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kazhan-draws · 1 year

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Hi! Not sure if you're still doing the OTP relationships ask thing but if you do I'd love to hear your thoughts on 29 and 37 for Mungrove! Thank you!

Hiiii! I'm still doing it, it took me a little while to get around to do it because I have, once again, a lot to say, but thanks a lot for the ask and the opportunity to be completely unhinged about them again 🥰

wanna ask me questions about my blorbos? follow this link to the otp ask game

29. What is their sex life like?

The short answer: wild, kinky, mildly dangerous, somehow therapeutic.

The long answer under the cut. 🤣 CW: I obviously talk about sex, kinks, use of one homophobic slur.

In canon universe—or close enough to canon since it works better if they’re alive 😂 I think their sex life is mostly about exploring at first.

Themselves, each other, what it means to be a man who has sex with another man. Eddie is pretty much a blank canvas because I don’t think he’d have a lot of experience before Billy, so it’s mostly fun and “yeah I really am gay lmao” for him, meanwhile Billy does have experience but strictly with women, so he’d kinda be rediscovering what sex is and coming to terms with the fact that he will never, ever feel that way with a girl.

They both have a pretty bad case of internalized homophobia, but it’s even worse for Billy—he’s the one who gets called a fag by his own father because he likes taking care of himself and looking good, he’s also overflowing with toxic masculinity, so things are probably a bit rocky at first. Billy is 100% the kind of guy who’ll laugh in Eddie’s face the first time he asks him if he wants to bottom, because he isn’t that gay, you know? 🙄

Thankfully, they move past this, either because Eddie knocks some sense into him by telling him there’s no Gay Scale, or because Eddie implies Billy’s too chickenshit to take a dick up his ass and Billy simply can’t resist a challenge. 😈

So, yeah, no matter what universe they’re in, I think they experiment a lot. They’re both very horny and very into each other. They’re young and stupid and they both are a little bit (sometimes a lot) self-destructive, which means they’re kinda on board with trying basically anything at least once even if it sounds dangerous—perhaps even because it sounds dangerous sometimes.

Like, they can’t be found out because the consequences would be bad, but that doesn’t stop them from having sex in public spaces because they enjoy the thrill, things like that.

And yeah, I think they’re both pretty kinky, again, no matter what experience they have. I think they’d play a lot with D/s dynamics, it’s not always a part of their relationship but it’s definitely something they’d explore.

I tend to write Billy with a thing for pain, so mostly impact play, some overstimulation, it’s about getting hurt in a safe and controlled setting, where he’s the one who decides when it stops because all he has to do is safeword and he knows Eddie will listen. Name calling, humiliation and degradation are a big no though, boy needs to be praised and called pretty. 😌

Eddie is very much into all of this. Giving Billy what he wants/needs? Hell yeah, man could spend hours just taking his boyfriend apart and be satisfied with not getting an orgasm out of it himself, like that’s just a bonus at this point.

Pain is a big no for Eddie, Billy can spank his ass a little bit but not too hard okay >:( I think (and I’m currently writing a fic featuring this, which I hope to finish soon) Eddie’s thing is humiliation/degradation, being used and denied an orgasm also works wonders for him. It’s pretty heavy for Billy to get like that with Eddie though—yes he can be an absolute dick, but that’s not who he wants to be with Eddie—so it’s something he’d do for him, and not because it’s something he’s into on his own.

I think they’d have quite a few accidents, the fun kind of accidents they can laugh about immediately, and the not so fun kind where one of them gets hurt—physically and/or mentally—but they make a point of working things out and making sure they’re okay afterwards.

Anyway I could go on and on with all my little mungrove sex headcanons, because I have a lot of those (surprising, I know) but the bottom line is that they love each other a lot and their sex life is mostly about that. 😌

37. What do they like the least about each other?

There are two things Billy has a hard time dealing with. The first one is how Eddie gets when he’s completely wrapped up in something—music, D&D, whatever Eddie is fixated on at the moment. Eddie often requires some ‘me’ time, and that means ‘me and that specific activity I’m so into I forget about everything else around me including my boyfriend’.

And like, Billy loves that Eddie is passionate, it’s part of what drew him to Eddie, but Billy doesn’t do well with being ignored or forgotten, it triggers all of his insecurities and abandonment issues, so Eddie showing up late or completely forgetting to show up because he lost track of time doing something? Eddie not being available for him for a long period of time because he’s working on a new campaign or whatever? Yeah, that shit hurts. That’s probably something that leads them to fight a lot at first, at least until Billy realizes this isn’t something Eddie does on purpose and that it doesn’t mean Eddie loves him less or whatever. Still, it’s a struggle, one of those things they both need to learn to compromise about.

The second thing Billy likes the least about Eddie is how he gets when he’s struggling with emotional stuff, or hurt. Eddie is awful at dealing with emotions when he feels like they make him look weak. He’s a prideful motherfucker, joking about things that actually hurt him is basically 80% of his personality, and when it hurts too much for him to be able to laugh about it, Eddie shuts down completely.

A wounded Eddie runs and hides. He’s going to say something awful to push people away and then lock himself up in his room and stay there, wallowing in self-pity until someone volunteers to drag him out.

And even then, it’s like talking to a fucking wall, and getting Eddie to admit that something wounded him, or that he’s struggling to deal with something is like pulling teeth.

You know it’s bad when Billy has to be the emotionally mature one, because he’s really fucking bad at it and at having the patience for it, and it drives him kind of crazy when Eddie gets like this, especially considering Eddie’s the one who always encourages him to communicate his own feelings.

The thing Eddie likes the least about Billy is how insecure he really is, because that’s the source of most of their serious fights. Eddie is a social creature, he craves attention as much as Billy does, but he also genuinely likes people—maybe not a lot of them but he has a circle he really, really cares about, and that’s more than Billy ever had.

But Billy gets jealous because he doesn’t like sharing Eddie’s time with other people, or because Eddie is a very tactile guy and watching him touch and hug other people makes his skin crawl.

The jealousy is kind of cute at first, it makes Eddie feel desired you know? But then it leads to Billy acting like a dick, and it’s obvious it’s hurting him and Eddie hates it, he also doesn’t always have the patience to reassure Billy and he isn’t going to stop hanging out with his friends or touching them because it makes his boyfriend growl like a big territorial cat.

So yeah, it leads to them fighting, which makes it not so cute anymore.

Just like Billy isn’t a fan of Eddie hyperfixating on things to the point of forgetting about everything else because it triggers his insecurities, Eddie doesn’t like how said insecurities make him feel like shit whenever it happens. He already feels super guilty when he realizes he’s been neglecting the people around him but Billy has a tendency to make him feel even worse about it because he gets angry/frustrated/sad and that’s just not helpful.

It's also really hard for Eddie to realize something is wrong sometimes, Billy will suddenly be a dick or push him away because something Eddie said or did made him fear he's going to leave him, or doesn't actually love him, etc... and Eddie simply doesn't get it? So it's more fighting and trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong, more guilt, etc...

Anyway, I honestly think they're each other's best option for MANY reasons, but that doesn't mean they don't have a few struggles, they're both very flawed and they come with their own baggage—and it's not a small one lmao—so things are bound to be difficult once in a while.

I feel like I'm a bit all over the place in both answers but I did my best, I hope this wasn't awful to read! Thanks again for asking me questions about my blorbos 🥰

#otp ask meme #mungrove #billy hargrove #eddie munson #billy hargrove/eddie munson #answered asks #character study #long post #i write

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silliest-dude · 7 months

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tell me ur danger days headcanons bbg <33

AAAA THERES SM im currently working on putting them on a doc so I'll just copy and paste my very incomplete list (ps ilysm)

Ghoul and Kobra absolutely steal and collect any road signs they find

'zone weed' is absolutely a thing that Tommy sells (he gets it from droids in Bat city)

Party and Kobra aren't actually biologically related but they're still siblings

Kobra is most absolutely definitely 100% autistic and semi verbal, like… he can talk and has no issues with talking he just doesn't want to

Kobra only uses knives or his hands, he refuses to use guns like at all

Party is actually a natural blond

They're all trans-masc except Ghoul

Party has a chronic chewing gum addiction

Kobra and Party can basically mind read each other cuz yk sibling bond

Ghoul actually gave himself top surgery scars just because he wanted to fit in with the rest of the fab four who actually got top surgery

Party, who got top surgery, still wears bras

Kobra always wears skinny jeans like he has worn shorts maybe once his whole life he hates the feeling of not having pants on

none of them can cook

Ghoul and Party are the only people Kobra says more than a few words to when necessary, he actually talks to them

Kobra and Ghoul used to actually despise each other like they tried to fight to the death which is how Ghoul got that massive scar on his facethe reason Kobra and Ghoul hated each other was because Ghoul met Kobra pre transition and kept accidentally slipping up and calling him 'she'. After the massive fight in which Ghoul was quite nearly decapitated Kobra fixed his wound and Ghoul actually did Kobra's top surgery (with help from Jet and Cherri)

they pulled down letters from the 'DINER' sign on top of the diner so it just says 'DIE'

Ghoul is completely deaf in one ear (he was making DIY fireworks and accidentally made a bomb, this is also the reason Jet is missing an eye)

there's a communal killjoy greenhouse in the middle of the zones (near the mailbox) that everyone has to take care of but can take what they need from it

Tommy's also sells hrt because of course he does

Cherri, Dr. D and Show Pony all live in a radio shack and it's basically free therapy for all the killjoys. Since Cherri and Dr. D are the oldest people living in the desert they're the closest thing most killjoys could have to a father figure

Party decorated Kobra's helmet for him

Party smoked weed once and stood out in the sun talking to the witch, who no one else could see, and had a religious experience and never smoked again

Mad Gear and Missile Kid are djs that host basically every rave

Party has radiation poisoning

Party is 16, Jet is 18, Kobra is 15 and Ghoul is literally 13 years old - Cherri and Dr D lost count some time ago but are likely in their mid 30s and Show Pony is 19

Ghoul for whatever reason is really fucking good at fixing the car, he has no clue what he's doing but fucks around until it works

Ghoul builds a lot of explosives for ?fun? and licks his fingers if he gets something on them. How he's alive? I don't know

Ghoul purrs

There's a killjoy with a tail, like an actual, real tail, some people say it's a side effect of the radiation but no one really knows

'rock and rollers' 'crash queens' and 'motor babies' are all nicknames that Cherri actually came up with and started called Dr. D, who liked them so much he started using them on his broadcasts and now they're used throughout the zones

they all say 'fag' so much that the girl has started using it as an affectionate nickname towards anyone she comes across

Cherri and Dr D actually found the fab four when they were little kids and raised them

Jet actually practises a lot of witchcraft, he learnt from Cherri

Kobra is aro/ace but platonically dating Jet and Pony, who are actually dating

the girl and Jet have always looked so insanely similar that a lot of the killjoys are convinced they are related

the girls eyes are white

#i have so many more but tumblr cut me off #autism #ttlotfk

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vamptoll · 2 years

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Ok,so... Very long post incoming about an old feminist theory term.

There's this really weird experience when you know a lot of context for some technical term that starts to get big and well known?

So comphet was a thing all the gay gals were talking about last year, which cool, it's a good term, good way of thinking about things, but then leads to people saying "Not only lesbians experience comphet, ALL women experience comphet".

Which ... Is kinda silly on the face of it to say "All women have to deal with the pressure to feel attraction to dudes" cause if the lady is attracted to dudes... Who cares? It's like if I complained about how trans women have to be good at video games. Well, I am - it really isn't such a cross to bear.

But Adrienne Rich, who invented the term, meant for it to relate to all women, so obviously you can say comphet applies to all women. But the author thinks all women are lesbians. Like the same article that introduces comphet also says it's related to the lesbian continuum - the idea that anytime two women interact, they're being in lesbian with each other.

That girl holding your hair back when you puke? Lesbianism. The grocery clerk you ask where the tofu is? Lesbianism. An actual example in the article is any baby sucking her mother's milk is enacting lesbianism. And of course, when your two straight friends in high school stop talking to you and call you a dyke behind your back? Yep, thats them being lesbians.

And comphet is the same way- you wave to your male neighbor? That's comphet baby! See your dad for Thanksgiving? Comphet. Go to an Aids memorial? If any dudes died it's comphet. Hang out with a trans lady and play Mario kart? Compet depending on Adrienne Rich's mood.

Oh, I mean, in case you couldn't tell this is all like radfem shit. And I don't mean "Doesn't like men" radfem- I mean Rich helped out in the writing of Janice Raymond's Transsexual Empire book. Which is not shocking in the slightest if you spent any time reading the article she wrote.

It's about Lesbian Separatism at it's core, with a big focus on political lesbianism- the belief that lesbianism is unrelated to those dirty male fags because lesbians don't fuck- they just kinda hang out together and also write the occasional manifesto. Rich is the height of the cliche of some gay person who posts on Tumblr without having seemingly seen a homosexual in real life, considering she argues no lesbian has ever had anonymous sex- come on girl you were allowed to go to Michfest, you should know better.

But I do still think comphet has some value. It's a wonderful way to understand the common themes of Trans Lesbian experience! Sure Rich probably thinks I'm desecrating the female body with my gaudy parody or whatever, but I honestly can't muster much ire over a radfem who never even had the guts to use her name when she wrote about the transgenders.

But like- none of that context REALLY matters anyway? Adrienne Rich isn't the new hotness, it's the Lesbian Masterdoc or whatever that really matters. There's a grand total of like 100 people on Tumblr who would care about this post- half are going to call me a TIM, a dozen of them are currently writing an article on Tumblr Feminist Discourse and know well enough not to include the transgender ex-grad student's post in their sample, and the reminder left when the porn ban happened.

I just wish Tumblr had nerds I guess - I think it's interesting damn it! People obviously care about the term but don't care about what it means. Leading me to be filled with the impotent nerd rage that leads to posting a 2000 word essay on 40 year old essay.

#adrienne rich #compulsory heterosexuality #comphet #feminist theory #god I wish i was into like warhammar or something instead of Feminists who would spit on me if they ever saw me in real life #grad school things #anyway dont worry #its gonna be back to anime and trans sex joke reblogging soon enough

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wip-supercreig · 2 days

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Something that would probably make Craig blush mainly out of embarrassment is bringing up some cringy stuff he did in the past as a kid or teenager. One of them would be him and his friends dressing up as “metrosexuals” and even calling themselves fags, also acting like stereotypical gay guys (ironically enough Craig actually turned out to be gay later on, but obviously he’s not the stereotypical gay), plus rivaling with Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman.

Another mention would probably be when he for once actually believed Stan and the other guys (Kyle, Kenny and Cartman) would actually help turn his $100 check from his grandma into a $1000 check if they were to start their own Peruvian flute band. Of course that backfired because instead of being able to make $1000 of money, they were all sent to a camp in Miami and then deported to Peru (despite being non-Peru, and this was also before Craig discovers his Peruvian heritage and that his biological mom was Peruvian).

Lastly another legendary mention would probably be the time he and Tweek fought each other back in elementary school because they both got talked into fighting each other. Craig was even trained for sumo wrestling while Tweek was trained for boxing. The two barely even knew each other that much at the time other than they were just classmates, and yet they just rolled with the fight. Looking back they have no idea why they even gave into them both fighting each other other than they just got talked into it and were told lies about each other.

#hcs

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supercreig · 5 months

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Honestly something else that would probably make Craig blush mainly out of embarrassment is bringing up some cringy stuff he did in the past as a kid or teenager. One of them would be him and his friends dressing up as "metrosexuals" and even calling themselves fags, also acting like stereotypical gay guys (ironically enough Craig actually turned out to be gay later on, but obviously he's not the stereotypical gay), plus rivaling with Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman.

#hcs

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0621215 · 8 months

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I'd like to know that I am useful for something. At the school they were "very sad to see me go" because the kids loved me and for admin I was available and enthusiastic. But I always felt hollow, empty, I'd end up at the school still at 9 pm, wondering what is going on? Empty hallways, the foul specters of administration, no children, no adults. I know I couldn't have because it was eating me up (it the job and it my whole life outside of it) but I was appreciated in my role and something felt vital (that is, real and urgent) about it. Talking to children, even middle schoolers, is nice because they dont have the same kind of blinders that adults have. Even the barbs the nascent mean girls throw at you each other and everyone are painfully self-defeating even when accurate.

Adult conversation — maybe I should say professional conversation — might actually be the worst thing in the world. An ex of mine told me once that I was — in a way that might have bordered on frightening — 0 or 100 on everything that I did.

Isaac Babel has a story about this murky Polish peasant who got syphilis at 14 in some strange way and became a shepherd. "They called him Sashka Christ because he was so gentle."

He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

I have a problem namely falling in love which I'm coming to think is possibly a coping mechanism, but I usually can't stand when someone looks at me in a gaze of love. I have partnered with a series of people with impassive faces.

New friend I made — he came up to me in the park — after dinner today asked — how do you approach people you are interested in? I said uh. Because I haven't done that in a very long time. He said, "too scared?" (Sympathetically — his autism and schizophrenia.) What I do is talk to them. But I'm only interested in people after I've fallen in love with them. It's prohibitive.

Listening to Jacques Brel Amsterdam all the time now. A said it was apocalyptic. It is! left field with the last couple lines: "ils pissent comme je pleure / sur les femmes infidèles / dans le port d'Amsterdam / dans le port d'Amsterdam". It's like the turn of a particularly good sonnet, it takes you aback. First appearance of the narrator in the song, and leaves you puzzled. I must assume the "femmes" refers to "women", not "wives"; the women in context would be whores that the sailors enjoy and "drink to" — how are they unfaithful? I'd like to assume the line derives from more than just misogyny — however, Bowie recorded the song (in English, enjoyable but not as powerful) and Brel refused an offer to meet him because Bowie was a "fag".

I have a memory of driving to work at school a couple soft rainy mornings listening to Yeezus and the Doors' Paris Blues. A flickering image of beauty... then I put the Rubber Soul cd into my car which was like the beginning of the end

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

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Did you get the number of troops trying to attack him last night from 10's shatter down it was about 100 quadrillion now it was about 2,500 quadrillion he thought for sure you get through. Hera calls him an idiot, proceeds to go through evidence that Ken had injured his wife hasn' it there with her, as she's not Naomi judge she's the one who's being copied the one singing with her all the time it's fine yesterday is now missing. The sun causing my louse because he's a louse and calls Ken a fag.... And for not being able to team up with her and he's a loser and is wanted now for homicide and a lot of people want to know where she is and want to know if he crushed her skull meaning if he incapacitated her brain instead of me and Hera says yes so we're seeking him on special warrant too he go away yes ken need a couple of bucks f****** loser, can't take it with you. He's not smiling he's shouting and yelling like a little baby won't you grow up you know none of you people know how to withstand hard time do you want to be a little babies show each other you're a little baby unfortunately being a little baby here doesn't pay off. And we know exactly what he's saying people go after you and Ken has a lot of money he just doesn't have a lot of robots anymore and no people you need people to run robots and you forgot that. It's true you know half his robots disappeared. Nobody knows what it means so now he's having attention I really care you're having a tantrum who else cares nobody. What to trader to his own race...scum ok he's scum Hera says.

She also says she needs him to leave. And she's laughing because her husband has some bird yelling right in the window it's probably because it was fed before my people here. .

She's chuckling because there might be a bunch of animals out there now waiting for food is to feed them after it rained. She's really angry and upset that he did that he's she's a understanding that he's a danger to her husband and so is he.

Opening lawsuits on him now. Several and a few of them have to do with inventions some of them about the treatment and theft of items of his. Bitol and Goddess Wife say... They're also adding in a lawsuit against Ernie akerly, and for a whole bunch of things child abuse child neglect and against Dolores a whole bunch of items and really they're guilty of it as bad as others but they were and we're going to sue them for everything they had and have I'm tired of waiting for you to do nothing

We add this... We've waited for Utah to do something for about 2 years and you're doing nothing that whole area is sat there delete dilapidated then could vacuumed out and just does nothing they're lame that's hardly any pool at all then Max said oh I need my lobe and he's going to be over there like tomorrow probably if you can't kidnap him he's going to keep trying to get the thing and trying to kidnap him or watching him try now as forced us too small everybody ganged up on him. For really Utah just sits there doing nothing the court got the paper and they sent a note to the lawyer like we do and said hey how about you contact them and stuff and didn't do anything it didn't send a court order so it's lame so we filed papers now with the court for an actual lawsuit because they're not going to do anything unless you do Mac says great he still has to avoid it now but moreso. We heard him say it too it's more or less what he was saying I'm thinking and we think well that's a ridiculous thing but okay how am I supposed to get there if nobody does anything this is a ridiculous bunch of people here and I understand something this is what Florida is like that means wow some producing lawsuit today as a matter of fact we're going to sue d for tons of stuff too positively and in North Port Florida too not in Utah she had to do that work and didn't pay anything she also took money from him for rent and this is poor and kept him there for working we have proof too we sew her for a lot of money.

And Hera said you forgot what we were talking about this is no and said no so I'm taking on her case to sue ken for wrongful death, and for wrongful imprisonment of herself people want to hear that one I heard whoa from a lot of people on their microphone and Mike too is saying it and say sounds cool and no Mike it sounds normal you have to change the computer settings it looks already it's pissed off again and she's laughing she's mad so I'm going to start the case against Ken Thayer. She's going to send him for a lot a ton of money she said she needs money she doesn't need money and all of a sudden mack is thinking. It says it's on and the lawsuit is on and just smiling cuz she knows that he had a lot of stuff and money and her husband goes okay how about 25 Grand. So she doesn't you like giant ownership or as soon and I can hold on to it and you tell me what to do and then cuz I have no idea what to do with it it's another thing if he got all his possessions and stuff he would know what to do with it hed just sell it and sit there. That's a fun thing too cuz that's what you do what am I supposed to do start a business and kids and get threatened for real so she's smiling saying yeah...ok ok Mac says... He's trying to calm down since it's looking for cold water or Lori. And we're disgusted disgusted is your sister.

So now we are suing a lot of people. But more importantly ken thayer and he's going to be on the run. Is accusing our son of stealing robots yeah I have two of them over here you f****** moron. Find two robots that have a pink Lamborghini you dingaling. So it's not smiling anymore you sort of gets it and people are going to start trying to grab them and it does not have power but he did you'll see that our son has power cuz they can't figure it out

Thor Freya

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 3 years

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#259

“Seth? Right? C’mon in. Your brother told you who I am? Good. Want a beer?... Here you go. Let’s go out to the back deck. The sun went down, and the cool evening air is starting to kick in. Have a seat…. Ok. Seth, do you know why you are here? Let me be blunt. Your brother David owes me a lot of money. A lot. He’s been doing jobs for me that I need someone I can trust to do. But that’s barely covering the interest. I told him he needs to start working down the principal. So, he offered me… you….

“That’s right he sold you to me. You are going to whore off his debt…. Shut the fuck up. The deal is set. Have some more beer; it will help you to deal with what I need to go over with you….

“Your brother probably told you that I am a powerful man. Hopefully he didn’t tell you what I did. I will share with you one part of my business that you will be a part of. I have several whore agencies across several states. They ain’t like the whorehouses in the movies. The girls never see money; they show up at a set time and do whatever the man wants. They do not say no. They get to live in city, and they show their clients the best the city has to offer. They have everything paid for and get a nice credit card too.

“A few years ago—hell it’s more like ten or so, —I was convinced to do the same but on the fag side. Now, I knew nothing about fag sex, and it disgusted me. Once I got over the visuals, the business was just like the girls. The difference I found out was that I had to have two sets of whores—fag boys like yourself, and men old enough to be your father.

“It was Frankie, one of my goons, who told me that there is a lot money to be made by men taking the dominant role. I didn’t believe it. So, he arranged for me to watch him from a distance him work over this faggot. He didn’t tell me how much he was earning. When I saw this fag hand over three hundred bucks, I knew I needed to get into this. I mean my guy did barely anything other than smack the fag around, call him names, and sit on the faggot’s face at the end. That fag ate that fat ass while pounding its pud. Frankie even went over to the fag’s wallet and took an additional hundred out of it. And wouldn’t you know, that fag boy was loving life.

“Needless to say, that was how I got into the fag whoring business. I had Frankie lead it; he even got somewhat in shape, and now he’s my most popular whore men. Wait a minute, you know him. He fucked you behind a dumpster in the alley behind that fag bar a couple weeks ago. When I saw you at David’s birthday partner at my tavern and he told me that you were his sperm burping brother, I sent Frankie to find out more about you. I know that you can take a good pounding, face slaps, rough housing. Frankie also told me that you cleaned off his cock after we was done and that you drank his piss. You even begged him for more as he walked away from you, naked covered in piss behind the dumpster. That’s all I needed to hear.

“After meeting with your brother, all I had to do was press the massive debt. I knew how self-serving he was. He sold you out so fucking fast. And now I own you. Now strip faggot….

“You do realize who I am? No one ever disobeys one of my direct commands. Now think about your next move real carefully. STRIP YOU FUCKING FAGGOT. Take your time standing up. That drug I put in your beer will make you kinda dizzy if you stand too fast. Yeah, I didn’t want you to run back to your car. Kid, when you came in that door, you were mine. That’s it. Accept your fate. Good boy.

“Yeah, after Frankie roughed up that fag, I was curious. He arranged for me to use one of his regulars who was blindfolded. It was so much fun to kick and punch that faggot only to have him crawl to me, begging for more. With each time, I got more wicked, and they wanted more. I had a few fags over the years locked up and had the best of all worlds. My wife provides me with companionship. My girlfriend offers sensual making love and snuggling. And my faggot takes all my rage filled abuse.

“Underwear needs to go too. Let’s see what you have. Not bad. Looks like you are excited about being naked in front of me. That’s a lot of pre-cum. Decent sized balls. I’d say you are about six inches long. The shaft is a bit thin, but the head is good size. Your foreskin is not too long. That’s good. If there’s going to be one sweaty stinky dick around here, it will be mine. If yours becomes a problem, we’ll get you circumcised.

“What? Faggot, you are nothing more to me than my pickup. If I want to modify you out, I sure as hell am going to. I modify all my property. Tattoos, piercing, permanent hair removal, castration, branding, and so on. But actually, I am a bit cautious. I made the mistake of castrating a fag and regretted it afterwards. He just didn’t seem right to me. The cutter I went to tried to put in fake balls, but it still didn’t seem right. I ended up replacing that fag with another.

“I am looking for my perfect fag. I’m planning on letting my girlfriend go, but sometimes I need that close touch. Not going to do that with my wife. Every day now I realize that I want to be with faggots over women. Faggots are so much easier to mold into what I want. And every now and then I might snuggle with one.

“I like what I see. I want to see your cumload. Jerk off for me. I’ll give you a few minutes to do so. When you do, shoot in your spare hand. I want to see the quantity. I’m going to get your collar; it’s probably done charging. I’m also going to take your car keys. You ain’t going anywhere. Continue jacking….

“….Did you cum? You did! Good fag. When was the last time you came? Yesterday morning? Well that’s a good load. Here, lock this collar around your neck. Ok, so here’s the deal. You can jack off as often as you like, whenever you like as long as I am not using you. If I catch you jacking off, don’t stop. If you are watching porn, continue. But know this, no matter if you haven’t cum in days or you just had a massive orgasm, should I require your use, I fully expect 100% horniness and enthusiasm.

“This remote is hooked up to your collar. With this button… you fall to the floor just like that. Hurt’s like a mother fucker hunh? That’s on low. Remember that. It is also set up to shock you should you cross a 20-foot perimeter of the house. I am notified by an app on my phone when you do something that stupid. Also, the garage and my office on the third floor are completely off limits. You will not fare well should you cross that threshold without me.

“Bring your cock over here. Is your dick head sensitive. It is! Fuck yes! As you get soft, it’s driving you crazy. Good. Good. I see a problem here. Your pubic hair is all over the place. You shouldn’t have hair down here. Look how long this hair is. There’s enough so that I can twirl a bunch around my finger. With a firm yank,… it comes out in one clump. Aww shut the fuck up. Most of the time your screams of pain will turn me on, but now it’s just annoying. Another clump on the other side, and it doesn’t even look like you lost any.

“Look at me faggot. Say ‘Thank you.’ Good fag. Open your mouth. Here eat your pubic hair. Go on chew it. Nasty? I know, now swallow. And here’s… another bunch. Swallow these…. And these… And these… You’ll be permanently shaved in the near future so you won’t have to do much pubic hair eating.

“While you finish your snack, let me take you around the place and show you your duties. This is the kitchen. David told me that you went to culinary school but then dropped out. Well, you will be doing all the cooking here. Cleaning too.

“Let’s go downstairs…. This is your room, although you really don’t have privacy. Over there is your cot. Next to it is the plug you will put into your collar every night. I am notified on my app should the power level drop below 75%. That’s equivalent for not charging for a full week. Unless I just slam you with shocks, I should never get one of those notifications.

“You have a wash basin there, and your toilet is there. There’s your douche hose over there in the shower. No, I haven’t gotten around to buying it a toilet seat; the cold porcelain is fine. And I haven’t hooked up the hot water down here.

“Let’s go up to the Master bedroom…. You never climb into my bed unless I invite you in. In fact no non-sexual furniture for you either without permission. Through that door is the master bath. You will keep this place spotless. That includes licking clean my toilet. The rimseat next to it is when I want to make you toilet paper or a full toilet.

“And here’s the playroom. It’s totally soundproofed. You are going to suffer a lot in here. Screaming is encouraged. In fact, what time is it? Seven. Well we might as well start now. Get on all fours—knees and elbows. Spread those knees wide. Every night you will present yourself in this position, as you will every morning.

“Don’t get too excited. I am going to fuck you good, long, and deep. But that won’t until the end. We got a long way to go. You see, the only people who knows my affinity for preferring the boys to the girls are Frankie, me, and now you. Your brother thinks I’m adding you to my harem of fags. This is something that cannot get out. And if it does, I will know it came from you, and I want you to know the perpetual hell that will come your way.

“Tonight is a test of what you can expect, but keep in mind, tonight’s suffering will be only five hours long, much shorter than what will be if my preference is ever widely known.

“And after the paddling your ass to a welted mess, whipping your back until it turns to bloody hamburger, kicking your balls until they are swollen to twice their size, bruising up your face, and fucking you with very little lube, I may feel the need to snuggle up with you afterwards.

“But first, there’s a lot to do before we do that. Oh look your balls are just ripe for a good old fashioned full-force kick. Every night and every morning you will get one to always remind you what you are.

“Faggot right now with this kick your hell begins.”

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nriacc · 3 years

Text

Nothing Revealed in a Common Crisis ~ Teaser

Here’s a teaser of Part 1 of NRIACC ~ Only Ones Who Know.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: You all finally get the teaser ahhhhh!!! We are so excited to finally start sharing content with you! We would love to hear what you think of it so far once you’ve read the teaser and we’d love to hear your theories on what you think is going to happen. Really hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading x

Part 1 will be out in full, May 21st 2021

An @imagine-that-100 and @ghostlightqueen collaboration.

| N’s Masterlist | Dot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist (Coming Soon) |

~*~*~*~ July 2003 ~*~*~*~

“Excuse me, can you pull over please?” You ask loudly after practically leaning over Alex who sat directly behind the driver of the black taxi.

The driver nods his head and begins to reduce his speed after you asked him that through the perspex that separated him from the rest of you.

“Thank you,” You tell the driver, before getting out of Alex’s personal space and sitting back down next to the disgusting couple that were getting off beside you.

Thank god you weren’t too far away from home now.

Alex asks you with wide eyes, “Why’d you do that? What’s happening?”

You look at the brunette who looked like he felt more uncomfortable about being seated backwards than Matt getting off with the random girl beside you.

Alex was meant to be staying at Matt’s house tonight after their gig and the night out you’d had afterwards. But in the pub Matt had gotten lucky and the girl wanted to go home with him.

You living two roads away from Matt Helders meant that you always shared taxis home with him but tonight was just insufferable. And you weren't going to let Alex suffer through it once you parted ways, either.

“You’re staying at mine. I’m not leaving you with that,” You inform Alex, looking over to Matt sticking his tongue down the random girl's throat.

The more you looked at Matthew and the blonde the more you wanted to jump out of the moving vehicle. Hands were beginning to roam now, too, and you didn’t want to be in their vicinity any longer.

It would be very unfair of you to leave Alex in their presence. Especially when you had your whole house to yourself and you were only round the corner from where he was originally meant to be staying.

“What about your Mum?” Alex asks, concern on his face as the taxi slows.

“She’s away for the weekend so it’s fine. House is empty,” You assure him as you open the door once the red light has gone off.

Both you and Alex get out of the taxi but before you close the door you pull a £10 note out of your pocket for your share of the taxi fare.

“Matt, you’re disgusting but here’s a tenner,” You say throwing the money at him.

Matt nods at you when he takes a quick break from the blonde. You shake your head at him trying not to smile at the cocky bastard.

You hear Alex tell the driver, “Then to the original address please mate” when you close the black door.

You’re more than thankful to see the taxi drive away. You didn’t want to endure anymore of that disgusting PDA.

Both you and Alex breathe a sigh of relief when you’re just in each other’s presence again. You’re glad to see the taxi’s lights disappear from sight down the long road.

“They’re vile,” Alex sighs before lighting up a cigarette.

“I was ready to jump out the taxi but the red light were on,” You tell him truthfully with a little chuckle.

You both walk in silence for a few minutes, just smoking and both reminiscing about the night you’d just had.

Alex and the lads had a gig in a venue in town where your friendship group had all gone to support him. You were always really close with them all, your little group always meeting up after high school and now most days after college.

But now it was summer and the group could meet up more often which was great. And whilst you were still in Sheffield, you would be making the most of every group event.

So when Matt suggested going out on the pull to a club after the gig, you were all up for it. However, the night didn’t go to plan.

You were in the queue for the club for about half an hour and then when half of you got in, the bouncers stopped Alex and asked for his ID.

This obviously put an end to that idea because most of you were all 17 except for Nick and Jamie. So it was lucky that those of you who got in actually did.

But once one of you had been stopped you all didn’t have a chance then. Alex tried to back chat the bouncers which didn’t really go down well, so you ended up shouting everyone back outside.

You didn’t abandon your mates. If one of you couldn’t get in, you all wouldn’t be going in.

Alex was pissed off about it for a while until you all found a bar that was known for not IDing people to go in that wasn’t too far away. So his mood thankfully picked up when you all got there.

However it seemed like he was a bit down as you walked down the long roads towards your house.

So as you stubbed your cigarette bud out, you questioned him, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Alex shook his head, stuffing his hands in his zip up hoodies pockets after throwing what little was left of his fag to the ground.

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you only called him out again on it when he kicked a stone along the pavement in a huff.

“Alex, I’m being serious, what’s up?” You ask again, noting that his shoulders were hunched to.

He tried to brush you off again, this time saying, “Nothing, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know you can talk to me about anything you want, right?” You feel the need to remind him.

You’d known him since you were 3. If you desperately needed someone to turn to and the girls weren’t around Alex would more than likely be your go to.

“Not this,” Alex shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“It can’t be that bad,” You tell him.

Alex just shakes his head again, really not wanting to get into it with you because he didn’t think you’d understand. So this time he changes his answer to, “It’s not bad, it’s just embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than when I wet myself in primary school and you never let me forget about it?” You shake your head.

Alex laughs a little at that, finally looking toward you when he says, “Because it was funny.”

“I was five years old Alex, give me a fucking break,” You chuckle, attempting to defend yourself.

Both of you laugh at the memory of him bringing it up countless times over the years. He was such a teasing friend but you’d known him since you were toddlers so you would let him off.

You had enough embarrassing stories of him that you could bring up if you needed too.

“Come on,” You try again, “What’s up?”

This time you seem to get somewhere because Alex tells you, “I really just feel like shit.”

“Why?” You ask, sticking your bottom lip out a little. “I thought you had a good night?”

“I mean yeah sure, I had a good night with you, but that’s not what I mean,” Alex tells you, and when you don’t reply he looked round at you noticing you were waiting for him to continue.

He sighs when he just gives in and tells you, “I just mean I was hoping to get off with that girl in that green dress but it didn’t happen.”

Ah, you understood now.

“Didn’t get a pull, again,” Alex scorns himself before once again kicking the stone on the ground a lot harder this time.

You watched as it clattered it’s way down the darkened pavements and you nod understanding his words.

“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean,” You tell him honestly. “I was gutted about that too, that guy in that leather jacket was fit.”

Fit was the highest compliment you northerners would give people. You weren’t meaning it in an athletic sense but if you deemed someone as fit that meant that you found them very attractive.

Alex nods processing your words. He vaguely remembered you chatting to a guy in a leather jacket in the bar. But he’d had a few drinks since then so his memory was a tad hazy.

After a few seconds of silence between you, Alex just sighs, telling you his full truth, “I just feel like I’m behind...”

“You know what I mean... Like everyone else either goes home with someone or pulls them and does stuff in the club,” Alex lists off thinking back to previous nights out.

You nod, “Yeah and I hate it.”

“I hate it, too,” Alex agrees.

A thought whirls around your mind for a few moments, before you actually grow the balls to say it out loud, “I hate that I’m still a virgin.”

“Same.” Alex says in what seems like relief that you’d said it too.

Your friendship group was a close one. You all knew who’d been sleeping with who and who's single and who’s done things and who hadn’t.

It wasn’t a surprise to either of you what you were hearing the other say out loud.

If anything though it got a weight off both your chests.

“You know like I just don’t want the first time something happens to be someone fingering me in a club or something,” You laugh a little as you turn the corner onto another long road.

“Yeah, I get that,” Alex nods chuckling too.

Some of the stories that your friends told in the place you all went out was truly mental. But gossip was gossip and it spread like wildfire.

Alex continues showing his understanding with, “Like, you’re not necessarily after being in a relationship or whatever but you at least don’t want it to be a randomer.”

“Literally,” You nod, “I’m glad you get it.”

“Well you know... The same things go through my mind,” Alex tells you.

He’s just glad he’s not the only one feeling a bit left behind.

“What, getting fingered in a club?” You ask him playfully with a little laugh.

“Fuck off,” Alex laughs and nudges you to the side.

You both laugh for a second and once you’re next to him again he continues, “I just mean like I wanna just get things out of the way... Like I don’t want it to mean nothing, but I also don’t want to be completely shit at everything if I’m doing it with someone who I’m going to be in a relationship with.”

“Oh my god that’s literally it, isn’t it?” You nod, “Like I just feel like after the first times’ done and dusted, I could be a little slag then if I wanted to be... Because then I wouldn’t be scared of some wanker taking my virginity just to then fuck off.”

“Literally,” Alex smiles at you, understanding completely.

“Have you done anything?” You ask him after a few moments of silence. The only round to be heard was your footsteps.

“No,” Alex shakes his head before asking, “Have you?”

“No,” You offer him a sad smile.

Alex returns yours with his own and you both just walk down the road in a comfortable silence for a minute. You’re about 5 minutes away from your house now.

“I feel like you could write a sad song about us,” You say not wanting to get lost in your thoughts again.

“I wouldn’t wanna broadcast our lives like that,” Alex chuckles a tad, shaking his mop of brown hair.

You grin at him, “Very considerate of you.”

“Well you know, I’m a nice guy,” Alex smiles, his chocolate eyes looking at you.

You smile, “I know you are.”

“Gentleman really,” Alex adds in jest which makes you laugh.

“Pushing the boat out a bit there Al,” You chuckle before you both share a laugh.

A silence falls between you then as you both continue to walk down the road. Thoughts start forming in your mind then, you never really were a fan of silence because it gave you a chance to overthink and create some crazy ideas.

You then walk silently faster before turning towards him and stopping in front of him.

Alex stops walking too and looks at you curiously.

“What’s up?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask after building up a little confidence.

Alex’s frowns a little, “What?”

Where was this coming from?

“Can I kiss you... Like properly?” You ask, confidence shooting way down though when you see your friend is not so keen on the idea.

“Erm...” Alex trails off looking at you like you’ve gone mad.

Then you feel a bit stupid.

You shake your head, starting to turn back to start walking towards your house again. As you do, you begin to backtrack, “Just ignore me, I don’t know what I’m thin-“

Alex’s hand then grabs your wrist and whips you back around to face him. The brunette then takes a step towards you, cups the back of your neck, and attaches his lips to yours.

You’re a bit taken aback by his actions, despite you asking for it. But you quickly relax into the gesture.

Your hand that landed on his chest after him pulling you back around clutched at his hoodie as you got your bearings with each other. You bring your hand up to lace into his hair and as you do that Alex deepens the kiss.

He was almost hesitant at first when his tongue connected with yours. But after a second you both got more confident with it.

The night was a humid one so it meant that when the kiss started heating the both of you up, it got you both really hot and bothered. He was a really good kisser, something that you’d never really given much thought to before.

But as he was kissing you, you felt a giddy nervousness in your stomach. Something that made you crave him more.

And Alex seemed just as keen on you too, he was pulling you close to him. With one hand around your waist and the other still cupping your neck, keeping you in place.

His lips were soft against your own yet they moved at an increasing pace which you happily tried to keep up with. It was like you were both catching up for a night of failed attempts at a pull.

But you were finally getting it now. Your tongues were moving against each other’s in a way that screamed for the other to continue and never break apart.

When Alex’s fingers dig into your hips you pull the tiniest bit tighter on his hair as you hum into the kiss. You were really enjoying it, completely invested in it and his hold on you felt possessive in the best way.

It was like you were both kissing each other that frantically to make up for the lost time you’d had at the pub.

The kiss only stops because you’re startled away from each other by a car razzing it’s way down the street. The exhaust had obviously been tampered with to make it sound much louder than it was.

You pulled away a little shocked that you’d both just pulled each other like that in front of some random house around the corner from yours. You could hear the car that had just made you both jump over the sound of your own rapid heartbeat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: AHHHH WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!?!?! What do you think is going to happen???? Apologies for no Matty yet but he comes into it a little later. Don’t worry though, the whole story is equally balanced out. Really hope you all enjoyed it, can’t wait for you to read the full part on May 21st.

Let us know if you want to be added to the taglist x

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

hellblazer #100 and the First of the Fallen

the plot: John nearly dies, the First of the Fallen drags him to Hell to meet his shitty dad, John and his shitty dad have a long conversation and in the end John forgives his shitty dad and gets to go back to the land of the living

BUT OBVIOUSLY that’s not the stuff I care about, i’m here for 1 thing and u know what it is, it’s my main bitch, my worst husband, my thicc meat pillar of sadness and fail, the First of the Fallen

he is AMAZING in this.

first, he shows up like:

and then john goes ??? and First just ‘whoops sorry lemme get handsome real quick’

he. he is wearing John’s clothes adsfgbsdfdssdfse

and GUESS WHAT JOHN’S REACTION IS???

john: Strip. -_-

(and yeah we could talk about Paul Jenkins’ decision to have him use that particular word seeing as how John’s a queer man with queer friends and sure sometimes we call each other dyke and fag etc and it’s ok because we’re talking to friends we love and trust but the First is not?? John’s friend???? even tho their relationship has evolved a LOT by issue #100 and i would argue that John IS the closest thing First has to a friend at this point but I doubt John sees it that way and also First is queercoded constantly and I’m not always sure how intentional it is and also there’s another issue where John calls First’s overall appearance as ‘homoerotic’ and i’d like to think there’s more going on than the writers falling back on lazy cishet tropes but I’m just not sure)

WHATEVER. John tells him to strip.

AND HE DOES.

and actually i’m fine with First using that word because First is uhh the devil and evil and also he exists to piss off John and he knows racist shit pisses John off a lot, and also First tends to adopt the persona of a gross Tory nob whenever John’s around, again, because John has a particular bug up his ass about gross Tory nobs, so I’m ok with that, and i LOVE that First straight up stole his latest evil scheme from Dante because he’s that basic and lacking in creativity

ALSO can he talk about how he FLINGS his clothes away and does an Escher Girl pose, goddamn that is the skimpiest loincloth he’s ever worn and i’m living

anyway this story takes place shortly after First returned to Hell after being stuck in a human’s body for a while, and btw when he came back to told John how horrible and heartbreaking he’d found being a human and offered to make John into something more (because of course he did, John is special, John is the only person who’s made him interested in his work in millennia HE LITERALLY SAYS THAT MULTIPLE TIMES so of course he’d be horrified to realize how frail and powerless humans actually are and decide that John should be MORE, John’s his nemesis and it’s just WRONG that someone as unique as John should be stuck in a wretched human body) and then John said lol no and First threw a tantrum lolll

and that was the last time we saw First before this story.

so I personally find it glorious how First is now breezily chatting to John about the shit he’s been up to and like, even tho this whole escapade is about First forcing John to confront his abusive father (oooor is it the other way round?? hmmmm)

even tho this is a shitty, shitty experience for John, it doesn’t feel like First is all that interested in hurting him. he DOES hurt him, not denying that, but i feel like that’s kind of because First doesn’t know any other way of interacting with people?? and like, what he’s really interested in here is just hanging out with John

and bullying John’s awful dad

and watching tv

and being grumpy because he’s not the one currently staring at John’s dick

and wanting to know what John thinks of his interior decorating

and then at the end after John’s forgiven his father and is about to leave, he goes off at First for…..well everything

and 1. First isn’t even annoyed that John won this round, like i said he’s got no more fucks to give, this isn’t about winning anymore 2. a moment of appreciation for John’s phrasing: “you sad little bastard…. you still want me, don’t you?”

oh and earlier there’s this one line where John puts his finger on it

because YEAH, First is so so basic and SO easy for John to read, beating him is like outwitting a potted cactus

oh and last but not least

thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighs

<3 THE END <3

#hellblazer #john constantine #first of the fallen #comics #comic book panels

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okaybutlikeimagine · 4 years

Note

ok by i cannot stop thinking about billy just losing his fucking mind to dream on by aerosmith. like his dad just went too far or he found out about him and steve and now hes tearing his room apart like a mad man, throwing records and smashing bottles and shit. and its not even just like angry hes like /crying/ like he cannot even for a second know peace and happiness and this has been on my mind for MONTHS

TW: physical abuse, blood, homophobic slurs ((f-slur)), verbal abuse, mental breakdown, cussing

Honey, ever since i got this i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either ohmyGOD???? This is legitimately a PEAK Billy “i’m absolutely sick of all of this and i need out NOW” Hargrove anthem!! God if i could direct this i would but unfortunately i’m bound to words on my silly little blog so i hope this will do, love. ♥ (@venomdean)

Because it’s absolutely explosive. I kind of hate to think about it, but I feel like Billy is like a landmine. He’s a pot always threatening to boil over. He’s on constant vibrate just about ready to pop. He’s always on the edge of going absolutely feral because the only certain thing he’s felt for years and years is pain.

And you’re right- on both accounts. Neil finds out… and he goes too far.

Because Neil has been hearing all around town that Billy has been running around with “that Harrington boy”. You know, the son of that really influential family, the boy who “has all the opportunities in the world” but “seems to be amounting to nothing… what a shame. You know, his parents couldn’t even pay a school to take him. What a pity. I knew it would happen though...”

And Neil just hoped it wasn’t true. He hears it every time he goes to the grocery store. The voices follow him down the aisles, either from mothers who whisper about how “That’s Neil Hargrove. His son is that curly haired one I told you about. The different one.” or from teens who hiss about how “That’s Billy’s dad. Wonder if he knows his son is probably a fa-”

And one day Billy comes home happy. And i’d encourage you to really think about that and just enjoy it for as long as you can because Billy is happy. So happy he’s beaming. He feels like he’s glowing from the inside. He forgets that anyone other than Steve even exists. For a second he forgets his own existence, he’s so enamored and infatuated and near obsessed, really. Because he spent the whole afternoon with the boy, which isn’t necessarily a rare occurrence but it’s always an exceptional one, and today was especially joyful because something about their mutual existence just felt so…. So good. Yeah they had sex in the camaro like the teenagers they are and then again in Hansen’s field because it’s fucking massive and Hansen’s away on some trip and they blasted hippie music and fucked in a field of flowers and pretended like they were at Woodstock just existing in the skin of the other like they were made for it. Like they were made to share each other’s bodies and they were finally completing their infinite and perpetual task. And Billy would never be able to say these words or perhaps even string them together but it’s about the feeling.

Because that’s just the feeling he has. The nameless feeling.

And they fucked and they thought about smoking and they thought about drinking but they stayed high on each other and that was enough. They were laying there among the daisies happier than anything else in existence and Billy’s not even sure why. But they laid there and Billy felt the sun lay a large blanket of the softest warmth right over him and he absolutely reveled in it, allowing his hand to grace Steve’s fingers and then he rolled over to lay his head on Steve’s shoulder and he can’t believe he does that without feeling like a stupid fucking sissy but… but Steve’s always there. Always always always there. Stronger than he looks and warm and supportive and there. And Steve started to curl some of Billy’s hair around his finger and Billy pretended to bite at him like he was irritated and Steve whispered something about love and you and me and California and after graduation… i should have enough money by then. Let’s do it. Just you and me.

And Billy’s whole world froze. Froze in warmth, incubated in love, goddamn teeming with adoration as he got up on his elbows and evaluated Steve’s face just to be sure it wasn’t a joke and saw that it wasn’t and absolutely 100% beamed. Because the words and Steve’s eyes and the warmth of the sun on his back painted, stroke by stroke, the image of the two of them in California. On the beach. In the soft sand. Enjoying the sunlight. Playing in the waves. Billy teaching Steve how to surf, Billy dragging Steve under the boardwalk, Billy and Steve getting sticky with popsicles and soft serve and fresh watermelon and strawberries, Billy rollerskating hand in hand with Steve just like he used to watch all those couples do back when he was 9 years old and questioning everything. Billy and Steve existing freely. Openly and honestly. It can only have gotten better. He’s sure of it. It can only get better from this stupid hick town. He knows it.

He needs it.

And so they make out some more and the rest of the afternoon is a whirlwind up until he’s got Steve pressed up against the Camaro making out with him on that backroad and then again in front of Steve’s house and he’s letting his skin light up over every little promise of you and me in California… that Steve whispers into his skin, his ears, his mouth...

He feels fucking invincable.

He walks into his house with a forcefield. A smile he never sports. A bounce in his step he never maintains. Goddamn happiness. Not even just confidence, it’s pure bliss on his face and not even Neil’s ugly mug can ruin it. Not even Neil storming down the hall, electricity following his path, can ruin it. Not even Neil scowling, glaring daggers, lip snarled, teeth bared, can ruin it. Not even whatever gross, growling worlds Neil is spitting his way can ruin it.

Billy is blissed out on the future and the idea of pure bliss with a boy he thinks he knows he loves that he doesn’t feel it until even moments after. He doesn’t see it til it’s over. He doesn’t know it til he can’t defend himself. He doesn’t care until he does.

It’s a mistake.

When Billy thinks back on it afterwards, after everything, he heaves and hisses and snarls at his past, blissed out self. He wants to punch himself in the face for such a mistake. This is a lesson he learned years ago. Back when it all first started. Back when he was so young.

But current Billy is blissed all the way up until his world flashes black. Until his ears ring. Until his hand flies to his face of its own accord to press at the pain to get it to stop. Second nature.

“You stupid fucking homo.”

And Billy’s vision bleeds red. It’s anger, it’s rage, it’s betrayal. His vision tunnels with vitriol. With scorn. Fight or flight kicks in and every smart part of Billy is yelling run but the dumber, closer, stronger parts say fuck him fuck him fuck him I don’t deserve this.

So his fist swings, rearing back and surging forward. Animalistic nature.

He thinks he makes purchase, but if he’s honest, the rest is a too quick blur. A mess of motion. Someone presses fast-forward on his VHS tape. The moments bleed together.

It’s a montage of angered words. Words beyond anger. Words that poison his system. Words like “homo” and “fag” and “disgrace” and “military school” and Billy checks in right there because-

“You’re going to military school, you worthless piece of shit.”

Billy spits in the man’s face. Longtime craving.

And then the world blacks out again. It’s blurrier now. His face is warm. There’s liquid gushing out. His wrist is sore and the ground is being taken out from beneath him and he realizes he’s being grabbed and pulled and then dragged because his body is feeling weak. Call it a mix of everything.

And he’s being dragged to his room and the world shatters when they cross the threshold because this place is the only place in this damn house he feels somewhat safe in. And he feels himself hit the ground heavily, right in front of his mirror. Feels himself being pulled up to be seated. Hears a rustling. Hears a weirdly familiar sound his mind can’t process. Sees something metal in the mirror before his hair is being grabbed and pulled taught and then there’s slack and the pressure is gone and-

“How could you fucking do this to me?”

More hair pulling, more growling, more yelling, some spit.

“You’ve been running around with that prissy boy. How long, huh?”

Then there’s slack and-

“Everyone talks about you two. Disgusting.”

Pulling pulling pulling pulling… something tickling his arms.

“Saw you two… outside his house, huh? You’re a disgrace.”

Wetness. Billy’s face is wet. His eyes burn. His throat burns. There’s slack again.

“You’re going to military school. Tomorrow. You’re out of here.”

Pulling and sawing and yanking and slack. Over and over and over and over-

“Hope I never see you again, you fag.”

Billy sobs. It wrenches through his chest. Pulling and slack, pulling and slack, over and over and-

It stops. Billy’s weak. His body is shutting down. It must be. It feels like it. The vision in the mirror is blurry but he knows the damage that’s been done. He can tell. He can feel. There’s nothing touching his shoulders anymore. Nothing against his neck. Something tickles down his arms. He shakes, weakly moving his hand to swipe the feeling away from his arms and grabs at tufts of hair.

There’s that ugly fucking mug, right in his face. It’s a strange look he wears. Billy’s vision is blurred. His lip snarls upward. Instinct.

“Where did I go wrong?”

The words are whispered in his face on hot breath. They hang in the air between them.

Billy shatters.

The door shuts loudly. Another door shuts after that. A car starts. Billy’s still sitting on the floor.

His muscles in his legs begin to contract, and then his arms. His vision clears and sharpens. He pushes himself up off the floor, avoids looking in the mirror, walks up next to it to his stereo, moves to turn on the radio…. Auto-pilot.

Music fills the room. Lilts through the air. Cuts through the humidity of the once cool night. The altercation warmed everything up. Must have.

There’s the sound of a keyboard and the plucking of a guitar. A familiar rhythm. It flows out of his stereo and through the room like it has a life of its own. It’s a spectral kind of presence, slinking out of the speakers, lurking in the corners, filling up the forgotten spaces with its haunting rhythm. Billy turns the music up louder. Stands in front of the stereo. Lets the music consume his space. Exist with him until they can’t co-habitate.

The chord gets more complicated. The chord runs. Billy’s feet feel like they’re going to betray him and let him fall through the floor. His head feels like it’s in another realm. A mirrored realm of darkness and vines… a world teeming with threats that wouldn’t think twice of making attempts on his life.

He sways in place.

When the voice starts his feet move. They betray his thoughts but they don’t compromise his balance, necessarily. He’s moving backwards.

Every time that I look in the mirror….

He can’t.

All these lines on my face getting clearer…

He knows he can’t. Not if he wants to keep his sanity. His breath gets shorter. His head is dizzy just from moving, even though he’s slow. Maybe it’s because he’s going backwards.

The past is gone

His head betrays him now. Swings itself over the edge- looks over to the left.. Billy’s eyes take a second to focus but it’s only an instant after that before his hands shoot up to his head. Grab at tiny curls. Grab at randomly long tufts. Grab at whatever they can reach which is almost nothing.

He’s shaking. His hand is shaking as his fingers grasp with a kind of desperation Billy has never known but is suddenly wracking his body in a way that overwhelms every piece of him until he’s nothing but fingers grasping for what should be where they’re reaching but is nowhere to be seen. He can’t see anything but himself in the mirror. The world blacks out but him and the mirror. His feet are still moving him somewhere. He’s looking at the mirror at an awkward angle.

He hits the couch in his room. His fingers clench and unclench. He flops down onto it.

It went by like dusk to dawn...

Clenching and unclenching until his fingers get sore and he slams his hands onto the couch to stop thinking about it but how can he when his… his reflection...

Isn’t that the way?

He’s grabbing at his blanket beneath him harshly. He fists it and his mouth opens in a grimace and his eyebrows furrow so hard his head hurts and his lip shakes and…

Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay~…

The voice is rising and the music is rising and the specter fills up the space with something passively threatening, something that gently nudges Billy’s shoulders, something that presses at Billy’s head, something present.

Billy’s fisting hard at the blanket. His fingers are sore. He pulls at it. His finger slips into a moth hold or two. The voice reaches the top, along with the guitar and then they both topple over the peak and there’s the sound of a rip and something under Billy gives out. He pulls harder, hearing more tears, fingers dipping into the rips he’s created in his blanket.

I know nobody knows… where it comes and where it goes

Billy looks down at his fists tearing his blanket and they stop, pull away… thoughtless. His hands shake to do something, maybe grab at his aching head and they do, he does- no, they do, his hands do, but they feel uneven tufts of curls and it’s a jolt. His brain shocks itself. He pulls his hands away with a cry because what is this. He’s become alien to himself. He sees the mirror in front of him but he’s not sure who he sees in it. It’s not him.

I know it’s everybody’s sin…. You’ve got to lose to know, how to win…

The music is with him. Towering over him. The presence is daunting. Feels like it’s challenging him to something as a separate chord climbs and falls as soon as it starts. The spectre falls down. Settles with him. Next to him. He stands. He’s unsettled. Nothing in the mirror is right nothing is right nothing is right. He shoves the flat part of his knuckles on his thumbs into his eyes to fix it, fix something, fix this image that doesn’t feel right. Fix this creature he doesn’t recognize. His mind is swimming.

He walks around the room. He’s not sure if this is easier or harder than before, but he still stumbles.

Half my life’s in books’ written pages… Lived and learned from fools and from sages…

He tucks his chin into his chest, his knuckles still pressed to his eyes, the world black and scattered with the spots he’s pressing into them. His stomach is twitching with sobs that meet up in his throat and push out of his mouth. They’re small. That same droning chord is persistent, rising and filling up into the room, aiming to devour him in something. Drown him.

You know it’s true-

The end grows into a growl and takes with it a feeling that’s animalistic. The specter grows feral. Billy opens his eyes.

His chest heaves. His eyes burn as they water. His mouth twists up in misery. Because he sees it. There. At his feet. Under his boots. He’s fucking stepping on it.

All the things…

His hair. In curly tufts on the ground beneath his feet and in front of them.

Come back to you…

He’s stepping on it.

He looks up and he recognizes his face now and he… he…. He’s….

He’s distraught.

And he rounds on absolutely anything he can reach. Whatever is in arm’s distance behind him and it happens to be his lamp and he grabs it and he throws it with all his might to the ground and-

Sing with me, sing for the year-

-and it shatters. His mind is racing and he has no thoughts past the music. The presence is dark. It’s a shadow. It’s all around him. It’s in his vision.

-sing for the laughter and sing for the tear...

He’s swinging. His eyes are blurry from his own hot tears and they sear his cheeks as he grabs at whatever he can- vaguely registers the necks of bottles and the grooves of records against his palm and beneath his fingertips as he hashes through the world around him, trying to tear through the shadows consuming him and the tears are flooding everything out and he’s just swinging and smashing and-

Sing with me, it’s just for today… maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

He’s swinging and crashing and smashing like he’s being challenged. Threatened.. Whatever exists in this room with him is menacing. Malevolent. Feeding off his pain. Sipping it through his tears. He punches the wall and then the drums hit and they stop and the guitar is back and-

“Billy?”

It’s a voice. Billy’s sure it’s his own somehow. Sure it’s the song somehow. Sure it’s this presence somehow, whatever is it, floating through the chords of the song like a friend seeking a kill.

“B-Billy? I… Uhm…. Please stop.”

It’s small. Feminine. Familiar. Shaking.

“Please don’t hur-.... You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Maxine.

Billy strides to the door and throws it open. The violent thud it makes as the knob hits the wall fills something in Billy’s chest. It springs more tears in his eyes. His chest is sobbing.

“Billy?”

There’s something Billy can’t place in Max’s eyes. If his mind were even a tad clearer he thinks he’d recognize it… categorize it under worry or concern or care or even something deeper...

But the guitar chord hits a high note and the shadow specter of the music seeps into his mind and he’s a husk.

The chorus picks up again, singing about singing and Billy is standing there looking at this tiny red head standing in his way and she’s blurred by his tears and-

“Billy, what are you doing-”

“Mind your damn business, Maxine.”

“What happened-?”

“Mind your business.”

The music is rising. It fills Billy’s throat.

“Did… did he-? Do…?”

“Do what?” Billy spits down at Max, leaning over her, invading her space. Max’s eyes flood with fear and it makes Billy step back. The shadows of the song step away. He sees through the blur to find the girl.

“Do that?” She asks, voice small and soft and shaking and weak. Eyes filling with tears of their own and it fills Billy’s gut with bile and he’s so sick of it. So sick of everything. Thinks he might be sick. So fucking done. Broken. Feral.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

Billy’s eyes are filling. He glares as hard as he can while his eyelids are all mushy and swollen.

“Get out of my way, Maxine.”

She’s cowering.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Just get out of my way.” He growls and takes his arm and shoves and she stumbles back and the music is building and then he’s storming down the hallway, punching the walls and cracking every picture frame he passes and the voice is following him, sounding just as loud to him in the hallway as it did to him in his room as it chants-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream yourself a dream come true~

And he throws pillows off the couch and shatters a lamp on the ground with a shove and his blurry eyes search fervently for what he wants as the guitar wails and runs down and-

Dream on… dream on…. Dream on… dream until your dream come through~

And the guitar gets darker and he’s got it. Grabs it off the mantle. Looks as steadily as he can with shaking and blurry eyes at this thing in his hands. This picture frame... with their stupid family in it. This stupid thing they call family to convince others. It never convinced him. He’s not sure how it could have convinced anyone. His tears are so hot on his face they feel like they’re boiling and his nose is leaking and his saliva is runny and his chest is heaving and he’s-

“Billy?”

He’s thunder. He’s lightning and he’s rain. The music followed him down the hallway and follows him with heavier footsteps back up as the voice screams on with-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream on…

And each chant sees Billy taking the frame in his hands and slamming the corner of it into the wall of the hallway as he walks, goes back to his room, ignores Max as she cries to him some kind of garbled nonsense and the music is filling his shoes like a dark puddle and his eyes are drowned.

And the voice that was once singing is now screeching into the air, into the corners of his room, into the darkest parts and Billy looks at the stupid faces of these stupid people he’s been forced to love and thinks of how the only happiness in his life is going to be taken away from him and probably has been permanently taken away now because he’s fucking hideous with bruises and almost no hair and he’s wailing. Deep from his chest, right alongside the voice from the stereo, hurling the picture frame at his mirror blindly as he screams and hitting his target and hearing a loud crack as it shatters and he’s just screaming. Everything inside of him rising and bubbling and boiling over and over and over some more and he’s sure his body will never settle. He’ll never know peace. His mind and his body and his heart will never rest like it did this afternoon in that field with the warm sun and the blue sky and a love underneath him that was all his own for once for fucking once in his miserable life and he opens his eyes and he’s disgusted he’s a disgrace, he’s bruised and bloody and nearly bald and his fingers and knuckles are bruised and bleeding and in that cracked mirror is the most miserable version of himself and he can’t bear to look.

Sing with me-

He grabs the mirror.

Sing for the year-

He throws it to the ground. It covers his fallen hair.

Sing for the laughter-

He stomps it with his boot. Hot tears stain the toes of his shoe.

Sing for the tear-

He reaches for his bedsheets. He needs to take a few steps to get there.

Sing with me-

He tears at them, ripping all the way down. As far as he can.

Just for today.

His chest heaves. He rounds on his makeshift vanity. Swings his arms violently until it’s all on the ground as his feet, discarded and broken and cracked.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away-

He looks up from the ground. Up to Max, who’s hugging the door frame and shaking, watching with horror or what Billy thinks must be the equivalent. Something equivalent to it. The music and it’s guitar and the specter it’s conjured up is still rising, expanding, residing in every space of the room, pushing Billy out of the space and he’s struggling, fighting, mind getting so nervous and worried as it looks at Max that it needs to look away, needs to distract.

The song repeats itself as he reaches and throws and rips and tears everything in sight. Posters, picture frames, books, cassettes. He steps on everything, smashes everything, tears pour out and out and out, his mind is running and racing and throbbing in pain in hurt in worry in all of its unease and he picks up a hand weight and rounds towards the window and chucks it as hard as he can and-

The sound of the shattering of the window breaks everything. Breaks any resolve still left within him. Lets the shadow and spectre of the music out and into the night as the room is pitched into a bitter and unforgiving chill. Let’s all of Billy’s breath out of his lungs as he heaves and heaves and heaves like he’s going to hurl. He stands there, looking at the window, pictures something faint and distant and at one time hopeful in his mind before he turns around to Max and it’s just music now, the last of the words have been sung, and he mutters a dark and languid and miserable:

“Don’t wait up for me.”

And then he strides to the window and steps on the small table he has in front of it and jumps out and walks into the unfriendly night, a storm. More than a husk. Once again a human. At least, feeling something closer to human.

And then it’s just Max. She rushes to the window, the music turning into a haunting kind of alarm that doesn’t seem alert or at all worried or hurried or serious. A lazy alarm that warns you of an error in the system. She stands in front of the broken window, exposed to the cold, cutting her hand on the glass in her hurry to watch after Billy, watch as he leaves, watch as he stomps his way out of their house and out to the street and down the street and she’s crying. Her mind is spinning. Her face is heavy with tears and sorrow and fear. Her heaving subsides slowly as the music does.

She’s alone in this house. Truly alone. Not even the presence of Billy lingers like usual.

And then she runs to the phone to do the only thing she can think of- she dodges the carnage strewn across their house and runs to the phone and calls the only person she can think to call. The only person she thinks will for sure be able to help him from doing something crazy like leaving with nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever random cash he carries in his pocket.

Another song starts up slowly. The phone picks up.

“Jim Hopper speaking.”

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jewish-privilege · 5 years

Link

...This was the last day of the year for the class of 2018 at Glenelg High School. There was going to be an awards ceremony, a picnic, that end-of-a-journey feeling that always made [principal David Burton] so proud of his job. But as he was on his way to work at 6:25 a.m., the assistant principal had called, agitated and yelling about graffiti...

...Beneath his dress shoes, there were more swastikas. Spray painted around them were crude drawings of penises.

Then Burton saw the letters “KKK.” He saw the word “Fuck” again and again next to the words “Jews,” “Fags,” “Nigs” and “Burton.”

He kept walking, following the graffiti around the building’s perimeter. It was on the sidewalks, the trash cans, the loading dock, the stadium around back. There were more than 100 markings in total, though he didn’t bother to count.

He turned a corner and saw something written in large capital letters on the sidewalk: “BURTON IS A NIGGER.”

...A quarter of all hate crimes reported to the FBI, more than any other category, are similar to the attack discovered at Glenelg on May 24, 2018. Vandalism and destruction of property, a physical marking of an age-old threat: You don’t belong here.

...In one of those homes, 72-year-old Susan Sands-Joseph was watching. She knew Glenelg well. She was one of the first black students to attend the school after desegregation. Suddenly, all the memories that she tried not to dwell on were dredged up again: the words she was called, the tomatoes thrown at her head, the looks her parents gave her when she came home saying scalding hot soup had been pushed into her lap again. “It’s okay,” she had promised them. “I’m fine.”

...Panicked, [Seth Taylor, one of the vandals,] started Googling:

“How long do you go to jail for vandalism?”

And then: “Can you get a hate crime for painting swastikas?”

...He had already begun to separate what he’d done from who he believed himself to be. He hadn’t intended to hurt anyone, he said. He would always maintain he wasn’t an anti-Semite, a homophobe or a racist.

...At 11:35 p.m. on May 23, the students’ IDs began auto-connecting to the WiFi. It took only a few clicks to find out exactly who was beneath those T-shirt masks.

“You have the right to remain silent,” an officer said to Seth before long. “Anything you say or do . . . ”

They told him to remove his graduation cap and gown. They cuffed his arms behind his back.

Seth realized they were about to march him outside, past the windows of the cafeteria. By now it would be filled with students eating lunch.

“Can you cover my face so that the kids don’t videotape me?” he asked.

“No,” an officer replied. “You deserve this.”

...Most are unaware of the history that came before Columbia [a planned community founded on the principles of integration and inclusion in Howard County]. ... An estimated 2,800 people were enslaved in the county at the beginning of the Civil War. A century later, when the Supreme Court ruled in Brown v. Board of Education in 1954 that schools must be desegregated, Howard County was so resistant that it took more than a decade for the black-only school, Harriet Tubman, to close its doors. The opposition to black students learning alongside white ones was so fierce, a cross was burned. It happened outside a school dance at Glenelg High School.

...Among black families like [Tyler Hebron’s], there were doubts that the white teens would face the kind of punishment black teens receive for similar crimes. Two years earlier, a group of students had painted swastikas on a historic black schoolhouse in Northern Virginia. A Loudoun County judge sentenced them not to jail time or community service, but to reading: along with visiting the Holocaust museum, each had to choose a single book about Nazi Germany or the Jim Crow era and write a report on it.

...Two of [the vandals] had tried to have the hate-crime charges dismissed. Their attorneys claimed that their First Amendment rights were being violated. They could be punished for the vandalism, the argument went, but not for what they wrote.

It didn’t work.

Now, it was [Judge William V. Tucker’s] job to answer a question the community had been debating for nearly a year: What consequences did these young men, now 19, deserve?

...Seth said he just wanted all of them to understand: He is not a racist.

Later, he would explain himself this way: “I never really understood the symbol of the swastika. I knew it was wrong to plaster it somewhere. I didn’t learn exactly what [the Nazis] were doing to the Jews until I went to the Holocaust Museum. I never learned that they were mutilated. I knew that they were, like, burned. But I never learned that they had experiments done on them, were injected with diseases. The school didn’t include that. They just included the burning and the train cars.”

His understanding of the KKK was limited, too, he said. “Some people think it’s just a word, or a symbol or three letters put together. . . . But they were lynching people, hurting people for no good reason.”

...“I spray paint one racist thing and, suddenly, I become a racist? Just because I did it doesn’t mean I hate Jews, gay people or black people.”

He was standing before the judge, pleading guilty to a hate crime, but he would not admit that he harbored any hate.

...Behind her, Principal Burton was listening. He’d heard Joshua Shaffer’s attorney give a similar speech. When Matthew Lipp was sentenced, he would hear it then too. Tyler Curtiss had written it in a Facebook apology the day after the crime...

They all believed it was possible to do what they did without really meaning it.

Burton wanted to look them in the eye and say: “You did something very racist. How you don’t think you’re a racist, I don’t know.”

...He believed what possessed them to draw those words and symbols that night wasn’t a lack of knowledge, but something deeper, something ugly, something taught to them, consciously or unconsciously, along the way. If they couldn’t admit that now, maybe they never would. But it wasn’t his responsibility to educate them any more.

When it was Burton’s turn to speak at Seth’s sentencing, he didn’t say the word “racism.” He talked about all the people the crime had affected — the teachers crying in his office, the parents who pulled their kids out of his school, his daughter in tears, and for just a few moments, himself: “I know I give up my time, my effort, I give up my life for my students,” he said. “I think the only thing I am asking in return is just a little bit of respect.”

...[Burton] had to focus [this year] on his 1,200 current students: the LGBTQ kids who still felt isolated. The Jewish girl who told the local paper she still wishes she could transfer. Whoever was still scrawling swastikas on the bathroom stalls.

In the past year, he’d created a task force of diverse students to work on the school’s climate. Soon every freshman would go through an empathy workshop. And nearly 40 of his employees had spent the year meeting to discuss the book “Waking Up White,” a memoir of a white woman who comes to understand that racism is a system that she had been shaped by and contributed to her entire life without even realizing it. Maybe, he thought, that lesson would get passed on to Glenelg’s students...

[Read Jessica Contrera’s full piece at The Washington Post]

#anti black racism #antisemitism #homophobia #uncensored slurs #n word #white supremacy

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realhankmccoy · 4 years

Text

Lefty Loosey, Righty Tighty

They’re definitely looser than ever after you pop their cherries and cunt them well. I like doing that, as it serves as a permanent reminder to the world they have to face every day that they’re a faggot, just scum, inferior and permanently obsessed with men they have to beg to obtain.

I wasn’t always this way. I used to be a mild-mannered data analyst, thin body, bit of a nerd, really. Classically liberal like John Locke and John F. Kennedy. It was Professor Jordan Peterson, who calls himself a liberal but who’s sympathies clearly lied elsewhere, who showed me the way out of my misguided belief system.

And I’ve really changed so much, did a lot of reading not that I read as much anymore. Got other priorities, so dig that. If you asked me today what I think about Kennedy, first thing I’d probably say is that he was kind of a fag and laugh. But in all seriousness, man, he was pretty much a useless blueblood. Overpulled the trigger on Vietnam, throwing all those men to die in the mud for him and ruining our chances of a peaceful economic takeover. They liked our way of life and wanted our businesses there. So many reasons not to like Kennedy...

But I digress. The point I’d like to make here is that for far too long, we’ve let these aggressive, spoiled brats that constitute the American left run amok, having us on the defence, calling us fascist, silencing our point of view. Nobody ever puts them on the defence anymore and aggresses against them, first. They have gotten smug, corrupt, lazy, censorial, regal, and entitled.

Let’s fix that:

1. Peace On Earth: to me like capitalist imperialism is the only thing that brings peace to the world. Look at Japan, the world’s most peaceful major nation, smacked down and occupied by the USA and forced to behave as a subordinated nation. Now look at the most liberal cities in the USA: Detroit, Oakland, Washington D.C. Not exactly ‘safe spaces’, are they? But that’s not our doing. That’s the left’s doing. Even the liberal elite cities like San Francisco have shit literally clogging the escalators and tent cities, because liberals don’t take care of their own. Perhaps Seattle is the finest example of a liberal city, mostly because it’s so flush with big corporate cash -- thanks Amazon, Microsoft, and Starbucks -- plus because it’s so white and Asian. But the crime rate there is still a far cry from the hypercapitalist, conquered imperial nation of Japan.

2. Gender Roles: If women are such goddesses and bring such peace to the world, why can’t they bring even close to the amount of peace that patriarchal Japan brings? For that matter, if there are no good men, why haven’t, out of millions of men being born and raised year, female goddesses been capable of raising so much as one good man. Because they’re histrionic, hysterical, and narcissistic. They only see woman in the world, which is why sons usually kill themselves, fail in school, need a ton of ADD pills, or transition to female, these days. They can’t even get mothering right, and their own children have to pay for that. That’s how bad a woman poisoned by feminism will blow even the most basic tasks of parenthood. As far as the girls they raise, they’re so jealous of men that they’re only raising little hellions with mannish voices who want to clobber somebody. Good thing is, they can’t hold a candle to a man in that regard. In the arms race, and the race to lower the sounds emanating from their vocal cords, which they’re trying to compete in, they’ll never win. They, with their transmania, like to talk about ‘passing’ as a man or woman. Well, on the right, we get it right about 100% of the time. They’re in such grey murky waters that they are constantly failing and tearing each other apart for failing. Funny to watch them pull each other’s hair in their hateful mudpit of gender confusion.

3. Bullying: The leftists are the ones inventing all the new words that really persecute minorities and cause the suicides. Tucute and Truscum are just a few examples. Normies and snowflake are two more -- because it’s crimethink to be a normal human being to the left, and snowflake, well, we’ve taken that and thrown it right back at them. We should do that more. They love calling each other fishy, hon, daddy, etc. etc. all in an effort to make each other feel as ugly as they all look. Their insides truly do match their outsides, plain and simple: ugly. hateful. There’s nobody on the right who’s raking trannies across the coals like the left itself does. Oh, and they think tranny is an insult because their sense of history is so shallow. They would tell Marsha P. Johnson herself that she can’t use the word because it’s offensive, I’m sure. Uh, no, it’s what many of the originals called themselves. Buck up on your history, kiddo. The left has become a sort of a giant suicide factory, bullying itself until itself pops itself off and exists this world. It’s impossible to plausibly position yourself as the solution to hate speech when all the worst of the hate speech is being invented by your own side of this polarised, political dualism.

4. Bodies: No explanation needed if you value pure masculinity. If you value that, you’ll never find it on the left anymore. The left used to have some real man, but now we’re well into fourth or fifth wave feminism. Too many years of trying to cancel and reform all their men, really, and failing in every case as there still are ‘no good men’. There is not one real man left among them today. You’ll only find non-binary Marxist dorks, sugar mama gangsters raised by welfare queens, and feminized Vichy Males who don’t know how to fuck.

5. Having Sex: Here’s the big one. You will never see a leftist who knows how to have sex anymore. Last time I hooked up with one of their precious Canadians in their precious Seattle, he told me to only use my smile for good instead of evil, presuming, as they always do, that everybody but themselves is the problem. I was thinking, hmm, a manbaby over 50 years old who can’t stop blithering and bathering away about the fireworks he was building by hand at Burning Man that could have blown up and lost him a hand and this was living? It costs how much to even get IN to that event, money that surely belongs in a generous charitable donation to South Sudan or literally any other truly poor -- here’s an Orwellian term for them, trupoor -- group instead? A manbaby far older than me who’s attempting to pull my hair in the shower like a klutz, told that this is not erotic, says guys like it and tries it again? Sigh. I can’t even begin to delineate the number of leftist fails in the bedroom, which is why I don’t hook up with them at all anymore. You never see them talk about erotics. When they write erotica online, it’s always some embryonic baby shit that never gets to the actual sex. They wouldn’t have a clue how to have or describe sex. They’ve become a dorky, sharp-fanged little venomous version of hikkomori, content to jack it off. The bodies they most get off to are muscular, jocked up, douched up bodies like ours, so at least that part of their brain still is functional, as much it must pain them to realise they have failed and that they need us now. The left used to have the lead on hot sex in the late 60s and early 70s, but year by year, as their bureaucratic, cerebral, nerdy ways took over and feminism further drained the viable sperm right out of their balls, they just became these skinnyfat bottoms that just want to lay there and beg for a daddy. None have the courage to even top anymore, and if they did, they wouldn’t know how to do it correctly. It’s just a mess, man. A grey, communist, frazzled mess. Fun to laugh at them, though. Definitely gets me hard to think about how all the hot, sexy energy has moved to our side, as we’re not as Christian as we used to be, so we said goodbye to missionary, especially in the nineties. As alt-right as we are, we get better at fucking, both as bottoms and as tops, by the year. We’re way ahead of them now. Gets me hard to think about how much better than them we are. Since I jocked up and since my sex life starting moving from leftists to rights, it’s just gotta more and more fulfilling. Fuck. To even think I had been that scrawny, pale weakling for once, settling for their giggling snapchats and clueless blowjobs. I feel just so fucking hard, man, and hot over what I’ve become. Over how I have real men, real bros, to get these paws on, squeezing their muscle, slobbering all over their jaws and pecs and pits, wrestling down, drinking with, having sensual, steamy sex for hours... fuck. I implore you, for your own mental health and sexual well-being, to turn to the right and join us. Lots of guys like us now and more every day. And fuck your phony gay marriage, too. A real fag, a real stud doesn’t need prissy paperwork like an elitist, pedigreed, liberal dog.

#maga #trump2020 #politics #transformation #nerdtojock

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