#i AM a skinny white twink but like :| its not that hard :| | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

colorisbyshe · 2 years

Note

I really appreciate your response to that ask, I think it feels mean. I didn't really realize how much representation meant to me until I saw a character say the word trans on screen, and until I saw the pool scene in shrill. Representation made me feel human, sure its not complete activism, but for a few moments I saw myself portrayed as beautiful, as desirable, as worthy. I've worked hard on deconstructing fatphobia, but seeing myself on screen portrayed so favorably was life changing. We deserve to see ourselves through loving eyes

I think part of this might be an age thing, tbh.

Right now, when we are in a glut of often sanitized but ever present representation (and in many cases "representation" ie the diversity is on the screen but isn't... saying anything or representing anything other than 'this person exists') where shows vie for quota-esque diversity, it's easy to say "This is doing nothing."

Because a lot of it IS doing nothing... or close to it. Truly, the 18th rendition of white, skinny twink coming out to his parents who immediately accept him is doing minuscule work, a fraction of what some people claim it does.

But like... as someone who grew up before that... especially before the internet really existed as it does now, so if something wasn't mainstream you were fighting for your fucking LIFE to find it (and often were not getting it, especially because a lot of the time you didn't even have a space where someone was gonna tell you what ot even look for), like... I have a clear moment of "first times" with media representation that looks to me.

I have a clear cut before representation and after.

I have a FIRST skinny twink who comes out to parents who mean well and try their best to be accepting but maybe ar econfused.

And that first time mattered a fucking lot to me. And I wasn't even skinny or a twink. I was just a fat bi girl (didn't even really figure out gender stuff til much, much later, in part BECAUSE of media representation) who really wanted to come out and didn't know what i twould look like. Didn't know what acceptance looked like.

I was a kid who watched QAF and didn't know it was okay to say fuck my oppressors, I don't need them. Until I saw a bunch of grown adult characters, who had lived through horrific things, get to say "Fuck straight people, I don't need them."

I didn't have tumblr or twitter or fan spaces that were 90% LGBT people my age. I just... had that. And... a lot of my first mostly LGBT spaces were through fandom.

Which isn't to say fandom or representation is inherently revolutionary or even just progressive or without fault. Or that those things should be in yoru only interaction with LGBT spaces and activism.

I am just saying that as a kid... I didn't have EVEN THAT.

And it was fucking miserable. I watched QAF by myself. Read my probelmatic and ultimately harmful yaoi/shounen ai shit by myself, maybe shared it with some friends who humored me. I did the work by myself where the media was all I fucking had and it sucked.

It sucked to be alone in it.

And this all changed SO fucking rapidly. Like the media landscape and LGBT-politics I had in middle school and the media landscape/LGBT politics I had in college are like night and fucking day.

If you are even five years younger than me, there is a chance you grew up with the glut. You have no clear cut "before" the "Eh, it's not revolutionary but it makes me feel warm inside" representation. You just have the "Is this all?" moment. It's your normal. But it wasn't mine.

So, yeah, let's demand better. Do better. Do other shit because we realize this isn't the be all, end all of "work" for any marginalized community.

But also realize that media matters.

And also... I still haven't seen media that perfectly captures me and some of that STILl does bother me. And I'm still fairly privileged, so like, if we can't get "Kinda fat, definitely hairy, nonbinary bisexual girl with mental health issues and physical health issues who is still strugglign to grow up as she approaches 30" imagine all the people being left in the fucking dust, waiting for THEIR "I feel TRULY seen, not just in one aspect of my identity, but in all of it, together."

How many stories are STILL going untold and leave people feeling isolated, wrong, like maybe their life isn't worth sharing with the world.

Whose combination of identities are used as like jokes when it comes to like "WAH GO WOKE GO BROKE MEDIA? WHAT'S NEXT? A DISABLED BLACK TRANS WOMAN WITH THEY/THEM PRONOUNS?" Like... disabled black trans women with they/them pronouns exist. And aren't getting their stories told. And are now being told that even WANTING their stories to be told is ridiculous and laughable.

That fucking matters. That's harm being done. That is something rectified by the normalization of not just ONE of the facets of their identity but all of it, together.

So many of us have to piece together parts of our story to see the whole picture and that still isn't fair.

But if you have all of your pieces wrapped up together in one character, one show, one book, you don't see the struggle left over for everyone else.

When you have a lot of something, one more or one less piece of it doesn’t make a difference. But when you have NOTHING or just a piece of your story, even just one retelling of your story or something adjacent to it can change everything for you.

8 notes · View notes

theythemsam · 3 years

Text

Jensen Ackles does not actually look like a dyke, y'all (me included) are just skinny and white...

#like... he looks like me and im a dyke but i am also skinny and white you know?#sam babbles #especially twink ackles era is just... hes skinny... thats it...#d slur tw #wank for ts #i guess?#it doesnt like bother me but its wild that the fandom is going off so hard about this in a way that just makes it clear theyve never seen #meg allens butch photoseries. or read stone butch blues. or percieved any older dykes in your community.#and again i known spn has no lesbian looking rep whatsoever #(femmes are recognizably lesbian tbh but spn doesnt have them either! spn has regular pretty girl straight actressed lesbians only)#but its weird to apply the lesbian label to twink ackles instead of at least dead in the water dean #cause he has that baby faced leather jacket swag of me and some other butches that ive seen #and it still wouldnt be very LesbianTM but at least their would be something there to genvy

9 notes · View notes

nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Note

chile i'm so glad i came across your blog, the amount of "i'm not going to assume they're dating" or "we can only draw certain conclusions but i can't say for sure" "we don't know their sexuality, BUT" type blogs i follow is getting kinda wack lmao. while i appreciate their perspective and nuanced takes i need to strike a balance. like let's get a lil delulu every once in a while. 💀

lol the im-not-a-shipper-but-call-jikook-boyfriends-every-other-post blogs are the funniest to me. the shipping hierarchy, so to speak is so weird. maybe just because im not a "shipping real people is bad" person i don't see the big deal. gonna get called delulu anyway, might as well go full out. they is gay/queer and they're fucking. i'm so sorry.

*also can we touch on the fact that shipping in this type of fandom (kpop) is kind of inevitable and unavoidable??! these boys are the other people we see them with day in and day out, interacting with each other and no one else. i feel like it's natural to ship when there's no other people around to break up everything, idk maybe someone can articulate this better than me. and people who are made to feel stupid for thinking that 2 members could actually be dating is so dumb. like is it really out of the realm of possibility that two people (jikook, cause all them other ships are....😬) who spent almost every waking minute together for like 8 years could fall in love. really?

/rant

It's the delulu hat for me

Lmho.

I guess for me being queer, I feel it's gaslighting for these people to be saying things like that. As silly as it is, it inadvertently deny and invalidate the existence and queerness of gay individuals and so I struggle with it.

This is the consequences of straight people in gay people business. They like defining gay parameters for us and it's like who asked you?? I feel people who say things like that are just plain ignorant or tone deaf or willfully homophobic.

I don't think everyone in BTS is gay but it makes me feel safe to see half the community assume them to be and celebrate them in that way. They are not cussing at them and threatening to leave the fandom or cancel them for this assumption and that is huge inspiration to me.

Those parts of the fandom are a safe space to be in as a queer army.

When people assume a person's queer sexuality they are simply admitting to themselves at the very least that LGBTQ EXISTS. This is important to me because I grew up in a community where LGBTQ didn't even exist in the collective consciousness of the people and EVERYONE IS AUTOMATICALLY ASSUMED TO BE STRAIGHT AND EXPECTED TO BE.

People read people's sexuality all the time and have done so since time immemorial and a lot of the time when they have had a sexuality read it's in the lines of straight, cis, rich, poor, superior or inferior. And that is a problem for some of us too because that discrepancy in the assumptions is as a result of homophobia and heteronormativity.

That whole don't assume a person's queer sexuality debacle sounds to me like a boujee way of denormalizing and preventing the normalization of queerness disguised under care, disguised under intelligence and disguised under wokeness. Especially when straightness is the default setting in this giant blue bulb.

We need to radicalize that. We need to change the cis straight default setting and if you are perpetuating this narrative you really aren't helping the situation. SIT DOWN.

I'm rarely assumed to be queer in certain circles and while that makes me feel comfortable within those circles it often times make it hard for me to admit my queerness openly in those circles too because I fear I will lose that comfort and respect and love and privileges that comes with being percieved straight in those spaces.

When I started my blog, I noticed some people assumed I was white and would use certain black descriptors as slurs when describing other people to me. I quickly had to switch the formal way in which I wrote to a much casual tone so my blackness would show through. Don't get it twisted. She black. She blackidy black black.

Then on the other hand, I was hesitant to let my queerness be known too because being black, I was marginalized as it is- you is black, or sound black💀 you know how it is- it's that intersectionality of oppression at play. Double double homicide.

When certain people realized I was black POC minority, their attitude towards me changed. I had those who didn't so much understand what black language is or perhaps wasn't used to being in black spaces and were uncomfortable with my blackness- these would take offense at me saying certain things in certain ways. Like chilee relax Karen, all I said was these motherfukkers gay as shit and they gay. Why you acting like I called them twinks or sommin. Right there, I'm cancelled for calling Jikook motherfuckers. They get sirens and everything😭😭😭😭😭😭

Same vein, I struggle destraightening myself or correcting people who assume I'm straight because I fear they will treat me differently if they knew I wasn't.

Straight privilege exists in the same way as white or even pretty privilege may exist and because these exist there's that automatic conception of queer, poc, ugly, fat disemfranschismet to run along side it.

People treat you differently based on how they perceive you. That's a fact. And for queer people, perceiving us as straight is the only way we get to be treated as human by the masses. And a lot of us embrace that- straight until proven gay am I right 🤣🤣🤣🤣

It's the duper's delight for me. Untill you catch me with a 5'8 melanin skinned silk pressed auntie on my left nipple good luck proving I'm gay.

It can be fun, I akekeke when some people around me are totally oblivious to the fact and even sometimes defend my straightness with their dying breath when nasty friends throw them shades or try to out me unprovoked.

A lot of us don't want to admit we are gay because we don't want to be disenfranchised.

I speak for myself when I say this.

But 'Don't assume someone's sexuality' is a double edged censorship used for and against queer people. It seemly offers protection on the surface of it for queer people but underneath it promotes heteronormativity and standardizes straightness and it is also used to promote closet culture, under the disguise of care and concern for the autonomy of queer people but that is a fallacy because our autonomy has never mattered to anyone since the dawn of homophobia.

And I don't know where this interpretation comes from. Why do people not want to assume queer people's sexuality but it's ok to assume straight people's???

It feels like a hijacked movement to me.

THIS IS THE ACCURATE MOVEMENT AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED.

Don't assume all people are straight. It's ok to assume some people are queer because queer people exists too.

It is wrong however to assume queerness based on how a person talks, walks, dresses or even on their body type. That is stereotyping. And stereotyping is wrong.

When it comes to Jikook, Jimin is often stereotyped as gay more so than Jungkook because they have different body structures. Jungkook is stereotyped too solely because of the way his wrists hang, or based on moments he's femininity shines through.

But I don't think shippers stereotype Jikook in that way at all. I dont think shippers believe Jikook are dating eachother simply because Jungkook applied setting powder to his face that one time. They assume they are gay only because they believe those two to be dating eachother. That is not stereotyping. If those two were heterosexuals I don't think people will accuse their shippers of stereotyping.

It's one thing to assume Kai is gay because he looks skinny and dances well. It's another to assume he is gay because in a relationship with Gdragon. And if people can't tell the difference between the two, they should get some education and stop talking about things they know nothing about or only know because they stumbled across user69 on Twitter. They are not helping.

Untill people get offended when people assume others are straight, that rhetoric doesn't matter in its inequality. If you ask me, everyone is gay until proven straight.

Yet how many people will take offense at that?

Assuming people can be gay is not delulu.

It's ok to assume people can be gay. It's wrong to stereotype them as gay. If you can't assume they are gay, don't assume they are straight and don't assume at all. Run with this sis.

Wait, they don't ship Jikook but they call Jikook boyfriends???????👀👀👀👀👀

The fake woke syndrome will kill people in this fandom with these mentally confused thought crisis bunch💀💀💀💀

Jikook themselves are shippers💀

Smh

GOLDY

58 notes · View notes

imeengoldberg · 3 years

Text

yall shouldnt be surprised when i can give you a dictionary length book full of just story titles of mlm stories written by cis straight women ive seen not looking for them, but can count on my hands and toes all of the (male character) x male reader stories ive found while looking for them.

its all fun and games until i also tell you, hey, theres even less (girl character) x girl readers, or just wlw stories at all. It’s starting to sound a lot like fetishization.

im not saying you cant write mlm stories as a cis straight woman- obviously not. part of being a writer is writing stories far from your own personal experience. It’s just like what we call bad representation. those people (very flamboyent gay men specifically) do exist, but they are the only gay men every shown because they fit comfortably into hetero-safe stereoypes.

if you only write mlm stories, and youre not an mlm yourself, and you always have the same heteronormative dynamic (one uwu twink sassy girlboss and the alpha badboy in detention who coUldNt bE gAY, hE plAyS FoOtbAlL anD hAz MeAn GiRlFwIeND- but thats all an act? like geez, just say ur biphobic and ask random gay men to be ur gay best friend??) it just starts to lead me to the conclusion you dont have the queer community in your best interest.

honestly, the fetishization is disgusting. it reinforces already harmful stereotypes. Also, I have never, and I mean NEVER- found a mlm story about a trans man in love with another man that wasnt practically porn without plot, save for one kiribaku fic that i wish i could find again. That definitely does not put us trans men in a wonderful light. we are not to be sexualized for our bodies, and neither us nor mlm should be fetishized for loving.

if youre unsure you can accurately write a queer love story accurately, do not do it. if youre worried at all it will come off bad on the lgbtqia+ community, do not do it. it will not hurt you if it’s bad rep, but it will hurt us.

are you good at writing queer romance as a straight person but notice that you have an odd amount of mlm & straight romance and an abandoned desert for wlw or trans/nonbinary love stories? write some! we really need it!

also, there are not enough people of color in stories in general. i notice that a lot of the time, they’re shoved off as one of the side characters- at most, a best friend. why? well, we know why, its racism, but why in my fanfiction. like, this fanfiction was so good, until i realized every single character was described as a western/eurapean with white skin, when, listen, this is an anime and they’re all japanese, jessica. although it’s not something i can speak in depth about as a very white pasty mf, it’s something ive definately noticed and its very annoying tbh. all these mcs look the same. give me some actual people please.

speaking of actual people!

why are there no chubby mcs? ever? like wtf? i get it, skinny people aesthetic or whatever, but it’s actually so frustrating when every character is a size 0 and an unrealistic representation of average people, despite usually starting out as ‘average’. I’d like to feel good about my stomach instead of comparing it to a paragraph in a fanfiction.

finally, ive gotten to something good!

wlw stories are finally getting as mainstream as mlm! not there yet, but it makes me smile every time i see a wlw story on my feed cuz it means were getting there :)

all-in-all, this is the reason I stopped reading fanfiction regularly a while ago.

this time two-five years ago, you couldn’t pull me away from the fanfiction. I would read main characters (women) who were only ever ‘tomboy’ enough to fall into a safe view of heteronormativity that I held. I’d never even seen the word transgender until middle school- and because my entire life I was conditioned to believe that that stuff was weird or gross, I rejected it hard.

It took me years to get to where I am, and it was a huge struggle. Not that this is one fanfiction/story writer’s fault. This is an entire community’s fault. I just dont want the next generation of queer, chubby, or poc kids to think they’re weird or lesser than like I did. If it’s something I can help to stop, I will.

So, if I ever write an original story, or original characters into a fic, you bet your ass its gonna be the most realistic representation of the real world i can get into a story. now, fuck jk rowling, and have a good night. au revoir, bitches.

43 notes · View notes

buffcontrol · 4 years

Photo

NEW STORY: Lust for an Idol

(inanimate transformation, domination, brainless, feet)

When you’re an idol in one of the most popular Kpop groups on Earth, finding pussy isn’t a problem. Shownu’s problem was having too much of it. After every concert and meet and greet, women were throwing themselves at his body. He couldn’t blame them -- a strict workout regimen and harsh diet gave him a physique to die for. With a supple musculature lining his already broad and masculine features, Shownu found women begging for his cock without so much as having to blink.

And it got boring. Women were always the same, he thought. They sucked him off for awhile, let him pound it in missionary and then got clingy, begging over Line to meet up again. What he really wanted was someone to worship his body and appreciate his strength. Do what he told them to do. He knew he was a powerful beast of a man, and he wanted someone who recognized that.

After years on the idol scene, he knew women were never going to provide what he wanted so bad. It was when a foreigner in the audience met him after a show that things started to change.

The white, skinny American was as red as sunset as he shook Shownu’s meaty hands.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” the boy stuttered. “I’m-- I’m a big fan.”

As the boy awkwardly laughed, Shownu tightened his grip on the tiny little fingers. He flashed his signature grin and watched as the boy melted in his palms. Almost literally: a supreme surge of heat flushed through his skin as he got more embarrassed. Right away, Shownu knew that this kid was gay.

He used his best English to ask him, “I am your favorite, member, right?”

The boy trembled even more. “Of course!”

“Why do you like me?”

“Well, I... I just...”

And Shownu leaned close to the twink’s ear, murmuring, “It’s because you like my body, don’t you? You like all my muscles?”

The kid was so taken aback he could barely reply. He only nodded as vigorously as he could, bright red and quivering in shock. Shownu felt a flood of arousal at the reaction he produced in this lonely, gay little loser.

“Well, if you like my body so much, come to my place tonight at 11 and prove it,” he said. He wrote down his hotel room number on the back of the picture he had signed, winking and slapping the kid hard on the shoulder as he turned to the next desperate fan.

And as expected, right at eleven o'clock the kid showed up. When Shownu opened the door, he almost laughed at the twink's inferior frame. He was totally dwarfed beneath his massive shadow. Not unattractive, but totally unremarkable. And so skinny. His arms were as thick as twigs and Shownu's forearms alone nearly outsized the boy's waist. Pathetic, he thought.

He pointed into the hotel room and watched the boy awkwardly shuffle in. Shownu immediately took him by the shoulders and seized him: "Tell me how much you like this body."

"You're so sexy," he said. Shownu could already feel the boy's minuscule, stiff dick press against his leg. "You're... you're so big."

"Yeah? Tell me what you like best."

The nervousness seemed to have melted off him. His lips unhinged as if he was going to drool and he moaned to Shownu, "Your chest, oh my god, your beautiful chest."

Shownu laughed at the desperation oozing off the boy in front of him. This was just the treatment he wanted -- pure, unadulterated admiration directed at him and him alone. He felt like a god, like he could do anything. And he chuckled as he realized, yes, he was a god. To this weak, pathetic little creature in front of him, he was a god. He could do whatever he wanted.

So he removed the expensive Gucci shirt from his torso, button by button. As each button undid, the look in the boy's eyes only grew hungrier. Shownu didn't even know his name. He didn't care. All he cared about was the delirious look of desire in his eyes. Once the striped shirt fell to the hotel floor, the boy's eyes were incinerating with lust. Shownu grabbed him by the skull and forced it between his mighty pecs.

The loose flesh engulfed the boy's face. Shownu couldn't see a single detail of his visage between the great mounds of meat hanging off his chest. He began flexing his soft pecs around the twink's cheekbones and nose, all the muscular tissue sliding around and enveloping every inch of the face. The boy only licked harder as he moaned and his hands flew to massage the exposed skin.

"You like that, huh?"

There was no way for the kid to annunciate any words with his tongue loosed from his mouth. Only a long, greedy moan.

"I bet you wish you could be hanging off these muscles forever, huh?"

"Oh yeah," he finally withdrew his face from Shownu's body, "I'd do anything for you."

Supplanting the space between his beautiful, hairless pecs with the boy's slender face once more, he felt even more like a god. It was his body, his looks, his muscles that had this nameless little creature reducing himself to nothing. Just a horny bitch for his body, willing to do anything. Totally submitted. He could do whatever he wanted to it. He was just a thing for him to use. The thought send a wave of pleasure through Shownu's dick as he pressed his pecs together against the little nothing's face. When he let go, he found a strange resistance: the kid's cheeks and tongues seemed stuck his chest.

He pushed back on the head but it wouldn't move, only trash against his pecs, desperate to lick and consume more of his muscle. "What... what the fuck?"

Shownu tried to step away from the boy, but his whole body followed as he toppled onto the bed. Atop him, the twink's hungry tongue continued lapping at his chest. And his arms surrounded Shownu's burly, shoulders too. The kid was literally wrapped around him.

"What's going on? What the fu..."

The kid finally looked up from Shownu's chest. But only the top of his head could move, his tongue and chin remained sucked against the chest. Panic fluttered through his eyes as he tried to speak, tried to pull away, but the more he struggled the less motion he was capable of achieving.

"Get off of me!" Shownu said. "Get the fuck off!"

He tried to pull the boy from his body, but felt only a soft, mesh response from his head. The bones seemed far less stiff, mushier. When Shownu tried to yank it away, the skin and hair only began to give as if it was all becoming something like fabric. And the boy's face was warping over Shownu's massive man tits, slowly losing its structure and form as it began to spread up and over the entirety of his pecs. The details of his face grew darker and softer as his mouth began to slowly lace together.

From that closing mouth, several fading words drifted away, "I'm yours... I'm...cumming... feel good... changing... am all... yours...”

Shownu noticed that the kid's dick along with his legs were slowly retracting towards his own torso. He was quickly losing all shape as any remaining skin took on the lacing strand of fabric and first constricted around Shownu's abs, then his chest and finally around his arms and shoulders. All at once, he could feel the presence of the boy wrapped around him and pressing into all of his muscles with an orgasmic heat. It was like Shownu could hear the boy's girly little voice as it floated somewhere through him, "huh... what is... what is this... can't stop... cumming... feels... so good..."

And Shownu could feel the boy lost in pleasure as the shirt constricted and pulsed against him, hugged his entire form. He’d turned into a shirt. A simple, tight, black shirt. This is how it should be, he thought, those who want to serve his body permanently should be able to like this. Maybe he really was a god, he wondered, maybe when someone really submitted to him they literally became one of his things. He didn't stop to think long about it, however, rubbing his wide hands up and down his ripped stomach as he felt the tightness of the shirt flex and react. The voice seemed to reverberate from his touch, "feels... so good to be a... what am I? Who am I...."

But the more Shownu flexed his own biceps and chest against the tight fabric, the more he ran his fingers over its length, he felt the voice disappear into a primordial, wordless orgasm. It seemed incapable of communicating much of anything beyond the extraordinary pleasure it felt and the simple fact that it was clothing now.

Out of a cocky sort of curiosity, he couldn't help from wearing the shirt the next day to rehearsals, where he practiced with the rest of Monsta X for hours on their dancing. It was a grueling routine for their next single, and Shownu was ready to put the work in. For hours and hours with little breaks, he thrust his arms through the air and leapt, jumped, spun his body beneath the tight strain of his new shirt. His muscle tits bounced inside only to be restrained by the material of his clothes. All the while, he grew sweatier and sweatier, his body emanating a profound stench and dampness from the sheer effort. And the shirt drank it all up. When he listened in for its voice, he could only hear moans, "so.. good.. more... more... I'm shirt... more sweat, more muscle... just a shirt."

It seemed the boy had taken to becoming nothing more than his clothes. He existed now to bask against muscle, endless sweat and musk. Shownu had finally gotten what he wanted.

But he grew to want more. He was curious if he could reproduce the same effect somehow. And all the time wearing the shirt, letting his stench sink into deeper as it hugged his body had only made him hornier.

Finding someone else was just as easy as he thought. Watching the crowd at his next live performance, he scanned the crowd for the faces of young men. There were a few Korean guys obviously dragged along by their girlfriends, but to his surprise near the front row was someone in his thirties. He was fit and stern-faced with rich, dark skin. And his eyes, they were cast on Shownu the entire time with a lustful glaze. Shownu knew he would be next -- he had to run once the encore was over to find the guy on his way out. This time he asked for some details of the man he might be transforming. He thought it would be hot to know someone's former life was like before he’d be reduced to serving him entirely.

"No, no way!" the guy stammered. Despite being a full grown man, he seemed almost girlishly excited to meet Shownu. Just as he thought. "I can't believe I get to meet you!"

"What's your name man?"

"Me? Oh, I'm... I'm Jordan!"

"Well Jordan," and he grabbed his junk, shaking it right at his next victim, "how'd you like to come and play with this tonight?"

Of course he would. And it wasn't long before the man once known as Jordan was on his knees begging to suck Shownu's cock. He jerked off in front of him, just enough to tease the dude and get him horny. His thick, veiny dick wagged in the man's face.

"Tell me how bad you want it. Tell me what you'd do to get close to my cock."

"I'll do anything!"

So he did. He wrapped his thick lips around Shownu's dick and gave everything to it. Once again, Shownu could feel the desperation in the gay man's mouth as he furiously tongued his meat. He hadn't realized men really wanted to serve him so badly. Well, if he wants to serve me so badly, he thought...

And just as the man serving him as a shirt had, Jordan's handsome features began to stretch and contort toward Shownu's hips. But there was no resistance this time, no fear, only a strange, airy confusion as Jordan's body began to scrunch up and lighten. It snapped and hardened as the bones of his temples became grey and laced with lettering: they wrapped from Shownu's obliques and around the summit of his tight, round ass. Shownu could hear him -- "What is this? I've never felt anything... like this... before..." -- before his words grew less formulated and more carnal. It was like Jordan was being reduced to nothing but the isolated feeling of pure orgasmic service. Shownu's eyes closed in the extreme sensation of having a life force contort around his balls and cockhead.

The feeling was too much: he burst with semen straight into the face of Jordan as the eyes and nose flattened into a perfect cup for his cock.

"Tastes... so good... more cum... more dick," he heard. "Must be... must be underwear! I must be underwear! Must support dick! Must hold up the cock!"

"That's right," Shownu said, patting the hardening stain of cum against his new underwear, "You're just my underwear now. Your job is to support me, lick up all the sweat, make me feel good."

"Make you feel good! I want... underwear! Briefs! Must! Make you feel! Good!"

Shownu got good use out of the new boxer briefs. And it wasn't long before he was adding to his collection. Within a week of tour dates, he picked up a new pair of shorts and even a pair of socks for his massive feet. Each of the men had willingly abandoned their existences and lives, their families, friends and their entire sense of selves, their consciousnesses and beings, to wrap themselves around his god body. The only new article of clothes that even put up a fight were his shoes: a lighting guy he had caught eyeing him backstage. It made Shownu so horny on the spot to be ogled by one of the crew, he demanded the little slut to lick his feet right then and there.

"What? No, no... I can't," he said.

"Oh yes you can. And you're gonna like it. Or I'll tell the whole group how much of a creepy perv you are."

And just as expected, the sight of Shownu's long, high-arched soles was enough to get the crew member hard and horny, lapping at his toes with the ferocity of a starving dog.

"I knew you'd like these," he said. "You like licking my feet, don't you?"

"I love it!"

"You're going to love your new life then."

The lighting guy's mouth began expanding, allowing for the whole breadth of Shownu's left foot to slip inside. It was warm and tight, trapping all the fumes of pent up sweat and musk as it fitted his fat toes. As the man's face began loosing with laces and splitting to form two wholes, he began to thrash and resist, trying to get away. "What are you," he choked, "doing to me!"

"Relax," Shownu said. "I know you like this." And he stretched his foot deeper into the softening form of his victim. "How about you tell me how much you like my feet."

As he furthered the span of his reach deeper into the man, he finally heard a relaxed moan come from him. "So... big..."

And it wasn't long before he was mindlessly repeating his satisfaction. The pleasure in Shownu was so immense in knowing this fact, he could only manage to keep one of his new slaves on at a time. Though he kept gathering new pieces, more and more men disappearing from their shows, his hunger never subsided.

Finally, he wondered what it would be like to feel a whole outfit of men cumming over their existence as his clothes. He imagined what it would feel like, several souls pressing into his body as they lived out their purpose on Earth to support his toned form. That would make him a real god, he felt. He couldn't resist anymore, the pressure in his cock was too much as it pressed against another one of victims enshrined as Calvin Klein briefs. So he started with the socks: slipped them over his soles and relaxed as the presence of a turned man began to hum in his ear: "Surround feet. Surround toes. Drink sweat." That's it, Shownu thought. He sighed, feeling the otherworldly comfort seep through his bones. It was even more intense as he slipped on his Adidas all stars and slowly did the laces, feeling every pulse of orgasm with the fixture of the knot. Once the shorts were on, he was so dizzy with satisfaction it was almost too much. He could barely focus as he mindlessly pulled his final white shirt down over his abs.

He felt the reverberating pleasure of so many men at once it began to utterly fill his brain. "Yeah..." he muttered. "Haha... it's... so good!"

Dumb with horniness, he began lazily pawing at his junk through his pants. He was erect, thrusting mindlessly into his shorts. But even the locomotive act of masturbating was nearly beyond him. "Huh..." he said. Drool began spilling out of his mouth, the only thing capable of entering his mind unbridled pleasure. He failed to notice his clothes sinking into his skin, filling his muscles with blood and entering his body. They relinquished from them all the horny, satisfied nothingness of their existence, filling Shownu with it directly. All at once, he was possessed with the souls of every man he had taken, all so dumbed down with satisfaction and so blended with the egos of others, the only consciousness they could produce in Shownu was one of limitless, empty pleasure.

When the managers found Shownu several hours later, they were shocked at what they discovered. The idol's eyes were completely blank and his body was spilled out over the bed, lifelessly jerking off in a room rank with cum. "So horny," he laughed. "Haha... feels so good..."

Shownu had gotten what he wanted after all.

#inanimate transformation #inanimate tf

166 notes · View notes

whatamidoingqueer · 4 years

Text

DISCLAIMER: JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS NEGATIVITY, rant about lack of lgbt rep in hollywood (i love the show, and i love what kenny ortega did with alex and willie, and i thought it was a beautiful story, and this is just me projecting my frustration that there isn’t more media like this. really its more of a rant.)

jatp really did the bare minimum for gay rep, and it’s still a million times better than pretty much every show out there.

like, we got two cis teenage dudes who like each other. one of them’s a white twink that loves dancing. they flirt, hold hands, hug. they get some cheesy lines that melt my soul. there’s no homophobia that they’re facing (internal or external). the word “gay” is said once throughout the show.

why does it have to be revolutionary???? why does this have to be such an anomaly???? we’re in 2020 and i feel like any show with a gay main character is a “gay show.”

im so fucking sick and tired of movies like the kissing booth 2 acting like they’re doing shit for gay people. two white boys kissing when neither of them are complex characters is not representation. it’s the producers trying to get “woke points” and cater to an audience who is trying to feel inclusive. it feels exploitative and shallow- i would have rathered they just didn’t put any gay people in there at all.

and even when there is a gay character with depth, they are usually still a skinny white cis teenage boy. their main character arc is usually either coming out or dealing with homophobia. and if it’s an adult show or movie, they usually die. and this is considered good representation.

i am supposed to be grateful for this.

like, what the fuck?!?!?

and a lot of the time, especially with kids’ shows, that kind of representation had to be fought for extremely hard. the writers had to fight the studio to show this much. and then, after the “gay season,” where any kind of semblance of representation is shown, the show gets cancelled.

just fucking show me a trans character, man. one who’s entire arc isn’t being trans. give me a bisexual girl, a lesbian grandma, a black enby. let a fat person be gay. show me a queer person of faith.

julie and the phantoms just gave me some of my favorite queer representation. there’s only 2 gay characters, and kenny ortega says he has 3 seasons planned out. and yet, i’ve already resigned myself to the fact that there’s most likely not going to be another gay character, especially not a main one. reggie won’t be confirmed as bi. luke and alex will never be canonically exes. julie, flynn, carrie, ray, carlos, bobby, nick: all going to be canonically cishet. and if you headcanon them as queer, fuck you- it’s already a gay show.

#my post #rant

2 notes · View notes

complicatedandstained · 5 years

Text

I wrote something! It’s not any of the things I am supposed to be writing, but hey, I wrote something.

Host Club XIII: Music Room 3

Xion robs Roxas’ closet on the regular these days. Narrow-legged khaki trousers, oversized sweaters, thin long-sleeved button downs, skinny ties, vests, crew socks, the oversized glasses he actually needs. Nothing is sacred.

The worst thing is, what with her petite, manic pixie dream girl features, soft curves, and sweet smile, Xion manages to look better in these things than Roxas does.

Like more of a man, even, according to Axel. Not that Roxas had asked.

So fuck Xion, basically.

Or he would be saying fuck Xion, if she weren’t the only tolerable human in his entire, godforsaken new school.

He recalls what Axel had said during his tour: Welcome to Walt Disney Academy, home to the super elite, rich, snobby, and beautiful. Now home to you, and the handful of other scholarship students that we accept to make ourselves look charitable.

“Uh-oh,” Xion coos with a knowing smile, as if she can read his thoughts—his new little sister, hanging on his locker door, as if she has been doing so for years. “You’ve got that look again.”

“It’s fine,” Roxas grumbles, sorting through textbooks, trying to remember the science homework, wishing his chem partner were anyone except some devil-may-care, slacker red-head.

Although, to be fair, said red-head just so happens to be the only other tolerable human at the school. Because he:

a.) actually speaks to Roxas, despite the fact that his parents aren’t billionaires

b.) likes decent music, with only a few cringey exceptions

c.) is, objectively speaking, drop-dead gorgeous

It’s just Roxas is pissed at him at the moment for saying:

a.) “I don’t really have time to do my half the project tonight, I got work.”

b.) “Think you can finish it up for us, partner?”

And later, after Roxas had agreed, before the end of class, with a casual wave of his fingertips:

c.) “Alright, catch you later, twink.”

Roxas hadn’t been able to formulate a coherent reply, and Axel hadn’t waited for it.

Xion’s still watching him thoughtfully. “It’s that ‘Why did my father have to marry your mother and stick me with a sibling that I didn’t ask for even though she’s actually pretty cool, I guess’ look.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s fine,” Roxas insists more softly, shifting his locker door shut and meeting wide blue eyes, trying harder to smile. “You just really should have asked me.”

“What,” she glances down, flicks at the short white tie dipping down her black blouse, ornamented with a tiny glass blue stud, “is this your favorite tie tack?” She chuckles at his flinch.

“I…” Roxas rolls his eyes, shifting his bookbag up his shoulder. “No,” he lies. “But that…” he reaches out and taps the thick black case in her free hand, the one with all the Struggle Match stickers he and Hayner had collected before Roxas moved across the ocean. “You just really should have asked before you borrowed my violin.”

“Surprise!” She lights up with a grin, like some kind of human sunflower. “Who said I was borrowing your violin?”

Which is how he winds up letting Xion drag him up three flights of pretentious marble stairs toward some pretentious spare music room of this pretentious school.

“There’s a piano there. We can finally play that duet,” she’s insisted about twenty times now, in response to Roxas’ equal number of suggestions that they stop searching for the music room, call it a day, and head home. He’s got two halves of a chem project to do after all.

He thinks she’s finally about to agree when she stands stock still in the middle of the hallway and points like some kind of possessed chick in a horror movie.

Sure enough, a conveniently located sign on the unremarkable door they have strode past thirty times reads “Music Room 3”.

And okay fine, he guesses it would be nice to finally get to hear his sister, the piano prodigy, play the piano. Especially considering the impromptu funeral the moving crew had had to throw for the family’s previous one.

Xion nudges the door open to pitch blackness, but even after taking a few cautious steps inside, doesn’t manage to trigger the automatic lights.

Roxas follows her past the door frame and a few steps in. “Maybe they blew a fuse?”

“In this place?”

Xion has a point. Most of Walt Disney Academy runs like clockwork, like the ostentatious clock tower in the center of campus that rises above it all.

Xion hums. “Maybe this just isn’t the right spot.”

Reaching her hands out to grasp his, she swings him around in a childish dance—and then his side collides with something heavy and blunt and they are crashing down to the tune of broken china.

The automatic lights flicker on and in the distance a door is thrown open so hard it smacks a wall.

Rapid footsteps pound in his ears as the edges of Roxas’ vision blur and itching, stinging sensations crawl down his arms, stomach, legs.

A sharp intake of breath and then a piece of the powder blue haze above him breaks off and approaches him.

“Jesus, Haninozuka,” it hisses, kneeling down, one of its hands clasping Roxas Haninozuka’s cheek, “are you alright?”

#kingdom hearts #ouran host club #crossover #fusion #roxas #xion #axel #akuroku #host club xiii #my writing

10 notes · View notes

nyruratchet · 5 years

Text

Notes 4 - The Morning After

“People. People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”

There are pills for straight couples to avoid pregnancy after a few moments of bliss, there are pills to help people stay safe from contracting HIV, there are pills to recorrect the chemical imbalance for people struggling with mental issues; there are pills for EVERYTHING, but no one has derived a magical pill to fix the pain one feels when forced to wake up the morning after valentine’s day alone.

Actually, this problem doesn’t just exist on Valentine’s day. But, seeing as how I’m perpetually single, I can attest to the fact that this day is the most painful (all other holidays come second). Just yesterday, someone asked a question, “yall fall in love with niggas y’all meet on apps??”

My response: Honestly, what are the other options? This is a legitimate question...

Him: Go meet someone in real life...apps aren’t real life! You don’t know that nigga til u see him. In real life, u see everything you as over and over on the app.

Me: You do (meet them), but those are the same guys on the apps. And no one gives you the time of day at bars, events, etc. So, ur stuck with friends of friends, coworkers (nope) and apps...really (WTF?)

Him: Idk who y’all meeting but niggs stay tryin to see wassup on the low when I’m out...especially the damn gym!

Now, I then had to check him and remind him that, just because YOU are so attractive and have thousands of followers that men just flock to you, THAT IS NOT the average gay man’s reality. Just recently a black man on Grindr says he doesn’t like black men. Only whites and latinos. Yep, this is the world I live in. So when you all think I’m crazy to think I’m not in someone’s league, please know there are factors in the chess game that I’m aware of that you have NO CLUE about. Being the darker brother in the gay community is not easy and constantly I am made to feel like I’m not worthy of inclusion in it. Being dark is not acceptable. Nor is being skinny. Nor is not having a BBC (which is all anyone seems to value from us). Nor is being open to love; I’ve been faulted way too many times for that tbh. Almost as many times as I’ve been skinny-shamed or considered fem. Guys in our community are looking more for TS girls than black men. Period. I see “girls” on Grindr far too much. THERE, I said what I said. Grindr’s way of dealing with this influx...ask me to list myself as a CIS man. NO THE FUCK I WILL NOT! I’m a man. These labels are too much. can’t meet men in bars or apps or work. So, let me know...HOW?

To lose my virginity I had to get on craigslist and whore myself out like a rentboy (no money involved) only to get this catfish older man to respond. I was 21 years old and saw this as my only chance before moving to NY. Guys throughout my life up until this point (as i wrote about in my last post) had been ignoring me. I was invisible in the world of gay sex. I might as well have been a eunuch or a monk. I was always the “friend”...still am. So, I took this less then adequate gentleman and let him penetrate me for the first time; give me my first kiss (yuck, it was awful); and teach me a few things. I thought, after this, I’ll never have to settle for less than I deserve...BOY was I wrong.

Back to the part about me being invisible for a moment. Throughout high school, people knew I was gay. I told a few guys and expressed interest and they paid me no attention. COME TO FIND OUT, my (at the time good) friend Jonathan, had slept with a quite a few of them. (Backstory, I fell for Jonathan, he spurned me too, we became great friends, he then transitioned into being a woman, and now we don’t really talk). So, When I found this out, I was devastated. TO THIS DAY, I will never understand why I was not enough. I was SOOOOO nice to these guys. Dustin used to get picked on in middle school, and I used to stand up for him. Nick was the most beautiful boy in the world in high school with a smile that could like up the darkest soul and I would always root for him, etc. But, I wasn’t who they wanted. I mean, You think I’m a good guy now, you should have known me back then. I was such a kind spirit. My soul is so dark now and I don’t think that will ever be rectified.

These next instances are the reasons I will never be untainted. THESE STORIES ARE NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. If you don’t want to cry, feel sorry for me, or worry, stop reading now.

I have been abused mentally, physically, and emotionally. These stories are in sequential order.

When I was traveling once, I was drinking and felt like fulling one of my fantasies. I don’t remember why, but i know that I hadn’t been touched in a WHILE. And for a person who needs that, just a moment where someone can use you to “get off” is enough to make it through the night. One fantasy that is very popular in the gay community of being fucked by visitor who comes in the unlocked door and fucks you, then leaves after he finishes. No strings attached (NSA), photos presented beforehand (pics), usually some time of safeguards in place. I was new, and it was my fault. This guy sent me pictures on whatever app I was using, think it was Craigslist. He told me all his information, I told him where I was staying and said I’d be blindfolded, ready for him to fuck me when he walked in. As SOON as he walked in, I heard the door close and lock and I had a feeling something was wrong. He came up behind me, naked and grabbed my neck chokingly and SHOVED into me. And this guy’s body was WAY bigger than what he said. He was chub/stocky and nothing like what he had sent me. I tried to tell him to stop, that I didn’t want HIM. But clearly, he had done this before. And this was before catfishing was a THING. So, he wasn’t going to stop no matter how much I struggled. So, I resulted that this was a part of the “fantasy” that I had signed up for. I could NOT call this rape. I will never call that rape. Yes, someone lied to me, wouldn’t stop when I said so, but I was totally in the wrong here. I put myself in a situation to be taken advantage of by a stranger. That is one of the things that makes this fantasy so hot. Just happens in my case, that it went terribly awry, So, I went limp and let him finish. He left. I locked the door and took down the posting I had made. My throat was on fire and he had pulled my hair too hard. But he was gone and I was alone again.

Another time in a hotel room, laying over in Washington, Dulles I was getting ready for bed. I was hungry, so put my iphone on the charger, grabbed my food and went for the microwave on another floor. When I came back, my phone was charged enough to check my facebook. As soon as I opened it up, on my timeline it says “PAUL IS IN A RELATIONSHIP”. I said, wait...what? My Paul? the one who I helped move? The one I got a xmas tree for? The one I held while crying? The one I protected from himself? The one whose bed I was JUST in? The guy I had been talking to like every day? My heart was beating out of my chest and I couldn’t breathe. Now, I’m not nor have I ever been naive. We weren’t a couple. He wan’t mine. But I wanted him, made it known. He said lots of things that didn’t add up to much. But, I was in his life, so I accepted that until he could give me more. But when I saw THAT status. I LOST it! Why? because he had told me WORD FOR WORD: “I don’t want a relationship right now. I have some little twink guy from this broadway show who likes me, but I’m not interested.” I always did status checks to make sure I didn’t get blindsided. But alas, here I was despite all my effors. My body went NUMB. Tears ran down my face. I dropped to my knees and asked God or whomever was in charge of things WHY the FUCK was it not me?? Am I not cute enough? Am I too poor? Not successful enough? What did I do? I immediately texted my friend Ant and told her what was up and that I was ready to end it. Before I knew it, I was on a 3 way call. What no one knows is, at one point I was bathroom, in the tub, with a razor, a full bottle of advil, a bottle of wine to hopefully make the blood run faster. I had never contemplated killing myself. This was a knee-jerk reaction to someone I loved with every fiber of my being choosing to give his love to someone else who didnt even have to try! If he could throw me away after I gave all I had and more that I didn’t even know I had in me, and he STILL didn’t want me, how is anyone else gonna love/choose me? So, I was ready to end it. Cuz I knew, this would not be the last time this would happen; guys don’t seem to care who they hurt or how. Paul texted me and said he didn’t owe me any explanation “dude”. But my friends talked me down from that ledge I was prepping to jump off. I also was terrified of doing it. I didn’t know if it would even work. And I didnt want my family to go through that. Till this day, that is why I could never commit suicide. I do think about it, yes. My life sucks. And try as I may, I don’t see a reason for me being here. And yes, I’ve been to many therapists ever since college. Its not a problem that can be talked out. I suffer from depression that can only be assuaged by fixing the problem; the problem is my life. (love, money, music). So, I just try to keep on. I’m not bi-polar; although, sometimes I wish I were. That is a diagnosis that can be managed with medication. My life, cannot be managed. But I’m trying...I am trying.

Now, as I mentioned before, not a big fan of coworker dating/fucking/etc. HOWEVER, there are 2 people I have always said I’d try if I had the chance. Because they may be reading this (doubt it, but I will fight my petty urges), We’ll just call them Trip and Kurt. Now, Trip and I have been messaging off and on doing this whole cat and mouse thing for years. He winds up telling me he’s interested but we couldn’t tell anyone at work; which I agreed to. And would have tried to keep his confidence, FOR HIM. He is really against work relations as well. This all started with grindr and just escalated to us talking off and on. Finally one day, he texts ME and asks “Hey sexy, you in NY?” I wasn’t. Was working. But I never post my whereabouts on FBOOK so, the question was warranted. He said he really wanted to fuck. Our paths kept not being able to cross. So, LONG story short, I rearranged my schedule and we set up a “date” at his place when I got back. I was working a redeye. Told him I’d get home, run my errands take a quick nap and be over to make a full day of it. Trip agrees with everything. I do exactly what I say (I’m a Leo, it’s what we do. We’re consistent. We’re straight forward). I pick up a bottle of $20+ wine to show him I really give a shit and to be courteous because a good southern boy doesn’t arrive at someone’s house empty handed. I knew he had been done wrong and I wanted to put my first foot forward, even if it was just sex he wanted. I message him when I was on the way back home...no response. Ok, I wanna shower. Text him again...tells me he’s out. I say, “ok well just tell me when to head over. I’ll be at home” He says “ok sounds good baby.” Ok, so I take my hour nap so I don’t miss his text. (For me, you KNOW that is no small feat!) I get up and he still hasn’t messaged me. So I wait...and wait...and wait for 5 hours. Then I text him “Ok...well, headed to bed I guess. Hope you had a good night. (he’s scheduled to work the next day so I KNOW no late fun was happening) But beforehand, my spidey senses were tingling. So, I got on facebook. OH, he’s out living his best life! Fuck MY time right? Awesome. I had a drink then went to sleep. Next day, he messages me that he fell asleep after getting home. BOO, so...you left your friends (after you went out...yeah, I saw the check-ins), hopped a train, got home, and never NOT ONCE thought to text me to tell me a damn thing?! But you say “sorry” and I’m supposed to just accept that? No. I wanted you past the point of that barrier I placed up barring all guys I worked with. You just took a big dump on that AND made me feel shitty in the process. I took that bottle of white wine to the head by myself at some point btw...

Now Kurt, he’s special...I met him and was immediately entranced. To keep this one shorter, he also told me HE DIDNT WANT TO DATE ANYONE. Guys need to stop telling these motha fuckin lies! Ok, so I’ll be your friend. But I really like him. So, I’m minding my own business and facebook again notifies me, Kurt is in a relationship. OH? with WHOM? Oh! someone we work with? Someone you met AFTER ME?! Interesting...now, when this boy confessed a secret to me, I was totally loving and told him my past experiences and that he’s and amazing person, etc. So, the next time we work together, I don’t mention his new BF. He brings it up and explains how and why he fell for him. WOULDNT YOU KNOW IT, the boyfriend said the same thing I did about his secret but just BEFORE he happened to conceal it. I tried so hard not to roll my eyes when he told me that. It was like a smack in the face. If you don’t think I’m cute, just say that. But don’t talk about how someone’s heart won you over. Cuz I was here loving on you before. I went back up to my room (tipsy) turned on some Aaliyah and cried myself to sleep. I am never gonna be enough for these boys/men. I saw that now. Paul had recently resurged and re-exited my life after telling me he loved me. I WAITED for that! He was the first man to ever say those words. And they were supposed to mean something! And shortly after...he ghosted me again. So, I’m feeling pretty worthless at this point.

No matter what I do, I’m never good enough. I keep trying to be the best me and there is always someone there saying, nah...this other dude is better. Swipe left. “Thank you, Next” (I don’t like Ariana Grande btw.) I have this fear that when I’m old, some guy I’ve loved forever will find me and say, I married someone else. He’s gone now, he did me wrong. We can be together now. Like I’m only going to be someone’s choice after their first choices have bit the dust. That is NOT okay with me.

So, here I am on Valentine’s day trying to explain to all of you who have someone to “come home to”. EVEN if you don’t like Vday, do not pretend that this day doesn’t matter or make people feel a certain way. I’m alone AND I’m lonely. Don’t tell me I shouldn’t feel this unless you tell me how to not feel that way; and your explanation better not involve friends. Sorry, friends have their own issues and while checking in and venting is great, they can’t be your life support. They can’t help you take care of your heart. Especially if they are married, have kids, etc. You’re the single 3rd wheel.

I tried to take myself to the movies. The movies I wanted were all sold out by couples. Dinner, tables full. So, I ate leftovers from yesterday’s dinner I cooked and am halfway through this bottle of wine. You cannot fault a person for wanting love. Finding it may have been somewhat easy/happenstance for you. And I try not to fault YOU for that. Everything has been hard for me. Literally, everything. That’s the only reason I’m still here. Because when something happens, I yell, scream, vent, handle it like Olivia Pope, then continue on. No one is there at night when i lay down. No one said Happy Valentine’s day to me today. No one is gonna smile at me when i wake up in the morning. Nope, I have to survive my morning after by myself. No pill in hand to help.

“Children needing other children, yet letting our grown-up pride hide all the need inside...acting more like children, than children.”

#valentines #love #unrequited love #dating #relationships #wine #sexy #fantasy #blog #broadway #feelings #mental health #survival

2 notes · View notes

dargons-and-virbs · 6 years

Text

It’s The Little Things, Part 1

James Baker had always been a man of God. Raised in the Pentecostal Church, he became a preacher man just like his father. He had worked hard to ensure that his family, his community, and his country followed God’s law as outlined in the Holy Scriptures.

At the age of 73, he found himself in a hospice bed riddled with cancer. The last words he spoke to his family were “I love you, and I hope to see you with me in the Kingdom of God.” He would pass away that night in his sleep.

He knew that he was dead, but something was wrong. He wasn’t standing in front of the pearly gates, he was standing by his hospital bed, watching his wife and three daughters cry.

He tried to rest a hand on his wife’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but nearly fell as his ghostly form passed right through her material body. There was nothing at all he could do to ease their emotional suffering.

Just as he was wondering what was going on, the earth began to shake, though none of the living people seemed to be aware of it. James stared in awe at the depression forming in the floor, cracking the tiles as it grew deeper. All at once, the debris fell through the newly created hole, and seconds later he jumped backward in surprise. A geyser of lava shot up through the hole in the floor, stretching up into infinity.

Ten seconds passed, but James in his total fear would have said it was ten years, before a figure strolled casually out from the pillar of molten rock. James didn’t know the term for what he was looking at beyond “faggot” or “homosexual”, but the young man who had appeared before him was most definitely a twink.

The boy was somewhere around 5’8”, and thin as could be. His hair looked as if it were made of gold, and was trimmed short on the sides. The hair on top was whipped into frenzied, yet somehow perfectly neat waves. He sported black, heart-shaped sunglasses, a black tank top with the word “Daddy” written across the chest in a font that seemed to be melting, a pair of tight fitting skinny jeans, and combat boots. Needless to say, James Baker was without words.

“So you’re Jimmy Jackass, right?” The young man definitely sounded like a flamboyant homosexual- high pitched, sing-songy, and with a slight lisp. James did not answer vocally, only nodding his head in affirmation.

“I know it’s probably a little off putting, me showing up here the way I did. What can I say? I love a production.” With that, he smiled. His perfectly white teeth were just a little too pointed. Definitely not human.

James finally spoke. “What is going on here? Who are you?”

The boy pretended to process James’ words, as if he really had to think about it, before replying, “Well, you’re dead, obviously. And honestly, you should know who I am. I literally showed up in fire and brimstone. You humans are so dumb. I’m Lucifer, bearer of light, the Devil, Satan, Beelzebub, et cetera. You can call me Lu.”

James stood stock still, the expression on his face would have indicated such severe dissociation that his soul left his body if his soul had not literally left his body already. How could this be? He never drank, or smoked, or cursed. He nurtured and cared for his family, never once abusing them. He was loved by his congregation and the food pantry he volunteered with. By all accounts, he had lived his life with the Bible in one hand and his wife’s hand in the other.

Seeing the hopeless expression on the sinner’s face, Lucifer laughed. “You’re probably wondering how you could possibly be meeting me instead of God, right? What could you have done wrong? Well, Jimmy, what you did wrong is looking you in the face.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Even outside of his physical body, his heart was beating at a pace that, were he hooked up to an EEG, it would probably be confused for a-systole. “How could this be my mortal sin?”

Lucifer lowered his head so that his eyes could be seen over the black, heart-shaped sunglasses he was wearing. Never before had James seen the sulphur-yellow eyes of a demon. This was really the Devil, wasn’t it?

“Let me answer your question with a few of my own. Don’t worry, you don’t have to answer verbally. We both know the answers already.”

Lucifer was right. They would know the answers. James didn’t like where this was going at all. He prayed, silently, that this was some kind of test of his faith. He prayed for God to guide him. What James didn’t know is that once a person dies and is to be ferried (or in this case, “fairied”) to Hell, God does the equivalent of blocking your number. God wouldn’t help him, God was going to abandon him.

“Do you believe that the Bible alone contains the perfect moral code? Do you believe that your faith is the one true faith, and that all the non-believers get to meet this gorgeous mug? Do you believe that men are the providers and women belong in the home? Do you believe that even if a woman is raped, the pregnancy throws her into alternating panic and despair from the resulting trauma, then finds out that giving birth will kill her as well as the child, that she should still be denied an abortion? Do you believe that the men and women who fought and died for your country are going to hell just because it isn’t a “Christian Nation” anymore? Do you believe that snakes are evil just ‘cause I supposedly talked a lady into eating a fruit? Do you believe that homosexuals, bisexuals, or any other non-heterosexual individuals are impure and deserve my tender loving care on that basis alone?”

James had to admit that when framed like that, it sounded horrible. But this was Satan. His two talents were convincing people to sin and convincing them they’re sinners, right? He was sure this was a test now.

“Yes,” James replied, trying to rely on the faith that landed him in this situation in the first place, “I do believe those things. The Lord God, the Almighty, Loving Father has said so, and I must believe in His Wisdom, which he shares with us in His Word, the Bible.”

If you’ve ever seen someone choke down a laugh, imagine that but put the Dark Prince, the King of Demons, the most feared being in the place that is literally designed to be painful and scary, doing that. That’ll kill your ego faster than a bullet. James tried not to show it, but already he was falling apart, little by little.

“Wow. I haven’t met one of you yet that had the balls to stand up to me. Then again, I tailor the costume to each of you. It’s the highlight of my day when I get to watch them realize the exact moment in their life that sealed their fate. Yours is gonna be fucking fantastic. How about we play a little game? Get in.”

James was once again flabbergasted when he found the two of them outside the hospital beside a parked candy apple red Mini Cooper, complete with vanity plate: “FLAMING” in a font that looked like, well, fire. Unfortunately for James, no matter how much he consciously tried to stay put, his “body” seemed to have a mind of its own, puppeteering him into a car he could swear he had no business in. He did not like the fuzzy pink everything, he did not like the fact that he was in a car that Lucifer was driving, and he did not like the music about being born whatever way. He could not understand why he couldn’t stop himself from playing along. Had God really forgotten him? (Spoiler Alert: The answer is yes.)

The game, James found out, was to guess your worst offense before you arrive at the check-in desk. If you do, you get an hour to make peace with your fate. If you don’t, he will tell you. And as soon as the weight of your sin hits you the torture begins. He could not possibly have done anything to deserve this. Another test. He wondered what he had to do to pass, and for an instant he wondered if he could.

James did feel he had some kind of advantage in that he could decide what memory he would parrot to Lucifer. “Was it the time I told Momma it was the dog that ate those cookies when I was 9?”

The boyish demon gave a gentle grin and said, “Oh, Jimmy. It would never be something so bland and benign. Guess again.” With that, the road ahead of them cracked and caved, and Satan drove them down the broken road. Strangely enough, the ramp-like section was maybe twenty feet long, maximum, but since they went sub-surface it had somehow stretched into a long highway. All the way down it was scorching desert with sporadic skeletons and the occasional crow. In the distance you can see that the highway leads to what looks like a city on fire.

“How about the time I told Susie Day that I swore I didn’t see anything that time I accidentally walked in on her changing while I was at her brother’s house when I was 13?” Okay, he vaguely remembered that. What made that bad, he wondered? He should have said “I’m sorry that I caused you distress when I accidentally walked in, I know that is very uncomfortable and I want you to know that I never want to put you in a situation that makes you uncomfortable” instead of “Oh, calm down Susie! I didn’t even see anything!”

The devil, in his twink body, smiled bigger, but he was starting to look different. He was starting to change, but James couldn’t quite pin down what it was.

“Hm. Moved up to ‘caused someone undue emotional stress and then blamed them’ from ‘blame it on the dog’. I like where this is headed. Go fish.”

James didn’t understand why that was bad, but it didn’t matter. He could whip out his childhood white lies for at least a few days, if that’s all he ever did wrong.

“What about when I was 16 and told that girl I loved her so she’d sleep with me? That was a nasty break up.” He wasn’t perfect, he hadn’t really done anything wrong though because she agreed to it, right? Wrong. When he gets a turn in the solitary sensory deprivation pit for a millennium or two he’ll get to realize what was wrong. He had used something he knew someone was vulnerable to in order to get what he wanted. He baited her, deceived her, and manipulated her for selfish gain and something she took more seriously than he did.

Lu’s features were becoming exaggerated. He was morphing into some nightmarish caricature of the fragile looking kid that he had met just minutes ago. The grin was now just too large to be natural, his teeth looked sharper somehow, and James could swear that horns were starting to grow through his hair. He hoped that was it, he might only have one chance, and he was losing faith that this was a test that God wanted him to overcome.

“Excellent use of coercion. You put your needs above others then didn’t you?” The Devil chuckled, and even his laughter had become exaggerated and unnerving. “We’re getting close, Jimmy. This might be your last chance. For the opportunity to collect yourself for one solid hour before we send you off to Damnation Station, what is the most vile thing you’ve ever done?”

James was suddenly aware that it was his steadfastness to his beliefs that got him here. Maybe it wasn’t something he did consciously. How many things could he have done or said that he simply wasn’t aware of? He was doomed, but had one more shot. All or nothing.

“There was the time that I walked right by that nerd that bully was beating up, but I don’t step into fights because I’m a pacifist, and I figured the kid would just get a couple bruises. All I saw was some shoving and a slap or two. I had no idea he was gonna end up with broken bones, but would Jesus have traded blows with a bully?”

The whole world went silent, save for the chilling intake of breath and relaxed sigh of a satisfied monster.

“Actually, yes. He would. And he did a couple times, they just left those bits out. I usually let you all figure these ones out on your own since you’ve got all the time in the world, but this one is gold. You wouldn’t have had to do much. That bully was afraid of you, you were bigger and stronger and the preacher’s son. You could have told him to scram and that nerd would have nothing worse than a slightly puffy cheek and a bruised shoulder. But you didn’t intervene. Your rationale wasn’t even pacifism at the time, you fossil. Your rationale was that your abusive asshole father would beat the piss out of you for getting in the middle of something that didn’t concern you. But- you’re out of time, Jimmy. Good game. Get out.”

They had pulled up to a massive gate of twisted wrought-iron. A huge sign that looked like it was painted with blood that said “Check-In” was pointing to the right side of the gate, where it met with the stone wall reminiscent of gothic cathedrals that surrounded the massive city. As Lu walked him to the desk, there was a spring in his step and he hummed a haunting melody.

At the desk was probably another demon, but this one (as James may or may not find out at some point in the infinite future) was a ghoulish looking Leather Daddy. Complete with leather everything and a sketchy 1970s mustache. As they approached, he greeted them with a deep bow.

“Hello, my Lord. What do you require of me? I will gladly d-“ he was cut off.

“Skip the formalities, Evan. This one didn’t guess. Pull up his file.” He flashed a look at the devastated soul that said the Devil’s favorite moment is finally here. “Baker, James. 73 years old. From BFE.”

Evan looked up from the computer screen (yeah, they have computers, too, it’s the 21st century) with absolute glee in his dead, black eyes. “Shit. I can’t believe I get to witness one this brutal. Thank you, my Lord.”

Without acknowledging his servant’s excitement, Lucifer dove into the monologue that would crush the last bit of hope James Baker had left, the speech that would thrust him into his eternal torment.

To be continued.....

#short story #mine #me #its the little things #series #dargons and virbs #lu #lu stories

4 notes · View notes