For what separates us now, but a single chromosome?

A Snippet of My Writing

[I don’t often post my writing on this blog, but I sort of like this bit I did awhile back, an excerpt from a character I’ve since formed and enjoyed.]

"The gods ain’t sleepin’, they’s dead." The boy heard it from the whore’s mouth, and he busted her teeth and he bruised his knuckles on her face. She sucked in blood amidst air, and her pain became a testament to why they were there, became a testament to mankind. She didn’t have to believe in gods, he’d make her pray.


Elijah, too, was vindicated that night, given poetic justice that his first act of unprovoked violence was against a defenseless harlot, a grisly underline carved beneath a shell-shocked heart whose daily palpitations pumped gasoline once the good blood dried up. An engine heart producing smoke through the lips that hung a burning wicker there which had remained since he was a boy.


If the gods or cosmos recognized anything Elijah did that night - or any night - it didn’t seem to much matter. He was another nothing lost between the silt and diamonds, floating forlorn through a life composed of more terror than of anything resembling joy. Sleeping or dead, divine intervention was not on the agenda, and gods didn’t intervene in the life of the loathsome degenerate, and so he did what he would do: he was made to walk hard and fight harder, and seemed to burn the very bridges that he stood on, as if by compulsion of seeing how far he could fall.


And the answer, said the judge. If God meant to interfere in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now? Wolves cull themselves, man. What other creature could? And is the race of man not more predacious yet? The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of night. His spirit is exhausted at the peak of its achievement. His meridian is at once his darkening and the evening of his day. He loves games? Let him play for stakes. This you see here, these ruins wondered at by tribes of savages, do you not think that this will be again? Aye. And again. With other people, with other sons.
---Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

I’ve noticed a lot of disagreement in the communities I’m associated with lately towards the manner in which people write the iniquities of their characters whether prejudice, general sadism, or other. I don’t understand this. The point of writing an object, whether a person or otherwise, is to capture the essence of that object. Yes, I have seen characters, and have made them myself, who are barbaric and vile, savage and destructive, but is man not like that at his worst? I write characters how I feel all people should write them: ecstatically and without apology. 


tray-the-tealord:

thebaconsandwichofregret:

garrisongold:

mmmmbeefy96:

doktor-edward-richtofen:

3rdhiccup:

thedorkiestviking:

3rdhiccup:

thedorkiestviking:

DON’T EVEN FUCKING GET ME STARTED JACK CHURCHILL. TOO LATE NOW. THE GUY SIGNED UP FOR A COMMANDO AIR DROP BECAUSE” it sounded fun”. HE CONSIDERED CARRYING A SWORD INTO BATTLE MANDATORY, BUT HE DIDNT USE SOME PRISSY LITTLE PARADE SABRE. HE CARRIED FUCKING CLAYMORE. HE SHEATHED IT NEXT TO HIS BAGPIPES & ENORMOUS TANK SIZED BALLS. HE WAS CAPTURED ONCE.  FOUND IT A BIT BORING SO HE LEFT. RECAPTURED, LEFT AGAIN. WALKED ALL THE WAY BACK TO BRITISH LINES TO FIND THE WAR HAD ENDED. HIS REACTION?”oh bugger”

He used a longbow too.

when he was captured the Germans found him playing god save the queen on his bagpipes

There’s too much. Have a link!

He was also a surfer.

Oh bugger.

We must all aspire to be as “Mad” Jack Churchill

Only guy in WWII to have a confirmed longbow kill. Bow down to this guy.

it’s the last recorded longbow kill in military history

Jack Churchill is my new hero.

25.2.14 at 15:17 · comradius · source · 64391 · reblog

Two-time Oscar-winning shrug

25.2.14 at 15:15 · comradius · source · 78246 · reblog

lenyabrownie:

Artwork by Alexander Rudenko

and a Loner cosplay by Ice-Dark 

25.2.14 at 15:13 · comradius · source · 1352 · reblog