#it's really hard to wholeheartedly enjoy his works because of the amount of racism worked into the background

[soliusss]

I've connected the dots.

[vee-angel]

Non-consent Nancy (part 1, repost)

(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)

Chapter 1, parts 1 and 2

WARNING: This story focuses on a lesbian black woman who fetishizes rape, misogyny, racism, and abuse. As such, there will be copious amounts of offensive language and themes, including the sexualization of victims. The story is fiction, and nothing written here should be taken as an endorsement for any of these view or activities. In fact, I wholeheartedly condemn nearly everything the main character thinks and does in this story. I believe that consent is a central tenet of morality, and violations of it are only acceptable in the context of fiction.

***

Introduction:

Nancy had grown up in a conservative, affluent neighborhood. Being one of the only black girls, she became a target for bullies and bigots at an early age. The fact that she dressed and acted like a lesbian before she even fully realized her sexual orientation certainly didn’t do her any favors.

Her mother worked hard to give her a better life than she’d had; as such, she could be a bit dismissive of her problems. When she was little, and informed her that she was being bullied at school, she simply suggested that she try to turn her abusers into friends. Taking her suggestion to heart, from that point on, Nancy always responded to cruelty with kindness. She want out of her way to accommodate bullies, to show them more kindness than she showed anyone else.

In middle school, she pressed her mother to tell her about her birth-father. After a long conversation, her mother finally admitted that Nancy had been conceived through rape by a man her mother had never met. She reasoned then, that her mother had virtually nothing to do with actually creating her. Her father was the one who took the initiative that resulted in her existence. Therefore, every moment of her life, every instant of joy or pleasure she took from being alive, she owed to a rapist. Her gratitude and affinity for rapists and abusers began to reach a level that bordered on worship, with those who defied them being, in her eyes, akin to heretics.

When she reached high-school, her views became even more extreme. She had internalized her affinity for sadists so much that she began to hate victims that tried to fight back. She felt as though they were dishonoring the blessing they had been given. When her best friend, Janet tearfully confessed that she’d been date-raped by a boy she had a crush on, Nancy insisted that she not tell anyone, convincing her that she must have enjoyed it and that she should call the boy and apologize for being such an ungrateful brat. She was proud of herself for facilitating the three-month abusive relationship that followed. Even prouder that she thought to secretly ask the boy out herself, allowing him to cheat on her best friend, as was his right and her honor.

Nancy loved how creative the young man was. He often had Nancy come over right before a date with Janet so he could fuck her and have Janet unknowingly suck her best friends cunt juice off of his cock. He liked to ask Janet for particularly humiliating naked pictures which Nancy insisted it was her duty as a good girlfriend to send him. She often assisted Janet with these photoshoots, helping her write humiliating words on her body, making sure she spread her ass far enough to make her holes clearly visible, ensuring that her tongue really was making contact with the inside of the toilet.

Their friendship ended after the boy mentioned to Nancy that her friend refused anal, and fought vigorously when he tried to force her. Nancy was appalled at learning of her friend’s refusal, insisting that she would help; that night, they stripped her naked and Nancy held her down and covered her mouth while the boy raped her ass. It’s no wonder she thrashed about so much, her barely-lubricated asshole was bleeding pretty badly by the end. Nancy made her apologize for ruining the boys sheets and made her give him money from her purse to replace them.

Janet didn’t talk to Nancy after that, which annoyed the budding rape-enthusiast. That left Nancy with the problem of how to distribute her former friends humiliating pictures as punishment for her ingratitude. Certainly she couldn’t allow the boy to be blamed for sharing them with their classmates. Hell, she would have happily lied under oath to ensure he didn’t suffer the consequences of taking what was his.

Eventually a solution became apparent. There was another girl in her school who always rejected the advances of the boys, a nerdy type who talked back when people made fun of her. Nancy eventually figured out that this girl was a dyke as well. She had no problem with dykes, per se, she was one herself. She had a problem with bitches who thought they were too good to be a plaything for cruel men. So she hatched a plan.

She pretended to befriend the dyke, and eventually the two of them became lovers. A few weeks later she broke up with her very publicly at school, making sure to loudly announce how bad her pussy tasted and claiming she was breaking up with her because she couldn’t stand the girl’s hardcore scat-fetish. This would ensure that the little bitch would be made fun of for the rest of her Senior year, and it would open the door to blame her for posting Janet’s humiliating pictures online.

When the authorities investigated, Nancy admitted that she’d helped Janet take the pictures (claiming that it was Janet’s idea, and backing up the boy’s claim that it was actually Janet who pushed for kinky sex, a story she’d arranged with him earlier). She said that the dyke must have hacked into her computer after she broke up with her, and distributed the pictures as payback. Nancy made sure to include a few compromising pictures of herself in the photo-dump just to make the story more believable.

The plan had worked, in one fell swoop Nancy had managed to humiliate that ungrateful bitch Janet, and teach that stupid dyke what she gets for refusing men their right to use her body. It was one of the great triumphs of her young life, but she only just barely got away with it. Nancy knew that she’d need to be more careful from now on if she wanted to continue abiding by her life’s mission to help all bullies, abusers, and rapists.

So when she got to college she reinvented herself. Publicly she was an advocate for every marginalized group. She went to feminist marches, she spoke at Black Lives Matter events, and collected donations for LGBT causes. This way, she could be seen as a champion for the abused, they would trust her. Never suspecting that she actually masturbated each night to the teary-eyed confessions by dumb bitches whose boyfriends smacked them around or sorority cunts who didn’t appreciate getting gang-raped when they were stupid enough to get drunk at a party.

A few years in, Nancy was majoring in psychology and volunteering at a rape crisis center as a counselor. This is when she met Darla.

Part 1

Nancy walked in that day with a button-up shirt and tie beneath her black vest. Her masculine fashion sense left little doubt to onlookers that she was a lesbian. It was form-fitting enough to display her slim body. Had she had her clothes ripped off in public, as she so often fantasized, observers would see a strong, athletic body with clear muscle definition beneath her smooth, dark brown skin. They would also notice the ample curves of her large breasts atop her six-pack abs, a contrast rarely seen in non-black women. Her hair was styled in neat dreadlocks that hung down just past her chin. Her whole style screamed liberal black lesbian feminist. Yet she dressed with enough allure that she hoped every misogynist, racist, and sadist that saw her went home and planned how to make her scream while they raped her dyke-nigger asshole bloody. She secretly believed it’s what all women deserved, and made it her life’s mission to ensure it happened to as many women as possible.

When she saw the defeated-looking woman with a bruised face in the rape crisis center office, she knew she was in for a treat.

“Hi, have you been helped yet?” Nancy said to the girl in a gentle voice.

“They said they don’t have anybody who can see me right now, and they said I have to wait.” she responded meekly, still staring at the ground, but obviously in distress.

Nancy squatted down in front of the girl to meet her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. “My name is Nancy, would you like to go somewhere private and we can just sit together? If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to just sit, that’s okay too. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to hold, I’ll be there for you if you want. And if, at any point, you think you’d feel better being alone, you’re welcome to leave, I won’t judge you or think less of you no matter what. I only care about making sure you get what you need right now.” She gave some version of this speech to almost every ungrateful cunt that came in. It made it easier for them to open up to her.

The girl nodded and Nancy led her to a small, quiet room where they sat across from one another. “Would you like to tell me your name?” Nancy asked.

“Darla.” She replied.

“It’s very nice to meet you Darla. What can I do to help you, today?” She asked softly.

“He raped me again last night.” Darla replied, her tone hectic. “I don’t know what I did! He always does this, even though he says he’s going to stop!”

Haha! What a stupid cunt! Nancy thought. “Who did this to you?”

“My ex boyfriend. Back when we were started dating, he said he understood that sex is something that’s really, really hard for me because of my childhood. But after a little while he said he didn’t want to wait anymore. And after that he stopped caring, and he didn’t even stop when I said no and begged him! That’s why I broke up with him, but he called me and said he changed. Except it seemed like he really meant it this time! He asked me to come over so he could give me a gift to apologize. But when I got there he…he…”

Oh, come on, don’t tease me you little rape-slut, Nancy thought, “It’s okay, you’re safe with me.” her gentle voice reassured the girl.

“He…put it in my butt.” Darla replied blushing, though the bruising on her face made it difficult to tell.

“This was the first time he’d forced you to have anal sex?” Nancy asked

Darla nodded, “That was always like really, really super off limits.” Tears rolled down the girls face. “And, and, and he knew that! I said I’d break up with him if he ever did that. He said he always wanted to, and that he was going to do it now that I can’t break up with him again.”

Well I can’t fault his logic! she thought as the girl cleaned the tears from her face with a tissue. Nancy briefly had a fantasy in which she congratulated the girl’s ex-boyfriend for a stellar job of tricking her into getting raped so many times, followed by the two of them laughing over how stupid she was to fall for it so many times. A brief moment later she considered how improved the fantasy would be if Darla were bound naked and gagged listening to them during the exchange as they prepared to rape her together. She was tempted to smile as she contemplated the scenario, but fortunately she was practiced at not letting her inner thoughts show on her face.

“You mentioned that sex was difficult for you because of your childhood. Was there something that happened when you were younger that resulted in you having a strong negative reaction to that particular act? Nancy asked.

“My parents used to make me do that when I was little. They used to make videos and let strangers do it to me for money.”

“They made videos of you having anal sex when you were underaged?”

“They stopped when I was fourteen, they said I was too old. But they only had men put it in my butt, because they said it’d be really bad if I got pregnant and had to see a doctor.” Darla explained, her lip quivering.

Jackpot! Nancy thought, I’ve got a real life porn-star in front of me! She wondered how many men and women had masturbated while watching her little asshole get sodomized. A spark of anger suddenly shot through Nancy. Ungrateful cunt, do you know what I would have given to have a childhood like yours?!? Her thoughts alternated back and forth between arousal and resentment. She compromised between the two emotions when she vowed to make Darla properly suffer for how blind she’d been for all the wonderful honors that her family and boyfriend had bestowed on her.

“Your boyfriend knew this when he anally raped you?”

“Yeah! He said he thought it was funny. He laughed and said that this keeps happening to me because I’m a whore, and I deserve it.” Darla said with tearful anger.

Smart AND a sense of humor! How dare this dumb bitch deny this charming boyfriend of hers the right to use his victim! She should be begging him to blister her cunt with a belt to show how sorry she is! God, I hate her!

“You’re a good-hearted person. It was very kind of you to keep giving him chances. But your kindness doesn’t mean you deserve to be raped.” The fact that you’re weak and you have a cunt means you deserve to be raped. Nancy finished the thought in her head.

The rest of the session continued along the same theme, with Darla pouring her heart out about her tragic life full of rape, molestation, and abuse. Nancy struggled to contain her excitement, but managed to maintain her professional disposition. Her only worry was that her cunt may have soaked through her slacks and left a stain on the chair. She resented this pathetic girl for having been given so much, yet being so stupid as to complain about it.

Finally finished with her cathartic confessions, Darla was finally ready to leave. Nancy, not wanting this delightful encounter to be fleeting, wrote down her phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to Darla. “I know you feel better now, but this isn’t something you can get over in one session. I’m taking a special interest in you. Feel free to call or text whenever you need, and I absolutely expect to see you back here soon.”

“Thank you, Doctor. That means a lot to me.” Darla replied before hugging her tightly. Nancy only had an Associate’s Degree, but chose not to correct her, hoping the assumption would work to her advantage at some point in the future. Darla walked out, riding on the high of catharsis.

***

Nancy stayed for a few more hours, but the rest of the afternoon was rather banal. A few girls came in asking about domestic abuse resources or abortion services. Much as she didn’t like helping these little rape-dolls, she had to if she was to keep her cover intact. Normally, she’d at least get a kick out of making girls give a few extra details before she provided them with what she wanted, but all she could think about is how she wanted to ruin and violate Darla.

When she left the center, she was so lost in thought, she hadn’t even heard the awkward footsteps of the girl racing to catch up to her.

“Hi, Nancy! I’m really glad that I get to volunteer here with you. You’re such an inspiration.” the girl said, failing at coming up with a natural way to start a conversation.

“Oh, Hannah. Hi, I didn’t notice you.” she replied. Hannah was a pansexual Jew-cunt that answered phones at the rape crisis center. She also took care of all the accounting. She’d been raped by her friend’s older brother when she was ten years old and it fucked with her self-esteem. She was desperate to get people to like her, a fact which Nancy regularly took advantage of. The big-nosed bitch always tried too hard, especially with people who treated her like shit.

“So, do you have any plans tonight?” Hannah asked.

Nancy smiled and took the Jew-cunt’s hand as they walked, interlocking her fingers. “I do! I’ve been dating a lot; getting pretty lucky in the romance department lately. But I don’t want to tell you about that, it’d be inconsiderate of your feelings. I’m sure you have something interesting going on. Tell me about that.”

Nancy knew that Hannah wasn’t especially popular and had a bit of a crush on her. Her background in psychology allowed her to utilize her knowledge to hurt Hannah in subtle ways while still pretending to be her friend. In a few sentences, she’d managed to remind her of the humiliating rejection that had occurred a few months ago; impress upon her the fact that while she has trysts with lots of women, she doesn’t find Hannah attractive enough to date; and put her on the spot to share plans that Nancy knew she obviously didn’t have.

The pair of them walked hand-in-hand as Hannah’s eyes frantically darted back and forth in thought as her chest slightly tensed, not knowing how to respond.

“Oh… ya know.” she finally replied with a forced smile.

“No, I don’t know. Come on, Hannah! Open up a little, you’re always so timid.”

“Ummm. Just… just catching up on some reading. Heh. Guess we’re not all as popular as you.”

“Hey, you’re a wonderful person. Any man, woman, or nonbinary would be lucky to be with you!” With that, Nancy kissed the lonely, desperate kike on the cheek and veered off in the other direction.

Nancy’s mind began to reel with delightfully villainous ideas. It’ll probably be a few days until I get a chance to see Darla again, she thought,  Maybe it is finally time to give Hannah some attention.

***

Part 2

That evening, Nancy went home and ordered a few spy cameras that she could use to record subsequent encounters with Darla. With that quick errand finished, she focused her attention on ensuring that her good friend Hannah the big-nosed Jew-cunt finally got put in her place.

Nancy worshipped individuals who violated others, but she did have a certain affinity for rapists on a cultural or societal scale as well. It’s why she has a strong veneration for men, whites, and authority figures (the last group being made up, predominantly, of white men). It was no wonder that she had developed a fetish for misogynist white-supremacists; in fact, she’d become a bit of one herself.

Jews like Hannah were among the worst, Nancy believed. As a shit-skin dyke, she couldn’t exactly claim superiority, but at least Nancy knew her place in the world. Hannah, however, was such a stereotypical Jew that it almost seemed intentional. She whined about being raped when she was little, she whined about her ancestors being tortured in the Holocaust, she even sometimes whined about her ancestors being enslaved in Egypt. In typical Jew fashion, she played them off like jokes, but Nancy knew that the little kike actually did feel as though these things were injustices.

Nancy hoped her friend would eventually learn her lesson and join her in honoring all the wonderful contributions that rapists and abusers make to society, but she was impatient and wanted to help her along.

A few months before, she sent Hannah a naked picture of herself out of the blue. She had picked up on the girl’s crush on her and hoped to use that to subtly humiliate her. Hannah’s response was ecstatic, she poured her heart out, saying how she’d loved her from afar for so long and was overjoyed to know that she felt the same way. After that followed a series of lewd images of the black-haired kike. Nancy didn’t reply, despite the increasingly nervous-sounding texts that followed. Instead, she confronted Hannah the next day in person. She remembered the conversation vividly…

“I felt like I owed it to you to explain this in person. I think you got the wrong idea yesterday. I had a great day at the gym and I was just feeling really good about my body, so I sent pictures to some of my close friends, but it was completely platonic, Hannah. I’m just a very body-positive person. I’m so sorry you got the wrong idea, it must have been so humiliating to you, but I could never be intimate with you. I value our friendship so much, so I just want to be clear. You are not attractive….to me. I still think you’re a great person, but I could never find you physically appealing.”

Nancy smiled as she thought back on that moment with pride. The look of pain and humiliation on Hannah’s face was priceless. She had run to the bathroom just after the conversation, and Nancy snuck in a few minutes later to hear her crying loudly. She felt an exhilaration at knowing she’d hurt the girl so deeply. In just a few moments, Nancy had left a mark in her mind and soul that would last for years, probably decades; words that would echo over and over again. There was a sort of romance to that, knowing that her friend would carry that moment with her for such a long time. It was the kind of gift that bullies left their victims with. But tonight, Nancy wanted Hannah to have an even better gift.

She knew that Hannah would be home alone tonight, so Nancy reached out to some of her online resources. She could be herself on the internet, and it made her many friends among rape-baiters and rapists. Those were the people she needed that night.

Nancy was posing as Hannah online, she was uploading the obscene images that the Jew-cunt had sent her a few months before and claiming that she was finally ready to fulfill her fantasy of being brutally violated by racists. She had even photoshopped an image she’d found of Hannah online. The original image showed her face holding a sign reading “I need feminism because no one believed me when I told them I was raped. I was 10.” But with some slight touch ups, in the new image, the sign read, “I don’t need feminism, I need my Jew-holes brutally gang-raped by Nazi cock.” Photoshopping “I need feminism” signs had become a bit of a hobby for Nancy, and she’d become pretty good at making them look real.

She was sure to include this new picture along with the other images of her naked body. She sent them to anyone with potential, even posted them online in a few spots with her name and location. Finally she got into a conversation with someone who was close enough and real enough to get it done tonight. Nancy shared private details, still posing as Hannah and claiming to consent to anything he and his friends wanted to do to her. She begged him for an assurance that he’d violate every hole, that he’d beat her. Even made him promise that he’d break her big Jew-nose. She warned him that she wanted it to be real, so she was going to beg and cry a lot, but they weren’t to stop raping her, no matter what.

The stranger online gave assurances that he’d do everything she asked and more. Nancy proceeded to give him Hannah’s home address, along with details of her house, and the location of the spare key. She finished by thanking him, then went off to masturbate for hours as she thought about all the wonderful things that could be happening to Hannah that night.

I’m such a good friend. She thought with a smile before falling asleep. 

[iveonlyeverseenliketwoanimes]

How Horikoshi treats his female characters (Feat. How his ‘Fans’ treat him): A Rant

Something that has recently been popping up a lot in the BNHA tags, for me at least, is this idea that Hori is a “Lazy/Bad Writer”. It’s a topic that’s genuinely interesting to me and I would love to discuss it! After the reaction i got to my last post on discussing the fandom, i feel like this is a really fun topic for me to look into and i love having an open discussion with people. So just to let you know before we start, everything here is my opinion - feel free to respond with your own thoughts and i’d happily have a conversation with you about anything and everything! If you disagree with me then that's fine, if you agree with me then that's fine too! I'm just a person with a keyboard and an opinion and so are you! :)

So today i would love to discuss how people treat Hori in regards to his female characters and i hope you enjoy this 1500 word essay/ramble i did. (PS if you came from my last lil essay then this one is a lot less sarcastic because its a more serious topic and i don’t want to come across as too rude also i actually got sleep today)

Now, this was actually the first topic I came across when looking into the Hori tags. At first, I was on board with the general theme of what was happening. I saw some lovely artwork of Momo where people had redesigned her costume, they were very creative in how they did it and overall, I had no complaints – if the whole topic of this tag was about how people wanted to be creative and redraw characters in their own design then I’d 100% support it, but the more you look into it, the more…. Nasty is gets.

So, the overall theme of what I gathered from this little tag is that idea that Hori is some sort of [Word I really don’t want to type out but im sure you can guess what it is] because of how he draws his females, most of which are underage. So if you, as a consumer, are, well, consuming something, such as a TV show, film, anime, Manga etc. and you see something that makes you go “This is disgusting – I need to write a Tumblr post about this to warn other people about what's happening here” then I fully support you – please keep on doing what you’re doing. 

However, this isn’t what I see, what I see are posts going “F*CK HORI HE’S A [Nasty word] AND I HOPE HE D*ES – HERE EVERYONE I MADE AN ANTI FLAG, SHARE IT EVERYWHERE AND LET ME KNOW WHERE I CAN SEND MY D*ATH THR*AT TO” Meanwhile, when you go on this same persons page it’s all reposts of the characters and screenshots of the show, posts of them saying “Yo did you guys see the new BNHA episode last night?!?” and overall just very fandom-y stuff. I truly cannot comprehend this type of behaviour – you are so set in this belief that Hori is a [Nasty Word] and yet here you are, on the very same blog you use to slander his name, actively supporting him! Listen, if one of you Anti’s were to sit there and say “I wholeheartedly think Hori is a [Nasty word] and therefore I am no longer going to participate in this fandom or with supporting his creations” then, while I don’t agree with you, I support you in your decision as you have made a clear stance on something with both your words and your actions and I can truly respect that, and hell you would actually get my attention and I might read into what it is you’re talking about. I’m not, however, going to waste my time reading a piece of material written by someone who does all that nasty stuff I previously mentioned and take any of what they say seriously. Let me put it this way; you think Hori is a [Nasty word], you are supporting the show, you are therefore supporting a [nasty word], so why should I take anything you say seriously? I don’t want to see any more of this ‘One minute we love him, one minute we hate him’ attitude because when you hate him the things you are saying are some of the worst things you could possibly say to another person and its childish, disgusting and you’re giving this fandom a bad name.

Now back to the girls, I personally do find certain characters outfits a little distasteful, especially with how they’re done in the anime and how they zoom in on certain body parts, i also dislike how it’s ‘funny’ for characters like Mineta to get away with such disgusting behaviour. I do think that’s the biggest flaw I can find in this show – I don’t however 100% blame Hori for this. Now obviously at the end of the day, it is down to Hori what happens in his show, but can we all stop pretending that it’s just him that does this? When I think of anime the first thing that comes to mind is anime girls and their… attributes. It’s an industry issue and Hori is one of many people that partakes in it – so im not saying he’s not to blame, im just saying some of you are a little dramatic and need to realise if you truly want this behaviour to stop then you need to go after the industry and not just one guy.

Now this next point I want to make is something im sure might be a little confusing for most of you and something I can 100% see the other side of better than some other points ive made. It’s also kinda hard for me to put into words so please bear with me here.

I don’t think its necessary for Hori to develop his female characters as much as their male counterparts – now im sure that’s an odd concept but let me explain. As a child growing up in the age of great TV shows such as Hannah Montana, iCarly, Wizards of Waverly Place etc. I think ive spent a fair amount of time watching TV, my personal favourites as a child were Winx Club, BRATZ and W.I.T.C.H (Im from the UK so apologies if you have no idea what they are). Now all of these shows were ‘for girls’, they all revolve around a group of girls and their adventures in their respective worlds, they learn things along the way, because, even if you don’t realise it, these kids shows have hidden messages in them that are like ‘we should be kind’ ‘we should treat others with respect’ and all that jazz you need to know to be a decent human being. However, the one thing that these shows always lacked was any form of male presence. Now im not saying these shows had no males in them, that would be weird, but what I am saying is that the males in these shows were very one dimensional and they were always the love interest of one of the characters, or you might get the odd parental figure that would show up for one episode to be a motivation for a character. However with BNHA, a show that is specifically aimed at teenage boys, I don’t feel like they do such a disservice to females (AKA the ‘men’ equivalent of my other shows), sure they’re not treated great in certain aspects that I've already discussed, but look at their actual characters, Uraraka is the main girl, sure she very much has the same role as many of the men did in my childhood shows of the ‘love interest’ but her character is more than that and we see it in the sports festival as well as some of the more recent chapters (213-215 to be specific). Her character isn't just some airhead and neither are the other girls, Momo is literally top of the class in terms of written ability and she had her own little mini-arc around gaining confidence (which is still ongoing because guess what – people don’t change overnight), Mina has had some spotlight on her and is seen to be a very confident and skilled fighter, Tsu was literally described as the ‘perfect student with no flaws’ and is shown to be a badass on multiple occasions, Midoriya’s mum is even a character that’s had some form of arc with her learning to believe in her son and she's not some faceless character we hear about every so often when they need a plot device.

Now im not saying the female representation is perfect and it’s certainly not 100% equal to that of the men, but im saying it doesn’t need to be. This is a show for boys, sure girls can watch and enjoy it, but its made for boys in the same way my shows were made for girls, and the average boy isn’t going to want to watch a bunch of fairy princesses run around saving their fluffy little pets like I did (im sure a some of them will – and good for them, in the same way that some girls might want to watch superhero films, it’s not something im saying is bad, its just most people raise children into predetermined stereotypes of what gender roles they should fill and the media caters to that).

So what im saying is that taking a show aimed at boys and comparing it to shows aimed at girls and how each handles the opposite sex (we’re not going into gender here, that’s a whole other topic of diversity), I don’t think BNHA is all that bad. I guess if I want to be a little harsher in my approach, why is it okay to have a near-all female cast and not a near-all male cast? I understand a need for diversity, truly I do, but sometimes having a token character for each ‘type’ of person takes away from what the show is actually trying to convey – and in BNHAs case I think its trying to teach young boys that it’s okay to be emotional or vulnerable when you’re in situations that other shows teach you to ‘man up’ in. Not every show can solve racism, sexism and homophobia, I’m sorry to break it to you, but some shows are a little more basic in their approach to what it is they want to show and I think BNHA is a perfect example of that, it’s showing boys that you can cry, you can go through struggles in life, you can even come back from being a terrible person through growth and development, and I think that’s something boys need. A lot of people in this day and age want men to change (and I agree that there are a lot of things all groups of people can work on) and BNHA is showing boys how to grow up in a way that’s not this ‘tough guy that has no feelings’ and at the end of the day isn’t that something we want?

I do believe there are areas that BNHA really needs to improve in when it comes to it’s female cast, but can we stop with this awful hate? This fandom had such potential to be an amazing community of people who are skilled with art, writing, storytelling, cosplay, etc. but it seems like half of you just want to tear each other down and it’s sad to see such potential wasted because you can’t handle someone having a different opinion or view to you.

[toomuchcoffeebye]

Aight so I’m going to drop some bullshit on everyone because I have recently gotten on meds and worked through this, so. It’s pressing on my heart and I wanna vent. Reblog and comment if you want, but, this is personal. 

[TW: suicide attempts (non-descriptive), depression, anxiety, sexual harassment, ignorance, heavy religious reppression, sexism, aphobia, homophobia, and minor allusions to racism (I am white, it hasn’t affected me personally, but it comes up a bit in this via general ignoance)]

K, so, Let’s start with my family background. White, Church of Christ or Catholic, Military, and in general, reliant on both the church and the military economy. I dunno if y’all know anything about the Church of Christ,  but it is exclusionary, insistent on being the ONE TRUE CHURCH and ultimately pretty cultish, in their controlling of information, insistence on maintaining higher level education, and distinctive beliefs that they are following the First-Generation Christians despite being founded in the early 19th century. (http://www.theexaminer.org/volume8/number6/leftcoc.htm for more info [TW:religion and repressive religion specifically.) 

ANd I was raised in it. My grandparents are wholeheartedly involved in one of those huge ones in the buckle of the bible belt, middle Tennessee. My mom likes to tell the story of when I was born, the week dad came home from Iraq so he wouldn’t miss my birth, they tried a new Church of Christ and she felt that I was coming Right Then and they had to leave halfway through the sermon. We went kind of inconsistently, but we lived the way Coc wanted, more or less. We (my family) sang a whole lot, (my dad used to be a member of a military chorus) as the church encourages A Capella worship (if a church has instruments, it is not a church of Christ). Coc encourages the father as the head of the household with a really specific tenant: the father of the household is responsible for the faith of all his children and his wife. and all of their children. ad nauseum. He prays for all of them, and they tell him what they want to pray for. This means, of course, that as a human female, your spiritual connection to god is always mediated by a man. forever. So Coc(k) has a patriarchy problem. ABout SPIRITUAL HEALTH! wtf. I never really understood what god WAS, and I guess the inconsistent church going saved me from their indoctrination, cause I’ve considered myself an atheist since I was like 12 and understood what that meant. I got baptized at 15, which in Coc is in a way signing over your body to god, for my dad. He really looks up to his father, they share a name and lots of features, and he respects G-pa for his spiritual conviction, which for him was broken a little by his time in the military. My dad wants to ensure that all of his children get to heaven, like his father wants to, and he was pressuring me because my older siblings got baptized earlier, at like 13, when they were ‘old enough to decide that’. Personally, I don’t think anyone should be allowed to sign themselves over to a deity when they can’t go on Disney.com without parental permission. I recently told my dad I was an atheist and he didn’t believe me because “you’re baptized!” and tbh I can’t believe I had to apologize for lying to my father about something he very much pressured me into. but Wtv. all of this was just set up for:

For the longest time, (ok, like 5 years wtv) I considered myself Asexual. It made sense, I could describe myself as that with ease, and it felt right. I’m only now beginning to unpack the feelings I held in unhealthily. Asexual is a valid and real sexuality, but I am not asexual. I’m pretty sure I’m bi, but tbh I have doubts about even that. I don’t trust myself to know what I want, partially because my family situation drilling into my head the idea that I have to have a boyfriend until I have a husband, and then I belong to him spiritually at least. I told my mom I was asexual, and explained it, and she first decided everyone felt like that, and when I pressed her that I was VERY sure that wasn’t true, she pulled over and ranted at me for Not Giving Me The Grandchildren I Deserve and it just sucked. I was pretty out at school, but around the time I told my mother I was being sexually harassed by this guy, call him Q, because of it. Q believed it ‘was a waste’ for me to be ace, and ‘no one is like that’, ‘everyone wants it’. He had a habit of grabbing me, touching me but I believed he was my friend. One day though, he slid his hand too close to my actual genitals and I sprained my hand punching him, and my friend reported him for sexual harassment after I ranted about him, and I didn’t press charges, because Q Was My Friend. Along side all that bullshit, I had lots of boyfriends through the years because my parents had made it very clear that I was to tell them if and when I had a boyfriend, and I took that to mean I had to have a boyfriend, and if I didn’t I should be looking for one. You can probably see how all of this compounded to make a bit of internal strife. Buckle up, Bois, I’m not fucking done. 

So, I’m not going to out my siblings, no names, no specifics, but it should be made clear that we were going through similar shit, because not everyone is straight. (Or white, as it were. My sister brought home a Puerto Rican guy (I think? it’s kinda fuzzy by now, but not white) and my dad made a joke about ‘thinning the gene pool’. (caveat: he may have been talking about height, but I’m not sure. Again, fuzzy.) ) I didn’t learn that not all my siblings are straight until a long while after they knew about each other because I’m both a dumb rock and 2nd youngest. So, along with all the secrets being the 3rd of four came with, I was hiding this. I was hiding secrets for each of them, from each other, for my parents, from the siblings, for the siblings as a whole, for my older sister specifically, she had lots of lies for me to hide. And damn, that hurt. My parents focus a lot on honesty, and it’s worse in our household to lie than it is to do something bad. It’s worse to show emotions, though, so I guess it’s just fucked up. So there was I, overburdened by half-clear secrets and the need to shield what was left of my emotional core. This was compounded by the fact that everyone I met when I was little thought I was ‘odd’, if they were being polite. My older sister thought I was insane and I believed her because for no other reason would I be having so much trouble ‘controlling my emotions’ as my father puts it, having so much trouble holding what I assumed were a normal amount of secrets and being told I wasn’t fully human to the God I didn’t believe in. 

This might sound trivial to some people, but it has left me fundamentally scared of expressing cheerfulness, sadness, anger, or anything but blind complacency and fear. I have severe Depression and Anxiety, no one can really read my emotions except for maybe my closest sibling and a few people who read what I write when I write expressively. I am scared to cry when I’m not alone, because I’ve been hit for less. I’m scared to cry when I am alone, for someone might hear me. I’m scared to show fear to the extent I apologize to my friends when I have a panic attack they caused by shoving their hand in my face repeatedly in a crowded and confusing party. 

Recently, I was upset my sister wanted my company after I was sick and tired form surgery, she broke a promise she’d made, and she invaded my personal space. He threatened to kick me out because I was being so rude to her, he said ‘go pack your bags’ and everything, meaning it fro shock value, and I did. I went and packed my bags. He called me back down and asked the real question: Do I feel loved at home? I answered him honestly, and I told him I’m and atheist, It wasn’t just a phase, and I was serious. I didn’t tell him that I really wanted to leave, for real, because anyone who says that to their child probably means it, and if they don’t they shouldn’t be saying it at all. I didn’t do this because he’s in charge of the funding I get from his military benefits for college and I didn’t know what I would do without those. I was scared, and I lied. My own mother doesn’t fucking want me and she complains that I’m ‘hard to read’ when she has told me I’m an evil, emotionally-manipulative child for crying when she yelled at me for dropping a plate. I’m not sure I feel loved anywhere, to be honest. I guess that’s dumb, but you know. That’s how it is sometimes. My family says ‘I love you’ a lot, a lot- a lot, but I have never been sure they meant it, especially when it is said the most emphatically when dad is holding and comforting a child he just beat. He forced us to cuddle up to him after he beat us and he held us, telling us he loved us. I can’t trust that man saying ‘I love you’. 

Again, I suppose this is trivial to some, but I have attempted suicide six times. I have had to give my knife to my friends, all that stupid shit. I’m not going to describe how, because that would be irresponsible. However, I’m going to do something radical and explain why I don’t want to anymore. Item one: It hurts. I have a high tolerance to pain, but the physical pain of a failed suicide attempt is dwarfed only by the gnawing regret, guilt, shame, and reminder that you’re Still Here. Item two: there are, really, things that I enjoy. They’re stupid and mundane, but I like breakfast. Eggs, bacon, the sunrise and the cool dew. I like baking, though I don’t do it often. Something about sweets and the making something always appealed to me. I like writing and drawing and handicrafts, though I am not very good at any of those things. Something about making something for others or something physical to hold always appealed to me, because it’s proof that I exist and manipulate reality. I never put any stock in that whole every-life-has-a-purpose bullshit, because if you were out here to do something, you can fuck it up, and I believed I had already fucked it all up. Item Three: While, even now, I don’t want to exist, there’s something mathematically implausible and cosmically coincidental about the fact that I do exist, that a consciousness inhabits this collection of atoms that tricked itself into becoming alive. I like the rebelliousness of it. The sheer existential power I’m flexing on every speck of dust that’s not currently alive. I DO exist, and there’s nothing more improbable or insane than that. 

[TL;DR: I had a fucked up childhood and am now broken as a result. Don’t kill yourself for the status points you have above non-living matter.] 

[vee-angel]

Non-Consent Nancy

(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)

Chapter 1, parts 1 and 2

WARNING: This story focuses on a lesbian black woman who fetishizes rape, misogyny, racism, and abuse. As such, there will be copious amounts of offensive language and themes, including the sexualization of victims. The story is fiction, and nothing written here should be taken as an endorsement for any of these view or activities. In fact, I wholeheartedly condemn nearly everything the main character thinks and does in this story. I believe that consent is a central tenet of morality, and violations of it are only acceptable in the context of fiction.

***

Introduction:

Nancy had grown up in a conservative, affluent neighborhood. Being one of the only black girls, she became a target for bullies and bigots at an early age. The fact that she dressed and acted like a lesbian before she even fully realized her sexual orientation certainly didn’t do her any favors.

Her mother worked hard to give her a better life than she’d had; as such, she could be a bit dismissive of her problems. When she was little, and informed her that she was being bullied at school, she simply suggested that she try to turn her abusers into friends. Taking her suggestion to heart, from that point on, Nancy always responded to cruelty with kindness. She want out of her way to accommodate bullies, to show them more kindness than she showed anyone else.

In middle school, she pressed her mother to tell her about her birth-father. After a long conversation, her mother finally admitted that Nancy had been conceived through rape by a man her mother had never met. She reasoned then, that her mother had virtually nothing to do with actually creating her. Her father was the one who took the initiative that resulted in her existence. Therefore, every moment of her life, every instant of joy or pleasure she took from being alive, she owed to a rapist. Her gratitude and affinity for rapists and abusers began to reach a level that bordered on worship, with those who defied them being, in her eyes, akin to heretics.

When she reached high-school, her views became even more extreme. She had internalized her affinity for sadists so much that she began to hate victims that tried to fight back. She felt as though they were dishonoring the blessing they had been given. When her best friend, Janet tearfully confessed that she’d been date-raped by a boy she had a crush on, Nancy insisted that she not tell anyone, convincing her that she must have enjoyed it and that she should call the boy and apologize for being such an ungrateful brat. She was proud of herself for facilitating the three-month abusive relationship that followed. Even prouder that she thought to secretly ask the boy out herself, allowing him to cheat on her best friend, as was his right and her honor.

Nancy loved how creative the young man was. He often had Nancy come over right before a date with Janet so he could fuck her and have Janet unknowingly suck her best friends cunt juice off of his cock. He liked to ask Janet for particularly humiliating naked pictures which Nancy insisted it was her duty as a good girlfriend to send him. She often assisted Janet with these photoshoots, helping her write humiliating words on her body, making sure she spread her ass far enough to make her holes clearly visible, ensuring that her tongue really was making contact with the inside of the toilet.

Their friendship ended after the boy mentioned to Nancy that her friend refused anal, and fought vigorously when he tried to force her. Nancy was appalled at learning of her friend’s refusal, insisting that she would help; that night, they stripped her naked and Nancy held her down and covered her mouth while the boy raped her ass. It’s no wonder she thrashed about so much, her barely-lubricated asshole was bleeding pretty badly by the end. Nancy made her apologize for ruining the boys sheets and made her give him money from her purse to replace them.

Janet didn’t talk to Nancy after that, which annoyed the budding rape-enthusiast. That left Nancy with the problem of how to distribute her former friends humiliating pictures as punishment for her ingratitude. Certainly she couldn’t allow the boy to be blamed for sharing them with their classmates. Hell, she would have happily lied under oath to ensure he didn’t suffer the consequences of taking what was his.

Eventually a solution became apparent. There was another girl in her school who always rejected the advances of the boys, a nerdy type who talked back when people made fun of her. Nancy eventually figured out that this girl was a dyke as well. She had no problem with dykes, per se, she was one herself. She had a problem with bitches who thought they were too good to be a plaything for cruel men. So she hatched a plan.

She pretended to befriend the dyke, and eventually the two of them became lovers. A few weeks later she broke up with her very publicly at school, making sure to loudly announce how bad her pussy tasted and claiming she was breaking up with her because she couldn’t stand the girl’s hardcore scat-fetish. This would ensure that the little bitch would be made fun of for the rest of her Senior year, and it would open the door to blame her for posting Janet’s humiliating pictures online.

When the authorities investigated, Nancy admitted that she’d helped Janet take the pictures (claiming that it was Janet’s idea, and backing up the boy’s claim that it was actually Janet who pushed for kinky sex, a story she’d arranged with him earlier). She said that the dyke must have hacked into her computer after she broke up with her, and distributed the pictures as payback. Nancy made sure to include a few compromising pictures of herself in the photo-dump just to make the story more believable.

The plan had worked, in one fell swoop Nancy had managed to humiliate that ungrateful bitch Janet, and teach that stupid dyke what she gets for refusing men their right to use her body. It was one of the great triumphs of her young life, but she only just barely got away with it. Nancy knew that she’d need to be more careful from now on if she wanted to continue abiding by her life’s mission to help all bullies, abusers, and rapists.

So when she got to college she reinvented herself. Publicly she was an advocate for every marginalized group. She went to feminist marches, she spoke at Black Lives Matter events, and collected donations for LGBT causes. This way, she could be seen as a champion for the abused, they would trust her. Never suspecting that she actually masturbated each night to the teary-eyed confessions by dumb bitches whose boyfriends smacked them around or sorority cunts who didn’t appreciate getting gang-raped when they were stupid enough to get drunk at a party.

A few years in, Nancy was majoring in psychology and volunteering at a rape crisis center as a counselor. This is when she met Darla.

Part 1

Nancy walked in that day with a button-up shirt and tie beneath her black vest. Her masculine fashion sense left little doubt to onlookers that she was a lesbian. It was form-fitting enough to display her slim body. Had she had her clothes ripped off in public, as she so often fantasized, observers would see a strong, athletic body with clear muscle definition beneath her smooth, dark brown skin. They would also notice the ample curves of her large breasts atop her six-pack abs, a contrast rarely seen in non-black women. Her hair was styled in neat dreadlocks that hung down just past her chin. Her whole style screamed liberal black lesbian feminist. Yet she dressed with enough allure that she hoped every misogynist, racist, and sadist that saw her went home and planned how to make her scream while they raped her dyke-nigger asshole bloody. She secretly believed it’s what all women deserved, and made it her life’s mission to ensure it happened to as many women as possible.

When she saw the defeated-looking woman with a bruised face in the rape crisis center office, she knew she was in for a treat.

“Hi, have you been helped yet?” Nancy said to the girl in a gentle voice.

“They said they don’t have anybody who can see me right now, and they said I have to wait.” she responded meekly, still staring at the ground, but obviously in distress.

Nancy squatted down in front of the girl to meet her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. “My name is Nancy, would you like to go somewhere private and we can just sit together? If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to just sit, that’s okay too. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to hold, I’ll be there for you if you want. And if, at any point, you think you’d feel better being alone, you’re welcome to leave, I won’t judge you or think less of you no matter what. I only care about making sure you get what you need right now.” She gave some version of this speech to almost every ungrateful cunt that came in. It made it easier for them to open up to her.

The girl nodded and Nancy led her to a small, quiet room where they sat across from one another. “Would you like to tell me your name?” Nancy asked.

“Darla.” She replied.

“It’s very nice to meet you Darla. What can I do to help you, today?” She asked softly.

“He raped me again last night.” Darla replied, her tone hectic. “I don’t know what I did! He always does this, even though he says he’s going to stop!”

Haha! What a stupid cunt! Nancy thought. “Who did this to you?”

“My ex boyfriend. Back when we were started dating, he said he understood that sex is something that’s really, really hard for me because of my childhood. But after a little while he said he didn’t want to wait anymore. And after that he stopped caring, and he didn’t even stop when I said no and begged him! That’s why I broke up with him, but he called me and said he changed. Except it seemed like he really meant it this time! He asked me to come over so he could give me a gift to apologize. But when I got there he…he...”

Oh, come on, don’t tease me you little rape-slut, Nancy thought, “It’s okay, you’re safe with me.” her gentle voice reassured the girl.

“He...put it in my butt.” Darla replied blushing, though the bruising on her face made it difficult to tell.

“This was the first time he’d forced you to have anal sex?” Nancy asked

Darla nodded, “That was always like really, really super off limits.” Tears rolled down the girls face. “And, and, and he knew that! I said I’d break up with him if he ever did that. He said he always wanted to, and that he was going to do it now that I can’t break up with him again.”

Well I can’t fault his logic! she thought as the girl cleaned the tears from her face with a tissue. Nancy briefly had a fantasy in which she congratulated the girl’s ex-boyfriend for a stellar job of tricking her into getting raped so many times, followed by the two of them laughing over how stupid she was to fall for it so many times. A brief moment later she considered how improved the fantasy would be if Darla were bound naked and gagged listening to them during the exchange as they prepared to rape her together. She was tempted to smile as she contemplated the scenario, but fortunately she was practiced at not letting her inner thoughts show on her face.

“You mentioned that sex was difficult for you because of your childhood. Was there something that happened when you were younger that resulted in you having a strong negative reaction to that particular act? Nancy asked.

“My parents used to make me do that when I was little. They used to make videos and let strangers do it to me for money.”

“They made videos of you having anal sex when you were underaged?”

“They stopped when I was fourteen, they said I was too old. But they only had men put it in my butt, because they said it’d be really bad if I got pregnant and had to see a doctor.” Darla explained, her lip quivering.

Jackpot! Nancy thought, I’ve got a real life porn-star in front of me! She wondered how many men and women had masturbated while watching her little asshole get sodomized. A spark of anger suddenly shot through Nancy. Ungrateful cunt, do you know what I would have given to have a childhood like yours?!? Her thoughts alternated back and forth between arousal and resentment. She compromised between the two emotions when she vowed to make Darla properly suffer for how blind she’d been for all the wonderful honors that her family and boyfriend had bestowed on her.

“Your boyfriend knew this when he anally raped you?”

“Yeah! He said he thought it was funny. He laughed and said that this keeps happening to me because I’m a whore, and I deserve it.” Darla said with tearful anger.

Smart AND a sense of humor! How dare this dumb bitch deny this charming boyfriend of hers the right to use his victim! She should be begging him to blister her cunt with a belt to show how sorry she is! God, I hate her!

“You’re a good-hearted person. It was very kind of you to keep giving him chances. But your kindness doesn’t mean you deserve to be raped.” The fact that you’re weak and you have a cunt means you deserve to be raped. Nancy finished the thought in her head.

The rest of the session continued along the same theme, with Darla pouring her heart out about her tragic life full of rape, molestation, and abuse. Nancy struggled to contain her excitement, but managed to maintain her professional disposition. Her only worry was that her cunt may have soaked through her slacks and left a stain on the chair. She resented this pathetic girl for having been given so much, yet being so stupid as to complain about it.

Finally finished with her cathartic confessions, Darla was finally ready to leave. Nancy, not wanting this delightful encounter to be fleeting, wrote down her phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to Darla. “I know you feel better now, but this isn’t something you can get over in one session. I’m taking a special interest in you. Feel free to call or text whenever you need, and I absolutely expect to see you back here soon.”

“Thank you, Doctor. That means a lot to me.” Darla replied before hugging her tightly. Nancy only had an Associate’s Degree, but chose not to correct her, hoping the assumption would work to her advantage at some point in the future. Darla walked out, riding on the high of catharsis.

***

Nancy stayed for a few more hours, but the rest of the afternoon was rather banal. A few girls came in asking about domestic abuse resources or abortion services. Much as she didn’t like helping these little rape-dolls, she had to if she was to keep her cover intact. Normally, she’d at least get a kick out of making girls give a few extra details before she provided them with what she wanted, but all she could think about is how she wanted to ruin and violate Darla.

When she left the center, she was so lost in thought, she hadn’t even heard the awkward footsteps of the girl racing to catch up to her.

“Hi, Nancy! I’m really glad that I get to volunteer here with you. You’re such an inspiration.” the girl said, failing at coming up with a natural way to start a conversation.

“Oh, Hannah. Hi, I didn’t notice you.” she replied. Hannah was a pansexual Jew-cunt that answered phones at the rape crisis center. She also took care of all the accounting. She’d been raped by her friend’s older brother when she was ten years old and it fucked with her self-esteem. She was desperate to get people to like her, a fact which Nancy regularly took advantage of. The big-nosed bitch always tried too hard, especially with people who treated her like shit.

“So, do you have any plans tonight?” Hannah asked.

Nancy smiled and took the Jew-cunt’s hand as they walked, interlocking her fingers. “I do! I’ve been dating a lot; getting pretty lucky in the romance department lately. But I don’t want to tell you about that, it’d be inconsiderate of your feelings. I’m sure you have something interesting going on. Tell me about that.”

Nancy knew that Hannah wasn’t especially popular and had a bit of a crush on her. Her background in psychology allowed her to utilize her knowledge to hurt Hannah in subtle ways while still pretending to be her friend. In a few sentences, she’d managed to remind her of the humiliating rejection that had occurred a few months ago; impress upon her the fact that while she has trysts with lots of women, she doesn’t find Hannah attractive enough to date; and put her on the spot to share plans that Nancy knew she obviously didn’t have.

The pair of them walked hand-in-hand as Hannah’s eyes frantically darted back and forth in thought as her chest slightly tensed, not knowing how to respond.

“Oh… ya know.” she finally replied with a forced smile.

“No, I don’t know. Come on, Hannah! Open up a little, you’re always so timid.”

“Ummm. Just… just catching up on some reading. Heh. Guess we’re not all as popular as you.”

“Hey, you’re a wonderful person. Any man, woman, or nonbinary would be lucky to be with you!” With that, Nancy kissed the lonely, desperate kike on the cheek and veered off in the other direction.

Nancy’s mind began to reel with delightfully villainous ideas. It’ll probably be a few days until I get a chance to see Darla again, she thought,  Maybe it is finally time to give Hannah some attention.

***

Part 2

That evening, Nancy went home and ordered a few spy cameras that she could use to record subsequent encounters with Darla. With that quick errand finished, she focused her attention on ensuring that her good friend Hannah the big-nosed Jew-cunt finally got put in her place.

Nancy worshipped individuals who violated others, but she did have a certain affinity for rapists on a cultural or societal scale as well. It’s why she has a strong veneration for men, whites, and authority figures (the last group being made up, predominantly, of white men). It was no wonder that she had developed a fetish for misogynist white-supremacists; in fact, she’d become a bit of one herself.

Jews like Hannah were among the worst, Nancy believed. As a shit-skin dyke, she couldn’t exactly claim superiority, but at least Nancy knew her place in the world. Hannah, however, was such a stereotypical Jew that it almost seemed intentional. She whined about being raped when she was little, she whined about her ancestors being tortured in the Holocaust, she even sometimes whined about her ancestors being enslaved in Egypt. In typical Jew fashion, she played them off like jokes, but Nancy knew that the little kike actually did feel as though these things were injustices.

Nancy hoped her friend would eventually learn her lesson and join her in honoring all the wonderful contributions that rapists and abusers make to society, but she was impatient and wanted to help her along.

A few months before, she sent Hannah a naked picture of herself out of the blue. She had picked up on the girl’s crush on her and hoped to use that to subtly humiliate her. Hannah’s response was ecstatic, she poured her heart out, saying how she’d loved her from afar for so long and was overjoyed to know that she felt the same way. After that followed a series of lewd images of the black-haired kike. Nancy didn’t reply, despite the increasingly nervous-sounding texts that followed. Instead, she confronted Hannah the next day in person. She remembered the conversation vividly…

“I felt like I owed it to you to explain this in person. I think you got the wrong idea yesterday. I had a great day at the gym and I was just feeling really good about my body, so I sent pictures to some of my close friends, but it was completely platonic, Hannah. I’m just a very body-positive person. I’m so sorry you got the wrong idea, it must have been so humiliating to you, but I could never be intimate with you. I value our friendship so much, so I just want to be clear. You are not attractive….to me. I still think you’re a great person, but I could never find you physically appealing.”

Nancy smiled as she thought back on that moment with pride. The look of pain and humiliation on Hannah’s face was priceless. She had run to the bathroom just after the conversation, and Nancy snuck in a few minutes later to hear her crying loudly. She felt an exhilaration at knowing she’d hurt the girl so deeply. In just a few moments, Nancy had left a mark in her mind and soul that would last for years, probably decades; words that would echo over and over again. There was a sort of romance to that, knowing that her friend would carry that moment with her for such a long time. It was the kind of gift that bullies left their victims with. But tonight, Nancy wanted Hannah to have an even better gift.

She knew that Hannah would be home alone tonight, so Nancy reached out to some of her online resources. She could be herself on the internet, and it made her many friends among rape-baiters and rapists. Those were the people she needed that night.

Nancy was posing as Hannah online, she was uploading the obscene images that the Jew-cunt had sent her a few months before and claiming that she was finally ready to fulfill her fantasy of being brutally violated by racists. She had even photoshopped an image she’d found of Hannah online. The original image showed her face holding a sign reading “I need feminism because no one believed me when I told them I was raped. I was 10.” But with some slight touch ups, in the new image, the sign read, “I don’t need feminism, I need my Jew-holes brutally gang-raped by Nazi cock.” Photoshopping “I need feminism” signs had become a bit of a hobby for Nancy, and she’d become pretty good at making them look real.

She was sure to include this new picture along with the other images of her naked body. She sent them to anyone with potential, even posted them online in a few spots with her name and location. Finally she got into a conversation with someone who was close enough and real enough to get it done tonight. Nancy shared private details, still posing as Hannah and claiming to consent to anything he and his friends wanted to do to her. She begged him for an assurance that he’d violate every hole, that he’d beat her. Even made him promise that he’d break her big Jew-nose. She warned him that she wanted it to be real, so she was going to beg and cry a lot, but they weren’t to stop raping her, no matter what.

The stranger online gave assurances that he’d do everything she asked and more. Nancy proceeded to give him Hannah’s home address, along with details of her house, and the location of the spare key. She finished by thanking him, then went off to masturbate for hours as she thought about all the wonderful things that could be happening to Hannah that night.

I’m such a good friend. She thought with a smile before falling asleep.