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zegrasdrysdale · 9 months

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[ impossible ] t. seguin

day eleven of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Tyler Seguin x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) is surprised when ex boyfriend Tyler knocks on the door of her parents’ house on Christmas Day

warning(s) : angsty, but nothing besides that

author’s note : last two fics of the christmas marathon. let’s do this

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She has never been happier to be home in Toronto. (Y/N) loves living in Dallas, but the last few weeks haven’t been the best. Being surrounded by family should help her out of the post-breakup funk she’s been in recently.

Even now as she's sitting in the living room with her family in her Christmas pajamas and opening their gifts, she misses Tyler. She misses her old life with Tyler, but she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't keep doing the distance.

He was away more often than he was home. When he was home, he went out with his teammates after games or on off days. She'd often go weeks without seeing him because he'd stay over at a teammate's house.

She wasn't equal with hockey anymore. Not like she used to be. She got tired of it.

She never gave him an ultimatum because she could never make him choose between her and hockey. (Y/N) made her feelings known and Tyler didn't seem to care, so she has been living with her best friend in Dallas and came home for Christmas a week ago. She stopped answering Tyler's texts and calls so she hasn't even talked to him in nearly two months.

Her family doesn't notice that something's wrong. (Y/N) does her best to keep a smile on her face and interacts with her nieces and nephews as they open their gifts. No one has asked where Tyler is and she is very much grateful for that.

As (Y/N) opens a gift from her mom, there's a knock on the door. Her mom goes to answer it as she opens the box that contains a Dallas Stars customized jersey that has her last name above the 91. "Tyler!" her mother shouts from the front door. "It's so nice of you to join us. We didn't think you'd be joining us."

Her head snaps toward the door so quickly that she thought for a split second that she gave herself whiplash. She's very surprised to see her ex standing at the front door of her parents' house in Toronto.

"I needed to go see my parents before coming over," Tyler says as he looks right at (Y/N). "Sorry I'm late. I forgot how insane Toronto traffic can be."

Words cannot express how angry and annoyed she is that he is at the door. She thought that he would've gotten the message that she was done when she didn't talk to him for two months.

Apparently not because there he stands in a Stars hoodie and plaid pajama pants with a bag full of gifts at the front door.

She gets up off the floor and pushes Tyler out the door without a word to anyone. It closes behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the cold Toronto air. Snow is on the ground and she's outside in a tank top, fuzzy pajama pants, and slippers. (Y/N) can't even feel the cold because of the fact that she is fuming.

"You have no right showing up," she spits at him. "We haven't spoken in two months and you show up at my parents' house."

Tyler blinks and says, "Last time I checked, you're the one that stopped talking to me. I don't remember being told that I wasn't allowed to come to Christmas because you stopped answering my texts and calls."

"We're done, Tyler," she tells him. "In case that wasn't clear."

"You're done," he retorts. "I'm not. I don't understand why you just up and left."

"I told you why!" (Y/N) practically shouts. "You're gone for weeks at a time, Tyler. The only time I get to see you is when we're separated by a thick piece of glass while I'm sitting in the stands and you're on the ice. You used to spend off days with me, you used to come home to me and we'd watch a movie on the couch or in bed. Then you decided to go out after every game or go out on off days."

He runs a hand through his hair and says, "I am a leader, (Y/N). I was never around my team. I needed to show them that I am still a leader and I couldn't do that when I was cooped up at home with you. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating and all of a sudden, you can't handle it anymore?"

Anger courses through her veins. Her blood is boiling to the point where the snow might melt around her. "No," she retorts. "I can't do it anymore. You used to make time for me and now you're a ghost. I was living in a shell of our past life together while you seemed to be moving on. I was alone in that apartment. It was like I didn't have a boyfriend anymore. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal if I left."

A look of hurt flashes on Tyler's face. "Of course it would be a big deal if you left," he softly says. "I love you. I miss you."

She shakes her head and does everything she can to keep the tears from spilling over to her cheeks. "You didn't listen," she tells him. "I told you how I felt and you still went out that night after the game. I made the decision to leave because I knew that if you went out after I told you how I felt, you'd keep going out. I couldn't do it anymore."

Tyler frowns and says, "I went out to tell the guys that I wasn't going to be going out as much with them after games and on off days. That is the only reason I went out. I was gone for thirty minutes. When I came back to the apartment and you were gone, I realized that I didn't tell you that I'd be right back."

"I- you-" she cuts herself off when she realizes that if she had just stayed around for an hour, he would've been back. "Why didn't you just text that to me?"

"I thought that you'd be back," he admits. His eyes fall to the ground. "I didn't think you'd ignore me for two months. I didn't think it would take you a half hour to pack a bag and leave. I should've told you that I'd be right back."

A tear slips down Tyler's cheek. Her own tears begin to fall when she sees Tyler's tears. "Tyler, I'm so sor-"

"It's not your fault," he interrupts her. "Don't you dare apologize. We wouldn't even be in this situation if I had just realized how lonely you were or if I had just told you that I would be right back. I'm sorry. I know I probably shouldn't have come up here to try and fix things but I couldn't let you spend Christmas thinking you did something wrong when you didn't."

She takes a few steps forward and wraps her arms around his torso. Tyler's free arm wraps around her shoulders as she buries her face in his chest.

They've both done a lot wrong the past few months, but all they can do now is acknowledge what they've done wrong and move past it.

Hopefully Tyler's season can recover too because despite not being together, (Y/N) did keep an eye on his stats. He really began to fall apart a week after she left the apartment and has never been able to get it together.

That's all on her.

"Sorry your season has gone to shit," she sniffles as she looks up at him. "You can blame that on me."

Tyler shakes his head and cups her jaw with his free hand. "I'll never blame how good or bad a season is going on you," he tells her. "That will never be on you.'

A gust of wind blows and she shivers. Tyler wraps his arm back around her shoulders and holds her close to him. "I'll blame myself enough for both of us," she says. "Can we go inside?"

"As long as you're not done," Tyler replies. "I came up here to fight for us and I won't go inside unless you tell me that we can go back to how things were, minus my going out all the time."

(Y/N) looks up at him and nods. "I'm not done," she practically whispers. "Even when I said I was done, I don't think I actually was. You're impossible to move on from, Tyler Seguin."

He smiles and leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips. He hums and pulls back. "God, (Y/N)," he says. "Your lips are so cold. Let's go."

She lets out a light laugh and walks into the house with Tyler in tow.

Everyone looks at the two of them as Tyler pulls off his hoodie and pulls it over (Y/N)'s head since they were outside for fifteen minutes talking in freezing temperatures. "Everything okay?" her mom asks. "You guys were outside for a while. I thought I heard yelling."

"Everything's okay," she assures everyone in the living room. She goes back to sitting on the ground and Tyler sits next to her. He takes her hands in his so they warm up. She leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder. "We're okay."

That was more for Tyler than anything. He kisses the top of her head before he starts to hand out the gifts that he brought with him for (Y/N)'s parents and siblings. She watches them open their presents with a smile on her face.

Then Tyler holds a little present in front of (Y/N). She slowly takes it and looks up at him. "What is this?" she asks.

"Now that would ruin the surprise," Tyler teases. "Open it and find out. I know technically we weren't together when I bought this but I knew I wanted to buy it for you."

She unwraps it and opens the little black box. There's a silver ring that sits inside with a 91 in little diamonds on it. Her jaw drops and she looks up at her boyfriend. "You really went all out even though we weren't together," she gasps.

Tyler grabs it out of the box and takes her right hand. He slides the ring on the ring finger. "Wanted to make sure that everyone knows who your boyfriend was when we got back together," he replies. She admires the ring on her finger and Tyler kisses the ring.

(Y/N) smiles and leans against him to watch the last few presents get opened.

It finally feels like Christmas now that Tyler is here. It didn't feel like it until he got here because they have spent the last three Christmases together.

Despite being angry that he showed up, she's very happy he's here now.

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#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #tyler seguin #tyler seguin x reader #tyler seguin angst #tyler seguin fluff #malia’s christmas marathon

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lovepinkshiftforever · 2 months

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for all the hot bitches: pinkshift on tour starts this weekend!

Headliners:

8/10 - VIRGINIA BEACH, VA - SCANDALS LIVE (WITH @destructodisk and @springsilverino)

8/11 - WILMINGTON, NC - EAGLES DARE with babe haven

8/12 - COLUMBIA, SC - NEW BROOKLAND TAVERN with babe haven

with gaslight anthem + @joycemanorofficial :

AUG 13 ATLANTA, GA I| THE EASTERN

AUG 14 NASHVILLE, TN I| MARATHON MUSIC

AUG 16 ASBURY PARK, NJ (SOLD OUT)

AUG 17 PROVIDENCE, RI |I THE STRAND

AUG 18 BOSTON || MGM MUSIC HALL AT FENWAY

AUG 20 WASHINGTON, DC I| THE ANTHEM

AUG 21 NEW YORK, NY || CENTRAL PARK

AUG 23 PHILADELPHIA, PA II THE FILLMORE

AUG 24 MCKEES ROCKS, PA || ROXIAN THEATRE

AUG 25 TORONTO, ON I| HISTORY

AUG 27 CINCINNATI, OH || ANDREW J BRADY

AUG 29 CHICAGO, IL II SALT SHED

AUG 30 MINNEAPOLIS, MN || THE FILLMORE

AUG 31 MILWAUKEE, WI |I THE RAVE/ EAGLES CLUB

SEP 1 DETROIT, MI |I THE FILLMORE DETROIT

#brat summer #pinkshift #joyce manor #gaslight anthem #destructo disk #babe haven #punk #live music #concerts #tour #riot grrrl #queer #SoundCloud

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pedge-stuff · 1 year

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trailer reunion (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," as always. this one skews a little more m! and a little less gn!, apologies if that puts anyone off.

thanks, as always, for everything.

summary: 5 weeks is a long, long time.

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Your leg won’t stop bouncing. It’s not your fault, really— it’s the Edmonton Airport’s, for having such a conveniently located Tim Hortons, right outside the baggage claim. After the 7-hour red eye from JFK, with the connection through Toronto, the coffee was necessary.

The caffeine isn’t entirely to blame, though. If the taxi wouldn’t stop going so fucking slow, maybe you’d settle down. But the traffic is unyielding, so the 20 minute drive to your heartfelt reunion is looking more like 45. Apparently, shutting part of the city down to film a TV show really screws up peoples’ commutes. You’d waited long enough (a month and six days, but who’s counting?), surely an extra half-hour won’t kill you. But in the taxi, the minutes seem to stretch into years.

The filming schedule for The Last of Us has been brutal. From what Pedro has told you, there was apparently a strain to film both the first and second episode back-to-back; something about using the same locations and exterior shots. For him, it has meant a marathon of shooting… the only downside to being the star of the show.

SNL’s new season was in full swing anyways, so you’d had plenty to keep you busy. Spent enough late nights at 30 Rock, after many a panicked call to the dog walker, that you barely had to inhabit his otherwise vacant condo. You talked every night, usually Facetiming before bed, but the distance was wearing on you both.

Now, the only thing in between you and your man is this fucking traffic jam.

Though this wasn’t a surprise visit— you’d booked the flight as soon as you’d realized the SNL hiatus week lined up with The Last of Us breaking to change locations for the next episode— you did have one trick up your sleeve. Or, more accurately, under your mask.

You’d been attempting to grow facial hair well before meeting Pedro, but it had been a sparse and largely unsuccessful endeavor until very recently. Your jawline had filled in between your sideburn and chin, albeit slightly patchy. You’d been hiding it over Facetime, opting for regular calls a bit more and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Not the craziest surprise, but still, your heart thrums at the prospect of finally sharing it with him.

Of course, once you arrive to set, the obstacles multiply.

Some college kid in a neon yellow vest stops you before you’ve even managed to remove your duffle from the trunk of the cab.

“Covid testing is this way, please follow me,” he insists tersely. Self-consciously, you adjust the KN95 strap around your ear.

The kid leads you to a tent, where two people in full white hazmat suits, complete with gloves and face shields, ask your name and instruct you to pull down your mask. (There’s a joke in there somewhere, about infection at a show about infected, but you get the sense it might be inappropriate to fool around here.)

Once swabbed and registered, you move to leave, scanning the exit for anyone who might be able to help you navigate onto set. But you are immediately blocked by a hazmat woman.

“You need to wait for the rapid to clear,” she insists, pointing to a row of folding chairs. “Fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes, after 5 weeks. Just fifteen minutes. You resign yourself to a seat by the door.

It’s 4pm. You were supposed to have arrived during a stop down between shots— timed so that Pedro would be in his trailer, and accessible, when you arrived. It feels like that window is physically, tangibly closing as you watch the second-hand tick slowly.

Initially, you’d been hesitant to join him on set at all, but he’d insisted you come meet his “second family.” You’d met several of his colleagues via Facetime, when he’d called you from his trailer. Bella, in particular, you’ve taken a liking to— they pepper you with whispered questions about transitioning and gripes about the gender binary when Pedro has been forced to hand over the phone.

You check your phone. Nothing from Pedro, although his little blue dot looks stationary when you pull up FindMyFriends. The clock ticks. There is a burning sting each time you blink— that third cup of coffee is wearing off, and the 5am wake-up this morning is starting to catch up to you. Really, all you want to do is go back to your partner’s hotel room, said partner in tow, curl up on the king-sized and fall asleep watching some West Wing rerun. (Maybe also shower together, and then some. You can keep yourself awake for that.)

Finally, finally, finally, the hazmat woman returns. “You’re clear,” she announces, handing you a green sticker to adhere on your jacket. You make it through the tent flap, heart in your throat with anticipation—

But you have no fucking idea where to go.

A sea of white tents lays before you, stations with people doing things of varying levels of importance. A neon slip of paper points you towards set, but that’s not where you’re headed. Finally, past a corralled group of extras in some really disgusting mushroom prosthetics, and a tent full of picked-over lunch offerings, you spot some trailers in the distance.

And apparently, a stranger with a duffle bag walking quickly towards actors’ trailers, yields a quick security intervention.

In their defense, you definitely look like a crazy person.

“Do you have a clearance list, or anything?” You beg, discretely craning your neck to see over the guard’s neck. The trailers are right there. There are only a few, it shouldn’t take any time at all to find Pedro. He’s within arm’s reach and yet he couldn’t possibly feel further away as the guard talks code into a very official-looking walkie talkie.

“Roger.” He looks down at you. “Listen, you gotta go man. It’s a clearance-only set, and they’ve got strict covid rules, so—”

The green sticker may or may not get shoved in the man’s face. There may or may not be angry tears threatening to ruin your cool. “I got covid tested! I’m clean, they let me through. They had me on their list. I’m—”

From behind you, a familiar voice cuts you off. “With me, Robbie.”

You whip around.

Jaw? On the floor.

Pedro looks… really fucking old. His hair has been sprayed gray, wily and wind-swept; the beard, too, is much grayer than normal. It’s all part of a dirty-looking, artificially stained, mostly denim-based costume. You file away for later, how attracted you are to seeing him like this. Jesus Christ.

He looks old, but he is here, and he is grinning at you, and he’s here.

“Aw, shit.” The guard talks into the radio again. “86. Sorry about that.”

Easy to ignore him, though, as you’re preoccupied with staring at your man.

Before you can move to pounce on him, close the final four feet of distance between you, a well-manicure hand splays menacingly out at you.

“Don’t even think about it,” Coco warns. “We have fifteen minutes for touch-ups and I do not have time to fix everything.”

Pedro’s nose twitches, frowning at you. You reach down to hold his hand, but it is… apparently also covered in make-up, looking red, nasty and broken.

Sorry, he mouths dejectedly.

The inside of his trailer is familiar, though it looks a little smaller in-person than it appears on Facetime. A mirror and counter, a decently sized couch, a bathroom, a desk in the corner. Pedro settles in the make-up chair, smiling backwards at you in the mirror.

“Drop your stuff,” he insists.

Little touches of your life together pepper the room in a way that grips your heart a little. A framed picture on the desk, which you recognize from last summer; a particularly nice day in Prospect Park with the dogs, captured in a Polaroid snapped candid by a total stranger. You’d declined it, at first, assuming it was a weird fan thing. But they had insisted, leaving the picture behind and walking away. It was too lovely to leave.

The sweatshirt draped over the arm of the sofa is yours— an old NYU hoodie Pedro usually travels with. He claims it’s a ‘security blanket,’ and honestly, he might only be half-joking. A note you’d recently sent in a package (he’d accidentally left his whole box of contacts at home), taped up on the mirror, alongside a photo strip with Sarah from some gala a couple years back.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Pedro says quietly, watching you look around. “Take your mask off, baby, I’m assuming you cleared testing if you made it through the front.”

In your excitement to reunite, you almost forgot the little surprise. His jaw drops, into an awed smile. With the un-fake-injured hand, he reaches up to palm your cheek. Runs a hand up and down your jaw, scratching lightly along the new hair.

You turn enough to plant a kiss on the pulse point of Pedro’s wrist. Capture his hand with yours, against your face, to feel him for the first time in over a month.

“Oh! The oil is working,” Coco has paused, midway through spraying something silvery and chemical-smelling to Pedro’s temples. She had suggested it surreptitiously a few months back, off-handedly, and you’d been religiously using it since. The woman knows her shit.

Pedro continues to thumb at the new scruff, transfixed. His jaw muscle twitches.

“I’ve uh—” He stalls out. “Uh. Sorry. Dinner. Craig—”

You step backwards, pulling your hand down to hold in his lap, instead. He huffs.

“Craig wants to go to dinner tonight, since we’re wrapping in Edmonton. I guess there’s this restaurant he is insisting we have to try, it’s a whole thing. Big group. I didn’t give him an answer, in case you’re tired and wanna just head back to the hotel? But we can go, either way it’s fine, I figured…”

“Pedge,” you interrupt. “It’s all good. I’d be happy to go, it sounds fun.”

He exhales. “Thank god, because it’s like a spouse-thing, Neil and Craig’s wives are here.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Spouse?”

Just to get a blush out of the man. You’d discussed it, of course, but had yet to make moves. Being marked soothed any sense of urgency— you were committed by flesh and blood, and that was ultimately more binding than a ring or ceremony. But, still.

“Joking, love." Despite the coffee, a yawn sneaks up on you. "I might crash on the couch for a bit, when you go back."

He glances at his phone. "We only have one more shot to get alts on. Neil swears we have a hard-out in an hour. Close your eyes, and I'll be right back."

— — —

You didn't mean to actually fall asleep. Just lay there on your phone and zone out for a bit. But suddenly, you're waking up, to the feeling of a mouth on your own.

A familiar mouth. Warm, scruffy around the edges, a little pepperminty.

"We're done," Pedro whispers. "Coco says I can fuck up my makeup now."

When you open your eyes, he is hovering above you, grinning like a wolf. He's still in costume, though the denim overshirt is already half-unbuttoned.

"Are you done being gross?"

Sitting up, you find Bella in the doorway. They waste no time flinging themselves at the couch.

"In the flesh!" You both laugh.

"Shorter in person, huh?" Pedro is rewarded by a hearty shove from his costar, as he scrubs a makeup wipe across his face.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you can tell it's gotten dark outside in the time that you've been asleep. "Craig still insisting on dinner?"

"Mm. It's like fancy Mediterranean, I think."

"Fetaaaaa," Bella pumps the air. "Nice."

The evening stretches out before you— a few more obstacles between you and the hotel bed. But Pedro is here, in the flesh, and he's smiling at you in a way that forms the little crinkles beside his eyes, and you think maybe you can sit through a few hours of fancy dinner and small talk.

You've waited this long, anyways.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #joel miller #joel miller fluff #bella ramsey #bella ramsey and pedro pascal

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tsalexisandrews · 2 months

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Describe the first time you dolled up? When was it where was it and who was it with?

How did you get into CDing? When was it and who played a major influence of getting you into it?

Would you always ever wear a bra but never panties or would always ever wear panties but never a bra? In this case, you have boobs i.e. the D cups you crave for!!;)

What's your favourite about sucking a cock?

What's your favourite about getting your cock sucked

What's the longest you've ever edged yourself?

What's the highest number of times you've cum in a day?

What if your significant other/partner found you out and wanted to participate?!;)

What if a co-worker of someone you know takes your services??

Have you ever gone bra fitting? If yes, describe your experience? If not, would you ever do it?

Which is your best ever mtf transformation makeover professional experience? Explain?

When was the first time you ever got yourself a professional makeover? Who did it? How did you go about deciding who to go to? Describe the entire experience?

I think the first time was in High school. I'd around with mom's stuff but never went far. I convinced a couple girls at school to help e out (some bogus reason) and I was decently dressed up, but it wasn't much. After college I messed around a bit more and got some basic stuff but it wasn't much. It wasn't until I was about 30 that I really started to get into it Took several years off, then started again about three years ago in a big way and haven't slowed down. Each of those "first times", excpet the time in high school, were by myself.

No one really influenced me. its always been a part of me and through therapy I've learned that I'm transgender, but that I choose not to transition. So technically not CD, I suppose. But I've fallen in and out of the routine based on life situations- sometimes work, sometimes family.

Assuming I have D cups, I'd want to wear a bra all the time and not panties. Bras are so pretty and really shape the breast, not to mention provide needed support. So I'd go with the bra and stay commando downstairs!

BJ's? I love the absolute ecstacy it gives the man. hearing him moan and grab my head gives me a power that you can't get anywhere else. Aside from that, I like longer dicks so I can get one or two hands into it and really go after it. Finally, I like shovingi t way down my throat when he cums so it goes straight to my belly....sometimes the taste makes me gag!

I like it when a woman or a really hot trans girl sucks my cock with bright red or dark lipstick on. I find it such a turn on!

Longest I've ever edged myself? it was about three hours. I don't have self control! But I did get edged for three days during a marathon session with a dominatrix. That was pure torture! When she went to bed she'd put me in a chasstity gage and handcuff my hands to the bed so I couldn't touch it. When the time came to release I painted the walls! :)

Most times I've cum in a day? Surprisingly, twice. It takes a while for me to reload, and frankly I don't have to cum in my sessions- its more about making the other person happy, which is what I'm getting paid for most of the time.

If my significant other found out and wanted to participate, I'd be the happiest person on the planet. I really would. Becausse it would be such a stark contrast to how things are today.

I would find a way to get out of it if a co worker or friend wanted my services. Too much at stake there.

Never had a bra fitting, but I really should. I've fantasized about it but I need to find a safe place to do it. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears!

I'll combine the last two questions into one response. I went to my first transformation studio in the mid 2000s. It was Jamie Austin of Austin's Angels. Loved it, and its still some of the best photos I've ever taken (I was a lot younger then, too!). I tried two other places, one in NYC and another in Toronto around that time but wasn't happy with them. Then I found The Boudoir Online n London, owned and operated by the incomperable Jodie Lynn. I followed her for years until I finally visited a couple years ago. It was fanatstic- she does such an incredible job and is so personable. We became good friends and I've since then Ive been over to see her a few times, met other girls, and did three trips to Viva Wildside in Vegas with her. Love her to death annd I think she's the gold standard. I've also had good experiences at Boys Will be Girls in London and Dafni Girls in Madrid. I've found all these places (and others) online and have been very picky about who I go to. I focus on those artists who make the girls look very convincing and take good pictures, not someone who looks like a guy in makeup. There is a real talent involved here that can't be understated. Sadly, I haven't found any place here in the US that meets my standards, but I'm open to suggestions if anyone has any! But the best overall experience was one I did here in Cincinnati. I did a professional Boudoir shoot with an incredible photographer who owns Boudoir of Cincinnati. The pics were GORGEOUS and I can't wait to get back there again. Brian (photographer) hooked me up with a makeup artist who did a fantastic job and really made me feel comfortable before I went in front of the camera. That was one of my most favorite days- I felt so beautiful, so sexy. I was on cloud nine for days. But to be clear, that is not a transformation studio and they don't specialize in trans girls. I was clearly an exception, though they made me feel very welcome.

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coochiequeens · 2 years

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Oh Canada! Oh no!

A trans-identified male athlete has taken the top spot in yet another Canadian women’s running competition, adding to the growing list of victories against female athletes he has claimed since transitioning.

Tiffany Newell, 50, has now placed first in the women’s indoor 1500 meter running competition for women aged 50-54, which was held in Toronto, Ontario this past week. This is Newell’s latest victory and has added to his long list of first-place rankings and records in women’s running competitions.

On January 8, Newell took the top spot in the women’s 3000 meter for women aged 45-49 at the Winter Mini Meet, and would rank first in the women’s 5000 meter for women aged 45-49 just days later.

He then went on to rank first in the 1500 meter for women aged 45-49 on February 5, and, following a birthday which placed him in a new age category, ranked first in the 1500 meter in the category for women aged 50-54 in a competition held from February 23 to February 26 in Toronto.

The news of Newell’s latest victory was announced by the International Consortium on Women’s Sport, a campaign group advocating for sexed categories, prompting anger and disbelief from those concerned with the preservation of women’s sport.

“That is ridiculous and no fan of athletics will view it as any sort of achievement,” wrote Colin Winter in response to the announcement. “It is a farce & everyone knows it but too many are too frit to say so. Frit is no excuse. If one’s job is to protect the integrity of a sport, that is what one has to do. If unable to do so, resign.”

Some have also expressed concern that Newell’s new age classification will result in him now seizing the 5000 meter title from Maria Zambrano, a female athlete with multiple records across the age groups she has competed in.

Last year, Newell set a Canadian record in the 5000 meter indoor running competition for women aged 45-49 held at Toronto’s York University. Newell ran 18:02.30over the distance, besting the previous record by six seconds. His record was ratified by the Canadian Masters Athletics in December, and it became the first time a trans-identified male athlete in Canada broke a national record in track.

At that same competition, Newell also placed first in the women’s 800 meter race for women aged 45-49.

His victories earned him an “honorable mention” as the Ontario Master’s Athlete of the Month in March of 2022, just one month after snatching the top spots.

In January of 2023, Newell placed first in the women’s 5000 meter for women aged 45-49 once again during the Ontario Master’s Mini Meet held in Toronto.

Previously, Newell won a silver medal at the 2021 Canadian XC Championships in the masters 8K, and also finished second at the 2022 Hamilton Marathon.

Newell began transitioning in 2017, but began competing in women’s sport in 2020 after claiming to have met the recommended testosterone levels as set by the World Athletics guidelines on transgender athletes.

Last June, the global regulator for swimming, diving and water polo issued a ruling barring transgender athleteswho experienced male puberty from swimming and other aquatic sports. FINA opted to create an “open category” instead in order to preserve the fairness of sexed categories. The decision came after international backlash surrounding the success of Lia Thomas, a trans-identified male, in women’s swimming.

In an interview with Running Magazine earlier this year, Newell rejected the concept of an “open category” for transgender athletes in running, and claimed he should be allowed to compete against females as he identified as such.

“The policy makes sense for non-binary athletes, but I don’t feel comfortable racing against men. It categorizes me in the sex I am not identified as,” Newell said. “I am a woman, and I feel most comfortable racing against women or other transgender women. I believe an open category can work if athletes can continue to race against athletes of the same gender.”

Despite protests from trans activists, studies have consistently affirmed that trans-identified male athletes retain a significant edge over their female counterparts, even after starting hormone therapy.

In 2020, a study released in the British Journal of Sport Medicine noted that trans-identified males were able to complete 31% more push-ups and 15% more sit-ups in one minute on average than a female Air Force service member. They also ran 1.5 miles 21% faster.

But even after two years on testosterone suppression treatment, the males were still 12% faster on average than biological females.

#Canada #ontario #Toronto #Tiffany Newell is a man #Women’s sports are for women #Winter Mini Meet #International Consortium on Women’s Sport

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