#i have lots more of them i wanna draw but ill do st least one duet for each pair i think. maybe nnks next ive had one for them forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

changesxnight · 7 years

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excessively detailed headcanons - Dallas

What does their bedroom look like? - messy as hell. his bed sheets are stained and ripped. his mattress has broken springs, making it really uncomfortable to sleep on - he's too broke to get a new one so he just deals with the back pain - there's posters on the walls of bands and singers he likes, all country or rock - he has a closet but he's too damn lazy to actually hang up his clothes so he puts them in piles

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often? - bitch you thought - the most exercise he gets is running from the cops - you think he's can be an active smoker and actively exercise?

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy? - go out and dine and dash like the asshole bad boy he is

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) - what is clean - he shaves once a week "cause he's blond" - his showers are hot as hell. it literally burns his skin but he loves it - it's practice for burning in hell

Eating habits and sample daily menu - he eats when he's hungry - likes finger foods the most - eats non-finger foods with his hands - loves burgers and pizza - but New York pizza is the best and WILL complain about any pizza that isn't from the city

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time - drinking or smoking - or picking up hot chicks and banging those hot chicks - wasting time is all he ever does - he's also really good at horseshoes?? - he loves bowling and pool and makes most of his money from his pool games

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging - it's Treat Yo Self day everyday expect it's stealing

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such? - all of them - but it's the 60s and no body believes in mental illness cause you'll get a lobotomy :)

- okay but really - definitely borderline personality disorder - and possibly separation anxiety. but he had to learn how to live on his own so he doesn't get attached

Intellectual pursuits? - you think he does anything school-like on his own? - he tried to write a book in seventh grade but he got too frustrated

Favorite book genre? - he doesn't read - but I guess historical fiction / non fiction - let him hear about the Wild West - Billy the Kid was his hero

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? - he grew up in areas of lots of diversity so he's chill with everything - he's probably bisexual - but very, very closeted

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) - he's constantly getting hurt but he never treats his injuries properly - "oh no!1! they'll have to cut my side off!1!" kinda attitude - his knuckles are always cut up and gross - alcohol cleans the soul and the body from infections or attachment - he has lots and lots of scars from bloody knife fights to his abusive father

- I could see him being lactose intolerant but he eats diary products anyway because he hates himself

Biggest and smallest short term goal? - smallest would be getting another pack of cigarettes but he steals them every day - biggest would be winning the pool tournament down the street at Charlie's

Biggest and smallest long term goal? - biggest would be moving back to New York - or at least seeing the gang again - smallest? getting a car, maybe - an not just stealing one. he wants his own

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress - always in a jacket cause he's Cool™ - owns three jackets - one denim and two leather - black and brown - always in jeans. always - all his shoes are old and worn out - his brown cowboy boots are all scoffed up - and his two pairs of black Converse high tops should've been throw out years ago

Favorite beverage? - alcoholic: beer, mostly Yuengling. whiskey. Jack Daniels is a god - non-alcoholic: coffee. can't get through the day without it

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? - New York and how his old gang is doing, are his friends safe or even alive - he never stops thinking about the Bronx or any of it - he had to leave, he had to get out of there - but he wishes like hell he was still running from his father and having Patty take care of him

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? - the first time he went to the doctors, he was four because his mother loved dope more than him - didn't get sick a lot; he had a great immune system - he broke a bone in a fight one time but never got it checked out so to this day, it still kinda hurts

Turn-ons? Turn-offs? - definitely a boobs guy - loves anyone who's good in a rodeo - muscles are always hot - loves a mystery and those who play hard to get

- he hates clinginess - he doesn't wanna settle down - he enjoys being single - he likes good girls but he hates being corrected for everything he does - he hates it when girls are too loud or are always complaining (that's his job)

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? - he'd either draw a bunch of dicks or write how bored and hungry he is

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life? - there's a method to his madness - he's great at placing players for a sports game or saying who should cover who in a fight - but his room's a mess, his life's a mess, his emotions are a mess - but he knows where everything he is - at least that's what he says - he also has a great sense of direction - and knows how to get everywhere. like he's better than a map

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all? - loves history and knows the gory details that they don't wanna teach in school - he knows the town's connections - real connections - to historical events and knows what the school and government are hiding

- he used to be really good at writing - still is, just won't tell anyone - he gets out his emotion through writing - there's a desk in his room - hidden by clothes and beer bottles/cans and trash - and in the bottom drawer, there's a bunch if stuff he's written. it's beautiful, really

How do they see themselves 5 years from today? - probably dead - or hooking up with some girl - or in prison - he'll either still be in Tulsa, a new city or back in New York

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout? - he's convinced he'll never amount to anything so he doesn't have any plans - visit New York, do as little as he has to in order to get by - maybe even expose/destroy the government but that would take too much work

What is their biggest regret? - he had the chance to kill his father - everything was perfect; the opportunity was just placed in his hands - and he didn't do it - he hates himself to this day for not doing anything. he hated the man more than anything

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy? - Russel-James Vincent is the best friend he'll ever have. no one can compete with RJ. they've known each other since second grade and they've been like brothers ever since - his worst enemy, well he's got a couple - he always hated Smokey but never said anything to his friends because Dally showed up last - he hated a lot of gangs in New York, whether it was street gangs or any of the Five Families - he hates Socs - and he hates the guy that hurt Johnny. he swore he was gonna kill him if he ever caught the bastard

- there's a lot of hate in this poor boy's heart - he needs to learn to forgive

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?) - the fucker probably started the disaster - but he'd do what he always did: fix the problem himself

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) - self destruct until he forgets about it - smokes his lungs black, drinks until his liver fails on him

Most prized possession? - his leather jacket. it's one of the only things he owns that actually fits him - Mrs. Curtis bought it for him and he cherishes it like it's sent from God or something - his St. Christopher, it was given to him by his mother hey thanks @roblowes for letting me steal your hc

Thoughts on material possessions in general? - he came from nothing and died with nothing - materialism is what makes Socs Socs and keeps the rich rich - trust me, when he was a kid, he was practically Robin Hood - both Sonny and the Motorcycle Boy approved

Concept of home and family? - after his mother died, he didn't really know what family was - and he always hated his father - in New York, he learn that family doesn't have to be who you're related to. it's the people who will love and protect you unconditionally - once he met the gang in Tulsa, though, it was different - he truly felt accepted and cared for

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?) - he talks about sex too much - but he's a very private person aside from that - he keeps New York a secret but it's obvious to everyone he's constantly thinking about it

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? - it's not wasting time if you're making money - but if you lose, it is - that being said: pool, bowling and horseshoes on occasion

What makes them feel guilty? - nothing makes him guilty - except that he can't go back to New York - he feels bad that he left his friends and family with no explanation - and he can't remember anyone's addresses for the life of him

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making? - emotional. he does what he wants in the present and deals with the consequences later

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? - he thinks he's type b but we all know it's type a - in New York, he thought he was carefree but we all know he cared too much - in Tulsa, his apathy rose as he had less to fight for, protect and provide for

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained? - sex, mostly

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither? - probably inferiority because he let Sonny down - he was never good enough for his father and his mother loved dope more than she loved him

How misanthropic are they? - he hates Socs and those who hurt him or the ones he cares about

Hobbies? - pool, bowling, horseshoes, competing in the rodeo, drag races - anything stupid and reckless, really

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education? - he hates school so he barely goes - all his teachers gave up on him - everything he knows, he learned from Sonny, the Motorcycle Boy or on his own

Religion?

- Catholic but he doesn't act like it - but will go to confessions "to get a fresh start"

Superstitions or views on the occult? - superstitious when it's convenient - he was raised on superstitions, both in Detroit by his mother and the gangs and mobsters in the Bronx - he always kisses his ball before bowling or pitching in baseball - he makes wishes in fountains with pennies (don't tell anyone though)

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds? - through anger cause it's the only emotion he knows how to feel - that and lust but sex means next to nothing to him - he feels good for a while and then it's over

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal? - liKE HE CAN - someone who can truly love him for him. knows how to deal with his moods, impulses and past. someone who won't push him too far and can't be pushed away, no matter how hard they try - basically Patty - they don't have to be perfect and they don't have to be just like him. they have to be someone who...pretty much his other half. someone who will take care of him if he protects them, someone who will listen to him and understand. someone empathetic and loves unconditionally

How do they express love? - he doesn't - with actions. he sucks with words - he'll give his partner his jacket or drive them home in 5 o'clock traffic or actually pay for a meal or get them a practical gift or something they've been talking about for a while - staying. he's horrible at commitment, but if he truly loves someone, he'll stay - actually no. you know he loves someone if he always comes back - or if he controls his anger around them. if he represses his anger for someone, he's in love - fighting for his partner. when they get in trouble, he'll back them up

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like? - when is he not in a fight - he fits fair. if it's skin-on-skin, he doesn't even bring a weapon. he wants the same number of men as the opponent. he follows the rules because if he doesn't, he'll have to deal with the Motorcycle Boy - he doesn't get doped up before a fight. the adrenaline is enough

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? - he wants to die 24/7. who are you thinking of??

#the outsiders headcanons #The Outsiders #dallas winston #dallas winston headcanons #my hcs #mine

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psychoneuroticremedies-blog · 7 years

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Awkward Situations

Please ignore grammar mistakes I'm still in the process of editing it but here the rough draft//

Chapter 1: In The Locker Room?!

Three years. That was how long he had been here, walking these halls with his classmates- all of whom he adamantly call his friends- yes even Katsuki. Though, friendly was a tricky word to describe their relationship, sometimes Izuku wondered if the term frienemy would be a better adjective. At least Ururaka did, and Iida, and Todoroki, and All Might...okay maybe that was the EXACT term to use for their relationship. Izuku didn't mind though, he knew inside that Katsuki still held an important place in his life, alongside many of the personalities he had gained the pleasure of knowing these three, long years. Admittedly, some friendship were a lot closer than others. Izuku had grown very close to the gravity quirked hero Ururaka and her (now boyfriend) Iida. He had also grown fairly closer with Todoroki over the years and even grew to be someone Todoroki could rely on in need and vice-versa in almost any situation. Again, the green haired boy held pride in saying he now held a bag full of heartfelt relationships with his future pro-hero allies. There was one someone though, someone who he surprisingly found himself drawn very close to in the past year and now resided a more or less permanent physical spot right along side him. His eyes skimmed over their line, Kacchan was to his left, Kaminari on his right. Izuku leaned back some, then forward, then back again with a mutter on his lips. His eyes caught sight of spiky red hair and a flash of teeth before a little crackle went up in his face- resulting in a mess of sputters and a half-hearted glare towards his frienemy. “Oi, loser what the fuck stop fidgeting you're making me wanna blast you.” “I feel like you want to blast me anyways Kacchan.” “Okay but that's not the point.” “....Are you sure?'' “YES. So stop moving! Fucktard!” A small series of blasts and soon Izuku could see a very disheartened Aizawa glaring their way and giving a warning of his own. Ah, Kacchan had never lost his urge to fight Izuku that was for sure, but he had grown a little more tolerable over the years. They no longer held their urge to battle in until it burst. No now the two would find themselves happily fighting and challenging each other on an almost regular basis. Oh, maybe that was why everyone called them frienemies. Izuku hummed, scratching his chin in thought with emerald eyes shining at the prospect. Which was where the boy still found himself dazing when a gentle “psst” and a soft poke to his arm made him jolt. Looking to his right, where Kaminari was snickering and point to his left. Oh god did Kacchan get mad again. Izuku looked left, his gaze up to not blonde but red hair. Those dangerous teeth showing in a radiant smile and a fist held towards him. Izuku returned his smile, his cheeks started to feel warm as he raised his own fist and gave the red head a gentle fist bump. With locked eyes full of hormones and god knows what emotions the two let their hands stay in contact behind the secrecy of Katsuki's back until said blonde got suspicious and turned to look at them both. Red eyes calculating the looks on their faces as they tore their hands apart. While Izuku gave a firm gaze ahead as if nothing had happened, Kirishima cackled and slung a daring arm around the blonde's shoulders. “Ayyyeee Bakubro you ready for these matches?” “Get off me hair-for-brains. Ill own your ass- Deku's too.” “Mhhmmm all right man, y'know it's been three years since I seen you actually take Midor-” “SHUT UP ILL KILL YOU.” “Aight man.” Kirishima held up his arms in a resolute fashion with a little laughter on his lips, another glance back to Izuku and soon he was blushing as well and turning away to continue riling up his best friend. In the mix of Kacchan's fuss, Izuku had almost forgotten what they were doing out here on the field. His eyes returned ahead to focus on Aizawa, Midnight, and All Might who were looking to the two students dueling it out right now. Izuku watched with intent, seeing Todoroki and Ururaka in the heat of a battle while he ran through the usual vast scenarios in his head between the two possible winners. Just as the battle rounded out to an end declared heartily by Midnight and applauded by All Might (or rather Toshinori considering he was in his deflated self) Izuku was pushing his hair back out of his face and slipped a headband over the green to make sure it stayed back. “All right, next up. Midoriya and Kaminari. Let's go don't waste our time.” Aizawa oh-so endeared as he gestured for the next two in line to get to it on the field. Izuku adjusted his gym clothes, shot a grin to Kaminari and parted with a rather stinging high five from the sparky boy as they walked to their ends of the field. With an array of whoops and hollers and a warning from Midnight, the two dashed forward to start a clash of a glowing fist and sparks hazing everyone's visual. - After a long hour of practice battles and a few Recovery Girl visits everyone was more than happy to be dismissed to the showers. The boys all but clamoring over each other to get in the locker rooms and peel off their sweat soaked and singed suits. The girl equally following suit albeit less aggressively as they parted ways to head into their own ocker rooms. This is where Izuku found himself now, rubbing at a light burn on his arm and stretching his aching elbows and wrists under the hot spray of water. Boys were clashing and talking all around, voices bounding of the tiled walls and floor and mingled with the sound of running water, steam fogging up the room and mirrors leaving everyone feeling refreshed and relaxed. Izuku cracked his eyes to look around, taking in the sight of changing bodies and fresh bruises, excited faces and listening to their rambunctious chatters. A small smile graced his features as he skimmed over to a certain red head who took up the shower stall practically vertical again. As if on cue, Kirishima graced towards Izuku and they held their breaths. The duo would never get use to seeing eachother, Izuku confirmed that even after a year of their relationship they were always going to find themselves praising one another with raw looks and scandalous, dancing fingers on eachother's skin. Izuku had his hands on his neck, fingers dug into his shoulders to ease the tension, Kirishima had a hand scrubbing some dirt and char off of his arm from where Kacchan had aimed an explosion to the rock hard limbs. Just when the boy thought it couldn't get worse, the red head dared to wink. He fucking winked. Izuku's heart practically fell out of his body then and there and was now flurrying down the drains in a slew of emotions. The greenette's ears went red and he was praying that he could still blame his flush on his hot shower. Izuku was feeling bold though, after three successful matches he found himself still bursting with adrenalin- and maybe Kirishima was as well causing this surge of brashness- because he smiled coyly, lidded his eyes and slid his hands way too slowly down his body. Accentuating the shape of his tone torso as they curved over his hips and drifted low, too low past the short shower barrier for Kirishima to see. He had to hold in laughter as Kirishima slipped then, trying to see over the wall cockblocking his voyeuristic behavior. Just as Izuku was about to draw his hands back up over his chest for a cheap tease to his poor boyfriend he suddenly felt radiating pain low on his back. Something he was definitely not expecting, but the wet smack of a wound up towel on his skin wasn't what made the locker room go quiet- no it was the noise that escaped Izuku. The wide helpless eyes that were still locked on Kirishima when his lips parted and that noise came tumbling past his lips. A noise that could only be described as a gasping, broken moan that turned into a startled pant. Izuku's scarred hands scrabbled forward at the tiles, and his eyes were wide when they turned around to see a very smug looking Bakugo twirling the towel for another hit. A beat past in silence. And then Izuku found himself wrapping a towel around his hips and all but chasing Bakugo around the room as they swatted one another with towels. Their rowdy behavior spurred on a series of towel swats and wrestling until Iida was breaking people apart by force and herding the dressed ones out of the rooms. In an urgent voice he herded teens to get dressed and “Just be decent you are U.A. third years for goodness sake.” After having most of their butts chewed out by Iida and the playful atmosphere died down, many of the boys left to continue their rough-housing outside of the locker room. Luring Iida, Mr. Class President to follow along and try to keep his peers in tow. Izuku wasn't sure when it happened, but as he was sitting down on the bench and tugging on a shoe he realized he was the only left in the room. A disappointed grunt left his throat, but it quickly died in his throat as strong arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him abruptly into the air. The green haired squawked and twisted in new hold, laughter bubbling up his chest as playful teeth nibbled on his neck, teeth that Izuku found all too familiar. “Eijirou! Come on! St-Stop you know I- You know I'm ticklish when you do that!” His words were swallowed in betrayed laughter, squirming around until the lips that belong to those teeth found his and ate up his contagious laughter. Below him, Izuku felt a solid chest rumble with laughs of its own. Two faces parted and Izuku felt his feet touch the ground once more, but those arms stayed wrapped around him firmly. “Sorry, couldn't help it. Y'know how much I love tickle wars.” Izuku snorts, his hands resting on Kirishima's shoulders. “Dirty trick, you snuck up on me!” “Its an adequate tactic! Now I'm in the lead 9-8 of the great tickle battle.” “You're no fair..” Izuku whined, a playful whine with a smile on his face. “I'm no fair?” The red head squeezed Izuku's side. “What about you? You gave me those eyes in the shower babe, then that thing! That thing that Bakubro did with the towel!” He could feel Eijirou shudder against him. “Babe that noise was amazing an all, but c'mon only Im suppose to make you sound like that!” “I didn't do that on purpose!” Izuku heard Kirishima hum in feign disbelief. “I swear! I was just trying to make you, I mean, I wanted to return your, uh, gazes and, stuff s-so..” “Awe...c'mon, you're too innocent. I think. Somehow you're so innocent and sexy at the same time. Cause that shit was totally makin me wanna do things to you babe.” “Mmh? Things? Well, like what things?” Izuku felt his earlier spark of determination and bravery light up in his chest and he leaned close to his red haired partner. Nosing alongside his strong jaw with a little sigh. “Well, for starters...” Izuku gasped, hands slipping low on his back, one curved to hold his hip possessively while the other massaged his ass. Strong, broad hands that he had felt touching and marking up his skin so many times. Hands that at first hesitance melted away his anxiety and coaxed him into a bubbly ruse of need. He heard Kirishima speaking in his ear now, the breath on his ear spiking his heart beat. “I wanna get you outta these clothes, sit you on my lap babe, and see how long you can keep quiet..” Izuku groaned, pulling his face back and trying to shape his head. “Eiji, we can't do this here- what if we get caught! What if Kacchan sees us? We still haven't told him about us, should his knowledge of our relationship really come to existence by seeing us-” He felt lips on his, firm and heated. His own lids fluttered a bit, heat rushing over his body before it settled low between his legs and he found himself pushing back into it. His lips parted and grew slick when Kirishima's tongue twirled around his, in a little battle for dominance of the kiss, Izuku lost when Kirishima raised a hand and smacked it down on his back end. eliciting a torn gasp that was smothered with Kirishima's tongue down his throat. Oh god dammit sometimes he really hated Kirishima's “practical tactics”. In a blur of limbs Izuku was deemed an official mess under Kirishima's hands. The shark toothed boy had moved them back to the bench, where they straddled the poor wood with Kirishima pressed to Izuku's arching back. Fingers were twining with the freckled boy's tongue and caused drool to slide down his chin. Izuku could feel as Kirishima's free hand had undid his pants and slipped down to cup at his groin, groping at him through his underwear and barely easing up, even as Izuku choked on a moan and his arms almost gave out on holding up his torso. With a chuckle at his back and wet, slick fingers pulled from his mouth, grazed his teeth and trailed spit over Izuku's cheek- the helpless boy whimpered. His pupils were blown wide, more black than green at this point and dark with unchecked need. “Eiji, please, come on..” Izuku whimpered, pleading whispers as Eijirou cooed and kissed the back of his neck. Encouraging whispers of praise left him teary eyed, so distracted by the teasing that before he realized it Eijirou had pushed two slick fingers into his ass. Stretching him and burning him in all the right ways, Izuku's back bowed and his nails left scratches in the wooden bench. Izuku had to hold his tongue between his teeth to keep himself quiet, else they get caught and Izuku adds a whole new story to his list of “Reasons I Need Therapy”. Given the moment however, the idea of making Kirishima stop didn't dare to cross his mind, he was much too pleased with their current predicament- no matter the awkward scenario and/or consequences if someone were to walk in on them. “You're beautiful, gorgeous, have I told you that? I need to, every day for as long as I live baby, absolutely perfect. God, you're too good for me, fuck.” He could hear Eijirou panting against his neck. “The way you move, your hips, your back, your skin is so soft, you feel so good, I love it. I love you.” Izuku thinks he's dying, he knew he shouldn't be surprised because Kirishima was always like this. Always encouraging Izuku and praising him, always giving the boy confidence and raising him to new, better levels of self esteem in any given category- whether it was homework, battle strategies, or sex. Izuku always returned the favors, always praising his boyfriend and gushing over his abilities, in sex he also did his best to return his talkative nature. However, his words always ended up jumbled and mashed into incoherent moans. But Kirishima always said he got the idea. Izuku canted his hips a few times, trying to meet the quick hardening boy with each roll of his fingers until Kirishima deemed him stretched enough. Trying to soothe his panting and begging counterpart when he slipped his fingers out and pulled a familiar foil square form his pocket. Bastard was totally planning this, Izuku would get his revenge. Later though. He promised. Right now he just wanted to occupy his mind with this, deciding to dedicate this scene to his memory he turned to look over his shoulder. Two sets of clouded eyes locked on each other as sharp teeth tore open the little foiled packet and Kirishima rolled the thin rubber onto his throbbing member. A sight that had Izuku aching all over again and rutting his hips to achieve even the slightest amount of friction on his confined cock. The two third years shared a heated look, Kirishima hed himself at his base as the other hand spread Izuku's cheeks. Kirishima pressed slow and determined into Izuku with locked eyes on one another. Izuku was breathless, being filled to the brim and stretched in all the right ways. He couldn't hold up eye contact for his eyes rolled back and fluttered shut, his head craned back to moan breathlessly into the air. Their positions proved to be perfect, for Izuku could feel Kirishima's dick throb against his prostate, causing his body to collapse against the bench. The two stayed there for a moment, giving Izuku the time to adjust to being stretched wide by letting themselves kiss eachother sloppily over the green haired boy's shoulder. When Izuku gave a meek nod against Kirishima and felt their foreheads press together he crooned. Kirishima pulled himself out slow, careful and methodical like usual. Pulled out until he was practically no longer sheathed in Izuku and then he pushed, slid himself right back in. Izuku didn't catch another break then. Immediately his red haired lover was thrusting, fucking him deep and sloppy, making izuku a downright mess. Their bodies creaked on the bench and Izuku's moans were free in the open air of the locker room. Kirishima was thrusting into Izuku, pounding him into oblivion while the green boy was clutching at bench and bouncing, rolling back to meet each thrust against Kirishima's hips. Sweat was coating his skin and Eijirou's all over again, hell they might have to sneak into the dorms in order to catch a proper shower after this. Maybe a round two if Izuku was lucky (he usually was). With sloppy thrusts and slobbery kisses, Izuku and Eijirou were soon reaching their end. They could both feel the heavy pit growing in their stomachs and weighing them down, driving Kirishima to thrust more wildly and with almost reckless abandon. Something that Izuku would secretly treasure, he loved the rough, wild side to his otherwise gentlemanly and charming partner. Kirishima groaned Izuku's name, while Izuku screamed for Kiishima and they found their wild ride coming to deep, grinding halt. Izuku's pants were suddenly wet and his insides were flinching with every throb Kirishima's dick gave. The two teens were breathless and laying onto one another. Izuku's hands were carding through Kirishima's hair while the red head's hands were massaging his sore thighs. Both were shuddering and gasping as they forced themselves to separate. In the silence of their heartfelt afterglow they dressed and cleaned each other, leaving with trails of kisses and lazily whispers to declarations. They found themselves laying on the slightly damp bench and embracing one another. Izuku could die here and now, as his trembling thighs held up his weight and he leaned tiredly against Eijirou's side. A strong arm wrapped around Izuku's waist in both the means of keeping the boy upright but also just to keep him pressed close. They wandered from the locker room and into an empty, dark hall that they filled with their own laughs as they walked leisurely to their dormitories.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #ao3 #psycho writes #kirideku #kirishima eijirou #midoriya izuku #kirishima eijirou/midoriya izuku #there is sex you have been warned #drabbles mostly #unbeta'd #rough draft

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jonjost · 6 years

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Drawing: Stephen Lack

Following the conspiracy lead of Steve Bannon and Breitbart, Donald Trump has grumbled and tweeted often about the Deep State, the purported nefarious grouping of hidden government persons lurking in the depths of the massive Federal apparatus of myriad acronymic masks. ICE NSA FBI CIA and on through to lesser known but equally evil entities. These are alleged to be conclaves, variously, of members of the Harvard elite, Yale’s Skull and Bones, Jewish cabalists, covens of Christian Fundamentalists, or whichever cluster-fuck you wish to designate, surely there will be a website or more devoted to reading the tea-leaves of the signals emitted from these organizational black holes and their swirling galaxies. Right and Left wing chatterboxes selectively cherry-pick whatever political tid-bits they wish and construct fabulist narratives around them, from the assassination of JFK to that of MLK to 9/11 and on to the Boston Marathon bombing. The existence of the internet gives wide berth for these to spawn, however false or true they might be.

Extracted from these events come tomes from scholars, Hollywood movies, novels and the rantings of Limbaugh, Hannity, Alex Jones and a host of lesser names. There’s millions to be made from these, and those mentioned have made theirs and more. Like America’s religious hucksters, there’s a lot of money to be made preying on the gullible and fearful, with which it seems our country is plentifully supplied. Welcome to the world of QAnon. It’s American as Apple Pie.

The Lakewood Mega-church, Dallas TX

For decades – well actually far longer than that, for centuries – America has been awash with conspiracy theories, reaching back to its founding. There were always traitors loose in the land, lluminati, the anti-christ, double-agents for foreign powers, the entire gamut of customary political war-horses, broad-brushes with which to paint your enemy. Today’s landscape is nothing new, just that for brief periods we like to pretend it ain’t so.

But, myths aside, it’s all the same old same old. As is governance itself.

Two deep-state members, John Brennan and General Michael Hayden, former chiefs of the CIA

Conspiracy theories, to take root, need soil, and the United States government has been rich tilling land for as long as its been around. Within long-term living memory those range from major matters, such as the concept that FDR and the government knew Pearl Harbor was coming, and let it happen. Jump ahead half a century, and the same it true of 9/11. In both cases there is ample evidence to suggest they are true, though the makers of American mythology adamantly insist that only a tin-foil hatter would believe such malarkey. After all, who could believe that our own government would allow such events to occur when their job is to protect us? Only a true nutter could believe such a thing, regardless of the massive evidence and logical reasons for such a thing to fit properly into a narrative.

And the same goes for lesser items from the assassination of JFK requiring magic bullets, and on down to such trivial things as using members of the military as guinea pigs for “scientific” experiments, or, well, hell, using whole cities like San Francisco to experiment with some new biological dispersal weapon. Or letting St. George, Utah, knowingly be a nice down-wind recipient of nuclear bomb test radiation and then spending decades denying the cancerous downside. In fact, the more one knows about Uncle Sam the more fertile the soil one finds for tin-foil hat thoughts.

Enter Donald, the wanna-be Queen’s tough guy sporting a giant borough-wide chip on his shoulder. A self-made man, so he insists (that million buck starter kit from Dad don’t count), he broke into the hard-as-nails world of Manhattan real-estate and built a solid gold (well, at least gold-plated) reputation as a party-animal, womanizer, builder of garish towers, possessor of serial-wives and of serial bankruptcies. And despite all that he wasn’t welcomed into the fold of the Manhattan elite, and here, decades later, bearing a grudge that deforms his face and body, and weighs on him like a WWF wrestler, he’s out to let them have it. Descending his golden escalator but 3 years ago, met by his adoring rent-a-crowd, he tossed his hat in the Presidential circus ring, and to wide amazement and laughter promptly vanquished the supposedly serious Republican candidates with school-yard taunts, and thereafter sent the world into shock when Hillary Clinton lost to him as well, if not in the general vote, then in the dubious Electoral College. The world has been aghast since, as The Donald charges like a raging bull, upsetting one institutionally rooted apple-cart after another, shredding the polite decorum and language of our traditional politics, and causing serious harm to the status quo. Just like he said he would.

Well, almost.

Having promised to “drain the swamp” The Don instead stocked the beltway with more alligator sleaze than anyone thought conceivable, stacking his Cabinet with grifters ready to dismantle their respective departments, and to feed at the Federal trough as quickly and mercilessly as possible. Having reduced his GOP Congressional majorities to the quivering sycophants they always were, our gangster godfather trashed protocols, ripped up treaties and obsessively uprooted anything having to do with Barack Hussein Obama while loudly bellowing his utterly unmasked racism. Supposedly serious Republicans held their silence while the Tea Party wing cheered lustily and the Don’s racist base went bananas. Doubtless never having actually read it, the man sworn to uphold the US Constitution, did, as G W Bush had suggested, and treated it as “a goddam piece of paper.” Toilet paper in this instance.

All of this behavior has transpired with little more than murmurs from the official opposition, the Democrats, who hide behind their minority status in the House and Senate whimpering there’s nothing they can do, their hands are tied until November, the mystical season of voting when the Great American Public is allowed to choose between corporately approved specimen A or B. And besides, they are as beholden to their corporate masters as the GOP, and should they speak too loudly the full depths of both-sides-of-the-aisle corruption would be fully exposed. Until then the pages of YouTube and Facebook are awash with videos of virulent racists yelling and screaming on camera, police killing blacks for being black, ICE round-ups of alleged illegal aliens, children stored in ex-Walmart boxes converted to instant prisons, and other pleasantries of the present American mental landscape, the ugly id of the nation having been exposed by Trump’s tearing off of the band-aid of PC politeness imposed by the prior administration.

Faced with this rupture of politics-as-normal, the nation has contorted itself into the unimaginable: the liberal-left now looks upon the FBI, the CIA and NSA as potential saviors, while the right, formerly the supposed champions of fiscal and moral rectitude, law & order, balanced budgets, goody-two-shoes ethics and virulent anti-Commie/Russiaphobes morphed instantaneously into Russiaphiles, haters of the deep-state combine of the FBICIANSA, and rabid pigs at the trough of corruption and racism. And not only trickle down economics, but also trickle down ethics, in this case in the form of terminal corruption. Hence the plague of YouTube racism and cop-killer videos.

You’re Fired! Former FBI Chief Comey

Enter the deep rumblings of the Deep State. Famed for having intervened in an attempted Richard Cheney machination during a breathless hospital visit to then Attorney General Ashcroft who lay seriously ill, while Cheney-Bush henchmen sought to secure his signature for a program of dubious legality, wearing his cloak as Ashcroft’s chief assistant, James Comey, life-long Republican, became a belated liberal hero, as did fellow Republican, Robert Mueller, then head of the FBI. See this for the full story. And now, a decade and some later, these two emerge from the deep bowels of the government yet again in tandem. As FBI chief, appointed by Obama and retained by Donald Trump, Comey was pressed by his new boss to swear a certain kind of loyalty, mob-style. Declining, he was summarily fired, though in a manner in which in the arcane convolutions of government he was able to secure the naming of a special counsel to investigate Russian skullduggery during the 2016 election. The Special Counsel named was none other than Robert Mueller. And not only that, but Comey also also did so in a manner which required Trump lackey Richard Sessions, Director of the Justice Department, to recuse himself from the investigation. All this served well for Trump to loudly complain that he was being undercut and back-stabbed by the Deep State, of which Trump cohort Steven Bannon and his program Breitbart had long complained.

Drawing by Stephen Lack

The news of the day of late swirls with the constant word of criminality in high places – the current Manafort trial pealing the skin off the fancy-suited world of business and politics, with fantastical numbers, a litany of off-shore banking havens, and enough moral sleaze to last forever. Or until the next, around-the-corner, trial to reveal still deeper depravity. Or Avenatti’s latest lurid spill of The Don’s hushed-up sex-capades.

James Clapper, former head of the NSA

Legally, lying to a Congressional committee is a crime, whether under oath or not, punishable by up to five years in prison, or in some instances more. James Clapper was head of the NSA, (whom it turns out went to Annandale HS, Fairfax VA, 1956-60, same time I did, though I do not recall knowing him then, but my sister does), in testimony to Congress lied. Caught at it, he recanted in a Clintonesque manner, parsing the exact meaning of “spying” etc.

John Brennan, Ex-Director of CIA

Mr Brennan, former director of the CIA, outspoken of late regarding Donald Trump -saying his comportment in Helsinki was “treasonous” – is himself in a problematic position, having also lied to Congress, just as did Clapper. In his case regarding torture and such nice things.

And of course Mr Comey, fired director of the FBI, is also accused by some of lying, or at least fudging regarding leaks from his office. All in all, a charming cluster of characters, all deeply enmeshed in governmental agencies which traffic in secrecy as a part of their function. Naturally a good setting for conspiratorial actions. So small wonder that thoughts of a Deep State tend to focus on this area, along with the military.

That this nexus of fellows engaged in the sordid arts of secrecy and executors of the dirty deeds of the US government should all re-emerge in unison, though this time wearing super-hero cloaks for some liberals, indeed raises a peculiar stench, the smell of something rotten deep in the bowels of America’s government: Yes, Virginia, there is a secret Deep State.

And yes, it seeks to defend its institutional status and powers, just as do almost all bureaucratic institutional organizations. In this case, these institutions (and 14 other “security” organizations under the umbrella of the Unites States Government), all seek to carry out their jobs as protectors of the corporate/business powers for which and on behalf of which that government exists. And when by some quirk of circumstance, something or someone inimical to those interests occurs, it is their function to work together to challenge and defeat that intruding force. And such, in the instance of Donald John Trump, is the case.

Were the Republican Party a healthy political party in American terms, it would have never allowed Trump to emerge as its nominee for President. In a “healthy” state it would have vetted him, researched his background, and done whatever was necessary to assure he did not become their candidate. But the Republican Party, like the rest of the society it is rooted in, is, exactly as is the Democrat Party, utterly corrupt, and has been so for some decades, steadily rotting away until it became a steaming fetid swamp of oligarchism marinated in All-American racism. The Democrats were equally corrupt, utterly owned by corporate powers, and utterly out-of-touch with what neo-liberal policies – their policies – had done to broad areas of the American public.

And as were and are the political parties of the USA, so too all its institutions are corrupt: the Congress, the Courts, the Executive Branch, the 5th Estate, the corporate world, Wall Street. Every. Damn. One. Of. Them.

So it is little wonder that along with all these pillars of American society that the Deep State is likewise corrupt. Any decent working Deep State would have some time ago arranged a plausibly deniable accident, be it on the ground, Air Force One, or a berserk White House Guard, and Trump would already be fodder for further conspiracy theorists to figure out who done it. But thus far, confronted with the Keystone Kops of the inept, obvious, utterly corrupted government of the most comical Don imaginable, the hard-men of the Deep State have thus far fumbled the ball, and the Trump gang, though snookered by their own glaring stupidity, is still standing.

So yes, Don, yes there is a Deep State, and it is certainly out to get you. But it is just like you, and is inept and as flaccid as your butt is, unable to shift from the SOP of the Cold War to a world in which Tweets shift the market up and down and idiocy rules the White House, and few care if the President consorts with prostitutes and stuffs his government full with nepotism and cronyism. After all, most of them are doing exactly the same things.

Meantime America burns.

Trump supporters, Florida

Painting by Stephen Lack

California forest fires seen from above the clouds

The Deep State and the Don(ald) Drawing: Stephen Lack Following the conspiracy lead of Steve Bannon and Breitbart, Donald Trump has grumbled and tweeted often about the…

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chavalahh · 6 years

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My BookTube Top Tens Tag List!

Too long for the description box in my video! :P (found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dz99uxvKbkc&t=5s)

#1: DAPHNE'S BOOK by Mary Downing Hahn: Yes, a book that I first read when I was eleven probably shouldn't be in first place anymore. :P But screw it. The author is a prolific children's writer and Maryland librarian, and she wrote this one the year that I was born. I named the protagonist in my second published short story as an adult (plus took the general struggling-with-relationships-and-big-questions theme) from this protagonist and book. Also, do you remember that "You've Got Mail" joke about how "The Godfather" movies answer all of life's questions? This is that book for me. :P

#2: MOCKINGJAY by Suzanne Collins: Yes, I read this popular YA novel when I was well into my adulthood. In many ways, it was a case of reading it at the right place/time. I was struggling with how to deal with the trauma of war, and understanding how people who start off as the underdog/oppressed "good guys" don't always stay there. In fact, war makes sure that they don't. The author meant for this series to be a commentary on war, and the final installment, and the least liked by most fans, covers it most directly. This series has duped a lot of people, but I stand firm--Katniss is NOT a superhero. A critical reading shows how "The Mockingjay"(also "The Girl on Fire" and "The Star-Crossed Lovers") is not real--it's propaganda used by adults to sidle into or fortify their own power. This is the book that covers post-traumatic stress, (what I call) "angry young man syndrome," and the importance of fostering real, empathetic human relationships to survive.

#3: STATION ELEVEN by Emily St. John Mandel: My attempt at being less cynical about the impending apocalypse. :P Yes, most of the planet is wiped out by a vicious disease, but society remakes itself--and it embraces art! :D I love the artistry in the author's story construction--the enclosed feel of performing "King Lear" as the virus hits vs the open-air production 20 years later. I love the parralels between the comic book, "Station Eleven," vs the aftermath in the novel. I love the tribute to our wonderful, technological world, and also to the spirit of survival in the wilderness. Finally, I love the characters and what they show us about humanity as humanity moves into a new age. Metaphorically speaking. :P

#4: WUTHERING HEIGHTS by Emily Bronte: For awhile, I worried that loving this book would be akin to loving a Victorian version of TWILIGHT. :/ I remember, as a teenager, reading to classmates from the section where Cathy professes her undying love for Heathcliff over her changeable love for Linton--entranced, I tell you! :P But something else I've always felt since secretly reading this book in Spanish class--I identify most with Nelly. I suppose that she offers a safe, if still involved, distance from passion and its pitfalls. I can fall for these characters, and hate them sometimes, and also realize that they're doomed. :P (Maybe the kids a little less so, save for dearly departed Linton Heathcliff.) Emily Bronte weaves such a spell! I can't not be drawn in.

#5: PLANETFALL by Emma Newman: My most recent read on this list, I believe! Science fiction about civilians in space, unreliable narrators with mental illness, traumatic backstories, falling in love with charismatic leaders who turn into prophets scaling a proverbial mount sinai, communal sins of the past that sneak up slowly for revenge, finally grasping the mechanics of 3-D printing, sorta...this book has "me" written all over it. :P But what made me listen to it twice in a row was the protagonist's relationships (with herself and others) and that balancing act between science and faith. The author made me feeeeel.

#6: ANNE FRANK: THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL by Anne Frank: When I first read this for school when I was about Anne's age, I was blown away by her insights. She dug into all of my secret and not-so-secret thoughts about my relationships and my body. Of course, discussing this in class with a bunch of awkward 14-year-old girls meant that their commentary was mostly a bunch of "eeeew, she's gross!" As a hypersensitive gal myself, I was crushed. Now that we're in our thirties, I wanna take my old classmates aside and say, ADMIT IT, ANNE WAS RIGHT! She was my first role model. She was wise beyond her years. Her loss isn't more tragic than anything else that happened in the Holocaust, but I truly believe that she would have been one of literature's foremost thinkers as an adult. I long to know what she would have made of the Jewish religious and cultural future, to start. She'd run circles around the men who put stupid caricatures of her in their books, that's for sure.

#7: EMPEROR MAGE by Tamora Pierce: My favorite childhood fantasy novel--aka my street cred in this genre. :P Right now I'm eagerly awaiting new installments in the prequel series! Man, YA fantasy writing has changed since I was a kid (it's grown a looooot longer.) But this book still had enough meat on the bones to draw me in. I loved the colorfully described world, the Tortall delegation who were fish out of water in Carthak, hints about Numair's backstory (see prequels), the magic, mystery and action. But mostly, I loved Daine and saw her as my type of gal superhero. Not a fighter, but someone connected by magic to animals. Behold, the power of empathy! So much this author did to draw me in.

#8: INTUITION by Allegra Goodman: I think this one has to bump KAATERSKILL FALLS by the same author from its pedestal! :o Still love that book, but don't remember all of it nearly as well. This novel, like that one, is the author's signature of studying a small, enclosed community of people. A bunch of postdocs in a science lab! Plus a small handful of familiars. What do I know about science: nothing! But I do get the stresses of having to prove yourself, communally and as an individual. I get that people and their motivations are complicated, and they can take you down paths not intended. I loooove well done interior monologue--the author excels at that, and is one of my favorites in the literary genre.

#9: THE CASUAL VACANCY by JK Rowling: I belieeeve that Katie from Books and Things put to words what is so great about this novel--it has well developed characters AND a plot! And I don't usually get behind plot! :P This one drew me in with the death of a parish councilor leading to political infighting about an impoverished suburb. Themes include classism, drug abuse, and lines between personal responsibility and systematic victimization. I really loved the middle-aged female characters and their personal struggles--such an underrepresented group! The ending for one of the teen characters stabbed me in the gut after getting so embroiled in this world. Kind of like the ins and outs of a magical school, the author brought this small, English community alive. :P It's strange, really--the HARRY POTTER series influenced my life, maybe more than most anything I've read. I've made friends, I've had experiences and am now writing a novella because of them. But this book re-ignited my love for literary fiction, now my most-read genre.

#10: THE LOWLAND by Jhumpa Lahiri: Perhaps this author is the most accomplished lyricist on the list. She's another of my favorite literary writers. Her writing floooows. Her characters and their world are a lurid, swirling soup of realism and deep emotional output. She can even do it in short stories, but I admit that novels are easier to remember! I love her second in particular for the Indian history that it entails, and because of characters who make complicated choices that engender a lifetime of consequences. The female protagonist, in particular, eschews the suffocating role of "the good Indian mother/wife," and abandons her family to embrace her own happiness. Makes me want to cheer for AND shake her! Lahiri's writing is so relateable that I've always felt a (not completely deserved, I think) correlation between her Indian characters and my sense of Jewish characters. :P What's great about this book is that no one stays in their lane. So yes, there is a universal theme to human experiences, buried amidst specific people and happenings.

#booktube #favorite books

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