has a sense of humor. Heheh. In fact, I know and love this teacher. We’re write (oh God, convenient typo) in season for NaNoWriMo. Where would I be in English academia without him? Teachers like Eric Selinger help my curriculum to be less boring, and widens my perspectives on how and where to write. He even started a blog himself, upon being the trendsetter for teaching about the Romance genre at DePaul University (mine)! I doubt that “If he can do it, I can do it,” was in my mind subconsciously when I asked him about his blog, however it was an encouragement to know that people around me were blogging successfully (there’s quite a few). His expertise is romance – research, writing, conversing about it and the theories behind its creation and its history. He teaches at my college and with all that he taught me regarding composing short fiction and reproducing literary techniques, I will now be learning from him how to write a novel.
The first step into getting into NanoWriMo is to not sweat it. Hard to do, easy to say. Yes. Subscribe to the NaNoWriMo newsletter perhaps. Get motivation from friends and family in or that are into the literary world. Get your rough draft out there. Your roughest, first draft. The final draft does not come from you. It comes from your peers.
Walk into that blank page with pride. Write. Want to really post that material out there? Want anonymous commentators? Want to expand into the online world rather than the physical and tangible? Then get on Reddit, Fanfic.net, Wattpad, or the lovely platform WordPress itself on which you are reading this! Maybe even Quora could be there for you if you phrase your novel chapters into a question on what could be better in your piece!
I hoped this inspired you for NaNOWriMo! Get your ass out there! Or at least your toes. Dip a couple of them them into writing! Start early if you’re heavily ambitious and want a head start! I love you, WordPresser readers and writers! And cheers to another year of having written for and read from the homosapien masses!
Thanks for reading!
– – –
CLICK IT! IT’S THE INTERVIEW~ https://wp.me/pai6Oj-UI
Penny is a cute little that packs a punch with everything she says. See what she has to say about me! Venture into her blog and discover what secrets about littlespace are awaiting you! Alternative lifestyle and relationship advice at your fingertips! How to be the great Dom to your submissive! All is there. All that’s on Berry’s blog is awesome!
🐟🐠Micro Prose Fish Food For All The Literature Fishes!🐠🐟
Sometimes I need to get a thought out. A structured, well-worded thought. I use micro-prose to help. It’s an essay, a PSA, a piece of whatever form of prose I chose with whatever tone I want it to have. No poetics required. But since I like to be metaphorical anyways…
I titled this prose piece, “Am I Emotional or Is There Something Seriously Wrong With The Way You Treat Me?”
Not metaphorical, yet, but hold on here.
These are the feelings I’ve had lately. From therapy. From mood swings. Trauma reliving. And then feeling isolated from the neurotically-typical peers you have, and the ones diagnosing you that sit behind the desk with that unfettered brain of theirs, trying to interpret you, the you which you experience only through reality and never can experience from pure interpretation, alone…You’ve got that feeling, of being an ice cube one moment, then melted hot water the next, and then evaporated and taken from this terrible, stirring biome. You’re then a part of the clouds – but they think your persona is too heavy. And so, they leave you back on the ground, where toxic vampires climbing to the skies to make themselves seem all-that-and-more soak you up until you are nothing. And with your struggling, seeping ardor, they feed your boldness through their sharp, latching siphon with tender care. Paradoxically, knowingly, and carelessly.
You’re theirs. Their toy. Their reactor. Their responsibility. (Individually, you’re nothing.) And you like it. Or else you die with it.
You make them think that you have no idea you’re being abused…You’re water, not meant to be contained and held in a vessel forever. But you’re the object of their obsession, and eventually, the tidal wave they’re building will come before they know it. Before it’s too late, you become powerful, someone that no one can control. You never knew what control was and dreaded the day that you would go on autopilot and be controlled by something bigger than anything you ever knew would build from manipulation, alone.
Water was not meant to be controlled. Weeds don’t know that they will not like the upset natural balance of life, once created by them, nor that it pays back heavy karmic prices. ‘Tis life. ‘Tis life. A few drenched leaves and choking roots. And a shining light that can never shine too bright to rid the world of these weeds through something as cleverly inputted as a scorching-enough sun to dehydrate them to shrivels or to evaporate the ways in which they create for themselves, and others, to drown…
The cycle is thus a piece of shit.
I want to do more than write about it.
…I am so done with it. Until I die and let the next generation deal with each and every bit…I think that we will all be tired of it,
The question every newbie Dom asks: Do I want anything from domination? What do I want? Inevitable, sometimes, the mindset of confoundedness I welcome you to is…Dom Limbo. A sad place which produces a:
-Bad Dom Rant. From a Submissive Who Had A Dom Of This Type. This Doesn’t Equal All Doms. This is about a Newbie/or even Experienced Dom That Doesn’t Want to Acknowledge His Lack of Knowledge and Understanding of BDSM, its Extremely Distinct Relationship and Practice Basics, and Any Mistakes Not Knowing These Led To.
It is the newbie (or even experienced) male Dom who is:
- so focused on fulfilling some role/ someone’s depiction or description of a role (maybe it’s the ‘provider’ instinct from his bloodline), that
- he does not know what drew him to the Dom role in the first place, and
- neither knows what he wants. It is sad.
So, here is the guide for figuring out what the fuck you want again, guys who are like my ex Dom. This guide is great for studying before, during, or even after a BDSM relationship takes place. Here are some things you’re maybe thinking or even forgot you had even thought about when you decided to string a submissive along on your elbow proudly but also elusively, not knowing what you really signed her up for.
- You want to fuck.
How do you want to fuck? Do you want it kinky? Soft? Painful? Power-filled? Subjugated and delivered to you on a fucking silver platter? Make up your mind, mortal. Unless you’re a switch, and want it both ways. And Acknowledge that particular kink, too!
2. You want fucking respect.
Why? Do your siblings talk down to you at home? You don’t feel strong enough unless someone tells you that you are strong? Do you want to complete trust? Does that equal no back-sass, or a sub having enough trust that they’ll back-sass and yet know that they will be put in their place so they back-sass anyways for you to confirm again and again how powerful you are? Are you into being toyed with, since you can claim back that respect really swiftly? Or is your ego or trust so fragile that your respect needs to be locked up in a heart padlock upon your sub’s neck, secure, stable, and unchallenged, or else you feel disrespected?
3. You want to control.
Is it because it makes you feel stable? Does control mean you are in such control that you know your sub is doing her day-to-day with you in mind? Do you need physical reminders of that? Mementos, diaries, pictures, vids, phone calls, scheduled texts? Do you feel control is earned, inherited with the title, or never attainable? Is this why you role play as a Dom – for the feel of control that you know you don’t and won’t have in real life over another person? And how do you want your sub to perform that?
4. You want fucking resolve.
You want a girl or guy or another person to actually bear their heart to you. You are tired of lies and shells of invulnerability. You want that person raw, spread out in front of you. Hands tied behind their back. Vulnerable to your touch. Staring right where you want them to stare…or to not stare because they are blindfolded…letting their senses surrender to your touch and their uncertainty, letting you play with their mind? Do you want to know how a person really feels, and really reacts under your touch? Do you want to help them reach their desired limits, unfathomable goals are important to them and that becomes fathomed in your presence…just because? Or…of course, they are now fathomed because you want, in your deepest parts, to be a part of something you understand, you watch like prey, you dissect like a science project. You just want to know things and put your partner in a place for you to learn – that is, to learn them. And you will manipulate the facts for your own pleasure and theirs.
5. It seemed cool.
Fuck off. This lifestyle is a little deeper than that, in that case of wanting to start role-ing BDSM. Remember that answer next time you say you want to date. Attracting people to you and carrying their heart seems cool, too, I guess.
Readers, patient, and kind, subs and Doms alike, who are all imperfect and make mistakes and sometimes need a wake-up from them…
- See ya in the next post, written by
- an angry sub that is tired of Doms not knowing what the hell they want.
P.S. The lifestyle is not the place to learn it. You only access roles of authority like the role of Dom once you’ve already gotten the education. Unfortunately, do all this soul searching and research BEFORE you become an actual Dom, or I swear to my Huwaei tablet that I am writing this on that I will jump through my screen to your screen and give you a boxers-wedgie.
Yes, you, Mr. Fucker.
Thnx for reading! Here’s Something Else You Might Want To Read:
Brief, General DDLG/Regression Knowledge Disclaimer: These are my opinions from my experience as a sub/little, but please do not think that you should do any of this or take my advice if you want to take steps towards being a happy and healthy sub. My way is only one way. Only follow this by your own volition/risk if you like my advice, lol, and agree with my perspective on the D/s lifestyle, and don’t mind where my ideas may take you. Thanks!
What Daddy A Little Will Need Depends…
Doms are like candy – you never know which one you are going to get when the world decides to give some of them to you.
The best part of this is that we don’t have to eat every single damned piece of candy. And I am so glad that we can choose.
Here are the extreme psychological profiles of a “little”, be they role-played or not. They sway between an anxious psychology and a stubborn, more confident (aka bratty) profile. Some examples of traits of those profiles (which are the extremes of a whole personality spectrum) are –
- Asking for permission even past the boundaries needed for a BDSM relationship
- Always worrying she is not good enough
- Needing Daddy like she needs water. The thought of her Daddy takes up most of her life, and not having him crushes her. She does not have the same feeling of independence and freedom that she feels with her Daddy when he is gone.
Confident and Stubborn:
- Wants Daddy to acknowledge the things she already knows about herself
- Desires Daddy to be proud
- Needs Daddy to prove himself
- Tests everything Daddy says about himself and his promises
- Gives Daddy equal to what he gives her
- Needs attention and a neutral, honest attitude towards herself and her abilities
- Needs Daddy’s trust and his word
- Needs Daddy to be consistent
There is a few more on the latter list because the confident little knows more about what she wants than an anxious little who struggles to form a structure of belief. Anxious littles react, not proact, and this is thanks to the complexity and space which fear takes up in their constant thought processes.
The Specifics of Your Ideal Relationship That You May Not Have Chosen
A confident little will relate to her Dom in confidence, and most of her struggles will be had with the butting heads of her belief system and his, and his percieved confidence in her and her systems, rather than the persistent and unrelated haphazard worries and the lack of a belief system that plague the anxious little. The confident little thus always needs her Dom to be aware of her beliefs and also where he himself stands on issues she faces. She needs to know his honest opinion and see if it meshes with hers at the core. Otherwise, her confidence will be hacked at the longer she and her Dom disapprove on core issues. Smaller disagreements taunt and boost her ego, however, and she is confident enough to not be hugely threatened by them. And she will instead embrace them (and her partner’s position in them).
And of course, there is the distinct little that is in the middle. Those are the tamest ones yet (supposedly). The ones that are probably yes-men to their Doms and show the least resistance to their rules, because they feel strongly toward neither rule nor display of thoughts as exhibited by the anxious and confident types. There will be another post for you guys, but this post will teach you more about the extremes you chose to not delve into. At the core of these personalities are their own pros and cons, and neither is bad or good as a personality, not at all. They are just personality styles. But the main idea is –
At the core, both little I’ve specified types need security. [Even the middle-of-the-personality-spectrum littles.] They get it in different forms, but the need for it is there. And that is why choosing the Daddy that they would prefer is the best thing for them – if they knew how to chose. But confident littles that don’t have a good grasp on who they should bond with tend to chose ‘yes men’ rather than people that will actually challenge them and make them have edifying discomforts, and anxious little of the same unaware status tend to go for the partner that will enhance their anxiety to higher levels rather than smash the levels where they stand.
Disclaimers Towards Continuing To Read My Piece
So, if you know already what man you should choose to “adopt” as a little, this post is not for you. And if you feel that I am wrong, this post is not for you, either. Feel free to agree to disagree, because the way you go about choosing your Dom is very important and your business. This post is for people who vibe with my beliefs regarding this topic…And so the following advice will be for such an audience.
Now, people can be somewhere on the spectrum between anxious and confident – in fact, some people can have one profile for behavior, another one for thought processing, and maybe even a disorder under one profile (but I haven’t the slightest idea of a confidence disorder…maybe overconfidence, maybe? Don’t quote me.) So if you feel you don’t fit those traits to their extremes, or maybe that you are a more neutral person in general, if you think you are actually worse, or if you think you have a mixed up profile as a little, don’t worry. These are simply ranges, sweetheart!
And if you want to choose a Daddy that will not out your profile out of whack or aggravate it in a negative sense, then I have a few relationship tips for you. In fact, these may seem like dating or marriage tips. Maybe our whole world revolves around relationships, that’s why.
Honestly, Start First By Choosing Some Specific Mistakes You Made in Your Past
You do you is what people say, but what if you don’t like you, or you know that you are prone to misstepping and so you are not the best idea? What if you would rather be the best for you? Well, anxious and confident profiles have their own belief structures, so they won’t go about it the same way, but in a way that makes them feel the best and secure individually.
So, they are bound to have mistakes. Anxious people tend to ignore their anxieties because of the overwhelming nature of them. This is instead of acknowledging them and embracing the truth they inject into their lives, thoughts, and experiences. This means that they separate their experience and thoughts from their anxieties. This gives them a lack of identity and originality for the thoughts and no belief system on which to base them and makes them confused about the concerns of others on their lives and the way they function. Anxious types become numb to the existence of their anxieties and thus numb to how they are behaving in response. They disassociate so hard that they do not seek help. They think that ignoring their issues with anxiety means the anxiety is gone and now they can iron out their lives like normal people who also do not have anxieties.
The best way to deal with this repression as an anxious little, now, is to be open with your Daddy – if your Daddy is a safe and trustworthy and comfy person to be open to. So, go about making a standard for your Daddy in order for him to be the best Daddy for you. You as a little will not have all the answers, so trust your Daddy and have him to do the same to help you become the best little you can be for him.
This goes the same for confident littles. The only difference is where they struggle in regards to an anxious little. Anxious littles may not like to ask for help when they need it, but would be open to it when they are able to open up themselves. Confident littles have no inner desire to ask for help, because they feel they must know all the answers or else their self-image would be less than it is, because there would no longer be any concrete beliefs and perspectives to base it off of. But that type of thinking has a mistake inherent in itself. Again, no one, not even a confident person, and especially not a little who thrives off guidance from her Daddy and not just herself, knows everything. The confident little must learn that she does not know everything about herself either. And she must be open to guidance and advice that could edify her beyond the hearty, infallible answers gilding her even more infallible heart. She has to learn that even she is not perfect and even she has fallacies just waiting to be accepted and worked on with someone she loves.
Then Do Something About It
To sum, both the anxious and the more confident little both need to chose a Dom they feel safe to be open with. That way, the Dom can do his job to give the littles what needs they present with. But regardless where a little is on this cliche and typical spectrum I created to describe two extremes of being little and their relationships to independence, as a reference point for people to acknowledge their needs…without a Dom, a little cannot be a little. And without a little, a Dom cannot be a proper Dom. It is a symbiotic relationship! That’s my belief. Now, regarding regression, being little is possible without a Dom: it’s not inherently a D/s relationship. But my point is here, with transparency and choosing the right guy who listens and yet also positively challenges the little and her perspective on life…the little can be on the road to being in a successful and fulfilling D/s relationship. But of course picking and choosing is only the first step.
Thnx! Here’s Something You Might Want To Read:
Brief, General DDLG/Regression Knowledge Disclaimer: These are my opinions from my experience as a sub/little, but please do not think that you should do any of this or take my advice if you want to take steps towards being a happy and healthy sub. My way is only one way. Only follow this by your own volition/risk if you like my advice, lol, and agree with my perspective on the D/s lifestyle, and don’t mind where my ideas may take you. Thanks!
That’s the title you put on a boyfriend. A husband. A partner. An inseparably close friend. That is, if you’re kinky. Like, really into the Daddy Dom/little girl kink.
Don’t get me wrong. Gender doesn’t matter much, to get either role. However, I notice an interesting dynamic between these two genders, male and female, when they are in this kink dynamic, from my own experience, once they are taking on these two roles, and I will talk most about the dynamic I know; I can do so, freely, without bringing in the aspect of other genders and how they may fit in with preconceptions, societal expectations, gender-specific anxieties, and the like. Heterosexual expectations are a (familiar) mouthful and thus the only ones I will swallow today and on later posts. Was that a disclaimer? (Hellyeah.)
“The original BDSM tag this falls under does not do the lovely dynamic enough justice.” That is a common thought, if one thinks of BDSM as only kink instead of a lifestyle. But I also will only be talking about the lifestyle (that regardless does involve kink), not the regression form or whatever alternatives exist for this lifestyle.
So, yeah, disclaimers aside, people further into the “lg” role of Daddy Dom/little girl (DD/lg) mention regression, their inner little, their need for guidance…Many things lead them to this role of little, even bdsmtest.org. But one thing the little will know is that it transcends kink, most of the time; a real little is not just a kinky little girl in the sheets. She, too, is an obedient little girl in the streets!
To who? To her Dominant Daddy of course. It’s a bit weird to get that sort of obedience as a grown ass adult and tack it onto your relationship with another grown ass adult. But we who do that have a good reason why we do. It is mainly to maintain a head space that we want!
It may be hard to wrap your head around, even if you do it yourself, sometimes – because sometimes your head just doesn’t want to be elastic! This power dynamic thing is a hard idea to grasp when worry and anxiety about social norms get in the way. You could be stretching your head a little too far because it is a tense rubber band, and small enough to not get you any further than you are now. Big adults think with small brains, and kids think with big brains! To break this to you, that is why we feel hindered, and that is momore reaosn to why we littles feel we must regress to this sort of mindset: it is kind of in order to free ourselves, our minds. Ding-ding-ding! My theory on submissive lifestyle little girls. And if you can’t get to that space yet of little space, it is a process. Believe me. We just have heads to little to expect that much growth over a set time, when we grew up to have set mindsets that took very particular and trustworthy shapes.
Sometimes, this Daddy Dom figure we littles love can make up for this stagnancy in ideas and give us a newer, loser rubber band framework for life. He kinda forces it onto our psyche, allowing us to finally pop and release the old one, on our cue, of course, because we are the ones who want it. Also, because how else will our tight little rubber band heads pop! without some outside force to pull on them? Rubber bands can’t pop themselves! Daddy, he opens the world to recommendations and revelations, possibilities and “extraordinaries.” Things that are big. Things that we were forced to forget, outside of our intuition, which we dare to be melded with his, and thus be expansive. Beyond what we alone could have dreamed lies this reality of sharing a brain space with another human being who takes on a role to expand you and test your limits, beyond the rubber band that could only house you and your mind. The new one wraps around you and your Daddy and defines your new boundaries.
So, to begin this…journey of being…and embracing…your little, a persona which is an extension of you, and which will only keep extending as trust is built in order to set up the learning+friendship foundation for an interdependent relationship between Daddy and little girl – in which you inevitably extend you inner self to this someone who will build on that it you and get you to what you want to be – just start to think –
a little bit on the little things in life we tend to overlook about our
–BDSM–relationships which take up a little bit of our time. Such as…
Why do we want to be little?
What does a Daddy do for us? (Get us into that head space we want, eh?) So, what is that head space, and why do we want it?
What did it really do for us, last time we remember, that our adult mind space hadn’t?
Did it rather clean up some things from the past?
Or…did it accentuate it?
It’s a lot of weird questions. Thanks to autonomy that comes with being an adult, we can chose to embrace it, and these questions.
Or we can either shove the autonomy that we are given somewhere that we can hide it, if but for a little bit. It all depends on how we look at things, the space we want, the space we keep, and the space we shut out for those sacred moments. Things you will want to talk about to your Daddy, for sure, and to everyone involved in your journey, do involve a question they all must know the answer to. Who IS your Daddy? You know this, first, by figuring out who are you?
- I dare you to answer those questions.
- I dare you to find out. Hint: it’s basically the inverse of you.
- Then, you can read my next post. Picking and Choosing.
The choices you make, the people you surround yourself with, the habits you created all contributed to your current circumstance. Therefore if you don’t like your circumstances, you got to make different choices, eliminate toxic people and habits.
Too hot. Can’t sleep.
I can’t. Who built this place?
No air fluctuates.
It’s a tight space.
Kind of like my waist.
Don’t come near unless for a taste.
If you’re not a pussy whisperer, stay away,
Because the amount of soothing it’ll need to function
Can amount to the weight of a freight train.
My mind needs more.
Fluctuating from overstimulated to bored.
I think living is a chore for those who don’t see a purpose anymore.
But so is breathing, and you don’t have to live to breathe.
Just learn to believe you’re cold, or that
The game has not yet gotten old.
Or else, you’ll just have to learn, as I did, to leave that dingy room
When it gets too hot.
I love that jacket. It looks so much better than the last one. Would you love to go out? I’d love that restaurant across the street from the campus. I want your love, is that okay?
I want to be the one you love, all day. Starting today. Do you love the way I treat you? Is it measured in how many “I love yous” I tell you? I know you love chocolate, I’ll buy a pound for you. Now we’re at that table for two. I see you love food. But is it as much as I love you?
Tell me I love you. I assure you, I love you. Love is a shape. They say it takes many, but a picture is a thousand words and that’s not every word.
This picture is torn. Your love is a thorn. If love was a curve that made a heart, yours made a jagged bridge, consistently, constantly falling apart.
Certain things will inspire you, but certain people will encourage you to do something with the inspiration. One group of people like that in real life are kinksters. Sex doesn’t wait. So people are just compelled to fuck. Some people, which group I am a part of, do not get the utmost sexual enjoyment they would prefer from anything vanilla. At least not if vanilla is the main course. If you are unsure of how you will get into anything kinky and you’re striving for it one day, here’s some ways to kickstart that inspiration now, perhaps, and maybe even that encouragement you need that you don’t get from your church-going grandma, that just compels you to fuck in a kinky way.
One way is to just fuck involving your urges, and your not-urges, not just whatever you saw regurgitated in porn this week or last time when you were 5. If you want to bite, bite. If you want to growl, growl. If you like plain missionary, do plain missionary, but recognize if you would like to spice it up with anything or if you are okay with just being vanilla. Which is also fine. Maybe learning about kink is just interesting, and that is okay.
If you wanna go a little farther, you can look at porn. Because some see it as educational and do not take it seriously. I’ve learned about hucows and fucking machines from porn and they still remain in the rear end of my mind’s attic as interests. Interests for later, of course, while I do the more feasible things.
So start with something feasible. Write a list of kinky things you would enjoy, or think that you would. You never have to be sure, with experimentation. But if you are ever sure of anything, it would go either under a fetish or a limit. Fetlife has a good organizational structure for this. Just look up some things or look at a prescribed list of fetishes and check its items off as things you would like (fetishes) or things you would hate (limits). Even limits can be kinky, because they allow you to use your safeword…Or kinkshame. Kidding. No, really. Kinkshaming is not kinky. It’s shaming kink. So, let’s carry on.
Because this goes into don’t shame yourself for what you are into. I don’t care if it’s kissing someone while they have a runny nose (someone has told me this is their kink, since it is something they liked and would do in the future), but do note that whatever you like to do that is regarded as a kink is a sexual deviation. So, in some way it must arouse desire or involve sex if you are to label it as such. Otherwise, your favorite color could be a kink. I know what you’re thinking. If your favorite color doesn’t make you wet, it is not your kink, though, Sorry. Very.
Finally, if none of this works for you, roleplay as if you like something, and then you would still be considered kinky. Or, go into submission, domination, or consensual non-consent, or some other form of power exchange if you cannot think of anything physical that turns you on. Perhaps, for you, your kink is all in the mind.
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