#fuck fat acceptance - we deserve to be worshipped

[ineffable-rohese]

I've said it before, but I'm feeling it strongly today and it bears repeating...

All of you artists and authors who lovingly depict Aziraphale's body, with its rolls and curves and softness and strength? When you show Crowley not just accepting it but loving it with passion and reverence and care and worship? Like, it's not just Aziraphale's soul that's worthy of that kind of love, but his actual flesh, the part of him that interacts with the physical, sensual world around him? When you make your audience see that body as beautiful?

It makes me feel so many things. So, so many. Like, maybe my body is worthy of that, too. Like, maybe I deserve a lover who is as enraptured with my flesh as I am with theirs. Like, maybe I shouldn't accept less than that. And like, maybe if no one else can love me that way, I can and I should.

Tagging those of you who have made me cry (in a good way) about this today alone (though there are so many more out there)... @voluptatiscausa @ineffabildaddy @chernozemm @lilpy @omens-for-ophelia

#just crying about this while waiting for roadside assistance #fuck fat acceptance - we deserve to be worshipped #fat positivity #aziraphale my beloved #good omens fanart #good omens fanfic #good omens fandom #ineffable lovers

[show-your-fangs]

Ooh are you still taking requests for Hotch? If so, I would like a smut fic with a plus size reader please! I always see stuff about how most fat people are self confident now, but that isn’t the case for me, maybe some reassurance from Aaron ? If you’re uncomfortable writing this or don’t want to, don’t worry about it!! 🤍🤍

hi gorgeous angel 🤍🤍 i hope i was able to deliver. i sprinkled a lot of smut because you deserve to be rewarded.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x plus size f!Reader

Words: 1.7k

CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.

Tags/warnings: established relationship, self-concious/insecure plus size!reader, soft Aaron, a lot of reassurance, pet names (beautiful, gorgeous girl, darling), praise, oral (f receiving), basically Aaron eats you out to show you he's obsessed with you and your body.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

“No!” you screeched and he immediately stilled over you. 

Your heart was racing, your ears were hot with shame, the confidence that had led you here, to his bedroom, to his bed where you currently laid, splayed on your back with his tight, broad frame pressed tightly over you, evaporating at the mere thought of light. 

He had just leaned over you to turn his bedside table lamp on, to fill the room with soft light. He wanted to see you, wanted to get to witness every twitch, every shiver, everything he was about to make you feel.

He assessed the situation for a second, took in your heaving breaths which had turned from excited to terrified ones. He could make out the outline of your hands now fiddling uncomfortably with your fingernails.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” he asked, his hands slowly retreating from the lamp back to your body, to your hips where he gently began to draw circles.

“Can we…can we keep the light off?” you whispered, ashamed. “Please.”

You couldn’t see his face since the light from the hall was hitting his back in a low glow. But if you could’ve seen him, you would’ve caught the flash of sadness, of despair and hurt. 

He immediately understood why you were feeling this way, and yet he couldn’t help but get incredibly angry that you were. Not at you, however, never at you. It wasn’t your fault you were feeling this way, it was the fault of whoever had made you believe that you weren’t beautiful, that you weren’t desirable, that your body wasn’t perfect.

“Darling,” he started, his voice soft and gentle, kind and understanding. “You have the body of a goddess,” you winced then, and it unfortunately confirmed all of his suspicions. He truly was good at his job. It was eerie how he could read you so easily, so quickly, with nothing more than a single sound. “Please allow me to do right by Aphrodite and worship you like you deserve.”

Your mind was stunned into complete silence. The voice that had been screaming was now quiet. No one had ever spoken to you that way, with such sincerity and intensity that you couldn’t do anything but believe them, take them to heart, accept that he was telling you the truth.

He wanted you, desired you, found you irresistible, and who were you to deny him of what he wanted, who were you to deny your body what it craved. 

You slowly nodded, breath hitching as you felt him shift again, this time the action emphasized by the click of the lamp turning on. Warmth enveloped the room, but you didn’t register it fully. 

“Open your eyes, beautiful,” he purred. “Let me see you.”

You hadn’t realized you’d closed them until then. You took one more steadying breath, focusing all of your energy on his hands, on how warm they were against your hips, how they were gently and lovingly tracing circles over your love handles. 

You opened your eyes slowly, white specks of light fluttering as his beautiful face came into focus above you. He smiled brightly and you swore you melted right into the mattress. 

“There you are, gorgeous girl,” he praised. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You couldn’t help the blush that rose from your chest to your cheeks, a hot and adorable pink that matched the one on his. 

It was almost overwhelming to think that you had this effect on him, you made him blush, you made him smile so brightly you were afraid the sun would stop working, you made his heart beat so fast against his chest you were afraid it would break through. 

“I’m going to take off your pants, alright?” he asked gently, making sure to keep you comfortable as a priority, to take it at your pace, to go as slowly as you needed, even if all he wanted to do was jump you right then and there, bury himself so far inside of you that you forgot what you were even feeling self conscious about.

You nodded and his hands slowly slid down your body, delicate and soft, slowly and steady. He unbuttoned your pants, followed by the zipper, and then hooked his hands into the waistband. 

He looked back at you before he even began to pull them off and you nodded again, biting down on your lip out of habit. He slowly pulled your pants down your legs, the eye contact never faltering. 

You were feeling too much, the fire in your belly having spread to every part of your body. It was silly, silly to think that just by looking at you like you were the most beautiful person on the planet he could get you this hot and bothered. 

You’d always thought he was out of your league, nothing more than an unattainable dream, a crush that would lead nowhere. You knew his type, the athletic, runs marathons for fun, only eats lean protein with mountains of steamed vegetables with no seasoning type. And yet Aaron had managed to surprise you at every corner. 

He tossed your pants across the room, his hands now on your thighs. He ran them up and down like he’d done with your waist, diligently taking his time to feel, to commit every inch of your body to memory. 

He slowly opened your legs for him, to allow him to press himself flush against your core. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and he grinned brightly in response. 

“Can I eat you out, beautiful?” he murmured, the feeling of his hands, the feeling of his hot and hard erection pressed against your heat. You were practically panting, not really digesting his words fully. 

You nodded, the simple thought of the burning ache between your legs getting relieved enough to make you forget exactly what he had to get you there. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your belly button, distracting, as his hands opened your legs further, parting them for him to settle into them comfortably. 

He continued to trail kisses down your stomach, taking extra care of making it a point to linger, to hum and groan and make sure he was constantly letting you know just how much he’d been craving you. 

He sank down to his knees then and the sight nearly took you out. Your head strained to stay upright, to try and see him, your eyes unable to look away from him. 

But then he pressed his face against your clothed pussy, his nose practically rubbing over your clit, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You fell back on the bed, hands wrapping themselves tightly around the duvet. 

“You’re soaking, gorgeous girl,” he groaned, his thumb teasingly running down your clothed slit. You whimpered, the anticipation already making you lose it, which was exactly what he wanted. 

He gingerly pulled your panties to the side, his eyes practically sparkling as he took in your glistening folds before him. He moaned then, not wasting another second before he dove in. 

His lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking before his tongue began to lap circles over it. You moaned loudly at his actions, the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth spurring him on. 

He ran his tongue down to your opening, teasing your hole before pressing it flatley against your slit and licking all the way back up to your clit. Your mind went blank at that, whatever thoughts remained, positive or negative, swiftly evaporating into the night. 

He repeated the action a few more times, getting into a nice, steady rhythm. Your moans had gotten more chaotic, wild, free. Your body started to tremble, to move in tandem with his tongue, to seek it out to search for your own pleasure. 

That’s when he pulled back, a needy whine escaping your lips at the loss of contact. He grinned, his tongue licking up the wetness around his lips before he swiftly sank two fingers inside of you.

And just like that your moans were back, filling his room with so much warmth it rivaled the heat from the lamp beside your head.

"So tight," he groaned as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you, making sure to curl them upwards inside of you to hit the spot he knew would make you come undone. 

He leaned back down to press a kiss to your clit, the puffy nub looking incredibly lonely, almost begging to be given attention. 

“You’re beautiful,” he stated. It was factual, matter-of-fact, veridical, never a question about it. 

You sighed deeply, his words still sounding foreign to you, as if you knew them to be true and yet could not yet believe them in their entirety. 

“Say it,” he ordered before his teeth bit down around your clit. 

You practically screamed, the shock forcing you onto your forearms to see him, to see what he was doing to you. 

“Say you’re beautiful,” he repeated the command as clearly as he could, tugging now, enough to make the pain just edge on the line to uncomfortable. 

“Fuck, Aaron,” you whined, hands desperately trying to push him away by his shoulders. But he stood his ground, challenging. “I’m–I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m– gonna cum please–”

His teeth let go of your clit, the final jolt of electricity perfectly in tandem with a twist of his fingers inside of you. You couldn’t stop yourself from exploding, the tightness finally snapping, flooding your own body with more warmth than you knew what to do with.

Aaron dove right back in, his fingers sliding out as his tongue replaced them, sinking into you to feel your walls constrict, to feel your essence wash over him like a tidal wave. He lapped all of your juices up, his tongue skillfully working you through your orgasm.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even register anything other than the beating of your heart in your ears and the deliciously painful sting of overstimulation that was starting to take over as Aaron swallowed all you gave him.

After your breathing had calmed, your heart returned to a normal pace, your eyes focused on the room around you once more, Aaron stood himself up from between your legs, his even more pronounced erection pressing into you once more, as if to show you just how much harder you’d made him. 

“Now, was that so hard?” he joked, a satisfied smile over his glossy lips.

"You have the body of a goddess. Please allow me to do right by Aphrodite and worship you like you deserve." will easily go down in history as once of the best lines of dialogue i will ever write.

now if y'all excuse me i need to go scream into my pillow.

tags: @xladyxdreamer, @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner blurb #show your fangs writes #show your fangs hotch blurbs #plus size!reader #Aaron Hotchner x plus size!reader

[hotluncheddie]

omg I didn't realize you wanted chubby steddie asks 🙈

as much as we love the babygirlification of Steve Harrington..... I'm obsessed with boyish manly Steve who is chubby and Eddie is obsessed with him!!!! I'm thinking about your one fic with the sweaty tank top!!!!! do you have more thoughts on this??

yesssssss!!! anon yes yesssssssss!!!!!

not me being like 'yeah! sweaty task top fic nice nice' then realising i have like three different posts that have Steve in a sweaty tank top lol

thankfully @scoops-aboy86 came in clutch with a new tank top sciario <3 (and held my hand thru writing the end lmao ty pal)

but i just love an ex jock trope, i love bulk under muscle and i think big beefy hairy guys are hot - and Steve harrington deserves to be all of that, and more

and also, importantly, eddie munson deserves to have all of that too, in and around him, all the time, in the form of Steve Harrington.

-

Eddie had come to accept the wealth of things he could be into, the actual buffet of people and scenarios that could get his dick hard. He's had more than his fair share of knuckle biting orgasms over the ex chief of police Jim Hopper. Before and, maybe worse, after getting to know him.

So he knew what it was to have something of a shame wank. To enjoy a moustache or two and a paunch at a middle.

But nothing, no deep seated daddy issues or fantasy of being held down, could ever prepare him for Steve Harrington.

Post upside down, post eventual college and transition to work. Post two bed apartment with Robin, then two bed apartment with Robin and Eddie. Then actual full blow house with Eddie, and more often than not weekend guest Robin. Dating Steve for as long as has was one thing, loving Steve with everything he had was another, and being loved by Steve was something he still had nights of panic about - silent tears as fear and self doubt gripped his throat, nightmares about it all being an elaborate prank that sneak their way in even with Steves arms wrapped tight around his middle.

but Eddie had him.

Was allowed to love him, and worship Steve for all that he was worth. It was wonderful. Eddie knew that.

But it had its challenges. Nothing past Eddie could've done would help current Eddie for what he was in for.

Like how Steve had bulked up over the years, settled and filled out in a way that made those visions of Hopper, and guys from bars he really shouldn't have been at, all come surging back.

Steve was thick, and strong and still so achingly beautiful. Boyish in his actions at times but also protective and capable in a way that made Eddie swoon. Honest to god. Made him feel like a main character in one of those bodice ripper books he had seen (taken out and read) at the library.

And then Steve made it worse.

So so so much worse.

Because Steve went and got a tattoo.

Well, another tattoo. He added roses to go along with the robin and branch on his arm, adding to its greenery with red petals and thorns that Eddie knew were secretly for him. He’d said, offhandedly, that they were his favourite and he knows, because he knows Steve, that thats something he'd listen to and remember.

He’s a die hard romantic.

And now Eddie is going to die, hard.

Soon, if Steve doesn't put a proper fucking shirt on.

Steves been wearing his stupid, old, cropped, white tank top since the appointment. He's "letting the tattoo breathe", "doesn't like the feeling of the healing skin against the fabric", "wants to do it properly". "hates Eddie and wants him to die of hard dick, big-fat-ball disease."

He glares at Steve from the other end of the couch, and maybe only three of those things are something Steve's actually said, but, he thought them. All of them. Must have.

Because Steve's tank is so old it's nearly see through, the peak of his pink nipple evident and distracting. The cropped end keeps rolling up and exposing his wider bellybutton and soft sides. And, as always, with any tank top, with any tank top on Steve, hit tits are there - hairy and lovely and out.

'Steve, please.' Eddie whines, he doesn't think he can take much more.

Steve just raises his eyebrows, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the tv. 'If I sweat too much, it'll mess with the healing.' He says.

Eddie just crosses his arms, sinks lower into the couch. ‘Can you put on a normal shirt at least? For my sanity, for that alone, please?' Not wanting to sound desperate, but he is desperate.

Steve sighs, muting the TV. 'C'mere.' He holds his arms out and Eddie crawls into his lap. Still sulking, arms still crossed. ‘Eddie, you’re the one who gave me the tattoo. I’m following your instructions.’ Steve says gently.

‘M’firing Robin for getting you to sign the info form.’ He grumbles.

Steve smiles at him, tucking some hair behind his ears. ‘You can’t fire her for doing her job baby.’

‘Maybe not’ Eddie sniffs. ‘But I’m not sharing my baby blue ink with her next time she gets one of her slutty little lady sailor pin ups booked in.’ He mumbles to himself.

Steve pulls Eddie in closer, hands on his waist as he leans in to whisper in Eddies ear. 'Aren't I being so good though? Following what you said, no strenuous activity for two days right?' His voice a little breathy, soft.

And that makes Eddie pause, makes his insides churn and his heart rate increase. 'Ye-yeah.' He rasps, eyes wide. 'So good Stevie.'

'So we have to wait until tomorrow, like you said, yeah?' Steve asks, eyes all big and sweet, lips in a little pouty.

Fuck. He's right. Eddie dug his own grave.

'Yeah.' He sighs. He can do it, for Steve.

Steve smiles sweetly at him, tapping Eddie on the ass and shifting him closer so Steve can unmute the tv and keep watching his game. 'Good boy.' Steve says, kissing Eddies temple.

…Wait. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows, half hard and confused.

But Steve just holds him closer. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, and whines.

#:) #eddie gets domed by pouty dilf Steve #he doesn't know how to feel about it - but he likes it #<3 #ask #hotlunch #steddie #chubby steve harrington #tattoo artist eddie munson #and robin #i think Steve is their part time receptionist and also works at the coffee shop across the street #or part time florist across the street - to really live the au tropes #hes hot

[unclewaynemunson]

Jeff is one of my favorite characters and I think we should start a post of all our favorite Jeff headcanons. He and Freak get left out in almost every Eddie-centric fic I read, with his "best friend" being either Gareth or Chrissy, and I'm tired of it. Jeff is wonderful. Here's my hc's:

- Jeff and Eddie have been best friends since middle school. They started CC and Hellfire together.

- they went to the Snowball together and rigged the bubble machine to spew bubbles during the slow dance songs. The dance had to end early and Jeff and Eddie never got caught

- Jeff's parents loves Eddie. They used to have sleepovers at each other's place almost every weekend.

- Jeff was the first person Eddie came out to. Jeff tried to be surprised and "that's great, man, thanks for telling me!" But Eddie saw right through that.

- Eddie is afraid of geese and spiders. Jeff thinks this is fucking hilarious.

- post-Vecna, Jeff is the one Eddie reconnects with first. Eddie tells him everything, despite the NDAs and Steve's warnings. Jeff believes him, because he knows there's wacky shit going on in Hawkins, and he's seen Eddie's wounds.

- they have that kind of friendship that nothing can break. Even if they don't see or talk to each other for years, because Life Happens and people lose touch, they'll always have part of themselves carved out for their best friend.

Ok, that's all I got for now, and sorry for the long ask! I just love Jeff so much and he (and Freak, too, because Freak gets ignored because of fatphobia) deserves just as much love and attention as Gareth gets.

What are your Jeff and Eddie headcanons?

I am loving this Jeff love and your headcanons, thank you so much for sending this to me!!! <3

I think with Unnamed Freak things are a bit different bc, yaknow, he doesn't have a name. For me at least that makes me hesitant to write about him so I don't wanna go as far as to say it's all bc he's fat (even though I'm not gonna deny that that probably also plays a part in how popular he is in this fandom urgh). Anyway, yes this fandom certainly does Jeff dirty. I think it's this gross combination of racism and people copying a lot from already existing stories, characterizations and headcanons without much critical thinking of their own (which baffles me, if you're creative enough to write a story please use that creativity for some originality ffs). Anyway, this is gonna turn into a rant again can you tell I'm still annoyed? so let's turn to something more positive now, like my headcanons for our beloved Jeff:

He was the first person in Hawkins (after Wayne obviously) that Eddie got close to. For Jeff it was kinda the same, being a black, nerdy boy in this town had been very isolating for him and Eddie was his first real friend.

Unnamed Freak made their duo into a trio a bit later. All the others in the group (including Gareth) were Eddie's "lost little sheepies" who he sought out to protect. This means that Jeff and Unnamed Freak are the only people who don't borderline worship Eddie but see him (and love him) for who he is including all his flaws. They're also the only ones not afraid to call him out on his bullshit.

Jeff's mom is really cool. Her name is Pauline and she's not like Jeff at all (she was a cheerleader in high school). Despite their differences they love each other a lot. (Jeff's mom is actually heavily featured in one of the fics I wrote so I got her all fleshed out lmao)

He has two little twin sisters. They're friends with Erica, one of them is one of her friends we meet in the mall in s3. He has this typical hate-love relationship with his sisters: they fight a lot, but at the end of the day, he would die for them.

HE'S BISEXUAL

While he can't wait to get out of Hawkins and to a place that'll be more accepting of him, he doesn't want to move too far away from his family.

He's the most loyal friend in the world, 100% a ride-or-die kinda guy

While he does love metal a lot, his guilty pleasure is Tina Turner

Tell me all your Jeff headcanons i wanna hear more about him!

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #jeff stranger things #corroded coffin #stranger things

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

Um. Ok. This certainly is a... whole post. TRIGGER WARNING for plainly explaining the consequences of being brainwashed throughout all of foster care by the Pentecostals, while dealing with far too much pain and blood.

The rest of this entire post is going under a cut. This is straight up high-octane horror fuel, but I think it deserves to exist as a testament to understanding suffering.

Coping with my fucked up childhood means literally mind-bending myself. To cope with what the pain drove me to do, I have to accept some very disturbing truths about myself. It means that I've had no choice but to accept where humans actually exist in the web of life, and that is not inherently at the top. I was eating my own top layers of skin/fat inside my mouth as far back as I can remember. Swallowed it blood and all, as much as I could when in the middle of it. I was both afraid of the consequences and compelled to keep doing it. There's a lot of fucked up reasons for it, but religion was a much more prominent aspect of it than I gave it credit for.

So on that note... Don't ever, ever try to teach a child suffering from so much pain they dig themselves bloody about the Eucharist. If I'm anything to go by, it's definitely a good example of why you don't do that. I have to cope with a literal taste for myself that will probably exist for the rest of my life at some level. And that means I have to accept the cannibalism for what it is, along with how it came to be.

I'm never going to be even close to the realm of an acceptably normal person. Because of my childhood, I will be seen as inherently immoral and evil to some people. I've decided to focus simply on being as ethical a person as I can, but I know that's not enough for purity culture. Accepting this is hard, because of the emphasis that's placed on moral purity by society at large. I feel like there's always the risk of rejection or judgement any time I decide to be entirely honest about what I went through.

It still absolutely must be understood to be a consequence of fundamentalist Christianity (protestant flavor) and extreme pain, literally just like torture. This isn't some instance of a group of people pretending to be Christians while actually doing so-called 'satanic' rituals instead. They fervently believed themselves to be worshiping God/Jesus, and that my suffering was a good thing.

Did they know how badly they were fucking with my understanding of the world and Christian theology? Probably not, actually. At least, not in the way that they did in terms of not understanding their flavor of nuance. But did they fully expect me to fail and go to Hell? There's not a single doubt in my mind anywhere that they expected me to be tortured as a dirty, evil sinner for all eternity. I think they were convinced I was an actual demon from Hell.

How am I learning to cope at all? By zooming out and away from an anthropocentric view of the world, and understanding that humans are still just animals like any other. There is nothing the human creature can do that is against the laws of nature. Nature cannot go against itself, it's laws are what govern the universe. And those laws are morally neutral. They don't pass judgement on anyone or anything. They ultimately just exist so that reality can exist and be stable at all. Humans came up with things such as ethics and morals to navigate an inherently chaotic and entropic universe.

Humans have mistaken our place of responsibility to the care of the planet, as somewhat self-aware animals, for being the masters of it. We absolutely are not. There's no actual grand purpose to life but to persist, live, and prosper. Any meaning beyond that is ours to create, and that's definitely not going to be universal. We aren't special, we're just sufficiently curious enough to ask why the world works the way it does.

My so-called 'legal guardians' tried to rob me of my humanity by denying me my basic evolutionary, psychological social survival skills. They denied me empathy and compassion first. I take responsibility to heal what I can now that I'm safe enough, but I should never have had to in the first place. They're the ones who tried to turn me into a monster.

There's no good way to end this thing. This is not easy to discuss. And there's nothing satisfying about it except that I avoid bottling it up and letting it fester longer than it already has. Because if that internalized shame stays repressed to fester any longer, I legitimately don't know what could happen.

-Pandemonum 🪁😺

#tw cannibalism #autocannibalism #cannibalism #christian fundamentalism #christian trauma #fundamentalist christianity #christian cult #pentecostals #eucharist #religious indoctrination #religious abuse #religious trauma #disabled #physical disability #trigeminal neuralgia #trigeminalneuralgia #medical neglect #nerve pain #face pain #face injury #blood #tw blood #vampirism #cult behavior #human suffering #foster care #tw foster care #child abuse #child neglect #real life horror

[cigardadmasterdj]

"You insolent. Fucking. Dipshit. You're a fucking flea. Say it." His boss smacks him around like he would any other fag.

"I'm a flea, Sir."

"You're a great big dummy and you fucked up. Say it."

"I'm a great big dummy and I fucked up, Sir."

"You're gonna suck my dick now. You know why? Because I caught you stealing my goddamn money and if you don't suck my dick, I'll fire your ass, and you'll be on the goddamn street. And you think the government is gonna help you out then, huh?"

His newest prize looked sadly down at the floor.

"Hey. Eyes up at me, Stupid," his boss told him. The thing about his boss is he always spoke so calmly and certainly. He didn't raise his voice and he didn't have to. His words were ice going down his new slave's veins. And that's what he was going to be now. A sex slave.

"I'm sorry, Sir," his subordinate croaked.

"Yeah, I know you're sorry," his boss told him. His voice betrayed no emotion. "I've told a few of my associates about you. Men that like a nice hot younger man to service them. Some of them are old and fat. But they're rich and powerful. So you'll be servicing them, won't you?"

"Yes, Sir," his dumb little office drone answers.

"You like dick, don't ya?"

"Yes, Sir. I am gay, Sir."

"You're a fag is what you mean. Gay men can do a lot of things. Fags are just cocksuckers. They obey real men. Repeat that."

"Fags obey other men. Fags are cocksuckers."

"Are you a fag?"

"Yes, Sir," the fag whispers.

"Good. Because from now on, if you want to survive, you'll do as I tell you. And don't think about running, because if you run, I'm connected. I'll find you. And I know people that can do horrible things to you and you don't want that, do you, fag?" Again, the calm voice mixed with threats sends chills like ice water down the fag's body.

"Please don't hurt me, Sir. I didn't know you were connected, Sir."

Thugs had captured him one night and taken him to a warehouse. They had talked with his boss, who told him all about what was going to happen. He knew about the money laundering and it wasn't going to go well for the faggot. He had him roughed up that night, enough to be scared.

"I think we need a new name for you. How about Kyle? I like that name. From now on, when you get fucked and used, you're going to be Kyle. Kyle the boy whore. Kyle the slut. Kyle the sex slave," his boss says, holding his new slave's chin firmly in his hand. "That sounds very good to me."

"Yes, Sir," the fag says, but it's difficult for him to speak with his new Master holding his mouth together.

"What's your new name, slut?"

"My new name is Kyle, Sir."

"Very good, slave. You're being obedient. Now, tonight, you're going to go away for a little mini vacation," his new Master tells him. It scares the new slave that his Master is actually using the word "slave". It seems like reality is crashing into him, finally.

"Where? Why?" Slave Kyle is panicked now.

"Shhhhhhh. Shhhhhh. It's fine. They're going to give you some pills and make all your bad thoughts go away. They'll make it easier for you to do the things I want you to do, that's all." Slave Kyle doesn't understand yet. His mind is racing with fear. Master continues: "It's going to be easier in the long run. There are techniques that can help make you more accommodating, more docile. You want to be more docile and gentle, don't you? That would be very pleasing for me."

"Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir."

"Good boy. Now you're going to suck my cock like a good slut and you're going to swallow all of my cock. It's very big so I want you to breathe through your nose, okay?"

Slave Kyle makes a whine sound of pain the way a dog would, sharp and clear. A puddle of drool escapes from his lips before Master takes out the cock he's going to suck.

Slave doesn't know this yet, but he is in for a lifetime of sex slavery, of obeying powerful men and bowing to them, serving them, and soon all of his bad thoughts will go away.

Slave will learn to accept being a slave.

Acceptance of one's fate is a good thing in these uncertain times, after all.

MY NAME IS MASTER DJ. I AM A CASHMASTER, AND I HAVE ENSLAVED HUNDREDS OF MEN OVER THE YEARS. THEY ALL BOW TO ME. THEY WORSHIP ME. THEY CRAVE ME. THEY LOVE ME. I DESERVE IT ALL.

LIKE MY BLOG, STORIES AND CAPTIONS?

THANK ME VIA AN AMAZON GIFTCARD.

https://www.amazon.com/gift-cards/b?node=2238192011 

Send it to:

[email protected]

I KNOW ALL. I SEE ALL. I SEE INSIDE YOUR FAGGOT SOUL.

https://www.amazon.com/gift-cards/b?node=2238192011

ALL FAGS LOVE ME. ALL FAGS WORSHIP ME. ALL FAGS CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF ME. YOU CRAVING SOME ORDERS, YOU LOWLY MAGGOT? HUH? COME MESSAGE ME ABOUT HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO SERVE. MASTER DJ IS HERE, AND I’M BETTER THAN YOU IN EVERY WAY.

[ineedhelpdotorg]

Ok this is for the upcoming recent event on obey me I have stated this in another blog this is my personal opinion as a trans person myself

I don't perceive how a genderbend is transphobic, considering I've seen NB genderbends, and I've seen transsexual genderbends, and I've seen a great deal of cis genderbends, and fundamentally, generbend craftsmanship is in a real sense everywhere.

For hell's sake, we should look at one manner by which genderbends are utilized in which your assessment is effectively unsafe: There are cis ladies who genderbend male characters from male character overwhelmed medias to add portrayal of ladies to the being a fan. This isn't terrible In any way.

Considering in excess of a little portion of trans people might want bodies that appear as though cis individuals, is it Truly dangerous to have genderbends that satisfy dreams?

Thinking of it as' difficult to discern whether somebody is intersexed by seeing what they're wearing or introducing as, this is absolutely difficult to be valid without some Entirely flawed generalizations being authorized.

See first section on my reaction to "nonbinary deletion."There are genderbend artists who do non-binary interpretations.

Last point may merit examining, yet I don't trust it and essentially need some sensible breakdown of why you feel that is valid, might be worth discussing, but I don’t believe it and basically want some logical breakdown of why you think that’s true.Your alternative is cool, but isn’t necessarily going to hit the same points as a genderbend art?

Your option is cool, yet isn't really going to hit similar focuses as a genderbend workmanship? For what reason is it terrible to have BOTH?

I'm a trans individual who really LIKES genderbend workmanship. A Ton. It's one of my #1 components in being a fan, and has been for quite a while. Is there risky genderbend workmanship? Sure. Are their tricky craftsmen? Duh. Yet, that doesn't mean the whole class of fan works is an issues.

The facts demonstrate that NB sexual orientation personalities are much of the time disregarded, but at the same time it's presumably significantly more normal than individuals acknowledge (I've composed and drawn something reasonable of NB characters that I worship)

- Not really, particularly with respect to those that DO compose/draw/decipher a character as NB; and in any event, for those genderbends that do change somebody's actual highlights or even their sex, I have seen this done to investigate how the social effects on a person as such would influence the character as they matured and how society's activities towards them would possibly transform them (or not) personally, OR considered this to be similarly as a clarification for how things like chemical changes have influenced somebody (like how when you start T you shoot up like a weed, your voice brings down, and your fat is circulated in an unexpected way)

I think genderbends get shit they don’t deserve when they in reality have a lot of potential to make for extremely interesting character dynamics and social commentaries

Gender bending is fine. It's how I discovered my gender and it's destructive towards gender norms which is always a plus.

Also I’ve seen people talking about crossdressing yes but have you considered including the other lgbtq+ community In the theoretical, no. Truth be told, I'd invite most drag queens, cross dressers, men in skirts, fucking destroying baddass queens, kings, royals to break the fucking gender norms since they assist in breaking down cissexist standards for us all. Seeing individual’s not holding fast 100% to the cissexist sex constantly parallels helps in getting the overall population used to the thought, which ostensibly helps make us more secure. However it is, in any case, transphobic to accept that transsexual individuals are truly "extra-genuine drag queens" or something of that sort, or to expect to be that (for example) on the grounds that a cis fella dresses in drag as a lady however remains a man, that all trans ladies are likewise "truly men" as well. In all actuality, these aren't suspicions that drag queens themselves make (more often than not), but instead ones that different individuals from the overall population make.

I apologize for my English in advance.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #fuck gender norms

[diary20216969]

why>?

-because i have crippling gender dysphoria and even the thought of doing something so womanly makes me want to puke and then cut my ovaries out with a fork

-because i dont want stretch marks

-cause i dont want my vagina ass and clit ripped apart and then sewed back

-i dont want baby fat

-i dont wanna give life to something that may end up getting borderline personalty, depression, schizophrenia, polycistic ovarian syndrome, anxiety or substance addiction.

-cause life sucks and not putting someone through this current reality is a gesture of kindness

-cause my body is mine and i dont want anything inhabbiting it

-cause i hate commiting to anything

-cause i dont owe it to anyone

-cause breastfeeding disgusts me to the core

-cause i love y skinny body and flat tummy

-cause i love sleeping

-cause i love drugs

-cause i love fucking people

-cause i love having y perfect body worshiped

-cause i love being a sex worker

-cause i love looking young

-cause i already have enough people to provide for

-cause ive done things i’ll never be able to say out loud or forgive myself for,ever

-cause im not a walking vagina or a breathing uterus

-cause im too smart and have too any dreas and goals to accomplish instead on focusing on whiping shit out of an infant’s ass

-cause i wanna beat the shit out of any kid that cries like a stupid fuck

-cause i hate men and if i would get pregnant with a son i’d abort it instantly, lol

-cause i dont wanna go blind, have all my hair fall out

-cause i dont need any more ptsd from childbirth or depression from postpartum

-cause i dont want to spend 9 onths of my life walking on eggshells with my thoughts eotions actions and diet

-cause i love my free time

-cause i haven’t lived yet. cause i want and deserve to.

-cause i want all my money to myself

-cause i flushed the last one down the toiled, not before showing it the middle finger after causing myself an abortion and telling that little piece of shit that i won and to fuck off to hell.

-im selfish and i love it

-cause the world is dangerous and cruel

-cause kids make you weak and are a liability

-cause i just dont wanna deal with a teenager’s bullshit again

-cause i will totally fuck them up for good lol

-cause i already raised a kid while i was a kid and had no childhood or happiness

-cause i unhealthy as fuck

-cause in m family both my mom and dad, brothers and e have chronic ibs

-cause i want my childfree life to be a statement that everyone in my faily is a stupid fucking breeder and they can fuck off

-cause our planet is dying and becoming slowly inhabitable

-cause by 2030 there won’t be enough food to feed everyone

-because the world is already overpopulated and there is not enough food or space to sustain us all

- cause men exist

-cause i not a dumb animal that was born to procreate but i was born to die.

-cause there’s no life after death, and inbetween everything sucks

-cause the whole process is so goddamn disgusting

-cause the lil shits pee in my uterus, swi innit, feed on me, make me anemic, give me the most terrible mood swings i’ve fought my whole life to control

-cause they won’t be special, they will be some gross pathethic human like the rest of us

-cause i would love the ore than i love myself and that would hurt me

-cause they would grow up with a single parent

-cause their only parent would be a sex worker that had videos online with herself fucking her ass or puking for money

-cause i’ve fucked 3 kids

-cause they could be lgbt in a world that does’t accept them

-cause i’d be a emotionally unavailable parent

-cause they iage of being called ‘mom’ or ‘dad’ doesn’t ring any bell in my ind and just makes me cringe

-cause i wanna transition to looking androgynous in a couple of years, one way or another, in order to stop feeling dysphoria

-cause im a recurrent drug addict, smoker, drinker with a sex addiction

-cause i’d happily let the be the same things i am

-cause kids are so stupid and gross and we only find the things they do adorable because we are evolutionarly programmed to find them cute in order to protect them and perpetuate the species

-cause cats are so much fucking better

-cause they would most likely need to work their entire life to make money in order to not die or starve

-cause i like reading books

-cause y brother will absolutely have kids one day and thats enough

- cause my kids would be ugly as i was when i was a kid

-cause id muc rather focus on love, romance and finding the perfect girl

-cause theres so uch about myself id want to explore

-cause theres so much i havent tried yet

-

#-cause kids are so stupid and gross

[bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls]

Hello Mr. Bedtime. I'm a long-time follower, and I would scroll and edge my little brains out wishing I could find a man mean enough to have my best interests in mind. Well, I realized that I have to be pretty (and skinny) enough in order to even find a man to do these things, and so I have to start by holding /myself/ accountable. I've been working on my flexibility for a couple weeks, and today for the first time I am going to make myself puke! Thank you for motivating me to be the best me.

No.

Just... no. You sweet, stupid little fuck.

(I’m gonna say a bunch of things you already know, but maybe you’ll listen if I say it.)

Y’know what purging’s gonna get you, dummy? An ED and an ass just as fat as the one you started with. Shitty breath and bad teeth and acid burning holes in your throat. Even if your hare-brained little scheme “works”, you’re just gonna find yourself on a psychiatric hold in some hospital somewhere, not at the feet of a man who can use you.

It’s great that you want to be better, that you want to deserve the things you crave. But if you’ve got the will to fuck up your life, then you’ve also got the will to fix it. Get up off your ass and go to the gym four or five days a week. If you can’t do that, go for a walk every day. When walking gets too easy, start running. Buy a bike off Craigslist. Move your goddamned body.

Watch what you eat. Log that shit. Look for the patterns. Consume less than you burn. Feed yourself thoughtfully, not obsessively. And while you’re at it, accept that not everyone gets to be a five foot tall pixie who lives off cookies and sunshine. Sometimes you find out you’re a little tank who’s meant to be strong and cute, not a delicate waif. Be the loveliest pink tank you can, and carry on.

And just so we’re clear: pretty is pleasing and easy to appreciate, but it’s simply a good way to get your foot in the door. It doesn’t earn you a place at the hearth. It doesn’t make you obedient or loving or worshipful. It’s one factor among the many that make a girl worth owning, and fixating on it isn’t gonna improve the entirety of you.

And we care about the whole whore around here.

#asks #thoughts

[dolphin-enthusiast]

Hey my guy, can I request headcanons for Josuke, Okuyasu, Jotaro, Kakyoin and Giorno with an s/o that has really low self esteem? Like s/o has a “friend” who’s skinny and gorgeous and always has dudes at her feet and other friends that worship her? Like she rips on s/o 24/7 making them very aware that they’re the ugly fat friend?? And s/o accepts that after years of hearing it from her and other people and just makes jokes about it to hide the self loathing and despair???? 🤡👀

As someone that went through shit like this basically all of her childhood just wanna say that ppl that do shit like this have absolutely 0 rights lmao

Josuke:

- Oh but he's fucking furious. We all know the temper of this boi and how quickly his mood changes, ESPECIALLY when it comes to his loved ones suffering.

- You'd have to hold him by the collar so he doesn't go absolutely ballistic and yeets some fucking bitches. Once he'd calm down you'd sit him down on the couch and tell him the entire story, especially how your so called "friend" made you dislike your appearence.

- He'd straight up say "fuck your friend". He doesn't see why anyone would bring down someone else just to feel better about themselves, let alone someone they considered a friend.

- Would give you the biggest hug known to man as he'd tell you how beautiful and perfect you are. Who cares if you don't have a certain weight or don't look in a certain way? That person can just fuck off already because this ain't it, he'd help you build up self confidence and would be there for you at all times. 10/10 tells you to ignore people like this and acknowledge your own beauty and charms.

Okuyasu:

- At first he'd be confused. Does he need to beat someone up? Because if that's the case he's going to do just that. After you'd explain the entire situation he's only going to get even more pissed.

- He himself would feel pretty fucking upset since you have been feeling like this for years and learned to "accept it" just because a person was a major bitch and tried to make themselves feel better by bringing you down instead.

- He wouldn't really know how to react so he'd just throw his arms around you while telling you how much he loves you and how no one's going to hurt you from now on.

- Will literally compliment you everyday (even more than he already did before) and would praise your every outfit. And he really means it, he loves how literally anything looks on you! This boi would make you feel special and appreciated in no time.

Jotaro:

- He'd furrow his eyebrows as he'd listen to you go on and on about the things that your "friend" did to you. His fist would be clenched shut as his jaw would be tense. What he was hearing was making him angrier than ever.

- His first reaction is to shove you into his chest and hug you tightly while sighing in frustration and closing his eyes. He would pull away after some minutes and put his hands on your shoulders then firmly tell you while looking into your eyes that this person was toxic as all hell and that you didn't deserve any of it. It's not your fault some like bringing others down for their own pleasure.

- He would tell you that you should try to avoid this person and that it also doesn't matter if she has dudes at her feet always. Who gives a shit? This isn't what matters in life. You're beautiful and amazing and everyone has their own beauty.

- He's not too good with words but he would try for you. He'd do his best and compliment you on a daily basis. Won't ever let you put yourself down around him and will sternly tell you that you're beautiful and perfect in his eyes. His approach may be more blunt compared to the others, but he sure as hell means everything that he says.

Kakyoin:

- He's shocked. How could anyone do such things to their own FRIEND? He would be very dissapointed in that person, no doubt about it.

- He would let you know that he literally doesn't care that you aren't as skinny as her or other people, he loves you just how you are and wouldn't change you. Anyone that has a problem with it can fuck off.

- This man is one of the best when it comes to making a person feel special and appreciated. He would treat you amazingly and would have a serious talk with anyone trying to bring you down. If they have nothing good to say they might as well shut up.

- Reminds you of how amazing and kick ass you are every single day. Each time you'd be looking into the mirror he'd come behind you and point out all the things that he loves about you. He'd help you love yourself and appreciate your own qualities and would do a damn good job at it.

Giorno:

- Just like Kakyoin he's shocked. He really dislikes superficial people that bring others down for their own pleasure and literally flex in front of your face.

- She has boys at her feet, so what? He thinks they are just mindless and stupid and that they only fall for her fake charms. She will never be as genuine and caring and overall as amazing as you are.

- He's also the kind to analyze each and every part of your body in the mirror and tell you why he loves all of them. He thinks you look perfect and doesn't give a shit that you don't have a certain weight.

- Wouldn't have any of the self depricating humor. He would never let you put yourself down and would always firmly state that he absolutely loves you just how you are. He wouldn't change a single thing about you.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #josuke higashikata #okuyasu #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #giorno giovanna #jojo headcanons #headcanons

[nailsoftheheart]

* I'm fat *

My dimply ass and my rolls make me totally fuckable. I love my fat body and it deserves to be shared. I wish fatphobia didn't trap millions of people into thinking they are worth less because they weigh more. Im Fat and my sex mantra is "My chubby body is a pleasure paradise" I'm fat and I'm so beautiful. My soft body is warm, welcoming and comforting. I'm fat and men have begged to be sexual with me, they have cried and yearned and pleaded with me. A beautiful women told me after a long embrace that my breast are so big and soft and lovely to feel. I'm fat and sometimes after a gig, I'm sweaty, messy and stinky, men come up and tell me how beautiful I am. A few times relentlessly and I have to duck out. I have a friend who runs a record store, he's grumpy and everyone calls him an asshole, but when we saw Rubella Ballet together his eyes lit up with happiness and I teased him and hugged him and he told me "You're so Hot!" and honestly taken back and bewildered, I said omg me? And he reiterated, yeah, me. I am fat and loved, adored and lusted after. My fat body is beauty incarnate. My wobbly hips, thick thighs and jiggly bits. I can't leave the house with out getting aggressively checked out. I thought for 20 years I was ugly, I have spent the last 10 accepting and learning to love myself and I welcome love into my life everyday. I am fat, gorgeous, kind, fun loving, funny as heck and I apparently have a ton of sex appeal. Seeing a lot of thin bodies, skinny worship and endless diet talk recently . Fuck that i know from experience thinness does not equal happiness or healthiness and your life won't finally start once you get thin. Take back the right to form your own opinions on beauty, destroy the ideal of what is attractive to the masses and recreate your standards. Fatphobia is rooted in racism from the early 1800s and fat isn't considered to be a European trait. Your oppression is perpetuated when you feed into these ideas. Break free, open your eyes and see the beauty in all things, especially yourself.

[words-dance-i-write]

Revenge

This is an old writing prompt that I CANNOT find the original prompt for. Still I had a lot of fun writing this one. Kinda dark but not too dark.

To live past 75, you have to steal years off the life of some other being. Most people steal from trees, which live tens of hundreds of years. Describe how you’re stealing life from an immortal

You find them every now and again. The Old Ones. If you are desperate enough. Most of them are so ancient they remember little from the time they were created. In a world where life is siphoned off after 75 the Gods have deemed it their own private joke to grant immortality as a gift. 

It's not a gift.

Living forever in a world where people want to suck you dry for a few more years of their own, to only take and never give? It's not a gift. It's a exceptionally funny kind of hell. 

In their temples the Gods laugh. 

The Gods know that you never get something without giving something. The mortals might siphon off years from the ancient ones but there's a price.

There's always a price.

I quite frankly didn't give a flying fuck.

At one time I would have. I would have preached about the importance of balance. On how somethings are not for the taking no matter how or why. I had taught my children that same lesson.

That was before. There is always a before. There is always a tipping point that makes someone betray each and every ideal they ever thought they held dear.

At one point I might have been ashamed of how quickly I reached my point. Of how quickly I swan dove off the cliff into not giving a fuck. How quickly I let go of everything I thought to be true in the world. 

I'm not ashamed. That was before. This is now. I  had my reasons to find an Old One. I had my reasons to make my bargain. 

Most people extended their life past seventy-five by taking years from the trees. The trees gave freely and we buried our dead beneath their leaves and in their roots so we might feed them as they fed us. But life from trees can only sustain the body for another twenty five to forty years- sometimes fifty if the person was lucky or healthy. If a person wanted another seventy five years they had to kill to get it. If they wanted even more they had to seek out the Old Ones.

Bargains are made in blood and kept in blood. The Old Ones had too many years to remember how to be kind. They made their deals and damn the person who forgot the legends.

I hadn't forgotten, again I just didn't care. 

I was reaching my fifty-seventh year. My children were grown and living their own lives, with their own families. They were good children, raised by me and a partner who loved them as much as we loved each other. My oldest son mowed our grass every week and all of them had dinner with us each week. Things were perfect.

Until I came home to find them all in my living room. Laid open with their throats slit. My youngest granddaughter looked like she was sleeping if not for the pool of her blood mixing in with her mothers surrounding her and clinging to her hair. My oldest son still held his wife's hand tight in his. His youngest cradled against his side.

My partner, sat in their chair, with their head dropped back to expose the slice that ended their life. Blood seemed to cover every surface.

"Remember you did this." A note pinned to the wall with a knife. That's all the answer I got to see when I found my family dead. I had done this. I had damned them all to this. The only reason my own throat wasn't slashed and my own blood didn't cover the walls was that I popped out on a last minute errand. Why they didn't wait for me to come home I don't know. Maybe one of the children screamed. Maybe a neighbor heard. Either way, my family was dead and I was not.

Either way I no longer gave a fuck about should do's and shouldn'ts. As far as I was concerned I was going to burn these people to the ground and if I burned with them so be it. It seemed a fair price to pay. 

Revenge, anger and grief all have a way of simplifying things. They would die and if I did too so be it. 

I deserved it too I guessed. 

I worked my entire life as a journalist. Chasing story after story until I found as close to the truth as I could find. I dragged political scandals to light, mob bosses, anyone who thought they could defraud the people. 

I'd had my fair share of death threats over the years. I'd been placed in protective custody. But I always believed I was doing the right thing. I was teaching my children to stand up for what they believed in. 

I believed I was just and righteous in my crusade. People always believe their actions have meaning, have justice, have the greater good behind them. Maybe they even do. Maybe I even did.

It didn't matter now. It didn't matter if I was right or wrong or anywhere in between. I'd been on the verge of breaking the biggest story of my career. The powerful, stealing the lives of children. Taking all that potential, all that energy and warping it even more to ensure the life of their companies and themselves. I'd received death threats but they'd never been successful in the past. 

That was my folly. To believe history would repeat itself. 

I traveled from my nice suburban home, leaving the bodies of my family in the living room. I drove until my car ran out of gas and I stopped only to fill the tank again. I drove past the cities and past the old temples. People said the old gods preferred the new opulence of the city temples but I personally thought they might prefer the ancient majesty of the old temples built for them. Where years of worship and praise soaked the walls. Still I drove. Until you didn't see houses or cities for miles. Eventually my car ran out of gas and I used all of the fuel I'd brought with me.

I shouldered the hiking backpack my partner gave me for our twentieth wedding anniversary. I packed it full of our camping gear and supplies. I had a large knife and a small gun so I could hunt for my food when I ran out. If I made it that far. All the stories said the Old One's lived where no mortal would venture. 

Perhaps they were sick of making bargains with foolish, desperate humans. 

I quickly lost track of how long I walked. Always in the same direction. Sometimes I had to veer for land forms I could not walk straight through. My food ran out by the end of what I thought might be the second week. I'd been hunting berries and other greens as I walked and now I added meat to my list of prey. 

Finally as the last of my bullets gave me bits of meat and I began to try to recall how to make a bow a small woman appeared from the trees. 

She looked no older than my daughter and my stomach heaved as I remembered how her fair hair looked stained with her own blood.

"You've come a long way." she said idly, as if she choose only to mention the weather.

"I have and I am prepared to further if needed." I answered. She looked at me and nodded before sitting on the ground. After a moment I lifted my pack from my shoulders to join her. I began to bring out the meat I hunted that morning, a small rabbit, and some berries I'd gathered as I walked. I took small pieces of kindling I carried and made a small fire.

"Would you like to share a meal with me?" I asked. It seemed only polite to feed the person I hoped to bargain with. 

"I believe I would enjoy that. It has been sometime since I've eaten human food or conversed with anyone other than the trees." she replied.

"I hope I do not disappoint." I said and I began to prepare the small pot I still carried. A split merely melted the fat and nutrients off the meat. A small pot with a small amount of water kept the fat close to the meat and the meat soft and tender. The immortal seemed to examine my very soul as I passed her the pouch of berries.

"No I do not think you will disappoint." she said as she accepted.

"What may I call you?" I asked.

"You may call me Eowen. And what do the mortals call you?"

"Margret." I answered. We sat in silence as the rabbit slowly cooked. I pinched in some herbs I'd found a few days before to add a bit of flavor. Once the meat was done and I served us both on small camp plates she turned to look at me.

"What bargain have you come to make?" she asked. 

"Revenge Old One." I answered honestly. 

"Why? Revenge can be taken many ways and you do not need a favor from an Old One do find it."

"I want to burn them all to the ground. They killed everyone I loved to keep their secrets and I want to expose them to the world. Strip them of every bit of power they have before I burn them alive." 

Eowen nodded carefully. "The trees spoke of you before I came to you. They spoke of a woman walking into the forest with nothing but anger and pain for companions. I will grant you your favor. You know you must give something in return yes?"

"I do Old One." I answered. I didn't care what she asked, I'd give it.

"You know you may well burn as you burn those who hurt you?" she asked.

"I do. I am ready for it. It is what I deserve."

"If you do not burn with those you hunt, if you return from the other side alive this is my bargain, you will return here. You will make your life in this forest, among these trees. You shall share my curse and I shall share  your anger. You will spend the rest of your days here- and those days will out number all of the days of your family combined. For to take years from an immortal is to become nearly immortal yourself. I am not interested in the rest of your kind remembering that, I will not allow them the chance."

I considered her words. The bargain was less than I expected and I had no desire to live in my former world with everyone I loved laying dead in the ground.

"The bargain is fair and the deal is made." I recited the old binding words as I reached out my hand to hers. Her arm flashed faster than my slow eyes could follow and a searing pain reached up my wrist. I saw a shallow cut opened along the length of my forearm and when I glanced back at Eowen she'd cut a similar wound on her own. She reached out and clasped her arm in mine binding our blood together. The mixed red drops fell into the fire and hissed. Instead of quenching the blaze the flames shot up to lick our arms. The fire did not burn though, it seemed to thoughtfully caress our entwined arms- feeding off of our mixed blood. 

"The bargain is fair and the deal is made." Eowen intoned.

As she repeated the oath I felt the air crackle around us and energy pass from her to me. Not energy- life. I understood in that moment I might not make it out of my revenge alive but if I did it would be a long life to live with my grief. Somehow I doubted suicide would exempt me from my oath and better to have a form when haunting a forest. Still I felt the strength of my youth return to my bones and my eye sight that left me years before sharpened better than it ever had been.

"The deed is done." Eowen said letting go of my arm.

"The deal is struck." I finished. 

I gathered my things and turned around and began to walk again.

I had people to kill.

To live past 75, you have to steal years off the life of some other being. Most people steal from trees, which live tens of hundreds of years. Describe how you’re stealing life from an immortal

You find them every now and again. The Old Ones. If you are desperate enough. Most of them are so ancient they remember little from the time they were created. In a world where life is siphoned off after 75 the Gods have deemed it their own private joke to grant immortality as a gift. 

It's not a gift.

Living forever in a world where people want to suck you dry for a few more years of their own, to only take and never give? It's not a gift. It's a exceptionally funny kind of hell. 

In their temples the Gods laugh. 

The Gods know that you never get something without giving something. The mortals might siphon off years from the ancient ones but there's a price.

There's always a price.

I quite frankly didn't give a flying fuck.

At one time I would have. I would have preached about the importance of balance. On how somethings are not for the taking no matter how or why. I had taught my children that same lesson.

That was before. There is always a before. There is always a tipping point that makes someone betray each and every ideal they ever thought they held dear.

At one point I might have been ashamed of how quickly I reached my point. Of how quickly I swan dove off the cliff into not giving a fuck. How quickly I let go of everything I thought to be true in the world. 

I'm not ashamed. That was before. This is now. I  had my reasons to find an Old One. I had my reasons to make my bargain. 

Most people extended their life past seventy-five by taking years from the trees. The trees gave freely and we buried our dead beneath their leaves and in their roots so we might feed them as they fed us. But life from trees can only sustain the body for another twenty five to forty years- sometimes fifty if the person was lucky or healthy. If a person wanted another seventy five years they had to kill to get it. If they wanted even more they had to seek out the Old Ones.

Bargains are made in blood and kept in blood. The Old Ones had too many years to remember how to be kind. They made their deals and damn the person who forgot the legends.

I hadn't forgotten, again I just didn't care. 

I was reaching my fifty-seventh year. My children were grown and living their own lives, with their own families. They were good children, raised by me and a partner who loved them as much as we loved each other. My oldest son mowed our grass every week and all of them had dinner with us each week. Things were perfect.

Until I came home to find them all in my living room. Laid open with their throats slit. My youngest granddaughter looked like she was sleeping if not for the pool of her blood mixing in with her mothers surrounding her and clinging to her hair. My oldest son still held his wife's hand tight in his. His youngest cradled against his side.

My partner, sat in their chair, with their head dropped back to expose the slice that ended their life. Blood seemed to cover every surface.

"Remember you did this." A note pinned to the wall with a knife. That's all the answer I got to see when I found my family dead. I had done this. I had damned them all to this. The only reason my own throat wasn't slashed and my own blood didn't cover the walls was that I popped out on a last minute errand. Why they didn't wait for me to come home I don't know. Maybe one of the children screamed. Maybe a neighbor heard. Either way, my family was dead and I was not.

Either way I no longer gave a fuck about should do's and shouldn'ts. As far as I was concerned I was going to burn these people to the ground and if I burned with them so be it. It seemed a fair price to pay. 

Revenge, anger and grief all have a way of simplifying things. They would die and if I did too so be it. 

I deserved it too I guessed. 

I worked my entire life as a journalist. Chasing story after story until I found as close to the truth as I could find. I dragged political scandals to light, mob bosses, anyone who thought they could defraud the people. 

I'd had my fair share of death threats over the years. I'd been placed in protective custody. But I always believed I was doing the right thing. I was teaching my children to stand up for what they believed in. 

I believed I was just and righteous in my crusade. People always believe their actions have meaning, have justice, have the greater good behind them. Maybe they even do. Maybe I even did.

It didn't matter now. It didn't matter if I was right or wrong or anywhere in between. I'd been on the verge of breaking the biggest story of my career. The powerful, stealing the lives of children. Taking all that potential, all that energy and warping it even more to ensure the life of their companies and themselves. I'd received death threats but they'd never been successful in the past. 

That was my folly. To believe history would repeat itself. 

I traveled from my nice suburban home, leaving the bodies of my family in the living room. I drove until my car ran out of gas and I stopped only to fill the tank again. I drove past the cities and past the old temples. People said the old gods preferred the new opulence of the city temples but I personally thought they might prefer the ancient majesty of the old temples built for them. Where years of worship and praise soaked the walls. Still I drove. Until you didn't see houses or cities for miles. Eventually my car ran out of gas and I used all of the fuel I'd brought with me.

I shouldered the hiking backpack my partner gave me for our twentieth wedding anniversary. I packed it full of our camping gear and supplies. I had a large knife and a small gun so I could hunt for my food when I ran out. If I made it that far. All the stories said the Old One's lived where no mortal would venture. 

Perhaps they were sick of making bargains with foolish, desperate humans. 

I quickly lost track of how long I walked. Always in the same direction. Sometimes I had to veer for land forms I could not walk straight through. My food ran out by the end of what I thought might be the second week. I'd been hunting berries and other greens as I walked and now I added meat to my list of prey. 

Finally as the last of my bullets gave me bits of meat and I began to try to recall how to make a bow a small woman appeared from the trees. 

She looked no older than my daughter and my stomach heaved as I remembered how her fair hair looked stained with her own blood.

"You've come a long way." she said idly, as if she choose only to mention the weather.

"I have and I am prepared to further if needed." I answered. She looked at me and nodded before sitting on the ground. After a moment I lifted my pack from my shoulders to join her. I began to bring out the meat I hunted that morning, a small rabbit, and some berries I'd gathered as I walked. I took small pieces of kindling I carried and made a small fire.

"Would you like to share a meal with me?" I asked. It seemed only polite to feed the person I hoped to bargain with. 

"I believe I would enjoy that. It has been sometime since I've eaten human food or conversed with anyone other than the trees." she replied.

"I hope I do not disappoint." I said and I began to prepare the small pot I still carried. A split merely melted the fat and nutrients off the meat. A small pot with a small amount of water kept the fat close to the meat and the meat soft and tender. The immortal seemed to examine my very soul as I passed her the pouch of berries.

"No I do not think you will disappoint." she said as she accepted.

"What may I call you?" I asked.

"You may call me Eowen. And what do the mortals call you?"

"Margret." I answered. We sat in silence as the rabbit slowly cooked. I pinched in some herbs I'd found a few days before to add a bit of flavor. Once the meat was done and I served us both on small camp plates she turned to look at me.

"What bargain have you come to make?" she asked. 

"Revenge Old One." I answered honestly. 

"Why? Revenge can be taken many ways and you do not need a favor from an Old One do find it."

"I want to burn them all to the ground. They killed everyone I loved to keep their secrets and I want to expose them to the world. Strip them of every bit of power they have before I burn them alive." 

Eowen nodded carefully. "The trees spoke of you before I came to you. They spoke of a woman walking into the forest with nothing but anger and pain for companions. I will grant you your favor. You know you must give something in return yes?"

"I do Old One." I answered. I didn't care what she asked, I'd give it.

"You know you may well burn as you burn those who hurt you?" she asked.

"I do. I am ready for it. It is what I deserve."

"If you do not burn with those you hunt, if you return from the other side alive this is my bargain, you will return here. You will make your life in this forest, among these trees. You shall share my curse and I shall share  your anger. You will spend the rest of your days here- and those days will out number all of the days of your family combined. For to take years from an immortal is to become nearly immortal yourself. I am not interested in the rest of your kind remembering that, I will not allow them the chance."

I considered her words. The bargain was less than I expected and I had no desire to live in my former world with everyone I loved laying dead in the ground.

"The bargain is fair and the deal is made." I recited the old binding words as I reached out my hand to hers. Her arm flashed faster than my slow eyes could follow and a searing pain reached up my wrist. I saw a shallow cut opened along the length of my forearm and when I glanced back at Eowen she'd cut a similar wound on her own. She reached out and clasped her arm in mine binding our blood together. The mixed red drops fell into the fire and hissed. Instead of quenching the blaze the flames shot up to lick our arms. The fire did not burn though, it seemed to thoughtfully caress our entwined arms- feeding off of our mixed blood. 

"The bargain is fair and the deal is made." Eowen intoned.

As she repeated the oath I felt the air crackle around us and energy pass from her to me. Not energy- life. I understood in that moment I might not make it out of my revenge alive but if I did it would be a long life to live with my grief. Somehow I doubted suicide would exempt me from my oath and better to have a form when haunting a forest. Still I felt the strength of my youth return to my bones and my eye sight that left me years before sharpened better than it ever had been.

"The deed is done." Eowen said letting go of my arm.

"The deal is struck." I finished. 

I gathered my things and turned around and began to walk again.

I had people to kill.

To live past 75, you have to steal years off the life of some other being. Most people steal from trees, which live tens of hundreds of years. Describe how you’re stealing life from an immortal

You find them every now and again. The Old Ones. If you are desperate enough. Most of them are so ancient they remember little from the time they were created. In a world where life is siphoned off after 75 the Gods have deemed it their own private joke to grant immortality as a gift. 

It's not a gift.

Living forever in a world where people want to suck you dry for a few more years of their own, to only take and never give? It's not a gift. It's a exceptionally funny kind of hell. 

In their temples the Gods laugh. 

The Gods know that you never get something without giving something. The mortals might siphon off years from the ancient ones but there's a price.

There's always a price.

I quite frankly didn't give a flying fuck.

At one time I would have. I would have preached about the importance of balance. On how somethings are not for the taking no matter how or why. I had taught my children that same lesson.

That was before. There is always a before. There is always a tipping point that makes someone betray each and every ideal they ever thought they held dear.

At one point I might have been ashamed of how quickly I reached my point. Of how quickly I swan dove off the cliff into not giving a fuck. How quickly I let go of everything I thought to be true in the world. 

I'm not ashamed. That was before. This is now. I  had my reasons to find an Old One. I had my reasons to make my bargain. 

Most people extended their life past seventy-five by taking years from the trees. The trees gave freely and we buried our dead beneath their leaves and in their roots so we might feed them as they fed us. But life from trees can only sustain the body for another twenty five to forty years- sometimes fifty if the person was lucky or healthy. If a person wanted another seventy five years they had to kill to get it. If they wanted even more they had to seek out the Old Ones.

Bargains are made in blood and kept in blood. The Old Ones had too many years to remember how to be kind. They made their deals and damn the person who forgot the legends.

I hadn't forgotten, again I just didn't care. 

I was reaching my fifty-seventh year. My children were grown and living their own lives, with their own families. They were good children, raised by me and a partner who loved them as much as we loved each other. My oldest son mowed our grass every week and all of them had dinner with us each week. Things were perfect.

Until I came home to find them all in my living room. Laid open with their throats slit. My youngest granddaughter looked like she was sleeping if not for the pool of her blood mixing in with her mothers surrounding her and clinging to her hair. My oldest son still held his wife's hand tight in his. His youngest cradled against his side.

My partner, sat in their chair, with their head dropped back to expose the slice that ended their life. Blood seemed to cover every surface.

"Remember you did this." A note pinned to the wall with a knife. That's all the answer I got to see when I found my family dead. I had done this. I had damned them all to this. The only reason my own throat wasn't slashed and my own blood didn't cover the walls was that I popped out on a last minute errand. Why they didn't wait for me to come home I don't know. Maybe one of the children screamed. Maybe a neighbor heard. Either way, my family was dead and I was not.

Either way I no longer gave a fuck about should do's and shouldn'ts. As far as I was concerned I was going to burn these people to the ground and if I burned with them so be it. It seemed a fair price to pay. 

Revenge, anger and grief all have a way of simplifying things. They would die and if I did too so be it. 

I deserved it too I guessed. 

I worked my entire life as a journalist. Chasing story after story until I found as close to the truth as I could find. I dragged political scandals to light, mob bosses, anyone who thought they could defraud the people. 

I'd had my fair share of death threats over the years. I'd been placed in protective custody. But I always believed I was doing the right thing. I was teaching my children to stand up for what they believed in. 

I believed I was just and righteous in my crusade. People always believe their actions have meaning, have justice, have the greater good behind them. Maybe they even do. Maybe I even did.

It didn't matter now. It didn't matter if I was right or wrong or anywhere in between. I'd been on the verge of breaking the biggest story of my career. The powerful, stealing the lives of children. Taking all that potential, all that energy and warping it even more to ensure the life of their companies and themselves. I'd received death threats but they'd never been successful in the past. 

That was my folly. To believe history would repeat itself. 

I traveled from my nice suburban home, leaving the bodies of my family in the living room. I drove until my car ran out of gas and I stopped only to fill the tank again. I drove past the cities and past the old temples. People said the old gods preferred the new opulence of the city temples but I personally thought they might prefer the ancient majesty of the old temples built for them. Where years of worship and praise soaked the walls. Still I drove. Until you didn't see houses or cities for miles. Eventually my car ran out of gas and I used all of the fuel I'd brought with me.

I shouldered the hiking backpack my partner gave me for our twentieth wedding anniversary. I packed it full of our camping gear and supplies. I had a large knife and a small gun so I could hunt for my food when I ran out. If I made it that far. All the stories said the Old One's lived where no mortal would venture. 

Perhaps they were sick of making bargains with foolish, desperate humans. 

I quickly lost track of how long I walked. Always in the same direction. Sometimes I had to veer for land forms I could not walk straight through. My food ran out by the end of what I thought might be the second week. I'd been hunting berries and other greens as I walked and now I added meat to my list of prey. 

Finally as the last of my bullets gave me bits of meat and I began to try to recall how to make a bow a small woman appeared from the trees. 

She looked no older than my daughter and my stomach heaved as I remembered how her fair hair looked stained with her own blood.

"You've come a long way." she said idly, as if she choose only to mention the weather.

"I have and I am prepared to further if needed." I answered. She looked at me and nodded before sitting on the ground. After a moment I lifted my pack from my shoulders to join her. I began to bring out the meat I hunted that morning, a small rabbit, and some berries I'd gathered as I walked. I took small pieces of kindling I carried and made a small fire.

"Would you like to share a meal with me?" I asked. It seemed only polite to feed the person I hoped to bargain with. 

"I believe I would enjoy that. It has been sometime since I've eaten human food or conversed with anyone other than the trees." she replied.

"I hope I do not disappoint." I said and I began to prepare the small pot I still carried. A split merely melted the fat and nutrients off the meat. A small pot with a small amount of water kept the fat close to the meat and the meat soft and tender. The immortal seemed to examine my very soul as I passed her the pouch of berries.

"No I do not think you will disappoint." she said as she accepted.

"What may I call you?" I asked.

"You may call me Eowen. And what do the mortals call you?"

"Margret." I answered. We sat in silence as the rabbit slowly cooked. I pinched in some herbs I'd found a few days before to add a bit of flavor. Once the meat was done and I served us both on small camp plates she turned to look at me.

"What bargain have you come to make?" she asked. 

"Revenge Old One." I answered honestly. 

"Why? Revenge can be taken many ways and you do not need a favor from an Old One do find it."

"I want to burn them all to the ground. They killed everyone I loved to keep their secrets and I want to expose them to the world. Strip them of every bit of power they have before I burn them alive." 

Eowen nodded carefully. "The trees spoke of you before I came to you. They spoke of a woman walking into the forest with nothing but anger and pain for companions. I will grant you your favor. You know you must give something in return yes?"

"I do Old One." I answered. I didn't care what she asked, I'd give it.

"You know you may well burn as you burn those who hurt you?" she asked.

"I do. I am ready for it. It is what I deserve."

"If you do not burn with those you hunt, if you return from the other side alive this is my bargain, you will return here. You will make your life in this forest, among these trees. You shall share my curse and I shall share  your anger. You will spend the rest of your days here- and those days will out number all of the days of your family combined. For to take years from an immortal is to become nearly immortal yourself. I am not interested in the rest of your kind remembering that, I will not allow them the chance."

I considered her words. The bargain was less than I expected and I had no desire to live in my former world with everyone I loved laying dead in the ground.

"The bargain is fair and the deal is made." I recited the old binding words as I reached out my hand to hers. Her arm flashed faster than my slow eyes could follow and a searing pain reached up my wrist. I saw a shallow cut opened along the length of my forearm and when I glanced back at Eowen she'd cut a similar wound on her own. She reached out and clasped her arm in mine binding our blood together. The mixed red drops fell into the fire and hissed. Instead of quenching the blaze the flames shot up to lick our arms. The fire did not burn though, it seemed to thoughtfully caress our entwined arms- feeding off of our mixed blood. 

"The bargain is fair and the deal is made." Eowen intoned.

As she repeated the oath I felt the air crackle around us and energy pass from her to me. Not energy- life. I understood in that moment I might not make it out of my revenge alive but if I did it would be a long life to live with my grief. Somehow I doubted suicide would exempt me from my oath and better to have a form when haunting a forest. Still I felt the strength of my youth return to my bones and my eye sight that left me years before sharpened better than it ever had been.

"The deed is done." Eowen said letting go of my arm.

"The deal is struck." I finished. 

I gathered my things and turned around and began to walk again.

I had people to kill.

#writing #my writing #am writing #writing prompt #prompt fill #revenge #old gods #immortality #immortality is not a gift #death #violence #blood #mild gore

[finderskeepersff]

25.

I gagged at the Orange I just ate, I am trying this health kick and let’s just say I am force feeding myself, like I be gagging for nothing too “Sofia, are you even listening to me?” Cassius said on the phone while on loud speaker “mhmmm, yes. You said something about you’re coming back? I mean you said that last week when you said a few days more but do you, you have been doing that anyways” placing the cut up Orange on the plate, I can’t do it “you still have this stank attitude with me since, I have told you many of times. Fix it, I don’t know your fucking issues. You don’t speak to me about it! Fucking speak to me” hearing a knock on the hotel door “ok, sure. Stay there for longer, I don’t really care” getting up from the couch, I don’t care anymore. I have been working out with his side bitch, I mean I haven’t spoken to her but she stares at me anymore I will pop her fucking implants, bitch “I will, I mean you’re no use to me anyways. Like you give a fuck” here he goes, dragging open the door “hey!” Amira and Isabella “you all ready for the gym, listen I am so glad you wore a crop” hugging Amira “I am fat though” I scoffed “I think not” Isabella said “see, we both can’t be wrong” moving back from the hug with Isabella “come on in, don’t mind Cassius on the phone. He is ranting” I smiled at them both “he’s not back, Kyle and Myles are” see what I mean, he is doing other fucking things and I know “how nice, least you have men that come back” walking back into the room “Jasmine, fuck off. I ain’t finna do shit now fuck off. I told you” that is all he does is shout at her “I’ll be back” picking my phone from the table, taking the phone off loud speaker “you tripping yeah? Is this what I am paying for, to be a dumb female like the rest of them!” clearing my throat “Is that me too?” I asked, he kissed his teeth “you acting like it” I am a dumb female “Cassius, a bitch always knows. I fucking know” closing the door “why is Myles and Kyle back huh? What you doing there still? Speak the fuck up” this is all we do, this is our conversation “lower your tone first, ask me properly you pissing me off” I ain’t lowering shit, the phone line just went silent “you know you! You making me hate you” he disconnected the call.

I’d be lying if that didn’t hurt to hear, I am making him hate me when he is playing mind games. It’s going on two weeks, I am going crazy here. All I do, like him now is gym and here and a little bit more gym, I don’t hate rarely now. I am determined to lose it all, the home is coming on just fine, I just need to work on me. I am glad he is not here so when he comes back he will see I can also look good, asshole. Opening the bedroom door “anyways, shall we go?” I am sure they heard me say “y’all still arguing?” Isabella said “yep, we are and then he doesn’t come home and his friends do? I mean he is playing a game, he plays games all of the time” I know he is “how is Myles and Kyle anyways, no wonder you both didn’t come gym yesterday, I get it now” I pointed laughing “Kyle is ok, he is tired. He didn’t speak on what they did. All he said is Cassius dealt with it and he won’t be going back, well for now anyways” rolling my eyes “good, let’s go then girls. I need to run this anger out of me” he is not back but they are, I see how it is.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I look bloated as shit. Maybe my body trying to get used to all of the water I am currently having, I mean possibly yes. Grabbing my bottle of water and walking around the running machine, let me use the cross trainer now “Sofia!” I jumped at my name being called “Corey” I smiled, he everyday speaks to me “how are you on this fine day?” I don’t think he knows I am taken but I have never mentioned it “I am fine, what about you?” walking slowly with him “I am good, you need any help?” shaking my head “but I could ask advice, I mean do you think I have lost anything at all?” Corey stepped back and literally checked me out, I mean I did kind of give him permissions too “honestly?” nodding my head “your butt it looking good” waving him off “you’re just looking at the wrong thing, forget you” he is useless “no, no, no let me” he walked around me “this is embarrassing, go away now” I giggled, he is being stupid “things don’t happen overnight but all I can say is” walking around him, I don’t want to hear it now. That bitch would be in this section “all I am going to say is you’re fine, like beautiful amazing. I am at a loss for words just watching you” licking my top lip just smiling “you must know how fucking beautiful you are, I see girls every day in this place but you, I am at a loss. It’s like you fell from heaven and you’re body is just amazing. I would worship the ground you walk on” that Latin whore just stared at me, I am sure she heard that, she slowed down her training “stop playing, anyways. I need to work out” I am not even into white men, I mean he is cute but no “you need working on” he said before smiling at me as he walked off.

Shaking my head sighing out, he is very head over heels. That is crazy, I mean he is giving me nice words but no “erm excuse me” looking up from the machine screen and looked to the side of me, oh I know this bitch is not speaking to me “hi, yeah you don’t know me. I know” stepping off of the machine “you right I don’t” crossing my arms across my chest “it’s odd that I am speaking to you, I have seen you here for a few weeks now. I was meaning to come up to you but I saw you with Corey, you’re erm Cassius girlfriend” my face softened “yeah I am, and?” she looks reluctant but I don’t like her “well, I am Yasmin. I work out sometimes with your boyfriend. Erm” staring at this bitch waiting for the next sentence, she needs to hurry up “right, how do you know me!?” I pointed at her “because he would, look I don’t want to argue with you but I just think Cassius doesn’t deserve that you are flirting with another man, he is a great guy that is forever praising his girlfriend. When we first spoke he told me from jump he had a girlfriend and I was like dude, not interested. I am into the P. We hit it off, he’s a cool guy, he’s funny and loyal to you. I just feel annoyed that you are here flirting with another man but it’s not my place but just know that he is a great guy. He spoke on you so much I wanted to know what you look like so he showed me so that is why I know what you look like, but just know he is a great guy” she walked off slowly, I want the ground to swallow me up.

Looking around the crib, I lost my mobile charger or someone took it. I need to charge it before I leave for the airport, I am so bored of disagreeing with Sofia about breathing, I don’t even want to go back there but she is now angry on why Kyle and Myles are home but I’m not, they are home because I sent them home, things are done. Zed is taking over, it’s a done deal, my family will be ok now, things should be fine. This is what I needed to do before I ran off but I had no choice, they knew what Sofia looked like, I couldn’t be here “your charger” Jasmine walked into the living room “oh you took it? I was looking for it you know” she dangled the charger towards me “well you wasn’t looking that much because I had it, anyways. Are you going back already?” taking the charger from my sister “I do, I mean I am going because I have someone to go back too” Jasmine sat next to me “I am not going to say anything stupid, you seem very into her. I guess it is what it is” side eyeing my sister “you got strong feelings on disliking Sofia, is it because she been with both of your brothers?” Jasmine shrugged “just she ain’t been nice with me at all, rather stuck up” I grinned “it would be nice if my only sister accepts the girl I really like and I mean that, it would mean a lot. I got mom to deal with already” Jasmine sighed out “I hate your stupid face, I mean I guess. Maybe she is different now, if we ever meet again. I will do it for you, I am not like mom” I chuckled placing my arm around my sister “you women are something else” they really are.

Walking out of the home with Josiah behind me “where we going?” he asked, Lamar got out of the front seat “Cass” he said, I didn’t answer my brother “just get in the car” sitting in front seat and closing the door “going to the lock up” Lamar said in the back, I just need to see some people before I go and I am taking Josiah with me. I know he is not made for this life but he needs to do this because I can’t, his little bitch ass will be scared “Cassius, like where we going? Are you taking me somewhere” I just laughed “Josiah, sometimes you just need to grow up, today may be the day for you. I am going tonight, and there is something you need to do because I can’t, you have to do this. There will be something in it for you too” I do miss this, I get treated like this, treated like a king of this shit. I mean I am but but I miss it, there is always a lot of respect and I like this. I don’t deal with people disrespecting me very well, they get beat up.

I smiled at Josiah “boss” I don’t know why they call me boss still “follow me, this is my brother so be nice” walking towards the warehouse, Zed should be here. I just need to show Josiah what to do, Lamar opened the door for me “you really going back though?” Lamar asked “I am yes, why?” Lamar looked at me in sadness “I love you being around, I mean you know. Shit is always so smooth, we make more money too. In these days we made so much. You come up with plans, we took over territories. You know what to do” seeing Zed “Cassius, here you are!” he got up from his seat “Lamar, Zed will look after you won’t you” dapping Zed “of course, I am not Cassius Warren but what did we come up with?” sitting down across from Zed “I will advise him still, Josiah come here” he all in the back “pull up a seat, but yeah I will advise Zed still. We work on this together. I am not here, I am not doing this anymore but I will advise him. You never know at times I will visit but everything is fine, last night was fine right? It ran perfectly. Josiah, you have to every Friday night come here. You pick up a duffle bag, you drop it off. To a warehouse in New Jersey, you just drop it off. Then the money will be wired to me. There is a cut for you, you then take the rest to mom and dad. You have to do that, if you can’t do it then you call me. That is all you do, if something is going down, Lamar you tell him don’t come. If anything happens to my brother, I will come back and kill you. You keep up with this Rota, shit will be fine. But this is me done” getting up from the chair “you come back to Brooklyn soon aight?” Zed said “soon, hopefully. You saved my life locked away, I saved yours” shaking his hand “and we doing the same shit now, respect you” letting his hand go.

Stood outside the warehouse, lighting the cigarette up. This is the same place I bought Jordan and beat his ass, I am a bad person to do that to my blood and get him locked up “And what if I didn’t want to do that?” Josiah said behind me, turning around as I moved he cigarette back “you don’t want to do much do you? I fucking told you to run to LA and be a model without Jordan, you’re still here. You need to grow up, you lived under Jordan like a child for so long and look at you!” I spat “I worry about you lot like I am y’all father, I would have paid for you Josiah but did you listen? I got Jasmine in LA more than likely wasting the money I paid. Not one of you have done good, even me. I am living on a prayer that I won’t be caught, maybe you don’t want too but what else you got? One day, you will fucking call me and one day you will tell me you are doing something but right now, do it!” I walked off, I need to go “I want to be like you Cassius!” he shouted “you don’t Josiah! Look at Jordan, he lost his mind” Lamar opened the Range Rover door for me.

I am pissed, like very pissed my flight got cancelled and guess who is stuck in the airport right now, motherfucking me. I was going to stay for a few more days but Sofia is a whole trip for nothing, like forget this issue in Brooklyn I have a whole ass girlfriend that acts like a child. I haven’t even done anything. I rather deal with niggas trying to kill me then deal with women problems. If she hasn’t fixed her attitude towards me then I am like going to say do you even want me, it does make me think on does she even want me because honestly she acts like this towards me. She ignores my calls, I haven’t even called her to tell her I am coming because what is the point. She won’t even pick up anyways, lowering my snapback and sighing out. This is about to be a whole ass long ass night, I am going to be stuck in this bitch ass place.

It was kind of dope seeing the sunrise while in the sky but my god, never again. I am staying my ass on the ground, stupid flight. Swiping the keycard, and pushing the door open. I guess she will be asleep still, that is good because then I can get some peace and quiet and sleep on the couch. Throwing my bag on the couch, it’s been eventful but I am alive and here. Not like she cared, I am a little pissed off so I am going to be very cold with her. Pushing open the bedroom door, seeing a figure in bed. She is being the usual selfish self with the bed and sleeps in the middle, least I know she is alive and ok. Kicking her sneakers out of the way. This is actually a mess, what the hell she been doing. Like her clothes are everywhere, what a mess. Let me just go and sleep a little on the couch.

I tried to sleep but I couldn’t so I am on the phone to Kyle, I woke him up so he is not happy “I was actually, can we actually trust Zed to do what he said?” Kyle asked like I am stupid enough “Kyle, Zed is on his ass. Trust me he will be more than happy to do this, he kept saying thank you. That nigga been locked away for so long his goons left him, he only had what ten? That is it, it was mostly us. I ain’t putting him down because the niggas he had were good, I mean brutal. He wouldn’t fuck with us, I will come for his family” Kyle laughed out “you funny, I like the way you are embracing the boss lifestyle though. They was treating you like a king with the car opening shit. I mean you are that but still, it’s like they really missed you” clearing my throat smiling “I know it’s whatever, I ain’t about that. I was just there for the shit people been trying to do. I stay trying, but he’s going to cut us some money. Josiah is going to sort that out for us” Sofia finally appeared out of the bedroom, she looks so confused and she actually looked very happy to see me “Josiah!? Seriously” Kyle spat “yeah, he said that he wants to be like me. He says” Kyle laughed “why do your brothers do that? Like they want to be you?” that is a good question “it’s because they see that life, they see I am doing good. They don’t know shit, they will never know the half of it. Like you my niggas, we been through it. You know, they are so lucky but yet want to say that. It gets me so angry at them. But I can’t wait to go back. Zed may roll out the red carpet for me” Kyle snorted laughing.

Getting up from the couch “you came back home?” Sofia said but I am not interested “well yeah I am” pulling my top down, I might as well go and have a shower “Cassius, I just really want to say I am sorry, I really fucked up. I have been such a bitch to you” Sofia grabbed my arm “I could have been dead and you ignored my calls, not even once, it was fucking constant. I am back now so you can stop crying about oh Kyle and Myles are back, are you there sniffing someone else’s pussy. I am so bored of you, you apologise and then the next you going to flip on me. I don’t want you to apologise to me just to be a bitch the next minute so save it ok? Thank you, good” walking off to the bedroom “I am sorry Cassius, I was stupid” I don’t trust her at all “right, ok. You have been horrible to me and I took it. I ain’t like them other guys to beat you for it, I took it. Just leave it” I don’t want to hear it, taking my top off.

Wrapping the towel around my waist “I am going to see Amira and Isabella ok?” Sofia said from outside the bathroom door “bye” I simply said, why should I even be nice. I have been that every time, I took it from Sofia without saying anything just because I am not that guy to be evil towards a woman. If she is that unhappy or really thinks I am cheating then leave, I mean I don’t want that but I can’t deal with the shit. Sighing out heavily, while being in Brooklyn I can now see how much my family love me. They constantly saying how much they want me to not go and for me to stay there, I think I am more of a man than my own dad. I am the man of that house because my dad is just a bitch ass.

Swiping my card across the barrier as I walked into the gym, this is the only place I know. This is why I am bored in this bitch, Brooklyn I am constantly doing something but here, I only know the gym “hey! Cass” looking behind me “hey Yasmine, you good?” dapping her “yeah, how was Brooklyn? I was like I am sure you said you would be back, it’s fate that we meet at the same time” fixing my backpack on my back “what can I say, gym buddies back at it again” she hit my arm “you got power” holding my arm “I just need to get changed and I will be out” walking off “Cass, I just wanted to say. Have you seen Sofia yet?” furrowing my eyebrows “er yeah, just this morning why?” walking back over to Yasmin “she comes here now” frowning at Yasmin “she has been coming here since you been away, like everyday to be honest. Corey, you know Corey?” nodding my head “yeah” I said in a whisper “he has been feeling on her too much, I don’t want to cause anything, he was flirting with her. She has been here” staring at head of me “Cassius, don’t-” I walked off, throwing my backpack onto the floor “Cassius!” Yasmin shouted at me.

Looking around the gym, I am fuming. I am angry, I am going to fucking murder someone. Where is that motherfucker “Cassius, look please do not cause anything. It was harmless, I just wanted you to know. You’re a great guy, you are” Clenching my jaw seeing Sofia on the stepper, Corey just slouched on the machine talking to her “don’t get in my way” walking towards him, I am going to knock his ass out. I don’t play that shit “Cassius” Corey said, my fist met his face “you want to flirt with my girl” Corey held his face in shock “I will bust a cap in your fucking ass, you fucking scared now” he a little bitch “Cassius!” Sofia spat “you don’t fucking speak to me, all this time! All this fucking time you fucking say I am flirting and you here flirting! Cheating! You’re the fuck bitch flirting, why! Am I that much of a dickhead, get out my face!” Walking by Sofia “I didn’t know, she didn’t say she was taken” my clenched fist is shaking “police have been called” how can I attack a guy that didn’t know “I didn’t know Cassius, I thought” turning to Sofia, she just stared at me. Her head wobbled a little and her eyes rolled back as she fell to the ground, my mouth fell open just seeing Sofia on the ground out of nowhere.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfiction

[quranreadalong]

#195, Surah 40

THE QURAN READ-ALONG: DAY 195

Hey kids! Eid Mubarak! Guess what I’m gonna give you as a gift? Iiiiiiit’s another shitty god damned mid-Meccan surah about how much the disbelievers of Mecca suck and will be punished like the disbelievers of old! Will the wonders never cease!

Well, there may be a small handful of Medina ayat thrown in here, but the majority of it is the same crap we’ve seen a mind-numbingly large number of times by now. Disbelievers go to hell, stories of past disbelieving civilizations getting fucked up, complaints about polytheism, the works. It’s called either Ghafir (“Forgiver”--whoever named these things had a sense of humor!) or Al-Mumin (“The Believer”/Muslim) depending on the source. Well..... god damn it. Here we go again.

Random letters (HM) start us off. “HM”, or “Hm.”, is my reaction to this surah in general. Another miracle of Islam. The Quran is from Allah, who is the only god and is also both the “Accepter of repentance” and “the Stern in punishment”.

The only people who deny Mohammed’s revelations are disbelievers, which handily concludes the “are Christians and Jews considered kuffar?” question from several suwar ago.

Mohammed then launches into some good ol’ biblical stories. Allah sent a bunch of prophets to various civilizations, and every one of those civilizations tried to argue with the prophets and “seize” them. So Allah seized them, as in killed them. As always, the point of Allah sending prophets to people when none of them ever convinced their civilizations to believe--by Allah’s own will--remains unclear.

Regardless, disbelievers are owners of the fires of hell. Sigh... kuffar hell counter: 1!, and bad. Muslims, however, are protected from hell and evil things in general by the angels around Allah’s throne, who ask him to be merciful to those who follow The Way of Allah and are “good” (good).

Back to the disbelievers. On the Day of Judgement, they will face Allah’s abhorrence. They will beg Allah for some way out of hell, but the answer is no, because they are big fat polytheists.

This is (your plight) because, when Allah only was invoked, ye disbelieved, but when some partner was ascribed to Him ye were believing.

............sigh. Kuffar hell counter: 2! and still bad.

40:13 begins an Allah-is-god section. Allah gives people provisions by sending rain from the sky, and therefore deserves to be worshiped alone. Some individuals are selected as prophets by Allah, so they can warn their people of the impending Day of Judgement, when nothing will be hidden from Allah and everyone will get what they deserve--for better or worse. Well, at least that’s neutral enough.

The “wrongdoers” will be terrified on this day, because Allah knows that they are traitors for praying to other gods. Gonna have to put that down as a bad one and a kuffar hell counter (3) hit, since it specifies it’s happening on the Day of Judgement and is therefore referring to hell-doom rather than genocide-doom. They should have known that disbelief would result in tragedy, as they have traveled the land and seen the consequences!! etc of disbelief. Allah sent prophets to all those past civilizations, “but they disbelieved; so Allah seized them.”

And that is Mohammed’s lead-in to........ the Exodus story! Again! Yaaay! Actually, it’s the Exodus-Book of Esther-Tower of Babel story, but we’ve seen that before, too. There is like one new detail this time, so have perseverance, readers. We’ll get through this.

NEXT TIME: Various people are doomed for their disbelief!

The Quran Read-Along: Day 195

Ayat: 22

Good: 1 (40:8)

Neutral: 13 (40:1-5, 40:7, 40:9, 40:11, 40:13-17)

Bad: 8 (40:6, 40:10, 40:12, 40:18-22)

Kuffar hell counter: 3 (40:6, 40:10-12, 40:18-20)

⇚ previous day | next day ⇛

#ghafir #surah 40 #quranreadalong

[talesfromthefade]

Marina Amell x Alistair Theirin || SFW || angst, hurt & comfort, dark themes || 1505 words

“You aren’t going to ask about me spending time with him,” Marina asks curiously later that evening as the pair of them lie in bed together in the room that has been appointed to them during their stay at Skyhold.

Alistair smiles, putting down his book and turning to look at her before shaking his head. It’s been a long time and he’s come quite some ways from the younger man, still the little cast-off boy who’d never been quite certain he even deserved anyone’s love and affection, that it was okay to be soft like this, that he could be accepted, loved like this. He is certain now, of her, of the two of them, before and above all other things. So, while his natural inclination would be to joke and make light of her question, he does his best to give an earnest answer instead.

“Even if I weren’t aware the Commander has the world’s most obvious crush on Andraste’s chosen herald, I trust you,” he assures her. “You grew up together in the tower, and I know he meant a great deal to you once. I could be jealous he had your heart, I was for a little while back then,” he admits with a small smile of amusement, before taking her hands and clasping them in his. “But I know I have it now.”

“You do,” Marina nods, smiling back up at him, before leaning over to press a long and tender kiss to his lips. “I love you,” the mage whispers softly against the shell of his ear.

“I love you too,” Alistair returns immediately, fingers gently combing through and sweeping back long blonde locks before pressing another kiss to her temple. For a moment the kisses grow longer, a bit hotter, hands drifting towards the buttons and laces of one another’s clothes, before Alistair notices her fleeting frown, a look of pain in her normally bright blue eyes, and stops. However much he may have missed this, slaking his lust can wait for when his lover is as eager for it as he is. “Love,” he asks softly, a term of endearment and question all at once as he gently draws her into his arms. “What is it?”

They’ve not had to worry much about it before. Both of them being tainted by Darkspawn blood in their veins had made the possibility incredibly remote in the first place, but Marina had long ago begun taking a potion from Witherstalk as a precaution anyway. Now she is cured, and Alistair will soon be too, it follows that they might revisit the possibility of a family now they can offer more stability and permanence for any children they might have. The prospect which had at one time been a dear dream has become more bittersweet in the years since, though she has never told him as much.

“Ali,” Marina whispers softly, avoiding his gaze for a moment, drawing in a slow, steadying breath before she continues. “There’s something I have to tell you. Something I should have told you long ago,” she admits guiltily. “But I thought… I was afraid that you might hate me.”

“Not exactly my favorite words, I’ll admit, the whole ‘we need to talk’ bit, but Marina, there is nothing in this world or any other that could make me hate you,” the warrior promises solemnly, shaking his head, “Nothing.” She bites her lip, worrying the bottom one between her teeth, before forcing herself to go on anyway.

“Do you remember the night before we fought the Archdemon? What they told us about a Gray Warden having to sacrifice themselves to finish it? Morrigan’s ritual?”

“Yes,” Alistair nods slowly. “And I won’t pretend the whole thing didn’t scare the hell out of me. You too, I suspect, since I seem to recall you knocking me out to make sure I didn’t do something foolish and hopelessly romantic like try to sacrifice myself for you. But—it worked out in the end, didn’t it,” he smiles softly, attempting to coax one from her in return. “Turns out they didn’t know everything about killing Archdemons.”

“No, Ali.” Big fat tears are rolling down her cheeks now, blue eyes brimming with still more as she shakes her head. “They did.”

“But we’re fine. We didn’t need some dark ritual, or—“

“I was pregnant,” she interrupts, abruptly shutting him up.

“No, that can’t be right.” He’d have noticed if she gave birth to some kind of demon or ‘old god’ baby, or whatever it was Morrigan had been hoping to accomplish back then. “But we didn’t do any ritual or spells, or… did we,” he asks suddenly a little uncertain about everything that he’d previously taken for granted and thought to be true.

“No,” Marina replies immediately. “No, Ali, I would never. Not without your knowledge or permissions. Besides Morrigan’s solution, it scared me.”

“I recall. But then I guess I don’t understand what you mean,” Alistair admits frowning softly, longing to touch and hold her once more, but remaining still, uncertain if such an action might only comfort him, and further distress the woman he loves so.

“I was pregnant,” she repeats, a sob she’s been fighting in the back of her throat almost choking out the words. “The Archdemon’s spirit after I struck the killing blow—it wanted a body, whatever it could find, but the ritual Morrigan wanted to perform, it wasn’t to call a demon to it. It was to protect it. To protect h-him from the sheer force and trauma of it,” Marina continues, falling against his chest, even as the mage waits in fear for him to push her away. “If I had known… But I didn’t know that’s what it was for. I didn’t know that I was… I killed our baby,” she whispers devastated. “I killed your son.”

“Fuck,” Alistair whispers stunned, eyes going wide. It’s not the first time she’s ever heard her lover use a more serious swear, rather than some Chantry boy utterance of taking the Maker or Andraste’s name in vain. Still, it’s a rare enough thing to make her startle a little.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, drawing back a little from his arms before he can push them apart. “I’m sorry, Ali. I’m so sorry—“

“Marina,” the warrior says, interrupting her babbling apologies between sobs. “You’ve carried that secret—that heartache alone? For ten years?” The blonde mage bites her lip again, before nodding slowly. “I am sorry. I wish that you had told me sooner. I could have helped, or tried, at least. I’m so sorry you felt that you couldn’t. But Marina,” Alistair continues, waiting for her to look up to meet his gaze once more before he continues.

“You didn’t kill our son. The Archdemon did. I don’t blame you. Not for a second. And neither should you. I love you every bit as much now as I ever have,” he swears solemnly. “And I always will.” She breaks, collapsing into his arms with a loud, shuddering sob and he catches her.

She’s still not entirely convinced she deserves his forgiveness, that this isn’t somehow her fault, or he shouldn’t at least be angry with her for keeping something like this from him, Alistair knows. And some part of him, of course, is still coming to terms with what she has known for years. That there was a child, and it was robbed from them. It is not perhaps as tangible for him as it must have been for her, the warrior thinks, as the grief of the woman in his arms is for him as he holds her tighter, wondering fleetingly what she endured in secret after the babe died.

He waits and holds her until her trembling stops, before helping her work out of her clothes, dirty from her long ride and travels and down to her small clothes. He kisses her then. Her lips, her temple, forehead, down her arms, and over her belly as silent tears continue to pour down her face. But it’s nothing like the lustful, fiery ones they started with. Silent, unhurried, admiration and worship—for her, for everything she has been through. For every scar he knows well, for the new ones he doesn’t know the stories behind yet, for the larger one she carries he’s only just become privy to. He pours all the love that he has, everything he’s sure to botch trying to say into them. He’s not sure if it’s enough. Maker, but he’s never felt quite so helpless before. But she doesn’t push him away, doesn’t tell him to stop, so he doesn’t until she’s run out of tears to cry and grabs gently at a fistful of his hair, pulling him up to hold her again until she falls asleep.

“You are still the most beautiful and perfect thing in all this ugliness,” he whispers fondly, kissing her crown gently, before allowing exhaustion to pull him under too.

#tw: miscarriage #tales:marina #marina amell #alistair theirin #alistair x amell #warden x alistair #alistair x warden

[theliterateape]

Trial by Instagram and the Cynical Wielding of New Power

by Don Hall

I became deeply suspicious of the white ally call to arms years ago.

The instructions for inclusion to the club were simple. Strolling through the language, membership was predicated upon a recognition of white privilege, a commitment to listening to the ideas of the marginalized, and taking a backseat while funding the movement.

On paper, this sounds reasonable and progressive until one goes beyond the words and into the expected behaviors invited.

Recognizing and acknowledging privilege in practice means Accept a never-ending self flagellation and daily apology for existence. Only the genuinely masochistic could swim in that pool of ideological horseshit.

Listen to the ideas of the marginalized in practice is a Möbius strip for anyone with even an iota of critical evaluation skills. It means in practice Do not question and embrace the ideas of the marginalized because, if you do not, you haven’t listened.

Taking a backseat and provide money to the cause sounds good until one realizes that, in practice, it really means that the only way to get the decoder ring and Kool-Aid cup is not be included in the club. It is the essence of Shut the fuck up and pay us to take your stuff.

Patrick Harrington, the owner of Kindness Yoga in Denver, Colorado was a white ally. In his nineteen years in business, his tiny yoga studio business had a reputation of inclusivity — gender-neutral bathrooms long before they were popularized, person-of-color yoga nights where “white friends and allies” were asked to “respectfully refrain from attending”, LGBTQ yoga workshops. He, like any dutiful white ally should, hired a diverse staff of instructors.

Kindness Yoga didn’t charge for classes. The model of business was entirely donation-based so that anyone with interest could learn without regard for economic ability. Some students paid one dollar to attend classes regularly because that was all that they could afford.

The model worked. By 2019, Harrington had eight studios running. When the pandemic shut the world down, he managed to crawl through the trenches of red tape and secure a $300,000 federal aid package to pay his instructors during the lockdown. Unlike much larger corporations, he actually used the money to, what do you know, pay his instructors.

Harrington even started a “digital-dialogue” called Unlearning Racism: How to Become a Better Ally with vocabulary lessons and ideas on better allyship to communities of color.

In practice, this guy was almost a poster boy for the entire concept of allyship. He was the fucking Tom Cruise of white allies. There were two problems with Harrington that his work and effort could not overcome. He was white and his business had an Instagram account.

Unlike a host of large and small companies using the current civil unrest to show shallow support for black lives, Harrington actually meant it and had put it all into pragmatic behavior. When Kindness Yoga posted a Desmond Tutu quote in support of #BlackLivesMatter on June 1st, a campaign started by Davidia Turner (a black woman who has since started her own yoga studio and ends her posts with “I accept Reparations via Venmo and PayPal”) and Jordan Smiley (a transgender man, also now starting his own studio) accused Kindness Yoga of “performative activism” and “tokenization of Black and brown bodies.”

The campaign claimed that Harrington declined to hire an outside diversity expert and that his effort to “unwhite” his website by featuring photos of black, brown, and trans students was a horror. The murky demand for “systemic changes” caught fire and within 48 hours, Kindness Yoga closed down for good.

Interestingly, neither Turner nor Smiley even bothered to confront Harrington before unleashing the online tsunami. Talking to him “would be a danger to my mental health,” claimed Smiley.

I’ve long held the belief that social media is a tool. No different than a phone or a hammer it has a designed function and use. Like a phone or a hammer, social media can be used as a weapon despite the fact that it is not really intended as one in concept. Blaming the internet for opportunistic assholes is like blaming the hammer when it splits your thumbnail while trying to hang that Justice League poster. Blaming social media for this excessive aggression is like blaming McDonalds for the fact that we are a fat, fat country. 

Twitter is just that lard-laden, salty delicious thing that is so goddamned tasty, we can’t help ourselves but have hours of it without recognizing the damage done. Facebook is french fried information — high in calories, low in informational nutrition and fucking irresistible. Nothing wrong with a hunk of chocolate cake but if you eat cake every day without pause, you’ll die in your own bed unable to get up to piss because your fragile underused bones will be drowned in the sheer weight of your useless body.

As a tool, social media is perfect for social justice with its ease of communication to huge swaths of people. It is likewise the exact right tool for those who would use social justice ideas for selfish gain.

Despite the extraordinary speed and massive reach of the internet, there are more effective ways to build genuine changes in society. They happen in person, face to face filled with perceptions of microaggressions that are less aggressive than just clumsy and more than sentences written on a phone in someone’s basement.

True change comes with skin in the game rather than the bloodless bullying and theater of online posturing. Most effective activists know this already. “People don’t understand that organizing isn’t going online and cussing people out or going to a protest and calling something out,” Patrisse Khan-Cullors, a founder of the Black Lives Matter movement, wrote in “How We Fight White Supremacy.”

Public shame is most effective in bringing change when levied against the Big Guys in power rather than a horizontal cancelling of those whom we simply dislike or want to replace. The second kind smacks of petty office politicking and a mirror of the very approach our idiot savant president takes to bully his rivals.

Turner and Smiley do not behave in real life like activists seeking change. They wouldn’t even bother speaking to Harrington before hitting the cancel buttons so change was not the goal. Given both waited until the business was in peril due to Pandemic Alley, went in for the kill and now are opening their own replacement studios is quite telling.

Also, anyone who signs a public post with “I accept Reparations via Venmo and PayPal” is a douchebag and an opportunist, not an activist.

Unfortunately, Harrington’s struggle session isn’t over. Apparently he is spending his now unemployed time working on his white privilege including reading “White Fragility.”

“Did our community in Denver gain something by Kindness Yoga closing its doors?” Harrington said. “I struggle to understand the benefit of this outcome for white people, people of color, LGBTQ+ people. I don’t see the benefit of taking us down this way.” 

After a beat, he added: “My privilege could have me blind to that. I’m trying to learn.” 

SOURCE

None of this is to indicate that true allyship is out of reach or undesirable. True allies, like true friends, speak their minds even if it’s ugly or in disagreement. True progress is built upon collaborative work, not sycophantic purity worship. Collaborative work is the work of equals and isn’t that the fucking point of civil rights in the first place?

Beware of those who use the outrage of the moment as a grift for themselves. Those who have genuinely suffered discrimination, economic deprivation, and unrelenting bigotry deserve better allies than self-flagellating self-loathing masochists. Those are the types of allies no one has any respect for because they are effectively useless in the hard work for change. 

They are, however, completely willing to be destroyed by you for your stated cause.

#Instagram #Kindness Yoga #opportunism in the face of unrest #cancel culture #allyship