rae3571

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Fallon sat on the hood of the car parked on the cliff side. I watched as she stared out at the ocean and scratched her hand on her knee anxiously. For all her scars and violence, this was a version of her that scared me the most. What was left when the monster was peeled away, was just a girl that I knew I could love. And that terrified me.

“The warrant has been issued—do we take it?”, Dillion asked quietly, he couldn’t meet my eyes. The others avoided the question while sneaking glances at me.

“You can’t fix her”, Dillion stated but I didn’t hear him. The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked over to Fallon.

“Gonna give me up sweetheart?”, she asked.

“No”, I said and placed my hand on hers, stilling it.

“Calm my fears?”, she asked, her voice softer.

“Always”, I said, “I am not Jason and your not Medea—and I could not imagine a life where you are but a blurry image I can only half remember”. She clung to my hand and kept staring at the ocean,

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“This is a bad fucking idea”, he gasped as if he was telling it to himself, a huff sounded from my throat,

“I have recollections of quite a few of your bad ideas”, I threaded by hand through his hair and yanked his head back,

“And all of them turned out fucking awesome-didnt they?”. He didn't have an answer for that, instead he brought his lips back to mine for another searing kiss.

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“You fucking bitch”. Eyeing his trembling arms and seething eyes, I smiled and paid no mind to the one hand dug into the wall behind me or the other pressed into my ruined shirt collar, a few fingers unconsciously messing the fabric to touch my bare skin in a delicious way I wanted to taste more of.

“I can feel your heartbeat through your fingertips, Princeling”, I poked him further, enjoying threading the wire, wondering if he would take the bait or back down.

I could sense his choice as his eyes cleared, a spark igniting. His fingers tightened and moved higher up my neck, more skin on mine, more distraction. Inch by inch, punctuating his anger with little sharp squeezes, he hissed,

“You like playing games but I bet you like this more don't you?”. A faint sense of panic entered my mind, from the lack of air or something else. My hand clumsily moved in the space between us, coming to a rest on his stomach, one inch higher than his belt. I felt him tense as the loathing in his eyes became mixed with desire. Suddenly I didn't feel quite as stable.

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This guy FUCKEN gets it

First base is violence second base is convoluted codependence third base is applying pressure to the vulnerable parts of their body to keep their entrails from spilling out

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I’m watching that documentary “Before Stonewall” about gay history pre-1969, and uncovered something which I think is interesting.

The documentary includes a brief clip of a 1954 televised newscast about the rise of homosexuality. The host of the program interviewed psychologists, a police officer, and one “known homosexual”. The “known homosexual” is 22 years old. He identifies himself as Curtis White, which is a pseudonym; his name is actually Dale Olson.

So I tracked down the newscast. According to what I can find, Dale Olson may have been the first gay man to appear openly on television and defend his sexual orientation. He explains that there’s nothing wrong with him mentally and he’s never been arrested. When asked whether he’d take a cure if it existed, he says no. When asked whether his family knows he’s gay, he says that they didn’t up until tonight, but he guesses they’re going to find out, and he’ll probably be fired from his job as well. So of course the host is like …why are you doing this interview then? and Dale Olson, cool as cucumber pie, says “I think that this way I can be a little useful to someone besides myself.”

1954. 22 years old. Balls of pure titanium.

Despite the pseudonym, Dale’s boss did indeed recognize him from the TV program, and he was promptly fired the next day. He wrote into ONE magazine six months later to reassure readers that he had gotten a new job at a higher salary.

Curious about what became of him, I looked into his life a little further. It turns out that he ultimately became a very successful publicity agent. He promoted the Rocky movies and Superman. Not only that, but get this: Dale represented Rock Hudson, and he was the person who convinced him to disclose that he had AIDS! He wrote the statement Rock read. And as we know, Rock Hudson’s disclosure had a very significant effect on the national conversation about AIDS in the U.S.

It appears that no one has made the connection between Dale Olson the publicity agent instrumental in the AIDS debate and Dale Olson the 22-year-old first openly gay man on TV. So I thought I’d make it. For Pride month, an unsung gay hero.

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you people will believe any ugly old fictional man fucks like crazy. proudly i will stand defiant like a stone amongst the lashing tide like a mountain against the howling wind. no. i do not think that old man fucks like crazy. i think you want that old man to fuck like crazy, but your claims hold no verisimilitude. that old man’s dick sucks and it’s bleak down there. it’s bleak. we’re looking at razed ground where a libido should be, salted earth where horniness could sprout. no i say no that old man does not fuck like crazy.

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literally my second biggest flex is that the guy behind osha official is my mutual. first biggest flex is that there's a discord server dedicated to hating on me

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Can anyone tell me if the Unabomber was problematic

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AFJHDJSKDNDNFK

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…I dragged my gaze from the rushing black asphalt upwards to the skyline, the terrain seemed to stay still, flat rocky ground and the faint outline of mountains. In the daylight they would be bright vermillion but at this time of night they were dark black shadows.

She was perched on the head rest of the passenger seat, reckless, one hand casually resting on the windshield rim, the other holding a red bull. Her feet splayed on the seat, most likely leaving a mess of dirt smudges on it. From where I was sitting, my hair was whipping around my face. For her, the wind pressed her shirt against the outline of her torso and her hair was free of her face. It flowed behind her as she faced down the roaring wind.

Dean slammed the gas pedal further as he let out a loud whoop. The muscles on her forearm temporarily flexed as we shot forward.

Turning around, she leaned back,

“You gonna join me Priar?”, her voice cut through the rushing noise in my ears, the same slight gravely undertone.

I had a feeling she was the type to chase down gods. The type to chase them down and demand them to weigh her life and when they did acquiesce, they would always estimate it heavier than she did. Balanced on the convertible lazily as if all that open air meant nothing, like sense and rules did not apply.

It was a good thing I didn't care much for rules either. I hauled myself upward and grabbed the red bull from her hand. Bullshit that she was a crazy type of girl, nothing she ever did was crazy, it was simply free…

Updated the other one, slayyyyy

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You over Her [not as a body but as a steeple]

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Last day for taxes dipshits, get on it.

“Do you know what day it is tomorrow?”

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…

“You are not going to ask me to stay?”.

“The ones who burn the brightest have always been remembered the best”, she smiled, “But I poured water over my blaze even if I lived in obscurity after, I put it out before it burnt me up for the sake of a few more seconds of flame”

“And I do not care if you stay but I do wish that you consider yourself when you decide whether that last blaze is worth the glory,”.

Consider it for me, consider it not because it is what I would advise as my position dictates, but because it came from my lips. I will not ask you to stay, but know that I want you to anyway, she desperately wished to say instead.

…

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…her voice cut through the noise in my ears, the same slight gravely undertone. I had a feeling she was the type to chase down gods. The type to chase them down and demand them to weigh her life and when they did acquiesce, they would always estimate it heavier than she did. Balanced on the convertible lazily as if all that open air meant nothing, like sense and rules did not apply.

It was a good thing I didn't care much for rules either…

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Okay but hear me out

My tears Ricochet as a song

Very sad of course BUT

IMAGINE

enemies to lovers, good person vs bad person, two sides baby

But In the end the good person had to kill the bad person and now the bad person is just floating around as a spirit or some shit. Like the idea of having such a connection and still failing because

“I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace”, cuz bad person can’t be not evil and good person is devastated now and sad