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venzlenes · 9 months ago

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You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour !@#$ out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral[size] equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us ”normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are ”challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been ”right”. Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

I know u got this off a google. I've used it before. AND U WERE WITH ME WHEN I USED IT @myguumi

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 1 year ago

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Super Villains as Queer Icons

by Ken Ham

In a recent article on the Atlantic magazine’s website, there was a culture piece that looked at horror movie villains as “queer icons.”

Without delving too deeply into the article—which included many forced associations as well as some movies which were specifically written from the LGBT perspective, the author, Mary Retta, looked at several different “movie monsters,” and one association really stood out. She quoted another author, Susan Stryker, who in 1994 said this in regard to Frankenstein’s monster: “The transsexual body is an unnatural body. It is the product of medical science. It is a technological construction. It is flesh torn apart and sewn together again in a shape other than that in which it was born.”

We’ve discussed numerous times the horrors of surgical mutilation and unnecessary hormone treatments that the transgender movement and an all-too-willing medical community have foisted upon young people who are undergoing a crisis in their lives or just the uncomfortable and tumultuous throes of puberty. Rather than looking to heal those who are hurting, this only adds to the pain and confusion of these young people. But the above “body” statement struck me as a reminder that everyone is remade in one way or another. Either we “remake” ourselves in our own fallen and distorted image by surgery, addiction, hedonism, false religion, doing what is right in our own eyes (Judges 21:25), or some other panacea which excludes God. Or as Scripture teaches, we are remade in the image of Christ.

While at first blush it may seem counterintuitive to compare human birth and Christian rebirth with Frankenstein and his monster, there are some striking parallels and contrasts. I’ll briefly list a few below, based on the “body” quote above. The Bible speaks about God “knitting” or “intricately weaving” us together in the womb (Psalm 139:13, 15). The development of the child in the womb is one of the wonders of the created world, wherein genetic material from the father and mother comes together to create a new, unique individual. Scripture rightly says that people are “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). By contrast, Victor Frankenstein crudely sewed together his monster, hindered by the constraints of his abilities and tools. The resulting abomination is rejected in disgust by his creator.

There have been tremendous advances in reconstructive surgery, where surgeons reconstruct accident victims’ bodies to resemble their pre-accident selves. Prosthetics technology also gives people artificial parts to either compensate for birth defects (a sad consequence of the fall) or loss of body parts in accidents. These are good things and can be looked at as medical science attempting to alleviate some of the consequences of mankind’s sin.

Such science is also co-opted for so-called “gender affirmative care” in which biological males receive surgery and hormones to feminize their appearance and vice versa for women. However, there is no way to truly turn a male into a female or a female into a male. A man will never have the capacity to bear and nurse offspring as a mother does, and a woman will never father children. This sad imitation of manhood or womanhood robs them of their God-given femininity or masculinity that should be healthy and honoring for them as image-bearers of God. In this sin-cursed world, however, people are often confused, connived, or coerced into believing lies about their bodies, gender, or sexuality. Recently, videos have gone viral of “de-transitioners” who, having been given “cross-sex” hormones during their teen years, look neither masculine nor feminine and now realize the preciousness of what they gave up in this confusion.

While probably not the first comparison that comes to mind when thinking of the body of Christ and its members, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein has some curious biblical themes running throughout its pages. Whether they were entirely intentional or not is unclear (although it seems certain that many were, based on her 1831 introduction to Frankenstein). Shelly wrote the following lines to explain the moment that the monster came to life: “Frightful must it be; for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavour to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world.” Her book contains many other biblical allusions, usually antitheses to the creation account, as would be expected in a tale where man plays God in creating what Victor Frankenstein deems a “wretched monster.” Yet all these themes in the book showcase that Shelley had in mind an anti-creation horror concept embedded in her book that acknowledged the perfectness and goodness of the Genesis creation account and that man’s attempt to remake himself or attempt to instill life is futile and only leads to catastrophe. Only God can create and recreate humans (by new birth into Christ), as we are made in his image.

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stickerrsssss · 9 months ago

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On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient

fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate,

noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid.

Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.:

evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive,

mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

(I lovb yaou… this is a copy pastas🥺🥺)

This is a copy pasta??? No way!!!! I totally definitely thought you wrote all of this out by hand!!!!

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kaioshin-kai · 1 year ago

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#(askbox)#nice copypasta #That's just zamasu monologueing

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illmoraineakoi · 1 year ago

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Fun Fact: A few years ago, I went to the ER with the worst stomach pain I ever had. I legitimately thought my appendix had burst, because it was in that general area and I still had mine.

It was a fucking nightmare.

[Under a Read More bc this got loooong. Also, Trigger Warning: Graphic Image]

They refused to do anything for me until I proved I wasn't pregnant via a urine sample.

I was so nauseous that I literally couldn't keep water down, and I hadn't drank anything for the entire day because of that (because I am American and had resisted even going to the hospital until the pain had reached that 'I think I might literally be dying' point.) So there's like four nurses that kept badgering me to drink the water, stop vomiting, tell us when you last bled from your vagina, who's your sexual partner, etc.

Some important facts about me: I have never once had sex with a living man; the only sexytime friends I have are the ones made from rubber. I have a VERY irregular menstrual cycle, to the point where I once only had four periods in an entire year (I heavily suspect I have PCOS.) And I am a very fat woman with crippling social anxiety.

Those immutable facts didn't matter apparently.

Because despite being a 25 year old adult, the nurses apparently decided that I needed to be chided to about how "A lot of young girls don't want to tell us this information because they don't want to get in trouble."

...So that was fun, being assumed to be a total liar about my sexual history :)

And also very patronizing, to be lumped in with 'young girls'. Maybe those same 'young girls' also don't want to tell you shit because you're also being super patronizing and righteously to them too, did you ever think about that?

The entire visit was like that. It felt like getting teeth pulled, and trying to pull teeth in return.

"We can't give you any pain meds until we're sure you're not pregnant." "Unless I'm the next Vi grin Mary, I can guarantee you I Am Not. I feel like my stomach is going through a chipper shredder. May I at least have a low does of something?" ":) No. Wait here for another half hour without seeing one of us. There's a tiny child complaining of a tummy ache three doors down."

[That child walked out of there in five minutes. He'd just had really bad gas. I get the need to prioritize people based on the severity of what was/might be wrong with them, but that still kinda pissed me off. Especially because it still hadn't be explicitly ruled out that one of my internal organs hadn't exploded.]

Shocker, how the nurses got a little grumbly when my test came back completely negative, because OF COURSE IT DID, I LITERALLY TOLD YOU THAT MY VAGINA HAS NEVER SEEN A REAL DICK IN HER ENTIRE EXISTENCE.

Reminder that I was 25-26 when this was happening. NOT a teenager, and not even an age where I could be mistaken for being younger than I actually was. I was an adult woman, and I looked like an adult woman. Who also gave her date of birth on the paperwork they made her fill out.

Who they had refused to not perform a pregnancy test on despite my repeated refusal and instance that such a test was unnecessary.

[I double-checked this with the surgeon who actually took care of the problem, afterwards. I asked specifically if the pregnancy test was used to look for other problems or help determine a suspected diagnosis. They sometimes could, she said, but not for me. Not for any of the things that could have been wrong with me outside of pregnancy-related things. The test was 100% just to determine if i was knocked up, and thus completely useless. A waste of everyone's time.]

Those nurses straight up told me if I refused to give them a urine sample to test, there was nothing they could do for me and they would have to ask me to leave. I HAD to comply.

At that point, i was in so much pain (literally crying) and so mentally exhausted that I just gave up and did what they wanted. And, also, by that point, the fluids they'd been pumping into me had actually gathered enough for me to be able to give them my piss.

That was the first instance of this HOSPITAL refusing to listen to me.

The second was when they found out what was wrong, and sent me home with three days worth of pain meds to last until my primary OBGYN handled the problem.

Important note: I did not have an OBGYN. I had to figure out who in my area accepted my insurance and then call around asking if they were open to new patients.

Or, I would have had to call around, if there wasn't exactly one (1) Lady Part Doctor within 100 miles of my location that took my insurance. Who had not been open to accepting new patients.

I begged. I literally fucking begged this office.

Just this once, can one of your doctors figure out what's wrong with me and help me. I'll fucking pay out of pocket if you want me to, I'll pay double, I'll do anything, just please give me access to someone who can tell me what the fuck is going on and make the pain stop.

Because oh yeah, the hospital hadn't done that.

They didn't tell me what was wrong with me. They just said "You have gynecological issues that we can't treat. Contact your OBGYN and go to them. Bye."

There was zero mention of the 13 inch wide Ovarian cyst that these motherfuckers found on the ultrasound they did. A hugeass cyst that could pop at any point and was literally strangling my ovary to death. The pain? Yeah, that's why; my ovary was twisted so tight that blood couldn't get to it and it was DYING. That pain was my right ovary's death screams.

It took a week to get into the OBGYN office. [My ovary was unsalvageable by that point. Any longer, and it would have started to rot and give me sepsis.]

Luckily, the universe decided that I had suffered enough misfortune during this horrible situation, and threw me a miracle that I am still grateful for to this day: the main OBGYN doctor of the office I begged had agreed to see me.

Because apparently she had figured out what was likely wrong just from those ten minutes of talking to me on the phone, and had become concerned enough to want more information.

Also apparently, she was APPALLED that the hospital had ever let me walk out it's doors, because she very much considered this to be a huge emergency requiring surgery ASAP.

The problem being this fucking thing:

[Warning: Graphic]

Yeah, that was inside of me.

That is the Dermoid Cyst they pulled out of me. That red tubey thing on the right of the second pic? That WAS my ovary.

What had happened was that, that day, I had moved just wrong enough for it to then shift inside me and twist my ovary at the falopian tube. This thing was likely growing inside of me for most of my life, which is normal for dermoid cysts. They're just normally found before they're so big and also normally don't cause problems.

I forget the exact measurements they took of it, but I think it was even larger than they thought it was. I just default to 13 inches because that's how big she originally told it might be from the ultrasound imagining, and that number kinda fried my brain.

[It was noncancerous. Just full of normal Dermoid Cyst stuff, like hair, fat, puss, etc.]

I had that inside of me. For a full week. While it had twisted my ovary and strangled it to death.

AND THE HOSPITAL HAD DETERMINED THAT IT WAS THERE AND SENT. ME. HOME.

The OBGYN doctor who agreed to see me had been my savior. She was a godsend. Because she wasn't just an OBGYN, she was also a surgeon. She MADE room in her schedule to do surgery on me the very next day.

That was how concerned she was about this thing rupturing inside of me and KILLING ME.

BECAUSE YEAH, THAT WAS THE FIRE THAT I WAS APPARENTLY PLAYING WITH! THE DANGER THAT I HAD NO IDEA ABOUT. FUN!

[And she was such a kind person. She apologized no less than ten times for not being able to keep the incision smaller, because she knew it would scar. She had to go around my belly button just to fit this stupid thing out of me. I didn't care about that. A scar is a scar, they happen. The fact that she helped me to the degree she did when she literally didn't have to was all that mattered to me. She was the one who helped me through everything about this situation, and I will never forget her kindness. I am still thankful to her, even now.]

But you wanna know the kicker? The part that I still rage about, and thing that made me refuse to ever go back to that hospital even if i was literally dying?

She was a surgeon who partially worked at that same exact hospital.

And she had been there, that very night I had come in.

And she told me, "if someone had told me about this then, I would have come help you. I would have taken you on as a patient right then and there and squeezed you in sooner. Maybe not that night, specifically, but definitely the next day. There is no excuse for them to have sent you home like they did. They should have brought this case to my attention. Handling these types of surgeries and c-sections are all I do at this hospital. I don't know why ER hadn't let me know."

The double kicker? I had asked if there was anyone there who could help me at the time. And the hospital said no.

Had the ER staff contacted her and had I had the surgery a full week earlier, I would still have my right ovary. She could have saved it, it wouldn't have been too late.

The ability to have kids isn't important to me. I don't want to have babies, I don't like babies. The loss of one of my ovaries isn't a big deal to me.

But I am horrified to think how emotionally devastating that this situation could have been for someone who DID consider the ability to have children important.

And I just find it so very ironic, that the hospital that was so concerned about determining if I was up the duff to the point of causing me agony for hours is the same exact hospital that permanently affected my fertility.

Funny, that.

I did not feel like I was treated, medically, at that ER. I still don't, to this day. I didn't feel like a human person that was worth their time or sympathy, because no one there afforded me even the barest scraps of either.

They didn't listen to me. They didn't try to work with me to determine a plan of action. They didn't even tell me what was wrong with me. There was ZERO communication.

I don't know how the ER medical field works, I don't know if this is normal, if I'm just complaining out my ass and all the ER nurses and docs are currently rolling their eyes at me, I have no idea if I seem entitled or not. I thought I had behaved pretty reasonably and politely. I thought that my expectations of how I would be handled wasn't outrageous or illogical. Maybe I'm missing some context and the nuances of how the Emergency Room functions. This is the only time I've ever been there.

But if the above is normal...Fam, this ain't it. This isn't how you treat people. This shouldn't be how you treat people.

It never felt like I was being helped. Just like I was a problem and shouldn't be there. Like the only parts of me they saw were my vagina and uterus.

It's only coincidence that what was wrong with me was actually a problem with my female parts. Had it been a popped appendix like I thought it had been, how much longer would it have taken them to get there? Until I needed to be hospitalized for sepsis?

Or would they have contributed that to a problem with my vagina too?

Medically speaking, informed consent does not just apply to things you want done to you or for you, it also applies to things that you don't want done to you or things you don't want withheld from you.

I don't think a lot of people realize that, and I don't think a lot of medical professionals want to acknowledge that, because it means they would have to reevaluate the ethics of denying treatment to patients. Also they would have to reckon with their patients' agency and right to self-determination. Both of those things really freak some medpros out.

#longpost #graphic image #personal story #Fuck that hospital honestly

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wyrmfedgrave · 1 year ago

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Pics:

1 thru 5. Various covers/editions for the book we're interested in.

1906: The Earth (is) Not Hollow.

"Mizora: A Prophecy" by Mary E.B. Lane, is a feminist utopian story that was serialized in the Cincinnati Commercial newspaper from 1880 to 1881.

It would only come out in book form from 1890 on.

Plot: The story is narrated by a Princess Vera, who's reform minded & has Polish friends in Tsarist Russia.

Vera's exiled to Siberia for her political views. But, bribes her way out of prison.

Hoping to rejoin her husband & son (who are in France), Vera escapes in a whaling ship.

But, she's left to spend the Arctic winter with the Inuit people.

Somehow getting a boat, Vera's swept off by a whirlpool & ends up in Mizora, a Hollow Earth land.

Here the 'heavens' are lit up by an inherent electricity & a 3,000 year old female civilization runs all things.

Most men killed each other off in a terrible civil war. The surviving men were then allowed to die out!!

The women now keep up a stable population thru 'virgin' births! And, they 'elevate' (controlled evolution?) their all blonde race via eugenics!

All criminal, mentally disabled or dark skinned women aren't allowed to have children...

(Official eugenics & casual racism always seems to go together.)

This utopia has gotten rid of poverty, disease, crime, religion & sex!!!

No one is poor & education is free - til age 25. And all of the people enjoy the suppleness & bloom of youth.

Everyone lives in co-housing & share beautiful gardens. Their "mighty city" revolves around a type of suburban planning & zoning.

Due to Mizora being a land of "mind workers," automata (robots) do all of the menial work. But, certain labors are still seen as a social duty for all.

Some things, like cooking, are handled by experts - chemists in this case! Foodstuffs must be served in their 'purest' form.

Intellectuals form Mizora's only known aristocracy.

After 15 years in Mizora, Vera feels homesick & returns to Imperial Russia.

Criticism: Lane's "Mizora" is the 1st significant novel on a female utopia.

As is usual for these types of works, Lane's book reads easily. But, is long in describing its utopia's superiority.

Sadly, "Mizora" is also quite short on any sort of plot - other than the escape from Russia...

It's kind of hard to accept a society that doesn't have some type of ambition, controversy, dissention, jealousy or striving for personal goals.

Mizora's civilization is actually kind of Confusian, in that its leaders set a good example for their citizens & society just runs itself.

Among Mizora's scientific advances are: video phones, carbon dioxide enrichment of crops & food prep that's a form of experimental alchemy!

The science 'used' in Mizora reminds 1 of Margaret Newcastle's "The Blazing World" - from 1666!!

Both works are set in alternate places reached by "crossing the 'open' sea at the North Pole."

But, in "Blazing World," our Earth is linked to another planet - like beads in a pearl necklace!!

Legacy: Murat Halstead, editor of the Cincinnati Commercial newspaper said that "Mizora" was popular in the Ohio River Valley.

Halstead stated, "Mizora attracted a great deal of attention, commanding a wide circle of readers (here)."

Despite Halstead's 'hype', "Mizora" actually created no real 'stir' when it was finally released as a novel...

"Mizora" is seen as a precursor to C.P. Gilman's "Herland" & S.M. Gearhart's "Wander Ground." All of these works envision women led worlds where men are unnecessary...

Pics:

1 & 2. Where to look in, for an overview of these kinds of sci-fi/fantasy novels.

3 & 4. The only artwork I could find online of the "mighty city" of Mizora.

Author: There's little that's actually known about Mary E.P. Lane.

It's known that Lane was an Ohio Public School teacher & author.

She was the daughter of a rural doctor & Union Army staff physician. Later, she would marry a Cincinnati lawyer & Civil War vet 10 years older than she was.

The couple had no known kids.

No copy of her 1895 novel "Escanaba" has been found. The title is the name of a town in Michigan.

But, we know she wrote "The Magic Lens" for the Cincinnati Gazette.

Any other works remain unknown...

The only other major notes in Lane's life are a court case & federal letter campaign.

1st, she accused one Edward Bellamy for plagiarism!

Lane had submitted her "Mizora" manuscript to Houghton-Miffin. They kept it, she stated, long enough to steal her work's crucial elements & turned it into Bellamy's "Looking Backward" - published in 1888.

But, utopian stories are much older than both books - going back all the way back to Plato's Atlantis...

2nd, she wrangled - thru the mail - with the federal government, over her all-too-small, widow's pension...

Other than that, she remains a mystery. I couldn't even find a photo or portrait of her - online.

(Any help with these problems would be happily appreciated.)

#earth not hollow #weird geology #aside #scifi & fantasy #history #adventure

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goodoldfashionedthoughtcrimes · 2 years ago

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The overturning of Roe v Wade is really stressing me out. I live in California and here our reproductive rights are only strengthening now that we’re more aware, but it’s still stressing me out. I’m terrified that I’ll get pregnant while out of state and be forced to carry to term.

I spoke to my (male) gynecologist about me being on multiple forms of birth control. I asked him if he would allow me to be on the copper IUD and separately a form of hormonal birth control. He told me it was unnecessary, he said that it would be like using both a belt and suspenders to hold up my pants, but this doctor is male and couldn’t possibly understand my fear. He reminds me that I can still get an abortion in the state and says that he’s never seen a patient get pregnant while on the copper IUD therefore I don’t need to use anything in addition to it. But with the current political climate, a 0.01% chance that I’ll get pregnant freaks me out too much. I would strongly prefer to be on an additional form of birth control potentially unnecessarily than get pregnant.

I’m already on hormonal birth control and I use condoms every single time and I practice both with perfect use. I’ve considered adding spermicide to the mix but it can cause irritation that will put me at a higher risk for contracting an STI.

My heart breaks for the women living in jurisdictions with abortions bans. If I’m this stressed out in a state with some of the strongest reproductive rights, I can only imagine what it’s like elsewhere. How can liberal men in states with abortion bans ever even consider asking to have unprotected sex? How selfish and short-sighted does a man have to be to pressure a woman into having unprotected sex in a state with zero safe abortion access?

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merakiui · 3 years ago

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Has sk!j wanted or has had sex with Reader after the baby was born? 🤔

(cw: nsfw, yandere, female reader, captivity, implied dubcon)

It’s likely. Jade has a lot on his plate, so sex won’t happen frequently. But if he’s feeling up for it or he needs stress relief, it’s bound to occur. Even though he’s already done so many terrible things, he won’t force himself on you. If anything, he’s more likely to coerce you into it. Whether it’s with subtle threats or mixing an aphrodisiac into your food/drink, he’ll choose coercion over physical force. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so it’s usually very slow and sweet. Jade’s unusually gentle, but he reasons it’s because carrying a child for nine months and then birthing them without proper help from hospital staff can be taxing on your body. And he needs you in healthy shape if he wants to feast on you one day… Your body needs plenty of time to heal, so he won’t add any unnecessary stress or wounds to it.

Until then, you can expect sex whenever he’s in the mood for it, at night after the baby has been put to sleep, or early in the morning when the two of you are tangled in each other’s arms. Jade’s always considerably softer in the mornings, and that’s usually the best time to do it. But don’t get too comfortable. He can and will get rough if he wants to, or if he needs to remind you of who exactly you’re dealing with. It’s best not to fall into this routine because beneath a caring façade he is violent and rough.

But he does praise you for a job well done. Not every creature can survive such strenuous circumstances while pregnant. He supposes you’re deserving of this gentle treatment. Enjoy it while it lasts.

#twisted chit chat #serial killer jade #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

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despairing-disaster · 2 years ago

Note

16, 20, 23,28 for whit n david?

Gonna combine these for convenience and since it’s a lot of the same characters. Also sorry this took a while, it was a lot of numbers and I'm a chronic procrastinator - -;

David

3. A song that reminds me of them

Save Yourself by Stabbing Westward. I definitely think it fits a different character slightly better, but it works with the idea of him being a motivational speaker who hates his job.

12. Sexuality hc!

Gay

Not really much else to say on that.

16. A childhood headcanon

He was really quiet as a kid. Like, insanely so, to the point that him becoming a public speaker was something nobody really expected from him.

20. A weird headcanon

David absolutely cannot handle spicy food for the life of him. It’s like a nuclear warhead for his entire GI tract. Given what the creator has said on food preferences, it kinda makes me wonder how he’d react to Xander’s cooking.

23. Future headcanon

I don’t think I can see David surviving the killing game. I see him as a character who isn’t really intended to “grow” so much as reveal more about themselves, and it’s really difficult to keep these characters interesting enough to justify leaving them in the story for 6 chapters (unless you’re linuj). I could realistically see him dying any time between chapter 2 and chapter 4, but I’m leaning more towards chapter 3. I don’t think he’s secretly evil or something, but it’d be the point where, if anyone is gonna just snap (again), it’s gonna be then, and it really seems like David in particular holds a lot back.

28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

It’s not even the fact that he accused Teruko of killing Xander, it’s the fact that he pressed it so hard for so long when everybody else already moved on. I understand that every trial needs its skeptics in the face of new evidence, and I will say that the writer did a pretty good job at not making him hair-pullingly irritating with it, but like... it was pretty unnecessary from a watsonian perspective.

Whit

So glad you asked me about him bc I love him so much.

2. When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

I think the moment he had with Teruko in the laundry room where he said he just wanted to see her smile. I didn't really think much of him beforehand beyond him being a fun-loving jokester who didn't really take things seriously, but I think that scene really added a much-needed degree of depth to his character. Gonna absolutely shit my pants if he starts getting even more character development at the beginning of chapter 2 tho.

5. My favorite ship of them

Hate to be literally every other person in the fandom, but lets be real here, it's him with Charles. They've had really good chemistry thus far and Whit's interactions with him are where he really seems to shine as a character. Despite being a hardass, Charles really seems to bring out the best in him. Although I'll also throw in whitruko, charwhitruko and whitrei in as honorable mentions.

7. A quote of them that you remember

"Charles, you *do* know what sex is, right?"

Idk. It just kinda came outta left field, even by Whit standards.

16. A childhood headcanon

Whit was one of those kids who asked a million questions. “How do planes fly? Is water wet? Why do male seahorses give birth?” or merely the simple “why” over and over again until whoever he’s talking to realized he’s fucking with them.

20. A weird headcanon

Ik I’ve joked about it before, but he wears those heart-print boxers you always see in cartoons. Not always, but he has quite a few pairs of them.

23. Future headcanon

If Charles doesn’t kick the bucket next chapter, it’s gonna be him. Otherwise, I could easily see him making it to chapter 4, but not likely further than that. I said this with Charles, but I think these two are going to get more development and interaction with each other going forward (and I mostly say this based on speculation around the ch2 previews) though I’m curious to see where it goes from there. I mark chapter 4 as his maximum longevity since it seems that’s the chapter where the characters who get put in the role of being uplifting seem to go to die and that seems to be his role to at least someone in the cast.

28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

I don't know how much Whit really did that was unnecessary beyond his typical in-character teasing. It could be argued that he pushed his limits with Charles a few times, but I personally feel like he made up for it later. A lot of his jokes in the first class trial were also a bit questionable given the circumstances. Not that I hate humor in a class trial and all, but having that super serious moment with Charles followed immediately by Whit implicating himself (and Charles) and then not just joking about it, but running that joke into the ground was peak "can you just take things seriously???" for me.

30. The funniest scene they had?

Hard to say since being the funny guy is kinda his schtick. I think his intro was pretty amusing and did a really good job at setting him up as a character, what with all the jabs he was making towards Xander. He had a lot of other good moments, but many of them were followed immediately by more serious ones or involved someone not reacting super well to him in some capacity.

#danganronpa despair time #From the Ask Box #David Chiem #whit young

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st0nesnglitter · 4 years ago

Text

Poly relationship w/ the marauders

Headcannons and drabbles about dating James, Sirius and Remus

Mentions of sex, nudity and non-sexual nudity

Not proofed

-----------

It’s the most beautiful relationship ever

Growing from platonic love to romantic is hard as it is, so when it happened between four people you really needed to have a strong foundation

Remus was pretty surprised when he started seeing Sirius and James share intimate moments around their dorm but he also felt a twang of jealousy as he watched the interractions

So now their was constant reassurance that the love was between all of you, everyone loves everyone

Sirius can get a little bit possessive over the three of you and would not hesitate to throw out dangerous looks to anyone that lets their gaze lingers

The biggest sap out of the four of you is definitely James

He loves slowdancing in the kitchen in the morning as you cook breakfast

”Aw come on you two, you’re gonna burn the food!” Remus whined and runs up to the stove to stir, but James just giggled.

”But how could I focus to such a mundane task when I can admire this beauty?”James grinned toward you and you rolled your eyes.

Prongs always remember every date that needs to be remembered, and a couple that doesn’t and loves celebrating birthdays

Sirius had never had a real celebration for his birthday and can barely remember the date of his birth

And Remus don’t want to be a burden and try to refuse to tell James when he asks

Remus is always very warm and often goes to sleep in the guest bedroom when all of you have fallen asleep, not because he doesn’t want to cuddle but because he feels like you would get uncomfortable from his heat

But in the morning he wakes up with all three of you cuddled up to him in the guest bed

You’d spend the summers in the Potter’s summer house, right by a lake

Sirius tries to insist that clothes are unnecessary and wants to implement a ”no pants”- rule

James agrees and walks around in only boxers for three days straight

Skinny dipping in the lake after really hot days

The suns wrath was upon you and sweat trickled down the back of your neck. Remus’ prediction that it would cool down toward the evening could not have been more wrong and at around 7 PM it was unbearable. The rule Sirius had tried to get you all to follow had come true and the four of you were lounging around in the thinnest shirts you could find.

”Lets go to the lake” James murmered and stands up from his loveseat, stretching his arms over his head ”gotta cool off”.

Thankfully the shore was basically in the garden and you and Sirius raced down and stripped as fast as possible before running down the jetty and jumping into the water.

James and Sirius took their time taking off their clothes, spending some extra time aprreciating the others body, before walking out to you and Sirius.

Rem collects chapsticks and you show him the best muggle brands <3

And Sirius has made it a game to kiss him and guess the flavour

”I know, wait... SHUSH” Sirius pulled a hand through his hair as he took in the flavour with a laughing Remus behind him.

”Marshmallows!!” The raven-haired boy exclaimed proudly but his face faltered as Remus didn’t burst out in celebration.

”Actually it’s ”s’mores”, so that means that you are once again incorrect”.

Walks are very common throughout your group

Remus likes to air out his brain after long study sessions or a hard day of work

Sirius wants to smoke and since you’re hard on him to not do it out a window you bring him outside

James wants to pick flowers, look at the scenery and plan pranks out of hearing distance from potential victims

Dinners are wild

Remus will climb on top of the table to gain some attention to explain his newest ideas to take over the world

And Sirius will tug on his pantleg so they almost tip the whole table over telling him to ”sit down you baby!”

James is a very picky eater and is grumpy the whole dinner whenever Remus uses a new recipe

Putting Sirius’ hair up when it’s in his way or it’s too hot, and keeps saying that he can’t do it himself

Jamie is the sleepiest boy

He can almost always be found on the couch or in the giant bed snoozing away or blinking heavily whilst desperately trying to listen to Remus reading

REMUS LOVES TO READ TO YOU

Even though he just wants to read on his own he adores when you, Si and Jamie lay down around him and a silence spreads except Remmy baritone voice and the occasional flip of a page

Before a date two dark-haired boys are cramming into the mirror in the bathroom trying to style their hair to the nines as you and Rem sits and waits out in the living room

Introducing them to movies and they decide that you’ll have a movie night once a week

Showing them all your favorites and atleast one movie from each genre

Cigarettes after sex, the only time you let them do it inside cause you are all too tired to move and the sight of these goregous men smoking is too good to be true

Sirius handed James, who sat to his left, the cigarette before the bespectacled boy took a long drag. He leaned his head back as he blew out the smoke before reaching over Sirius to give it to Remus. Soft lips wrapped around the filter and he sighed as he felt the nicotine enter him and the engery that he had lost from prevoius actions started to come back. Rem ashed into the ashtray before looking over to you with hooded eyes.

Kisses are a constant

Being the attention whore that he is Sirius always wanted one for every single one that was shared where he was excluded

I’ve said this before but: James is a sub

Sirius is a switch

Remus is a dom

James is also a himbo

He’s really fascinated by muggle things but his excitement is sometimes ruined by the other boys making up stuff and him strutting over to ask you about it

Gently telling him that that wasn’t true but making it up by telling him a true fact

Singing songs from the top of yojr lungs as Sirius or James olays guitar

Only one who gets to touch Sirius’ hair is Remu (brushing, styling, cutting)

All of the boys have their own set of insecurities and can be caught comparing themselves to each other

Remus wants Si’s clean and whole skin, without cuts and scars, and jeslous of James rippling muscles

Sirius wants Remus height, being the shortest of them will leave you to the bad end of some petty jokes

James desires their intelligence, especially during their time at Hogwarts cause he felt like he is slowing their academical achievements down

Painting Pads nails black to try and make him stop biting them

Jamie making up songs on the spot and singing them loud eneough to be heard from every room

”Prongs I swear to FUCK if you don’t stop singing I’ll put your mouth to better use!

Discussing sharing a last name

Siri does not want you to be Blacks since only pain and sadness follows that name

Rem does not want it to be Lupin since it reminds him of what he is everyday

So you settle on becoming Potters

James is so, so excited and lays you down and just stared at the three of you with awe

”You’re mine, you all are so beautiful and you are all mine”

Sirius sobs when he finally legally is a Potter

And he’s no longer a Black

Full moons are hard but you soothe Rem best you can

The night he comes back and is hurting you always make him a cup coco since his jaw is too sore to chew regulat chocolate

He adapts this and everytime he sees one of you down he goes and makes some coco

Wearing each others clothes to bed

Your closets are just a mess and you take whatever it gives you

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lmanberg · 4 years ago

Note

Dear C!Quackity haters,

You bastard. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas... I’ll bet you couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a dick than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are an asshole, a cad, a weasel, a pissworm. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient

in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid.

the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

P.S.:

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

#ask #long post #// threats #// r word

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scandalousfemale · 5 years ago

Text

Fall to Pieces

Rafe Cameron x Y/N

An unexpected and unnecessary part 2 to Lists, though it can be read as a stand-alone.

Y/N helps Rafe get sober after he told her what he had done. She’s conflicted because now she’s getting glimpses of a better Rafe but she can’t forget or forgive him so he makes it right the only way that he knows how.

WC: 5,308

Warning: smut, mentions of shooting the sheriff (but he did not shoot the deputy), mentions of jail, mentions of drugs and withdrawals, mentions of funerals (they think Sarah and John B are dead), spoilers, unprotected sex, mention of birth control, mentions of anger, mentions of parental unit dying/going to jail, mentions of PTSD, mentions of nightmares, y/n pulls a knife out on Barry and regrets it immediately, mentions of drugs

A/N: Hello! Thank you for taking the time to even look at this fic, I worked really long and hard on it and I had a great time writing it. It was my first time ever writing smut so if it sucks, I’m so sorry. I’m also running on no sleep because I’ve been editing this all night. That being said, I tried my best to proofread, I’m sure that there are tons of mistakes anyway. Again, thank you for reading my fic! I ended it the only way that felt right to me. Oh, and it’s inspired by Fall to Pieces by Avril Lavigne

It’s been 7 months since Rafe showed up at your door and ripped your heart out of your now gaping chest. 6 months and three weeks since his family held a funeral for his sister in which he couldn’t attend because he was going through withdrawals. 6 months since his friends and family started asking you about his whereabouts. You’ve lied to everyone you knew back on the Outer Banks, telling them that you haven’t seen him since that summer.

You’ve convinced yourself that you were okay with taking care of him even if you weren’t together but for the first three weeks while he was at his worse, every time you had to touch him, you wanted to throw up (most times you did). You just can’t help but picture him killing Peterkin, sometimes you have dreams where you see it happen and you didn’t do anything to stop it, then you’d wake up next to him and have to move to the sofa just from the disgust. Though you’re not exactly sure what really happened that day, and he wouldn’t tell you, your overactive imagination filled in the blanks for you every night for those first few weeks.

The fifth week was better, in the sense that your disgust was slowly being taken over by hate. You hated that he had put you in this situation. You hated that you allowed yourself to care enough to take care of him. You hated that you love him but most of all, you hate his father for screwing up his children so much that one would rather die than go back to him and the other couldn’t stay sober long enough to know right from wrong.

You were also able to convince your parents to help you co-sign and move into a house near the school instead of staying in the dorms. You said that it’s because of all the teens partying around you and that you couldn’t concentrate on studying but really, it’s because of the noise complaints that you’ve been getting. It’s been hell studying for finals while sleeping next to someone going through cold shakes or nightmares. You’ve told yourself multiple times that Rafe was going through withdraws while also suffering from PTSD but it didn’t make you feel any better when you started missing classes or came home to your living room completely destroyed because he had a rage fit due to the cravings. You’ve offered to send him to rehab but he wanted no trace of where he could be so you complied.

A month after getting everything straightened out, you were finally moving out. You were happy that you could go further into the city where Rafe could go out more, spend more time around other people than surround himself with his mistakes, and four walls. Though the process wore on him, you could tell that he was becoming a better person. He was more patient and understanding. It would be a lie to say that his fuse wasn’t still just as bad when someone would trigger it but it seems you’ve been doing a lot of that anyway—lying.

Seven months into living together and him finally being sober, you want to say that he reminds you of the old Rafe but he doesn’t. He’s much more mature, his sad eyes tell a story that he’s seen way too much, too soon. Some days, you wish that you could take his pain away. Other days, you wish that he’d drown in it…at least you wish you thought that.

Renting a U-Haul, and maybe to fill your own fantasy of moving in together like a normal couple in college, you had Rafe help you pack. Was it a good idea? Probably not. Most of the time you ended up yelling at him for packing the bedroom things with the living room items. When you saw him put the dishes in with the DVDs, you had banished him to the house for the rest of the day, telling him that you’d pack the kitchen away by yourself. You were happy that you’d actually done that though because it gave you the excuse to give the two of you some space. You had found yourself getting close to him again. Leaning in when you laughed, touching his arm to show him something on your phone or when you window shop. You didn’t want to give him mixed signals but how could you not when you’re confused yourself?

So, you left Rafe unpacking all the boxes of clothes and moving around the furniture while you came back and tackled the kitchen. You almost wished that you had asked him to come along just for his company but after waking up in his arms last night, groggy from being tired, you figured that it was best to put some distance between the two of you.

A soft knocking sounded from your door and the smile that appeared on your face should’ve been criminal. You were almost too happy to see him. You couldn’t—wouldn’t let yourself forget what he did, though it was hard to remember when you’ve never seen Rafe in that state. Pushing your thoughts aside for the millionth time, you yanked the door open, your smile immediately dropping. You tried to shut the door as quickly as you opened it but a hand lands in the middle of the door and pushes it open the rest of the way.

“Now, that’s no way to greet an old friend,” Barry said, as condescending as ever.

“You’ve lost that title the minute you started selling drugs,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

He was right. Barry and you go way back, back before you were considered a “kook”, before you even knew what it meant to be a part of figure 8. Well, technically your moms go way back. You two were destined to be friends since you’ve come out of the womb. You shared secrets, scars, heartbreaks, skinned knees, all the same. You held him when his mom died and invited him over to your place every single day, unknowingly introducing him to his future clients. Your mom loved him like a child and if you ate, he ate. Until, of course, you started dating Rafe at fifteen and Barry started finding new friends. About a year later, the friendship was over. One night you walked in on him selling drugs to Rafe. You told them both that you wanted nothing to do with either of them if Barry kept selling and Rafe kept distributing but neither of them listened. Barry continued selling but stopped coming around, breaking your mother’s heart. As for Rafe, well, we know that story.

“Yes, of course. Big, bad, naughty, Barry,” he rolled his eyes and though his words had a hint of humor, his eyes did not. He shoved past you and made his way inside your apartment.

“What do you want?” You said in a clipped tone, eyeing his figure to see if he has any visible weapons on him or not because last time he showed up at your apartment, he was not so kind.

“Rafe,” Barry said matter of factly with a bright smile. As if he wasn’t talking about someone who supposedly dropped off the face of the earth seven months ago.

You stared at him and shrugged, “your guess is as good as mine.”

“Y/n, I’m not going to ask you twice and I don’t exactly do well to being lied to, where is Rafe?” He leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed in front of his chest, eyeing you.

“I haven’t seen him,” you lied through gritted teeth. You backed yourself into your kitchen, feeling comfort that there was an exit behind you while Barry was in your line of sight.

“Baby, if you only knew what he’s done, you wouldn’t be protecting him right now,” Barry chuckled as he took a step towards you, “he owes me a debt and I’ve given him long enough. Now, I’m here to collect. Listen, it’s either me or the SBI, it’s your choi-,” he didn’t have the time to finish before you found your hand wrapped around your kitchen knife bringing the blade down on the sink beside you.

You tried to speak between breaths, “Stop it! Stop!”

Barry’s irritating smile has finally dropped from his face. His hands out in front of him as if he was prepared for you to lose it and charge at him...and maybe you might. At this point, you’re not really sure what you planned to do. You just needed to protect Rafe.

“He’s mine,” you breathe out a declaration you haven’t let left your lips since the night of Rafe’s confession, “you don’t get to take him, the SBI doesn’t get to take him, fucking death doesn’t get to take him from me without my permission. Now, get the fuck out of my apartment right now because I do not know where he is and if I did, I would never tell you,” you said with an eerie calm washing over you. You keep taking steps toward Barry who hasn’t moved back once.

“Come at me, baby, I have nothing to lose,” Barry said with his arms at his side, faking vulnerability while his shifty eyes were telling another story.

“Yes, you do,” you assured him, “We both do, but the difference between us is that I’m willing to lose it all. Are you?”

“You think I’m going to just forget what his little sister did? She stole from me. Now I have leverage over my best seller— my best thief, and you want me to let that slide because a chick with a knife who can’t even keep it steady enough to point at me wants to threaten me? I’ll come back every single day if I have to.”

“His little sister is dead, haven’t you heard? Her and John B got washed away in the storm and you still have the nerve to talk about her? You can come back every day if you want to. I’ll give you the keys to the place. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t live here anymore.” You gestured toward the empty living room and the boxes beside the two of you.

For the first time, Barry let his guard down long enough to take a look around the apartment.

“I left him,” you continued your half-lie. You did leave Rafe, at your new house, “when I found out what happened, I left him and I couldn’t handle being on campus where I knew he could find me,” where you knew anyone else could find him, “so I’m leaving.” You shrugged, feigning indifference. Setting the knife down on the sink as if that wasn’t the most insane thing that you’ve ever done. You dug into your purse. “Here’s something for your troubles, yeah?” Your mother always told you to have cash on you and finally, it has come in handy, you pulled around about three grand, almost 1/3 of what you got for selling your car.

“Take it,” you shoved the money against his chest. With no hesitation Barry’s clammy hands landed on yours, pressing both your hand and the money against his chest. The contact instantly brought you back from your previous panic. You couldn’t even believe that you had pulled a knife out on him, what were you even going to do with it? It’s not like you were…it’s not like you were Rafe. At the realization, you met Barry’s eyes with so much sadness, “this is the last thing I’m going to do for you, Barry. For your mom, I hope you can get a real job one day,” you said sincerely.

“Always had a thing for the bad boys, huh, y/n?” Barry said, the joking tone in his voice disappearing as he took the money from underneath your palm, letting your hand fall.

“Just the lost ones,” you admitted, “goodbye, Barry.”

He pocketed the cash, giving you one last look before turning around and leaving you to the boxes.

The house was surprisingly mostly unpacked, except for the two new boxes that you had brought back with you, though in your defense, you didn’t have a lot of things to begin with. After a long-needed shower—more so on Rafe’s part since you left him to do the grunt work all day, you had fixed up dinner for the both of you.

Something had shifted inside of you since the talk with Barry. You could no longer ignore your feelings now that they’re right in your face but you’re still so conflicted. You love Rafe. You love him so much and he’s sober and trying for the first time. You’re seeing him in a new light but today, after picking up that knife, you can’t get over the horrible things that he’s done and it’s tearing you apart inside.

From the archway of the kitchen, you can’t help but look at the boy on your sofa. He’s probably watching some dumb show, his long legs stretched out in front of him while he’s nursing a bottle of water, the sadness in his eyes looking more and more permanent. Your fists clenched up beside you as tears threaten to fall as you made your way in front of him. You can’t count the number of times you’ve seen him like this, the number of times you’ve fantasized about him like this but with your children crawling all over him as you’d laugh and sip a cup of coffee. Now that’s really all it’ll be, a fantasy.

Rafe had set the bottle on the coffee table in front of him as if sensing a confrontation coming on and it fueled your anger even more. You hated that he knew you so well and that you two were so well connected that you could both feel the shift of the energy between the two of you without saying one word. You finally made it in front of him, your knees touching, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his.

He waited, looking back at you as your tears fell from your face and his hands twitched like he wanted to reach out towards you but thought better of it.

“I hate you,” you said pathetically as your shoulders slumped. You angrily wiped away your tears as you shook your head at him. The boy who once was your dream. Rafe didn’t even flinch at your words, he knew it already. He hoped that you’d change your mind about him but he knew from the very first night that things would never be the same.

Without saying a word, Rafe reached for your fists, kissing your knuckles knowing that you’d never use them against him. As if apologizing for even causing you to form them.

“I hate you so much and I can’t forgive you for what you did; I’ve tried,” you said through your tears, “but I also love you so much,” you whispered your confession. His head snapping up at you, searching for your lies and finding none.

Before you could even think, one of his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you down to straddle him as the other came up to your face, forcing you to now look up at him.

“You still love me?” Rafe finally spoke, brushing away a few of your tears with the pad of his thumb.

“I’ve always loved you but you make me hate you,” you said as you leaned your face against his palm, missing the feeling of intimacy with him.

It was almost like something had changed within him, as if he was arguing with himself and finally made up his mind when he leaned in closer to your face, his lips brushing against yours, “Don’t. Tonight just, just love me, okay?”

How could you say no to that? You nodded and it takes him all but a second for his lips to touch yours, knowing that the minute you gave him an inch, he’d take a mile.

The kiss was electric. It was something that you had no idea you were even craving until his were on yours and you couldn’t get enough. Your tongue swiped at his lower lip, taking it in between your teeth and giving him a soft bite, using his gasp as an invitation for your tongue to enter his mouth. Rafe didn’t deny you as his hands worked his way to your hips that’s been subconsciously rocking against his. You worked your hands up his shirt, lingering on his abs, feeling them expand and contract with every breath he takes before removing your lips from his just to pull off his shirt.

Heavenly. It was the only word that came to your mind when you looked at his body. Rafe didn’t give you much time to marvel at the sculpted figure that is his body before pulling your face towards his again, “fuck, y/n,” Rafe breathe and it sent a shiver down your spine. You can already feel the wetness pooling between your legs, knowing full well that the thin layer of your pajama pants is doing nothing but allowing him to feel it, too. Just like how you can feel him grow underneath you, making you whimper when you rock against him the right way. You made your way down his neck, kissing and biting him, marking him like you were teenagers again. Rafe growled at you when you bit a little bit too hard into his shoulder.

“Y/n, baby,” Rafe rasped, trying to get your attention but it was useless, “princess,” he said almost inaudible as you were about to rub out your own orgasm against him. Suddenly, his hand came down hard on your backside, and instead of yelping, you moaned for him to go harder which all but caused him to pull you away from him. Your arms suddenly empty and your chest heaving, you looked at Rafe’s plump lips and eyes that are dark with desire. He stood up and didn’t waste a moment, he allowed you to jump onto him, supporting your weight with his arms around you.

You quickly yanked off your top, allowing your breast to press up against him when you wrap your arms around his neck, “I need you,” you admitted against his neck. More than he knew. In more ways than he could give but for now, you could accept him like this. You felt your back slam against the wall as he fists your hair in his hands, forcing your head back so he could kiss your neck and leave some marks of his own. By the time he reached your bed, you needed your release. He had set you down on the bed, almost too gently. You reached for his pants but his fingers wrapped around your wrist, “I want to taste you first,” he said with what you thought was supposed to be a smile but he was already preoccupying himself with pulling off your shorts. You were almost sure that he moaned just by the sight of your spread legs as if he hadn’t already seen you like this a hundred times.

You laid back and spread your legs further, reaching for his head with his hand but instead he interlocked his fingers with yours saying, “don’t rush me, princess, I want to remember this.” It felt like an eternity before you felt his lips on your inner thigh, causing your body to shudder. Slowly, you felt his tongue delve into you, flicking your clit just right enough for you to buck your hips against him. He wrapped his lips around your clit as his tongue worked it just the way you liked until your nails are leaving marks on him as you scream, “Yes, Rafe, right there, please don’t stop!” Your words along with your moans, giving him the confidence that he still remembers how to make you cum; and you did. Hard. You could’ve sworn that you went cross-eyed for a moment as your thighs attempted to shut around his head. He brought his hands up to hold them back as he continued, bringing on another shaking orgasm.

“I need you in me, Rafe,” you said as this point, almost delirious but you needed the closeness. “I need you to fuck me like you just—like you hate me,” you said but you weren’t sure if you meant it. Granted, in your state, you’d take him any way that he’d come but you just thought back to all the times you’d slept with him in that last month before everything went to shit. When he was at his worst with drugs that most times, he couldn’t get it up, and when he could, it would be rough and fast.

Rafe crawled up your body, using his thumb to wipe his lower lip and then sucking it clean, causing your eyes to flutter. You pushed down his pants until they were around his knees and he kicked them all the way off himself but he didn’t pounce on you and started drilling you. He almost seemed…hesitant.

“I know you hate me but I don’t,” Rafe started, slowly as he began inserting himself into you, inch by inch, “I can’t fuck you like I used to right now. I can’t fuck you like I’m angry, I need to-,” he stopped himself with a moan as you clenched around him, “I just need you to fuck you like you love me okay?” He rasped, looking more vulnerable then you’ve ever seen him. You nodded, grabbing a hold of his hair as you wrapped your legs around him, you kissed him deeply before looking at him in his eyes, “I love you Rafe,” you breathe and that was all it took for him to lose his control.

After basically wrestling around in the sheets, you both came multiple times. Each time with whispers of promises of forever that you both knew was just something said in the heat of the moment. When you both felt spent, though not nearly having enough of each other, Rafe had gotten up to go to the bathroom and get a wet cloth to come and clean you up. You haven’t been this reckless since you two were sixteen and had a pregnancy scare, so you were thanking the heavens for your birth control right now.

Rafe had put the towel away in the bathroom again but didn’t bother to put on his clothes as he laid next to you in bed. You rested your head against his chest as his finger started trailing your spine.

“I saw Barry today,” you said suddenly.

“Yeah?” Rafe tensed, pulling you closer to him as if he could protect you, “What did he want?”

“Other than a trip down memory lane?” you offered, “you.”

Rafe didn’t say a word as he kissed the top of your head and you drifted off to sleep.

The sun was evil, you were sure of it. The blinding light had awakened you and all you tried to do was burrow deeper into the hard body next to you. Only except, the body wasn’t there. Blindly, you reached out beside you, almost in a panic when you couldn’t feel anything other than the cold sheets, indicating that it has been vacant for some time. You finally opened your eyes and sat up; your body deliciously sore but you couldn’t even enjoy that right now. You walked into the living room, naked as the day you born, only to see a small duffel bag by the door.

“Rafe?” You called out, only to have him appear from the kitchen with an orange juice in his hand. He took a look at you and his eyes lingered on your body, the marks that he left on you. The marks you left on his neck and chest, obvious as well, but you couldn’t concentrate on that, “I can’t believe you,” you spat out as you turned on your heel and made your way back into the bedroom.

You didn’t make it past the door frame before Rafe’s arm snaked around you and pressed your back to his front, his lips coming down to your ear, “stop,” he said, his tone was almost like an order but you knew it was a plea, “whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours, stop it.”

You turned around in his arms, willing yourself not to cave when his face was inches from yours. Willing yourself not to cry when his bag is inches away from the door, “you’re leaving me,” you stated.

“I’m not leaving you,” Rafe corrected, “last night was just…amazing but it did remind me that being sober isn’t the only thing that I had to get done. I have loose ends, y/n. I have things that I need to make right. So, yes, I am leaving but do not think for a second that I’m leaving because of you. I’m alive because of you.”

“Nice speech,” you said bitterly, crossing your arms across your chest as you stepped out of his grasp, “you’re leaving right after we had sex. It’s still a douchebag move to make.”

“Y/n, I told you. I had a realization. Trust me, if I didn’t-,” he stopped himself, watching you as you pulled his shirt over your head, “if I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t but I need to like, I don’t know. Clear my head or find myself or whatever the fuck it is. I need to go back to my dad and show my face. Fuck, I need to visit Sarah’s grave.”

“And you can’t do all of that with me? Here I am again, re-arraigning my whole life for you and Rafe Cameron can’t eve-,” he cut you off by lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His kiss was hard and bruising.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe parroted the line he said seven months ago, only this time, he whispered it with a smile ghosting around his lips.

“I love you,” he said as he caressed your face with one hand, the other still holding you up, “I love you and you do not fully love me like before. I can see it in your eyes, princess. We laugh and we might’ve fucked yesterday but it does not change anything. You don’t trust me so I need to go and make things right, okay? You told me that I needed to love myself before you can be with me again, before you can love me again. So, that’s what I’m going to do. Okay?” he said as he set you down on your feet again.

You nodded, you understood. You weren’t dumb enough to think he’d stay here forever anyway, no matter how much you took care of him and he was right. There are still days where you can’t look at him and having sex last night might’ve made it clear where you both stood with each other but it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes you still hated him-you were just too drunk off sex to act on it.

“Yeah. Okay,” was all you could say. Though you gripped onto his hand like a child as he walked to the front door, picking his bag off the floor and effortlessly resting the strap on his shoulder. He turned to you and reached into his pocket, leaving a small gold chain necklace in the palm on your hand. A lame replacement for his own hand, you thought, but you willed yourself not to grab onto him again.

“Thank you. For literally everything. For changing your whole life for me. For stopping everything. No amount of thank you will ever be enough,” Rafe said sincerely and though it looks like he wants to, he doesn’t kiss you.

“Will I see you again?” You asked, your voice small. You gripped the necklace to your chest.

“I don’t know. But I fucking hope so, y/n,” Rafe said before turning around and walking out of your door.

Epilogue

“It’s been two years, dad,” you fidget on the bar stool in your parent’s house, you were finally back in the Outer Banks for the first time since Sarah’s funeral. A small simple gold chain hangs from your neck. You don’t remember the last time you took it off.

“A lot of things have changed, y/n. He might not be who he was anymore,” your dad warned, his eyes trained on yours and even though you know he meant that maybe Rafe isn’t like the boy you fell in love with when you were fifteen, all you wished for was that he wasn’t like the boy he was when he was nineteen.

You held up your glass of water, as if you’re making a toast, “then here’s to changes,” you smiled as your dad shook his head.

When Rafe had left your house, two years ago, he had come back to the Outer Banks like a boy on a mission. You weren’t exactly sure what had happened but rumor has it, he reached out to JJ, Kiara, and Pope to help put his father in prison. From there, they had recruited the help from Mrs. Lana Grubbs, who somehow had enough information to put Ward away for good. Of course, in the midst of getting his father in jail, he had to come clean about his involvement in the murder of Sheriff Peterkin—something that should’ve been a capital offense, but with the help of a very good lawyer (thanks dad) and being involved in the arrest of Ward Cameron, it was brought down to voluntary manslaughter. Rumor also had it that Ward Cameron could’ve gotten away, he could have stuck to his original story, seems like the police bought it anyway but once he heard that Rafe was basically selling himself out for this, he complied, knowing that his son would get less time. By all means, Ward was not a good father and even a worse excuse of a man but you’d like to believe that that was his way of telling Rafe that he loved him enough to do this, especially since he’s lost Sarah.

You sat outside of the prison, in your car. You saw the barb wires and the guards and almost got cold feet. You wrapped your hands tightly around the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white and took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were so nervous but you felt like if you exit your car, you’d turn into a puddle of goo. After a couple of breathing exercises, you’ve gathered enough courage to walk up to the gate, giving the officer your ID, hoping that you’re still on Rafe’s visitations list. After a couple of minutes, just enough to make you sweat, they led you back to a room. Metal chairs had lined up against the glass, a phone at the side of each divider.

Reminding yourself to breathe, you sat down on the cold steel. You picked up the phone, eager to hear Rafe’s voice. As the rows of inmates started filling up each seat, sitting in front of their loved ones, your eyes searched for him. All the orange jumpsuits looking the same but then you felt it. That connection, that energy that you once shared with this man who was once the love of your life and now almost a stranger. He sat down across from you as you looked up at him, a grin painted on his face, and for the first time in a while, his smile reaches his eyes, “hey princess.”

tags: @millyelliot @snkkat

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron #drew starkey #HAAAAAAA DID I SLEEP? NO #DID I CRY? YEH #FUCK THIS IS LONG #outer banks #my drabbles #outerbanks #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #my writing

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elias-unknown · 3 years ago

Text

Fun with insults

{vulgar insults, cursing}

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour shit out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

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comrade-meow · 3 years ago

Link

“If men could get pregnant,” Gloria Steinem famously said, “abortion would be a sacrament.” But we live in a new world — one wherein men can get pregnant, which has made things a little bit awkward for those fighting for abortion rights (though they refuse to acknowledge it). Today, it’s important not to exclude “men” from the abortion debate, as “men” can get pregnant too.

“Gentle reminder,” Imani Gandy tweeted last month, “it’s not only women who need abortions.” Gandy is Senior Editor of Law and Policy for Rewire News Group, once called RH Reality Check, Rewire has been focused on the abortion fight and reproductive rights since 2009. Today, they publish articles like, “Medical Students Are ‘Driving’ for Change Over Gender-Inclusive Language,” which tells the story of “Sam,” a trans-identified female whose pregnancy symptoms were, we are told, not taken seriously because she was not a “cis woman.” Rewire writer Alys Brooks concludes that “Sam’s story illustrates not only the high stakes of accurately communicating a patient’s gender and their sex assigned at birth, but also the need for health-care providers to factor those details into clinical decision-making.”

Medical students are “driving and demanding” changes to the med school curriculum that “better accounts for transgender patients,” Brooks reports. Which includes “degendering”: replacing terms like “pregnant women” with “pregnant people.”

Biology professor’s like Karen Hales, who is employed at Davidson College in North Carolina, have moved towards replacing “mother” and “father” with “egg parent” and “sperm parent.”

In truth, “Sam” had failed to inform the nurse that she was female, identifying herself as “transgender” and, even worse, her medical records showed she was a “man.”

To me, this exemplifies the false propanganda pushed by trans activists and the complicit media, constantly claiming incidents of “transphobia,” which are, in fact, simply about either people who identify as transgender being correctly sexed, or about people lying about their sex, thereby confusing the sane.

“Sam” was not treated ineffectively at the hospital because she claims to be “transgender,” but because it is imperative that medical professionals know the sex of their patients, and “Sam” had been informed by the government and trans activists that it was not only acceptable but necessary to her survival and happiness that she lie about her sex.

The notion that what is needed is to “degender” (which actually means “desex”) patients is ludicrous. Health care professionals need basic information about a patient’s biology/sex, easily communicated by using the (correct) language that already exists: female/male, woman/man, he/she. Imposing gender identity ideology on medicine and biology is clearly confusing, not clarifying, matters.

~~~

On Saturday, thousands gathered across America to protest Senate Bill 8, which was passed in Texas last month and allows people to sue anyone who helps a woman get an abortion after six weeks. While the conversation about abortion should be extended beyond the “legal” vs “illegal” one — a conversation too complex for this particular piece, but that I will say is oversimplified and limited by the notion that women should be reliant on the medical establishment in order to have autonomy over their bodies and reproductive choices — I of course disagree with a law allowing those who “help” women get abortions to be sued. But what is worse is the fact that so many of those fighting this legislation refuse to say that this is an issue affecting only women.

If you can’t understand or say that abortion only impacts women, you cannot fight effectively for abortion rights.

There is a reason men have attempted to control women’s bodies, autonomy, and reproduction all these years, and that is because of biology. ***In an evolutionary sense, men need to know if their offspring is indeed their offspring, in order to stick around. They have an evolutionary drive to spread their seed, as it were, and they don’t (again, in an evolutionary sense, perhaps not an ideal/moral one) wish to invest their time in a family that isn’t “theirs.”*** This is why men decided to keep women in the home and out of public life, gallivanting with other men who might impregnate them. If women have control over their reproductive choices, it limits men’s ability to control women and keep them dependent/in the home, tied up with baby-making/raising.

I am oversimplifying, but the point I am trying to make is that only females can get pregnant, which is why men have tried to control their bodies and lives, historically, and is the basis for women’s historic oppression.

Women were never kept in the home, their autonomy limited, because they grew their hair long, wore skirts, put lipstick on, or named themselves “Caitlin” or “Alana.” Nor have women ever been able to opt out of historical oppression by wearing pants or cutting their hair short. Their status remains vulnerable because they are biologically female. Modern, Western civilization and legislation has protected women from institutional oppression, but the fact of pregnancy still means we may be vulnerable to, well, having little control over our lives. Abortion and our ability to control if and when we get pregnant offers us some control over our life circumstances and freedom.

This all seems like basic feminist information, but has become invisibilized by trans activism and its woke disciples. At abortion rallies across the nation, trans activists insisted on disrupting what should be unequivocally woman-centered activism to remind participants that this was not just a women’s issue as “men need abortions too.” In Washington, trans-identified athlete and activist, Schuyler Bailar, said:

“This is a women’s issue, and it is also a transgender man’s issue. It is also a nonbinary person’s issue. It is also a gender queer, gender fluid, transmasculine person’s issue. This is about all of us.”

And, yes, pregnancy and therefore abortion could well affect anyone who identifies as any of these things, but that still doesn’t mean men need abortions. It just means only females will ever want to access an abortion, making Bailar’s entire statement unnecessary. Pregnancy doesn’t care how you feel about gender roles or about how you identify. The only thing that matters is your biology.

You might think it is merely “polite” or “inclusive” to discuss pregnancy and abortion in gender neutral terms, or to remind people that “men can get pregnant too,” but what you lose in doing so is massive: why this matters and is a fight in the first place. It is also, of course, embarrassing and farcical, and makes a mockery of women’s rights advocates. Who could possibly take seriously an activist (or reporter, or politician, or academic, or health authority) who demands female autonomy while also insisting that “men can become pregnant”?

Young women in particular have completely lost the history of and context for the women’s movement, and, as a result, are losing hard fought for rights. That they’ve allowed themselves to be bamboozled by a group of narcissists who have zero interest in women’s rights and are so privileged they can manage to occupy their time with academic notions of “gender,” rather than the material circumstances of their lives, is shameful, and demonstrates how thoroughly out of touch they are with the current and past real life struggles of women across the globe.

Erasing women from the fight for reproductive rights should be sacrilege, but instead it has become doctrine. Women’s rights will continue to disappear in front of our eyes so long as women continue to go along with this nonsense ideology. If you can’t even acknowledge what a woman is and what rights are particular to females, your role in this fight is a joke.

***replace evolution with class society imo***

#Anglo.txt

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