#Something to do with forced masculinization

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

The "what if a cishet romantic man wanted to come to queer meetings" thing was one of the things that helped me (a trans man) see how marginalised men's masculinity is weaponised against us. Because the hypothetical cishet aro man isn't being constructed as dangerous because he's feminine or related to womanhood in any way; he's constructed because his deviance means he's "missing" something that's "supposed to keep the bad parts of men in check". This isn't to say that aro women don't get shit, they absolutely do, it was just a real turning point in my personal understanding of marginalised masculinities

yeah specifically re: the deviance factor, I remember a lot of the strawman arguments around the hypothetical cisgender heterosexual allosexual aromantic man being "allowed" in queer spaces hinged on the assumption that this man would also be a pseudo sexual predator bent on hooking up with as many women as possible and then using his aromantic status as an excuse to ghost or otherwise treat them badly. frequently this came with speculation that cishet men would falsely claim aromantic identity, so as to have a built-in excuse for such behavior and shut down any potential objections.

which is like. I mean, it's bullshit for a lot of reasons.

one of the most egregious issues to me is the audacity of people acting like hanging out in a queer space with the intent of having sex is some kind of evil invasive force, as if many queer spaces, historically, have no been organized around the principal of trying to fuck and be fucked, and as if plenty of those hookups haven't led to ghostings or breakups exactly as careless and hurtful as the proposed scenario involving our cis allo aro man would be, but it's supposedly worse because he's? a yucky man? the increasing distrust of sexual attraction in many young, allegedly left-leaning spaces is its own alarming beast and I don't want to get into the whole thing here, but jesus christ.

I just. I cannot take seriously the idea that I'm supposed to be threatened by a man who MIGHT exist and MIGHT want to have sex with someone, and make any serious decisions based on the specter of this guy possibly being out there somewhere. get a grip.

[postoctobrist]

When me and my friends were young (but not that young) our small hometown town somehow got the money to build a 1000ft long pedestrian suspension bridge. We were bored and found that if we grabbed the suspension cable at its lowest point and pushed and pulled it at the right frequency we could slowly build up oscillations in the bridge. You could feel the walkway swaying underneath us and see the movement in the main suspension cable. We would do this with several people with one person counting out the beat until the oscillations got so large that the suspenders attaching the walk way to the main cable started to slam into the hand rail and make a horrible clanging noise. Then we would all be scared, and no longer bored so we would stop.

While doing this I was aware of the differential equations describing first and second order resonance in elastic structures with and without dampening. I had studied several engineering disasters where cyclic loading close to some multiple of the resonance frequency lead to collapse of buildings and bridges. It is a small town and I was bored.

I am bad at transitions, and I would like to ask for advice/articulate something. Mostly to force myself to articulate thoughts I have never spoken about, and you do not have to read all this. Because it is very long and large parts of it are honestly pretty horrible. I have for some time been making a very conscious effort to not think about "my gender". Because I felt that there would be no use in thinking about myself through that lens. Telling myself that I can do whatever I want regardless of gender. This seemed to work for me except I find myself paralyzed. I cannot imagine myself in a romantic or sexual relationship. Romantic or sexual attention I receive feels like it is intended for somebody else. Even in situations that should be simple where attraction is mutual I feel confused and conflicted. As I write this I am wearing clothes somebody gave to me almost a decade ago, they have holes in them and I never really considered what they look like to other people. A couple times a year when I make budget or apply for a job etc I thin about the future but only ever a year or two ahead. This future blindness gets so bad I often can't even make plans for the weekend. I find myself looking at my reflection as if trying to find something wrong with my appearance but I couldn't put my finger on any specific flaw. I look like an attractive man, what else could I ask for.

I have recently allowed myself to think about this and I am not sure that it is helping. I realize now that being a man can be an exhausting constant effort for me, and that certain things that I have been doing can alleviate this pressure. When I wear my long hair down, I do not imagine that I have become a women, but the act of wearing my long hair down and shaving my entire face is not something I would do to look like the manliest man. This almost symbolic rejection of my internal drive to act as a man has a profound effect on me. Especially when I am alone I find this very calming, my mind is a little quieter, my breathing is a little deeper.

However in public this is often over shadowed by a new discomfort. My already ever present sense of danger in public is heightened. Around many men I feel physically unsafe, as if a threat of violence lies just under the surface of every interaction. Around women my discomfort around men and with myself seem to combine and I cannot shake the feeling that I will make them feel unsafe. Making women feel unsafe makes me unsafe and so on. All this is worse the more feminine I am.

My small symbolic gestures of femininity in private would seem to have no real downside. Their benefits seem to come into effect as soon as stop trying to look masculine. However in the perception of others I feel a pressure to appear either completely man or women. I now find myself trying to appear feminine and this might be worse. Outside perception of me feels completely beyond my control. Which is a good excuse for me to repress any thoughts or feelings about it. I want to accept that this is outside my control, and also that I desperately want to control it.

Some of things I believe about this view of me from the outside are not things I would ever want to put on anyone else. I have never seen a person that would look worse with some musculature, and have always found strong people aesthetically pleasing and attractive. I enjoy being strong, it practical utility, the sense of security it provides me, and as an accomplishment I am proud of. Yet at the same time I sometimes find myself revolted by my muscles. My size, my veins, my bones, nothing about them is wrong except that they are there.

I feel I need to juxtapose any feminine attributes against my masculine ones (one earring is allowed but with short hair. Long hair is allowed in a bun but with stubble). To appear as a feminine man and not a failed attempt at manliness. Is this my reaction to a societal pressure or my own misandry against weak men? I have no way of knowing. Similarly I feel that the only way to be extremely feminine or a woman would be to subject myself to sexual objectification, and infantilization ("femboys" are only feminine as long as they are somebodies fetish and because they are boys and not adults). Again I cannot say if this is my reaction to a societal trend or my own judgement on other people. Either way I cannot help but feel that this pedophilic degrading view of femininity and women is a moral sin I have committed. Yet what possible use could there be in applying a moral judgement on my own thoughts? I don't choose to feel or think these things. I don't want to wear booty shorts, or dress up like a princess. Do I think less of those who do? If don't subject myself to this degradation in exchange for femininity will it be because I have the self respect of a man? Or is it just cowardice.

I don't want to look like a trans women. I want what my grandma has. She is a matriarch. The varicose veins on her arms, her short hair, a raspy laugh, a double mastectomy, these things are just the type of women she is. She is a mother of mothers. She might not be asked to pray over the meal, but her wisdom is an open secret among those that are really looking for ruthlessly honest advice. She must enjoy wearing jewelry (or she wouldn't bother) but never seems to take it too seriously. When telling a story about how she fought a bear off her daughters or cracking a joke about how she will die any day now her womanhood is so effortless, so inconsequential, so in the background that it almost seems almost useless.

oh my fucking god lady just take the fucking estrogen

[burningcheese-merchant]

Xcuse me but I forgot very important questions about BS parenthood.

Does he teach the kids more things besides fighting? Is he a cool dad, stoic dad, protective dad or "over-the-moon" dad? Does he gives romantic advises to his son? Does he let his little beast princess play with boys her age? Does he dreads the day when she falls in love? (I have the headcannon over my own BurningCheese fankid that whatever girl/boyfriend she gets they need to AT LEAST be able to put up with him in battle)

Yay, more questions from my buddy Almellow 🗣️🔥🙌

Spice is 100% "over-the-moon dad" when they're babies. It's a pleasant surprise to many to see him so genuinely bubbly and smiley (not to Golden, though, she knows his soft side by now and is just happy to see him enjoying being a father). It's really cute. (I like the concept of hyper-masculine men being soft and loving towards their families ok)

As they grow up, he becomes a mix of all those dad modes, really. Mostly Cool Dad, because having your kids look at you like you're larger than life is just the best. (He's also not the best at disciplining them a lot of the time tbh. He wants to indulge their foolishness, it's more fun. He ends up acting like a child himself, wanting to have fun with his children. And then they all get chastised by Golden together after they break something lol)

He's less protective than you'd imagine him to be; not because he doesn't care, but because he really does have that much faith in their strength right from the get-go. It's actually Golden that's the overprotective one, at least when they're little; he had to coax her into letting them start their warrior training because she kept wanting to push it back and making excuses to do so. (She just can't bear the thought of her little ones getting hurt. She's lost so much already. If anything happened to her children, her little gems... Spice is the one to convince her to have faith in the kids and let them do things. Of course they'll get hurt, she and him get hurt all the time still and they're adults. But they'll be fine. They're tough. They have to nurture that toughness, not stifle it. They can't protect them forever... But they don't need to. The kids can stand on their own two feet. He's never doubted either of them for a second, for any reason. She shouldn't, either.) But make no mistake, Papa Bear is alive and well, just dormant. Only coming out when necessary. You want to see the old Burning Spice? You want to see the Beast of Destruction again? Hurt those kids. Harm a single hair on their heads. Make them cry, make them bleed. Knock on that devil's door enough and Burning Spice will answer it, and he will greet you with that axe of his and that fiery, seething hatred that once consumed his soul and helped burn away countless others'.

Burning Spice trying to talk to his son about love is a really amusing thought lol. I don't think he'd go out of his way to do it until he actually notices his son expressing some form of interest in someone, then it's honestly 50% Lighthearted Dad Mockery™️ and 50% Actually Trying to Teach My Son How to Be Smooth™️. Pepper Jack is having less than none of it, this is all embarrassing as hell, he doesn't want to hear a damn word from his father's mouth (he's a teenager by this point, what teen wants their dad to try to coach them on how to flirt lol). He tries to shut Spice down with sarcasm (Jack is the KING of backtalk and smartassery when he's a teenager, he's a damn menace) or just questioning his wisdom in general. He likes to bring up how annoying and gross Spice and Golden always are (unapologetic PDA constantly lol). He's already forced to witness what "love" and flirting look like, he doesn't need his father pouring salt in his wounds

(Jack once made the mistake of going "didn't you used to be weird and creepy towards Mother" once, as a sort of "gotcha". It made Spice genuinely upset and angry and he tore Jack a new one that lol. Jack felt bad (and kind of scared. Spice never really gets truly angry with the kids, but Jack has seen him get angry with others, and... Oh Lord) and apologized, promising he wouldn't say anything like that again. Things were cold and awkward between them for, like, a week. And then Spice got over it and went back to annoying his son like usual lol)

As for Matar Paneer... She's his princess. His little girl. His little flower. (He has nicknames for both of them lol. He really does love them very much.) She can play with who she wants, so long as she's happy and no harm comes to her (but again, he believes in her strength wholeheartedly and expects her to kick ass if trouble comes by). But... Oh. When she's old enough to date... Poor Spice, he's so miserable lol. He would unironically own and wear this shirt:

If Burning Spice is saying he'd gladly go back to prison for something, you best believe he's being sincere lol

It's Golden that has to step in here. Before, he was the one soothing her worries; now the roles are reversed. She needs Spice to understand that Paneer is a becoming a young woman and she has the right to pursue and be pursued if she wishes. It's ok to care and worry, but he has to let her live and grow. (She's her mother and has always been a girl's girl, she knows what's up and will always be 100% in Paneer's corner in this regard.) Spice once asked her to have more faith in them, now she's asking him to do the same. (And, of course, he can brutally murder whoever hurts Paneer, if that really does happen. But he'll have to wait his turn, because Golden already plans to do the same ☺️)

And yeah, of course Spice teaches them stuff besides fighting. He's happy to do so. He teaches them how to meditate (he gets back into that after he reforms. Jack picks it up a lot faster than Paneer does lol). He teaches them to make the traditional Wild Spice dishes he still remembers how to do himself (he lets the other spices teach them the rest). He... teaches them about history. About the Wild Spices' history, and about history in general. He sounds so... somber when he talks about things like that. It's strange to them. They're used to seeing him act lively and wear that sharp-toothed grin he's always got. But it must mean that what he's saying is really important, right? He wouldn't look and sound like that if he wasn't being serious, right?

[sephirthoughts]

First Soldier

it's a double entendre i'm hilarious shut up

this is a glennseph one-shot i've been threatening to post for a while but didn't get around to. it's extremely explicit and sephiroth is a teenager so obligatory disclaimer ahoy:

ALL CHARACTERS HAVE REACHED SEXUAL MATURITY AND ARE ABOVE THE LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT IN THEIR COUNTRIES OF ORIGIN

fucking fight me you little puritan fucks

SUMMARY: big dumb puppy glenn pets the hissy little kitty but instead of getting clawed, the hissy little kitty rubs against him and purrs NOTE: did everyone know glenn is only 23 during first soldier? twenty-fucking-three!!! he must have the cid highwind premature weathered old man gene cause damn TAGS: sephiroth x glenn lodbrok, sephglenn, cute smut, fluffy smut, no plot, pwp, etc. WARNINGS: dead dove, don't like don't read, grown-folks content, no minors allowed, minors DNI, etc.

“Out here, the only way to survive is to kill them before they kill you,” he said, forcing back the tears that were burning in his eyes. 

Glenn advanced on him. Towering and almost menacing, it seemed, to the teenaged boy. Sephiroth steeled himself. He didn’t want to hurt Glenn, but he was at his breaking point, and if the man wanted to make this physical, he’d regret—

All of a sudden, Glenn’s arms encircled him, and he found himself being squeezed tightly, with his face buried in a big, broad chest.

His senses were flooded by Glenn’s earthy, masculine scent and the firm pressure of his arms, holding Sephiroth against the sturdy, solid warmth of his body.

Sephiroth crashed to desktop, like one of those old computer programs, in the SOLDIER testing center.

He wasn’t that ignorant. He’d seen people hug one another, before. It was just that no one had ever done it to him. No one would have dared to invade the little monster’s personal space, except Professor Hojo. And Hojo only touched him to test his pain thresholds.

On the heels of his initial bewilderment, his indignation flared up, white-hot. Physical touch was a method of pacifying infants and children, who were too young to respond to reason.

Did Glenn think of him as a brainless infant, that needed that kind of soothing? Was this another demonstration of disrespect, because of his age and inexperience?

The man’s next words thoroughly defused the boy’s rising anger, though. 

“You’re right,” Glenn said. His deep voice vibrated in his chest, and tickled Sephiroth’s ear. “Out here it’s life or death.”

When the man released him, he was in a daze, hardly able to process what had happened. All he wanted to do was to grab hold of him and bury himself in his warmth and his scent and never, ever let go.

No. That was something a baby would do. Sephiroth had been very clearly instructed that he was to conduct himself with the dignity incumbent upon him as a man, a SOLDIER, and Shinra’s representative in the field.

“But Sephiroth, you don’t have anything to prove,” Glenn continued. “We know how strong you are. Maybe you could show some compassion. I know you’ve got it in you.”

He clenched his teeth and fought it as hard as he could, but a tear escaped down his cheek. It was unseen by the others, however, because Glenn was standing between them, like a shield.

“I’m not a cyborg.”

Those arms enfolded him again, a gently crushing pressure on his tense-up body. Glenn’s voice was hoarse, with uncharacteristic emotion. “I know. I’m really sorry I said that.”

“I…I never wanted to be…” he mumbled, into Glenn’s coat, trailing off before finishing his sentence, because he was still trying not to cry.

“I know. I know,” Glenn said, then gave a strangled sounding grunt, as the boy’s arms constricted around him, like steel pythons. “Seph could you—hngh. Can’t…breathe.”

“Oh. S—sorry,” Sephiroth said, hastily letting go. “I forgot how fragile you are.”

He’d meant that in complete earnest, but Matt and Lucia burst out laughing, like it was the best joke of all time. Their laughter made Sephiroth feel warm and pleased, and he laughed as well. Glenn snarled and scowled and stomped around a little, but he wasn’t really angry, and no one was afraid of him, anyway. 

The team was in better spirits, when they sat by the campfire, that evening. Sephiroth had his jacket off, so Lucia could patch up his gunshot wound. He didn’t want to tell her it was unnecessary and he’d be good as new before he went to bed, so he just politely accepted her help.

Meanwhile, his sleeveless, black thermal left little of his leanly muscled torso to the imagination, and both Glenn and Matt commented admiringly on his physique.

“When I was your age, I was a scrawny little fucker,” Glenn reminisced. “Had a growth spurt around seventeen. Shot up like a tree. What about you, Matt? You have your growth spurt, yet?”

“Oh, you’re so funny,” Matt returned, tossing a bit of biscuit at him. “I’d rather have brains than brawn, anyway.”

“I never met a problem I can’t punch my way out of, professor smartass,” Glenn said, puffing his chest out.

Sephiroth was eyeing the large man enviously. “The professor says I’ll grow very quickly, in the next several years. I wonder if I’ll ever be as tall as you.”

“Even if you’re not, there’s nothin’ wrong with that. I’m a pretty big dude.”

“Mm-hm, with a mouth to match,” Lucia interjected, at which Matt laughed. “Alright, I did my best,” she said, closing the med kit. “Not pretty, but your healing factor is so fast. You’ll probably be good as new by morning.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth replied, earning a ruffle of his hair from the young woman.

“Anything for a handsome gentleman, like you,” Lucia smiled. “I’m gonna turn in. Don’t keep the commander up all night, Glenn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t,” Glenn said waving her away.

“Goodnight, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth said politely.

“Night fellas.” 

When she’d gone off to her tent, Glenn bumped Sephiroth with his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink, and Matt chuckled over the rim of his canteen. Glenn looking at him like that made Sephiroth’s cheeks flush, which just made the two older men laugh even harder. 

This was the third or fourth time something like this had occurred. He wasn’t actually sure what their raillery meant, but he knew it had to do with Lucia, and that he was supposed to understand, somehow.

He didn’t want to be called a cyborg, again, so he usually kept his mouth shut and just let them have their joke (well, Glenn’s joke. Matt only ever laughed along). But Glenn hugging him, earlier, and apologizing for the cyborg comment emboldened him, this time. 

“Why do you two laugh and look at me that way, when I talk to Ms. Lucia?” he asked. 

Glenn squinted an eye. “What, you really don’t know? Young man your age?”

“Don’t know what?” Sephiroth asked, looking back and forth between them.

“That’s my cue to turn in,” Matt said, getting up from his spot, across the fire. “You two have a nice talk.”

“Well, Seph, my friend, it’s like this,” Glenn said sagely, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, as Matt retreated. “There’s birds, you know? And bees. And those all have…something to do with spring. Spring is the time for, uh. Well, when two people—”

“I know about sexual reproduction, Glenn,” Sephiroth said flatly. “My education has been very thorough. What does that have to do with you teasing me about Ms. Lucia?”

Glenn withdrew his arm and scratched his head, awkwardly. “Ah, well. You’re a healthy young man, ya know? And she’s a very pretty girl.”

“Is she?”

“Sure. You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“It would be inappropriate for me to judge my teammates, based on appearance.”

“Yeah, of course. But for real, though. Don’t you like her?”

Sephiroth considered this gravely. “Ms. Lucia is a strong and competent person, and she goes out of her way to be kind to me. I suppose I like her, yes.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Glenn said, shaking his head. “I mean like…the kind of ‘like’ where you want her to hold your hand.”

Sephiroth looked down at his hands, then up at Glenn, perplexed. “Hold my hand? For what reason?”

“Just…hold it. Like, the way people do, when they like each other. You know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Uh. Wow. How the hell do I explain this.”

“Why don’t you just show me what you mean,” Sephiroth suggested.

“W—well, I…ok. Just to show ya.” Glenn crossed his wrist over Sephiroth’s on the smooth log, between them, and pressed his palm to his, then laced their fingers together. “See? Like that. Nothin’ to it.”

Sephiroth found himself unable to reply. His mouth had gone suddenly dry, and he could judge how pink his face probably was by how hot his cheeks felt. He kept his head down and nodded faintly.

When he felt Glenn’s grip begin to loosen, he unconsciously tightened his own. Glenn stiffened. But he didn’t pull his hand away. Neither did Sephiroth. Several long beats passed. 

By then, it was far too late to pretend it was an accident. They were both too embarrassed to look at one another, though, so they just sat silently like that, hand in hand, staring at the low-burning embers of the fire. 

Sephiroth’s body was outwardly calm, but his mind was racing, frantically attempting to explain this sensation to himself. It was a completely new and alien feeling, this holding hands. It seemed like a pointless gesture, but there were all sorts of unexpected physiological reactions attached to it. Mostly turbid and confusing emotions, along with a heavy dose of shame, at reacting so strongly to something so trivial. He didn’t hate it, though. 

After a while, he dared a sidelong glance at Glenn. “What else do people do, when they like each other?”

Even in profile, by firelight, he could see the color in Glenn’s cheeks. “Well, they, uh. They hug and uh…k—kiss. Things like that.”

Sephiroth looked down at their interlaced fingers, and seemed to have realized something. His blue-green eyes widened. “You hugged me. And you’re holding my hand.” 

“Uh—ahem. Mm-hm.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Do you…want me to?”’

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully. “I liked when you hugged me, and I like holding hands. I think…yes. I’d like for you to kiss me.”

Glenn glanced down at Sephiroth then quickly away. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, passing a hand over his forehead. “Fuck it. I’m already goin’ to hell, why not punch an express ticket.”

Releasing Sephiroth’s hand, he coiled his arm about his waist and leaned close, tilted his head slightly, then ever so gently pressed his smooth, firm lips to Sephiroth’s. 

Sephiroth’s heart lurched and ran ragged. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed Glenn’s collar. He didn’t know what else to do 

“Open your mouth a little,” Glenn whispered, breath warm against his lips. His low, rough voice sent goosebumps up the back of Sephiroth’s neck. “Just follow my lead. Try to do what I do.”

Sephiroth let his jaw slacken and Glenn’s lips pushed his apart. When Glenn’s tongue slid forward into his mouth, he was too stunned to respond, for a full ten seconds, then he recalled Glenn saying he should follow his lead.

Sephiroth pushed his tongue forward and tried to mimic Glenn’s actions. It was clumsy and awkward, but when his tongue crossed the barrier of his teeth, and touched Glenn’s, he couldn’t help giving a soft little groan. Glenn hummed in his throat and pulled him closer. 

Sephiroth’s ears were burning hot and his stomach was doing dizzy flip-flops, like he was coming down with a fever and an inner-ear infection, and yet…this was the best thing he had ever felt. The best thing he’d ever imagined feeling. He wanted to do this and nothing else, from now on. 

He learned extremely quickly, and before long, his tongue went from tentative and uncertain, to hungry and demanding, pushing forward and chasing Glenn’s. 

“Whoa, slow down there, cowboy,” Glenn said breathlessly, pulling back to look at him. “Anything past this, and I’m in serious shit. Actually, if you decide to tell anyone, I’m in serious shit, anyway.”

The boy’s catlike pupils were blown wide and round, in his blue-green irises. “Why would I tell anyone? Come back, I want to kiss more.”

“Probably ain’t a good idea to do this out here, in the open.” 

“Where?”

Glenn glanced around and then stood up, jerking his head toward the little clearing, where he had his tent, a dozen meters away. Sephiroth nodded and followed. 

Inside the tent, they took off their boots and coats, and Glenn spread out his sleeping bag, so they could both lie on it. Sephiroth hardly gave him time to lie down before he was pulling and tugging at his clothes.

“Hang on,” Glenn said. “Couple things. I got more experience than you, but that doesn’t mean I know everything. You gotta tell me to stop, the minute you don’t like something, ok? I won’t be mad or anything, you just gotta say it.”

“I promise,” Sephiroth replied solemnly. “I’ll tell you as soon as I don’t like it.”

Then Glenn took the boy in his arms, tangling their bodies together, while their tongues caressed, sloppy and urgent, till they were both flushed hot and panting. Glenn peeled off his thermal undershirt, then helped Sephiroth pull his off, over his head. 

When he compared his smooth, slender, milk-white chest to Glenn’s—hairy, suntanned, and heavily muscled—he wanted to reach out and touch it. 

As if he’d read his mind, Glenn grabbed Sephiroth’s hand and put it on his chest. “Go ahead and touch me. I don’t bite.”

Sephiroth hesitated, then gave free rein to his curiosity, playing with Glenn’s curly, golden-blonde chest hair, cupping his big pectoral muscles, and sliding his hands up and down his solid torso. He liked the ridges of his abdominal muscles, and the trail of hair leading down from his navel into his waistband.

When he noticed the big, oblong bulge of Glenn’s penis, through his trousers, he blushed crimson and looked quickly away, which made Glenn chuckle. Not liking to be laughed at, Sephiroth set his jaw defiantly and put his hand on the bulge, squeezing it through the fabric.

Glenn laid his hand overtop of Sephiroth's and slid it up and down the thick shaft. To his astonishment, his own responded, beginning to swell and thicken inside his tight underwear.

Sephiroth had never had a reaction to any person’s body, male or female. He’d only ever felt something happening down there, when he was required to give semen samples, in the lab. 

The device used to collect the samples induced erection and stimulated him to ejaculation, without his participation. This was the first time he’d become erect on his own, aside from the normal, autonomic erections, when he’d first wake in the morning.

Those didn’t feel like this. Those he ignored and they went away, usually before he’d finished brushing his teeth. This was like an itch but deeper and more maddening. His penis was rigid and aching, and he could feel a wet spot forming in his underwear. He had to force back the urge to push it against Glenn, while they laid together, kissing and groping each other’s bodies. 

Glenn saved him the trouble, when he grabbed his ass and rocked his pelvis, grinding his much bigger shaft against Sephiroth’s. 

“Hm—ah,” Sephiroth panted. “I want…I want…”

Glenn’s breath was hot and wet on his ear. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“You want to fuck?”

Sephiroth’s body tensed with mild panic. “W—what? What do you—how can we…we’re both men.”  

“Sorry, that wasn’t nice of me,” Glenn said, grinning sheepishly. “I was just messing around. I kind of wanted to see your reaction.”

Silver eyebrows lowered and pouting lips were pursed. “No, you wanted to gauge my reaction, without committing to anything. Now, tell me what you mean. Can two men really…do that, together?”

So deftly hoisted by his own petard, Glenn was at a loss, and became embarrassed. “Uh…um. Well, yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a lot of ways. You can use your hands or your mouths, or—” 

“Mouths?” Sephiroth said, incredulous.

“Yep. You can even put it in the, uh. The back.”

“In the…” Sephiroth’s eyes went wide. “But why?”

“Because sex feels good? Why else?”

Sephiroth was thunderstruck. He’d only been taught about copulation between a male and female, so far as it related to reproduction. He’d never imagined that men would want to do this, with one another, when it served no biological purpose. No. He couldn’t see it. Glenn must be messing with him again. 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you suggesting that it feels good, to have an erect penis inserted into your anus?”

“If it didn’t, millions of guys wouldn’t do it.”

“But it’s so small,” Sephiroth argued. “How does it…go in?”

“Lube and patience,” Glenn said flippantly, then cleared his throat. “It’s not that complicated. It’s very…stretchy, down there. You use a lot of lubrication and you put your fingers inside, first, to loosen it up. Once it’s stretched out and slippery, you can…you know. Go in.”

“And that feels good?” 

“I mean, it hurts, if you’re not careful. Especially the first time. But yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a shitload of nerves back there. Plus, the um. The guy’s dick rubs against your prostate, inside. It feels good, and you can even come that way.”

“Come?”

“E—ejaculate.”

This was an overload of information, for Sephiroth. The whole thing was too bizarre to imagine. Except that he suddenly did imagine it. Glenn on top of him, pushing his big, hard penis—wait, Glenn said dick, so he should say it that way—pushing his big, hard dick into him.

His head got hot suddenly, and his own dick throbbed with desire. He laid both hands on his cheeks, to cool off his overheated face, while he processed all of this. 

After a few minutes, Glenn nudged him. “Seph? You ok?”

“Hm?”

“You ok? You zoned out.”

“I—I’m ok. This is a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I had no idea you didn’t know this stuff. You said you’d had sex-ed, before.”

“I did, as related to biological reproduction. No one ever told me the…other things.”

Glenn looked awkward. “Ah.”

“Have you done it?”

“Huh? Done which?”

“Have you had sex with another man?”

“Well, yeah. I’m gay, so…”

“Gay?”

“Homosexual. That means I only have those feelings for men, and I don’t like women that way.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully.

“What’s that look? What are you thinking about, now?”

“I think I’m also gay.” 

“Oh yeah?” Glenn smirked.

Sephiroth nodded. “I tried to imagine doing the things I’ve done with you, tonight, with a woman, and the idea was repulsive. But I liked doing them with you. So, I must be gay.”

“I guess…I can’t argue with your logic. It just, uh. It seems a little quick for you to make such a big decision.”

“No, I’m sure,” Sephiroth said firmly. “I’m gay. I want to have sex with other men, and not women.”

“Well, um. Congratulations on your self-discovery.”

“Glenn, I want to have sex with you. The way you said. I want you to put your dick in—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on. You just went from virgin who’s never even heard of being gay, to full-on put your dick in me mode, in ten seconds, flat. That’s way too fast, Seph.”

“How long did you wait, to have sex? After you realized you were gay?” Sephiroth challenged.

Glenn’s face went a little pink. “I’m not a good example. I was a rebellious kid and I lost my virginity pretty young.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen. Why can you decide what you want, at fourteen, but I can’t at fifteen?”

“It’s not that, it’s…there’s more to sex than just the mechanics. It’s complicated.”

“Oh. I see.” Sephiroth lowered his head dejectedly. “It’s that you don’t want to do it with me.”

“No, no—don’t get all sad like that. You’re…fuck. You’re so gorgeous I can hardly believe you’re real. But you’re still just a kid. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sephiroth lifted his chin, haughtily. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you did want to. I’m many times stronger than you.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” Glenn chuckled.

“So?”

“So…what?”

“So do it, with me.”

Glenn wavered, but he knew he was already a lost cause. Here was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on in all his twenty-three years, basically begging him for it. He was in no way equipped to handle this kind of temptation.

After some admittedly muddle-headed self justification, he grabbed the med kit and dug out a tube of surgical lubricant.

“Ok. Ok. I'm ready. Let's do it.”

“Shouldn't we take off the rest of our clothes, first?” Sephiroth pointed out.

“...”

The process of two people undressing in a one-person tent was awkward and unsexy, and the less said about it, the better. One way or another, they managed to get naked together.

Glenn felt like he was drunk or dreaming, mind sluggish and hazy with lust, kissing his way down this silky, seraphic body, pushing apart a pair of slender thighs.

“Hold your legs up, for me.”

Sephiroth pulled his knees up, making a face. “I feel stupid, in this position.”

“You don’t look stupid,” Glenn murmured, as he slicked his fingers with the surgical lube. “You look amazing. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Sephiroth grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, as Glenn’s finger pushed slowly in, through the resistant ring of muscle. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it didn’t feel very good, either. Glenn took his dick in his other hand. Sephiroth gasped and jolted, as his hot mouth closed around the head. 

“G—Glenn!” he sputtered. “What are you…ha...ah!”

His protests unraveled into incoherent jumble, as Glenn took him all the way to the back of his throat. His big, calloused finger was still sliding in and out, and when it started pressing on something inside, Sephiroth had to bite into his forearm, to stifle his moans. It was like hot bolts of aching lightning, pulsing through his gut, into his balls, whenever Glenn’s finger prodded him there.

Glenn pulled off to look up at him, but he kept stroking it with his hand. His dick was leaking so much clear fluid, that it ran down Glenns knuckles. When he pushed a second finger inside, sephiroth choked and went quiet, but Glenn felt his insides clamping down tightly on his fingers.

“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” he breathed, watching the boy’s face, with heavy lidded eyes. “Good boy.”

“Hngh—ungh! Glenn! F—fuck!” Sephiroth’s first curse word came tumbling out of his mouth, as the aching tension wound to a peak and snapped. His narrow hips jerked and his dick convulsed, spurting viscous, milky-white, all over Glenn’s hand, as well as Sephiroth’s stomach and chest. His insides squeezed and contracted on Glenn’s fingers, as he massaged him through the spasms, milking out every drop. 

Glenn was so hard by now, the head of his dick looked swollen and purple, and ropy veins stood out all over the thick shaft. His balls were heavy and tight, high up against the base, aching for release. He squeezed out some more lubricant slicked it, generously. 

“Seph, I’m gonna put it in, now. Ok?”

“Mn…mm-hm.” Sephiroth nodded. 

With one hand on the back of the boy’s thigh, Glenn guided his dick with the other, to press the big, blunt head to the tautly puckered, pale-pink hole. Goddess, even lubed and stretched, the kid was as tight as a drum. Glenn pushed harder against the resistance and the head suddenly popped through. 

“Ah! It h—it hurts!” Sephiroth sputtered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” Glenn hummed. “Just breathe and focus on relaxing. If you stay tensed up, it’ll hurt more.”

“O—ok,” the boy sniffled.

He was looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, half-lidded and pink around the rims, his lips wet and parted, and tears trickling down his temples. It took all of Glenn’s self-control not to plunge in even more vigorously.

With heroic resolve, he breathed slowly and forced himself to be patient. Easing in just a little at a time, paying attention to the boy’s whimpers and groans, watching his face screw up with pain, and relax again. His pale chest heaving, with his ragged breaths. The divine, velvety heat inside him, slowly, ever so gradually accepting his cock. 

“That’s it,” he said hoarsely. “I’m all the way inside. You took it all.”

Sephiroth craned his neck to look at where their bodies were joined. Where Glenn's big, ruddy tree-trunk was stuck into his slender, white ass. His cheeks and chest were flushed pink and his body was trembling, perspiration beading on his forehead. 

“D—don’t move yet,” he stammered. “I’m not ready.”

“I won’t. Just breathe, baby.”

Glenn laid over him, kissing his lips and smoothing his hair back. Sephiroth’s muscles began to slacken, as his body acclimated to penetration, and his breathing became more normal. Keeping his pelvis flush against his ass, Glenn began to rock his hips gently, letting the boy get used to feeling a dick inside him, without the stress of him thrusting.

Glenn withdrew a little and pushed back in. “That feel ok?”

“Mm…ah. More. Give me more,” the boy slurred out, arching his spine.

Looking him steadily in the eye, Glenn began to slide out and rock back in, at a slow, gentle pace, pushing his achingly hard dick into the most divine body he’d ever touched. The boy’s velvety-hot hole resisted tightly as he pushed in, and sucked deliciously when he pulled out, till he was dizzy and euphoric, drunk on the absolute exquisite pleasure of fucking this angelic boy. 

A bizarre, aggressive instinct surged suddenly, inside him. He wanted to nail Sephiroth down, split him open, fuck him so hard he’d cry and beg for mercy. He wanted to pump him full of his seed, till it swelled his belly and came out of his mouth and nose. He’d never felt such a violent urge to dominate and possess any other partner.

He heard sephiroth whimpering and realized he’d been fucking him harder than he intended to. But even after he was aware of it, he found he couldn’t do anything about it. It was like he was possessed, by some beast in rut. 

“Sorry, Seph,” he rasped. “I c—I can’t stop.” 

He pushed his knees up to his armpits and laid into him, with ruthless energy. Sephiroth’s wet-kitten mewls only made Glenn’s burning desire blaze up even hotter. He held him down and kept thrusting, harder and harder, digging into him with his furiously hard cock, like he was trying to kill them both. 

His heart was thudding like a jackhammer and his muscles were on fire, sweat pouring down his chest and dripping from his chin, but he couldn’t come. He felt his dick swelling, getting harder and hotter, and his balls ached, so full and tight they felt like overripe melons, as they slapped heavily against the boy’s ass, but something was denying him release, holding him on the bleeding edge of orgasm.

He groaned, as the tension wound and twisted to impossible tautness in his gut. “I need to—I need to come! Please! Let me come!!”

He didn’t know who he was pleading to. The boy wasn’t stopping him, he was the one being brutally hammered by a maniac. 

“Do it,” Sephiroth panted. “C—come inside me.”

The pressure exploded like a bomb. 

“Haaa! Fuck! Ffffuuuck!” Glenn bit hard into Sephiroth’s neck, to muffle his hoarse cries, as his balls unloaded the longest, most excruciating, soul-drainingly intense orgasm of his life. He came so hard, he saw stars, feeling each individual spasm, as his dick forcefully expelled long, aching bursts of slippery-hot seed, filling the boy up and spilling out, around his shaft. Still, he kept thrusting convulsively, fucking every last drop into this perfect hole.

Half out of his senses, shaking and drenched with sweat, he collapsed on top of Sephiroth and immediately blacked out. 

—

“Glenn…” a voice said, from somewhere far above his head. 

“Hm?” he grunted, without opening his eyes. 

“Glenn,” it called again, clearer and louder. “Glenn!”

Oh, shit, it was Lucia’s voice! Lucia was going to find him and Sephiroth!

Glenn sat bolt-upright, in a panic, disoriented and temporarily blinded by the sunlight pouring in through the putty-colored canvas of his tent.

Wait…huh? He blinked blearily around, as his eyes adjusted. He was alone, in his sleeping bag, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

“Glenn!” Lucia shouted. “Wake up, asshole!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he called back, in his gravelly, sleep-rough voice. “Quit yelling, will ya?”

“If you answered the first ten times, I wouldn’t have to,” she retorted, giving the canvas a slap. “Hurry up and get dressed. Sephiroth caught some fish for breakfast.”

“Sephiroth can fish?”

She didn’t hear him, or more likely, didn’t care to deal with him anymore, and her footsteps went crunching away. Meanwhile, Glenn was searching his tent and person for evidence of nighttime activities, but there was none to be found. He was fully clothed, and his boots were neatly placed just inside the tent flap. His underwear, however, were soaked. 

He got up and wriggled out of his pants, then peeled off the sticky undergarment. Holy shit. He never came this much, even when he was conscious. He was almost impressed. 

That confirmed it, then. It was all a dream. He hadn’t  lost his goddamn mind and fucked his teenaged commander till he passed out, last night.

Relief so potent he nearly teared up washed over him. At the same time, there was a tiny pinprick of bitterness, in it. A faint feeling of loss, he couldn’t quite quantify. He ignored it and shook himself back to reality.

How fucking wild was that? He’d never had such an intense and vivid dream, in his life, sexual or otherwise. He could still taste the boy on his tongue and smell his warm, musky scent. He could still hear his whimpering moans, when he—oops, shit.

He stopped thinking about that immediately, and used some pre-packaged bathing cloths, to clean himself up, before hastily getting dressed and heading over to the campfire. 

Matt and Lucia were seated on the driftwood logs, drinking coffee from tin mugs, and Sephiroth was tending to some fat, juicy fish, he’d skewered on sticks, and was cooking over the fire.

“Morning, Glenn,” the boy greeted cheerfully. “Hungry?”

“Hell yeah. Smells delicious,” Glenn said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “You caught all these?”

“Mn,” Sephiroth nodded. “I was up early, so I thought I’d take care of breakfast.”

“Well now, that’s downright decent of you. Hey, can I get some of that coffee?”

“Kettle’s right there,” Matt said. “It’s just instant packets, from the MREs.”

“How early did you get up, anyway, Sephiroth?” Lucia asked, offhandedly, as she passed Glenn a mug. “I was out at sunrise, to report in, but I didn’t see you, anywhere.”

Glenn felt an ominous prickle on the back of his neck, but Sephiroth answered naturally, without a hint of anything off, in his manner.

“I went out before that. Fishing is easiest just before dawn and just after sunset,” he explained, turning the sizzling skewers over the coals. “Fish have poor eyesight, but strong shadows can scare them away. Plus, most of the insects they prey upon are crepuscular.”

“Well, that explains why I never catch anything,” Lucia grumbled. “Who wants to be out fishing at the crack of dawn?”

“You’ll never be a pro-angler, with that attitude,” Glenn chided. 

“There goes your fallback career,” Matt put in.

When the fish were done, Sephiroth handed them out, as-is, since the skewers obviated the need for plates or flatware. Then he took his own and sat beside Glenn on the log.

Glenn couldn’t help leaning back a little and surreptitiously inspecting the boy’s neck. In the dream, he had bit the kid hard enough that there’d be bruises for weeks, but it was smooth and white, and there was no hint of a mark.

“What are you looking at?” Sephiroth frowned (guess he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought). “Is there an insect on me?”

“Hm? Oh—uh. I thought there was but…it was nothing,” Glenn said awkwardly. “Thanks for the fish. Really, really good.”

“I wanted to do something, to thank you all for being so patient with me. Breakfast is the least I could do.”

Matt and Lucia chimed in with their accolades, and Sephiroth practically beamed, unable to conceal how pleased all the praise made him.

“Oh, and Glenn, I wanted to especially thank you, for last night.”

Glenn choked on his bite of fish. “W—uh. For—for last…for what?”

“Our conversation. It was very educational, so thank you.”

“R—right. No problem,” Glenn said miserably.

When breakfast was over, the group dispersed, to pack up their gear. Glenn was relieved to have a minute alone, to get himself together. He was so worked up, his head was spinning. He really had to stop eating whatever weird fruit he happened to find, on this island. These intense dreams were not good for his stress levels. 

He was rolling up his sleeping bag, when he froze, and his face drained of color. There, on his pillow, was a single, long, silver hair.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

was it a dream or not?? you tell me!

[hetrosjistin]

I've been mulling over something actionable about this because I am -really- worried that folks on this site, famous for it's lack of reading comprehension, will take what I'm saying as a #NotAllMen statement, which is not my intention here.

This is what I came up with:

I think something I want to add here is that this doesn't mean not talking about how women have to act as if any given random strange man is a threat. That's not the same thing as hating on men for being men.

It's important that young men, boys understand that bad actors among men in general. and especially the systemic expectations of toxic masculinity in particular, force women to take actions to protect themselves. It's important they understand that such actions are not directly aimed at them. It's important that they know this so that they can understand how the patriarchy does harm to THEM TOO in this manner, by preventing and harming their ability to form healthy relationships with the opposite gender. And important because in learning about these things they can TAKE conscious actions to change their behavior (example: I'm a short guy, and I got into the habit of finding ways to increase my height when arguing with some one, get them to sit down while I stood, sit on the table while they sit on a chair, etc, to loom at them both to make them take me even a little more seriously in my own head, and let's be honest, as a machismo intimidation tactic. When I finally realized how toxic that was, how it was percieved as taking a stance of physical threat against women, and how I did not WANT to do that, I worked on changing my behavior. When I'm in a argument I -try- to force myself to sit down and put myself in as non threatening a stance as possible)

But that's not the same as misandry. It's not born from the same place as someone saying 'all heterosexual sex is rape' or 'god damn I hate men' and similar things.

I hope I'm coming across as coherent here x-x

Because one of the reblogs of OPs post that I saw said something like 'it's inevitable, he WILL become a rape apologist and agent of the patriarchy, there's nothing you can do!' and that's just.

What's even the fucking point?

Why even do ANYTHING if this is an inevitability?

Why are we even FIGHTING for feminism in this case? Because obviously if you believe that then you believe everything we do is fruitless and pointless, men are biologically and socially determined to become rapists.

It is the most cynical and fucked up thing imaginable. It's every bit as fucked up as the idea that women are naturally determined to be best suited to be barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen. It means the struggle we are all engaged in for equality and liberation is pointless.

And I refuse to believe that.

I know I have fucked up shit about myself from the patriarchy. But I have to believe that I can deprogram that and change myself over time as it is revealed to me by introspection and other's actions and words to me.

We can't act like this shit is deterministic because that tears out he very heart of our cause: That we CHOOSE to be who we are, that our chromosomes decide nothing except the shape we are born into, not how we act or the way we treat one another.

And so, we must make the DIALOGUE be about people's ACTIONS and NOT the things they cannot change about themselves.

Y'all have got to stop virulently hating men. Like, I'm sorry, I fucking hate the patriarchy too, but the patriarchy isn't just men and saying it is just exculpates complicit women. I am the mother of a young boy, and I look at this precious, empathetic 8 year old boy I'm raising and I don't know where online is safe for him. Places like this will say he's evil just for his gender, and other places will say "we'll be your friend if you hate with us," and still others will radicalize him in other ways. Where is he supposed to go? Why are we saying the radicalization is the fault of the kids just trying to find a place to hang?

Like this is seriously getting urgent. You have got to fucking stop conflating the patriarchy and men. 53% percent of white women voted for Trump. Men aren't the problem. White supremacy and Christian patriarchal structures are two examples of patriarchy-reinforcing structures that aren't solely couched in maleness. Men aren't the problem, and pretending they are drives more men into more welcoming extremist spaces and also ignores all the parts of this that are forwarded by people who aren't men.

What I see happening all over is scared, depressed, lonely people looking for someone they're allowed to hate automatically, unquestioningly - someone they're allowed to place all the blame on. Fascism says people of color, non-Christian people, queer people, etc., are the ones they're allowed to hate.

And way too many of yall answer that no, it's leftist to hate men instead. You are doing *the exact same thing they are.*

Fucking knock it off.

The answer is we're not supposed to hate anyone automatically based on their immutable personal characteristics. Hate the specific people who've hurt you. Hate the self-reinforcing systems that let them get away with hurting you. Hate the strangers who prop up those systems. Hate the fascists. Hell knows I hate Donald Trump, but it's not because he's a man, it's because he's a piece of shit.

Hate the pieces of shit, not the gender.

But don't hate men just because they're men. That's unhelpful, stupid, insane, and entirely counterproductive. Fucking. Stop.

[coquettefeminist]

Radfems of tumblr.

Why do yall like to criticize feminine women so much? Sometimes I feel like y’all are just assholes and don’t like women who don’t act GNC. Not every radfem wants to put another label on herself and act all masculine which is just something you can’t force upon someone. I’m fully aware that being feminine and wearing high heels isn’t radical, but someone who does those things doesn’t make them any less radical.

Anyways here’s my hot take of the dayyyyy

[pleasantspark]

From Afar Pendleton (Sir Pentious) x Reader Genre: Angst Tropes: Warnings: Sir Pentious being Antisocial, Took forever because I was researching the 1800s, Rewritten HH, Reference to Leaks. AUs Utilized: Hazbin Hotel Rewritten A/N: This is a complete rewrite. I haven't written oneshots in AGES. I tried to work on this because, well. This is a fanfiction and not a full fledged series! Reader is Gen Neutral. Would do both parts with proper pronouns but too lazy. Have a Gen Neutral Reader.

Pendleton looked out his window forlornly. There was several people outside his window, he wished he could be happy with the others. Laugh like the others...

Sadly, he couldn't bring himself to do so, the male adjusted his glasses, and found himself nearly falling over. His eyes dart noticing a person who seemed to be walking slowly. His eyes widened in interest. They seem to be preoccupied in what they were doing almost as if transfixed on something.

They had a (medium/long/short) length hair that was fashioned (curly/wavy/straight) they also seemed to wear a masculine outfit. No doubt that they were hiding their frame. Pendleton pushed his face towards the glass. The feeling of being close to someone was apparent.

He sighs when the mystery person left. He turned back to whatever he was doing in the process of his toymaking.

Saint Repentious looked up to Speaker, his eyes glistened with tears.

"I... I sssaw how (handsssome/beautiful/ssstunning). It'sss a ssshame..." Saint Repentious looked away. He seemed to view himself as small. The Speaker smiled gently.

"Don't feel bad, My Child. What happened?" Speaker asked.

"What happened..." Saint Repentious began.

"What happened wasss..." Repentious had a flashback, and it was back to where he was working on another prototype of the "Egg Boiz" and as the prototype exploded he frowned, and then his eyes darted to the window when the people moved about again. He noticed them. This time they weren't alone. A man followed them. He felt his heart thump. Who was this dapper fellow? Why were they following them so close? For the first time in forever, Pendleton leaves the house, and peers the corner where he saw the two of them.

Something regarding the Man didn't sit well with Pendleton, may have been the way he regarded himself or... He felt odd...

"He carried himssself with something sssinissster. Like. Sssomething fissshy wasss at play here. The way he held onto them like that... Didn't sssit well with me... I ssstalked them from my home and all the way towardsss the pub. And, well. They partied. And before you knew it. It wasss midnight..." Repentious explained to Speaker.

Back in the past, Pendleton watches as the man and the person leaves the pub, heading to a lone alleyway. Pendleton's heart races as the man proceeded to pull out something that was shielded from view but he could tell by the glint of the metal that it was a knife. Part of him wanted to scream, do anything. Yell, warn them. But he couldn't. He was frozen and stuck in that moment.

"And... The ssscreamsss. Oh... god. The ssscreamsss, I can ssstill hear their ssscreamsss to thisss day, he ssstabbed them. Over, and over, and over again... He ssshowed no mercy. And I wasss forced to watch." Repentious explained.

Pendleton watches, with a hand covering his mouth as the man stabbed the person who he spent time looking afar and admiring. The person obviously took the blows of the sharp weapon. The weapon piercing them before they were reduced to nothing but a body on the floor. The man obviously retracted his knife and looked down at the corpse of the person he cruelly murdered. Without warning, he fled the scene. Pendleton spent the seconds that followed rushing to the body, and blinking back tears. He tried to contain himself.

"I... Remember, their body... It wasss cold... lifelessss no body like that hasss been that cold... Until that day. They were ssstill alive. They looked up to me. I wanted to help them. But didn't know CPR... And I wasss ssscared that they would blame me blame me for being the killer. The worssst part wasss, that they weren't the only perssson to die by thisss killer. There wasss two women before them. And the knowledge hauntsss me. To thisss day..." Repentious blinks back tears.

Pendleton pulled away, upon knowing that the person was now dead. He gags, and blood was on his body. He was covered in their blood. He resisted the urge to purge. All feeling left his body. That was until, lights blinded him.

"Freeze! London Police! Hands up!" Pendleton had no reason to resist, he was shocked, and didn't have anything more to do. So upon instinct he places both hands up and was arrested. They got him due to his shocked behavior and inability to deny the claims. He was sentenced to hanging. He did his peace and was executed.

Back in the present. Sir Pentious blinks back tears. "I'm sssorry for being weak, and in the moment of my weaknesss I wasss unable to..."

Speaker places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't be sad my child. They don't blame you."

"They don't?" Repentious asked.

"No, they won't, and you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because, they are here too."

[peachfuzz-nygma]

forcemasc post inspired by the wolf monologue josef gives to aaron in creep (2014)

[cringefail-loser]

you are completely missing the point of the original tweet. She is not mad that there aren't other women in the dressing room, she's mad that she's not being treated the same as the other women in the dressing room. You have no proof that she's "getting off" to trying on bras or to being treated like a cis woman. It's very very clear that she simply wants to try on a bra, an experience that most cis girls get to have at a young age.

"[She] could’ve ordered online. It takes 30 seconds to measure yourself.

If you have breasts, you know how hard it is to order a well-fitting bra online. You usually have to buy a couple in a few different sizes, just to find the right one. It's not an easy process! My chest is on the smaller side, and it's still difficult to find the right one. Also, not to mention the experience that comes with bra-shopping in person! It's fun to go to the store and look at all the bras and find the right one for you that comes in your size and is in your favourite colour.

"Real women don't get upset that there's no one else in the Victoria's Secret changing rooms."

If you read the tweet, you'd notice that the woman who made it had to wait for the staff to remove all the women from the changing room. It's not like there just so happened to be no other women in the dressing room, they quite literally isolated her from the other women. Also, I'm sure that if you were forced to be away from the rest of the women in the changing room for no apparent reason, you would get upset too.

"I mean can you even imagine how fucking awkward that situation was for the women [she’s] sexually harassing and [she] doesn’t ever stop and go what the fuck am I doing?"

Oh I'm sure she knew how awkward it was. Imagine being ostracized for that, being called out for being trans in front of a bunch of people who probably didn't care in the first place. This same situation could happen just the same to a cis woman with a deep voice and a more masculine facial shape and build. You all would complain about how misogynistic it is for the VS staff to treat a woman like that. And you know what? It was already misogynistic! This trans woman could have just as likely been a cis woman with masculine features, and the staff had decided to separate her from everyone else just because of her features. THEY QUITE LITERALLY ASSUMED SHE WAS A TRANS WOMAN JUST BECAUSE OF NON-FEMININE FEATURES.

"Also as usual how does [she] know those women are 'cis'?"

You're right! She has no proof that these women in the changing rooms are cis women. But neither did the staff. As said previously, they just decided that she's trans, simply because she "looked like it". You terfs are always the ones to say "we can always tell", but here you are admitting that you can't just always tell. You ADMITTED that some trans women look like how society expects cis women to look.

"Maybe they just thought [she] was your run of the mill male predator?"

If they genuinely thought that, they probably would have kicked her out for being "creepy". But that didn't happen. They understood that she was there just to shop for a bra, but didn't want to let her in for whatever reason. (Most likely transphobia, but y'all always write that off as something that's not real, so I'm not even going to bother entertaining that idea.)

Non-Tumblr users weren't kidding when they said that you all have piss-poor reading comprehension.

[highseas-swede]

...I seriously cannot stress how much I hate tags like "Give us BAMF Aziraphale" because it seems to imply that he's not badass.

He IS. Tell me how well most people could endure 6000 years of consistent, persistent demoralization, harassment and shitty treatment without snapping?

Do you know how HARD it is to be kind when you've been put through a system that actively discourages kindness and softness, a system that tries to beat it out of you - not physically, but still. The fact that Aziraphale got through all of that and is not just still kind, but still has the capacity to be kind to the very people who hurt him, is fucking remarkable.

Aziraphale is badass. Period. Full Stop.

It's well past time that we stopped equating physical and fighting prowess as a measure of badassery. Just about anyone can exercise and get strong enough to fight someone. Just about anyone could possibly get weapons training. Neither of these things is half as brave as putting yourself in front of a crowd of people and holding off 70 demons with just conviction and a candleholder because it's the RIGHT THING TO DO.

EDIT: I had to add this while I was thinking of it.

I feel like people are buying into Heaven's version of badassery. Angels were made to FIGHT. To fight the last big battle against demons and Hell.

Aziraphale is a deviation because he DOES NOT WANT THAT. He doesn't want to fight a war that will hurt billions and destroy the world. His defining moment in Season 1 is when he stands in the face of the quartermaster and refuses to fight the way they want him to. Instead of a weapon, he chooses to find another way.

If anything, I would think it's leading to the idea that Aziraphale feels he must fight, that he has no choice, and then, when it comes right down to it, finding another way. A kinder way. A BETTER way.

By the standards of Heaven, Aziraphale picking up his sword and fighting would be Normal. Him refusing and finding another way is what makes him Unique. THAT'S what makes him badass.

[contagious-watermelon]

tomboy trans girls ily <3 by the law of equivalent exchange, there's got to be a masculine trans woman out there that i switched places with gender-wise. hope she's doing well

[veronicalodgeswitch]

This was easily one of the hottest experiences Veronica had ever had, and they were only a few minutes in. Something about the pure, raw masculinity of Chuck lifting weights probably equal to her entire body with ease all while his cock throbbed to attention in her mouth had her shaking with need. God, this man would break her brain if she wasn’t careful - and she’d rarely ever met someone capable of inhibiting her so easily. She watched with wide, wavering eyes as his body bulged and flexed, a sexy, slight sheen of sweat gleaming off his perfect skin as he continued through his set, grunting and moaning until he finally set the weights down and sat up, his body pumped and hard - a literal feast for her eyes, which she rewarded with some extra passionate sucking. His pre-cum mixed with her saliva, quickly making quite the mess of her lipstick as she began to suck on his cock with wild abandon. She groaned around his length as his fingers wove through her hair, taking possession of what, at this moment, she couldn’t even deny was absolutely his. Veronica gave a soft moan of agreement at his comment. Her typical impulse to be cheeky was noticeably clipped right now. She liked riling him up, and she probably always would - but this was a different way to do that; a way that was fun for both of them, and she had no intention of stopping unless ordered to do so. She inhaled sharply through her nose, holding her breath as he forced her down on his length, deep-throating him and shoving his cock all the way to the back of her hot, wet throat. She gasped and choked around him, her hands fumbling from the muscled swell of his thighs to his tapered waist for support as she struggled to breathe with a mouth full of his hard, perfect cock. His grasp relented enough for her to slide back off his cock, as she looked up and found his pumped, muscled frame looming overhead, that signature, an annoyingly sexy smirk tugging at his lips as he ordered her to continue. Hearing him refer to himself as ‘Daddy’ provoked a fresh wave of arousal that crashed through her entire body like a tsunami. Her eyes rolled back and her lips tighten around his thick girth, sucking hard and popping off the head of his dick just long enough to say, “Fuck…Daddy’s making his little girl so…fucking wet…mmm…c-can’t wait until this perfect fucking alpha cock is filling up my cunt. Want you to use my body like it’s your property, Daddy - use it like only a man as fucking strong and dominant as you can.” She said in a silky tone before she dove back down on his dick with an enthusiastic moan and started to suck and slurp shamelessly on his length while one of her hands crawled up from his waist to rake up his torso to his chest, desperate to feel that hard body under her delicate hands.

Chuck had an impressive list of interesting qualities, not least of all his ability to focus. He felt his cock twitch as Veronica pulled the elastic band away and letting his impressiveness bounce free. He smirked as he heard the dark haired girl's response to seeing him, humming on an exhale as her sexy voice. His brow rose at the honorific, never having heard it directed towards him before, but finding he didn't hate it. His grunts as he lifted the weight became teamed with moans and growls as he finished his ten reps with his cock deep between hallowed cheeks. He rested the bar again, laying against the bench as he enjoyed her mouth bobbing up and down his length. His hand rubbed over the back of her head, gripping his fingers between the silky strands to encourage her to continue. He grew hard and long between her lips, lifting his head to watch the girl use that mouth of hers for his pleasure. "This is what you should be using that mouth for." As if he figured she might come off him to throw one of her patented quips at him, he held her hair tight, pressing her head fully onto him, not letting her off him. "Be a good girl, blackbird," he encouraged as he sat up, his upper body towering over the kneeling girl, "Suck Daddy's cock."

[winepresswrath]

I'm causally interested in basically all Fallout ship combinations, but I really need Walton Goggins/evil wife. plz make this good for me, show.

[dykedvonte]

Mini rant below and in the tags, the only time I’ll talk about this and my personal take on it.

The way people talk about hypothetical male Anya on Twitter and the idea of how Mouthwashing would play out if the genders were swapped makes me remember how people still don’t take sexual assault and rape with male victims with the same gravity, especially when the perpetrator is female.

[asmo-cosmetics]

it just bewilders me that anyone could write a character as perfect as julian and then so obviously begin to hate him. it's so weird how much open unabashed contempt these writers have for the character their game is basically about.

i've said this before but i think that the prologue was written for a different version of the game, before the team decided to make julian the heel to asra's face and the butt of every joke. "a gift from a witch who fears commitment" was so obviously meant to be foreshadowing for a major plot point, but they just hand-wave it away in the story with like two lines of dialogue and a prayer.

"no, no, that was a red herring!!" no it wasn't. julian himself is already the red herring, making his implied backstory another red herring is the definition of a hat on a hat. asra and julian were clearly written for asra to be the bad guy in the asrian divorce, but then someone (everyone? i don't know) vetoed it because god fucking forbid we make asra look like an asshole even once.

asra is the writers' favorite and it's extremely obvious. he basically has no flaws, to the point of legit cliche. oh mc my only flaw is loving you TOO much. so even though julian is already written with a very clear archetype of "guy who hates magic because he got his heart broken by a witch" that comes through in basically everything about him, they have to paper over it in the story because we can't make asra look mean!

so they just make up for their shitty coverup writing by being like haha isn't julian silly? he was wrong about everything and he doesn't like magic hehe haha. leeches! meanwhile the bones of the characters they actually wrote are in asra too, because it's clear he's meant to have his "villain moments," he's meant to have sharper edges and even be scary, but someone decided that he has to be an uwu softboy and ruined him in the process.

as always i am not looking for a debate, i will block you.

[lohstandfound]

hm.... exploring jake as nonbinary/agender who very much performs the act of masculinity because that is what is expected of him and coming to terms that he doesn't have to be, maybe he doesn't have to force himself into that mould