#those same men: do you want to do this for me

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

This type of condescending post is why the LGBT is losing acceptance.

I just want that to be understood. Because let's break this down.

OP's picture compares "Flamboyance" to Joy. These things are not the same.

"Gay joy reminds the straight man of what he has suffocated himself in exchange for social acceptance or power". Ok this is another one of those "Gay is ackchewally the default" arguments. Or one of those, "men loving other men is normal but you are just giving that up for power and acceptance". No they aren't giving up jack shit. THEY ARE JUST STRAIGHT. Wtf. And you people claim you are born gay but straight people aren't real? Please justify the double standard.

"He folds himself into whatever shape looks like" Yeah. Men generally do that regardless. Unless you are telling me that gay men are incapable of being "Proper men" because they are gay. The funniest bit about this argument is that you think you are pointing out that straight men don't know what real men are when historically, men help foster the next generation. They help train the next generation to protect and defend. They hunt for the settlements and explore the world around them to keep the village safe. This has always been true. Men FOLD themselves into whatever they need to be in order to keep life going forward. That "Folding" isn't "stopping myself from being gay and happy".

Also just to point out this last bit-

#and remember you've contorted yourself into the shape of a Real Woman in exchange for soc acceptance & power#and denied yourself the gentle acceptance of doing what is comfortable on this earth

People opt for whatever standards they want. If not enough people care about those standards, they fade away. That's how society works. You are making a jab at the idea of "Real woman" when often the term historically I've heard is "Proper". Real and Proper have two different meanings. And what's more, earlier before this line, you act like, condescendingly so, that "society has created a bad standard for what a real woman is and women mindlessly go along with it." <Paraphrasing here. Even more, you posit this-

#similar w straight women hating butch lesbians#you see a woman not shaving not wearing make up wearing comfy clothes and still being loved and desired

And let me mention something here. 1. Butch Lesbians are a very small minority in the Lesbian community. 2. The way you say this is almost the same condescending way that top post implied that "Gay" is ACTUALLY the way to be a "real man". Except here it's "growing out your body hair is how you be a "real woman". Except I'd be willing to bet FemLesbians do not agree with you. Especially not Fem for Fem.

Posts like this are often fucking stupid, made with possibly good intent but fall short as they only go, "WOW STRAIGHT PEOPLE ARE SO MAD". YEAH. I've been pissed for years that gay men have targeted me, a red head, and tried to get me to do sexual acts with them. And have tried to force their lifestyles on me.

SO YES. A little pissed off. But not for the reasons you claim. I don't care if a person is flamboyant. Unless they are really obnoxious about it. Because after a point, you are just putting on a performance so that everyone around you has to see you. And it's actually fucking annoying. What's more, misery and joy can't be quantified by whether or not you shave. A lot of people actually prefer to groom themselves by shaving because it's easier to keep themselves clean and make them sweat less. Take it from me as the fucking missing link, I'm the embodiment of wishing I could afford laser hair removal. And if I hate my own body hair as much as I do, color me shocked that as many women willingly shave for just themselves as do.

Posts like this are actually quite demeaning. And very condescending. Now to punt this over to my gay ally -> @theconstitutionisgayculture

EXACTLY!

[shotosjupiter]

JJK MEN AND K-DRAMA MOMENTS !

synopsis — those classic k-drama tropes and jjk men! featuring nanami, gojo, and choso! lemme know if you guys want a part two <3

genre/warning — gn! reader, gojo is a chaebol bc yeah (im watching my dear nemesis and he reminds me of the main lead sm), fluff!

𖤐 NANAMI — SAVING YOU FROM A FALL

NANAMI is walking with you on the sidewalk, the bustling street and road tuning out the sound of your footsteps. he’s in a three piece suit, freshly off of work and had decided to walk you back to your apartment as the two of you had clocked out at similar times.

it was in that moment when nanami had looked back only to see a biker speeding scarily on your side of the sidewalk. without thinking, nanami wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you flush towards his chest, silencing the ramble you were going on with on your walk.

you had a hand on his chest, as he pulled you close and you felt the biker whizz past the two of you. nanami looks past you to see him heading off and scowled. he looked back at you as if ready to make a disapproving comment about it before he realized the proximity between you two.

his mouth runs dry as he takes you in and glances down at your lips. have your lips always looked this kissable?

his thoughts are running a mile a minute before you clear your throat and step back from him. you send him a sweet smile before nudging him with your elbow. “thank you for saving me, kento.”

he swallows and straightens his tie, trying to ignore the lingering touch of your body and his racing heart, “anytime.”

𖤐 GOJO — YOUR RICH CHAEBOL BOSS

GOJO sighs as he yearningly stares at you from the glass windows of his office. he’s the director of the company you work for while you’re the team lead for the finance team. he knows he’s probably getting side eyes from his assistant for not submitting his work yet but he can’t help it that you’re so beautiful you’re unintentionally stealing away his attention.

on occasion he’ll call you to his office where he’ll insist you give him a report on how your team is going regarding the new project proposal. gojo will nod his head to your words but really he’s just staring at you, trying to memorize every detail of your face.

it’s on one of these days where you’re giving him yet another report when he interrupts you by saying yout name before, “what do you think of me?”

“pardon?”

gojo leans forward in his seat, a grin plastered on his face. “do you want to go out with me?”

you splutter, not expecting this. you’re stammering for words, not knowing whether you should say yes or no, if you’re allowed to say yes, would it be against company rules?

gojo stares at you imploringly before he leans back in relief at your hesitant nod, yes. “good, i’ll see you after work then? we can go to the five star restaurant you were looking at.”

𖤐 CHOSO — YOUR LOVER WHOSE ACTUALLY YOUR CHILDHOOD FRIEND

CHOSO is holding so much love in his eyes as he gazes at you. the two of you are sat on your family couch, stacks and stacks of photo albums surrounding the two of you.

as you pry open a new album, you find the familiar photo. “look cho, it’s you!”

he leans in close to you, his buns brushing against your temple. there, in the photo, is the two of you grinning as the both of you swing on the playground swings. in another, the two of you are in a green backyard chasing one another with bubble wands.

when you were younger the two of you were neighbors, always at one another’s house and childhood playmates. but eventually, when you had to move, you were convinced you’d never see him again despite wanting to find him.

imagine the surprise you experience when the cute boy who asked for your number at the cafe being the very same choso you used to play in the sandbox with.

choso leaves a tender kiss on your cheek before resting his head on your shoulder. he laces your fingers together before saying, “i guess we were meant to be together from the start.”

© shotosjupiter. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[kittyk4att]

But that’s what so frustrating with this. What is that personality trait conveyed by latte picture taking? Is it the woman who make a bid for attention/connection on social media the way the current internet culture taught her how? Is it the woman who appreciates the piece of temporary art a barista created with the milk foam and wants to keep of trace of it? Is it the woman who thinks the milk and the coffee are interacting in an interesting way that could be the basis for a cool design/painting later on? Or is it the woman taking that picture for her own reasons that doesn’t deserve to be judged for that by a person who doesn’t even bother to try and know her before passing judgment?

(Yeah, I know it’s the first one, but they still lump all the others in there with her. And guess what? That first woman doesn’t deserve to be judged either. Don’t act like knowing how to connect in this day and age is simple for everyone. Learn to know a person before deciding they’re shallow, ffs)

Men - and people in general - that despise women based on innocuous surface-level actions like that do so because they think women are some sort of hive-minded creatures that do things for the same reason every single time. They don’t think of us as people with distinct personalities, otherwise they would actually cite those personality traits as turn-offs instead of a list of morally neutral details.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with being turned off by shallow women, for example, but recognize that’s what’s going on and stop dismissing women based on morally-neutral actions tv taught you are sure-fire signs of shallowness in all women ever. Or stop complaining you can’t find a girlfriend when you’re obviously not interested in getting to know any woman. It’s a you problem, buddy.

(I’m not targeting pansexual-spaceman specifically, that’s a take many, many people have had - me included - and maybe that’s part of what’s wrong with the world nowadays, not just a certain type of men)

The longer I exist as a loudly proudly gay man the more I think that cishet men aren't actually attracted to women.

[osiiiris]

V Perpetua - my headcanons

I think so far I’ve seen enough of him to develop some personal headcanons for Perpetua.

Perpetua is human to me, but a very strange kind of human. However, he wears a mask because he doesn’t want to be perceived as one.

He’s mostly nocturnal, has a history of selective mutism, and is terribly afraid of social gatherings. When he has to participate, he has absolutely no idea how to interact with so many people. In trying to seem “normal,” he ends up acting like one of those aliens from Men in Black, the ones wearing human skin but moving in incredibly awkward ways. He’ll say something weird, completely out of context, and people won’t know how to react. He’ll think he did a great job.

He’s absolutely clueless. Always. Completely uninterested in the world around him, he lives mostly in his own mind and frequently dissociates. Too bad, his mind isn’t a nice place. You’ll try explaining what he has to do on stage, and he’ll just stare up at the giant structure, imagining how it would look with real human heads hanging from the ceiling.

As a result, you can’t have a real conversation with him. He’s too unpredictable, and his attention span is too fleeting. Having a meeting with him is one of the most frustrating experiences.

When he was a child, he used to stare at people, a lot. From windows, from inside a car, from a distance, or even directly in front of them. He would stare them down for endless minutes with wide, unblinking eyes, making everyone deeply uncomfortable.

He can’t sit properly. You’ll most likely find him crumpled up in a chair, looking at you like an owl.

He’s only relatively interested in sex, in the sense that he rarely thinks about it or seeks it out. His mind is too detached and chaotic, and carnal lust isn’t his first choice when it comes to seeking pleasure. But when he does engage... he’s freaky. He has some peculiar kinks. Strange shit go on in his bedroom (and not only). He usually doesn’t need to have full-on sex to be satisfied: he just needs to practice his kinks. Most of his occasional partners don’t want to “have sex” with him again.

He listens to a wide range of music, from black metal to techno rave. He can go from Mayhem to Die Antwoord in an instant.

He has a passion for taxidermy that began when, as a child, he used to find dead lizards and snakes and cut them open to see what was inside. He’s not very good at it, though… his creations are terrible.

He collects real animal skeletons and fossils.

The only request he made as Papa was for a private laboratory. What he does in there is a secret, but techno music can always be heard when he’s inside.

He smiles a lot, mostly out of uncontrolled excitement, but since he can’t quite act like a regular person, his smiles are unnaturally wide and unsettling.

Although not many people knew of his existence, he spent a lot of time studying the old Papas. As a result, he often quotes their speeches during his concerts—but he’s no copycat. Sometimes he evokes their words and leaves them incomplete, adds something personal, or even mocks them. It’s as if he’s saying, “Do you remember this? Well, I’m not the same.”

Unlike the other Papas, he’s not in competition with anyone, nor does he want to conquer anything. He was simply pushed onto a stage, and now he just does the thing. His real interests lie outside his musical career.

Sister Imperator is still trying to figure out whether he’s the greatest mistake she’s ever made.

[mapetitefeedeslilas]

Doctor Abbot being the police forces favourite ED physician but also the one that gives them reality checks and puts them in their place when it's needed.

It's an unspoken rule at the Pitt that if you find yourself in troubles with the law, you name drop Abbot and magically things get sorted out: they respect him, his seldom unorthodox ways electrify them and they know that if shit goes down and one them gets injured, Abbot is going to do anything to save them. Many of them owe their life to him.

But also, whenever Abbot gets the impression they are mishandling cases, he has no problem putting them in their place: John Shen and his boyfriend denouncing being arrassed by and homophobic neighbour only to be brushed off constantly? Hell no, Abbot sweeps in, demands for formal reports to be filed and processed and for the homophobic assholes to be tracked down and handled. And no one at the precinct dares to deny his demands: he is military trained, and they've seen what that man can do with a blade, he ain't playing and they don't want him as their enemy.

Ellis mentions to Abbot she keeps getting pulled over by the same asshole racist cop for bullshit excuses and as had her person and her car illegally searched twice. A week later that pitiful excuse for an agent is put on traffic duty on the shittiest side of town.

Santos beating up a guy after he tried to touch Javadi on a night out and ending up in a county jail, calls the attending, annoyed but rightfully unrepented, only to be bailed out half an hour later. Abbot then drives both to the closest diner, offers them a late night comfort meal and a reassuring talk and accompanies them home when he is sure they have both calmed down from the traumatic experience enough.

A night shift nurse keeps getting harassed by her cop ex boyfriend and many of his colleagues protect him and do nothing. Abbot marches in after the night shift in the commander's office and suggests he keeps his men in check and reminds him that if his daughter is alive is also because of that nurse ad the rest of the Pitt personnel. The commander personally revises his case, found plenty of hidden filed reports against that douche and in no time he is stripped of his badge and sent to a county jail and those who had protected them are suspended.

Abbot overhears Perlah dejected lamenting how her daughter, who has recently decided she wants to wear the shayla, is being bullied by her classmates and a week later an assembly is called at her high school where cops are invited to remind the student population that racism is a crime and that they can be prosecuted even as adults if something happens.

Give me doctor Abbot being the bee that protects his hive with every mean and power he has.

[lovelettersfrommai]

Rooms I Don’t Enter

Summary: You and Bucky live through each other’s worst memories. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader (HYDRA Experiment) 

A/N: Marvel brain rot is taking over post Thunderbolts*. I need to see it again IMMEDIATELY. Reader has fire and ice powers, reminiscent of a certain anime character…No I will not elaborate as to my involvement in the implied fandom. Not proofread, we die like men.  Also this is my first time writing for Bucky! Exciting stuff guys.

Word Count: 1,616

Disclaimers: I do not own the rights to anything Marvel related, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot.

Warnings !: Mentions of being abducted, vague body horror, reader gets forced to hurt someone, mentions of human experimentation. Bucky has healed from his past, but reader has not, hurt/comfort, angst?

MASSIVE THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS.

As soon as Bucky entered the void, he felt ice. Oh no. He thought to himself. No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t be back here again. 

The hard substance pressed against his back as he landed in the ravine, right after his fall from the train all those years ago. All the wind had knocked out from his lungs, and he sat up abruptly, just in time to watch HYDRA soldiers drag his body across the floor, arm gone. He felt nauseous at the sight of it, his own body desecrated. The worst part is that he knew this was just the beginning. 

He needs to get the hell out of here.

~

The grass beneath your combat boots was a jarring sensation. Your head whips around, bewildered. A park? Weren’t you just in New York? Where did everyone else go? You look around. There’s a playground, and many trees. Picnic tables and benches where parents usually sit and watch their children, but right now it’s empty. Just you. It’s then that you hear a familiar sound. The music of an ice cream truck driving your way. It’s nice, almost peaceful, even.

If this weren’t a moment that you had literal nightmares about. 

It hits you then how you remember this place. This is the neighborhood park that you went to as a child. The one that you were abducted from. You watch as your younger self squeals happily, alone in the park. You had been saving up for the next time the ice cream man came around. 

“All alone today, young lady?” The man asks. Oh god, no. The younger version of yourself nods. You grab her wrist in an attempt to stop her from getting any closer, but she screams and the trees that were once just trees reach out and grab you, the branches twisting around your arms and physically pulling you away. You can do nothing but watch as you get taken. 

~

Bucky makes an effort to get out of the room, clawing at the walls. He realized that the room isn’t as big as it seems. He calls out, looking for somebody, anybody, and starts to punch at the ice with his metal arm. 

That isn’t me anymore. He thinks to himself. This is. 

At the same time, you use your powers to burn the branches keeping you away from your younger self. Ice shoots from your hands as you use it to propel yourself forward faster, ending at the truck’s hood. Looking in the tinted glass, you swear, if you look closely enough you can see-

“Bucky!” You call out, voice shaky, and limbs tired from the effort of sustaining your powers. Bucky turns his head. He heard you. You take a deep breath then smash the glass of the windshield with your bare hands, jumping through it and straight into Bucky. 

~

The moment you tackle him, you’re transported into a new place. Bucky recognizes the place immediately. He sees Zola’s face and internally cringes, wanting to punch the man. He huffs. It wouldn’t do anything here. He’s not gonna let this undo all the work he’s put in to bettering his mental health. You both just need to get out. 

It’s then that Bucky hears the words. His spine straightens as a shiver rolls down it. He knows they can’t hurt him now. They’re powerless in his deprogrammed mind, and yet he can’t help the way fear grips his chest. You grab his hand, and he is immediately brought back to earth. You’ve always been such a grounding force for him, and he can’t help but want to kiss you senseless for the kindness you’ve always shown him. 

The both of you have a long history together. You didn’t always see each other when you both were still under HYDRA, but even in his altered state Bucky knew you. Maybe that’s why once he pulled Steve from the river, he went to get you next. Together, the both of you look for a way to get out of the lab. When your foot hits a loose tile on the lab floor, you know this is likely it. You wordlessly gesture at it to Bucky, who instantly gets the memo, smashing it with his metal arm. 

Once you crawl through the hole in the floor, the two of you fall to the ground, entering a completely different space. Your hands come up behind Bucky’s head, making sure it doesn’t get badly hurt as you tumble into a cool concrete floor. Bucky’s arms wrap around your torso, making sure he takes the brunt of the impact. Once you finally settle into the new space, you press your forehead to his briefly kissing his cheek as you let out a breath of relief.

~

“Where are we now?” You mutter. The place feels familiar but it’s a tad too dark to make anything out. 

“You know where we are. The question is who are we going to see?” He murmurs lowly. It hits you then. The cold concrete floors, the darkness, the distinctive smell of dampness and a buildup of mold and mildew. You’re back in the basement cells. The place HYDRA kept you in between missions and sessions of “experiments” in the lab. It’s after the realization hits you, that you, younger you,  is ushered into the room harshly. You’re older now. Still far too young, but now in your early 20’s. It hits you then what exactly this memory is. You push Bucky’s head away, not wanting him to see what happened, but he stubbornly watches. 

What he doesn’t expect is to see himself, moreso, the winter soldier. He’s suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. Did he hurt you? He thought most of his memories were recovered, so why couldn’t he remember this? More importantly, why didn’t you tell him? 

“Doll…What is this? What did I do?” He asks, hands darting out to grab your shoulders. He doesn’t mean to squeeze as hard as he does, but you see the sense of urgency and more importantly, the signs of panic that cross his features. You shake your head emphatically, hands coming up to rest on his elbows in reassurance. 

“It’s not what you did…It’s what I did.” One of the guards start to speak to the both of you in Russian. He goes on about testing your abilities on a real subject, and you watch as you scramble on the floor. 

“Th-the doctors said I was done with testing today…” she tries to say. One of the guards grab her face harshly. 

“I know. This is just for fun…consider it target practice.” He replies. Bucky can only watch with sadness as you try to refuse, knowing it couldn’t have ended well. Meanwhile, your eyes fill with tears, the memory still causing guilt to eat at your consciousness. He walks over to the memory version of you, kneeling beside her as she too moves onto her knees, fire and ice powers activating. He pushes a stray hair behind your ear before pressing his forehead against your head. 

“It’s okay. You had no choice. I’m sorry…” He mutters into her ear. It won’t change anything. Won’t make you feel any better about doing it in the future, but that doesn’t matter right now. 

You watch him for a moment before trying to find a way out. The door that the guards pushed you through. You push and pull at the knob, and when that doesn’t work, you start kicking desperately. Anything to escape the agonizing past screams of your current lover. It eventually gives. You turn around to get Bucky. With one last comforting kiss to past you’s head, he stands up straight and jogs over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the door to the next room. 

~

Once the two of you get to the next room, you attempt to seek respite for just a moment. Your hands come up over your ears, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Bucky has never seen you like this. If anything, you are usually the stronger one in the relationship, always pulling him from the dark place. Now, as he looks at you, he recognizes just how vulnerable you seem, your actions reminding him of a child who is just trying to shut out the rest of the world. He takes a deep breath before approaching you.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. Bucky shakes his head and gently cups your cheek with his flesh hand. 

“Don’t apologize for doing what you had to do to survive.” It’s a phrase that you’ve said to him time and time again. When the nightmares turn him into an insomniac and the skeletons hidden in his closet come out in full force. 

“...I didn’t know how to tell you.” His metal fingers wrap around one of your wrists, pulling your hand away from your ears and back to your sides, repeating it with your other arm. 

“I understand. There’s probably nobody else in this world who would understand but me.” Through all the time that you’ve been together, Bucky knows you. The same way that you know him. He’s never had this sort of closeness in his life, and it was only because you stubbornly refused to give up on him. Just like Sam. Just like Steve. Whatever he has accomplished after leaving HYDRA was the combined effort of both of you. If you weren’t gonna give up on him, why would he ever give up on you?

You let him hold you for a while, before finally accepting his words. You prepare yourself for whatever it is that might come next. 

“Let’s go help our friends.” 

[party-gilmore]

also don't get me wrong in very happy that some transmascs get to HAVE that relief.

Very, VERY happy.

And YES it's so phenomenal to see people break away from the bullshit standards of feminity force fed to us from before we can even speak.

But masculinity in this society comes with it's OWN bullshit fucking standards.

And do y

do y'all understand

that for others of us

the goddamn PRESSURE just fucking INCREASES???

I had a HARD enough time trying to feel attractive as Woman (tm) when I had at least the "correct" basis for the impression I was going to make!!! I knew that men who like women also tend to like boobs, and hips, and cunt, and hey at least I had those! Just had to figure out how to make the rest of me somehow appealing against all the other fuck off beauty standards too!

But NOW???? NOW????????

Not only do I still feel the general struggle of the same aesthetic "flaws" I've always seen in myself but ALSO the constant undercutting of I don't even have (what I feel like) gay men WANT.

Like HELL Im still just trying to succeed in feeling like Not An Imposter in gay, male spaces. Let alone ATTRACTIVE in them.

And some folks are out here thinking that's a PRIVILEGE?!?! That its somehow a BONUS to be faced with a whole aspect of your physical image that you're having to create from SCRATCH??!? That you know you're going to have to go above and beyond to make absolutely PERFECT just to be ACCEPTED in these spaces as anything other than a Butch Lesbian at best or straight girl faghag at worst, let alone DESIRED in them????

And that's just the GENDER ACCEPTANCE part of the attractiveness!!!! Trying to be a Basic Attractive Man while built with the "wrong" parts to pull it off! That's not even getting INTO gay male beauty standards!!!

Have you SEEN the emphasis on BODY??? The Big Three of Bear Hunk Twink? Have y'all noticed the sort of... lack of anything in between?

Oh there's all sorts of fun "In Between" labels, sure, otter, twunk, whatever... But they are are just literally combos OF those three body types. Bear with Twink traits. Hunk with Bear traits. Shut up shut up shut UP ABOUT THEM.

And if you're on the more femme side of gay? The cosmetics and beat face standards are no different than what I faced as a woman. HELL, i'd even say the expectations are WORSE, because at least as woman I was still SEEN as a woman, just one who'd "given up" 🙄 but going out to the gay bar nowadays, the IMPECCABLY beat face for "femmes" is not just STANDARD but seems almost a CULTURAL indicator of even BEING "really" gay in the first place!!! Because gays are so GOOD and m at fashion and style and strutting, you know? If you don't know this YouTuber or that MUA tiktokker, what are you even DOING, my dear little baby gay??? Honey come back when you've at least learned the culture 😘

BABY g-

Bitch I've been gay for men longer than you've been ALIVE, fuck OOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

and then that person in the post OP mentions had the fucking GALL to look at someone who's managed to break away from AT LEAST the pressure they had to face as women to feel attractive, MAYBE even some of the new pressures they would have to face of they wanted to feel attractive now or find a partner as a man, depending on if that is or isn't a priority/concern for them, and say... how lucky for you to be so privileged over me

...WHAT?? WHAT!!?? M

Still thinking about that post claiming that transmascs expressing relief that they don't have worry if they're attractive anymore is an example of them experiencing male privilege.

A person who has been taught it was their duty to be attractive to straight men: Wow, it feels so good to be able to overcome this and let myself just exist

A person so engrossed in online discourse they lost contact with reality: I hope you understand how much privilege it gives you over me!

Those transmasc people were 'able to' stop worring about their attractiveness *because they managed to overcome the brainwashing they were subjected to* not because the patriarchy gave them a dispense! They are still punished for 'uglifying' themselves! They let THEMSELVES abandon misogynistic beauty standards but the patriarchy still holds them up to it!

Nobody calling themselves a feminist would accuse a woman who broke free from misogynistic beauty standards of being privileged over those who haven't. Yet when it's a transmasc person who broke free, they are called privileged over women.

[xiisblogs]

Gonna get this right tonight, oh, gonna get you closer

Currently thinking about side character reader.

Your best friend has always been the center of attention and your life. You don't know why, but at least he's a good friend.

When he came out as gay it was no surprise, really. Staying by his side since childhood meant knowing him better than he knew himself, the same thing couldn't be said for you though.

At first, you were like an enigma in his eyes, something to unwrap, but the unwrapping never came, and slowly, through the years, you became a presence that never left his side.

Which was a surprise since he had such an eventful life.. from being humiliated to being wanted. Adopted child with rich birth parents that never meant to leave him, but someone kidnapped him? A glow up from one day to the next? Everyone drooling for him? Grades somehow always staying up despite all the sneaking out and drunk actions? And so on.. because that was him.

You wonder why he keeps sticking to your side and sometimes you wonder why you haven't left yet, since main character keeps on attracting trouble from left to right and DRAGGING you along.

Sighing became your new passion. You sighed more than you talked. What do you mean the boy that rejected him from middle school is suddenly rich and crying for forgiveness? And why is a random lady hugging him on her knees? The fuck are all those bodyguards for? No no no, stop bringing me in your shit !

Bitch never left you behind.

dis you?

...

You paled when hb bought four military men in your shared apartment.

In your head, you were already crying. You yet had to learn how to fight off military, FUCK. You barely managed to save his and YOUR ass from his criminal ex boyfriend.

And pepper fucking spray wasnt going to be enough to shoo away these bulky men.

[elwenyere]

I've been reflecting on the parallels between 1.07 and 2.09 (as visualized in this beautiful GIF set) and what I take away from the placement of these scenes in the overall structure of the show: specifically the way both of them occur right after Cassian has taken part in one of the big set pieces for resistance (the raid on Aldhani and the massacre on Ghorman).

Echoed in the conversations with Maarva and Bix are two recurring desires for Cassian: (1) he wants to be able to choose how when and how he leaves, and (2) he wants to reaffirm to himself that he has everything he needs to take care of the people closest to him. On the level of the psychodrama/individual-character origin story, I can see how both of these responses are entangled with what happened to him as a child on Kenari, and then again when he's incarcerated after Clem's death (having his choices taken away by a force larger than him and thus being unable to protect his family). On the level of Andor's meta-narratives about what organized resistance requires, I can see how both of these desires speak to difficulties in navigating between individual and collective social consciousness (we have to fight knowing we will not see the end of the fight, and we do that because we recognize we need each other to be free, and no one's free until everyone is).

I think there are a number of ways to read what claims the show is making by staging a recurrence of 1.07's "I'm walking backwards into my narrative; I was trying to walk out" structure in 2.09, and YMMV on which you find most satisfying: (1) trauma is necessarily repetitive and cyclical; (2) the commitment to collective struggle is not a one-time decision but rather must be remade continually; and/or (3) it's vital to the mode of resistance Cassian embodies that he never achieves total certainty - not only because, historically, people working for justice never know in the moment whether what they're doing is going to work, but also because, diegetically, his doubt will be as important to his resistance work as his conviction.

With regard to claim (1), I think it's really interesting that in 2.09, the same episode where Cassian is expressing his intention to be done with Luthen and Draven and to leave to Rebellion, he describes himself to Mon as one of the last "survivors of the raid on Aldhani." He doesn't say "we pulled off the Aldhani heist" or "we were on the Aldhani crew together"; he frames himself as someone who survives larger actions when other people don't. There's an echo there to how he describes himself as "one of fifty survivors" at Mimban and the way Maarva describes him as the sole survivor from Kenari - of the look on his face when Melshi asks him how many men he thinks made it out of Narkina and Cassian says "not enough."

And for me it's that learned link between being subsumed by a larger unit (the family, the prison, the militia, the Rebel Alliance) and being prevented from doing something individually very consequential (like going back in time to save Kerri or Maarva or Brasso) that forms the hinge connecting the interiority of explanation (1) to the more structural and ideological levels of (2) and (3). Cassian is a character who's had major choices about how to live his life taken away from him, both in ways that are idiosyncratic to his own trajectory and in ways he shares with a huge number of people living under fascism; and Andor demonstrates how embracing the collective struggle against the latter involves a renegotiation of the need for individual agency sharpened by the former. For me, a central effect of the show's decision to sustain the tension between those desires rather than resolving it is the suggestion that both qualities (Cassian's willingness to give his all in pursuit of collective liberation and his value for individual autonomy) end up being crucial to the decisions he makes in Rogue One. Without his commitment to the cause, he would never have been in the position to help get news to Yavin about the Death Star plans. Without his need to exercise his own judgment and make/allow for autonomous choices, he wouldn't have been ready to buck the chain of command and help lead Rogue One to Scarif. In other words, I think it's possible to read Cassian's behavior in arc three of season two both as a personal trauma response and also as another stage of a dialectical, always-unfinished struggle to navigate the poles of individual agency and collective action. Andor tells a story about how all the things Cassian gathers along the way - everything he already feels and knows, as Maarva says via Brasso - prepare him to be a force for good, including the impulse to set aside more abstract objectives to refocus on the need to protect the person in front of him.

[eva-does-their-best]

I was gonna agree with this post until I saw the reblogs, #be for real? be for real about your sexism please.

You're literaly acting like "tmes" as you call them aren't also part of the population that statisticaly suffers more from rape culture. Your personal tantrum getting in the way of you caring about all the corrective rape suffered by men, women, and enbens born with a vagina or diverse genitals? Solution is to calm down and stop taking the easy way out, stop just being like this group bad my group good because we surely suffer the most™ as if you were a self-flailing catholic.

Everyone bleeds, you got a bad interaction? Damn, sucks, now go blame the individual rather than the million innocent people that share their traits. Because let me tell you, if someone told you what you said they told you, and with the attitude you say they had, congrats you two are following the same principles and ideologies, is that what you want? really?? To become yet another radfem lapdog to those who will never accept you nor respect you? all because of that? You'd let them win like this?

You're not helping anyone but the transphobes by being like this.

You wanna actualy learn and get better and get out of the tarpit of oppositional sexism, exorsexism and gender essentialism? Cool, I support you on that and offer any help you may need. You wanna take this as a personal attack and choose not to learn from this interaction? Well, nothing I can do, but you actively hurt yourself and others like that, so don't expect the world to become brighter or the spring to become warmer by acting this way.

rape culture is when someone jerks off to anime teen girls, and not whatever the fuck men have been doing for the past forever

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May Mayhem Bingo event.

we went down swingin' (yes we did)

Prompt: Too Many Beds | Word Count: 7117 | Rating: E | CW: Spouse Swapping, Some Cuckolding Kink, A Little Dash of Dom/Sub Vibes | POV: Eddie, Steve, Gareth | Relationship(s): Steddie, Gareth/Di (OC) + the Swinging Pairings | Tags: Future Fic, Everybody Lived Nobody Died, Middle Aged, Road Retired Corroded Coffin, Lifelong Friends, Bored Empty Nesters, Swinging, Key Party

Also on ao3.

Eddie

Nancy is holding a fish bowl, and she shakes it at them with a grin when they walk in the front door. Eddie and Steve both dig into their pockets, and toss in their car keys in, as demanded. 

It was weird to arrive separately, and since everybody else did the exact same thing, the cul-de-sac is filled with more cars tonight than this party is indicative of, with every half of each couple in their own car. 

She walks away, and Eddie looks at Steve, "You sure about this?"

Steve runs his hand along Eddie's shoulders, squeezing, "It's just sex. But if you've changed your mind, we can slip away."

"She just took our keys!" Eddie hisses, and Steve digs into another pocket, pulling out his spare set. Eddie laughs. Steve is never unprepared. Eddie should have been ready for that.

"You wanna bail?" Steve asks, those big eyes giving him an out, because Eddie knows Steve would leave with him. They could just escape right back out the front door, and their friends wouldn't ever say a word. Probably wouldn't even be all that surprised. 

"Nah," Eddie says, he honestly does kind of want to see this crazy idea through. He thinks it's gonna be an adrenaline rush he hasn't had in years, an unknown. Something he hasn't felt since they retired from touring.

He's just nervous. Not about Steve, never about Steve, they're on solid ground. He just always gets nervous about a performance, and this feels like a performance. 

Eddie turns into Steve's chest, getting Steve to wrap his arms around him, hugging him tight. Kissing him. Like it's his last chance to do so, even though he knows that's not true.

"Do we just need to give Eddie Steve's keys and get it over with?" Goodie hollers from the other room, and Eddie smiles against Steve's mouth while raising his hand to flip Goodie off.

Everybody's laughing, and it makes him feel far more at ease. They're his friends. He just can't believe they all decided to actually do this. They've been talking about it for months, maybe a year.

What started as a group joke, has turned into reality tonight. 

They ate like everything was a normal group dinner night, like they just might play a board game after, when it most definitely is not. Eddie's knee is bouncing under the table. Steve rests his hand on it, settling him. 

"Want to run?" Steve whispers. Another out.

Eddie shakes his head no.  

Nancy stands at the end of the table and is shaking the mixed up keys. She has really spearheaded this whole night. "Okay. We're all friends here, if you decide you're not into it, for any reason, just tap out. Right?"

Everybody nods. 

"Okay, then. Robin goes first, right? Everybody else is still down for anything?" she asks, confirming one more time.

"Way to single me out," Robin says, acting like she's all offended. 

Eddie knows better. So, he can't resist fanning the flames. 

"Yeah!" Eddie chimes in, "That's rude, Nancy!" 

Nancy rolls her eyes, looking perturbed, "Sure. We'll just let her pull Steve's keys and see how fast she wants to be singled out." 

"Good point," Eddie quickly says, "proceed." 

And Nancy holds up the bowl, trying to keep it out of Robin's line of sight. She pulls a set and wiggles them. 

"Those are mine," Nancy says, and Eddie can see the blush creeping up Robin's neck. He wants to catcall them, but he restrains himself. He can be good. Sometimes. In theory.

When Nancy turns to add all the men's keys into the mix, Eddie leans over Steve and taps Robin on the thigh and she brushes his hand off. He grins. She's so embarrassed. He loves it.

Gareth is sitting back, relaxed, his arm stretched across the back of Di's chair. Eddie doesn't understand how he looks so calm. He figured Gareth would be a simmering ball of jealousy. But he looks chilled out in a way Eddie could only dream of feeling.

Maybe he's medicated.

Maybe he'll share.

"Vickie?" Nancy says, offering her the bowl next. Vickie pulls out a set of bare bones keys.

"Uh, mine," Jonathan says, and the room all kind of laughs.

"You're just straight up doing a partner swap," Eddie says, waving his finger back and forth, poking at them.

"Luck of the draw. Vickie, get your own keys out," Nancy orders, and Vickie shuffles through them until she has own pulled from the bowl. "If you're so smart, you can just go next," Nancy says, holding the bowl out to Eddie.

He swallows, and sort of glances in the bowl. She raises it higher.

He reaches in and fumbles around with them, feeling them out, like maybe he could identify Steve's car keys that way, and escape with his husband.

"Eddie!" Nancy snaps, and he grabs the closest set and pulls them out of the bowl. They're Jeff's. He knows it. Recognizes them.

Jeff laughs, as easy-going as he always is, "Oh, this should be interesting."

Steve laughs with Jeff, and Eddie elbows him. But he settles back in his chair. Jeff works. He knows Jeff. He can do this. No problem.

Then, Eddie watches as the rest of the keys are drawn and divvied out.

Seeing the mass exodus across the lawn is fucking weird. He feels like the neighbors must know what they've all agreed to do tonight. That, or they think a cult meeting has just adjourned. Eddie gets in his own car, and his instinct tells him to follow Steve. Of course, that's not what's happening tonight.

The caravan starts splitting off as they pull out of the cul-de-sac. Eddie watches as blinkers go on, and wrong, wrong, wrong pairs disappear together down different streets. 

Jeff turns on his blinker, and Eddie follows suit, turning when Jeff does, losing sight of Steve's car in the process.

Eddie squeezes the steering wheel. This is gonna be an interesting night, that's for damn sure.

Steve

"Tell me what you want, what you don't," Steve says, because he isn't going to feel around in the dark. He knows Di, and well, so there's no reason they can't talk this through together. 

Steve didn't have a preference on who he ended up with. That's a lie, he supposes, but only because he was concerned it'd be Nancy and then Eddie would read into things that aren't there, and haven't been there in over thirty years.

It's just sex.

"I want you to fuck me," she says, grinning at him. She's not shy, and knows what she wants. Steve appreciates that. There's no need to dance around what they're doing tonight.

"I can definitely do that," he says, grinning back at her.

He puts his hands in her hair, and presses his mouth to hers. It's weird. And it's weird that it's weird. He's kissed her platonically before. Hellos, goodbyes. But this is just different. The first thing he thinks is that he hasn't kissed a woman in years, decades. It's only been Eddie. 

The second: Gareth's gonna kill him.

Steve was surprised when she led him to their master bedroom. For some reason that never crossed his mind. Nobody is at their house tonight, so he supposes he doesn't have to think about it too hard. If this is what she's comfortable with, then he's good, too.

He sheds his jeans, letting them drop to the bedroom floor. He's already getting hard, and he cups himself through his underwear, speeding up the process. 

She's on her knees, watching, and when he finally tugs the waistband down, stripping totally, she scoots closer across the bed on her knees.

"Goddamn, I knew it," she says, wrapping her hand around his cock.

"You knew it?" he asks with a laugh. 

"Steve. You know we can all see the outline of your cock all the time, right? It's not a secret. We've all talked about it. For years."

"We?" he asks, gripping her shoulders. 

"Me, Chris, Barb. The wives."

He tilts his head back and laughs. Alright, then. 

"You could have just asked Nancy. Or Eddie."

"Where's the fun in that?" Di teases, and he grins at her. "Lucky Eddie. That's the consensus."

He laughs. Alright. He supposes he doesn't have anything to be embarrassed about, he's not totally unaware.

"Maybe don't say a word to Gareth. For both our sakes."

She giggles, letting go of his cock, taking his hand instead. Inviting him into her bed. He climbs in, and she pushes on his shoulder, getting him to lay back, then straddles him. She lifts her hips, palming him, giving him one more stroke as she's guiding him. 

And then he's in her. 

Sliding right in, she's so goddamn wet and ready. He lets out a long, low groan as he squeezes her hip, trying to regain some sense of control. It's been a long fucking time since he's been inside a woman. It's not better, just different. 

He'd forgotten how different. 

He's being hugged all the way down. All that wet, warm pressure down the entire length of his cock. He'd kind of forgotten.

"Oh, that's good," he says, and she starts setting her own rhythm. 

Riding him, hips working herself on his cock. Her hands in his hair, holding on. He knew, has always known, how much her and Gareth fuck. Has seen more than he's ever wanted to on the road, but he never expected he'd be the one inside her, on the receiving end. 

This is going better, easier, than he anticipated. He hopes everybody else is having the same experience.

Gareth

"You're not fucking me," Goodie says, and Gareth glares at him from his spot where he's slumped on the couch, arms crossed. 

"When did you hear me ask to?" Gareth snaps. If he's gonna be an asshole, Gareth will be one right back. 

Seriously, though? What's the plan? What are they gonna do? Stare at each other all night?

"So, what? We're just gonna sit here and stare at each other until the sun comes up?" Gareth asks. 

"Well, we could talk about how your wife is definitely getting fucked by Steve right now, if you want," Goodie offers like an asshole, but Gareth won't take the bait. 

"Well, when your wife comes home from getting fingerbanged by Chrissy she may never want to fuck your annoying ass again," Gareth snarks. He doesn't believe it, but Goodie started this childishness. He always drags Gareth down to his level. It's a given.

Goodie grumbles under his breath, but doesn't say anything.

This is rotten fucking luck. He gets paired up with Goodie, and Eddie gets paired with Jeff? And they've all spouse swapped in some way. It's like the universe is trying to blow up their band after they made it through the other side of moderate fame and the stress of touring unscathed, still friends. 

"We could go into my studio and play. See if we can write something. Be productive at least," Goodie suggests, and that's not a terrible idea. Not at all. Sure, songs don't start with the rhythm section, but they can jam a little, at the very least. Something might sound good and stick.

Eddie

Eddie can't stop laughing, and really, he's not sure that's what this night was supposed to bring forth. 

Jeff is just laying on the bed, taking it all in stride.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Eddie says, and Jeff just shakes his head.

"We don't have to do this," Jeff suggests, and Eddie knows it's to let him off the hook. He doesn't want off the hook, he just needs a minute to pull his shit together.

Maybe two. 

"No, no. I want to. I just need to get this out of my system," he says, and then bends over at the waist, laughing again.

Steve

He pushes her up against the sink, his hand gripping her slick hip. She just got out of the shower, but he's ready to go again. And she made it clear if he was ready, she was ready.

Nudging his cock along her hip, it slips along her wet skin.

"Yes," she says, and he pulls back, lining up, pushing back inside her. She moans, and he watches her grasp for the edge of the countertop, looking for something to hold onto. 

He reaches around a grabs a handful of her boob, thumbing at her nipple, "These fucking tits," he says. And they are so fucking good. He had no idea. Small, but don't look like any boobs he's seen on women her age. All he needs is a handful, and that's what he's got. 

"Harder," she demands, and he fucks her harder. Solid, punishing thrusts, his hips digging into her ass. Shoving her into the vanity with every stroke. 

She comes. She comes so fucking easy, he's learned. And isn't Gareth goddamn lucky. Squeezing his cock, spasming around him, and he just fights to hang on. 

Fucking her, one of her feet up off the floor, because she's so fucking short. He's got a great view of her back, and the tattoo she has for Gareth along her ribs. He's got one for Eddie on his chest. Both of them committed to this dog and pony show, and have been, since forever. When Corroded Coffin was making the circuit, city after city, tour after tour, bus after bus, plane after plane.

It was a hard life, but they all made it.

Steve slams his hips into her ass one more time, and comes with a long groan, catching her eyes in the mirror. She's smiling, and he smiles back.

He pulls out, and she turns, hoisting herself up onto the vanity. Pulling one leg up. He moves closer between her spread thighs, and she runs her fingers through his chest hair. 

He'd ask her if she's good, but he can tell that she is, and she reaches her arms up, getting him to bend down, so she can wrap them around his neck. 

So, he stays pressed against her until she plants her foot to his hip and pushes him back a step, and he's not sure why at first, until he looks down. She's leaking his come, right onto the marble, and she wanted him to see it.

Goddamn.

Gareth

It's a tasty fucking groove, even if he feels slightly off on this kit that isn't his own. Well, it is his. It's not like Goodie has other drummers over to play. It's just not his. It's a set bought for Goodie's small studio, not his regular kit at home, or his damn near dupe at Eddie's. Or even his old road backup kit that lives at Jeff's. The places he plays the most.

He doesn't spend a lot of time in Goodie's studio, none of them do, it's too small, and really just exists for Goodie to noodle around in alone. Recording ideas they might want to use later.

Goodie's clearly feeling it, and while they definitely don't write songs starting with the rhythm section, maybe Eddie and Jeff can work some magic with this. They don't tour, not anymore. A group decision he's never regretted. But they still put out music from time to time. When Eddie and Jeff aren't writing songs for other artists.

Playing like they are, it's almost easy to forget why they're here, just the two of them without Eddie and Jeff.

The final notes dying off, Gareth watches as Goodie unstraps his bass. Reaching for his drink up on the railing. The ice is melting, watering it down. It's warm in the little studio, and Gareth lifts his shirttail, wiping the sweat off his face.

They haven't played that hard just for fun in years. 

Standing, Gareth pushes his hair up and out of his eyes. He studies Goodie, changed out of the wife-approved clothes he wore to Nancy and Jonathan's earlier, now in his own ratty Corroded Coffin shirt that's seen a lot of shit over the years. Miles of road, decades spent together.

"You can fuck me if you want," Gareth blurts out without thinking first, chest still heaving. 

Goodie stills. Lowball glass pressed to his lips.

And Gareth hates that he said that. Hates that he ruined this good time they were having. Hates that Goodie's surely gonna—

—push him onto the ratty studio couch. Okay, that's not what he expected. 

Goodie reaches over, and puts down his glass, then crowds him. And Gareth lets him. This is what they were here to do tonight, even if Goodie acted like he had no interest. Goodie's all bluster. Gareth knows that. A hard shell you've got to chip away at, piece by piece, if you want to see the real deal inside.

"Have you ever?" Goodie asks, heel of his hand pressing down on Gareth's cock, already half-hard and trapped in his jeans.

"Gotten fucked?" Gareth clarifies.

Goodie nods. 

"Uh," Gareth says, weighing his options. Deciding how much he can handle Goodie knowing about him and his sex life. 

Goodie raises an eyebrow, waiting. Rubbing Gareth's cock a little harder. Like he's trying to work an answer out of him.

"Yeah," he says, "yeah. I have. Fuck."

Goodie pulls back, staring down at him.

"When did you get fucked? We were all attached at the hip as kids. I'd have known. You'd have made sure we all knew."

Gareth just looks at him. 

"Earth to Gare," he says, snapping his fingers.

Gareth takes a deep breath. He'll probably live to regret this. 

"Di has pegged me," he admits. 

Goodie's eyes get comically wide. 

"Shut up!" Gareth snaps, whacking him in the side.

Goodie laughs, rubbing at the spot Gareth hit him, "I didn't say anything! I knew she was freaky though. I just knew it. You've never deserved her." 

Gareth laughs. He doesn't disagree.

Eddie

Eddie grips Jeff's shoulder with his free hand. Laying face-to-face, jerking each other off. This he can do. Definitely.

Jeff's hand is firm, and Eddie looks at his face. Jeff grins, and Eddie can't help returning it. It feels really good. Different from Steve's hand. Guitar calluses that he's only used to feeling on his own fingers.

Eddie looks down between them, at their cocks being stroked, knuckles brushing. 

"Fuck," Eddie says, letting his head fall closer to Jeff's. Breathing against his lips.

And when Jeff kisses him, Eddie kisses him back. It's not even weird. Jeff's seen him in all manner of ways over the years, and this is just another one. He doesn't know why he was so in his own head.

Steve was right. Steve's always right. It's just sex.

Jeff's got a good rhythm going, a grip that is really working for Eddie. A firm grasp as he moves up and down. Then his thumb teases under the head of Eddie's cock, and that's it. He's gonna come. His whole body tenses, and he feels the rolling pleasure of his orgasm hitting him. Coming all over Jeff's hand and stomach. Cock twitching, heart hammering against his chest.

Fuck. He groans. That was good.

Eddie has slowed his own hand, not on purpose, but when he realizes, he pushes Jeff over onto his back, and slides down the bed, nudging his thighs apart.

He loves sucking cock, is good at it, and he wants to show off. Just a little. For his friend.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Jeff says as Eddie takes him deep right away, opening his throat, letting him slide in.

Eddie hums his contentment, and works him over real good. Cradling his balls, putting a little pressure on his taint, his whole bag of tricks.

Pulling back, allowing Jeff's cock to drag along his whole tongue, meeting Jeff's eyes as he does it. Eddie rubs the head of his cock along his bottom lip. Teasing him, before going deep again.

Jeff squeezes his shoulder, a warning, and Eddie just swallows around him. Feeling Jeff tense as he's coming down his throat.

Eddie eventually pulls back, giving the head one last lick that makes Jeff laugh.

Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning as he does it.

"You're quite the cocksucker," Jeff teases, and Eddie flops over onto his back, laughing. He really is. He's glad Jeff noticed. Flattery works on him. Always.

"Why, thank you, Jeffrey. I'm so glad you've acknowledged my area of expertise."

Gareth

Gareth's bent over the edge of the couch, and it's pretty fucking great. He's never been fucked by a real-life dude before, and Goodie is pounding into him. One hand resting on the small of his back, the other on his hip.

Gareth moans when he hits his prostate, head bowing toward the cushions. It's good. Warmer than getting pegged. Though, that has Di, and nothing will ever beat that.

But still. This is good. Really good.

"I'm gonna come," Goodie says, and Gareth reaches for his own cock, determined to get there, too. It's overstimulating in the best way.

"In you," Goodie pants, tapping Gareth's hip, "or out?"

"In," Gareth answers. It's Goodie. 

Goodie groans, slams his hips against Gareth's ass one more time, and comes with a long, loud moan.

Gareth's almost there, almost. He reaches his hand back, and finds Goodie's hip, "Stay in me, let me come," Gareth requests.

Goodie presses closer to Gareth's ass, keeping his softening cock snug inside Gareth. It feels so good, feeling full. He's always liked coming this way.

He strokes his own dick, forehead resting against the cushions.

When he comes his orgasm feels ripped from him. He tries not to make a mess all over the couch, but he feels too good to really think about anything else. He clenches down on Goodie's cock, and lets the last of the waves roll through him. Sighing as it slows to a stop.

"Can I pull out?" Goodie asks, thumb rubbing back and forth on the small of Gareth's back. 

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth answers, and when he does, Gareth feels empty. But really good, too.

He's glad he suggested it after all.

After they've gotten cleaned up, and he's wiped up his mess on the studio couch, he has a realization.

It's all on tape.

Audio only, thankfully. 

But still, there's proof of what they just did together.

Gareth just laughs. It's absurd. But they had fun. Which means hell must have frozen over. 

"We were still recording, weren't we?" Goodie asks, coming to the same conclusion Gareth had reached.

"Yeah. Be sure to cut that off the version we give Eddie." 

"No shit," Goodie says, but he's smiling. 

Eddie 

Eddie is resting the back of his head on Jeff's thigh, plucking at the guitar on his lap. Jeff's feet are up on the coffee table, and they've already written a song that Eddie kinda assumes they might be able to shop around. 

This isn't out of the ordinary. Not really. Whenever they're together this is usually what happens.

Maybe a little more touchy, but Eddie's handsy and always has been. Nobody would think twice if they saw them like this. It's only different because Eddie knows what they did earlier. 

"Do you have anything for the bridge?" Jeff asks, and Eddie keeps plucking his guitar, thinking. Not yet. But they'll come up with something. He knows they will. 

They always do. 

That's why they make the big bucks as a professional songwriting duo. If anything Eddie does could ever be considered professional, that is.

Steve

Steve is dressed, showered, and it's time to go. When he gets to the living room, she's on the couch, feet tucked under her, a cup of coffee resting on her knee. She's in a big fluffy robe. He leans down and kisses her on the cheek.

"See you for dinner?" Steve asks, because it's Sunday. And they always all get together on Sunday night for dinner. Just the four of them.

"Yep. I'm making pasta," she says, and it's business as usual. 

"I'll get stuff for a salad—" he says, but is interrupted by her phone ringing, making them both jump. Steve laughs. It's Gracie. And it's eight in the morning, so Steve waits.

Di's listening, and finally Steve asks, "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's good," Di says to Steve with a smile, then covers the receiver, "Sorority house drama."

Steve laughs, nodding. He can only imagine.

And then Di says into the receiver, "No, it's not Dad. It's Uncle Steve." 

She listens some more. 

"Gracie says hi."

"Hi, girlie!" Steve shouts. The girls are off at college, which seems impossible. But they are all empty nesters. That's how this whole idea started, he's pretty sure. Trying to recapture some wild youth they all experienced on the road, back when Corroded Coffin was touring hard. Before they retired from the road to let those who had decided to have kids, raise them. Now, those kids are all grown.

"No. Dad's on band business. Uncle Steve came and worked on the plumbing."

She says it with such deadpan boredom. Like he may have actually came over bright and early to snake the drain. He's sure Gracie would actually not even question that. Steve swats Di's arm, making her grin. She's evil, but he loves her. She's family.

If she's good, he can go. 

"You have fun with your little yappy lap dog when he gets home," he whispers, giving her a wink. He can't imagine how insufferable Gareth's gonna be. Not that expects Eddie to be any less high strung. He knows them both too well.

Di laughs, swatting his arm back in retaliation.

"Nothing, Uncle Steve's just being funny. He's leaving. Continue."

And he slips out the front door, walking down the driveway towards his car.

Eddie

He hears tapping. Somewhere. Faintly.

He pulls his headphones off, and glances around Jeff's studio. Chrissy is tapping on the glass, holding up his ringing phone, shaking it at him. 

It's Steve, she mouths.

Eddie hurries into the booth, snatching it from her, and she kicks him in the shin as he goes. He cackles as he runs back into the studio where they're paused for him, and swipes to accept.

"Are you ever coming home again, or have you left me for Jeff?" Steve asks, as soon as the call connects.

Eddie laughs, glancing at his watch. Shit. It's almost noon. 

"Yeah, sorry about that. Guess you'll just have to keep Di."

Gareth hops up from behind the kit, "The fuck if he will!!" 

Steve must have heard him, because he laughs in Eddie's ear. 

"Seriously, though. We wrote a song. It's good," Eddie explains. "And Gareth and Goodie wrote, too, and they somehow happen to fit together pretty damn nicely. It's like we were in sync from afar."

"Through your cocks," Steve teases. 

Eddie laughs. Yeah, maybe. 

"Can't wait to hear it," Steve adds.

"I'll be home in twenty minutes," Eddie says.

"So, you mean an hour," Steve banters back.

"Or two," Eddie teases. Steve knows him all too well.

Steve

Eddie flops on the bed, hair wet from his shower, and dripping onto his t-shirt, wetting his collar. It jostles Steve, who struggles to keep a hold of the book in his hand. He took a short nap, but he knew if he slept all day, he'd be fucked.

So, he's compromised by just lounging in bed, reading.

"Easy tiger," Steve says, but Eddie just presses his face into Steve's neck, sending cold droplets of water down his skin, and around the back of his neck.

Steve flinches, rolling his shoulder upwards, trying to combat the steady trickle that's escaping Eddie's hair to try and freeze him to death.

"Tell me everything," Eddie demands, and Steve lowers his book, resting it on his chest.

He looks at Eddie over the edge of his reading glasses, knowingly.

"What? Tell me!" Eddie demands, and Steve just grins. 

"Tell me about the new song."

"No! You won't distract me," Eddie argues. "Tell me the truth."

"You can't handle the truth!" Steve banters, and Eddie flops over onto his own pillow, laughing. 

Steve grins at him.

"It was good. It was just sex," Steve says, and Eddie turns his head, giving him a look. 

"It was just sex," Eddie repeats like he doesn't quite believe it.

"What? Was your roll in the hay with Jeff not just sex?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Mine was a comedy of errors. Jeff thought I was crazy."

"Jeff's always thought you were crazy, so nothing new there."

"I couldn't quit laughing," Eddie admits.

Steve grins, "Sounds about right."

Eddie scrubs his hands over his face, and makes a dramatic noise that Steve's all too familiar with. 

"You good?" Steve asks. 

Eddie looks at Steve as he pulls down his cheeks, stretching his lower eyelids downwards, like a weirdo. He's over fifty, but nothing ever changes. 

Steve puts his book on the end table, and rolls over, settling on top of Eddie, pressing his lips to Eddie's neck. 

"I'm good," Eddie answers. 

"You sure?" 

"Pretty sure."

"Want me to give you a — hard reset — just to make sure?" 

Eddie laughs, sliding his hands over Steve's shoulders, "You just want to get all the mileage you can out of your recreational boner pill. Which was cheating, by the way."

"It wasn't cheating!" 

"You don't have ED."

Steve laughs, he doesn't. No more than anyone else does at their age. He just wanted to make extra certain he could go all night, no matter what, no matter who. 

"Don't be jealous you didn't get to experience it. Di says hi by the way."

Eddie growls, and it's not menacing in the slightest.

"If you can't go again so soon, I get it," Steve taunts.

"Pants off, Harrington," Eddie demands, and well, Steve does what he says. 

Once stripped down and naked, Eddie straddles his thighs and squeezes. Then lifts his ass, like he's gonna slide right down on Steve's cock.

"Whoa, how about we don't try that," Steve laughs. They don't need an embarrassing trip to the emergency room.

Eddie doesn't listen, never does, and just grips Steve cock, guiding him as he sinks down. Easy, already loose. Of course he is. 

"I got ready in the shower. How do I compare?" 

Steve laughs, reaching up to push Eddie's wet hair out of his face, "You're crazy. You know there's nobody that compares to you."

"Good answer," Eddie says, working himself on Steve's cock. Steve's the one in him, but somehow he's just along for the ride, like always. Catering to Eddie's every whim. 

He wouldn't change a thing.

"Is your cock harder or has it just been a minute?" 

Steve laughs. Both. The answer is both. His dick is getting a little pharmaceutical boost, and it's been a while since Eddie's bottomed. Mainly because Steve just prefers to get fucked by him, but he gets that Eddie needs to plant his flag. Or, needs Steve to plant his, as it were. 

"Don't know what you're talking about," Steve lies, "it's always been this magnificent. All the women are saying so."

Eddie sighs, and wraps his arms around Steve's neck, "I don't care what the women are saying. It is. And you should only fuck me with it."

He sounds like he's teasing, but Steve knows him too well. If Eddie is one and done, Steve's one and done, too. 

That's more than okay with Steve, and he cups the side of Eddie's head, "Only you."

Gareth

"I already told you," she says, stirring the pot of sauce simmering on the stove, "we did it with the lights off. Under the sheets. He was a perfect gentleman."

Gareth tilts his head, "Diana Jones, I wasn't born yesterday."

She turns and grins, biting at her bottom lip, and he knows he's in trouble now. The next thing that comes out of her mouth may ruin him. He needs to hear it immediately. 

"He fucked me up against the bathroom sink. You wanna see the bruises on my hips?"

His cock throbs, hardening, trapped in his jeans. He palms at himself as she goes back to stirring.

Then she hits him with more. 

"I didn't change the sheets. You wanna smell him in our bed?"

And that's it. He can't be expected to just stand by idly. He grabs her around the waist, pulling her away from the stove as she squeals, tucking her feet up, letting him lift her off the ground. Then, he thinks better of it, pausing just long enough to reach over to turn off the burner on the stove. Putting the lid on the pot.

They might be a while. 

Only then does he jostle her in his arms, tossing her over his shoulder, swatting her on the ass. Hauling her towards their bedroom, like they're still kids. She's laughing, and he can't wait.

He puts her down on their bed, getting underdressed, and when he finally yanks down her underwear, she wasn't lying. There are faint bruises forming where her hip bones made contact with the marble sink. 

"I'll kill him," he says, sealing his mouth over one of the bruises, sucking. If she wants bruises, they'll be his. Not Steve's.

She whines, grabbing a fistful of his hair, letting him get it out of his system before guiding him downwards. He buries his face in her pussy, and breathes deep. Then, presses his tongue into her. There's nowhere else on earth he'd rather be than between her thighs.

"Do you still taste him?" she asks, and he pulls back just long enough to rub his stubble against her sensitive inner thigh. Eyes meeting hers.

She giggles, and he goes back to eating her out in earnest. But she just keeps talking. 

"He came inside me so many times, Gare. He fucks just like you think he would. Eddie's so lucky." 

She's taunting him, he knows what she's playing at. And maybe it's his fucking imagination, but he thinks he can taste him, but he'll mark his own territory soon enough. Right this wrong.

She's just gotta come first, and he's the expert on making that happen. Not Steve. Not anyone else. Just him. He's had years to perfect his craft. 

"Right there," she says, and he shoves two fingers inside her, tip of his tongue running circles over her clit, knowing that'll help nudge her over the edge.

It does. She has barely finished jerking from her orgasm, when she turns the tables, grabbing his shoulders. He lets her manhandle him, turning him onto his stomach. Then her hand is pressing the back of his head, forcing his face into the sheets, both of his hands in hers as she pulls them backwards, securing them behind him.

"Breathe deep," she says, "I got so wet for him. Before, after, feeling his come leaking out of me all over our sheets."

"Di," he says, but he presses his face into the soft cotton that does smell like sex, and not just their sex.

He grinds his hips into the bed. 

"If I let your hands go, are you gonna be good?" she asks, and he nods. He will. He leaves them clasped behind his back, right where she put them.

She nudges his knees apart.

"Feel it?" she asks, and then her slick fingers, wetted from her own pussy, are pressing against his asshole, "Did you get fucked without me, too?" 

He nods. He did. And she pushes her fingers into him, one then two. He's loose enough, but he still whines. This is the hottest, dirtiest thing they've ever done and they've done some raunchy shit together over the years.

"I wanted him to fuck my ass so bad," she says, "but he wouldn't fit."

Gareth's whole body tenses, his cock jumping, throbbing, trapped against the dirty sheets.

"He's that big, Gare. Maybe you'd like him to fuck you," she says, twisting her fingers inside him, finally making contact with that bundle of nerves that lights his whole body on fire. He wants to ask for the whole thing, the strap, all of it.

But he just lets her run the show. 

He isn't surprised when she lets him up, and shifts their positions until he's back over her.

Gareth knows what she wants, and he slides into her, as he imagines Steve doing the same thing. He wonders how he did it. What speed, what rhythm, as he starts hammering into her. Hard. Fast. 

Just like she likes it when she's this worked up.

She's moaning, thumb brushing her own nipple. He knocks her hand away and does it himself.

"I'm so fucking jealous," he says, and she covers his hand with her own, pressing his hand into her chest, right over her heart.

"Gare," she says, far softer now. "It was just sex."

He slows his pace, just grinding into her. Rolling his hips, just like she likes, pressing his pubic bone against her clit. 

"No, no, I know. And it was Steve. I trust Steve, like, if I could have handpicked anyone there? I'd have picked him. Because I'd have no doubt you'd be taken care of," he admits, and that's the fucking truth. He only trusts Eddie more, and he cannot imagine Eddie having sex with a woman, even if Gareth knows he has before. It's still a foreign concept.

Steve, though.

"Then why are you jealous?" she asks, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

He's not sure. But it's bubbling inside him.

"I didn't get to watch," he finally says, and she grabs at his side, squeezing his love handle as she comes, pulsing all around him, hugging his cock while involuntarily trying to push him out at the same time. 

He loves that feeling, has always loved it.

"You…you wanted to watch?" she asks on an exhale, a whine, as he keeps rocking into her. 

And, yeah. He thinks he would have enjoyed that quite a bit. Which is kind of a new revelation. He's definitely never thought of sharing her before the key party talks started. 

But now. At least pondering the idea of what happened last night. Yeah, maybe.

He nods, "My imagination can't possibly do it justice."

"If we ever decide to play again, you can watch," she promises. "Fuck, please. But right now? I just want you."

And that's all he wants, too.

Steve

"Hey, darlin'," Eddie says, taking the covered dish from Diana's hands when they walk into the kitchen. She was in charge of the main dish this week, and he's pretty excited. He's never had anything she's made that he hasn't liked.

And Eddie isn't destroying their kitchen with dirty dishes. So, win-win.

Gareth walks by Steve, and reaches out, tapping the back of his hand against Steve's dick. A little harder than necessary, Steve thinks.

"Ow," Steve giggles, cupping his junk, and Gareth laughs. 

"You fucked my wife," Gareth says, like that wasn't the whole idea. 

"You can fuck my husband if you want to," Steve suggests, teasing.

"No, he definitely cannot!" Eddie declares, and they all laugh. 

Gareth leans up in Steve's face, and smacks a kiss against Steve's lips, "I don't know what you did to my wife, you goddamn animal, but we fucked about it all afternoon. Thanks, man." 

Then he winks, and Steve shakes his head, laughing. 

"I could always give you a demo if you want. Teach you a thing or two," Steve says, taunting him. 

Gareth shakes his fist at Steve, and Di slides in front of Steve, getting between them. Steve wraps both arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head. 

It's nothing he hasn't done a million times before, but watching Gareth's blood pressure rise in real time is sorta fun. They're close, have always been close, all of them. Now, they're just a little bit closer in an unexpected way.

"Yeah, Gare. You want a demo?" she asks, teasing, but Steve feels like there's more to it the way color spreads across Gareth's cheeks. It's interesting. Gareth might actually like that.

He's a horny little freak, though, always has been, so Steve's not too surprised. Not really.

Gareth crowds in close, pressing up against Di, wrapping his arms around the both of them, squeezing, pressing his fingers into Steve's back, probably a little harder than he really needs to.

"Stop that, all of you. We're not having an orgy," Eddie says from where he's putting a salad together. It's their Sunday tradition. "We're having dinner. That's it."

They all laugh, and Steve feels relieved it's all so normal. Di takes a step away from him, and he lets her go. She sits at the table next to Gareth, and Steve walks over and wraps his arms around Eddie's middle, hugging him from behind, "No orgies. Got it. Who knew Eddie Munson would be the prude among us?"

Eddie spins, salad tongs in hand, putting them right in Steve's face, "You take that back! I'm a freak!"

Steve laughs, and holds up his hands in concession, "My bad. You're a freak."

"He's not a freak, he's an imposter," Gareth says.

Eddie growls at him, and it's far less scary than he thinks it is. But they all just humor him, like they always do.

Steve carries the salad to the table, and Di takes the lid off the pasta. It's all so normal, and they easily fall into regular conversation. Like they didn't do something new last night.

"We've got a good one," Eddie says, "the song. We're keeping it for us. It's a Corroded Coffin song. Could be a single. Hell, maybe we'll do an EP."

Gareth is nodding, "He's not wrong. Songs don't usually come together that quick."

"That's what she said," Eddie jokes.

"She definitely didn't," Steve banters, and Gareth kicks him under the table.

So, nothing's changed. That's good.

Eddie

Steve's bending over in the fridge, looking for pie he bought for dessert. Eddie bangs his groin into Steve's ass, sending him off balance, making him laugh. Eddie squats beside Steve, looking lower, finding it on the bottom shelf. He presents it to Steve on both hands, making him laugh.

Steve takes it from his hands, and places it on the counter to be cut, as Eddie starts a pot of coffee. Eddie can hear Gareth and Di talking in the living room, and he knows he was worried for nothing. 

It was only sex.

And what's a little sex between friends?

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the May Mayhem Bingo Event!

Notes: Title from Swingin' by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, which has nothing to do with a key party. (But everything to do with Di, lol.) However, Brief Encounters by Franz Ferdinand is much more likely about that, and it definitely got some listening time while writing this.

May Mayhem has been so much fun, writing borderline unhinged things I'd never probably considered before. 🤣

[dontfretforme]

i am respectfully losing my mind about how "female competition" used to be one of the most important concepts to deconstruct for feminists, radfem or not and how it's faded to the backseat of feminist conversation.

meanwhile women who love makeup look down on anti-beauty industry women and vice versa, the men couldn't give any less of a fuck about any of this.

a man will say "she's ugly/fat" or anything alluding to a woman's fuckability, that's 100% true, but that's where heterosexual men stop at.

the idea behind why women compete with each other is male approval, i know, but men don't give a shit if you're a "cleangirl" or a whatever the fuck girl. it's not hetero men watching countless hours of makeup and skincare brainrot and scrutinizing other women's skins and eyebrows and makeup skills and outfits. those comments are 95% of the time coming from women, a lot of times women you don't even know very well.

an almost universal female experience is having a woman, usually a relative but can also be a friend who constantly shits on your appearance. the idea behind is to appeal to males, but males are never there with you, are they? your boyfriend might be head over heels for your body and your friend or relative is still giving you shit for not not dressing up more often or not buying better lingerie for him or some other nitpicky bs. it also happens with males but the rate is so incredibly higher with women.

another very common female experience is finding yourself in a conversation where the whole point is trashing a woman based on her appearance. i've been socially rejected time and time again by women for not engaging in this high school level bully bullshit. i was given the silent treatment for weeks once for saying that the girl they were saying "dresses like a fucking idiot" was mentally disabled and could barely afford clothes since i actually knew her and her situation and how she was actually ashamed of the way she dressed.

i cannot tell you the number of times i argued with female self proclaimed feminist friends for saying it was sexist to focus so much on other women's appearances and that they never, ever submitted men to the same scrutiny.

men constantly cheat on their thin, perfect girlfriends with fat and masculine women they usually deem "unfuckable", they only say those things to not look as a loser to other males, but deep inside they don't give a fuck, if ever in doubt, look up rape survivors, they definitely not only go for the "perfect" women, do they?

my asshole ex friend who drove me back into compulsive eating patterns was not male, she was a "fashion victim" woman who thought my value as a person was determined on how much time of my life i poured over fashion and styling, which i used to enjoy a lot more before meeting her. she constantly shat on me for not wearing revealing clothes often enough and said i was "unfashionable" at least once a day. girl, i do not give a fuck.

could we please stop shitting on each other all the time? you're not better than women who wear makeup or shave or do ritualistic beauty routines, you're just as oppressed (if not more for rejecting femininity) as any other woman in your same social-economical situation. like i know it's freeing and it feels really empowering, i don't shave and i have never wore makeup on a daily basis or even every time i was at an event. i was a tomboy throughout my entire life and i have never felt better than my girly friends.

i felt sad for them, they couldn't play in nature or do sports in their frilly dresses, i saw them as secluded in their femininity prison and i wanted to smash that cage so bad, tell them they didn't need to spend so much time worrying about the way they looked. i never looked down on them or thought they were stupid for liking girly stuff. they were just less rebellious than me and most girls end up performing femininity to appease their parents' demands anyways, a lot of us have been thoroughly punished for not performing femininity well.

later on you keep on adhering to femininity to fit in with other girls, i tried performing femininity a couple of times in my life and it was not to "attract men" but because most girls socially rejected me. of course this gets better with age and girly girls stop caring about what other women enjoy, but it does not disappear.

wealthy stylish women of all ages absolutely look down on poor women wearing cheap clothes and accessories. wealthy stylish men of all ages pay for sex with poor women of all kinds.

the reason why we do it is unimportant, we just need to acknowledge this shit and stop doing it.

female competition appealing to the male gaze is a subproduct, the main product is making women hate each other, thus not talk to each other, thus not break patriarchal chains.

i highly recommend everyone to read strategies to follow with friends in abusive relationships, not only because it helps with those particular situations but it also helps with many other things. telling someone they're stupid for harming themselves will only make them double down and harm themselves even more. that's the core concept and it applies 99% of the times.

offering suggestions and talking passionately about how YOU feel empowered by not performing femininity is not making decisions for them or implying they are stupid for doing so.

gender roles are complex and usually start being enforced at birth. female babies are given less food and a way too fucking long etcetera. no one is stupid for doing the very thing that was always praised and expected of them, no matter how much it harmed them internally.

and of course, some women are evil and stupid and shitty and they deserve to be called out, this has nothing to do with that. deconstructing our tendecies to female competition =/= excusing women from all wrongdoing.

[project-sekai-facts]

Im sorry i know you said not to ask you to elaborate on that last point, but i cant help myself.

I mean yeah it's not biphobic to dislike bi minori, but it's still hurtful when ppl are super strongly against bi hcs (to the point of acting like lesbian minori is canon, and bi = morally wrong -- not you but fandom in general) over an implied sapphic character because as you said, ppl treat bisexuality as just Straight Plus. I just want to know why you added that last part to support why it's ok to not like bi headcanons. like.... are you saying people only have bi headcanons as an excuse to ship "het" couples?

As I said with Minori specifically, she's a character strongly coded as lesbian, so the fact that some people do not like headcanoning her as bisexual is entirely understandable, because she's like the closest thing to canon lesbian rep next to Kohane so obviously a lot of fans see themselves in her and want representation.

What I mean in regards to the fandom treating bisexuality as straight plus is that a lot of the time the whole "prsk fandom is biphobic" issue is brought up is with regards to m/f shipping. Such as with the Minori discourse afaik it started because of a minori fan account shipping her with men. And I'm absolutely not saying you can't hc a character as bi and ship them m/f, that's totally valid, but it's that commonly people only start bringing up biphobia when people don't like a m/f ship.

Like, it may be your headcanon that the characters in that ship are bi, but m/f couples are not inherently a bi thing. As a bi person it bothers me that a large portion of this fandom still defaults to "some people don't like m/f ships = biphobia" like what are you talking about. I think it's largely due to the english speaking side of the fanbase being made up of a lot of young queers and generally people assuming every character is queer off the bat. But it's very telling when people start calling biphobia over not liking a m/f ship that they're just viewing it as straight plus in a lot of cases.

Like again, I'm not saying you can't hc characters as bi and ship them m/f without shipping them with characters of the same gender as well. For the least discourse-inducing example I have, I like kaimeiluka and hc them all as bi, and I only ship kaito with those two and not any men. Like that's not my issue that's just normal my issue is that when people get upset over a m/f ship be it because they don't like it or because it features a character who is coded as exclusively gay, the people who like the m/f ship immediately jump to "you hate bi people" when that's not true and extremely disconnected from reality. m/f relationships are not inherently bi in the greater scope of reality, and it says a lot when someone immediately assumes m/f relationships as being the ones with bi people. We like both that's the entire point m/m and f/f ships can have bi people too.

Also in fandom terms as I've said before, everything comes down to preference. Some queer people don't like m/f ships that much and that's okay. That's not biphobic and also the characters in their slash and femslash ships could be bi. In the prsk fandom specifically you are not obligated to like any m/f ships, there's not many options in the first place. Sexuality goes hand in hand with shipping so people will ship and headcanon whatever they want regardless of what's implied in canon, because at the end of the day nothing is confirmed. As much as Minori is lesbian coded people are never going to stop shipping her with men, and if one day it gets confirmed they'll probably just start genderbending. (before anyone brings up Mizuki that's a different can of worms since there is confirmation in the text she is 1. amab and 2. identifies as female so going against that is blatantly transphobic)

[anonmousegosqueak]

Y'all know we don't have any of the official CoD men heights, right?

I dunno who decided König was both a colonel (he's not) and 6'-fucking-10", but that model is the same height as everyone else. Yeah campaign cutscenes, but in game? There's two heights, man and woman. Now am I against this? Hell no! It just means I can do this- >:)

If CoD men were SHORTER than their CoD man S.O.

Includes: Nikolai x Price, Ghost x Soap, Gaz x Roach, and Alejandro x Rodolfo. No Red in this one, don't ask me why.

Price < Nikolai

If Price was shorter than Nikolai...

So this is the version I personally enjoy. Big, fat, hairy bear Price, getting out done in all of those categories. To his men? He's huge. To his man?? Fuck, he comes up to just below eye level. He's bratty about it as well, constantly bitching when Nik puts something too high up (he does it on purpose) and squirming away from his relentless forehead kisses. His breaking point though? When Nikolai pins him up against the wall, slotting his leg between Price's as so he can rest on something higher up while on his tippy toes. He melts like a stick of butter left out in the Texas heat. He can barely even form words in the pink mush he calls a brain when Nik picks him up, carrying him to the bedroom like he weighs nothing. Maybe being smaller isn't all that bad after all, aye John?

Nikolai < Price

If Nikolai was taller than Price...

Now- here is our first instance of taller ≠ bottom or submissive. I'd say their heights are swapped from the first one, Nik just being a few inches shorter than Price. He's still tall, no doubt about it, but he does have to crane his neck to look Price in the eyes. Does that stop him though? Absolutely not. He's putting on his tallest heels (drag Nik beloved) and towering over John. He's shoving the man into a seat and sitting in his lap. He's grinning as he watches John throw his head back in pleasure, not stopping for even a moment. On a more wholesome note- Nik has a fondness of headbutting Price like a cat. He'll bonk his face into Price's mouth, basically giving himself a forehead smooch. He'll tuck his head under Price's neck while they cuddle, not caring that Price can no longer see the TV. He's shorter, yes, but he's still very much in control.

Ghost < Soap (hear me out)

If Ghost was shorter than Soap...

LET ME HAVE THIS- Y'ALL HAVE NO IDEA. So one of my biggest pet-peevs with how people draw Soap is that they make him so... Twink-y. Do me a favor and pull up a picture of that man- he's built like a fucking square! His arms can barely even be contained by his shirt, he does that stupid little caveman walk he does when getting off the heli (aka the walk big tall people do, trust me on this one). He. Is. Big. So why can't he be bigger than Ghost? Not even bigger like wider, I'm talking bigger in all senses of the word. Ghost is honestly a little scared when meeting him for the first time... This huge-ass Scottish man with a dumbass hairstyle comes up to him and *touches* him? Not even Gaz was that brave when he first met him... Ghost isn't fully sure what to do with himself, often just freezing whenever Soap does anything with his hight. Forehead kiss? Blue screen. Reaches above him for something? He's standing there for the next few minutes, looking like an idiot. The only reason the fandom never has Soap taller is because poor Ghost would break on the spot.

Soap < Ghost

If Soap was shorter than Ghost...

What do you want me to say? It's the fandom opinion. He's a brat, he's adorable and kissable and Ghost slings him over his shoulder. The end.

Gaz < Roach

If Gaz was shorter than Roach...

So I think in this case, because of the lack of official info, I'm going to make it more "what if Roach was taller than Gaz". Gaz is an average height, Roach is this tall lanky dude who shoved himself into increasingly small spaces. And Gaz? Gaz is fucking crazy over it. He likes the familiar shadow, the feeling of someone leaning on him and resting their chin on his head, the warmth of getting squished up against a chest. I think he's the most normal about it though. Sure it's hot, yes he loves topping someone so tall, but day to day? He's more concerned about warning his love about short doorframes than anything... And if he's secretly glad about being under 6'? Well that's no one's business but his own.

Roach < Gaz

Small bug being held up like a creature. The end.

Alejandro < Rudy

If Alejandro was Shorter than Rodolfo...

This one honestly makes me a bit feral. Fennec can confirm, I'm *not* normal about dom! Rodolfo. Pair that with physically being larger than Alejandro...? He's not nice about it either, using his hight and size to his advantage all the time. And Alejandro? Well Alejandro is replacing his third pair of jeans this week after ruining them. Sometimes the colonel just needs to turn his brain off, let someone bigger than him take care of him. He trusts his Sargent Major, trusts him with the power he holds. Yeah they like to play around with the height difference but at the end of the day? Alejandro feels safe with the mountain of a man. A (not so) gentle giant who can take control and let Ale just get to relax for once.

Rodolfo < Alejandro

If Rodolfo was shorter than Alejandro...

Oop- we got another short dom! Literally the same dynamic as the last one, big spoon and all. Except *maybe* he makes Ale reach the top shelf, no shame about it either. So what if he can't reach? He has an obedient pet boyfriend to do it for him. Again with the comfort, except this time it's more symbolic than physical. Alejandro is still letting go and giving power to Rudy, he's still curling into his chest as the other man wraps his arms around his torso, except now it's an even clearer display of trust and comfort. Rudy gets to be the big boss, to comfort and care, even while dealing with a man who towers over him.

[aliciavance4228]

I cannot believe that I have to say that, but the idea of Medusa being a hunter of rapists in the Bronze Age is far from ridiculous.

Look: Did ancient greeks knew the concept of having sexual intercourse against your will? Absolutely! But did they have the exact same perception on rape that we have nowdays? Ehh... While they condemned rape of their women and those accused of it were punished for their actions, there were also instances where they excused different forms of sexual assault.

Take as an example the way lots of Zeus' famous escapades with different mortal women (Danaë, Europa, Alcmene etc.) didn't start to be acknowledged or interpreted as rape until later, while there are still people who consider them to be love stories due to the ambiguity of the language. Take also into account the fact that ancient greeks didn't have a word for rape. Not to mention that we're talking here about a time period where slavery existed (which expands this subject's complexity to a whole another level) and the siege of a city was usually followed by the mass rape and enslavement of its women. I don't want to hear about the importance of consentual sex on an abstract and ideal level in a Greek Mythology Retelling knowing all these aspects about the ancient greek society purely for the sake of tickling our modern sensibilities.

On this note, do I even have to mention that concepts such as a patron of SA/Rape victims, a punisher of rapists or a women's shelter are contemporary projections onto the ancient world that have little to nothing to do with reality?

And allow me to say: Medusa is one of the least mythological figures to be interpreted either as a feminist icon or a hunter of rapists. Even if we talk about Ovid's version she's not even in top 50 the most tragic rape victims from Greek Mythology. If you would really want to turn her into a badass monster and a menace to mortals then you could keep her archaic appearence instead of making her a conventionally attractive woman, and write a retelling of that one episode where she and her sisters were fighting against the Amazons; but I quess this idea won't be on these authors' tastes, because apparently the exact same people who usually erase Stheno and Euryale cannot stand the idea of our slay queen girlboss Medusa intentionally doing any harm to a woman. But don't assume that she's a punisher or hunter of rapists nor a feminist. Not only because all of these are linked in our modern mentality and terminology, but also because she didn’t conciously petrified all those predators and sick men (Polydectes, Phineus, Proteus); she was already dead. It is Perseus who used her head in order to kill them and avenge his wife and mother by default all this time.

[mxtxfanatic]

Hello, hope you are doing well… I'm sorry it's going to be so long, it's just that I was going through Heaven’s Official Blessing’s wiki... When I first read it, I had a very uneasy feeling I couldn’t quite pinpoint. But after reading your meta about Mu Qing and Feng Xin, I finally understood why.

"After the fall of Xianle, Hua Cheng was reintroduced as a ghost fire and was found by Xie Lian.He was told by Xie Lian that Mu Qing had left and additionally was present when Mu Qing requested Xie Lian to leave the mountain meant for cultivation alongisde the 33 gods that humiliated Xie Lian. With Xie Lian being his main priority, Hua Cheng's hatred for Mu Qing grew further"

‘Requested’😭 Bruh

Mu Qing was holding a long saber-and the sharp tip was pointed directly at Xie Lian."Please leave," said Mu Qing, weapon in hand Chapter 98:Thirty-Three Heavenly Officials Fight Over Blessed Land

the nameless ghost declared, "To die in battle for you is my greatest honor."I'm sorry," he replied. "Forget me."The nameless ghost's flickering flames flared brighter. "I won't forget. Your Highness, I am forever your most devoted believer."Xie Lian forced down a sob. "...I've already lost all my believers. Believing in me won't do you any good; it might even bring disaster. Did you know? Even my friend has left me."The nameless ghost declared as if swearing an oath, "I won't.""You will," Xie Lian said.The ghost was insistent. "Believe me, Your Highness.""I don't," Xie Lian said.He no longer believed in anyone, especially himself Chapter 96:Hero Defeated by a Penny

It was said in that context, but without it, it’s easy to misinterpret. And since people often rely on these sites more than actually reading the novel, it becomes a problem.I don’t know—maybe I’m wrong—but it’s giving… like it’s either hua cheng's own perception fault or xie lian's the reason that he continues disliking Mu Qing? What about people making up their minds and going into the novel reading THIS—?? No offense, but?! Also, Xie Lian didn’t just find that ghost fire out of nowhere—he literally saved Hua Cheng and the other ghost fires from the clutches of a greedy maybe mention that too.

"He helps Xie Lian make a present for Hua Cheng's birthday [10] and even pretends to be his servant again when Xie Lian has amnesia. [11]"

"What's going on?"Xie Lian looked up and saw Feng Xin and Mu Qing-but they weren't the same Feng Xin and Mu Qing he knew.Sure, their general appearance was the same, but their demeanor had changed. They didn't seem like two rash young men, but more like generals with years of battle experience under their belts. Moreover, both were wearing black robes that looked rather sumptuous, quite unlike the dress that ordinary folks wore, and quite unlike anything Xie Lian had ever seen them wear.The one who had spoken was Feng Xin, and he walked over. "Your Highness, what are you doing out here by yourself?""That's what I was going to ask," Xie Lian said. "Where did you two run off to? I told you guys to train idioms outside last night, but why could I not find a shadow of you this morning?"An odd look that matched the Lord of Soil and Ground's crossed both Feng Xin and Mu Qing's faces, like they couldn't comprehend what he was saying.Xie Lian felt his head splitting, and he cried, "And what's with those outfits? What in the world is going on?!"Feng Xin looked down at himself and wondered, confused, "What's wrong with my outfit? Isn't this normal?" Chapter 135:Extra 2The Strange Amnesiac Adventures of His Highness the Crown Prince (Part One)... seven seas edition

When did he ever pretend in that whole scene? Like—?? They probably didn’t even know ,one can see from Feng Xin’s confusion that Xie Lian had referred to them as his servants.

"Although Mu Qing admired Xie Lian and wanted to be his f-f-friend, the nature of their dynamic as master and servant complicated this.As a servant he couldn't voice his real thoughts or truly express his personality; in Xie Lian's memory he was always soft-spoken and well-mannered. [13] Xie Lian was oblivious to this issue, thinking that he treated everyone as equals. Though he had an easier time than Feng Xin understanding how Mu Qing was interpreting something, Xie Lian couldn't see the issues in their own relationship.An example of this is the missing pearl earring. Due to an offhand comment, Mu Qing thinks the others are accusing him of stealing it"

Are you sure Xie Lian couldn’t see the issues? Because literally in the next sentence, it says—it's in Mu Qing’s mind, he’s a prisoner of his own thoughts.

then there's Feng Xin

"He was exceedingly loyal and supportive of Xie Lian, only leaving him when Xie Lian orders him to do so. [14]" "One of his most remarkable qualities are his loyalty and devotion, [1] shown through his history with Xie Lian. Feng Xin always supported him and during their first banishment, he refused to leave Xie Lian's side for the longest time despite desperate circumstances.[8][9]"

"Leaving him when Xie lian orders him" "always supported", "refused to leave"? At one point he did but he literally did left him—over what? A single sentence from Xie Lian saying he should stop following him? "loyalty and devotion" to what , huh? an authority figure, not to the person that should’ve been mentioned.

I have nothing against Mu Qing or Feng Xin —they’re interesting characters, no doubt. But the whole wiki sometimes feels like it’s trying too hard to justify their behavior and choices. It’s okay to love a character with flaws; no need to over-defend them. After all, it’s a wiki—not a personal space for fan bias, such sugarcoating! I just needed to vent, but honestly, people should be aware—things like this can really affect how someone interprets canon ...or maybe i don't know I am overthinking this...the whole wiki isn't that bad but it's sigh.

The tgcf wiki was written by a Mu Qing stan who hates Xie Lian and notoriously got into it with me on this blog in which they argued against my meta—that Mu Qing is actually a very classist character that is not a “working-class hero” like fandom pretends—with a headcanon they made up about how Mu Qing hates revolution in respect of his father’s memory because… his dad was executed for being a revolutionary. Idk how bad the svsss wiki is, but both the mdzs and the tgcf wikis are useless as tools to understand the story because they are written by people who aggressively hate the MCs and are using admin control to attempt to twist people’s understanding of the story to oppose them.

Also, Hua Cheng dislikes both Feng Xin and Mu Qing for abandoning Xie Lian, but he treats Mu Qing noticeably worse, almost as if he has personal beef against them that isn’t just tied to their treatment of Xie Lian 🤔 (He does. Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing treat Hong Hong’er like shit, and then Mu Qing kicks Hong’er out of the army out of pettiness. Hua Cheng didn’t just forget this because “it had nothing to do with Xie Lian.”)