#sexism and ways to combat it

[uncanny-tranny]

The thing that sucks about misogyny is that it's not just a problem for one group of people or one gender group. If you want to combat bigotries, you (impersonal) have to not come at it from the angle of bigotry as an identity you have, but as a set of beliefs and actions. To be a misogynist isn't an identity like being gay or a similarly deep and personal identity. A misogynist is somebody who believes in and acts upon misogynistic ideas, myths, or any other such thing.

This goes for pretty much any bigotry, and the idea of bigotry as identity does us all a disservice, especially if you turn the bigotry into essentialism. When you essentialize bigotry in a certain group of people, you empower people to keep said bigotry unchecked and uninterrogated. That does everyone a disservice.

[cartoonrival]

i think its neato that ino's mind transfer is best used in tandem with shikamaru's shadow possession because i love teamwork and joint attacks but its annoying that it means ino can't really attack without a partner. her abilities are cool they're just all support stuff, which isnt bad on its own its just bad because why women always

[afterthelambs]

.

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[zukkacore]

I feel like there’s a lot of lip service in NATLA paid to the idea that the NATLA versions of the female characters are more emancipated in a way that actively makes their characterization and the worldbuilding more confusing. For some reason the NWT is sexist in one very specific way (women can’t do combat) but all the ways the NWT customs are stifling & patriarchal to Yue in particular don’t exist anymore b/c they want to be explicitly clear that Yue does in fact have agency in this version! The characterization of NWT culture was very confusing, as was Yue’s free spirit thing. The idea that Yue has “always done what she wanted” is so fucking busted b/c it complete robs her of her arc & comes into contradiction with the core value at Yue’s whole personality which is duty. If she was going to do what she wanted the whole time, what was the point of her time w Sokka?

And Yue physically preventing Sokka from stopping her weakens the scene. Yes, the emphasis is placed on Yue’s choice but it robs Sokka of his autonomy & undermines the strength of their relationship. When Yue freezes him, the subtext of that choice is that she doesn’t trust him nor does she see him as the kind of person who respects her decisions. Yes, OG Sokka protested, he loved her, and he genuinely internalized his duty to protect her, but if he truly prioritized his duty over her personhood, he definitely could have done a lot more to stop her. But when Yue lets go of his hand, he lets her. I think that’s a much more powerful choice & a much clearer display of their relationship.

For some reason, the decision was made to remove the unlearning sexism arc from new Sokka & the defense was that stuff was “iffy and outdated” but it’s like. The original Sokka went through something called a character arc. & even after Kyoshi Island, his baggage about being a warrior is undoubtedly tied into his relationship with patriarchy, no doubt, but that Sokka learned a lot & that’s part of why Yue likes him. The original Sokka would not have needed to be restrained, nor would the original Yue have ever felt compelled to do so. As much as Sokka blames himself for what happened, he respected Yue. And her sacrifice deserves more respect than this lip service girlboss moment. It’s both brave AND tragic. Yue’s sacrifice is multifaceted in that it’s both the ultimate fulfillment to her duty to others but also the ultimate and final expression of autonomy. And that is why it rules

[shadowqueenjude]

Does anyone else find the Night Court sooooo boring? Like, there's nothing interesting there, no courtly dynamics or anything, just some sexist Illyrians and sexist people in the Court of Nightmares as well, and the whole book is Rhysand throwing his weight around WHEN he feels like it but not doing shit about genuinely important issues (like sexism). Rhysand is smart supposedly, but I've never actually seen him use TACT in this series. He's so powerful that he doesn't need to or whatever. Blah blah blah, Night Court is the biggest and the baddest. But the Autumn Court... Cutthroat, beautiful. It has sons competing for power from an early age, through combat and courtly wiles. Only the strong survive. It produced a Lucien and an Eris, and their complicated brotherly relationship. You have a paranoid, abusive leader. You have the whole LoA + Helion affair, a love child. The man who abandoned his heritage to play courtier to another High Lord. Who is friends with two humans, one who is tied to an evil god. You have Eris, playing the perfect prodigal son while planning a coup right under his father's nose. Both are potential High Lords. You have Gwyn, a part water-nymph having Autumn heritage; we could explore how mixed High Fae are treated as well. Also, I want to know more about how Lucien learned to catch fish with his BARE HANDS??? Finish the line: Autumn court males have fire in their veins and... The way I'd read an entire series on the Autumn Court 😩😩😩😩😩

[narwal-ed-in]

ARMY GLITTERATI - (Band of Brothers x Bimbo!Reader)

✨glitterati✨- /ˌɡlɪt̬.əˈrɑː.t̬i/ - 1940's slang for famous people, glamorous people, in the spotlight.

Summary: “You want to become a combat medic for the 101st?” “What, like it's hard?”

Warning: Period typical sexism, Fem reader, she/her pronouns, slight body shaming (not directed at reader). NO BETA READ. I WROTE THIS JUST NOW SO PLEASE DON'T EXPECT MUCH.

No disrespect to the real veterans of WW2, all my BoB fanfics are based on depictions by actors in the miniseries.

Borders by @plutism

BEFORE TACCOA

The war is raging and everyone is doing their part to help the men on the front.

For you, that mostly meant trying to look your best at all times, no matter how inconvenient the situation.

"Looking good is a ginormous part of the war effort, it's good for boosting troop morale. I saw it on a poster at the teaching hospital" You reasoned with your father after he complained about you buying another pair of shoes and some expensive vanishing creams.

"Darling, I think they meant that we should all keep our appearances up, not buy out our local department stores"

"Oh my god daddy, you're suffocating me! I'm just doing my part by looking nice..." you glare at your father in his work clothes and eye him with a grimace "...and clearly you're not"

When you get a telegram informing you that you've been selected to participate in a program that aims to send female medics into combat you jump on it.

This is going to be so much fun.

"I'm going to be the talk of the town when everyone finds out. Not even Reverend Smiths boring old story about dying for ten minutes in a car crash and seeing Jesus will be able to outdo this!"

Your supervisors at the hospital are shocked that you've been chosen, seeing as you're not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

You had once walked out of an operation because it was bloody and you were wearing white (all the nurse uniforms are white).

You hoped you wouldn't be assigned to the army or the airforce.

The army is too basic, and if you were stuck on an airbase somewhere then nobody would be able to see how fab you always were.

The navy was your goal, their uniforms were sooo cute, you were just dreaming of all the ways you could style it.

It's just your luck when you get assigned to airborne.

"THIS BLOWS! I'm in the two most unglamorous branches at the same time"

After your initial breakdown you realized it wasn't that bad. If you were jumping out of planes it just meant that your hotness would have a bigger audience since it would literally be raining down from the sky.

"When the Germans see all this falling from the sky, they're going to flip their friggin wigs! AHHHH"

CONNECTING WITH EASY

You're assigned to Easy company and meet the men a few months into their training at Camp Toccoa.

You show up randomly in the middle of the day.

Although the men had been told a woman would be joining them and they had been expecting you, they hadn't been expecting YOU.

You were a ditzy thing and looked like you’d jumped out of one of their pin up postcards. The brass surely couldn't expect them to put their lives in your hands.

"I'm sooo happy to meet everyone. You know, the other girls in the program are such massive liars, they said airborne was where all the uggos went, but that's so not true. After all, I'm here"

You always woke up an hour earlier than the rest of Easy so you would have time to put your face on.

It was one of your tenets to never be seen by anyone outside of family without makeup on, or with your curlers in.

Malarkey, Skip, Penkala, Shifty, Bull, Christenson, Lip and Winters had all been kind to you from the beginning, expecting nothing in return.

But some of the guys had other ideas.

George was one of the men that befriended you initially. And although he did have the ulterior motive of getting it on with you, he eventually stuck around because he actually liked you.

You guys have great play-flirting banter and you're both very entertaining people to be around, especially when you're drunk.

On the rare nights anyone gets passes they want to be around you and George because they know that's where the funs at.

You get sloppy drunk with George, flirt with men from Easy and other companies all night, then end up with your shoes off at 3am, sitting on the curb and crying about one of your ex boyfriends.

Perconte was one of your original detractors but when you found yourselves making the same brain dead comments about obvious things, you both decided to put your two half braincells together to form the singular braincell you share between yourselves.

Talbert was trying to get into your pants instantly. Nobody was surprised.

But just like George he grew to be genuinely fond of you.

What was surprising was Joe Toye taking you under his wing.

Toye could see that you were absolutely clueless and the worst part was, you had no idea.

Toye couldn't bear the agony of watching you skip around camp with your happy-go-lucky attitude, harping on about celebrity gossip nobody cared about.

"Y/N!" Toye yelled as you all got dressed to run Currahee "Why the hell is your PT shirt pink?!"

"Isn't it just the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen, Joe? I put a red handkerchief in with my laundry. Cosmo said carnation pink is the color of the summer"

Huffing and puffing, Toye took out one of his spare shirts and forced you to wear it.

"And when you give it back, it better not be fucking 'flamingo pink'" Toye said.

"Oh honey, this isn't 1939, flamingo pink is so over. I wouldn't be caught dead in that. You know, Joe, sometimes I feel like you don't care about fashion at all" You scoff at his cluelessness as you walk out.

Joe Toye is secretly your best friend in the company.

Toye taking you in meant Gaurnere and Johnny Martin had to be around you, much to their chagrin.

They didn't want some girl hanging off of them.

You win Gaurnere's respect when you coach him on what to write to his girlfriend back home to assure her that he's serious about their relationship when she began doubting his intentions.

And you win Johnny's respect when you help him find the most romantic gift for his wife for valentines day.

"Y'know, back home they call me the love doctor...Well, they used to, before I told Betsy Kline that Rob Jones was her soulmate but then he left her at the altar to elope with his housekeeper"

Sobel despised you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

Not wearing your red lipstick everyday was torture, but you had to stick to natural colours so Sobel wouldn't be able to tell what you had on.

He tried with everything in his power to get you kicked out, but much to everyones surprise, you kept up extrordinarily well with the men when it came to physical training.

"I do a lot of Pilates. It's really good for flexibility and helps you keep a positive outlook so you're not be such a 'negative nancy' all the time. Some of you could really use it. Some more than others..." you said as you side-eyed Skinny who just looked around incredulously

Eventually most of the men come to consider you a friend and a confidante since you give remarkably sound relationship advice.

"It's like sooo hard being the smartest person and the hottest catch in this camp at the same time"

The hardest nuts to crack in your immediate friend group end up being Leibgott, Cobb and Doc Roe, all for different reasons of course.

Leib was snide and arrogant and spoke to you like you were a silly little girl.

He didn't shy away from telling you how dumb he thought you were to your face.

Your relationship eventually becomes friendly but he will still be mean occasionally.

He always ends up apologising though and feels really bad when he makes you cry (the other guys nearly bite his head off whenever this happens).

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, stop being a baby already. I said I was sorry" Lieb said to you as you cried into your pillow.

"You can say sorry to me, Joey, but how are you going to tell Rita Hayworth you're sorry for saying nobody cares about her nighttime face washing routine?" You spoke inbetween sobs.

"I ain't saying sorry to Rita because I ain't sorry I said it. I stand by what I said. Nobody cares how some broad washes up at night"

"You take that back! That routine saved my life" You jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at the man.

"How the fu-"

"You're a horrible, horrible man Joseph Leibgott"

"Oh put a sock in it" Leib rolled his eyes, making you cry even harder.

Toye, ever protective of you, had enough "I swear to god Leibgott, leave that girl alone!"

Cobb was just straight up cruel to you and made sure you always knew "your place".

Roe didn't seem particularly close to anyone.

But as you all of you went into the more specialised aspects of your training and you and Roe spent more time together, he found himself looking out for you.

You were sitting alone on the grass after everyone had groaned and walked off the moment you started talking about an article you read in a magazine.

You sigh sadly, pulling at the grass when a shadow falls over you.

Bringing up a hand to block the sun you finally recognize who it is. It's Eugene Roe.

"I, uh, I was wondering if I could sit with you?" he asked.

You nodded excitedly and he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"What was it you were telling the others?"

You gasped "You really want to know?"

"I guess…"

Doc had seen everyone walk away, and although he didn't care much for mindless conversation, he knew talking to people meant a lot to you and had come over to cheer you up.

Without missing a beat you began one of your famous tirades.

By the end of your first year in Toccoa you end up finding your place.

Thanks for reading! Please like, comment and reblog if you want❤️

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Past Gojo x F!Yoriichi Reader? (He’s an absolute menace towards her at first, then he becomes clingy and obnoxiously annoying)

Reader became a First Year at the age of 14 when Gojo and Geto are 16 in their Second Year (They wanted to size up the ‘Newbie’)

Reader refused to train or take any missions and would always turn down Gojo every time he tried to pick a fight with her to see her strength (Because he can’t detect any Cursed Energy from her whatsoever, meaning she must be weak)

However Reader was forced to join Gojo and Geto during the Plasma Vessel Mission by the Higher Ups (As the Higher Ups threatened punishment on Yaga because he allowed her to get away with this *He was going to decline and take the punishment, but she agreed to take the mission because she didn’t want to burden her Foster Father with trouble after all that he’s done for her*)

This was actually the time where Gojo and Geto learn that Reader actually has a LOT of skill and talent (Their expressions are priceless when they see her kick someone’s ass in just a mere blur)

Reader gets along with Riko (As she likes hearing her talk) and even swears to protect Riko with her own life (Making Riko blush) as well as smack Geto and Gojo around when she saw them bully Rika

Reader prevented Riko from being assassinated (As she started combat with Toji, resulting in a rapid and devastating brawl between the two Superhumans, shocking Geto with their inhuman speed)

Reader is actually more efficient in combat and Exorcising Curses than her upperclassmen and even full fledged Sorcerers, even when she was just a mere child (However Yaga wanted Reader to have a childhood as long as he could possibly give her since he knows that despite his Daughter’s gift and talent in fighting, she doesn’t like fighting and dislikes violence, as she would rather prefer to spend time with her foster father Yaga than train)

Yaga was the first person to discover that Reader can’t use Cursed Energy (As in she doesn’t ANY), yet she can see Curses and even Cursed Energy (He finds that bizarre, yet he still takes Reader in as his own) She can see Cursed Spirits because of the Transparent World (And she has it constantly activated)

Yaga doesn’t mind Reader having pacifistic ideals and beliefs, the only problem is the Higher Ups won’t accept it after they find out about her gifts (Plus he knows his daughter will deal with sexism and inequality just because she was born a girl as well as her having no Cursed Energy)

Yaga found F!Yoriichi Reader when she was a child, and seeing she has no family and can see Curses he takes her in as his Daughter (He trains her at first, only to realize she as superhuman physical skills and prowess)

He thought she was deaf/mute because she never spoken a word from all the time he knew her until she was 14 (It was one of the few moments that made him do a double take)

When Gojo saw her smile she asked him to marry him (Yaga constantly smacks him yelling that his daughter is way to young!) but he’s persistent and keeps asking her

-You remember the day your adoptive father, Yaga, found you, all those years ago. The bodies of cursed spirits all around you, you drenched in blood, but none of it was your own.

-He couldn’t even begin to process how a child as young as you could have done this, even more so when he found out that you couldn’t use Cursed Energy, mainly because you had none!! How was this possible?!

-You never knew the answer yourself, you didn’t know how to explain it, despite having no Cursed Energy, you could see Curses and Cursed Energy, and all you knew that it was bad, so you attacked it whenever you saw it.

-Yaga was… almost intimidated by your skills, it was like you were born to be a warrior, your skills were unmatched, and you weren’t even properly trained!!

-He knew that you would be dealing with so much in your life, from being female, to having no Cursed Energy while being able to see and defeat Curses with ease, and your seemingly unnatural fighting skills.

-That’s why he did his best to try to give you a normal childhood, raising you with love and affection, showing you the good in the world, as he knew at one point the higher ups were going to find out about you.

-Yaga didn’t know how to explain your personality either, you were very stoic, with a rather intimidating RBF, but you were so gentle, you were a pacifist, you disliked fighting, despite being so good at it, and you enjoyed the moments away from training more, where you would sit with Yaga, and he would teach you new things, things about the world around you.

-Yaga had thought that you were mute for the longest time, as you had never said a word to him in the eight years you had been with him, until you turned fourteen. He knew how to communicate with you, and seemed to know what you were thinking or saying, but the first time you spoke, asking you what you wanted for dinner, “Can we go for ramen?” he had nearly tripped over his feet, turning to you in shock, hearing your voice for the first time, while you didn’t look bothered in the slightest!!

-When the higher-ups did finally find out about you, and found about how you refused to take missions, they threatened your father, and not wanting him to risk his own position, you agreed to go on an important mission, with the two thorns in your side, Geto and Gojo, your upperclassmen.

-You were the only underclassman, which made them pick on you anyway, but to hear about your unnatural strength paired with having no Cursed Energy, they were curious on how strong you were.

-Gojo was such a gremlin, constantly trying to tease you and pick on you, trying to goad you into a fight, as he wanted to test if you were really as strong as Yaga said, but you would always refuse, taking the pacifist route.

-You didn’t care what they said about you, calling you a coward, which only infuriated Gojo more, as he wanted you to acknowledge him picking on you!!

-When you joined them on the Plasma Vessel Mission, you hadn’t been expecting to meet someone like Rika, she was so warm, and while she was initially scared of you, due to your intimidating aura, she realized that you were a nice person.

-You were quite protective of Rika, protecting her from Geto and Gojo picking on her, and while none of you realized it at first, you were bonding with them, growing closer to them.

-It was when Toji attacked that they all got to see firsthand your skills, as you drew your own blade against Toji. Geto’s mouth fell open as he was protecting Rika, while Gojo was staring, wide-eyed, seeing you going toe-to-toe with Toji, a skilled sorcerer and warrior, and you were handling your own!!

-Toji was impressed, seeing someone so young, especially a girl, was handling him so easily, but when he told you this, your voice was icy, “My gender doesn’t define my strength.”

-After the battle and after thousands in property damage, you were able to walk away with only minor wounds, but you froze, looking quite panicked for once, when Rika leapt into your arms, sobbing loudly as she had been worried about you.

-After you were patched up, you found Rika, Gojo, Geto, and Yaga together, talking about what had happened with Toji, and as soon as you walked in, Gojo approached you and took your hands, clasping them between his own, “Marry me Y/N!”

-Yaga was quick to punch Gojo on the top of his head, making him let you go, “Get away from my daughter!!”

-This did little to deter Gojo, in fact it only seemed to spurn him on to try harder. You couldn’t recall a day when he didn’t ask for your hand in marriage.

-You were a little confused as to why he wanted to marry you, you had no Cursed Energy, while he was regarded as the pinnacle of sorcerers. All you knew that Yaga was probably going to kill him if he didn’t leave you alone and stop asking you!

-Geto remained silent when he saw the smallest of smiles on your lips, as you watched Yaga chasing Gojo while yelling at him, you looked so happy at that moment.

[ultfreakme]

Actually you know what, thinking on it, Sokka's sexism in the original was really weird and when writing fic, I had a hard time understanding where that even came from. We've been told Gran-gran left NWT because of the sexism and stayed at SWT, Hama was a fighter, Hakoda didn't condemn Katara for fighting or learning bending, there's a trivia thing where we learn Hakoda actually wanted to find a waterbending teacher for Katara. Now sure you can say fighting doesn't mean sexism wasn't present, but Sokka's conveyance of that sexism didn't work if that's the case.

Sokka specifically underestimates girls in fighting. That's how his sexism is largely expressed. Kanna wouldn't have raised Hakoda that way and in turn Hakoda wouldn't have raised Sokka like that.

He would be overprotective of Katara and stifle her as a bender, but not because he's sexist, but because Hakoda said "Hey you're our last warrior"- and this is actually the crux of his character.

One big argument people make is that Sokka's character arc with Suki apparently won't happen. But interviews state that the new focus on Sokka-Suki would be about them finding strength and solidarity as non-benders. In the original we do see Sokka trying to figure out his place and part in the war and among Gaang, he does feel insecure about his strength and ability to protect people. I think taking the new direction would connect well with the Serpent's Pass reunion.

I understand why people are hesitant but I just saw posts saying Sokka's sexism is inherent to his character as Toph's blindness is!?!?!? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU????? There's so much to unpack there I don't even know where to begin. Like this is getting ridiculous and in trying to say Sokka's sexism is good actually, you guys forget that the original was kinda fumbling its way through Sokka's sexism arc. It's not that fast or easy to make someone dismantle sexism, and the Kyoshi Warriors + Suki are playing into the idea that a woman is only equal to a man when she has combat prowess (I still kinda cringe at Suki saying "I'm a warrior....but I'm also a girl" she says that about her romantic interest in Sokka and kissing him, like why is being a girl or romantic interest associated with 'girl'?). They could've stretched out the arc and included Yue in helping Sokka learn that women aren't inferior but all talks of women's equality was restricted to combat.

I ADORE the Katara v Pakku fight and I think that was a far better discussion and showcase of misogyny and commentary on inequality. Because yes it was a fight, but it was, underneath all that, about Kanna and Yue.

It is the first time we see that actually, Kanna and Yue should get to choose because that is a fundamental right they should have. Healing was allocated entirely to women, but Katara learned it and it was never seen as an inferior form of bending. Everyone should get to pick if they wanna fight or they wanna heal or both. Katara'a fighter, a healer.

So I just wanna ask; Do you want Sokka's sexism to be there to comment on the unfairness of gender inequality? Do you want it there to give this one male character a character arc (because Sokka never talks to Katara- the one whom he hurt most with that attitude- or acknowledges his contribution in suppressing her advances in bending after this little lesson he learned from Suki)? Or do you want it there because the og did it so it has to be there? Because if it's the first, KATARA's arc does it a million times better and that's still in the show.

[city-of-ladies]

"According to Roman sources, emperors such as Nero and Domitian were fond of throwing lavish celebrations featuring female gladiators as novelty acts. The Roman historian Cassius Dio wrote of a days-long festival Nero held in honor of his mother in 59 where upper-class men and women “drove horses, killed wild beasts, and fought gladiators, some willingly and some sore against their will.” Roman historian and politician Tacitus referred to Nero’s female gladiators as feminarum, a term reserved for upper-class women, writing that “many ladies of distinction, however, and senators, disgraced themselves by appearing in the amphitheater.”

In 66, Nero sponsored more gladiatorial games featuring Ethiopian women, wrote Dio. And in 88, Emperor Domitian held games that again featured female gladiators, wrote biographer and historian Seutonius.

Sources also wrote of venatrices, female beast hunters, appearing in the Colosseum’s 100 days of opening games in 80. Venatrices took down stags, boars, and even lions with spears and bows, says Potter. Whereas female gladiators likely fought other women to first blood in single combat, explains Potter. Contrary to popular belief, fighting to the death was rare in gladiatorial games: Sponsors considered gladiators expensive, long-term investments.

Even though many Romans disapproved of female gladiators, people went wild for them in the arena. “We do know that some of the [female gladiator] fights took place in mid-afternoon, and that’s not the time for the novelty acts or the comedies or the executions,” says Philip Matyzask, an author, historian, and professor at the University of Cambridge. “That’s the time for the premier gladiator fights. So they were treated as serious professional bouts.”

The very existence of female gladiators complicates the understanding of Roman gender roles. Many believe Roman women were docile, modest, meek, and subservient to the men in their lives. But “Roman women wielded much more influence in society than many people out in the public think,” says Coleman. Roman women could be independent benefactors (funding the construction of buildings, temples, and social programs), own property, and divorce their husbands.

“I think we develop a better understanding of our own culture by close study of another,” says Potter, and studying female gladiators illuminates the “latent sexism in the way we view women,” both today and in antiquity.

Rome’s female gladiators are just one offshoot of women’s long, often-forgotten history as warriors. “Women have fought in nearly all conflicts and wars throughout history, from the war of Troy until today,” says Manas. Rome’s female gladiators were the women warriors of their time—redefining societal expectations of what women were and are capable of."

[uncle-fruity]

Y'all know that "trans men don't suffer from significant oppression" is just the logical end point of the TERF belief that trans men transition to escape misogyny & sexism, right? Like, y'all realize how bullshit that is, right? That when you downplay and ignore and make assumptions about the experiences of trans men that you're just doing the work of transphobes who want to prove that we're "escaping" oppression to become oppressors. And surely that is not the hill you want to die on? Surely you care about trans people and have enough understanding of transphobia to know that you shouldn't take TERF talking points at face value and uncritically adopt them into your worldview, RIGHT? Surely you understand that oppression relies heavily on misrepresenting the group it's targeting and that the best way to combat that is to actually listen directly to the members of that group and get to know them as individuals, RIGHT? Surely you wouldn't shout down the throats of the trans men while they’re trying to speak on their pain and the effects of systemic oppression on their livelihood, RIGHT? RIGHT???

[blurredcolour]

What If We Just Fall?

Oh my goodness @supervalcsi this has been the hardest secret to keep! 'Tis I, your summer exchange gift writer! Thank you for all your hard work as the moderator of HBO War Daily, we deeply appreciate you!! It's been a pleasure getting to know you and I hope you enjoy your summer as well as this lovely interlude with sweet Rosie!!!

Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x ATA!Female Reader

Flying with the Air Transport Auxiliary has taught you many lessons – including the importance of guarding your heart carefully. It seems fate, however, has much more to teach you when you are forced to make an emergency landing in East Anglia.

Warnings: Language, Era Typical Sexism, Fear, Crying, Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author's note: No descriptions of reader other than the fact that she is not British. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5729

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

October 1944

Meeting a man like Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal was not something you had expected when you volunteered for the Air Transport Auxiliary. In fact, you were not even supposed to land at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield until fate, or more accurately faulty wiring, intervened. Ferrying a Wellington bomber from its repair depot back to the RAF in Norfolk for use in their nighttime bombing runs, you were piloting the five-man aircraft alone – standard practice in the ATA. There was no radio, no navigator, and most definitely no guns. You were a civilian non-combatant and if any Luftwaffe fighter pilots happened to get onto your tail, you simply had to outfly them.

This was not your first Wellington, not by a long stretch, and while you preferred Spitfires for their speed and manoeuverability, these mid-sized bombers were usually fairly docile once they got off the ground. This particular aircraft, however, had been displaying a bad attitude from the moment it took to the air. How it had passed quality control inspection was beyond you. The wonders the mechanics were able to work in short turn arounds were usually feats of precision and skill, but almost immediately you noticed the rudder seemed reluctant to obey your steering commands.

A cascade of instrumentation issues followed before the left engine quit. There was a reason, however, that the ‘Wimpy’ as it was affectionately called by the boys who took the aircraft into combat, was still relied upon by the RAF despite the arrival of four-engine heavies like the Halifax and Lancaster. The Wellington could take a great deal of punishment; lose great chunks of its aluminium and linen airframe, be down one engine, and still get the crew to its destination. It was this reputation you were banking on as you pressed forward to your assigned airfield, hoping the ground crew there would treat this plane better than whomever had done it such a disservice at the repair depot.

You were, by your best guess of the landscape and quick glance at your maps, roughly twenty minutes out when the right engine began to choke and sputter.

“Shit.” You hissed under your breath, pleased no one could overhear you, and dropped your altitude to scan for a safe place to land.

During your pre-flight preparations, you had noted this area was dotted with American airfields as well as RAF; surely you could find a stretch of tarmac to keep both you and this precious piece of war material in one piece. The telltale ‘V’ of concrete, surrounded by still-lush grass waving in the autumn breeze, could not have come into view at a better time. Exhaling in relief as the indicator lights confirmed the wheels had descended at your command, you checked visually that the left was down and had to trust the right and rear were also – with no co-pilot to look for you, there was most definitely no way you could release the yoke and glance out the window yourself.

Hoping the allies would recognize you for a friendly, you lined up to make your landing, the right engine quitting on you as you decreased your speed. Holding your eyes open wide with focus, you leaned forward in your seat, gripping the yoke almost painfully, willing the aircraft to stay aloft to meet the first few inches of runway. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing, a tense ringing in your ears replacing the normal, companionable thrum of the engines, sweat stinging at your eyes and prickling in your armpits. Seconds drew out into hours until at last your tires – all three of them – bumped down to land on the runway.

With a sigh of relief, you quickly pulled up on the flaps, frowning deeply as, with no engines to throw into reverse, the large object in motion seemed reluctant to come to a stop. Mortifyingly, you overshot the end of the runway, skidding to a halt some one hundred meters in the grass like a wet-behind-the-ears trainee, and yet…and yet both you and the plane that you had been charged with delivering were still in one piece. Not at all where you were intended to be, but landed safely, for now.

The sound of several vehicles approaching from down the runway refocused your attention and you pulled off your leather flying helmet, smoothing your hair before gathering your things into your flight bag. Climbing from the dead aircraft, you were greeted by a host of astonished male faces.

“Jesus Christ, she’s a dame!” One of the younger men exclaimed, not so quietly, from the back of the crowd and you did your best to keep a straight face.

“I’m so sorry to intrude on your airfield, gentlemen, ran into a little trouble during my flight. I appreciated the safe place to land.”

Several eyebrows shot up at your distinct lack of British accent, at least one astute gaze dropping to the gold wire weave badge bearing the name of your home country just below your shoulders.

“Well, we’re just glad you’re alright, ma’am. We got very nervous when we couldn’t raise you on the radio.” The owner of said astute, piercing blue gaze spoke, a hint of…New York, was it?...colouring his tone.

“Ah, of course, we aren’t connected to radio in the Air Transport Auxiliary, sorry for the confusion that must have caused.” Stepping forward you offered your hand as you introduced yourself. “Second Officer, ATA.”

“Robert Rosental, Major, United States Army Air Force. What happened up there?”

It took a moment to register that he had asked you a question, the feel of his palm pressing against yours as he shook your hand in greeting more than a little distracting. Inhaling sharply, you turned back to look at the troublesome aircraft.

“Rudder was slow to respond, then I started losing my instruments one-by-one before the left engine cut out. I was hoping to make it on the right, but when it started to go, I knew I had no choice to put it down as soon as possible.”

“You flew that all by yourself?” Another member of the crowd piped up and you nodded patiently.

“Standard practice in the ATA, just me.”

“Maybe that was the real problem.” It was hard to tell where exactly the snide comment, spoken under some ignorant boy’s breath, had originated from.

You noted a flash of anger in Major Rosenthal’s eyes before he started to scan the crowd for the source of it, but this sort of response was something you had certainly encountered before.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that, could whoever said that please repeat it? I’d really appreciate the opportunity to improve on the over seven hundred ferry flights I’ve made since 1941, including one hundred with this very type of plane, so please, speak up.” A sort of stunned silence overtook the group, several of the men wearing bemused smiles, others a look of shock, while the rest shuffled their feet awkwardly in the grass. “Hn. My loss, I suppose.”

“I’m assuming you’re a long ways from where you ought to be?” Major Rosenthal chimed in, the luscious thatch of hair of his upper lip highlighting the way his mouth hitched up at the corner in amusement.

“You would be correct, Major, might I impose upon you for the use of a telephone?”

Some directions were shouted to tow your aircraft to a spare hardstand as it seemed there were replacements planes of their own expected in a few hours and you turned to address the same man Rosenthal was giving orders to – Lemmons, you believed.

“Please be careful, its not a metal skin, it’s linen.”

The look of shock on the boy’s cherubic face framed by copious curls spilling from beneath his knit cap finally broke your control, a small grin sneaking onto your lips as Major Rosenthal led you over to his jeep. Unclipping your parachute from your waist, you tossed it and your flight bag into the back, sliding into your passenger’s seat and finally feeling the ability to relax somewhat.

“Over seven hundred flights?” He glanced at you as he drove, and you nodded softly.

“There are a lot of planes needing to be moved around this island.”

“And here I thought my boys had it rough needing to hit thirty…” He shook his head, driving past the control toward a sea of the all-too-familiar Nissen huts that populated every airfield you had ever visited.

“Ferry flights and combat missions are in no way comparable, Major, the worst thing I face up there is usually English weather.”

The pair of you shared a laugh as he pulled up in front of a long row of buildings. “My CO will want to talk with you, unexpected guest and all.”

“Of course, caused quite the ruckus didn’t I.” You laughed ruefully, sliding from the jeep to collect your gear, startled as he beat you to it.

“Follow me.” He nodded warmly, holding open the door to lead you inside.

After a brief meeting with a very busy Colonel Jeffrey where he put ‘Rosie’ at your disposal, you were ushered into an empty office to use the telephone and contact your superiors. Providing a detailed report of your flight, you were instructed to sit tight pending further directions – most likely an RAF repair crew would be dispatched to try and get the plane operational, but they were also loathe to keep you grounded and out of the rotation for too long. Providing them with Jeffrey’s secretary’s number as the point of contact, you stepped out of the office to find Major Rosenthal waiting patiently in the hallway.

“You must be starving…”

“I would not say no to some food, by any means.” You smirked and followed him back out to the jeep for the short drive to the officer’s mess. “You sure its alright for me to eat in here? RAF doesn’t usually…”

“I insist.” He nodded and opened the door for you once more.

With a grateful nod, you stepped into the space flooded with natural light where row on row of tables covered in crisp white linens stood empty. Given that it was an odd hour for a meal, somewhere between breakfast and lunch, it was no surprise that you were practically alone in there. A server in a white coat quickly approached and Major Rosenthal looked to you to place your order from the choices on offer before requesting just a coffee for himself, pulling out a chair for you to sit before setting your kit in the empty chair beside you.

“This is really quite civilized, thank you again. I apologize that I’m not really dressed for the occasion…”

He chuckled warmly and shook his head. “You look prettier than me after I fly, though I’m quite confident you start out that way, too.” He winked and you smiled shyly, busying yourself with laying your napkin across your lap.

Major Rosenthal was not the first handsome airman to cross your path in your line of work, there had been countless men who had either jeered or flattered you. But after opening your heart to several early on and promptly losing them to a ruthless enemy, you had learned better than to let yourself fall for such girlish stupidity again.

“Having a second breakfast Rosie? Oh…oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you were entertaining…”

“No apologies Croz, one of the lovely ladies of the Air Transport Auxiliary dropped in for a visit.” He grinned and introduced you properly to his friend and Group Navigator Harry Crosby who was apparently only finishing his breakfast now.

“A pleasure, well I’ll leave you two to it. Make sure Rosie tells you about his love of jazz.” His knowing grin at his friend drew an exasperated exhale from Rosenthal, but before he could protest, the server was returning with food and hot beverages that were fit to make your mouth water and Crosby had disappeared.

“I don’t think I realized quite how hungry I was…” You murmured, fixing your drink to your liking before seizing your utensils to dive in.

“Well then, please, enjoy.” He leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands to allow you to enjoy your meal.

After a few bites, once you were feeling somewhat less ravenous, you tilted your head. “Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman?”

He raised an eyebrow slowly before huffing an incredulous laugh. “Artie Shaw, if I must.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you took a deep sip of your beverage.

“What other planes have you flown in your seven hundred ferry flights?” He parried with a question of his own.

“Oh, all sorts - Tiger Moths, Hurricanes, Mosquitos, Spitfires.”

He nodded thoughtfully, smoothing the edge of his moustache with his forefinger. “Favorite plane to fly?” He inquired.

“To fly? Spitfire, without a doubt.” You answered easily, licking a bit of food from your upper lip. “That plane knows what I want it to do before I even think it. Landing however…one the test pilots famously said, ‘she’s a lady in the air but a bi–’” you quickly cut yourself off with a rueful twist of your lips “she’s something else ‘on the ground.’” You finished the quote with more appropriate language inserted.

Rosenthal’s eyes danced with mirth as he enjoyed a hearty laugh at that and you could not help but notice the reddish hue to the whiskers on his upper lip, highlighted by the sunlight streaming in the windows. You wondered if that was where he had gotten the nickname ‘Rosie.’ Jarring yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you quickly turned back to your meal and peppered him with more questions about American jazz greats, enjoying the way he enthusiastically and engagingly spoke about the various band leaders he preferred and why before turning back to you with further questions about your service in the ATA and life before that. Conversation came dangerously easy between the two of you, an undeniable overlap of interests and motivation to contribute.

You were admittedly attracted to the man as well, but for the sake of your sanity, that was something you were going to have to set aside for as long as he continued his brave yet perilous missions over enemy territory. The mess gradually began to fill as true lunch time arrived, your meal and his coffee long finished, and you were about to get up and find somewhere else to wait out the repair crew when one of the servers approached with a message that they had already arrived and were looking for you.

A short drive to the hardstand revealed the four RAF men hard at work on the Wellington under the curious eye of Lemmons and others who were occasionally drifting by.

“When I get my hands on whatever git did this to this poor Wimpy…” You could hear the threats and grumblings emanating from inside the fuselage and pressed your lips together, hoping it was the previous repairperson they had it out for and not you.

“Gentlemen?” You popped your head into the bomber and were greeted by several flustered men.

“Ah there you are Ma’am, how on earth did you keep this lobotomized plane in the air for so long?!”

“Well you know, a good old Wimpy can always get you home…or at least a friendly field.”

“We’ve got…a good few hours ahead of us but then I think you’ll be able to finish the last leg of the journey.”

“Thank you very much, I’m sorry to take you away from your more pressing work. Can I get you anything?”

“Crew Chief Lemmons has been very helpful, Ma’am, but thank you.”

You offered the young man a smile of thanks over your shoulder before shuffling over to set your belongings on the grass. The afternoon was fair, the weather still warm, so you figured it was as good a place as any to wait it out. To your surprise and pleasure, Rosenthal settled onto the ground beside you, picking up your conversation right where you left off as you listened to the men work through the thin skin of the aircraft, watching the sun make its way to the western sky to sink toward the horizon.

“You know, Major, you really ought to come visit London some time. We may not have Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman live in concert but there’s still a great deal of jazz to be enjoyed.”

“Please, you can call me Rosie if you’d like.” He smiled softly and you nodded in response, not wanting to have been so bold without his permission. “You stationed that close that you can just pop into the jazz clubs?”

You nodded quickly. “White Waltham, near Windsor Castle. Very short train ride. Used to fly with the Spitfire girls out of Southampton but I wanted a chance to fly the twin engines…maybe even someday I’ll get inside a Halifax or a Lanc…but that was definitely not going to happen in a ferry pool right next to the Spitfire factory flying only short-range flights.”

“These four engine beasts are definitely a whole other ball game,” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder towards a B-17 looming behind him, dwarfing the Wellington with is height and breadth “would you still be alone?”

“ATA sends a flight engineer on four engine flights, but no co-pilot.”

He nodded thoughtfully, looking about to add something when the RAF repair crew suddenly emerged, grinning in satisfaction.

“Should be all set Ma’am, care to give it a whirl?”

Nodding quickly, you looked to your companion softly. “Thank you very much for an unexpectedly pleasant standby, Rosie.”

“My pleasure.” He responded with a grin, sliding to his feet and holding out his hand to pull you to yours.

Clipping your parachute in place on the back of your thighs, you slid on your helmet before climbing into the aircraft to try starting the engines. Running through an extended pre-flight check with one of the maintenance crew, they cleared you for take off, Rosie waving to you before driving off in the direction of the control tower. Beginning to taxi out, you could not help the grin as he returned to guide you down the runway, pulling off into the grass and waving once again from where he stood in the driver’s seat of his jeep.

Opening the cockpit window you shouted down to him, “See you in London, Rosie!” before taking off to the sound of his laughter.

To your delight, Rosie heeded your suggestion and made the trip to London – several times in fact, over the course of the winter, otherwise keeping in touch with you via letter. Despite the logical, cautious part of your brain demanding that you keep your feelings for him at bay, feelings that constantly threatened to swell and overwhelm you with each passing meeting and letter, you still found yourself constantly fretting for his safety. Awaiting his next contact, the next proof of life, with bated breath and firmly denied distraction whenever a friend or colleague would tease you about it.

How utterly rude it was of fate to throw such a perfect specimen in your path. Particularly one that could so very easily be taken away with the same rapidity. For not only was he breathtakingly handsome, but his understated confidence and capability in all things so far encountered simply made you yearn to discover his more hidden talents. To have survived so long in an occupation where the life expectancy was six-weeks, just forty-two days, and then sign up for a second tour after meeting his mission quota – yes, he’d had luck on his side thus far, but you had seen luck abandon far too many in the last few years.

The driving pace of your own worked helped distract you, undertaking training in the four engine Halifax bomber in December before the calendar turned to January 1945, and then onto February. Your commanding officer soon indicated you had nearly accumulated enough hours to begin flying Lancasters – much to your delight and eager anticipation. The pace of the production and demand on the frontlines required more ferry pilots for the British answer to the B-17 and you were more than ready to meet the challenge head on.

Not far into the month, however, you found yourself stranded near Diss on a weather delay, unable to fly back to White Waltham. With no trains until the next morning, you decided to hitch a ride to Thorpe Abbotts to take Rosie up on his standing offer to ‘drop by anytime.’ What greeted you, however, was a very concerned looking Crosby and no Rosie in sight. Sitting you down in the same spare office you had used to call in your emergency landing last October, the obviously under-slept man seemed to be having some difficulty getting down to the point.

“Major Crosby, I can assure you I am no stranger to the variety of outcomes of aerial combat, would you mind telling me as much as you are able before you asphyxiate from lack of oxygen?” You coaxed firmly, quite certain he had not taken a breath in over a minute as he paced anxiously in front of you.

His head jerked up at the sound of your voice and he nodded once before sinking heavily into the chair opposite you before taking a deep breath, to your minor relief, and beginning to speak.

“Rosie went up on a mission on the 3rd and we’ve had no news of him since he dropped out of formation.”

Your spine went completely rigid, snapping you almost painfully upright in your chair as you nodded in a cool, detached manner at the news. This. This was precisely the reason why you had been guarding your heart and fighting your feelings and putting every moment of wonderment and each smile of adoration you felt for the man in a small internal box for safe keeping. Because this very situation had seemed so very inevitable.

So why did it still hurt so damn much.

“No news is, is usually good news in these cases but it takes a while for us to hear…. well anything.”

You gulped once, twice in rapid succession as you nodded again before clearing your throat forcefully. “Well, Major, I have to go but,” grabbing a piece of paper from the desk, you scrawled the contact number for Ferry Pool No. 1, rapidly blinking as your eyes threatened to cloud over with tears “will you call if you hear anything? That you can share of course.”

“Of course I will, did you need a ride somewhere?”

You shook your head almost violently, looking forward to the walk to the pub in Diss, a good roadside cry would fix everything surely, before you had to show your face in public. Practically dashing out of there and off the base, you barely made it out of earshot of the gatehouse before your tears bubbled over. Fine lot of good all your cautious and careful planning had done you – you had been half a person in Rosie’s presence only to have the very emotions you willfully denied snap back at you tenfold now that he might very well be…and you never once got to see how his eyes might light up if you had told him how you really felt. Feel.

All the logic in the world could not save you now as you blindly sobbed your way towards town, stubbornly wiping at your nose with your handkerchief. If you had really lost him, a very real possibility that twisted your gut painfully and drew an extremely dramatic series of hitching sobs from your breast, he had deserved better. He had deserved to know that he was cherished and admired rather than just a friend to you, and on that front, you had failed so miserably you just might never forgive yourself.

The weeks of watchful waiting were long and painful. No news came, no messages awaited you at Pool Headquarters, no gossip on the bases you visited. Until the morning of the 26th when, to your great relief, and amusement, you learned that the man was alive and well, enjoying a hero’s stay in Moscow, of all places. The newspaper article quoting the absurd volume of vodka he had endured consuming brought a long-absent smile to your face and lightness to your chest, the news beating Major Crosby’s phone call by, at most, thirty minutes. All as you were on your way with your flight engineer to your first routine Lancaster ferry flight.

Climbing into the cockpit, you took the brief moment of solitude to close your eyes, inhaling deeply as you whispered words of gratitude to whatever higher entities had clearly been watching over him. Perhaps luck was never going to run out for Robert Rosenthal. Clearly you were a fool for thinking that was the eventuality here.

“Ma’am?” The timid voice of your flight engineer, Naylor – though everyone called him Tiny Tim for the young man hardly ever spoke above a whisper, pierced through your thoughts and you jolted back to reality quickly, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Let’s pop over to Wales and deliver this bird, shall we?” You did your best to display nothing but confidence in the task before you.

He smiled back with a nod, just as eager as you to get this great beast of a plane into the air. To say that heavies became the primary planes on your delivery roster would have been an overstatement, but they were most definitely a constant. As was the ever-present thought that someday soon you would find yourself face-to-face with Rosie once again and just how to handle that day of reckoning was certainly something you found impossible to decide upon.

Should you confess and apologize on sight? Wait for a few weeks for him to settle back into life on base before unloading your feelings onto him? Or continue on as you had before? The way your stomach plummeted like a wounded bird at the last option was a clear illustration of how impossible it would be to pretend you simply regarded him as a friend. But there was a growing fear as well. For all of your focus on concealing and compartmentalizing your own feelings, you had not once allowed yourself to consider how he might feel for you. Aside from some flattering comments that may have been construed as flirtatious, he had never displayed anything but the highest calibre of warmth and social graces towards you. But you found yourself constantly pondering just how Rosie might react to a confession of what had flickered into an irrepressible blaze in your chest.

In the end, you spent more time sitting with those concerns than those for his very well being, the unseasonable warmth of February continuing on into March, with more sunny days than you had grown accustomed to after living in England for so long. April was only a few days away on the calendar when your next ferry run took to you St. Mawgan to deliver a Lancaster to the RAF Overseas Aircraft Despatch Unit. Where exactly the aircraft’s journey would end was a point of mystery and you were admittedly envious of the pilot who would sit in the lefthand seat next and take it beyond the relative safety of England’s shores – territory that was strictly off limits to you as both a civilian and especially as a woman.

Parting with your flight Engineer Martens in the all-female WAAF mess, the girl avidly ensconced in a conversation comparing beaus with the girls stationed in Cornwall, you headed back out to pick up a damaged Spitfire that had just arrived from France, desperately in need of a visit to the repair depot. In the process of inspecting the aircraft, to ensure you knew precisely what damage you would be needing to overcome, a remarkably familiar voice broke through your concentration.

“She certainly still looks like a lady on the ground…rather mistreated, but definitely a lady nonetheless.”

Straightening and turning far too quickly, you cracked your head on the underside of the fuselage, earning a look of sympathy as his hands cupped your shoulders to pull you closer, out of danger of inflicting further harm to yourself.

“Rosie…” You whispered, staring at him, unable to stop your fingers from reaching out to brush his cheek, to confirm he was real.

The muscles of his face crinkled beneath your touch as he broke out into a smile, an expression you immediately echoed despite the unbidden prick of tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Hi there.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed sharply, face growing slightly solemn as he lay his hand atop yours, pressing your palm fully against his warm skin. “I’ve been a complete fool, and I’m not sure if you can forgive me.” You tilted your head, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “The world out there is dead set on tearing itself apart and I…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously, an emotion you were quite confident you had never seen overcome him before. “The entire time I was struggling to get back here just to tell you. To tell you how much I care for you. You are much more than just a friend to me, and I was an idiot to think I was okay with putting this off until the war was over.”

Eyes widening as the man seemed to be stealing the very thoughts from your head and putting them into words before you even had the chance, you sniffled playful and wiped at a stray tear that had managed to sneak down your cheek. “Don’t you go taking all the credit now, Robert.” You chided warmly, earning a stunned look from him in return. “It has taken two complete fools to deny what we’ve become, wouldn’t you say?”

Huffing a soft laugh, Rosie conceded your point with a nod as he grasped the unbuckled ends of your leather flying helmet, tugging your face closer. “I love you, you incredible woman.”

Taking a notably shaky inhale, you nodded quickly, a few more tears spilling over. “I love you, too, Rosie.” You struggled to speak around the knot of emotions in your throat, fully intending to reciprocate with some sweet term of endearment, not quite certain you could manage.

Mercifully, his lips had the grace to press against yours and save you from trying to say anything more. Grasping the fleece collar of his bomber jacket, you pressed closer in the shadow of the plane you ought to be inspecting, but the Spitfire was doing a fine job of shielding you from prying eyes and five more minutes in the arms of the man you loved – yes, it was love – and had been separated from could easily be made up courtesy of the stiff tail wind you expected on your flight to Southampton.

The rasp of his facial hair made you shiver at the slightly ticklish sensation as he maintained a firm grip on your straps, delivering kiss after kiss as if to make up for lost time. An uncontrollable grin stretched across your lips, making it nearly impossible for him to continue and so he shifted to focus on erasing any trace of tears from your cheeks, only encouraging your grin to curl wider until you were simultaneously giggling and trembling at the feel of his moustache against your jaw.

“Someday, we’ll have a lot more time, and I’m going to spend every second of it kissing you…” His eyes were filled with a fiery intensity that made it awfully difficult to draw breath and you shifted forward to press your lips to his flushed cheek in turn.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Robert Rosenthal.” You nodded firmly as you pulled back, arching sharply as his hands slid to rest against your shoulder blades, his mouth landing on yours fiercely.

“First Officer, are you quite ready?!” The shrill bark of an encroaching member of St. Mawgan’s ground crew wrenched the pair of you apart as effectively as a physical intervention, a shared look of reluctance passing between you as you quickly straightened your clothing.

You noticed his eyes flick to your shoulders to admire your new rank badges.

“You’ve been busy.” He murmured and you smiled with quiet pride.

“Fly Lancasters now, too.” You nodded and pointed over his shoulder to the plane you had flown in that morning before turning to address your intruder as he called your name once more. “Nearly ready, thank you so much for your patience!” You poured on the sweetness in your tone, noting the way Rosie’s eyes narrowed slightly as they returned to your face.

Biting back a giggle you blew him a kiss before emerging around the nose to greet the harried RAF man. “Major Rosenthal of the USAAF has never seen a Spitfire before, he asked me to show him around.”

“Thank you again for your indulgence, Ma’am, they are definitely fine planes. But I will let you get on with it.” Rosie played his part admirably, the set of the intruder’s shoulders easing somewhat.

“Yes, yes, well we need you out of here in five.” He turned to look at the clipboard in his hand and your gaze met Rosie’s once more.

“It was my pleasure, Major. I’d best be off.”

“Of course.” He nodded firmly, eyes remaining locked on yours as he mouthed ‘love you’ making your heart lurch erratically for a few beats as you mouthed it back. “Safe flight.” You spoke aloud.

“You as well.”

Noting the RAF man was once again paying attention to his surroundings, you turned to finish your quick once over of the plane before stepping up onto the wing and slotting into the narrow cockpit before pulling the side flap closed and starting the engine. Once the coast was clear, you blew one last kiss to Rosie, laughing brightly as he made quite a show of catching it and tucking it into his pocket.

“Until next time!” He shouted and you nodded brightly, pulling the canopy closed.

Because there most definitely would be a next time for you and your man of endless luck, and that was something that you no longer wished to deny.

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

Masters of the Air Masterlist

Postscript - thank you ever so much to @precious-little-scoundrel for proofreading this for me!!

[velvetvexations]

The other thing about trans men only ever Maybe getting conditional access to male privilage is that trans women can have access to conditional male privilage (boymoding for safety is still being viewed as a man) which can have Some benefits but it's just as shaky and harmful as trans men's access. It's conditional and ultimately flimsy. A lot of trans feminists don't like to acknowledge that pre transition transfemmes can have backsplash male privilage because terfs use it against them but that's just letting them win. It's like male socialization where terfs say well trans women are raised like boys so they're not women and some people fully buy into the reasoning and claim that no trans woman ever has felt that that describes her experience (which means by classic transradfem oppositional sexism that trans men were socialized male) etc etc where instead we could reject terfs premise that a) there are universal gendered socializations and b) that a woman has to be born or raised or act a certain way to be a woman. It's just conceding the point in order to fight terfs but ultimately ends up also harming trans people, even women because they're forced into a certain mold of trans womanhood to combat terf talking points.

Like so fucking what if someone sometimes experiences benefits from male privilage? Is it some kind of disease? Does it make someone suddenly not a gender minority to every once in a while get mistaken for a cis man and benefit from that? Like anyone who ever passes or passed as a cis man regardless of body or gender has probably gotten at least a shred of benefit from male privilage. My point is that that doesn't make them a bad person or some shit and acting like it suddenly cancels out oppression or makes terfs right is just stupid and playing into their rhetoric. It's tied into transmisogyny, transandrophobia, exorsexism, intersexism, biphobia, grossness against closeted people, butchphobia etc etc we need to move past the idea that receiving a modicum of benefits from being interpreted as of a privilaged group somehow is a negative thing that contaminates a person and eliminates any other oppression someone might experience and half the time adds other dangers! Closeted people often are in more danger if they're viewed as having tricked someone. Boymoders have to deal with constant misgendering and the danger of outing and subsequent violence. Butches and trans men and mascs if initially assumed to be a cis man then revealed to be (in the eyes of the beholder) a "woman" face misogyny, transphobia, sexual assault etc.

Pretty much anyone can have conditional access to privilage esp if they lie! Trans men aren't unique in this! Saying trans men can sometimes receive benefits from male privilage and therefore they're privilaged over trans women is just like terfs and their "well trans women didn't grow up facing misogyny so they are privlaged over cis women" Absolute Bullshit. Transradfems just can't help but steal terf talking points

This is very well put anon!!!!! I think the problem is that we even classify it as the same in the first place. When it comes with all those drawbacks, is it still "privilege" as we understand it, even if it may have evanescent benefit? I think the whole idea of "male privilege" totally breaks down when you start to apply queerness to it, and others can surely add on to how race mixes in.

[official-megumin]

there is always this discourse about if transfem and transmascs have it worse

And like, I know it's not really quantifiable and measureable to find the objective suckiness of being trans.

But like

Man it's gotta suck to be a trans guy. This is coming from the perspective of a trans girl btw.

I know that not all transmascs care about passing and having a "fully male body", like everyone decides for themselves what they wanna do. But let's see this from the perspective from a trans guy who wants to be as close to a cis perisex man as possible, this guy is also perisex afab, meaning normal development and stuff.

Ok, so for this man to "finish" his transition, he would need like, what? 3 surgeries. All of which are gatekept. He would need top surgery, tit chop as you say.

This is already a lot, and it sucks fucking dick that y'all have to wait for that. But other than that already sucky and gatekept surgery, we also have phalloplastry, which many countries including Denmark, doesn't offer at all because it's more complicated than vaginoplastry.

This is also a hugely impactful surgery, and I assume that for many trans men, it also doesn't really feel good enough because no semen and dick pump. Of course I'm no expert, so don't take what I say as gospel, I might flat out be wrong about many things.

But that still isn't it. By now we have moved past surgeries the average transfem would "need"

Like yes, many trans women end up getting BA and FFS to combat dysphoria on top of bottom surgery, but they aren't "required" in the same way. So let's round it out and say one half of both of those surgeries count, so that means that transfems on average get two gender affirming surgeries. Which means that now, transfem and transmasc surgery counts are the same.

But wait, there's more!

There are also hysterectomies to remove the uterus and ovaries. Which again is very extremely gatekept because "devine femininity"(bleugh)

That's three surgeries to transition "normally" for a transmasc versus the two of a transfem, already there it's more sucky.

Of course this is not taking other typically gendered features into account like hip and shoulder width, which is too variable to really take into account here. Also it is not as widely different between the sexes as some people claim.

But this is just the surgery front.

I can't even begin to imagine how dysphoria inducing dealing with menstruation must be to a trans man.

Like periods suck dick, I know that from personal exprience. It hurts like shit for like a week at a time and there's blood everywhere.

But for trans men you add fucking dysphoria on top of that???? Hellish, the female reproductive system is so invasive and intrusive. For transfems we can just y'know, not touch the thingy and we won't have to worry about a visceral bloody reminder every month that stays even after hrt starts.

Really what I want to say is that yea sure maybe transfems struggle more with sexism and such whilst transitioning, I'd argue even that is not quantifiable and will be hugely variable on how the individual looks(speaking from experience as a trans girl who has not once had transphobia aimed at her in person in public from strangers)

But the physical struggle of transitioning? I think that trans masculine transitions take the cake by far here. Like objectively too.

And all the transmascs out there at all, doesn't matter how dysphoric you are, or how far you wanna take your transition. I respect you so god damn much, and I'm in awe of all of you. You're genuinely incredible

[theotterpenguin]

I really like the nuanced take about Zutara and why it makes some people uncomfortable and I can see both sides of it. I ship Zutara now but at first I didn’t and it made me really uncomfortable but I think it was just because of certain fan content I was coming across. Some people do portray Zutara in an extremely fetishized & creepy Stockholm syndrome way that makes Katara come off like some helpless damsel stereotype. It made me feel really gross thinking about as a young WOC but rewatching the show and seeing the true dynamic of these characters made me fall in love with them again. So I guess my feeling is that in canon i really love the dynamic but I hate the way *certain fans* twist it and refuse to acknowledge the racism & misogyny in what they’re doing

this is a complicated topic with many layers to it but first - i am sorry if you have ever felt unwelcome in the zutara fandom due to experiences with racism/misogyny.

it would be ignorant to claim that the zutara fandom is somehow uniquely unaffected by systemic racism or sexism, but it would also be disingenuous to claim that these issues only exist in certain parts of the atla fandom. racism, sexism, and general bigotry exist in every fandom due to institutionalized inequality in social structures. and to make it clear, i'm not directing this criticism towards you, anon, you are entitled to your own personal experiences, but i have seen a broader trend of people attempting to use fandom racism to moralize their position in ship wars, which is diminishing from the actual problem - the focus should be on acknowledging the existence of fandom racism/sexism, combatting implicit biases, and creating spaces that can uplift marginalized voices, rather than focusing only on optics in an attempt to gain moral high ground in a silly *fictional* ship war.

however, given all this, the reason that i am still in the zutara fandom is because i appreciate how many people in the fandom are dedicated to unpacking issues of racism and sexism and cultural insensitivity in atla's source material, which i personally haven't seen in many other sides of the fandom (that often sanitize what actually happened in the text to avoid acknowledging these issues in their favorite show). of course this is a broad generalization, but that's generally why i stick with the non-canon shipping side of the fandom because fans that are willing to stray away from canon are often less afraid to engage in critical analysis.

i also do think the zutara fandom has come a long way from the early 2000s when the show first aired. for example, when i first joined the fandom i had mixed feelings on fire lady katara, but i have since read some fanfics that have done an excellent job deconstructing some of the problematic ways that this trope could be interpreted and balancing respect for katara's cultural heritage and autonomy with the political and personal difficulties of being involved with an imperialist/colonialist nation. the fire lady katara trope, capture!fic, and other complicated topics/tropes are almost never inherently racist/sexist, but rather, their execution is what matters. and all this is not to say that issues of systemic racism/sexism do not still exist in this fandom, but it personally has not significantly negatively impacted my experience in the zutara fandom due to the wonderful content that so many other fantastic people produce, though everyone's mileage may differ with what they are comfortable with. anon, i hope that you are able to find a place in the zutara fandom for you! but i also know many people that have stepped back from other fandoms due to experiences with racism/misogyny, so i understand that decision as well.

on a final note, i think it's important to acknowledge that fandom doesn't exist in a vacuum and broader issues of racism and sexism are rooted in the media, the entertainment industry, and mainstream societal norms. while i do sometimes focus on fandom dynamics/discourse in my criticisms, i think it is equally as important to acknowledge how issues of prejudice and inequality are perpetuated through larger social structures, which is why it frustrates me when the atla fandom refuses to acknowledge the flaws of the original show, which has far more influence and social power over the general public than discourse over fandom tropes ever will. personally, i don't understand the phenomenon of holding fan-made material to a higher standard than mainstream media.

[olderthannetfic]

Claiming that the M/M vs. F/F debate is meant to combat sexism is ridiculous because it's the exact same phenomenon as both mainstream media and mainstream porn featuring "hot lesbians" way more than they tend to feature gay males (and somehow both of those are considered sexism).

The sort of fandom that creates transformative works is mostly populated by women and trans men, and there are a LOT more women that are attracted to men than there are women attracted to women.

People just prefer consuming porn featuring two people of the gender that they're attracted to to consuming porn featuring two people of the gender that they're not attracted to. Someone call the newspapers.

The notion that fandom spaces are meant to usher in social justice is bizarre and ridiculous to me anyway

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