#Cancer male | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fafnir19 · 2 months ago

Text

Refugee's Welcome

Rashid slouched against the peeling wall of the refugee home, his shiny tracksuit clinging to his skin. He fiddled with his phone, scrolling through messages from his family back in the Middle East. Each ding from the device felt like a reminder of the life he was building on the backs of the generous European welfare system. He decided to go for a walk and trudged along the cracked pavement, the soles of his brand new sneakers slapping against the ground with a dull thud. He glanced around the neighborhood, a hodgepodge of well-maintained buildings and meticulously maintained gardens tended by eager hands. The air was thick with the scent of fresh food and the distant hum of traffic, a reminder of the life outside his small refugee home.

He pushed back the bitterness that welled in his throat. Here he was, in Europe, surrounded by riches, yet he felt like a ghost haunting a world meant for someone else. This place, with its cold efficiency, was supposed to be a sanctuary, but to him, it felt like a cage. In fact, he was just an imposter, pretending to be a refugee, but in reality he was just eager to take advantage of the welfare system. “Stupid place,” he muttered, casting an envious glance at a group of teenagers laughing as they tossed a football back and forth. Their carefree joy was a dagger to his heart. He didn’t belong here, and his greed for what they had only deepened his resentment.

He had grown tired of the monotony—waiting for welfare checks, sending money back home, and plotting how to bring his family to this land of plenty. It was all so predictable, like a clock ticking away the minutes of his life. He craved change, but not the kind that required effort or adaptation. No, he wanted to exploit this system without remorse, just as he had been doing since his arrival. He looked up at the buildings that towered around him, their elegance a sharp contrast to the crumbling structures of his homeland. “Why should they have it all?” he grumbled under his breath, jealousy pooling in his stomach. “I will bring my family here. They deserve this life.” The idea of his parents and siblings living off European welfare while spreading the “truth faith” of Islam filled him with a sense of purpose.

As he turned a corner, something gleamed in the dirt, catching his eye. He bent down, brushing away the grime to reveal a golden coin. It shone brightly, almost taunting him. **Wow, this might go for a good price!** he thought, his heart racing at the thought of his usual dealer, Muzaffar. “Hey! That’s mine!” a high-pitched voice squeaked. Rashid spun around, his heart racing. Before him stood a gnome, no taller than his knee, with a wild beard and a pointed hat that seemed to flop with every movement.

“What did you say?” Rashid challenged, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife tucked into his waistband. “I said it’s mine!” the gnome shouted, glaring up at him, defiance in his beady eyes. “I’ve been tracking that coin for ages!” “Yeah?” Rashid sneered, brandishing the knife. “You want it back? Come and take it.” The gnome held up a surprisingly steady hand. “Hold on, hold on! There’s no need for violence.” He looked at Rashid, sizing him up. “I can offer you something better.” “Like what?” Rashid scoffed, his grip on the knife tightening. “Three wishes,” the gnome declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “In exchange for that lovely coin.” Rashid hesitated, curiosity piqued. “Three wishes? What’s the catch?” The gnome grinned, revealing a set of crooked teeth. “No catch,” the gnome replied, shrugging. “But you’ll need to sign this EU-standard form regarding the chance-/risk-profile of wishes.” He produced a thick stack of papers that looked entirely out of place in the outdoors. Rashid furrowed his brow, flipping through the pages. “What the hell? It’s twenty pages long! I’m not reading all this!” Rashid protested, as he tried to hide that he was barely able to read. The gnome chuckled again, its laughter echoing in the quiet street, “After all, we are in Europe and not in your primitive Stone Age country. Everything has to be in proper order!” Rashid’s irritation was boiling over and he grumbled, “I don’t have time for this!” but the thought of wealth and power urged him on.

“Twenty pages? And only the first quarter of the first page is about chances? This is ridiculous!” The gnome chuckled, “Just sign, and we can get on with it.” Grumbling, Rashid took the pen, his mind racing. “Fine. But if this is a scam—” “Not a scam! Just formalities,” the gnome interrupted, his tone cheerful. Rashid signed his name with a flourish and shoved the papers back. “Now, what do you wish for?” The gnome’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Rashid’s heart pounded. This was it—the moment he’d been waiting for. “I wish to be handsome, intelligent, and rich!”

The gnome's laughter filled the air, a mischievous cackle that made Rashid's skin prickle. "Oh, the classics! Very well, young man. Watch and learn." As the gnome waved his tiny hand, Rashid felt a tingling sensation course through his body. It started at his fingertips, sending a shiver up his arms, and then it engulfed his entire being. The change was instantaneous and profound.

He felt a cool blow on his face, and his hand flew up to touch his chin, only to find it smooth and bare. His coarse Islamic beard, the symbol of his manhood and faith, had vanished. The tracksuit he had worn, a testament to his perceived street credibility, transformed into a crisp, white button-down shirt and tailored pants, fitting him perfectly. The clothes felt foreign yet comfortable, as if he had always belonged in them.

"Ah, the transformation begins!" The gnome's voice echoed in his mind, as if reading his thoughts. "But it's not just about the looks, my dear Rashid. It's the mind, the very essence of who you are, that is about to evolve."

A tickling sensation in his brain made Rashid giggle, and then a rush of knowledge flooded his thoughts. Images flashed before his eyes—a boy riding a bike, the wind in his hair; a swimmer slicing through the water with graceful strokes; and a skater gliding effortlessly on ice. He knew how to do all these things, as if he had been practicing them for years. "Recycle, reduce, reuse," a voice whispered in his head. He understood the importance of the environment, the need to protect and preserve. "Whoa, I know how to swim!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. The gnome, seemingly pleased with the spectacle, nodded.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through Rashid’s skull. “Ugh!” Rashid grunted, clutching his temples. “Knowledge!” the gnome sang, his eyes glinting mischievously. “It’s a powerful gift.” Rashid staggered back, his mind reeling. Images and concepts flooded in—equality of the sexes, environmental protection, the intricacies of Western philosophy. “What is this?” he gasped, tumbling to the ground as he wrestled with the torrent of newfound thoughts. But the gnome only watched, its arms crossed, amused and exclaimed, “Knowledge is flooding in!” Rashid clutched his head as the sharp pain radiated through him. “Ah! Stop!” he shouted, but it was too late. Due to his now sharper intellect new concepts twisted through his mind, unraveling the tightly wound beliefs he had held dear. “Islam… it’s just a superstition.” He staggered back against the wall, clutching his head. “No! This can’t be!” “Why not?” the gnome taunted. “It’s the truth. Islam is just superstition, a crutch for the weak, a tool for leaders to control the masses!” Rashid’s breath quickened. “No, that can’t be true! My faith—” “Is a façade!” the gnome interrupted, crossing his arms. “You’re just a pawn in a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. And now, look at you! You’re a pitiful weakling, only feeling strong among your ‘brothers’ with a knife in hand.” The realization hit him like a cold wave. “I was so blind! All this time, I thought I was superior! It’s… it’s all nonsense. My faith was a crutch, a way to feel superior without the means to truly be so.” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Honor? What a joke! I thought I was strong, but I was just hiding behind a knife.” “Precisely, you were strong only in delusion!” the gnome exclaimed, clapping his hands. Rashid’s laughter bubbled up, a mix of disbelief and relief. “I was pathetic!” he exclaimed, the weight of his previous identity lifting. “I can’t believe I thought that way,” Rashid stated, his voice filled with disbelief. “I wanted to bring my family here… to spread my beliefs. But they’re as lost as I was.”

As the searing pain in his head gradually faded, he became aware of the subtle changes taking place. His nose, once a prominent feature, seemed to shrink, reshaping itself into a more delicate structure. The rearrangement of his facial features continued, smoothing out the rough edges of his former self. "Ah, the wonders of magic," he whispered, his voice now carrying a hint of refinement. Rashid's attention turned to his hair, which had been as dark as a skunk's. But now, it shimmered with golden strands, transforming him into a vision of Nordic beauty.

The cologne he had doused himself in to mask his natural stink was no longer necessary. He inhaled deeply, bewildered by the subtle scent of fresh lemons that replaced the heavy musk of sandalwood he used to drown himself in. “What is this? I smell... clean?” His body odor had transformed, leaving behind a subtle, refreshing lemon fragrance. "Piano lessons, perhaps? Or maybe I should join a field hockey team," he mused, his thoughts filled with newfound interests and hobbies. The possibilities seemed endless, and Rashid felt a surge of excitement. Just as his thoughts began to wander, the world around him shifted. The drab walls of the refugee home were gone, replaced by an elegant mansion with tall columns and a lush garden. He stood there, in the heart of the city's most prestigious neighborhood, and marveled at his new surroundings. "Rashid no more," he declared, his voice echoing in the quiet street. "I am Rasmus, reborn and ready to conquer this new world." Rasmus, now fully immersed in his transformation, felt a surge of confidence and ambition.

His eyes, now a vivid shade of blue, scanned the mansion, taking in every detail. But amidst the excitement, a flicker of doubt creased his newly formed brow. *What of my family?* he wondered.

He recalled their lives in self-inflicted filth and revolving around the mosque, the strict adherence to primitive and cruel customs —days spent in idle chatter, evenings in crowded rooms, and a future with no prospects.

*They wouldn't fit in here. Not with their backward ways.* Their lack of education and skills weighed on his mind. He pictured their limited knowledge, their dependence on a language he now found crude, their inability to even swim, their unwillingness to adapt and their sole focus on survival and procreation. "What kind of life is that?" he muttered under his breath. "They're like animals, breeding without thought."

Suddenly the gnome's voice sliced the silence and breaking his train of thought , "Now, what is your final wish?" Rasmus turned, his bright blue eyes narrowing in confusion. "I thought I already had three wishes?" The gnome chuckled, its laughter like a tinkling of bells. "Welcome to Europe! It's a self-commitment with the consumer counsel society. You see, they believe that the first wishes might not always turn out as expected, and so, a fourth wish is granted to rectify any potential mistakes." Rasmus listened intently, his curiosity piqued. "Or, it could be an additional wish," the gnome continued, its eyes twinkling mischievously. "Perhaps you'd like to bring your family here, give them a taste of this life?"

Just then, a gust of wind blew a colorful flyer into Rasmus' path. He bent down to pick it up, his curiosity piqued. It was an advertisement from the local animal protection society, seeking donations for a noble cause. "Vets on Vacation—traveling to Greece to neuter street cats and dogs, ending their suffering" the flyer reads. The image of a stray cat and her litter tugged at his heartstrings, but it was the message that struck a chord. "Uncontrolled propagation leads to suffering," he read aloud.

The words resonated with him, and he thought of his family. Their lives, so different from his own now, seemed to mirror the plight of these animals. *They are like these animals, breeding without purpose, living off the system,* he thought bitterly. A rush of memories flooded his mind—his parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins, all dependent on his welfare money, trapped in a cycle of poverty and ignorance. "They sent me here to live off the generosity of others," he whispered, his voice laced with bitterness. "They are content with their ignorance, their lack of ambition." In that moment, Rasmus made his decision. "No," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "They don't deserve to be here. They don't deserve this life." The gnome's eyes narrowed, sensing the change in Rasmus' demeanor. "And what is your wish, Rasmus?" Rasmus straightened his back, his blue eyes now cold and resolute. "I wish..." Rasmus began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I wish for my family to be neutered. To end their suffering and the burden they impose on society."

The gnome erupted into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing through the air. “Very well!” In the blink of an eye, his relatives, one by one, undergoing a transformation. Rasmus could almost hear the cries of his parents, his siblings, his uncles and cousins, all the way from the other side of the world. The process was swift and efficient, and when it was over, Rasmus felt a sense of relief. "Consider it done," the gnome's voice echoed in his mind. "Your family's legacy will not burden the world any longer."

His family, his entire lineage, would no longer burden Europe with their presence. *Their Arabic heritage ends here,* Rasmus thought, his heart pounding with determination. *Only my new superior Northern genes and the Western way of life will prevail.*

Rasmus took a deep breath, his chest swelling with newfound determination. "But this is not enough," he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "I must ensure that others like them do not infest this great continent. These deceitful 'refugees' must be stopped from ruining Europe's harmony." He straightened his preppy attire, the crisp fabric of his shirt reflecting his resolve. "I, Rasmus, will dedicate my life to preserving the purity of this land. No more shall we be plagued by those who abuse our generosity. I shall find a way to protect Europe from the influx of these imposters."

He would use his newfound intelligence and resources to ensure that only the worthy would be granted entry, and that his new home would thrive, untainted by the ills of the past. With a nod of gratitude to the gnome, who had now disappeared, Rasmus set off, his stride confident and purposeful. He had a new life, a new identity, and a mission to fulfill. The old Rashid was gone, and Rasmus, the beacon of conservative European values, was ready to take on the world. "I will make a difference," he vowed, his voice carrying on the wind. "And I will ensure that my new home remains the beacon of civilization it was meant to be."

As he walked towards his mansion, a faint laughter, like wind chimes in the distance, followed him. It was the gnome, amused by the turn of events, but also proud of the man Rasmus had become. Rasmus didn't look back, for he had a new life to embrace and a society to protect from the very deceit he had once embodied.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #race change #islam is cancer #refugee tf #arab superiority #arab tf

68 notes · View notes

hornydilfsinyourarea · 3 months ago

Text

"His large/giant hand-" "Your small/petite body" "His body towering over yours, making you feel even smaller than you already were" "You looked up at him, you were so much shorter than him" "His body casting a shadow over yours" :

#if I get recommended shit like this one more fucking time I swear to all things holy #I'll rather get aids crabs and stage four cancer than read stuff like that #like bro #the reader isn't some 4'11 person #not everyone is micro tiny #bot creator #x male reader #x reader

43 notes · View notes

kuunibal · 11 months ago

Text

I WISH I COULD KILL YOU. I WISH I COULD LEAVE YOU. I WISH I COULD CARVE YOU OUT OF MY LIFE THE WAY ONE TAKES A SCAPEL TO A TUMOR. BUT THE DAMAGE HAS SPREAD TOO FAR AND EVERY CELL IN MY BODY IS ALREADY CANCEROUS WITH YOU. ATTEMPTING TO REMOVE YOU FROM MY LIFE, MY BELOVED PARASITE, WOULD ONLY RENDER ME A BLOODY, MANGLED MESS. AN EMPTY WRECK. DEAD. I CARE TOO MUCH TO LEAVE DESPITE IT KILLING ME. IT KILLS ME TO KEEP YOU, AND IT WOULD KILL ME TO BE RID OF YOU, SO WHAT'S THE POINT IN TRYING TO FIX SOMETHING TERMINAL?

I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU. AND I HATE YOU. BUT I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU MORE THAN I HATE YOU AND HATE MYSELF MORE FOR LOVING AND HATING YOU TO BEGIN WITH.

#yandere #lovesick #yancore #yanderecore #love hate relationship #yandere boy #yandere male #male yandere #irl yandere #yandere thoughts #obsessive love #obsessive love disorder #yandere vent #all caps #cancer mention #yandiary #your yandere

74 notes · View notes

colleendoran · 1 year ago

Text

Robert George is a wonderful, kind man, and I hope you will read and heed his story.

#robert george #male breast cancer

83 notes · View notes

daddyhoothoot · 2 months ago

Text

We have to break the tie

#stolas is a cancer I won’t hear otherwise #the thought of him being a male pieces upsets me greatly #helluva boss #stolas #helluva boss poll

11 notes · View notes

myapathyhaspeaked · 2 months ago

Text

can someone explain what logan meant by correct posture please????? does he mean stance or behavior?

#sanders sides #logan sanders #im just surprised he didn’t point out that all people have breasts (right? cus male breast cancer?)

12 notes · View notes

rg11 · 7 months ago

Note

Can we see more of Jadekat and their 612 babies...do they have any names besides Jadekat jr jr jr

i dont think theyre that creative to come up with any other names for their kids

though the image is inaccurate! its actually 613 kids (due to the one karkats holding in the photo) that ones name is jadekat jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr jr

#jadekat #argt #though one of the kids name is tibet (as in the rose)#the joke is that one is the one that looks the most like karkat and white roses represent the cancer zodiac... and jade likes gardening....#boom. Genius #i made that up on the spot. not the fact (IT IS TRUE!!!) .. the fanchild #ok if im being honest IM not creative enough to come up with any other names #their 612 ... 613.. kids are very hard to handle and karkat is usually the one dealing with them #imagine being a casual citizen on earth c and you see a troll with more than 612.. 613 kids just being dragged across->#->with those small leashes parents put on their kids to keep them in place. but like it doesnt work for karkat in this situation because->#its more than 100 kids. hes going to be flug across the street if those kids all got interested in one thing at the same time #jade and karkat arent the “girlboss and malewife” dynamic no its the girl who has baby fever and the male who is like a->#overworked cigarette mom #but he wouldnt smoke #they have kids... if he was smoking jade would kill him for that .....#ok but back on the names like the first 2 ones were given original names and by kid 27 they started the 'jadekat jr' shit #“why didnt they stop by kid ..5..” baby fever

24 notes · View notes

frameacloud · 8 months ago

Text

Harriet Williamson (April 29, 2023). "Trans-inclusive cervical cancer campaign defies anti-LGBTQ+ hate: ‘We deserve to be screened.’" PinkNews. https://www.thepinknews.com/2023/04/29/cervical-cancer-screening-smear-test-lgbtq-inclusive-remove-the-doubt/

Update: This news article is about a campaign for cervical cancer screening, called Remove The Doubt. The UK charity running the campaign was called Live Through This. Later, the charity changed its name to OUTpatients, so the campaign moved to their new site. Since then, you can visit the Remove The Doubt site here, which explains to anyone who has a cervix what they need to know about cervical cancer screening and HPV vaccines.

#cervical cancer #trans men #trans masculine #FTM #cisgender women #AFAB #HPV #transgender health #transgender #UK #HPV vaccine #sexually transmitted infections #relevant for transgender men and trans masculine nonbinary people and others on the female to male spectrum #relevant for cisgender women and transgender men and others who were assigned female at birth #queue #cancer #pelvic exam #vaccine #i'm not sure why the link displays with a different title than the article... i didn't do that

28 notes · View notes

astro-tag-9 · 1 month ago

Note

Hii, can you match me with a character?

I’m a

Virgo sun,

Scorpio moon,

Cancer rising,

Virgo mars,

Virgo mercury,

Leo venus.

😽🤍

💙 Billy Dunne 💙

5 notes · View notes

hitzyy · 3 months ago

Text

Libra Sun (m) x Aquarius Sun (f)

Taurus Moon x Sagittarius Moon

Scorpio Mercury x Aquarius Mercury

Scorpio Venus x Sagittarius Venus

Cancer Mars x Leo Mars

Scorpio Rising x Virgo Rising

Requested by Anon

#requested by anon #made by me #libra #aquarius #libra sun #aquarius sun #libra male #aquarius female #taurus moon #sagittarius moon #scorpio mercury #aquarius mercury #cancer mars #leo mars #scorpio rising #virgo rising #request

9 notes · View notes

fafnir19 · 3 months ago

Text

The Disease

Leo and Ali had been close since childhood, an unlikely pair united by a shared love for adventure and a disdain for boredom. Their friendship thrived under the watchful eye of Leo's family's housekeeper, Chi Chi, who treated them like her own grandchildren. She would often cook their favorite meals and listen to their wild stories, offering a warm smile and words of wisdom when needed. As the final exams loomed, a tension hung in the air between the two friends.

"Leo, wait up!" Ali called out, hurrying to catch up with his friend as they left school for the day. It had been a while since they had spent any time together, what with the upcoming final exams occupying most of their time. "Hey, Ali! What's up? Need a break from studying?" Leo asked, turning to face his friend with a smile. "You read my mind. I need some air and a change of scenery. Let's grab some lunch at your place. I could use a home-cooked meal," Ali replied, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds good. Chi Chi always makes enough for an army, so there's definitely food for an extra mouth," Leo laughed, referring to his family's longtime housekeeper and cook. Leo, with his blonde fade and blue eyes, looked every bit the upper-class pupil, while Ali, despite his near-east heritage, looked like a handsome Italian. As they walked towards Leo's house, the scent of Chi Chi's famous sweet and sour pork wafted towards them. It used to be one of Ali's favorites, but today, he hesitated as they entered the kitchen.

Leo leaned back in his chair, a forkful of tender meat poised mid-air as he glanced at Ali. “You’re going to love this, right? Chi Chi really outdid herself today.” Ali shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowing as he pushed the plate away. “No, thanks. I can’t eat that. It’s haram.” A pause fell over the room. Chi Chi’s face tightened with concern. “But Ali, I made it just for you! You used to love it.” Ali’s brow furrowed. “I can’t. It’s haram!” “Haram?” Leo echoed, puzzled. “You never cared about that stuff before.” Chi Chi, bustling in the background, paused and frowned. “You eat, Ali. You need strength for your exams.” “No, Chi Chi. I can’t. I just can’t.” Ali’s voice was strained, almost desperate. Leo dropped his fork, the clatter echoing in the suddenly tense air.

Chi Chi shook her head, her worry deepening as she turned back to the stove. “Let me get you something else, dear. Just a moment.” As she bustled away, Leo leaned closer, lowering his voice. “What’s really going on with you, Ali? You’ve been acting kind of… different.” Ali shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s just finals. I’m stressed. I went to the mosque for some peace.” “Mosque?” Leo’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when do you go there?” “It felt right, okay? My parents—” “Your parents?” Leo interrupted, his tone incredulous. “They’re not even that religious.” “Right, but it’s part of my culture. I just wanted to connect.” Ali’s voice was rising, frustration bubbling over. “Whatever, man. Just eat something.” Leo threw a piece of pork onto his own plate, trying to lighten the mood. Chi Chi returned with a steaming bowl of rice. “Here, Ali! This is good for you. Just rice, no meat.” Ali accepted it silently, too distracted to respond. After lunch, Ali left the house, his shoulders hunched as he walked away. Chi Chi watched him go, her expression a mixture of concern and sadness. "Chi Chi, what's wrong?" Leo asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're usually all smiles and warmth after one of your feasts." The older woman turned to him, her face etched with worry. "That boy, he is very, very ill." Leo's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean? He looks fine to me." Chi Chi shook her head, her dark eyes solemn. "In China, we know this illness well. It is a mental illness, a delusion that takes hold of the mind and twists it. We call it 'Islam'." "Islam... a mental illness?" Leo echoed, his brow furrowed. "But it's a religion, Chi Chi." "In China, we have different beliefs," she said, her tone firm. "This illness is infectious, Leo. You must be careful and try to avoid him." Leo's heart sank as he considered her words. “Watch him closely. The illness is contagious,” Chi Chi warned, her eyes narrowing. “It changes them. They forget who they are.”

The following days blurred together, and Leo found himself increasingly worried about Ali. Each time they met, Ali seemed more distant, his promises scattering like autumn leaves in the wind. He often promised Leo he would join him for hockey practice or study together, only to cancel last minute. “I swear I’ll come to the hockey game next week,” Ali declared one afternoon, his brown eyes wide with fervor. “You said that last time,” Leo replied, crossing his arms. “You didn’t show up.” “I promise, Leo! This time I will,” Ali insisted, his voice rising slightly. “I just need to—” “Do you even remember the last time we played? You were supposed to be there!” Leo’s frustration bubbled over. “Why are you making promises you can’t keep?” Ali shrugged, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “It’s different this time,” Ali insisted, his voice rising. “Just trust me.” “Trust you? You’ve been lying to me!” Leo shot back, exasperated. Chi Chi, overhearing their argument, took Leo by the side after Ali has left wiped her hands on her apron, her expression hardening. “It is the illness. He believes he must promise everything and nothing at all. They lie even to their own ‘god’.” A small laugh escaped her lips, but it held no mirth. “Pretending to fast, but after sunset, they eat like the swine.” Leo frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. How can he think that’s okay?” “Perhaps he thinks Allah cannot see in the night,” Chi Chi chuckled, her laughter a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “Their Allah seems rather powerless if he can’t see in the dark, don’t you agree?” Chi Chi said, shaking her head. “It's sad, really.” Leo leaned back in his chair, the wooden legs creaking against the tiled floor. “I just don’t get it. He was my best friend. Now he’s… different.” “Watch yourself, Leo,” Chi Chi said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He is changing. It is not just in behavior but in appearance as well.”

In the weeks that followed, Leo watched helplessly as Ali transformed, his appearance shifting with each lie. The once-handsome boy now bore a beard, his eyes dull and lifeless. “Look at him!” Chi Chi remarked one afternoon, shaking her head. “The illness is taking hold.”

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the suburban streets as Leo and Ali walked home from hockey practice. Leo adjusted his grip on his stick, glancing sideways at his childhood friend. Ali’s brow was furrowed, a depth of worry etched into his features that Leo hadn’t seen in years. “Hey, Ali, you okay?” Leo asked, shifting the weight of his hockey gear to his other shoulder. “I’ve been thinking,” Ali said, his voice tight. “You should come with me to the mosque this weekend. It’s... it’s important.” “Really?” Leo raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’ve never mentioned it before.” Ali’s eyes sparkled with an intensity that felt foreign. “It’s a place of peace, Leo. You’ll see. You should hear the teachings. They can help you.” Leo hesitated, the unease creeping into his chest. “I don’t know, man. I mean, I’m not—” “Just come with me. It’s enlightening.” Ali’s tone was almost pleading, but there was an edge to it that made Leo take a step back. “Enlightening?” Leo raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “What’s enlightening about bowing down five times a day in the dust like a subdued slave?” Ali’s face flushed, and he gestured animatedly. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not just about that. It’s about community, faith. You’d feel it if you just tried.” “Why are you so passionate about this all of a sudden?” Leo challenged, his voice rising slightly. “You used to be all about hockey and school!” Ali shrugged, a shadow crossing his face. “Things change. People change. You’ll understand if you just give it a chance.” Leo felt the weight of a thousand unspoken words hang in the air. “I just don’t want to lose you, Ali.” Ali’s laughter rang out, but it felt hollow. “You won’t lose me. You’ll find me.” As they reached Leo’s house, Ali paused at the gate. “You’ll come, right? I want to show you something.” “Let me think about it,” Leo replied, trying to keep his voice steady. Ali’s expression shifted, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You can’t just think about it. This is a decision you need to make now.” Leo took a breath, the tension thick between them. “I’ll think about it,” he repeated, stepping back. “I need to go inside.”

“Fine,” Ali snapped, spinning around and storming off. His footsteps echoed off the pavement, a thud that resonated in Leo’s chest. Inside the house, Chi Chi was bustling in the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour. “Ah, Leo! You’re home! Would you like some of my sweet and sour pork?” Leo’s stomach churned at the thought. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Chi Chi’s brow furrowed. “You look troubled. What is it, my boy?” “It’s Ali. He’s been acting weird. He wants me to go to the mosque with him, and I don’t know…” He trailed off, unsure how to express his concern. “Ah, Ali,” Chi Chi sighed, her hands pausing mid-stir. “In China, we know there are mental illnesses that can spread. You must be careful. If you are near him, you may catch this illness too.” Leo swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling in his chest. He had always trusted Chi Chi, her wisdom and experience serving as a guiding light in his life. “What should I do?” “Distance yourself. Observe. If he is ill, you must protect yourself.” Leo felt a chill run down his spine. “But he’s my friend!” “Friends can lead us astray,” Chi Chi said, her voice firm.

Days turned into weeks, and Ali’s transformation became more pronounced. Leo watched in disbelief as his friend’s features changed—his nose grew more pronounced, his eyes dulled, and his skin got a dirty tan. Gone was the handsome boy akin an Italian, replaced by the stereotypical ugly Arab. The laughter that once filled their conversations had turned to fervent promises of a better life following a superstition Leo scarcely understood.

It was in the summer holidays after his graduation from school as Leo strolled through the bustling city center, his hands filled with shopping bags from their latest excursion. Chi Chi walked beside him, her eyes scanning the crowd with a watchful gaze and admiring the fresh fruits on the market.

“Chi Chi, look!” Leo pointed toward a figure leaning against a graffiti-covered wall. It was Ali, his childhood friend, a shadow of the boy Leo once knew. Clad in a track suit, Ali’s face had morphed into something almost unrecognizable. His nose was now prominent and hook-like, his eyes dull and flickering with a strange light. “Let’s go say hi,” Leo said, a hopeful lilt in his voice. “Wait.” Chi Chi grasped his arm firmly. “Don’t. It’s too late. He is a Talahon now.” “What’s a Talahon?” Leo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “That’s what they call themselves. A Talahon is usually a dumb and aggressive Islamic boy, who most certainly has a knife and is dangerous! They are so dumb that many of them couldn’t even swim.” Chi Chi's voice was low but firm, a warning mingled with sadness. “That can’t be true,” Leo protested, shaking his head. “Ali was never like that.” “Look at him.” Chi Chi gestured toward Ali, who was now laughing raucously with a group of similarly dressed boys, their boisterous energy a stark contrast to the respect Leo had once known in Ali. “He thinks he’s superior now, living off the work of others.”

Some months later, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows on the busy street as Leo adjusted the strap of his backpack. He was just about to turn the corner when he spotted a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost. Ali. The last time Leo had seen him, they barely exchanged words. The distance between them had stretched like a rubber band, taut and unyielding. “Leo!” Ali called out, his voice dripping with a forced enthusiasm. “Hey, Ali,” Leo replied, trying to match his tone but failing. He could see Ali’s fuzzy beard glinting in the fading sunlight, and the once-handsome features were now marred by an unsettling transformation. “Where are you off to?” Ali asked, his eyes glinting with something Leo couldn’t quite place. “Just getting ready to leave for Israel tomorrow. Semester abroad,” Leo said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Ah, the land of the oppressors, huh?” Ali laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Ali, that’s—” Leo hesitated, searching for the right words. “That’s not how it is.” “Isn’t it?” Ali stepped forward, his tone more aggressive.

“What are you doing out here?” Leo asked, trying to mask his discomfort. “Living the blessed life,” Ali replied, puffing out his chest. “While you’re off playing in the sand, I’m thriving. The white folks work for me now, like slaves, and Allah is on my side.” Leo’s heart sank. “That’s not true, Ali. You’re just—” “Just what? Superior?” Ali interrupted, his eyes gleaming with a strange fervor. “I’m living on my terms now. You’re the one who’s leaving. Who’s really winning here?” Leo clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re not winning if you’re living off welfare. That’s not a victory, Ali.” A mocking grin spread across Ali’s face. “You’ll see. Once you’re back, I’ll have my empire built.” “Good luck with that,” Leo replied, turning to leave. “You think you’re better than me?” Ali shouted after him, but Leo just shook his head, the distance between them now feeling insurmountable.

Leo, back from his semester abroad, leaned back in his chair, the warm afternoon sun streaming through the kitchen window of his parental home, casting a golden hue over the newspaper spread out before him. He remembered the lingering excitement of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem — the vibrant nightlife, the laughter of friends, the music that pulsed through the streets. *What a life,*

he thought, flipping through the pages until a headline caught his eye. “Local tragedy: Young man drowns in river,” he read aloud, his brow furrowing. “They say the ambulance crew was attacked by a crowd of young men.” Chi Chi, busy folding fresh linens nearby, paused. “Oh, Leo, let me see that.” Her voice was soft, but the urgency in her tone made him turn the paper towards her. She glanced at the article, her expression shifting to one of sorrow. “The one who drowned was Ali,” she murmured, shaking her head. “He has become a dumb Talahon completely and unlearned how to swim.”

Leo’s stomach twisted. “What? No… it can’t be.” He stared at the headline again as if willing it to change. Chi Chi placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Leo, sometimes the ones we care for the most slip away. It is better for him now. At least, Ali doesn’t need to suffer under his mental illness anymore!” “Better?” Leo echoed, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. “He drowned, Chi Chi! He’s gone.” “Better than living in that state,” she insisted, her voice steady. “You must remember him as he was. Not as he became.” Leo nodded, tears brimming in his blue eyes. Chi Chi watched him, her expression softening. “You can light a candle for him, Leo. Every year at Christmas when the peace light is brought from Bethlehem, you can remember him. Hope he finds peace.” “Yeah,” he murmured, lost in thought. “I’ll do that. I’ll stand it on his grave.”

Tonight, he whispered a silent prayer, wishing Ali didn’t have to stay in hell for long despite his sins. Days turned into weeks, and as Leo resumed his studies, Chi Chi often walked through the city, her shopping bags swinging at her sides. Each time she spotted women adorned in headscarves, her heart ached. “Poor ill beings,” she would think, shaking her head. “Why doesn’t anyone care about them?”

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #arabization #islam is cancer #talahon #dumbification #arab superiority

69 notes · View notes

blk-chauvinist · 3 months ago

Text

‘The Catalogue of Anti-Male Shaming Tactics’

“Shaming tactics.” This phrase is familiar to many Men’s Rights Activists. It conjures up the histrionic behavior of female detractors who refuse to argue their points with logic. Yet women are not the only ones guilty of using shaming tactics against men. Male gynocentrists use them, too.

Shaming tactics are emotional devices meant to play on a man’s insecurities and shut down debate. They are meant to elicit sympathy for women and to demonize men who ask hard questions. Most, if not all, shaming tactics are basically ad homimem attacks.

Anyway, it might be helpful to categorize the major shaming tactics that are used against men whenever a discussion arises about feminism, men’s issues, romance, etc. The following list contains descriptions of shaming tactics, some examples of quotes employing the tactics, and even color-coded aliases for mnemonic purposes. Enjoy.

Charge of Irascibility (Code Red)

Discussion: The target is accused of having anger management issues. Whatever negative emotions he has are assumed to be unjustifiable. Examples:

“You’re bitter!”

“You need to get over your anger at women.”

“You are so negative!”

Response: Anger is a legitimate emotion in the face of injustice. It is important to remember that passive acceptance of evil is not a virtue.

Charge of Cowardice (Code Yellow)

Discussion: The target is accused of having an unjustifiable fear of interaction with women. Examples:

“You need to get over your fear.”

“Step up and take a chance like a man!”

“You’re afraid of a strong woman!”

Response: It is important to remember that there is a difference between bravery and stupidity. The only risks that reasonable people dare to take are calculated risks. One weighs the likely costs and benefits of said risks. As it is, some men are finding out that many women fail a cost-benefit analysis.

Charge of Hypersensitivity (Code Blue) – The Crybaby Charge

Discussion: The target is accused of being hysterical or exaggerating the problems of men (i.e., he is accused of playing “Chicken Little”). Examples:

“Stop whining!”

“Get over it!”

“Suck it up like a man!”

“You guys don’t have it as nearly as bad as us women!”

“You’re just afraid of losing your male privileges.”

“Your fragile male ego …”

“Wow! You guys need to get a grip!”

Response: One who uses the Code Blue shaming tactic reveals a callous indifference to the humanity of men. It may be constructive to confront such an accuser and ask if a certain problem men face needs to be addressed or not (“yes” or “no”), however small it may be seem to be. If the accuser answers in the negative, it may constructive to ask why any man should care about the accuser’s welfare since the favor will obviously not be returned. If the accuser claims to be unable to do anything about the said problem, one can ask the accuser why an attack is necessary against those who are doing something about it.

Charge of Puerility (Code Green) – The Peter Pan Charge

Discussion: The target is accused of being immature and/or irresponsible in some manner that reflects badly on his status as an adult male. Examples:

“Grow up!”

“You are so immature!”

“Do you live with your mother?”

“I’m not interested in boys. I’m interested in real men.”

“Men are shirking their God-given responsibility to marry and bear children.”

Response: It should be remembered that one’s sexual history, marital status, parental status, etc. are not reliable indicators of maturity and accountability. If they were, then we would not hear of white collar crime, divorce, teen sex, unplanned pregnancies, extramarital affairs, etc.

Charge of Endangerment (Code Orange) – The Elevated Threat Charge

Discussion: The target is accused of being a menace in some undefined manner. This charge may be coupled with some attempt to censor the target. Examples:

“You guys are scary.”

“You make me feel afraid.”

Response: It may be constructive to point out that only bigots and tyrants are afraid of having the truth expressed to them. One may also ask why some women think they can handle leadership roles if they are so threatened by a man’s legitimate freedom of expression.

Charge of Rationalization (Code Purple) – The Sour Grapes Charge

Discussion: The target is accused of explaining away his own failures and/or dissatisfaction by blaming women for his problems. Example:

“You are just bitter because you can’t get laid.”

Response: In this case, it must be asked if it really matters how one arrives at the truth. In other words, one may submit to the accuser, “What if the grapes really are sour?” At any rate, the Code Purple shaming tactic is an example of what is called “circumstantial ad hominem.”

Charge of Fanaticism (Code Brown) – The Brown Shirts Charge

Discussion: The target is accused of subscribing to an intolerant, extremist ideology or of being devoted to an ignorant viewpoint. Examples:

“You’re one of those right-wing wackos.”

“You’re an extremist”

“You sound like the KKK.”

“… more anti-feminist zaniness”

Response: One should remember that the truth is not decided by the number of people subscribing to it. Whether or not certain ideas are “out of the mainstream” is besides the point. A correct conclusion is also not necessarily reached by embracing some middle ground between two opposing viewpoints (i.e., the logical fallacy of “False Compromise”).

Charge of Invirility (Code Lavender)

Discussion: The target’s sexual orientation or masculinity is called into question. Examples:

“Are you gay?”

“I need a real man, not a sissy.”

“You’re such a wimp.”

Response: Unless one is working for religious conservatives, it is usually of little consequence if a straight man leaves his accusers guessing about his sexual orientation.

Charge of Overgeneralization (Code Gray)

Discussion: The target is accused of making generalizations or supporting unwarranted stereotypes about women. Examples:

“I’m not like that!”

“Stop generalizing!”

“That’s a sexist stereotype!”

Response: One may point out that feminists and many other women make generalizations about men. Quotations from feminists, for example, can be easily obtained to prove this point. Also, one should note that pointing to a trend is not the same as overgeneralizing. Although not all women may have a certain characteristic, a significant amount of them might.

Charge of Misogyny (Code Black)

Discussion: The target is accused of displaying some form of unwarranted malice to a particular woman or to women in general. Examples:

“You misogynist creep!”

“Why do you hate women?”

“Do you love your mother?”

“You are insensitive to the plight of women.”

“You are mean-spirited.”

“You view women as doormats.”

“You want to roll back the rights of women!!”

“You are going to make me cry.”

Response: One may ask the accuser how does a pro-male agenda become inherently anti-female (especially since feminists often claim that gains for men and women are “not a zero-sum game”). One may also ask the accuser how do they account for women who agree with the target’s viewpoints. The Code Black shaming tactic often integrates the logical fallacies of “argumentum ad misericordiam” (viz., argumentation based on pity for women) and/or “argumentum in terrorem” (viz., arousing fear about what the target wants to do to women).

Charge of Instability (Code White) – The White Padded Room Charge

Discussion: The target is accused of being emotionally or mentally unstable. Examples:

“You’re unstable.”

“You have issues.”

“You need therapy.”

“Weirdo!”

Response: In response to this attack, one may point to peer-reviewed literature and then ask the accuser if the target’s mental and/or emotional condition can explain the existence of valid research on the matter.

Charge of Selfishness (Code Silver)

Discussion: This attack is self-explanatory. It is a common charge hurled at men who do not want to be bothered with romantic pursuits. Examples:

“You are so materialistic.”

“You are so greedy.”

Response: It may be beneficial to turn the accusation back on the one pressing the charge. For instance, one may retort, “So you are saying I shouldn’t spend my money on myself, but should instead spend it on a woman like you —and you accuse me of being selfish?? Just what were you planning to do for me anyway?”

Charge of Superficiality (Code Gold) – The All-That-Glitters Charge

Discussion: The charge of superficiality is usually hurled at men with regard to their mating preferences. Examples:

“If you didn’t go after bimbos, then …”

“How can you be so shallow and turn down a single mother?”

Response: Average-looking women can be just as problematic in their behavior as beautiful, “high-maintanence” women. Regarding the shallowness of women, popular media furnishes plenty of examples where petty demands are made of men by females (viz., those notorious laundry lists of things a man should/should not do for his girlfriend or wife).

Charge of Unattractiveness (Code Tan) – The Ugly Tan Charge

Discussion: The target is accused of having no romantic potential as far as women are concerned. Examples:

“I bet you are fat and ugly.”

“You can’t get laid!”

“Creep!”

“Loser!”

“Have you thought about the problem being you?”

Response: This is another example of “circumstantial ad hominem.” The target’s romantic potential ultimately does not reflect on the merit of his arguments.

Charge of Defeatism (Code Maroon)

Discussion: This shaming tactic is akin to the Charge of Irascibility and the Charge of Cowardice in that the accuser attacks the target’s negative or guarded attitude about a situation. However, the focus is not so much on the target’s anger or fear, but on the target’s supposed attitude of resignation. Examples:

“Stop being so negative.”

“You are so cynical.”

“If you refuse to have relationships with women, then you are admitting defeat.”

“C’mon! Men are doers, not quitters.”

Response: The charge of defeatism can be diffused by explaining that one is merely being realistic about a situation. Also, one can point out that asking men to just accept their mistreatment at the hands of women and society is the real attitude that is defeatist. Many men have not lost their resolve; many have lost their patience.

Threat of Withheld Affection (Code Pink) – The Pink Whip

Discussion: The target is admonished that his viewpoints or behavior will cause women to reject him as a mate. Examples:

“No woman will marry you with that attitude.”

“Creeps like you will never get laid!”

Response: This is an example of the logical fallacy “argumentum ad baculum” (the “appeal to force”). The accuser attempts to negate the validity of a position by pointing to some undesirable circumstance that will befall anyone who takes said position. Really, the only way to deal with the “Pink Whip” is to realize that a man’s happiness and worth is not based on his romantic conquests (including marriage).

(This image may be freely distributed.)

#feminine narcissism #anti-feminism #shaming tactics #feminism is anti-male #dumb bitch logic #feminism is a cancer #female shaming tactics #mgtow #bmgtow

7 notes · View notes