“You’re serious?” The tone that followed her word was almost like disbelief –she didn’t actually believe their words or their sentiments but they were standing before her looking deadly serious and she was at a loss. “You’re really serious? That’s mental.”

fp-mechanic asked:

so my dave dip dyes his hair tips red. but imagine if dave spilt it on himself and it looked like he was bleeding and karkat HAS A MINI HEART ATTACK LIKE DAVE WHAT

pls tho and he hurries to clean it up then dave starts laughing like babe no dw its just dye and karkat just like fkn ends up so mad and frazzled he wont talk to dave for like the next two hours bc u scared the fUCk out of him u idiot

Don’t trust the way the night makes you feel like a gentle lullaby
or an illusion dancing with the northern lights that glow across your skin.
Don’t trust how the night makes it seem so real: the lust to lose yourself
in the addicting rush of their body crashing perfectly into yours.
Don’t trust the way the night toys with the frazzled seams of your mind
and creates a wicked fantasy of all you’ve come to hate.
Don’t trust the way the night sings songs of sweet remembrance,
of decadence, revenge,
all that encapsulates your soul.
Don’t trust the way the night allure enchants us soothingly,
don’t trust the way it feels so good to lose all sweet control.
There’s a reason that the stories we once knew as dreaming youth
have told us to be wary of the silent, wide-eyed dark.
—  Don’t Trust The Night
It's Kicking

Not much could make Michael lose control of his wolf, but when Lindsay, his beautiful omega gasped out as she felt the baby move, he almost lost it. The pride surging through him was so strong, he had to feel it himself. “Really? The baby moved? Where? Can I feel?” He was like a mother hen as his large hands splayed over her belly, touching gently.

It must be odd for most to see him, the alpha, so frazzled and soft. But it was going to be his first born, he was allowed to be excited. He just had to act like an alpha in front of the rest of the pack. But now? Now he was solely focused on Lindsay, and the life budding inside her.

On to the meat and potatoes of the ideological basis for the term “cuckservative“

The smoking gun is to be found on neo-reactionary and white ethnic-nationalist wordpress accounts and blogs. Here, peeling away the sensitivity filter of news aggregates only now picking it up since blowing up on social media (buzzfeed, breitbart, their ilk) and a need to be “politically correct“ to present new ideas at a time when earnest opinion is derided by the academically minded and the Sensible Majority alike, we see a surprisingly lurid ideological foundation of this shitpost meme turned galvanizing force for the radical right in America that’s particular mentality has remained obscure up until now:

The Dissidenti™™ and their frazzled hall monitors buzzsaw with talk about “cuckservatives.” It’s the shiv du jour, you see. As shivs go, it is in this ‘umble narrator’s opinion one of the more lethal of the semantic shanks employed by dark realists.

Lovers and haters of the Cuck Shiv gird for battle (well, the haters girdle for battle). The wielders love the twist of their shiny new toy. The haters brace defensively, shielding vitals. As well they should. CH commenters wonder, not without historical wonderment precedent for questions of Realtalk™ provenance aligned with Chateau themes, was it Heartiste who coined the “cuckservative” scarlet C? Answer: I don’t know. The first mention of it here is dated 24 Jun 2015. I suspect Poasting Whytes were first in the field with their version. Perhaps the term was independently formulated by multiple parties, inspired to simultaneous Phoenixian birth by the polluted cascade of daily poz.

I can tell you this for certain: The term “cuckold”, and its related emotional resonance, was thrust rudely into the public consciousness and popularized right here, at Chateau Heartiste, long before the current fascination with the pregnant (heh) weight of the slur. Kneejerk anti-truthers and perplexed alt-rightists scoffed at first contact with Le Chateau’s musings on the metadeath genetic threat cuckoldry poses to men, but in time even they began to see the value of the concept as a right and proper fitting metaphor for supplicants and sycophants and self-sodomizers of various stripes, which of course means they understood on a sub-discourse level the biomechanic sexual market truth implied by the insult.

To the gristle: What is a cuckservative?

Occam’s Razor ably decodes.

  • Very basically, the cuckservative is a white gentile conservative (or libertarian) who thinks he’s promoting his own interests but really isn’t.  In fact, the cuckservative is an extreme universalist and seems often to suffer from ethnomasochism & pathological altruism. In short, a cuckservative is a white (non-Jewish) conservative who isn’t racially aware.

That’s a serviceable academic description. I prefer something a leetle more… pungent.

CH definition: A cuckservative is a cowardly pussy who sucks up to leftoid equalists for mercy and pisses himself when he gets accused of racism, sexism, or anti-semitism.

Corollary to the above CH definition: The cuckservative will throw his brother and his nation under the bus if it means he keeps his token status as cog in the Hivemind machine. Those cocktail parties aren’t going to attend themselves!

So what’s the difference between a cuckservative and a garden variety shitlib? Delayed reaction. The cuckservative may or may not be a true believer in reality-denying feminism or anti-white antiracism, but he sure as hell knows to stick his crabbed finger in the air to see which cheek he should spread for his equalist overlord’s strap-on.

Source (disclaimer: extremely rough, unpalatable language and seas ahead)

So for those who are surprised by the sustained and seemingly invincible popularity of Donald Trump over that of any other candidate currently in the Primary mill, Democrat and Republican alike, here’s your answer. A spell of unrelenting and unforgiving radical left ideological in public consciousness has yielded to the radical right, who are now utilizing that same mentality of unrelenting, confrontational, unforgiving presence popularized by the radical left.

This comes at a time when mainstream Republicans are tired with pandering to and capitulating toward the Democrat platform and narrative, so thus the cuckservative monicker and the idea of political cuckholds has launched into the mainstream right wing lexicon with relative ease. The left control the general narrative now and influence the Republican party, regardless if you personally feel they don’t (muh perpetual underdog complex). Recent triumphs with regards to key Democrat issues should illustrate this and 8 years of Republican floundering resulting from mediocre pandering figureheads as well.
Republicans and right wing moderates see Trump’s brashness and straightforward racism as refreshing and his refusal to seek approval of the left nor to apologize for slights against them as a core value to rally behind, perhaps as a protest against the American political climate, which is what is attracting middle of the road Americans.

The left has seemingly grown accustomed to assuming that the rightwing is on “The Wrong Side of History” and so are completely flabbergasted and confused at the sight of Trump’s unrelenting disregard for their feelings and his surging popularity in light of this. Like any other human sure of their arrogance, the left has become accustomed to silence and mistaken it for victory.

The right wing silent majority in the USA, buttressed by a moderate faction wary of and reactionary to hugely publicized and now mainstream radical left social theory, is rapidly finding their voice and realizing that to kill the Republican party as it has been, to discredit career GOP figures as leftist cuckholds, is preferable to settling for Romneys and McCains. So meme leader Trump pulls ahead and the ball rolls into the courts of all the other GOP candidates to put up or shut up.

The republican party is likely to play along with this on some level because Trump’s continued success shows it is indeed a palatable political stance to take for these career populists and that secretly, the GOP has longed for being “out and proud” as Israel has long been the Republican party’s stand in for a white ethnic nation to unquestioningly defend.

This Presidential Primaries are going to be fucking ridiculous and compelling from here on out.

anonymous asked:

Finding fellow Ravenclaw Luke stuck outside the common room trying to rack his brain for the answer to the stupid riddle because he really just needed to grab his bag but now he's been there for an hour and he just cannot figure out the answer to the stupid riddle. But, after listening once, it's pretty clear to you it's the old chicken and egg conundrum: "a circle has no beginning" you beam, as the door clicks open and you enter, silently enjoying the dumbfound look Luke's wearing as he follows

hogwarts!5sos night!

The Signs as Archetypal People
  • Aries:13 year old whining to their parents about unlimited texting
  • Taurus:Crotchety old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn
  • Gemini:White girl wearing raybans at starbucks
  • Cancer:Aging woman telling incoherent stories about the old country
  • Leo:Politician with a drug problem
  • Virgo:Jewish mother
  • Libra:Granola mom who does yoga and talks about chakras
  • Scorpio:Emo kid loitering at the mall
  • Sagittarius:Angsty suburban kid smoking weed under the bleachers
  • Capricorn:Strict Latina Grandmother
  • Aquarius:Frazzled intern who never wears comfortable shoes
  • Pisces:Poet in a coffee shop

Pain overwhelms and I let gravity settle me to the floor, briefly considering whether this arrangement of limbs is dignified before more convulsions clear such concerns. Gears and cogs are grinding and screeching inside me, grating against each other in futile attempts to mechanically work through a fatal misalignment. Frazzles: why did I eat a whole multi-pack of Frazzles? I knew I’d regret it, I always feel awful after crisps. But this is sharper than the familiar comforting discomfort of over eating.

They’re vegetarian, but taste more like bacon than most bacon. Would they taste so vivid if they were less pink?

My arm is on fire, like every fibre is tearing itself apart, and each rent cell is spilling molten pain. I can only stare at it straining and twitching, out of my control. A small white scar in the crook of my thumb and index finger is pulled and distorted by the roiling turmoil beneath it. My Grandmother burned me with her cigarette, and then died before I was 5. Sometimes I touch that scar while I’m smoking and wonder how you could accidentally do that to a baby. Mum never talked about her.

I worry she hated me.

The adrenaline resonates clean and natural like a tolling bell and my body responds automatically, not like the begrudging response to the crude synthetic alarm drills I’ve been flushing through my veins. The pain is replaced by something more efficient. I’m aware: of the shadow on the wrong side of his eyes in the incomplete painting, how did I miss that? The key to my post box is forgotten under the bed, maybe someone has written? There is a chip in the guitar I borrowed. She’ll be so mad!

The passing time is marked only by the imperfect rhythm of the traffic smeared across the open window. I want fresh air so badly. Not like, outside fresh or even countryside fresh, I want open sea or windy moors. I’m telling myself I’ll take a break and find somewhere I can breathe when I realise I’m not. I don’t have long to consider claustrophobia before the part of me that might feel trapped in a lifeless body quiets.