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Unfinished Business (Sternclay)
The winner of the "things that happen when you're alone" prompt poll was" I regularly go for walks in the cemetery AKA the only place I can find quiet. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space.
Indrid loves the new house; it’s just the right size for the two of them, he loves the neighbors, and the house was in juuuust the level of disrepair that Duck is having fun doing small woodworking fixes without them being without a roof, plumbing or a safe staircase.
Better still, it backs up into Kepler’s historic Eastwood Cemetery; the place fell out of use in 1971 but is well-maintained, sloping uphill to a tiny church with a dog for its weathervane. Indrid nearly made the offer then and there when the realtor showed them what was at the back door.
What Indrid does not love is the fact that the bar across the street opens at 11 am and closes at 2 am, and that the acoustics of the street mean the noise is neverending.
All that is to say, Indrid spends a lot of time in the cemetery.
Duck is leading a night tour at the national forest tonight, and the bar is favoring repetitions of Sweet Home Alabama, so Indrid decides it’s time for a long walk in the graveyard.
At the last moment, he packs a small thermos with cocoa, in case the fall chill hits hard once he’s at the top of the hill. He climbs up, then takes to his usual meandering through the tombstones and odd mausoleum. There’s no sound but his footsteps in the dirt and the wind pulling orange leaves from the trees. Blissful peace at last.
The crying is all the more jarring because of the silence preceding it. Indrid whirls, looking around for the source. He doesn’t begrudge the person their choice of location–weeping in a graveyard is rather classic–but perhaps if he soothes them he can get his quiet back.
He follows the sound in a half circle to the other side of the church. On the bench is a man in a grey suit, bouquet of roses in his hands. From so close, Indrid realizes he misunderstood; the man isn’t crying.
He’s sobbing.
Indrid gingerly sits on the other end of the bench, looks out at the town below them. From here they can see the road to the cemetery, the old gate, and the newest batch of graves. He assumes the man will notice him in a moment, but when nothing happens but more shaking shoulders and choking sobs, Indrid clears his throat.
The man freezes, tries to cover his mouth but only succeeds in slapping himself with the roses. It’s then that Indrid sees that they’re wilted, that his hands are bleeding from gripping them, and that he can see the corner of the church through the man's shoulders.
Feeling rather bad about scaring a ghost, he says, without thinking, “Hello. My name is Indrid. I promise I am friendly.”
The ghost blinks at him, wipes tears from his short beard, “I, I-I I’m sorry, I, I was, was waiting for someone.”
“I gathered.” Indrid says softly.
“He, he never came.”
“Oh dear. I’m sorry.”
“I can’t leave. I know he’ll come. Everyone’s waiting for it to start.”
Unsure if soothing a ghost is easier than soothing a human, Indrid murmurs, “Well, maybe he will come soon. A busy day can make someone late.”
“He’s never late. He hates being late. He has to come.”
The man is fading away, crying again as he does.
“I was waiting for someone. He, he never came.”
Indrid reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the thermos, “Here, we can have some cocoa while we wait for him.”
The ghost is suddenly fully visible, sweet brown eyes staring at Indrid with such shock he’s worried the spectre has mistaken him for his missing groom.
“What did you say?”
“I…I offered you some of this” Indrid opens the thermos, “I do not know if ghosts can eat, I know people leave offerings but maybe that is symbolic? Regardless, this is very nice. My friend brought me fancy hot cocoa mix from her honeymoon.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s alright.”
“No, I mean I literally don’t know what to say. I, I don’t think I’ve said anything new in fucking years.” He sniffs the air, “ohhh, that smells good.”
Indrid pours the thermos into the cup, hands it over, and the ghost disappears in order to take it and drink it in one go.
“Fuuuuck” The cut clicks on the bench and the man reappears, “there’s some good stuff in there. Cardamom and cinnamon at least.”
Indrid nudges the thermos towards him, “I take it you have been here awhile.”
“Since 1923. Uh. I really don’t want to ask but how many years ago was that?”
“........A century.”
“Fuck” the man tears up again, “fuck, why am I still here. If, if I could just move on I could find him, I could.”
Indrid tries to take his hand and whaps his palm into the bench instead, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know….no, wait a moment, I do know!” He bounces in his seat, “a friend of ours is an expert on the paranormal. If anyone knows how to help a ghost move on it’s him. Would you like me to ask him about it?”
“M-maybe. What if he’s like me, trapped between worlds, and if I move on I, I’ll-”
“Nono, do not cry” Indrid re-caps the cocoa, “there is no rush. I’ll ask around but that does not mean you have to do anything. I, ah, I should go. I just realized I forgot to feed the cat and she will open cupboards if she has to.”
“Will you come back some other night?”
“I’m here nearly every day.”
“Oh. Uh, Guess I never noticed much beyond” he gestures to the road and the town beyond.
“What I meant was it is no trouble to see you again if you’d like. It was nice to meet you-”
“Barclay. And thank you very much for the hot chocolate.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Fascinating” Joseph refills his wine glass, offers the bottle of red to Duck, who takes it and tips the rest into his own, “Indrid, do you have any idea how lucky you are? Not only did you see and hear a full apparition, he talked to you. Like in a conversation, not just a repetition of his post-mortem loop.”
“I mostly feel sorry for him. It’s not that I do not appreciate the occultness of it all but…I did not know anyone could cry that hard without cracking in half.”
“Poor fella.” Duck stands, kissing the top of Indrid’s, “Gonna make some coffee. Joe, you want any?”
“No, thank you. Better not mix the two” He lifts his glass.
“It’s decaf, fancy-pants. We don’t all got your caffeine tolerance.”
“That’s probably for the best. But no thanks all the same.” Joseph stands, picking up the raspberry tarte from the kitchen counter; his contribution to dinner. In spite of Duck telling him it’s fine to come over without anything, the man never comes empty handed.
Indrid appreciates his manners, though he suspects Joseph has been told one too many times to read between the lines of a stated expectation for the secret message. Yet one more reason he and Duck agree that what ex-FBI agent would benefit from is an evening bent over one of their laps while the other turns his ass red. It’d relax him, and goodness knows he deserves it.
As Duck returns to the table with forks, he frowns and leans to look more closely at Joseph’s face.
“You been sleepin’ okay?”
“Not exactly. Most of my stress dreams stopped once I quit being an agent. But there’s one that won’t stop no matter what I do. I’m in a car, and the car is sinking, and I’m doing everything I can to get out but the doors won’t open and the windows won’t break and I…I die.”
“Thought the whole thing was you’re supposed to wake before you die? Or is that only falling dreams?”
“If that’s true then my brain missed the memo. It happened two nights in a row this week. “
“Well then” Indrid brushes his hand as Joseph passes his a plate, “let us hope for more pleasant dreams tonight.”
Joseph stays well past ten, says goodnight with a yawn as leaves the house and walks the fifteen feet to the left and the set of steps it takes for him to get to his place next door. Indrid is lounging on the couch, but Duck waits on the porch, his wave signaling that Joseph made it to the door safely.
When his husband returns to the living room, Indrid murmurs playfully, “Would you still love me if I was a ghost?”
Duck scoops him up into his arms, a feat that never ceases to delight him, “You know I would. But let’s not go testin’ that theory any time soon.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------
There are a few Newtons buried in the Eastwood Cemetery. Duck can’t decide if the habit of visiting to tend them and leave a few flowers is from a sense of familiar duty or the fact that he’s pretty sure the ghost of his grandmother would haunt him if she found out he lived so close to the graves and wasn’t looking after them.
He’s tossing the last of the weeds in a compostable trash bag when the faint sound of sniffling reaches him. Looking up, he sees a bearded man in a suit at the corner of the church, looking down the hill at him.
“Howdy” He calls.
“Hello” The man calls back. He lifts a foot, hesitates, then steps clear of the little path forming a square around the church. His feet don’t quite make contact with the ground, no matter how many steps he takes.
“You must be Barclay” Duck holds out his hand.
“And you’re Duck. Indrid’s husband.” The hand goes through his own, both of theM cringing a bit, “I’m sorry, sometimes I see you walking together. And Indrid mentioned you when he visited yesterday.”
“Yep, that’s me alright. You doin’ okay? You look kinda scared.”
“I haven’t moved away from the church before. But I figured since I haven’t talked to people before, I could try stretching my legs to see what happened.”
Duck isn’t sure how to be encouraging to someone who died when his grandparents were babies, so he does what he always does when someone says they’re looking to take a walk.
“You ever been in the national forest? There’s a little sliver of trail on the far end of the cemetery that links you into the bigger thing.”
The ghost shakes his head but asks Duck to show him the way. As they walk, he asks Duck when the national forest got so big and if he thinks anyone will be upset to see a ghost there.
“Look, if I know most folks, they’re dyin’ for some kinda supernatural shit to happen. Makes for a great story.”
“Huh. I guess I asked too soon.”
Duck turns to find Barclay’s unable to follow him through the gate. Every time he tries it’s like he’s bumping into a sliding glass door.
“Well, fuck.”
“No, this is great. I know where the boundary is. I was so scared something strange would happen when I found it but this is totally manageable. Thank you so much for helping me out, Duck.”
Okay, he can see why Indrid likes talking with the guy, “Anytime, big fella.”
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joseph comes to the cemetery, sometimes for research and sometimes just to sit and read. Like Indrid, he finds the acoustics of their street trying at times, though he suspects he doesn’t get quite as overwhelmed by them.
Today is the first time he’s hoping to hear noise while he’s up here. The fact that Duck was able to see and speak with Barclay is promising; Duck would prefer nothing weird happen to him, so a ghost being active enough to make him believe in it without a doubt is really something.
Weird things happening to Indrid is just an average Tuesday.
He stands where Indrid normally meets the ghost and clears his throat.
“Hello. I’m not sure if you can hear me, but I’m Indrid’s friend. The one he told you about. I think I can help you find answers.”
There’s no response.
“It’s okay if you’re not ready to talk. Or if you’re not even here.”
The hair on his neck tells him the latter is not the case.
“I’m going to take a little walk, you’re welcome to join me. But it’s…it’s alright if you don’t want to.” He manages to conceal his disappointment, even when a half hour later he reaches the gate by his house without so much as a ghostly hello.
His luck doesn’t improve on Thursday, or Sunday. But on Tuesday, as he’s up checking the names on some of the older graves, an old instinct tells him someone is looking his way. Raising his head, he sees the outline of a person against the encroaching grey clouds.
Joseph waves. The ghost waves back, shyly, and fades from view.
The next day he’s not even looking for the ghost; the bar is doing some horrendous “wacky Wednesday” promotion and the ruckus is so bad even his white noise machine can’t save his focus. So he takes his notes and heads for the tombs.
He half-expects to find Indrid waiting for him, but his friend must have fled for even quieter pastures. Or he foresaw the rainstorm that sweeps across the hills the instant Joseph reaches the top of them. The church doors are left open during daylight hours, so he slips inside to keep himself and his notebook getting soaked.
There’s no one else inside, and only the plunk of raindrops on the roof and tiny, stained glass windows accompanies his footsteps as he selects a pew and sits down.
Each section of his notebook is dedicated to a chapter for his new edition of The Haunted Southeast, complete with scans of other book’s versions of certain stories and his own notes from research and interviews. Coincidentally, today he’s working on his chapter about haunted public spaces, such as parks or roads.
He finishes his review of the stories about the ghostly Huntington hitchhiker, then turns the page. This story centers on ghostly women, seen by the side of the road in some kind of distress, who disappear when you stop to offer help.
As he’s comparing the story of the jilted bride to the dead flapper to see if they’re actually the same, he shudders and buttons up his coat. He knew the drafts in here were bad but this is ridiculous.
No. Wait. The air on his right is far colder than that on his left.
“Barclay?”
A figure fades into view. Joseph’s first thought is wondering why Indrid neglected to mention this was the ghost of one of the most handsome men imaginable. The short beard is the same auburn as his hair, his lips form a cupids bow that lands a perfect shot on his heart, and his eyes are coffee brown and render Joseph twice as awake as the first cup of the day.
“I’m sorry.” The ghost murmurs, “I got curious about what you were reading.”
“I’m happy to share it” Joseph scoots closer so the other man can read the notebook, “though I’m betting most ghost stories sound ridiculous to someone who really is one.”
A honeyed chuckle, “Might sound ridiculous, but you probably know more about ghosts than I do. There aren’t many here to talk to and they kind of…ignore me when they’re around.” A slightly see-through hand hovers over the photocopied article of the bride, “Does anyone know why she’s stuck?”
“That version says she was left at the altar and, while tearfully speeding home in her car, died the same day. I think she and this “flapper” are from the same sighting or the same folktale, because all that changes is it’s an elopement instead of a wedding.”
“So she’s stuck because she’s jilted?”
Joseph chooses his words carefully, not sure if frank talk of death upsets a ghost, “That’s one theory. Or the sudden and unexpected nature of her death may have trapped her there. A lot of researchers think that ghosts are the product of either unfinished business or a death that’s so inexplicable to them that they retrace and replay their last moments, trying to make sense of it.”
“My death….I was going to say it makes plenty of sense but only if you believe someone can die of a broken heart. Doctor said I made myself sick by spending hours in the rain watching for…for his…” his face crumples into a sob.
Joseph closes the book, wishes he could touch him to comfort him as he says, “You don’t have to tell me this if it’s too much. I don’t want to upset you. I just want to help.”
“No, no” Barclay wipes his eyes, “I want to tell someone. I’m so tired of reliving it alone. I…even though I died in bed two days later, I think I’m stuck here because this is where my heart died and my body took two days to catch up.”
A sniff, and out of habit Joseph passes him a handkerchief. It falls to the bench through his lap, only for the ghost to disappear and the fabric to float back up to eye level.
“Do you think I’m foolish for believing that?”
Joseph shakes his head, “Not at all. It’s theorized that, at times, a strong emotion is supposedly enough to tie a ghost to a place. More importantly you, a ghost, have just told me that’s how you understand what happened, so theory can take a hike for all I care.”
Barclay tries to laugh but it comes out as a choked squeak, “Is it okay if I sit here a little longer? We don’t have to talk, I just, I don’t want to leave you just yet.”
“Sure, but I can’t promise it’ll be all that exciting to watch me work.”
“After this long, fucking anything is exciting.”
Joseph picks his notebook back up and opens it. He’s not sure how long Barclay stays by him, as after a few minutes he’s no longer sniffling and stays quiet as, well, the dead.
His only clue that he’s alone is that the handkerchief eventually folds itself and settles into the spot on the pew where Barclay once was.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ooooh this is so exciting!” Indrid flaps his hands as Joseph plugs in the last string of lights, “I hope it works.”
“It should. We did everything McElroys Spirit Guide said, and it’s generally reliable.”
“There!” Indrid grabs his arm, “look, he made it past the gate.”
At first it looks like a fuzzy halloween projection appears on the back wall. Then it floats closer and Barclay comes into clear, stunning view.
“You fellas really put this whole to-do together just for me?” Barclay takes in the lights, the bowls of burning, dried flowers, and the chalk on the door.
“As the one who extended the dinner invitation, it seemed only polite for me to do whatever was necessary to make sure all my guests could get into the house.”
Indrid and Joseph had both gone to chat with him more, but It had been Duck who pointed out that if Barclay could drink cocoa, they could probably have him over for dinner, and then nobody would have to freeze their ass off just to talk with a friend. And it’s Duck who’s happily tending the stove as Indrid shows Barclay around. When the ranger calls for an extra set of hands, Indrid excuses himself, leaving Joseph and Barclay in the living room.
“This is embarrassing but I never actually learned your name.”
Joseph offers a sheepish smile, “That’s because talking to you is always so interesting, other details slip my mind. I’m Joseph.”
The instant the words leave his mouth, Barclay disappears.
“If you both would like to come get–where did he go?” Indrid looks around owlishly.
“I’m not sure. Here, I’ll go check the garden for him.”
On a hunch, he moves towards the back wall and finds the outline of a man faintly visible against it.
“Are you alright? If the ritual is glitching you around or making it hurt to manifest we can try to fix it.”
“No.” Barclay appears staring at the grass beneath them, “it’s not that. Fuck, this is embarrassing. His name was J-Joseph too. When you said it was yours I, it was too much for a second. It’s ridiculous, and if my mother knew how rude I was being right now she’d spin in her grave.”
Joseph uses his best, soothing special agent voice to reply, “I did give myself an incredibly common name. People have all kinds of associations with it.”
“You’re an unflappable one aren’t you?” Barclay says softly, looking at Joseph with a century of bottled-up tenderness.
“I try to be. Come on” he offers his arm, “dinners ready. Duck makes amazing enchiladas.”
“....What’s an enchilada?”
—----------------------------------------------------
Joseph carefully traces over the symbol on his back door to make sure the path stays open. After a successful dinner, he added the same path to his house that Indrid and Duck did so Barclay can come visit like any other neighbor. But it’s been rainy the last two days, so he’s touching everything up just to be safe.
When he comes back inside, there’s a bouquet of small, pink roses sitting in a mason jar on his kitchen table.
They were red and near petal-less when he stepped outside.
This, or something like it, has happened every few days for the last month.
It started a few nights after they first had Barclay to dinner. Joseph had spent the afternoon working on his notes in the cemetery and chatting with Barclay about his research. When he’d stepped onto the porch to go play cards with Duck, there was a chain of dandelion flowers circling the window of his front door.
The first bouquet arrived the morning after the first movie night in the cemetery. Indrid had suggested to the Friends of the Eastwoods Cemetery that they show movies during October and ask people for a dollar or two at the door to help raise money for upkeep. The three of them chose a spot towards the back of the crowd to spread out a blanket so that no one would notice Barclay joining them. He’d been so scared by Halloween that he’d spent the entire movie hiding against Joseph, even when nothing terrifying was on screen.
Joseph’s an observant man; he knows that over the last few weeks, Barclay has lingered longer during his visits, seemed sadder when Joseph says he has to leave the cemetery to go home and write. Knows that the roses outside the church are pink, the ones at the front gate red.
He also knows that he’s not imagining the moments when he’s cooking or doing the dishes and he smells faint, woody cologne and feels fingers hovering at his hips. Or the moments when he’s straightening his coat before going out and phantom touches brush across it, as if sweeping away lint.
More than once, before bed, he’s followed his instincts to the back door and opened it, expecting to find someone waiting. Nothing’s there except a breeze that somehow smooths his hair.
He needs to figure out why Barclay’s flirtation is so fearful before he goes insane from trying to embrace air.
A short, damp walk to the library later, he’s sitting in a repurposed closet, staring at microfilm. Barclay told him his wedding was supposed to be in the spring, and he’d talked to Duck about the Monogahela fire of 1923 in a way that suggested he’d been alive for it. Then Indrid had found Barclay’s headstone (and taken to bringing it flowers now and then), identifying his date of death as May 8th, 1923.
But Joseph doesn’t find what he’s looking for until he reads the issue of the Kepler Observer from May 13th.
Body of Joseph Swan Retrieved from River.
After over a week of search and coordination, the wreck of a Model T containing the body of local lawyer Joseph Swan was finally pulled from the Silver River. Swan was reported as a missing person after failing to appear at his wedding on May 6th, and while authorities believed it was likely his car which had broken the rail on the Silver Bridge, it was not confirmed until today.
Joseph reads through the remaining details, skin prickling as he remembers what he dreamed about last night. He wishes there was a picture. Maybe of the two of them in happier times; Barclay might like a copy.
He forms a plan, but doesn’t put it into motion until the roses wilt. The evening they do, he steps into the yard, ostensibly to sweep off the walk. Instead he replaces the symbol on the door with a new one, returns to his living room, picks up Farewell, My Lovely, and waits.
There’s a soft thunk from the back door, then a louder one, and then the doornob rattles, panicked, only stopping when Joseph comes into the back hallway.
“Barclay, we need to talk.”
“We talked this morning.” Barclay becomes visible, looking anxious rather than annoyed.
“And if you were going to come see me tonight, you could have told me then. You know I like having you over, that you’re welcome anytime. But before I accept any more flowers, I need to know why you keep sneaking in to leave them instead of just knocking on the door.”
“I like surprising you.” It’s the truth, but not all of it, that much he’s sure of.
“Try again, big guy.” He says gently.
“If I tell you, I, you, you won’t want to see me anymore.”
“There are very, very few things that could do that. I promise.” He steps forward and Barclay shrinks against the door.
“It’s not just your name that reminds me of him. Y-you’re like him in so many ways, god, you even look like him. And I know you’re not him, I know, and that’s somehow worse because I feel the same way about you I did about him. I thought I’d never get to love without grief again, and then here you are. I needed to show you somehow, and some nights my heart ached to see him, and to see you so I would hover around the house and try to pretend it was ours. God I hate how that sounds. I, I don’t know what will happen to me if you don’t want me back, if I lose you too, but I didn’t w-want to make you think you had to, to l-love me back.” His tears border on hyperventilation.
Joseph gingerly reaches for him, “You never made me think that. Even if you did, my heart beat you to it. I’m not sure it’s love, I’ve always been, well, cautious about calling things that too soon but…but I think it could be.”
Barclay sniffs, “really?”
He nods, “There’s something else I think you should know. My entire life, I’ve had a nightmare where I’m in a sinking car. What I’ve never told anyone is that, as I’m drowning I’m afraid, but not of what you might think. I wasn’t able to articulate until a few days ago. I’m afraid I’ll never see the most important person in my life again.” He looks up into teary, brown eyes, “the last thing he ever thought about was how much he loved you, Barclay.”
The face in front of him disappears and he’s crushed in a hug, Barclay’s face buried against his neck. Tearful thank-yous gradually give way to steady, anticipatory breaths from a chest without lungs, and for a moment he’s worried that his confession is what Barclay needed to move on.
“Joseph?” A beard tickles his ear, “Thank you. Now I know what he was thinking about. But…what are you thinking about right now?”
Joseph rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “How being in your arms feels like coming home. And how glad I am Indrid talked to you that first time, because it means you’re in my life and my life is so much better for it. Also if it’s okay to ask if you’d like to be boyfriends, because I have no idea how you feel about pacing, or if this is fast or slow compared to what was normal when you were alive-”
A chuckle that makes him shiver, “It’s not too fast, pretty boy. I promise.”
“Oh.” He gasps, “that’s a new one.”
“Been wanting to call you that for weeks. It’s all I can think when I see you.” A ghostly finger traces his cheek, “can I kiss you?
“As much as you like.”
Chilly lips press against his own, and when he returns the kiss, phantom hands cup his cheeks. With his eyes closed, it’s as if he’s being dropped off after a very successful date, trading slow, curious kisses with someone on his front step. His back bumps into the door; he hadn’t realized Barclay had turned them. Maybe Joseph did it himself. His attention isn’t interested in straying from the taste of ethereal kisses anytime soon.
Strong hands tip his face up and cool kisses run down his neck. He groans, manages to tangle his fingers in Barclay’s hair and hold him there. The ghost grins against his throat, and one hand disappears only to slide beneath his sweater a second later.
“If this is too forward tell me to fuck off but: can I take you to bed? Please?”
“Only if you’re really sureOH, okaythen.” Joseph, now in a bridal carry, holds tight as the ghost carries him to the bedroom. Once he’s placed on the bed, he adds, “can you be visible while we undress? I haven’t looked at you enough today.”
“We saw each other for most of it.” Barclay is visible again, hair messier than before eyes bright.
“You heard me, big guy. Not enough.” He pulls off his sweat and unbuttons his jeans, folding both and setting them on a chair.
Barclay touches his ghostly jacket, then pulls it from his shoulders “Huh. I honestly had no idea if I could even take this off. Let’s see…” the tie, dress shirt and vest come next, revealing a hairy chest and belly straight from Joseph’s dreams (his good ones).
Barclay sets his dress shoes by Joseph's own next to the closet, then strips down to nothing. A gorgeous, thick cock sits between gloriously shaped thighs. The sight shorts out Joseph’s brain so thoroughly his fingers hitch the band of his boxer-briefs but forget what to do next.
“Let me get those for you, sir.” Barclay flickers away long enough to yank the blue fabric down and off. When he reappears, he’s staring at Joseph’s dick in surprise.
“Sorry, I know it’s not what you expected. Usually I tell partners beforehand but in my defense there were way more important things on my mind.”
“I don’t mind one bit, pretty boy.” Barclay licks his lips, “it’s just kinda funny. I used to tease him that what he really needed was one of these” he tips his head at Joseph’s crotch, “because he was always so fucking needy and would beg me to get to it before he was open and slick enough for me to get my dick in him.” He grins, “from the look of it that’s not gonna be a problem tonight.”
“Not at all.” Joseph spreads his legs and Barclay settles between.
The ghost pauses, “I can only touch you if I’m invisible. Or, uh, I guess I could be visible and tangible but not able to talk? Which do you want?”
“I want to be able to talk with you. At least tonight. Some other night you can show me how badly you want to fuck me by giving up your voice.”
Barclay growls playfully and disappears. Joseph watches his own legs bend and open wider, then moans as Barclay pushes into him.
A kiss finds his cheek, “Fuck, Joseph, you feel incredible. Jesus, do not remember being inside someone feeling so warm. God, maybe I should have been fucking living guys all this time. Not like anyone would’ve seen it.”
“Such naughty ideas, big guy.” Joseph wraps his legs around Barclays.
“We, fuck, we did fuck outside once, and he was nervous we’d get caught. Until he got into the whole thing and ordered me to suck him off.” The memory, accompanied by a happy sigh and sharper thrusts, gives Joseph an idea.
“Do you like being ordered around?”
“Uh huh. Like being good.” He whines into Joseph’s shoulder.
“What else do you like?”
“I, I like it rough, but only sometimes. I, a few times we’d see how slow we could go, how long we could last, under the covers when, when we didn’t have anywhere to go, fuck, it’s like heaven.”
“I make my own schedule so–oh, oh, you like that idea” he works his hips harder, “should I order you to stay inside me until I’ve cum at least three times?”
“Yes, yes sir, baby, please”
“Or maybe I’ll set up the house so you’re stuck right in that doorway and, ahgod, only allowed to watch me until you beg just right?”
Barclay moans and fucks him harder, “but that’s n-not fair.”
He manages to grip Barclay’s chin, “I decide what’s fair, big guy. Just like I decide whether I want to have that magnificent cock inside me or make you hump my boot and beg like a dog.”
A wave of cold pushes through him, and suddenly Barclay isn’t above him anymore. He’s inside him.
“Holy shit” he says to the empty room.
Sorry. I got so fucking turned on from you saying that I kinda lost control for a second. Jesus christ” his hand rubs his folds, “You really were having fun.”
“Yes. Ahfuck, shit, yes like that.” His fingers move inside him all on their own.
“Never played around with one of these before. But from how you feel when I do this” a finger curls and Josephs legs kick the covers, think I’m on the right track
“Barclay” he whimpers to the empty room.
Right here baby. Lay back and let me take care of you. Us? No let’s go with you. The other hand joins in, rubbing his dick, and Joseph allows himself the luxury of utter surrender. He doesn’t need to say a thing or move a muscle because Barclay is there, can feel his pleasure and his desire as he moves his body like a toy. Better still, Joseph can feel Barclay’s reaction to it all, the surge of pride whenever something he does makes Joseph moan, how much pleasure he gets from pleasing, and how badly he wants him.
Now and then he feels a memory, Barclay trying something from long ago to see how it works now. More often, he feels a fantasy, Barclay testing out whether his–apparently copious–daydreams about Joseph are fun for them both in reality.
Joseph’s so distracted by Barclay thinking next time, I want your cum all across my face that his own orgasm is a shock, rocking him like an old house in a thunderstorm.
He’s laying there, panting Barclay’s name, when the ghost separates them with one, decisive movement, then sinks his cock into him with another. Joseph yells, clawing at his chest in delight.
“Don’t whine sir, you wanted this” The ghosts grunts as the picture frames rattle, “I could feel it. Got a lot of fantasies in there about being fucked hard and filled up, almost as many about making big men cry. I’ll, fuck, I’ll let you make me cry any day, long as I, I get to watch you choke on my dick afterwardsoh, oh Joseph, baby.” He cums hard, collapsing against Joseph’s chest as he pulses into him.
When he pulls out, Joseph sees the liquid is different than normal. Ectoplasm maybe? Later.
Barclay is visible and solid as he pulls Joseph into a hug. Joseph kisses him once, then murmurs, “None of the crying fantasies anytime soon, I think. Not that I don’t think they’d be fun but…well, you’ve shed way too many tears than you deserve, big guy. All I want is to see you smile.”
The expression blooms on Barclay’s face, bright as a churchbell on a wedding day, as Joseph leans in to kiss him once more.
—--------------------------------------------------------------
“You think Barclay might just disappear someday? Maybe his business will finish up without us noticing.” Duck pulls on his bathrobe, “I mean, I hope not. I like the guy.”
Indrid peers into the grey dawn as he sips his cream with a splash of coffee. Their bedroom window looks into Joseph’s, and while his blinds are usually drawn, today they’re open. His friend sits up in bed, laughs as a breakfast tray floats into view and turns his cheek as if receiving a kiss.
“Oh, I would not worry too much about it. I do not think his business will be finished for a long, long time.”
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Not an Ulrich/Yumi shipper,not a William/Yumi shipper but a secret third thing(Ulrich/Aelita and Yumi/Sissi shipper)
#i have a type and i've been getting back into this show so i shall keep spreading it#code lyoko#ulrich stern#aelita schaeffer#ullita#t4t ullita#yumi ishiyama#sissi delmas#ishidel#t4t ishidel#trans 4 trans and autistic 4 autistic realness#💌#good times#letters from summer
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Me when I go to my first day of basic training and realize Paladin Danse isn't there: 😱
#'well it would be nice pay... and i could escape my abusive household... and i like following directions...'#and then i remember im a 5'2 twink of a trans guy who bursts into tears when someone speaks to me in a stern voice#... yeah maybe thats not the profession for me#also side note i dont live in quebec i just didnt want to use my real location and quebec is a silly little fantasy land that isnt real#my art
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I've been putting off setting up a fundraiser for months, but I recently became homeless so now's the time to do it. ❤️
I'm 23 and top surgery has been the only thing keeping me alive for over a year now.
I have c-PTSD, bipolar and late-diagnosed ADHD that has caused me to withdraw from university, escape my transphobic and abusive parents and pay for private healthcare in order to survive daily life. I am now homeless living in temporary accommodation from the council which I still have to pay for.
I’ve managed to save £5.5k the past three years to pay for top surgery (removal of breast tissue to achieve a flat, masculine chest). I’m now having to withdraw thousands from this fund due to worsening life circumstances. With my surgery quote at £7,991 and booked for 2nd November later this year, I’m facing working 48 hour weeks as a carer for people with dementia, in order to replenish my fund and pay for this live-saving surgery in time. Every month delayed has a huge impact on my mental and physical health.
I receive abuse and punishment at home which has contributed to my mental health and constant state of hypervigilance, even when there is no real threat around me. My stress resilience is tiny compared to my peers and I am extremely emotionally reactive to things, unable to cope with the intensity of my pain and regulate myself when distressed.
I have been seeing mental health professionals since I was 13, through school, charities and funding from Disabled Students Allowance. When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2020, I was self-harming and on track to ruining my life with addiction and £16k in debt.
Since then I’ve engaged in many forms of therapy that teach the basics of how to sleep and coping with emotions. I was on antidepressants and now on two mood stabilisers, hormone blockers to prevent persistent bleeding and further mood episodes, and am starting ADHD meds in order to get me functional, back to work and able to finish school again. My psychosomatic symptoms include nausea, digestion issues, muscle aches, cramps, and brain fog most days, which worsen when I’m stressed and leave me unable to even sit up in bed some days, leave the house or walk long distances.
I chose to study psychology because I want to be a therapist for disabled, queer, POC (people of colour) and immigrant students like me one day. Things I’ve done for the community include being a POC community officer for my uni's Pride Society, LGBTUIA+ rep for my course, getting charity funding for a BPD wellbeing community I co-started, and volunteering on the NHS LGBTI+ Sounding Board.
Now for the hardest part: asking for help.
Any donation (or simply sharing this fundraiser) could help ease the stress I'm going through as I struggle to budget for:
Therapy
ADHD treatment
Food & shelter
This life-saving surgery
Time to take care of myself, much less have fun
I've been so focussed on survival for so long. It's difficult to find motivation to do anything, and, especially recently, I think about wanting to die for several hours every day. I cancel outings with friends because the thought of travelling and having to schedule around 12 hour work shifts is too stressful. Figuring out where I'm going to sleep, shower and commute from, plus timing when to take my medication so I'm not sedated during work shifts, has me feeling constantly worried and sad.
Thank you in advance for any help, and if nothing else, reading and getting an understanding of issues trans people can face accessing healthcare.
#top surgery#fundraiser#transgender#c-ptsd#bipolar#bpd#homeless#transmasculine#nonbinary#mutual aid#adhd#lgbt#trans#fundraising#crisis#trans healthcare#hormones#guy sterne#boost#qpoc#poc#neurodivergent#personal#thank you x#trauma tings
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the woman part in my bigender is strictly in a working class way as in i was never a Girl but i only embody a -woman- when i talk work
#im at my most feminine when im a guy relaxed with myself but im a very stern Business WomanTM and im also at my most aromantic in thataspect#this is the only way i can explain my bigender part of my trans identity#not even like perceived as a cis woman in a misgendering way i mean like . ya get me . youll get it
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I'll say it as many times as it needs to be said. There is absolutely miniscule actual harm that comes from engaging with Harry Potter in 2024. JK Rowling does not need money. Anything sent her way is less than a rounding error. And the book series was literally EVERYWHERE in the 90s and 2000s. Like it or not, it DID impact a whole generation of people - pretending that never happened is completely absurd, if not outright irresponsible. It happened. It's just a fact. Harry Potter is mainstream. There is nothing that can be done to 'promote' it. It's already there.
What all this obsession with HP on tumblr is about? An easy way to smugly define Good People from Bad People. Because if you *really* cared about trans people enough, you'd hate everything associated with Harry Potter. Regardless of how much you adored it when you were 8 and went to Harry Potter parties with your family all dressed up quoting book lines at one another in your most precious childhood memories because for once your special interest actually aligned with the people closest to you. No, all those positive associations should have been deleted instantly. If you *cared enough*, it would just *happen*.
Which is why a whole slew of people who previously had earnestly reblogged posts about Moral OCD and how bad tumblr can be about it were suddenly cackling about how buying Hogwarts Legacy was comparable to *refusing to throw The One Ring into Mordor, starting a war that would kill millions.* And how donating to a pro-trans charity (an act that would have VASTLY more impact than aforementioned rounding error) is comparable to 'donating to a pro-elf charity' in the wake of that.
Because tumblr doesn't actually give a shit about autistics or OCD sufferers. When we complain about stuff that they also dislike, they proudly reblog that and rage in the notes about how selfish and cruel and Individualist those other people on tumblr are!!! But the *second* they get to paint themselves as the ones with '''''good thoughts and feelings'''''' they take it, and make up posts about how HP likers 'believe they're the main character and everything should revolve around them.'
Is it actually about whether something causes harm? Or is it about dividing the world into Inherently Good People and Inherently Bad People? Is it actually about doing real good for the community and making the world a better place? Or is it about shaming people with the Wrong Emotions until they fucking hate themselves and spend hours upon hours ruminating on end trying to change themselves because their inability to let go of positive Harry Potter feelings is OBVIOUSLY evidence of a truly inescapably evil and cruel and wretched identity that the world would be better off without?
Which is it, actually? When it actually feels a little bit good to feel like you're on the Right Side of all of this, for once?
#cant fucking believe im doing this to myself on the day before his birthday#im gonna have to stay up til 12:30 tonight#if im STILL obsessing over this shit then Im gonna start demanding recompense#dont donate to ocd charities (do they even exist lmfao) just give $20 to someone w ocd every time you make a Stern Post abt hp '''promoters#..#hp for ts#god no fucking offence but this all is the ACTUALLY terminally online bullshit#do you know the library I work at has Harry Potter posters/displays etc. up???#stocks plenty of 'wizarding world crochet' books and the like???#99.999% of the world barely knows what jkr is doing#and the rest just think 'wow she's awful' (or whatever else) and dont connect that to hp at all#its only on certain internet spaces that this 'engage with HP = immediate and inescapable corruption by the devil' mentality exists#hell even the idea that anyone with something HP related is trying to signal terfism or whatever#i dont doubt that some ppl TRY that but. it doesnt work lmfao.#not once has my aunt thought 'oh I better remove my Hermione keychain or someone will think I hate trans people'#that is literally terminally online brainrot!!! real people do not think that way!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Heehee! They did the shoujo manga thing! Or the harem manga thing? Well, the thing that's in anime with romance, where the guy falls on the girl. xD
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Venting Venting Venting
It feels like it has been a while since I have done a blog. Luckily I have jotted down the thoughts I wanted to express over a week ago, but the issue is the shit I feel passionate about at the moment because it is constantly being talked about in the discourse, but the last week or so I have been at a lot of wrestling shows, so I wasn’t just stuck at home trying to isolate myself to further stick it to people who already pushed me into isolation for the last 13 years, but when you are not online much, it feels good not to consume the nonstop discourse that will have genuine issues and concern but gimmicked into a culture war where no solutions will be had and it will be more sports entertainment where we dunk on people for being hypocrites and it will be constant dumbing down the villains you are supposed to be worried about. I kept up with key stuff that was going on on some level, but it felt good not to have to see nonstop gaslighting, plus twitter was fucked up this past weekend which was a blessing in disguise for me, like I don’t have to worry about many people interacting with me since I have legit been blackballed from being seen as relevant, the problem is, that there are still dangerous funded trolls who monitor me and try to insert themselves into my life, plus you never know when people from the past will resurface for their own agendas, but whenever I feel good for a bit, it always has to come with more mental anguish, like sometimes when I have had a good time and feel less stressed and mentally ill, I often just sit back and enjoy the thoughts and positive vibes I have in my head and processing things where I don’t even want to jot down these good feelings because everything I do is monitored, just like everyone on this planet is monitored, and I feel if I put it down I have been feeling good, my trolls will be paid to show back up and instill more paranoia, or people who thought sucking up to me for a few years, who also secretly have deals with my trolls will come back, and because they don’t get the interaction they want, they will try to instigate shitty trolling with their less than charismatic personalities to goad me into getting into an argument, they will try to start shit, then still pretend they are on “Team Hanzi” yet they will be in other people’s comments posting pictures of me because they have them all saved because they are closeted groupies who probably jerk off to my fat face, while being an edge lord and projecting on me as being gay as an insult, that is probably a hit in those mediocre group chats that fake like each other’s shitty jokes but because it is the common bond of hatred for me, they will give each other pretentious high fives. So the “good feeling” is rubbing off and I can sense when the negative energy tries to resurface so I would rather vent about a few things to melt it from my head so I don’t fucking build up more frustration, where my mind goes to looking at the future scenarios and get mad at these scenarios that I am envisioning which play a part in the accumulative nature of mental illness in my fucking head that constantly builds up. I don’t mind showing my irrational behavior because mental illness is not a pretty thing, people want to support the notion of awareness but then constantly deny what institutions and the system has done to many people who suffer, you solely have to take all the accountability and responsibility while people who will keep doing this to people will be protected and be propped up as these great human beings. The best part of this, is people have to pretend they don’t read it because it goes beyond the script they play with online where they have to repeat the official narratives about me on the Stern Show, and the online shit has become just as gimmicked, it may have meant something in the 90’s and early 2000’s and I realize we have constantly been rebooting the decade we are in and correlate with the current climate by the aesthetic when I feel shit has become 100 times more advanced, and the wrong people who have platforms are the ones who get to pretend to be experts while these pussies do their shitty right wing pivots, and more people will show that side, everyone eventually throws on an NWO shirt. They rather work with the hive mind and regress rather than learning to evolve, people who have the greatest aesthetic are the most fucked up people on the planet, and the solace I have is that eventually they will realize their closed ones will even think they are fucking sociopaths and will not want to be around them or at the very least, they will be fucked up too, selling out might give you a better aesthetic, but the way some of these people act, and how contentious they get, shows they hate themselves deep down as they dissolve into soulless villains who will have more vitriol for the people trying to fight back against fascism than the fascists themselves. Everyone is finding their way of crossing over and it is scary. I really wish I was not here for this, because I have sene so many people oppose people going for right wing pivots and it seems all of them are eventually doing it too, especially when they dumb down narratives. Promoting shitty debates that won’t go anywhere, or bringing awareness of more villains that exist in the discourse to be villains, but nothing will happen to them because they are protected but they get the benefits of acting like they are being canceled, so they will get some rejuvenation into their grift that they are doing.
Let’s start with TYT’s continued regression. They have done so many bone headed things over the last week, it is hard to keep up with but this is why the right wing wins because even people on the left who are kind of condemning them, some people are fully calling them out for their gaslighting bullshit they are doing while pretending to be victims, but there are some who pretend they don’t want this to be and maybe you don’t but if you are gonna play a fucking pro wrestling naive babyface who will constantly trust Ric Flair, before he fucking turns on you again then what does that say, it is like you are giving people a reason to look at these people going more right wing to be fucking cool, thing is even if TYT is regressing and sophisticating it and being defended by very far right wing people, they could never in a million years ever fucking sound cool, when Ana Kasparian says “Homeboy this” “Homeboy that” she comes off like Monic Gellar when she says “You go girl” like she doesn’t sound like a fucking authentic human being. She is probably being studied by Marlon Wayans when he decides to make a sequel of White Chicks. And she knows what she is doing but she and Cenk are too pussy to admit they are becoming Nazis and will constantly take shots at people being mad at them when they are the ones who literally try to go for the engagement. People don’t want to believe a bunch of these alt media people have become the biggest frauds, they will become the people they hated when they point out “I CALLED OUT THE IRAQ WAR 20 YEARS AGO.. I WAS DESIGNED TO BE RIGHT BECAUSE MY ILK WAS GONNA BE THE NEW SELLOUTS WHO CAN CONSTANTLY SHIT ON MSM WHILE MISLEADING OURSELVES” and I know a lot of you who surround yourself with that ilk are sociopaths and that makes you dangerous, it certainly isn’t your fucking personality or the humor you have, most of you are just as bad as establishment MSM. First Ana retweets this moral stance about people on social media who are kind of being boastful of the submarine people who died in the titanic shit, here is the thing these billionaires are buying a way out of this planet or living underground because the world is going to shit, and all this twitter limit shit, and reddit fucking up etc, they are trying to fuck up these social media places because when shit does go to complete and utter shit, there will hardly be a way to find out what is really happening and it will be dominated by the propped up people aligned with Elon Musk. But my shitty conspiracy aside, and anything that I say in this blog or say on the podcast, I don’t know 100 percent, which is why I go off by the vibes and I am all over the fucking map, but it is fine, there is no pressure in me writing the most prolific piece of literature, no one is really looking for me to do that, but the important people do consume what I write and get mad about it and I expect them to extract revenge down the line, they will collaborate with more fundamentalist types online and other fed like accounts to try and push me to the brink of insanity because they are butt hurt they couldn’t get me to be on the right wing side, maybe you convinced people from my past to join that side, but I would rather fucking die than be on that fundamentalist side that is gonna be the modern Nazi shit. Ana Kasparian will get up in arms about people not giving a shit about billionaires who knew the risk of going into that shit, but at the same time, she will demonize homeless and do her “crime wave” shtick, and act like she is confused what to do with these people, yet she will whitewash dangerous politicians and influential people who are criminals and have gotten away with so much. They will bring up the trans in sports issue to act like it is not a winning issue, but this issue is so rare that is being promoted in sensationalist ways to make it seem like this is being forced in sports and they do the separate but equal type of talk, knowing it is more complicated, and the only people who bring this up are right wing people who helped create this issue in sports because people who don’t think they are political, will consume news about sports and entertainment, and they use these political issues that won’t be presented with nuance or people who are from that community and it will be people who are just reactionary and they fear monger about this and dictate how people can feel about it, even though they are using culture war shit to help ease people into accepting these fundamentalist laws that will harm these communities. They have helped promote the bare minimum of Trump over the last decade and did their sports entertainment, but now they pretend to be voices of reason of being “fair” about why Trump resonates etc, they know the future of this shit but they kayfabe their hate for the democrats solely, knowing that whoever the world champion is, Vince McMahon is the one who is booking the direction, and this is why different bad faith actors will use a lesser established presidential candidate as this new voice, when they won’t make the difference on the surface if the same guy is writing the storylines and putting it together, but they want their new face to be the guy who will represent for the right wing system, and by making it look like they are solely focused on Trump helps, but now TYT and others get to act like they are above that, when they have misleaded, and the only “corrections” they have made have been to appease the far right because again they are fucking cowards who don’t want to admit they got their assholes branded with Nazi symbols, while Ben Shapiro and Candice Owens play judge of who has a better one. They will then do stories where they will make excuses for fascist shit, where they will defend Rick Scott for warning against people who are socialist to stay out of Florida like it is gonna be danger but then she does “both sides” and she even says in the program “I know people are gonna hate I do both sides” basically that translates to “I know people hate that I am leaning toward catering to Nazis because me and my co host are the biggest money whores on the planet, but I am gonna continue to do it anyway” These people claim to be better than the MSM but they can’t even do a fucking story without flailing their shitty arms about how wokeness is going too far because social climbers online who could be bad faith actors yelled at them and that gets focused on rather than the people who are actually being polite and being friendly and correcting them on where they went wrong and they insist on going down the white supremacist path. They are not charismatic enough to pull it off but they are dangerous because they are protected pussies who will keep doubling down and gaslighting people and then playing victims on their press run where you are uplifting Jesse Singal, and now leaning more into the anti trans shit that is sophisticated, and claiming people yelled at Lee Fang for reporting on violence at the BLM protests. They will constantly talk about people being emotional reactionaries but their entire fucking being on this planet is fucking acting like reactionaries, they do a fucking story about how some conservative who used to be homophobic has been finding the errors of his ways and is accepting of LGBTQ people etc, and that is a good story to do, genuine regular people who have been brainwashed and breaking out from it, it is a beautiful thing. But they then tie the story of an imaginary crowd canceling this guy already, like you did a good story but you had to take jabs at people who called you out for being transphobic and creating issues so you can get yourself canceled. She has no problem talking to white supremacists and whitewashing it, she will then in bad faith talk about how Rick Scott’s warning is not different from people who were warning about going to Florida if you are from a marginalized community, and said “I was just in Florida, it is fine, there were pride flags there and people were celebrating” yes I am sure certain areas people are celebrating their month etc, but it doesn’t mean the overall pattern in the future is to get rid of those people too, but she has to both sides to protect fascism, and then she and Cenk get to parade around and act like they represent for progressives so a bunch of right wing people can do the same shit they do with Bill Maher and Jimmy Dore and do the “Well I don’t view myself as a leftist, but TYT and Jimmy Dore are making sense” yeah because they are catering to the fundamentalist right wing side and promote fake culture wars so they can do their witty sitcom banter, and I know you will keep doubling down on your shitty personalities but you guys are not that talented, you are not even human beings, you are robot personalities trying to do your own establishment show. I wish more leftists would call it out for what it is, but it seems most of the leftists the last several years have been deciding to dumb shit down even though they pretend they are smarter than everyone, but they will definitely all start going more to the right wing side eventually. They are scared of these fucking jerkoffs who want to play footsy with Nazis? Ana Kasparian is scared to talk to people outside her race but she is not scared of being okay with Trump normalizing his fascist bullshit, you will pretend there is nothing to be scared about with DeSantis who has fascist aspirations and promote fake sports entertainment where it leaves your audience no choice but to have to pick a side and that is some sicko shit.
The affirmative action controversy happened and they even have tokens who are conservative fundamentalists being happy about it because it is putting a hindrance on their movement, when the world already has a bunch of unfair shit and this affirmative action shit was never designed to help minorities on a social level, meaning yeah they might get a position or a spot in a school etc, but the social energy towards them is met with vitriol because a bunch of racists and self hating minorities will deem them as not being worthy of having the spot, like the white people in those positions have all the experience and there was no favoritism toward them. They are getting different minority groups recruited for a bunch of fundamentalist conservative issues, you could say that it is forced diversity because the far right wing loves minorities who go against anything that liberal minded people will promote even if Affirmative action doesn’t solve all racial injustices but it is needed, but they make it seem like the system really wants this, but it is designed for right wing people from a right wing trajectory system to capitulate so their road to fascism comes off as some victory that was earned. And of course people like TYT will agree with it because a bunch of racist people will say racist shit so we have to capitulate and pretend this system in general is by merit, when it is all about who bows down the powerful people and their narratives, and making it seem because the liberals present shit in limited ways, that the pushback from funded sports entertainers online are the genuine politically incorrect opinion. TYT was even used in a fucking DeSantis ad even if it was taken out of context but that symbolizes they are going that route but TYT is buying time to act like it was taken out of context but even if that specific clip was taken out of context, your other content has been sophisticating your white supremacist agenda, Cenk is the biggest token Muslim cosplaying as a fucking progressive, the guy is mastering his fucking Bababooey/Hacksaw Jim Duggan gimmick. They will keep finding ways to be okay with fascist propaganda and act like people who are gonna be affected as being people who are crying about non winning issues, just because you guys weren’t strong enough to stick to your “progressive principles” like every other post leftist dipshit who for so long used their credibility being better than MSM and the establishment while not explaining the establishment has expanded online and with a bunch of the entertainers in the streaming world. They and others have helped dumb down the rhetoric and dumb down the villains who will be serious threats, because they know their position will be protected, they have treated politics and serious issues for their armchair quarterback game, and turned into a pretentious reality show because they want to be the characters on Succession, and think their banter is actually funny. Everyone thinks they are funny and guess what, that means no one is fucking funny, sure you will have your cults all pretending you are the funniest people on the planet, but you know deep down they are only supporting you for your shitty political opinions because you are bowing down to the far right, and the thing is if these conspiracies that the right wing peddle come true or one story from it comes true, it is like the establishment democrats and bought off personalities purposefully limited it, so when something does come true, guess who will get credit? The right wing and some of you know that, and you are helping them. Like when MTG talks about her television being hacked and shit connecting to it, if I didn’t know who MTG is and just heard the story of what happened, yes I could believe that shit like that can be hacked, there have been times where my smart TV has been hacked, my trolls will show off about doing that, but because it is MTG who is probably lying about it, now it means the entire conspiracy cannot be true, and it is like why would you limit shit? It is like how they project over the feds being this evil force, like they have been, and if it is proven that these feds helped with the insurrection, the right wing will win the narrative of making it look like they were framed, when my conspiratorial brain goes to the fact that I believe that these feds would be on their side, and they would make it look like they are framing them so it will fuel the next insurrection to be 100 times more dangerous because they will feel vindicated with being the ones who were the voices of reason, hence all these celebrations of corporations capitulating. The liberals present white supremacy on a bare minimum level, and go by the over the top aesthetic, that the right wing can pretend that everything is generalized into white supremacy so when ABC News is doing stories about downplaying Moms for Liberty, people will act like people on the left are wrong to be outraged that ABC News is being fair to this group when this group is a far right wing group that has constantly used Hitler quotes, and people who defend it go “No they are using quotes to show what the left are doing” but that is also fucking not true, so they are not only using Hitler quotes but they are applying them to people who are trying to fight back against that shit, so now you will notice more and more media in the establishment will capitulate to these people and they will see it as a victory. Again this is just my personal fucking opinion. I don’t have the answers, but again I am either irrelevant or I am not, and you chose to do that, so don’t worry about a lowly Pakistani, I know a bunch of you right wingers have been recruiting a bunch of token Muslims to join your fundamentalist cause to hate on the LGBTQ but to those Muslims who want to fucking join that side, or other token minorities who want to, look at how they are talking about immigrants over these France riots and I am sure there are regular people really pissed, but how do I know there aren’t far right wing funded groups who are causing more chaos to blame it on all the Muslims and they are too busy hating on Muslims and finding a way to shit on minorities for the fucked up shit going on in France, where now they don’t give a shit about what happens in Palestine, and fundamentalists on the neoliberal and neoconservative sides will control both sides of the argument where anyone who calls out what Israel is doing and how fucked up the government is, it will be deemed Anti Semitic, and because the places to go to talk about it become limited, where else can you go? Alt media or online message boards to talk about it, and that is where the other far right wing fundamentalists are on some level, where they will generalize Jewish people entirely and this is how they can get people who are confused about Russia/Ukraine to then think Russia is this innocent victim, and people who might not know better will see how they never give a shit about Muslims even if they pretend they are concerned for about 15 minutes, and that is how it is easy to get swept into this propaganda, it is like the neoliberals want to push more people to the right. Now they have fear mongering going on with migrants in France doing all of this, when it is another trickle down effect of where the world is going so they can justify why bringing in their form of fascism, and now that I don’t trust anyone as far as news goes with their narratives, it is hard to know what is real now, like people are convinced that behind the scenes footage of Fast and Furious of cards falling out of buildings is real footage and talking about how Africans are taking over France, these people are not playing the rules and they are running with narratives that will endanger shit, all because the people who perpetuate it can just do 90’s aesthetics and shit on the transparent MSM is bad angle and make that their entire personality trait. They will even pretend the MSM is not talking about this, but they link to a MSM article talking about it, and if I had continued down that path 12 years ago, I would’ve been one of those dipshits, but then again maybe I would make more money and be successful since everyone has to pay the piper when they want to advance, not to say there isn’t hard work or skill but when that hard work and skill is helping the white supremacist system flourish, it is like they have taken any of the progress made by the messaging a decade or so ago, and now think pushing back against complaints of racism, homophobia, sexism, transphobia etc, they are the ones who have the issues because the issues get presented in a limited way and this is how it all gets repeated in a cycle of bullshit with this sophistication of rebranding more ways to keep marginalized people marginalized and putting their lives in danger, and everyone who tries to fight back, then end up giving in where they start finding their own angle to then join in with the right wing side. We can’t agree with the Epstein shit, they will tell us officially there is no foul play and people will think by pointing out MSM is lying about it means their side if 100 percent true, but they will never entertain the idea that their favorite politicians and public figures who are leaning more right haven’t been there and they supposed don’t trust the feds but then believe some CIA guy who is trying to “expose sex trafficking” and I am sure it exists, but people on the liberal side will act like the notion is fucking ridiculous when it does exist, and in my opinion the ones who are pointing it out that is exists to weaponize against all liberals etc, are probably the ones who are guilty of it. But people will keep dumbing down the the evil and levitate shit with comedy because that entertainment form has never felt any lesser with everything constantly being catered to that notion so if you think what someone is doing is inherently evil, all we have to do is constantly make it into this shitty sports entertainment and nothing gets solved, it just goes in cycles. The world is gonna implode more and more, they even take that incident that started all this protesting in France by having the argument be about another “both sides” argument because the person shot had a record, and then the result is violence and impending doom so it makes it seem like people concerned about police brutality are the ones who are into violence while the far right wing calls for violence nonstop and try to use their symbolism to talk about what they plan to do in the future. It feels like the far right wing is taking over every country on some level, or maybe a good position of countries while they present country vs country aesthetic.
Another thing is with people who are discredited on the surface and are related to shitty people, like Liz Cheney warning about Trump not being able to get close to the White House, like her father and Bush Jr weren’t bad or anything but maybe that shit is self preservation of what will happen in the future so we have it on record people warned about this, even though in the present it seems people ignored the other shit in the past that got us to this place, so we then are supposed to assume Trump is not as evil as others and they are actually trying to stop him, if they were gonna stop him, he would’ve have been able to catch traction, the overall build of not trusting the MSM or Hollywood Liberals worked so well because they were the ones who were calling out Trump so most people who don’t like that shit assumed Trump was the anti establishment guy because even though he resorts to edge lord behavior, he would let some truth slip out about other shit on some level. But it feels like the same players with the use of sports entertainment can make it seem like if they say good things on some level, we have to blindly trust them, and if that person ends up being shady then their entire anti Trump message doesn’t have meaning and I believe the same power players in the Bush era, that ilk, have found a way to make it seem like the aesthetic of the US warning about Russia is on the same level as warning about Iraq, but what if the narratives is supposed to be that the same dynamics have intellectualized itself with the same kinds of people actually being aligned with far right wing over there, so it is like they remixed the discourse but by the surface we have to think supporting Ukraine during this invasion is he same exact scenario as something 20 years ago because the US lied about shit, and they don’t do themselves favors when they don’t deem Palestinians as human beings. People who already feel disillusioned with shit then can see that if they get no support and they weaponize so much against one community that other communities get protection, and instead of hating other communities or countries for getting protection, I wish others would get concern as well, but this is how people who might not know better get lured in. As a dumbed down guy who doesn’t know how to retain all this information coming at me, I have never been more confused about narratives anymore. Like even people who I have respected about their takes on Palestine etc, have now implemented their right wing beliefs on their platforms and buy into this forced push with RFK Jr, like someone like George Galloway who would speak out about what Israel is doing to Palestine is gonna back RFK Jr who has justified why Israel does what they do, so you just can’t claim you are some anti Imperialist and then align with people who are gonna have bad intentions, it is sick that you would take a genuine issue in what is happening over there and then lure people into this new form of fundamentalist. Look at this marketing with Roseanne, much like a lot of celebs, she at one time would speak out about the fundamentalism in showbiz and talked about MK Ultra, and I know people don’t believe that exists, but now the last several years it is like she has been going further right, and her and Theo Von marketed a controversy for his podcast to get promoted, so that it was an obvious sarcastic joke, even though it was not that funny, but then the online reactionaries who are supposed to be liberal etc, who I think take shit out of context on purpose, so then these shitty comedians can go “OH MY GOD ARE WE AT A POINT WHERE WE DON’T RECOGNIZE SARCASM” Yeah I can recognize sarcasm, but she may have been joking in the most hacky way possible, but she also gave respect to MTG as well, and this has been accumulating with fake cancel culture bullshit. It doesn’t matter, it is the whole “radio won’t play my jam” shit that these people do and they are just amplifying it on HGH after doing a fucking 24 hour coke binge and these people with hive mind think it means shit because the people who market this shit are propping up up. And I am not gonna buy into this bullshit anymore. She said black people control rap and that is when I knew she was completely full of shit, sure there are black people who might have power and be figure heads etc, there might be more black people who might gate keep something that is their culture, but it is all these fundamentalist execs who have power behind the scenes, and I know “OH IS THAT CODE FOR JEWISHHHHHH” No, but yeah there are Jewish members of a delegation that are involved just like other delegations in the system who have power, I think Christian fundamentalism is what actually runs showbiz under the guise of freedom and liberation, but we won’t recognize it because we only see the obvious evangelical shit that is taking place. But now that bad faith actors are talking about it in an era where they are on a platform where they speak to millions, they are the ones who will generalize people from communities based off the delegations, it would be like if Sopranos were real, and I blamed all Italians on what the Italian mobsters do because they represent for their people on some level, but they will be the ones who have the power within their communities and you will deal with them so it is like you have feuding delegations, this is how they are doing this with the affirmative action shit, it was created by some dude Ed Blum, but they are using token Asians to help get this going, just like they are getting Muslims to get behind the fundamentalist shit against LGBTQ. The fundamentalist Muslims who these Chrsitian fundamentalists warned about to justify why you need to bomb the fuck out of them are now actually aligning with the fundamentalists they claimed to hate. So thanks for exposing that you just get off on the fact that Muslims are being tortured and destroyed.
I know I am all over the map, but when I have a laundry list of shit to get off on my chest, I get scattered. I tend to fucking go off on these rants and venting as much as I can because I continue to see the world going into a very far right wing direction and I don’t know who from my past who tries to associate with me are connected with it since people want to get to the top and be associated with celebrities and will sell their soul, and now that I have been thinking on my own and have my own theories and try to analyze shit my own way it is a big no-no to people who will never educate people, they will just express their opinion if it helps their cause because they are associated with problematic people. I worry because I have been out of the loop but I get dragged out and seen with people from time to time and I don’t know what they have been up to or who they are associated with. That is why I refer not to be on this planet anymore because I know eventually the more and more people go to the right, I am gonna be forced to go down that route when I have been trying not to regress because I came so close, I know the conspiratorial shit has lead me there, but I like to think even if I am conspiratorial and maybe I am completely wrong about certain things, I am not trying to regress and actually use it for actually get people to evolve in my own fucked up way. I am all over the map with this but when things keep playing out and I am seeing more shit being normalized and promoted as victory because you got SCOTUS to allow discrimination to LGBTQ people or another faulty promise of student loan debt being done but then they take away shit, and they know the shit on the surface will always be imploding and it just feels like all the storylines are designed to get us there, and the more crazy it gets and people with platforms basically kayfabe the gimmicked shit, it will be their excuse to go further right, like if whatever happens under Biden’s watch happens, people will then think they can go on the Trump or DeSantis side, but their side will be the faces of where the fascism goes in an overall sense. That is how I see it, maybe being a pro wrestling fan all my life it is easy to see how this could play out, I know I am clearly not smarter than all the political gatekeepers out there. All these social media places popping up is like the main pro wrestling companies going to shit or losing favor in the early 2000s so everyone thinks they will be the next WWE or they will be the next competition for it. It just feels like everything is becoming a parody and it feels by design because the people who are jokes in showbiz and are not the relevant ones, like let’s say Rob Schneider kind of help leading the charge on this anti wokeness shit going on, people will then think the celebs who are bigger and more mainstream are actually on the side of their cause but the reason why so many of these showbiz people who come off as hasbeens or washed up problematic people seem like they are the ones who are the jokes but the jokes is that they are permitted to do this and catch traction on alt media, but they are being allowed by the same celebs who might come off as liberal on the surface, but how much can you take shit seriously when we are using these low level celebs who are easy to dunk on, so it completely gets levitated by the comedy of the whole thing because can you believe we are gonna be arguing with Dean Cain and Kevin Sorbo about the state of the world. It basically lessens the threat, because everyone is playing it by cliques, because people who are supposedly anti right wing seem like they are more relevant and happening but those same people are also gonna take their masks off to show their side where they reveal their right wing personas. Guys like Jimmy Dore are finding their ways to move to the right even more, because now they start doing the stop the steal nonsense without saying they are going that route, or they will start doing anti climate change shit, but not super obvious but eventually it goes to those lengths, for people who are supposed to be anti establishment, you are doing the establishment’s narratives but I guess because we question people’s motives or notice you wear a fucking stupid fedora, suddenly no one is credible because these people with platforms never want free thinkers, they say it in principle but they all want cult members who don’t question them because they said a couple of things that happened to prove them right throughout their career. Again I am just crossing off stuff that I had jotted down and I knew once I tried to kind of vent, it would overwhelm my mind and then I would start moving all over the place, but again this is one of the benefits of being someone who is not relied upon, I am not a destination blog or podcast, people know it exists, but I am not have people coming at me directly, sure there will be people who do monitor and keep an eye out on it and will use people in my life to fuck wit my mindstate, or they will get other people with bigger platforms to lure me on so officially I can have a bigger target on me in some kind of way. Like when I say that the whole Proud Boy vs Patriot Front is the biggest sports entertainment thing going on as well, and people on the left who seem to think the feds could not be white supremacists is the stupidest shit, like when right wing people say it is feds, it is being used for the purpose to convey that right leaning people are being framed and because they push back against their ties to white supremacy they use the feds as a way to downplay it, so when they say feds, they act like there couldn’t be factions that align with white supremacy in these institutions, then when the left downplays the possibility that of feds framing anyone when there is a history, they will say “It is because of white supremacy” but in a limited and generalized way like people in the feds could not have ties to that. But again it is more sports entertainment. And if it somehow revealed that the right wing on the surface is being framed etc, this will be their just cause to do whatever they want and people will buy into this propaganda. That is why with the way they promote these stories that could be used for viral moments and make people involved these characters, while also promoting vigilante justice to be done to cogs in the system who are probably funded by the system to act out, they promote thee stories because it plays a role in them becoming social media characters, that woman who shot the black women through her front door for ringing the bell will get off, and then the juxtaposition to then use a scenario where a 14 year old kid shot and killed someone protecting his mother when they were attacked in some restaurant. When these stories then have ties to celebs or it becomes this big news story it feels like it gets used to promote more vigilante shit, and also they have this story out there because more people will focus on the racist white woman who did what she did, so they can say that people will make excuses for the black mother’s son who shot at someone who was attacking her. I can see how these ghouls and fucking blood suckers exploit this shit so it eases us into this mindset when this shit, even violence could be funded by billionaires that helps facilitate the 24/7 news cycle and not even with traditional media, now all these think tank and propped up right wing figures, this world is going to shit. I see little implementations everyday by what they normalize in the discourse. Even the talk about pedo shit, like people like Libs of Tik Tok will show a video of naked bikers riding around at an event with little kids there, and then you don’t realize that the account that has plenty of kids watching her content are now seeing these naked bikers as well, it is like they don’t give a shit about it and the reason they prop sensationalist stories because if it happens with a group that identifies with a community by the aesthetic, but you don’t know if this sensationalist shit being promoted in certain instances are done by the right wing themselves, not like there aren’t right wingers who love to do homoerotic shit anyways, but they could easily have this organized to make it look certain ways but this is what happens when there aren’t many people who are opposite the right who will entertain something conspiratorial because it is only the right wing being permitted to be allowed to be that. I know people use their favorite prestige shows to compare to what is happening in real life etc, and it is always with the surface level shit, but if I look at this superhero shit and their hidden truths, it is considered a joke that I would ever think that they are showing us in plain sight what is happening on a symbolic level of what direction the world is going in. When we see the incompetent moves these politicians make on the surface, which I always assume is by design, you want to believe that they have been possessed or there is some Twin Peaks shit going on. Like am I really supposed to think RFK Jr is a real human being or if he is supposed to be a malfunctioning AI in real time, I never seen such a push for someone to act like they are being suppressed when he is in every alt media place, he is on MSM as well, there is constant stories about him, but it is like the alt media circles wanting to create their own “anti establishment” character when it means nothing anymore because everyone is compromised, all you have to do is give the impression he is being censored and since we think this is the 90’s we act like he is Bill Hicks going on public access shows for his appearances, it doesn’t have the same feeling and it feels just as establishment as the establishment person themselves, at least with an establishment person, I know there will be bullshit, but someone who acts like they are these ultimate truth tellers, they end up becoming suspect down the line and there is more proof to that over the last several years. If this were 10 years ago and you sold me on this RFK Jr shit as more systemic shit to get rid of him because of what they did to JFK, I would’ve thought there was merit to it, but who fucking knows. It feels they are trying way too hard to push this, and if people don’t like him, it is like they have to be gaslit people because are acting this is about free speech when this speech I can hear from other right wing dipshits, how is “speech” being threatened when protected people say that shit, as long as you make it look like there is suppression people will then think they are listening to someone dangerous. In most cases, the establishment backs these people who are anti establishment because it always seeps into some right wing fundamentalism. And then we have obvious gaffes that are going on with Biden, him saying shit like they can’t expand the SCOTUS because people will think it is being politicized because the right wing isn’t already doing this shit anyways, but if it is on the surface for a viral moment, who fucking knows what they are actually doing, most regular people would not gravitate towards that nuance because if they see the same old shit happening on the surface, then how would people think there is anything dangerous about this new right wing shit, when it has been levitated through comedy and entertainment in general. It is clear the shit that happens as a viral moment to me are ways to constantly keep the entertainment dollar flowing while the overall shit is moving into a far right direction hence why cowards who are protected feel more comfortable going that route, and me being stupid as is, with some of the trans issues because this is still pretty new to me as far as understanding the science and the treatments, the only things that get put out there are the sensationalist shit mixed with bad faith actors, like when I hear someone in the last 5 years like Joe Rogan who is around athletes and has been involved in sports, if he is telling his audience about some shit that ends up arguing in favor of being anti trans even if it is in a subtle way, someone like me will not know what is true or not but since this guy is an athlete or hangs out with them etc, maybe he knows what he is talking about, so the sports issue becomes a bit confusing to me, who is already kind of dumbed down from understanding the specifics, sure I could just regurgitate shit that smart people say and have the aesthetic of repeating what smart people say but I will be honest and fully admit, I don’t get how some of this shit works and I could not explain it, that is why I am glad there are some people who work as hosts on TYT have left because this one person Bennie did a video about his interactions with Cenk behind the scenes on how they are doubling down even in private and telling her that she lives in a bubble, no it seems like you guys live in a bubble because you want to fucking grift for the right wing audience hence why Ana is playing the helpless white woman who is being attacked by people who have been calmly explaining why she is wrong and she doesn’t seem to give a shit about being propped up by right wing accounts who are probably the ones help funding this new pivot which they are doing horribly. Even flat out defending Rittenhouse, I know we are supposed to act like we are judging these situations how they play out, but if you follow my train of thought, it will be like the far right wing are initiating people into their cliques and now the common thread is to have situations like Rittenhouse and then judge it like this was just some regular situation playing out and since people on the left will not get conspiratorial and maybe see the overall thing that is happening is that they will keep creating situations where it is supposed to be a nuanced debate which never really has nuance, all it has is people finding a way to justify why this issue has pushed people to the right. Ana is scared to talk to people outside her fucking race, but she is comfortable defending far right dipshits, sucking up showbiz people because she somehow thinks she is an interesting personality and the only people who support you is not because your fucking amazing personality, they are supporting you because you are becoming a fucking Nazi. She will believe the intention of “regular MAGA” people so she can pretend she is being fair while being unfair to people on the fucking left, they will get mad at at trans activists for fighting their fight, while they are doing stories playing devil’s advocate for fascist supporters who they want to give softball interviews to. And again they will double down, but I wish people on the “left” will stop treating these people with kids gloves, but I don’t know, maybe some of you will also start leaning more to the right on a fucking issue. I don’t know about the hormone treatment or what puberty blockers situation because people like this will suddenly do intellectualized propaganda about their dangers which can sound convincing to dumbed down people like me, and trust me there are others who consume shit who are dumbed down and will think one issue that someone talks about makes them credible but then they will take advantage of that shit, and spread more disinformation while making their entire personalities how they are more fair than MSM, that is all these alt media people do is cover MSM until they agree with their sentiment and then suddenly MSM is credible.
I figure I should take a paragraph breather, again I am all over the map but I have to get shit off my chest and when you have so much in your fucking head, you can go off on tangents and trying to cram in points you jotted down. I could’ve left this a journal entry where only the people monitoring me will see it and secretly sell the information to people I talk about in their underground networks so people can then target me and I wouldn’t know who, because that is what paid online mercenaries do especially if you are angering powerful people and you don’t want to regress because everyone eventually becomes the republican they hate as times moves on and how propaganda sophisticates itself. But from my view we are seeing this world become more of a sports entertainment field, when we are talking about a politician and the president of the Teamsters etc doing an MMA fight, thing is it sounds like a fucking joke but that is probably the direction we are going with the vitriol at these hearings etc, they have been planting those seeds for a while since it happens in other countries and since the US is the WWE of countries, they normally let other territories do it first before they bring it to their home. I could keep getting excited about them finally getting Trump and it would be cool if someone powerful got some kind of consequences, they make it look that way but it feels like they know nothing will happen to him, it makes no sense how he has the freedom to go out and do rallies and still run for president while he has committed the crimes he did and you will bring up Hunter Biden etc, and even though there is some overall corruption going on with bribes etc, like that could be true, the only way to make this marketable is making him a fucking sports entertainer where he probably did all the stuff he is doing for the purpose of it being out there, suddenly you have all these clips at your disposal, it is like we are being given the fucking news by people who want to be entertainers and they want to book it like their favorite pretentious prestige television show. Everytime you tell us you got powerful people like Trump in the clutch, you will find out that things will work out in his favor, and it feels like this is about making more money for this process and all storylines knowing he won’t do time at all, and it makes his base think he is the one who walked away and beat the system, if they didn’t want him beating the system, they would’ve stopped him from even running in the fucking first place, they wouldn’t have covered his campaign and make bank off that, while pretending they oppose him. But we are supposed to think these dumbed down villains are not smart whatsoever, because people want the comfort of calling out powerful people but doing it the same way people call out Vince McMahon, completely dumb down so it takes the threat off him, you are helping facilitate this evil shit as well. Basically anything that is viral is designed to help the right wing, like the Obamas could put out a good message in showing solidarity with the affirmative action thing even if they are elitists etc, but then people then assume that anyone who has that message must be like the Obamas partying in Greece on some yacht like it isn’t designed for that purpose, people think they actually caught these people doing something hypocritical and not because it is supposed to be out there since our entire realities are a fucking sports entertainment show. It is amazing how “smart” and “free thinker” people are so fucking dumb, they will automatically assume that FBI agents who got promotions for kneeling at BLM rallies or some shit are only corrupt because of that, like even if the FBI is corrupt and I believe it is, you don’t think the kneeling was done as a photo op but maybe they want you to think their “loyalty” to BLM is the reason they got promoted. It also makes people who want to oppose the far right wing shit now have to kind of defend the FBI. I think there are many factions within institutions but I also think a lot of the feds support the far right win shit but the right has managed to make it look for their base that the FBI is against them completely and they are trying to go after Trump when this guy is walking around Willy Nilly doing his usual spiel and amplifying his base to dangerous fucking levels, I know because it is the Obamas we are not supposed to give a shit that another powerful person had his address posted, and I do believe it represents that these people have people on their payroll to go do this, now it was thwarted and sometimes I worry that if the right gets their traction they will think they planned it so it looks like Trump did in kayfabe but even if that was planned out etc, it feels like it represents what the right is capable of and that is directing their Arkham Asylum weirdos to be sacrificial lambs even if they have to get caught, you know how new right wing grifters will use “If they do this to Trump they can take away your free speech too” but they never worry when Trump can dox someone to his millions of followers on his social media platform, like fine you don’t care about Obama, fine but you aren’t alarmed at the tactic that could literally be used to target regular people if they don’t get in line? Sometimes it feels like people who are secretly on that side will sports entertain a feud with Trump and MAGA people so you are left blindly defending guys like Bill Gates or Fauci, like they could say or do some good shit, but then when you have shadiness about Gates being used against him since he is a powerful dude, people then weaponize it so they can overall generalize people on the left who are defending him because he seems to oppose the MAGA crowd, but I feel it is a way to defend people and then be shocked they are actually on the MAGA side, a lot of people are gonna be revealed as being secret MAGA people. Like as much as I love what Michael Imperioli did with denouncing people who are bigots from watching his work, when you put out a boastful message like that, it always feels like it is supposed to be insult to injury when you find out these people are really on the right wing side and they are just biding their time, especially if the people who are right wing are pushing back, they will then point out the hypocrisies of that person since it comes off like “TYPICAL HOLLYWOOD LIBTARD BEING SENSITIVE” because they people who will oppose that kind of message, once they get condemned as a whole for some shit, they think they are even more in the right because they are being attacked by a typical Hollywood guy. Even Eminem had to capitulate a little bit when he made that declaration of a line in the sand of supporting his music or supporting Trump and he kind of dialed it back on the next album. I know I am not making much sense, but at least I am not buying into this fake in fighting with MAGA type of people while it serves to give them free promo and actually helping their cause because we will continue to levitate shit by the comedic nature of it. But they are definitely using celebs as part of the overall discourse because I don’t believe they play by regular rules and shit playing out for social media and “real life” world feels like a way for people to be invested into a storyline where the goal is to manufacture consent for an overall homophobic, racist, misogynistic, transphobic attitude, that is why you will see an influx of men in the celeb world who are cogs and being used for storyline purposes to be the face of being wrongfully accused for shit so it then helps the abusers in the system prosper even more because they will use celeb shit as the be all end all that represents for situations like this since they play it out in a regular fucking way. But that is why they will keep promoting stories about someone who raped someone and make the issue about how they want better treatment in prison for being trans and a lot of dumbed down people are not gonna give a shit about someone being trans, they will look at the horrible crime committed and think anyone who thinks this person should be able to get treatment is the main focus of this and the left doesn’t care if they murder or rape people so you are already using these sensationalist examples to help manufacture consent to generalize all communities, which then I could retort that then if Trump or other MAGA people committed horrible crimes, why should I be concerned with the freedom of speech issue or censorship when it comes to people who already did horrible shit. Like there are countless white supremacists who serve in politics and they have done horrible shit or aligned with people who do horrible shit and yet they make excuses for why we need to hear from these people over and over again yet you will fear monger about crime, which is probably funded for the sole purpose to make it seem like there is favorable treatment to people, like whenever they do a story of someone who is black doing a violent crime but then they didn’t do time or let out because they claimed systemic racism is the reason why they were allowed to not do time, they will promote some shit like that, and I believe these people might not align with any left politics and they are funded to commit crimes and then be let out but if you make it look like they are being let out for the fear of police being called racist or some shit, it makes regular people think that calling out racism is a bad thing. This is why I know we have to pretend there is no conspiracy but if there is a conspiracy to help facilitate people into moving more right wing maybe people on the left should entertain going more conspiratorial, especially when you can disarm the right wing shit, because they will use their examples of agendas within the system, because no matter your delegation in the system, people from all backgrounds and identities will end up being problematic and not because of what their race, sexuality, religion, political ideology etc, but because the system is a corrupt cesspool and if you want to be in the system, you will have to get dirty at some point, and they will use it to discredit you if you try to stand up for the general community who have nothing to do with the corrupt system. This is why I don’t 100 percent buy a celebrity’s endorsement, because it will be used if those people end up corrupt or problematic and they will then use that person as a main reason why this so and so group is actually a problem. Look at what they did with Jussie Smolliet, they used in my opinion an obvious botched attempt to discredit and make it harder for members of the LGBTQ community to rase awareness of hate crimes committed against them, this Amber/Depp situation is being propped up by misogynists who are probably guilty of some abuse to act like that all abuse cases are like this one, they make it relate to regular people which is what the public figures main roles are, this is just my opinion. I am not saying I am 100 percent right, but they have been using entertainment to manufacture consent for the last 30 plus years. Now everyone is copying their favorite entertainment and making that their real life character. Anyways I am gonna be done with this blog. I know it probably didn’t come off well, and it was remixed with other shit going on but when I wait to write these blogs and I have a bunch of shit I compiled, I feel I have to cross shit off in order but no one is looking for the writings of a fat mentally ill man who still lives in his parents basement, so if you want to discredit me, you can do it with that, and you will convince people, but here is the thing that pisses off a lot of you corrupt shit heads, even if my aesthetic is not the most appealing, I know at the end of the day I am not a fucking social climber who is trying to hang out with my favorite celebs and do a right wing grift so I can stay relevant and even if your aesthetic is good and you have a social life, it is not making you any happier and you know deep down it is not making you any fucking happier even if you surgically have a smile planted on your fucking faces. You know the money is useless because you will have to spend it to to make other people richer and guess what when you sell your soul like that, you know the people who are propping you up don’t care about your talent, they care about you being another status quo dip shit who is helping the world move into more of a Nazi place and I hope you never get a moment of peace mentally. Eventually when you are alone, you will have to be alone with those thoughts and trust me it isn’t fun being alone with those thoughts, it becomes a scary thing. At least I can be alone with my thoughts
#Hanzi Howard Stern Show Conspiracy mental illness right wing grift TYT Ana Kasparian Cenk social media trans#right wing pivot social media discourse manufacturing consent
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Perfect Specimen (Sternclay)
I decided I wanted to do something for Monster March, and @bellafarallones and I were riffing on this amazing art from @panthermouthh, as the design on Doctor Frankenstein is not unlike how I personally picture Stern.
A few content notes: This is NSFW, and given the subject matter it touches on death. There's also animal death but everything comes out okay in the end.
It’s the perfect night for mystery and horror. The very air itself is filled with monsters.
And if Joseph’s lab does not have a monster of its own by the time this thunderstorm is done, he’s going to walk out the highest window in the castle.
Four years of research, another year of planning, six months of gathering supplies, days and nights without sleep, the burns on his upper arm, the white in his hair, all of it has been for this moment.
The instruments tell him the voltage from the storm is the highest he can hope for, and a moment later the readings from the nodes attached to the experiment tell him a bolt has connected long enough and strong enough to restart the heart.
He rigged the lift table to be moveable by one person, but it’s still exhausting to strain against the chains, to control the force of the descent, all the while sweat mingles with the rain as it drops from the platform. The instant the table touches the lab floor, he wrenches the handle to close the gap in the roof, shutting out the storm at last. Now all that’s left is the crackle of the equipment, the distant thunder, and his heart beating so loud that for a moment he can’t manage to move.
When his stethoscope can’t find a twin beat in the chest of his specimen, he sags to the floor, pushes himself back until he’s resting against the nearest table and tosses his gloves away in frustration. He digs his hands into his hair, gripping at the root, wanting to scream in frustration but somehow, after all this time, afraid someone might hear.
He did everything right, picked every part as carefully as if the body were his own. No beer-saturated livers, no bad hearts, no black lungs for his specimen. And it still hadn’t worked.
The window calls to him. He tugs his hair again, frees his hands only to dig his nails into his palms. No. He can do this. He’s Dr. Joseph Stern, he has brought life to lower animals and god damn it he will bring life to this one.
He rises, brushing off his lab coat, brain already churning on a new plan.
Then the figure beneath the sheet sits bolt upright and starts to scream.
—-----------------------------------------------------------
The last thing Barclay remembers is his room at the Lodge. He’d been alone, the doctor had told Mama and the others they couldn’t come in, not unless they wanted to risk the flu that was stealing his energy and breath away. He could feel he was dying, and he was so scared, he’d begged the man to at least let him see them in the doorway, but his usual doctor had passed from the flu himself. This one, sent from the city, had talked to Barclay like he had rocks for brains and didn’t even stay with him until the end. He’d cried out, weakly but still a cry, for his friends.
And now he’s crying out again, thrashing at the fabric above him. Fuck, he’s in a shroud and he can’t move, they’ve fucking buried him alive. That thought horrifies him so much he wrenches upward, freeing himself from the confines of his coffin and gasping for air.
Only there’s no wood or dirt anywhere. Just broken, leather straps hanging off his wrists and a white bed sheet tangled around his waist. A laboratory gleams and hisses around him, and to the right of his bed stands a man in white lab coat.
The man's hands are over his mouth in shock, his blue eyes wide with excited surprise. Barclay notices the streak of white in the front of his black hair as lightning flashes across the skylight.
“You’re alive. Alive!” He steps forward and Barclay leans away, body too full of residual panic to do anything else.
The scientist holds out a hand, as if Barclay is a spooked dog hiding under the bed, and says slowly and quietly, “Don’t be afraid. You’re not in danger. My name is Dr. Joseph Stern. This is my lab. And you…” a rapturous smile spreads across his face, “you’re my specimen. My vindication.”
“Specimen?” Barclay’s voice creeps upwards.
“You can talk.” Dr. Stern carefully sets his hands on the metal table Barclay mistook for a bed, “amazing, thank god I didn’t use my first choice of head and neck, it’d been damaged by hanging and might have-.”
“Woah, woah” Barclay holds up his hands, trying to get the doctor to make sense. It’s then that he sees his hands aren’t the ones he remembers, and they’re sewn to arms where the skin is a few shades darker. He tosses the sheet aside and finds the rest of his body the same kind of patchwork, clutches his face and notices a beard that wasn’t there before.
He starts screaming again.
“Please, stay calm-”
“What did you do? What the fuck did you do to me? What am I?”
“You’re a modern golem. A, a testament to science and progress.”
Barclay growls and grabs for him, dragging him close by the front of his coat, “Where the fuck is my body? My real body.”
“This is your real body.” The man pushes him back, cheeks slightly pink, “you’ve never had another one.”
“The hell I haven’t! Where is it, where’s, where’s the body of Barclay Cobb?”
The doctor stills, staring at him with fascinated confusion, “He…he’s in Kepler cemetery. Where he was buried. I needed his brain. And his eyes. But I left the rest of him there. Unless.”
“Unless?”
“Unless he’s here now?”
“Yeah. Yeah he is. He’s here and he’s confused and none of this is making that any better.” Tears sting his vision and spill down his cheeks
“I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this. Everything I read suggested that bringing you to life would potentially give you a soul. Or raise you without one. Not, not just bring back someone who was lost.”
“Feel like we have that saying about not believing everything you read for a reason.” He replies helplessly.
A slight smile, “True. And being cutting edge with my research meant there weren’t a lot of reference points.”
“Look” Barclay wipes his eyes and stands, finds himself actually looking down at the doctor, who himself must be six feet tall. The new height is the first thing about this whole mess that doesn’t feel like a curse, “whatever you did, it didn’t go how you expected. I’m not some new creature, I’m just a normal guy in a fucked-up body. So I’m gonna let you go back to the drawing board and I’m gonna go home and give my friends the biggest fucking hug I can manage.”
“You can’t” Dr. Stern steps between him and the door, “They won’t recognize your new body, and they might be upset if they put together what happened. More to the point, grave robbing and desecration of a corpse are serious charges and I have no plans to be brought up on them.”
“That sounds like a you problem.” He ties the sheet around his waist. That’ll have to work for now.
Blue eyes narrow, “Mr. Cobb. Barclay” the doctor brings his hands to his sides but makes no move to get out of the way, “People fear what they don’t understand. Right now, I barely understand what’s going on with you. How do you think people in Kepler are going to react?”
“Doesn’t seem like I’m much safer here.” Barclay glowers at the pistol sitting on one of the tables.
Stern sighs, “Several of my predecessors died when the animals they brought back with electricity turned on them. I don’t plan on joining them. It would have been an absolute last resort; Barclay, years of my life have led to this moment, and I’m not going to discard them lightly. Or let them walk right into the path of an angry mob.”
Barclay steps around him, and fingers grab his arm.
“If your old self saw this self coming down the dark road toward him, what would he do?”
“....Probably panic and run inside. Lock the doors and windows so he couldn’t get in and hurt my or my friends.”
“Now imagine how one of your less gentle neighbors might react.”
“Fuck.” Barclay wraps his arms around himself. His next step lands wrong, his legs unsteady, and sits heavily down on the floor. When he looks up, the doctor is hurriedly making notes.
“So, what, is the plan to make me sleep down here? Because staying in a dungeon sounds fucking miserable.”
The doctor shakes his head, “No. Lord knows there’s plenty of space in the castle, and I have a room ready for you. Um, just give me a few minutes to get it heated.”
More than a few minutes later Stern returns, dust on his coat, and gingerly extends a hand. Barclay takes it, and allows himself to be led up into his new home.
He only manages a few hours of sleep before pain wakes him. Anywhere he’s been stitched hurts. When it gets to the point where he can no longer comfortably lay in bed, he groans and gets up in search of the guy responsible.
The only light and noise in the house is still from the direction of the lab. Inside he finds Stern diligently filling a notebook with words and diagrams. The doctor doesn’t see him right away, and he wonders if this is even a good idea. The guy brought him back as an experiment, seems shocked that Barclay is a person instead of an empty vessel. Maybe asking for help will just cement the idea that Barclay needs to stay here for his own good.
Then again.
In the lamplight of a less panicked mind, Joseph Stern doesn’t look quite like the confident, business-like doctor ready to order Barclay around like he’s nothing. There are dark circles under his eyes and his black hair is a mess from wind sneaking through the skylight. And when Barclay awoke, monstrous and afraid, Stern didn’t flinch from him.
“Uh, Doctor Stern?”
The man looks up, and Barclay pushes down the urge to haul him up to bed before he passes out at his desk.
“Do you have anything for the pain?”
“That depends on where it is.”
Barclay explains the situation, Stern’s expression tinged with disappointment by the end. It’s only as the doctor unlocks a drawer that Barclay understands the emotion is directed at himself instead of Barclay.
“It didn’t occur to me that your nerves would react that way, though it makes perfect sense. Here” He holds out a tin of bitter-smelling salve, “this should help numb the pain if you rub it around the stitches.”
“What is it?”
“A topical painkiller. I developed it when I was earning my degree. The number of my colleagues who thought it was fine to give patients who needed to work to keep a roof over their heads ingestible pain relief that made them groggy was shocking. I wanted my patients to have another option.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
The other man smiles, subtly steadying his swaying body against the lab table, “You’re my housemate, not my servant. Call me Joseph.”
It’s only the fact that those last three words sound as if they haven’t been spoken in a long, long time that Barclay doesn’t roll his eyes at the idea that a rich boy from the city won’t see him as a servant. Instead, he takes the tin, returns to his bed, and falls into a deep, if somewhat tingly, sleep.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joseph wakes to the smell of coffee and toast and the patter of the rain on the windows. He’s glad he managed to crawl into bed last night instead of passing out at his desk again; it’s cozy here.
He and Barclay spent the last thirty-six hours in opposite states of energy; Joseph was unable to sleep, anxious to write down every observation and note from Barclay being resurrected. When the anxiety started to fade, a wave of pride would come and buoy him along as he imagined everyone who mocked him being forced to admit he was right. The source of his excitement, on the other hand, spent the entire time in such a sound sleep Joseph checked him twice with the stethoscope to make sure he was still alive, and left him some clothes once he was certain he was. His guess is that, among the many effects of being brought back, Barclay’s body registered the life-giving jolt as a massive expenditure of energy. Not to mention that panic can really take it out of a man. Joseph knows that much from experience.
The smell of frying meat mingles with the toast now. He should get up and have breakfast.
He should figure out who in the castle is even making breakfast.
Joseph hurries out of bed, tying his robe as he descends the stairs. In the kitchen, humming as he moves from stove to table and back again, is Barclay.
“What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast. I’m sure you’re the kinda guy who survives on coffee and thoughts or whatever, but some of us need actual food.” The knife he’s using on a potato finds his finger instead, nicking it, and he pulls back with a sigh, “I’m sure the bigger hands will be good for something, but right now they’re a pain to get used to.”
Joseph shakes the thoughts of what those hands could do from his sleep-addled head as Barclay ties a small bandage–he must have found them in the lab– around the cut. There’s also a fresh burn on the back of his left hand; he must have hit it on the oven.
“I’m sorry, I know the new body must be hard to adjust to. In my defense, I didn’t think you’d be cooking.”
The taller man pulls the percolator from the stove, looking at him warily “What did you think I’d be doing?”
“Recovering and gaining control of your body for the first few weeks. Frankly I’m proud of the fact my careful work means you’re up and moving so soon, and the apparent transferring of your muscle memory into a new body is intriguing.”
“Yeah, if you’re not the guy banging his head into things. Or dealing with how itchy a beard can be.”
“I can buy you a razor if you want it gone.”
Barclay studies his reflection in a hanging pot, running his hands over the beard that’s barely past stubble, “Nah. I like how it looks. Mine always came in patchy.” He moves sausages onto a plate, “guess I oughta thank you for picking a handsome face for me, even if you did put stitches on it.”
“You can blame the fox that ate his nose part way off for that.”
Barclay grimaces.
“Sorry. I’ve been rooting around graveyards and charnel houses for so long it’s sort of…skewed how I talk about these things.”
“I mean, it seems like its’ kinda your life’s work so I get it. But no surgery talk at the table.” He sets the sausages and toast on the wood, then a plate down in front of Joseph and one in front of himself. Joseph pours them each coffee and they eat in awkward but not unpleasant silence.
As they’re walking past the fireplace in the dining room, Barclay pauses to look at the chess problem Joseph laid out a month ago.
“Do you play?”
The other man nods, “Learned how when I first started working at the Lodge. We, uh, we could play sometime.”
“I wish, but there’s a reason that’s just been sitting there. My work comes first.”
“I thought that was done. Or are you just going to keep making more guys like me?”
“No” he meets Barclay’s gaze, tries not to feel guilty for the distrust he finds there, “I have so much to learn from you. I’ve re-written some of the core beliefs of science, and I need to put my findings in enough order to present them eventually. Then there’s the fact that the process of constructing you has massive ramifications for the field of surgery.”
“So is my job just to lay in that fucking lab all day?”
That had been his plan. The moment Barclay turned those brown eyes on him and told him his name, it all went up in smoke.
“I’ll need to ask you questions now and then. And if possible have you do a few physical tests; that serves a second purpose of making sure your motor function isn’t deteriorating or you’re not getting ill from some unforeseen side effect of all this. Other than that, well, my home is yours to make your own.”
They leave it at that, Joseph retreating to his lab and Barclay wandering back towards the kitchen.
It’s just after six when Joseph is comparing his notes to those of one Professor Cold. There were rumors he’d succeeded in restoring not one, but two, bodies; his twin sons had been killed in a carriage accident. Joseph sees the groundwork for such a feat in the notes, but the way Cold writes about his potential subjects has always bothered him. They were living, breathing men with hopes and ideas and he sees them as nothing more than projects.
Than specimens.
Joseph closes the book, sets his notes in order for the night, and returns to the main floor of the castle. Barclay is in a chair by the fire, a book of Virgil in his lap and his focus on the window that faces town.
“Barclay?”
“Mm?”
In his old life he knew how to be charming. Maybe it’s time to dust off that skill.
“I’d be honored if you’d join me for a game of chess and a cup of coffee.”
Barclay looks him over, firelight dancing along the line of his jaw.
“Honored, huh?”
He nods and offers his arm. Barclay smiles, amused, and stands to take it.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------
They’d been making progress over the last month, in more ways than one. Barclay’s skill and comfort with his new body improved, he grew more relaxed when Joseph asked him questions for his research, and his glances toward town are not nearly as melancholy. The reason for that last change is obvious.
“Okay, either a carriage splashed you or you decided to take a mudbath in the center of town.” Barclay helps Joseph out of his coat as the doctor pulls off his boots.”
“Not quite. There was a puddle in the cemetery that I swear was up to my knees.”
Barclay looks at him, eyebrows raised and lips quirked in a smile “Looking to replace me?”
“Never. But you were the reason for my visit.” Joseph straightens the black vest stretching across Barclay’s chest, “you were so worried you’d be forgotten. I needed to find your grave. Barclay, it’s so covered in flowers I nearly missed the inscription.”
“Oh.” Barclay looks lost and sad, as if Joseph had found him in the middle of the forest, miles from home.
Joseph takes his hands, “You’ll see your friends again. We’ll figure out a way to re-introduce you without setting off mass panic. I promise.”
Barclays mood had improved massively after that. Which is puzzlement, not panic, is what grips Joseph when he finds his friend crying at the kitchen table. When he asks what happened, Barclay points to a bundled rag. In it is a rabbit kit, eyes open and glassy.
“I, I found it a few others, they got stuck against the outside wall when that tree came down last night” Barclay sniffles, “I moved them so they could find food but that one I, I must have held him too hard, I, I didn’t mean to. I, what if I do it again, what if I can’t be gentle anymore, what if I, I hurt something else, or someone else?”
Joseph steps next to his chair, only for Barclay to hide his face in his waistcoat. He lets him cry–he hasn’t since that first night–and cautiously pets his hair.
“Wh-what if I’m too much of a monster?”
“Barclay, look at me.” Joseph gingerly cups his chin, pushes his shaggy auburn hair from his forehead so he can see his face, “you’re not a monster. You’re a wonder, and more than that you are gentle. And kind. This was just an accident, one we can learn from.”
Barclay sniffs, wiping under his eyes.
“A monster wouldn’t cry for a rabbit. Or be thoughtful enough to give it a shroud.”
That gets him a watery smile.
“Go rest for a bit. I’ll take care of everything.”
Barclay slowly gets to his feet. Joseph waits until he’s in the library, then gathers the sad bundle and slips down to his lab.
It’s fiddly, frustrating work, but it’s worth every second when shakes Barclay from his lap and shows him the rabbit, fur slightly on end but nose wiggling calmly, and asks if he’d like to help him choose the spot to set it free outside.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
He’s getting better about not working to and past midnight, but after Barclay made a particularly delicious shepherds pie for lunch today, Joseph had passed out cold on couch the moved to be by the library fire (it’s more comfortable sitting side by side on it than in separate chairs) with his head on Barclay’s shoulder.
He’d awoken, now on top of his companion, to find it was four in the afternoon and he was behind on the monograph he’s writing on how to effectively reconnect eyes to the brain.
Barclay’s footsteps are just audible under the crash of the storm outside. Joseph isn’t surprised to see him in the doorway; electrical storms set him on edge. Neither of them can figure out if that’s some lingering effect of the experiment that brought him back to life or if the dislike of lightning is somehow stored in a particular body part. But when it happens, Barclay prefers to be wherever Joseph is.
“Anything I can help with?” Barclay sets a hand on the back of Joseph’s chair.
“Nothing comes to mind–no, wait, I think we have a few items on my initial checklist to cover.” He pulls out the stack of papers recording the various physical functions of Barclay’s body, “let’s see, the remaining one is, um, is…”
Barclay leans down, then blushes at the underlined words,“Figures you’d be that thorough.”
“We don’t have to test it. Now or ever.”
“What does testing my, uh, sexual functioning involve?”
“Seeing if you can achieve erection and release.”
Barclay’s blush deepens, “Yeah, about that. Kinda confirmed it myself.”
“In that case I’d just need to collect ejaculate. Just to see if you’re, um, able to reproduce like this.” The clinical language is his last hope of not admitting that part of his reason for wanting to know that is personal; his fantasies will be more accurate if he knows whether he could let Barclay come in him without fear.
Curiously, his more detached tone does nothing for Barclay’s reddening cheeks.
“We can do that. If, if you want. Hate to leave you with an unfinished checklist.” He says it so tenderly Joseph wants to cry.
“Okay. Please take off your clothes and go sit on the lab table.”
Barclay obeys, and as he does Joseph sees just how far down the blush goes.
“Should I…” Barclay gestures to his crotch. Joseph picked his cock out himself. He doesn’t remember it being so intimidating. Or so tempting.
“Let me.” He steps between Barclay’s legs, the closeness feeling safe than watching from a chair would be; if they did that, Barclay could see his face, might realize how hopelessly smitten Joseph is. Worse, Joseph might learn that Barclay enjoys being watched and ordered around by a seemingly in control Joseph, and then he’d really be screwed.
His fingers brush Barclay’s cock and the cook sighs and laughs, nervously, “Y’know, usually make a guy buy me dinner before he does that.”
“Does paying for our groceries count?”
“Guess soOH, oh” Barclay’s legs fall wider as Joseph begins stroking him, “yeah, yeah just like that.”
Joseph grips the edge of the table with his free hand. Focus, if he can just focus-
Barclay’s cock is fully hard, heavy in his hand, and when he runs his thumb over the head the other man bucks and moans. His head tips back and Joseph tries to focus on the scars, on what they mean, but all he can think about is dragging his tongue.
Barclay moans again, fucking into his hand, and Joseph’s vocal cords act without permission.
“That’s it, big guy, I want this to feel good. I want my perfect specimen to enjoy himself.”
Brown eyes snap open and the noise from those plush lips is a whimper.
“Do you like when I call you that?” He asks, hopeful at the prospect of something he didn’t know he wanted until a moment ago.
“Uh huh, Joseph, please-”
He squeezes the base of Barclay’s cock, letting his nails graze his balls, “That’s sir to you.”
Barclay grins, “Fuck yes it is. Sir. I, I like when you look at me like a project, like a puzzle, no one ever paid attention to me like that, like you, fuck, sir” his head tips forward and his lips find Joseph’s neck, mouthing and kissing at it and soaking his collar in the process.
“Messy” He scolds. Barclay whines, cock starting to slide more purposefully in his fist, but keeps up his barrage of kisses.
“Don’t care, sir, promise I’ll make it up to you, want you so bad, tired of waiting.”
“Waiting for what, big guy?”
“You” Barclay says weakly, moan spilling out of him as cum spurts between them. Joseph should be hurrying to catch it with something, but he doesn’t want to lose this moment, doesn’t want to stop feeling Barclay’s breath on his neck and arms around his shoulders.
He risks a kiss to his beautiful specimen’s forehead and gets a happy sigh in reply.
“Your turn, sir.”
“Barclay, we don’t need to, you’re probably tired and I should-”
His lower back slams into the table so abruptly he yelps.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me, sir” he growls, “I said it’s your turn to be stuck on this fucking table.”
Between the baritone rattling his bones and his terrified excitement at how easily Barclay turned the tide on him, he forgets the reason he hasn’t done this since his first year of university until Barclay rips away every scrap of clothing covering his crotch.
“I…I can explain”
“Don’t need to” Barclay’s eyes are wide and hungry as he takes in the slick folds, “saw the scars on your chest that time you got acid on your shirt and had to get it off in a hurry.”
“If it’s not to your taste we canFUCK, fuckingchrist” His back and head hit the table as Barclay wrenches his legs over his shoulders and drops to his knees.
“Oh it’s to my taste, sir, because I can do this from how fucking wet you are from just touching my dick” He shoves three fingers inside, fucking Joseph insistently and laughing as the heels of his shoes catch the cooks upper back.
“Lookit you” Barclay sounds like he’s drooling, “this why you made me so big, sir? Because you know just how fucking needy you are and you have to have something nice and thick in you before you can relax.”
“No, I mean yes, maybe, fuck” His hands thwack against the metal, “don’t make me think anymore, I can’t, I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t” Barclay purrs, warm lips ghosting over his dick, “just lay back and lemme give you everything you need. Don’t need to be a genius, just gotta let me use this” he curls his fingers “needy thing whenever I want. And let me do this, too” his lips close around Joseph’s dick and Joseph forgets every word that’s not a curse or a plea for more, his world becoming nothing other than Barclay’s face and fingers against him, his forearm trapping his hips so he can only writhe uselessly as Barclay takes what he wants.
Joseph digs his hands into Barclay’s hair, certain that if he doesn’t hold onto something his whole body will come apart from the force of his impending orgasm. As it is, when it hits his scream is embarrassingly high and broken, though Barclays only reaction to it is a groan.
As Barclay pulls back and stands, Joseph can see the slick on his beard, and moans when the cook licks his fingers with a blissful expression.
He lunges upward at the same second Barclay bends down, kiss reverberating through his entire being as his monster–no, his lover–holds him close. When they finally break, Barclay literally gasping for air, Joseph rests his hand on his beard and smiles as the other man rubs against his palm.
“You okay?” Barclay murmurs, fingers playing comfortingly along Joseph’s cheek.
“That’s an understatement. Even if a think you might have strained my hip flexor throwing my legs up like that.”
“Sorry” shame creeps across his face and Joseph will not stand for that.
“I don’t mind, big guy. Though maybe next time I’ll tie you down until we learn just how your strength plays out in the bedroom.”
“That means you’ll have to do all the work, sir.” The smile is back, honey-sweet and warm.
“I can handle that. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
Barclay chuckles and kisses him again, and Joseph sets aside his planning in favor of staying in his arms a little longer.
#taz amnesty#sternclay#agent stern/barclay#monster march#human/monster romance#mad scientist au#frankenstein au#trans agent stern
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To all my online shit stirrers out there:
Top tip. Want to make them quake? Not know how to respond back? Make them look like a complete buffoon?
Quote sources! I started doing this around 2 weeks ago. Before, responding to [blatantly false] facts would always end up in a virtual spitting match. Since Quoting Sources, I have had a 0% response rate!
A response denying that uterine transplants of trans women have no use? Source!
A response saying that a flying coaster is dangerous because "all it takes is one thing to brake and you're having a belly flop no one wants."? Well that's absurd. Why? No source!
This is only a small peek at what Quoting Sources can do for you! It shuts them up like magic!
Also see: asking people for THEIR sources! See a person stating a person died because a 'ride was so intense'? Ask them their source! It causes an awkward virtual silence you can truly revel in. Sometimes these facts are true, but it's good to see where these people get their facts so you can practice critical thinking either way!
[Quoting/Citing sources is good practise for topics with a lot of misinformation and feelings targeted at it which can cover topics from rollercoaster safety, to transgender biology, to the Palestinian genocide. It's always morally right to be thoroughly educated by trustworthy sources - No, the news typically isn't a trustworthy source. I recommend looking at papers/blueprints/Wikipedia (as they usually cite their sources).]
[[Don't forget to always cite your source as you quote it. It has a much better impact and also Plagiarism Isn't Cool.]]
Also see: Why exactly you would be more informed on the subject than the person you are arguing with. Why should they trust you?
#lol just had this idea come to me#but gen it is so fun#also reading the sources is nicely stimulated#sadly i did give up on learning INTENSE biology after GCSE cause Me No Likey but! its nice to keep up with the advances#im so happy for trans women who are able to get their transplants and other required surgeries#go kill it queens. go make history!#on a more somber and serious note. I volunteer at a community ran book store right? and last time i was there we got this customer#a senior who always had a stern look on her face but wasnt overtly cruel. who would get annoyed if we couldnt find a book with her exact#description but who always leaned in to make sure she heard what we were saying. she came in and asked for a book on Palestinian history.#so that she could make an informed decision on the genocide on the middle east. It may not be a ceasefire - which i stand by that EVERYONE#should be calling ceasefire. The complications can be settled afterwards - but she may be. i dont know her personally. but she had an#instinct to get to the truth. not what news outlets were telling her. what the TRUTH was. It really touched me. my nan isnt like that. my#grandad isnt like that. theyll listen to what we tell them. but they wont go looking for it.#anyway#if youre reading this : dont forget to click the button today#look at all the links im reposting if u see them#donate if you feesibly can#would also like to note: revolution is not pretty. there are things to be done to increase visibility. those arent necessarily selling#lemonade at a cardboard stand. its throwing soups at protected artworks. its sitting in the way of private jets. its oiling the PMs private#home. its marching. its shouting. its making people know menstruating people in Gaza are using tents as sanitary products.#how kHamas has agreed to several ceasefire terms while Isnotreal withdrew#dont forget to spread the news. that is a form of protest by itself. your actions matter.
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arlecchino x fem!reader | mother and father.
(nsfw+trans!arle)
warnings: mentions of having babies, mentions of pregnancy, etc.
Taking care of the children in the Orphanage taken care by ”Father“, you always have been called Mother by the children. They always thought that you‘re the mother, and it makes you feel a little embarrassed. What the Knave say when she comes back from her trip to Snezhnaya and finds out?
“Mama, mama!“ several children call for you. “Where is Father? Mama should never be alone!“ You let out a small sigh, your cheeks burning red. “I..Father is out, okay, my children? She will come back soon.“ You gently tell them, nervously smiling as they continue to call you mama.
You are in the kitchen cleaning the dirty dishes from the children that had eaten earlier, putting the forks and spoons to the correct place. You suddenly heard the door open from the Orphanage, and a familiar face came up running to you.
Furina. What was she doing here? She never came here. It should be something important if she came running to you with a panicked expression. “Hey, hey friend! Ah..this might be so weird to hear from somebody who was once the mighty hydro archon, but..can you please have a talk with the Knave and tell her to stop scaring me?! She always looked so scary and dangerous every time we stared at each other, blehh…“
You sigh and give her a nod. She nods back with a smile and runs out of the orphanage with a small wave before walking out. What was that? She wants you to talk to Arlecchino now? You better hope that she won‘t kill you once you ask her to leave the blue woman alone.
Later, you‘re in the main room playing games with the children after you‘ve done all the dishes. You‘re currently sitting next to a couple children, until you heard a sudden opening noise. The door opens and the children happily shout out to you “Mama, look! Father is back!“
You quickly try to shush the child, but the other children continue to call you mother, right infront of the Knave herself.
”Hmm?“ She stares at you with curiousness, then at the children. Mother? She thought. Having children is something she wouldn‘t mind, especially with you, If she only could. If they call you mother, you must be special to them.
”Father, mama has been waiting for you!“
You get flustered and stand up to greed Arlecchino. ”A—ah..Knave, i‘m glad you‘re back..i‘m sorry, these children won‘t stop calling me mama, or mother..“ Scratching your head, you look away with a shy smile, two children hugging your legs while they stare at Arlecchino.“
“It‘s alright. I suppose you took care of them and they did nothing wrong?“ She asks with her stern, gentle voice, looking into your eyes with her red X pupils. God, they get you scared, but they‘re so pretty.
You chuckle nervously. ”Y—yeah, Knave. The children have been behaving very well. No fighting, no stealing, nothing. They have been extra good today..“
“Ah, that is great.“ From the answer she had gotten, her lips form into a slight smile, and walks past you to her office, patting your shoulder one last time. ”I want you in my room, 1 AM. Don‘t be late.“
Huh? Your eyes widen, cheeks forming a red blush as you stand there flustered. You nod before going into your own room that Arlecchino had given you to rest in. You take off your working skirt and your other clothes to change into your night glown.
Its a few hours until you have to meet the Knave in her room, so you can do anything else before the ”meeting”. You lay down on the bed, turning on your phone and messaging one of your friends who you gossip with everyday.
A few hours later, you forgot about meeting the Knave as you do stuff with your phone. But a message notification pops up on your phone. It‘s Arlecchino.
You click on the notification and it brings you to the chat.
> “You‘re late.“
> ”I‘m sorry! I‘ll come right now.“
You message quickly back before putting your phone on the desk and open the door, walking towards Arlecchino‘s room. You knock, but nobody answers. Every child is asleep and the hallway is dark, where is she? Before you could continue thinking, arms are wrapped around your waist, the person putting you on their shoulder. You were about to scream before the familiar voice calms you down.
”Be quiet, it‘s me.“
It‘s not a kidnapper, thank god. It‘s the Knave who suddenly creeped up behind you and picked you up. But it‘s so dark, how can she see so good? She has good eyes.
“Y—you really scared me..“ you whisper out as you bury your head into her shoulder. ”I forgot to tell you…Furina told me to tell you that you sh—” She doesn‘t like hearing that womans name. Before you can talk, she opens the door of her room and pushes you down onto her bed. You yelp as she does so.
And this is where you ended up at. In her bed, head pushed against the pillow as muffled moans escape from your mouth from Arlecchino‘s cock pounding in and out of you in a quick pace, looking like she wants to make you pregnant, to make babies with you.
“m—mmgh…! mmfh—a—arle..!“
Your muffled words are shushed as she grips your head and pushes it more down to the pillow, her thrusts becoming faster and harder, you feel her hitting your sweet spots.
Her face comes closer to your ear and she whispers, ”You‘re gonna be taking care of my children, my children, aren‘t you, la mia bella ragazzal?“
You moan from her words, and as you expected, after her last powerful thrust, she squirts inside you, hot cum slowly starting to drip out of your hole after she pulled her dick out, it being still hard.
She flips you around and grips your chin before giving you a aggressive kiss, her other hand moving to one of your breasts, squishing it.
The hand slowly moves down to her cock, gripping it then guiding it against your messy hole once again, getting ready to push it in.
“I‘m not done with you yet, i‘m going to make you a great, lovely mother, la mia adorabile ragazza.“
You‘re not going to feel your legs tomorrow, but she‘s going to take care of you.
#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact#fatui harbingers
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When I throw away the packaging for my HRT it's called......eWaste
#get it cause estrogen?#...this is a terrible joke#my partner gave me a stern look when I told her this joke#I'm so sorry#trans
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6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.
I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.
She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.
She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.
The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.
I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.
A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.
Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?
Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?
6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...
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diversity win!! your stern new boss, the cranky and slightly insane it guy, the annoying autistic bitch in your office, your ex gf who got you the job at said office, and YOU yourself are all trans!!
#not one cis person has ever stepped foot in the OIAR#theyre all so trans to me you either get it or you dont#sam khalid#samama khalid#alice dyer#gwen bouchard#gwendolyn bouchard#colin becher#lena kelley#tmagp#the magnus protocol#also does anyone know which tag we’re using for sam and gwen respectively? are we full naming?? or shortening ??
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