#false claims and statements

[pigeon-butch]

I certainly have my own concerns about the treatment of moo deng but um. well i think some of you may just be racist

[apleasurableillusion]

Truly bonkers that Coates went to Israel for 10 days, only spoke to Palestinians while there, did no external research and then put all of this in a book that we're supposed to take seriously. And then the publisher doesn't even hire a fact checker?

[pucksandpower]

Clickbait

Toto Wolff x Ferrari team principal!Reader

Summary: in which a reporter learns not to mess with the power couple of Formula 1 … the hard way

Based on this request

The bustling newsroom of BusinessF1 magazine hums with activity as Graham Lowell, a junior reporter with more ambition than scruples, hunches over his laptop. His fingers fly across the keyboard, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he types out what he believes to be the scoop of the century.

Conflict of Interest in the Pit Lane: Ferrari and Mercedes’ Love Affair

Graham leans back, admiring his handiwork. He’s certain this article will catapult him to journalism stardom. Little does he know, he’s about to learn a harsh lesson in the dangers of sensationalism.

As the article goes live, the Formula 1 world erupts into chaos. Social media platforms light up with speculation and outrage. Within hours, the story spreads like wildfire, reaching the very subjects of its scandalous claims.

In the Ferrari motorhome, you stand before a group of wide-eyed team members, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “I assure you, these allegations are completely false. Our team’s integrity is not, and will never be, compromised.”

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, but you ignore it. You know who it is, and you know you’ll need to face him soon enough.

Across the paddock, in the sleek confines of the Mercedes garage, Toto Wolff paces like a caged lion. His usually calm demeanor is nowhere to be seen as he barks orders into his phone.

“I want our legal team on this immediately,” he growls. “This is slander, pure and simple. They’ve gone too far this time.”

As the day wears on, the pressure mounts. You find yourself fielding increasingly hostile questions from reporters, their microphones thrust aggressively in your face.

“Is it true that you’ve been passing Ferrari’s secrets to Mercedes?” One shouts.

“How long have you been manipulating race results?” Another demands.

You maintain your composure, but inside, you’re seething. The blatant sexism in their questions is not lost on you. They seem all too eager to believe that a woman in your position must have achieved it through nefarious means.

As you push through the crowd, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos. “That’s enough!” Toto’s commanding tone silences the mob instantly. He strides forward, placing a protective arm around your shoulders.

“My wife and I will be making a statement shortly,” he announces, his steely gaze daring anyone to object. “Until then, I suggest you all refrain from spreading baseless rumors.”

The crowd parts reluctantly, allowing you both to escape to the relative quiet of a nearby hospitality suite. As soon as the door closes behind you, Toto’s fierce expression melts into one of concern.

“Are you alright, liebling?” He asks softly, cupping your face in his hands.

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability. “I’m fine, Toto. Just ... frustrated. They’re so quick to believe the worst of me.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “It’s disgraceful. But we’ll fight this, together. I promise you, they won’t get away with it.”

A knock at the door interrupts your moment. Toto’s assistant pokes her head in. “Sir, the lawyers are here.”

What follows is a whirlwind of legal jargon and strategy discussions. You listen intently as your shared legal team outlines the plan of attack.

“We’ll issue cease and desist orders to every outlet that’s republished the story,” the head lawyer explains. “And we’ll be filing a defamation lawsuit against BusinessF1 magazine and the reporter responsible.”

Toto nods approvingly. “Good. I want them to feel the full force of our response. This ends now.”

As the lawyers file out, you turn to Toto, a hint of worry in your eyes. “Do you think this will be enough? The damage to my reputation ...”

Toto takes your hands in his, his gaze intense. “We will rebuild it, stronger than ever. I won’t let them tarnish everything you’ve worked for.”

Meanwhile, back at the BusinessF1 office, Graham Lowell is beginning to realize the gravity of his mistake. His editor storms into the bullpen, face red with fury.

“Lowell!” He bellows. “My office, now!”

Graham follows meekly, his earlier bravado evaporating with each step. As he enters the office, he sees his editor isn’t alone. A grim-faced man in an expensive suit stands by the window.

“Sit down,” the editor growls. Graham complies, his legs feeling like jelly.

The man by the window turns, fixing Graham with a steely glare. “Mr. Lowell, I’m representing Mr. and Mrs. Wolff in this matter. I’m here to inform you that you and this publication are being sued for defamation.”

Graham’s mouth goes dry. “But ... but I had a source! They told me-”

“A source you failed to verify,” his editor cuts in. “Did you even attempt to get a comment from either party before publishing?”

Graham’s silence is damning. The lawyer continues, his voice cold and precise. “The damages we’re seeking are substantial. Your reckless journalism has caused significant harm to my clients’ reputations.”

As the full implications of his actions sink in, Graham slumps in his chair. His dreams of journalistic glory crumble before his eyes, replaced by the stark reality of legal consequences.

Outside, the F1 paddock buzzes with new excitement. Word of the impending lawsuit spreads quickly, and suddenly, those who were so quick to believe the scandal are backpedaling furiously.

You and Toto stand united before a sea of cameras, your hands clasped tightly together. Toto speaks first, his voice resonating with controlled anger.

“The allegations made against my wife and me are not only false but malicious,” he states. “We have always maintained the highest standards of professionalism and integrity in our respective roles.”

You step forward, your head held high. “I’ve worked tirelessly to earn my position as Team Principal at Scuderia Ferrari. To suggest that my success is due to anything other than my own merit is not only insulting to me but to every woman fighting to make her mark in this sport.”

The press conference continues, with you and Toto presenting a united front against the baseless accusations. As you field questions, you can see the tide of public opinion beginning to turn.

Later that evening, in the privacy of your hotel suite, you finally allow yourself to relax. Toto wraps you in a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You were magnificent today,” he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.”

You smile up at him, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

Toto chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “The best. Although, I must say, I’m almost disappointed we don’t actually have any juicy secrets to share. It might make things more exciting.”

You playfully swat his arm, laughing despite yourself. “I think we have enough excitement in our lives, thank you very much.”

As you settle into each other’s arms, you know that whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. The storm may rage outside, but in here, in this moment, all is calm.

And somewhere across the continent, in a small, cluttered apartment, Graham Lowell stares at his laptop screen, watching his career and reputation crumble in real-time.

Social media is ablaze with backlash against him and support for you and Toto. As he scrolls through the endless comments condemning his shoddy journalism, one thought echoes in his mind.

“I am so, so screwed.”

[goingrampant]

I've been observing a strain of antisemitism that goes like

Gentile leftist who never studied Judaism joins the Free Palestine movement

Notes aspects of Israeli aggressors that stand out as unique, including random bits of Jewish culture that Israelis would have just for being Jewish, that the gentile leftist has never seen before

Observes random Jews displaying these traits

Assumes they're deliberately alluding to Israeli aggression

Applies coercion to make them stop displaying these traits that amount to being Jewish in public

Believes the subsequent labeling of their actions as antisemitic is blatantly false because they were obviously opposing Israeli aggression

States that "anti-Zionism is not antisemitism" and gets general support from anti-Zionist Jews who believe in the literal truth of that statement without speaking to individual circumstances in which it is pulled out to justify actions

Comes away believing in a vast conspiracy of aggressive Israeli sympathizers pretending to be innocent Jews when they're obviously alluding to their support for death and destruction, that claims of antisemitism are being "weaponized", and what amounts to forcing Jews to stop being open about being Jews and hiding aspects of their culture is the only moral option

[acourtofthought]

We despise Elain so much we want her with the only guy who has never rejected her. We despise Elain so much we want her with the only guy who never struggled to admit to having feelings for her in front of his "daddy". (Daddy Lord Nolan and Daddy Rhys). We despise Elain so much we want her with the guy who never looked at another female with yearning while Elain was in the room with him. We despise Elain so much we want her with the only guy who has only had eyes for her since the moment they met. We despise Elain so much we want her with the only love interest who gave her credit for killing the King. We despise Elain so much many envision her as HL of Spring with Lucien by her side. We despise Elain so much we'd rather her have a relationship that doesn't have to be a dirty secret. We despise Elain so much we want her with the guy who actually supported her visions by heading off by himself to find Vassa and try to bring back an army. We despise Elain so much we want her with the only male who could actually share with her memories of her father. We despise Elain so much we like the thought of her finding a group of people who don't think of her like a dog, don't believe her incapable of handling the darkness of Trove and don't consider her only to be a pleasant companion. We despise Elain so much we want her with the mate the author gave her, a mate who the author referred to as "her love".

We despise Elain so much to the point of wanting her to get with the male that has shown time and time again ridiculous amounts of loyalty to his friends and loved ones and that as her mate would undoubtedly give her not only that but also unconditional love. All of this after Elain having her heart broken by a guy who showed her the wrong version of what love is. Wavering and conditional.

Imagine... and hear me out... just imaaaaagine, if we liked her uuh? 👁👄👁

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

The morning came and there is an impossible amount of smoke and Fog covering gaza. People still can't check on each other even if they were a few meters away. The amount of killed Palestinians has increased above never before. Children dismembered, mothers saying goodbye before burying their children. People who have no idea if their loved ones are alive or dead. Hospitals cannot help, they're out of every energy source and quite frankly, doctors. The bombing hasn't stopped if you were wondering, so people can't just walk on the streets and search for their loved ones. A paramedic broke down after pulling out a little girl from underneath the rubble. Refugee camps have gotten bombed, so the people who survived the first bombing of their house, probably weren't so lucky this time.

And israeli army spokesperson just released a statement falsely claiming that Hamas has a headquarters under a main hospital in gaza. (Al-Shifaa hospital). This is an attempt to justify bombing a hospital, where over 30,000 people are seeking care. This hospital is located 16 meters above sea level, making it impossible to built tunnels under it. Highest area in gaza is 105 meters.

[fatliberation]

Freddie Mercury was bisexual though

Nope, this is false! 🏳️‍🌈 Freddie was gay, there’s a lot of misinformation out there about his non-existent affairs with women, and much of it can be chalked up to a shit biographer named Lesley Ann Jones (aka my arch nemesis).

I've been deeply fascinated by Freddie Mercury and studying his personal life for years and years so excuse the following infodump (or jump in for a queer history lesson!)

Contrary to popular belief, Freddie was an out gay man. “Gay as a daffodil, my dear!” He’s clearly stated his sexuality in a handful of interviews; “I’ve done all that but I’m gay. Mary was my last woman.” (This interview was removed from youtube but you can find it mentioned in Freddie Mercury: A Life, in His Own Words which is a compilation of his actual quotes from interviews over the years.) Those statements got buried from the media in favor of promoting his more promiscuous quotes like "Darling, I'm doing everything with everybody." (Journalists LOVE to include this quote when talking about his AIDS...) He did purposely retain an aura of mystique around his sexuality, especially because it was much safer (trendy, even) for musicians to flirt with bisexuality than to be homosexual back then.

Here's a quote from Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, Freddie's personal assistant of twelve years, close friend, and "agony aunt" in his memoir, Freddie Mercury: An Intimate Memoir by the Man Who Knew Him Best:

"When the interview appeared, it was half the length that he imagined it would be. When confronted, Judy Wade said that it would have been impossible to have printed the whole text. She said she was holding back for his benefit, not for hers. Admissions such as, "I'm just going for a line and I'll be back in half-a-minute," would not have done anyone any good. However, she was fully prepared to underline in her second sentence that admission of being a fully 'out' gay man, although this does not lay the later myth which was popular which claimed that Freddie had never admitted his gayness."

Freddie's close friend Thor Arnold, a gay man and member of the "New York Daughters" (Freddie's gay friend group in NYC, of course Freddie was "mother!") corrected misinformation when fans on the Queenzone forum argued that Freddie was bi:

"Freddie NEVER tried to hide to his friends that he was TOTALLY gay. In his industry, he had to hide it to some extent although as I have said before, he certainly gave clues. This is the same man who came up with the name QUEEN for his band. This is the man who dressed very sexually, ambiguously 'glam' up until 1980. This is the man who threw an Easter bonnet party and had us all create Easter hats. This is the man who used the term darling (or Dahling) more than he used proper names, and renamed his friends with old actresses names. These things are doubtful for a straight or bi man. Many gays don't even act like this... I've never seen Freddie look twice at a woman but I have seen him look 3 or 4 times at an attractive man and say, 'Thor, Thor... Oh just look at him... Just gorgeous. I'd love some of THAT' We were genuine friends of Freddie and he would never hide that he was really bi. FREDDIE WAS A GAY MAN through and through...everyone...please get used to it."

LAJ, the biographer I previously mentioned, worked VERY hard to straight-wash Freddie in her book by erasing his gay relationships. She was obsessed with his relationship with Mary Austin and is the main reason modern journalists consider Freddie to have been in profound, romantic love with her his whole life. In reality, they dated for a few years in the 70s and remained close friends after they split up (because Freddie was having affairs with his boyfriend). However, he did rely on her as his "beard" to keep up with appearances for the press.

LAJ completely skipped over Freddie's first official boyfriend, saying it was "a covert fling with a young theatre." His name was David Minns. Freddie loved him so much he left Mary to be with him. They were in a serious relationship for three years.

If you're a Freddie fan, you're familiar with Mary's story of him coming out to her, saying "I think I'm bisexual," and her response, "I think you're gay." This story is probably not the truth. Mary has been very inconsistent with her story of how Freddie came out to her.

Another version she told for BBC Radio:

"I don’t know what sparked the conversation. But I remember standing in the kitchen and he was trying desperately to articulate how he was feeling, and his lifestyle and I just said, 'so you are telling me you're gay?' And he just smiled and 'we'll take it as a yes, you know, we'll leave it at that.' And that was it, it has been a long road getting to that point."

Honestly, I am a bit mistrustful of Mary Austin's intentions in general. If you're curious as to why, this post is a good primer on the ways she might have betrayed Freddie's wishes, namely being cruel to his chosen family after his passing.

Freddie only had one other girlfriend before Mary in college, Rosemary Pearson. When asked about Freddie on ITV's This Morning show, she said that he was more interested in her male friends than in her, and she suspected then that he was gay. This was in the 60s.

LAJ refers to his relationships with women throughout her book, but she doesn't list any names. That's because they don't exist. I could name at least seven of Freddie's boyfriends off of the top of my head. Minnsy. Joe Fanelli. Tony Bastin. Vince the Barman. Bill Reid. Winnie Kirchberger. And of course, his husband Jim Hutton, whom he spent the last six years of his life with.

There is one name that LAJ has chosen to platform and exaggerate her importance, and that's German pornstar Barbara Valentin. If you've heard of her, you might think she had a relationship with Freddie in the 80s, you might have heard the story where he had wild threesomes with her, that they lived together, that he even proposed to her. Not one word of it is true. Freddie hung around Barbara during his time in Munich because she was his 'in' to gay clubs and cocaine dealers. She also served as his English translator and conveniently, another beard for the press.

Not a single person in Freddie’s life has ever corroborated that Freddie and Barbara were anything but friends. As for the claim they lived together, according to Peter Freestone:

In the event, Freddie never actually lived there although Barbara fulfilled a huge role in Freddie’s life at that time… Freddie became very disillusioned when with more and more frequency articles were appearing in the German press’s gossip columns… about the relationship between him and Barbara… After one article claiming to have knowledge of him and Barbara getting married, Freddie concluded that it could only be Barbara who was providing the information.

(He was actually living with his Bavarian boyfriend of the time, Winnie Kirchberger.) Freddie stopped seeing Barbara after he found out she was gossiping about being his lover and these stories started appearing in the newspapers. Barbara continued these lies after Freddie's death, making up ludicrous lies like how Freddie tried to kill her by smothering her with a pillow?? She also claimed that he put her at risk of contracting AIDS by having sex with her after his diagnosis in 1987, which is the lie that burns the most. Freddie stopped having sex altogether before his diagnosis because he was terrified of contracting it. Before there was any information of how it was transferred, he showered compulsively. There is such a fucked up narrative that Freddie threw caution to the wind and wasn't careful during the epidemic, that it somehow fits this twisted narrative that his death was a result of his immoral lifestyle. That's the pervasive homophobia that stained the Bohemian Rhapsody biopic.

LAJ is one of those biographers who publishes their books after the celebrity has died, so they wouldn’t be able to deny the information being written in the book. So if there's anything to learn here, is that you can't always trust a biography!

Anyway, Freddie was gay as a daffodil my dears, and he deserved better.

[midnightsslut]

religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.

taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.

the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.

when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.

side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?

the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.

the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.

ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.

[darklordofthesimp]

Ipseity (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Part of the "Anything" verse, can be read as a standalone.

Summary: When the 141 has to make a choice between saving you or a fellow sniper, you know that your time has come to an end.

A/N: This was meant to be a short filler and now it's like 4.5k long. Hope you're all happy.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Graphic Language | Graphic Violence | Gun Violence | Graphic Description of Injury

The ringing in your ears woke you up. 

It was a high-pitched squeal that scrambled your thoughts and made your head pound. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't get past the overwhelming dizziness whenever you tried to raise your chin.

Blood stung your eyes. Your chest burned. You hadn’t been in this much pain in years, every pinch of your nerves prodded at long-forgotten childhood memories. They were things that had been left behind from before you enlisted, things that no longer mattered. What mattered was that you were tied to a chair and barely breathing. 

You were going to die here. 

And nobody was coming to save you. 

"Oh,” someone crooned from behind your seat. You didn’t have the strength to turn your neck and you thanked whatever cruel deity was listening that you hadn’t flinched. The least you could do was fake some courage for what was to come. 

“Come back for more?” Your mouth was dry, wretchedly so. You wanted to gag and spit, but there was no moisture in your mouth- it was like sandpaper. 

“There’s not much left in you for me to take, Sol,” Valeria said, her fingers trailing the length of your shoulder. Your body shivered beneath her touch as she slowly circled your chair, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“Oh, I’ve always got something left for you, gorgeous,” you chuckled, flashing the drug lord a weak grin. 

She snorted, the harsh light of the overhead lamp illuminating the edges of her features. She was a sharp woman, Valeria, somebody that you secretly admired. Not for her deeds or the atrocities she’d committed, but for her tenacity and her ambition- there was no stopping her. 

“You’ve always been my favourite sniper, you know,” Valeria mused, pulling her hand from your skin to inspect it. Your blood stained her fingers, thick and warm from where it had oozed from your wounds.

“You usually kill your favourite snipers?” You tried to raise your eyebrow but sharp pain ripped through your face, you realized dimly that the skin of your forehead had been split.

“Only when they steal things that belong to me, Luz,” Valeria whispered, pressing her hands against the armrests and leaning in. “Then, I kill them.” 

“We didn’t do it,” you met her gaze evenly, the false claim falling easily from your lips. 

“You’d die a liar to protect your friends,” she nodded thoughtfully. “It’s unfortunate that they have chosen not to give you the same courtesy.” 

You frowned, taken aback by the statement. You suspected that the 141 wouldn’t be there in time, you’d come to terms with the fact that your journey might end here. But, the way she’d said it… it was as if you were missing something. 

Valeria’s brows raised, eyes wide as she mocked your surprise with a gasp. “Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it earlier.” 

“Mention what?” You ground out through your teeth. 

The drug lord huffed a laugh, pushing off from your seat and standing upright. Sweat began to form in a thin sheen across your skin, anxiety running rampant through your system. 

What did she mean? 

Valeria’s eyes hardened as she tutted under her breath, pulling the blade on her thigh from its sheath. When her attention turned back to you, the malice in her gaze made your spine straighten. 

“What you stole from me,” she began, pointing the knife towards your face, “got someone very close to me killed.” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat like gravel and your tongue like concrete. 

The woman was seething now, the cool facade that she’d worn had melted into pure vitriol and hatred. It was an expression you’d never seen on her but on so many others throughout the years, it was the stare of someone who blamed you for their loss. 

“So, as penance,” Valeria pressed the tip of the blade to rest against your chest, “your Task Force will have to lose one of their own- even after they bring me the information.” 

“What-” 

“We have the other sniper,” the drug lord shrugged. “The little broken one.” 

Your heart stalled in your chest, fear dousing your body like a bucket of ice water. Blood rushed through your ears, loud and roaring and all-consuming with the sound. You couldn’t think straight, the image of your colleague being tortured flashed across your vision like a spotlight. 

“Birdy.” You whispered the name but it sounded like a plea rather than a statement. Valeria must have heard the begging in your voice because she only smiled. 

“Birdy,” she confirmed, with a smug tilt of her head. 

God, please no. 

“Let them go!” You lurched against your restraints. 

The latina's eyes were like stone, hard and unyielding. She was in pain, she was hurting and now it was her chance to hurt you all for what you’d done.

“I will,” she nodded her head soothingly, fingers coming to trace your trembling jaw. You snatched your face from her touch and she raised a brow. When she leaned back with a sigh, you knew what was coming. 

Valeria struck you hard. 

The wounds on your face screamed and it felt like someone was making you gargle molten lava. Your eyes watered but you made no sound, you gave her nothing to indicate that she’d hurt you. 

“The 141 will bring me what they stole,” Valeria sucked in a breath, watching you from beneath her lashes. “But they can only save one of you.” 

Your eyes widened. 

They can only save one of you. 

You knew then that you were going to die here. 

“What’s the matter, pequeño sol?” Valeria spoke with a mocking lilt. Your body trembled. “You don’t think they will come for you?” 

“No.” 

The word was soft and broken and you wondered if the drug lord had even heard it. The way that her smile wavered implied that she did. 

“No,” she nodded, standing straight. “Neither do I.”

If you hadn’t been so shattered, you would have seen the glimmer of pity pass over her features. 

You took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, "will you keep your word?"

"What?" 

"Will you keep your word?" You repeated firmly. No one was stupid enough to trust the word of a drug lord but right there and then you would take it as law. If you were going to die you needed to know that Birdy would be safe. 

Your eyes bore into hers. Valeria swallowed and you could see her hesitation, the desire to spit on the dying flame in your chest and put it out. 

Instead, the woman only nodded. 

"I will." 

Instantly, you relaxed in your seat and leaned your head back with a sigh. You closed your eyes, fighting the tears that had gathered along your lashes. 

This was it. 

This was the end of it. 

You weren't stupid enough to expect anyone to come save you, not when Birdy's life hung in the balance. There was never a doubt about who was more valued on the team, despite your skills you'd never be able to contend with Birdy's spot on the team. 

It wasn't about who was better, it was about who was loved. 

And nobody in the 141 loved you more than they loved Birdy. 

No one. 

Your lips trembled and you fury rose like a volcanic eruption from within your chest. You would not die crying. You would not die without dignity. 

"I'll be leaving to retrieve my package," Valeria sighed, sheathing her knife. "Once the handover is made, my men will put you down."

You grinned.

"After all we've been through," you feigned hurt. "I thought you'd want to do the honors, gorgeous." 

But Valeria didn't bite. She didn't laugh nor did she retaliate, the woman only watched you with an unreadable expression. 

"We are the same, me and you, Sunshine." The drug lord stood tall, "Deberías haber sido valorado. Morir con orgullo."

You blinked dumbly.  "I don't know what the fuck you said but I'm going to assume you think I'm hot and that you regret not sleeping with me before I die." 

Valeria rolled her eyes and turned away. 

"You act tough, Sol. Don't die thinking this is anything but a betrayal."

Betrayal. 

You offered nothing but a snort, laughing the chill of her words off your spine.

The woman left the room and immediately the silence was overwhelming. There was no one to lie to now, no one to throw your facade at. You found yourself almost asking her to stay as she closed the door behind her, biting your tongue to reserve your dignity. But, you didn't want to be alone, not when the end was approaching so quickly.

 Though, you guess you'd done this to yourself. 

Always good, but never enough. König was your best friend, but you knew he'd leave you in a heartbeat to save the sniper he truly loved- you couldn't ask any differently from him. 

After all, if it had been between him and Ghost, you were sure you'd make the same decision. 

A pathetic tragedy in itself considering the feeling wasn't mutual.

Simon Riley loved Birdy, just as the rest of them did.

You would never compare, you'd never come close, not with your ambitious demeanor- not with your shitty attitude. You'd never allowed yourself to view them as family and when they'd tried to include you, you hadn't let them in. 

If your own family had wronged you, your own flesh and blood, what would the 141 do any differently?

By the looks of the situation: nothing. 

No one was coming to save you. 

The burning beneath your lids became so aggressive you wanted to tear the skin from your face. You wanted to gouge out your eyes, just so that the only thing dripping would be blood- not tears. 

Never tears. 

You were not Birdy, you did not cry. 

You were not Birdy. 

You'd never be Birdy. 

The pressure in your chest grew and swelled and suffocated, extinguishing the fire you'd kept burning for years. Through everything, you'd held strong. Through hellfire and brimstone, you'd crawled your way across death and misfortune to emerge from the ashes stronger. 

You did not break. Not until now. 

A scream ripped from your chest, unrecognizable. It wasn't you who wailed, it was the child inside who mourned their life. It was the adult who'd never been loved the way they'd prayed for in the dead of the night.

Never enough.

Never enough for König, the man who always found himself by Birdy's side, chasing for the crumbs of their attention.

Never enough for Simon Riley, who'd taken your heart and crushed it every time he watched you with distaste- with disappointment.   

You were never the priority. 

Never his priority. 

You'd never be anything to Ghost, not the way Birdy was.

But you were not Birdy and you'd not die wishing that you were. 

You pulled at your restraints, thrashing in your chair with renewed energy. While you knew it was unlikely you'd escape, at least you'd be put down fighting. 

"Hey!" One of Valeria's henchmen shouted. 

You struggled harder, the skin of your wrists ripping from beneath the ties. Fresh blood trailed down your fingers and you smeared it wherever you could reach, wetting the braided rope until it was slick with crimson rage.

Your heart jumped as your hands slipped through the restraints, the gory lubrication helping you pull your crumpled fingers free. 

"Stop!" The cool metal of a barrel pressed against your forehead, putting an instant halt on your plans. 

You glared up at the man before you, his eyes were hard but his hand trembled, the weapon jittering against your skull. 

"I will fucking paint this room with your brains," he hissed, the cigarette in his mouth jolting with each word. "Try me, I dare you." 

"If the 141 comes with the package and I'm dead, Valeria will butcher your entire family, cabrón." You were careful as you spoke, enunciating each word as clearly as you could muster. 

The butt of his weapon struck your cheek hard enough to send stars skittering across your vision. 

"I speak," the man hissed, "not you."

"I'm trying to warn you-" 

He hit you again, this time harder. You felt your teeth dislodge from in your mouth and panic gripped your heart as they slid down your throat. 

"I said don't speak!" He shouted, the words warbled as your vision spun. Your head lolled to the side, gagging as you choked on your own bones. Bile speared through your chest as a combination of blood and stomach acid hit the floor weakly. Your teeth clattered across the ground, like dice rolling across the board. 

"Ricky!" The man called over his shoulder. "Alguna palabra sobre el paquete?

"Aún nada, hermano."

"Mierda! ¿Por qué tarda tanto?"

The conversation fell on deaf ears as you fought to keep yourself conscious. Your hands were freed but now the element of surprise was lost and there was a barrel pressed against your face. 

"I should kill you right now," the man spat in English. "You fucking murdered my brothers like a coward."

"They should learn to duck," you shrugged weakly. 

This time when he hit you, it threw your seat backward. You hadn't been able to move your hands in time before the weight of your body and the steel spines of the chair slammed against your forearms. 

A sickening crunch reverberated through the room, echoing like the toll of a church bell and while that was loud, your scream was deafening. 

"Let's be honest with ourselves, Sunshine," the man laughed, watching you as you writhed and sobbed. "Nobody is coming to save you." 

He cocked the weapon slowly, leaning down to press the barrel against your forehead once again. You couldn't even keep your eyes open as you struggled for breath, choking on your own spit and blood as you shrieked. You wanted to watch him, you wanted to go down with defiance- but fear gripped your throat so tightly you were choking on it.

You weren't going to die fighting. 

You were going to die suffering. 

When the gunshot came, your body recoiled so hard that your head smashed the concrete beneath you. In that horrible moment of silence that followed, you wondered if there was no peace even in death. Agony ripped through your nervous system, every inch of your body screamed for relief. 

If this was death, then you were in hell. 

"Think again, cunt."

The distinct cockney accent had your spine straightening and your eyes snapping open. 

The gun clattered beside your head, unfired. 

You weren't dead. 

"Sunshine!"

You were being saved. 

"Talk to me, Sunshine!" 

The voice was so far away, he was too far away, he wasn't going to make it. You weren't going to make it. The man on the floor next to you must have sat back up because you could feel his hands gripping your shoulders, the gun rattling in your ears. 

Fingers gripped your face, jostling you from your semi-conscious state. Your vision was blurred by your own blood and tears, the figure before you a mess of shadows. You screamed, trying to pull your broken arms from beneath the chair to defend yourself until help got to you. 

Searing hot pain ran up the lengths of your arms and stabbed into your neck. You gagged, a low bellow wrenching from your throat as you heaved. 

"Stop! Stop! Don't move!" 

"Get away from me!" You wailed, voice shrill and unhinged. You tugged again and this time his hands came down on your shoulders. 

"SUNSHINE!"

The roar of your name made your entire body freeze, clutching you by the throat with the desperation behind the callsign. You closed your eyes, a whimper falling from your lips to taint your dignity. 

"Jesus." He sounded like Ghost. It couldn't have been him but, God, you wished it was. "Come on, Sweetheart. Look at me." 

"I can't see," you wept. 

His thumbs swept over your face, gloves wiping the blood from where it had settled on your lids and lashes. You tried again, blinking the crimson liquid from your eyes as best you could. You imagined that you looked a sight, the whites of your eyes a deep red, stained with evidence of your injuries. Finally, your vision settled. 

Simon stared back at you, eyes wide. 

You gasped. 

"Simon?" You slurred, his name broken on your lips. 

"Yeah, Sunshine. S'me." He murmured distractedly. His fingers were twitching on your neck, scanning the rest of your body for injuries.

Your heart was beating against your ribs, sudden anxiety flooding your being.  If he was here it meant that they'd brought the package to you rather than to Birdy. 

That meant… 

"No, no, no," you whispered as the Lieutenant lifted the chair with one hand, pulling your broken hands from behind your back. "No, no, Simon, what're you doing here?" 

Ghost recoiled slightly, a frown overtaking his features. "The fuck do you mean?" 

"Birdy," you rasped, a sob building in your chest. "You need to get Birdy. What about Birdy?" 

"Birdy's-" 

You fought to stand up, pushing him out of the way as you stumbled to your feet. Your body swayed side to side as your vision swam, but you weren't going down- not again. 

"Need a gat. Need Birdy- we can't lose Birdy. Everybody needs Birdy-" 

"Sunshine." 

"I can't lose Birdy!" You snapped, reeling on your superior with a broken gaze. 

For a moment, he stood frozen, speechless. You'd never recover if they killed the other sniper, no one would. Everyone would blame you, it'd be your fault.

"König's got Birdy," Ghost said slowly, straightening to stand to his full height. "I've got you, Sunshine."

You gawked at him as though you hadn't understood a single word he'd said. Realistically, you truly hadn't. They'd come for you, knowing that it would put everyone at risk. 

Simon had come for you, leaving Birdy to a man that he hated with every ounce of his being. 

Simon had come for you, not Birdy. 

"You're here?" You whispered and although it sounded fucking stupid, Ghost only nodded. He knew what you were really asking. 

"Of course," he said. "Of course, I am."

"You came for me?" Your voice broke.

The soldier shuffled on his feet, shaking his head as though he thought it was obvious. 

"I'd follow you anywhere. We both know it," he huffed, that dark gaze pinning your soul to your chest. 

You rocked forward at the words, knees buckling from beneath you. Simon shot forward instantly, his arms looping around your waist and hauling you upward. His hand came to grip your chin, fingers slapping your cheek lightly as your eyes rolled backward. 

"Come on, Sweetheart. Stay with it, it's nothin',"  he growled, jostling your body to keep you conscious. Your head fell forward to rest against his shoulder, ears ringing and your mind shattered. "Sunshine, stay awake for me."

You couldn't any longer, you couldn't listen to him. He should have been used to it by now, you'd always been the troublesome one for him. Never directly disobeying him but never doing it the way he asked, always driving him bat-shit fucking crazy- always under his skin. 

But, if Simon couldn't save you, you'd die happy knowing that he'd even tried. 

You'd die happy knowing that somebody loved you. 

—

When you thought of dying, you always had such a visceral image of what would happen. You'd be the last one on your line, and the rest of your unit would be shot down; you'd make a stand on a hill and wipe out the enemy until you were out of ammo. Then, you would fight until you were overwhelmed. 

That was the death you'd imagined. 

Not abandoned and left alone in a warehouse in a sick game of "pick the sniper you like more." 

"They'll fully recover physically," someone sighed from above your head. "Mentally, though…" 

"They'll be right," Simon finished. 

"That's what they said about Birdy," the doctor muttered. "We all know how that ended." 

"Doc-" 

"Saint."

Simon cleared his throat. 

"Saint," the callsign foreign on his tongue, "Sunshine's not Birdy."

To hear it from Simon Riley himself was all the validation you needed. 

You stirred in the bed and immediately all conversation fell quiet, the both of them waiting for you to fully awaken. 

You knew you were in the hospital before your eyes opened. You recognised the doctor who was talking, a medic who had yelled at you often for ‘being reckless.’ The smell of antiseptic was near seared into your memory and the sound of the monitor beeping was too familiar. 

However, the room was brighter than you’d anticipated and you cringed into your pillow with a moan. The overhead light stung your eyes, searing your retinas and making it near impossible for you to think. 

“Get the lights,” Saint ordered, realizing what the issue was. 

The room fell dim, enough for you to finally pry your lids open and have a look around. Your jaw felt heavy like there was cotton in your mouth. As you probed with your tongue, you realised with a pitted stomach that there actually was something stuffed between your teeth. 

You moaned, reaching upward to pull it out. 

It was as though you’d set off a bomb with the movement. Both Simon and Saint immediately shot forward, hands on your arms to rest them by your side gently. They stood on either side of your bed, like two sentries, one dark and one light. 

“Gonna need you to just relax a second for me, spitfire,” Saint chuckled. 

You huffed, fighting the urge to gag on the material in your mouth. Your tongue ran over it, moving to dislodge it from where it had been wedged between your teeth. 

“Now,” the doctor leaned over to adjust your drip. “Do you remember your name and what happened?” 

Rather than respond, you opted to slowly let the gauze fall out of your mouth and onto your chest. Saint watched you with a deadpan expression as you fought with your facial injuries to perform this feat. 

At the end of it, you offered a weak smile. 

A long moment of silence ensued before the doctor sighed, staring at the lumps of bloody fabric sitting on the gown. 

“I’m gonna go grab some shit,” they said. “Maybe a fuckin’ whiskey.” 

They disappeared from the room swiftly, leaving you alone with the Grim Reaper himself. With a harsh sigh through his nose, the Lieutenant reached over and scooped up the gauze, dropping them into the bin. 

“You couldn’t just answer the question?” He muttered, moving to crouch by your head. He wore only his balaclava, his hoodie down for once. 

“Not with that in my mouth,” you rasped, words thick and sickly. 

Simon snorted softly but he said nothing, opting to watch you instead. His gaze ran from your hair to your neck, over and over as if he were committing you to memory. His expression was gentle but there was something hidden that made you think that, at that moment, he was extremely vulnerable. 

Anything you said from this point on would determine the relationship between you both. You remembered what he’d confessed when he found you beaten and bloody on the floor. It was clear as day and imprinted on your brain as though it had been branded on the inside of your skull. 

“I would follow you anywhere. We both know it.” 

You’d both reached the point of no return, no more smoke and mirrors, no more half-truths. Neither of you could get away with hiding your feelings behind hatred anymore. 

Not after he’d chosen you. 

“You came for me,” you whispered. A statement, not a question this time.

“Of course,” he said again, just as he had before. 

You hadn’t realised you were crying until his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks ever so gently. As much as you hated it, as much as you wanted to stop, you couldn’t hold them back. 

The relief was palpable, the understanding that you were valued was freeing. 

Simon Riley knew the kind of person you were, right at your very core, and he still chose to love you. He still chose to hold your hand and dry your tears with nothing but pure reverence in his gaze. 

You realized then and there, that you were valued.

You were enough.

[matan4il]

In today's edition of "The UN is complicit," we now have proof that this "respectable" organization has been sweeping under the rug a crucial report on the situation in Gaza.

On Jun 5 this year, headlines based on false statements from the UN released on that day were still being published, claiming that by mid Jul over 1 million people (about half the Gazan population) could be facing the highest level of starvation if the war continues. This was when we've been going through 8 months of war, in which the UN constantly made claims of imminent genocidal starvation, now, right now, truly, any moment now, if the war doesn't stop.

Except, it turns out that on Jun 4 already (a day earlier than the UN's starvation claims were being made and published), the IPC (an organization made up of several NGOs and UN bodies) has had to admit that there is no reliable evidence of starvation in Gaza, or that its existence is even plausible. This is particularly significant because it was actually the IPC's own Mar 2024 report that many of the claims regarding starvation relied on!

(please read the linked article if you can, it also links to researchers like Mark Zlochkin, quoting the findings of the Famine Review Committee, which are compelling in showing that there is no starvation in Gaza)

This means the UN has known for two weeks at this point (in an official capacity) that there is no starvation, but proceeded to ignore and even contradict its own people on this.

It means Israel has been slandered by false accusations of causing intentional starvation when there is no evidence that there even is one for EIGHT AND A HALF MONTHS, it means that the "clearest piece of evidence" of the supposed genocide in Gaza has never been substantiated, it means every Israel supporter accused of being pro-genocide has been deeply wronged, it means every antisemitic abuse of a Jewish person attacked over the situation in Gaza has been based on an antisemitic libel, it means countless anti-Jewish crimes have been justified using a lie that the UN has been actively enabling for two weeks (if we only count the time they've known about this on an official level, but since the UN has 13,000 employees on the ground in Gaza, it surely knew even before the Jun 4 report)...

And I find it particularly gruesome that I found out about the IPC report on the same day I learnt a 12 years old Jewish girl in France was gang raped as an antisemitic hate crime. This is the second time a Jewish female has been raped in France due to antisemitic motivation in recent months, when during the first rape (that we know of) the rapist was clear about his anti-Israel motivation. And we all know where the inspiration came from, to rape women just because they're Jewish, and knowing they will be victims who will not be listened to, or worse, whose rape will be justified as "resistance"...

IDK how anyone can have a conscience and not be bothered by this. All of it.

The UN is complicit.

The international NGOs are complicit.

The news sources that have not published the report are complicit.

The people who didn't believe rape reports from Oct 7 just because they came from Jews are complicit.

They all prove that Jews are NOT protected, or even just treated with basic human decency, as we should be.

My heart breaks for this girl. I wish I could do something for her, but there is nothing, except to scream here over this abhorrent injustice, and to beg people to raise their voice. Our sister's blood is calling out to us from the ground, and we CANNOT be silent.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[aroace-ventplace]

…can’t believe i need to say this in 2024, but if you see a tumblr blog that’s an obvious sockpuppet, just block them. don’t give them any attention.

for those who weren’t aware, a sockpuppet is an account that someone uses to pretend to be someone they aren't, usually for the sake of accomplishing a particular goal. "asexual" sockpuppets were used extensively in tumblr's ace discourse years (which reached their peak in 2016-2019). aphobes and exclusionists made blogs where they roleplayed as exaggerated aspec caricatures, trying to paint asexuals as childish, ignorant, bigoted, etc - in a word, "cringey." crazey-acey-in-spacey was an especially notorious example of a sockpuppet that a lot of people took at face value, since their deliberately outrageous behavior (falsely) confirmed a lot of the biases tumblr users already had about aspecs. it's NEVER worth engaging with any of these accounts - don't feed the trolls, as they used to say.

ways to spot an "asexual" sockpuppet:

makes a lot of statements that are intentionally tone-deaf and offensive. especially look out for sudden mentions of race/analogies to racism ("ace genocide," "ace reparations") - a common tactic in the acecourse days was to paint asexuality as a "white" orientation, and to suggest asexuals were racist.

references other infamous sockpuppets like crazy-acey and the "warm milk aceggot" post.

makes claims about famous people being aspec, especially people who are known for bigoted beliefs. it was very common for aphobes to make asexual moodboards of people like thatcher or trump; they did this to paint aspecs as out of touch with reality and the wider queer community, and to strengthen the association between asexuality and bigotry.

use of the words "acey" or "asexy." some people do use these words in a positive sense now, but anti-aspec shit-stirrers used them a lot back in the day to imply asexuals were stupid and childish. (and if we're being honest? autistic, too. the aphobic parts of tumblr had a VERY strong undercurrent of ableism.)

this one's a bit less common, but watch out for references to christianity. one widespread aphobic talking point is calling asexuals "puritans" and suggesting that they're aligned more with conservative christianity than the rest of the queer community. aspec christians certainly exist, but given the history of this site, it's just better to double-check aspec accounts that bring up christianity out of the blue when they're engaging with other blogs.

it can be hard to tell the difference between a sockpuppet and a genuine aspec account if you don't have the exact same amount of 2016 tumblr brainrot as me, so feel free to message me and ask about anything you're not sure about - my dms are always open 👍

[read-marx-and-lenin]

I’m following the DPRK debates (or trying to at least) but ultimately I’m struggling to understand how to glorify a nation that impedes so heavily on its citizen’s human rights, any insight?

Two things:

First, you shouldn't be trying to glorify anything. You should be trying to understand things and separating truth from fiction.

Second, in that vein, you should be seriously questioning what is being said about the DPRK and why. The US and its allies have a vested interest in ensuring that any socialist project fails, and when they are unable to cause a real failure, they work to make the public believe that it has failed anyway.

The two main sources of the most egregious human rights violations are defector testimony and US/ROK intelligence. If you've been following what I've posted about the DPRK on this blog then you should already know the problems with defector testimony (you can watch this short documentary if you want to know more about that and hear from a few former DPRK residents who rebut many typical defector narratives,) but suffice it to say that the ROK actively pays defectors to make false and scripted statements in the South Korean media, and those who do not go along with the ROK government narrative or who actively contradict it are censored and even face prison time.

Meanwhile, Western intelligence is inherently unverifiable. The best you're going to get is a satellite photo with a building labeled "torture facility" as if we're supposed to look at a roof and be like "uh-huh, that looks like a torture facility to me". US and ROK intelligence officials can and do say whatever they like, but at the end of the day they are the direct enemies of the DPRK and their claims cannot be trusted.

The two Korean governments are still at war; they have never signed a peace treaty. Their conduct must be viewed first and foremost in this context. Both the ROK and the DPRK block movement of people across the DMZ. Both the ROK and the DPRK prevent the dissemination of information coming from each other's nations. Both the ROK and the DPRK surveil their citizens and place controls on the media. Both the ROK and the DPRK place limits on political and cultural activity. The ROK acts to suppress anti-capitalist movements and protect the capitalist way of life, and the DPRK acts to suppress anti-socialist movements and protect the socialist way of life, as both sides view their own political and economic systems as vital to the protection of human rights. On any of these grounds, you cannot fault one side without faulting the other, which is why Western media often opts instead to focus on the more exaggerated and unverifiable claims except when explicitly advocating in favor of capitalism over socialism.

Finally, there is the issue of contradictory ideas of human rights. The capitalist West will insist time and time again that the right to private property is a basic human right, while avoiding or even denying the idea of a right to food, shelter, clothing, healthcare, etc. as a basic human right. To the West, a landlord's right to evict a tenant is inviolable. To the West, denying a person shelter is more of a human right than granting them shelter. The opposite is true in socialist nations such as the DPRK. That the DPRK holds different values as human rights does not then mean that the DPRK is some terrible oppressive violator of human rights. The right to be a capitalist should not be considered a human right. The right to be a saboteur should not be considered a human right.

The DPRK Association for Human Rights Studies, a non-governmental organization in Pyongyang, published a report in 2014 on human rights from the perspective of the DPRK, outlining their objections to US-led international human rights standards and the progress being made in the DPRK towards guaranteeing human rights. You can call it propaganda if you like, but if you do not even look at the statements coming out of the DPRK, how can you have a rounded view of the situation?

Had the DPRK not succeeded in withstanding the attacks against it, had it managed to become subjugated by the US and other imperialist forces, I do not think we could then say that human rights in North Korea would have been secured and safeguarded. The poverty and inequality that the proletariat of South Korea are afflicted with today would have become the norm across the whole peninsula. Even if you believe that human rights are violated today in the DPRK, you must at least admit that the victory of the US and its puppet government in the South cannot be a means of combating any alleged human rights violations in the North.

[mallstars]

Speaking Up

After months of consideration, I’ve decided to speak up about a deeply distressing experience I had in the Drarry community. 

A little over half a year ago, I was abruptly banned from a community of Drarry writers after a vague statement accusing a member of harassment. I was never told specifically what I was accused of; nobody ever spoke to me or provided any explanation for their actions. When I tried to reach out, I was blocked. 

In a slow trickle of information provided by other people over the following weeks and months, I learned that I’d been blamed for anonymous hate comments left on a fellow writer’s AO3, based on “credible evidence”, which wasn’t shared. 

I want to be very clear: 

I did not leave these hate comments, nor would I ever leave hate comments to anyone. The person who received these comments, as well as everyone supporting their accusations, were people whose work I enjoyed privately and publicly. 

I have no idea what “evidence” anyone could have come up with to support the claim that I left those anonymous comments. Other than knowing that I'm innocent, I've also learned that you cannot determine the identity of a guest commenter on AO3. 

There’s something uniquely jarring and isolating about being falsely accused of having done something bad, without being told what it is and without being given the chance to defend myself, as well as this accusation coming from people I considered friends, in a community that prides itself on being kind and mature. 

Being branded a harasser by people I trusted has had a devastating effect on my experience in fandom, my fandom relationships, and on my mental health. It has made navigating fandom spaces challenging, and had a noticeable impact even on my real, everyday life. I’m still dealing with the fallout of what happened, half a year later. 

For months, I’ve been thinking about how to address this matter. Ultimately, I’ve decided against a more detailed recount of what happened and how it continues to affect me, as I don’t want to invite any further negativity, towards me or the people who targeted me. 

Instead, I want to be clear about who I am and how I engage with the Drarry community. I care deeply about my stories, as well as other creators and the fandom spaces we share. I’ve always strived to uplift others and to be a kind, authentic, and fun participant. As a passionate reader, I will continue doing what I enjoy: reading stories and being vocal in my support of the creators of this fandom. 

Creating and being an active part of the fandom space always went hand in hand for me, and this has been difficult for the majority of this year. As of now, I’m not sure I’ll keep writing in this community, but I’ll take every day as it comes. In the end, I'm a writer with all my heart, and if I end up wanting to stick around, I'll be happy for it. 

In speaking up about this now, I’m giving myself permission to move on. It has seemed imperative to me to understand not only the What of the situation but also the Why. However, in the end, none of my guesses hold much weight. I’ve not been able to find a sensible link between myself and the person I was made out to be. I’ve exhausted myself and my options, and am finally giving myself permission to stop trying to understand the motivations of those who accused me, and instead focus on the positive aspects of being part of this community. 

Finally, I want to say that I strongly believe in open communication. I wasn’t given the chance to respond to the accusations when it mattered the most. Still, I am, and always have been, genuinely happy to talk. To anyone who’s reading this and would like to chat, whether you know about this situation or not: My DMs are open. 

I'm so very grateful to the people who've listened to me, created new safe spaces for and with me, and cared while I did my best to navigate this situation. I'm grateful, too, to those friends who cracked jokes about this mess long before I was ready to. Thank you for being the brightest part of my fandom experience. Your friendship, as well as the incredible stories I’ve gotten to read in this fandom, will stay with me, and continue to shine brighter than anyone could diminish. 

[colossalsquidz]

I think my favourite piece of symbolism in rgu will always and forever be the carousel in episode 39. In the intro, you get this awesome shot of Utena and Anthy riding on horses through the sky, and throughout the whole show you’re waiting for that moment to come to fruition.

Horses, of course, are heavily linked to the idea of the prince. Dios is described as a “prince on a white horse,” Touga explicitly states that horses are part of the “prince” persona, Akio and Touga both ride with Utena on a horse when they’re trying to be her prince. And as the protagonist, most viewers will be rooting for Utena to get her own moment of heroism. To break away from Akio’s abuse and become the gallant prince she’s always dreamed of being.

However, when Anthy stabs Utena, this dream is shattered. She says, “You remind me so much of Dios when I loved him. But you can never be my prince, because you’re a girl.” An intentionally cruel jab, rubbing salt in the wound. But also showing Anthy’s mindset, fear of being abused again by someone who wants to trap her in a power dynamic. She loves Utena and believes she is genuinely trying to help her, but still can’t trust her.

This is when the carousel appears. The same motif of the white horse, but this time a crude plastic simulacrum, going around and around in circles. Utena has been sold the idea of the prince as a way to claim autonomy in a patriarchal society, but in the end the “prince” in power only wants to keep everything in eternal stasis. The flying horses in the sky were always a pipe dream, because that’s not what it means to claim power within the framework of this system. A carousel can never advance. A prince can never truly smash the world’s shell, just accumulate power within it.

The nature of the carnival ride and the children’s laughter in the background are also important here, almost mocking Utena in her lowest moment. It reminds me of Akio’s statement that she was merely “playing” at the duelling game, like all this was some childish power fantasy. But we know that’s not true. That’s why Utena is able to pull herself up and make her way to Anthy’s coffin. Dios is the one riding the carousel here, offering Utena false platitudes and beckoning her to accept the way things are, join him in going around and around for eternity. However, Utena’s desire to help her friend trumps her desire to be a hero. To help Anthy has always been her main driving force, and Akio is so cynical that he can’t understand that someone might want to help for purely selfless reasons. Ultimately, this is his downfall.

When the curtain falls and the prince is revealed to be a child on a plastic horse, Utena is disgusted by the farce and accepts the painful reality of her identity being ripped from her and discarded. Because being the prince was never Utena’s goal, it was a means to an end to help Anthy from the very beginning.

[mywitchyblog]

Debunking anti-Aging Rethoric (Again)

Thanks @lizzy4president for this post, and I will debunk it accordingly. It seems that these cultists/Shiftokers don’t know shit about shifting or how it works. No matter how much theoretical knowledge you have about shifting, there are things you will never know unless you have shifted yourself—and I mean full-on shifts, not minishifts. That said, I will debunk this:

My age Changing Post :

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So, let’s talk about the whole “aging down is weird because your consciousness retains your current age” nonsense that these people keep pushing. First off, this argument shows a fundamental misunderstanding of how reality shifting works. When you shift to a different age in your Desired Reality (DR), you're not just playing dress-up or pretending to be younger—you become that age in every sense of the word.

Immersive Experience: The Reality of Aging Down

In your DR, you don’t just take on a younger appearance while keeping the maturity of your Original Reality (OR) self. No, it’s way deeper than that. Your entire cognitive and emotional framework adapts to the age you’ve shifted to. If you script yourself as a 14-year-old, you don’t walk around with the mindset of a 30-year-old stuck in a teenager’s body. You fully embody the mindset, emotions, and maturity of a 14-year-old. This isn’t just about physical changes—your brain, your thoughts, and your emotional responses align with that younger age.

Neuroscience backs this up too. Maturity is tied to the development of specific brain regions, like the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for things like decision-making and impulse control. When you shift, your consciousness adapts to the brain development appropriate for that age in your DR. You’re not lugging your OR brain around; instead, you’re operating with the cognitive equipment that matches your DR age. This means that in your DR, you’re not a 30-year-old thinking like a 14-year-old—you’re truly 14 with the maturity that comes with that age​.

Debunking the Consciousness Retention Myth

Now, some folks seem to think that when you shift to a younger age, you somehow retain your OR “adult consciousness.” This is pure bullshit. When you shift, your consciousness isn’t this fixed, immovable thing that drags your OR mentality into your DR. It’s adaptable and fluid. If you script or intend to be a teenager, your consciousness adjusts to that reality—period. There’s no “adult awareness” hanging around in the background. Your thoughts, decisions, and reactions all align with your DR age​.

The Fallacies Behind Anti-Aging Rhetoric

Let’s get into the nitty-gritty of why these anti-aging arguments are straight-up flawed. The rhetoric used against aging down is packed with logical fallacies that just don’t hold up when you actually understand shifting.

Straw Man Fallacy: This is when someone misrepresents an argument to make it easier to attack. Anti-aging down critics love to claim that anyone who shifts to a younger age is doing it for creepy, inappropriate reasons. They simplify the complexity of shifting into a caricature, which makes it easier for them to criticize. But that’s not how it works. Shifters age down for countless reasons—healing, exploration, nostalgia—and it’s not all about sexual or romantic intentions​.

Hasty Generalization: This fallacy happens when someone takes a limited number of cases and makes a broad, sweeping statement. Anti-aging rhetoric often assumes that if one person ages down for inappropriate reasons, then everyone who ages down must be doing the same. This ignores the vast majority of shifters who age down for completely innocent and personal reasons. Thesehoes need to stop making assumptions based on a few bad apples and recognize the diversity of experiences in the shifting community​.

False Equivalence: Here’s a big one. Critics often equate shifting to a younger age with being an adult in a child’s body in the OR, implying that it’s somehow the same as being predatory or inappropriate in the OR. This is a total false equivalence. When you shift, you fully become that younger self—your consciousness, maturity, and experiences align with that age in the DR. It’s not even remotely comparable to being an adult trying to live as a child in the OR​.

Slippery Slope: This fallacy suggests that if you allow one thing to happen (like aging down), it will inevitably lead to something much worse. Anti-aging critics often argue that allowing or accepting aging down will lead to more predatory behavior or normalize inappropriate desires or even the presence of pedophiles in the Shifting Community. But there’s no evidence to back this up. Aging down is about fully embracing and experiencing life at a different age, not about some slippery slope into immoral behavior​.

Addressing the Ethical Concerns

A lot of people throw around ethical concerns like they’re confetti, especially when it comes to aging down. They’re quick to scream, “But it’s creepy!” without understanding the actual reasons why someone might want to age down. Spoiler: it’s not always about romance or sex and in some cases it s even acceptable because you dont know why they do the things that they do what if someone got an traumatic event like SA in highschool and wish to replace it with a healthy moment ? Or someone got chated on and wished to see how things wouldve been ? Or someone was going to have an aooportunity like that but has missed out on it ? If someone yearns for the teenage romance eveyone and their mother in films movies and TV series love to push ? This is not shifting for predatory reasons far from it.

For many shifters, aging down is about healing or exploring stages of life they didn’t get to fully experience in their OR. It could be about reliving a simpler time, overcoming past traumas, or just enjoying the freedom and innocence that comes with being younger. It’s a deeply personal process, and it’s not inherently sexual or predatory​.

Infinite Realities and Subjective Morals

Let’s not forget that shifting involves infinite realities, each with its own set of rules and morals. What might be seen as inappropriate in one reality could be completely normal in another. This idea that OR morals are the blueprint for every DR is just plain wrong. If you’re aging down in your DR, it’s because that reality’s context allows it, and there’s nothing inherently weird or wrong about that. It’s time to stop judging DR experiences by OR standards​.

Conclusion: Embrace the Full Experience

In conclusion, aging down isn’t weird, predatory, or inappropriate. When you shift, you become that age completely—mentally, emotionally, and cognitively. The arguments against this practice are based on misunderstandings, fallacies, and a lack of real shifting experience. Shifting is about exploring and fully immersing yourself in another reality, and that includes becoming the age you choose to shift to. So, the next time someone tells you that aging down is weird, just remember: they don’t know what they’re talking about, and you’re the one who truly understands the depth of the shifting experience.

[destielmemenews]

The five men claim in a federal lawsuit that Trump knew he was acting with “reckless disregard” for the truth when he said during the September debate with Vice President Kamala Harris that they pleaded guilty to crimes connected to the beating and raping a woman in New York City, and that the five teenagers “badly hurt a person, killed a person” in the attack.

“Defendant Trump’s statements were false and defamatory in numerous respects,” attorneys for the men, now all in their 50s, wrote in the lawsuit filed in federal court in Philadelphia. “Plaintiffs never pled guilty to the Central Park assaults. Plaintiffs all pled not guilty and maintained their innocence throughout their trial and incarceration, as well as after they were released from prison.”

“None of the victims of the Central Park assaults were killed,” the lawyers for Yusef Salaam, Raymond Santana, Kevin Richardson, Antron Brown and Korey Wise wrote.

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The Central Park Five and Trump, Explained by NPR