Bedtime Stories for Broken Girls

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Well look at that. 

An ask that isn’t an ask, about a thing that almost happened but did not, which inspired thoughts of something that will never happen, all from the head of a needy slut who rubbed her brain away long ago.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

First, if you loved me and talked about killing yourself, I’d kick your ass. Who the fuck are you to even think about depriving me of one scintilla of the love I’m due? And besides, anyone who loves me knows the One Rule: protect the property. You don’t damage what doesn’t belong to you.

Second, I didn’t say she wasn’t hot. The way she dropped like a sack of potatoes when I punched the breath out of her was hot. The way she crawled around the floor like an intoxicated slug was hot. The way she humped my leg while prettier girls sent me nudes was hot.

Hot isn’t what you are… it’s what I can make of you.

Assertiveness, dignity, and ambition.

Or tits.

For I am come to bring succor to the lowly, and by their chains lift them up.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Romance is the pain of growth and the relief of being exposed. Romance is mining meaning from the mundane. Romance is in the rediscovery and repurposing of lost and useless things. Romance is seeking hope in a hopeless world.

Romance is a mindfuck.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

In my experience, the two most successful approaches are via movies and true crime. Both interests are superficially common and innocuous, but once you start digging into the details, everyone’s quiet, freaky enthusiasms (or lack thereof) become clear. I’ve personally had hours-long, face-to-face conversations with girls I just met about the best rape scenes in movies, or the sexually sadistic criminals that fascinated us.

There’s nothing particularly feminist about martyrdom.

So step outside yourself for a moment. Think of the little boys playing soldier behind the house down the street. They aren’t betraying anyone in an unmarked grave near the Somme… they’re taking a very real, very scary part of their world and converting it into play, where they can feel some control over it and come to terms with it. They’re taming the terrifying, one “PEW PEW” at a time. They’re human, and they want to be brave.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Oh come now… at this point, anyone with the slightest interest in my voice has heard endless hours of it. And I’ve even made everyone’s “shadowy, faceless man” dreams more vivid with the livestream silhouette. And you’ve got eight years of my thoughts to sift through, showing not just what I think, but how my thinking has evolved over time.

So in reality, you know a lot about who I am.

And yet your dreams are still full of my violence and disdain.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

It really depends on tone, frequency, and overall attitude.

If it’s a verbal reflex that’s triggered very occasionally, I won’t say much. If it happens a lot, I’m likely to insist that you work on expressing yourself with less negativity.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Pretty much continuously since the early ‘90s.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

Some planets are dwarfs, some are gas giants. Some girls are toys and some are tools. They orbit at different distances, are composed of different things. and exist to be exploited in different ways.

And my flag is on them all, even the ones that aren’t worth the effort it takes to claim them.

(submitted by: Anonymous)

(submitted by: Anonymous)

“…for something”?

(submitted by: Anonymous)

It gets worse.