#because MAGA? Because they want to be the one on top?

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Break A Sweat.

Summary: Terry ‘TJ’ Richmond was recommended to you by your brother who is a Marine. He’s now your personal trainer and Krav Maga teacher.

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, nasty talk, rough sex, 18+ content.

This is going to be a two part series. ENJOY!

Terry is a no-nonsense guy. When you’re in his gym, you follow his rules. After all, you’re the one that signed up for self defense one–on–one sessions. The rugged, burly ex-marine, wandering nomad. He’s overly domineering, striking green eyes staring you down unblinking whenever you did something he didn’t like.

“Your form is wrong…I thought we discussed this? Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart and your toes pointed slightly outward…”

“One more set. Let’s go. No days off. You want it? You gotta get it at all costs…”

“If you find yourself in a scary situation and need to defend yourself, you’ll be at a huge advantage if you know exactly how best to react to your opponent — whether or not your moves are fair.”

“You have to become the attacker and defender simultaneously…NOW STRIKE!”

Your older brother recommended Terry Richmond to you when you finally decided to crack down and focus on your overall health and well–being. Although you loved your generous curves, life and longevity were more important. It’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a bountiful beauty and work up a sweat.

Terry held your ankles as you finished your last rep. Your last set of ten. Sweat dripped from every inch of your dark skin. Every muscle was screaming at you. Angry. Your body was angry. You let out one final huff and sat up, slinging your arms over your knees. Terry patted your back.

“Halfway there.” He said, looking down at you as he stood above you.

his chiseled body with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. He was a mean looking man, like a first impression recruit in the military that’s both respected and feared. Whatever he got into during his days training was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

To add insult to injury, from the first session within his home gym, you regretted it. Terry didn’t care if it was your first time lifting a dumbbell or using the stair master, when you’re in his gym, you go hard. No ifs, ands, or buts. And that pissed you off. So irritatingly bad.

On a cloudy afternoon, you park your all black Lexus ES within his driveway. Killing the ignition, you relax into the soft leather of your seat, wary eyes glancing at the two car garage. One side of the garage was his home gym. The place you dreaded entering.

Terry’s home is an impressive single–family with a spectacular country setting with quick access to everything. You slowly open the car door, pink and green Hoka sneakers touching concrete. You push yourself up from your seat, large breasts touching your chin because of the sports bra you wore. The warm breeze caused the stray curls that had fallen from your high puff to graze the back of your neck.

Shutting the car door, you ease towards your trunk, skin tight athletic leggings almost giving you a wedgy. You adjust yourself before clicking the button for your trunk on your key fob. It popped open smoothly, revealing your Puma gym bag.

As you grab it, Terry Richmond situated himself within the doorframe of his home, bulging biceps folded over his defined pecs. You catch his eye and quickly avert your gaze because of its intensity.

“How you doin’ Y/N?” Terry greeted.

“I’m doing fine, Terry. Everything good?”

“Yeah. Good to see you still showed up. Thought I’d scared you off.” Terry said.

You glance up at Terry standing on his top steps with his hands on his hips. You do a quick sweep of his body, taking in the way the berry–red tank top he wore molded into his upper body and the thigh–hugging black shorts outlined his crotch and his ass. He had no decorum when it came down to his attire during your sessions and it was distracting to say the least.

“I don’t give up easily,” You respond, trying your hardest to appear confident.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Today you just might…”

He clapped his hands, drawing your attention to how large they are. Anticipation and excitement gnawed at your belly. He was going to touch you with those hands again. It was only the second time, but the sensation would feel like the first time all over again. 

“I’m still recovering from day one. My thighs are burning.” You admit with a nervous smile.

“That’s what comes with the discipline. Have you been stretching?”

Your lips remain sealed. Terry tilts his head at you and with a slight chuckle, he makes a slow descent towards you. The closer he gets, the more you recognize the way his skin appeared bronze from the sun. You focus on his face, his green eyes commanding attention.

“What did I tell you about that, huh? It’s important and unavoidable. You have to stretch frequently, otherwise you’ll end up with stiff joints.”

“I know. I’ll do better.”

“Will you?” Terry countered.

“Yes.”

“So, you know that adds an extra thirty minutes to your session today, right?”

You fight the urge to groan.

“No time to waste then. Let’s get to it.”

Terry leads the way towards his garage. It opens, revealing a well–equipped home gym. You both step inside, the garage door slowly closing behind you. Terry motioned for you to come over and sit your things down.

“How’s work coming along?” Terry asked.

You place your bag against the wall, crouching down to open it with a hiss from the pain in your thighs.

“It’s going. Been putting in overtime.” You replied.

“I’m sure you have a loaded schedule, being a mom and all.” Terry said, waiting patiently for you to finish. He stood with his hands folded over his crotch.

“You learn to adjust, no choice anyway,” You stand, fitting your weight lifting gloves over your fingers, “Can’t complain though, I love my baby girl.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Aria.”

“Pretty. How old is she?”

“She’s four.”

“Wow. I bet she gives you a run for your money,” Terry chuckled.

“Oh yeah. All the time,” You laugh, “So, what now, Mr. Richmond?”

Terry smirked at you, “Stretching. Go ‘head and kick off your shoes. We’ll hit the mat for about thirty minutes before we jump into our basic moves.”

Terry walked away, giving you time to kick your sneakers off. He turns on some music and makes his way over to the thick floor mats situated in front of wall–length mirrors. You join him, stopping in front of him.

“Okay, down on your back.”

You settle on your butt and then relax back until your head touched the mat. Once again, you can’t avoid Terry’s body above you. He lowered to his knees at your feet.

“We’ll start with the hold–relax technique.”

Without warning, Terry straddles your left thigh and instructed for you to elevate your right leg with your foot in the air. Your eyes blinked slowly while staring up at the ceiling, but your body reacted to Terry’s hand on your knee and the other on the heel of your sock–covered foot. Your body hummed with desire. Something you couldn’t control. And if you so much as lift your left knee, you would brush across his crotch. The little voice in the back of your mind told you to do it and see how he’d react, but you ultimately restrained yourself from being too bold. This was a passive pre–stretch, held at a point of mild discomfort for about ten seconds.

“Ready on three. One…two…three—”

You count down ten seconds in your head, still keeping your eyes glued to the ceiling of the garage.

“Good, good,” Terry tapped your knee with his hand, “Think you can go again before we do the next part?”

“Uh–huh,” You replied with a weak laugh.

You brace yourself, palms flat against the mat. Terry does it again and you count down, the aching muscles in your thighs struggling to hold on.

“Well done. Nearly there,” Terry shifted his hips over your left leg, drawing in closer, “Y/N?”

Your gaze snapped down to meet his. You wish you hadn’t. He looked good from that angle. The thin, gold rope chain around his neck dangling in your face. His hazel–green eyes blinking at you, that lush mouth with pink lips and a pink tongue looking inviting—

“Ouch!”

Terry applied a hip flexion force. You squeeze your eyes shut and roll your lips inward tightly.

“Hold and don’t let me move the leg.” Terry ordered.

You hold and resist the movement so that isometric muscle action occurs. After six seconds, Terry allowed you to relax. He slowly lowered your leg and you couldn’t control the tremors, thigh meat jiggling involuntarily. He repeats the same stretch to your left.

“Still with me? That was light work,” Terry chuckled at your death glare, “Hate me now?”

“Very close to hating you,” You giggle but quickly stop because of the pain, “Is the thirty minutes up already?”

“Not even close,” up on his knee, Terry placed his right hip between your legs and his hands around the knee of the target leg, “Let’s do some inner thigh stretching. I’ll start with this leg first…”

Both legs bent comfortably with your feet on the mat, Terry pressed your right leg outward against the resistance and only goes so far as you can resist the movement. You exhale rapidly, the pain so severe that you’re unable to take even, slow breaths.

“You gotta relax for me, Y/N—”

“I can’t do this—”

Terry cuts you off, “Stop saying what you CAN’T DO. Trust me, your body is more than capable. RELAX. Ten more seconds…”

Bastard.

“Three, two, one, okay…”

You sigh, leg quivering. Startled, your right leg jerked from Terry caressing your inner thigh. You lock eyes with him, face growing hot with arousal. He may not have been aware of how this was turning you on, but the throb of your clit told you so.

“One more on this side and then we’ll do the left.”

You roll your eyes, “Terry, this is hard…”

“Bet you’ll stretch more now.”

You bite your tongue. Terry gave you another minute and then he was stretching the right leg again. Shaky breaths escaped your mouth. Terry gently placed your right leg down after thirty seconds and turned towards your left. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, staring at the mirrors. Your eyes admire the thin material of his shorts spread over his ass. It was enough to distract you from the pain. Just a little. Every major and minor muscle in his body was defined. You were in the presence of an Adonis.

“Are you still with me?”

You blink away from the mirror and nod your head with a smile.

“Okay. One more…”

After the final stretch, Terry allowed you to stand and take a break. He offered you some water and you drink a generous amount. Terry did the same, pacing back and forth with his eyes on you.

He recapped his water, “We’ll do upper body next.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Terry tucked his chin and looked at you with a sly smirk, “I think you know the answer to that question.”

After a few minutes you were on your back again. Terry dropped to his knees above your head and motioned for you to raise your arms. He instructed for you to interlace your hands and keep your legs bent comfortably. Terry leaned over your head and brought your arms upward toward him. Your eyes look up and you’re staring directly between his legs and at his crotch…

“We’ll hold until you can’t anymore. Ten reps…”

“Okay…”

Terry stares down into your eyes. You look back, aware that your cleavage is touching your chin. He blinks away and down the length of your body before bringing your arms down. The closer he gets, the more you can smell almondy tonka bean and citrus wafting from the space between his legs and it caused the hairs on your arms to stand up.

You raise your hands a little too quickly and you almost hit him in the face. Terry’s head swiveled out of the way and he laughed, although you felt embarrassed. It was his fault, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay. That’s why I lead and you follow.” He spoke evenly with a half smile, “Don’t get too carried away now…”

Your dick smells nice and I want to bury my face between your legs.

“Breathe, almost done, okay?”

“How many reps do I have left, I sort of checked out.”

Terry chuckles, “Three more, Y/N.”

——

Days stretched into weeks.

In neutral stance, she waits for further instructions.

When Y/N exercises, Terry watches her shine like a freshly washed car in the morning light. He moves forward once she’s still, fighting the urge to run his fingers down her arms just like the mirror in his bathroom after a hot shower, always slick with condensation.

The closer he gets, the more he could smell her sweat, a mixture of musk and the deodorant she wore. He grew accustomed to her scent from heavy exertion, craved it the more he’d spent time with her. Terry stopped, staring down at her with domineering eyes. She looked adorable with her serious eyes and look of determination. Her legs are shoulder-width apart and her arms hung by her sides. This position replicates how you would stand when you are unaware of an attack.

Terry circled her body, stopping directly behind her. He didn’t warn her when his large body pressed against her back and his arms pulled her into a bear hug from behind. He pinned her arms to her body, Y/N automatically fighting to break free. Her movements almost knocked both of them off balance, but she was still unable to defend herself from Terry’s tight grip.

“What did I teach you, huh?” Terry spoke between breaths, “drop your weight…drop your weight, Y/N.”

Her ass continued to collide with Terry’s groin. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from grunting. All that plushness within his embrace is exactly what he loved. His type of woman.

Keep it professional.

She dropped her weight with a fast squat. In a wide stance, Y/N shifted her hips sideways to strike his groin with her palm. Y/N lunged forward and elbowed Terry’s stomach before escaping. None of her blows were damaging, but it was enough to free her. Terry watched as Y/N cheered, throwing her arms up and hopping up and down. She was wearing an athletic halter top in hot pink with matching shorts. Her curly fro was frizzy from sweating, some strands falling into her eyes.

Terry couldn’t ignore the bounce of her breasts and the pretty smile on her round face.

“Finally! It took me forever to get that one!” Y/N spoke excitedly.

“You did good. With more practice, you’ll be able to fight me off in no time.” Terry replied.

He gave Y/N two thumbs up before giving her a high–five with both hands. Y/N bent over and braced herself on her knees, trying to steady her breath. Terry grabbed a towel and wiped sweat from his face. Y/N’s pendulous breasts teased his eyes again. The sheen on her cleavage from her sweat made his mouth water.

“What next?”

Terry sat the towel down and pulled his gaze away from her titties just in time for Y/N to look up at him.

“Look at you, so eager,” Terry arched a brow at her, “Where did this energy come from, hm?”

“I’m already on ten, I need an outlet.” Y/N admitted.

“Mind if I ask why?”

Y/N took a seat on a bench. Terry watched her face as stress lines appeared.

“Aria’s father. Just co–parenting issues.” She revealed.

Terry nodded his head in understanding. He didn’t press her to dig deeper, so he gave her some space to calm down before they continued. He’d wondered about Aria’s father and whether or not he and Y/N were still together.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I am,” Y/N stood, “Let’s finish this.”

They fell back into training some basic Krav Maga moves. Terry grabbed a kick shield so that Y/N could practice kicks. She was getting better since incorporating more mobility stretching.

“There you go! Get that leg up higher!”

“Umph,” Y/N struck the bag with her left foot.

“That was weak,” Terry pushed back, causing Y/N to lose her footing, “what type of kick…”

“Really?” Y/N threw her leg up and with all her strength she hit the shield, “How was that?!”

Terry rocked back on his heels. He looked at Y/N with an unblinking stare as sweat rolled down her face. She tried catching her breath, chest rising and falling faster than usual.

“BETTER,” Terry taunted her by shoving her with the kick shield to provoke her, “But not IMPRESSIVE.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Terry. Her angry face was so freaking cute. Anything she did was cute to him. Just adorable and fun-sized.

“When will you give me my props, Terry? I’ve been going hard for nearly a month!” Y/N argued.

“When you stop doubting yourself and seeking validation with every little step then maybe I’ll ease up.” Terry fired back.

“You’re insufferable!” Y/N charged him, throwing messy jabs and kicks while Terry held up the shield, “YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK.”

“I make you WHAT?” Terry said, towering over her.

Y/N planted her foot so hard into the shield that she rocked Terry’s equilibrium. He dropped the bag at the same time as Y/N went to kick again, not realizing he’d done so. Terry grabbed her ankle with a vice grip. Y/N hopped on one foot, breath hitching and eyes wide like she’d been spooked.

“Pay attention.”

Terry let go of her ankle and Y/N stood there with shock.

“That kick is what I needed from you. That’s how you do it.” Terry said.

Y/N wiped sweat from her chin and gave Terry a small smile. He returned the smile, one hand reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze.

“I push you because I see the best in you and I know you can do it,” Terry counted off on his fingers, “Vigilance, empowerment, good instincts, freedom. You gain all those things. It’s important that you take this seriously and you take my training seriously.”

“I understand.” Y/N responded with a sigh.

“But?” Terry bowed his head to stare down at her.

Y/N fidgeted with her short, acrylic french tips. Terry waited for her to find the words to say whatever was on her mind. His fingers itched to tilt her chin up and look him in the eye. When she finally stared up at him through her lashes, Terry held her gaze.

“I want to impress you. I seek validation because I want to make you proud, Terry.” Y/N admitted with a small voice.

Her thoughtful words warmed his heart and his eyes. His gaze softened as he watched her pretty brown eyes drop to his chest then down to her hands again. Terry’s hands grasp her shoulders. He leaned in and tilted his head to meet her gaze.

“I am proud of you, Y/N. You’ve impressed me with how easily you learn and grow. I just want you to embrace the challenges with a confidence boost.”

“Thank you,” Y/N replied with a bashful laugh, “I’m sorry I kirked out on you.”

“No need to apologize,” Terry straightened his back, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

Y/N parted her lips to speak but no words came out.

——

You pull up to your brother’s rancher, parking behind his pick–up truck. The sound of children playing filtered from behind the home, carrying you there and past the iron gate. You catch a glimpse of your daughter and her multi–colored braids swaying as she ran to kick a soccer ball. Her cousin who’s slightly older than her, Madison, ran behind her with a big smile and pig tails falling into her eyes.

You stop to watch with a smirk as your daughter kicks the ball, missing the goal as it rolled in the grass. Madison took the lead and sped past Aria, aiming for the opposite goal. Aria started having a temper tantrum, stomping her little feet and scrunching her face. Madison kicked the soccer ball into the goal and it collided with the net.

“I did it! I did it!” Madison cheered.

Aria glowered at her older cousin. You make your way over to her, Aria noticing you and her frown turned into a big, toothy grin. She ran the rest of the way towards you, wrapping her tiny arms around your neck. You squeeze her, pressing your nose into her hair that smelled of argan oil.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“Hi my baby,” you kiss her temple, “How’s my little princess?”

“Good,” Aria kissed your cheek, “We painted in school today! I have a picture for you!”

“Ahhh! Really?! Oh my goodness. I bet it’s a masterpiece.” You spoke excitedly with bright eyes.

“It can go on the fridge next to the flowers I colored.” Aria babbled as she formed words.

You grab Aria’s hand, “It can. We have plenty of room.”

Madison walks over with her soccer ball in hand and you pull her into a hug before kissing the top of her hair.

“How’s my niece? Did you win your game today?”

“Yes! You should have seen me out there!”

Madison showed you a move that won them the game.

“I already knew you were gonna win!” You replied boisterously.

The sound of a glass door sliding open caught your ear. Out walked your older brother; James. He wore a pair of faded dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt. The glasses over his eyes made him look articulate. He’d shaved his head completely bald since his hairline started receding, but it suited him. James could pull off any hairstyle.

“Hey, hey!”

“ ‘Sup sis?”

James gives you a one arm hug and a kiss to your hairline.

“Thanks for picking up Aria. My session ran a little late today.”

“All good. You know I got you.”

You follow your brother into the house. Aria ran off to grab her things and Madison followed behind. You open the fridge and grab yourself some homemade iced tea. James was in the middle of thawing out some steaks for dinner. You glance at the family photos on his fridge before walking away.

“Where’s Jr?” You question.

“In that room playing the game.”

“Tonya’s at work today?”

James nods his head while reaching inside of his pantry for some potatoes, “She’s been working longer shifts at the hospital lately. She finally got a weekend off. Been planning it for Madison’s birthday for months now. I have everything taken care of so she can ease her mind.”

“That’s good to hear. You know I’m here to help if you need me, bro,” You take a sip of your tea, “I’m still making my potato salad and seafood salad.”

“Damn right you are! shid, before momma passed she put you in charge of that!” James replied with a laugh following.

“Like you can’t do it.”

“I’m on grill duty! You want my famous ribs don’t you?!”

“Shut up,” You sit your cup down on the kitchen island and stretch your arms above your head, wincing in pain, “I can’t wait to go home and take a hot bath in epsom salt.”

“Terry been workin’ you hard, huh?”

“Too hard. Treating me like I’m one of his cadets.” You complain.

“Stop it, Aria! It’s mine!”

“Hey! What I tell ya’ll about that bickering? Pipe it down!” James chastised.

“Aria! Behave!” You say, “These little girls…”

“Terry knows his shit, baby sis. He’ll get you right in no time.” James replied.

“I know he does.”

James started peeling potatoes.

“I see a change in you for sure.”

“I feel it too…feel like I’m getting back to myself.” You reveal.

Aria came dashing out from Madison’s room with her back pack and tablet in one hand. You check to make sure she had everything before saying farewell to your brother and niece.

“Drive safely, sis. Love you Ari,” James gives Aria and you a goodbye hug, “I’ll see ya’ll this Saturday. Shoot me a text when you make it in.”

“Will do! Love ya’ll.”

You hug Madison and make your way outside, locking the door behind you.

——

Terry handed you a jump rope and you gave him a bizzare look. His serious face with steadfast eyes was enough for you to take the rope from his hand. He watched you turn your back towards him and toss the rope over your head while holding both sides.

“Forty–five seconds.” Terry set a timer, “Go.”

He was soaked with sweat from his earlier workout. He figured he’d take a shower after his session with you. The front of his olive green tank top held a large stain of sweat. His face glistened beneath the lights and the tattoos on his arms popped from the perspiration leaking from his pours.

Terry watched you jump, short, plump legs pushing off of the gym mat. You wore a teal blue workout set. A skort with a matching bralette. The bralette had a keyhole style in the front, giving a peek of cleavage. Your feet in white sneakers tripped over the rope causing you to stumble. Terry paused the timer.

“I suck at jump rope, Terry.” She admitted with a tired exhale.

“You were doing well. Give me a full forty–five seconds and I’ll let you rest.”

You perked up at the mention of rest, big brown eyes that reminded him of hot cocoa on a winter night twinkling.

“Still gotta do glutes and hamstrings, Y/N.”

The brightness of your gaze dimmed.

“Let’s go.” Terry commanded.

You take a deep breath before positioning yourself again. Terry set the timer and you went back to jumping, face scrunched in discomfort and sweat flickering from your body with each move. Terry licked his lips as he paced, taking his arms and folding them over his sturdy chest. You catch his eye in the mirror for a second before squeezing them shut from the intense burn.

“Terry—”

“Ten more seconds. Hold on.” Terry reassured.

His deep voice and the sternness of it motivated you. The timer beeped and you stopped, tossing the jump rope to the floor and resting your hands on your hips while you attempt to calm your racing heart and uneven breaths.

“GOOD JOB.” Terry encouraged with a thunderous clap of his hands.

You nod your head. Terry walked up towards you and placed a hand on your back, rubbing it. He could feel the tension in your muscles loosening beneath his callused hands. Terry took that moment to embrace the sensation of your skin. Silky smooth. Blemish free. Soft. His eyes did a quick sweep of the tattoo teasing him on your lower back. It looked like a butterfly.

“Rest time…”

Terry dropped his hand. He hadn’t realized he was rubbing your back the entire time. Lost in the sensation of your delicate skin.

You settle on a bench and grab your water jug. Terry turned the music down and joined you with his own water. You both sat in silence for a moment until Terry turned his body at an angle to get a better look at you. Your curly hair had that freshly fucked look to it. Wild coils tightly wound from shrinkage. He could smell the shea butter. You glance up at him bashfully before your eyes focused on the bottle in your hand.

He made you nervous. More so during moments like this. When everything was still. He wanted to pick your brain, learn more about you.

“Any plans this weekend?”

She looked at him again, “Saturday. My niece has a birthday party.”

“Ah, James told me about that.” Terry revealed with a smirk.

“…you’re coming?”

Terry caught the thrill in her question. She wanted him there. He scratched the side of his face with his thumb to fight the urge to smile at that revelation.

“I planned to,” Terry licked his lips, “Support a friend and eat some good food, ya know?”

She laughed, “That’s sweet of you,” she nudged him with her elbow, “I’m making potato and seafood salad. The best in town.”

“Seafood salad is a favorite of mine. I gotta see that for myself.” Terry replied with playful banter.

She picked up a towel to dab sweat away from her face and chest. Terry’s eyes did a slow descent to her chest, his mouth watering and tongue aching to taste. He looked away and shut his eyes for a moment.

“I can’t wait to make you eat your words, Terry Richmond.”

“Not the whole government.” Terry chuckled.

“Because I don’t play about my seafood salad. When I say it’s the best, I mean it!”

You swatted his arm with your towel. Terry caught it with his hand and with a slight tug he pulled you closer. You gasp, the sound shooting straight to his semi–hard dick. Terry brought his face closer to yours, eyes locked on to your dilated pupils.

“Aht, aht…play nice. Save that energy for sparring, baby girl.”

He released the towel and it dropped to the floor. You quickly avert your gaze before bending over to grab it. At that moment, Terry’s hazel eyes studied that lower back tattoo. It was a butterfly indeed. Cute.

And is that…back dimples?

“Do we really have to lift today?”

The pout on your lip made him smile.

“YES. Better get on it now so we both can relax, right?”

You groan and take your time standing from the bench. Terry set up the squat rack while you drink a little bit more water. You make your way over and he instructs for you to get into position. Back facing him, he guided the safely squat bar over your shoulders.

“Alight, three sets of twenty.”

Still behind you, Terry counts as you squat. Your stance is perfect and so was that big ass poking out at him. Bending over like that made that ass bigger. Terry tried to focus on anything else, but no matter how many times he counted, you were distracting him. He looked down at the bulge beneath his grey shorts and how noticeable it is.

I’m in trouble, he thought.

“Last one.” Terry said.

You struggle to lift so Terry grabbed a hold of your waist to ease you back up. The moment your ass grazed his print you created space between you both. A look of embarrassment crossed your face and Terry was too stunned to speak.

“That was my fault—”

“No I was too close—”

“I was only trying to help—”

“I should have stepped away—”

Both of you pause. Neither of you could let the other speak first. Terry blinked slowly at you. You stared up at him with your lips parted. An unspoken glance at his crotch made it acutely aware of his stiffness. There was no denying it. Not when his dick sat fat and twisted to the side. It almost poked out the leg opening of his shorts.

“Uhm…”

Terry just stared at you.

“What’s happening right now?” She spoke.

Terry glanced sideways and then back into your eyes. At this point, might as well come out with it.

“No reason to skirt around the obvious…”

You fidget with your hands and shift your weight. Terry cocked his head and his gaze remained locked on you. Unyielding.

There goes your scent again. That musk. He was losing control. The silence was killing him. If you weren’t going to speak he sure was.

“Aight, Y/N. If you haven’t already guessed by now, I like you. A LOT.”

Terry cut to the quick.

You nod your head slowly. Unsure if what was happening was real.

“What happened,” Terry’s hands raised as he tried to explain himself, “I didn’t mean to…to get close…but I’ve wanted to…for weeks now. No sense in boiling it down to excuses.”

Terry got closer. You blink up at him like you were stuck in a trance.

“Can I get some feedback here?” Terry cracked a smile as he studied your face, “I don’t know what you’re feelin’.”

He could see that you were struggling to find the words to speak. Terry’s hands touched your arms and he stroked your tacky skin with his thumbs. A shaky exhale escaped your mouth. Pretty brown eyes filled with uncertainty met his gaze.

“I…I’m feeling the same…” She spoke softly.

“Do you?” Terry asked.

“I do. I just didn’t expect…”

Terry’s hands fell to his sides. You reach up and touch the spot where his hands once were.

“Didn’t expect me to be interested?”

“Yeah.”

Terry smirked, “Now, what would make you think that? Because you’re beyond beautiful.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“I’m James’ sister.” Y/N replied with a small voice.

Terry furrowed his brows.

“Uh…what that mean, Y/N?”

“It means I’m off limits! Right?”

“Who the fuck made that rule?” Terry replied with a slight curl of his upper lip.

“Nobody—”

“Y/N, you feel the same, right?”

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with confusion.

“So fuck it.” Terry spoke confidently with a slight hint of mischief.

You laugh nervously.

“For real.” Terry said.

——

What had just occurred?

You stand before your trainer, eyes wide and mouth open. Your fine ass trainer just admitted to having feelings for you and all you could do is stand there like a deer in headlights?

His dick is hard because of you. His beautiful eyes admired you with romantic intensity. He didn’t care what your brother thought. He wanted you. Something straight out of a book. This was a chance encounter with a man that checked off all your boxes, even though he worked your last nerve in the gym.

“For real.” He said.

This was a grown man talking. Apparently he’d been silent long enough. It took for your ass to tap his dick for the truth to emerge. Funny how that happens. Your stomach fluttered with excitement. Terry titled your head up to look at him. Your eyes danced between each other. He stroked your chin with his thumb.

“You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you replied, “so are you—I mean—what I was trying to say—what I meant to say was—”

Terry chuckled, “Y/N, shut up.”

“Huh? Excuse me—”

His thick lips graced yours. He shut you up alright. Stunned, you rock back on unsteady feet. Terry’s hands circle your plush waist and he took control, walking you backwards towards the mirrored wall. Your back against it, immediately his tongue slipped into your mouth and you mold your hands against his chest, falling onto the kiss with your own tongue.

You could taste his sweat. His tongue glided over yours like a wet tentacle. It made your breath hitch and your fingernails drag down his chest. The hands on your hips planted against the mirror, trapping you while he devoured your mouth with his skillful tongue and pliant lips. Sandalwood, tarragon, and spearmint. That’s what you could smell. Woody, earthy, and with an animalistic undertone.

His tongue swiped your lower lip with a hungry growl and his large hands cupped your round face to keep you in place. He guided your movements how he wanted, your fingers trembling as they smoothed over his shoulders and down to his hips. Broad upper body gracefully narrowing down to a tapered waist much like the letter ‘V’. The coveted shape that symbolized the pinnacle of physical attractiveness. You’d never seen him shirtless, and you desperately needed to.

Lips puffy from kissing, Terry gave you a moment to breathe properly while his mouth explored your neck. He pressed kisses against your sweaty skin and the tip of his tongue stroked upward until he was latching onto your earlobe decorated with a diamond Tiffany stud. Terry’s hands were everywhere. He kneaded your curves desperately, palming your ass and hips. He did it so forcefully that you were almost lifted from the floor.

“I…need…you…” he spoke with a hushed tone.

Your breath hitches, “Take me…” you replied barely above a whisper.

Terry unlatched his head from the crease of your neck to lock eyes with you. His eyes were low and sleepy–like. As if he were intoxicated from you.

“Take you? Oh…don’t say that if you ain’t ready. I’ll take that ass to the moon. Have you seeing the fuckin’ galaxy.”

“Terry…”

His brows snapped together and his tongue sat in the corner of his mouth. He hooked his fingers beneath the straps to your bralette and with a tug he made your breasts bounce. Repeatedly.

“Big ass titties…fat titties…just how I like it…”

You couldn’t believe how he was talking to you. Terry let go of your straps and they snapped in place with a slight sting. He cupped your breasts from the sides and mushed them up. You watch with a weak gaze as he fondled like he was kneading dough.

“I want my…”

He paused.

“Your what, Terry?”

“Intrusive thoughts…you just make me weak, girl…”

This big, strong man?

“Tell me…”

Terry looked at you.

“I want my dick sandwiched between these.”

You knew that’s what he was going to say but you wanted to hear him say it. And you loved the way he said it so desperately. Like he was begging you.

“Can I see you?”

He bent down and pecked your cleavage through the keyhole of your bralette. You moan from the tickle of his lips. Glancing down you couldn’t believe your eyes. Terry was past the point of hard. You didn’t know what to categorize his dick at that moment. That long dick pitched a tent in his shorts. You’d never seen it like that before.

“Yes, yes,” you touch his tip with your fingers, “Terry, oh my god…”

Terry fit his long fingers beneath your bralette and with a hard tug he released your hanging breasts. They bounced free and Terry didn’t waste time grabbing both and pointing your hard nipples straight at his mouth. You couldn’t look away if you tried. He suckled your breasts and looked you in the eyes. Large body hunched forward to feast.

“Oh my gosh,” you had no choice but to look at him, “Terry, please don’t stop.”

This can’t be happening right now. He’s sucking and licking your nipples. Terry pressed his face between and his tongue wiggled while he used your breasts like earmuffs. You whimpered, overwhelmed with how much he enjoyed your breasts. His tongue licked all over your areolas, cleaning the sweat from your skin.

“FUCK.”

Terry resurfaced and twirled your nipples. He sought out your lips again while he tugged and pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingers.

“You gon’ make me unleash this beast and fuck the shit outta you girl.”

He was talking his shit. You didn’t have the capacity to do so at the moment. He was thumbing your nipples and it made your clit jump. Wet and tingly between your legs, you SO FUCKING NEEDED him to do that with your pussy but wait—

“C’mere…”

Terry turned you around abruptly and with a hand on your spine he pushed you forward. Your hands connected with the mirror and he locked eyes with your reflection.

“Move that ass up and down on this tip. Three sets of twenty.” Terry ordered, “COUNT.”

Hand in your hair, one on your waist, you start to move your hips up and down. Your ass brushed his tip and you could feel it poke your pussy lips from behind each time you went up.

“Six…seven…eight…”

“Feel that burn?”

“Yesss…eleven…twelve…”

“Get used to that…”

His hand on your waist reached around to squeeze your stomach.

“Keep going, I ain’t tell you to stop.”

“Nineteen…twenty…”

You were clenching around nothing. Pussy flutters out of control.

“Two more. If you keep it up I’ll stick my tongue in it just like this before I feed you this dick…”

His deep baritone sent chills throughout your body. You feel sweat dripping from every inch of your skin the more you moved with a slow motion. Your glutes burned and your thighs quaked. Terry released your hair and right before your eyes he lifted his shirt to rest under his chin.

Good GOD.

Thick ridges of muscle. Shining like he’d been oiled down. This man had eleven percent body fat. Disciplined. Sculpted. Holy SHIT.

“T–ten…eleven…”

“Good girl…not too much longer…”

He’s the epitome of sexy. Whatever control this man had he definitely didn’t give a damn now. With one more slow whine, Terry was on you like white on rice. He had a wet spot over his tip and his breaths came out uneven and rushed as he led you over to a pair of UFC pull up rings.

“Grab each one and bend over…”

“Terry, wait…”

You knew what he wanted but you were musty from working out. He popped you on the ass for moving too slow.

“NOW.” He spoke evenly and firmly.

You grab onto the rings and without warning Terry was tugging on your skort until it fell around your ankles. You stood there in a pair of panties and they were soaked with sweat and your arousal. Your frantic eyes sought out his. Terry gave you a smirk before using one hand to remove your panties. You step out of them and watch with shock as he admired the creamy essence on the crotch of your panties. Terry thumbed it and spread it over his fingers like he was inspecting it before sucking it off.

Those panties found a new home in his pocket. You watch stunned as he takes off his sweaty T-shirt and it joined your bottoms on the floor. Terry stood behind you with a bare chest and a gold chain. He used a single finger to trace down your back and between your ass cheeks. You nibble on your bottom lip to control the quivering.

“Bend that ass over for me, love.”

——

A wide ass and a back with rolls of delicious flesh.

Pendulums known as your breasts swaying from your postiton.

The way you looked back at him like you couldn’t find the words to describe how much you NEED his tongue in you.

And Terry was going to put his tongue so far up that fat pussy to the point of dislocating his jaw.

His tastebuds sizzled with gluttony to taste more. Creamy pussy with that twang that had him primal.

He got down on his knees behind your short frame and spread your cheeks. Two holes met his piercing eyes. Pink flesh with a creamy center beckoned him and without pause his tongue wiggled between hungrily.

“UNH!”

You hang your head and stand on your tip toes. Swaying forward, Terry followed your movements. When it got out of control, he’d pop your ass to keep you still.

“Fuck this shit,” He locked your thighs with his biceps.

He sucked and slurped so cruelly. Like he was punishing you for moving. Vanquished, you slump forward and from your blurry vision you could see a stream of spit drip to the floor. He was slobbering all over your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” your arms began to shake and burn, “I can’t hold it.”

Terry released your clit with a deep exhale that fanned your pussy with hot air, “Fuck my face.”

With a weak whimper, you pop your juicy pussy on his mouth. Terry’s wild tongue and thick lips had you experiencing an out of body sensation.

“Fuck, you’re eating the fuck outta my pussy!”

He got closer with one hand on the floor and he angled his head to eat it from a different direction. He was all up in your pussy and at this point you didn’t care if you weren’t showered he wanted it he could have it.

“You taste…exactly how…I pictured you would…”

He spoke between licks and sucks.

“Sweet and strong…the best thing next to my momma’s cooking…good pussy…”

You moan in response.

“So tasty…feed me…”

You fight back a groan and rock back on his fine ass face. Your back muscles burned deliciously. In the mirror you could see your ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Right there…oh, yes,” you moan.

“Mhm…mhmmmm…hmm…mhmm?” he hummed into your pussy.

There it was, sneaking up on you.

“I’m cummin’ I’M CUMMIN’!” You squeal with broken moans.

Terry sucked you up and you caught a slight cramp in your calf muscle from how drastically your body convulses. A total body vibration. He gave you soft kisses all over your pussy and that only increased the overstimulation. Terry finally came up for air and you locked eyes with him. His face was glossy and stained with cum. He helped you stand and with his hands he massaged your stiff shoulders and arms. You could smell the pungent pheromones on his lips. Leaning in, Terry caught your tongue between his lips and sucked. While kissing, you stroked his impressive length through his shorts.

“I ain’t scared you off yet, did I?” Terry asked.

“No.” You respond with a dazed look.

“You sure? Because,” Terry gripped your wrist firm and slipped it past the waist band of his shorts and compression briefs, “This what you gettin’.”

You were too late with masking your gasp. It just slipped past your lips. Your chubby fingers couldn’t form a complete ring around his girth.

“Still ain’t scared?”

Terry guided you to stroke him. The veins beneath the palm of your hand rendered you speechless. Big? No this was a behemoth. And you weren’t exaggerating about never having a dick this big. It was completely true.

“You can be honest with me.” Terry said with a grin.

“…definitely bigger than what I’m used to.”

“I think we can both agree you’ve proven that you can take whatever I dish out…”

Terry kept his eyes on you but the hand on yours in his shorts tightened. He wanted you to feel how stiff he is. Like he could withstand anything. All of this was for you. He was like this because of you.

“It’s time to take care of this.”

You drop to your knees and stare up at him. The visual before your eyes…

Shorts past his hips and resting around his thighs, you come face to face with a monster. The body matched the dick. You could pat yourself on the back for your skills but this was another hurdle to overcome. But, you had to remind yourself that you gave birth which is a challenge indeed, so sucking a big dick should be a breeze, right?

It’s a pretty dick. Darker in contrast to the rest of his body. Terry gave your hair a slight tug to focus you on the task. You hold that big motherfucker at the base and with hungry lips you wrap them around his tip and start sucking.

““Dasssit, suck that mothafucka,” Terry grabbed a fistful of tight coils, “I get to play with your mouth. Good. Eyes up here.”

You look up at him while sucking half and jerking the rest. Sunken in cheeks and a bob of your head was his visual. Terry extended his neck and started moving his hips to meet your mouth as you came down over him. He’s so thick in your mouth. You shut your eyes and suck and slurp, loud noises a reminder of how sloppy it’s supposed to be. Spit clung to your chin and made its way to your breasts in such a short time.

“Suck it like that,” Terry’s hips would jerk a little to pump into your mouth while his hand pet the back of your head, “Good girls like you get a dick in the mouth. You see this dick?” Terry pulled your mouth off of him by gripping your hair, “It’s your Daddy dick, right?”

“Y-yes,” You were horny, pussy soaked, reaching out to stroke him. 

“Cute ass. Stick your tongue out.”

You do as your told and Terry slapped his dick on it a few times before forcing more of him down your throat.

“Hold it. Just like that…been daydreaming of fillin’ these jaws with this dick…”

You gag and pinch your thumb to help control the urge to gag again. Terry wanted you messy and he did just that with the way his dick going in and out of your mouth produced more spit.

“Hands behind your back, mhm…big titty, pretty lady…”

His pubic hair tickled your nose and it smelled powdery and fresh despite the amount of sweat on his body. The taste of his pre-cum was enough for you to tongue his slit. Terry tilted his head down at you with a look akin to defeat.

“Uuuuuhhhhnnnnn, FFFFUCCCKIIIIN SLUT—”

You weren’t prepared for that brazen performance and the vulgar tone. Terry’s free hand made a fist that pumped the veins in his arm. You could see his balls jump with his release down your throat and it was magical. His cum tasted delicious and you savored every drop. After wiping away as much as you could, Terry helped you to your feet and thanked you with a sloppy kiss. He pressed his forehead against yours before his lips attacked your jaw.

——

You’re in his bedroom. A master bedroom with a king size bed, walk–in closet, a lounge area, and a large bathroom. Terry carried you all the way to his room with his tongue in your mouth and his hands cuffing your ass. He picked you up like you were feather weight.

Now, strong hands gripped your hips tightly. You can’t run from the pain and pleasure. Too much to handle at once. Nonsense spewing from your lips, you squeeze your eyes shut but the tears disobeyed you. You’ve never been this filled and fucked at the same time. He put you in position and fit that dig in despite your cries. The mantra of being stretched just fueled him. With the little strength you could muster, you try to ease off of his big dick but his hands smoothed up to your waist and with a shove your right cheek planted hard against the comforter.

“what I say ‘bout all that runnin’?” Terry barked out.

“I’m sorry!” You cry.

Without another word, he went back to fucking the shit out of you. while your spine is curling to shy away from him, his big hips clapped against your ass while you’re crawling closer easing closer to the headboard. Your trembling fingers fisted the sheets, trying your best to ease some of that pressure, that stretch, that split. His big hands smooth over the rippling flesh of your backside, squeezing on it like two handles, yanking you back where he wants you. The feeling of his tip hitting the bottom of your pussy caused hot tears to prick the corners of your eyes.

“Can’t run from me baby, remember? I train you to do. what. I. say…”

His thrusts were punctuated.

“When I tell you to do something you fuckin’ do it,” he murmurs, tongue deviously tracing his bottom lip because that pussy is his meal.

“Terrrryyyyyyyy….”

Terry allowed his hips to do all the work while he grabbed one of your ankles. Your pussy recoiled back onto raw dick. Your pathetic squeaks get shoved out of you with every plunge, riding through the burn as your pussy responded to the harsh treatment with a flood of more cream, wetting his entry just like he wants.

“That’s it, baby girl, cream like that, good girl,” Terry observes in awe, mouth dropping open and brows pinched together tightly, “Fffuck…mmm.”

You were making a creamy ring at the base of his dick, stringing in his dark pubic hair. So much slick and so much more pleasure. So intense it surged a heat so powerful all over your skin. Sweat poured from both of your bodies.

“Mmm, damn girl,” Terry hums, teeth marking the space past his lower lip as he bites down on it hard.

That clamp on your ass cheeks constricts and you know from his grip alone it’ll leave bruises, whimpering brokenly into the mattress.

“Ter–Terry…” You release an airy sigh of defeat.

“Tell me what you want, use that mouth of yours, you do any other time, right?!” He teases through a husky exhale, tipping his head back as he looks down at that pussy slurping him up making the nastiest sounds.

“I want to cum! Please–Please D–Daddy!”

You were so close. And you were afraid how intense it would be. The knot in your belly tightened and your body seized up out of your control.

“Cum on this dick!”

His deep voice through clenched teeth caused you to erupt liked you’d never done before. And Terry didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm. And now, you were squirting.

“Open up, nah, wet this dick up.”

He continued to fuck you long dick style. Your titties smacked together from the force and once again another orgasm was on the horizon.

“Fuckin’ this pussy up just like you deserve.”

This man was plowing you.

“Ohmigooooddddddd—”

Clapclapclapclap

“OH!”

Terry’s hips slowed to a stop but that dick remained deep as he kissed along your spine.

“I’m so open,” you couldn’t believe it.

Terry eased himself out and the sensation made your back arch. He palmed a hefty, cellulite–filled cheek and jiggled it.

“Yeah, she open alright,” Terry admired his work while fisting his messy dick, “Time to climb on top though. I want that weight on my dick.”

Terry crawled onto the bed and you sat up on your knees, watching him settle on his back. Terry motioned for you to swing a thigh over and when you did he pointed his tip at you pussy and with both hands on your ass and his biceps curled beneath your knees, Terry entered you with an upward thrust.

“Look at me…”

You look down past your breasts and belly and the man beneath you smiled at you like he didn’t just fuck your brains out. What he did next shocked you. This man used you like a barbell and did arm curls over that dick. Two hundred plus pounds being handled on the dick.

And it was loud. Skin slapping bouncing off the walls while he bounced you in his lap. His arms circled your waist and it forced your breast to rest on his forehead. He fucked up into your pussy so good you could only pout your lip and give in. But he was talking. Terry was talking.

“Tell daddy where he’s at…you know I like it when you do that baby…uh-huh…all up in this pussy, huh? Been wanting me to fuck you? Now you get to feel this dick in your stomach…that’s it, my big girl…fuck back like a big girl…”

He had that ass gyrating. Your mouth unhinged and at the same time his balls clapped your ass you nutted on that dick again.

His stamina is out of this world. You were seeing shooting stars and the milky way behind your lids. Terry was drenched from head to toe and now he had you folded like origami with his hands on the back of your thighs to keep you locked in place and his toes digging into the mattress. Like a piston he fed your pussy more dick with his chain hanging over your face. Your feet were on his shoulders and your breasts sat up and out for him to suck on. He had a hand on your belly now and all you could do was watch him fuck you.

“You know this my puss, right?”

“It is!” You shout.

He withdrew his hips and put his lips on your pussy again.

“Terry SHIT!”

This man was too much. You could hardly see him past your big titties but he latched onto your clit and sucked. Your toes curled in opposite directions while your hands tangled in the sheets. Speaking of the sheets, they were soaked through.

He kissed your clit and sat up to look at you. You stare down at him before falling back against the pillow. Terry crawled up next to you and settled behind you. He lifted your leg and entered you from the side.

“This is probably the best session you’ve had so far, Y/N,” Terry thumbed your clit while staring down at you, “I’m not your average nigga. If you wanna keep fuckin’ on this dick you gotta keep up with me…”

You stare down between your legs at his big dick.

“Terry,” you lock eyes with him as best you could, “Terry, I’m your slut, I’m your fat pussy slut, this your wet pussy!”

He turned you out.

“That’s right, baby, know that shit!”

The amount of clapping your ass was doing could amplify a stadium. This Carolina boy had you dumbstruck. Terry reached around and cupped your fupa and put his leg up to dig deeper.

“Ohhh, ooooo, you finna’ have me paint your walls…you thick, pretty bitch…”

He cupped your chin, turned your head, and smashed his lips into yours. All while fucking you. Your sweat mingled and the smell of sex permeated the air. Him calling you a bitch had your walls gripping him up. Terry buried his face into your neck, one hand on your titty, the other on your stomach.

“I’m fuckin’ nutting in you DEEP—”

“Yes!” You cry out.

One thick leg in the air Terry gave you a finale that knocked the wind out of you. He pumped to the point of headboard banging and then hot, jizz filled you up to the brim. He would give you quick pumps while he was still buried deep. He released a huff when his dick slipped out. You push his cum out and Terry watched with lustful eyes while fingering your mixture of fluids.

“My kinda woman,” Terry smiled at you with his hand cupping your pussy.

You giggle, “Oh, Terry Richmond. You’re full of surprises.

“And you’re full of my cum.” Terry whispered.

[vague-humanoid]

“We are not going back,” goes the Democrats’ passionate rebuttal to Donald Trump’s “Make America Great Again” campaign — which is about going back to the “golden days” of America, when white men held all the power and Black folks had “Black jobs.” MAGA is in actuality MAWA: “Make America white again.”

Unfortunately, on at least one issue, the Democrats have gone backward rather than forward, in a move that caught many of us by surprise (thanks to Jessica Schulberg of Huffington Post for breaking this story). As the festivities finished up in Chicago last week, the Democrats quietly removed abolishing the death penalty from the party platform, a move that certainly will not help them distinguish themselves from Trump and win this election.

It’s surprising in part because a recent Gallup poll found 65% of Democrats oppose capital punishment. Even beyond the Democratic Party, public support for the death penalty has been steadily declining, with a majority of Americans now wanting alternatives to execution.

Even though most of the world has abolished the death penalty in my lifetime, the United States is one of the few countries that continues to execute. In fact, the U.S. is usually among the top five countries with the most executions annually and is almost always in the top 10. The other countries with the most executions usually include China, Iran, Saudi Arabia — not the best company when it comes to human rights.

There are promising signs that the death penalty is on its way out in the United States. Executions have been dropping nearly every year, and new death sentences are the lowest they’ve been in decades. There are only a handful of states that continue to carry out executions each year, and one state, Texas, accounts for nearly half of our country’s executions.

Nearly every year or two, a new state abolishes the death penalty, and movements like Conservatives Concerned About the Death Penalty are now seeing a surge of conservative lawmakers who are done with death.

It is noteworthy that the states that continue to execute are former Confederate states, a reminder that the death penalty is part of our shameful history of racial terror, lynching and slavery. The places lynchings were happening most frequently 100 years ago are those where executions happen the most frequently today. The states that held onto slavery the longest are the same ones that continue to hold on to the death penalty.

But even here, there is hope. In 2021, Virginia became the first former Confederate state to abolish the death penalty, the same year that Joe Biden became president. There is a connection here: As Virginia was turning away from the death penalty, so was Biden, who became the first U.S. president to publicly oppose the death penalty after once being a death penalty supporter.

[wistfulpoltergeist]

My top 24 arts from 2024

Thank you @waaneco and @retrotrait for the tag! I tag @vermutandherring, @kitkat4sims, @kyrylo-kot, @hamsterbellbelle

Year 2024 was kinda busy one for me. I lost my sims OCs due to Sims 4 update, then remade them anew from scratch. Then moved them entirely from Sims 4 to Blender. Then I discovered fbx models of Sherlock and Jon and unlocked completely new level of rendering in eevee. I also started my very first kind of Blender-Sims Story!

It was also a year of constant shelling, missiles, drones, destructions, lockdowns and death reports. Another year of war in Ukraine. During this year north korea joined russia in order to kill more Ukrainians. Durning this year russia used intercontinental ballistic missile against Ukriane. During this year Ukrainians were constantly threatened and manipulated to give up their land, give up their fight and give up their lives so everyone else felt comfortable. Because... russian war is surprisingly uncomfortable. (Well. Go ask russia to stop it, will you?)

And let's not forget that during this year democracy failed. And now we all expect racism, misogyny, homophobia and all possible violation of human rights raising in 2025 in geometric progression. Uh... Also the economy will go down with the same progression.

Yet, despite all this, my silly art is thriving. And guess what. I'm not gonna stop doing it. Despite how much russia or sh*t like MAGA want me dead and silent.

Happy Holidays!

[user211201]

I Was Just Being Ironic, Bro

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

That’s how it started, you see. With irony. With a joke. A joke Daniel made about grabbing em by the pussy. Jared said it was kinda offensive, man. Daniel doubled down, saying he was just being ironic, explaining how he’d never be that misogynist, obviously.

Jared did end up laughing, just not wanting to be rude more than anything. I mean, they were friends and obviously Daniel didn’t swing that way.

But one joke turned into another joke, days later. And another. And the ways things were spiraling, soon the two roommates – they lived in a shared house of four – were joking about it all the time. Pretending to be alt-right. Pretending because it was fun, it was funny, it was something to do, a way to make fun of guys who acted like that while simultaneously getting to feel what it was like to be that sort of guy themselves.

They were pretty regular guys. But it became funny to pretend they were jock studs, too. “I dare you to work out, bro,” Daniel goes one night. “I fucking dare you. If you can do 100 pushups consecutively, I’ll even let you grab me by the pussy,” Daniel goes, grabbing his own cock and balls through his shorts for emphasis, which wasn’t hard since he was freeballing that night.

“Oh yeah?” Jared said, “Watch this, bro.” He only made it to fifteen, laughing, but they kept up their dare. Jared was building some pipes on those arms. And months later, after a few shots of whiskey, he hit one hundred pushups for the first time in his life.

“Dude, if I’m gonna grab you by the pussy, I want to see you wearing those Old Glory shorts.” Yeah, the shorts Daniel bought to be ironic. Jared knew those.

And he did grab Daniel’s cock and balls through the shorts, holding onto them tight, laughing, squeezing. “Ouch, dude, that fuckin’ hurts,” Daniel said. It was hilarious. They were so drunk.

But then it was Jared’s turn to dare Daniel, saying he should get as pumped as he was, that is if he could ever catch up. “I’m working on 120 pushups, bro, and look at you. Fuckin’ puny. Little Daniel. I dare you, bro. You can grab me by the pussy if you ever catch up.”

Daniel wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. And soon his guns were just as big, if not bigger. Their jokes were becoming almost infamous in the house.

“Drop and give me 20, Daniel. ‘Merica!” “Come on, tiny hands, let’s see if you can beat me at arm-wrestling.” “Aww, so hot, bro. You and that MAGA cap. I bet you’ll be able to score all the pussy you want if you wear that out to the bars.” “Lock her up, lock her up!” Daniel said to Jared when he was drunk off his ass, trying to tie him to his chair with rope. The guys loved horsing around.

Jared and Daniel both had American flag shorts, now. They had flag tank tops, t-shirts, hats, even MAGA caps. They were getting to be pretty buff guys. Acting like right-wing jockbros had been ironic, but now they looked pretty convincing in the part after working out so much and buying the gear they bought. Vocal inflections, ironic at first, now sounded more and more legit as they got their impersonations down pat. Sometimes they’d go out and hit the bars, ham it up, see who they fooled, which was pretty much everybody.

They were good at this. It was fucking funny and fun as hell.

Drunk one night, Daniel found himself confessing to Jared that he thinks it’s really hot when Jared acts like a MAGA guy. “Yeah bro?” Jared said, “I think it’s hot too. Makes me feel hot. It’s like everything I secretly want to be when I’m like this.”

“Yeah bro?” Daniel said, “I think that’s so fucking hot, man. You look great as one of those guys. I almost feel like I could grab you by the pussy for real, bro.”

“Why don’t you do it then, bro,” Jared said, “When we’re home. I fucking dare you, bro. Get those tiny hands on this big cock of mine. Bet you don’t have the balls.”

But turned out Daniel did have the balls, and when he took Jared’s cock in his mouth behind that locked bedroom door, all Jared could say was, “Fuck, bro. MAGA, bro. That’s so fuckin’ hot, bro,” before he came, five minutes later, flooding Daniel’s mouth with white hot cum.

[ravenna-reid]

Pretty Pretty Eyes

JASONTODD x FEM!VIGILANTE!READER

Summary - Jason had seen you around for months now but never managed to get to talk to you for more than a few seconds. Telling himself he had to investigate what the hell you were doing for Gotham's safety (yep, ok Jason) he makes a plan to stop you from disappearing one night. (Part of the scene inspired by the image in the middle) Enjoy!!

Warnings - Swearing and some violence, maybe like one suggestive line

Jason didn’t know why he felt this way, but he was intrigued by your reactions to everything. Or more accurately, your lack of. He was used to others narrowing their eyes at him, cussing him out, or even trying to throw a punch whenever he said something out of line. But that never happened with you. He was lucky to even get a puzzled frown and “Mm” from you. Then after that, you would disappear before he could even ask you any questions. 

Slick as a whistle and as silent as a ghost. You seemed to always be where trouble followed, and when Jason got to the scene, you weren’t exactly helping the bad guys, but you weren’t exactly stopping them either. Were you a villain? A threat? Were you an ally? He didn’t know, because no matter how hard Jason tried, he could never find a trace on you either. And he’d be damned if he asked Bruce or Dick for help. It ate away at him if he was being honest. 

However, tonight would be the night Jason would finally get his answers. Because he’d found you where he’d least expected to find you. On the top floor of a large building that displayed and sold art. What were you doing? He had no idea. All he knew was that he had to get you this time. 

Once you’d heard his “subtle” footsteps and caught the gleam of his helmet from the corner of the room, you were on the move. Your speciality was slipping away unnoticed, and it worked every time. But Jason came prepared. Gun already raised, he shot something he’d spent weeks making in the Batcave, much to Bruce’s curiosity. A small, vibrant thing shot across the room like lightning and hit you right in the back. You stumbled, then quickly stopped to look behind you. You didn’t feel the agonising pain that came from a bullet wound. And when you looked down, you just couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Bright, neon yellow dust all over the back of your shirt. Now you had no chance of disappearing into the shadows. This man was actually ridiculous. But it was all he had since he’d run out of trackers. Much to your dismay, all you could do was shake your head at the situation and sprint. 

As you threw the door closest to you open, you ran across the roof of the tall building. The cool breeze whipped against your skin. It ran through your hair as you leapt over ladders maintenance men had left behind and roof turbines. Jason followed close behind. And as he grew closer, he grabbed small metal gadgets with his gloved hand from his belt and threw them. Small explosions went off as they hit the ground, releasing thick smoke in front of you. You went to run to the side until you realised you were at the edge. Fuck.

Jason’s arm grabbed at your waist as he tried to pull you back, but you smacked him with your elbow. Using the momentum and grabbing hold of one of his arms, you then swung around behind him and swiftly uncurled the rope that was attached to your belt. Wrapping it around his legs caught Jason off guard given how quickly you moved, and soon Jason dropped down on one knee. You moved the rope up from his leg to around his neck and pulled back. But he managed to escape, grabbing the rope from your grip and tossing it off the building. Once Jason turned to you he paused, breath heavy, and waited for you to give up. Waited for you to realise he just wanted to talk. But you weren’t one to pause during a fight. “Now listen.” He said, hands raised. 

Using a manoeuvre you learnt in Krav Maga many moons ago, you swiftly got the Red Hood on his back, and he had hit the ground like a tonne of bricks. Whilst he was down, you slipped one of your favourite daggers into the palm of your hand and closed the space between you two. Pinning one of his freakishly large arms down with your knee, you now had the dagger at his throat. Jason instantly came to a halt as the cool blade sat comfortably on his skin. A single jarring movement would draw blood, and all he could do was look up at you through his helmet. Both of your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths. The black mask he always saw you in covered your nose down to your chin, but Jason could see that focused glint pass through your eyes.

First the rope, now a blade at his throat?

“You have a thing for necks, huh?” He joked.

You ignored what he’d said. Like always. 

Really, you were just trying to ignore the soft, musky scent that made its way to your nose…

The night went on around you as you tightened your hold on Jason. Being pinned to the ground so easily made him feel overwhelmingly agitated. Pissed off.

Impressed?

Leaning over him - both of your masked faces so close - you were about to say something (scold the living shit out of him) until you heard a click. 

Your head instinctively looked down. Given you had one of his arms pinned, you didn’t think of the other one, hoping the knife to the throat and him being beneath you would be enough to restrain the Red Hood. But now as you looked down to where the sound came from, you saw one of Jason’s loaded glocks, the cool steel gently pressed against the skin on your waist. Your body stilled as a simmering anger washed over you. What a compromising position. 

“And you were so close to getting away, weren’t you?” Jason murmured, a hidden smirk plastered across his face.

You dragged your eyes back to him, and although your mask was covering half of your face he could still see the  foul expression you were giving him. Hell, it was as though he could feel it.

“Why won’t you just give up?” You asked, voice muffled.

Jason was stunned. It was the first time he’d heard your voice. It was warm. Smooth. So…

What the hell was he thinking?

“It’s my job to make sure this city is safe, Princess. Gotta keep track of those that are running around in masks –”

“What? You think I’m some bastard who’s conspiring with drug lords or something?” You asked cooly. 

“If you’re not guilty, why do you keep running away?”

“Why do you care?” 

Jason could feel your muscles tensen. The dagger that still sat at his throat shifted closer. He quickly reminded you of the gun that was still pointed to your waist. 

“Easy now.” The words fell from his lips as though they were a lull. 

Silence settled over you both as you stared at each other. A faint beating thrummed in your heart. Jason’s blood was rushing. You leant down even closer, and Jason swore he could feel your breath on his skin.

“You ruined my shirt.” 

He smiled.

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to make it up to you, aren’t I? Once you tell me who you are.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Mm.”

Then, as you moved your arm back so that your elbow could knock the black cylinder from your opened pouch, the canister dropped to the floor and rolled over beside Jason’s head before exploding. Quickly dragging your body off of him, you slipped your dagger back in its place and leapt down onto a balcony beside the building you were on. As you fled the scene, your head reeled from the events of the night. 

So much for a ruthless vigilante you thought to yourself, a warm smile forcing its way onto your face.

Getting to his feet and wiping the soot like substance from his helmet, he searched for you across the rooftop. But he knew better. You were nowhere to be found. A defeated sigh left Jason as his shoulders dropped, but even with his loss, all Jason could think about were your eyes. Those pretty pretty eyes.

“Until next time.” 

[milverton]

I watch Jake Broe's update videos on the war in Ukraine pretty religiously, so I wanted to share what he had to say in his latest video because I at least felt a little better about this whole new trumpocalypse fiasco after hearing some of the points he made.

Here's his tweet that summarises what he says in the video, but I would recommend still watching the whole thing! (I've bolded the main points)

Okay! We all needed a day to reflect on what happened and I have good news and bad news for Ukraine about Trump returning to the US Presidency.

Let's start with the bad news for Ukraine…

Trump could end all US military cooperation

Trump could lift all sanctions on Russia

Trump could return all frozen assets to Russia

Yes, that is all very bad, but there might be good news.

First, Trump is always transactional. It does not matter if Russia was helping Trump or not in the past, Trump does not feel like he owes anyone anything for past favors. If Trump ever gives something up, then he will want something in return at the same time.

Russia will make demands that Trump is happy to accommodate, but only if Russia agrees to something that makes Trump look good. If Russia refuses, then Trump will rapidly escalate against Russia out of spite. American weapons in Ukrainian hands have already killed hundreds of thousands of Russian soldiers. Putin might refuse any kind of transactional deal with Trump. Nobody knows what either Trump or Putin will do. Trump could inadvertently destabilize Russia without even meaning to.

Second, Trump does not take over until January 20th, which means we know for a fact that Russia is not going to use a nuclear weapon before Trump returns to office. Russia is not going to start a nuclear war if they think Trump will give them favorable terms. Meaning there is no risk of escalation management the next two months. Take the gloves off!

For the next two months Ukraine should be given permission to hit whatever they want with whatever is given to them anywhere on Russian territory. Additionally, Biden now is forced to rush deliver and allocate the rest of America's available funds allocated by Congress to Ukraine this winter.

If instead Harris was re-elected and MAGA controlled Congress, military aid would have ended anyways and Biden would have tried to stretch these funds out until next summer. Biden can't do that now. So Ukraine is actually going to get a huge boost in military aid right away.

Third, even though I do not think Trump cares at all about Ukraine, he does care about his own image and legacy. He is never running for office ever again, but he loves to be loved by his supporters. He does not want to look weak and if Ukraine refuses to a negotiated capitulation and instead fights on without US help, these are going to be top headlines daily (maybe the fall of Kharkiv or the fall of Odesa) and this will make Trump look weak. He hates that. These would be images that would look worse for America than the US withdrawal of Afghanistan.

Forth, Trump hates Iran. Trump fiercely supports Israel and Iran is currently trying to destroy Israel. If Trump takes any military action against Iran (or looks the other way when Israel does) this could weaken or cripple one of Russia's most important allies. Harris was never going to do anything about Iran. Trump might actually cripple Iran and their Russian allied proxies in the Middle East.

Fifth, Trump loves the idea of cheap oil. He might actually find ways (cutting regulations, building more pipes, granting access to more public lands) that brings the global price of oil down so much that this ends up bankrupting Russia faster. That is not Trump's goal, but he might accidentally do it.

Sixth, Europe might finally militarily wake up once Trump stops answering their phone calls. Europe has the population and the economic power to support Ukraine and defeat the Russians without America's help. This is Europe's moment. They can't use America as an excuse anymore for holding them back.

Lastly… this is crazy, but Trump's economic plan of tariffs and trade wars might actually trigger a massive recession in the United States. When the US goes into recession, this almost always triggers a global recession. We realistically need an economic collapse of Russia to defeat them and Trump might accidentally cause this without even wanting to.

It is all weird to think about. But we just do not know what will happen or what the state of the war will be three months from now. It is a complete mystery to everyone, including the Russians.

Keep supporting Ukraine. Russia will be defeated.

[patriottruth]

For Everyone Who Wants to Join the Informed Patriot Peaceful Protest and Resistance Against Another donald j. trump Presidency, Here's How Easy It Is to End donald j. trump For At Least Another 4 Years, Tank His Net Worth, And Dump All of His Legal Nightmares, His 34-Felony Conviction Election Interference Sentencing and Possible Imprisonment, and Hundreds of Millions of Dollars in Fines and Ever-Accumulating Interest and Judgments Back on His Head.

donald j. trump is actively engaging in the federal crime of attempting to hold office while being an impeached and indicted insurrectionist. He has no path to the White House other than receiving 70 Democrat votes from the House of Representatives, and 17 Democrat votes from the Senate. It can't be 69 and 17, or 70 and 16; because Section 3 of the 14th Amendment requires a full two-thirds vote from each house to remove donald j. trump's insurrectionist disqualification to hold federal office. Chuck Schumer can easily force the Section 3 vote in the Senate; and if donald j. trump gets no Democrat votes in the Senate, then the House vote is unnecessary. If MAGA mike johnson refuses to allow a House vote, then that's an instant disqualification for insurrectionist donald j. trump.

Hakeem Jeffries Democratic Leader of the House of Representatives https://www.congress.gov/member/hakeem-jeffries/J000294 https://democraticleader.house.gov/contact

Chuck Schumer Democratic Leader of the Senate https://www.congress.gov/member/charles-schumer/S000148 https://www.schumer.senate.gov/contact/message-chuck

So why isn't this checkmate option being discussed far and wide at the moment? It just so happens that Jack Smith is in the process of releasing the evidence against donald j. trump and his classified documents Espionage Act violations at mar-a-lago. Also, American companies are already laying people off, firing them, advising employees there'll be no holiday bonuses or raises, and Americans are learning the hard truth about trump's insane tariff policies. On top of that, donald trump and his supporters are taking their masks off and revealing how bigoted and fascist they actually are toward all minorities and marginalized groups within the MAGA cult now that they've succeeded in manipulating them to vote for trump; and that's having an effect on people's interest in protesting or rioting should donald trump be disqualified from office for insurrection and tyranny. The MAGA cult is already in-fighting and imploding in the same ways the Romans and the Nazis did; because everyone in authoritarian and tyrannical power structures wants to be the right hand puppetmaster who controls the tyrant at the top, no one in those power structures ever tolerates not being the reigning Alpha of their group, or over all groups, and there's nothing those types of people won't do for more power and influence.

It's only been 5 days since the election, and Americans who voted for donald trump are already paying the price for voting for donald trump. That's just going to continue compounding and festering into a disgust for donald trump and his MAGA cult by the time Jack Smith's Espionage Act report reveals what a traitor donald trump actually is, and has been all along. Let all the American families who've already been decimated by donald trump from November 5th through Thanksgiving meet around the holiday table and discuss the truth about donald trump; and then schedule the Senate vote for December 11th, 2024. Once donald trump is disqualified, Kamala Harris can challenge donald trump's ability to be elected by the Electoral College during their December 17th, 2024 meeting. MAGA SCOTUS already clarified the President Elect would default to the other presidential candidate, not the insurrectionist's unelected Vice President candidate when they wrote this in their Anderson vs. trump "ruling": "The disruption would be all the more acute—and could nullify the votes of millions and change the election result—if Section 3 enforcement were attempted after the Nation has voted. Nothing in the Constitution requires that we endure such chaos—arriving at any time or different times, up to and perhaps beyond the Inauguration."

So how are the holidays looking for American patriots this year? Well, if Chuck Schumer and the Senate Democrats force a vote on removing donald j. trump's insurrectionist disqualification from holding federal office and trump gets zero Democrat support, at that moment, all of donald j. trump's legal and criminal nightmares consume his life once more, and per the Berger Test, MAGA SCOTUS can't help him, all of those hundreds of millions in judgments against him are immediately collectible and continue accruing interest again, donald trump's net worth is decimated, truth social stock nosedives into obliviion, and he gets sentenced and possibly imprisoned for his 2016 election interference felony convictions. In the midst of all of that, his precious MAGA SCOTUS can be immediately and permanently disbarred from ever judging or practicing law anywhere in the United States now or in the future. And then probably around a week after MAGA SCOTUS' immediate and permanent disbarment, the remaining three SCOTUS justices restore national Roe vs. Wade protections, and all of the trump abortion bans brutalizing women across the United States will finally come to an end. Shortly after Roe vs. Wade is restored as the law of the land, the United States will inaugurate and swear in the 47th President of the United States, Kamala Harris. Anyone who wants that joyus happy ending to the endless nightmare of the donald trump saga simply needs to contact Chuck Shumer and Hakeem Jeffries and explain why donald trump is in violation of federal law for being an insurrectionist attempting to hold office without first having his disqualification removed via a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress.

Here's a form letter that'll be under 1980 characters no matter if you're contacting House Democratic Leader Jeffries or Senate Democratic Leader Schumer. Just copy and paste the text into the contact form. If these Democratic leaders receive hundreds of these messages from different IP/Internet addresses, we'll have their attention. If they receive thousands of these messages from different IP/Internet addresses, we might see this in the news. If they receive tens of thousands of these messages from different IP/Internet addresses, we might finally be free from the threat of another donald trump presidency (turnout is everything in this fight for our human and civil rights, freedoms, and literal survival as non-trump supporters and non-MAGA cult members).

Dear Democratic Leader Jeffries,

My family, loved ones, friends, and I are greatly concerned that Donald J. Trump and all of his MAGA allies, supporters, enablers, donors, and voters have what clearly appear to be genocidal intentions to all American non-Trump supporters and voters whom they call, "traitors, anti-American, enemies from within, very bad people, very dangerous people, racists, radicals, extremists, communists, Marxists, fascists, thugs, liars, sick, ugly, stupid, mindless, thoughtless, brainless, disabled, deranged, criminals, rapists, cheaters, sleazebags, low-lifes, scum, trash, genetically inferior, weak, poison, insects, animals, rats, snakes, and vermin" on a regular basis. As I'm sure that you and all elected Democrat representatives at every level across the United States are aware, Donald J. Trump was not granted permanent immunity from federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment in the SCOTUS ruling for Anderson vs. Trump on March 4, 2024; and the moment Donald J. Trump was declared the President Elect, he was committing the federal crime of attempting to hold office while being an impeached and indicted insurrectionist without first having that insurrectionist disqualification removed by a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress. Donald J. Trump and his MAGA cult appear to intend to not only deport 15 million people, but to also engage in undeniable genocide and ethnic and cultural cleansing against half the population of the United States (using voter registration as a "vermin" purge mechanism). Thankfully, per the Supreme Court's own Berger Test to disqualify judges, Donald J. Trump's MAGA SCOTUS allies can never intervene on any of his legal cases again, so if you would please bring the matter of a two-thirds vote to the House of Representatives for an immediate vote by no later than December 11th, 2024, my fellow Americans and I would greatly appreciate it.

Respectully,

An American patriot

Dear Democratic Leader Schumer,

My family, loved ones, friends, and I are greatly concerned that Donald J. Trump and all of his MAGA allies, supporters, enablers, donors, and voters have what clearly appear to be genocidal intentions to all American non-Trump supporters and voters whom they call, "traitors, anti-American, enemies from within, very bad people, very dangerous people, racists, radicals, extremists, communists, Marxists, fascists, thugs, liars, sick, ugly, stupid, mindless, thoughtless, brainless, disabled, deranged, criminals, rapists, cheaters, sleazebags, low-lifes, scum, trash, genetically inferior, weak, poison, insects, animals, rats, snakes, and vermin" on a regular basis. As I'm sure that you and all elected Democrat representatives at every level across the United States are aware, Donald J. Trump was not granted permanent immunity from federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment in the SCOTUS ruling for Anderson vs. Trump on March 4, 2024; and the moment Donald J. Trump was declared the President Elect, he was committing the federal crime of attempting to hold office while being an impeached and indicted insurrectionist without first having that insurrectionist disqualification removed by a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress. Donald J. Trump and his MAGA cult appear to intend to not only deport 15 million people, but to also engage in undeniable genocide and ethnic and cultural cleansing against half the population of the United States (using voter registration as a "vermin" purge mechanism). Thankfully, per the Supreme Court's own Berger Test to disqualify judges, Donald J. Trump's MAGA SCOTUS allies can never intervene on any of his legal cases again, so if you would please bring the matter of a two-thirds vote to the Senate for an immediate vote by no later than December 11th, 2024, my fellow Americans and I would greatly appreciate it.

Respectully,

An American patriot

[holylulusworld]

Kidnapping Miss America

Summary: It was an easy job. They had it planned well. They weren’t prepared for you.

Pairing: Criminal!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader x Criminal!Jake Jensen

Warnings: bitchy reader, arguments, banter, biting (not the sexy kind), violence against kidnappers, mistaken identity, fighting for dominance, dumbass kidnappers (kinda), grumpy Bucky, tension

A/N: Here's the dream pairing we have been waiting for...😂

Words: 2,7k

“Fuck, she’s heavier than she looks,” the guy carrying you inside the hideout pants. He complains loudly as you hang over his shoulder. “I thought she was a model or something.”

“Hey, asshat! Say that again and I’ll scratch your eyes out! Never call me heavy again!” You wiggle in his tight hold. “I will kill the both of you and rip your balls off if I see one hair of your dick!”

The other guy chuckles at your antics. “Yeah, never call her heavy again. That’s not nice. And I won’t show you my dick. I don’t get hard for bitchy bitches.”

“Who asked you?” You growl and blindly grasp for your second kidnapper. “How about brightening your horizon and learning some new words? Bitchy bitches my ass.”

“She has claws and teeth,” kidnapper number one drops you to the ground, making you cry out as you land hard on your ass.

“You fucker!” You jump up faster than the guy can blink. They believed you were a damsel in distress and didn’t restrain your ankles or wrists. Now they regret their lapsus because you jump at the guy dropping you to the floor. “I’ll kill you.”

“What the fuck!” The guy exclaims as you tackle him. He ends up on the ground, you on top of him. You dig your nails into his chest and twist his left nipple. “OUCH!” He squeaks ungracefully as you do it again.

The second guy snickers behind you, but you won’t have it. You get up and rip the blindfold off your eyes. “Bastard!” You kick the first guy’s balls before jumping at the second guy. “I’ll kill you!”

“Help me!” The second guy calls for help as you sink your teeth in his neck and repeatedly bite him like a feral dog. “She tries to rip my flesh out! BUCKY! HELP!”

“I’ll get my pound of flesh!”

“Whoa, is this how Miss America acts? I thought you all dream of world peace and American pie!” The first guy slowly gets back up. He limps toward you to drag you off the second guy. “Let him go, you crazy bitch!”

“Eat shit, loser!” You snarl and twirl around to punch the first guy’s nose. “I’m not some girl you can just kidnap! Who do you think you are?”

“What the fuck, Jensen!” The first guy cups his aching crotch. “I wanted to make fast cash, not get my balls rearranged.”

You snicker as the first guy pleadingly looks at you. He’s much taller than you and strong. It shouldn’t be too hard for him to take you down. But he seems to be afraid to get close to you now.

“He said this is an easy job to make fast cash! All we had to do was grab Miss America and make sure she couldn’t win this contest,” the second guy, Jensen, grunts. “That’s not my fucking fault, Bucky!”

“Of course, it is your fucking fault! You listened to that dumbass,” Bucky bites back. His balls are bruised, and he won’t take this lightly. “I can’t believe I listened to you! I could’ve made more with poker tonight. Instead, I got my balls bruised.”

“More like your ego, wannabe kidnapper,” you chuckle darkly. Bucky’s eyes darken and he takes one step toward you.

You grit your teeth and ball your hands into fists, preparing for a fight.

“What are you? A ninja or shit?” Jensen panics as you look like you know what you are doing. “I think she wants to use karate or something.”

“It’s called Krav Maga, dumbass,” you snap at Jensen and get ready for his attack. “Come and get some.” You prepare for a fight with both men. Two tall guys against you, a fair fight. Your trainer didn’t call you firecracker for nothing.

“I think she’s crazy,” Bucky looks at his accomplice. “Jensen, this was a stupid idea. Miss America is a crazy bitch.”

“Dude, I’m not a miss nor Miss America,” you grit your teeth at Bucky. “You are the crazy one here if you think I’ll just roll over and let you pervs touch me!”

“Wait!” Jensen raises his hands in surrender. “You are not Miss America?” He cocks his head to look you up and down. “Hmm…yeah. I guess those girls don’t have a nice ass like you do.”

“Did you just call my perfect bottom fat?” You narrow your eyes. “Say that again if you want to lose a testicle. I dare you four-eyes!”

Jensen looks offended and pouts. He sniffs and turns away for a moment while his partner in crime tries to charm his way out of this situation.

“It’s a perfect peach,” Bucky shamelessly stares at your ass. He hums and cups his crotch again. “If I didn’t risk another kick to my crotch I’d offer you to take care of your peach.” He grins like he made you the nicest compliment.

“Calling my ass peach won’t get you out of trouble! You kidnapped me, the bookkeeper of the year, and I missed the prize-giving because of you. They wanted to give me a golden pencil and a coupon.”

“Bookkeeper of the year?” Bucky groans. “Jensen don’t tell me we were at the wrong place. Again…”

“How shall I know?” Jensen shrugs. “Dude said she’ll be in the room and wait for us to grab her! It’s not my fault he gave us the wrong information.”

“Seriously? You wanted to kidnap Miss America?” You snort. “Dude, they protect her better than the president. Did you honestly believe Miss America is sleeping at a sleazy motel? She sleeps at the four seasons!”

“Great. We grabbed the wrong girl then,” Bucky sighs and runs one hand down his face. “We fucked up big time.” He pouts and stares daggers into his partner’s skull. “You fucked this up, Jensen!”

“He gave us the wrong information! That’s not my fault.” Jensen sniffs. “Why do you always blame me? I’m only the tech nerd to you. You do not respect me at all.”

“Aw, are you having relationship trouble? Do you want me to wait outside so you can make up?” You tease.

Jensen drops his gaze and sighs deeply. He shrugs and mumbles an apology under his breath.

Somehow, you pity these two. They don’t seem to be the smartest criminals and you can’t help but feel sorry for them.

Bucky slowly sits down on the worn-out couch. He switches the TV on, to distract himself from thinking about the money they lost tonight. Bucky switches through the channels, making comments about the shows. “Boring…nonsense…wait..”

“What is it?” Jensen gapes at the TV. “Pump up the volume. I want to hear this.”

You look at the TV, listening to what the reporter has to say. According to them someone tried to kidnap Miss America and got shot. They didn’t make it out alive.

“Whoa, this could’ve been us.” Bucky huffs. “Take that, Walker. I knew it was a stupid idea to work with that fucker! He gave us the wrong address to get all the money!”

“You only work with idiots, huh?” You sit next to Bucky. “So, tell me, how much money do you make with crimes.”

“Not much lately. We used to make a lot of cash, but our concurrent fucked us over,” Bucky grumbles. “We need fast cash to keep our business running and stop Rumlow from taking over our club.”

“How do you usually make cash if you don’t kidnap women?” You grin darkly as Bucky’s frown deepens. “Come on, we are kidnapping buddies now. You can trust me.”

“You kicked my balls, lady!” Bucky snaps at you. “I don’t trust you at all. My balls don’t trust you. And my gut instinct doesn’t trust you.”

You snort. “Fine, I’ll go home, grab my prize on the way, and tell Rumlow greetings from you two losers…”

Jensen stares at you with wide fearful eyes as you make your way toward the door.

“Rumlow?” He hiccups. “You know Rumlow?”

“He prefers when I call him Brock and rub his shoulders after a long day,” you look over your shoulder to flash Bucky, who suddenly stands behind you, a smirk. “Did I forget to mention that I’m his bookkeeper?”

Jensen makes an odd noise. He wrings his hands and tries to not show he’s scared to hell and back at the mention of Brock Rumlow.

“What? Not so cocky any longer?” You turn on your heels to jab two fingers into Bucky’s chest. “Miss America my ass. I’m worth more than that bony bitch!”

Bucky looks you up and down. He hums and immediately pounces on you. “You’re right,” you squeak when he throws you over his shoulder again. “Rumlow will pay us a fucking lot of money to get you back.”

“Uh-Bucky,” Jensen watches his partner restrain you to the heater. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to treat her this way. Rumlow will kill us,”

“Aw, your little partner is scared,” you snicker. “How about you two play by my rules from now on, and I help you get more money than you could ever spend?”

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. He sniffs and turns to leave the room. “I don’t trust you.”

“Wait, maybe she can help us,” Jensen doesn’t want to end up dead because they kidnapped you. If you are willing to help them, he’ll do anything to get in your good graces.

Bucky sneers as his partner looks at you like a lost puppy. “Get out of the fucking room, Jensen. We don’t negotiate with girls kicking a man’s balls.”

“It’s called massage,” you giggle and snort as Bucky turns around to glare at you. “Don’t tell me you never got kicked in the balls before. You scream awful first date.”

“Watch your tongue!” Bucky points his index finger at you. “I’m an awesome first date. The ladies never complained.”

“Yeah, because you bored them to death.” The look he gives you makes you giggle again. “You’re not used to a woman talking back, huh?”

“What you said about the money,” Jensen clears his throat to get your attention, “is it true? Can you help us?”

“Well,” you look at the handcuffs around your wrist. “I will talk if your partner takes these off again. If not, you will regret putting your hands on me.”

“How do you want to help us? Talk,” Bucky barks while his partner expectantly looks at you. “I don’t have all night.”

“I got more than enough time,” you stretch your body and yawn. “How about you get some food and beer first? I’ll talk after I eat. You fucked my day up.”

“Uh-I don’t have much money with me,” Jensen looks inside his wallet, sighing deeply. “I got ten bucks. What do you have, Bucky?”

“Guys,” you sigh and shake your head. “How did you survive for so long without my help?” You get up from the couch and grab your bag. “Christ, you should have at least one hundred bucks with you. You never know if you need to run.”

“What?” Bucky furrows his brows. “What do you mean you must run away?”

“I’m working for a dangerous criminal who likes to kill people if they look at him for too long. I have a plan, always.”

“Making plans is my job,” Jensen grins proudly. “Not this one, of course. Walker made the plan this time.”

“Hmm…” you open your wallet and hand Bucky fifty bucks. “Here, get us some food and beer. I think you know where my car is. Get it here, and don’t get caught. I trust you that you don’t run off and leave me alone with your partner.”

“I’m not your servant,” Bucky grunts and snatches the money out of your hands. “Why do you need your car?”

“I’ll tell you if you come back with food and beer…”

“Here,” Bucky slams the beer on the table. He drops three paper bags filled with takeout next to the beer, huffing as you are busy playing the blind man’s bluff card game with Jensen. “What are you doing? She’s still our hostage.”

“Jakie and I discussed the most important things,” you coo, and grab one of the bags. “I hope you brought some dessert too. This is going to be a long night.”

“Yeah? How about you answer my questions first,” Bucky grunts and slams his fist onto the table. “Why are there three suitcases and shit in your trunk?”

“Uh-“Batting your eyelashes you try to not give away too much. “That’s none of your business. I was about to go on vacation.”

“Vacation for how long?” Bucky steps closer and snatches the card from your forehead. He crumples the card up and flings it across the room. “I’m done playing games. Talk.”

“Stop barking at me like a feral dog,” you snap at Bucky. "Jake and I had a great time without your grumpy ass around."

“Stop messing with me,” the brunette pants heavily. “We’ve got no time for this shit.”

“Fine. I kinda stole the access data for  Rumlow’s offshore bank accounts and his black book. I know where he’s hiding every single buck.”

Bucky licks his lips while his partner in crime nervously shifts in his seat. “He’s going to kill all of us, Buck. We need to get out of town!”

“Relax, Jakie!” You wave his concern off. “Rumlow is busy with another poker game. He’s out of town for a week. More than enough time to get out of town and transfer all of his money to my bank account in the Bahamas.”

“Bahamas? You think he won’t find you there?” Bucky huffs. “You’re stupider than I thought if you believe for one second you can rob Brock Rumlow and get away with it.”

“Aw, sweet cheeks,” you pat Bucky’s cheek. “I already robbed every single buck. I only need to get out of town, and this country.”

“She robbed all of his money,” Jensen hiccups. “What if he believes we had something to do with all of this?”

“You know,” sizing Jensen up you smirk, “I could need help hiding the money. You’re smart and reliable. If you are willing to follow me, we can be Gods.”

“Do you listen to yourself sometimes?” Bucky huffs. “Rumlow will flay Jensen and you alive. You have no survival instinct at all.”

“I got survival instinct,” you bump your chest into Bucky’s trying to intimidate him. “I kicked your balls, remember? I could have easily broken your neck too.”

“I’d like to see you try.” He dares to grin. “I doubt you’ll be able to wrap your hands around my neck. Little peach.”

“Well, if you are the survival expert you should join me and Jakie,” you challenge. “Your business is dead. So, I heard.”

“We could buy an island!” Jensen dreamily sighs. “Cocktails on the beach. The sun kissing my skin.”

“You’ll get sunburn,” Bucky grunts. He crosses his arms over his chest while eying you warily. He cocks a brow when you open a beer and take a large swig.

“I’ll pay you,” you run your fingertips over his bicep. “What’s your price? How much does your service cost me?”

Jensen watches you sip on the beer. He hums and imagines helping you for free to touch your peach. “I’ll do it for free!”

“Jensen!” Bucky mutters.

“Aw, he only wants to be a good boy for me, right?” You turn on your heels to pat Jensen’s cheek. He smiles widely. “I got more money than you could ever dream of. I only need someone to help me hide it and a bodyguard.”

“Bucky,” Jensen pleads.

“Fine,” the brunette throws his hands up. “If we die, I’ll blame you, Jensen.”

On your way out of town, you relax in the passenger seat staring at your bank account. Fifty million dollars should be enough to start a new life.

While Jensen takes a nap in the back seat, Bucky is driving the car you rented using a fake identity. He’s still a grumpy ass but you know, he’ll do anything to protect you. If only for the money you promised them.

Soon you will leave this country and your old life. Rumlow will regret firing you. He will remember your name till the end of his life.

Tags in reblog.

[walks-the-ages]

Some important graphs for all the vote-scolds/blue maga blaming third party voters for Kamala Harris losing:

https://projects.fivethirtyeight.com/polls/approval/kamala-harris/

This woman never had her Approval rating rise higher than her Disapproval rating after September 2021.

If Democrats actually wanted to win, they could have stopped committing genocide and actually run a candidate people wanted to vote for.

Instead, they choose a deeply unpopular VP from a deeply unpopular current administration that no one even had a choice in, dumped a few million dollars into her campaign via big corporations to try to make it seem like most Americans were donating large sums of money to her overnight, tried to frame her campaign as being Super Popular and Cheerful and Powerful...... and then made the absolute worst decisions ever by constantly reaffirming literally that she would not do anything fundamentally different than what Biden was doing.

You know, the guy so fucking unpopular he had to drop out of the Presidential race because he was unelectable???

Anyways, I just went through the top #US Election posts in the tag and blocked hmm, maybe 6 people saying "fuck anyone who voted for third party" instead of actually taking a long hard look at their "lesser evil" candidate and it really, really, really is telling how all of these posts:

don't have more than maybe 2k notes compared to a few hundred thousand notes on other posts that don't blame third party voters

the replies are full of actual logical people who care about other people pointing out that third party voters did not make up nearly the margin Harris is currently losing by, and that if Democrats wanted to win, maybe they should have actually tried to win

I can pretty much guarantee you that all of the people making "Fuck third party voters, fuck pro-palestine crowd, are you happy now?" -- I can pretty much guarantee you that if you search these people's blogs for Palestine, that they have literally never interacted with anything to do with it except to vote scold in advance of the election or are full on active zionists who support israel's war crimes.

Anyways, feel free to share these graphs for all the racist assholes, and please make sure you're blocking shithead anons, and especially reporting shithead anons.

If you wanna respond to a shithead publicly, just screenshot it before you report and block.

The people screaming about "those darn jill stein voters!!!"* literally do not give a single fuck about marginalized groups that they, personally, are not a part of, and they are going to bury their head in the sand of the racist, genocidal cesspit they are in to refuse to listen to actual real facts so they can continue to spout their racist, genocidal, fascist victim blaming, not the least of which I've already seen is the infamous "I will laugh when they come to drag you to the concentration camps!"

Like. Hey now, are you sure you're anti-fascist when you say such things gleefully, Liberals? To people who didn't elect your genocidaire in a blue hat because she is part of the people actively committing genocide as we speak?

But yeah, Vote Bluers screaming at third party voters right now are literally just fascists in blue, and they are no one's allies.

Screaming at and wishing death and torture on minorities is what racists fascists do, if they actually wanted to work towards change they would have changed their tunes on the Democrats when it became clear they fully supported a genocide.

Block them, both on the dash and in your inbox. Unfollow the racist shitstains who reblog their posts uncritically. These people are cowards who are happily willing to punch downwards instead of actually stepping up to the plate and working to do good in their communities to bring people together.

Kamala Harris had a 49.% Disapproval rating the night before the election.

Are you telling me you seriously think she could have won?

* fun fact: more people voted for Chase Oliver than Jill Stein in all the states I've looked at that have that data, looks like the 'moderate republicans' are going libertarian, not democrat! Gee, who could have foreseen that? 🙄

Anyways, don't forget your daily clicks:

and if you have money to spare, please consider donating to Karim, one of the folk who were scammed out of their evacuation funds by a white woman in the USA who organized his campaign months ago, and he had not reached his goal after she tried to steal the funds only to get caught and be forced to return the money for a full refund to gofundme, so none of the raised funds went to him and were returned to the original donors, who didn't see his new campaign:

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Donald Trump’s Racist NYC Rally Was Vile. It Was Also Political Suicide

FINAL ACT

The Madison Square Garden rally, operatic in its repulsive bigotry, will almost certainly alienate more voters who might have voted for Trump.

David Rothkopf

Updated Oct. 27 2024 10:57PM EDT / Published Oct. 27 2024 10:49PM EDT 

Opinion

To all those Republicans who shed crocodile tears because their feelings were so hurt that people were calling Donald Trump a fascist: stop.

To all the MAGA defenders who said it was over-the-top to compare Trump’s Madison Square Garden rally to that held by the German-American Bund in an earlier incarnation of Madison Square Garden: shush.

To all those who were falling once again for the bought and paid for narrative that Trump somehow had the momentum going into the final week of campaign 2024: nope.

Even Republicans Angry at Trump Rally Joke About Puerto Rico

‘MAGA ON STEROIDS’

Amethyst Martinez, Matt Young

On Sunday at MSG, Donald Trump engineered what will be seen by political analysts and later by historians as the coup de grâce that killed forever his prospects of being president and may well have set him on a post-election course on which he finally may be held accountable for his actions.

The interminable rally concluded by an interminable, disjointed, incoherent and yet clearly vile speech by the former president, might have been touted by Trump’s son Don Jr., one of the former president’s warm-up acts, as the “king of New York returning to reclaim his crown.” But Trump was never the king of New York. (Sorry, Lara, your father-in-law did not “build” New York. Immigrants did. But we’ll get to that in a minute.)

Trump has always been loathed in New York City, especially in his former home borough of Manhattan where the vote against him was and will be dependably over 80 percent. But if he was hated before, rest assured, he will be more despised after tonight.

That was clear early on when Tony Hinchcliffe, a man invited by Trump to give one of the introductory speeches—who in true MAGA fashion alleged without providing a shred of evidence that he was a comedian—offered a KKK buffet of nauseating slurs. He called Puerto Rico “an island of floating garbage.”

“There’s a lot going on. I don’t know if you know this but there’s literally a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. I think it’s called Puerto Rico” pic.twitter.com/IXbXqDijyU— Acyn (@Acyn) October 27, 2024

The “joke” was as stupid as it was repulsive because there are almost 600,000 Puerto Ricans in New York City and many more spread across regions of vtial importance in the upcoming election. It also happened to come on a day when Vice President Kamala Harris announced her detailed and thoughtful plan for Puerto Rico, an island Trump wanted to trade to Denmark in exchange for Greenland.

But this loser did not stop there. He offered unfunny commentary about his view that Latinos “love making babies” and a reference to how his Black friends liked carving watermelons.

You might think that a few super-racist comments from one speaker might not warrant comments that compared the Trump rally to the Nazi meeting 85 years ago. But his comments were hardly the worst. And the racism and the hate and incitement to violence and the promise of an increasingly authoritarian state continued from the very beginning of the event to the very end.

One speaker said that Harris was managed by “pimp handlers” and said of Democrats that “we need to slaughter these other people.” Disgraced and destitute former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani said, as did several others, that Democrats were behind attempts to kill Donald Trump. Another speaker called Harris “the devil” and “the antichrist.”

Former Trump aide Stephen Miller as is his habit went directly for the Nazi playbook saying, “America is for Americans and Americans only.” Tucker Carlson came out to offer more racist slurs about Harris. Hulk Hogan ripped his shirt off while declaring he saw no Nazis in the audience (thus proving that steroids abuse can not only shrivel up your junk but that it’s not really good for your eyesight either).

Elon Musk was there acting strangely and promising to slash the size of the government (except presumably the parts that are subsidizing his businesses).

Trump attacked the media, and egged the crowd on to boo journalists in the crowd. He said migrants had taken over Times Square (which Is 9 blocks uptown from where the rally was held). He called the US an occupied country which, while bad, may be better than his reference to it as a garbage can the other day. He called Harris a “low IQ individual.” He offered so many lies that cable networks tuned him out because it was impossible to keep up with fact-checking him. He returned to old themes like the bizarre notion that Harris would reinstate the draft and start World War III.

Most importantly from the perspective of confirming his fascism he reiterated at length his assertion that his opponents were “enemies of the people.” (You know the ones against whom he promised to unleash the US military.) He called them “the most sinister and corrupt forces on earth.”

In other words the entire event despite its marathon length and hodgepodge of z-list speakers, delivered over and over again a very focused message. The Trump campaign is about retribution and revenge. It is about the white supremacist desire to purge America of all their neighbors of different colors and beliefs. It is about Trump’s desire to seek out his enemies and punish them. And over the course of its Wagnerian length (and resonances) it single out group after group that would be deported or punished.

But worse still, unlike the Bund rally, Trump’s was not a fringe affair. It was led by a former president of the United States on behalf of very nearly half of the American people.

Its threats of authoritarianism were supported by efforts during the first Trump presidency to sidestep the rule of law and by crimes including a coup attempt we all saw with our own eyes. Its future plans for concentration camps in the US and for mass deportations and the use of the military against the American people have been carefully developed, and there is a plan to put them in place.

That is why Trump’s Sunday rally at Madison Square Garden was, as it turned out, far more ominous than its predecessor. It should chill Americans to the bone. But, I expect it will do more than that. I believe it will mobilize more voters to take action on Nov. 5 to stop the 21st-century fascism of Trump and MAGA.

Trump may be thinking the rally will help him mobilize thugs to violence when he contests his loss and we should be wary of that. But he has provided on the eve of the election the best case why he must be defeated that has ever been presented. In the end, because what unfolded was so foul and so offensive and threatening to so many of us, I believe that is why we will someday conclude that for all intents and purposes Trump’s final political act occurred on the biggest stage in America’s biggest city, a couple of blocks from Broadway.

David Rothkopf

djrothkopf

Got a tip? Send it to The Daily Beast here.

[democratthatlovesguns]

Why Didn't Kamala Harris Do Anything in the Last Four Years?

For one, she did a lot ... She did her JOB!

I am convinced most people are debilitatingly oblivious to the chain of command. As the second in command, you can offer your opinion and your suggestions all you want, but you understand the commanding officer has the final say. The boss, accepts all responsibility. And regardless of how much you disagree, you understand that "attitude reflects leadership" and that buy-in starts at the top ... So you do your fucking job with a fucking smile, especially when you disagree.

When you lead men into battle, you have to accept that your decisions may result in the deaths of men whose families are counting on you to make the right decision to bring them back home safe and healthy. You can consider the opinion of your second in command and even do exactly what that person suggests, but you understand if things go south it is ultimately your responsibility, your call.

Watch any war film, Full Metal Jacket, Saving Private Ryan, Spartacus, etc., they all make this topic very clear.

Of course, she would do things differently! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU DISAGREED WITH YOUR BOSS AT WORK AND SAID TO YOURSELF, "I WOULDN'T DO IT THAT WAY IF I WAS HIM/HER/THEY/THEM?" But you do as the boss says, because he's or she's (they's/them's) the boss!

ARE PEOPLE REALLY THIS FUCKING STUPID OR OBTUSE?

No, don't expect her to contradict or disparage the acts and decisions of her boss, President Joe Biden ... She has too much respect and loyalty to him. She understands that at the time the decision was made, even if the outcome was not the intent, it was the best decision to be made considering all available information. She acknowledges and regrets that some decisions had terrible results, compare that to an orange idiot that doesn't think he has ever made a mistake in his life or made an incorrect decision in his life.

LASTLY, SHE UNDERSTANDS, HOW DIFFICULT IT WAS FOR JOE BIDEN TO STEP ASIDE - TO DISPARAGE HIM OR EVEN SEEM TO DISPARAGE HIM WOULD DEMONSTRATE A COMPLETE LACK OF MORAL CHARACTER. AND THIS IS WHAT THE MAGA CREW WANTS; THEY WANT TO BE ABLE TO SAY "SEE SHE'S NOT BETTER THAN US, SHE ALSO HAS ZERO INTEGRITY."

[socialjusticeinamerica]

This is outrageous. Kennedy is a Qanon, anti-vaxxer, and deranged kook. He is not a scientist, a medical researcher, or a doctor. In fact he has no expertise at all regarding drugs, vaccines, or nutrition. He was a pretend attorney hired because of his family connections.

The common man thinks all rich people are smart and everyone with a degree is automatically an Einstein level genius. Studies have shown that the public has been conditioned to follow the lead of any tall man in a suit, or woman in business attire.

Just because someone dresses like a business person and knows a little more about issues than Joe Sixpack doesn’t make them a f—king expert. It’s easy for the ordinary person to believe in conspiracy theories when they don’t know how anything works.

The Dunning-Kruger effect doesn’t literally mean too stupid to know you’re stupid. Rather it is a cognitive bias in which people with limited competence in a given field overestimate their abilities. Neil deGrasse Tyson on his podcast Star Talk describes this as a hobbyist thinking they are on par with highly educated scientific researchers.

We have the entire MAGA movement thinking they understand everything because they read a blurb on the internet from random strangers with no credentials. Worse yet most of this “I did my own research” crowd are unwittingly being strung along by professional propagandists.

The Joe Sixpack crowd thinks Trump and Musk are highly educated and have a grasp of everything under the sun. In fact they each possess a bachelor’s degree in economics and nothing more. You couldn’t teach elementary school or be a librarian without a master’s degree. They are totally outclassed by the majority of politicians, statesmen, world leaders, financiers, scientists, medical professionals, and virtually everyone they come into contact with. They each have only two things going for them. One, they were born rich and two, they promote themselves endlessly to the masses as stable geniuses when in fact they are drug addled fools. Again the lower class thinks they are rich so they must be smart.

RFK Jr thinks because his law firm handled some environmental cases, mostly unsuccessfully, he is an expert on medicine and science. In point of fact he is merely the hobbyist Neil deGrasse Tyson has described. The hobbyist who doesn’t understand the big picture or the finer points of how anything works.

Public, and private education, hasn’t failed us. In red states which are now the majority, Republican politicians and oligarchs who own for profit charter schools have deliberately dumbed down education in their states. It is not the fault of the teachers who are mostly well educated and good intentioned fighting an uphill battle against the willful ignorance of Republicans who want an electorate of sheep that simply obey without question. Pile on top of that the radicalization of the red states masses by right-wing propaganda outlets and you have a recipe for disaster. For profit charter schools are underfunded, have lower paid staff (unqualified) and are not held to the strict standardized testing criteria public schools face.

[oblivionbladetd]

The great big asterisk that dangles off every post I've made critiquing Lorch's work.

* Is this really the content that makes everything she's done okay?

I'm an absolute shitter to my core, I know this. Though as much as I love treating her as the joke that she is, sometimes you do gotta be serious. I'd never be caught dead participating in this double think where Lily is both a threat to everyone and a self-important goober spinning her wheels, though a threat to a few she certainly is.

I'm about done pulling punches, so if you want to see me pop the lid off my cool, do please read past the cut.

Because I try to keep an open mind, but besides her being a never back down epic pwner of the Cis Het MAGA losers... What is the fuckin draw? Rhetorical question by the way, you needn't look farther than her own wife to know Lily is all about pretending to shelter the disadvantaged as one of the good ones... but if a good chunk of ex-Lily fans would let me know that even that is conditional. She's created a community where you are protected by an Indigenous Trans Woman, to not really protect anybody, cozy up with all manner of people that match her freak that would also like to poke around this community of people that (to overly simplify it) just ain't got no-one else.

The evidence is all around. The effort that it would take to falsify a lot of it is actually quite ludicrous, especially archive and way back stuff. You straight up can't without a small army of top tier hackers.

Like sure she calls us stalkers for... paying any fucking attention? I do not feel like anyone is tapping her phone lines and bugging her house. She can, does, and will continue to just vomit her every life grip, problem, and story at any opportunity! The vast majority of all the evidence we have is evidence she has boldly and willingly volunteered like the braindead, shortsighted dipshit she is. Motherfuckers are not stalking you, if anything they are fishing.

Lastly, though what I feel is most important is knowing it all and just being like, "but she's so entertaining. " fuck outta here. How does any of the mediocrity she let's dribble onto a notepad make the pain that caused okay? "Yeah, I know she allegedly raped her sister but Stockholm and pokemadhouse ate so fire!" Fuckin Dumpster fire maybe. She's got some of the most boring fics if you can ignore that she's not smart enough to hide her true intentions that naturally bubble up from the subtext, the greater half of her critiques are plagiarized and the other totally scatterbrained... where is the appeal?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 6, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 07, 2024

Today Vice President Kamala Harris named her choice for her vice presidential running mate: Governor Tim Walz of Minnesota. Walz grew up in rural Nebraska. He enlisted in the Army National Guard when he was 17 and served for 24 years, retiring in 2005 as a command sergeant major, making him the highest-ranking enlisted soldier ever to serve in Congress, according to the House Committee on Veterans’ Affairs.  

He went to college with the educational benefits afforded him by the Army, and graduated from Chadron (Nebraska) State College. From 1989 to 1990, he taught at a high school in China, then became a social studies teacher in Alliance, Nebraska, where he met fellow teacher Gwen Whipple, who became his wife. They moved to Minnesota, where they both continued teaching and had two children, Hope and Gus, through IVF. 

Walz became the faculty advisor for the school’s gay-straight alliance organization at the same time that he coached the high-school football team from a 0–27 record to a state championship. The advisor “really needed to be the football coach, who was the soldier and was straight and was married," Walz said in 2018. 

Walz ran for Congress in 2005 after some of his students were asked to leave a rally for George W. Bush because one of them had a sticker for Democratic presidential nominee John Kerry. Walz won and served in Congress for twelve years, sitting on the House Agriculture Committee, the Transportation and Infrastructure Committee, and the Committee on Veterans’ Affairs.

Voters elected Walz to the Minnesota state house in 2018, and in his second term they gave him a slim majority in the state legislature. With that support, Walz signed into law protections for abortion rights, supported gender-affirming care, and legalized the recreational use of marijuana. He signed into law gun safety legislation and protections for voting rights, and pushed for action to combat climate change and to promote renewable energy. 

Strong tax revenues and spending cuts gave the state a $17.6 billion surplus, and the Democrats under Walz used the money not to cut taxes, as Republicans wanted, but to invest in education, fund free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren, make tuition free at the state’s public colleges for students whose families earned less than $80,000 a year, and invest in paid family and medical leave and health insurance coverage regardless of immigration status. 

While MAGA Republicans are already trying to define Walz as “far left,” his votes in Congress put him pretty squarely in the middle.  His work with Lieutenant Governor Peggy Flanagan to expand technology production and infrastructure funding in the state was rewarded in 2023, when Minnesota knocked Texas out of the top five states for business. The CNBC rating looked at 86 indicators in 10 categories, including the workforce, infrastructure, health, and business friendliness. 

Walz checks a number of boxes for the 2024 election, most notably that he hails from near the battleground states of Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania and comes across as a normal, nice guy. He favors unions, workers’ rights, and a $15 minimum wage. He is also the person who coined the phrase that took away the dangerous overtones of today’s MAGA Republicans by dubbing them “weird.” As a student of his said: “In politics he’s good at calling out B.S. without getting nasty or too down in the dirt…. It’s the kind of common sense he showed as a coach: practical and kinda goofy.”

Walz is also a symbol of an important resetting of the Democratic Party. He has been unapologetic about his popular programs. On Sunday, July 28, when CNN’s Jake Tapper listed some of Walz’s policies and asked if they made Walz vulnerable to Trump calling him a “big government liberal.” Walz joked that he was, indeed, a “monster.” 

“Kids are eating and having full bellies so they can go learn, and women are making their own health care decisions, and we’re a top five business state, and we also rank in the top three of happiness…. The fact of the matter is,” where Democratic policies are implemented, “quality of life is higher, the economies are better…educational attainment is better. So yeah, my kids are going to eat here, and you’re going to have a chance to go to college, and you’re going to have an opportunity to live where we're working on reducing carbon emissions. Oh, and by the way, you’re going to have personal incomes that are higher, and you’re going to have health insurance. So if that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the label.” 

Right-wing reactionary politicians have claimed to represent ordinary Americans since the time of the passage of the Voting Rights Act—on August 6, 1965, exactly 59 years ago today—by insisting that a government that works for communities is a “socialist” plan to elevate undeserving women and racial, ethnic, and gender minorities at the expense of hardworking white men. 

Historically, though, rural America has quite often been the heart of the country’s progressive politics, and the Midwest has had a central place in that progressivism. Walz reintegrates that history with today’s Democratic Party. 

That reintegration has left the Republicans flatfooted. Trump and J.D. Vance expected to continue their posturing as champions of the common man, but on that front the credentials of a New York real estate developer who inherited millions of dollars and of a Yale-educated venture capitalist pale next to a Nebraska-born schoolteacher. Bryan Metzger, politics reporter at Business Insider, pointed out that J.D. Vance tried to hit Walz as a “San Francisco-style liberal,” but while Vance lived in San Francisco as a venture capitalist between 2013 and 2017, Walz went to San Francisco for the first time just last month. 

Head writer and producer of A Closer Look at Late Night with Seth Meyers Sal Gentile summed up Walz’s progressive politics and community vibe when he wrote on social media: “Tim Walz will expand free school lunches, raise the minimum wage, make it easier to unionize, fix your [carburetor], replace the old wiring in your basement, spray that wasp’s nest under the deck, install a new spring for your garage door and put a new chain on your lawnmower.” 

Vice President Harris had a very deep bench from which to choose a running mate, but her choice of Walz seems to have been widely popular. Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Joe Manchin of West Virginia, who are usually on opposite sides of the party, both praised the choice, prompting Ocasio-Cortez to post: “Dems in disconcerting levels of array.” 

Harris and Walz held their first rally together tonight in Philadelphia, where Pennsylvania governor Josh Shapiro, who had been a top contender for the vice presidential slot, fired up the crowd. “Each of us has a responsibility to get off the sidelines, to get in the game, and to do our part,” he said. “Are you ready to do your part? Are you ready to form a more perfect union? Are you ready to build an America where no matter what you look like, where you come from, who you love, or who you pray to, that this will be a place for you? And are you ready to look the next president of the United States in the eye and say, ‘Hello, Madam President?’ I am too, so let’s get to work!”

Pennsylvania is a crucial state, and Shapiro issued a statement offering his “enthusiastic support” to the ticket. He pledged to work to unite Pennsylvanians behind my friends Kamala Harris and Tim Walz and defeat Donald Trump.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Michael Moore's Substack:

Right now, if you know how to really read the polls, or if you have access to the various private and internal polling being conducted by and shared only amongst the elites, Wall Street, and Members of Congress, then you already know that this election was over weeks ago. Trump simply refused to believe that “Sleepy Joe” was no longer his opponent and that there was instead “some woman” claiming she was “Black” who was now going to pummel him on Election Day. He soon became unhinged, ranted for hours about Hannibal Lecter, Haitians cannibalizing your pets, and a nonstop drone of oral diarrhea spewing misogyny, racism and essentially claiming that if he loses “it will be the Jews’ fault.” 

The vast majority of the country, the normal people, have seen enough and want the clown car to disappear into the MAGA vortex somewhere between reality and Orlando. The swift and explosive momentum for Kamala Harris is unlike anything that’s been seen in decades. Which is why maybe at this point in my rant I just need to say out loud that which is being said to me in private by people I respect — and not just in whispers, but in excited tones of exuberance: That a new era is being born, one where caucasian is just one of the options but no longer the bossy pants of the world. Where it’s OK if you’re missing the lower right quadrant of the second X chromosome thus making it a “y” which means you’re never going to have your own fallopian tubes so just deal with it and keep your hands off the gender who has them. Simple.  An aggregate of top polls as of today shows that Harris will defeat Trump in the Electoral College count by 270 to 268. But I think we need more. We need to ensure that Trump loses in a landslide, with numbers so massive, the likes of which haven’t been seen since the entire country tuned in to watch Geraldo open up Al Capone’s vault. Because that’s the only way to guarantee his permanent removal from the public eye. We should settle for nothing less. 

[...] Since losing the debate to Harris, Trump’s momentum has come to a screeching halt. Even with Vance “winning” the debate on Tuesday night with his “charm,” “civility,” “politeness” and “the“ “Satanic” “laser rays” “shooting” “out” “from” “his” “eyes” “into” “our” “brains,” it did not help change anyone’s mind. Harris continues on her rocket ship, never slowing down and only increasing her popularity each day. Trump’s voting base is now severely depressed and more and more they have that sinking feeling as they realize there is no way now for Trump or the Astros to win. BUT… You and I know that there are always ways for him to win. We just don’t know what they are because we don’t have “666” inscribed on our foreheads in invisible ink. We do know that Trump has a stellar streak of pulling off the impossible — and those who have written him off have more than once lived to see the day where they must eat humble pie. It is never wise to do a victory dance on the two-yard line when Trump is your opponent.  So, each of us must still do our work to get out the vote and, most importantly, make sure Harris has a Democratic House and Senate elected next month to pass her/our legislation next year.

Michael Moore has some astute analysis on who is favored in the 2024 Presidential Elections. Moore is predicting a Kamala Harris victory.

He predicted Biden to win 2020 and Trump to win in 2016.

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Trust me! There’s so very little I’d want to share similarities with when it comes to maga. I also have faith in the institutions that serve as the bedrock of our democracy. What I do not have faith in is Donald Trump’s integrity, honesty, or willingness to play by the rules. This is the 3rd article I’ve ran across that seemed credible. I checked the site, small independent journalism, no red flags when checking on its credibility. I’m not saying the election was rigged! While at the same time I’m not saying it wasn’t.

The thing is… We all saw that train wreck of a campaign. We all saw the apparent cognitive decline. We saw Trump ostracize, alienate, and discriminate against SO MANY different voting blocks. Saying, “They’re eating the cats, they’re eating the dogs, they’re eating the pets!”. He was called out on, and we saw and heard, him echo words of that German dictator from WWII, Mussolini and Stalin. We heard the promises to be a dictator on day one. His heavy lean towards authoritarianism. Him calling for the licenses of CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, MSNBC, The Washington Post, The NY Times, pretty much everyone except OAN, Newsmax and Fox News. His calls for across the board tariffs were labeled as detrimental, and recession bound, by nearly every major economic think tank. He got DESTROYED during the debate. We saw hundreds of prominent Republican figures come out in opposition to Trump. Whole movements to ensure his defeat. Almost every single person in his previous administration say they wouldn’t support him, including, for good reasons, his own vice president.

The man’s an American traitor! We all saw the lead up to Jan 6th, then what occurred. I made it my life’s goal, as well as many others, on many platforms to remind everyone of it, and the fake electors scheme, and the theft and retention of classified documents, long after he knew he had last the election. The phone calls with Putin. The sending of vital pandemic relief supplies to Putin in the hype of the epidemic. All the f*ckin Russian ties. I know a lot of Americans ain’t that bright but. Really!? No one else put that together!?

Put on top of that his pressuring of Brad Raffensperger to “find 11,780 votes” and all the conspiring behind that. Not to mention the rape and definition charges. Not to mention his company being convicted of fraud. Not to mention HIM being convicted of fraud and a convicted felon because of it.

Add to that the strange bromance with Elon Musk the owner of Tesla. Trump HATES renewable anything!! He would go off about batteries and sharks habitually! Windmills!! Hates em! Talking all kinds of sh*t on electric cars, saying they would just run out of power, that there wasn’t any charging stations, then if there was you’d be there for hours, that the army wanted electric tanks, typical Trump fabrications. Just ALL the sudden him and the richest man in the world, who just happens to be in constant contact with Putin, who just happened to call for Ukraine to surrender, who just happened to buy a major social media platform, again or whatever. Musk who just happens to own Starlink, who just happens to offer free internet service in nearly every swing state.

On top of all that the numbers just don’t add up. You’re saying that 400,000 people, went in the voting booth, ONLY voted Trump and just walked out? Didn’t vote for the Republican senator, didn’t vote for the Republican representative, didn’t vote on any of the referendums or bills? Just “bullet” voted trump? Even dumbass Tommy Tuberville said in an interview, trying to accuse the left of fuckery, “It’s just weird how, the Democratic candidate, in a state Trump won, would be elected to congress”. Yea! Sure is “weird”, Tommy!

Then, the cocky statements from Trump and the right. I was watching this sh*t like, ‘these MFers are up to something’. Then, Him saying numerous times, he doesn’t need the votes. His “little secret” with Mike Johnson. The straight arrogance from Kevin Roberts, not only in publishing project 2025 but in his statements like, “there’s a second American revolution coming” leading to “and it will be bloodless, if the left allows it to be”. Then, there’s Joe Rogan, who lets it slip on his pod that Elon had an app on his phone where he knew the election results 4 hours before anyone else. Then why did he tell Tucker Carlson he would end up in jail?

You’re telling me, that guy, running that “prestigious” a campaign, with all the shinanigans after and during his first administration, a felon, hated by his own party, that fuckin guy won all 7 swing states, which hasn’t been done by anyone in 40 fuckin years, that guy, who literally said at a town hall, “no more questions, who wants to hear anymore damn questions” then proceeded to sway on stage for 40 mins to tunes, that guy won the popular vote too!? The popular vote that a Republican has only one once since Reagan!? That fuckin guy won all 7 swing states and the popular!? I don’t know if I can buy that.

I guess what I’m getting at is, forensic audits and hand recounts in the swing states would put all that unease to rest. It should be done, and soon! Trump has cheated at everything he’s done in the past, why would that change now?