#i’ve always had the opposite problem so this is just. truly mind boggling

[tauruswiftie]

screaming crying throwing up bc i ordered my first pair of ~curvy~ jeans thinking they would actually fit me and like. the waist/hip fit is perfect but then they went and made the thigh fit HUGE so it still looks disproportionate 😭 at this point i might just get all my jeans tailored or sth like clothing companies need 2 PAY for the war crimes they have committed against the curvy girl community i’m being soo fr

[evalinkatrineberg]

Futures

A/N: This takes place immediately after the Leana RP. Thank you @ladyjenli and @melanie-schreave for such a fun RP!!

“That’s besides the point,” I argued, rolling my eyes as I walked into the kitchen. “Look -”

“Shit.” Silence. Then, “I’ve got to go.”

I opened my mouth to say something more, but the line had already gone dead. Just like that, he was gone, a phantom left in my memory only once more.

You know he doesn’t love you, right?

I had no idea.

“Everything alright?”

I jumped at the sound of another voice, my head whipping around, only for my eyes to fall on Jen Li, surrounded by a mess of flour and baking supplies. It appeared I wasn’t the only one in search of a distraction tonight who had found themselves in the kitchen. I cleared my throat. “Not necessarily alright, but as expected, I suppose,” I answered with a sigh, narrowing my eyes at the mess on the counter, which I could only assume she had made. Was she baking, or redecorating? It was a little hard to tell. “Um, how are you doing?”

Jen raised her eyebrows at me before looking back down at the mess on the counter, like she hadn’t even been aware that she had made it. “I’m good. Just making cookies.”

I had never been much of a baker. That had always been Lydia’s thing, or my mother’s, depending on whether or not my mother felt like letting someone else commandeer her kitchen for a couple of hours. Still, I was fairly confident that the flour was supposed to go in the bowl, and not on the counter. I supposed I could be wrong, though. Either way, baking would give me something to do, even if it wasn’t why I had headed this way originally.

“Funny,” I began, smiling a bit as I eyed the mess. Deciding that Jen definitely needed help, I strode over to the sink, grabbing some paper towels and soaking them in water. With a look over my shoulder, I continued, “I came down here intending to do the same thing. Want any help?”

Her eyes darted from me, to the mess on the counter, and then back again. “Yeah. If you want to, I mean.”

That was a good enough answer for me. “I would love to!” I gave her a tight smile, immediately throwing myself into scrubbing down the countertops. It was a mindless activity - exactly what I needed to forget about that phone call.

It seemed like there was so much I needed to forget about these days.

“What kind of cookies are you making?” I asked, continuing to scrub as I looked up at Jen.

She looked down at the bags and boxes on the countertop. All of them appeared to be pretty standard to me - flour, sugar, eggs, butter - so it could’ve been anything, really. After a couple of seconds, Jen looked back up, a newfound note of conviction in her voice. “Chocolate chip.”

“A classic,” I replied with a nod of approval. Those had always been my sister’s favorite to bake, especially after one of my siblings had had a rough day. The smell of chocolate chip cookies baking had slowly become a subliminal message to us, that everything was going to be alright in the end.

Something was missing, though. With a frown, I knelt down, digging around in the cabinets until I found what I was looking for. The chocolate chips. I had to wonder how she had forgotten to grab what was singlehandedly the most important ingredient, but I didn’t have the heart to ask. It seemed like we were all at least a little absent minded these days. So I simply placed the bag on the counter, closing the cabinet and then standing again, sliding the bag across the counter to her. “Looks like you forgot these, though,” I added, laughing softly.

“Right.” In the time that I had grabbed the chocolate chips, she had pulled out her phone, and was not typing away, a look of pure concentration on her face. “So, do you like baking?”

I shook my head. “I never really baked much at all, before. It was more of my sister’s thing - but I mixed things together in a lab part time! How different can mixing things together in a bowl be?”

“You worked in a lab?” She still looked a little distracted, sliding me a bowl and placing her phone in between us, but there was a note of genuine curiosity to her words. She was also in school currently, if I remembered correctly. At least we had that much in common. I could work with that.

“Yeah, I worked for my genetics professor, helping her with research, and lab work,” I answered, shrugging as I began to reach for the eggs. The recipe on her phone said we needed two. That sounded about right to me, but what did I know? If I keep her talking, maybe she won’t notice how clueless I really am. “What about you?”

Jen reached for the flour and the baking soda, pausing to open one of the drawers and pull out a measuring cup, cutting me a glance out of the corner of her eye. “I’m studying law, she answered.

I watched her begin to scoop the flour, frowning as I did. I was pretty sure the recipe in front of us said 3 cups of flour, and not 3 heaping cups of flour, but I kept my mouth shut. This wasn’t exactly my area of expertise, anyway. If I questioned her, she would very likely question me back, and seeing as she was a law student, that definitely would not go well for me.

School, though, I could talk about. I had already known that Jen was in law school, thanks to Lydia’s Selection preparation notes for me, but I elected to ignore that in the interest of keeping the conversation going. “Oh, that’s cool! I bet that’s a lot of reading, huh?”

She nodded as she dumped the cup of flour in her hands into her bowl before going in for another heaping cup. “I don’t mind it, though. I’d rather read a two-hundred page court transcript every day than take another science class again,” she admitted, a note of laughter in her voice as she looked at me.

The fact that such a thing might be true boggled my mind. Science was so simple, cut-and-dry - you were either right, or you were wrong, whereas the law could be interpreted one hundred and one different ways. You could have the exact opposite viewpoint of your opponent, and you could still both technically be right. How did that make any sense? I had to laugh.

“I don’t mind reading. What always gets to me with social sciences is the writing. I mean, I can write up a lab report no problem - it’s all just regurgitating facts. Coming up with a thesis statement, though?” I shook my head. “Not my forte, to say the least.”

She nodded, looking away from her bowl to glance in my direction briefly. “That makes sense. It gets easier, though. Just have to figure out how to pull opinions out of the facts, even if sometimes it’s bullshit. Fake it ‘til you make it, and such.”

That made sense to me, and I was sure that the ability to put on a front of confidence and knowledge would prove invaluable in the world of politics. If that truly was the case, then I had my work cut out for me. I let out a wry laugh at the realization, scooping the sugar into my bowl before mixing it together with the eggs using a whisk. Each spin of my arm was another frustration released. Arin. Lukas. Proctor. My degree. My ineptitude at politics. I was beginning to see why Lydia liked this so much. It was kind of therapeutic.

“Yeah, that’s never really been my thing,” I admitted to Jen. It wasn’t like it was much of a secret, I was sure. “Facts, and observations, though - and the memorization thereof - I could do that all day.”

“That's fair. I don't think I could be in a lab without ruining everything. I'm pretty sure I was kicked out of my Intro to Chem class multiple times in undergrad.” With each sentence she finished, she poured another cup of flour into the bowl. There was definitely far too much flour at this point, but I didn’t want to interrupt her, especially not as she flashed a grin at me. I didn’t feel like arguing about flour, of all things. Not now, at least.

“Needless to say, that professor didn't like me much,” she finished, glancing quickly in my direction once more.

I let out a small laugh in response, remembering my own general chemistry class freshman year. “Believe me, you’re not alone. The amount of times our intro chem lab had to be evacuated because someone mixed two chemicals together that they shouldn’t have was absurd.” Shaking my head, I reached for the vanilla extract. That had been a class where we had been given super specific instructions as well. Nobody should have made the mistakes they did, if they had half a brain and paid attention when the TA was speaking. Maybe chemistry classes had been harder at Jen’s school, though. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Jen hummed as she reached for the baking soda, the corners of her lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. “Glad to know I wasn’t alone,” she offered, looking down at her phone, scrolling until she found whatever she was searching for. Without looking at me, she continued, the tension in her voice almost entirely gone now. “So what is it that you’re wanting to go into? I assume some kind of science.”

“Cancer research is my goal,” I answered, offering Jen a small smiled as I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes, “but the professor I worked for thinks genetics is my true calling.” Was my true calling. “What about you? What kind of law do you want to go into?”

“Criminal is the goal. I've always found it the most interesting.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” I had no clue what else to say. I didn’t know the first thing about law, except that it required strong debate skills and likely the ability to think on your feet and synthesize information quickly. Even just asking her what kind of law she wanted to go into had been a shot in the dark - I hadn’t really known there were different kinds of law.

It might be a good thing that Arin and I didn’t get along flawlessly. I would be a really shitty queen.

Then again, this could prove to be a good chance to learn more. I flashed Jen another small smile before asking, “What does criminal law entail?”

She didn’t look up as she spoke, measuring out more of the dry ingredients. “A bit of everything. Investigation, customer service, a lot of reading, and pandering to judges.” The breathy laugh she let out at the end of her sentence had me frowning. Were bribery and flattery really so common in the Illean justice system? That wasn’t okay - not in the slightest. The law was supposed to uphold the rights of all citizens, not just the citizens that could afford a lawyer who knew the judges well. Did the problem lay with corrupt officials, or with the system itself, then?

I was starting to think that Proctor might have been right, to some extent, in her goals outside of work. Here I was in a position where I had the voice to make a change, potentially, and I was wasting it, because I knew next to nothing about the deeper issues of this nation. Proctor had offered to guide me, to tell me what to look for, but at what cost? Her methodology had been rather treasonous, and her threat to my family too low of a blow for our relationship to ever recover from. Still, it was clear that Illéa had more problems than I had previously been aware of. The real question was, what could I do about it?

Jen must have sensed my discomfort, because she changed the subject. “Cancer research sounds really interesting. A very noble profession. What made you decide to do it?”

Noble. That was a boost to my ego.

“I wanted to help people, but decided that medicine was kind of out of the question after I almost cried while dissecting a frog in the eighth grade.” I chortled at the memory of my shaking hand, and the overwhelming smell of formaldehyde that had nearly made me sick to my stomach. Combined with the stress of wanting to get a good grade on the assignment, it had been a recipe for disaster, that I had no intention of ever reliving. “So, cancer research seemed like the next best way, I guess.”

She smirked a bit as I told my story, adding a dash of salt to the dry ingredients in her bowl. “Medicine is definitely not for everybody. Where are you going to school? Or were, I guess.”

Were, indeed. The more I thought about school, the more past-tense it seemed to be, despite my online classes beginning in about a month. At this point, I just couldn’t ever picture myself going back to my old life, no matter how the Selection went for me. I definitely wouldn’t be able to get my old job back, and with Lukas and I feuding, hanging out with him and June would just be awkward. Plus, my siblings were all starting to move out and move on with their lives as well. Perhaps it was time for me to do the same.

“University of Tennessee,” I finally answered, biting my lip as I realized how lame that sounded compared to Jen’s school - Yale, if I remembered correctly. Such a prestigious institution, with a reputation my school could never even dream to have. “I got into other schools - probably ones that you’d consider better, I’m sure - but I come from a big family, and it was close to home, so I’d be able to save money on both tuition and housing. Plus, my father works there, so I had free transportation, too.”

She nodded along, as if she understood completely. That would make sense. She had also likely gotten into multiple accredited institutions, and then chosen to go to her school. Though, with an option like Yale on the table, it was hard to believe she might have been considering something else. Still, I found myself standing up straighter then, turning to face Jen more as I asked, “So, what made you choose Yale?”

Immediately, she raised her eyebrows, and then offered me a small smile. “My parents are alums. It was the only thing on the table, really. I'll probably transfer out after this.” She gestured upwards.

I felt myself whisking a little harder at that. Was she planning on transferring out because she want that confident in her ability to win this? Jen was a very likeable girl, and definitely fun to talk to, that was for sure. Plus, she actually knew how the legal and political systems of this country worked. Much like Reggie, she’d be an obvious choice for queen, if the ability to make good political decisions was what it was going to come down to. She and Arin also could’ve had a deep connection, that I wasn’t privy to, as it was none of my business. I couldn’t force the man to like me, after all.

The way she had phrased it though made it seem like she was also planning on transferring out even if she didn’t progress much further in the Selection. My whisking came to a halt as I looked up at Jen, furrowing my brows. Were we in the same boat? Was returning to her old life just as unimaginable for her as it was for me? There was only one way to find out.

“I’m thinking that I’m probably going to end up transferring after this as well,” I admitted. I hadn’t yet voiced my idea aloud to anyone - not even my own family. It was nothing concrete, and I certainly hadn’t thought it through well enough to go forwards with it yet, but it was still on the table, to me.

Jen stopped her mixing as well, looking up at me with a look of surprise that I could only imagine mirrored my own. “Really, where do you think?”

I shook my head, placing my hands on the counter and straightening my arms as far as they could go, the tension and almost welcome sensation as I ran through the seeds of my plan once more. “You’re going to think it’s kind of crazy, and admittedly, I haven’t thought this all the way through yet, because I’m assuming I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, but I think I might go to my grandparent’s cabin in Tromsø.” With the current tensions with Swendway, it might possibly be the dumbest idea I had come up with to date, but Swendway might also be the one place where Proctor’s words would hold little to no weight. “There’s a really good school for the sciences there!” I continued, hoping the explanation would make it appear as if the plan wasn’t half as slapdash as it truly was.

“That's,” she began, blinking. “Where is that exactly?”

I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut, and dodge the bullet.

“Swendway.”

Or not.

“Oh.” A moment of silence followed, both of us so still that all I could hear was my own, increasing heart rate in my ears. “That sounds really nice. I hope you get to go. It sounds like a good opportunity.”

I furrowed my brows as I looked over at her once again. For someone so politically savvy, she seemed to be lacking quite a bit of information on the current events in international relations. Then again, maybe she simply had the luxury of being unaware, since the issue didn’t affect her. She didn’t have to think about whether or not a potential employer, or classmate, or professor would question where her loyalties lie, simply because her grandparents had immigrated from Swendway. Furthermore, maybe it was for the better that she thought nothing of it. She was probably less likely to share the information with anybody else as gossip, that way.

“Thank you.” The reply felt empty, like someone was holding a glass under the tap and had turned the faucet on, but no water had come out. “We used to go there for the summer, when I was little. It’d be odd being there alone, though, I suppose.”

“That’s true,” she agreed with a nod, “but I’m sure you can get used to it. Is your family from Swendway?”

So she was very unaware, then. Or, at the very least, she hadn’t looked into the lives of the other girls here as much as some of the rest of us had. It wasn’t as if my last name gave away my heritage. Berg could very easily be German - in fact, I was often asked if it was. It was as if people wanted to give me the chance to deny any ties I had to Swendway, or Swendish descent.

This scenario didn’t feel like that, though. “My father is. My mother was born and raised in Carolina, though, but further east than where we live now.”

“I see.” She paused then, her stare growing distant for a moment. “Are you enjoying it here?”

It depends on the day. If I get a call from home. What kind of mood Arin’s in. Who else I talk to. What else is going on.

She didn’t need to hear all that. “It’s different, but I’ve learned a lot, so that aspect of it is nice! What about you?” I forced a note of cheeriness into my voice, hoping it was more convincing to her than it was to me.

“It's been good to have time away,” she replied, stirring the dry ingredients together further. “Everyone has been pretty nice.”

A quick glance at her bowl revealed she was almost ready to go, but I was not. I still had to soften and then add in and mix the butter. That was arguably my least favorite part. The butter always left my hands sticky, and coated everything I touched afterwards in a thin film of grease.

With an inaudible sigh and a nod at Jen, I began unwrapping two sticks of butter, placing them in a nearby cup. In seconds, I had crossed the room, coming to a stop in front of the microwave, and sticking the butter-filled cup inside. After setting the timer for thirty seconds, I turned back around, leaning against the counter as I looked at Jen.

“Same,” I agreed. “I think it’s good to meet new people - to get a different perspective on things, you know?”

“Definitely.” She hummed a but, a small smile on her face as she looked at me. “Though, I definitely haven’t met as many people as I probably should have, if you and me not having an actual conversation after months is any indication.”

I felt myself begin to blush again as I debated telling her that there were still other girls I had yet to talk to, while also feeling guilty about not reaching out to Jen herself before. “Ah, sorry. I tend to fall into solo routines easily, I’m afraid.”

“No, no, it's not your fault. I can definitely say the only Selected friend I've made is Idalia, and that's only because she's been quite -” she paused, her smile growing wider for just a second “-persistent.”

I had to grin at her assessment. “Idalia’s definitely the person I’d say I’m closest with here, for the same reason.” Retrieving the butter from the microwave, I walked back over to the counter, mixing it in with the other wet ingredients. I was curious as to why Idalia had never introduced Jen and I to each other before this. Idalia had always struck me as the kind of person who’d want a group of friends to do things with, but perhaps I wasn’t as good at reading people as I had thought I was.

“Wonder why she's never introduced us,” Jen voiced my own thoughts aloud, grinning from ear to ear. “She must've thought I'd scare you away.”

I laughed at the thought. Jen seemed so kind. The thought of her scaring me away seemed absurd to even consider. “Maybe she thought the three of us together would be too powerful. Who knows what kind of trouble we’d all cause together.”

“Trust me, she's already gotten me in plenty of trouble. I can't imagine adding you into the mix,” she argued with a smirk. “I'd probably get arrested again.”

Again?

Maybe the arrested part had been a piece of the joke. That tidbit of information had definitely never come up when Lydia had quizzed me on the other Selected.

I let out a laugh, my eyes darting from side to side as I made sure the kitchen was empty. Still, the walls had ears, with someone like Christina always lurking around the corner, so I dropped my voice to a whisper. “We played a prank on Arin after their date, and ended up hiding under the royals’ table for the entirety of lunch. Thank God for Wylan, or we’d have been dead meat for sure!” It was funny now, in retrospect, but I had been sure that both Idalia and I were going to be expelled from the Selection in that very moment.

Slowly, she nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. Wylan’s not a snitch, and I feel like he wouldn’t mind Arin getting a bit of grief.”

Clearly, not. I had to wonder what Arin had done to Wylan. To my knowledge, they were very good friends, but then again, even my siblings and I enjoyed giving each other grief. It seemed like that kind of relationship could apply to the two of them.

“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding, “that was the first time I’ve met Wylan, but I believe you.” At this point, I had finished with all the ingredients in my bowl, and I was willing to hazard a guess that Jen was done as well. “I’ve got everything mixed in mine; are you ready to mix the two bowls together, and then add the chocolate chips?”

She glanced from her own bowl to mine, and then to her phone, before nodding. “Let’s do it.”

Sounds like a plan. Now, how to do this without making an even bigger mess?

I bit my lip, slowly lifted my bowl, surprised at how heavy it actually was. Moving at a snail’s pace, I positioned the bowl over Jen’s, tilting it as slowly as I could, praying the ingredients would drip out into her bowl in as controlled a manner as possible. The first of the wet ingredients met the dry. So far, so good.

I risked a glance in Jen’s direction. “I can’t believe we’ve never spoken before. It sounds like we interact with the same four people.”

“Just wasn't meant to be, I guess. Even if we technically do live in the same place.” Retrieving a spoon from the drawer, she began to scrape the dregs of my bowl into hers, while adding, “People keep leaving, though, and it makes me nervous. I'd hate to get attached just for them to be eliminated the next day.”

I nodded, my eyes going a little wide. Fourteen. Over twenty sent home now. The fact that I wasn’t among them never failed to amaze me. “I know, we’re really getting down to the wire.” I frowned. “I’m going to go preheat the oven. 350 sounds about right, right?”

“Sure.” She didn’t sound to confident, but continued mixing the ingredient into a dough, adding in the chocolate chips. “It feels strange to ask, but how do you think you're doing? You know, with him.”

Well, wasn’t that just the question of the year. I frowned as the memory of our last interaction is his study came to mind. It hadn’t exactly been great, but he hadn’t reverted to being unkind again, either. “Fine enough, I think. He’s hard to get a read on, though.” I finally decided, walking back across the room to Jen, stopping next to her. One quick look at the dough revealed that it definitely was not made to exact measurements specified by the recipe. I decided to continue to ignore that, though. “What about you?”

She stared down at the counter, and I got the sense that I shouldn’t have asked. Still, she replied, “Yeah, me too.”

I offered her a sympathetic smile, unsure of what else to do. I wasn’t about to pry for details - it really wasn’t my place. The fact that we were, for all intents and purposes, dating the same man was odd enough. Obviously I had known what I was signing up for when I had filled out the application, but experiencing it in real time was an entirely different phenomenon, charged with emotions I previously hadn’t known existed.

Instead, I turned to the dough. “It looks a little dry. Do you think it’ll stick together as it bakes?”

“I’m sure it'll be fine.”

I could only hope she knew what she was doing.

I shrugged before kneeling down to pull a baking tray out of the cabinet by my legs. The cooking spray was already on the counter, thankfully. I quickly sprayed it over the pan, placing it back down before reaching into the bowl, and scooping up a small amount of dough. Rolling it into a ball was proving more difficult than it should have been. It kept crumbling in my hands, no matter how hard I tried to make it stick together. This feels like a metaphor for something.

Or it could just be that Jen measured the flour incorrectly.

Life wasn’t that poetic.

“But to your previous point - it’s just frustrating sometimes, I guess, because I never know he’s going to react to anything.” I was starting to pick up on it more, but there was still so much of him to figure out. Jen sounded like she might understand me on that much. I punctuated my statement with a shrug, placing the dough in my hands in a misshapen lump on the tray before grabbing more dough, and repeating the process.

A smile flitted across her face as she copied me, rolling the dough into roughly spherical balls. “He’s like that sometimes. It -“ she paused, as if she had something else to add, but couldn’t find the right phrasing “- Yeah, I know what you mean.”

It was all I could do to nod, looking down at the dough I was rolling, continuing the process over and over until the sheet was full a few minutes later - right as the oven beeped. Our timing was impeccable. I dug around in the cabinet by my legs for an oven mit, and, upon finding one, walked the tray over to the oven, sliding it onto the top rack. “I guess we’d better get used to it, then,” I replied with a wry chuckle as I closed the oven.

“Hopefully not.” When I turned around to walk back over to her, she had taken out her phone, hopefully to set a timer. The last thing we needed to do was burn down the kitchen.

“That’d be ideal, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up,” I conceded, mumbling under my breath as I rubbed my hands against my pants.

The sound of footsteps behind us knocked me out of my thoughts before I let them carry me away once again. A quick look over my shoulder revealed it was Princess Mélanie. I felt the color drain from my face immediately. It was that she looked particularly mean-spirited or threatening - in fact, she was simply staring at the tablet in her hand, her eyes wide with intrigue. Without looking up, she made her way to the fridge, opening it and pulling out a bottle of wine.

I should’ve expected that something akin to this would happen. This night had already taking so many twists and turns, that seeing Princess Mélanie in the kitchens almost made sense. The universe really must have wanted to see just how much I could handle in the span of twenty-four hours.

I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting between Jen and the princess, as if I could ask Jen whether or not I should say something without actually saying anything. I had no intention of spooking Mélanie in the way I had Arin the last two times I had seen him. It didn’t have the same appeal, and I got the sense that she might actually get angry if I did. Maybe Jen would say something. That’d be ideal.

Jen’s eyes were as wide as my own when I caught her gaze. She gestured frantically towards the princess, retreating back towards me, pressing her lips firmly in a line. She wasn’t going to talk, then.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, eyes still wide as I looked at her, hoping she’d catch the hint and offer to speak up first. However, her expression was unchanging.

It was on me then.

I took a deep breath, leaning past Jen to get a better look at Mélanie, doing my best to keep my voice quiet so as not to spook her. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

I knew immediately that my attempts had been futile as I watched her head snap up. The sound of her tablet locking echoed throughout the otherwise silent room, and the screen grew noticeably darker. “Hello, ladies.” She was blinking, her voice a bit higher than I had heard it before, breathless, even, though the only time I had heard her speak was when Idalia and I had been caught under her table at lunch.

Crap. What do I do now?

I looked quickly to Jen again before turning back to Mélanie again, clearing my throat as softly as I could. “How are you?”

I was sure I sounded like a damn fool.

Something had wrapped itself around my arm, holding on tighter than I would have liked. I flinched, straining to look over my shoulder, to see what it was. Jen’s hand. Was she that afraid of Mélanie? From what I’d been told, the princess was actually rather nice, but I’d only heard rumors from Christina. As I took in the strained smile on Jen’s face, I came to the conclusion that she must not have heard the same tales I had.

I did my best to relax my muscles. Was Mélanie a powerful woman, and an intimidating presence? Yes, but one of us - Jen or I - had to remain calm. There was no use in feeding off of each others’ nervous energy. That was more likely to backfire, than anything else.

Mélanie slowly lowered the tablet, glancing at it briefly as she set it down on the counter next to her bottle of wine. “I’m…” She paused, offering a small smile to me and Jen, though I was pretty sure it was an at least somewhat forced gesture. “Alright,” she decided, clearing her throat. “How are you both?”

“I’m…” Jen looked between me and Mélanie, her mouth open, but no words coming out. Had she grabbed my hand instead of my arm, I might have squeezed it then, in an effort to show support. I knew what she was feeling in that moment. The interesting part about it to me, though, was the fact that she too struggled to find the words, despite being a law student. Weren’t words your primary weapon in law?

I definitely knew nothing about the field of law.

“Sorry we’re in your kitchen,” Jen blurted out.

I turned to her then, my own eyes wide, despite the fact that I knew that if I had bumped into Mélanie while I was alone in this kitchen, I would’ve said the exact same thing. Still, it didn’t particularly seem like Mélanie was in any rush to shoo Jen and I away. Was I misreading the situation? I threw an apologetic smile in Mélanie’s direction, for good measure, unsure of what else to do or say. Better safe than sorry.

Mélanie ran her eyes over us, and then turned her focus to the ingredients we had left on the counter. Crap. It was still a mess, despite my feeble attempts at cleaning it earlier. We hadn’t scrubbed anything down, or put anything away, or even put the dirty dishes in the sink. My mother would have had a fit.

My eyes might have deceived me, but I could have sworn that I saw Mélanie smile at the mess. “It’s fine. You’re allowed to be in here.”

Well, that was a start. Jen released her grip on my arm, still staring forward. My own smile was more genuine now, less sheepish, though I could feel that my face was still tinged red. “Thank you. I’m, um, glad to hear you’re doing alright.”

“So,” Mélanie began, raising her eyebrows at us. “Are you both just going to gawk at me, or?”

“Sorry!” I didn’t know what else to say. Was I gawking? Probably. Before I could make any other stupid faces, I darted back over to the oven, crouching down to check on the cookies. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your -” I gestured behind me, in the direction of where I hoped the princess and Jen were standing “- wine night. It seems like we all caught each other a little off guard.” I shot the princess a smile over my shoulder, hoping it looked more confident than I felt. Probably not, but I could dream.

Apparently, I had looked over my shoulder just in time to see Jen nodding faster than I had thought humanly possible. “We can leave and make cookies another night!”

It was a little too late for that. I furrowed my brows at Jen, not moving from my spot by the oven, it’s warmth like a comforting blanket slung around me. “Jen, they’re already in the oven. If we just left now, they’d probably catch fire.”

I was beginning to understand just how poorly she might have done in her chemistry class.

Her eyes grew wide as she looked over at me. “We can take the cookies out and leave,” she hissed, her entire body tensed as if she was ready to race against the clock to do just that.

And leave the mess here for someone else to clean? I narrowed my eyes at her. Hadn’t she been the girl who had gotten into a fight on her first night here over one of the other girls disrespecting the maids, or something along those lines? Yet she would think to leave them with more work, just to avoid changing the plans of someone who had already said that she was fine with us being here. The situation was undoubtedly more nuanced than I was making it out to be, but it still felt out of character, based on what I had heard of her.

Mélanie watched us for a moment, before turning around and opening one of the cabinets, filled with rows of wine glasses. She resolved the debate between me and Jen by pulling down three glasses, setting them down on the counter with care, the contact between the glasses and the counter issuing only the faintest of clinks.

“Oh.” Raising an eyebrow at the princess, I came to a stand, rubbing my hands on the front of my pants. Drinking with Arin’s mother felt so strange - like I was crossing an unspoken line, somehow - and yet, there was no way I could refuse without being rude. Slowly, I walked back over to the counter, taking up a spot besides Jen yet again. “Thank you.”

At least Mélanie had chosen white wine, that night. She didn’t need to see my facial reactions to the taste of red wine. That was something we’d have to work our way up to, if given the time to do so.

Mélanie just unscrewed the lid of the bottle, pouring copious amounts of wine into each of the three glasses. As soon as she had finished that, she leaned over the island, passing both Jen and I a glass, her eyes darting towards the flour-coated countertop. I had half a mind to put the glass she had just handed me down and immediately start cleaning up, but I refrained. That would be rude. She had just poured me a glass of wine, for crying out loud, and for what reason - because I had made a mess of her kitchen?

The ability to leave me confused must have been a dominant allele that ran on Arin’s mother’s side of the family.

“If you’re going to make such a mess,” Mélanie began, still eyeing the countertop, “at least make it fun for the security team to watch.” With that, she took a very long sip of wine, smirking at us when she had finished.

“I hadn’t considered that part of it.” I chuckled and nodded, picking up my own glass to take a small sip. Would I drink with Arin’s mother? Sure. My own mother would have chewed my ear off for not minding my manners if I didn’t. However, was I going to get tipsy, or, God forbid, drunk, with Arin’s mother? Not tonight, at least.

Who knows what could happen if you win?

As if there was a shot in hell of that happening, just based on my last interaction with Arin.

“I don’t really -” Besides me, Jen was staring at her glass with wide eyes before lifting the glass to her lips in a painstakingly slow motion, taking a sip even tinier than mine. “I hadn’t either.”

At least I wasn’t alone in thinking this situation was a tad odd.

“Don’t worry,” I assured Mélanie, following her gaze towards the mess. “We’ll clean this up!”

“Definitely!” Jen nodded, her eyes a little wide, as if she was looking at the flour she had spilled for the first time. “All of it!”

“Okay,” was all Mélanie said in reply, her chuckle laced with a bit of amusement. After taking another sip, she looked at me and Jen once more. “Am I really that scary?”

I narrowed my eyes a bit, trying to find a response that felt safe. There were a million and one reasons that I couldn’t call her scary, and yet, deep down, wasn’t I terrified? The root of the emotion wasn’t her, though, and I didn’t care to examine it much further than that.

“I don’t think scary is quite the right word. Maybe a little intimidating, at first?” I shrugged. “Take my thoughts on the matter with a grain of salt - I thought Safiya was intimidating when I first met her.” She still was to me, a little, but her kindness shone through more than anything that would make me nervous. I hoped her mother was the same way.

“Intimidating?” Mélanie snorted, glancing between her wine glass and her tablet with a smirk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jen take another, longer, sip of wine. “Interesting.”

Jen turned towards me, as if to ask me to take one for the team, and to continue the conversation. She must not have realized how bad of an idea that was. I was running out of acceptable things to say. “Interesting how perceptions can change so quickly,” I offered, nodding once before taking another sip of my own wine. If this was how most conversations with the Selected went, I was beginning to understand why Mélanie had offered us some.

“Are you two always this -” she raised her shoulders, still grinning “-gobsmacked?”

Me? Yes. Jen? I’m not sure; I just met her.

Jen glanced down to her glass once more before looking up, some of the tension in her body dissipating, as if she was seeing Mélanie in a new light. “I’m not graced with the privilege of speaking with royalty every day, nor is Evalin, as far as I know, especially when we’re technically invading your space in your home.” Her knuckles were whiter than usual as she clutched her glass of wine. “I like to think I’m usually more refined.”

I almost snorted, trying to picture any of the people I would have called “refined” in Knoxville coating their kitchen counters with a thick layer of spilled flour.

Mélanie, however, singled out a different part of Jen’s reply . “Royalty?” She asked, letting out a laugh before taking another sip of wine. “Don’t you both talk to Arin all the time?”

I pursed my lips, considering her words. I wasn’t surprised by the fact that she knew how frequently Arin and I had bumped into each other, recently, because again, every wall in the palace had eyes and ears. Plus, they were mother and son. I would be surprised if they hadn’t talked about it at all, even in passing. A quick look at the satisfied smile on Jen’s face told me she was thinking the same thing.

So our reputations preceded us, then. Hopefully Mélanie had only heard the good things.

My voice was soft when I finally answered. “Somehow, that feels different.” It truly did, as ridiculous as that statement seemed. Maybe it was because Arin had been an absolute prick on our first date, or maybe it was because we were closer in age with one another - whatever the cause was, it didn’t change the fact that I was being honest.

“Very different,” Jen echoed, taking another sip of her wine.

“I don’t know why,” Mélanie replied with a shrug. “He outranks me, and he’s going to be the king one day.”

The deep breath she took at that last part resonated with me on a deep level. “Yeah…” I said, trailing off, raising and lowering my eyebrows once as I took a long sip of wine. I hadn’t really taken Arin’s future title into consideration in any of our conversations, with the exception of the brief one we’d had in his office. It was hard to imagine him one day ruling this country. It wasn’t that I doubted his abilities to do so - though I was beginning to question them, a little - but rather that it seemed like something that wouldn’t happen for a long time, an inevitability of a distant future.

Perhaps it was something I should consider more often. I had come here with the hopes of falling in love with him, after all. Should that come to pass, that would leave me as the queen, which came with a whole new set of powers and responsibilities.

Somehow, that felt even further off than Arin becoming the king.

“We’re not supposed to be dating you,” Jen pointed out, taking another sip of wine, and eliciting a chuckle from me.

“No?” I had no name for the noise Mélanie made, but I got the feeling that she was amused. “You don't think so? I'd somewhat disagree.”

“How so?” Jen voiced my own thoughts before I could. Raising an eyebrow at the princess, I took another sip of my drink, debating for a brief moment whether dating Mélanie might be easier than dating Arin. She hadn’t been an asshole to us - ever - at least.

“Well, we're sort of a package deal. An entire family comes with Arin,” Mélanie explained, drinking more of her wine.

“Well, yes,” I began, my eyebrows knitted in consternation, “but similarly, each Selected comes with an entire family, and it’s not really like any of you get to meet them.” I shrugged, lifting my head to look at the ceiling before adding, “Though, I imagine that could be for the better.” I could really only speak for my own family, but something told me that Arin meeting all of my siblings and my parents at the same time, even after having gotten to know me, was going to be quite the spectacle as it was, should that day ever come to pass. Had he met any of them before he had met me, I would’ve been sent packing by now for sure.

Jen looked at me like she was trying to hold in a laugh, before turning back to Mélanie, who was sipping some more wine. “Doesn’t matter who outranks who. Meeting a mom will always be worlds scarier.”

“Well, here we are, and we’re sharing wine. Are you still scared?” She laughed.

I shook my head, taking another long sip of wine. Sacred still wasn’t the right word, to me.

“Maybe you should be. This could be your future.”

Now that was scary. As a child, I had always dreamed about leaving my mark on the world, inspiring others, leaving a legacy that would span years after my death, but never like this. I had always aspired to have the renown of Proctor, to earn the appreciation and the respect of families everywhere by contributing to a potential cure for cancer, and to inspire other young girls to go into science. The legacy of a queen was in a whole different league, though. Sure, I’d have a larger platform to promote my projects and ideas, but every mistake I made, every misstep I took, would be seen and heard by people all across the country, or even across the globe. Nobody paid that much attention to biologists in their labs - not until they did something great.

What if I never did anything noteworthy?

“Still scared, yes,” Jen answered, taking a drink. “Very.”

The princess let out a sigh. “Then break it down for me, because all I did was walk in for some wine.”

Jen let out a small noise of surprise, but fulfilled Mélanie’s request nonetheless. “You're supposed to meet parents over an awkward dinner where you argue about politics or something, not baking cookies in their kitchen.” With a sigh, she looked at Mélanie again, and added, “I don't drink,” punctuating her sentence with a sip of her wine.

I just shook my head, placing my glass down on the counter before walking over to the oven again, holding my hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. “I’ve got nothing. I’ve never made it to the meeting-the-parents stage before.” I’m assuming you usually have to get passed the first date to do that. An image of Lukas flashed through my mind. And that both parties should know that they might be in a relationship, and therefore want to meet the parents.

The concept of Arin meeting my parents was still rather entertaining to me. I knew my mother would be besides herself, doing everything she could to be the polite hostess to him, even if she came here to meet him. My father, though, likely wouldn’t say much. He wasn’t one for small talk. The most I could picture him doing was asking Arin a question maybe once every hour, then nodding at his answering, and finishing it off by taking another sip of whatever he was drinking. There would definitely be drinking involved.

Mélanie had had the right idea.

I cast a brief look over my shoulder, watching Méalnie rub her face and mumble, “Give me strength.” I smiled at that, having heard my own mother say as much rather often. With the grief we often gave her, I couldn’t blame her, nor could I blame Mélanie right now, as she looked back up at me and Jen. “You do know you’ve been here months, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware.” The answer left my mouth before I could even think.

“So then it's not a big deal,” Mélanie argued. With a shrug, she continued, “You've been here, I've been here, it's been fine. So why panic now?”

I stood back up, content that the cookies weren’t burning yet, offering her a shrug of my own as I walked back over to Jen, who was taking yet another sip of wine. “You’ve got a point there.”

The gaze she fixed me with then was the same, incomprensible look that I had seen on Arin’s face nearly a million times now. Yes, the gene that granted him the ability to make me so confused definitely originated from his mother’s side of the family. There was no arguing that.

I pursed my lips, averting my gaze downwards to the floor. Despite her stare making me a little uneasy, Mélanie had been nothing but kind - friendly, even. She had been in our shoes, once, I reminded myself. She’d stood where we now stood, and felt what we now felt.

My voice was soft when I finally dared to voice my question aloud. “Was it hard to transition to life here?” Were you terrified that you’d be a bad leader? Did you second-guess your every move? I picked up my glass and took a big sip of wine, catching Jen doing the same thing out of the corner of my eye.

The princess just about choked on the gulp of wine she herself had just been taking. “Hard?”

Had my question not been clear? “Difficult?” I felt the blush returning to my cheeks, and knew it wasn’t the alcohol, even as I took another sip.

“That's one way to put it, but you have time on your side,” she answered, setting her glass down on the counter.

I tilted my head to the side, my eyes narrowing slightly as I attempted to decipher her words. Time was on our side? Then why did it feel like everyone was in such a rush to get Arin married? His breakup with Felicity had still been fresh when the Selection had been announced. How could time be on our side, the side of the girls who were left to deal with Arin now, as he dealt with his own unresolved emotions regarding his previous relationship? Was this all meant to coincide with Queen Anjali’s world tour as well, so Arin would be dealing with the stress of the Selection and running a country all at once? The timing had not been great for anyone, to say the least. “How do you mean?”

“Well, I only had a few years to adjust before I was suddenly thrown into my role. Things aren't the same for you- but in a good way. So you can ease in.” She let out a low chuckle, then added, “Besides, you don't have to deal with the fallout from not having a Selection.”

No, but we have to deal with your son, who didn’t want to have a Selection in the first place.

She did have a point in the first portion of her answer, though. If everything went well - and I genuinely hoped it did - whoever was thrown into the role of being Arin’s wife would have some time to continue to adjust to the responsibilities of being royalty before actually becoming the queen. It was like a trial period, of sorts. Yet, all eyes would still be on his wife, waiting to see how she would handle her newfound fame and power. So, she had time to learn before the fate of a nation was partially in her hands, but not time enough to learn how to keep her own reputation in tact. Interesting.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jen blurted out, the suddenness of her words making me jump ever so slightly. Now that she mentioned it, though, I was kind of curious as well. Had she been able to carve out a happy life here? As I had told Missy, when I pictured my wedding day, I had never pictured a certain location, or dress, or any of the physical details. All I knew, was that I felt indescribably happy, and that was what really made my idea of the day so magical. Could I even have that here?

“No,” Mélanie answered after a moment. I felt my heart drop to my stomach. “It wasn't, but I ended up with who I wanted.”

I bit my lip. “That’s the most important part, right?” You’re still happy? You’re still in love?

“Is it?” Jen looked down at her glass of wine. What could she possibly mean by that? Was she here for the title, then - for the security and connections it provided? It hadn’t seemed like she was, but she could just be a very convincing actress. Lawyers had to at least be able to pretend to believe the stories they told in a courtroom. She could have been doing that with me earlier.

Mélanie simply shrugged and laughed. “You tell me. I'm planning on getting drunk and finishing up my bodice ripper novel tonight.”

Before I could stop myself, I let out a laugh, my smile growing the more I thought about it. This may not have been the life she imagined, but she didn’t seem too heartbroken about that. I was sure there was a lot more to it that she wasn’t letting us see at the moment, but before I could come up with a way to discreetly ask her about that, I felt something in my pocket start vibrating. My phone.

I pulled it out of my pocket, frowning as I looked down at the screen. My old work number glowed back at me. “It’s nearly two in the morning there,” I mumbled under my breath. If this was Lukas again, I was going to lose it. He’d better have something important to tell me. “I think I’ve got to take this,” I apologized, looking up at the princess and offering her a small smile.

As soon as the words left my mouth, the timer on Jen’s phone went off. She made her way towards the oven. “And I should get those out this time.”

“Well, then I'll leave you two to it.” Mélanie picked up her wine glass, flashing us each an amused smile.

I nodded as I picked up the phone, slowly walking towards the hallway. Walking these halls while talking on my phone was about to become my new thing, it seemed. I could only imagine what stories anyone who witnessed me was stringing together based off of the half-conversations they heard. “Hello?”

Whoever was on the other end of the line was silent. Behind me, I could hear the clink of Jen’s wine glass against the counter, followed by her saying, “Have a good evening, Your Highness, and thank you.”

I quickly looked over my shoulder before entering the hallway, offering the princess an apologetic smile as my father’s voice hit my ears. “Evalin? Jeg så at du var den siste personen noe hadde ringt fra denne telefonen.” I saw that you were the last person someone had called from this phone.

I frowned, listening to Mélanie’s footsteps retreat down the hallway in the other direction. “Ja. Hva gjør du i laboratoriet på klokka to i morgenen?” Yes. What are you doing in the lab at two in the morning?

“Arbeid.” Work.

My frown only deepened at the non-answer, though such replies were typical of my father. Perhaps that was why I had more patience with Arin than some of the other girls seemed to - I was used to getting non-answers.

“Er alt bra?” Is everything okay? My father’s tone was flat, as if he wasn’t concerned in the slightest, but the question spoke where his voice didn’t.

I cleared my throat before answering, beginning to follow the familiar path back to my room. I felt kind of bad leaving Jen alone, but I also couldn’t just hang up on my father without raising his suspicions, especially if he already thought something was wrong. “Ja. Er alt bra med dere?” Yes. Is everything well with y’all?

“Ja,” was his only answer. Short, simple, and to the point.

“Hvorfor ringte du meg da?” Why did you call me then?

He was silent for a moment. Then, “Jeg så antallet ditt, og jeg bare ønsket å dobbeltsjekke.” I saw your number, and I just wanted to double check.

“Vel, jeg er bra.” Well, I am well. This was by far the most awkward conversation I had ever had with my father, neither of us truly answering each other’s questions. It felt like there was a wall between us, not just a phone line. Is this what would happen, the longer I spent away from home? Would we grow so distant to the point where we couldn’t understand each other like we used to?

It was late, for both of us. I was likely just tired. “Jeg er nesten klar for å legge meg ned i sengen. Du bør gjøre det samme.” I am almost ready to go to bed. You should do the same.

“Okay,” he answered, his voice softer now. “Goodnight, Goose.”

I paused at the sound of his childhood nickname for me, my hand wrapped around the doorknob of my room. He hadn’t called me that since I had graduated high school. It had been a bit of a joke when I was younger, because apparently as a toddler, when my mother had taken me and my older siblings to feed bread to the ducks, I had insisted on feeding some to the geese as well, even though my mother had warned me against it. Allegedly, I had told her that it felt unfair to not give the geese some bread, though. I probably hadn’t even realized that the geese and the ducks were two separate species of animal. Since then, my father had called me, “Goose,” as a term of endearment. He hadn’t used it once in the past two years though, after I had insisted that I was past the point of “Goose,” being an acceptable nickname. He had relented, without even an argument.

Swallowing once, I practically whispered, “Goodnight,” before hanging up.

I didn’t even bother to change into pajamas when I got into my room. I went straight for the bed, cocooning myself in my blankets and just laying there on my side, in my clothes, until sleep took me.

[transfemininomenon]

Hey, i'm actually a "truscum" i found out recently, but im a little confused on the whole ordeal. Im not even sure if i actually am truscum or not- because some posts seem to tie up with me being one but others dont, but i saw you were really against them, so i wanted to ask if you're okay with a friendly calm conversation about it? I am very confused and i just want to learn a bit more or find out if i'm wrong about the whole ordeal. Are you open to it?

i'll be honest im not sure how friendly i can be with this kind of conversation because i really truly genuinely, and i don't use this word lightly, Hate truscum and its hard for me to really be civil about the discussion. but for the sake of this and me giving you a lot of benefit of the doubt that this ask is in good faith i'll explain why i do not like the entire truscum ideology

1. i guess i'll start off with the Big One - the claim that dysphoria is Required to be trans. i'll preface this by saying that i am someone who has experienced, and currently Experiences in wildly different degrees depending on what is happening in my life, dysphoria throughout my entire life. i had my entire teenage and young adult years stolen from me by it. i won't get into details about it because that is a Very Very Personal subject for me, but needless to say dysphoria is something that was a very prevalent part of my life.

anyway. the notion that dysphoria is a Trans Requirement™ is something that i hugely disagree with. i used to think that me figuring out i was a trans woman was because i experienced dysphoria, but frankly the opposite is true. dysphoria is what made me refuse to believe i was a woman or could ever be one. it made me believe i was a man and that was all i would ever be. it wasn't until i really started experimenting with my gender and unpacking a lot of stuff i felt about myself that i started to finally realize the woman i was. i first started trying our she/her pronouns nearing four years now, and started using the name Alice a few months after that. being referred to as a woman & experimenting with different feminine things gave me such incredible feelings of euphoria that i still experience to this day whenever i discover something new about my identity.

and that is something ive heard from SO many other trans people i know. or different things too - i know people who are completely fine with their bodies, just certain words and terms never felt Right to them. because the thing with dysphoria is that it, like all things gender related, is a product of society. dysphoria only exists because transphobia exists - people are told that there are these two rigid things that you are and HERE is what makes you one of those things, and those things are drilled into you literally since birth. everything from colors to jobs to hobbies to cars to entertainment to clothing to Literally Everything is gendered, and when that happens then of fucking course there are gonna be people who don't fall in line with that, and when it's so instilled into people and seen as such societal norms of COURSE people are going to have trouble with that.

and that's not even getting into the subject of gender on a biological level. the fact of the matter is that the two sex system Isn't True and that biological sex is very complicated. intersex people exist, people with all kinds of different chromosomes exist, people of certain body types that have higher levels of different hormones exist, SO much goes into that subject that frankly narrowing it down to two things just doesn't Work

and that's the real problem at the end of the day. dysphoria only exists because of a fucked up gender binary that clashes with both biology and sociology. people are complicated on both a biological and personal level and having set binaries for things is bound to cause confusion & doubt.

like, people's identities are SUCH personal things in so many different ways. there isn't any Right Way™ to be trans. i know trans women with beards, trans women who have no interest in starting hrt, trans men who wear dresses and makeup, non-binary people who make no effort to be androgynous, i know SO many different identities and different people. because the fact is that there's no right way to be trans because nothing is inherently gendered including people's very bodies. people are themselves and there is no Right way to be themselves.

that's on top of the lack of education when it comes to the subject of gender. such a huge part too of me figuring out i was trans was literally learning that it was even a fucking option. i genuinely didn't know just Being A Girl was an option. reading up on gender stuff and researching the different idea of transitioning was intrinsic in my figuring out who i was because oh shit turns out there are people like me and that is Okay.

like, dysphoria literally could've been a non-issue for me. i could've lived in a world where i could just Exist and enjoy whatever i wanted without it being weird. i could've decided so much sooner that i wasn't happy with the way my body was growing and not spent my entire teen years being so confused why i was so sad seeing my girl peers. i could have from the start just gotten to be a girl and never have had dysphoria be part of the equation.

im not trans being i experience dysphoria. im trans because being a woman is rad as hell and it's what i wanted. im trans because changing my name to Alice was the biggest moment of my entire life. im trans because rebelling against the societal restraints of gender is fucking metal. im trans because my friends can't even remember me ever not being me now. im trans because im a great older sister. im trans because god nerfed me and i said nah thanks man but im not feeling it.

my identity and my gender are very personal and complicated things, and narrowing it down to "i experience dysphoria" is frankly insulting to me.

anyway, that's the big point out of the way, so here's some shorter ones

2. this is kinda expanding on the last point, but truscum both insisting non-binary people aren't a thing and them insisting "transtrenders" exist is hmm Bad

the sheer fact of the matter is the concept of being non-binary has existed from the oldest known records of human history on TOP of that concept being prevalent in many different cultures so what do ya know there's a healthy dose of racism involved in the denial of non-binary people. the gender binary is such a western concept and there are SO many different cultures where different gender identities exist.

and, frankly, going back to the above point that gender is fucking Fake and is a societal concept - again, of fucking course there are going to be people who see a rigid set of rules on gender and are like "well wait that doesn't fit me" so of COURSE non-binary people exist

on the subject of "transtrenders" i feel like i shouldn't even HAVE to get into this subject because of how inherently transphobic it is. the concept doesn't exist. there are people who experiment with their gender and then decide their assigned one is fine. there are people who go through all kinds of different identities. there are people who come out as a different gender and then revert back due to backlash. there are people who get told the way they present their gender is the Wrong Way™ and get branded a trender. it's a dangerous thought process that literally does nothing but serve the cis status quo and make people afraid to experiment and think about their identities.

3. the idea that Those Evil Trenders™ are stealing resources from the Real Trans People™ is, frankly, fucking bullshit. issues when it comes to trans people finding difficulty accessing healthcare comes from a transphobic society hellbent on denying us care on top of fucked up healthcare systems in general. hormones aren't some limited quality hard to acquire thing - when i started hrt transferring my prescription from my clinic to my local pharmacy was a non-issue because it's something basically any pharmacy will have for ALL kinds of different purposes. it's an issue because healthcare in general is a god damn Mess on TOP of inherent transphobia

and, frankly, truscum are directly involved in that transphobia in the medical field. unless you find an informed consent clinic you're going to have to jump through all kinds of hoops to prove you're Actually Trans™ by getting referrals from other (almost always cis) people and then get put on ridiculous waitlists to make sure you're not about to change your mind. that kind of attitude is only encouraged by truscum and it is one of the biggest source of trans people having such difficulty accessing healthcare.

4. truscum as far as im concerned are no different than any other transphobe. two years ago before i started hrt i was harassed by truscum multiple times, each time having them tell me i wasn't trans, that i was just a trender, and it genuinely boggles my mind that anyone thinks misgendering me because i disagreed with their ideology is Woke, actually. I've seen so many fellow trans women getting called men by truscum who disagreed with them. i was actively told i shouldn't start hrt because i "wasn't really trans and was gonna ruin my life"

i really hope all of people live in anger every day knowing ive been on hrt over a year and a half and am fucking Thriving

anyway that's all i got to say on the matter i realize my points became less thought out as it went on but frankly the first point is enough for me to not like truscum

(please refrain from reblogging this i don't want any clowns in my inbox)

[drawingconclusions]

Whoever scheduled November elections adjacent to October 31st must have also noticed the political strangeness that seems to coincide with Halloween. Whether it’s cause or effect, I’m not sure, LOL. With all the talk of impeachment in current events, I figure I’d provide my opinion on all this, and I’ll try to be as brief as I can. 1) If there really was evidence of impeachable wrongdoing in the transcript of Trump’s July phone call in question, then Adam Schiff wouldn’t have invented & read a fake transcript during the recent Congressional hearing. His attempts at a “parody” as he called it left most of us wondering what kind of circus the House intelligence committee has become. And it’s quite strange how Schiff had previously met with the “whistleblower”, apparently gave him or her advice, and then lied about his contact. I'm starting to wonder if any witness tampering took place there. 2) Unfortunately, many in the liberal media have repeatedly breached the public trust with false narratives, half-truths, & lies that it has come to the point that I believe the opposite of what they supposedly report. If they say that there’s nothing to investigate with regards to Joe & Hunter Biden’s actions, I’m pretty sure there is something there that isn’t quite on the level. If they say no one should be looking into the origins of the Russia Collusion hoax & that to do so is for Trump to seek revenge on his political adversaries, then I’m convinced that there are serious wrongdoings committed by those involved in the origins of the Mueller probe that need to be investigated and prosecuted. If they say there is an impeachable offense in Trump’s actions, you’ll have to forgive me if I take your words with a grain of salt. More than a few grains, actually. Yes, liberal media, there are consequences to telling lies on a daily basis, and all those times you’ve cried wolf to advance your own political agendas or liberal bias has left you with almost zero credibility. I really hope people start getting their news from better sources. 3) Again, I take issue with Adam Schiff’s handling of this entire matter (and Nancy Pelosi is also in part responsible). If there really was a case against Trump for impeachment concerning the phone call to the Ukrainian President, Schiff & Pelosi would eagerly show the American public all the available evidence. But instead, they’ve chosen to hold hidden hearings with possibly biased witnesses in a basement, afterwards revealing only selective, piece-meal bits of what transpired there. As others have astutely commented, that’s completely un-American. Anyone who is accused of a crime deserves due process and the chance to call their own witnesses & to cross-examine those who are making the accusations. Proverbs 18:17 (NIV) says “The first to present his case seems right until another comes forward and questions him.” Let the American people hear and see the testimony by all of the witnesses, even that of the so-called “whistleblower” (who suspiciously was a CIA agent who had worked for Joe Biden and who had no firsthand knowledge of the phone call). Hold a vote in the House of Representatives to truly authorize this half-baked impeachment process and to allow Republicans to cross-examine witnesses and to call their own witnesses. Also, newspeople on both sides of the aisle are referring to the latest polls to see whether there is support for impeaching Trump, but since when in America do we prosecute someone based on a poll? If there’s evidence of wrongdoing, hold a legitimate process to investigate it. Otherwise, anyone who has given false testimony or made a false accusation needs to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. While you’re at it, release all of the transcripts of phone calls to foreign leaders made by Obama, Bush, and Clinton. I’d like to know if they ever made any kind of quid pro quo statements during their dealings with other governments. For all the hypocritical self-righteous talk of “resistance” by liberals, I don’t believe for one minute that they’re interested in much more than advancing their own broken agendas. And I really don’t believe you’re trying to somehow save the world from Trump, targeting him exclusively because you consider him such a threat. The liberal left has degenerated so much that they would likely attack any conservative in his position in just the same way. If you will recall, the left are the ones who consider speech to be violence, who adopt a fascist mindset of seeking to (even sometimes violently) silence those who disagree with them or hold an opposing worldview, and who believe if you vote a certain way then you’re deserving of death threats. Granted, some on the right are sometimes as intolerant of those who disagree with them, but this has got to change. We will always have certain issues we disagree on, but we have to find a way to come together. I repeat again, unity doesn’t imply conformity of thought on every single matter. To think how much we could have accomplished as a nation in the past few years if we hadn’t been given over to petty and nonsensical squabbling… Unfortunately, I’m really starting to wonder about the ability of Democrats to lead. I’ve always believed in a two-party system, as healthy & fair competition usually works for the benefit of the people. But the extremes I’m seeing on the left have led me to wonder if certain Democrats are better suited for running for candidacy in socialist Venezuela or communist China. (Oh, but that’s right, they don’t have free and fair elections in places like China or Venezuela. It’s mind-boggling to me how some politicians and businesses like the NBA idolize governments like the one in China, which is another reason why I don’t support facial recognition programs by law enforcement. While they may currently have the proper checks & balances in place, it wouldn’t take much for one of those communist/socialist fans to quietly strip away all those protections and use the technology to track conservatives or those whom they disagree with. But I digress.) After all this, you may call me a Trump apologist (or something more colorful). I don’t mind. I didn’t vote for Trump (or for Hillary) in the last election, and I don’t support everything Trump says or does, but you have to admit he has done good things for our country, including successfully managing the economy and hunting down ISIS. So to Democrats I have to say, you have lost my vote for this upcoming election as a result of all this. In conclusion, on September 17th I used the phrase “quid pro quo” in one of my posts, and two or three days later, this whole Ukraine phone call quid pro quo thing erupted. Perhaps a few of you considered my words to be some kind of subliminal code to the deep state to pursue all this. Let me be clear about two things. First of all, I don’t use subliminal code in my posts here (Although that may be a novel idea to try: “Please leave a bi-monthly box of cookies at the following address…”) Sure, sometimes in my posts I don’t name those I respect or thank those who have been kind to me, because I realize the times we’re living in and I’m aware that a few deranged people will use that information to attempt to harm them or track me. And sometimes I discuss an issue without naming specific individuals, in part because it can have broader applications than just one or two people. But if I have a major problem with Trump or his administration, I would be much more direct and call them out on here for it, instead of using somekind of backroad sabotage attempt using hidden language. Secondly, I’m not a friend of the deep state agencies. Years ago, I called out the intel agencies for their broad collection of metadata on U.S. citizens, and in the past few years, I’ve called out the FBI for their suspected FISA abuse and other criminal involvement in regards to the origins of the Mueller probe. I’m sure there are good people in the FBI, CIA, and other deep state agencies, but it’s obvious there are serious problems with in these organizations as well. I previously called for a life sentence in jail for any who intentionally violated the constitutional rights of U.S. citizens without cause, and I’m not backing down from that. As I’ve said before, yes, I believe there should be mercy in applying justice when it will not be abused. But these people have been granted a broad range of powers over the population and they’re supposed to be the best of us. Unfortunately, in some cases, we’re discovering quite the opposite is true. You might think that I’m signaling I’m about to lead some kind of revolt against society. Again, not true. I’m a Christian, and I cannot support anarchy. I’ll strive to be a law-abiding citizen even if these people don’t get it right, especially if they don’t get it right. But that doesn’t mean I can’t call for justice when such widespread corruption abounds.

[gbloggg23]

28th of January, 2019

It’s 3:49am and I can’t sleep. I’m so restless and uncomfortable and my mind is absolutely BOGGLED.

I started writing down all my thoughts onto paper, but I just realised that there is so much that my wrist is getting sore from writing. 

How am I feeling today?

I am feeling like I kind of have a sense of direction of where I want to be. Where do I want to be exactly? Do we even truly know?

All I know is that I want to be happy. People will always tell me to be smart, realistic, and ideal - they always tell me to choose the smartest option, but I know I will never listen to them. I’ve always been like that growing up - always making decisions on my own, but I think i have always chosen the path that leads me to happiness. It’s like, my main priority. The ultimate one. I don’t really know if it’s a good or bad thing, because there are many times in life where your priorities aren’t really aligned with what’s thrown at you in the reality spectrum of things, and that becomes a very, very big problem in some cases. That’s when you have to be very strong and resilient and smart to get through too.

But anyway, I feel like that is my strongest quality because no matter how hard life gets and I’m at my wits end, I always know to choose happiness, and if I don’t have it then I will always try my hardest to find it. I feel like hitting rock-bottom in the past has opened up this whole newfound idea of how strong you truly have to be to overcome your worst. You have to be really fucking strong to pull through... But once you do everything gets easier. Much, much easier.

Everyone on this earth deserves happiness, and when I get to know people who haven’t quite found it yet because they’re either too busy with life and focusing on other priorities, or they think that they don’t deserve it for some God forsaken reason, I just want to be THAT person that brings any sort of happiness to them - whether it be throughout their day, like a smile, small act of kindness or a general friendly conversation about nothing, or a long-term friendship that enhances and develops through time. Life can be so fucking good if you just let it. You can literally do ANYTHING with no limitations, but you have to be so open-minded to see that, it’s truly all on you.

There are so many reasons why I think it is so important to be kind to everyone you encounter in life. Even if you think that they don’t deserve it because they’ve done something cruel to you or entirely against you and your morals, maybe it just means something terrible has happened to them and there could be a slight possibility that it’s a cry for help. Well not entirely “cry for help”, but I guess maybe the issues that they inflict on you is because they are unhappy. And I think that’s sad, I feel like you have to be a very unhappy to be a cruel person, well at least when they’re unkind to others. I guess I’m reverting to how my cousin’s have treated me in the past, but it also includes something as little as people who are rude at work (customers etc). Maybe they lack that mentality that they deserve good things because life hasn’t been very good to them, or maybe they’re just having a bad day. But like I said, everyone deserves happiness... and it doesn’t take much to fix that. You just have to actually do it.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this or how I got here, but I guess I’ve just been thinking about how I’ve been treated by certain people in the past, like people including my cousins, my family mostly. I think I’m having issues with my family - I’ve lost a connection with them, but mostly because of the fact I feel like they don’t understand me. I know they don’t, because I really do resent my Mum for how she has treated me in the past, and we never really resolved it and I’m accepting the fact that there’s nothing that can be done to change it. It’s kind of like... “it is what it is”. And that upsets me, because I feel like I’ve hit a complete dead end. Especially when I am living at home, working at a dead end job, living in a place where no one talks to me. But I also don’t want to talk to them. It’s such an awkward situation, but the whole “filo” mentality is just next level manipulation and acceptance of ALL the wrong things, things that I have NEVER stood up for and have grown up on my own to realise that are all wrong... and I don’t want to be ‘upset’ over something that I have no control of changing any longer. I really can’t do anything about it... Which is mainly the reason why I want to remove myself from it. It’s a situation that hurts me and I feel like I’m just here at home for all the wrong reasons. I know no one will understand that because they’re ‘family’, but being at home is me backing down from everything I stood up for when I was younger. I chose my happiness back then, I fought so hard to be where I wanted to be and I made it - I moved to Queensland and achieved goals, but now I’m staying here because my parents and everyone has made me believe that I’m “safe”. Am I though? Yes, I save money, but I feel like that’s the only benefit I have from living here. That’s terrible, and most definitely not worth it. I am so unhappy because I am unable to speak my true opinions with people who just think the complete opposite (mostly Mum). They say they love you but they don’t prove it to you by supporting you. Instead, they just avoid any slight confrontation about your thoughts and leave those thoughts to turn to dust in your own brain, and maybe in theirs too. But they are still there. They think it’s nothing but each and every thought is still there. It kills to not be able to be who you are because you know they don’t care about that part of you... or even have the courage to talk about it. Hence why I want to surround myself with people who love and care about ALL of me, not just half (or what they want). That’s awful manipulation and narrow-mindedness.

I’m also mad at my dad. Well, not mad… But unhappy with him. Ever since I gave him “advice” about his marriage and voiced my true opinion of him and mum, I have been questioning the NEED for all of that nonstop. I hate that I had to be the one to tell him all of those things, I shouldn’t have to deal with any of that. It’s not my marriage, and I did not want to be involved in that sort of way at all. And again, none of it was resolved. Just like it is every fucking time something happens with their relationship. But again, it’s the filo mentality that I don’t stand up for. He turned around the next day and said “thank you for telling me what you did, it’s going to change now”. But him saying that were just empty promises and sort of… fake-comfort words to fill a void, just like it always is. Deal with the fucking issue, then get back to me. Because I don’t want to know, be a part of or have to be put through that situation again. I’m unsure if that makes me feel guilty for thinking like that, but that’s lead to my disconnection and diminished want and need to be around.

I wish it was that easy, but unfortunately sometimes it’s just... not. You have to rise above it and be who you want to be because you are your own person. Yes they may be someone as significant as your mother, telling you how they think you should be... but at the end of the day you will always be you. You are an individual who is allowed to have your own thoughts, opinions, likes and dislikes. You’re only human, but you’re your own. I guess this is just me reminding myself of all of this and I feel like I needed this - You can only do what you can, but don’t forget that you are a good person and that it’s okay to do what you believe is right. No one else can understand what’s “right for you”, but yourself. I want to live life again, but not here.

[flauntpage]

Numbers Don’t Lie: Negative Thoughts Despite a Winning Streak after Flyers 4, Canucks 1

Let me get the formalities out of the way first, because I have a feeling that what I’m about to write isn’t going to be popular.

The Flyers have a three-game winning streak for the first time this season. The Flyers swept the Western Canada road trip, something that’s not easy to do.

Michael Raffl is on fire, having scored in each game. He now has five goals and two assists in his last eight.

Jake Voracek leads the NHL in assists, which is pretty impressive, especially since he has now been shifted away from the top line and yet is still producing.

The power play scored twice in a game for the first time in almost two months.

The penalty kill has not allowed a goal in the last four games and has killed off 12 straight opposition power plays over the past five games.

Dave Hakstol finally conceded his system wasn’t working, balanced the lineup better, changed to a more defensive approach – which is helping the team once it gets a lead – and is producing winning results.

Brian Elliott continues to provide top tier goaltending. He’s started 12 of the last 14 games, and even came in relief in one of the non-starts, and has been the Flyers best player most nights.

The Flyers continue to lead the NHL in fewest goals allowed at 5-on-5.

So, what could I possibly have to say that wouldn’t be a popular opinion?

How about that this is all a facade and really is unsustainable?

I know, rain on the parade, “old man yelling at clouds,” and all of those typical tropes that are spouted when a minority opinion is presented, are headed my way.

And yet, I can’t help but sit here and tell you that what you have seen on this three-game winning streak, that has my colleagues writing about turnarounds and possible playoff appearances, is no more than fool’s gold, a false flag, a mirage.

And here’s why:

As many of you know, I’ve always been Switzerland in the great argument about how much value to put into statistical analytics in hockey.

In short, my argument has always been that that analytics have always existed in hockey, just not as we know them today. Coaches used to measure Corsi back in the day with their own system of determining scoring chances. All Corsi did was standardize the measurement.

And analytics have taken off from there with some interesting findings but many limitations.

There are those who are slaves to these numbers – and they are misguided. There are also those old school curmudgeons who refuse to accept them at all – and they too are misguided.

The actual positive use of these analytics falls somewhere in between. How to best utilize the information to improve a team’s success?

With every team using analytics in some capacity, that’s the only way to separate winning organizations from losing organizations, with all things being equal.

And there is a lot of equality in hockey these days. Sure, there are bottom feeders, and there are your annual Cup contenders, but on a given night, in a given game, odds of winning and losing don’t sway much more than, say, an average Corsi chart where the better teams are posting a 5-on-5 CF% of 55 and the worst teams are posting a CF% of 45.

Actually, when you look at the list for the season, the best Corsi team, the Carolina Hurricanes, are 54.76% and the worst Corsi team, the Anaheim Ducks are 45.45%.

And those numbers may surprise you. Carolina is last place in the Metropolitan Division, yes, even behind the Flyers – although they have two games in hand on and are only one point back – while the Ducks are only two points out of the final Wild Card spot in the Western Conference.

But, again, there is more to looking at a team than just their Corsi.

For example, Carolina’s power play is awful. It ranks 28th in the NHL at 15.73%. And their penalty kill is even worse at 75%, ranking 29th in the League.

So, as good a puck possession team as the Hurricanes are, they lose games because they don’t have good special teams – and special teams, in hockey, are the difference between winning and losing.

It’s why a team like the New Jersey Devils, struggling to drive the play 5-on-5 and ranking 29th in the NHL in CF% at 46.55, can find themselves sitting in first place in the Metropolitan Division – because both of their power play and penalty kill rank in the top 10.

But one thing is certain, you can’t be bad at all three and expect to be a playoff contender. Even if you are winning games – like the Flyers have this week.

See, the Flyers can tout the fact that they have allowed the fewest goals at 5-on-5 and think that’s indicative of good team play, but it’s not.

What it is indicative of is that the goaltending has been better than expected. It is also indicative of players being forced to block a lot of shots. What it fails to tell you is the Flyers are being seriously outplayed 5-on-5 most nights, which is where Corsi is an excellent measurement.

Lets look at all three scenarios just mentioned.

First, the goaltending

Elliott has pretty much cemented himself as the Flyers No. 1 goalie. His overall numbers won’t wow you, and in the rankings he’s pretty low. His 2.79 goals against average (GAA) ranks 20th in the NHL among goalies with at least 15 appearances. His save percentage (SvPct) of .912 ranks 15th among that same group.

Based on those standard numbers alone, Elliott would be considered a middle of the road guy.

But his team isn’t helping him.

Considering the Flyers are not a good puck possession team (we’ll get to this more in a minute, but they rank 21st in the NHL), Elliott is facing more shots than most goalies. In fact, he ranks sixth in the NHL in most shots faced at 5-on-5 with 562 and of the five goalies in front of him, four have played in more games than Elliott.

In fact, only Frederik Andersen in Toronto (27.96) and Andrei Vasilevskiy in Tampa Bay (27.00) are averaging more even strength shots faced per start than Elliott (26.76).

And at even strength, Elliott is better than his overall numbers with a SvPct of .925.

Not to mention, since Nov. 9, Elliott has had a GAA of 2.57 and an all situations SvPct. of .925.

In short, he’s been carrying the Flyers.

And the reality of the situation is, they can’t expect him to do this every game or over the course of many games. Sure, they can give him the Ric Flair robe like they did after beating Vancouver last night, but Elliott is going to regress back to his mean at some point.

It won’t be an incredible regression, but his career SvPct. is .913, and he’s only sustained a .925 SvPct. or better twice in his career – and in both instances he was a part-time goalie and not the de facto No. 1 guy.

Second, the shot blocking

Again, I’m not someone who has a problem with guys who block shots. It’s an admirable, team-oriented, selfless approach to help win hockey games. Guys should be lauded for it and not criticized, as is the Flyers Twitter trend.

So, when you see Ivan Provorov tied for fifth in the NHL with 66 blocks or Andrew MacDonald eigth in the league in blocked shots per game played (2.42) or guys like Robert Hagg (42) and Brandon Manning (30) averaging more than a blocked shot per game, don’t criticize them for their efforts.

Instead, be concerned that the Flyers don’t have the puck enough.

The Flyers are 7th in the NHL with 439 blocked shots. That means they are blocking 15.14 shots per game.

Think about that for a second.

That’s five shots per period. That’s one every four minutes of ice time.

That’s a lot.

(And to think there are six teams who are doing it more is mind-boggling).

But all this indicates the Flyers spend way too much time without the puck and that, even worse, they aren’t forcing teams to give up the puck.

The Flyers have just 158 takeaways this season. That ranks 29th in the NHL. That means they are too passive when the other team has the puck. They aren’t actively trying to separate puck carriers from the puck.

That’s not me shouting from the press box, “Hit somebody,” but that guy does occasionally have a point.

The Flyers aren’t physical enough, plain and simple.

This isn’t a call for action to return the game to the goon-it-up style that permeated the sport for many years. Not at all. But, there has to be some physicality in hockey. You have to hunt the puck. You have to want it more than the other team.

And when you are only forcing 5.45 takeaways per game, you aren’t doing it enough.

Conversely, the Flyers have 291 giveaways this season (12th in the NHL), or 10.04 per game – almost double what they’re taking back.

Not good.

Third, puck possession

We don’t really need to dwell on this long, because we’ve made the point already, but the Flyers 5-on-5 CF% for the season is 48.55, which ranks 21st in the NHL.

So, don’t let the whole “fewest goals allowed at 5-on-5” fool you. They aren’t playing great hockey 5-on-5.

And if you want to buy into what they’ve done the last three games. I give you the Game flow charts (courtesy of NaturalStatTrick.com) for the last three games – all of which were wins.

at Calgary:

at Edmonton:

at Vancouver:

The Edmonton game wasn’t terrible, but the other two were. I’m telling you, you can’t win consistently when playing like this. Sorry.

Finally, special teams

We talked about how special teams make such a huge difference in hockey. It can make a good puck possession team (Carolina) mediocre and it can make a bad puck possession team (New Jersey) look like a Cup contender.

So, what are the Flyers?

We already pointed out they are a bad puck possession team. So, to be a successful team in conjunction with that, they need to be better on special teams right?

Uhhh…

Los Angeles Kings coach John Stevens looks at special teams like baseball stat geeks look at OPS (on base percentage plus slugging percentage).

In baseball, that combination, when added together, should be .800 or higher for a truly impactful player.

In hockey, Stevens likes to call it STP (specialty teams percentage).

He told me that when adding your power play percentage together, 110 or higher was the ultimate goal, but anything between 105-110 would mean you are a really good hockey team. 100-105 is acceptable, but you should try and be better.

“Anything under 100 is really not good at all,” he told me. “You very likely aren’t making the playoffs if it’s under 100.”

The Flyers STP currently is 96.41.

Yeah. Not good at all.

The power play is mediocre, sitting smack dab in the middle of the league rankings at 16th with a 19.19% success rate.

The penalty kill is terrible. Even with it’s recent run of 12 straight kills and no goals allowed in four straight games after allowing at least one goal in seven straight, the penalty kill still ranks 25th in the league at 77.22%.

This combination is not a positive harbinger of things to come.

Instead, it is indicative of a mediocre – at best – hockey team. One that is prone to inconsistency. One that, no matter what you read or hear elsewhere, is not rebounding from their 10-game losing streak to suddenly become a playoff contender again.

I hate to be a Debbie Downer on the day following their longest winning streak of the season, but it’s a reality.

These numbers don’t lie.

  Numbers Don’t Lie: Negative Thoughts Despite a Winning Streak after Flyers 4, Canucks 1 published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv