#now gender identity is another story...................

[warping-realities]

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the  teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation. 

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret. 

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

[bluedalahorse]

I mentioned wanting to write a fic about how things become a little more functional between Simon and August in their 20s, so here’s the scenario I want to write the fic about:

Simon and Wilhelm are close to graduating university. Felice is doing studies abroad in some capacity, and Sara is on the other coast of Sweden. August has just returned from university at Georgetown and is taking up some crown prince duties.

Simon and Wilhelm didn’t go to the same school—they each ended up in a school that fit their study needs—but they’re about 1-1.5 hours apart by train. They try to see one another relatively often, maybe on the weekends. They each have their own set of friends at their own school. In the final semesters of university, Simon gets involved in some particular, career-related project I haven’t decided on yet, which takes up a little more of his time. Their relationship is a little more “long distance” than usual but they still care for each other.

Wille’s having a rough go of it, though. In part he’s struggling academically, in part because he’s feeling the identity pressure of, who is he exactly? He’s done a lot of exploring over the past years, after leaving the crown, because trying to find yourself after a life of being told who you need to be is an ongoing process. He’s still trying to figure things out. There might be some Gender in the mix, too. (I am a they/he Wille truther.) Anyway, some of Wille’s university friends use recreational drugs, never in a way where they’re pressuring him but in a way where he’s around it. And with things being tough, Wille uses a few times in a “just for fun, just this once” sort of way, and then it begins to escalate.

Simon obviously notices that Wille is using, because his life story and what he remembers of life with Micke means he will notice. And immediately he knows he wants to get Wille help, but he’s also terrified of this becoming a situation where he feels like he has to handle everything by himself. He enlists the help of Sara and Felice from afar, he talks to Linda about it, but he realizes he also needs help from someone in Wilhelm’s family. Someone who sort of knows the upper class pressures and the way Kristina and Ludwig can be and all those insider things. It’s the kind of thing he might go to Erik about if Erik were alive, but Erik isn’t alive, and who was Erik anyway?

Well… over the past six or seven years, Wilhelm and August have been doing their best to have some kind of relationship. It starts awkward and hesitant at first, but becomes something over time. They try to check in on the phone once a week, and they try to coordinate their plans going in to family Christmas and such. They know what they are going to say if Kristina tries to pit the two against one another, they know how to cover for the other if one of them just wants to duck out of the fifth course of dinner and just scream. They can talk each other through panic attacks now and grieve together. Maybe Erik was the brother each of them wanted. Maybe they are also becoming the sibling each of them needed, inch by inch.

And Simon knows this, and has been okay with it happening because Wille respects his boundaries around it and has kept his Simon sphere and his August sphere separate so far.

But now Wille is in danger, and Simon knows he wants someone from Wille’s family (the part of Wille’s family he’s not part of, anyway) to help him.

So he calls August at an awkward time of day and says, “Hi. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I need your help.”

And August has noticed the signs of a growing addiction in Wille as well—of course he has, he has watched his father, he has dealt with this himself—and was about a day away from calling Simon in desperation.

“I need your help, too,” August says.

So they end up banding together to help Wille, to make sure Wille feels supported by both of them, to handle as much as possible before Kristina can swoop in (or before they have to call her in, in a careful and coordinated way.)

Simon and August end up talking about their own fathers, and realize they share some experiences, that they can relate to each other’s hypervigilance, even if they came from different social classes. How would things have been different, they wonder, if they had known this from the start?

As Simon opens up to him, August comes to realize the extent to which Simon still lives with the aftermath of the video. August realizes that yes, Simon is getting incredible grades and gaining people’s respect and presenting at music conferences around Europe as an undergraduate, and that still coexists with the pain and the fear. August has always loathed himself for posting the video, but his remorse takes on a new texture, one that is more inclined toward positive action steps than wallowing.

As August opens up to him, Simon comes to realize that August loved Sara, that August still regrets not loving Sara the way she deserved to be loved. Simon has to some extent rationalized August’s falling in love with Sara as fuckboy manipulation tactics—that’s easier to believe—but he notices the similarities between how August loves and how Wilhelm loves, how they both burn so bright for another person that they sometimes can’t see that person clearly. Simon starts to see how August tries to care for other people and make them feel like they belong, even if it doesn’t always look the way he expects.

We were all so young then, Simon and August think.

Wilhelm looks at these two unexpected people who love him and want him to be well (who love them, they tentatively suggest, as August and Simon each hold one of their hands.) Wilhelm is surprised and a little afraid and also a little… hopeful?

We are all so young now, they all think. And yet we are still growing.

And together they build something new.

[stinkrascal]

i have a hard time writing about characters struggling to come to terms with their sexualities bc i never experienced that growing up. i realized i was bisexual when i was around 9 years old because one day late at night when i was spending the night with my cousins, i took their ipad to bed and i googled "anime girl big boobs" and in that moment i remember thinking "yeah i like women now" and its been true ever since then like that was it so thats how i write it for 99% of my ocs now. they just realize and theyre like oh okay thats cool

[vexwerewolf]

Should I read homestuck

tl;dr: no

actual answer: yes, but with some extremely important caveats.

Firstly, because Adobe shitcanned Flash, you can now no longer experience Homestuck in the form it was intended upon release... unless you download the Unofficial Homestuck Collection. This act of unbelievable, nay, saintly generosity by Homestuck's most dedicated fans allows you to experience Homestuck as it was intended - as close as is humanly possible.

"As close as is humanly possible" is the key phrase here. One indelible part of the original Homestuck experience was UPDATE! Homestuck would sometimes go weeks or even months (and later, years) between updates. I wasn't on Tumblr back in the day, but at the peak of Homestuck, even if you knew nothing else about it, you'd know when an update dropped because Tumblr's net traffic would increase something like three to fourfold. People would go apeshit bananas about whatever new revelations the Huss would drop on us.

You also need to realise that Homestuck is a product of its time and while its takes on sexuality and gender identity was pretty progressive (for its time), Huss did use the r-slur a bunch.

While we're on the subject of the author, Andrew Hussie (of whom my current understanding is that they have not changed name but go by they/them nowadays) is, in the most diplomatic possible terms, a very unique person. They are, at times, a visionary storyteller with genuinely fascinating ideas. At other times, they come off as kinda spiteful towards their readers.

Without meaning to dip into spoilers, some story beats seem (in my opinion) almost intentionally calculated to upset, irritate or mock certain fans. It never rises to the sheer vicious contempt that Steven Moffat had towards Sherlock's fanbase, but it does leave a bad taste in my mouth whenever I go back.

Additionally, and this is where a sort of birds-eye-view spoiler is unavoidable, the story suffers from the Game of Thrones pitfall of repeatedly increasing its own complexity by adding new plot threads without resolving existing ones, eventually leading to fatigue on the part of both the reader and the author. The arcs of a lot of characters just straight up get abandoned, while a couple of characters take an unnecessarily large amount of screen time.

There's one character in particular that the author openly states within the narrative (the author exists within the world of the story. It's... a whole thing) that they favour, and whose behaviour the story is warped to accommodate. You'll know exactly who I'm talking about almost the moment they show up.

Another reason I say that it's not really possible to read Homestuck as it was originally intended is because a lot of the shit that happens in it fits into the zeitgeist of the internet at the time any individual update was written. There's a whole section in the late middle third that is inextricably and very specifically tied to how it was like to use Tumblr in 2012.

Additionally, a lot of things have soured with time. There was the whole Hiveswap debacle (it was first announced in 2012. We got the first act in 2017. We got the second act in 2020. We do not even know if the third act will ever come out.). There were the legal threats. There were the Epilogues and Homestuck 2, which were... how do I put this? Not universally liked. There's been nearly a decade of discourse since Homestuck ended, and a lot of things haven't grown better with age.

All of that being said.

You should read it.

I cannot express to you just how big an impact Homestuck has had on internet culture. Even people who claim to hate Homestuck unconsciously use slang that it invented. Its unique ideas on storytelling, character design and narrative chronology have, in both subtle and unsubtle ways, changed the way millennials and Gen Z tell stories.

A lot of people were inspired to tell stories because of Homestuck - one example I always give to Lancer players is that Kill Six Billion Demons started as a comic on the MSPA forums (before it was homestuck.com, it was MS Paint Adventures), so Homestuck is in an indirect but demonstrable way responsible for the existence of Lancer. The sunglasses that Gideon Nav from the Locked Tomb wears have been explicitly stated by Tamsyn Muir to be Dave Strider's. Toby Fox made music for Homestuck, and worked on large parts of Undertale while living in Andrew Hussie's basement.

We also know someone in the Bluey creative team is a Homestuck, because...

There are subtle but direct references in Bojack Horseman, Hazbin Hotel, Steven Universe, Adventure Time - and those are just the ones that it's easy to prove! In a more general sense, I think there's a lot of cartoon series, movies, games, etc. that would either be very different or wouldn't exist if Homestuck hadn't happened.

It's certainly influenced my work.

I think, being very cautious to manage your expectations, that you should read Homestuck. At the very least, a lot of things people say on Tumblr will start to make, if not sense, a different kind of nonsense.

[beemovieerotica]

transphobes & conservatives throw around the "80% of trans children desist" statistic, and it comes from the average of a few quantitative studies that did produce those numbers

and they're relying on people to not have the knowledge to actually dig into these things, analyze the statistics, and question the methodologies in a scientific way

if you're curious at all how to debate these claims when people bring it up, i've summarized a meta-review below:

the biggest, most glaring issue of these studies is sample size and participant selection -- Baer Karrington, MD opened up these papers and found that one of the 4 studies (yes, the 80% number comes from the average of 4 studies, as of 2022) had identified nearly 300 eligible participants and then selected 132 of them, and we don't know why.

it's normal to screen out participants for psych & medical studies for any number of reasons, but you have to be completely transparent about why you're excluding them - and the researchers never told us. we can't know if you deliberately or subconsciously chose people who would confirm your hypothesis, which calls into question the data you collected.

another study was unable to contact 24 of the original participants out of 77, and then automatically classified the uncontactable participants as desisters. this isn't good science. i'm hesitant to even call it science.

the third study didn't list how many participants were included, but the assumption is that it was 10 people.

the fourth study had 25.

and across all of this research into desistance, including dozens of non-quantitative studies, case studies, and interviews, the researchers give us different definitions of desistance

(wouldn't the most important part of a cohesive argument against childhood gender affirming care be a mutually understood definition of desistance)

included under the definitions of desisters are:

adults who decide to stop HRT for any reason. this includes children who underwent the puberty of their choice and then ceased medical intervention in adulthood, without ascertaining if the reason was that they were satisfied with their body post-treatment, or if they had or intended to de-transition back to a body reflecting their birth sex

people who may have initially begun as binary transgender but settled on a non-binary or gender expansive identity. one former trans woman is identified in the research as now going by they/them and ceased HRT, and the studies do not reach a consensus on whether non-binary identities are included in the transgender non-desisting category, or if it is considered desistance

children for whom medical transitioning is stopped at any point - with obvious difficulties around determining whether was initiated by parents or truly the child's wishes

people who never received medical intervention and no longer experience gender dysphoria in adulthood, regardless of whether they have socially transitioned, changed their name, or engaged in non-medical affirmations of identity

children who decide not to medically transition. yes, that's it. they have desisted by virtue of not seeking medical intervention for the way that they conceive of their identity

and the issue with qualitative studies is that doctors are specifically reporting on people who have come to them seeking their help, and while their stories are important, and desistance does happen, you cannot draw actionable statistics from a self-selecting pool of people

the bottom line is that we have a double digit number of subjects across four questionable quantitative studies that gives us the repeatedly quoted 80%, and this is supposed to predict how several million children around the world will operate - and that's not how science works

[nyancrimew]

oo if we’re doing queer confessions i got a bit of a long one

first relationship, classic story of not realizing we were into eachother for the longest time, even after regularly kissing and cuddling for almost a year lol (calling him bf 1). went really well actually after we properly got together

after about a year or so, bf 1’s ex (not on any sort of bad terms INITALLY) (calling him bf 2) who was my best friend asks if we wanted to just be in poly relationship together since we all had confessed to eachother at once point and we say yeah sure we still all like eachother, it took bf 1 a few months to think over first which was fine by all of us, so we just continued all being close friends for a few months till then. few months later, he says yea sure that’d be fine and so we started trying it out since we had all been really happy with eachotehr up to that point

literaly the same exact night that happened, bf 2 changed his attitude towards me completely and despite being very good friends before this and loving eachother he started ignoring me and claiming he just didn’t have energy to do anything ever, while constantly showering bf 1 in overwhelming affection and hundreds of smaller things like that where i’d get left in the dust while he would get mounds of attention. he was just as unnerved by it as i was.

i was a bit dumb and so didn’t really act on this for a while despite realizing immediently it was weird, and after a few months me and bf 1 started talking about it privately and realized he was just flat out lying to both of us and expected us to like. not talk about it?? like super blatant things llike telling me he didn’t value sex in a relationship at all and didn’t want it with me while minutes later telling bf 1 that sexual intimacy is the thing he valued most and wouldn’t want a relationship otherwise

one of the worst thing though (atleast in terms of how much it damaged my understanding and acceptance of myself)) was despite him being nb (he/they) and even experimenting with being a girl for a while he started constantly hanging our own gender identities over our heads and sayin shit like “well i’m gay so if you start identifying as a girl i’m gonna leave” to me when i brought up to him, the first person i talked to it about, that i wanted to be a girl which stunted myself growth by years and similar things to bf 1 who was very openly nb (which, wow i’m relazing as i’m typing this how casually mysoginsitc he was, he made all sorts of “jokes” about how inherently disgusting traditionally feminine bodily features were)

after about a year of this (me and other bf were just too scared to leave, but we definently should of) he actually broke up with me , and tried to speak on behalf of bf 1 claiming they just both wanted me out of the polycule, also just a straight up lie as when i talked to him about it . after talking for a while and asking some mutual friends we figured out he told literally every single person a different, conflicting story and putting the pieces together we came to conclusion that he was just using me as a throwaway tool to get back together with bf 1 to squeeze himself in the relationship, and tried dumping me out so he could be monogamous with him only.

needless to say bf 1 dumped his ass less than a week later after we finally were able to decipher the literally 10 different conflicting stories, and this story actually does have a really happy ending!! me and bf 1 are still besties and kiss a lot while he found another much sweeter and nicer boyfriend, i got another girlfriend with a shared pet kittygirl shortly after that helped me through the whole thing and i’ve never been happier about my body image/self image and gender identity in my life. IM FINALLY A CUTE GIRL WITH A CUTE GIRLFRIEND WE MADE IT NYALL :3!!!

(and as a nice bonus ontop, the only time i hear about him now is from other people realizing how scummy he was and cutting him off, leaving himself to rot in a hole of his own making surrounded by people jus like him. feels great to be away from that whole toxic friendgroup in general. freedom.)

(anyway thanks, “but we stay silly :3” was a quote regularly said to myself during the recovery of all this )

yipppeeee, we really do stay silly!!!

[eternal-echoes]

I will never understand why it's considered transphobic and bigoted to share stories of detransitioners.

They're the ones who went through the so-called "gender-affirming care" and are now suffering the irreversible side effects that have made them medical patients for life.

And one of the reasons why some of them are sharing their stories is because they don't want another kid who is struggling with their gender identity to go through what they did.

They deserve better care.

[within-your-eyes-if]

Within Your Eyes Intro Post

DEMO [Last Updated June 22nd, 2024]

You are a Warden, a monster hunter who has come to the Kingdom of Auris which has become the forefront runner in it’s acceptance of magic and supernatural alike within the West Highlands. But when strange happenstances occur, you are called upon not just because of skill, but also because of your condition. A condition you’ve lied about for last 12 years.

Unearth the secrets that magic holds as a new form is discovered.

Befriend or romance those who attempt to worm through the cracks of the mask you wear. Or will you fight to keep them at arms length?

Regardless of where your journey takes you, your feathered friend will be at your side. As he always has been.

This story will be 18+ for the following reasons:

Explicit and erotic intimate scenes

Death, including of a child

Violence, blood and gore

Thoughts of suicide

Mentions of suicide

Self harm

Explicit language

Mental trauma

Horror elements

Feelings of being watched

NOTE: Your character will be pretending to have a disability (blindness), not because of a disorder but out of self preservation.

This list may be updated.

You are running away from your past. As you take a this new job, you're forced to confront it. What vices do you use to cope? Will you learn to rely on others or will your raven be your only source of comfort? Will you feel guilty for your lies? Yours will be a journey of self-forgiveness, or maybe you'll only fall deeper into despair.

Play as a man, woman, or non-binary. Gay, straight, or bi.

Plenty of customization options from physical appearance to clothes.

Φ Admos de Le Wren ─ Male | Draconian | Second-Born

Admos, the Dragon Lord of Auris, ascended to the throne following a devastating conflict with his father, bypassing his older brother's claim. This decision deepened the rift among his siblings. As he enters his fifth year as sovereign, Admos grapples with guilt and uncertainty about his role in the family's discord. Will you help him find clarity or fuel his doubts?

Φ Lyth/Lyari de Le Wren ─ Gender Selectable | Draconian | Tenth-Born

Ly took on the role of Viceroy/Vicereine in Auris and became their brother Admos's Right Hand, playing a vital part in the kingdom's recovery after a conflict with their father. However, an incident they triggered over a year and a half ago almost led to another war, casting doubt on their suitability for their position and their aid to their brother. Will you help Ly grapple with their past actions and uncertainties about their role as Viceroy/Vicereine, or will their internal conflicts remain unresolved?

Φ Leese/Lea van Laere ─ Gender Selectable | Human | Vampire

Born into nobility, Lee's life as the child of prominent figures in Lenia took an unexpected turn when they were turned into a vampire. Forced to leave their home, Lee now wrestles with their new identity, desperately seeking meaning in their existence and if it's worth maintaining.

Is Lee a monster consumed by instinct, or can you help them reclaim their humanity?

Φ Xiang Xiaowen/Xiaodan ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Xiao, an ambassador dispatched to Auris to aid the Dragon Lord in Council matters, fought hard to secure their role. Serving as an unofficial advisor, they frequently share insights to assist Admos. Yet their unwavering dedication to obtaining this position hints at a deeper motivation. Perhaps they will reveal it to you.

Φ Gabriel Duarte ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Assigned to you as an assistant of sorts, the recently knighted guard is searching for their place within the Order. Perhaps their new mission will set them on a path for glory, or sink them beneath the turmoils it takes to obtain.

Φ Hestia ─ She/They | Elf? | Witch

Even the most kind have their secrets.

Φ ???

Poly Routes: Lyth/Lyari and Gabriel | Leese/Lea and Gabriel | Xiaowen/Xiaodan and Hestia

Love Triangle: Admos and ???

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

FAQ

Romance Information Post

Ko-Fi

Tumblr Asks are disabled for the time being.

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WYE will always be free with chapters released once they are finished.

This is a planned trilogy.

Thank you for reading and for your support! ♥

[feministmetalgreymon]

Trans women and otokonoko characters are not the same thing

Senpai is an otokonoko recently came out and already there is discourse about it. Most of this discourse is based in two common misconceptions. The first misconception is that there are no trans women in anime and manga. And the second is that otokonoko characters exist because Japanese people either can't tell the difference between a cross dresser and a trans woman, or they are hiding trans characters by calling them otokonoko. The reality is more complex.

First what is a otokonoko? Otokonoko is a term used by both trans femmes and cross dressing men to describe a cute feminine amab person. Being a otokonoko and trans isn't mutually exclusive, but neither are they synonymous. In Japan you have quite a few celebrities that identify as otokonoko.

On the left is Michelle a trans woman otokonoko and on the right is Kaoru Oshima a cis gender male otokonoko. The term otokonoko does not refer to someone's gender but their presentation. Otokonoko like to present as cute and feminine regardless of whether they identify as men, women, or nonbinary.

In the context of manga both trans women and cross dressing male characters appear. And unfortunately there has been tons of confusion over which characters are meant to be trans women and which ones are meant to be crossdressing men.

So in this post I am going to explain the differences in how they are portrayed in anime and manga.

First we have to take into consideration target audience. Manga is divided based on age and gender of the intended audience.

These are romance manga aimed at a adult female audience. The one on the left is about a trans woman. While the one on the right features a cross dressing man as a love interest.

The first and most obvious difference is the story about a trans woman features her as the protagonist. These are both het josei romance. And within the context of het josei romance female protagonists are often written as a audience surrogate for women readers. So naturally when depicting a romance about a trans woman the story is written from her perspective as a woman. Otokonoko and other cross dressing characters on the other hand or more likely to be depicted as a romantic interest.

Another way they are differentiated is in how they are drawn. Adult trans women are depicted with obvious signs of using hrt. The woman on the left has breasts while the cross dresser does not. In Japan up until recently medical transition was necessary in order to change the gender on someones id or birth certificate. This is no longer the case. But regardless there is a strong association between being trans and medical transitioning in Japan.

Manga about trans people also delve deeply into the issues and experiences real life trans people might face. There trans identity isn't a mere superficial gimmick for the story but informs the narrative.

Some manga depict both trans women and otokonoko/crossdressers in the same story. In these works the differences between trans characters and cross dressing characters is even more obvious.

This image provides a helpful explanation on how manga differentiates cross dressing characters from trans characters.

So now let's talk about Senpai is an otokonoko.

Now I have already explained how manga portrays cross dressers in comparison to trans people. So lets ask the question, is Makato trans or a cross dresser. Well the manga tells us.

Makato is clearly written as a boy that likes cute things. His cross dressing isn't about gender so much as it's about his love for cuteness.

Unlike trans characters, cross dressing characters motivations for cross dressing aren't all that deep, it's a hobby or a aesthetic for them. They aren't motivated by a internal sense of gender. On the other hand trans character motivations for transitioning are deeply connected to their sense of self and who they are.

Hopefully this will help fans looking for manga featuring trans or otokonoko/crossdressing characters. In the world of manga trans and otokonoko characters are not portrayed as interchangeable rather. They written with clear and distinct differences in how they look, think and behave.

[drdemonprince]

By now, a majority of Autism researchers and clinicians are aware that the existing assessments for Autism are profoundly flawed. 

They know the standard evaluation of Autism is sexist, with assessors excluding women for reasons like wearing makeup, having a boyfriend, being superficially polite, or not being fixated on suitably ‘masculine’ topics like ancient Roman history or barometric pressure. 

They know Autism evaluations are racist, deeming Black Autistics “oppositionally defiant” or even “borderline” rather than acknowledging any social alienation or sensory pain they’re experiencing, and believing they must be overstating the difficulty they face in moving through the world.

And they certainly know that conventional Autism measures weren’t designed with adult Autistics in mind. Many of us are still asked to make up stories based on paintings of frogs in a toddler’s picture book, when we sit down for assessments at age 20, or 30, or 45 — because all the evaluation methods were written for young kids. 

The data has already proven the far-reaching consequences of using such shoddy measures of Autism. People of color, gender minorities, older adults, and women are diagnosed at later ages, and also go undiagnosed at massive rates. 

A growing population of scientists are admittedly interested in fostering a new literature of what they call “patient-driven” Autism research, but they never stop thinking of us as mere patients, the passive receivers of care rather than the leaders of communities and political movements who are the ought to be the primary authors of the studies about us, and the sole determinants of what our desired outcomes should be. Even when they observe that their work could benefit from a greater Autistic perspective, researchers do so from closed rooms, filled with other professionals who are largely not Autistic, wondering amongst themselves what it is that we want instead of learning to quiet their voices and follow our lead. 

Though many basically well-intentioned Autism researchers believe that Autism assessments need reform, what neurodiversity really needs is to abandon the diagnostic process altogether. If Autism is a benign, neutral, naturally occurring form of human difference that requires acceptance rather than a cure, then there’s no need to diagnose it as if it were a sickness. And if hundreds of thousands of Autistic women, people of color, queer people, and older people have been able to give a voice to ourselves and find one another without having ever been given a label by a professional, then improved professional labeling is not what we need. 

Autistic self-realization is the future of Autism assessment. We hold the collective wisdom, organizing ability, insight, and political power to define who we are. No authority figure should have to sign off on our identities. 

Because psychiatrists fail to diagnose such a large percentage of the Autistic population, many Autism researchers now accept self-identified Autistic adults within their subject pool. Within the peer-reviewed journal Autism in Adulthood, self-realized Autistics often make up the bulk of the participant sample, and they have repeatedly been found to be indistinguishable from their formally diagnosed peers. 

A growing body of research now also considers the presence of Autism-spectrum traits as qualifying for inclusion in many Autism studies. The data makes it quite obvious that Autistic people exist within all human groups, spread all throughout the world, and that a great many people have experiences in common with us who have not been formally diagnosed. This itself reveals that a formal diagnosis is hardly necessary, and that a psychiatric paradigm of accepting self-identification is inevitable. The researchers are increasingly already doing it.

You can read the full essay for free (or have it narrated to you!) at this link.

[enzstr]

Only You || K. Bakugo

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

synopsis: starz26708 and Dino.tnt609, two students who first met in an online chatroom. A friendship had flourished between them. With the strong need to meet each other, 6aku.tnt609 slowly gains curiosity regarding the other's identity, which sparked the desire to meet her within him. What could possibly go wrong?

💭: btw, this is inspired from the Chad Michael Murray and Hilary Duff movie A Cinderella's Story!!

words: 1.8k

Chapter 1: Morning and Night.

Dino.tnt609: “I need to know who you are?”

Dino.tnt609: “I can’t take my mind off you.”

Dino.tnt609: “Please tell me who you are?”

starz26708: “Soon, I promise.”

Reader’s POV:

It all started with a chatroom, where two people have the same interest, same mindset, basically the same person but opposite genders. That’s when our friendship started. I learnt to know everything about him but his name and how he looks, and honestly that never bothered me. I was really ecstatic to text with a person who I don’t really know, yet at the same time I knew everything about him. 

Both of us would text each other for hours without stopping, and everytime we did, I always had a smile plastered to my face. Those words he used were what caught my attention. The way he uses words was exceptionally poetic to me and I never want him to stop. Many times I have doubted that he’s real and could be just some dumb person fooling around, however my gut didn’t think so. 

starz26708: “We’ve been texting for hours and it’s getting so late!”

Dino.tnt609: “And we can still keep going, no?”

I laughed at his reply to my message and typed out my last reply before heading to bed.

starz26708: “Very funny. I need to head to sleep now.”

starz26708: “Goodnight, Dino.”

After I sent that text, my body went limp into my bed and slept soundly with the desire to meet this “Dino” guy.

On the following day, the morning sun bathed the world in a brilliant golden hue, its gentle touch bringing a sense of peace and clarity, accompanied by the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves, the only sounds in the peaceful summer morning.

As the engine’s soft whir filled the air, the sun’s rays streamed through the glass window. The radio played a familiar tune in the car, and me and my best friend, Cece, chatted excitedly about the new hit song that was gaining traction in newspaper articles, laughter breaking the silence as the car drove towards the school.

As I was about to park your car into the perfect spot in the near-empty parking lot, another vehicle suddenly cut into the space just before me, causing me to slam on the brakes in surprise. Frustration washed over me and I let out a frustrated sigh, realising I would have to find another spot now.

“Damn, why didn’t they see we were about to park there? I’m about to throw hands man, I swear to god!”

“They’re not bad! ‘M pretty sure they never saw us and it’s fine, I’ll find a new parking spot!” I tried to reassure my best friend who was sitting in the passenger seat with a scowl on her face. 

At that moment, my eyes narrowed in annoyance as the man I strongly disliked emerged from his vehicle, Bakugo Katsuki. I couldn't help but scoff at his audacity as he slammed the car door shut. His presence instantly annoyed me, and my gaze lingered on him with a mixture of annoyance and disdain as he casually strolled towards the building with his friends. Why do I dislike him? My dislike for him began to build from the moment I met him. His cocky attitude and arrogant demeanour immediately rubbed me the wrong way, and his tendency to constantly boast about himself only got me even more frustrated. He often looked down on others and had a habit of interrupting conversations, which only added to my growing dislike of him.

Our gazes met, but instead of the usual welcoming eye contact, a wave of tension filled the air. The way our eyes locked in a stern and serious manner reflected the dislike and annoyance we felt towards each other. His friend group that included Denki, Mina, Kirishima and Sero looked towards my face then at his, as if we’re having a staring competition. 

His friends pulled him away and bowed in an apologetic manner as Cece did the same. Soon after they were gone, I regained my consciousness and drove to an empty parking lot without anyone disturbing me, until Cece had a confused look all over her face. We both hurriedly ran into the school to prevent being late, and gladly we weren’t. The school hallways were filled with shouts and loud chattering of students, and students rushing in all places to reach their classes on time. The hallways were packed with people, the cramped space making it harder to find your classes. The air was filled with the sound of voices and footsteps, as students chattered excitedly or hurried along to their classrooms. Unfortunately that was where we both had to separate and head to our own classes. Of course you find Bakugo in the same class as you are in this year, again. Every year bad luck would always be with you when it comes to matters like this, but you tried not to show any reaction and handled it professionally.

Bakugo’s POV:

My attention wavered between the teacher's lecture and the thoughts swirling in my mind. I couldn't help but think about the girl I’ve always been texting, someone I had only known through a computer screen, and I don’t even know who her identity is. Our conversations replayed in my head, and I longed to know more about her in person. My gaze occasionally darted to my phone, checking for any new messages, but the lack of communication only seemed to strengthen my growing feelings for her.

Hell, it is strange that I feel like this towards someone whom I’ve never met face to face, but with her, it’s like I can be myself. Not that grumpy and serious demeanour, but my authentic self. Despite our connection being online, I found a sense of comfort with her. I found myself opening up to her, sharing my true thoughts and feelings without the fear of judgement or rejection. Something about connecting with her through the computer screen allowed me to be my authentic self, and I valued the genuine connection we had built despite the distance between us.

The sudden loud ring of the school bell startled me, causing my head to jolt up as the realization that school had ended hit me. The classroom erupted with the sounds of shuffling desks and bags being packed, signalling freedom that came with the end of the school day.

With a subtle sense of anticipation, I instinctively grabbed my phone from my pocket and checked for any new messages or notifications. My fingers swiped across the screen as I opened my messaging app, eager to see if she had reached out to me in the time I had been in class.

Dino.tnt609: “Where have you been? We haven’t talked in ages.”

Barely five minutes had passed when my phone vibrated, signalling a new message notification. I quickly checked the screen and saw that she had responded, a wave of anticipation and excitement washing over me as I read her reply.

starz26708: Gee you missed me that much?

starz26708: I just finished school. 

Dino.tnt609: I  can’t stop thinking about you.

Dino.tnt609: What’s on your mind right now?

starz26708: You first.

Dino.tnt609: Well I’m thinking that Mr. Aizawa would 100% be a caterpillar.

I couldn't help but turn my head and look around, noticing the sea of students in the hallway, all engrossed in their own little worlds as they tapped away at their phones, engaging in conversations or scrolling through social media. The sound of keyboards clicking and the occasional laugh or gasp filled the air, she could be anywhere.

starz26708: LOL

starz26708: I can actually see that!

Dino.tnt609: Oh, I want to hear your laugh.

Dino.tnt609: When can we finally meet?

starz26708: Soon!

I was walking down the hallway, reading through the last text she sent to me on my phone and completely engrossed in my screen, when I suddenly felt a hard bump. Looking up, I found myself face to face with her, the girl I had a strained relationship with, y/n. Our eyes met, and almost instinctively, my expression twisted into a scowl, mirroring the mutual dislike we held for each other. I couldn't help but feel frustrated that we kept running into each other in this annoying and seemingly endless way.

“Watch where you’re going.” I could hear the groan in her tone after she replied, seemingly rolling her eyes at me too.

“Your fault for not looking.”

After our brief and tense exchange, I felt a sense of irritation and frustration wash over me, and I know she did too. We both groaned in annoyance and hurried past each other, eager to put some distance between us and forget about the unpleasant interaction we just had.

Third person’s POV:

Y/n was in a busy computer room, surrounded by a sea of students working on their respective screens. Despite the crowded space, she began typing messages to her online friend, Kat.tnt609,  trying to maintain a casual air while sitting amongst the other students. 

starz26708: Ever feel like you don’t belong?

Dino.tnt609: Absolutely.

Dino.tnt609: I can be surrounded by a sea of people and still feel all alone.

Dino.tnt609: Then I think of you.

Her face immediately lit up as she read the text, a slow and genuine smile spreading across her features, transforming her expression from one of neutrality to one of pleasant surprise and happiness.

starz26708: Hey Dino, do you think we’ve ever met?

Dino.tnt609: I don’t know.

Dino.tnt609: Our school has over 660 students.

She was busy typing a message to him on the school computer, completely unaware that the person on the other side of the screen was someone sitting in the very same room with her. Little did she know, the person she was communicating with was actually the opposite of what she had envisioned, right there under her nose, engaging in a secret yet intriguing exchange of words.

What started as an innocent text conversation between the two rapidly turned into a marathon chat session, with each message leading to another, until the clock hit 2 and they finally realized just how much time had passed in their conversation.

starz26708: It’s 2:00 a.m.

starz26708: We’ve been at this for 4 hours

Dino.tnt609: Hm, then I think we just broke our record.

starz26708: We should head to sleep. 

starz26708: Sweet dreams.

Dino.tnt609: Wait.

Dino.tnt609: My heart swells with admiration I can hardly keep. 

Dino.tnt609: For in your peaceful, soft expression,

Dino.tnt609: I see the best of what life has to offer, and no contradiction.

Dino.tnt609: For when you sleep, you are at your most beautiful,

Dino.tnt609: Like a precious gem, shining in the soft light of the night.

starz26708: New verse? Impressive.

starz26708: I like it.

Dino.tnt609: Please meet me at the school’s party.

Dino.tnt609: I’ll be waiting for you at 11:00 in the middle of the dance floor.

Dino.tnt609: Sweet dreams.

masterlist next >

enzstr © 2024. please don't steal, modify or copy my writing on any other platforms!

[genericpuff]

What are your thoughts on the whole Hestia x Athena thing in LO? Personally it always infuriated me with how hypocritical it was of them to date each other despite them both being members of/Hestia being in charge of TGOEM. It especially annoyed me how Hestia constantly told Persephone that as a TGOEM member she can't date anyone but later saying that her relationship with Athena doesn't count. I give some credit to Artmeis for calling them out when finding out, but it wasn't enough

The hypocrisy is one thing but it at least could have been expanded on as a plot point (Hestia didn't even have the spine to return the coat and apologize, Artemis had to do it ???), but what REALLY ticks me off is that Rachel clearly tried to include queer rep through Hestia and Athena who are two traditionally aro/ace goddesses. So really all she did was erase their original queer identities, both of which are still massively misunderstood and argued over whether or not they're "real". And shit, we even see that in her old asks that lesbian sex "doesn't count" and that asexuality is somehow just a sliding scale / stepping stone towards "becoming" another sexuality (in this case, gay).

Like... you can be asexual and also still be romantically attracted to the same sex, "becoming gay" doesn't automatically erase someone's asexuality. Artemis can be gay and aroace. Lesbian sex is still sex and isn't a "loophole" to retaining one's virginity. To be fair, the whole "vestal virgins are flaming lesbians because you can be a virgin and still have hot lady sex" thing came from an anon, but like... she doesn't do anything to challenge that idea in LO either, if anything it's reinforced through Athena and Hestia using their relationship as a "loophole" within TGOEM (and the narrative never actually stops to analyze that.)

And then the cherry on top is Rachel removing the sexualities - sometimes even entire character identities - from canonically or commonly-accepted queer gods and giving them to others. Crocus is no longer a lover of Hermes, but a one-dimensional nymph who was killed as a plot device and then never spoken of again. Ampelos is no longer a satyr loved by Dionysus, his name now belongs to Psyche, a heterocis black woman who doesn't know how to read and has been basically forced into slavery. All of Aphrodite's children who ranged in gender and sexual identities are now replaced with one-dimensional cutout characters with no specific labels or characterizations beyond the translations of their names. Eros has been reduced to the "gay best friend" whose first introduction into the story is inebriating a 19 year old girl with the intent of dumping her in an older man's car. Apollo has been turned into a generic big bad whose only goal is getting his hands on Persephone and nothing else, with zero nuance to his actual characterization or plot arc, he's just "the rapist" who conveniently becomes a pawn in some bigger nefarious plan that makes zero sense. Dionysus and Achilles have both been turned into babies.

If Rachel wanted queer rep, she was already in the right place. The entire Pantheon was her oyster. But instead she managed to go the complete opposite with it and not only erase the queer identities of Greek gods in LO, but went the extra mile of egregiousness by replacing those queer gods with token-queer stereotypes and one-dimensional characters who are just there to say they're gay for the brownie points before being shoved back into the closet. They're out, but they're still not seen.

[drchucktingle]

the very important follow up question

some buds online have questions about non-dysphoric trans way so i will talk a bit to help understand. first question is 'do you believe gender of your soul (or whatever you want to call it maybe identity maybe mind) matches gender of your body'. that is BIG STEP, for chuck i say 'no'

but there is another question that will come after that one. question of ‘ but do you care?’ for many there is a burning desire and craving and need to connect their soul to body in a way that feels CORRECT AND GOOD. however chucks answer is ‘actually i do not care at all’

THESE STORIES OF DISCONNECTION ARE IMPORTANT but they are not EVERY STORY. technically yes chucks body and soul are mismatched but guess what, i dont even think about. it is a TECHNICAL truth in same way as the color of my eyes. now sometimes buds who feel dysphoria will say…

‘well now buckaroo, this sounds like MY trot in early days just GIVE THEM TIME to understand themselves they are on their way to a change and they WILL care’. but i would caution against this buckaroos. i understand this is a way of empathy and love but there are problems here

in similar way of bisexual community, i am glad we have gotten to the point of understanding that bisexuals are NOT just gay buckaroos who havent figured it out yet (said many times in past) by same token, not all nondysphoric trans buds are really dysphoric and dont know yet

POINT IS we are all trotting along on our OWN path. there are things that make buckaroos on this timeline SO SIMILAR and other things that make us SO DIFFERENT but these stories are ALL important and all deserve to be told. and one of the best ways to prove love is to TELL YOURS

[seafoamaphrodite]

since it’s pride month, let’s talk about some queer Hellenic history and myths 🏳️‍🌈 ☀️ 🕊️

Apollo has been recorded to have several male lovers throughout greek mythos, including the Spartan prince Hyacinthus and the shepherd Branchus

“Shall I sing about you as a wooer, in loving liaisons,/how you would go forth courting the daughter of Azan along with/ godlike Ischys, the well horsed son of Elátios…”

— Homeric Hymn to Apollo line 205-210 tr. Rodney Merrill

Dionysus was said to have many male lovers, including his favorite Ampelos and the shepherd Polymnus (also known as Prosymnus)

“Beardless Ampelos, they say, a Nympha's and a Satyrus' (Satyr's) son, was loved by [Dionysos] on Ismarian hills… He trusted him with a vine hanging from the leaves of an elm; it is now named for the boy. The reckless youth fell picking gaudy grapes on a branch. [Dionysos] lifted the lost boy to the stars."

— Ovid’s Fasti 3.407 tr. Anthony Boyle

Iphis was born female, but raised as a male for their own safety. this leaves some question as to their “gender identity”, in modern terms, but they are undoubtedly queer. Iphis fell in love with the beautiful woman Ianthe, and prayed to be made a man so they could marry. their wish was granted by Isis, Hera, or Aphrodite (epithets and regional mythologies differ)

“The ram inflames the ewe, and every doe follows a chosen stag; so also birds are mated, and in all the animal world no female ever feels love passion for another female—why is it in me?"

— Ovid’s Metamorphoses, section 9

Hermaphroditus was said to be the son of Hermes and Aphrodite. Hermaphroditus is, by modern terms, intersex. they have male genitalia with female breasts, and their name is the origin of the word “hermaphrodite”. “Aphroditus” is also used as an epithet of Aphrodite, representative of androgyny and gender fluidity

please keep in mind that our perception of gender and sexuality differs greatly from that of the ancient greco-romans. and as always, myths and sources differ! these were just a few interesting stories i found and wanted to share for pride month! 🩷

happy pride, everyone 💌🦢

[powerfulblob]

puts on my clown hat

behold, as requested: The Trans Franky Essay. Like most of this is still jot notes and I wrote this when half-asleep so like. I don’t know

Please don’t shoot me.

Section 0: Most importantly...

Due to the Somerton stuff, I really am trying my best not to plagarize.

Unlike TikTok user @theyboss._.franky, I’m not planning to talk about if he’s trans based on physical features, personality, etc.

I’m here to talk about the narrative in particular, and allegory.

also kudos to @punkitt-is-here

[ID: A screenshot of an X post by @punkittdev that reads “this is also partially why i am a franky one piece trans man truther” It features Franky, a cyborg with a shirt that reads “I HRT”.with a sun between the words “I” and “HRT” Franky is a tall man with tan skin and blue hair, and has part of his arms replaced with blue metal with a star at the end. end ID]

Section 1: Cyborgs are inherently trans

I’m literally just going to link The transgender cyborg: an inexhaustive primer because the article does a much better job than I can, but to summarize:

Trans people are not only cyborg-adjacent because of the transphobes who call us that, but primarily because we are used in the same way cyborgs are in text: As a talking point, a disruptive metaphor about humanity as a whole.

That brings us onto the next place...

Section 2: Cyborgs are extra trans in this case.

The reason why I latched onto this in the first place is this character’s backstory.

Franky, who eventually becomes the Straw Hat’s shipwright, starts as a joke character in the Water Seven Arc.

He’s a 40-ish year old man who runs around in a speedo and shoots lasers at people, making a living off of dismantling ships.

However, as more information is revealed, the story starts to humanize and give him a backstory.

quotes from Chapter 358:

“My body got wrecked and parts of it weren’t working anymore... So I transformed myself using scrap metal. It’s how I survived!” 

“Waste wood, scrap iron... I fit right in. First I’ve got to... ... Do something about this useless body of mine!” 

What do these have in common? Retrofitting the self, and rebuilding the body. I think there’s something trans there but IDK

Deadnames (partially joking here): As said by another character “Cutty Flam of Tom’s Workers is dead. As long as you don’t use that name... ... There’s nothing connecting us”  (for context, Franky was changing his name to evade government capture, but shhh let’s just pretend we’re talking about deadnames)

Actual Section 2: The Boats are trans now

speaking of the self as a construct...

I think it would be giving Oda too much credit for doing this on purpose.

But, he also accidentally created one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard for gender identity and against gender essentialism:

And of course, it has to be boats.

chapter 353: “Franky, there’s no such thing as blueprints for a pirate ship!! If the sailors who board that ship run up a skull-and-crossbones, then it’s a pirate ship. If they fly a seagull flag, it’s a navy ship. Build whatever you want to build, Franky.”

Like again: It’s the idea that there’s no instructions for a person, it’s what you decide to create out of oneself?

Alright. So, in terms of most manga, he actually does a rather good job. One Piece is primarily a series about misfits and outcasts: The series is goofy and over-the-top as a rule. So, one could argue the extreme way in which he portrays trans people up until the Wano arc is just a part of the series.

yeah idk

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Brother's best friend

Summary: You go to spend the summer at your grandparents, along with your family and the Wayne's. Will something rise between you and Damian?

Warnings: Reader is half kryptonian, meaning they can hear heartbeats.

Gender Neutral

Series Masterlist

~☆~

It was quiet. There was no sound of cars in a busy street, voices of pedestrians that became too much as they all overlapped, no musty smell of used up air. It was quiet, only the sound of the TV, animals outside, and the heartbeats of your loved ones could he heard.

Your grandparent's farm was your escape. It was where you could go when you wanted to get away from the city that you and your family lived in. Apparently, everyone agreed, because now you're spending the summer on the farm, along with your mother, father, and brothers.

Your mother was helping your grandmother clean up after breakfast. Your father was helping your grandfather with the animals, you and Jon were watching a cartoon, and Kon was still sleeping.

Despite your grandparents being two lonely farmers, more people were still going to be joining you. Everyone had decided that it would be nice to invite Bruce Wayne and his children to join in on your short vacation. You had barely gotten Jon to sleep the night he found out that they said yes, he was far too excited about what was to come. Eventually, your mother had to come in and scold him for still being up.

If you listened close enough, you could hear their plane, and if you listened even closer, you could hear their hearts and words. Which Jon had been doing the entire time he had been awake, anxiously waiting for his best friend and his family to arrive, your father and Kon doing the same. Was it a little weird that Clark, Kon, and Jon were all best friends with members of the Wayne family? Yeah, a little bit. But did you care? No.

Jon had been going on for years now about his best friend, Damian Wayne. Apparently, the two of them met due to being Robin and Superboy. Jon had told you about the many adventures the two of them had, the times they would hang out at Wayne Manor, and how much he adored Damian. You've heard similar stories about Bruce, and Tim aswell, your father and Kon sharing the same excitement as Jon over their best-friends.

Almost all of the Wayne family has heard about you, too, but not as much as Damian has. Jon is always talking about his older sibling, born just two years before himself, and a year after Damian. Jon is always talking about the things the two of you have done, what you like, any new changes you've made to your appearance. To some extent, Damian feels as if he already knows you. You also feel the same.

"I can't wait for you to meet him." Jon excitedly tells you, taking his eyes away from the small TV and looking at you. You turn to meet his gaze and offer a small smile, hoping it will get him to stop gushing about this family you've never met. Maybe you're excited about meeting a certain older brother, one that your family said came back from the dead. It's not that you don't want to meet them, it's just that you don't want to spend your summer with some strangers.

~☆~

It was about lunchtime when you could hear the plane getting closer to the farm, your family raced outside to greet their friends.

A grown man was the first to jump out of the plane, his hair wavy and black, eyes blue and skin tan. He had one of those Hollywood smiles that instantly got you plastered on a magazine. He ran up to your father and welcomed him into an embrace. He was far too young to be Bruce Wayne, but also too old to be Damian.

Another boy hopped out and jogged over to Kon. Obviously, that's Tim. His pale skin and shaggy black hair gave it away.

Who you assume was Bruce emerged next, the wrinkle between his eyebrows and his strong physique being a sign. You could hear your father whisper his name as he went up to hug the man.

An even younger boy walked out, instantly earning a yell from Jon. He looked almost identical to Bruce. Only his skin was tan, and his nose was stronger. His eyes were green, a strong contrast from the three blue-eyed men that he had traveled with. His hair was black and clean cut, styled upwards. He was gorgeous. His description could only mean that he was the one and only Damian.

Another man walked into the light. He was tall and muscular. His wavy hair was black with a stripe of white and out of his face. He was wearing sunglasses, blocking his eyes from your view. Even from the distance, you could see the scars that adorned the side of his face. Jason Todd.

You watched as your family exchanged their hellos, obviously excited about the entire situation. Just as you were about to turn and go back inside, you heard your father introducing your grandparents. That could only mean that you were next.

His arms gestured around your family before finally landing on you, "And that's, Y/N." He spoke.

The first man(whom you overheard the name of) started walking towards you, his flashy smile on display.

"Hi, I'm Dick!" He introduced himself, offering you a handshake. After you reciprocated the gesture, he put his arm over your shoulders, holding you to his side. His hand rose up to point at the other people he arrived with. "That's Bruce," he stated, pointing at the man next to your father. "That's Jason," His finger was now pointed at the man with the white streak in his hair, "Tim" was all he said as he gestured to the boy conversing with Kon. "And that's Damian." He said, pointing at the boy that was being bombarded with questions by Jon. To your surprise, he was staring right at you. His gaze was sharp and felt like he was seeing right through you.

Your eye contact was interrupted as your grandmother came rushing past you with a pitcher of tea and some cups.

~☆~

New series alert!!!

Update's will be slow.