#we are winning in the gender department

[venus-haze]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: A communication breakdown has unintended consequences, but it’s all because Homelander loves you.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on a request from @judyfromfinance and the ABBA song which is so Homelander coded. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Jealousy, possessive behavior, violence (not toward the reader). We love miscommunication for plot reasons here! Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander had no reason to believe you were hiding from him. Your job kept you busy, and ironically enough, working for the same company didn’t guarantee that you’d see each other nearly as much as he’d like. When his texts went unanswered and he couldn’t so much as hear you during the day, though, his mind went into overdrive presenting him with every worst case scenario it could possibly conceive of.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

His gloved hands balled into fists at his side. You would never cheat on him. He knew that. He did. But sometimes, it seemed like your heart didn’t ache for him the way his did for yours. You had a life outside of him, and as much as you tried to include him in it, he resisted. Things would be easier if it were just the two of you.

Trying your phone again, he called you, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Give me a call back as soon as you can. I love you,” he said, adding a quick. “Call me back" for emphasis.

He groaned, throwing his phone aside and folding his arms over his chest. It was fine. He didn’t care that much anyway. At least that’s what he told himself as he glanced at his discarded phone every few seconds in hopes you’d call or text back. No dice.

As a last resort, he headed to the crime analytics department. You managed a small team of analysts who consulted with the state and federal government on Vought’s behalf. The two of you had met when Vought was trying to get supes in the military, and as far as Homelander was concerned, it was love at first sight.

Never mind that it took a few weeks to win you over, frustratingly committed to your job and hesitant to date a coworker. Even though he’d hardly consider the two of you coworkers. Sure, you both worked for Vought, but that was it as far as he was concerned. In his determination to woo you, he’d made some valuable connections in your department. At least, people who he knew would have some kind of scoop on you when he needed it.

“Hey Annika,” Homelander said, startling the young crime analyst as he approached her desk. “How’re you doing, pal?

“Hi Homelander,” she said, not quite able to keep eye contact with him. “Sir. I’m good. H-How are you?”

“You haven’t seen Y/N around today, have you?”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Alright,” he said tensely, a painfully fake smile spreading across his face. “Keep up the good work.”

His smile faltered as he heard your name come up in a conversation on the other side of the room. A masculine voice, younger than his, far too much mirth for his liking when he spoke about you.

“Dude, I was in Y/N’s office for like an hour yesterday. I could barely concentrate. They are so fine.”

“You’re insane,” someone else laughed.

“What? Have you seen them?”

“They’re dating Homelander, dumbass.”

“Whatever. It won’t last. He and Maeve will get back together, and yours truly will be there to pick up the pieces.”

“If you say so.”

Homelander hadn’t noticed his eyes glowing red until Annika squeaked. Letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he looked at his…acquaintance.

“See you around,” he said, his chipper tone clearly strained.

Since you weren’t answering your phone and he still had no clue where you were, Homelander had all the time in the world to wait around for your sleazy subordinate to take a bathroom break. He wondered if you were aware of the man’s interest in you. It was a possibility, but he had to assure himself that you wouldn’t do anything to encourage it. He knew you wouldn’t bother with a miscreant like that, of all people, but the point needed to be made. No one could speak so vulgarly about you and expect him not to do something about it.

Fifteen minutes or so had passed, and Homelander spotted his name badge. Josh.

“Hey Josh! You have a minute, buddy?” Homelander asked, voice booming through the hallway, causing Josh to flinch. Homelander smirked a bit.

“Homelander! Is there something you need?”

“Yeah, actually, I just have a question about the crime analytics office.”

Josh nodded. “Sure, anything.”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there?”

“Wh-What?”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there? Maybe a keg and some drunk idiots wearing togas?”

“I don’t—“

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then why were you in there talking about my partner like you were in a fucking frat house?” Homelander asked, cornering the slimy analyst. “You know Y/N and I are dating, right? Your idiot friend told you as much.”

Josh’s mouth flopped open and closed like one of the disgusting fish The Deep crusaded for. “I—I didn’t mean—“

“So either you’re incredibly stupid, or you have a death wish. Which one is it, buddy?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Homelander.”

Homelander chuckled, empty and hollow, reveling in the way he could practically smell the fear radiating off of the man in front of him. “You will be.”

With the way Josh was carrying on, Homelander would’ve thought he’d actually killed the guy. All he’d done was snap his arm and throw an elbow to his nose. He’d just bought the asshole a free rhinoplasty, far more generous than he deserved after what he did. 

Homelander sneered at the blubbering crime analyst, work shirt covered in his own blood. Pathetic, really. And he had the audacity to act like he was worthy of you. Throwing one final glare Josh’s way, Homelander walked off, wiping the blood off his gloves and onto his suit. It could be dry-cleaned out.

The outburst made him feel better than he had all day, though it didn’t answer the question of where the hell you were and why you weren’t answering him. Besides, he swore he heard the familiar sound of your footfall in the lobby. 

He supposed you wouldn’t be too happy if you came back to see one of your subordinates brutalized in the hallway. Just his luck, he spotted an intern in one of the unoccupied offices.

“Hey,” Homelander said, pausing a moment to read the intern’s badge, “Sammy, there’s a mess over by the crime analytics office, can you get someone to clean it up?” 

“Sure,” Sammy responded cheerfully.

“Thanks, it’s the little things that make this place run. You’re doing great,” he complimented, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Sammy returned his smile, obviously not questioning his sincerity. Homelander knew if he framed the whole thing as a favor, she’d be more likely to follow through. It was always good to have reliable people in his back pocket for things like that, worker bees who thought they were friends or something. She walked off, strides purposeful as she set off to complete her personal mission from Homelander.

Rushing over to the elevator, he listened for you, getting out on the fifteenth floor where he saw you just as you walked out of the bathroom. 

As soon as he made eye contact, he melted, making a beeline for you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around Homelander. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Where were you?” he asked, almost painfully returning your embrace.

“I told you I was presenting for the security council at the UN all day. No phones, remember?”

He huffed, releasing you from the hug. Fuck. “I guess—maybe that rings a bell. You shouldn’t tell me something so important while I’m distracted.”

“How much did you miss me?” you teased, holding up your pointer finger and thumb to pinch the air. “This much?” You spread your fingers wider. “This much?” Wider again, except before you could ask, Homelander scooped you up in his arms.

“Why don’t I show you?”

“Please do,” you said, tilting your head up to kiss him.

He retreated into the elevator with you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss laced with longing. You giggled at him. You’d only been gone for a few hours, yet he was acting as though it had been days. 

You missed him too, resolving to focus your attention on him for the rest of the night.

Until your phone rang.

“I should get this.”

“Now you’re able to pick up a call?” he grumbled, setting you down.

“One minute,” you whispered, grabbing your phone, “then I’m all yours.”

He pressed the button to his suite, having forgotten to do so in the heat of passion. “You better be.”

You picked up your phone, amused at Homelander still clinging to you, kissing your neck. “Hello?”

“Josh from crime analytics?” you asked, tensing a bit when Homelander grazed his teeth on the crook of your neck. “I haven’t heard from him since he gave me the homicide report yesterday.”

Homelander hummed against your skin, and you let out a whimper only he could hear at the way it vibrated through you. He was smug, and it took you a moment to piece together why.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow,” you said before hanging up. “What did you do?”

“Something chivalrous to defend your honor,” he mumbled, his lips unrelenting on your shoulder as he pulled your shirt down to expose it.

“I guess I should thank you properly, then? My knight in shining armor?”

He lifted his head, grinning, “If you insist.”

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys x reader #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys #homelander

[arxxq]

• 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇, 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘...🌷•

୨⎯ "eyes don't lie, say you're mine?"⎯୧

My first Aventurine x reader post. (also my first hsr imagine post)

Mentions and implied afab/female reader so I apologize for that I will try to make it up by making a gender neutral imagine soon. stellaron hunter reader!! Pure sfw? Fluffy + angst? Mistakes will be corrected once I find the time and energy to reread it. English is not my first language so please keep in mind my usage of words is not advanced and my grammar will have mistakes as well as spelling so bare with me here. Quite long...?

"I hate you..."

Those were the words she always had said to a certain blonde headed IPC executive. She didn't know why she even crossed paths with him in the first place....but unfortunately it was all written in her script that Elio said so.

Like her coworker Sam, her script was also quite brief. Nothing but a few short sentences and it aggravated her so badly.

But lines in her script said she'll break rules one day for a certain man...she scoffed at that fact. "For a man? Really?" She didn't like the idea of so.

But now realising it...maybe that line in her script was for that certain IPC executive.

She hated it. No matter how much she said "I hate you" to him...she always finds herself meeting him all over again. Was she really head over heels for an IPC executive? It made her stomach sick.

"I know you say that all the time," she snapped out of her thoughts when the certain blonde laughed. God that laugh really knows how to make her stomach twirl. "Penny for your thoughts? Or in this case a chip..." Aventurine asks the woman in front while flipping a chip in the air.

"or we could continue gambling though I'd say I would win either way" he always did after all. His good luck is what makes it so unique. "It's fine.." she gave him a short response. "Now hey what's with the cold shoulder?" Aventurine is clearly confused.

The woman sighed looking at her chips. Her gaze then changed moving it to meet his. Now noticing it she saw the beauty in his multi-colored eyes...even if it has no light it still seemed to shine stars to her. She then let out a hitched breath and without thinking she muttered. "Your eyes are pretty..."

Now realising it she cursed in her head...

"I love him..."

"shit I fucking love him..."

"Your eyes are pretty.."

Aventurine's eyes widened in shock. Did he hear that right? The woman who constantly reminded him that he hated her was complimenting him?

"Are you alright you're acting weird," he laughs trying to change the mood but she looked so deep in thought.

He will be honest meeting her a year ago was probably one of the things he still remembers till now. He never expected to cross paths with her either.

"Well if it isn't miss stellaron hunter [name], I never expected to see you here~" the woman in front of him looked at him in utter disgust.

"An IPC executive? You must be under the ten stonehearts then?" Her words were harsh but nonetheless Aventurine was too distracted with the softness of her voice. To him her voice could calm the oceans. It was so soft yet her words were hurtful.

"Ouch [name] I'm hurt, my name is Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts, senior manager of the strategic investment department in the IPC it's an honour to meet you ma'am,"

That was their first encounter but it seems like he remembers and can recall every single moment they've spent with each other.

Silence engulfed their surroundings, there was no one else there but the two of them. None of them dared to utter a single word. Aventurine gaze lingered on [name] and her words.

"your eyes are pretty..."

Indeed he's gotten compliments that his eyes are pretty, but to him her eyes were much more majestic than his. Sure it never compared to him but he would always get so lost staring at them. As for her beauty that's where he was at first so lost but no he has an answer.

To him she was but a piece of art that can't easily be won through a gamble or any sort of money. She was an artwork that was unfinished yet so astonishingly beautiful that he admired her forever if he wanted to and he would.

He wanted to love her, he did...but he couldn't. It had nothing to do with him being in the IPC but rather his fear of losing her. After all even with his good luck it seems like it has no affect on his loved ones as he lost them once and twice and thrice and he was not willing to lose another one.

It was a gamble indeed and for once he didn't want to take this one...but it was so tempting.

But he couldn't...after all he can't possibly try to love someone else without learning to love himself more.

It was devastating indeed.

"life sent me you, but I can't have you in order to not lose you so soon...."

[name] didn't know what to do...she could tell from afar that the said man never really loved himself...not finding any enjoyment in the things he's doing. He was afraid but he hid under a confident facade.

To her Aventurine was Fragile as a dandelion but yet he was as brave as a wildflower. To her he was just a beautiful boy with such a broken soul yet she loved him. In the start she was in denial but in her script she remembered a line that was long which never was usual...

"Your heart will fall for another, a confident soul yet so broken in denial you will be, you will soon learn to seek for his love. Your heart knows the way so run in that direction no matter the risk and the consequences that will come..."

She now knows what it meant. She loved him and she wished that she could possibly lend her eyes to him so he could see just how spectacular he was in the eyes of someone who was supposedly born with hatred and see the newfangled that dance within her vision when he sees him.

The girl smiled without knowing because in her head she realised that meeting him was destiny's will.

"what chance did I stand against kismet (fate)? Even if I did hate it I don't regret it now...at some point some rules in life really were meant to be broken..."

As for Aventurine the moment he saw her smile...even if it was so small to him it was like a gift from the gods and above. To him she looked like an ethereal yet ghostly angel with a divine smile on her archangel face.

She was like the moon or perhaps the sun? It didn't matter anyways as her beauty was intimidating yet that was the reason she admired her so much. Seeing her smile was the last straw to him. He knew that she lived her life hating on others due to the hate that was given to her...so he wanted to give her a different perspective hoping that it could make her learn that there are some things worth to love

In each of their minds they made a choice...

"maybe just this once..."

"I wouldn't mind gambling my life just so I can love her and this time I'll be sure I won't lose her...so she can learn that there are things in life worth loving..."

"Just this once..."

"I'll adjust the rules and listen to my heart just so I can love him hoping he'll know how amazing he really is..."

There were just two human beings...and sometimes it's never really wrong to listen to your heart and desires no? Because in this life we all live with desires...whether it can be fulfilled or not it was up to destiny to decide.

For these two...I guess you could say that even fate wanted them to love...after all they can't possibly go against that can they?

do not plagiarize my works to any other platform or so...

reblogs and likes are highly appreciated

(feel free to comment and criticise my work nicely so I can improve!!)

a/n: it's quite long since I written something, so it's quite rusty? But if you've read my works before is there any improvement? This is my first hsr creation and it is about aventurine. Ever since I played the quest I got so attached to his lore and he became my favourite. Hope you enjoyed this. I'm not really proud of this work and I'm not sure if it's ooc but if you manage to read it till the end thank you. Have a great day and I hope that to those pulling for Aventurine..you'll get him since he's out in a few hours.

I have 106 pulls saved up wish me luck !

And all the best from me.

Have a great day or night <3

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳aryssa;hasinah #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine fluff #aventurine angst #aventurine imagines #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #aventurine x y/n

[tomorrowusa]

A MAGA think tank (sort of an oxymoron) published a document with the official title Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise but is widely known as Project 2025 after the name of the group inside the Heritage Foundation which compiled it. Whatever you call it, it is a bloodcurdling blueprint of the shape a second Trump administration would take.

Carlos Lozada of the New York Times read 887 pages of it so we don't have to.

[W]hat is most striking about the book is not the specific policy agenda it outlines but how far the authors are willing to go in pursuit of that agenda and how reckless their assumptions are about law, power and public service. “Mandate for Leadership,” which was edited by Paul Dans and Steven Groves of the Heritage Foundation, is not about anything as simplistic as being dictator for a day but about consolidating authority and eroding accountability for the long haul. It calls for a relentless politicizing of the federal government, with presidential appointees overpowering career officials at every turn and agencies and offices abolished on overtly ideological grounds. Though it assures readers that the president and his or her subordinates “must be committed to the Constitution and the rule of law,” it portrays the president as the personal embodiment of popular will and treats the law as an impediment to conservative governance. It elevates the role of religious beliefs in government affairs and regards the powers of Congress and the judiciary with dismissiveness. And for all the book’s rhetoric about the need to “dismantle the administrative state,” it soon becomes clear that vanquishing the federal bureaucracy is not the document’s animating ambition. There may be plenty worth jettisoning from the executive branch, but “Mandate for Leadership” is about capturing the administrative state, not unmaking it. The main conservative promise here is to wield the state as a tool for concentrating power and entrenching ideology.

We hear a lot of far right rhetoric about destroying "the deep state" or "the administrative state" – particularly from the odious Steve Bannon. But what's clear from Project 2025 is that what MAGA really intends is an unfriendly takeover of "the administrative state".

Executing a conservative president’s agenda “requires a well-conceived, coordinated, unified plan and a trained and committed cadre of personnel to implement it,” the document says on its opening page. The phrasing quickly grows militaristic: The authors wish to “assemble an army of aligned, vetted, trained and prepared conservatives to go to work on Day 1 to deconstruct the administrative state.” That deconstruction can be blunt. Portions of “Mandate for Leadership” read as though the authors did a Control-F search of the executive branch for any terms they deemed suspect and then deleted the offending programs or offices. The White House’s Gender Policy Council must go, along with its Office of Domestic Climate Policy. The Department of Energy’s Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations is a no-no. The E.P.A. can do without its Office of Environmental Justice and External Civil Rights. And the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration should be dismantled because it constitutes “one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry.”

Making the US safe for fossil fuel companies is a HŪGE Trump priority which gets too little attention. Remember "drill drill drill" from Trump's dictator interview? If there's any hope of reversing climate change, you can kiss it goodbye if Republicans win in November.

Of course abortion is a target of Project 2025. Christian nationalism would become the semi-official ideology.

If “Mandate for Leadership” has its way, the next conservative administration will also target the data gathering and analysis that undergirds public policy. Every U.S. state should be required by Health and Human Services to report “exactly how many abortions take place within its borders, at what gestational age of the child, for what reason, the mother’s state of residence and by what method.” By contrast, the government should prohibit the collection of employment statistics based on race or ethnicity, and the Centers for Disease Control should discontinue gathering data on gender identity, on the grounds that such collection “encourages the phenomenon of ever-multiplying subjective identities.” (Why the executive branch might concern itself with the subjective identities of American citizens becomes clearer some 25 pages later, when the document affirms that the government should “maintain a biblically based, social-science-reinforced definition of marriage and family.”)

A far right army of ideological zealots is to be recruited to replace anybody in the federal government not sufficiently pro-Trump.

One of the “pillars” of Project 2025 is the creation of a personnel database — a sort of “right-wing LinkedIn,” The Times has reported, seeking to attract some 20,000 potential administration officials. “Mandate for Leadership” maintains that “empowering political appointees across the administration is crucial to a president’s success,” and virtually every chapter calls for additional appointees to wrest power from longtime career staff members in their respective departments.

In short... (emphasis added)

This book does not call for an effort to depoliticize the administrative state. It simply wishes to politicize it in favor of a new side. Everybody does it; now it’s our turn. Get over it.

The book is hardly a secret. The far right is quite open about its intent.

Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise (PDF)

As with Mein Kampf, we know ahead of time what the bad guys will do if they hold power. We need to take the danger more seriously than Germany of the early 1930s.

What's needed to defeat Trump is a pro-democracy mobilization of the United States. That means putting aside ideological quibbles with other anti-Trump groupings and becoming more politically active in real life.

EDIT: Tumblr is telling me that the link to Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise isn't working and refuses to let me post it. But I just checked it twice and it's fine. Until this peculiar glitch gets fixed, go to this Substack article and click "Mandate for Leadership" in the middle of the first paragraph.

#donald trump #the gop #danger to democracy #outline for dictatorship #project 2025 #mandate for leadership: the conservative promise #christian nationalism #abortion #fossil fuels #climate change #republicans #maga think tank #the heritage foundation #carlos lozada #election 2024 #vote blue no matter who #help save democracy

[hareofhrair]

https://www.tumblr.com/hareofhrair/749247301532499968/gonna-need-yall-to-stop-putting-biden-is-just-as

People who keep on screeching about the revolution that will occur if Biden loses and things get worse and how punishing America for "Genocide Joe" need to learn about Ernst Thalmann.

He was a communist leader who believed that the liberals of his time were an obstacle to a Communist society in Germany, and worked to allow Hitler enough votes to gain power, in the belief that Hitler would make things so bad that the people would turn to communism.

It backfired HARD, and Germany became a fascistic dictatorship, Thalmann himself was imprisoned and eventually executed, and communism DIDN'T come to Germany.

Because frankly that's exactly what these numbskulls are braying for; to commit the exact same mistake Thalmann made nearly a century ago, because they care more about punishing a society that they believe is an obstacle to their moral superiority than actually stopping a monster who will actively bring about the end of Democracy as we know it.

Yeah, accelerationism is an idiot child’s idea of politics.

But most of the nasty messages I’ve received about this post so far don’t seem to think Trump winning is a good thing— They seem to be under the bewilderingly incorrect impression that there’s some kind of third option.

That if enough people don’t vote for trump *or* biden neither will become president and the government will be forced to present better candidates? Or something?

Genuinely I can’t decide if the lack of coherent thought is evidence of the nightmarish state of education in this country, or evidence that these people are or are uncritically repeating the propaganda of actual literal Russian agents. We know, like for an actual fact with solid evidence, that they have done this before, on tumblr specifically! Have yall forgotten about the actual russian psyop in 2016 trying to convince everyone it was pointless to vote?

Either Biden or Trump *will* become president. You have exactly ONE action which can influence this decision. Neither of them are going to immediately turn around and denounce Israel. Biden will continue loudly supporting them publicly while taking only the most non confrontational action behind the scenes to try and stop the genocide, because Israel is vital to US imperialism in that part of the world and literally no action he attempted to take against them would ever amount to anything but his immediate impeachment. And Trump will not just loudly support Israel, but has already repeatedly encouraged them to “get it over with,” urging more aggressive measures to end the genocide as quickly as possible because he thinks it’s “a bad look.”

He’s also made public his plans to eliminate the entire Department of Education, erase not just protections for transgender people but federal acknowledgement of trans people at all, codifying binary gender into federal law, and his environmental and energy policies amount to, and I quote, “DRILL BABY, DRILL.” Among a host of other heinous fucking crimes against humanity. This is not conspiracy! These are his publicly stated positions!

Meanwhile, Biden has reinstated environmental policies Trump stripped and pushed for aggressive climate action, signed legislation to protect lgbt and interracial marriage, reversed the trans military ban and ensured trans people would have access to government services, passed the first meaningful gun control legislation in 30 years, signed executive orders to protect reproductive rights, pardoned all prior offenses for marijuana possession, signed an executive order to curb police violence by banning chokeholds, increasing accountability, and restricting the transfer of military gear to police.

Is it enough? Does that make him a good person? Fuck no! I’d still spit in his face if I ever met him. But to pretend there is no difference between him and Trump is blisteringly ignorant.

People in the my messages and the notes of that post have repeatedly declared I just don’t care about anyone outside my privileged class, and I gotta say evidence suggests they’re projecting hard. I’m a deeply impoverished queer disabled person living in the deep south. I know EXACTLY how much worse a Trump presidency would be. The only way someone could pretend it makes no difference is if they believe they’re secure enough that none of it would affect them, and they’re too self centered to realize not everyone is lucky enough to be in that situation.

My heart breaks for the Palestinian people every day. That sounds trite but I don’t know how else to say it. I read their posts, I share their calls for donations, a day doesn’t pass where I’m not reminded of their suffering and how utterly helpless I am to do anything about it. I wish to god there was something I could personally do that would make any kind of difference for them, but I can’t.

I am in an airplane that is falling out of the sky. I can’t stop it. I can’t save the people around me. I’m trying to put on my oxygen mask and my seatbelt, and someone is trying to slap them out of my hands and telling me I’m a selfish monster for wanting to live when other people are going to die.

I’m just tired of people telling me I should give up and die. I want to live.

#us politics

[crossdreamers]

The World Professional Association for Transgender Health Attacks the Republican Anti-transgender Policies

The World Professional Association for Transgender Health has released a letter from WPATH President, Dr. Marci Bowers, addressing the attacks on gender affirming care throughout the United States. Read it. This is important!

Here’s the letter:

//Dear Colleagues,

In the United States, 2023 has been a difficult year thus far for trans rights, to say the least. Although anti-trans sentiment has simmered for years, the exponential rise in TGD [Transgender and gender diverse] identification among adolescents has triggered unprecedented attacks against all things trans. 

American anti-trans legislation

More than 400 anti-transgender bills, particularly in conservative states, see anti-trans messaging as a winning political posture for some. Eleven (11) states alone have already banned or restricted gender affirming care for gender diverse adolescents. 

Last week, Missouri became the first state to attempt gender enforcement on adult populations when attorney general, Andrew Bailey, issued an 'emergency declaration' that added draconian new hurdles for adult trans care to its adolescent ban. 

It is already probable that gender affirming care will be a wedge issue in the 2024 US election cycle.

Cherry-picking arguments

Globally, many of the arguments used here in the US to ban transgender care have been cherry-picked or use narrowly excerpted language for restrictions that have been implemented in gender services policies in Sweden and the UK---'lack of evidence', 'experimental' and 'focus on mental health'. They also ignore European countries where access to trans care has recently expanded (Spain, Portugal, and France). 

And unlike Swedish and British restrictions---which do not end treatment but rather, make research participation compulsory in order to answer remaining questions---conservative US policy makers have no interest in research on TGD medical therapy; they only care about shutting it down. 

Rather than safeguard young people by outlawing automatic weapons and high capacity munitions, conservatives feel that banning trans care and removing LGBTQ-themed books will better protect society.

Anguish and despair

Caught in the middle are TGD individuals, providers, and families, who are now in anguish here in US-affected states. WPATH membership continues to receive stories of growing despair, clinics closing, families moving or seeking healthcare out of state [see link]. Suicidality and desperation are again, needlessly in play.

Telemedicine and the emergence of sanctuary US states (California, Minnesota, and Colorado) that have chosen to defend access to trans care, provide some hope. But real progress on the road back will be difficult until the flow of anti-trans legislation slows and then stops. If there is one reductionist word that WPATH does not deserve, it is advocacy--all scientific organizations participate in some form of advocacy.

Scientific and biological arguments

Photo of Dr., Eli Coleman, American sexologist. He is the director of the Program in Human Sexuality at the University of Minnesota, and a professor in the Department of Family Medicine and Community Health. (Photo from RO)

That said, the scientific and biological arguments can all be won and should continue to be argued. In a recent interview, Dr. Eli Coleman responded 

"WPATH followed a rigorous, multi-year process and was based on the best available scientific evidence and weighing all risks and benefits to arrive at the recommendations in our Standards of Care 8 guidelines. Our multi-step methodology is clearly set forth in the guidelines themselves. 

“When you compare the process we followed, the SOC8 has by far the more robust methodology than any other trans health related guidelines. We had 119 experts from around the world involved, developed PICO questions which formed the basis of systematic reviews, used a consensus-based approach (Delphi) involving all committee members to arrive at our conclusions and then graded the strength of our recommendations. 

“We had an extensive period of public comment on a draft of the SOC8 and this input was checked against the available evidence resulting in the final version of the SOC8. The rationale for our recommendations is clearly explicated in the SOC8 referencing the extant research. WPATH stands behind our process and conclusions."

The recent New York Times opinion piece, "What Decades of Providing Trans Care Have Taught Me", was my take on the situation and can be read here.

Make the suffering visible

The first step on the road back, in my opinion, will be to allow the public to hear the anguish and the stories of those in pain as a direct result of anti-trans legislation, difficult as this will be to watch---and to pin this pain upon those legislators and policy makers who have inflicted the agony. 

In my interview with CBS Evening News to be aired any day, I called it 'legislative cruelty'. The moment we are in reminds me of San Francisco's Harvey Milk and his plea to gay persons to come out. We need to be heard-trans persons, allies, parents, families, politicians, clergy---those who have been hurt and those who know us.

Intersectionality

The second step on the road back will be to unite disparate causes in our fight against a common foe. An attack on trans care is an attack on women. It is an attack on black people, brown people, and Asian people. It is an attack on Jewish, Muslim, Hindi, Sikh, and trut Christian communities. It is an attack on diversity and all of the ideals that diversity holds. It is an attack on us all. 

A majority of Americans favor access to adolescent trans care (see link to NPR-Marist poll) but the support is regional and it is thin. We need to better explain what adolescent TGD care looks like, why it is effective and indicated and who these patients really are. 

Anti-trans legislation needs to be fought with every voice, every thought, every inclination by all who know it. We need to make anti-trans legislation a losing political issue.

A need for sex education

Already lost in this debate is the deplorable state of health and sex education throughout the Southern US. Furthering this ignorance, books are now banned, especially and specifically those with LGBTQI themes. It is of little surprise to many that persistent rates of new HIV infection, incest, and STDs remain highest where sex education is lowest, most in states where anti-trans legislation has been proposed.

What is a woman?

And finally, 'What is a Woman?', the title to a trite and condescending 2022 American movie produced by conservative Matt Walsh, whose edits left out any answer to the question, as though the answer was obvious. 

What was cut from the piece was reality; that nature lacks a definitive answer to the question. Because there is no biological measure----not chromosomes, not hormones, not anatomy nor any of the six other biological markers of sex---a woman is what society sees based upon the gender identity the individual projects. No measure in biology gets it right every time. For every rule, there is an exception. 

Sex and gender are complicated and diverse---but let us explain the phenomena, not allow the issues to be put back in the societal closet. 

Ultimately, what terrifies conservatives most is that gender diversity is a force of nature that can no longer be contained by religious conscription or enforcement of a gender binary.

Killarney, Ireland and EPATH [The European Professional Association for Transgender Health] will again surely exceed expectations as we meet April 26-28, 2023.

Until we all dance once more.

Marci L Bowers, MD//

Dated April 21, 2023

Subsection headlines added by Transgender World.

Source: Erin Reed and WPATH.

Marci Bowers, M.D. of Burlingame, California, is acknowledged as a pioneer in the field of Gender Affirmation Surgery and is the first woman worldwide to hold a personal transgender history while performing transgender surgery. (Source: MarciBowers.com Photo: Drew Bird.)

Top photo: Tero Vesalainen

#trans #transgender #lgbt #transphobia #republican party #health #lgbt+ #queer #gender nonconforming

[umlewis]

Following three seasons in Extreme E and a championship title in 2022, X44 has announced the team will be leaving the championship ahead of the 2024 campaign.

Following three seasons in Extreme E and a championship title in 2022, X44 has announced the team will be leaving the championship ahead of the 2024 campaign. In a statement, X44 said: "After three years as part of the Extreme E family, we’re today announcing that X44 will be departing the series. We’ve had an incredible three seasons competing as X44, winning multiple races and even a world championship. Thank you to our drivers Cristina, Fraser and Seb, and all our talented teammates who worked hard to help us achieve everything we did. Even more than the results on track, we’re proud to have been part of a bigger conversation about how to make motorsport more sustainable, of our success in giving people from all kinds of backgrounds an opportunity to thrive in this team, and of the legacy our team owner Lewis will leave behind with the Racing for All programme. Although we won’t be competing ourselves in 2024, we’ll be cheering on the series from the sidelines and keeping an eye on the exciting developments at Extreme H. Thank you for all your support." Alejandro Agag, Founder and CEO of Extreme E, said: "We would like to thank Sir Lewis Hamilton and his X44 team for their valued contribution to Extreme E during a successful three seasons in the series. They showcased their credentials on-track with some excellent race wins, not to mention their championship success in Season 2, but have also played a key role in implementing initiatives off-track which focus on gender equality, diversity and inclusion, such as the series’ Racing for All programme. X44 has been a driving force in increasing diversity and representation in the paddock – an ethos Extreme E has shared since day one – and we wish them well for the future."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #extreme e #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #not a race #2024 not a race #pre-season #pre-season 2024

[lostcontrolfreak]

Marketing Pitch

The art department felt very pleased with themselves as they reviewed their drafts for the Bud Max ad campaign. Everyone in the room – indeed, most of the agency – was female, and they couldn’t help but snicker at the thought of how much differently the images would be viewed by male consumers.

From the outset, the creative meetings had emphasized that men are more impulsive and less perceptive, and that the campaign should exploit that difference in order to convey two different brand messages. To most men, the print ads would actually look pretty generic, but the image of happy, attractive women in a party atmosphere would be more than enough to appeal to their base instincts – as beer advertisements always have.

The research department had confidently declared that only female consumers would recognize the campaign’s emphasis on the real defining features of the beverage: its powerful diuretic effect and capacity to partially paralyze the muscles involved in bladder control. That was difficult for the art department to believe. Throughout the creation process, it had felt as if they were making the message obvious. And their final check seemed to confirm that. It was right there in each image.

At a glance, one image depicted a mixed-gender group of twenty-somethings enjoying a poker game together. But if someone were to look just a tiny bit closer, they’d see that the women all looked triumphant and eager to complete the game, while the men were looking nervous and distracted, their chip stacks dwindling.

Look closer still, and you’d notice that only those men were actually drinking the signature product and that the one whose glass was most empty also happened to be looking not toward his companions or toward the viewer, but rather straight down at his lap, with a distinct redness showing in his cheeks.

And as if that didn’t make it sufficiently obvious what was happening under the table, a woman in the foreground laughed while holding what viewers could see was clearly a winning hand – a flush.

Another image in the series showed a group of women at a bar, drinking and having a good time as one would expect, while barely hidden in the background there was a man pushing his way into the restroom, leaving behind a trail of liquid that one might have assumed was spilled beer, if not for the look of shame on his face and the dark stain that was just visible, snaking around from the front of his pants.

Meanwhile, one of the female revelers was pulling another, somewhat sheepish-looking man in from the edge of the frame, gesturing toward a freshly opened bottle of Bud Max and inviting him to join the party.

And then there was the draft ad that everyone agreed was the best of the series – the one that would surely cap off their Sarah’s presentation that afternoon when she set about convincing the client that there really was marketing potential for products made with Fountainol. It showed a trio of beautiful women in bikinis, with a picturesque beach scene stretching out behind them. One woman filled the center of the frame while her friends leand out from either side of her, effectively boxing in the viewer.

All three were laughing uproariously, but there was no sign of what they were laughing about… unless one looked closely at the central woman’s sunglasses. It was subtle but unmistakable once a person knew what to look for: the reflection of a wide-eyed, wincing man standing in a puddle on the boardwalk, with urine still streaming off of his trunks.

The male subject was reflected in such a way as to make it clear that the rest of the image was seen from his perspective. In focus groups, when this hidden detail was pointed out, the male participants tended to experience an instinctual, sympathetic response, and several ended up trying in vain to cover wet spots on their crotches when they were dismissed from the room – no Fountainol required.

Some of the female participants fell into fits of laughter over that, and sessions were paused so they could collect themselves. The researchers noted that some of them took a suspiciously long time to regain their composure and then emerged from the restroom looking just a little breathless and unsteady on their feet. Although they didn’t mention it in their notes, some of the researchers took similar advantage of the delays and then returned to work with a renewed sense of commitment to the campaign, the product, and its potential to bring sadistic pleasure to so many women.

Realizing that dream, however, would ultimately depend upon Sarah’s presentation.

In the boardroom, surrounded by female executives, she laid it all out very neatly, recapping the trials that had been conducted and the silent switch to Bud Max at certain college venues where the male population could mostly be counted upon to drink whatever was placed before them. All the women involved in product development had had great fun with its rollout, but few of them could imagine it getting traction in grocery stores and bars. Then again, imagining its place in the market wasn’t part of their job description.

To the extent that men were buying Bud Max, they seemed to assume it referred to a stronger flavor profile or higher alcohol content. A glance at the label would have proven the latter assumption dead wrong, but that didn’t stop consumers from blaming their wet trousers on excessive drunkenness the morning after they enjoyed a can or a case. Of course, it rarely took more than three or four “accidents” for most consumers to make the connection between their particular choice of beverage and their greater-than-normal lack of control.

Naturally, men tended to stop buying it then, although there was a minority who actually began buying more, viewing it as a challenge to overcome the product’s unusual effects. There was an element of competition to that, and it prompted the advertisers to sketch out a separate campaign to market the beverage as adding higher stakes to college drinking games.

But the emerging campaign was much more focused on capturing the female demographic that was too often neglected in alcohol sales. But that wasn’t to say they were planning on convincing women to make it their own beverage of choice. Instead, they sought to promote it as women’s beverage of choice for men.

“Say a woman has been at the bar for a while, drinking one of your other delightful products,” Sarah instructed the clients, getting to the heart of her pitch. “And say a man sidles up and starts bothering her, as men do. Normally she might indulge him in small talk and try to convey her disinterest in a friendly manner. But why should his lack of impulse control dampen her evening… instead of his?”

The clients chuckled knowingly, and Sarah went on: “The beauty of your new product is that it provides female patrons with the perfect tool to not only deflect men’s advances but have a hell of a lot of fun doing it.”

She paused to highlight the art department’s mock-ups, and began to elaborate on how they were intended as the first phase in a multi-stage campaign that could transform how women think of the brand.

“The campaign that we’re presenting to you today is primarily designed to get women’s attention and to secure them as a captive audience. Afterwards, we’ll start putting out more narrowly focused communications, teaching women how they can quietly order a Fountainol-enriched beverage for their male companions, at participating bars. ‘Bud Max’ might set off alarm bells, but when bartenders have been trained, it will just a matter of dropping an ‘e’ from your brand name. Order a man a “Bud-whizzer” and in almost every instance either he won’t notice, or he’ll correct your pronunciation and prove that he truly deserves to be humiliated in public.”

One of the clients gestured to get Sarah’s attention. “That’s all well and good,” she said, “but what if the man in this scenario refuses the drink that’s offered for him? Regardless of whether he knows about Bud Max, what if he just prefers Coors?”

“Believe it or not, our research shows that that rarely happens,” Sarah replied. “Most men – when they’ve been getting a cold reception from a woman they’re trying to hit on – are just so thrilled by the attention that they’ll accept any drink that’s offered to them. Many of them are also intimidated by that kind of assertiveness, which they’re not used to seeing from women other than their wives and girlfriends.”

“Do we know which bars will be participating?” another client asked.

“Good question. There’s a growing number of women-owned establishments that are affiliated with the Maternal Order for Monitoring Male Indiscretion, Defiance, and Offenses to Morality. They will be only too happy to stock your product and train their staff on its effects. Some are already equipped with changing rooms, while others don’t even offer restrooms for men, so it’s not as if they aren’t accustomed to cleaning up puddles. If we get your product into their hands, MOMMIDOM will probably find ways of using it that we haven’t even dreamt of yet.”

“Oh, I’m vaguely aware of that organization,” the client said with interest. “I didn’t realize they’d developed such a presence.”

“Well that’s strange,” Sarah said. “Now I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but they’re a client of ours, as well. I guess we need to do a better job of spreading their message to high-powered women like yourselves. And what better place to start than right here? I think that every woman in this room could be a real asset to their mission.”

[rockislandadultreads]

Science Fiction & Fantasy: Sapphic Picks

Our Hideous Progeny by C.E. McGill

It's 1853 London. Ex-medical student Victor Frankenstein has been missing for years now. Frankenstein's great niece Mary Saville and her husband, Henry, are trying to follow in his scientific footsteps and become renowned paleontologists. They have the brains and the ambition; the only thing they lack is the reputation. Mary is a woman with a sharp mind but a fierce tongue and Henry is an unemployed gambling addict: none of this earning appeal with their peers. But after finding clues to her great uncle's disappearance, Mary's luck may just change. She constructs a plan that will force the scientific community to take her and her husband seriously; no one will be able to ignore them after they learn to create life. Once they have successfully constructed their Creature, Henry's ambition soars, but Mary finds herself asking deeper, more important questions than she's ever confronted before. As Henry's desire for fame grows, Mary must decide how far she is willing to go to protect the Creature she has grown to love.

Her Majesty's Royal Coven by Juno Dawson

If you look hard enough at old photographs, we're there in the background: healers in the trenches; Suffragettes; Bletchley Park oracles; land girls and resistance fighters. Why is it we help in times of crisis? We have a gift. We are stronger than Mundanes, plain and simple. At the dawn of their adolescence, on the eve of the summer solstice, four young girls--Helena, Leonie, Niamh and Elle--took the oath to join Her Majesty's Royal Coven, established by Queen Elizabeth I as a covert government department. Now, decades later, the witch community is still reeling from a civil war and Helena is now the reigning High Priestess of the organization. Yet Helena is the only one of her friend group still enmeshed in the stale bureaucracy of HMRC. Elle is trying to pretend she's a normal housewife, and Niamh has become a country vet, using her powers to heal sick animals. In what Helena perceives as the deepest betrayal, Leonie has defected to start her own more inclusive and intersectional coven, Diaspora. And now Helena has a bigger problem. A young warlock of extraordinary capabilities has been captured by authorities and seems to threaten the very existence of HMRC. With conflicting beliefs over the best course of action, the four friends must decide where their loyalties lie: with preserving tradition, or doing what is right. Juno Dawson explores gender and the corrupting nature of power in a delightful and provocative story of magic and matriarchy, friendship and feminism. Dealing with all the aspects of contemporary womanhood, as well as being phenomenally powerful witches, Niamh, Helena, Leonie and Elle may have grown apart but they will always be bound by the sisterhood of the coven.

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill

Alex Green is a young girl in a world much like ours, except for its most seminal event: the Mass Dragoning of 1955, when hundreds of thousands of ordinary wives and mothers sprouted wings, scales, and talons; left a trail of fiery destruction in their path; and took to the skies. Was it their choice? What will become of those left behind? Why did Alex’s beloved aunt Marla transform but her mother did not? Alex doesn’t know. It’s taboo to speak of. Forced into silence, Alex nevertheless must face the consequences of this astonishing event: a mother more protective than ever; an absentee father; the upsetting insistence that her aunt never even existed; and watching her beloved cousin Bea become dangerously obsessed with the forbidden. In this timely and timeless speculative novel, award-winning author Kelly Barnhill boldly explores rage, memory, and the tyranny of forced limitations.

Lies We Sing to the Sea by Sarah Underwood

Each spring, Ithaca condemns twelve maidens to the noose. This is the price vengeful Poseidon demands for the lives of Queen Penelope’s twelve maids, hanged and cast into the depths centuries ago. But when that fate comes for Leto, death is not what she thought it would be. Instead, she wakes on a mysterious island and meets a girl with green eyes and the power to command the sea. A girl named Melantho, who says one more death can stop a thousand. The prince of Ithaca must die—or the tides of fate will drown them all. Sarah Underwood weaves an epic tapestry of lies, love, and tragedy, perfect for fans of Madeline Miller, Alexandra Bracken, and Renée Ahdieh.

#Historical Fiction #science fiction #Fantasy #lgbtq books #lesbian characters #Books for pride #pride month #to read #tbr #Book Recommendations #book recs #reading recommendations #books to read #fiction

[bibliotheque-des-reves]

Late Night Poetry and Kindness - Yi Sang x Reader

(Y/N) = Your name

Reader uses They/Them pronouns and there are no gendered terms

831 words

Fluff

Closing time is closing time, but perhaps one last customer for your bookstore is worth waiting around for.

"Have a nice day!" (Y/N) would wave to the departing customers with a smile upon their face. The bell chimed, announcing the couple leaving the store. After taking a note at the clock, it looked like it was time to call it quits and take care of everything before (Y/N) had to scurry home.

Getting up from a stool, the bookstore owner would go up to the door and reach out for the sign to flip it and yet-

"Ah-"

A man stood in the doorway, wearing a rather unique uniform. He was quite pale at that and had short black hair that appeared slightly unkempt.

Not only that, but goodness did he look tired-

"Oh! Yi Sang!"

"I tried to come as fast as I could... Am I too late..."

(Y/N) shook their head, allowing him into the building and flipping the sign once he had stepped in. "You are, but... I know you missed me last time, so I'll make an exception." They smiled, locking the door to ensure no one else would come in. "You certainly get out of work late..."

Yi Sang sighed, instantly going over to the poetry section. Not a man of many words, but (Y/N) didn't mind. "...Do you have any recommendations?"

"Huh?" That was a first, quite typically Yi Sang would be the one who would browse the section without a care of what anyone else thought. "Um... Some of these I haven't read, I'll admit."

There was a slow nod from Yi Sang.

"I'm going to be dusting up a bit around some shelves, so just call if you need anything!" (Y/N) gave a gentle wave and walked off, knowing that Yi Sang wouldn't cause any trouble.

Grabbing the broom and dustpan, (Y/N) would walk back to the shelves, humming as they swept. Normally, they'd be a bit upset with a straggler or two, but-

Yi Sang was at least good company.

He didn't talk much and frankly, he never really needed to. Whenever he walked into the bookstore, it seemed like Yi Sang knew exactly what he wanted. Though, tonight it seemed like he was lingering a bit longer than usual.

"(Y/N)-"

"Oh, all set?" After finishing the shelf of history books, (Y/N) would turn around, looking at Yi Sang as he stood by the counter. "Give me a moment!"

After setting down their tools for cleaning, (Y/N) went to the register and began to ring Yi Sang up for the books. "Oh, you picked two copies- Did they stick together...?"

"That copy is actually for you."

"...Huh?"

"You mentioned you hadn't read any of those books. I just tried to pick out one I thought you'd like best..." Yi Sang spoke softly, giving a small nod. "Besides, I want you to consider it my apology for arriving so late."

(Y/N) shook their head in surprise. "You don't have to do that-! I'm more than happy to get a chance to see you!"

"...I see-"

Upon realizing what they just said, (Y/N)'s cheeks became a rosy pink and they quietly went back to scanning the books. They told Yi Sang the total meekly and finished ringing him out.

"...(Y/N)-"

"Y-yes?"

"Thank you for allowing me in." Yi Sang would give a look- he wasn't smiling, but it was perhaps the norm. It was within the way he spoke did (Y/N) know it was genuine. "I do hope I am not being too selfish with my presence or even my gift."

"N-not at all!" (Y/N) gave a nervous smile, shaking their head once more. "You're normally still at work, right...? You don't get out until very late... if you get out at all."

Yi Sang nodded.

"Hmm- Maybe I can rearrange my hours..."

"Are you sure?"

(Y/N) hummed. "Well... You really seem to like being here. It makes me feel bad when I'm locking the doors and I turn and see you around the corner, honestly."

"...I really am being selfish..."

"N-not at all! Besides... It means I can sleep in a bit." (Y/N) would bring up, offering a small smile. "I'll think about it, but it sounds like we both win here."

"As long as you're certain. I'd much rather this not be one-sided." Yi Sang would take the bag of books. "...Please don't forget this-"

He placed the gifted one on the counter- making sure it wasn't going home with him by accident.

"...I won't, don't worry." (Y/N) smiled. "Let me get the door for you."

Yi Sang looked like he wanted to say something, but simply nodded. "...Good night, (Y/N)."

"Have a good one!" (Y/N) waved before locking the doors. They gave a small sigh, walking back to the counter to count the money.

Eyes went down to the book and a hand gently went over the spine.

"...Isn't the selfish one me?"

#Reading the Books || Writings #Limbus Company x Reader #Yi Sang x Reader

[forgwater]

This is the Rook crackfic where we're keeping up with tradition and making the title way too long for no reason whatsoever. In this Rook crackfic I will...

part 5 part 4 part 3 part 2 part 1 Valentine's Day (but it's August)

gender neutral reader

warnings: this is not that serious, crack

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

romantic

"Rook, must you really go...?" you ask your boyfriend. You have spent together a very enjoyable afternoon at Ramshackle. Now, however, with the fall of the night sky and rising of the moon; your lover needs to depart... unfortunately.

"Je suis desole mon amour, but I have to go." he places a hand dramatically over his chest "But fear not, for tomorrow we shall meet again." and with a smile and a wink the hunter bows to place a delicate kiss upon your hand.

When he resumes his upright posture you share an embrace. And then it's time to leave.

You sigh as you see him depart from the warmth of the, now, less dilapidated building you call home and you wave him a last goodbye for tonight. You might call him later.

"...Y/N..." Grim joins you in the doorway "Do I really have to take the medicine...?" he asks, giving you his best, uh, puppy? eyes, but no! You are steadfast in your decisions!

"It's the fastest way to get rid of your stomach pains." you reason.

"But I don't wanna!" what a stubborn cat monster your adopted son is!

"You will take that syrup if it's the last thing you do!" you warn and Grim yelps as he makes a run for it.

Oh, well... you'll just have to catch him. It's not that hard considering you've learned a thing or two from your amazing boyfriend.

And as you go up the stairs you can't help but let you mind wander... 'When will my hunter return from tonight's adventure? I hope he has fun playing with Yuu..."

platonic (Is Yuu the hunter or the hunted?)

This is it. This is the end.

The final confrontation is upon Yuu. The prefect might need to fight the "beast" in his own territory. And even if they fail... at least they will be forever immortalized by the video camera in Ace's hands...

That is if the video doesn't become some sort of lost media... maybe that'll start a conspiracy theory. Yuu wouldn't be opposed to it.

The prefect looks at their two companions and solemnly speaks:

"If I die, Deuce, I leave all my mortal possessions to you... aside from my throwing knives, bury me with those." Yuu says, before correcting themselves. "Wait! No, burn my corpse on a pyre! That's a cooler way to go!" they give a nod and a smile to their bewildered friends.

"Umm, Yuu... I don't think the Headmage would approve of that..." Deuce says uncertainly.

"What I wanna know," the redhead of the group interrupts "Is why I'm not getting anything?!" he asks in indignation. "I'm the one filming you anyway!" Ace complains again.

"What do you mean you're not getting anything?!" Yuu snaps at the redhead "You're get the money from the video!" they say in exasperation.

"Oh..." is the only thing the two companions can say as they look at one another.

"Wai-" Ace begins again only to be shushed by the prefect.

They gesture wildly, bringing a finger to their lips and crouching slightly.

Silence

Rustling leaves.

A crow croaks in the distance.

Yuu could swear it sounded a lot like Crowley... maybe he found the copies...?

Anyway! There's no time to be distracted! The prefect has a hunter to hunt!

SWOOSH

An arrow barely misses Yuu. They look in the direction of their assailant.

Swoosh! and another arrow goes between Ace and Deuce, embedding itself in a tree trunk. The duo lets out a scream. Damn it he's come for you!

"Take cover!" the prefect barks at their companions "I'm not having you on my conscience!"

"What the hell, Yuu!" Ace starts again "You didn't say he'll shoot at us too!"

"Prefect, on this one I'll have to agree with Ace." Deuce joins in.

"I never said you'll see the morning unscathed!" Yuu retorts "Now run!" and the three make a break for the forest.

.....

"How long do you think it will take him to find us here?" The blue-haired boy asks.

"Not much." is the prefects answers. "I need to get his hat to win this..." they mutter.

"Why are you so obsessed with getting his hat?!" Ace almost screams.

"Because I can't behead him and display his head on a spike, so I'll settle for the hat."

Blanc stares.

"All right. I'm out!" the redhead declares.

"I'll go too... sorry, Yuu." Deuce adds.

'Cowards' the prefect thinks, but they don't stop the two. At least they have one of those cameras you can strap to your forehead. It'll do for a nice first person pov.

Swo-

Yuu catches the arrow before it can pass them.

"Oho!" comes a surprised chuckle from the foliage. "I didn't know you could do that! Beauté!" the hunter shows himself.

He gives a small round of applause, but to Yuu it sounds mocking.

"Are you approaching me?!" the prefect straightens their posture and slightly parts their arms in a "welcoming" motion. "Then I shall make it a worthy challenge!" and with that they produce a few throwing knives from their jacket, readying them at the blond.

"Marvelous!" His voice is as gleeful as ever. "Then I shan't disappoint either!" and he narrows his eyes.

And they lounge at one another! What a spectacle to be witness to! Arrows and knives keep flying, both skillful evaders of danger. Neither seems to gain the upper hand...

Until!

ending

An axe separates the two. It embeds in the grassy field where the battle has been happening for the past few minutes.

"Rook!" Y/N shouts, jogging lightly towards their boyfriend. "And Yuu!" they shoot a glare at the prefect once they reach the two. "I don't feel like patching up either one of you, so your little play date will have to stop for now."

"Ah... very well, mon ange." the hunter gives.

"But!" the prefect tries to argue.

"No buts! Do you want me to hunt you down like I've had to do with Grim?" Y/N scolds.

"...no..." Yuu answers dejectedly.

"Then, it's time to go." they give a push towards Ramshackle to the prefect. "And I'll see you tomorrow for out date, Rook!" they give a wink in the direction of the hunter who just as happily returns the gesture by blowing a kiss. The prefect makes a gagging sound only to be met with Y/Ns cold stare and they gulp.

......

As the two reach Ramshackle, Y/N speaks again:

"You know... if you just wanted a hat we could've just bought you one." they lightly tease and Yuu tenses up, cheeks growing warm.

"I don't-" they try to protest only to be cut off.

"Sure you don't!" Y/N teases again, entering the building with a light chuckle, followed only by a grumbling prefect.

.....

The next day, after Rook and Y/N leave for their date, the prefect finds a present with a new hat inside and a small note from a certain hunter.

Yuu supposes that weird stalker isn't that bad after all.

....Most of the student body begs to differ.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

an: Thank you everyone for sticking around to see this story finished! I hope you all enjoyed it and had fun!

Masterlist

if you want to be tagged, you need only ask, also please specify what characters you are interested in reading about or if you want to be tagged in all works

taglist: @sras-is-doing-something @daydreamingtv @tendous-socks @pleasantthingsheep @bucketofforks @cherry-popsicle

@oreochococheesecake @lycorizzz

#gender neutral reader #rook x reader #twst rook #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #ramshackle prefect #twst mc #twst yuu #twst meme #twisted wonderland meme #twst shitpost #disney twst #twisted wonderland shitpost

[jackoshadows]

The Targ history only exists because of Dany's character imo so it's hard for me to be interested in hotd knowing what happened to show dany. I think they are pretending the last seasons of the show didn't happen. If only we had the books I think I'd be fine with it but we don't even have that.

Same tbh.

I mean, this story is how the rightful female heir is thrown aside in favor of the male and she fights back for what is rightful hers and it all ends tragically and unfairly. Fast forward 300 years and the last Targaryen female character is now trying for that same throne and how this story should have ended is by her winning and setting right a historical wrong. And instead they gave her that ending!

What's the message here? That a woman can never, should never achieve that success? That themes of 'power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely' should only be explored with female rulers? That no matter how much work they put in, how much they help the smallfolk, how instrumental they are to saving the realm, they cannot win? I am so, so tired of this nihilistic bs.

And enough with the excuses of how this is mirroring real life and that it's great because it's so real and all that nonsense. I experience and see enough of sexist double standards at work all day every day. I don't want to see it in my fictional worlds that I participate in for escapism. I have had less qualified men promoted over me because of race and gender. I have seen it happen to extremely, well qualified women who are passed over for department heads/Deans/Chancellors solely because they are women. I don't want this in my fictional media.

HOTD should be delicious fantasy food for me, give how much I love the Targaryen dragons and some of these characters. However, as a woman, the themes and nihilism of this series is just not resonating with me. I just rather watch the humorous, snarky dwarves and nosy Harfoots and bad-ass Galadriel and hot elf Arondir falling in love on gorgeous, bright, beautiful middle earth and enjoying being back in that world again.

And here's hoping that GRRM is actually working on TWoW back home. And now that I have said this, watch as there's a new notablog post where he talks about HOTD, Wild Cards and all his ten thousand other projects 🤣🤣

#asks

[coochiequeens]

While information on Walmsley is limited, Bissonnette says he has absolutely no history fighting against women in Canadian tournaments, suggesting his identification into women’s sport was recent" Officials would have allowed a woman to go into a match without any hint that she was up against a male if her coach didn't tell her ONE HOUR before the match

By Anna Slatz November 15, 2023

A female boxer withdrew from a provincial championship in Quebec after learning that her opponent was biologically male, leading to him winning the competition by default. Dr. Katia Bissonnette of Saguenay says she was matched against transgender fighter Mya Walmsley with no notice.

The 2023 Provincial Golden Glove Championship took place on October 27 and 29 in Victoriaville, Quebec, hosted by the Quebec Boxing Federation in collaboration with the KO-96 boxing club. But the tournament, which intended to give novices the opportunity to qualify for the Canadian Championship in December, attracted controversy after Bisonnette announced her withdrawal.

Speaking to Reduxx, Bissonnette, who works as a psychologist in Jonquière, explains that she learned Walmsley was male one hour before she was set to step in the ring.

“I came down from my hotel room to head towards the room where all the boxers were warming up. My coach suddenly took me aside and told me he received information by text message, which he had then validated, that my opponent was not a woman by birth. We did not have any other additional information,” she says.

While information on Walmsley is limited, Bissonnette says he has absolutely no history fighting against women in Canadian tournaments, suggesting his identification into women’s sport was recent. Walmsley is originally from Australia, but moved to Canada around 2 years ago to attend Concordia University.

“[Walmsley] would have boxed as a man in Australia,” Bissonnette says. “In Quebec, on his file, it is mentioned that he had 0 fights as a woman.”

Since moving to Canada, Walmsley has been involved in political activism at the University-level as a Master’s student and teaching assistant in the philosophy department. Recent interviews with Walmsley show he has an overtly masculine appearance.

Following Bissonnette’s withdrawal, Walmsley issued a statement to the press accusing her of “outing” him and warning that similar actions would have a negative impact on female athletes.

“Rather than turning to me, my coach or the Quebec Olympic Boxing Federation for more information, she decided to turn directly to the media to out me,” wrote Walmsley. “This kind of behavior puts athletes at risk of being excluded or receiving personal attacks based on hearsay … I am afraid that this type of accusation could eventually be used to delegitimize athletes in the women’s category, and justify arbitrary and invasive regulations.”

Walmsley went on to assert that the best policy for gender self-identification in sport was for athletes to “trust” each other, and defer to coaches and policies in assumption that matches were made fairly.

But Bissonnette rejects Walmsley’s apparent call for handshake-based policies, noting that even under established guidelines it was unclear how he had been allowed to enter the match.

“The rule issued from Boxing Canada to the Quebec Boxing Federation was not to reveal that the opponent was transsexual, so that the latter would not be discriminated against. However, after confirmation, this policy only applies when a sex change has taken place before puberty,” she explains, noting that because Walmsley is a foreign national, his transition history is entirely unclear.

Following Bissonnette’s withdrawal, the competition was unable to find another woman in the super welterweight category (165lbs) to match against Walmsley, and he won by default.

The Quebec Boxing Federation was reportedly aware of Walmsley’s biological sex, but justified the fight by stating they had chosen an appropriate referee for the match. Ultimately, Bissonnette says her decision to withdraw came down to safety.

“According to a study, a male blow has 163% more impact than a women’s, even adjusted for weight,” she says, referring to a 2020 study on strength published by researchers at the University of Utah. “In the group studied, the weakest man remains physically superior to the strongest woman.”

Bissonnette goes on to note that women’s participation in combat sports is relatively recent, but may not last much longer if females are continuously paired up to fight males.

“Women shouldn’t have to bear the physical and psychological risks brought by a man’s decisions regarding his personal life and identity,” she continues. “There should be two categories: biological male and female.”

Bissonnette’s decision to refuse to fight Walmsley comes on the heels of several instances of similar protests by women across the sporting world.

As previously reported by Reduxx, women abandoned a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu tournament in Georgia last month in protest of the participation of multiple trans-identified males. As a result, one of the men took home four gold medals in the women’s category, and, in one of the divisions, only males were on the winner’s podium.

Female martial artists Jayden Alexander and Ansleigh Wilk spoke out against the North American Grappling Association (NAGA) for their gender self-identification policy, sparking a wildfire of backlash that ultimately resulted in NAGA fully segregating the divisions based on biological sex with “no exceptions.”

On November 13, a female pool player in England caused similar controversy after walking away from the table during a tournament in Wales in apparent protest of a trans-identified male who was competing.

#Canada #Quebec #Mya Walmsley is male #The 2023 Provincial Golden Glove Championship #Victoriaville #Quebec Boxing Federation #the KO-96 boxing club #Dudes who don't pass shouldn't bitch about being outed #Mother nature out him #A dude in the superweight catory was upset a woman didn't want to fight him? #a male blow has 163% more impact than a women’s #Youtube

[the-rewatch-rewind]

Another new episode!

Script below the break.

Hello and welcome back to The Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies in a 20-year period. Today I will be talking about number 15 on my list: Columbia Pictures’ 1940 fast-talking comedy His Girl Friday, directed by Howard Hawks, written by Charles Lederer (and uncredited Ben Hecht and Morrie Ryskind), based on the play “The Front Page” by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, and starring Cary Grant, Rosalind Russell, and Ralph Bellamy.

After a four-month absence, reporter Hildy Johnson (Rosalind Russell) returns to the office of The Morning Post to inform her ex-husband/boss, editor Walter Burns (Cary Grant), that she is about to marry insurance agent Bruce Baldwin (Ralph Bellamy), settle down, and quit the newspaper business for good. Desperate to win her back, both professionally and romantically, Walter entices Hildy to write one last great story for the paper, while doing everything he can to sabotage her relationship with Bruce.

I don’t remember any of my first impressions of this movie, or if I had seen it before I started keeping track. I assume it was one of the many old movies I got from the library relatively early in my foray into Old Hollywood, so I might have seen it in 2002. I definitely saw it once in 2003, once in 2005, once each in 2007 through 2009, three times in 2010, three times in 2012, once in each year from 2013 through 2016, twice in 2017, once in 2018, twice in 2019, and twice in 2022. I know that in 2010, I took a class at community college called “film as literature,” in which some assignments involved picking a movie and three different aspects of filmmaking, and discussing how those three aspects enhanced the story of that particular film. The instructor advised us to watch the movie we were writing about three times, focusing on a different aspect each time, and His Girl Friday was one of the movies I wrote a paper like that about (I focused on dialogue, props, and lighting), so that explains the three times in 2010. But I can’t think of a good explanation for why I watched it three times again in 2012, aside from the fact that it’s a great movie that I always enjoy watching. It’s also one that feels particularly appropriate to include in my annual Cary Grant birthday marathon, because it happened to come out on his birthday in 1940, so that’s part of why I watch it almost every year.

By far the best and most noteworthy aspect of this movie is its rapid-fire dialogue. Yes, a lot of old movies are very dialogue-heavy with people talking pretty fast, but like, His Girl Friday takes it to a whole other level. A typical movie averages around 90 words of dialogue per minute; His Girl Friday averages around 240. Many lines were specifically written so that the beginning and the end didn’t matter, allowing the actors to talk over each other, as people do in real conversations, without preventing the audience from understanding what was going on. All the fast, overlapping talking is particularly impressive given that multi-track recording hadn’t been developed yet, so they couldn’t adjust the volumes of different speakers separately in post-production; they just turned different overhead microphones on and off so the primary speaker was louder when they were recording, with some scenes reportedly requiring up to 35 switches – shout out to that sound department. At the time, the record for fastest film dialogue was held by the 1931 version of The Front Page, and director Howard Hawks was determined to break it with this adaptation, which he later proved he had done by screening the two versions next to each other. He also encouraged the actors to improvise, which made filming take longer – as it had with his earlier Bringing Up Baby – but helped the conversations feel even more authentic. Rosalind Russell felt that Cary Grant had more good lines in the script than she did, so she hired her own writer to help enhance her dialogue. Apparently at one point, after she did something unscripted, Grant broke character and said into camera, “Is she going to do that?” which Hawks really wanted to keep in the movie, but ultimately didn’t make the final cut. But several noteworthy ad-libs remained, including at least two, possibly three, amazing inside jokes. One is when Walter says, “He looks like that fellow in the movies…Ralph Bellamy” about Bruce, who did, in fact, look exactly like Ralph Bellamy, the actor playing him. And then there’s the part when the mayor says, “You’re through,” and Walter replies with, “The last man that said that to me was Archie Leach,” in reference to Cary Grant’s birth name – yes, he had the same birth surname as me, but we’re not related as far as I know. And the third, which has not been officially confirmed as an ad-lib or intentional reference but might have been, is when Walter calls the man hiding in a desk a “mock turtle,” which was the character Grant played in the 1933 Alice in Wonderland movie.

So basically, this film was made specifically for Cary Grant fans, and that’s a big part of why I love it. Walter Burns is one of his less likable characters – he’s selfish and deceptive and manipulative – but also one of his most fun to watch. Grant nails every beat of the breakneck-paced dialogue, knowing exactly when to pull focus toward himself and when to fade back to let his scene partner shine through. He still keeps going in the background, though, which helps make this movie especially rewatchable. As you can probably tell from the mere existence of this podcast, I enjoy rewatching movies anyway, but with His Girl Friday in particular, there are so many excellent moments that I didn’t notice until I’d seen the whole film many times, and I’m still noticing new things with every rewatch. While you don’t need to hear the overlapping bits of dialogue to follow the movie, once you’re familiar with the story it’s very fun to go back and listen for the parts you missed before. And several actors – Grant in particular – make some great reaction faces in the background that are worth watching out for. So if you’ve only seen this movie once, I would highly recommend revisiting it.

And it’s not just Cary Grant – Rosalind Russell is absolutely fabulous in this movie. Hildy Johnson was a man in The Front Page, but when Howard Hawks heard his female secretary reading the lines during auditions, he thought they sounded great coming from a woman and decided to turn Hildy into Walter’s ex-wife. It would have been nice if they could have changed one of the main characters into a woman without making her automatically romantically involved with the other main character, but we can’t have everything. Many actresses were considered but ended up either turning it down or being too expensive to hire. Russell knew she was not a top choice and was apparently very insecure about that, but she had no reason to be because she was perfect. All the reporters in the movie talk ridiculously fast, but she leaves them in the dust and makes it look easy. It took me many takes just to quote part of one of her many rapid monologues at the end of last episode without tripping over my words; I don’t know how she did it. And while she’s talking a mile a minute, she’s also portraying an incredibly layered and nuanced character. The wonderful character actors playing the other reporters do a great job of conveying that they have embraced the cold, detached mindset of caring more about the scoop than the story itself. Hildy shares this to a certain extent, but she hasn’t completely lost her sense of empathy the way they have. She fits in with the guys, but she’s also better than them, both as a journalist and as a human being, without seeming too perfect to be realistic, which is an incredibly complex and difficult balance to strike, but again, Rosalind Russell nails it. Much as I love Grant’s performance, Russell is really the glue that holds the whole thing together, and she commits to that role completely.

Hildy is such a strong character that I’m always disappointed when she goes back to Walter at the end. She is clearly a much better match with him than with Bruce, whose slow, deliberate speech contrasts rather jarringly with Hildy and Walter’s snappy patter. But Walter has learned exactly zero lessons by the end of the movie, and there is no reason to believe that any of the problems with their first marriage will ever be resolved. Throughout the movie, Hildy is torn between wanting the domestic life of Bruce’s wife and the more hectic life of a newspaper reporter that still has a hold on her. When Walter tells her she can’t quit because she’s a newspaperman, she replies that that’s why she’s leaving, so she can be a woman. But as much as she complains about it, she makes it pretty clear that she does love being a reporter. I think there is a part of her that genuinely likes the idea of settling down as a housewife, but it seems like the main reason she wants to do that is because society is telling her that’s what women are supposed to do. So I’m very glad the movie doesn’t make her marry Bruce. I also recognize that at the time it was rather radical to suggest that a woman should pursue a career in something other than homemaking if she wants to, let alone suggest that she doesn’t have to completely give up the idea of having a husband to do so. In 1940 it was highly unusual to show a man wanting his wife to also have a career like Walter does. So from that perspective it is kind of nice to see them get back together. But at the same time, he treats her pretty terribly, and it kind of feels like it’s saying that a career gal should be happy with any man she can manage to get, regardless of how slimy he is. Not that Hildy doesn’t also treat Walter pretty terribly too. I guess they show their affection by hurling insults at each other, which is a type of relationship that makes no sense to me, but they seem to be on the same page about it. Still, I would love to see Hildy walk out on both Walter and Bruce like the strong, independent woman she is. At least the movie makes it clear that, despite its title, she is nobody’s assistant, or “girl Friday.”

The progressive for 1940 but doesn’t quite work now theme extends beyond feminism. Besides the Walter/Hildy/Bruce love triangle, the other main storyline in the movie involves a man named Earl Williams, played by John Qualen, who is about to be hanged for killing a policeman, despite some legitimate questions regarding his sanity. Walter wants Hildy to do one final interview with Earl to show that he definitely wasn’t responsible for his actions, and that he’s being strategically executed a few days before an election so the incumbent sheriff and mayor will look tough on crime and win. Most of the reporters don’t seem to care, asking the sheriff if he can move the execution up a few hours so it can make their morning editions. The sheriff refuses, but it is very clear that he could not care less about upholding the law, and same with the mayor, because when a messenger from the governor arrives with a reprieve, they try to bribe him to leave and come back later so they can still execute Williams and pretend the reprieve arrived too late. And it’s not just the politicians who are corrupt. Hildy bribes a prison guard twice: first to get an interview with Earl Williams, and then to find out how he managed to get a gun and escape. Then when Hildy and Walter find Williams, they hide him, not because they think he’s innocent and want to save him, but because they want to be able to turn him in after they’ve written the story of how they captured him. The movie’s statements about the way American society treats working-class people on the fringes, like Earl, and the way the criminal justice system is easily manipulated for political or financial gain, are honestly still pretty accurate, for the most part. But in a bizarre twist, Walter tells Bruce and Hildy that the policeman Earl shot was black, and that the politicians are trying to get votes from black people by executing his white killer, which is just, so completely backwards from how anything actually works that it kind of detracts from the legitimate points the movie does make. Everything about this story just screams late 1930s/early 1940s, from the characters’ world views to the costumes to the current event references, which makes sense given when the movie was made, but is completely inconsistent with the written prologue at the beginning, which states: “It all happened in the dark ages of the newspaper game – when to a reporter getting that story justified anything short of murder. Incidentally, you will see in this picture no resemblance to the men and women of the press today. Ready? Well, once upon a time—” It’s like, nice try, but in 1940 you can’t pretend this is set in a bygone era and then talk about Hitler and the European war. I don’t think they were really fooling anyone, but at least this allowed the filmmakers to get away with criticizing journalists without getting sued or censored.

Speaking of being censored, one of the few female characters in this movie, Mollie Malloy (played by Helen Mack), kind of seems like she’s supposed to be a prostitute, but of course they weren’t allowed to say that so it’s not super clear. What we do know is that she befriended Earl Williams shortly before he was arrested and has visited him in jail, and that the press has been inaccurately representing the nature of Earl and Mollie’s relationship. I don’t know if it was partly because of the Hays Code that they specifically state that Earl and Mollie haven’t slept together, but regardless of the reason, I’m always a fan of platonic male/female friendship. And the way the movie shows that they care about each other deeply in a non-sexual way, while portraying the reporters as wrong for sexualizing their relationship, feels almost like it’s saying “asexual rights” and we love to see it. We don’t really know what’s going to happen to Earl and Mollie after the events of the film, but I hope that Earl gets the mental health care he needs – he won’t because it’s 1940 but we can pretend – and that Mollie fully recovers from jumping out of the window – we know she’s alive but not how badly she’s hurt – and that they remain close friends.

While this movie touches on a lot of dark themes, overall the tone is lighthearted. It feels like it’s exposing the world for the hellscape that it is and laughing at it. And while some of its attitudes feel very outdated and problematic, that mood is still relatable. His Girl Friday is hectic and chaotic and screwball, but it manages to remain at least somewhat grounded and real. So watching it can feel like either escaping from the real world or looking into a mirror held up to the real world, depending on what the viewer chooses to focus on. This makes it an appropriate movie to watch in many different moods, which helps explain why I revisit it so often. That and the incredible fast-talking performances that I’m still in awe of. And, of course, Cary Grant’s presence always helps.

Thank you for listening to me discuss another of my most frequently rewatched movies. Next up is the fourth and longest movie I watched 22 times in 20 years, which is also from the 1940s, so stay tuned for another oldie. It is also probably the most disturbing movie on this list, just to warn anyone who may be watching along. As always, I will leave you with a quote from that next movie: “Are you suggesting that this is a knife I hold in my hand?”

#his girl friday #cary grant #rosalind russell #howard hawks #the rewatch rewind

[catchingbigfish]

incorrect quote tag game

thank you for the tag, @dogmomwrites!! i haven't done this yet and this was fun lol. i'm soft-tagging @words-after-midnight, @horrormama, @joeys-piano, @bardicbeetle, and @saphoblin, and this is also an open tag! the rules are to generate some quotes using this link. i'm using the cast from conversion and some of these are freakishly accurate:

Rose: What’s the straightest thing you’ve ever done? Josephine: *sighs* Josephine: I killed a man.

Anais: My gender is in a constant state of flux.

Josephine, planning a group disguise: You cannot be Blake Bortles. Dahlia: Fine! Then I’ll be Jake- Ximena, under their breath: Don’t say Jortles. Dahlia: Jortles! And I work at the molotov cocktail department.

Josephine: The odds of this happening by coincidence are vanishingly small. Ximena: I would say infinitesimally. Anais: And I'd say teenily-weenily. We all know words.

Rose: Where are you going? Anais: To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I'll decide on the way.

Rose: I hate you. Josephine: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

Ximena: If you think I’m playing favorites, you’re wrong. I love all of you equally! Ximena, earlier: I don’t care for Dahlia.

Rose: That's a nice arguement, Dahlia Why don't you back it up with a source? Dahlia: My source is that I made it the fuck up!

Dahlia: Ximena likes to win. When they were 8, a little Club Scout friend of theirs bragged they could sell the most cookies. Dahlia: Damned if Ximena didn't walk the neighborhood till they got blisters on their feet, and won by 10 boxes. Dahlia: Best part is, Ximena wasn't even a Club Scout.

#writeblr #tag game #wip: conversion #incorrect quotes

[gurrenwrites]

Mina- A Short Story

Synopsis: Crushed by crippling gender dysphoria and her passive ability to read the emotions of others, Mina is at the end of her rope. However, if just one person is kind to her on her way to the bridge, she'll delay her self-induced end.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Gender Dysphoria & Suicidal Ideation

This story is part of A Different Universe, taking place in the Era of Wonder.

"If you're ready to quit this pathetic charade, you can come home."

Mom's words from last week's phone call echoed in my head as I stepped out of the subway station at 181st street.

Sure, I could have taken a cab; it's not like money mattered anymore. But deep down, I prayed that just one person would talk to me along the way, show any sign of compassion.

Just one "hey, everything alright?" would have turned me right back around.

Those that managed to lift their heads from their phones and give me as much as a glance radiated with a potent pity.

"Poor thing; just wasn't cut out for New York City," I could practically hear them say just through their aura alone.

Those folks weren't that bad.

The auras that broke me were those filled to the brim with disgust. The dysphoria was crippling enough as it is. I knew I wasn't passing; it was abundantly clear every time I looked in the mirror. Staring back at me would always be some hunched-over man, stubble bursting from his cheeks and hair bunching up on the back of his neck, desperately pretending to be a girl despite clear visual evidence of the contrary. Having the ability to sense emotions, however, made that dysphoria so much worse.

I had spent enough time in crowded subway cars and cramped stores to know that when someone looked at me, and disgust beamed off of them within seconds, it meant they were thinking "does this gross perverted boy really think he can pass as a girl?"

They were right; they were all fucking right.

After the revolution, drugs that the new government deemed to be luxury medications became increasingly rare. If you didn't have the means to shill out thousands of dollars for a single dose, you just weren't getting any. Almost all forms of hormone replacement therapy fell under that umbrella.

I did the best I could, I really did. I replaced most of my wardrobe and found vocal training classes online. Still, no matter how hard I tried, I just wasn't cutting it.

It wasn't like I had any friends to talk to; my difference always showed me what they really thought of me before we even had the chance to become close.

Sure my office prided themselves on diversity, equity, and inclusion, but the second I came out was the beginning of the end for my job. They could say all they wanted that they supported me, but their ever-present misgendering didn't quite reflect that. Disgust, and even pure malice, bubbled around my department; I didn't even need to read them to know that was the case. From absurd assignments to the sabatoging of my actually-legitimate projects, they were slowly, but surely, forcing me out of the office.

Their strategy worked, of course. When have I ever been strong enough to win any conflict?

Auras of relief flurried around my row of cubicles as I ran out of the building, bawling my eyes out, screaming "I quit!"

Here I was, one month after that escape, not enough in the bank to pay next month's rent. Going home... to my parents house, of course, was no longer an option.

My parents said they would welcome me in with open arms as Mark, their son.

"Mina is just a misguided phase."

Enough said.

I tried my best to bullshit my way into a persecuted differents aid package, but I don't know how I expected any luck on that front, being born years after the war to two non-different parents.

The idea first came into my head around this time last year. I was lying in bed, unable to fall asleep as the sun began to creep its way through the bottom of my dilapidated blinds. At that point, I told myself I had two options. Get in a cab to the George Washington Bridge, or take a walk in Central Park. The latter emerged victorious. Staring at turtles inching their way through the orange-purple-sunrise-reflecting pond, I decided I would give myself another chance.

As I should have known that very night, the next 12 months proved even crueler.

It was exciting, in a way. I was finally going to feel what death felt like. Was it just like falling asleep and never waking up? Would I be in heaven, Hashem there to greet me like my parents and rabbis swore? To be honest, neither seemed quite likely to me.

I always secretly imagined the afterlife as a collection of dark-blue bubbles. Everyone had their own, but it was too fuzzy to see who occupied the neighboring pods. Best of all, it was quiet. No noise but the eonic ocean and blooping of bubbles. Best of all, their membranes would be too thick for my difference to work. My head would finally be quiet.

I crossed my fingers, hoping my wild imagination would prove to be a premonition. As I briskly walked through the neighborhood toward the bridge in the distance, I soaked in the last stretch of New York City streets I would ever see. LED lights blared from ancient bodegas. Electronic music blasted from dimly-lit apartments and bars.

I was told that, despite it being a headquarter city under the triad, the war never really came to New York. Most of the actual fighting took place in the eastern blocs.

Seeing this neighborhood, seemingly untouched from decades upon decades of fascism and war, left a bitter taste in my mouth. They got to carry on unchallenged, while every single step I took, move I made, was combated.

The shivering coursing through my body made me regret not wearing something warmer. I told myself I didn't need it. If I was ever found, I didn't want to be buried in a hoodie and jeans. Instead I wore a sundress, despite the late-November chill piercing my skin, making me shake relentlessly.

I knew that, if my body was found, mom and dad would most likely have the dress replaced with a suit before the funeral, but that didn't matter. I could never be my true self alive; at least I could die my true self.

"Spare a dollar for a veteran?" an aged, homeless man crept his way over from the street corner, shooting me out of my train of thought.

Why the fuck not? I wouldn't need it anyway.

"Sure thing," I waved, stepping in closer to him.

It was the first time I had talked in days, and boy was it bad. Months of vocal training had done as good as the new government had done for the man in front of me. He was old, but not too old. He would have absolutely been a prime fighter 20-30 years ago. Now he had a worn-down prosthetic leg peeking out through the holes in his ripped-up jeans.

"What side did you fight on?" I asked as I sifted through my backpack, searching for my wallet.

"The triad, sadly. I regretted that I didn't just dodge the draft. Never fired a single bullet or threw a single steam canister at those poor differents, but that didn't stop them from blowing off my leg."

"I'm sorry man, I know how awful that must have been, but here, take this."

I pulled out the two $20 bills I had on me and tucked them in his hand.

"This is far too much," the man shook his head and tried to peel my clenched fingers to place the money back in their grasp.

"Take it; I insist," I sternly assured.

"Why thank you madame, thank you so much!" a smile beamed across the man's wrinkled face, showcasing his browning teeth.

Madame... he called me madame. I had told myself that if one person, just one, was kind to me, I would turn around, go back home, and push on. But why did that still feel so impossible?

"You have a wonderful rest of your night," the man shouted as he began to hobble away.

"You... too..." I stuttered, paralyzed.

Frozen in indecision, I stared ahead of me. It was just one more block to the pedestrian entrance of the bridge. But it would only be a few more blocks backward to the 1-line subway station.

As I stood shivering, I closed my eyes. I searched my mind in the darkness for just one friend, one person who I knew would be there for me. I couldn't find anyone in the inky-black abyss. Sure that man was kind to me, but odds are I would never see him again. Odds are he wouldn't even survive the winter. The world was so much colder than my body was. So I opened my eyes, and trekked on toward the bridge.

My mind kept wandering back to that realm of bubbles. It seemed so much more appealing than getting back on that train to my rat-infested apartment that I'd be evicted from in a matter of weeks.

And there I was, standing right in front of the railing guarding the wanderers of the bridge from the roaring-black river below. Without hesitation, I climbed up to the top of the railing, and hoisted myself onto its icy, rusting tips.

I stared ahead at the city from which I came, the city that chewed me up and spat me out without as much as an apology. It glowed and glistened against the orange-blackness of the polluted night sky. Despite it being almost 5am, it was alive, disgustingly beautiful. It made me want to jump even more.

I pushed myself up, redirecting my weight to my arms and the front half of my body. That shift was just enough to send me propelling over the railing toward the bobbing darkness of the water below.

WHISH

I was lifted up and slammed back down onto the concrete path behind me.

"Ow fuck!" I shouted as my back spasmed in pain from the crash.

"The water would have hurt a whole lot more, I guarantee it," a voice assured.

I let out an echoing gasp of relief. Pent-up fear I didn't even know was in me whistled from my lungs. I looked up to see the figure in front of me.

She was surprisingly tall, and visibly muscular. She donned a black leather jacket, her neon-pink hair resting on its sleeves. I glanced down to see that she wasn't actually touching the ground, but was floating a few feet above the filthy pavement. She looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

A concoction of relief and compassion were radiating from her in the most tremendous aura I had ever read. They smacked against my own dread, engaging in a brutal melee.

I couldn't contain myself; my body was overcome by violent sobbing. She gently landed feet first in front of me, crouching down to my level. She didn't say a word; she just wrapped her warm arms around me and held me tight. We sat huddled up as all the feeling trapped inside me burst its way out in a relentless flood of wails and tears. Only when the sun began to creep its way up from behind the city skyline did she unlink her arms.

"Do you think you're ready to move again?"

Wiping my swollen eyelids, I nodded. She smiled, sending waves of compassion my way.

"What's your name, angel?" she asked in the gentlest of tones.

"Mina," I sniffled.

"That's such a beautiful name," she beamed.

"I'm Roxy."

#writeblr #a different universe #short story

[ukrfeminism]

5 minute read

The Department for Education (DfE) has refused to commit to ensuring that girls have equal access to football in schools, despite the Lionesses’ historic victory in the Euros. 

Government guidance published by the DfE fails to guarantee that schoolgirls be offered the same football lessons as boys, but says they should instead be offered “comparable activities”. 

Specific guidance on single-sex sports coaching also states that while a mixed school can have “a boys-only football team, the school would still have to allow girls equal opportunities to participate in comparable sporting activities”. 

The national curriculum for both primary and secondary education suggests comparable sports could include netball, rounders, tennis and badminton. 

Asked by i whether the DfE would reconsider its focus on “comparable” sports for girls following the England women’s team’s trophy win last week, the DfE said it was up to schools to decide which sports they teach.

In a statement, a spokesperson pointed to a Government “action plan” on school sport and activities published in 2019, and a new online sports education platform currently available to 75 schools. 

“The success of the Lionesses in the Women’s Euro 2022 will inspire a generation of girls to get involved with football,” a DfE spokesperson said. 

“Schools can decide what sports they offer and should aim to take their pupils’ views into account on which activities they want to be able to do.”

It raises concerns that recent political rhetoric around improving girls’ football coaching will not be matched by a new commitment to broadening access in schools. 

It comes after figures published earlier this month showed that more than half of secondary schools do not offer equal football coaching to boys and girls.

A report by England Football, part of the Football Association (FA), showed that just 44 per cent of secondary schools provide equal football lessons in PE for both genders. 

It compares to around 72 per cent of primary schools, suggesting that football opportunities drop off once girls reach secondary education.

Major sporting figures have spoken publicly about the need to improve girls’ access to football after the Lionesses’ success in the Euros on Sunday, which marked England’s first major trophy in the sport since 1966. 

Speaking after the Lionesses’ semi-final victory against Sweden last week, the former England player Ian Wright said: “Whatever happens in the final now, if girls are not allowed to play football just like the boys can in their PE lessons after this tournament, then what are we doing?”

Raising the European trophy in Trafalgar Square earlier this week, England women’s captain, Leah Williamson, said the legacy of the tournament would be inspiring “girls who can look up to us and aspire to be us”.

Young women who turned up to the square to witness the Lionesses’ victory lap told i that they had been disappointed by their football coaching at school.

Xanthe Acquah, 18, from north London, said she dropped the sport when she got to secondary school, but was keen to get back on the pitch after the Lionesses’ win. 

“I’m kind of gutted I gave it up. It’s a shame because all the boys kept playing it in secondary school,” she said. 

As a girl I was told football wasn’t for me, but the Lionesses make me regret listening

By Kia-Elise Green

At school the opportunity to play football as a girl was never mentioned. It was always the sport that the boys played. Compulsory PE lessons for female students at my Buckinghamshire grammar consisted of netball and hockey – and the odd game of rounders or basketball – while the boys did football and rugby. The lessons weren’t for me, so I believed the sport wasn’t either. 

The only opportunity to play football came towards the end of secondary school when one girl tried to rally a team – and failed. I decided I didn’t know how to kick a ball properly; I’d rather stay sitting on the side-lines than attempt a dodgy toe-punt for the first time; and besides I’d never even owned a pair of boots. 

I had a million excuses why I couldn’t play, although none of them were sufficient and I regret it now, but we’d been taught that it was not for us. Looking back, I wish I’d thought more about why it was only for boys. Not least because watching the Lionesses beat Germany on Sunday – the passion from the team, hearing Alex Scott’s voice break with the emotion, the crowd’s utter delight – I felt pure joy.

Then I felt angry. For myself and all the other girls that never got the opportunity, who had our hobbies chosen for us at such a young age. On Sunday, in her closing statement to the BBC coverage of the 2-1 match, presenter Gabby Logan told the 17.4 million TV viewers: “The Lionesses have brought football home, now it’s down to the rest of us to make sure it stays here.”

In the subsequent 24 hours, Google searches for girls football kits increased by 3233 per cent and searches for girls football training spiked by 614 per cent as a whole new generation of Lionesses became inspired to play. Some will be young girls, but others are women who are being pushed back into the arms of a sport they’d long been told was not for them.

Aimee Quye, 37, says she was discouraged from playing football at her all-girls school where there were limited sporting options and no role models. Outside of school, aged 12, she played for a couple of seasons for Northampton Town Girls. But she still felt out of place so hung up her boots. 

“There was never really a full team of players, loads of people came to training and then they didn’t. It didn’t feel like an established team with lots of encouragement. I just didn’t feel comfortable,” Quye tells i. As an adult she has had a Crystal Palace season ticket for 15 years but does not play herself. 

Jodie Houghton, 30, from Macclesfield also grew up with a love for the sport but didn’t find a team where she felt she belonged. “I was football mad in primary school,” she says, “I used to go and watch games and played every night on the green with the local kids who were pretty much all boys”.

Then there were setbacks, like her school discouraging her from playing as it was out of the ordinary. So, inevitably, her enthusiasm “dwindled” and “the whole topic of football left a bad taste in [her] mouth”. “It was frustrating to hear the boys in school be commended for how good they were at it because I knew I could be just as good,” says Houghton.

For others it is not just a feeling of having missed out on the sport, but the potential community there to be enjoyed and appreciated. Sport psychologist Dr Josie Perry (who played skittleball, netball and hockey at school) says watching the boys have a “kick around” at lunchtime while the girls sat on the sidelines (trying to not be booted in the head by a ball) made her wish for a similar female community centred on activity – a collective passion.

Some women have found they’ve now returned to the sport in later life, inspired by seemingly changing attitudes to women’s football. 

Paula Griffin is a member of the Goal Diggers club in Hackney, London, for women and non-binary players. Griffin returned to the game in June 2021 after 15 years on the sidelines – and says she has never been so strongly “behind an English team” as with Sarina Wiegman’s women at the Euros. “It made me incredibly happy. It’s a really special time,” she says. 

Griffin is a transwoman and did play football as a child in small league teams. Now she says she is the “fittest mentally and physically I’ve ever been”. When talking about women’s football, Griffin says “there’s a whole different vibe”. “There’s a negativity sometimes with men and they tend to bring their teammates down. It’s about enjoying the game and playing for the love of the game.”

At the end of the England-Sweden match on 26 July, football commentator Ian Wright, said: “If girls are not allowed to play football just like the boys can, in their PE, after this tournament, then what are we doing? We’ve got to make sure that they are able to play…this is the proudest I’ve ever felt of any England side.”

It is clear that the Lionesses historic trophy has the potential to create a legacy of change – to encourage more women and girls back into the sport. Women like me who wish they could have experienced football as a child, a powerful antidote to those who told us it was off limits. 

For Quye, who felt forced to give up her passion, she says it is “fantastic” to see such a shift. “Loads of young girls are aspiring to play the game and it is now accepted.” 

Renewed focus on girls’ football opportunities has also revealed gender disparities at a grassroots level. 

i revealed last week that girls are having to shell out at least £50 a month to play for some Premier League football clubs, while boys train for free. 

The father of a teenage girl who plays for Crystal Palace’s junior team said the family paid a £50 direct debit each month for his daughter’s training, while the boys team played for free. 

The FA has set a target for 90 per cent of all primary and secondary schools to offer equal football opportunities to boys and girls by 2024. 

In its School Sport and Activity Action Plan published in 2019, the Government said it would “work to set targets for an increase in children’s physical activity levels, with particular regard to girls’ participation levels.”

It added that Sport England, an arms-length Government body, would provide £1m funding to help “empower girls and build their confidence”, noting that sport should be designed to encourage “girls and less active groups” in particular.

The DfE has also funded a new sports programme called Your Time, which will offer online sports teaching for children to improve interest in competitive sports amongst girls. 

The programme is available to 75 schools in England and will be offered to a further 125 from next year.