#expected readings december 2020

[mickyschumacher]

𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[mrs-lockley]

Once Upon a December

Pairing: Hades & Persephone AU, Miguel O’Hara x WOC!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 4.5k  Warnings: Arranged marriage, implied age gap (reader is a couple centuries old and of age), mention of death and a child death/funeral (no actual death graphically described or specified), dark imagery of the Underworld, use and mentions of Greek mythology, conflicted feelings, magical realism, no time period specified Summary: In the early decades of your marriage to the god of the Underworld, you resented him for abruptly ending your maidenhood. As the decades go by, you learn that there is more to the man who rules the dead than you realize. One day, your husband takes you to Tartarus, the depths of the Underworld, to suggest a proposition.

Author's Note: Hi my little doves, I'm semi-back with a new fic! To be honest, this fic has been in my draft for 3 years (date of origin: 12/30/2020) with First Order!Poe originally, but I thought Miguel suited Hades much better. I have a few fics in my wips and it's honestly like Russian Roulette because i did not expect to complete a Miguel fic before a Jake fic, lol. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings and @v4mpires0ap for supporting me in completing this and giving me feedback! This fic was also deeply inspired by this comic illustrated by @katadesmoi, another take on the Hades & Persephone myth. If you like to listen to music while reading, I highly suggest listening to this Once Upon a December playlist on Youtube. Happy reading! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs make my heart go warm 🤍

Tagging: @soft-girl-musings @v4mpires0ap @venting402 @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub but only if you would like to read it!

You have seen this place before. The place where the stars fall to the earth, where the roots meet the soil, where the ocean meets the shore. 

Where the dead meet the living, where the living meet the dead. 

Your reflection mirrors you in the sky as you look up to the clouds with the whispering images of Earth shining down on you. On Earth, the clouds weep at the loss of the sun, but other clouds have gone soft with crystals catching the last kiss of sunlight before nightfall. Other places show the yellow sun shining over glistening forests and beaches, and some a starlight projection over snowfall. 

A snowflake flutters from the sky, and you stretch your palm to watch it melt on your skin. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Underneath the moonlight, the trace of a smile tugs at your husband’s lips. He moves to stand beside you and the two of you gaze at the glassy sky above. 

Miguel keeps his distance, a shadow’s length between the two of you. 

For a brief moment, a sparkling ember is reflected in those brown eyes, only to quickly disappear within a blink and a slight shake of his head. 

Your husband was not malevolent, nor was he benevolent. Miguel was a man whose moral conviction strongly aligned with the laws of nature, life, and death. He takes no sides, but only stands in the middle, seeing nothing but carnage to his right and hearing the wailing of tears to his left. 

You met him once before your arranged marriage. You and your mother were at a banquet one evening, your first banquet after the war when he caught your eye. Standing at the side of the hall with a glass of red wine in his hands, everyone fell into a hushed whisper. It was rare to see the god of the dead at a gathering like this, especially since the collapse of a universe. 

As your mother mingled with one of her sisters, your curious eyes drifted into his orbit. It was as if the darkness of the Underworld followed him into the light, but you were entranced by the shadows that caressed the contours of his face. Centuries of carnage and war clouded his eyes a deep brown, but in the dim candlelight, you could see that in spite of witnessing the heaviness of humanity, there were traces of his youth in smile.

A pair of older women passed you, whispering quietly about him. 

The wine looks too much like blood in his hands, one of them remarked with disdain. 

But not to you.

It was difficult to not notice him with his imposing height and stature. Even as he stood to the side and in the shadows of the banquet hall, the wine in his hands reminded you of the deep crimson of a pomegranate, waiting for you to cut it open so you could taste its juices. 

Smoothing your hair, you quickly averted your gaze and distracted yourself by listening to your mother discuss the upcoming spring harvest. You smiled at your aunt as she pitched in, acknowledging how the winter rain would help water the crops and contribute to a bountiful spring for the mortal universe. 

But as the conversation continued, your skin prickled. It was as if something was burning you, a small flame lit on your skin and was rapidly growing into a thunderous wildfire that consumed everything in its wake.

You tried to ignore the sensation as you listened to your mother and your aunt's plan for the harvest, but the longer you ignored it, the hotter the fire burned your skin. It was as if you were thrown into a wildfire with the smoke filling your lungs, traveling to your throat, and threatening to spill from your mouth. Their voices began to fade into the distance as the roar of your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

Unable to ignore the feeling any longer, you began to look around to find the cause of your discomfort. 

Your innocent eyes met his, and you could barely breathe. 

His brown eyes darkened into what you would believe to be the darkness of the Underworld. It was as if he was pulling you into its depths– not seducing you into temptation– but revealing all of your secrets into the light. 

All you could feel was the blood rushing to your face as he looked at you. You could not read the expression on his face as his eyes drank you in, but you could not tear yourself away. You were caught in his snare. 

But as your eyes met, you saw something else. As he was reading you, you were reading him, trying to translate the pages of a book that was presented to you in an ancient language you discovered for the first time. The introduction was breathtaking, but the first chapter was consuming and inviting. 

His eyes only left yours when you saw your father call and approach him. As he looked away, you too turned your eyes back to your mother and her sister. You could not hear what your father and Miguel were discussing behind you and your mother’s back, but you would soon learn that the god of the dead was blessed by your father for your hand in marriage. 

There was no warning. One day, you were laying under the sun in the springfields with flowers in your hair, singing a love song from days of old. The next day, you were escorted to the world below you, climbing your way through its webs to become queen of the dark kingdom to your betrothed. 

“I know you have assumptions about me.” Miguel’s voice is quiet as he speaks, barely above a whisper in the snowfall. “I cannot change them or how you feel, nor do I intend on changing your mind, but …” 

His words trail off, his voice fading into the distant sound of the winter winds howling in the cavern. 

Looking back up at the dome above you, you catch his reflection. A shadow crosses his stern face, its fingers stretching across his tan skin. In the dim moonlight, you could almost catch streaks of silver in his dark waves. The centuries have taken a toll on him, and while you were a couple hundred years younger than him, you, too, felt the heaviness in your chest. 

“I’ve heard stories,” you tell him quietly.

His eyes remain on the sky above with an unreadable expression. The only sound between you is the silent snowfall and the white clouds that puff around your lips with each breath you take. 

“Do you believe them?”

His question catches you by surprise. Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering in your throat as you think about how to answer him. 

Your husband turns to you then, a stormy look on his face as he looks at you. 

You remembered the stories and cautionary tales your mother told you about him. While you were tending the rose garden one day, your mother shared with you the stories she heard from the other gods after attending a banquet. 

He was the reason one of the universes collapsed. He meddled into the mortal realm when he should have stayed where he belonged- in the depths and shadows of the dead. 

He chased a young boy to the edges of the Underworld, all because the poor boy wanted to save his father from dying. Imagine how cruel a man could be to stop a boy from saving his father.

That man shows no mercy or remorse for the dearly departed. He only sits on his throne as he listens to their tears of sadness and cries of anguish. He would not even show mercy to a mortal man who ventured into the Underworld to bring his lover back to life– instead, granting an impossible task that doomed the poor man from the start.

Decades ago, you might have believed the whispers of the gods, goddesses, and other celestial beings as they spoke about him behind his back. For the first few decades of your marriage, you resented him for taking you away from your mother and the mortal realm. He stole you away from the sun with just a simple blessing from your father, and he had not even spoken a single word to you before making you his bride and queen. 

What he did not know was that once, you ran away. 

As Miguel was in the heart of the Underworld, you briefly escaped its darkness. It was winter in the land of the living, and somehow, you managed to sneak past the hounds, the souls, and the suspecting ferryman who stood at the crossroads between realms. 

(Whether he knew your plan of escape or not, he did not say. The ferryman merely watched with unknowing eyes as you slipped past him.)

Your lungs ached as you climbed your way out from underground. Soil crusted beneath your fingernails, your skin covered in earth when the light of the winter sun nearly burned your eyes upon your ascent. 

You did not know how long you wandered, but you walked until the soles of your feet burned crimson. The skies darkened into icy shades of gray and white before weeping for the loss of the sun and your fingertips mirrored the color of your feet. 

Day turned to night, and before long, you stumbled upon an evening wake. 

Outside the church, the deceased’s family mingled in the winter night. Their eyes burned with tears as their voices trembled with each word spoken. Loved ones gathered around them to offer their condolences while the children sat outside on the steps, playing with makeshift paper dolls and animals to pass the time. 

You wondered if anyone saw you, but the thought of someone recognizing you never crossed your mind. While your mother advised you to stay out of mortal affairs, there was something pulling you towards the coffin, urging you to stay. 

It did not take long for your heart to break. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you gazed at the little girl laying inside the wooden box. You remembered her youthful spirit and jovial smile as she would sit under your favorite tree, weaving flower crowns and sharing fruit with some of the wildlife that dwelled in the forest. The nymphs and dryads spoke fondly of her whenever she visited the lake, and a few times, you remembered picking up the blooming flowers that she left behind as an offering.

Overcome with grief, you placed your hand over hers, whispering words of assurance and comfort to her. Her skin was cold to touch, but you did not shy away as you left behind a small white lily in her embrace.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, you immediately stepped aside. You assumed the man who approached the coffin to be her father as you watched him place the coins over her eyes, whispering to his daughter in their native tongue with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Your heart ached for the girl and her family as you watched them gather around her coffin. No one noticed you while you walked away, following the fallen petals of dried flowers to guide you back to the world below. 

It was as if nothing changed since your brief departure. The ferryman merely watched you with apathetic eyes when you returned, his boat filled with souls as he carried them over the Styx. 

You did not meet with Miguel that day, but as you wandered the Isles of the Blessed, you heard a familiar voice ring in the air. 

Not wanting to be seen or scolded for wandering off, you quickly hid behind a tree. Peeking from behind the trunk, your heart warmed to see that same little girl playing in the field with a man holding her hand. 

Miguel. 

You watched as he knelt down to her height, a gentle look on his face as he held her hands. You could not hear what they were saying, but from the smile on her face, you knew that he was nothing but kind and gentle with her as she adjusted to her new life in Elysium. 

“What is your name, little one?”

“Gabriella.”

“Gabriella,” your husband repeated as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. His fingers paused over the lily tucked behind her ear. “This is a beautiful flower you have in your hair.”

She smiled as she removed it from her ear and offered it to him. 

“I had it with me when the ferryman took me here. I don’t remember how I got it, but he told me to keep it.”

You held your breath as Miguel held the lily in his hand. It was not unusual for flowers to spring wherever you went, and you wondered if he knew that you snuck into the mortal realm under his watch. 

To your surprise, he smiled at her as he tucked the lily back in her hair. 

“He was right. You should keep it.”

You have not seen Gabriella since that day, but you never forgot her. Whenever you walked near the Isles of the Blessed, you could hear her laugh in the wind with the river twinkling in the shape of her smile. 

His question hangs frozen mid-air as the snow crystallizes around you. 

Did you believe the horrid tales, after what you have seen?

His eyes search yours as the two of you stand under the shadow of the earth, its roots tangling around you. 

Of all the myths and legends you heard about Miguel, it would be easy to sway you into believing he was an apathetic man who ruled the land of the dead. He stole you away from spring, but in the decades that followed since your marriage, you realized that not once did he ever try to hold you back. There were countless times you snuck away into the mortal realm, and every time he could have held you back or ordered the hounds to follow you. Yet, he never did.

Perhaps you have judged him too harshly before learning about the man beneath the mask. While a part of you still resented him for the marriage, you could not bring yourself to truly hate him. 

“I would have,” you answer him quietly, “once upon a December.” 

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, amusement briefly flickering across his eyes as the ghost of a smile tickles his lips. 

In the mirror above, snow continues to fall like kisses from the earth. Its kisses leave droplets on your skin, but as you turn to your husband, you could count the snowflakes like stars in the night sky as they melt into his dark hair and brown skin. 

It was one of those rare moments where there was nothing and no one else in the world but the two of you. While Miguel was known to mortals under a different name and had a duty to follow in his realm, he gave you freedom to roam his world as you pleased without fear. You were his queen, and he treated you as such in his own quiet way. 

While he kept you at arm’s length, you were no fool.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The cavern almost seemed to engulf him as the moonlight shined upon him. Whispers of snow glistened in his hair, and the perpetual scowl on his lips appeared to soften the longer he gazed at the sky. 

He pauses, calculating his words. 

“Long before the mortals named me, I stumbled upon this place by chance. It is safe to presume that the deepest depths of the Underworld to be a frightening place of terror and grief, but it is more than what the legends say.”

Miguel takes a step forward until he is directly underneath the center of the mirror. Behind him, the outlines of a tree stretched its branches around him with its root tangling your shadow with his. 

The wind continues to howl like a wounded wolf in the dead of night. While the mortals would call this place Tartarus, it was not what you imagined. 

A deep ache settles in your chest, its roots ensnaring the heart in your ribs as the winter breeze fills your lungs with sharp knives of ice. 

“Only once in a blue moon could I walk into the world above, but here … it is the only way I could see the mortal realm without leaving mine behind.”

His eyes seem to mist in the moonlight, and your heart softens. The fortress of the castle he built around him begins to crumble, and for the first time, you see the lone king that resides within the darkness of its walls. 

The longing of the sun, the yearning for something warm, for someone to hold. 

As you look up at the mirror, you remember a time when you wandered the meadow in your youth and stumbled upon a stream where the carrion birds often flocked to. The nymphs, dryads, and your overbearing mother advised you to never venture near the river, but your youthful curiosity overcame you against their best wishes. 

The birds followed your movements as you stepped towards the river. Dark clouds gathered in the sky above with thunder rumbling in the distance, but you remained steadfast. White peace lilies and roses bloomed underneath your feet as you fell to your knees to peer into the murky waters beneath. 

Darkness swirled around your reflection as you gazed at the water below. The longer you looked, the more confused you were as you tried to decipher what lurked underneath the surface. What could cause the dryads and nymphs to urge you to stay away from this place? What worried your mother that you found a secret beneath?

You never told them about the river, nor did you ever return since that day, but as you look up at the familiar mirror above you, you wonder if the forbidden river drifted into the Styx. Perhaps the carrion birds were the ones who guarded the river in the mortal realm.

Perhaps as you wondered and peered into the dark waters, another face watched you from below.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, urging you to look at him.

“I know a part of you must resent me for taking you away from your mother — and I do not blame you for it — but this…” He gestures to the mirror above, a soft expression relaxing the curves  of his face, “is the only way we could see into the mortal universe. If I could bring a piece of the mortal world to you, it is the least I can do.”

Snow continues to fall with the winter winds howling around the two of you, causing a small flurry of snow to surround your two bodies. Frost begins to crystallize at your feet, indicating the official arrival of winter in the world above.

Your husband illuminates in the moonlight, a serene glow casted across his frame as he keeps his gaze on the sky. The corners of his lips curve into a lazy smile, and you could not help but think back to all the legends and myths you were taught about him, and the river that your mother warned you to stay away from. 

If this was the face that watched you from below, how could you despise him for bringing a piece of your world back to you, especially when he was not welcome in the light? 

“It is the winter solstice in the mortal world,” you tell him softly. The sky darkens above you, but you do not feel the cold as much anymore, not with the snowdrops beginning to surface from the frost. “The shortest day and the longest night of the year.”

You wonder what flowers would bloom in the spheres of the universe, what sky and stars the mortals see as they bask in the moonlight. While your marriage to the god of the Underworld dictated the seasons above, you lived long enough to know that the worlds above adjusted to your absence or presence in their own ways. 

The first winter you spent in the Underworld, you were inconsolable. While Miguel tried to comfort you, you were distraught, crying tears of anguish into your pillow as the darkness surrounded you. For the first time, no flowers bloomed where you stepped or where you lay.  Instead, only roseless thorns and weeds gathered where you walked, and in the world above, it was the worst harvest the mortals have seen in decades. 

While your parents argued with your husband about the conditions and length of your stay, you blocked out their voices. The only sounds you heard were your cracks splintering through your heart as you mourned the warmth of the sun and the endless blue sky. As much as Miguel tried to coax you out of your chambers and into the dark gardens of his kingdom, you planted your roots into the ground, refusing to be anywhere near him. 

Only for the winter, your father proposed. Your mother wept by his side, but your husband nodded in agreement, sealing your fate as swiftly as the seasons changed. 

It took some time, but throughout the first few years of your marriage, you began to be civil with Miguel. Much like him, you kept him at arm’s length, watching him and trying to understand what kind of king he was to his subjects in the world below. While you heard the whispering lore and legends of him in your ears, you soon learned that he was not everything that the people believed him to be.

A cloud storms in his brown irises as he looks over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “If I may ask, are you happy here?”

A bitter laugh threatens to spill from your lips, but you quickly bite your tongue.

It has been decades since you were taken to rule the world below. While you may not have lived long enough to control your godly emotions, you still felt an aching pain and loss as you grieved leaving your home. 

“I did not have a choice in becoming your bride,” you answer, your voice laden with sadness and despair. “What say do I have as your wife?”

You were a younger goddess who lived only a couple centuries, but you had yet to learn the complexities of the universe. You still needed to experience the worlds around you, both above and below, but your maidenhood was cut short by the man your father arranged to be your husband. 

Even with the decades behind you, time had yet to fully heal the part of your heart that grieved for your maidenhood. You were conflicted in your grief and loss when Miguel had been cordial and respectful, in his own sentimental way. A part of you may resent him, but you still did not completely understand the feelings you held towards him. 

His brown eyes soften at your words, his lips slightly parted as white cotton clouds flutter in the air from his breath. 

“You are not a prisoner here,” he assures you gently, approaching you as if you were a skittish deer in the woods. “I am truly sorry for the pain I brought upon you.”

You look up at him slowly, seeing nothing but remorse in his gaze. You wonder if he would ask for your forgiveness, but it was too late for that. It has been half a century since your marriage, and the world already recorded the event in the stars and the sky. 

Miguel was a man of many things, but you know in his eyes, he is lawful. With the living and the dead, he merely rules over the departed to balance the universes. He only follows the rules of nature, but in godly matters, he follows the customs and traditions. A marriage only needs a father’s blessing for his daughter to be wedded without the husband needing to court or ask the bride. He broke no laws, but he did not fully understand the depths of your grief.

His voice is gentle as the winds quiet around him.

“I know it will take time for you to fully accept me as your husband, but I am a patient man. All I ask and plead is for you to give me a chance.”

The winter winds pull the air out of your lungs as Miguel turns with his hand outstretched towards you.

As you grieved the sudden end of your maidenhood, you reflect on everything you have seen. The gods and goddesses may indulge in heresy and scandals whenever they pleased, but from what you learned from their whispers, some of their stories did not reflect what you have seen. 

The god of the dead was not cruel, nor was he kind. He often deals in absolutes and ultimatums, with the universes remaining in balance as he ruled over his domain. 

Even so, you remember Gabriella’s smile as he held her hand in Elysium. A child taken too soon, but found comfort in the man who guided her to the Isles of the Blessed. 

Perhaps he was kinder than you believed.

Snow gathers in his palm as he holds his hand towards you. It would be easier for you to turn away and loathe him for the rest of your days, but something stirs in your heart. 

Darkness may have taken its hold over the mortal realm, but it has not fully consumed yours. 

Your fate is already written in the stars, your marriage bound in a godly affair. While you are still a younger goddess in a single web of the universe, perhaps it would do you no harm to trim the thorns that protected you and allow a rose to bloom. 

Slowly, you take his hand, his skin oddly warm against yours.

Your husband smiles gently at you and raises your hand to his lips. 

“I promise to love and care for you,” he whispers, “as long as you are by my side.”

Snowdrops and hydrangeas begin to bloom from the frost that dusted the ground beneath you, tangling with the roots of the tree as you walk beside him, allowing him to guide you away from the moonlight and towards the river from where you came. 

A comfortable silence falls upon you as Miguel rows the boat along the Styx, the water calm and quiet on the journey away from the darkness. The winter winds begin to fade into a distant echo, and as much as you wish to turn back to gaze at the world above one more time, you keep your eyes forward.

The winter solstice may have begun in the mortal realm, but the spring solstice has begun to blossom in the world below. 

And in the depths of the Underworld, the tree that holds the mirror above sprouts a single crimson fruit, a small pomegranate in the start of spring.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Harry’s Lawsuits and Legal Threats

So I started listing this out but there's just too many and too much information to share, so y'all are getting another screenshots-of-spreadsheets posts. But first, the TL;DR.

These are only the lawsuits that involve the Sussexes as plaintiffs. This does not include any other lawsuits or cases that named the Sussexes as interested parties (i.e., the Heritage Foundation FOIA lawsuit or the P Diddy case).

Since 2019, the Sussexes have sued 11 times. Of the 11 lawsuits:

3 are still active and ongoing.

The judge threw out 1 lawsuit.

Harry dropped 1 lawsuit and was fined either £316,000 or £376,000 (it's not clear).

The Sussexes together dropped or modified one lawsuit that turned into a second lawsuit.

The Sussexes received monetary damages in 5 lawsuits. We know the damages for 2 lawsuits (£1 and £140,000), and we know that for 2 other lawsuits Harry pledged to donate his damages to charity after legal fees were paid (and no, we don't know that he actually did).

The Sussexes also made 5 separate notices for action (aka threatened to sue) and filed 1 IPSO complaint. I believe the IPSO complaint was the gateway for the Sussexes deciding to start suing everyone, which is why I included it.

Despite the Sussexes winning damages and appearing somewhat, I am fairly certain that they aren't actually seeing a whole lot of that money because the legal expenses for 3 still-pending lawsuits are probably outrageous. Anyway.

The lawsuits:

Sussexes v Splash News - Cotswolds House (January 2019)

Meghan v Associated Newspapers - Tom Markle Letter (October 2019)

Active Harry v News Group Newspapers - Phone hacking (October 2019); this is the lawsuit where there's now concerns of Harry withholding or destroying evidence so Moehringer and some grey suits have been requested to give evidence.

Harry v Mirror Group News - Phone hacking (October 2019)

Sussexes v John Does - Privacy Invasion and Paparazzi Harassment (July 2020); this lawsuit was dropped after being modified into ⬇️

Sussexes v X17 - Privacy Invasion and Paparazzi Harassment (July 2020);

Active Harry v RAVEC - State-funded protection and security (July 2020); Harry initially lost this case, he appealed, the judge denied the appeal, Harry appealed the denial of the appeal, the appellate judge agreed and overturned the denial of the appeal, and now Harry is appealing the first loss.

Harry v Home Office - Personally paying for police protection (uncertain)

Harry v Associated Newspapers - Royal Marines (December 2020)

Harry v Associated Newspapers - Keeping the lawsuit to be able to pay for police protection himself a secret (February 2022)

Active Harry v Associated Newspapers - Elton John (October 2022); in November 2023, the judge ruled it could go to trial. It's expected to begin January 2025, so happy birthday to Kate.

The legal threats:

(IPSO Complaint) Harry v Daily Mail - Elephants (April 2019)

Vancouver Island Papwalk (January 2020)

Harry v The Sun and Dan Wootton (June 2020)

Harry v The Times - Invictus Fundraiser (September 2020)

Harry v BBC - Queen's Consent to use Lilibet (June 2021)

Sussexes v The Times - Archewell (January 2022)

Now the reason you're still reading this... (spreadsheets will blow up to be readable when you click on the image)

[capricorn-season]

10 JUNE 2020

J.K. Rowling Writes about Her Reasons for Speaking out on Sex and Gender Issues

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Berns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018,  American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people.  The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much.  It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity.  I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

[captaincorgi128]

On Christmas Day of 2018, I received a paperback copy of George Orwell's 1984. I was 12 years old.

I remember the adults - aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, looking at me cautiously, as if they had handed me a live bomb rather than a book. "That's a very intense book, okay?" my father told me. "If you want, we can talk about it after you read it." 12-year-old me, with only a dim idea of what fascism actually was and an insatiable appetite for books, only nodded.

While my younger cousins and sister played with their new toys, I sat on the couch and read the book in one sitting. When I finished, I looked up to see the adults staring at me with a strange sort of fascination. "Do you want to talk about it?" my father asked.

"No." I shrugged and turned away.

The truth was, I had been expecting a happy ending. Winston Smith was the good guy, wasn't he? Why didn't he win? Evil governments always lost in the end, didn't they? How could Winston have been brainwashed into believing such an evil, awful dictatorship was truly great? After all, when my middle school history teachers talked about dictatorships, those of Hitler and Stalin, it was obvious that they were the worst of the worst. No one actually agreed with them, did they?

Then I remembered my fourth grade class talking about the upcoming election, laughing about how obviously stupid Trump's wall idea was, and how strange it felt to hear someone say Clinton was worse. I don't remember his reasoning, but I distinctly remember thinking it was dumb because what could be dumber than a giant wall around Mexico? I remembered my grandmother arguing against vaccinating children, and I remembered flat Earthers I had seen online. That day was the first time it clicked for me: people believe what they want to believe.

The years passed. I read 1984 again, and again, and again. I watched as Trump shut down the government for sake of a temper tantrum, as he was impeached, as he told Americans to object bleach, as he politicized a pandemic and let thousands die. I didn't know about his SA scandals. I didn't know he had called Mexicans "thieves and rapists." I just knew he could not be allowed to be president again.

Yet, when 2020 rolled around, I was only 14 years old and could not vote. I settled for watching anxiously as the votes came in - I didn't know much about Joe Biden, but he was clearly a better alternative. He actually believed the COVID-19 pandemic was real, for one. So I sighed in relief as the results came through four days later: Joe Biden had been elected president of the United States.

I kept watching. I watched as Trump incited insurrection, as terrorists stormed the Capitol. I stared in horror at the TV. How could this have happened? How were so many people so delusional?

In December 2021, for my sophomore year English class, I read 1984 again. I thought of January 6th.

My classmates thought it boring, confusing, stupid. It didn't make sense. What did it matter? Who cared whether or not we knew the significance of the character of O'Brien?

I kept watching. The summer before my junior year of high school, just before I entered a relationship with my now-partner, Roe v. Wade was overturned, and I felt a sinking pit in my stomach. Six months later, a friend of mine read 1984 for that same English class, and he loved it - we had a few intense study hall discussions about the nature of doublespeak, of totalitarianism, of a surveillance state. My partner agreed, reading it with a terrified fascination.

I kept watching. I realized I was nonbinary, and I watched in horror as the Republican Party made their creeping advances to eradicate trans rights. Idly, I reread 1984. What the right wanted did seem a lot like Oceania's government, didn't it? I wondered if I'd ever be able to marry my partner, who, despite also being trans, was still the same sex as me. If Trump ran again, he'd probably win, and then what would we do?

Then, 2024. Trump won the primaries in a landslide. I turned 18 and registered to vote. In the meantime, I skimmed Project 2025's bits about banning pornography and thought of 1984 and its carefully curated sexless society, created to achieve perfect complacency. I went off to college and voted absentee, carefully bubbling in the circle next to Vice President Kamala Harris's name. I woke up on Wednesday, November 6th to see Trump had won the presidency.

It has been one week. Again, I watch as Trump proposes a Department of Government Efficiency, which sounds euphemistically horrific. I watch as he suggests Musk to head it, a man known for being as inefficient as possible. I think of the Ministry of Truth and how its entire purpose was to disseminate lies. I watch as people celebrate, mocking me and many others who had desperately voted against a fascist, a rapist, a convicted criminal, a man who would kill us and spit on our graves if he was elected to office. I think of Parsons and duckspeak, the practice of simply spitting out the "correct" propaganda the same way a duck quacked. People really did believe what they wanted to believe, didn't they? I realize Trump won because, deep down, people hated minorities more than they loved democracy.

I hope my loved ones and I will survive another Trump presidency. I hope those in Gaza and Ukraine will survive it too, along with so many others - Jews, POC, immigrants, students, disabled, Muslims. At the very least, I hope to live long enough to watch as the bigots are forced to eat their own words and come to terms with the fact they gleefully voted in their own downfall.

At the end of the day, 1984 taught me something I could not have comprehended at age 12, 14, 15, or 16, but can understand now: democracy dies not with a bang, but with a whimper.

[thebeautyofspn]

Hi friends, you may (or may not) have noticed I haven’t been as active on here. Partly this was because I was wrapping up season 5 again over on Instagram but the other part unfortunately, is due to a major family emergency.

Back in late December my Dad unfortunately suffered his first stroke. We were incredibly lucky & he healed really well & was doing great. After some time he had been pretty much 100% completely back normal.

Sadly this past Tuesday, he suffered a second stroke. He currently is stable & considering everything, doing well & slowly on the mend. My Dad is a fighter. He recovered incredibly well the first time & we expect he will be able to it again.

I don’t usually post anything personal on my spn accounts, especially something like this, but, (even though it feels weird to do) I also wanted to mention that my brother has started a gofund me to support my Dad so that we can ease his monetary worries in this really difficult time.

I started TBOSPN on a whim on Twitter in the summer of 2020 as a little ode to the beauty of this show I love so much. Something that rocked my world in 2007 & then changed it completely for the better (& still continues to) when I found it again in 2015. I mentioned this on Instagram (for those of you over there too), but the continuous kindness that is always sent my way is genuinely so touching. I appreciate it more than you know. And for someone who was never active in fandom spaces, it makes me thankful as hell to be a part of this spn family.

Even just spreading the word would be amazing & so appreciated. Thank you for sticking around & for taking a minute to read this. 🖤

[rivalsforlife]

Ace Attorney News Roundup

Very behind on several of these, but news doesn't always cross over from twitter to tumblr, so I thought I'd recap some things here:

AAI 15th Anniversary

First: today marks the 15th anniversary of Ace Attorney Investigations! Tatsuro Iwamoto, the art director for AAI, made a celebratory sketch of Kay to commemorate the occasion (link to tweet):

Iwamoto has also been drawing fanart of minor characters throughout the ace attorney trilogy on his twitter page. These include: April May, Dee Vasquez, Yanni Yogi (and Polly), Richard Wellington, Turner Grey, Moe the Clown, Max Galactica, Oldbag (alien mode), Matt Engarde, Doug Swallow, Luke Atmey (and Mask☆DeMasque), Viola Cadaverini, Valerie Hawthorne, Lisa Basil, and Glen Elg. Technically these aren't official art, but it's always good to have more art of obscurer characters!

The Great Ace Attorney Hit A Million Copies

Some big news: The Great Ace Attorney's 2021 port hit a million copies sold, making it the second ace attorney game to hit Capcom's platinum titles list, the first being the Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney Trilogy from 2019! This comes just under 3 years since the release of the duology in July 2021. In comparison, the original AA trilogy hit a million copies in December 2020, shortly under two years since the release of the game in February 2019.

The update to the platinum titles sales shows that Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Trilogy has reached 3.3 million copies sold, which means that it has sold over a million copies in less than a year! (My last post that had information on sales, where I said the trilogy had sold 2.3 million, was in September 2023.) It also makes it the 30th highest selling title for Capcom, which I think is pretty impressive considering giants like Resident Evil, Monster Hunter, and Street Fighter are making up the majority of the top 30.

So, the AA trilogy made its first million in approximately 22 months, but now it has sold a million over the last 8 months. I don't know anything about game sales and so this next part is just speculation, but I wouldn't expect it to be very common for games to sell more years out from their release compared to at release? I think that's really saying something about the long-term staying power of this series, and its increasing popularity over the last few years despite not having any new releases (aside from ports - and porting the series to all platforms probably has something to do with the popularity.)

The AA Twitter Is Very Active Right Now

Here are a couple of bullet points with no relation to each other:

-The official ace attorney twitter has been VERY active, particularly the last week. They've been doing the same "weekly book club" for each case that they did for the Great Ace Attorney duology, but that wrapped up last week and now it's just been memes, at least one a day. In most of my time following this account over the last uhh six years, they mostly ramp up marketing around new releases but are kinda silent the rest of the time, with the occasional meme, but definitely not at this frequency.

-Summer Game Fest is next week.

That probably means nothing, as it has every other time I thought we might get some big ace attorney news, but I think it's worth noting.

So, lots of stuff happened this week! Thanks for reading.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/12/2024

this one's a bit short. i am now thirty and still unemployed (ten months this week) ://// if you enjoy the tuesdayposts and are not maxed out on your charitable donations for other causes (american healthcare access, healthcare access in other places, war relief, any number of other good causes) i am going to be $300 short for december rent. here is my paypal.

listening

listening to a lot of pete seeger, for my health. there are about one zillion recordings of Old Man Atom, all ever so slightly different. it starts off as a perky gee-whiz-science! tune and continues frog marching the listener along in an increasingly jaunty manner. it's

Then the cartel crowd put on a show To turn back the clock on the UNO To get a corner on atoms and maybe extinguish Every darned atom that can't speak English Down with foreign-born atoms! America for American atoms! I hold this truth to be self-evident That all men may be cremated equal!

it's very depressing to listen to early anti-nuclear protest songs and realize they hold even more true today! song's a bop tho!

-

reading

the feds nabbed someone allegedly related to the semi-dire Snowflake data leaks that have been ongoing throughout the year (Santander Bank, AT&T, Ticket Master, Neiman Marcus, etc).

this guy has been a real thorn in krebs' side for a year or so and participates in some of the worst corners of the internet, which explains the adversarial nature of the writeup. i read through the whole thing going "yeah this guy is Very annoying but why is krebs so mad at him" and then got to the bottom section about other activities. italicized OH moment in real life but bad.

-

watching

continuing noirvember with The Maltese Falcon (1941, dir. Huston).

The Maltese Falcon is a 1941 American film noir in which a San Francisco private detective deals with three unscrupulous adventurers, all seeking a jewel-encrusted falcon statuette.[3] Written and directed by John Huston[3] in his directorial debut, the film was based on the 1930 novel The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett and is a remake of the 1931 film of the same name.[4][5][6] It stars Humphrey Bogart as private investigator Sam Spade, Mary Astor as his femme fatale client, and as villains Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet.

i have two really snotty thoughts to get out of my brain: the modern letterboxed reviews like "i liked this but the homophobia ruined it" weak. all of you are WEAK.

and

i appreciate the work of the tumblrinas trying to queer this story in a more 2020s friendly way. however. sam spade canonically calls someone a slur for using cologne that he deems too feminine. the noir detective series you want is Philip Marlowe, who is at least homophobic in interesting and less physically violent ways.

anyway! gorgeous gorgeous movie. mary astor goes toe to fucking toe with bogey in every scene. a very frantic and frightened woman who is one jump ahead of the pathway crumbling behind her at all times. but she takes the jump and makes it! every time! except for the most important one!!!

-

playing

having a normal one with 12 hours of powerwash simulator

new genshin update rapidly approacheth. there's a lot happening in this screenshot. accidentally careened right past this npc, with one bullet for the poor low-level slime in the background, floaty blue pet in tow. the npc wanted me to deliver something to her sister who is visible under the big tree in the background. i love early area spaghetti code.

-

making

deep cleaned my house again bc i had people over for my birthday, which was a very lovely and very drunk evening of star wars on in the background while we played trivia. not how i expected to enter my thirties! i am not in the life circumstances i expected to be in my thirties, i do not have the life i expected to have in my thirties, etc. feeling a little maudlin and need to do crafts about it but also all the crafts in my home are not quite right!

[aphinthestars]

FINALLY FINISHED MY CHARACTER SHEET FOR MY SPIDERSONA! 💜😭 After quite literally nine months of working on it! Don't expect something as detailed from me ever again though lol.

I'll talk a little about her lore and character wise in this post if you are interested! (Quick TW Since Aph's story deals with quite a bit of death, self hate, suicidal thoughts etc, etc, you get the gist just be careful reading, also heads up both my friends Didi and Nico wrote their spidersonas with mine so their lores intertwine also also heads up for a quite a bit of an age gap since my spidersona is shipped with Miguel sooooo)

Aph Stella or better well known as Constellation Weaver, the Spiderwoman of Earth-117.

Her powers are basically the normal Spider-Man powers with a few exceptions, she is based on stars, starlight, shooting stars etc, so for example her webs are made out of stars holding onto each other like constellations, like stars being made out of fire, her webs are extremely irritating to the normal human skin, the closest injury to it being a quimical burn.

As well as her webs she can charge her stars on the palms of her hands to cause damage to enemies.

Cons to her powers are that she didn't get the normal super strength that everyone else does, instead she got double the resistance, think of it as she is meant to protect not fight, though she can more then handle herself with the villains in her universe.

Like on Madoka Magica she needs a recharge period on her powers or else something horrible might happen to her, though instead of having a jewel like on Madoka Magica, her body slowly gets filled with a star pattern, that's actually why her suit has pieces of her skin open, so she knows she is not overusing her powers.

The city she lives instead of being New York is named Nueva Lunaria, situated in the late 2020s

She is 26 years old, became Spiderwoman at age 21 but all her canon events only started happening a year or two before the events of ATSV.

Her height, like her creator, is 1.52 cm or 5'2 feet.

Came from an emotional abusive household but lived the first 4 years of her life with her grandmother May until she eventually died of old age and she had to go on back to live with her parents.

After leaving her parents' home she quickly moved in with her two best friends since childhood Didi and Nico.

Because of Aph being the oldest she always was a substitute mom to the both of them.

Nico and Didi helped create Aph’s suit so it's an emotional piece for her.

Aph got bitten in her job as a freelance artist for her universe's version of NASA, Aph would take any job that anywhere would throw at her as she needed the money, being the oldest she felt the need to support Nico and Didi through their careers (Both ended up graduating, Nico as an art preschool teacher and Didi as a nurse which helped Aph heal her injuries in the right way)

Aph got bitten in her job by a rogue entity that they had brought from outer space, specifically from an endeavor to the moon, the only way the people in that ship could describe it was a spider.

Aph got bitten while working on drawing said description of the spider for the research team.

Aph quickly quit her job after she noticed she was becoming Spiderwoman because she was afraid of getting experimented on or worse.

From then on she promised to use her powers responsibly and with kindness just as her Nana May would've wanted.

Sadly both Didi and Nico were Aph's canon events.

Nico dies at the hands of the Lizard in Aph's universe, thrown off a building after the Lizard stopped toying with her, Aph tried to catch her with her webs in a panic but because of her injuries done by the Lizard and the injuries that she got from Aph's webs, she didn't survive, she dies on the beginnings of December before Aph's 26th birthday in January.

Aph's birthday on January 17 that year was the only one she has ever not celebrated in her life.

Didi dies on Valentine's day the year that Aph became 26, done with not being able to help Aph fight villains she makes a deal with what she didn't know at the time was the Green Goblin, making her into a praying mantis hybrid that Aph had to defeat.

Aph blames herself for both their deaths thinking they were preventable.

She lives in a shoujo manga/magical girl inspired world (Think Sailor Moon and Madoka Magica)

A lot of her lore was deadass taken or inspired by Madoka or Sailor Moon so bare with me lol.

Because of Didi's and Nico's deaths Aph can no longer pay for the rent for her apartment and goes back to her parents' home.

Her parent's try to arrange a marriage for her with the Doc Ock of her universe and that's her last straw.

She plans to commit suicide that night but never gets the chance.

That night a orange portal appears in her childhood bedroom, everything floating up and then falling back.

From there emerges Miguel O'Hara recruiting her to the society.

She cuts his speech and says that yes she will join him without hesitation as she sees this as a signal from the universe to keep living and do good in other places.

Much like Gwen she pretty much abandons her universe and lives full time in Earth-928 on the society thanks to Miguel.

Miguel finds out about what she was about to do in her universe and makes sure she gets help.

What Aph doesn't know at the time is that their are Spiderman versions of Didi and Nico in the society, Didi is the adoptive daughter of Miguel and Nico as well as Aph can't go back to her universe.

Miguel hides this information from Aph to protect her but she finds out anyway, they talk it out and Aph understands why he did it, he wanted to make sure Aph didn't try to see this Didi and Nico as replacements of her own.

She eventually is alright enough to be friends with them though.

Miguel in my AU is 35.

Aph and Miguel have a 9 year difference.

Aph and Miguel quickly become close because they feel as if they both lost people in their lives that were important to them in similar ways.

Since Aph is on Nueva York at least for the near future, like the bracelet that Miles wears when he comes into the spidersociety, Miguel turns Aph's star shaped earrings into stabilizers so she can be there without the clunky watch (Though she still needs it to go to other dimensions)

Miguel also quickly finds out that Aph has basically been fighting blind as a bat, she wears glasses on her daily life another perk she didn't get from the spider, but she didn't know how to add the graduation that her glasses have to her mask so she had been fighting blind.

Miguel finds out by seeing her fight, seeing how she normally overshots her hits, when he finds out he berates her but quickly fixes the problem and updates her mask.

Aph makes sure Miguel takes proper breaks and often brings him food from the cafeteria or pastries she makes herself.

She hangs out with him a lot on his lab since she doesn't like that he is cooped up there with no one to talk to or even just have in his presence.

After a heart to heart and Aph basically confessing her feelings to Miguel after she almost died , they get together and Miguel gives Aph a promise ring that like her earrings stabilizes her without the need of the watch.

They call each other mi luna y mi sol.

When the events of ATSV happen, Aph is reluctant to go to Miles' side, but she knows that the person she once knew as her partner is doing something wrong that he'll eventually regret.

She eventually goes back to Miguel after an apology to Miles and him fixing everything up.

In the future Miguel and Aph have four children including Didi, they had difficulties having them surprisingly nor because of the difference in dimensions but because both their genetics are FUCKED in opposite ways, at first they thought they would have none, then oldest biological daughter, Minerva, Minny for short came along after they almost gave up, eventually four years later they had Javier, Javi, who was a very sickly boy so they thought they would never have another one because the other two were already a fucking miracle, and finally six years later when Aph is 38 they have Mateo, the youngest and quite literally their oops baby since Miguel is 47 by then lmao.

AND THAT'S IT! That's Aph's story and design at least for this post, I'll post more about her story and drawings as I make them, I'll also be posting old ones that are in my procreate, mainly with Miguel.

And one last thing props to my friend who made the design of Aph's logo on her bow! Originally she wouldn't have one since I didn't know where to put it but my friend came through, though they didn't want to be tagged I still want to credit them in some way!

Tag list: @sweetimpurity @sweetimpurityloves @bluemadnessstuff

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Brandi Buchman at HuffPost:

Now that Donald Trump has won the White House for a second time, the path ahead seems clear for him to brush off key federal criminal indictments that have dogged him for years while potentially delaying other cases he faces in state court. By securing the presidency, he can use the awesome powers of the executive to seemingly shield from scrutiny any illegal conduct that he would deem part of his “official” duties. When the U.S. Supreme Court enshrined immunity for official acts of former presidents and “at least presumptive immunity” for acts on the outer perimeter of official duties, the majority did so amid the dissent of the three liberal justices.

When reading her dissent aloud from the bench in July, Justice Sonia Sotomayor had bristled: “Ironic isn’t it? The man in charge of enforcing laws can now just break them.” When writing her dissent, which was joined by Justices Elena Kagan and Kentanji Brown Jackson, she concluded that the court had henceforth created a “law-free zone around the president, upsetting the status quo that has existed since the founding.” And now Trump is heading back to that “law-free zone.” Here’s the state of his ongoing cases and how they will likely proceed:

The Jan. 6 Case

Special counsel Jack Smith’s criminal prosecution of Trump for his alleged conspiracy to overturn the results of the 2020 election on Jan. 6, 2021, is likely first on the chopping block, considering that Trump has both vowed to fire Smith in “two seconds” and threatened to throw him “out of the country.” Trump faces four felony charges in the Washington, D.C., case: conspiracy to defraud the United States, conspiracy to obstruct an official proceeding, obstruction of and attempt to obstruct an official proceeding and, for his alleged intimidation of voters, conspiracy against rights.

Trump has vowed for over a year to see the federal insurrection case dismissed. He has argued that Smith’s appointment is unconstitutional and that he has been vindictively prosecuted. Most important, he has argued that his conduct on and before the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol was official and therefore protected by presidential immunity. The Supreme Court found in July that former presidents cannot be charged for any “official” conduct but that anything that falls beyond the scope of “official” duties is fair game. This decision forced Smith to revise Trump’s indictment before presiding U.S. District Judge Tanya Chutkan.

Chutkan signed an order on Oct. 28 that granted Trump until Nov. 21 to file a motion explaining why the case should be dropped on presidential immunity grounds, and Smith’s team did not oppose that request. Before his victory, Chutkan was in position to weigh both arguments and decide which changes would stay or go based on the immunity ruling. As of October, deadlines in the case were still set for well into December. Trump was widely expected to appeal any ruling that did not wipe away the charges anyway, eventually putting the matter back before the Supreme Court, but now all of that looks to be essentially moot. Under Justice Department policy established in the 1970s, sitting presidents cannot be indicted because it would interfere with their duties. The election interference case is expected to be dropped as soon as Trump is inaugurated. The only thing standing in the way of that outcome is an attempt by the judge to reject any dismissal effort by the Justice Department or, if Smith is fired, an attempt by Congress to see the special counsel restored.

The Classified Documents Case

Trump was accused of hoarding classified records at his Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida after he left the White House in 2021. The 37-count case was dismissed less than two weeks after the Supreme Court’s immunity ruling because U.S. District Judge Aileen Cannon found that Attorney General Merrick Garland did not have authority to appoint Smith to prosecute Trump. The decision was controversial, and Smith appealed, citing decades of contrary legal precedent. Oral arguments for the appeal haven’t been scheduled yet. Once Trump takes office, he needs only to turn to prosecutors at the Justice Department and encourage them to drop the case. Notably, ABC News reported shortly before Election Day that Trump had floated the idea of Cannon replacing Garland as attorney general.

State Cases

Trump was convicted in May on 34 felony counts of falsifying business records after a jury in New York determined he made illegal sought to conceal hush money payments to adult film star Stormy Daniels just before the 2016 election. Trump is scheduled for sentencing in this matter on Nov. 26 before Judge Juan Merchan. But because presidents don’t have the authority to interfere with or stop state prosecutions, there’s not much Trump can do to make the case disappear during his presidency. However, his sentencing will likely be delayed indefinitely — or at least until 2029, when his term in office would end.

Trump still faces eight felony charges in Fulton County, Georgia, for allegedly criminally conspiring to overturn the state’s election results and engaging in a racketeering conspiracy with a slew of his allies and advisers that state prosecutors say were hellbent on advancing bogus electoral slates for Trump — even after it was clear Democrat Joe Biden had won the presidential vote in Georgia.

The case was thrown off track this year after Trump’s co-defendant Michael Roman alleged that Fulton County prosecutor Fani Willis had an improper romantic relationship with Nathan Wade, the lawyer Willis tapped to lead the probe into the alleged conspiracy. Arguments on whether Willis should be disqualified do not get underway at the Georgia Court of Appeals until December, and a decision could take months. With Willis declared as winner in her reelection bid Tuesday night, the indictment is expected to stay on ice.

While Donald Trump won, not all of his legal problems will go away entirely, as he could continue to face state charges.

As for federal crimes, Trump will be let off scot free.

[episims]

A Peek to My SFS Stats

I know some creators prefer not seeing their download numbers and that's fair! This kind of stuff can easily cause pressure and/or feelings of underachievement.

For me though, it's just statistics. And since it's pretty precisely 5 years from when I first uploaded anything to SFS, I've gathered some data to play with.

So, this very self-indulgent post is solely about my SFS stats. Just because I'm a total nerd I find it interesting, and I like being open about things. It's long and blabbery so the rest is safely under the cut.

For the background: I tend to create whatever I need for my own game. I share my weird stuff because I feel like it's a trade for everything I download from others.

Probably due to the lack of any consistency or branding at all, my CC has a wide range in download numbers. I have some popular pieces, sure, but also some niche mods like no snow accumulation that has only interested 126 persons in nearly two years.

Even though saying "only 126" is an illusion created by the internet. Imagine if those 126 individuals would come to you in person. That's more people than I've probably even had a real talk with during the last year!

The raw data of my SFS main folder is (calculated with a sheets program): it has 227 files and the average download count for each file is 1557, but 74% of the files have been downloaded fewer times than the average.

So even though my CC isn't usually downloaded that much, I've shared a handful of things that have been downloaded so much more than everything else that they pull the average up.

What are those things? Time is an important factor here, as most CC tends to gather downloads over time (not a single post from 2023 on this list).

1) Subtle wrinkles (January 2022)

17313 downloads (674 hearts; ~3,9% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1112

That's several thousand more than the second most downloaded thing I have, and it's such a random thing.

I'm sure most people have downloaded them to get those 4t2(ish) forehead wrinkles. I have no other explanation as the rest of them are hand-drawn by a person who can't draw. Also the preview is frankly hideous, I used about one minute to take it... safe to say I didn't expect this post to gather any attention at all.

2) Cellphone default (January 2021)

13547 downloads (565 hearts; ~4,2% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1133

Noteworthy that it's been updated a couple of times which pushes people to redownload.

This was a quick passion project, since at that time I couldn't find a cellphone default I was completely happy with. If it hadn't been a quickie, I would've used more time to find a good base mesh oof. Many thanks to @pforestsims for later improving it.

3) Tombstone defaults (December 2019)

12477 downloads (582 hearts; ~4,7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1064

I was so proud of these when I made them. Those were my first mesh defaults ever! Today, I'm proud of my past self for doing them. That's crazy many meshes and subsets to handle for a total noob.

I couldn't do anything with BHAVs back then, so those defaults would've never ever happened without @midgethetree. She endured a lot, working with a noob who went through several meltdowns because of subset issues that didn't make any sense.

4) Baby personality mod (February 2020)

9724 downloads (489 hearts; ~5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1193

The first mod on the list! Absolutely essential one for myself and apparently for some others too.

Also the actual first mod of my own ever. I can't really recommend starting with something this complicated, I had zero ability to perceive the scope of the mod when I asked if @midgethetree was willing to help me through it. She deserves all the praise for doing it, I've realized later that I couldn't ever teach anyone the way she taught me. So, if you read this: thank you, Midge.

5) Rabbit pen default (August 2022)

9628 downloads (442 hearts; ~4,6% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1305

This was completely @deedee-sims' idea and project! I just hopped in (hah) to help. I'm only hosting it for practicality, as the BHAVs most often need updating, and those are by me.

6) Turn On/Off replacements (July 2021)

8644 downloads (388 hearts; ~4,5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1470

This post has more notes than any other post of mine, yet it's not even nearly the most downloaded thing I've done. The two don't always go hand in hand.

I've also shared an updated version of these lately in a new post. It's unlikely they'll get the same amount of attention, which on paper doesn't make much sense since it's practically the same thing but done better. But I'm sure everyone knows that the hype and the quality don't always match.

7) Pixelry’s KKB fridge recolors (February 2022)

8147 downloads (329 hearts; ~4% of all downloaders) Post notes: 662

This is such an oddity on this list since it's the only recolor set and the post has fewer notes than the other ones, too. People just (secretly) really like cute fridges, apparently.

8) Crib teeth anim fix (August 2022)

6157 downloads (431 hearts; ~7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1408

This list is already long enough, but I wanted to show how fast the number starts dropping at this point.

This got posted a day before the bunnies, and I find it funny to think that for about 3000 people it's more pressing to have bunnies in their game than fixing their toddlers dropping teeth while crying lol.

No point in continuing the list forever, but among my most note-gaining Tumblr posts are also:

Puppy/kitten want replacements (October 2022, 1114 notes, 3849 downloads)

Improved biotech station (July 2022, 1110 notes, 3893 downloads)

Camera overhaul mod (January 2024, 1059 notes, 1752 downloads)

Newspaper default (March 2022, 970 notes, 5052 downloads)

While I don't have a real conclusion to offer, it's clear that notes don't always get realized to downloads, and likewise many people download without interacting with posts.

One more thing I'd like to point out is that the percentage of people who hit that SFS heart button seems pretty constant. I feel like it shows that some people just have that habit and some don't, and it's not likely directly related to how much they like the thing.

The amount of SFS hearts that crib teeth anim fix has gotten doesn't follow this pattern lol. It's really not common to see the percentage change even that much.

[iam93percentstardust]

It's not just the commodification of fandom. It's not just the disinterest in wips in favor of completed stories. It's not just the unwillingness to take chances on new writers.

It's the demand for instant gratification too.

I'm posting a "wip" right now. It's actually a fully completed story, and I stated that in the A/N when I started posting it a few weeks ago. I finished writing it early in December. It's not going to be abandoned and discontinued. Short of a tragic accident, it will 100% be posted in its entirety before the end of January.

It's also almost 60k words long. Each chapter is approximately 14k words. That's a lot to expect people to read quickly, so I made the decision to post weekly instead of dumping it all at once. I don't normally do that for wips. I normally post bimonthly to give myself time to write the next chapter. But in concession to the fact that this one is already finished, I decided to post once a week. Could I have posted it all at once or even once a day? Sure, but again, I have more than a few close friends who are slow readers, and I thought it was better to give people the time to read each chapter and let it digest before dumping another one on them instead of making them feel like they have to read it immediately so they don't miss the next update.

This, apparently, was a mistake.

I've been very open about working on this fic since I started it in September. People told me they were excited to get the chance to read it every time I posted an update about where I was in the writing process. When I announced that I was posting it, they told me that they couldn't wait to read it. It's not like I was expecting massive numbers of kudos and comments; this fandom has shrunk in size and engagement, I'm not the most popular writer in it, and I try not to feel entitled to engagement, but considering all the people telling me they were excited for it, I was expecting something.

Instead it was crickets. All those people who were so excited and told me they couldn't wait to get home to read it? That was the last I heard from them, unless it was to express outright incredulity that I expected them to read a work in progress. "It's not a work in progress!" I protested. "I'm just taking a little longer to post it!" Yeah, but it's not posted all in one go, so why should we bother to read it? We'll just wait until the end of January once it's finished. "Will I hear from you then? Will I get any indication at all that you liked it?" Eh, maybe. If we feel like it. But it'll only be one comment at the very end. If that.

This keeps happening. If it's not an already completed chaptered fic that I'm posting over time instead of immediately, then it's an idea that I had first talked about a while ago but took a couple months to write only to be met with silence once I start posting because everyone moved on and forgot about it. If it's not ready to go right now in all its fully finished glory and all 60k words posted immediately after I first spoke about it, then why am I talking about it at all? Why should I expect people to be waiting in anticipatory eagerness?

I remember when I posted my first Christmas event fic in 2020. It was already finished too when I started posting it. I'd been talking about it all year. People had seemed really excited for it when I first mentioned it, but then interest seemed to die out somewhere around August. By the time I started posting it in late November, I was fully convinced that no one was going to read it. I actually posted the first chapter and then immediately turned my computer off and didn't let myself turn it back on until the next day.

I was shocked by the number of readers I had. The number of comments. The sheer amount of people telling me they'd been waiting on tenterhooks for me to post that first chapter. And it kept coming. People were talking and theorizing and marking their conversations with spoiler bars for anyone who hadn't read the latest chapter. People timed when I posted the first few chapters so they could be waiting by their computer for when I dropped the next one. I was randomly gifted art. It was really an event, and I'll always be grateful for the support and community I was given for that month.

I never believed I'd ever be able to capture that kind of readership again, and I was right, and that's okay. But when I posted last year's Christmas event fic, for the first time since I started doing this in 2020, someone asked me why I bothered to space it out over a month instead of just posting the entire thing in one go on Christmas Day and how could I possibly expect them to be that invested for an entire month instead of just waiting until it was finished. I didn't know how to tell them that only three years prior, that's not only exactly what people did but they were excited for it to be like that.

If I'm not going to post my already completed fic in one lump sum right now, then the audience for it is nonexistent. And the audience won't grow once it's finished. It's like I have one opportunity to capture the readers and if they weren't willing to take the chance on the first chapter, then they'll never come back. It's disheartening, to say the least. Only six months ago, I was telling a friend that I thought this was my forever pairing, that I'd still be writing for this ship when I was old and grey. And now I'm going through my ideas folder, wondering what can be repurposed for other ships, because I increasingly feel not just that I'm shouting into a void but that the void is actively ignoring me.

I can't post wips because what if I abandon them or take too long to update? I can't post a chaptered fic in one go because that's too many words to expect people to read. But I can't space out posting completed chaptered fics either because everyone wants the instant gratification of the full fic right now. So what am I supposed to do?

I miss December 2020, but it's not the random art that I miss or the kudos or the number of comments. It was the community that built up around this fic. It was knowing that it was okay to space out the chapters because everyone was still right there with me, talking and theorizing and using their spoiler bars. It was my audience trusting me enough to come along with me for the ride instead of waiting for me to be done. I was so scared back then that the full year between me first talking about the idea and posting the first chapter had lost me my audience, scared that they'd all forgotten about me and moved on to other authors who were quicker to post, but I wish I'd known that three years later, it would only take four months for people to lose interest in an idea.

I'd have treated December 2020 like it was way more special than I did.

[accio-victuuri]

(12) fake stories. 📝

I found this here and i haven’t seen this compilation or post before. I might have read some on it’s own but it’s only now that I knew where it came from.

The proxies are not written by me, they were discovered by archaeologists, everyone can just read them as fakes. I am a proxy shooter, although I know that I have the same status as an illegitimate student in the fan circle, but I also want to support a family.

In the four years of working in the industry, I have photographed many celebrities, and because of this, I accounted for the first pot of gold in my life. Received from last December, It is a job similar to illegitimate life. It is very labor-intensive to follow two boys in my city, so I accepted it. I did, but I didn't expect to fall into the pit of these two people, which made me feel so lucky to meet them. Tell you what I know.

******************************************

Big / Older = XZ ; Small / Younger = WYB.

Before you start reading, based on the stories below, this was 2018 when they were still filming CQL. Probably some early 2019, the gist is, their popularity did not “explode” yet because of the Drama. So this is why, they were not as careful yet. This will never happen after their change in status as celebrities. They are very much guarded all the time now. Even if there are slip-ups in the years ahead like 2020.

Take this as fake. Fan fiction. This is not me “confirming” things or anything. I primarily wanted to post and share for archive purposes.

Some might be confusing, I tried hard to make sense of what was being said by OP.

******************************************

1. At the beginning of February, the younger one met the older one at a tea house near a high-end residential area in Beijing. This is CK Tea House. In fact, there is a private chef, with relatively high concealment, there are three people at the same time, eating normally, and the big one after eating drove away by himself, and the small one went with another person.

2. The two met in March and recorded a song. The older one arrived first and it was difficult to park. His driver was in Guangzhou. I wandered around the field for a long time. The big one waited until the small ones came and got off. It was normal to meet and say hello. ( OP might be talking about Wuji recording )

3. At the end of March, my colleagues told me not to go to the original community to squat anymore, saying that the older one moved out of the community, so it was I who came to the address of the new community he gave me, squatting for a whole day without seeing anyone, watching their fans. this time should be in Beijing. That's right, I think it might be that he really is a nerd. He is not out today.

Well, just getting ready to go. I found out, the little one after following up for a while, I found out that he is walking @ Qingliu in the village, without an assistant to accompany him, he entered the community with a lot of food in his hand. This community — If you are not a resident, you can't get in, unless you have to verify with a resident before you can go through the registration, which means that he has a verification on his body.

The door is locked, I guess he also lives here, sure enough, he has not been out all night, he lives in this community, Real hammer. I reported this matter to the girl who gave me money, because no photo of the same frame was taken. So the salary is very little.

4. The father of the gold master gave me three times the money and asked me to follow the itinerary. I didn't know that the drama they filmed was about to be broadcast. To follow, under the temptation of money, I still left my dear Beijing. mid june, the older one was in a white T-shirt and the small one appeared on the side of the parking lot of a certain gold square on a certain Jing Road, probably waiting for the car to come out, and it was him. The two of them, I did not see the assistant, both of them wore masks, I have to say that the big one is really tall, and the small one passed a bag of things to the big one, the big one takes it, shakes it, looks at the small one, and laughs under the mask.

5. It was still June, and I found that my Alipay in June was really contributed to them. The price of a certain place is really almost the same as Beijing. Let’s continue, the big one and the small one came out together after the publicity, and there is a certain tolerance in the same industry. A young boy, probably promoted together. I'm such a bad fan, I really haven't watched their drama, so I can't name the boy, but I do know, 4 people got into two cars, the big one and the small one didn't get into the same car, and the assistant followed them to a restaurant hall. A total of seven people went in, the big one went in last, the big one didn’t know what to say to the young one. Well, it's the kind of ear-whispering that the two assistants may be familiar with it, and didn't look up at them. They all held their mobile phones to look at their own, and when they finished talking, the older one touched the little one's head, and the little one looked at it.

You can’t tell if you’re smiling or not, and here’s the point, the point where I got into the pit! That’s the point,. I didn't give the photo to the donor's father, so now I can only take pictures of other small fresh meat to pay off the mortgage.

It was 11 o'clock after dinner, I was lying on the steering wheel like a dog, they came out, they went in. There were seven at the time, but for some reason, nine came out. Well, I don't know about the other two either,They seemed to be saying goodbye, they patted each other on the shoulders, the big and small saw off the others, and the big assistant handed over a black jacket, the big one placed it on the little one, and zip him up. The weather is really fine this time, there is no need to wear clothes, the little one stretched his big arms, the big one lowered his head. I don't know what they said, and we walked to the side together. I really can't see it from that angle, I can't see it

Yes, I don't make it up. The two assistants were still chatting about themselves without looking at them, and about five minutes passed.

When the milk tea in their hands was ready to drink, they came over and said something to the assistant, they gestured. Then the two took the same car and left, they took the other one, and the assistant gave the younger one a bag and a brown paper bag. I continued to follow them to the center of XX Wen Avenue, the gate of XX Community in Times

The small one and the big one got off the car, but the car didn't go into the basement, these two people really have big hearts, the big one took things from the bag. the small one holds the bag in one hand, and the other hand starts to walk on the back of the big one, and the big one takes out the things. He touched Xiao's head again and smiled. I'm sure both of them were smiling, although they were wearing masks, their eyes is curved, very sweet smile. I suddenly felt that maybe it wasn't really brotherhood, it was a beautiful danmei. The plot made me delete the picture of two beautiful people looking at each other. Two people showed things to the property manager to look in. I guess they belong to one of the houses, but they definitely don’t live there often. I’ve been in this business for four years, and I’ve met a lot. Many surface brothers stabbed in the back, this kind of pure feeling is very beautiful.

6. After sending a photo to Xiaoxianrou and expressing his satisfaction, will I rely on him for my future funding source?

After going in, I didn't go out all night, of course it was already a little bit faster when I went in. i didn't drink in the shop, just make do with one night in the car to save money. The little one came out at five o'clock, wearing a black mask. The hood and hat, the top of the clothes were changed, and a brown Buick went in, and the big one didn't come out. The older one came out by 7:00 with no change of clothes, carrying a paper bag, wearing a hat and a mask, his eyes were obviously tired, and got into a car

I was very hesitant about whom to separate from, I decided to go with the older one, but he got on the highway, I wondered if I had returned to Xiangshan, so I reported it to the benefactor, but I didn't dare to say that I saw it last night.

7. After returning to Beijing, I did the math and spent a total of more than 6,000 yuan. You may ask me why I spent so much? Let me tell you, the oil price is really high, I didn't fly because it's not easy to hide, but the Lord is very generous and reimbursed them all. When I got home, I seriously searched Baidu for the two boys I was following. The drama is a danmei drama, no wonder the gold master keeps asking me if I see any sparks, she is one their fans, I've seen a lot of girls like her, basically I don't have time, but I'm curious about what celebrities are doing

They will send us out, They asked me to go to Xiangshan with the big one, I said you don’t like small one? Why? Why do you have to talk to the big one? They told me that since he finished his class visit in Hengdian last June, he felt Of course I have accepted it now, but I still want to know if it is true, so I I went to Zhejiang with full expectations. The plane I took this time was too far away, and my friend over there was picking me up at the airport is also in this business. He told me that he is very familiar with the places where the big one were photographed, and even the place where he lived.

I also know that Xiangshan Film and Television City is very broken. When I saw the big one, I felt that he was with the young one.

It's different, it's very quiet, and when I'm not taking pictures, I hold my phone and make a voice call, and I don't know what to send.

8. In late June, it started to get hot on the Xiangshan side, and there were a lot of mosquitoes. The big filming was very serious, although it was far away, but from the lens, the expression is still in place. There is a shot of a girl, that's that the little girl of 101, she is very good-looking, in a dilapidated town, she gave him a hand.

The drama may be a fairy tale drama, why do you wear such clothes. The hostess handed him iced water, he took it and smiled. He might have said thank you but I can’t see the shape of the mouth clearly. The heroine left. The older one put down the water and picked up a cup on the ground. After drinking water, I took out my mobile phone and continued to make a voice call. The voice was very obvious, because I used my ears to hear it after I finished speaking.

Listen, I laughed sweetly throughout the whole process, I was wondering if he sent it to the little one, but there is no evidence, so let’s not talk about it.

9. The filming is over at 8:00 p.m., there is no big night filming today, and it takes 30 minutes to drive back to a certain hotel. The fast one, the big one signed autographs and took photos with three or four fans at the entrance of the hotel, very gentle, without losing his temper,

After he entered, the fans left. When I was considering whether to leave, the older one came out again. He was already driving.Wearing a black jacket with shorts underneath, a hat and a mask, the assistant drove a black car. The SUV went out, took the Yongguan Expressway (belonging to Taizhou City, Zhejiang Province), and finally got off in Shanghai, I followed. It took three hours. I have to say that the big car has very good driving skills. I was driving a friend's car and almost lost track.

Closer to home, the older one stopped and drove in the green city community of a certain village. Even though the star is not very popular, he is a public figure after all. If he is so laborious, how should he meet. About an hour later, that is, around 12:40, because my mobile phone is almost out of battery,I took a look, and a small car appeared, got off the car, but the car did not enter the community. With a Shoulder bag, carrying things, I can’t tell what I’m carrying, there’s a lot of them in the bag, I carried them in.

The next day at 6:00 a car came out and parked on the parking lot outside the community, a small car came, and a small car got off. In the car, the clothes were not changed. The older one got out of the car and said something to the younger assistant, and patted the younger one on the back.

After watching the video, the assistant got into the car and took breakfast for the older one. After the older one got on the bus, the younger one also got on.

10. The older one returned to the set at almost 11 o'clock, and the assistant waited for him while walking and talking, walking very quickly, at night. It was a big night filming, and the howling sound from the heavy rain was heard far away. After returning to the hotel, he didn't come out again. End of june, I have been in Xiangshan for almost half a month, and I only saw the two of them once. I wonder if I am overthinking it, but I think it's the best way to give money back to the sponsor. After six o'clock in the evening, the crew puts out the meal, and the older ones enter the house to eat. I couldn’t get a picture of the meal, so I asked my friend, and he said that it would be finished in half a month, and asked me to wait another two weeks

God, I said yes, that night a black business car came to the crew and parked at the south corner of the film and television city, near the big car, the big one. After a while, I quickly walked out of the crew and got into a black business car. I didn’t look like it. The small car followed, they drove to the beach of the fishing village, the big one got off, the headgear was not taken off, and the clothes were changed into Simple T-shirts and shorts, and small ones, long sleeves and black slacks, two people on the beach. Walking up is very weird, because the seaside is very cold at this time and there is no one there. The small car parked in my car about 15 minutes.

I was really worried that I would be discovered, so I drove the car calmly to the east side of the beach in the fishing village, getting closer to these two people, I can only see that the older one took off the smaller hat and put it on his own head, and the hair was covered

From my point of view, he really looks like a woman with a good figure, with his small hands wrapped around his waist. Two people are talking, I don't understand lip language, and I can't see clearly, so I see the big one leaning back, and the small one may be afraid that he might fall, the stairs should be tighter. After about five minutes, the little one sat on the beach with his hands loose, and the big one sat down.

Looking at him, the little one looked up, and the two looked at each other. The older one sat down and definitely held the younger one's hand. I can see that the big one took the small hand and put it on his lap, and then he kept his head down and talked,

Maybe the big one rubbed his arms when it was cold, and the small one rubbed his hands back and forth on the big arm, and then pointed to the car, after a while, two people got into the car, the big one went back to the set, the young one continued in the car, early morning. It was three o'clock when the filming was over, and after taking off my make-up, I got into the small car, and the two of them went to a villa in a certain town, but I couldn't get in,

I really couldn't bear it anymore, so I went to find a place to sleep. When I woke up, it was past ten o'clock. I don't know if I should go or not.

I went back to the film and television city. My benefactor no longer needs me to follow, I have already witnessed this beautiful relationship. The love is young, but pure, don't destroy this relationship, so everyone just wait silently. Many people ask me if I am the king of the mountain, I don't know how can two people be so absolute when they are together, I believe it more —- Bo Jun Yi Xiao, that's all

11. When I arrived at the film and television city, my friend brought me fruit and told me that these two dramas were about to be broadcast, and they were not bad. It was the first time in my life that I became a member to watch a TV series, and it was because of their good drama. I don’t know when it was filmed.

At that time, whether the relationship between the two people was so good, but now I feel the contact like a family member, which is what I like.

I went back to the set, and it was like this again. I didn't go out after nine days, and everything was normal. At the beginning of July, the itinerary says to go to Changsha and recorded an entertainment program, and both of them went, so I bought a ticket, but I didn't get the program list. On-site tickets at production time. I left one day earlier than the older one, because I had to find a place to live and I had to pack a car. Bare feet can't keep up with the speed of the two of them. Two days ago, I squatted at the door of a certain electric station, the first time I recognized. Realizing that they are really popular, many fans are already outside, it is not the same as half a month ago, The small one who came first, the bodyguards and assistants were all there after getting off the car, and went in after getting off the car, and then the older one came. It's the second time I saw the big one with bodyguards. I followed it so many times, except for attending the endorsement, There are bodyguards, I have never seen his bodyguards, the big one also went in. I'm bored waiting, I'll just turn around at the door

Turn around, I heard a little girl say that Bo Jun and Yi Xiao must be real, that's when I knew they still have CP fans name the little girl is very cute, ask me brother, you also kowtow cp, I said my girlfriend likes them, so I will come and see

At a glance, the little girl gave me a popular science about the interaction between the two of them, saying that the brotherhood is very strong, I laughed.

The recording lasted around nine o'clock. I thought it was very fast to watch the show, but I didn't expect it to be recorded for so long. The older one and the other two men come out together, the big one wears a white t-shirt, the small one wears a black t-shirt, the other man wears a black hat and a green t-shirt, they come out. Then I drove to a fast food restaurant. There were not many people in the restaurant, so it was not easy to find an angle to take pictures. There was no shelter around, the big one sat with another man, and the small one sat opposite, one of the scenes was impressive, the small one

The one who didn’t know what he ate had a tangled expression on his face, the older one gave his own water to the younger one, and the younger one took it and went straight to drink it immediately, and the buddy next to me didn't say anything.

maybe it's not surprising, except for me, I really don't use other people's cups, even my parents. After dinner, the three of us went to the Rongguo Hotel, I feel that artists are really rich, the security is very good, I can't get in.

12. I went back to Xiangshan to continue filming at 6 o'clock on the second day. In fact, it was a reshoot. It’s green, the crew was too dark when it was finished, and the lights were yellow, which made the big one look very lonely, I don’t know — is it because I have seen him happy, I always feel that he is very distant from people and things in the crew, and the fireworks rise.

From now on, the trip to Xiangshan is over.

-END.

[pbnmj]

Genuinely curious, what’s up with Noir’s age? And what does it have to do with his 08/09 run? ((You may ignore if you wish :D))

i no longer have to do an extremely long explaination about comics noir because it has already been done here, by foolsocracy!!!!!!! really great breakdown of his very vague age, which is never said outright in the 08-09 run, only implied!! my own personal take on this is that he's 17-turning-18 in the first one, just about graduated high school but not able to afford college (see the panel below LOL)

this also got a little longer than i thought it would, so under the cut for the rest of it! the tl:dr is "itsv!noir is not the same as comics!noir, and people saying that he's 19 isn't strictly true. to me, he's around 30!"

eyes without a face (the 09 run!!) only takes place 8 months after, in september 1933, which makes peter 18-turning-19. this is more of a headcanon though!! (see the noir birthday poll, which made me a noir-is-a-december-baby truther)

(peter being a libra is mentioned once in the first issue of amazing spider-man (2015), mostly as a punchline, and a specific date of october 10th was given in another issue that i have lost. other media, like with the mcu, has his birthday on august 10th. but to me noir is a sagittarius and you cannot pry that from me)

the 2020 run of noir begins establishing the year as 1939, making peter around his mid-20s, and 25 if you believe me on the 'peter was 17 in noir 2008' LOL.... i won't lie though i haven't read this one properly i very quickly skimmed so pinch of salt regarding my takes on the 2020 run

noir being in his teens during the first original runs is why "itsv!noir is 17-19" goes around so often! i've seen that on tumblr, twitter AND on tiktok and i don't mind what people hc, but it has become a pet peeve when people say it like its canon even though it's never been mentioned by the writers or the art book. itsv!noir is similar to his comic counterpart, but his differences in his origin story make me interpret him as a different noir (like how peter b.'s dimension is 616B, making him... 90214B?)

again, we are straying from itsv canon/etc here because i'm deranged, but i personally hc noir as being 32! some of my friends think he's in his mid-20s, others think he's older, but really the only reason is that 32 is the midpoint between the other two peter parkers: ripeter was 26 and peter b is 38. he's also voiced by nic cage, which makes me think older in the first place!

i just like the idea that he's more experienced that ripeter, but hasn't gone through as much as peter b. he spends most of the movie being broody ("moral ambiguity of your actions!", "matches burn down to my fingertips", etc etc), or snarkier than you'd expect ("it's that easy" "who are you again?" "you gonna fight or are you just bumping gums" etc etc). he also very sweetly tells everyone that he loves them before he leaves !!! i feel like it can in fact be in character for a peter parker in his late 20-early 30s, distanced from his tragedies in his own world by time (he doesn't forget them, that's different !) being able to look out for the spiders around him.

okay now we are VERY deep into hc territory, but it makes him able to balance out the rest of the itsv spider-gang as an older-brother figure who's able to guide peni, miles and gwen but also be able to act as a voice of reason for peter b. and ham if the sitauation calls for it. that being said noir is still peter parker and is therefore capable of spider-esque tomfoolery, which can lead to him misjudging the need for a snarky one liner ("this is a pretty hard core origin story"). my characterisation of him is also very inspired by heyitsspiderman, the itsv fic that changed me for the better, and noir isn't even in it that much LOL

veering back into itsv!noir's age and your actual question though: he's always read older in the movies, and not at all 17-19. noir is always going to be around 30 (32 if i have to give a number) to me!! if anything, he did go through the same kind of 'canon events' as comics noir did, but is an older and more experienced version of him, with tweaks to the backstory (like a radioactive spider instead of a spider-god, and webshooters instead of organic webbing). there are reasons ofc to see him being younger (egg creams are non-alcoholic, and that if it's 1933, his comicsverse self would be 18-19 too) . however you must consider that sony didn't expand on this and therefore it's up to fan interpretation and also that

[capricorn-season]

10 JUNE 2020

J.K. Rowling Writes about Her Reasons for Speaking out on Sex and Gender Issues

Warning: The below content is not appropriate for children. Please check with an adult before you read this page. 

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Berns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018,  American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people.  The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much.  It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity.  I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

[covid-safer-hotties]

AAA: COVID-19 has lasting deadly impact on traffic safety - Published Aug 2, 2024

Residents in Cottage Grove, Lane County, and across Oregon are learning that that even though the COVID-19 pandemic has subsided, it has left a lasting deadly impact on traffic safety locally and across the nation.

A new study by the AAA Foundation for Traffic Safety (AAAFTS) finds dangerous behaviors such as speeding, not using seatbelts, and impaired driving contributed to a significant rise in fatal crashes compared to the years before the pandemic.

AAAFTS researchers found that 114,528 people were killed in traffic crashes on U.S. roads from May 2020 through December 2022, a 17% jump in traffic deaths (nearly 17,000 additional fatalities) compared to what would have been expected under pre-pandemic trends:

Traffic deaths outpaced forecasts the most for young adults (20-24), with teens (16-19) taking the top spot in 2021. Men consistently exceeded estimates by 14% to 19%, while women only did so in 2021 (15% increase). Black Americans, who comprise approximately 12% of the U.S. population, accounted for approximately 34% of the entire rise in traffic fatalities relative to how many would have been expected based on the pre-pandemic trend. Hispanic Americans, 19% of the U.S. population, accounted for approximately 25% of the increase. Adults 25 years and older with no education beyond high school exceeded estimates by 12% to 16%

Read the rest of the story at either link!