#hate this town hate this county hate this state hate this country

[confinesofmy]

the bank says it wasn't their responsibility to freeze my mom's account when i gave them a copy of her death certificate, my lawyer says it was my job to stop all her monthly payments (even before i became executor). so that's that. no inheritance lol. and now if i don't pay off the overdraft fee it's potentially going into collections. reverse inheritance. lol.

[gurugirl]

The Ranch Hand | cowboy!harry - Patreon One Shot

2.5k word preview below the cut

Your boyfriend, Jessie, sat down a bucket of beer on the table you were sitting at and pulled his stool up as you grabbed a cold one for yourself and twisted the cap off.

You didn’t know the band that was playing but they sounded pretty good, especially for a Friday night with a cold beer in your favorite little rowdy country bar.

Jessie hated the bar. He was more into cocktail joints with white tablecloths and live classical piano. The kind of place you had to dress up to go into. You didn’t blame him. He didn’t come from where you came from. You two had only a couple of things in common.

The first was that you were both from wealthy families. Your dad was a rancher and he owned half the county. You’d never hurt for anything. Jessie’s family ran the county and were all involved in politics. He went to some fancy school in a different state and only came back because his father wanted him to step into the role of prosecuting attorney.

The second thing you had in common was that you lived in the same town.

That was probably where your similarities ended. You liked Jessie. Mostly. He was usually pretty nice, if not boring, and your parents liked him so that was a plus. In fact, they set up your first date with him and it was easier to just keep things going to make your mom and dad happy.

“You look uncomfortable,” you spoke as you kept your eyes on the band and Jessie struggled to pull the metal cap from his bottle.

“I’m just… there’s peanut shells all over the floor and everyone’s staring at us.”

You laughed and shook your head. You were gonna have to break up with the guy. He couldn’t handle you and you knew that was the truth. He hated getting his hands dirty and even though he looked like he should be able to remove a bottle cap, it wasn’t the first time you had to do it for him.

Taking his beer you looked directly at him and twisted the cap off, dropping it to the floor before handing it back to him.

“I never drink beer. Not used to taking caps off…” he spoke as he took a sip. Shitty excuse.

You noticed that some of the workers from your dad’s ranch were in the bar. Probably causing trouble. The guys who worked for your dad could be rough around the edges but they were always nice to you. Just a bunch of cowboys looking to make ends meet. They all had a place to stay on the ranch at the bunkhouse provided and they were also paid pretty well. So on almost any given Friday and Saturday night, you could find some of them at the bar picking up local women, dancing, fighting, drinking…

This was your scene. This was what you enjoyed most. The rough and gritty. Salt of the earth. Phonies were quickly sniffed out in a place like this. It was why people were staring at Jessie.

You took another gulp of your beer and then you caught sight of one of the ranch hands already looking at you from across the room. Harry. He was very easy on the eyes. He’d been working at your dad’s ranch since he was 19. He’d earned a spot of trust with your father after all his years of hard work and now he had quite a lot of responsibility given to him. He had his own small cabin out of the way of the bunkhouse. He made a lot of financial decisions for your father as well. Negotiated prices for cattle sales, went to auctions to buy large equipment, handled the daily goings on of the newbie ranch hands, and did all the hiring and firing. But he also still worked his ass off. He’d pick up slack when the other workers needed help or couldn’t do the job. You imagined he was at the bar to keep the guys in line and make sure they didn’t land themselves in jail.

You and Harry were close from the beginning. You always went out of your way to meet every new worker that came on but Harry was a little different because he’d been around for almost ten years. You certainly favored him over all the others.

“Why’s he coming over here?” Jessie whined as Harry walked through the crowd with his eyes on you and a mischievous grin on his face. You just knew he was bout to do something to piss Jessie off, which was easy to do.

“Cause he’s comin’ to say hello.” You smiled at Harry as he tipped his cowboy hat to you, stepping between you and Jessie, and reaching in to grab a bottle of beer from the bucket your boyfriend bought.

“Uh, that’s ours,” Jessie sat up straight in his stool as he watched Harry uncap the bottle and take a swig, ignoring him completely, jade eyes still on yours.

Harry placed his elbow on the table and leaned in close to you, those handsome green eyes running over the features on your face, “Hi.”

You felt yourself heat up and kept your eyes on his, “Hi.”

You would have forgotten all about Jessie but then…

“Excuse me. Is this for real? That’s our beer,” Jessie reminded the cowboy.

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up with his hand on your shoulder, softly squeezing before he looked at your boyfriend, “Sorry about that bud,” and then he looked back down at you, “Okay if I have this, sweetheart?” He lifted the bottle of beer upward.

You nodded, “Of course you can have it, Harry.”

Harry’s grin widened as he took another drink and Jessie stood up to move in front of Harry. Maybe in an attempt to intimidate him? You weren’t sure exactly. But one thing you knew was that Harry would put Jessie down in the blink of an eye. Jessie wasn’t a small man but Harry was scrappy and liked to get dirty. Didn’t mind a scuffle when the moment called for it either. You’d seen him put a lot of men in their place.

“Next time you ask before you take.” Jessie pointed. You snickered to yourself. It was a good attempt at least.

Harry laughed and dragged his eyes down your body before he tipped his hat again and walked right into Jessie’s shoulder, making him stumble into the table. Harry looked back in faux surprise at Jessie and then at you with a wink before he went back to where he’d been before with the other guys.

Okay, so maybe Harry was a bit of a dick. But he’d never been rude to you. And you liked him, unfortunately for Jessie. Harry was not a fan of your boyfriends. He’d made that clear since Jessie started coming around four months ago.

“You just let him take a beer like that?” Jessie gestured toward where Harry had gone.

“I did. What’s the problem? I know this bucket wasn’t expensive so you’re not hurtin’ for the money.”

He took a deep breath and looked off toward where the cowboys were drinking, “Do you like him, Y/n?”

You pursed your lips to the side in thought as you watched people line dancing and stomping on the peanut-covered wood floors in their cowboy boots. Now you didn’t really need to think much about that question. Because you did like Harry, and he liked you the same. All the stolen kisses and sneaky moments you two had… it’s just that that could never happen out in the open. Your dad would never go for it and Harry might lose his job if your parents ever caught wind of anything happening between you two. So you’d always kept your distance because that was the most practical option.

But you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t like the man. Anyone with two eyes could see how handsome he was.

“Sure,” you shrugged and looked at Jessie.

“Like him, like him?” Jessie looked back toward you across the table.

“Why are you worried about it, Jes? Even if I did, it’s not a good match. My dad would kill him.”

He shook his head and watched the people on the floor dancing with their big, shiny belt buckles glistening under the shoddy lights, the strum of guitars, and a twangy voice singing an old Garth Brooks song.

You got up and waved when you saw your friend Chelle. She was among those dancing and you weren’t going to miss it, “You coming with me or not?” You looked back at the dud sitting on his stool with a scowl.

“Go on ahead. I’ll be right here.”

You rolled your eyes. There was only so much more you could take of Jessie. If he had even shown an ounce of something that looked like fun you might want to stick around longer. Hell, if he even would have just stood up to Harry about the way he had been very clearly flirting with you in front of him (rather than get so worked up over the beer Harry took) that could even be something for you to think about. But the man wouldn’t dance with you, he wouldn’t ride horses on the ranch, he wouldn’t go to rodeos, and he most certainly didn’t want to do anything that could sully up his nice clothes once in a while. Stepping over peanut shells was his limit. If it weren’t for your parents you’d never have considered him in the first place.

“Y/n!” Chelle pulled you in next to her and you began moving yourself in line in a weave; right, back, front… You always felt like an idiot when you joined in on line dancing but that was part of the fun. Everyone looked like hillbillies and idiots out there and it was a blast.

The music, the atmosphere, the raucous noise from everyone laughing, singing, shouting, stomping… your country girl roots were in full bloom that night. And beer after beer then a couple shots of whisky probably did you no good but you were going to enjoy your night with or without your boyfriend who did not move from the spot where you left him. Part of you, at one point, hoped he’d just go. He was uncomfortable and not having fun. You knew the only reason he was there was to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn’t do anything dumb.

And the later it got the more wild the bar became. More people filled in the small space, the music was louder, some of the lights at the edge of the room were dimmed, and the line for the bathroom grew longer.

“He gonna sit over there watching me all night?” You heard Harry from behind you as he moved in step, a bottle of beer in his big hand you noted as you turned to look up at him.

You laughed, “Probably. He’s jealous.”

Harry licked his pink lips and tampered what you knew was a big grin, “Oh yeah? Why’s he jealous?”

You both did a clumsy pivot turn together and you just smiled up at the handsome cowboy and shook your head.

There was no need to answer Harry. He knew what was going on. He knew you liked him just the same as he liked you. It had always been something secret between you two but it was obvious to almost everyone around. Except for your father. That was one time when you were both on your best behavior.

“Surprised you’re still here. Don’t you have an early morning tomorrow?” You asked.

He nodded, “Sure do. Just keeping an eye on everything going on here is all. I’ve got a responsibility for most of the people in this bar right now.”

“Oh yeah? All the guys seem to be doing okay. No one’s getting too crazy tonight it seems,” you looked around at the other workers, and most of them were two sheets to the wind but they were tame and having fun.

“Still my responsibility. Plus you’re still here.”

You grinned, “That I am. Figured I’d close the place down tonight.”

Harry laughed, “You usually do anyway. Always have been like one of the boys. Just as rowdy as the rest of us.”

You loved it when you got to talk to Harry. Loved how he looked at you and how he’d say your name. Loved how so many times you’d done just this and it felt exactly like what you wanted.

Another shot of whisky at the bar with Harry and you started to feel woozy. Your world was spinning but you were still having too much fun to call it a night.

“I should take you home,” Jessie appeared, taking you by your shoulders and pulling you away from Harry. For a short time, you’d forgotten he was still there.

“No, I think Harry’s gonna take me home.” You looked up at Harry.

“That’s right. Was just about to take her home.” Harry spoke as he stepped in closer to Jessie.

Jessie laughed and you felt his firm grip moving you away but you were too drunk to really put up any kind of fight.

“Nah, just stay here with the rest of the drunk cowboys. I got her.”

Harry followed you and Jessie out the front of the bar as Jessie opened up the passenger door of his nice car.

“You gonna be all right sweetheart?” Harry ducked down to ask you before Jessie could close the door – Harry blocking the space so he could look at you as he reached up for your face and softly turned your head to look at him.

You nodded, “It’s fine. I just need to go to bed.”

“That’s enough. She’s fine,” Jessie closed the door.

Your memory was only clear in bits and pieces as Jessie drove you home. You remembered him berating you for acting like a clown and then when he brought you to your room the memory of him kissing you and taking your hand to cup over his crotch was vivid. You remember telling him you had to go to sleep but he was angry at you. You could feel that too. You remembered his anger and how he shoved you down into your bed before he was hovered over you.

But then you remembered being on your knees in front of your toilet and expelling the contents of your stomach furiously. Jessie’s words rang in your ears about how you were gross and just as nasty as all the cowboys on the ranch. How he didn’t want to fuck you anyway when you were drunk.

You woke up on your bathroom floor and Jessie was long gone.

NOTE: This is a 15k+ Patreon-only one shot. If you'd like to read more consider signing up!

xoxo

[respectthepetty]

Your post about being happy that there are so many queer media to watch nowadays, even the bad ones is just spot on. I live in a homophobic country and I'm still in the closet at 25. so imagine growing up, discovering yourself, being so afraid and then have all the queer content you find end with the characters dying, being laughed at, or reduced to harmful stereotypes. because what did that mean for silly young closeted me?

But now?

Now I'm thriving, i get to experience queer love, queer joy, even queer dumbassery lmao. These reminders, despite still feeling stuck, constantly show me how other queer people are moving forward and living their lives—and it's beautiful, even the trashy ones (which always are the most fun to watch)

So thank you for your post. It’s a reminder that our stories matter, no matter how imperfect!

Anon, although I live in the United States, I have always lived in a super conservative county where the town clerk refuses to issue marriage licenses to queer couples (and sometimes people of color depending on the day). We have billboards coming into town telling everyone they are going to hell and compared to all my friends in bigger cities who had to wait for the COVID vaccine, I got mine in 2020 when they were mostly only available to medical staff because the medical staff at our hospital refused to get it because Trump told them not to or some shit, so the local pharmacy begged anyone to get the shot before they expired. For a long time, my town refused to let cable or internet companies come in because then we would be exposed to sinful media.

But I ain't moving!

So although I haven't lived your experience, I feel ya.

Which is why I love all the discourse about QLs. If someone loves a show, I want to see why. If someone hates a show, I want to hear all about it. Because for so long, I had NOTHING! I was looking at the bible in Catholic school like . . . "Judas, you could've just told Jesus you wanted him instead of doing all this" *sign of the cross* and we all know how that ended for both of them.

Now, I'm trying to figure out where to find the time to watch all that is being offered to me! I can be picky now! I can dislike a show without feeling like ALL queer content will be taken away from me. I can get characters giving hand jobs, rim jobs, and blow jobs without having to pay-for-view at 1 am praying that the volume stays low.

I have watched some of the worst imaginable queer content, and I have watched queer porn with a plot which has smacked, and not just literally *wink*. I have watched so many queers be buried in ways that people cannot even begin to fathom. I have seen more than my fair share of queer media, and I can say without a doubt that these BLs are giving us some of the best variety of queers I have ever seen, and regardless if they are true to the queer experience (Dinosaur Love, I'm looking at your wild ass), two men holding hands is really fucking queer to these homophobes regardless of the plot. Two men cuddling in bed is super queer to these homophobes regardless of how aligned it is with the queer experience. Two women kissing is giving a homophobe a heart attack right now!

Century of Love had homophobic crew members. Those people got a paycheck for filming a BL while tweeting homophobic comments. Homophobia doesn't magically go away because we have queer content, which is a truth you and I know, but it gives me tiny pleasure knowing that 1) the show is airing on a popular-ish Thai channel in a prime-time slot, and 2) homophobes had to film two men kissing, multiple times. If we can't beat (the fuck out of) them, at least we made them feel super uncomfortable for even a teeny tiny bit.

And that's the other half of this - Not only do we get to consume all of this, but others are being exposed to it. These shows are airing in their countries ON TV. These actors are being shown in ads on TV and doing spreads for magazines. So while my town has billboards telling us to seek Jesus or perish in the fires of hell, Apo and Mile are eating Lay's on a billboard somewhere in Thailand.

Because this isn't just about the queers watching but about the homophobes and even the in-betweens witnessing it.

Give me all the trashy series (Dinosaur Love, still looking at you)! Give me the series that have absolutely no plot except two boys holding hands. GIVE ME EVERYTHING! Because no matter what I get, I guarantee it is pissing off some grandpappy somewhere, and that's really the queer experience; pissing people off for not only existing, but having the audacity to thrive despite it all.

So thrive, QL Land, THRIVE!

[novacorpsrecruit]

Rain’s A Good Thing

WC 3,501 | GEN | CW: I’ve never chased a tornado, I don’t know how to drive manual

Read on Ao3

Hawkins, Indiana is a farm town.

Tommy Hagan’s family owned the largest feedlot in the county. Carol Perkins’ father was the leading corn producer in the state of Indiana. During the summer, Andy Hostetter and Chance Murillo worked harvest, and the McKinney family has a turkey farm.

And Steve?

Steve is the furthest thing from a country boy.

His father, Richard Harrington, is (ironically) one of the state’s leading divorce attorneys. His mother, Catherine, hated for Steve to get any sort of dirt on him. He was never allowed in sandboxes when she took him to the park. Never allowed to splash in puddles or play in the rain or roll in the grass.

Never allowed to get dirty.

Never allowed to be an Indiana country boy.

Until he met Eddie.

Eddie didn’t grow up on a farm, but he did spend the majority of his formative years in Forest Hills. When he stayed with Wayne as a child, he made mud pies and played with the trailer park dog. He played in the forest, following the creek deep into the woods and catching crawdads.

Eddie still goes fishing with Wayne. Not afraid to hold the catch of the day, posing for Wayne’s photo. Eddie loves driving on dirt roads, taking the back way to Indy, or just taking a late night cruise.

As much as Eddie denied, denied, denied, he was a country boy through and through.

And although Steve has spent his entire life in Hawkins … he was a city boy.

And Eddie keeps forgetting that.

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon. The third or fourth day in a row. Steve lost count. He hated rainy days. Especially storms. He felt trapped in his own home, but the last few days he spent at the trailer with Eddie felt special. The boys were both off from work and lazily tangled on the couch, watching ‘Used Cars’, questionably ‘borrowed’ from Family Video. Steve called it a perk of his job. Eddie knew Steve picked the movie solely because Eddie admitted that he used to have a crush on Kurt Russell (“Used to?” Steve laughed, “You still do!” “Do not!” “Do too!”), but there was something about the shitty cars driving through the mud of the dealership that had Eddie aching for a drive.

“We should go muddin’,” Eddie grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before untangling his limbs. He climbed off the couch, taking a few steps into the kitchen to grab his keys off the counter.

“Go what-ing?” Steve said, sitting up.

“Muddin’,” Eddie said with a grin. It falters for a second. “Have you ever gone muddin’ before?”

“No,” Steve wrinkled his nose. “Like… playing in the mud?”

“Kinda,” Eddie shrugged. “It’s more driving around in the mud.”

“I’ve practically been muddling all week leaving the trailer park,” Steve said with a playful frown. “So what? We’re getting my car muddy on purpose?”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Eddie said. “Besides, we’re not taking your car.” He flips his keys a few time for show. “We need to break this bad boy in.”

The bad boy in question was a 1972 Chevy Cheyenne, which is plenty of broken in. Eddie was able to buy it last month for a few hundred dollars. Eddie has been finding every excuse in the book to ‘break it in’ including taking it to the drive-in, stargazing, going for a late night cruise, a redneck swimming pool (Eddie’s words for the tarp in the bed of the truck and filling it with water), fooling around in the cab of the truck, fooling around in the bed of the truck, and now apparently mudding.

“C’mon,” Eddie whined like a child. “It’s hardly storming out there. I’ll take you out to the Dairy King afterwards. I’ll buy you a milkshake and curly fries.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed. “But were each getting our own milkshake.”

Eddie pumped his fist in the air. Steve couldn’t help but grin. “C’mon!” Eddie said, taking the few steps back to Steve and grabbing his arm, pulling him up. “We’re missing out on valuable mud time.”

“It’s supposed to rain all day,” Steve said, following Eddie to the truck. “There’s gonna be mud for the next few days.”

“Which means we’ll have to go again tomorrow,” Eddie grinned. “Plus it’s more sprinkling than anything. This is hardly anything. Here —“ Eddie handed Steve his mechanic’s work jacket, Eddie’s name stitched in red over the heart. “The finest robe for his majesty.”

Steve rolled his eyes, slipping on the jacket as Eddie ushered him out into the rain and into the Chevy. Eddie was right. The rain was light, nothing that made Steve concerned or worried. He just didn’t want to get his Nikes covered in mud. Eddie promised if they get dirty, he’d throw them in the washing machine with his Reeboks, but promised that they wouldn’t get out of the truck into the mud. Steve shoved his hands into the jacket pockets, feeling the cool metal of Eddie’s lighter against his finger tips. Eddie, the ever so gentleman, took three steps past Steve to the passenger door, yanking it open for Steve.

“Your chariot,” Eddie said with a bow. Steve couldn’t help but grin as he climbed into the truck, Eddie shutting the door behind him. Eddie started to jogged around the truck, jumping against the hood as if he was trying to slide over it to the other side. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, trying to figure out how anyone thought his goofy boyfriend was scary.

“You’re such a dork,” Steve said to Eddie as he climbed into the Chevy.

Eddie shot him a shit eating grin and revved the engine, “but I’m your dork. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve said.

Eddie pulled the truck into reverse, pulling away from the trailer home. Eddie fiddled with the music, going from station to station until he found one that was mostly music and less static. As he drove through the trailer park, the Chevy Cheyenne dug through the mud, leaving deep tracks behind. Eddie pulled onto the highway, driving out of town.

“I thought we were going mudding in the trailer park?” Steve asked.

“You gotta have open space to go muddin’,” Eddie explained. “I figured the fairgrounds, maybe some country roads. I promise, we will be safe. Nobody has ever died from muddin’.” There was a long pause. “Yet.”

“Eds,” Steve warned. Eddie smirked, reaching over to squeeze Steve’s thigh.

“I’m kidding!” Eddie said, squeezing again. “You know I’m a safe driver. I drove your Beemer before and you had no complaints!”

“Because I had a migraine,” Steve said. “And Robin still doesn’t have her license.”

“You would trust Robin over me?” Eddie gasped, jerking his hand away from Steve’s leg and bringing it over his heart. “Sweetheart, you wound me!”

Steve frowned, grabbing Eddie’s hand and placing it back over his thigh. Eddie grinned. “You’re so dramatic.”

“But you love it,” Eddie laughed, squeezing Steve’s thigh. “Right, baby?”

“Right,” Steve said, with a goofy smile. He kept his hand over Eddie’s as they drove a few miles out of town to the fair grounds.

The fairground parking was more dirt than anything. The annual Roane County Fair occurred the first week of July. Steve hasn’t found the energy to go, now that the Fourth of July was associated with being tortured by Russians. But maybe things would be different this year with Eddie holding his hand in secret.

The dirt parking was soaked with rain, mud piles and large puddles. Eddie looked over at Steve with the biggest grin. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Sure.”

Eddie revved the engine a few times before taking off, Steve jerking back in his seat with a laugh as Eddie drove into the first mud puddle he saw, splashing the windshield with mud. He ran the wipers, smearing the mud on his windshield, steering the car into more mud. The truck slowed in the mud, stuttering against the sludge as it powered through the mud, kicking back. The brakes slipped, the Chevy lurching forward. Steve jerked forward, slamming his hand on the dash to keep him stable.

Eddie let out a hoot of a laugh. He kept his hand on Steve’s thigh, squeezing gently any time he needed to move his hand to switch between first and second gears. He pushed on the gas, the truck accelerating to the next puddle, coating Steve’s window in mud. The shocks in the truck already made Steve feel every bump in the unpaved roads to Eddie’s trailer. The bumps and dips in the fairground seemed worse, jerking the truck up and down unevenly like a rollercoaster ride. Steve couldn’t help but laugh when he felt his ass leave the seat.

“Now you get me!” Eddie grinned, jerking the wheel to the side, finding more mud to dig up with the tires. The thick mud would get stuck in his tires, kicking up to the bed of the truck, even the back window was covered in mud. It was gonna be a bitch to clean, but that’s a problem for another day.

The Chevy slid in the mud, losing traction, sliding ever so slightly. Eddie squeezed Steve’s thigh, holding him down. “Eds —“ Steve braced himself against the door.

“I got it,” Eddie said, pumping on the brakes, regaining control of the truck. “Just a little slide action.”

Steve doesn’t know how long they were out in the fairgrounds. Long enough to get the truck coated in mud. There was no seeing out the back window and the side windows weren’t any better. Eddie was lucky enough that his windshield wipers were able to clean the front windshield enough that he could see the highway as they left. But instead of turning right to go back into town, he turned left.

“Hawkins is that way,” Steve frowned.

“I know,” Eddie said. “I got one more spot to show ya. There’s a road by Hagan’s feedlot that’s usually muddy.”

“God, the feedlot smells,” Steve groaned.

“And it’s gonna smell worse during the rain,” Eddie grinned. “Just hold your breath, it’s just past the feedlot.”

Sure enough, the feedlot reeked. Eddie turned down the dirt road just past the feedlot, driving about a mile down the road where the slightly wet dirt road turned muddy. The road was full of divots and potholes, bouncing the truck with every movement. The mud started to fly back up onto the windshield as the rain started to come down again.

Then, Steve noticed the hill.

The truck started to go up the large hill, stuttering in the mud. Steve swore the truck even slipped backwards a little, but Eddie didn’t flinch.

“Eds —“

“I got this,” Eddie said, pressing on the gas and shifted gears. The tires spun, kicking up more mud against the windows. The rain started to pour harder. Steve reached over his shoulder for the seat belt.

“Eddie —“ Steve said as his seat belt clicked. Eddie squeezed his thigh, letting go so he could grab his seat belt with one hand, pulling it over his shoulder and to his hip. Steve reached over and buckled it in for him. Eddie shot him a quick wink, returning his hand to Steve’s thigh.

“Ready?” Eddie asked. Steve wasn’t sure if there was a choice, now that they were at the top of the hill —

“Oh fuck —!”

The Chevy Cheyenne went over the hill — Steve swore they flew in the air for a brief moment, feeling his gut and his ass leave the seat — and then they went down.

The Chevy was going fast, Eddie’s foot off the gas as they made their way down the hill, kicking up mud and shaking in the truck. Thunder sounded around them. Rain poured. Eddie squeezed Steve’s thigh. Steve grabbed his arm, wrapping his own around him. The Chevy shook, mud landing on the windshield, quickly washed away as the rain grew heavier and heavier. Hail hit the windshield. The traction slipped, sliding ever so slightly, enough to make Steve’s gut drop.

“Eddie —!”

“I got it,” Eddie said, letting go of Steve’s leg and gripped the steering wheel. He pumped the breaks, attempting to slow the truck down. Eddie turned the wiper switch on high, watching them try to push the rain water and mud away from the windshield. The rain poured harder. The road evened out at the bottom of the hill. Eddie could barely see out of the windshield with how heavy the rain was. The truck shook with the winds.

Steve reached for the radio, moving the frequency from FM to AM. Crackling over the speakers came the weather report.

“This is the National Weather Service with an urgent weather report. Severe thunderstorm warning is issued for the following counties: Clay, Greene, Hendricks, Monroe, Morgan, Putnam, and Roane —“

“Just a thunderstorm,” Eddie said, his grip still so tight on the wheel that his knuckles were turning white. “It’ll pass. We’ll be okay once we get out of the rain.”

“Is there a paved road soon?” Steve asked, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. Eddie pressed his lips together. “Ed?”

“About three more miles,” Eddie said. “Or I can try to turn around and we take that hill again.”

Steve couldn’t look out the passenger window, the mud too thick on the glass. He could barely see the road in front of them, let alone how deep the ditches are or when the next cross road was.

“Let’s keep going —“

“A tornado watch has been issued for the following counties: Greene, Monroe, and Roane —“

“Eddie —“

“Got it,” Eddie clenched his jaw, pressing on the gas.

“What’s worse,” Steve asked. “A tornado watch or a warning?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie said. “We hardly get tornadoes. It’s not gonna happen —“

“A tornado warning has been issued for northwest Roane County —“

“Shit,” Eddie muttered.

“Eddie —“

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “That’s — that’s us.”

Steve nodded, clenching his jaw. He pulled on his seat belt, as if it would tighten more than it already was.

“It could be anywhere,” Eddie said raising his voice over the wind, holding the wheel tight, focused on keeping them on the road. “Hawkins is in the northwest part of the county. Doesn’t mean it’s touched ground. Just seen. Just —” Eddie shook his hand, barely above the wheel, frustrated. “Keep a look out.”

“I can’t see shit, Eds!” Steve shouted, winds whistling through the windows. The rain curtain made it near impossible to see out the front of the truck. “Pull over!”

“I can’t just — pull over, Steve!” Eddie snapped. “The ditches —“

“We should’ve stayed home!” Steve yelled.

“Trailer ain’t got shit against a tornado,” Eddie punched the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

The winds grew stronger. The truck shook, shocks bouncing like it did on the fairgrounds.

“Eds —“

“I know, Steve —“

“No, Eds —“

“I can’t just pull over —“

“Eddie!” Steve smacked Eddie’s chest, leaning over and pointed out the window. “Fucking stop!”

Eddie glanced out the window, watching a funnel cloud form, twisting in the air to the northeast. “Fuck!”

He slammed on the brakes, instantly regretting it as the truck started to swerve, threatening to spin as the rear wheels lock up. Eddie jerked the wheel, correcting his mistake and keeping the truck on the muddy road. Eddie pumped the brakes, feeling the truck slowly but surely come to a stop.

It felt surreal, in the midst of a storm. The whistling wind shaking the truck, the warm May temperature dropping ten degrees in a matter of moments. Rain and hail banging on the cab’s rooftop. No words exchanged from the boys, just heavy breaths and heartbeats. It wasn’t until the NOAA weather alert repeated for the third time since they stopped, that Eddie realized Steve’s hand was pressed against his chest.

Even then, they couldn’t take their eyes off the funnel cloud, getting bigger by the moment. Winds getting stronger and stronger until —

The tornado touched the ground.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Eddie nodded. “Holy fucking shit is right.”

It didn’t seem like they could do anything but watch.

Eddie wished they would’ve stayed home.

“Eds. Eddie,” Steve said, leaning forward in his seat. “It’s — it’s moving.”

Hell.

Sure enough, the tornado changed courses, no longer heading their direction, but parallel to the highway only a half-mile away. The rain started to lift. The hail stopped.

Eddie let out a laugh.

He reached out, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and shaking it. “God, Steve. I — I think I pissed myself.”

Steve laughed, leaning over and catching Eddie’s lips with his own. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Holy fucking shit is right,” Eddie said, smacking the steering wheel a few times. “Okay,” Eddie laughed, putting the truck into first. “Look, I know it was a mess, but if we go back over the hill —“

“What if we didn’t.”

Eddie raised his eyebrow, looking at Steve. “Then we’re following the storm. Storm’s past, I’ll go slow —“

“What if,” Steve said, a little stronger, slower. His eyes shining with something Eddie’s still not quite sure about. “What if we chased it.”

Eddie laughed in disbelief. “Chased it,” he said. “The tornado?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a small smirk on his face. “Or are you too scared?”

Eddie’s face broke out into a shit eating grin. He leaned over the center seat, pressing a kiss against Steve’s lips. He leaned back, smacking Steve’s chest a few times, “That’s my country boy! Let’s fucking go!”

Eddie leaned back into his seat, pressing on the gas. Steve let out a laugh, as Eddie switched to second gear. Soon, they ran out of the dirt road, hitting the pavement. Eddie turned right, catching the rain. The tornado was now in full sight through the muddy windshield, maybe two miles out in the country. It wasn’t a large tornado, even close by, Eddie felt like he had decent control over the truck with the wind speeds. Nothing like they experienced minutes before.

They watched as the tornado tore up the pasture.

“You think —“ Steve said, stopping as if he was questioning himself. He looked at Eddie, a curious look on his face. “You think we could get closer?”

“Can we get — yes,” Eddie shot Steve an award winning grin. “Get ready, we’re going off roading.”

“Off-roading? Eds—!” Steve braced himself against the dash as Eddie drove off the road, into the ditch and into the pasture. He drove at an angle, trying to get closure to the tornado, while trying to keep up with it. Steve laughed as the Chevy shook, hitting uneven dirt and mud. Eddie pressed on the gas, shifting gears, speeding up.

The wind grew stronger as they grew closer to the tornado. Blowing pieces of wheat and hay around them. It was one thing seeing the tornado miles away, but up close? It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time. The way the wind controlled and destroyed the land. Dirt clouds at the bottom, the rain clouds following the top. Steve’s seen pictures of damages from tornadoes. Towns leveled by only a few minutes of a tornado. Lives changed in a matter of moments.

And they were following the danger, no way to stop it. No way to prevent the destruction.

That is, until the tornado slowed. They started to catch up on it. Eddie lowered gears, slowing down. Eddie knew. Steve was just figuring it out.

This was the end of the tornado.

Soon, the dirt settled below. The storm clouds above remained, but the rain lightened to a sprinkle. The tornado became smaller and smaller, thinner and thinner until it no longer touched the ground. Then, it practically faded into air, settling down for good and clearing the air.

“Damn,” Eddie said, putting the truck into park in the middle of the pasture. “Fun while it lasted.”

“Really fun,” Steve grinned. “We going storm chasing again tomorrow?”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughed. “Hates the rain, he says! Spends all day locked indoors. We have awaken the real storm here.”

“Guess you could say rain’s a good thing,” Steve grinned. Eddie leaned over the middle seat, catching Steve’s lips with his own. “I think you owe me a milkshake.”

Eddie leaned back into his seat, rocking the truck as he does. “The storm requires a milkshake! To the King, we go!”

Eddie revved the engine, putting it into first gear and pressing on the gas. The Chevy Cheyenne stays true to its country boys, kicking up dirt as it jerks into motion, working its way through the pasture and back onto the pavement. Steve looked over at Eddie, grinning and humming to the radio now that the frequency was off the weather and back on FM. Eddie looked over at Steve, grinning. He placed his hand back on Steve’s thigh, squeezing. Steve put his hand over Eddie’s, running his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles.

Sure. Steve might be afraid of storms, but with Eddie by his side? He could face a fucking tornado.

[batboyblog]

"My Name is Harvey Milk and I'm Here To Recruit You!"

If you don't know Harvey Milk was the first openly gay man elected to public office, to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977. To this day Harvey remains the most famous queer person elected to office maybe in the world. His short and tumultuous time in office was dominated by the fight for gay rights. In the late 1970s there was a huge backlash against the rise of gay rights spearheaded by a group called "Save Our Children". Across the country they organized elections to revoke local gay rights ordinances in Miami, Saint Paul, Wichita and Eugene in the summer and fall of 1977. In 1978 a California state Senator John Briggs brought forward a citizens referendum, Proposition 6, which would ban gay people and supporters of gay rights from being teachers any where in the state of California. The last year of Harvey's life was consumed with the struggle against Briggs who he debated across the state. In the end the Briggs Initiative was defeated 58-41% with Harvey's home of San Francisco turning out over 70% against. The national anti-gay fever broke and "Save Our Children" never recovered.

Harvey opened every speech he ever gave with "My name is Harvey Milk, and I'm here to recruit you" In the 1970s rather than accusing gay people of "grooming" children (an idea that didn't exist then) they were accused of "recruiting" them. "Recruiting our children to the homosexual lifestyle". So Harvey used it as a joke but also a battle cry

Today it feels like every day there's more bad news. Across the country state legislatures are trying to ban trans health care for minors and even adults. Local school boards are banning books about LGBT people (and others). States are trying to ban drag. violence and the threat of violence are trying to stop companies from doing Pride and attacking Queer events. The internet is flooded with "groomer" attacks on our humanity. There are days it does feel like the 1970s all over again.

BUT! we won then, and there are many lessons we can take from Harvey and his struggle and use to win the fight against the current wave of hate plunging American in darkness. Harvey's been gone a very long time so... My name is Max and I'm here to recruit you, here are some things I want everyone to do.

VOTE BITCH!

Are you an American citizen 18 years of age or older? Are you registered to vote? if the answer is no, register to fucking vote bitch, here check out what you need. If you want registered, click the link any ways and double check. If you're 16 or 17 years old good news more than half the states in America allow you to "preregister" so you're all signed up and become a registered vote right on your 18th birthday. Whats more ask every vaguely left of center person in your life, everyone who supports LGBT rights, if they're registered to vote and if any one says "no" bug the shit out of them till that changes.

But more than just registering to vote you have to go and vote, yes every election. Right now across America conservative queerphobes are using local elections that get little to no attention and are often very low turn out to take over and push wildly extreme and hateful agendas. Local school boards across America are banning books that have LGBT characters or themes. They pushing policies that refuse students the right to their correct names and pronouns. They want to require schools to out students to their parents against their wishes. Check Vote411 or ballotpedia to find what elections are happening around you.

Candidates on a local level, school board, town/city council, county government, even up to state Rep and state Senate candidates are almost always very responsive to questions. Email everyone running and ask them where they stand, you will get answers I PROMISE you will get answers. Its the easiest thing to do and everyone who has the right to vote in this country should do it, vote in every election.

"But I live in a super blue area my vote doesn't matter" SHUT UP! SHUT UP! even if every local election is Democratic it can be more progressive, ask local candidates what they're gonna do to push LGBT rights forward. Will your local school board push teaching LGBT history? respect trans students pronouns? will your local library board host a drag queen story hour and put together programs for pride? ask! push them! let local candidates know!

"but I live in a super red area my vote doesn't count" BULLSHIT! where ever you are there's a local election that can swing to the non-shitty side if people show up, you can be the difference in a school board election. No matter what stand up and be counted.

Come Out Come Out Wherever You Are.

Since the earliest days of the movement in the 1950s and 1960s before Stonewall, through Harvey Milk's time in the 1970s through to right now, the most powerful tool we have is to come out. It is easy to hate the homosexual, the transgender as an abstraction, as a stereotype as an unrefuted lie. It is so much harder to hate a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, a friend, a neighbor, your lawyer, your doctor, the mailman, your 8th grade English teacher. In 1978 Harvey said:

"Unless you have dialogue, unless you open the walls of dialogue, you can never reach to change people's opinion. In those two weeks, more good and bad, but more about the word homosexual and gay was written than probably in the history of mankind. Once you have dialogue starting, you know you can break down prejudice. In 1977 we saw a dialogue start."

Thats what they're scared of, thats why they're freaking out in Target, why they're trying to shut down Drag Queen story hours and take away the books. Ignorance and hate lives in darkness and dies in the light. In 1978 gay men and lesbians went door to door in California and introduced themselves to strangers to explain the harm Briggs would do to them. They vote for us 3 to 1 if they know they know one of us.

It shouldn't be like this, it should be when you're ready when you have all the words, but they're coming for us all so come out come out wherever you are. If you know your parents will love you but you've been holding off because it's scary or stressful, nows the moment. If you're a grown ass adult who lives on your own and don't need mom and dad's money to pay your rent, tell them, no matter how much it hurts, call them on the phone, write them a letter if you have to. Does your family know but they asked you not to tell grandma, grandma, great-aunt Marge because they're old or whatever, or your aunt and uncle who are born again Christians. Listen if they still vote they could be hurting you and if they really love you they shouldn't want to do that, tell them! tell them who you really are, and it might be the work of years to bring that person around, but you never know till you try it.

Are there family members you have who know and love you but you know they're conservative and still vote Republican and you've been avoiding talking to them about it because it's awkward? Stop avoiding it, explain it to them, explain that it's not "just politics" explain to your loved ones that they ARE hurting you. If they don't hear it the first time, don't stop, if they love you they shouldn't hurt you.

Come Out at Work, Come out at your bowling league, come out to that friend of a friend you see sometimes, wear a pin, rainbow shoes, a shirt in public, tell your co-workers, your clients, your Church, your Synagogue. Wear that rainbow pin, that pronoun t-shirt, put a sticker on your car, your bag, your phone. If it's safe for you to be out in a space, claim it, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE.

COMING OUT AS TRANS OR NON-BINARY

COMING OUT AS LESBIAN, GAY, OR BISEXUAL

Go To Pride This Year.

Conservatives are trying harder than any time in my lifetime to shut down Pride. Florida and Tennessee have passed laws that will limit pride events. Terrorists are threatening and attacking brands that are doing Pride themed events and products. These events and products go back at least 20 years but the violence of attacks against them is really new. So the only answer is to GO TO PRIDE. I don't care if crowds are not your thing, I don't care if its 97 degrees out the day your city does it, I don't care if your local pride is small and embarrassing, I don't care you might see that one ex, I DON'T CARE. If you physically can go to a pride event this June DO IT. If you're scared to be seen, wear a mask, go in drag, put make or body pant over your tattoos whatever you need to do. If we want to have Pride again next year in many areas this year needs to be a show of force. If you've never been and you never go again this is the year, do it, go, find the Pride event closest to you and do it.

Get Involved Whore!

So far I've offered you pretty easy asks for things you can do, voting, coming out, going to Pride. Now comes the harder ones, get involved. In 1978 gay men and lesbians knocked on doors and told voters across the state of California how an anti-gay measure would affect them personally. If they had the nerve less than 10 years after Stonewall to go to strangers houses and come out to them, I believe you can do it too. Get out there, knock doors, make phone calls, mail postcards, wave signs. Talk to Voters from anywhere, find your local Democratic Party, check out LGBT Democrats in your state, check out groups like the HRC and PFLAG

if you've got money give to HRC, give to GLAD, Give to The National Center for Lesbian Rights all 3 of whom have been the tip of the spear fighting the insane anti-LGBT laws coming out of the states.

If you don't have money, check out The Victory Fund thats supports LGBT candidates and find one close to you and sign up to help. Can't find anyone? try Run for Something that supports young progressives. If you live in a Blue area of a blue state, you can check the Sister District Project which links up volunteers with swingy districts across the country. Swing Left does much the same on a more federal level

crazy right wing extremists can count on organized support from Churches and far right groups. You, yes you, talking to you Glenn! HAVE TO be the support network, the volunteer base for LGBT candidates and their allies and supporters. You have to HAVE to get out there, give if you have money, knock on doors, call, text, write letters go to a protest, sit at a booth, register people to vote, hand out literature, WHATEVER whatever. You can do it, please give at least one weekend over the next two years to a political campaign, be it a local school board candidate, town council, working for the Democrats or volunteering through the HRC or a progressive group, the people who want to destroy you are out working to win elections, you have to be too.

Fucking Run, why not?

This is the last thing, the hardest thing and the thing I don't expect everyone to do. Run, yes really, run for office, yes you, yes I mean it. If the crazed insane conservative who thinks Hillary Clinton drinks child blood out of kids like a juice box is qualified for School Board to ban all the books with queer people or black folks, you are MORE than qualified. I don't care if you're a high school drop out with face tats, you're more qualified than these people, so do it, if you've ever thought of it, do it. Frustratingly dozens of dozens of offices across this country are filled every day but uncontested elections only one person signed up, hell that person can be you why not? Look into it Last year 41% of the seats in the Florida Legislature went uncontested, 37% of the seats in Texas, 53% in Tennessee, 58% in South Carolina. It's not for everyone, but if you've ever wanted to, ever thought about it, take this as your sign, do it. Do you have a friend who's so smart, cool, involved and just better than you in every way and you think they should run the world? Nominate them, give them a push to run

I think Harvey put the importance of electing queer people better than I ever could so

Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio, there’s a young gay person who all of a sudden realizes that she or he is gay. Knows that if the parents find out, they’ll be tossed out of the house. The classmates will taunt the child and the Anita Bryants and John Briggs’ are doing their bit on TV, and that child had several options. Staying in a closet, suicide, and then one day that child might open a paper, and it says “Homosexual elected in San Francisco,” and there are two new options. An option is to go to California or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected, I got a phone call, and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania, and the person said, “Thanks.” And you’ve got to elect gay people so that that young child and the thousands upon thousands like that child know that there’s hope for a better world. There’s hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those Blacks, and the Asians, and disabled, and seniors. The us’s. The us’s without hope, the us’s give up. I know that you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you have got to give them hope. Thank you very much.

If you read all this thanks, I can't make anyone do anything of course, but whatever you choose to do, I'll be out there knocking doors. I wish I did not live in such dark times but as Gandalf The Gray said "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” 

Finally to all my Queer brothers, sisters, and siblings, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.

[dearreader]

the way in 2018 trump said he didn’t care about the camp fire destroying a whole fucking town because california was a blue state until someone said butte county was a red county and then he flew over and was saying he wouldn’t cut any money from wildfire defense.

and how in 2021 when the texas blizzard destroyed and killed people in texas but no one lifted a finger and said this was texans fault because they “didn’t vote right”

and the way we’re now watching towns literally be washed away in seconds and no one in power cares cause the city’s are red.

i fucking hate this country

[vague-humanoid]

Debunking conspiracy theories takes time away from recovery efforts

As rescue work continues and authorities try to separate fact from fiction, the conspiracy theories are not helping. Elected leaders from both parties have had to set the record straight and urge people not to give into fear and rumor.

“If everyone could maybe please put aside the hate for a bit and pitch in to help, that would be great,” posted Glenn Jacobs, the retired professional wrestler known as Kane, who is now the Republican mayor of Knox County, Tennessee. Jacobs’ post was intended to rebut rumors that workers from the Federal Emergency Management Agency were seizing relief supplies from private citizens.

Many of the conspiracy theories focus on hard-hit North Carolina, a state key to winning the White House. Rumors circulated that FEMA was raiding storm donations and withholding body bags, forcing local hospitals to stack the bodies of victims. One claim suggested federal authorities would condemn the entire town of Chimney Rock and prohibit resettlement in order to commandeer a valuable lithium mine nearby.

False claims of blocked relief flights and aid withheld from Republicans

Elon Musk, the owner of Tesla, X and SpaceX, posted that private relief flights to North Carolina were being blocked by the Federal Aviation Administration, a claim dismissed as false by Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg.

Despite the tradition of Democrats and Republicans putting aside politics for disaster response, many conspiracy theories suggest Democrats such as President Joe Biden or North Carolina Gov. Roy Cooper are intentionally withholding aid from Republicans. Trump has pushed the claim, as has North Carolina’s lieutenant governor, Mark Robinson, the embattled GOP nominee for governor.

“They’re being treated very badly in the Republican areas,” Trump told Fox News, ignoring reports and photo and video evidence of recovery efforts underway throughout the region. “They’re not getting water, they’re not getting anything.”

Conspiracy theorist Alex Jones endorsed Trump’s fact-free allegation. Jones, the founder of InfoWars, popularized the idea that the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in Connecticut that killed 20 children in 2012 was faked. “Exclusive: Victims of Hurricane Helene Confirm The Federal Government is Purposely Blocking Rescuers and Stealing Aid In an Attempt to Keep Deep Red Areas From Voting,” Jones posted Thursday on X.

Disinformation campaigns by China and Russia amplify the misleading claims

State-run media and disinformation campaigns run by China and Russia have amplified false and misleading claims about the response to the storm. Both countries have used social media and state news stories to criticize responses to past U.S. natural disasters, part of a larger effort to stoke division and distrust among Americans.

State and local officials from both parties have condemned the conspiracy theories as rumors, saying the focus should be on recovery, not political division and hearsay. Responding to the hoaxes is taking up time that should go toward assisting victims, said North Carolina state Sen. Kevin Corbin, a Republican who urged his constituents not to give into hoaxes.

“Friends can I ask a small favor?” Corbin posted Thursday on Facebook. “Will you all help STOP this conspiracy theory junk that is floating all over Facebook and the internet... Please don’t let these crazy stories consume you.”

After Robinson, the GOP candidate for North Carolina governor, posted that state officials had not prepared for the storm, a spokesman for the governor accused Robinson of mounting “an online disinformation campaign.” North Carolina officials say the response to Helene is the largest in state history, including thousands of members of the National Guard and other recovery workers, millions of meals, dozens of aircraft and more than 1,000 chainsaws.

Trump has tried to tie the hurricane’s aftermath to immigration, a leading issue of his campaign. He falsely claimed that FEMA had run out of money because all of it had gone to programs for undocumented immigrants.

The agency’s funding for disaster aid is stretched, but that is because of the many parts of the country dealing with the effects of hurricanes, wildfires and other calamities. Disaster aid is funded separately from other Department of Homeland Security programs that support immigration-related spending.

Far-out tales of space lasers, fake snow and weather control technology

Bizarre stories proposing that the government used weather control technology to aim the hurricane at Republican voters quickly racked up millions of views on X and other platforms.

Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, R-Ga., endorsed the idea, posting Wednesday on X: “Yes they can control the weather. It’s ridiculous for anyone to lie and say it can’t be done.”

Far-out tales of space lasers, fake snow and weather control technology -- sometimes tinged with antisemitism — have spread after recent natural disasters, including a snowstorm in Texas and last year’s wildfire in Maui.

Experts who study conspiracy theories say big events like disasters — or the Sept. 11 attacks or the COVID-19 pandemic — create perfect conditions for conspiracy theories to spread because large numbers of anxious people are eager to find explanations for shocking events.

Responding to the volume of false claims about Helene, the Red Cross urged people to consult trustworthy sources of information and to think twice before reposting conspiracy theories.

“Sharing rumors online without first vetting the source and verifying facts ultimately hurts people — people who have just lost their homes, neighborhoods, and, in some cases, loved ones,” the organization wrote in a public plea.

[saintsenara]

1,5,13, 16 for the ask game!

thank you very much for the ask from the i’m not from the states ask game, pal!

1. what is your favourite place in your country?

let's have a few, shall we!

going clockwise, we have: dunluce castle, co. antrim; mussenden temple, co. londonderry; florence court, co. fermanagh [my brother got married here!]; prehen woods, co. londonderry; the gobbins cliff path, co. antrim [although not if you're easily frightened...]; ness and ervey woods, co. londonderry; mount stewart, co. down; castlerock beach, co. londonderry.

5. what is your favourite song in your native language?

i have picked all of these because they were favourites of my granny, who used to potter around the house singing them at the top of her [tone deaf] lungs. she was about four foot eleven, ferocious, and very greatly missed.

five irish-language bangers:

an cailín álainn ta mo chleamhnas deanta bean pháidín [which i really advise looking up the lyrics to, because it's the ideal anthem for petty girls...] casadh an tsúgaín cad é sin don té sin [another one for the petty girlies]

five english-language bangers:

the gartan mother's lullaby the night-visiting song carrickfergus the maid of culmore [i've picked this version because of the lyric-change in the opening line, which sends me for some reason - the traditional lyrics are from sweet londonderry to fair london town, but the fine lads and comrades of university college dublin have changed it to from sweet, lovely derry. which i love them for.] the star of the county down

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

answered here.

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

that it's a horrible, violent place and everyone who lives there is a terrorist.

i will accept, however, that we're verbose and that we all drink too much.

[beardedmrbean]

A man has been charged with murder and hate crimes after allegedly stabbing a six-year-old boy to death because he was Muslim.

Joseph Czuba, 71, is accused of killing Wadea Al-Fayoume and seriously wounding his mother in Plainfield, Illinois.

The landlord allegedly targeted the pair, who were his tenants, because of their religion and the ongoing conflict between Hamas and Israel.

President Joe Biden said he was "sickened" by Saturday's attack.

"This horrific act of hate has no place in America, and stands against our fundamental values: freedom from fear for how we pray, what we believe, and who we are," he said.

Hanaan Shahin, 32, was attacked by her landlord, who had a military-style knife, and ran to the bathroom to call the police, authorities said.

She suffered more than a dozen stab wounds but is expected to survive.

Her son, Wadea, was stabbed more than two dozen times in the attack and later died in hospital. A funeral service and burial will be held on Monday afternoon in the town of Bridgeview, which is sometimes referred to as "Little Palestine" because of its large Palestinian-American population.

On Monday, a makeshift memorial - which included a stuffed spider-man figure and other children's toys - stood at the scene of the crime.

Several crosses, apparently put up by Mr Czuba sometime before the incident, were also visible, along with a sign telling passers-by to "pray the rosary at 4:20".

He celebrated his sixth birthday just a few weeks ago. "He loved his family, his friends. He loved soccer, he loved basketball," the executive director of the Chicago office of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), Ahmed Rehab, said.

When officers arrived at the scene, about 40 miles (64km) south-west of Chicago, they found Mr Czuba sat on the ground outside the property with a cut to his face.

The victims, who were Palestinian-Americans, were found in a bedroom.

Mr Czuba was taken to hospital for treatment before being questioned by detectives. He was later charged with first-degree murder, attempted first-degree murder, hate crimes and aggravated battery.

While he did not make a statement, detectives said they were able to determine a potential motive.

"Both victims in this brutal attack were targeted by the suspect due to them being Muslim and the ongoing Middle Eastern conflict involving Hamas and the Israelis," the Will County Sheriff's office said.

The US Justice Department has also opened a federal hate crime investigation into the attack. In statements on Monday, both Vice President Kamala Harris and Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas condemned the attack and rising incidents of hate.

"There is no humane world that can and should tolerate the murder of an innocent child because of his identity," Mr Mayorkas said. "The tragic events in the Middle East...have brought ideologies of hate to the fore across the world - notably antisemitism and Islamophobia. This must end."

At a news conference on Sunday, CAIR said Wadea was born in the US while his mother - originally from Beitunia in the West Bank - came to the country 12 years ago.

"[Wadea] paid the price for the atmosphere of hate and otherisation and dehumanisation that frankly I think we are seeing here in the United States," Mr Rehab said.

The boy's father, Oday al-Fayoume, was at the news conference and was in a state of shock, Mr Rehab said.

Neighbours such as Eva Case expressed disbelief at the violent attack. "I don't care what the situation was," she told the BBC's US partner CBS. "Don't take it out on somebody that innocent of life."

Others who lived nearby said the pair had moved into the home four years ago.

"It's sickening. I can't even imagine how anybody could do that to a little child," one neighbour said.

[hessdalen-globe]

Formation of the Ivrian Empire

I've been working pretty steadily on these two maps for the past week, and I'm super excited to have them finally done! There's a lot to unpack here, so I'll try to condense it.

Red: International borders.

Thick gray: Ivranse provinces.

Thin gray: Provincial counties.

The far east of the Norphendran continent has been home to the Ivrian people for centuries, and they occupied it through various different means.

This map may be hard on the eyes, and you wouldn't be the only one to feel that way. What you're looking at is the four main Ivrian nations (Ivranse, Lokanse, Aarkanse, and Osbac), and between them all are what was known as the Ivrian microstates.

The microstates were complicated. Some were organized and stable, functioning like any other country. Others were turbulent, controlled by local crime gangs who constantly warred with their neighbours over the smallest issues. Their borders were nearly impossible to map for this reason, as they constantly changed.

No outside country wanted anything to do with the microstates. They oftentimes were centred on a tiny town, were impoverished, and had little to offer. In 133, which is equivalent to Earth's 1980's, most had no electricity.

Even though most lacked diplomacy with other nations, the microstates were the face of the international reputation of the Ivrian people.

King Rexon of Ivranse hated them with a passion, almost more than his hate for Gurngeshia. He saw them as a mess, a stain that completely ruined the Ivrian legacy. If a palace was built next to a heap of garbage that was greater in size, no matter how grand the palace the stench of the trash will always overshadow it. They were an obstacle that needed to be dealt with if his dream of the Ivranse superpower was to come true.

In 133 ACC, Rexon issued an ultimatum to each and every one of the microstates: Join Ivranse willingly or by force. Many, especially bordering states accepted and were absorbed. Others outright refused, but most scoffed and dismissed his demands.

Enlisting the help of Lokanse, Rexon unleashed a seven year long campaign that would bulldoze the microstates, and eventually transform the Ivrian lands into this:

The forces from the Ivrian kingdom were met with little resistance as they marched through villages and towns. Most of the locals saw them as liberators, freeing them from greedy criminal overlords. With the soldiers came food, clean water, and basic necessities they had been deprived of their entire lives. Rexon was viewed as a savior.

Upon the completion of his expansion wars, Rexon directed the drawing of the internal boundaries. New provinces and counties were created, completely ignoring the eyesore that occupied the land before. Rexon wanted the new borders to follow natural barriers such as rivers and mountains, instead of the historical borders. Even though over time the Ivrians had developed subcultures, Rexon viewed them all the same and lumped multiple groups together without consideration.

Some cases received special consideration, however. A select few of the microstates that accepted the ultimatum were viewed with favor, and counties or sometimes entire provinces were created around them, such as the city of Gran Olypso. Another province that had previously broken off of Lokanse was absorbed into Ivranse, but its governor would be selected from Lokanse.

Aarkanse also joined the emerging empire willingly, and so Rexon allowed it to remain unchanged border-wise, aside from a few additions.

Osbac resisted and was temporarily punished by having lands annexed, but received new territory after Rexon's end goal, the invasion of Gurngeshia, was completed. But that's a whole different story.

King Rexon made Ivranse the superpower it is, and the people see that plain as day. He is held in the highest regard, despite his failure in Vontrior. His title change from king to the first emperor of Ivranse was met with extreme public approval and celebrations.

P.s: The Ivrian microstates were the last places on Hessdalen where the Knights of Troidon still functioned in their traditional manner. In an effort to establish their new rule, the Ivrians expelled the Troidonites from their territory. One of the those clans were the obsidian axe.

[spookychick78]

End Of The Line

Chapter 1: God’s Country

Thomas Hewitt X AFAB!OC 

Warnings: None

Word Count:1,373

The screen door slammed loudly behind her as her bare feet met the gravel that covered the driveway. She had finally had enough. She could feel the rocks underneath her cutting through her skin as she ran towards the truck. She nearly dropped the keys as she slowed herself down before she got to the door. With shaky hands, she tried desperately to unlock it, cursing each passing moment. The sound of the screen door opening again only caused her to shake more. He was yelling for her to come back, but she wouldn't. Not this time. She finally got the key in the lock and turned it before she flung the door open as fast as possible. She climbed into the drivers seat and slammed in behind her, she made sure to press the lock down just before he could get ahold of the handle. His fist banged loudly on the window while the other hand frantically tried to reopen the door.

"You're gonna regret this," he yelled through the glass.

The engine roared to life and she glared back at him as she pressed her middle finger against the window in his face. She would have spit on him if she could, but she wasn't about to risk opening the window to give him access. She put the truck in reverse and slammed on the gas. He ran towards her and she briefly contemplated putting the thing back in drive to run him over, but he wasn't worth life in prison. He tried to block her, but failed. She was gone. She watched the gravel fly from the rear view mirror with an astonished smile. She started to laugh as he faded into the night behind her. She was free. She had left before, but there was something different about this time. She knew she wasn't coming back. She could tell by the weight that steadily lifted off of her with each mile she put between them. His spell had worn off, she saw him for who he truly was. A liar, a cheat and a man who couldn't keep his hands off her in the worst way. She had bruises, but they would fade, just as he had in the rear view mirror. There were some scars however that wouldn't, but she was glad. It would only remind her to keep driving. She hit the highway and floored it. She watched the speedometer rise all the way up to eighty and rolled the windows down to feel the wind in her hair. She didn't have any idea where she was going, but she didn't care. Anywhere was better than Houston and anyone was better than him. She rubbed her cheek where the back of his hand had landed just before she left. It's sting had lingered and an ache was settling deep in her jaw. She cursed him before she turned the radio on. She turned the music up as loud as it could go to drown out his memory. He wasn't worth another thought. Though, she'd allow herself one more, one that made her smile. Her fist ached too, and with good reason. She hadn't been the only one left with a bruise or two that night. It would be at least a few weeks before those pretty green eyes could wink at the next unfortunate woman to cross his path. She wondered what story he'd tell cause it certainly wouldn't be the truth, but let him. She'd never know and she'd never care anyhow.

She tore out of Harris County fast as she could. It wasn't long before she was on the two lane highway that would eventually lead her out of Texas. She'd only ever left once, she had never been much of a traveler, but the idea had suddenly become alluring. A place where no one knew her name, her past or anything in between was just what she needed. She had been under that town's sympathetic gaze for far too long and she hated being pitied. She hated being his victim. There was so much more to her than 'poor Ronnie'. What states were next to Texas? She figured in the direction she was headed it must be New Mexico. She liked that idea. She checked the gas and by some miracle the tank was full. By tomorrow night, she'd be in Santa Fe if she kept on like this. Not a part of her body was tired, she knew she could do it. She kept her eyes on the headlights that cut through the dark Texas night with a smile on her lips. With each passing mile, freedom just kept getting sweeter.

The hours passed by and soon the sun was high up in the sky casting its scorching heat down on the old asphalt road. She hadn't stopped thus far, but her mouth was getting dry and the gas tank was almost as desperate for a drink as she was. Amarillo was already at least an hour behind her which meant rest stops were few and far in between. She had underestimated just how long this stretch of nothing would go on for. She kept on for a few more miles and waited to see how far the next town was but the sign never seemed to come. She let out a sigh and pressed on the brake to park on the side of the road so she could pull out her map. It was desolate out there, no sign of life in sight. Just before the car came to a stop she felt one of the tires roll onto something sharp enough to pop it. The car ground to a halt.

"Damnit," she whispered before she turned the engine off.

She looked down the road ahead and behind her but didn't see a sign that anyone was nearby. She had never changed a tire before and knew without a helping hand, it was going to take awhile for her to figure it out. She let out a sigh as she threw her boots on, pushed open the car door and stepped out into that familiar and unforgiving Texas heat. It was so bright it was almost painful to keep her eyes fully open, though she wanted to take in her surroundings. Nothing but grass, most of it brown and a few patches of green lay sprawled out for miles. The sky was blue as ever with a few clouds scattered near the sun and a hawk making lazy circles overhead. There was no doubt it was hot, but for now the sun felt good on her skin. She walked to the back of the truck and climbed up to look in the bed. There was an old spare tire lying in the back, it would at least get her to the next town. She hopped in and grabbed it with both hands to toss it on the dead grass below. As she stood up she saw a figure walking up the road towards her. She let out a sigh of relief, she must have stopped on someone's land. At least they'd be able to help and maybe point her in the right direction. She climbed out of the bed and jumped down to the ground. She brushed the dust off her hands and waved down the figure. It was steadily getting closer and she could make out that it was a man. He was much larger than any she'd ever seen, dressed in a green shirt and pants with a dirty white apron on top. He had what looked to be a mask covering his face from the nose down and dark messy curls atop his head. To most, he might have been considered frightening, but she wasn't one to judge. She had no reason to think anything bad of him, not yet at least. He was a stranger, but she needed the help and from the look of it, he would have no trouble getting the truck jacked up. He was just a few feet away now and she gave him a smile.

"Hi," she said to the towering man, "mind helping me change a tire?"

[bishimightwing]

From a slightly intrusive thought to pseudo-hc about fictional places:

I hate the idea of anyone rating a place (ie.: city/town, county/parish, state, island, country, continent) based on its crime rate or base ideology or state of rule. You judge an environment by its people, who, if democracy is practiced in any amount there, have say in policies of the land. Or should, and may even practice manifestation of autonomy parallel to the authority that more so hinders such democracy.

Anyways, waxing less political now.

The general visitor's POV of Gotham and Blüdhaven is the crime of sociopaths and degenerates almost outweighs the desire to even just be there for leisure. Yet they're just like most IRL North American cities, with thriving local scenes of visual and audible art, cuisine, landmarks, even politics to any degree and from left or right. The IC and OOC views judge the mob scenes, and the collective chaos of Arkham and Blackgate profiles of criminals based in either cities, yet Iceberg Lounge is immaculate night club chic.

I'm in the New Orleans/Baton Rouge area of Louisiana and USA says either are high key murder and gang hot spots, perhaps heavy contenders for the nation's murder capital even. But Elsie's Plate and Pie, Café Dúmond, and Acme Oyster House, never lose customer nor tourist traffic.

[morgan-reblog]

just saw a tweet with states about what is the most used in each county to travel (car vs public transit vs walk) and saw some people being very fucking negative about how expensive cars are, how bad it is for the planet/health and whatever else and saying how they dont understand why people take cars so much.

but I feel like these people don't realise... depending on where you live you lowkey need a car to drive yourself if you wanna go anywhere.

Like where I personally live (somewhere rural-suburban in Canada, where I feel we have something similar to the US). if you don't have a car you better kiss goodbye to go anywhere easily if at all.

Buses? In the morning, from 5h to 10h, one comes every 30 minutes which only goes towards a terminus with more buses. Then that's it. Afterwards, buses come back to town in the afternoon, from essentially 16h to 19h, its about every 20-30 minutes.

Better not want to go out on weekends because then it drops to a bus every 2 hours between 7:30 and 19:30.

Even in bigger towns / small cities with more buses than whatever rural region gets it's not that good. Even more so since they redid the whole circuit and now it made rides longer than before for people.

The only place where it's kinda reliable is in the big city, where you also have the subway (which surprise surprise, doesn't cover all the big city and leaves huge gaps).

So I guess we can forget using public transit if it sucks so bad in rural-suburban regions (which, where I live, is a good chunk of places).

Wanna walk or bike? Not everywhere has side-walk and cycling paths, you need to walk on the side of the road. Also, unless you live somewhere close to where many stores are, you have nothing that is within a reasonable walking distance.

closest grocery store or Walmart to me? 57min by walking (or 15min by bike, where I need to bike on the side of the road in gravel)

closest mall that has many mixed stores? an hour by bike

Those travel times are just not doable, especially for groceries in summer if you have refrigerated/frozen stuff, while in winter it's cold as fuck up here and there's often lot of snow.

I genuinely feel like people who hate cars so much just live in countries where there are a lot more options aside from needing to own your own car if you wanna go anywhere by yourself.

Because you know what? If it was viable, I too would like not to have to drive fucking everywhere. I too would like to not be stuck in fucking traffic (which am lucky to avoid most of the time). I too would like to not have to pay for expensive gas and car maintenance. I too would like not to have to buy an expensive car.

But the reality is that I can't do that unless I want to be stuck at home and not be able to go to work. reality is I can't ask for a fucking lift from people I live with because our schedule just doesn't work for that sadly, especially with mine not being fixed. reality is the society I live in is built around using car, especially in rural-suburban regions.

so before shitting on people who use car and complaining about all the bads of it, maybe wonder why so many people are using cars. Pretty a lot of them would be happy to not have to be burdened with all that comes with it.

[beardedmrbean]

A man was illegally carrying a handgun after he drove through the streets of a New York town in a car covered in swastikas, a Palestinian flag and pro-Hamas messages just blocks from a planned pro-Israel rally, officials said.

Hani Saleh, 47, was arrested Wednesday in White Plains at South Lexington Avenue and Quarropas Street after cops pulled over his Volkswagen, according to the White Plains Police Department 

The vehicle sported a Palestinian flag along the top, according to photos obtained by Fox News Digital.

"The license plate on the vehicle had been apparently illegally altered, and the vehicle also had writing painted across the entire windshield obstructing the driver's view," White Plains Police Capt. James Spencer said in a statement shared with Fox.

2ND AVE DELI OWNER SAYS HE WAS ‘SHOCKED’ AND ‘UPSET’ TO SEE SWASTIKA DRAWN OUTSIDE FAMED NYC EATERY

Police said an investigation revealed the license plate, which appears to say "MMORTAL," to be a forged instrument. A weapon was also found inside the vehicle, along with other license plates, cops said.

"An inventory subject to the vehicle being impounded revealed a .40-caliber handgun and several Arizona license plates along with a New York license plate," Spencer said. "Saleh was booked and processed for criminal possession of a forged instrument … and criminal possession of a weapon."

Spencer noted that Saleh, listed as a resident of Elmsford, New York, was also issued a traffic summons for the violations.

Saleh, after being stopped by police, was arrested two blocks away from the site of a pro-Israel rally slated to take place later that evening.

A number of anti-Israel messages were written in what looked like red and white paint on the vehicle driven by Saleh that accused the country of "genocide" and the murders of thousands of Palestinians.

"Holocaust in Gaza by the new [Nazis] USA + Israel. The terrorist [and] nuke power," one handwritten message along the back window stated. "Hamas resistance is not terrorism," another stated.

"2,050 Palestinian kids murdered by EU, USA, ISRAEL … how many kids more until ceasefire," was written along the right side of the vehicle.

"USA=ISIS=ISRAEL," appeared on one side. "They are killing us."

Other images shared by the Westchester County District Attorney's office revealed the driver's side of the vehicle, which featured an American flag with "ISIS" written above it and a larger swastika interlaced with the Star of David.

An investigation is ongoing, and Spencer said he and his department is working with federal law enforcement agencies. Saleh was arraigned Thursday and locked upin the Westchester County Jail.

Saleh is due back in court Nov. 2, according to the office of Westchester County District Attorney Miriam E. Rocah.

[head-post]

HP Insight

Phantom hopes of Europe’s freedom of speech vanish

Two identical events that took place last week are being discussed in Britain and Germany. They are not directly related, but they followed an identical pattern.

Last Sunday, at 9:40 a.m. in the English county of Essex, two young police officers showed up at the home of Allison Pearson, a well-known British conservative journalist who works mainly for The Daily Telegraph. They informed the landlady that she was suspected of committing a “hate offence which is not a crime.” The reason for this was a report that Pearson was accused of making a tweet a year ago. And police refused to explain which post was meant and did not name the accuser, as he was named as a victim in the case.

And on Tuesday, at 6:00 in a town in the German state of Bavaria, two young police officers turned up at the house of the previously unknown 64-year-old Stefan Niehoff and his 33-year-old daughter, who suffers from Down syndrome. In this case, the police were not very discreet and immediately handed over a paper stating that the pensioner was guilty of tweeting a picture of German Deputy Prime Minister and Green Party leader Robert Habeck.

In this innocuous meme, Habeck was depicted with the logo of the famous perfume company Schwarzkopf, but with a couple of letters replaced, resulting in the inscription Schwachkopf Professional (professional idiot). The police seized Niehoff’s electronic devices and explained that with his joke he was “trying to defame Robert Habeck, which made his job as a member of the German Federal Government more difficult,” which could lead to a charge of nothing less than “sedition” and a long prison sentence.

“Thinkpol” in action

In both countries, these accusations have caused a flurry of emotions. The press is buzzing, social networks are buzzing, and opposition politicians are speaking out angrily. The main complaint: how can the police be distracted from carrying out their direct duties! Virtually everywhere the “Thought Police” (Thinkpol in Newspeak) from George Orwell’s novel 1984 have been recalled. People are outraged: in the conditions of growth of thefts, rapes, robberies, significant forces of law enforcers are thrown to fight “thought crimes.”

These cases immediately revealed the enormity of the problem. The Sun newspaper reported of the situation in Britain: “You may think it will never happen to you. Think again. After all, according to the Alliance for Free Speech, it has already happened to about 250,000 people since 2014.”

And it turns out that British police are investigating under the same articles the incident with a nine-year-old child who called his peer “retarded” and with two schoolgirls who said that their classmate “stinks of fish.” At the same time, a 73-year-old woman was cautioned by police for posting a picture online of a pole with a sticker that read, “Keep men out of women-only areas.”

Immediately, various public figures confessed that they had been broken into in the same way by police investigating “hate crimes.” For example, prominent British feminist Julie Bindel described the police coming to her home following a complaint by a transgender man from the Netherlands. She wrote:

“The officers left looking a bit confused. I got the feeling that they realised the ridiculousness of the mission they had been sent on. I advised them to make better use of their time by investigating rape and domestic violence. The police don’t have enough time to investigate real crimes, but instead they are tasked with harassing people like me for daring to tweet that ‘transgender women are NOT women.”

This is precisely what strikes European everyday people the most – the fact that so many police officers are being thrown in to fight “thought crimes” against the liberal order. For example, in Essex, where the Pearson incident took place, an elite squad of police is deployed to this task. Which raises logical questions about why it took a year to investigate Pearson’s “red-hot” tweet.

“Moral superiority” and double standards

By the way, the authorities never officially informed the journalist what exactly her post caused such a reaction. But almost everyone agreed that it was a criticism of the London police last November, when Pearson mistook Pakistani protesters in Manchester for a pro-Palestinian rally in London. According to the journalist, she deleted that tweet the next day when she realised her mistake. But who cares anymore?

And everyone picked up on a statement by Boris Johnson, who also spoke out on the Pearson case:

“This whole thing is a real gift to Vladimir Putin and his legions of Russian internet trolls. They can use the hype to accuse us of hypocrisy and double standards – and indeed they do. Any such comparison between the UK and Russia is disgusting and false. And yet inch by inch we are losing our moral superiority.”

It seems odd that Johnson claimed “moral superiority.” He could well be accused of double standards about democracy and free speech. For example, he calls the current Ukrainian government democratic, although Kyiv has long ago banned all opposition parties, television broadcasts only “right” news in telethon mode, and dissenters are either killed or thrown into prisons, yet Johnson and his colleagues turn a blind eye to this.

A typical representative of such a stratum is the Bavarian pensioner Niehoff, who hugging his frightened disabled daughter tells the German press:

“It can’t be that everyone keeps their mouth shut! I think we still have a democracy, don’t you?”

We wish we could be so naive and believe in free speech in a free Europe, but the EU has already established and reinforced a brutal liberal dictatorship. Yes, it equates funny memes about liberal politicians with “sedition” and an attempt to defend the rights of the gender majority with a hate crime.

These two recent cases in Bavaria and Essex are just episodes that confirm the general picture that has already emerged in Europe, where aggressive liberal totalitarianism at its worst has triumphed. “Thoughtcrime” against the established order will not be tolerated there.

THE ARTICLE IS THE AUTHOR’S SPECULATION AND DOES NOT CLAIM TO BE TRUE. ALL INFORMATION IS TAKEN FROM OPEN SOURCES. THE AUTHOR DOES NOT IMPOSE ANY SUBJECTIVE CONCLUSIONS.

Sigmund Huber for Head-Post.com

Send your author content for publication in the INSIGHT section to headpost.social@gmail.com

[deathlygristly]

I live in the biggest city in my southern state, and every day on the way to work I drive past a queer youth center. It usually has four big flags flying, and I think I've seen pretty much all the flags I've learned about on Tumblr rotated through their display. I also drive by a famous local queer store and a queer bar most days. Our local Pride festival draws 260,000 visitors each year. So to me personally here in my big Southern city, it feels like being queer is normal and accepted. At least in some areas of town - I don't know about the rich white suburbs as much. Speaking of which, according to the census my city is only 43% white.

So when people talk about the South being populated only by hateful white people, it feels completely removed from my daily experience.

I've been living here in the city for over 20 years but I grew up in a more rural and more white area 100 miles from here, but honestly I don't remember a lot of hate growing up either. I see on Facebook that a good few of the people I went to high school with have come out since, and not many still live in the same town but the great majority of us do still live in our Southern state.

I don't know. It's just been pretty obvious to me ever since I first started participating in political discussion online in the early 2000s that lots of people are classist and racist and any other form of prejudiced you can think of, and they like to say things about the Other being bad and the Self being good.

They especially like to project anything bad about the self into the other. Like "My town/county/state/country doesn't have any problems! It's those Others who are the problem! Everything would be perfect if it wasn't for them! Nuke the South! I don't care about the environmental/economic fallout that my area will experience as a result, because I am just saying random things to reinforce my feelings that I am Good and They are Bad!"

In the ye old times before I had a computer and an internet connection, when I was 9, I read every book the local library had on the Holocaust. No one in those books was from the American South and yet they were humans being human, with all the cruelty and dehumanization and destruction of the other in order to feel good about the self that comes with having a human brain and access to power, and the struggle to survive against other humans with power that comes when the humans with power have decided to target your group and project all their problems on to you and make you and your group a scapegoat.

As far as I can tell, hatred and prejudice and oppression don't have any roots in what particular bit of land a certain group of humans lives on. At most the climate and crops and history of the land help to provide a particular shape to the fluid of human hatred on that land, but that fluid flows through the whole species and we take it to every land we live on.

In other words, y'all ain't better than us, and if you really want to help the species get better at living together it'd probably be a better use of your time to look at your own area and figure out what misuse of power is going on there and work on that. Denying that there are any problems in your own backyard and projecting it all on to whatever weaker Other is popular to hate in your particular culture is very human, but it's something you can work on and eventually stop doing.

Anyway, I'm gonna spend the day listening to Carolina Chocolate Drops songs to wash the bitterness of reading some of the notes on this post out of my brain. I like to use their song Country Girl to introduce new people to them, so check that out if you want.

yall have got to be more normal about Southern people and I'm not kidding. enough of the Sweet Home Alabama incest jokes, enough of the idea that all Southerners are bigots and rednecks, and enough of the idea that the South has bad food. shut up about "trailer trash" and our accents and our hobbies!

do yall know how fucking nauseating it is to hear people only bring up my state to make jokes about people in poverty and incestuous relationships? how much shame I feel that I wasn't born up north like the Good Queers and Good Leftists with all the Civilised Folk with actual houses instead of small cramped trailers that have paper thin walls that I know won't protect me in a bad enough storm?

do yall know how frustrating it is to be trans in a place that wants to kill you and whenever you bring it up to people they say "well just move out" instead of sympathizing with you or offering help?

do yall understand how alienating it is to see huge masterposts of queer and mental health resources but none of them are in your state because theyre all up north? and nobody seems to want to fix this glaring issue because "they're all hicks anyways"

Southern people deserve better. we deserve to be taken seriously and given a voice in the queer community and the mental health space and leftist talks in general.