#the suffering of trans people is not worth holding on to a series!!!

[moonlightperseus]

btw if you intend to watch the new harry potter series go ahead and block me bc i don’t want to interact with you

[colorisbyshe]

i think the changes in the bill and frank plotline help illuminate everything i hate about TLOU 2.

because, narratively, bill serves the same purpose in both the game and the tv show. he represents where joel is, emotionally, at that point in the story. joel is in “survival of the fittest, loving people always hurts you in the end, do what you can do to live and fuck everyone else” mode, especially after losing tess. tess had just proved that loving people WILL get you killed.

but the rest of the game is meant to sort of be a refutation of that.

ellie is alive because he he loved her. he is alive and life is worth living because he loves ellie back.

a direct contrast to bill who is alive but not living because he has never one left to love.

in the show, changing bill and frank’s plotline to show that, yeah, you WILL always die, you can’t escape death, but if you are with someone you love, the hardships are worth it, makes it so bill and frank don’t just exist to contrast with joel and tess but to really hammer home the themes of the story itself--love is worth it, community is worth it, you can survive so much BETTER if you aren’t alone. bill would have died of gunshot wounds without frank.

and this is how get around to “why i fucking hate TLOU 2″ because joel dies BECAUSE he loves ellie. but doesn’t get to die for her. he is killed not on his own terms, directly saving her, but as a consequence, later on, separated from that. and ellie suffers for loving him. she’s MISERABLE because she loved him. she can’t even play his guitar anymore.

bill, who is still alive in the game, is affirmed. love is a mistake. it either kills you or you end up alone anyways.

i think the subtle difference in narrative purpose (game’s “bill is wrong for doubting the power of love... or is he?” vs the show’s “bill WAS wrong for doubting hte power of love and is in fact HEALED through love”) also radically changes how this series handles gay characters. in the game, this tragic take robs frank of ANY representation, makes bill an ambiguously gay, flat curmudgeon, and ultimately makes ellie (AND riley AND dinah) just hopeless fulfilled prophecies.

and using lev as the trans punching bag to hold up abby’s story and make her sympathetic is made even bleaker.

because... now all of the lgbt people exist in the story as just like... tools for a lackluster message as opposed to well loved, nuanced characters.

[roguestarsailor]

So I really do not like is Elain in ACOTAR and I want to explore why I feel this way. This is going to be a critique of Elain and a critique of SJM too.

So I think about this tweet whenever I feel passionately about a character; many of the characters I love or hate clearly have these things outlined.

Elain is positioned as a central character who is vital to be part of the main protagonist group but she doesn’t have any supporting characteristics that make her valuable or interesting as a character. If you parallel her story to literally any other main characters, they all have grit, flaws and passion whereas Elain doesn’t. The story really doesn't change when you take Elain out of the equation. Her only relevance happens in ACOWAR and she weaves in and out. She’s so absent most of the time, and she’s barely thought about more than precious and gentle and likeable. that doesn’t make the character interesting.

Elain is the type of character that other characters react to. Sometimes I think she should have died in the cauldron because she was the type of character that would motivate people to action. She functions best as a symbol of purity and good that everyone will throw themselves for or go to the end of the earth for. Even from Freye’s point of view, she would do anything to defend her sisters and most of all her gentle and caring Elaine. Even the description of Elain being shoved into the cauldron with Freye and Nesta pleading and struggling to save Elain was intense! if Elain had died, this would have made the reason to go to war significantly more impactful, more heated and more personal. We would get to see so much action from Freye and Nesta; we could have watch these characters flex their strengths and grow into more powerful women (another critique is that Amren and Mor are supposedly top tier individuals but we don’t see what they're actual function is within the night court. we see Cassian and Azriel doing their thing and hold meetings w Rhys but not those two?? they just hang out in Valaris). We would even see politics change in Prythian! We got a glimpse of what they did at the High Lords Meeting and then we saw them speak united after the war in the human realm in ACOWAR. Imagine the possibilities! So many directions this could go.

This story isn’t suppose to be lovely. It’s not suppose to be a happy ending (although a bit cheesy but good amount). Every character has a dark past, and have to overcome their traumas. Every character had to make choices they don’t like and have suffered in the most intense way possible. UTM scenes in the ACOTAR was actually hard for me to read the first time around because I wasn’t aware of how dark it was going to be. But we saw the impact on Freye and watching her overcome that which was the main reason why i kept reading (ACOMAF is by far the best book in the series for its healing arc). 

So letting all these characters thrive despite all of it is interesting and the reason why I keep thinking about and reading and rereading these books! This is where SJM failed Elain’s character. She doesn’t have conflict. Her conflicts are surface level at best i.e. marriage to gregory (or whatever), society life and nothing in her character says she will fight for what she loves. Nobody dislikes Elain, Elain doesn’t dislike anybody (except maybe Luciein). What motivates her? We see her fit in so well the the IC on Solstice, she thrives in Valaris, she’s even made friends out of Cerridwen and Nuala. She enjoys gardening and she enjoys caring for others, shopping for others, etc. She seems to have her life relatively together compared to literally everyone else.

What did give me pause and peaked my interest in Elain was when she asked Amren why she chose the female body form (ACOFAS, pg 109). When I read that scene, I thought she was asking about changing gender like being trans fae which would really be taking her character in a whole new direction, potentially sexuality exploration too?? But turns out she asked because she wanted to know the possibility of changing into a human again. I know ACOFAS showed her mourning her father and being sad and quiet all the time which is normal and fine. But conversations with her (at least with Freye’s POV) shows she’s still stuck on being human or living a human life again which makes her character stagnate and hard to tell a story that would be interesting. At least Nesta has moved on to more than just mourning her human life and see her clearly struggling through it all.

Elain seems to only be valuable as a symbol more than anything. She isn’t essential to the story, not saying she didn’t play a good role in the war effort but by in large, her story arc was bland. Take her out and the story would have to find a new route but nothing will be amiss. Her worth as a character is based on the hope that she does more, the love people have for these type of character and a symbol for “good” in the world which isn’t compelling enough and doesn’t make her character interesting. The only interesting part about Elain is that people can project their Elriel or Elucien ships onto or people just like because she’s unproblematic and agreeable.

But I want to end with hope with what direction Elain’s character could take. I can’t think about a situation where Elain would leave the comforts of Valaris on her own, so it would have to be with someone. I don’t see her character growing with Azriel. Azriel is chained to Night Court and to Rhys (and if we want to see him grow he needs to take a different direction away from Night Court and maybe not someone who comforts him all the time??). Although I do see her story growing with Lucien. Lucien has no residence and for now he’s fitting well with the Band of Exiles who are in the human realm and maybe they go on an adventure there and Lucien introduces her to the new human realm or she introduces Lucien to her human life or something (I don’t really care about the mate stuff since rhys said ppl can reject the mate so??? its not anything important?? not enough info for me to care about tbh). To be fair, I have been reading elucien like this and I can see how Elain and Lucien compliments each other but that doesn’t make Elain’s character any interesting on her own which is sad. I hope Elain becomes more than what she has been. I hope she starts fighting for the things she loves (it doesn’t have to be physically), I hope she isn’t so passive and I hope she finds her way of bringing fire into herself. Every character has that grit and passion, I demand she has the same or what is the fucken point??

[reydelcastill0]

Fandom: Marble Hornets, The Blackout Club (Video Game)

Words: 1880

Rating: General Audiences 

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Jessica Locke & Jay Merrick, Jessica Locke (Marble Hornets) & Lucids (The Blackout Club) Characters: Jessica Locke, Jay Merrick, Lucids (The Blackout Club), Masky (Marble Hornets)

Additional Tags: The Blackout Hornets AU, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Unreliable Narrator, Inaccurate Representation of Hospitals, Memory Loss, Implied Trans Male Character, Jessica Locke and Jay Merrick are Twins, No Diagnosed Illnesses, Implied Illnesses, Implied Trans Jay Merrick, Lucids as a "Doctor", Lucids as a "Nurse"

Series: Part 1 of inTheMAZE

Summary: Jessica wakes up in a hospital bed with little to no memories. A doctor catches her up to speed, but she doesn't believe Him. She thinks it's all a lie, but she doesn't know what to do about it, so she won't. Instead, she becomes close friends with a patient suffering from the same problems as her.

Jessica sat up with a groan. Her head was pounding and her mind sounded so loud it was almost unbearable. Her mind almost sounded like it was singing to her, but Jessica wouldn’t describe the sounds as a song. It was close, except it was barely recognizable. Jessica decides to identify it as static that so happens to vary in pitch. Regardless, she didn’t like the noise. It was almost as if it was trying to drown out her thoughts. It made her headache worse.

It couldn’t fully take over her mind, though. She managed to tune it out at some point and focus on her own thoughts— on things that weren’t the static. She could focus on the slightly scratchy bedsheet beneath her, the white curtains that surrounded her bed, and the weird smell that reminded her of a hospital room, and oh— 

That’s ‘cause she is in a hospital room. This realization makes her panic. ‘Focus, why are you here?’ she thought. She moved to dangle her legs off the side of the bed (ignoring the way her feet slightly brush against some shoes that weren’t hers, but might be for her) and closed her eyes to take some time to think: What is it that she can remember?

‘My name is Jessica— um— Jessica… Jessica,’ she couldn’t remember her last name. ‘What was it again?’ She spent moments angrily trying to figure it out. Soon, she settles on Locke, as incorrect as it sounds. Her name is Jessica Locke.

Next, she tried to deduce what time it was, but nothing could help her figure that out. The lights from the room were on, but she saw no windows. She figured that would be a waste of her time (if she could even tell how much time passes).

She decides to try and figure out why she is here. That was almost more difficult to figure out than the time. She couldn’t remember why she may be in a hospital, in fact, she couldn’t remember much about herself. Her memory was spotty. She knew her age, name (she felt like she didn’t really know her name), and little personality things— the things that made her her. She also knew what her house looked like, but not who she lived with or how to get there. She knew she went to school, but not who her teachers are or if she has friends. She knew she knew people, but who these people were? That was beyond her. 

She can’t remember anyone, except for Amy. Amy Walters, her best friend… She feels sad thinking about her, but she doesn’t know why. Amy is okay. The last thing she did with Amy— the last thing she remembers— was hanging out with Amy. If she remembers right, they were playing video games together and idly chatting about their friends (whoever their friends were). That was it. That was the only instance in her life she had the most memories about, yet she couldn’t even know the whole truth of it.

“I’ve lost my memories…” she said out loud (the first thing she has said since she woke up), “I’ve lost them…” Once she said the words out loud, she cringed. It was too loud and broke the silence, paving way for unease. Why is she here? She doesn’t get the time to fester in her thoughts because seconds later, a Man in a doctor’s outfit (He must be her doctor, then) walked in, wheeling in a chair so He could sit on it.

“It’s good to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asks. Jessica tries to focus on the Man’s face, but her vision begins to blur. She panics a bit, but she doesn’t tell Him anything about it.

“I’m fine,” she mutters, quick to respond as if she were reading off some script. She tries to look at His face again, but she can’t. She continues to try— to try and ground herself in the reality of the situation— but there comes a point where trying to look makes the static song in her head louder. It hurts.

“Do you know why you are here, Jessica?” He asks. She shakes her head. She finds comfort in the fact that her name actually is Jessica, but she is uncomfortable. “Well, that is expected.”— His tone sounds like a threat— “You see, you’re sick. You have a terrible cough, constant and painful migraines, hallucinations, and, unfortunately, violent episodes.” Jessica doesn’t believe him.

“But I don’t… Remember anything?” She says so, but it’s some sort of question. She is positive she has never had some “violent episode” in her whole life. 

“That might be the medicine we gave you.” She can’t see His face, but she could decipher a frown simply by his tone of voice.

“Oh… Okay.” She doubts meds can cause people to lose their memories like this, and if by chance such medication exists, she feels that maybe the medical industry should work on fixing that. “How long will I be here?”

“Until you get better.” He sounds annoyed.

“Of course.” There is no point in talking anymore. She wants Him to leave. She wants to leave. She feels out of place, like she’s bad at playing pretend. Like nothing is real and she just has a role to fill. She is a patient; she is sure that’s a fucking lie.

But she’ll play along. She doesn’t know her lines or what her stage directions are, but she’ll figure it out. She has to, or she’ll never know when she needs to exit the stage— the hospital.

Luckily, it becomes easy to fulfill her role after being provided a nurse. She talks to her nurse more than she talks to her doctor, but the conversations aren’t worth much to her. Jessica is glad that she gets to talk to the patient from the next room over. Apparently they share the same doctor and He saw it fit to introduce the two.

“Jessica, this is Jayme,” He says, “Jayme, this is Jessica.” He is very blunt about the introduction and then has their nurses whisk them away. It isn’t until lunchtime that she learns the other patient goes by Jay and not Jayme.

“Why is that?” Jessica asks. 

Jay thinks about his answer for a moment before he tells her. “I don’t know why the doctor calls me Jayme. My name is Jay Merrick.”

“Funny, that sounds familiar,” Jessica responds. It does, and a bit too familiar. Then again, if this whole “sick” business is real (she doubts it) and she accounts for the fact that she has memory problems, perhaps Jay is a patient she knew. She finds it unlikely. Jay would have remembered her, but he has never met her before.

He stumbles on his words for a moment. “I— It’s just… Um, it’s a pretty common name, so,” he says. She watched as he grew anxious and decided not to press on the issue. 

She forces out a chuckle. “Oh, duh,” she laughs. She wouldn’t know how common the name actually is and she thinks maybe Jay doesn’t either. He laughs, too, and then their nurses come and separate them again.

They do that a lot. She doesn’t know what they look like. Only that Jessica’s nurse is a Girl and that Jay’s nurse is a Guy, but she can’t see their faces (like how she can’t see her doctor’s). But she can see Jay’s face. Jay is the only person she can hold eye contact with and she finds that odd. She wonders if he feels the same, but it’s difficult to attempt to question him. He’s here for the same reason as her. She suspects that’s why the hospital staff limit their time together. 

Some few weeks pass and Jessica forms a strong bond with Jay. They are always together when they are allowed to be. Sometimes, they sneak into each other's rooms and cuddle together. The feeling reminds her of sneaking into her younger sister’s— She doesn’t have a sister…— her younger brother’s (‘Is that right?’ she thinks) bed or when he would sneak into hers because being separated wasn’t something they dealt with so well.

Luckily, her nurse seems to turn a blind eye whenever She catches Jessica sneaking to Jay’s room and she assumes that Jay’s nurse does the same when he sneaks to her room. She’s glad, but their doctor seems to dislike it very much.

He continuously grows frustrated with Jessica and Jay. “You aren’t making any progress to recovery and if this keeps up, Jessica, we’ll have to change our methods,” He says and it’s clear he is becoming impatient with her. That doesn’t matter to Jessica. She dreads the idea of different methods and resolves to confront Jay once and for all about their situation. 

One night, Jay sneaks to Jessica’s room and slips into bed with her. He has a question, but he does not ask it. So she asks him one instead: “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that besides you, me, and our doctor and nurses, that we’re the only ones here? Like, I know they don’t let us go everywhere, but it feels like maybe that’s because this is all that there is…”

“I… It is weird—”

“And also don’t you think our situation sounds like a lie? Our doctor dodges most of our questions and instead tells us we’re violent and sick… Jay, they haven’t diagnosed us with anything. We’re just sick.” Jessica is whispering and it makes the faults and quivers in her voice more prominent. Jay, nonetheless, seems to understand her point of view.

“It’s really weird… I was actually going to talk to you about this. I think we need to run away…” He says the last sentence even quieter than his normal whisper voice, paranoid as if the nurses are waiting to hear him say that.

“I think so, too…”

They proceed to formulate a plan. Jay is the one making it, but Jessica is helping him bring his thoughts together. Jay wants to escape the following night. They’ll sneak some protein and snack bars to their rooms and hide them under the pillows. They’ll ask for a water bottle some time before bed (Jessica will ask before “going to sleep” and Jay will ask a few hours earlier). When they have to sleep, Jay will go get Jessica. The two will have their snack bars and water bottle in their pillowcase. From there, they’ll hope they make it far (fully escaping sounds unrealistic, so they would rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointed). 

They’ll escape. But then things go wrong right at the end. Instead of Jay coming, some boy a bit older than her goes to her room. He wears a white with black painted lips and while he doesn’t seem threatening, he charges at her and pokes her with a needle.

Before she faints, she realizes it’s a tranquilizer dart. She’s seen them before. Funny, the familiarity of it makes her slightly happy. Her last thought, however, is hoping Jay makes it out safely (and maybe in a better way than she did).

Jessica Locke— or as her name actually is— Jessica Merrick blacks out.

[deviant-reads-stuff]

Books I Read Throughout 2020-Part One

For many of us this year has been incredibly stressful and difficult. There were times throughout this year that my mental health had suffered, but there were also times where I couldn't have been happier. If I were to make any comparison to what the year was like, I would say that it was like the scariest and exciting roller coaster that anyone has ever been on. During the year, while the world seemed to burn around us and everything terrible happened, I managed to surpass my reading goal for the year. Something I did not expect to do, especially since I had months where it seemed that I couldn't finish anything. In times like this, I think it's important to take a step back and look to the positive things, even if they are small.

Here I am going to give a brief description of the first 10 books that I read, with a small snippet of what I thought of the books at the time.  

Book One - The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Finished Reading on January 4, 2020

"It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

In superbly crafted writing that burns with intensity, award-winning author Markus Zusak has given us one of the most enduring stories of our time."

For years I have heard good things about this book and for many, this is an all time favorite. I was excited to pick this one up, especially since I had read

I am the messenger

by this author and loved it.  While I do not view this book as an all time favorite for myself, I do think it was beautifully written. I just personally wished that it was a bit shorter at times as it seemed to drag on. Despite feeling that it was a little long, my favorite part of this book was the role in which Death plays. I won't mention anything more in case some of you are still contemplating picking this one up.

Book Two - All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries #1) By Martha Wells

Finished Reading on January 5, 2020

"In a corporate-dominated spacefaring future, planetary missions must be approved and supplied by the Company. Exploratory teams are accompanied by Company-supplied security androids, for their own safety.

But in a society where contracts are awarded to the lowest bidder, safety isn't a primary concern.

On a distant planet, a team of scientists are conducting surface tests, shadowed by their Company-supplied 'droid—a self-aware SecUnit that has hacked its own governor module, and refers to itself (though never out loud) as "Murderbot." Scornful of humans, all it really wants is to be left alone long enough to figure out who it is.

But when a neighboring mission goes dark, it's up to the scientists and their Murderbot to get to the truth."

This was a novella that I greatly enjoyed, but unfortunately I have not kept up with the series. I believe my library did not have the rest of the books and at the time I didn't want to purchase them. As my library continues to get the rest of the series, I will gladly continue to read them. I thought the story was unique, and at times funny. I would highly recommend this series to anyone who wants a science fiction book that is quick and easy read.

Book Three - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them By Newt Scamander

Finished listening to an Audiobook on January 7,2020

"An approved textbook at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since publication, Newt Scamander's masterpiece has entertained wizarding families through the generations. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is an indispensable introduction to the magical beasts of the Wizarding World. Scamander's years of travel and research have created a tome of unparalleled importance. Some of the beasts will be familiar to readers of the Harry Potter books - the Hippogriff, the Basilisk, the Hungarian Horntail ... Others will surprise even the most ardent amateur Magizoologist. This is an essential companion to the Harry Potter stories, and includes a new foreword from J.K. Rowling (writing as Newt Scamander) and six new beasts!"

I am not one who will usually listen to audio books. I have an incredibly difficult time listening to anything that is over 3 hours because it's hard for me to really concentrate on the storyline. On occasion, though I will listen to them, depending on the length of the title and if the general consensus is that the audiobook is better. Fantastic Beast was a great audio book to listen to when I took my daily walks. I was able to delve a bit deeper into the wizarding world and learn more about the creatures briefly mentioned in Harry Potter.

Now, I do want to briefly bring into attention that I will no longer purchase anything written by JK Rowling. I have always distanced myself from creators as I use books and music to escape, but it has come to my attention that JK Rowling has repeatedly done harm to the trans community. That's not something I agree with or can support in any way shape or form. For those who do continue to purchase and read JK Rowlings work, that is your choice and I will not say anything about it (unless it is actively causing harm here). This is my own personal choice and opinions on JK Rowling.  

Book Four - The Near Witch

Finished Reading on January 9, 2020f

"The Near Witch is only an old story told to frighten children.If the wind calls at night, you must not listen. The wind is lonely, and always looking for company.And there are no strangers in the town of Near.These are the truths that Lexi has heard all her life.

But when an actual stranger-a boy who seems to fade like smoke-appears outside her home on the moor at night, she knows that at least one of these sayings is no longer true.

The next night, the children of Near start disappearing from their beds, and the mysterious boy falls under suspicion. Still, he insists on helping Lexi search for them. Something tells her she can trust him.

As the hunt for the children intensifies, so does Lexi's need to know-about the witch that just might be more than a bedtime story, about the wind that seems to speak through the walls at night, and about the history of this nameless boy.

Part fairy tale, part love story, Victoria Schwab's debut novel is entirely original yet achingly familiar: a song you heard long ago, a whisper carried by the wind, and a dream you won't soon forget."

I am going to be perfectly honest. I will pick up everything that V.E Schwab writes eventually. Including this book, I have read 10 of her books and I have enjoyed every single one of them. The Near Witch is one of V.E Schwab's earlier works that had previously gone out print. Recently, the book has gone back into print and received a cover change. The story takes you to another world with superstitions, magic, and adventures. While it is apparent that this is an early work of V.E Schwab that does not mean that it's not a great book to pick up. This book brought me back to the type of books that I read when I was younger and it was an overall great experience.

Book Five - How's Moving Castle By Diana Wynne Jones

Finished Reading on January 12, 2020

"Sophie has the great misfortune of being the eldest of three daughters, destined to fail miserably should she ever leave home to seek her fate. But when she unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Sophie finds herself under a horrid spell that transforms her into an old lady. Her only chance at breaking it lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Howl's castle.

To untangle the enchantment, Sophie must handle the heartless Howl, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, she discovers that there's far more to Howl—and herself—than first meets the eye."

Howl's Moving Castle is probably one of my favorite stories of all time. I first watched the animated film by Studio Ghibli. In all honesty, I have a hard time determining which version is my favorite. The movie and novel do have some differences, but I think both can be enjoyed. Howl's Moving Castle shows how the pressures placed upon us and how we view ourselves can have a negative impact on ourselves, but only if we let it. Sophie struggles with being eldest daughter, and struggles with seeing her worth, but as the story progresses, we see how resilient and strong she is.

Book Six - Bird Box By Josh Malerman

Finished Reading on January 21, 2020

"Something is out there, something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse of it, and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from.

Five years after it began, a handful of scattered survivors remains, including Malorie and her two young children. Living in an abandoned house near the river, she has dreamed of fleeing to a place where they might be safe. Now that the boy and girl are four, it's time to go, but the journey ahead will be terrifying: twenty miles downriver in a rowboat—blindfolded—with nothing to rely on but her wits and the children's trained ears. One wrong choice and they will die. Something is following them all the while, but is it man, animal, or monster?"

I had originally watched the Netflix movie before listening to the audio book. I was curious about the book as I noticed a lot of people was divided on whether or not the movie was better than the book. Although I thought the audio book was great, I definitely enjoyed the movie more. Normally this is never the case, but I thought the book was adapted well onto the screen. What are your thoughts on it? Was the movie better than the book?

Book Seven - Skyward By Brandon Sanderson

Finished Reading on January 25, 2020

"Defeated, crushed, and driven almost to extinction, the remnants of the human race are trapped on a planet that is constantly attacked by mysterious alien starfighters. Spensa, a teenage girl living among them, longs to be a pilot. When she discovers the wreckage of an ancient ship, she realizes this dream might be possible—assuming she can repair the ship, navigate flight school, and (perhaps most importantly) persuade the strange machine to help her. Because this ship, uniquely, appears to have a soul."

Skyward was the first Bandon Sanderson book that I've ever picked up, shocking I know. I was not disappointed at all. Skyward brought me out this world and I found myself rooting for the girl who fought for everything that she's ever had. If you haven't picked this ne up yet, what are you waiting for?

Book Eight - The Name of the Wind By Patrick Rothfuss

Finished Reading on January 30, 2020

"My name is Kvothe.I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me.

So begins a tale unequaled in fantasy literature--the story of a hero told in his own voice. It is a tale of sorrow, a tale of survival, a tale of one man's search for meaning in his universe, and how that search, and the indomitable will that drove it, gave birth to a legend."

I first read this book in 2015 and picked it up again earlier in the year. I personally feel like I enjoyed the book more the second time around. It's a lengthy and often slow story of a man telling the story of his life. I have often described this book as having a similar ambiance to The Lord of The Rings and Harry Potter. Don't get me wrong though, this is a completely different story of those two series, but I couldn't help but draw a comparison.

Book Nine - Red, White, and Blue By Casey McQuiston

 Finished Reading on February 15, 2020

"First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

The plan for damage control: staging a fake friendship between the First Son and the Prince. Alex is busy enough handling his mother’s bloodthirsty opponents and his own political ambitions without an uptight royal slowing him down. But beneath Henry’s Prince Charming veneer, there’s a soft-hearted eccentric with a dry sense of humor and more than one ghost haunting him.

As President Claremont kicks off her reelection bid, Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret relationship with Henry that could derail the campaign and upend two nations. And Henry throws everything into question for Alex, an impulsive, charming guy who thought he knew everything: What is worth the sacrifice? How do you do all the good you can do? And, most importantly, how will history remember you?"

I needed something lighter and easy to read after The Name of the Wind. Red, White, and  Blue did not disappoint, and I was whisked into the life of Alex Claremont-Diaz and Prince Henry. This LGBTQ+ book is full of entertainment, self-discovery, drama, and love.

Book Ten - Cress (The Lunar Chronicles, #3)

Finished Reading on February 17, 2020

"In this third book in the Lunar Chronicles, Cinder and Captain Thorne are fugitives on the run, now with Scarlet and Wolf in tow. Together, they're plotting to overthrow Queen Levana and her army.

Their best hope lies with Cress, a girl imprisoned on a satellite since childhood who's only ever had her netscreens as company. All that screen time has made Cress an excellent hacker. Unfortunately, she's just received orders from Levana to track down Cinder and her handsome accomplice.

When a daring rescue of Cress goes awry, the group is separated. Cress finally has her freedom, but it comes at a higher price. Meanwhile, Queen Levana will let nothing prevent her marriage to Emperor Kai. Cress, Scarlet, and Cinder may not have signed up to save the world, but they may be the only hope the world has."

The Lunar Chronicals is a guilty pleasure of mine. Each book in the series is a re-telling of famous fairy tales. Cress, the third book of the Lunar Chronicals, is a sci-fi/ fantasy re-telling of Rapunzel. While each book follows a different fairy tale, the whole series comes together and forms an epic story. As we follow a shy young girl, who spent her life locked away from everyone suddenly get swept into the resistance, we learn that hope is always possible even in hopeless situations.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 21: Come Hell and High Water

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Please, please let this work.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Even with what you now know you would bring them here — together.”

Catching the Elders by surprise wasn’t a part of the plan for good reason; thinking they could get one over on the people who have been planning this for who-knows-how-long would just be arrogant.

Doesn’t make the sharp cunning of Elder Daniels’ glare any less intimidating.

“Do you think it too much to hope they understand why this is necessary? What part they played in the inevitability of this?”

Elder Vion remains silent; his opaque gaze observing both everything and nothing — but where does it focus?

“You remain as blind to the present as ever, Millet.” chides Daniels.

Elder Millet’s shoulders slump. The only one to show any kind of remorse — genuine or otherwise. “A little optimism never hurt anyone…”

Elder Daniels doesn’t deem her worth a response. Focuses instead on looking out over the garden party with a forced disinterest; the mask of her neutrality firmly in place.

But Taylor can see through the gaps and cracks now. To the edges that curl around her real emotions. Contempt, disgust; as though the choice to gather despite knowing the Coven’s plans is a personal attack on her careful cultivation of the future.

He’s the first to address them properly. Down the steps to the decorative gravel the Lamrian decorators sprinkled with crushed gemstone.

“Thank you for coming, Coven Elders.” He’d step closer if Nik’s steady hand doesn’t stop on his shoulder — hold him at a distance. But they can’t seem hesitant if this is going to work. “It wouldn’t be a Council party without everyone on the Council attending.”

He still has no idea if this is going to work. Please, please let this work.

Elder Millet shuffles her tarot deck like a nervous habit. Daniels steeples her claw-like fingertips together in front of her and, like an unspoken signal, Vion’s grip on his staff grows pale-knuckled tight.

Power pushes out from them in an invisible wave. Just once; but once is all it takes. He feels it, Nik feels it — everyone feels how the pressure changes in the air; how something old like the mantle of the earth tastes at the backs of their throats.

Let the countdown begin.

“Explain this little… gathering,” demands Daniels with a sneer.

Only it’s Tonya who answers. She stands on shivering legs with Vera’s help but to call her feeble would be to call the wraith itself a minor inconvenience.

She may no longer have the Touch but Lady Smoke is far from powerless in their presence.

“You’re the one who ought to be explainin’ themselves, Ophelia Daniels.”

The women stare one another down. It’s obvious every second spent standing is agony but hell if Tonya Reimonenq is going to lose even in her current state.

Vion steps forward and stays his companion’s hand. That familiar tingle of empathy down his spine makes Taylor shudder; makes him see Cassiopeia’s blood stained up to leathery elbows — falling to the ground in a drip. drip. drip.

“If the Council has an accusation, let it be heard.”

Isadora hisses from across the garden, “The gall of you, traitors and murderers…”

“Such stinging words to your claims!”

“One of many!”

“Have you witness or evidence?”

“Aw hell,” the lumbering figure of Kristof breaks the growing threads of tension by stepping forward — strangely the calmest he’s been insofar, “cut the crap, will ya? We know you’re the ones tuggin’ that hellspawn’s leash.”

It’s instinct, he doesn’t mean to. Looking away from their very dangerous guests of honor Taylor catches Cadence’s eye for only a moment before snapping back forward. They can’t risk anything longer catching the Elders’ attentions.

“Do you now?” asks Daniels coolly, “I regret to inform you that knowledge will not give your sacrifices any amount of dignity.”

“There is more at risk within this city’s borders than the dignity of the few, Ophelia.”

It must be magic; how Elric speaks clearly and is undeniably heard despite the fireworks that crackle overhead; without even raising his voice.

The sharp curve of Daniels’ smirk is a malicious one. “I will not suffer a cowering outcast to speak to me of dignity. You still breathe only because your hidden city’s wards have protected you.”

“I am not cowering now, am I?”

“The night is young.”

Anger hangs thick and stifling on the edge of every word and Taylor — god — he can feel it all.

The Coven’s unwavering conviction, Isadora’s desire for revenge, Kristof’s refusal to die anywhere but on his hind paws. The strangely smug way Lady Smoke feels like she should have seen all of this coming and the fierce protectiveness Elric projects at him without shame.

But hidden in the woven tapestry of them all is a single thread, sour and ill at ease but no less recognizable. He’s no longer a stranger to what fear feels like.

“If you would, then — indulge us the most obvious of questions;” even with the distance between them Elric, towering at least a foot taller than Daniels and her power-stilettos, looks down his nose at her, “why?”

“You’ll have to be a tad more specific.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Kristof rages. “They’re playin’ us fer fools!” Yet his monstrous howl of rage is silenced by the elf lord’s pale hand raised; staying him.

“That may be, Jensen, but surely I am not the only one here who wishes to understand. Who wonders why the formerly reasonable Coven would change so abruptly. And why they would decide to act now—of all times—and with such vicious intent.”

“It’s not the Coven that’s changed.”

At first Elder Millet’s voice is lost, timid, on the wind. Like a spectre from the beyond there to bolster a claim. But no one misses when she stops shuffling her deck, flips over the top card to reveal a gruesome and bloodied tyrant.

The Emperor reversed.

“There have been signs more than what we witches witness. Signs in the earth and skies, in the lifeblood that runs through our city. But you — your Council — have been complacent; content to ignore them. Focused instead on your own gains and greed. We considered every option, please believe it.

“But this was the only way our city might stand a chance of surviving the coming darkness. A unified voice, when divided, would only serve to hasten our downfall.”

“If you had approached the Council — shown us the signs we so easily missed —”

“When did it become the duty of the Coven to play prophet to the willingly ignorant?!” Daniels interrupts loud and unashamed. “To the immortal and oh-so-wise faire folk, or the creatures of dark magic who should have felt the gathering storm in their bestial bones! Or to you, Lady Smoke, with ears in every room on every block.

“Admit your guilt — not that it will save you. Admit your hunger for power and wealth led you into the blind fog that the Council should have been beyond the reaches of. For the downfall of New Orleans would have been your burden to bear.”

“Had you not stepped forward and assumed some sort of divine control, you mean?” demands Isadora.

“Make no mistake — we chose this course of our own free will. Because we were the only ones left untainted; loyal to this our sanctuary city.”

Elric steps forward, not without caution. “There has been enough death, Ophelia. Stop, now, at the threshold of a fall you will not survive.”

“Every death has been and will be a necessary one.”

Something about the victory in her claim riles Taylor from the inside out. Makes the words throw themselves out of him unbidden—

“Even yours.”

It’s probably the closest Daniels has ever come — and will ever be again — to a look of surprise. A dozen thoughts half-formed on mute lips before she schools her expression complacent.

“An unseen complication indeed.”

But that doesn’t make Taylor recoil as it once did. In fact he’s kind of proud of it. “How about instead of demanding everyone else admit some imagined guilt because of your desire for power, you three do the admitting? Admit you know this isn’t the so-called only way and try to muster up a little bit of humanity— Try and feel even the tiniest bit of remorse for what you’ve done because deep down you know it was wrong.”

Nik tenses behind him. He can feel it where they’re connected; his guttural hissing thought of think about the plan, Rook.

And maybe it wasn’t how they originally hoped to get the final piece of the puzzle but maybe—just maybe—it might go in their favor.

For the first time the Coven Elders part; Daniels breaks away in even, purposeful strides to close the distance between them.

Taylor feels the way Nik tenses, readies himself for the inevitable attack.

But it doesn’t come. Not physically, anyway. Only the look the witch gives him that may very well will him out of existence.

“Your blind stumbling has gotten you far little halfling. But you’ve come far enough, I think.”

“You wanna know what I think?”

“Not particularly.”

“I think that’s not really your call. The same way I think deep down you know you’re just as greedy as you say everyone else is. You’re just pretending to think about the greater good.”

Then there’s a movement; so fast it’s a blur. A stinging pain on his cheek and a sensation akin to tears rolling down his face.

Everything that follows still comes as a surprise despite having been building in the tension on both sides. The night air harsh on his open wound and a crisp ache in his shoulder as he’s yanked backwards and behind Ryder; a leather-clad shield.

Movement in his periphery and Nik goes flying backwards. Hurled by a tornado of unseen power.

“Nik!”

“This ends tonight!” Daniels raises her outstretched arms high to the heavens. Draws clouds from nowhere and everywhere to blot out the moon and the stars. The darkness within consuming the world outside her soul.

“You’re damn right it does—!”

Katherine pulls out Nik’s crossbow from underneath a nearby folding chair; wields it weightlessly as she aims at the witch and pulls the trigger.

Daniels deflects it with little effort. Sends the bolt flying towards the outer brick wall.

Behind their companion the other Elders whisper curses into the very wind. Once-solid ground ripples like water and their influence takes hold.

The trees around them bend and twist; their natural states resisting the witches’ call with an eldritch orchestra of groans before they yield. Roots torn up and fallen leaves and broken branches coming together; an army.

“Ah hell, not again!” shouts Cal; voice distorted with the wolf already pushing against his skin.

There’s hands at his arms — Taylor looks up to see Cadence struggling to drag him backwards towards… what? Towards safety? There’s no such thing anymore.

Still he scrambles up and back. Ducks just as the windows at the back of the House shatter under Elder Millet’s will. Just as she sends the broken shards hurtling in a transparent flock coming directly for him.

Above him comes a barely-restrained cry of pain; Taylor looks up to see two pieces lodged deep in the vampire’s shoulder.

“Cade!”

“I’m fine!” Like he’s trying to prove a point he shoves Taylor backwards, stumbling; “Go check on Ryder! Keep to the plan!”

Wet tearing noises fill the clearing as Kristof the wolf pries free of his skin — Octavia right at his heels. Together they howl at the cloaked moon and take off on all fours towards Elder Vion.

But with a limber motion his withered body shouldn’t be capable of the witch fights back. Whips his staff out; sending roots from the nearest tree to his aid. They lash, sentient, at the wolves’ hind paws — one hits home and ropes around Octavia’s flank, squeezes and sends the Beta crashing snout-first into the gravel.

The Beau-Keyes Garden is in chaos but Cade is right. They should have expected this. He needs to find Nik.

Taylor takes off in a mad dash towards the hedges where the Nighthunter had been thrown. Catches the tail-end of Vera and Ivy pulling Tonya out of the fray and into the House.

A cluster of something dark scurries on the whipping wind towards them, right at Ivy’s back. “Ivy, watch it!” Voice catching in his lungs — but its enough.

Enough for Ivy to turn around with bright burning eyes at the incoming horde. Her peeled-back lips move in silent words and her hair lifts around her in a neon-tipped halo. The incoming swarm — Millet’s tarot deck — stop mid-flight; repelled by whatever curse the revenant has conjured.

The cards shudder, then begin to crumple and squeeze themselves into balls. One last flick of Ivy’s lace-laden wrists and they spontaneously burst into a dozen individual flames, hot-pink heat licking at the air and casting her ghoulish grin of glee in flickering light that burns bright before they are consumed — nothing but ash scattered at her platform-raised feet.

A hand closes tight around his wrist and pulls him back. Catches him in half a scream when he turns and sees the stern pull of Elric’s brow.

“What are you thinking; standing here exposed?! Get to cover!”

“Not without—incoming —” he pulls them both to the ground just in time for a large branch to soar overhead and crack against the trunk of another tree, “— Nik! I have a plan, remember?”

“If your life is the cost —”

“It’s not!”

“Then please, find safety!”

“I’m not leaving them behind!” He meets Elric’s eyes in a long look — ignores the cacophony around them and clasps their hands together. Can’t tell which of their palms is slick with sweat; maybe both. “I need you to trust me, Dad. I can do this.”

And they’re no longer in the midst of the fight but back in time; back to a mere hour ago when he asked Elric to trust him once; now again. “I can do this.”

The fae inhales; nods and rasps, “What do you need from me?”

Thank you. “Get the Elders on the defensive. They need to summon the bloodwraith.”

“What?!”

“You said you’d trust me!”

It’s a struggle, but Elric swallows down his protests and nods. “Very well. Find your Nighthunter; do whatever you need to prepare. Leave the rest to me.”

One last squeeze and they part. Taylor’s already halfway across the garden when he hears Elric shout strong and clear; “Garrus! Lend me your hand!” And it’s such a shock that he almost trips; almost.

Mustering up the last of his energy Taylor vaults over the farthest hedge; goes crashing into the lawn on the other side to find Nik lying limp and still.

No—no no nono…

He moves through the pain. Blinks through the tears piercing pain at his wounded cheek and pulls the hunter to lie on his back where he can check for injury—for a pulse—for anything.

“Nik wake up,” and fighting through the violent shaking in his hands is hard—near impossible—but he manages two fingers to the man’s pulse, “Nik—please please wake up. We can still do this — but there’s no way in hell I’m doing it without you.”

But he can’t tell what’s a possible sign of life and what’s his own blood pounding through every vessel in his body like his blood wants freedom. He tucks a hand under dark hair and can’t help the strangled noise he makes when he feels slick wetness matted at the crown of his head.

“Oh no—no no no…” Fuck now he’s scared to turn the man over; to make it worse. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…”

And he’s not being entirely truthful — not even with himself. The plan surely could work without Nik at his side but why would he want it like that? He doesn’t — he can’t even imagine it.

Taylor looks up and around. Wildly searches for someone who can help — someone who knows more, someone who can do something. But they’re all too far.

He isn’t sure he’d be able to call out to them even if they were.

It’s an actual effort to manage Nik’s limp head into his lap. What the fuck is he supposed to do? Slap his cheek, shake his shoulders like in the movies? Only those aren’t real head wounds on film — just actors with fake blood squirting in packs like ketchup and prosthetic makeup making them look battered and bruised.

Nik is battered and bruised. There’s nothing fake about it. This isn’t a movie; they aren’t on a set and his tears aren’t eye drops. They’re real. Everything about this is real.

“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck…”

When he pulls his hand back to the sight of red smeared on his fingers, he almost comes undone. Stays sane only because one fleeting thought, more of a background notion really, rattles in an echo around his skull in a voice that isn’t his own.

Those who seek to change destiny never understand how to bring it closer.

His rational mind is right: this isn’t a movie. Everything that’s happened has been real—from the smallest arguments to the biggest tragedies.

Nik is real. Cal is real—werewolves are real. Vampires, shapeshifters, revenants and spirits and even witches are real. Fae are real. Fae halflings — yup, real too.

And if there were times where Donny wasn’t saved, or the Council did fall to the Elders and their plan, or Taylor died in the cemetery that night, then didn’t that mean there were times that Nik didn’t survive this encounter, too?

But Donny was saved. The Council won’t fall to the Elders and Taylor didn’t die that night.

He refuses to let this be the one thing that can’t be changed.

“Breathe, Rookie, breathe…” Taylor whispers, forces his voice to keep calm and his hands that cradle Nik’s skull to go still. Because he knows how to change destiny this time; he’s done it before.

He doesn’t need to feel a pulse under the man’s skin because when he closes his eyes; reaches down inside his chest he can feel something there. Dim and flickering but so very present. A flame that wants to grow; it just needs to be fed first.

If there’s an incantation he doesn’t know it. But he knows how badly he wants Nik to heal; how bright he wants to feel the man’s soul inside.

There has to be a reason he is the way he is. Why can’t it be to save Nik Ryder?

There’s a flash against his closed eyelids; bright like someone turned on the sun in the middle of midnight. A switch flicking a lamp to life; or logs thrown on a campfire to keep him warm.

And when he opens them he has to squint through the burn of brightness but that’s not a bad thing. Not where that light filters through Nik’s hair askew and tingles at Taylor’s palms. Warms them in rays of daylight soft and flecked with dust motes, wipes them clean of dirt, clean of tears; clean of blood like it was never there to begin with.

Looking down at Nik’s slackened face; searching every scarred inch for some sign of life he knows is there; treading water just below the surface.

His heart skips a beat. Nik’s eyes flutter open; awake and alive. And the sight of color and life on his face is so fucking beautiful that it makes him start to cry all over again.

Around them fades to dim night but Nik still looks up at him with a strange wonderment. Reaches up and drags the calloused pad of his thumb across Taylor’s cheek to catch his tears before they fall.

“C’mon now,” comes that familiar throaty whisper; he doesn’t have to see the smirk to know it’s there like a kiss at the edge of the man’s lips, “sure as hell you ain’t sheddin’ those tears for me, Rook, are ya?”

“‘Course not.” Taylor teases back — bends himself practically in half as he leans down to take that offered kiss because he can.

Because Nik is alive.

They part — Nik holds himself up on a wobbly arm and reaches, feels around his head where even the ghost of his injury is a fading dream. And when his fingers pull back clean and without blood Taylor’s heart stutters back to life.

“Should I ask?”

But he doesn’t even know how to start explaining what happened — doesn’t quite understand it himself except for the fact it was instinct like he’s never known. “Maybe when this is over.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Make sure you do, he wants to say; instead touches the curve of Nik’s jaw because he’s there and he can.

Reality crashes back around them; suffocates what’s left of their bewilderment in the large form of a wolf.

It comes crashing through the hedges just shy of them. Taylor peers over the protective form of Nik’s shoulder just in time to see the shine of the werewolf’s yellow eyes before they roll backwards and Octavia slumps down; limp and unconscious.

“Why the hell ain’t they summoned the fuckin’ wraith yet?”growls Nik. He uses what’s left of their cover to survey the fight; locks his sights on Elder Daniels as she pulls at invisible strings and sends a fallen branch forth to sink home in Isadora’s belly.

The vampire hisses and collapses, catches herself just shy of impalement and desperately claws for her freedom.

“They’re trying to take out the Council on their own —” Taylor cuts himself off as he searches the fray in panic for any sign of Elric.

“That ain’t a part of the plan, Rook.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then what the hell’re we supposed to—holy hellfire!”

But it isn’t hellfire — not quite. Burns just as hot but Taylor’s pretty certain hellfire isn’t made of pitch black flame that shimmers iridescent as it races in tendrils towards the Elders; presses them against one another back to back in prowling circles that scorch the earth at their feet.

The mere sight of it captivates the entire Garden. Causes the witches to hold their combined magics out to defend their ranks against the fiery lashes.

Elric commands the stream of fae grimfire like a natural extension of himself. Raises his hand to send another wave in that raise the walls and keep the Elders pinned together.

“Accept your defeat, Elders of the Garden Coven, lest justice be swift and without mercy!”

But he isn’t alone. With sleeves rolled up to the elbow Garrus coaxes the grimfire at the witches’ heels. Sweeping movements of his arms drag the vestiges of it away from the rest of the Garden and tighter against their commanded foes.

This is it. This is their final chance.

“Where’s Vee?! It’s time!”

“Go —” Nik pushes him up and forward; makes Taylor stumble over a pulled-up root now rendered lifeless; the Elders’ magic contained in spectral fire, “— if they’re cornered, they’re desperate. They’ll call him forward soon.”

But Taylor can’t even comprehend the thought of leaving Nik’s side. Of not being there — not keeping him safe. “No way.”

“Now ain’t the time to argue!”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you again!”

“Rook.” And its just one word—one stupid little nickname he doesn’t even like—but he pushes so much meaning into it that Taylor’s feet move with a will of their own. Carry him out from safety’s cover with Nik hot on his heels until he veers into the Beau-Keyes House gone dark.

It takes literally everything in his churning gut not to follow.

Instead he breathes, stomps down the unease building inside — threatening to crest and consume him — and joins Elric in front of the Elders.

Every attempt the witches make against their ethereal prison is consumed and rendered powerless. If he didn’t know better — if he wasn’t hoping for this to be what forces their hand — Taylor might almost believe they’ve won.

“Enough fighting, Daniels. Please.”

The woman turns her head in a lash. Nothing but unbridled rage in empty eyes.

“Your persistence is no longer amusing, little pest.”

He knows his pleas are falling on deaf ears but… but doesn’t he owe it to everything they’ve lost to try?

“Look— you said part of the reason you decided to act was because the Council was so divided. But—but here everyone is! You brought them together. Can’t that be enough?”

It’s a useless question. He knows it, Elder Daniels knows it too. He can see it in her eyes.

“We are beyond the point of peace.”

“We don’t have to be.”

“Your ignorance will be your undoing.” She turns her back on him; on everyone. Joins Millet and Vion in clasped hands and bowed heads as though the grimfire is nothing more than an illusion.

This is what they wanted— what they’ve been waiting for ever since the Elders appeared tonight. But hearing the familiar incantation harmonized between them is no less haunting.

“Claw and blood, claw and bone. Bloodied flesh, endless stone…”

“They are summoning the abomination!” Isadora shouts. Her voice cracks as she gives one last violent pull; wrenches the branch free from her body and hurls it aside. “Stop them, burn them!”

But the plan isn’t to stop them. Still, Taylor understands. Feels it, too. The sickening wrongness in his gut only made worse by the familiar smell of foul and rot that seeps in like a putrid fog.

The effort it takes to hold the grimfire steady shows on Elric’s pallid face. “Are you sure about this?” he asks through gritted teeth. And he’s really not—can’t be sure of anything anymore—but that isn’t the answer he gives.

“Yes. Let them do it.”

“Soar with the zephyr, shriek with the crow. Life renewed we now bestow.”

Elric looks ahead to where the strain of their casting has Garrus ready to collapse. He gives the man a silent nod, and almost in relief and a perfect mirror they pull clenched fists apart to end the conjuring.

The grimfire eats itself from the bottom up. Dissipates at the edges of itself until the multicolored flames are only a remnant burned on the insides of Taylor’s eyelids. Beside him Elric begins to sag sideways as the exhaustion takes hold; he throws the man’s arm around his shoulder to keep him standing steady. He watches in relief as Krom refuses to let his fae collapse; catches him in strong stone arms and with unheard praises.

But the Elders continue their wicked chant; they either don’t notice or don’t care with victory within their reach.

“Arise hellbound soul! We beseech and command Fell our enemies with your cursed hand!”

Around them the wind begins to gather — pushes aside the cloud cover overhead and bathes the Garden in moonlight. Just like the last time they stood here gathered. Just like that night in the cemetery.

“Ryder!” Katherine calls; tosses the crossbow the short distance as he approaches with Vera on his heels. “We sure this is gonna work?”

Nik looks up at the sky with a grim resignation. “I think it’s a bit too late for doubts.”

As one the Coven Elders turn to face their accusers. The wind lashes Millet’s hair in tendrils and billows Vion’s robes; blows Daniels’ collar this way and that yet they remain rooted to the earth.

They stand with their convictions until the very end.

“Perhaps in number you can overpower us,” Daniels sneers, “but whatever scraps of this little front survive the wraith’s touch will be easy pickings.”

Over their heads a shadow passes over the moon. The telltale whip of burial wrappings hisses in their ears — followed by the unholy shriek they know all too well.

Daniels’ hands raise to the sky as the bloodwraith approaches.

“Come wretched creature; come accursed traitor! Pay your oath in the blood and bone of our enemies! Know no rest until our great work is done!”

The bloodwraith descends slow; places itself between the Elders and the rest as a shield grotesque. This time is no different than before — the very sight of it makes the hairs on the back of Taylor’s neck stand and scream to run, flee, there is no salvation here.

He used to think nothing could equal the void and despair where Death itself burns black in its eyes. But now that he sees them in the same space, he sees the same lifeless purpose like a stain over Daniels’ face.

But knowing what he knows now has Taylor looking at the wraith in a different way. Still with the same revulsion natural of the living to the violent dead — but he tries to imagine the face that once framed that skull as the same one from the photograph in Cadence’s office.

Familial features shared by both Tonya and Vera now twisted, warped by bloodlust and the unnatural.

And even worse — finds himself searching for some hint of the first victim to all of this madness. How could something so evil come from a soul like Cassiopeia? He didn’t even know the girl and yet those brief moments sharing a piece of her soul — her last moments — gave him a grief he felt tasked with bearing the burden of.

Behind him there’s a rustling; a bundle wrapped in cloth passing from Cade to Vera’s bare hands.

“What are you doing?”

Vion’s croaking voice breaks through the tense silence. Matching looks of wary apprehension barely restrained as they pass between each of the Elders.

Their confusion is understandable. Nothing has stopped the bloodwraith in its grisly pursuit before.

But this time is different. Whatever mangled bits are left of Derek Reimonenq’s soul feel it. Taylor feels it; behind him his companions feel it too. The Elders are just the last to notice.

“What are you waiting for?” but Elder Millet’s voice isn’t as strong as the others — her concern betrays her; “You are tasked by your summoners. Go forth!”

Hackles rise when the creature inches forward only just. But Taylor stands his ground.

“That’s not right though, is it?”

“Silence halfling!”

No, no more silence. “It wasn’t you that summoned it. Not the first time. That was Cassiopeia—you remember her?” — there’s no denying the recognition, the last bit of life that flickers and dies behind the Elders’ eye s— “The witch who you were supposed to protect and care for, who was so scared of what she could do… but cared more about thanking you for taking her in when no one else would.

“She was willing to do anything, even the thing that scared her the most. And you took advantage of that.”

“How dare you speak of such things—” says Millet. Elder Millet who she trusted, who she looked up to; who led her like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Who else is gonna speak for her? Certainly not you!”

“The girl’s sacrifice was a noble one, you will not diminish that!”

“She didn’t even know there was a sacrifice to make. Admit it,” and it’s awkward, ducking his head around the bloodwraith that hovers between them like a horrible marionette waiting for the puppet show to begin, but he has to look her murderers in the eyes because Cassiopeia never got the chance.

“You knew what you were doing was wrong. That’s why you dragged her out of her bed in the middle of the night, placated her like she was doing something good. Because it was the only way to get her to agree.”

The tiniest shame bubbles up from Millet’s direction. Makes it all the more important that he stares over that skeletal shoulder right into her eyes.

“She may not have known the extent of what we needed of her… but she did do good for the future of the Coven; for the future of this city.”

“She didn’t know because you didn’t tell her.”

A scoff drags his attention away to where Elder Daniels has rounded on her companion — a fist clenched in the barest show of restraint. “Do not lose your conviction now. At the accusations of this—this ignorant child!”

She rounds back on Taylor every inch a wraith in her own right—reaffirms what invisible tether ties Reimonenq the wraith and the Coven together with palms raised to the sky; “Enough of this! Kill the halfling first! I command you!”

The bloodwraith’s neck cranes back at an unnatural angle and it howls to the wind, bloodstained talons reaching out and forward; compelled to attack.

His breath catches in his throat and Taylor squeezes his eyes shut. He braces himself—

For the pain that never comes. The icy grasp of a fate worse than death that he still can only imagine; still must only imagine.

Peeks a tentative eye open to the sight of Cassiopeia’s severed hand stretched out in Vera’s quivering grasp.

A firsthand witness to how the small and humble sparks in Vera’s breast ignite into a blaze that consumes her soul.

“You will not.”

[cyberwavelit]

Throwback Transsexual - Short Story

“During the early 21st century another sexual revolution took place that saw the rise of diverse sexual identity. The liberation movement of the previous century, which had been created by marketing companies to advance consumerism, had reduced the populace’s morale apprehensions, including sexism, racism, and classism. Although race, sex, and gender seemed to remain an issue until the 27th century. Thanks to scientific progress the human species was able to switch gender with the help of surgical procedures and hormone treatments. Because of this, the human species is also known as ‘selective hermaphrodites.’ Although this notion of diversity was common there were still many who believed that the division of male and female into further sub-genders was salacious and immoral. There were many protests.”

The interactive lesson paused. A panoramic hologram showed a 21st century street. It teemed with human life. Short, small, large, tall; they came in a variety of shapes, genders, and sizes.

“I have further questions. This interests me.” Said the viewer, moving a finger over the frozen image. “Simulation, take me to 2020.”

The viewer was shown a series of personas to choose from. The finger picked what appeared to be a male, with the caption: “Androphilia cisgender.”

The chamber morphed into a virtual space, instantly converting the circular room into the same city street. Cars and buses surged through New York’s financial district. The male figure stepped out into the roadway and waved his hand to pause the simulation. He realized how cumbersome and archaic their transports were. In the mirror he could see his own reflection. The viewer accepted his role as male.

The protests from the lesson were occurring across the traffic, where people had been holding signs and marching in a circle. They were still frozen when the unassuming avatar, in blue jeans and a shirt with a heart, approached them and pressed “Play.”

“What the f–.” Said a portly man with callused hands. He wore a t-shirt of an older man with a beard with a heart on his palm. “Where’d you come from?”

The avatar stared at the impassioned simulations and wondered what they would do if they knew they weren’t real. “I’m a student, of sorts. I have questions.”

The sign read, “Save the children.” The overfed man stared at the way he was dressed, “Get the hell outta here, kid. People like you don’t have the right to be called human.”

“I am not human.”

“Ah ha! See!” The man’s female concubine chimed in. “This poor boy don’t even know what he is! You belong with them.” She pointed. Her sign read, “Words R Important.”

Chaos broke out. Another group was opposing the protesters. These men and women did not have signs and appeared to be younger and less happy. They shouted in protest of the protesters and wore lighter colors, mostly neon and pink.

The viewer stood in the middle and studied both sides. Over the constant vocalizations he could not understand the purpose of this forum. To his left a woman stepped from the youthful crowd and held up one of her fingers.

She held it like a weapon, “Trans voices need to be heard so shut up! How do you expect people to defend themselves if they can’t speak!”

The player-controlled avatar spoke softly, “How should I defend myself?”

The woman froze and finally said. “I mean I guess you can talk, but don’t expect anything to change, you bigoted piece of sh–.”

“I ask that you not judge me and I will not judge you.” He interrupted. “And we can all live in harmony. Or would you rather not have it that way? Without two opposing sides there cannot be a conflict. Therefore, one side must oppose the other. It is the law of nature. When one ideology comes into being, so too does its opposite. But why do you fight if you are the same species? From what I understand of this conflict, you want accommodations to make your lives easier, yes?”

The woman nodded and rolled her eyes. “There are trans people suffering right now because they’re bullied in schools and rejected by society.”

“Things are bad all over.” He said. “No one is going to help you do it on your own. That would defeat the purpose of life.”

“You’re insane. Go to hell!”

He began to feel something he had never felt before, frustration. “I do believe that adaptation is important to survival but have you evaluated the consequences of your actions? Is it worth it?

“Yes.”

“No.” said the viewer, ending the simulation. “I didn’t think so.” There were more questions but it no longer mattered, especially since the truth was so malleable. The right side was not well articulated. Both sides had been disorganized and blinded by anger. It wasn’t their fault. Weakness in the human species wasn’t their downfall, it was their unending need to feel enlightened and their propensity for conflict. Which, the necrefertarian supposed, wasn’t all that bad. As the room returned to normal the squid-like being activated the shower module and began to mate with itself.

[legionnairelass]

A Guide To The Legion of Super-Heroes For CW Fans

(@shadowofcroft​ @peskydoodles @denofgeek @karamelshakes @nerdyfancupcake @querlsdoxs @lenakluthor I haven’t spoken to nearly any of you, but could y’all somehow get this out to the people who’d read it?)

WHAT is the Legion of Super-Heroes? A bunch of futuristic losers who nerd out so hard about 21st/20th century heroes they decided to be heroes too.

WHEN is the Legion of Super-Heroes? Either the 30th or the 31st century- take the publication date of whatever comic you’re reading, add 1,000 years, and there you go!

WHO ARE THE MEMBERS of the Legion of Super-Heroes? Please don’t make me answer this. There are a lot. There was once a membership-cap of 25, but that got thrown away because more Legionnaires.

WHO INSPIRED the Legion of Super-Heroes? In the comics, it’s Clark Kent, Superboy at the time. Back when he lived in Smallville with Ma and Pa Kent, the Legion’s founders went back and time to prank him and take him to the 30th/31st where he got really good at the hero thing and  eventually evolved into (wait for it) SUPERMAN.

WHO FOUNDED the Legion of Super-Heroes? (This is gonna come as a huge shock, I know, but) Not Mon-El! The original founders of the Legion, sometimes known as the Legionnaires Three, were actually Imra Ardeen (aka Saturn Girl), Garth Ranzz (aka Lightning Lad), and Rokk Krinn (aka Cosmic Boy). The three of them sorta accidentally saved a rich, old, fun dude named R.J. Brande and he was like “huh, superheroes are cool”. Thus, the Legion was formed.

HOW DOES the Legion of Super-Heroes WORK? The Legion is a democracy, with a whole ton of rules called the Legion Constitution. Every year or so, the Legion holds elections for their leader, and whenever it is convenient they hold try-outs for new members.

WHAT is the Legion of Super-Heroes ABOUT? The Legionnaires come from all over the galaxy in order to defend peace, democracy, and freedom. They are optimistic, sometimes to a fault, and believe in Superman’s virtues above (almost) all else.

WHAT IS THE APPEAL of the Legion of Super-Heroes? Well, the Legion is normally really optimistic, really diverse, and really teenage. Characterization and inter-personal relationships are always a heavy focus, not just superhero, bam, pow, fisticuffs.

HOW DOES the Legion of Super-Heroes CONNECT WITH SUPERGIRL? The Legion has, historically, always been very involved with the Super Family. Supergirl became a member (alongside Clark Kent) way back in the Silver Age (those are the really old comics with story lines that read like crappy old fanfics off of Fanfiction.net and pages that reek of LSD which all the writers were on at the time). She’d come from the past to the future to join in with the lighthearted shenanigans, and help save the day. In fact, the Legionnaire Brainiac 5 was her most consistent love interest throughout the decades of Supergirl comics.

WHAT DOES MON-EL HAVE TO DO with the Legion of Super-Heroes? Remember how Mon got stuck in the Phantom Zone because of lead-poisoning? Yeah, so a thousand years in the future, Brainiac 5 developed a cure and saved him. With nothing better to do, Mon joined the Legion. It was pretty cool. He even had the most badass girlfriend- Tasmia Mallor aka Shadow Lass.

WHO IS THIS BRAINIAC 5 DUDE in the Legion of Super-Heroes? Brainiac 5, aka Querl Dox is a native of Colu, and a descendant of Superman’s villain Brainiac. He’s basically the smartest person ever to exist, and he knows it. Although he’s a sarcastic, antagonistic bitch most of the time, he’s one of the Legion’s greatest assets. Plus, he’s had a ton of love interests, most notably Supergirl, but also Laurel Gand (aka Andromeda), Lyle Norg (aka Invisible Kid), Nura Nal (aka Dream Girl), and (if we’re sorta counting the cartoon) Clark Kent (aka Superman).

HOW IS SATURN GIRL INVOLVED in the Legion of Super-Heroes? Well, let’s start off by saying SHE”S NOT MON-EL’S WIFE. With that out of the way, Saturn Girl, aka Imra Ardeen is one of the founding members of the Legion. She’s a ridiculously strong telepath. Sometimes she’s called ‘Ironass Ardeen’ because she’s so tough. She’s married to Garth Ranzz aka Lightning Lad and they had twin sons. Also, did I mention that in 1964 she became the first female leader of a superhero team??? Imra’s so cool, everyone should love her.

IS THE NIA NAL/DREAMER CHICK PART OF the Legion of Super-Heroes? ....No? Yes, maybe? Nia has been revealed to be the grandmother of Nura Nal (aka Dream Girl, or Dreamer), who’s a Legionnaire from Naltor with the ability to see the future and also kick a lot of ass and save the day because Brainy is pretty useless in combat scenarios. 

HOW GAY is the Legion of Super-Heroes? (Let’s face it. I’m on tumblr. I understand tumblr. This question is pertinent.) The Legion hasn’t had a on-going comic in recent years, so a lot of the gay shit is queer coding but... Shrinking Violet and Light Lass are wonderful farm girlfriends, Invisible Kid and Chemical King have been generally accepted as a gay couple since the 60′s, Shvaughn Erin can be read as a (poorly written) trans character, her love interest Element Lad more or less comes out as bisexual, Brainiac 5 and Invisible Kid came really close to being a canon couple before the series was rebooted, and Chameleon was canonically nonbinary in the reboot known as the threeboot. I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting, but there are a lot of Legionnaires. Also, they all had a crush on a snake person at one point, which was, y’know, awesome.

WHERE DO I START READING the Legion of Super-Heroes? 1. You know that thought you just had about reading from the beginning? Take it, smash it on the ground, jump on it a few times, throw it in a trash can, set the trash can on fire, and then throw the whole thing into the abyss. The whole concept of ‘reading from the beginning’ will cause more suffering than it’s worth. Trust me. 2. Get your hands on the graphic novels Legionnaires Volumes 1 and 2 (here and here). This is the beginning of the rebooted Legion. I won’t confuse you (or myself, honestly) with those details, but the reboot reintroduces all the characters, and retells some of the popular original stories before moving into brand new territory. 3. Get some pens and paper handy. Be prepared to take little notes about who’s who as you go. Don’t worry- you won’t need these for very long. Just at the beginning. 4. read, Read, READ! And most importantly- enjoy!

[thedeepmiracleperfection]

I'm pretty sure they were criticized early on for those same points and dismissed by critics and book publishers as shitty children's prose. The thing is they accomplished what they set out to do very well. HP isn't supposed to be good writing it's supposed to be popular writing. And because JKR made her main character so boring and plain, readers could impose themselves on him and imagine themselves in the plot. That plus the fact that he's your classic mary sue character who by no means of his own gets thrust into this magical place where hey your life sucks at home? Have some magic! Ride a broom! Look at these weird people with weird names doing a bunch of cool shit! Oh no you're not just ANY kid you the sPEciAl MagiCal ChOseN OnE so unique and special you get to go on ★adventures★ no other kid gets to go on.

It's escapism. That's why they're the most popular books series ever sold and why people insist on holding onto them so fiercely despite the real harm they do to real people. For many people (including myself! I read them as a kid! I'm not better than anyone) they were a sort of self-insert fantasy that capitalized on the ego, the need to believe that one is special and the only reason we struggle is because it will prepare us for our heroism later. This isn't my shitty life it's my *backstory*

Jkr was intentional about that. As shitty as those books are, people have become so sentimentally attached to them they've deluded themselves into thinking they're worth more than they are. It's all nostalgia.

JKR is dangerous. At this very moment she is fighting to take away the rights and liberties of trans people everywhere. She is actively harming millions of people and you as an everyday consumer contribute to the suffering of trans people by consuming her content. I know that for many those books have a special place in your heart, but your nostalgia and your emotional comfort is not worth the lives of millions of real people. Find your escapism somewhere else.

its kind of funny how attached some ppl here are to harry potter bc theyre genuinely just not good books like from a literary perspective they just kind of suck. you can tell rowling kind of started losing the plot halfway through n she had to tie it all up with a shitty deus ex machina, and the ending offers no closure at all its very much a hasty "and they lived happily ever after <3" tacked onto a story that honestly doesn't really build up to that at all. and people still act like theres not any better franchises to devote their love and attention to

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

Sorry for the long hiatus from posting. I really didn't intend for that to happen. My grandfather passed away, and not only was I dealing with that emotionally, but there has been a lot going on as a result in my life. Aside from that, I had a vacation and a birthday in there as well. Thank you in advance for coming back if you're still reading along; I promise I'm going to try to refocus and post more frequently until this fic is completed.

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

"Alright, now you have a big bowl of meat and rice. Enough to choke a camel. Let's hear it."

"Hear what?" Rise asked airily as she picked at the bowl, as if she hadn't a care in the world. Of course this was mostly a bit of revenge; she wanted her to have to sweat for a moment. Just because she still loved Ai didn't mean she wasn't above a little light-hearted torture between friends.

"You're so smart, you know everything. Tell me why you think I was blackmailing you into outing me."

"Why should I? You've been pretty terrible to me. I mean, I know you had 'reasons', but like… I apologised for those. And you could tell me, since I mean… okay, Ebi-chan. Do you want to really get real?"

The teen queen rolled her eyes. "Go ahead. There doesn't seem to be any stopping you."

"Alright. I think this is childish and dumb. Can't we just talk about this and work through it? Wouldn't that be healthier?"

"Oh, I agree. Problem is, you didn't talk to me — you blabbed to all your friends. I don't know why I have to keep reminding you about that. Yeah, you apologised, but this is a lot bigger than 'I accidentally told the whole school you peed your pants.' This isn't just embarrassing, this isn't just a shitty rumour. Are you with me? Are you getting why this is-"

"YES!" she interrupted. When Ai looked extremely offended, she held up both hands, chopsticks in one of them. "Sorry. I just… I know you really think I don't get it. That's coming in loud and clear, but can you like, hear me when I say I do now?"

"Sorry, no. You broke my trust and now you have to fix it, girl."

"Alright." Then she sat up a little straighter and looked at her. "Wait…"

"What?" Ai's lips thinned and she went completely rigid, hand moving up to her cheek. "Do I… there's something on my face. Right?"

"No. You just admitted I can fix it. That means this whole thing… you're putting on a front, right? Just trying to make me really apologise for messing up so bad. So there's hope!"

"Hey, NO! That is not what this means, you can't-"

"Noooo, nope, no take-backs! HAH!" She even hopped up and down in her seat, pointing at Ai as the other girl grimaced. "I got you, I got you, you do still like me! You can't hide it anymore!"

"SHUT UP! Jesus Christ, I can't even be mad and you actually believe me; what is this victim-denial bullshi-" But she couldn't even finish the words, because Rise was sweeping her into a crushing hug. "Get OFF, you leech!"

"I'm so happy!" she whispered.

And the table was quiet for a minute. Both of them sort of suddenly realised words weren't adequate to address the romantic corner they had painted themselves into.

"God. You're ruining everything."

"I know, I know. But I'm too cute for you to stay mad at forever."

"Wrong. That would work on a dumb boy, but not on me."

Rise just relaxed against her for a moment, even though the relaxation component felt like it was getting smaller and smaller. Still too much tension. Then she threw her trump card away completely. "You want me to out you… because it'll prove you right. That I'm a bad friend, and a jerk, and I can't be trusted. Then you can feel better about cutting me outta your life forever; less guilty."

No response. When almost a minute passed, Rise finally drew away to pick at her food because she couldn't stand the waiting. Neither could she look at Ai. Maybe this was too big; maybe they had just hurt each other too much, even though it was just a series of accidents and retaliations over accidents. She was beginning to feel sick, and guilty that she was probably not going to be able to finish her food…

"Do you feel smart now or something?"

Her chopsticks clattered to the table. "Huh?"

"For figuring it out." Ai's voice was so low and quiet; it could have been anger, it could have been sadness. "But I don't get how you can be smart enough to know that, and too stupid to know to keep your mouth shut about my… situation."

Rise almost fired up again, since Ai was worse than a dog with a bone, but somehow managed to throttle it down. "Because I'm new to this. And I think you would see that if you weren't so… mad. I get why you are, a lot better now, but if you're gonna hate me for making a mistake forever… I can't do that. I really will walk out of your life. Is it worth it to you to hold that grudge?"

"Maybe. I do love holding grudges against people who hurt me. It's so much fun normally."

"But I didn't. I just made a mistake, and the mistake hurt you. I tried to cover it, and I made another one, and… and I'm just gonna keep making them because I'm human, Ebi-chan. So are you. I just can't keep letting you make me feel like a criminal."

"And I can't be in a relationship with someone who's so careless with my secret. That's a big part of who I am, and it's something that could get me killed if the wrong person decides I'm an easy target for their hatred, to purge their fragile little emasculated feelings." Ai sighed. "Fuck."

"What?"

"I'm going to have to forgive you. Because even as I'm saying this, I hear it — that I'm beating a dead horse." When Rise started to look hopeful, she scowled and pointed at her face. "Listen good, bitch. This isn't a free pass; you hurt me, and I can't trust you anymore. But… like you said, I'm giving you the chance to start repairing the trust. You better not squander it."

That very solid warning did keep Rise from gasping in delight and throwing her arms around her again. The gravity of the situation tempered her joy very effectively. But she still reached down and took up Ai's hands, holding them tightly as she leaned closer.

"I'll be your best friend. Okay? We… can act like we're together in front of an audience, and then just… try to chill, a-and go back to buddies when we're alone. I'm taking 'dating' off the table so you don't, um… so you don't feel like…"

"So I haven't completely let you off the hook?" Ai guessed. When Rise nodded, she snorted and looked away. "Dumb. And the best option we have, I think, since…" Rise just nudged her to continue. "Since you're right. I do miss you and I hate all the fighting, and I'm over it. I just need this probationary period to figure out if I can ever trust you again."

Rise felt like she was soaring through the clouds, even though clearly Ai looked like she was suffering a crippling defeat. It was unfortunate things ended up this way but wallowing in misery about it would change nothing. "Thank you. I'm… I know it's hard, it's hard for me to admit I screwed up as bad as I did. And I'll never know how you felt! But I'm starting to get it, and… and I'm really glad you'll let me have more time to do better. Because I'm gonna prove you didn't mess up by giving that trust to me. Bet on it."

"Good. Now eat your stupid beef so we can get out of here, I'm not hungry at all."

"Neither am I, now. Can… we take it back to your place, and just relax? Or try to?"

"Ugh."

"We're going to have more of an audience the longer we stay."

That much was definitely true. Already, there were a few students eyeing them curiously, trying to be inconspicuous and failing spectacularly. Rise definitely wondered if they had been witness to their entire fight, and what they thought about it. But they were sitting far enough away that they couldn't possibly have heard any details; that served as a small relief.

"Yeah, let's go. I'm not a fucking trained monkey."

"Never said you were," she said delicately as they started to stand from the table, flagging down Aika to box up the rest of the food. But her dimples were showing from the sheer force of her giant smile. All hope was not lost and that was enough for now.

                                    ~ o ~

The walk back was pleasant, and the frost had finally been shaken off their relationship now that they had done most of the hard work. They could catch up on some of the small things they had missed in each other's lives while they weren't talking. Furthermore, since being under the microscope of the entire Yasogami student body made it impossible to put distance between them, a little additional warmth came along for the ride — and Rise couldn't be any happier for it if she tried. This was exactly what she had been hoping for, even if it came in such a roundabout way.

"So you really impressed me with that little trick."

Ai looked over from where she was changing out her city pop CDs. Chisato Moritaka had been really upbeat and fun, but Rise had requested something a little more mellow. "Which trick is that?"

"The tucking thing. That's what you called it, right?" She laughed as she leaned back against Ai's western-style bed, having elected to sit on the floor instead of being presumptuous about sitting on the bed itself. "Not that I saw the tucking part, just the mysterious missing penis, but that's still pretty cool you can do that. Totally faked out those girls, and me — and I guess you could do that with a boy too, if they tried to do something."

"Exactly," she told her with a smug smirk. "Never underestimate the power of a motivated trans girl. You did, and you had to face the consequences, bitch."

Rolling her eyes a little, Rise moved her stocking feet from side to side, trying in vain to touch her big toes together even though her legs were spaced too far apart for it to be possible. Just an idle exercise. "I did not — I don't even know enough about that stuff to understand how to underestimate somebody who's like you."

"Uh huh." The room was quiet for a moment, other than the gentle sounds of Taeko Ohnuki now floating out of her newly-acquired stereo; apparently, Rise's comment about Ai using her Joystation had gotten to her, innocent as it was. "You want a demonstration?"

"Of your power? What, are you gonna charge up your chi and blast a hole in the moon?"

Ai giggled as she sat on the bed. At least she could laugh around her again. "No, the tucking thing."

"Huh? Oh…" Shrugging, she turned a little bit more in her direction. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know how that's gonna do more than last time though, I mean… wait, are you flashing me again?!"

"No, you dumbass! I mean, yes, but you won't see anything; that's the whole point. But hang on."

No other situation had felt more awkward. Rise found herself gawking as Ai reached under her skirt to fiddle for a moment, and she turned her head out of instinct. What was happening?! But after a second, she heard, "Okay, there it is. Do you wanna like, be flashed, or inspect for yourself?"

"I- I don't think I sh- I'm not gonna do that!" Rise hissed. "Isn't that, um, indecent?"

"Not if I'm saying 'hey, inspect me'."

"Well… I… can't argue with that." So she cleared her throat and stood on her knees, walking over to her that way so the target remained at eye level. "I'm gonna inspect really good. You're sure that's cool?'

"Yep. Do whatever you want. I mean, not too crazy; I'm sure you'll figure out where the line is, you're pretty smart."

That compliment helped soothe her nerves slightly. It was wonderful to hear Ai say something nice about her again. So Rise reached up and lifted the skirt, seeing Ai's pale pink panties in place as was normal. "Wow… I mean, yeah, there's supposed to be a dick here and there isn't right now. Are you sure you weren't just pulling a big prank on everybody?"

"Is that your way of asking me to show you?" When Rise only started to flush a deeper red, Ai smirked. "Didn't think so. You're so soft."

"Uh! I am NOT, I'm just not the slut you think I am!"

"Hey, I never said you were. Well… not since I got to know you." They exchanged a smile. "But yeah, there it is; you can see how I got away with it."

"Okay, hang on then; I'm not done." She started to peel her panties down, casting an occasional glance up at Ai's face; making sure this wasn't too far. Though she did look a little less smug and bemused, more serious, she wasn't trying to stop her and there was no fear in her features. So…

The same soft skin, the same little mole near her hip… same perfectly-trimmed landing strip. Rise treated her own pubic region similarly; she knew nobody would be visiting down there, but it just felt nicer to take care of the landscaping now that it was necessary for her to do so. She smiled and passed a finger over the hairs, and saw their owner shivered in response.

No prominent male organ was visible. Not that she could see. Upon closer inspection, there did seem to be some slight folding in the skin just where it disappeared between her thighs, but it wasn't too out of the ordinary.

"Okay, I guess now I'm done. Like…" Rise cleared her throat, her pulse was racing in her throat. Mostly because at this proximity, she could catch a very slight hint of some kind of musk and it was beginning to get to her; the scent was so vague she could almost convince herself she was imagining it, but she also knew that was a lot less likely than that she was being hit by Ai's pheromones. "Like, um…"

"Like what?" Ai asked warily, even though she was clearly trying to keep calm. She wanted to trust Rise, and was — provisionally. However, clearly they were both being affected by their positioning.

"Like, I could… put my finger in there… and probably find more, or… b-but this is all you would have to do for those girls, or for some dumb creep who's attacking you — like how you flashed me at school. So I don't need to do that."

"I wouldn't stop you."

Interesting. Rise felt like she couldn't breathe suddenly, but she tried to tell herself that this was just Ai joking around, or trying to provoke a reaction. Goading her, teasing her, like she always was. What if she just… did it? What if she poked her finger between her thighs there and found out for sure?

Or she could try something else. Something she wanted to do a lot more. She leaned forward…

"Oh," Ai breathed when she felt the lips pushing into her skin through the strip of well-trimmed hairs. So very close but not exploring further. "Rise…?"

"Sorry," she breathed as she sat back on her legs, hoping her face wasn't glowing like the sun as she smiled up at her. "I just… I wanted to do something nice for what you have down here. Whatever it is. A-and it was probably super weird, and I'm sorry, but like, I've been accidentally a bitch. You know I didn't mean to now — at least, I think you do. I hope. But I can still try to make you feel a little better."

Another little sigh fell from Ai as she looked down at Rise. "Dumb bitch." But she raised a hand to caress over her hair, tender and affectionate. Maybe they really had mostly fixed their friendship, even if everything else was awkward.

Then she noticed Ai was squirming. "Oh, um… sorry, I guess you want me to get my face out of your business."

"Well… more like, your face being in my business is making me feel things. But you're fine, it's just, uh, a side effect. I'll live."

"Feel what kind of things?" But Ai didn't answer; just squirmed. So she decided to see if the direct contact had been the culprit by kissing her again. That shiver confirmed her hypothesis. God, she had missed being able to kiss Ai; even though this wasn't on the lips, and it technically hadn't even been that long since the last time… she had missed it so damn much. Scary. "Good things, right?"

"Yeah… m-maybe." When she kissed again, the taller girl blustered, "Come on, you can't want to do that, it probably smells weird and tastes weird. Down there. N-not that I'd have any way of knowing."

"What? I just wanna be close to you, and… and you like this. Maybe?"

"I do not! Or, well, I… it's more like… you don't have to, we're all good now. I promise."

Rise stuck out her tongue briefly and said, "Never said I had to." Then she glanced down again. "Although… I know you explained it, but I'm still not really sure what you're doing. Like, where does it go?"

"Huh?"

"Your thing. Like, is it in your butt now?"

"Oh my GOD," she burst out, covering her face with her palm. "What kind of RPG do you think this is?! No, my dick doesn't magically get sucked into my ass!"

"Well, I mean, I can't see it! So if you swear you have one, then it had to go somewhere!"

"You keep saying you don't want me to show you, but then act like I have to show you," Ai snorted with a shake of her head.

"No! Well, yeah, you're right, I am doing that… I'm sorry, I'm just really curious! I'll shut up."

Which she did. However, Ai was clearly having nearly as bad a crisis of faith; or at least, it was different but equally excruciating. Her eyes were a little sad when she whispered, "Do you promise?"

"To shut up? Definitely."

"No, no, I meant… if I show you, will you still see me… as a woman?"

"Ai-"

"No, you have to. If you screw me in this department again, I swear it's really over; I can't start being misgendered everywhere I go, friends treating me like a freak, having to change schools. You know the score now, and you are at the very top of that list of what's important to me. So… if you can promise you won't start calling me a boy again, o-or-"

Rise felt her heart sinking. Even before now, even after all they had been through and all she had learned, she was hit with the sudden realisation that she had not quite understood how deeply important her female identity was to Ai. But that stark fear of losing it, readily apparent in her features? That completed the puzzle and laid it all bare.

"Ebi-chan… you're an amazing girl," she told her again, her smile as warm as it was defiant. She was more defying her own expectations, and the world around them, but she felt stronger, more sure of herself. "And you're going to be an amazing woman. And I just hope I'm there to see it happen, and I haven't messed up so bad I'm cut out of your life. But either way? You don't need me to tell you how badass you are."

That clearly meant the world to Ai. The anxiety didn't vanish, but it faded by a significant amount as she smiled down at her friend. "You always know what to say. Annoying. But… thank you again." Then she cleared her throat. "I can handle it for a second. But all you get is a second, and then I'm covering it, a-and that's it. Do you get me? Promise you get me, right now!"

"I promise!" she yelped, not even sure what she was promising. Mostly, she was just terrified of disappointing her and turning out to be a shitty friend yet again, so she couldn't waste time.

And then it was happening. Fast. Ai suddenly took a wide step to the side, and something was swinging up at her — and she slammed her eyes shut, flashing out with her hand defensively. "OHMYGOD!"

"OW! RISE!"

"What?! I- you have a DICK!"

"Yeah, I know I have one! YOU didn't know that, and I'm trying to show you so you're not- you didn't have to SMACK IT!"

"BUT I NEVER HAD A DICK SWING AT ME LIKE IT'S GONNA PUNCH ME IN THE FOREHEAD!"

The growl was so exasperated that Rise almost looked up at her just to see if she was mad. Almost. "Well, just… it's not swinging now! So look for a second, then touch it — nicely, and then I can put this stupid thing away! GOD!"

"Okay, FINE! Wow, you're so mean!"

The thing was, now that it wasn't moving at speed, Rise found she wasn't nearly as weirded out when she slit one eye open. Ai Ebihara… did indeed own what she assumed was a pretty average example of a penis. She didn't know if it was supposed to stick straight out like that, or if its size and shape was normal; this whole experience was just very strange, because she had never been in this position before. Well, that wasn't technically true, but the last time had only been an even more brief glimpse before security hauled the deranged fan away. And she wasn't on her knees that time, looking it in the eye.

Right; now she had to touch it — also unlike last time. Ai would have let her refuse if she said she wasn't comfortable, she knew that, but she also knew the whole point was to prove once and for all that this was reality, not some pack of lies. Besides, her own curiosity wouldn't let her back down. So she reached forward and pressed her fingertip into the top of the pale shaft.

Two things became immediately apparent. First, that it was warmer and softer than she had been expecting, even though she wasn't sure why she expected otherwise in the first place. Second…

"Hmmhhh."

…Ai liked having it touched. At least, that was what that little moan told her. Her finger began to slide up and down over the smooth skin-

"O-okay, that's enough!" Ai took a long step backward, hastily rearranging her skirt and underwear to cover herself. "Right. Well, I mean, I don't know if that was thrilling for you or what, but um… at least you know it's real now. So… so good."

Rise frowned as she struggled to her feet. "Hey, I believed you before. I mean, I have since the karaoke, anyway; like, I know I was kinda dumb about it there… but I knew you wouldn't be this serious about it just to mess with me."

"Oh. Well, alright, then."

"Wow, I can't believe you really are a b-uh…" Right; that was a big thing she had just promised. "You really were born a boy. Right? Is- if I say that, is it still bad? I'm trying to figure out how to say you have a dick without it sounding, um, vulgar."

Ai was flushing and still trying to cover herself. It worked, technically speaking, but the bulge was way too obvious now. "Mmhh, it's fine. You sound a little wacky, but not that bad. I appreciate you trying."

"Yeah, of course! You're my friend, I want to make you feel good if I can!"

"Right." A long pause. "You know I'm not a boy, right?"

"What?"

"Like, for real. Deep down. You aren't just saying things to make me not mad at you, are you?"

Had her there. "What do you mean? Like, of course I am! I've only ever heard of boys having dicks, like… most girls I've heard of like you, they got rid of those. Not that I know them personally. So this is different, and I'm really trying to understand…"

"Well, I probably will get rid of it, Rise," she sighed. Only a little irritated. If she had to guess, Ai was probably frustrated with the reality of her situation, not Rise's words. "When I'm out of high school. Because I really want to be a woman in mind and body, completely, but… right now this is the best I can do."

God, that hit her straight in the gut. The more she learned about who Ai was, how she felt inside, the more atrocious it sounded to have to live life the way she had up until this point. Even if she was mostly an entitled girl, very affluent and in control of her life, she had to go through such a dark time before she made it to being exactly who she wanted to be.

"And your best is… beautiful. Like, you're so pretty, and strong, and… and I really never saw you as a boy. Even after you told me, even after I found out you have one of those. I'm just… used to thinking of… I'm going around in circles."

Ai pulled Rise to the bed and sat her down with her. Wow, it was much harder to avoid glancing down again than she had expected! "I get it. And you screwed up the way I should have expected you to. I suppose I just liked you so much that I really hoped you would just understand me immediately. Stupid, isn't it?"

"Not at all." She smiled. Ai smiled back. Their faces drifted closer…

And Rise's phone went off. She had promised her grandmother she would help her clean up the shop. Maybe this was for the best, because her hand was on Ai's thigh — and she knew she would have felt tempted to move it that little bit higher.

"Well, I g-gotta go," she breathed shakily as she stood up, brushing off her skirt. "Um… I, uh…"

"You keep looking at it," Ai accused. "I'm not a freak; I hope you get that now."

"Oh, that's… not what I was thinking. Gotta go! Bye!"

Ai's brows were so very furrowed as the idol raced out of there before giving herself away. The last thing she wanted to reveal was just how impure some of her thoughts were becoming. And she knew that if she hadn't run away right when she did, it would have meant their relationship deepened a lot more depending on how those next minutes went. What an unmitigated disaster for their friendship that could be if things didn't turn out okay!

Even if the PR would be perfect. The more in love she was with her best friend, the more in love she would look with her best friend. She just hoped Ai was alright with that — if she ever found the nerve to tell her.

                                    To Be Continued…

[fanfictionlive]

Straights writing lgbtq+ fics. Your thoughts?

Edit - Thanks for the responses! I'll be coming to reply later after I get out of work. It's been noted that I fricked up on the title - trans people can still be straight, and this is very true. I meant it in reference to myself, doesn't help I put a plural in there though. Unfortunately I can't alter a title of a post. Rip. New title - I'm a straight cis woman writing a fic whose main characters are gay. Thoughts?

Before I start, I'd like to say that this is based on an irl conversation and I haven't gotten any comments on my fic about this. I want to talk about it here, though, because I love this community and the thoughts of everyone posting here, so I think some meaningful conversation can happen on this. I also know it's a touchy subject, as the lgbt+ community suffers a lot. So if I've insulted or am saying something I don't realize isn't ok, please let me know - I'd like to be as respectful as possible.

I was talking with someone about fanfiction, revealing the fact that I've been writing a fic of my own, and that brought up what mine was about. Just a couple of gays haphazardly stumbling upon powers and the need to save the world from the gates of hell bursting open while simultaneously falling in love. Oh, and they're seniors in high school. But before I could get past the fact that the story is centered upon two characters who happen to be a certain sexuality, my friend stops me to point out that I'm a straight woman married to a man. They asks why I'm writing something gay if I myself am not in the lgbtq+ community in the least bit (which theye're right, I'm not) and accuses me of making a fetish out of it.

It's worth to note here that the romance is slow burn and it's a longfic, holding potential to be a multi entry series depending on how it goes. I've already got over 72k words posted with another 60k in the editing phase, and it's not even close to being a quarter of the way through the story I want to tell, but even still, it's not even gotten to the lemons yet, or even the fluff.

Anyway, I try to argue the fact that I'm trying to write a diverse story, make it as realistic as possible because the world irl is filled with so many different people. I have friends of all different walks of life, and even though I myself am not lgbtq+ I happily support them and treat them as human because they simply are. Why should they be treated differently? Why can't I write a love story about a gay couple, with side characters of different walks of life too? My friend keeps bringing up my sexuality, that I'm your carbon copy person, what would I know of the struggles of the lgbtq+? I've listened to and helped my lesbian friends, transgendered friends, my friends of different beliefs, and not once have I thought less of them because they're different than me. I'm not intending to block out the voices of those who have the right to speak. I tried arguing this, and she tells me to take a hike because I'm using other people's experience to have a say in the community. Again, they haven't read the fic, so I'm wondering where this is coming from. I'm guessing they've encountered too many people taking things into their own hands instead of staying in their lane.

I dropped it, realising that they're going to hold this view no matter what I say, and the last thing they told me was to either delete the fic or they're no longer being my friend. No offer to read it, no questions to find out more. Just a statement that I don't have the right.

What comes to mind is how I've come across so many people who want more diverse content. People want to read a good story about something more than the typical guy gets the girl who happens to be a damsel in distress. I want to see the representations of two sword wielding lesbians fighting a dragon then going out to grab of cup of tea from the fairy forest cafe with a dozey dragon wrapped around the building. I want to read a story about two gay guys fighting mutants with lightning powers before going home for a night of video games and drunken silly fun. I want more than just lustful erotica written for a minute of jerking off before it gets tossed to the way side. I want a story where a group of people of different walks of life come together to save the world while they still feel human, being all complex and stuff. Since this is what I'd love to read, I'm trying to write it, but it just so happens that I'm a straight woman.

My question now is do you think someone's walk of life should impact whether or not they write a character from a certain walk of life? This isn't to find out whether I should keep going or not - I understand my own motives and I'm not going to let someone else dictate what I do, so long as I'm respectful. I just want your thoughts and maybe even experiences. Should a straight person write from the perspective of an lgbtq+ character, so long as they're mindful, doing their research, and not intending harm? Also, while we're on the subject, what would you like to see more of in an lgbtq+ story with a fantasy setting, or in anything really?

submitted by /u/Rhovakiin [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/3fHFvEm

[codependentsoulmates]

RANKING EVERY SEASON OF SUPERNATURAL

Let’s a-freakin’-go, Mario.

12. Season 7. Leviathans. And Sam’s god-awful wolverine sideburns. ‘Nuff said.

11. Season 6. Soulless Sam was hilariously, sarcastically endearing for a little while, but towards the end of the Soulless Sam arc, just, ugh. I wanted to fast forward so bad. Samuel coming back was unnecessary and anticlimactic, “evil Cas” was an eye roller, I didn’t give a shit about Lisa and Ben, um... EVE??? What the actual fuck was that. She was possibly the single most wasted, ultra-super-anticlimactic use of a story arc that I’ve ever seen. There were a few redeeming episodes (i.e. Clap Your Hands If You Believe).

10. Season 9. Okay, this could be biased just based on how much I truly cannot stand God!Metatron. S10/11 Metatron is great; he’s such a little jerk that you cant help but find him funny. But S9 Metatron... holy shit. It was like being subjected to hours upon hours of having to watch only the Umbridge scenes from Harry Potter on repeat. It felt like legitimate torture trying to force myself to finish the season. Plus, yes, I ended up liking Gadreel later (much later) on, but Gadreel!Sam felt like it went on forever. I was over it and it was like the end of it would never come. Also, I’m just gonna say it: Abaddon was boring and annoying, and the only reason she was even an issue was because Sam and Dean thought, “Hey, wow, let’s experiment on the most powerful demon we know of roaming the Earth right now. We cut off her hands, nothing will go wrong!” Riiiight... okay. Also, Kevin’s death was seriously messed up and unnecessary and I still haven’t forgiven them for it, so. But uh, human!Cas was super endearing though, and even though I really don’t ever want actual human Cas to become a thing, it was cute for awhile. 

9. Season 12. Alright. I don’t share the exact same sentiment or level of hatred that a lot of other people seem to for this season, but it had... a lot of issues. So, uh. Buckle up. First of all... Lucifer. While I don’t... hate the idea of him coming back as a villain, just so many things about this were... sigh. Rockstar!Lucifer was - and I’m gonna fucking say it - truly awful. So, so awful. Maybe he could’ve worked on another show, but with Lucifer’s character/personality having already been so established and defined on Supernatural, it just felt out of place. He was not the same character - which is something I often complain about with the Rubys. We had just come from Casifer - which was brilliant and so, so in character - and then we get this... weird, unsnarky, not sarcastic or playful at all version of Lucifer and... pass. Moving on... they finally get to put Luci back in his cage and... then Crowley decides to keep him as a pet? And believe Lucifer - fucking LUCIFER - now bows to him and won’t get away? And assume the demons who have time and time again always helped Lucifer, will now follow him instead? What??? Crowley isn’t that dumb, and he could’ve achieved ruling Hell again with no problems if Lucifer was in the cage. It made no sense to me. And um. Lucifer having a child? Seriously? So much reaching going on. Now to the second issue: The British Men of Letters. Okay. They started off as the enemy this season. The title sequence was the MoL symbol. And yet... they weren’t that relevant or threatening until the last couple of episodes (and those were, well, in nicer terms... questionable.) They either should’ve saved a Lucifer-returning-as-the-enemy storyline for later or saved the BMoL. Together, it was just too much and not enough expansion. Side note: I loathe the BMoL like I loathe God!Metatron. Which brings me to the third - and maybe biggest - issue I had with this season: Mary fucking Winchester. What the fuck. What the actual fuck, were the writers thinking. They legitimately ruined her. Throughout the series you have this wonderful idea built up about her: she was a badass hunter and she sacrificed things for John and she loved her boys so, so much and she gave up hunting for good because that was never the life she wanted and just. Then she’s here and you’re like finally Sam and Dean get to have a fucking parent who is there for them and can nurture them for once in their goddamn lives, and then. Then she’s a different Mary and she’s back to only caring about hunting even though she never liked hunting in the first place and she’s working for the people who tortured her son and she’s leaving her boys who just got her back, who she just got back, and she was going to let them die or get hurt for the goddamn Colt that she didn’t even know was the Colt. And I just. I couldn’t get with it, I’m sorry. Oh, and also everyone fucking DIES this season, so that was just fucking great, too.

8. Season 10. This is an unpopular opinion, I’m sure, but I hated Deanmon and I was glad we didn’t have to see him that long and suffer like we did with Soulless Sam. That being said, they did way overhype Deanmon, which was pretty uncool and unfair. But I honestly hated the Mark of Cain - it went on waaaaay too long - and I really, really dislike seeing Dean be... not Dean... so... Also, I am still pissed the fuck off at Charlie’s death, so I refuse to rank this any higher out of spite, too. But um. They killed fucking DEATH this season. And while I was actually really unhappy about it because Death was cool as hell, that scene with Sam like, just wrecked, and Dean’s “Close your eyes, Sammy” kinda made it really, really almost worth it. (You’ll soon realize I really only care a lot about Sam and Dean’s relationship and their Absolute Best Moments™ that wrench my heart.)

7. Season 8. Unfortunately, the writers decided hey, let’s ruin Sam’s character a little fucking more and write him as OOC as possible by having him not actually give a shit where the fuck Dean was for an entire year because he was too busy fucking some piece of shit girl! Seriously, I didn’t think I could dislike anyone more than I hated Ruby 2.0 or Gordon... and then came Amelia. I have yet to encounter a person in the Spn-verse that is worse than her. No joke. This season ranks above the others though because it was less “meh” or all over the place. And because Mrs. Tran being a complete baller for just a single episode was more entertaining that any of the main story arcs for any of those seasons below. Also, more importantly, it had more of a return to what Supernatural is supposed to be - I’m looking at you S6/7 - and even though trying to close the gates of Hell was pointless and we knew it was never gonna happen, I have a sick love for suffering!Sam at any given time because then Dean goes into overprotective big bro mode and they stop fighting and being jerks to each other for a lil’ while and we get Seasons 1-5 (eh, minus 4) bro’ lovin’ and protectin’ again. Plus, this season holds my favorite quote/speech Dean has ever said to Sam (you know what I’m talking about) and I already said I’m a sucker for heart-wrenching moments between them, so.

6. Season 4. Probably yet another unpopular opinion, but oh well. Ruby 2.0... gag me. Way to ruin a good character. Plus, as much as I love Gen, I loved nothing about her portrayal of Ruby. It wasn’t the same character. That’s the bottom line. Also Sam’s demon blood addiction and him so far up Ruby’s ass all season??? Vomit. Skip. Next. Literally if Sam listened to Dean for legit two seconds, the Apocalypse could’ve been avoided. But Castiel! And the angel arc! The actual saving graces (hah, literally) of the season.

5. Season 1. I feel really weird about placing this season this low because it’s really just as good as the two I’ve ranked above it, but. I suppose that’s cheating. Season 1 holds a very, very special place in my heart, is all. It’s the OG season, monster-of-the-week episodes (which, side note: makes no sense to me when people rank S1 super low because there were “too many monster-of-the-week episodes.” Um, yeah.. that’s kinda... what the show is fucking about? Sam and Dean... hunting monsters? But okay, anyway...) Baby Sam and Dean!!! The world wasn’t fucked yet! Lil’ skulky Sam!! Okay, real talk, S1-3 (and 5) Sam was fucking BALLER. He was the best Sam, and then the writers trashed his character, so. Cool. This season is really only this low because I had to fully rank this and because John was kinda a dick. But I loved Sam fighting with him and Dean getting in between them to protect Sam. (Also, on another note: John was a piece of work but he was a better parent than S12 Mary, jussayin’.) (Also, also, it irritates the shit out of me just how much they ruined John’s character and who they made him out to be post-season 5. He was truly something else and he did some really shitty things, but I don’t think it was fair to do and I don’t think that was ever what Kripke intended for his character, but. Oh well. I digress.)

4. Season 11. Once again, I don’t necessarily rank this fully above S1 or below the next ranking, but. There was a lot of good things going on this season. Casifer was brilliant and delivered some of my favorite one-liners of the series. His interactions with God!Chuck were great. Him helping instead of being a villain, but still being a ridiculous child. God!Chuck was wonderful and handled really, really well. Also, his World’s Best Dad mug? I heart. Freakin’... Baby? Brilliant, incredible, amazing, wonderful, spectacular. Rowena was also bitchin’ this season, the whole flippin’ demons, angels, witches working together (even though it was just one episode) was suh-weeeet, Sam and Dean were vibin’ like early seasons Sam and Dean. I really wasn’t here for the forced Dean/Amara weird as hell relationship/attraction, though. It was... no. Just. No. Also like, Amara was okay and they did mostly show how powerful she was but like. Azazel, Lucifer, the Leviathans, Gordon, or basically... anyone felt like more of a threat than her, even though she was the only actual unstoppable force ever on the show. And while it was kinda nice for the finale to be her and Chuck working it out, it was also... kinda lame. Here’s this dark force that is the most powerful thing in existence, and it’s stopped by God... apologizing and hugging it out with her? Um... okay, I guess.

3. Season 3. Even though this season was short and waiting for Dean to die kinda sucked and put a damper on the whole season, it still is by far one of the best ones, hands down. Not only did we get Katie Cassidy’s badass, savage, cool as hell Ruby 1.0, we got Bela (who had so much wasted potential, sigh) and return of the Trickster, Bobby really becoming the boys’ father figure, and Sam finally getting to kill Actual Piece of Shit™ Gordon Walker. Season 3 also has some of the best episodes of the whole series - Bad Day At Black Rock, Mystery Spot, Ghostfacers - and we got A Very Supernatural Christmas, which gave us the birth of the Samulet, and I swear to god that scene made me actually cry a little bit. (A lotta bit.)

2. Season 2. This is like. THE Supernatural season. All the cool kids are introduced: Ellen, Jo, Ash, the Trickster, Tessa. Bobby becomes more involved, brotherly bonding up the wazoo, total badass, pure monster hunting. Episodes like Tall Tales and Hollywood Babylon. And episodes like Croatoan and Heart (which had one of the best endings to an episode in the series just in terms of emotion and how well it was set up with the song and ugh), and had debatably the best season finale of the whole show with All Hell Breaks Loose Parts 1 & 2. (It killed me.) Great monsters are introduced like shape shifters and djinns. Azazel was annoying but was an actual villain (unlike some of the later big “villains”) and he was that start and end of everything. He was the Winchesters’ reason for hunting, he catapulted everything. And everything was so simple and pure and made fucking sense. 

1. Season 5. I mean, there’s really no surprise here. It baffles me when S5 isn’t at the top of everyone’s list. While I don’t necessarily wanna go back and watch S5 episodes like I do with most other seasons, it was just the most well-rounded, well-thought out, well-executed season. No competition. Everything had a purpose and a meaning. Everything was tied up. Ellen and Jo die, which is a downer, but at least they were badass. Lucifer is a total tool, and you love it. It’s also Mark Pellegrino’s Lucifer, which is - quite obviously - the best Lucifer. Death is rad as hell. Cas is in his fucking prime this season. Sam and Dean love each other so fucking much this season. The Trickster/Gabriel is revealed as an archangel!! Crowley!! Bobby in his prime as Sam and Dean’s father figure!! Dark Side of the Moon A.K.A. one of my all-time favorite episodes and also one of the most beautifully shot episodes!! (And Ash in heaven! “Some people share, like soulmates”!!!!!!) The fucking END!!! I honestly would probably rank S5 at the top of this list solely for the scene where Lucifer is beating the crap out of Dean while Dean just keeps saying, “Sammy, it’s okay, I’m here” and then Sam’s montage of memories of him and Dean as he takes back control, and jeez holy shit is that montage beautiful and brilliant. That scene alone is probably the best scene in the whole show and I will defend that opinion until I die. The only bad things really in S5 were how unbelievably annoying Zachariah was and how I still think throwing their random half-brother in there just so Dean didn’t have to be Michael’s vessel was ridiculous and absurd. But really, this is the season. I’m glad the show didn’t end after this season, but holy fucking shit would it have been one of the sickest, best, most baller series finales of all time, and no matter what they do for the series finale now, this finale is so untouchable that it will never even come close to living up to it. 

[selfinsertbartender]

D&D Pride

I’ve seen a bunch of people celebrating their LGBT+ tabletop RPG characters this month both on here and on twitter, and I wanted to get involved! Seeing as I don’t have much in the way of artistic talent, I figured the least I could do is list the LGBT+ characters I’ve played in the past and some of their exploits, from earliest to most recent! 

It was while I was making this list that I realized I’ve accidentally made almost every single character that I’ve played for more than just a couple of sessions queer. Oops? Anyways, full character info under the cut!

* Ramiel Uroven - Asexual      Ramiel was my second character of my first serious D&D group (I changed characters several times for various plot reasons)! Growing up on his family’s farm outside of the Human capitol city, Ramiel always admired the Paladin Corps and was eager to become a knight when he grew up. Upon reaching the age when he could be certified, he was barred from joining the Corps after it was discovered that he was technically a Tiefling (in 3rd edition, Tieflings were humans with demonic ancestry; in Ramiel’s case, his great-great-great-great-grandfather married a succubus, making him just 1/64th demonic). Ever the upbeat young man, having been denied his dream of becoming a Paladin, he decided to do the next best thing: turn around and join the anti-Humanist Theroubrian Empire as an Antipaladin in service of Hextor, the god of war and chaos (keep in mind, at the point where Ramiel joined the party calling them “morally gray” would have been generous). He didn’t join out of any sense of solidarity with the Cult of Hextor’s dogma, he just wanted to be a knight. He eventually went on to become the Avatar of Hextor (after a series of like, four nat twenties in a row?? it’s a long story) and was promoted to a General position in the Empire’s army. He eventually parted ways with the party after some... personal differences (he was ordered to kill the two leaders of the party for betraying the Empire, and he’s nothing if not loyal).      A more recently rebooted version of Ramiel had him have distant Fae ancestry instead, He was actually successful in becoming a page for a local lord and starting his own knighthood training, but he was kicked out after it became clear he just stopped aging. In this version he was still asexual but more homoromantic, as he’d had a sort of illicit relationship going on with his lord.    

*Ariel Ophanim - Pansexual/Nonbinary      After fleeing from the Theroubrian Empire, the party joined up with a group devoted to keeping the world’s forces of good and evil locked in a stalemate known as the Defenders of Balance (note: this campaign was a good year before The Adventure Zone even started!). Assigned to watch over the new recruits upon their induction was Ariel, an Aasimar rogue and long-suffering right hand of the leader of the DoB. Ariel was the image of a covert field agent: sneaky, no-nonsense, and very, very pretty, and they knew it! So imagine their disdain when they were instead assigned to babysit a wild bunch of ragtag asshole newbies for their first real mission. The leader of the DoB had taken Ariel in when their home had been ravaged in the war between the Humans and the Theroubrian Empire, however, so they felt that they owed it to the leader and reluctantly accepted the assignment. Ariel filled a much-needed leadership role in the party and even managed to herd the group into completing some respectable work for the DoB investigating claims that their former employers were attempting to open a portal to the Demonic Plane. Ariel ended up sabotaging the ritual to summon the hell portal when they threw themself in front of Dimitry, an NPC ally with whom Ariel had a burgeoning romantic relationship, and became the ritual’s sacrifice in Dimitry’s place. Ariel’s sacrifice still opened a portal, but instead of dragging everyone present to the Demonic Plane, it instead dumped the party, Dimitry, and Cree (the succubus wife of the leader of the Theroubrian Empire, responsible for opening the portal and killing Ariel) into a pub that existed between planes.

*Saoirse (aka “Yew Mann”) - Gay         Within the extraplanar pub the party met a knight in antique armor and a horned helmet claiming to be a human paladin of a long-dead god. This knight, who claimed to be called ‘Yew Mann’, joined the party as they went hopping between planes (which actually consisted of our group playing a bunch of oneshots of other tabletop games using our characters) looking for a way back home. When the party got suspicious about Yew’s refusal to remove her armor with anyone else around, it was eventually revealed that she was not, in fact, a human paladin. She was actually a young Rakshasa sorcerer from the Demonic Plane named Saoirse who fled to the inter-planar pub after her lover, a female Tiefling, disappeared under mysterious circumstances. She took on the form of her lover to appear less obviously demonic, and at the pub she made friends with an old paladin who came from the Material Plane at a time hundreds of years before the present. After hearing his tales about humanity and the paladins and their heroism, she desired to live as a hero in the Material Plane herself. She received the old paladin’s armor and spear with the intention of disguising herself as a human once she figured out a way to get to the Material Plane (which, of course, is when the party arrived....)      She told all of this to Cree, the Theroubrian Empress, in confidence, and in return Cree started to convince her to accept herself. Their friendship would eventually save the human Paladin Corps from a Theroubrian attack, as Yew pleaded with Cree to call off their mind-dominated Terrasque (again, a long story). After the Theroubrians retreated, Yew decided to leave the party so that she could serve on the Theroubrian council and act as a sort of moral compass for Cree and the Emperor.

*Ewan Saxton - Gay      Real name Ewan Uroven, he was Ramiel’s younger brother and was forced to hide his familial ties (and his heritage, as a Tiefling) in order to be accepted into the Paladin Corps’s college of magic. At first Ewan struggled to adapt to his new environment and at learning how to harness his magic, but a boy his age named Tomar began to help him. While Ewan struggled with most schools of magic, with the help of Tomar he found that he excelled at Abjuration and made it his goal to become a great antimagic wizard. Ewan only got so far as to share a kiss with Tomar before his relationship with Ramiel (younger sibling of an enemy general) was discovered and he was forced to flee the Paladin Corps capitol with the party. During his time with the party there was an attack on the Paladin Corps in which the mage college destroyed, leaving Ewan uncertain about the status of his boyfriend (our campain went unfinished shortly after this). *F.E.I. - Bisexual/Trans*      Born under a different name, FEI was the youngest of six children of a Kenku adventurer-hero and a former petty criminal. She wasn’t the most well-behaved kid, and she took her affluent childhood for granted up until the day that her mother took ill and died soon after. FEI’s father, who could never quite leave his criminal behavior in the past, stole all of her mother’s fortune and abandoned his children, forcing the six of them into becoming criminals themselves in order to fend for themselves. This tragedy drove FEI down a dark path, until she fell in love with a girl who taught her that she had to live her life to the fullest. This, along with her mother’s dying encouragement to be truer to herself, drove FEI to leave her home behind and start anew, living as a woman for the first time in her life in a new city and with a new name.      Initially she intended to leave her criminal past behind her, and despite predjudices against Kenku she managed to join the local city guard. However, her shame and self-loathing still remained in the back of her head, a lack of self-worth which, like most Kenku, she felt could only be medicated by the accumulation of wealth. Thus, despite her desire to leave that life behind, she fell into a gang of Kenku criminals called the Blackbirds. FEI currently works as a corrupt mole within the city guard, though perhaps the appearance of a group of dangerous assholes within her city might push her into abandoning her criminal activity for good and finally follow in her mother’s footsteps. And that’s it for the LGBT+ characters! The canonical ones, at least. I have a handful of others, all of whom (aside from one) I really only played for a couple of sessions and didn’t get much of a chance to delve into their stories. But in the spirit of D&D Pride, fuck it, let’s queer them up too. *Ernbrecht Stonefist - Asexual       A Dwarven druid of the stone and the middle son of a noble family. He adhered to a strict set of rules and guidelines while essentially serving as his family’s “eyes” to the world outside of the Dwarves’s island. My very first character of my first serious D&D group, he didn’t remain with the group for very long (because he wasn’t very interesting/fun to play with a brand new party). Glad not to have the burden of the expectation to produce heirs, since he won’t be gettin it on with anyone anytime soon.

*Sirocco - Aromantic/Agender       A half-Giant cleric of Varuna, god of the celestial seas. Varuna whispered to Sirocco and told them to baptize the world, that all may join Varuna in the celestial seas beyond the planes. In reality, Sirocco was a cleric of the water and madness domains, and Varuna was actually just some demi-fiend fuckin with them and making them drown people in their Bag of Holding, which was filled with water (the DM let me get away with this because he thought it was hilarious). Didn’t get a chance to play them long (campaign got interrupted by summer break), but they were a lot of fun. Their crowning achievement was single-handedly digging out and creating a river, building a village alongside it, and starting a cult (all of which was constructed above another player’s lich dungeon. Long story). Doesn’t care for romance, too busy being a vessel for their god.

*Weone Harksted - Gay      Literally only played as her once, so I don’t even really remember what I was going for. She was a Dwarf cleric of light and I’d interpreted that as being a “sun mage” or something. She was an avid scholar and had some horrible ancient secret book and was more than prepared to destroy a civilization to get to the bottom of that mystery. Also, she likes girls now. 

*Musca - Bisexual      Ah, Musca. My big, beautiful Gnollish bard. Such a kind heart. Such an indomitable spirit. Also, he swings both ways. I’ll find a group that will let me play as you one day.

[niklas19b9150883-blog]

Christianity.

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[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 22: Cleansing Grimfire

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Coven Elders deal with the consequences of their actions. Taylor and Elric participate in a father-son activity. The Council takes some responsibility.

[READ IT ON AO3]

The bloodwraith’s neck cranes back at an unnatural angle and it howls to the wind, bloodstained talons reaching out and forward; compelled to attack.

His breath catches in his throat and Taylor squeezes his eyes shut. He braces himself—

For the pain that never comes. The icy grasp of a fate worse than death that he still can only imagine; still must only imagine.

Peeks a tentative eye open to the sight of Cassiopeia’s severed hand stretched out in Vera’s quivering grasp.

A firsthand witness to how the small and humble sparks in Vera’s breast ignite into a blaze that consumes her soul.

“You will not.”

The entire Garden watches in bated awe as the wraith obeys. Hovers back far enough where Taylor can breathe without the scent of rancid flesh in his mouth.

Oh he’s still scared shitless — and rightly so. But just like he can feel the bad things hovering in an aura around them so too can he feel the good.

And the sudden rush of adrenaline, defiance, bravery in Vera is incredible.

The Elders are still together, still united, but their understanding is unmistakable. They know whose hand Vera wields. They realize what has changed with its discovery.

The only thing that hasn’t settled in to their collective hive mind is that it’s over.

“You killed Cassiopeia because she was the necromancer — she was the one in control of whatever creature she summoned and you needed that control to be yours and yours alone. You didn’t realize that you screwed yourselves.”

“‘Cause they were busy screwin’ everyone else,” huffs Nik behind him.

Millet has gone pale, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced against her almost skeletal pallor. “Her body became a totem.” Is that a hint of resignation in her tone? Or maybe just wishful thinking.

“Specifically her hand,” Cadence confirms with a nod, “like the trophies Reimonenq kept in his mortal life. If you had conjured up any random malevolent soul instead of going for sick, twisted irony maybe it would have been different but…”

“But she who holds the Hand holds the power.”

There was a lot about the plan that had been left up in the air. When, or if, the Coven Elders would even arrive. If they would summon the wraith immediately or attack in some other form. If there was even the smallest chance they could be convinced to stop the needless violence; their grab for power stayed in favor of the cooperation that should have happened in the first place.

But the one thing they had all been forced to agree upon was the one thing no one wanted to think about.

They had the totem, now what?

An eye for an eye was the most logical, solved the most problems. But then how were they any better than the Elders?

They may have been forced to agree but that didn’t mean it was without argument.

Cadence had been the last one to exit the underground tomb, his gruesome work finally done. Cassiopeia’s hand had been wrapped in Cal’s flannel and held out between them all as an unholy relic.

It made sense for Nik to take it — for a Nighthunter to be the one to make the final blow whatever that blow may entail.

Instead he held it out to Vera; insisted she take it. “You’re the one who’s suffered the most here. He’s your kin.” And polite Vera, kind Vera; Vera who had been tangled up in this out of fear and a desire to save Kristin and had resigned herself to suffering a curse she could never lift, took the bloodied bundle and made her peace with accepting the burden.

Never said what she planned on doing — it was just assumed she’d send the creature after the Elders; wield the totem the way a hero wields a sword to deal the dragon a final blow.

Maybe it was something Vera didn’t know herself. Couldn’t know until she was in the moment and had to make the choice before hesitation was their undoing.

Well they’re in that moment now. Taylor watches her square her shoulders, her bare hands grasping real flesh for only the second time in her entire life, and knows she’s chosen.

The wind rustles her curls silently as Vera holds out the severed hand in offering to the bloodwraith.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” The words come out of Daniels’ mouth but they don’t sound like her at all — there’s no restraint in her fear now.

Vera doesn’t deign the woman worth an answer. Just watches, waits for the creature to move. But even it doesn’t seem to understand what her intentions are.

Vion sneers — but even that wavers. “Foolish mortal child. If you wish to live you will keep that thing away from its totem.”

“I won’t do it —” —she whips around to Taylor behind her, tears stinging where they well at her eyes— “— I can’t do it, Tay. I can’t kill them.”

She can’t. If she does, she’s no better than they are. She’s the monster her mother is, the monster her ancestor is. Whether it’s true or not it’s how she feels so he feels it too.

“Baby girl if there was ever a time to grow a spine… now’s it.”

Vera stares over his shoulder to her mother’s wavering figure straining down the garden path.

They knew taking her out of the hospital was a necessary evil. She was the wraith’s last true victim. Her presence made some of the uncertainties of the plan less so because they knew it would come to finish what it started. But the fight, rushing her out of the fray; it’s proving to be too much. Ashen-faced and every muscle in her body screaming let me rest but she doesn’t.

Lady Smoke does not run from her enemies.

“Momma…”

Yet even with everything they’ve been through, despite her daughter refusing to leave her hospital bedside, there’s the furrow of command in her hardened face. She looks at Vera in the same way she had back at her club. Not a mother; a mob boss.

“Tonya, don’t —” Katherine tries to stay her advance but she’s shrugged off; hand batted away like a bothersome fly.

“Your whole life you’ve been runnin’ from who you are, Vera Claire. I shouldn’t have indulged it, that’s my sin to bear; lettin’ you make yourself weak. But now there’s lives at stake, includin’ your own. Maybe you still ain’t got the sense to use your gift for me but would you forgive yourself if your weakness killed everyone else?”

Vera can’t believe it. Frankly neither can anyone else. “What — Momma, stop. Why’re you doin’ this now of all times?”

“Because you’ve always been too stubborn to see what needs to be done!”

“No one else needs to die!”

“Then they’ll kill you first!”

“I won’t do it, goddammit —” if Smoke thought scolding her daughter would shame her into acting she has another thing coming, every word pulls Vera back from the murderous edge, “— I won’t be you! I refuse! I refused then and I refuse now!”

Vera’s voice cracks and the dam breaks; tears down her cheeks with the hovering shadow of pure evil behind her and a lifetime of rage and loathing coming out at the wrong moment but it wasn’t she who chose to rip open these old wounds now — so why should she have any mercy, any sympathy for the frail woman who did this to herself.

“We were both here that night. But it went after you — and if you weren’t so obsessed with gettin’ back your damn Touch you’d realize why that is. I won’t do it. I won’t take a life, even like this. I won’t be you — I won’t be a monster.”

And it’s final this time; when she turns away from her mother to face her decision right in the bloodstained face. “Derek Reimonenq was a monster too. I won’t use him and I won’t become him to get what I want. I know there’s another way.”

“You know nothing of the craft,” all of Daniels’ malice shoved into one last push; one last attempt. Her hands twitch at her side but the witch knows better than to act. Acting runs the risk of losing the totem holding the bloodwraith bound — or the wraith itself.

All her power and all the misery she’s orchestrated up to now and she’s reduced to nothing but words. Words that cause Vera to look up at her with pity. The ultimate insult.

Taylor sucks in a breath as she takes a step closer to the creature; can’t help himself even though he trusts her. Trusts she knows what she’s doing and believes in the path she’s taking.

So he has to believe in her, too. Their lives depend on it.

“I know the misery it’s brought. And I know I won’t have a hand in it anymore.” On silent command the bloodwraith opens its ghoulish talons held aloft. And with all of her fear and grief and anger put aside Vera lays the dead witch’s token upon them.

The skin fades sickly pale and bloodless veins spread black and ruinous. A horrific sight not unfamiliar — and Taylor knows in a part of him that’s still tied to the grief of Cassiopeia’s misplaced trust that the unknown magics preserving her body in the tomb lift and allow her to finally rest.

Even accepting the reality that there was a tortured soul powering the bloodwraith like Satan’s battery — he still couldn’t think of it as something with thoughts; something beyond a mindless killing entity. Which probably explains the weird feeling that comes with watching the creature as it looks down at the totem with a curiosity that could almost be called human.

Behind it the Elders close even tighter ranks. He’s not entirely certain they shouldn’t be doing the same.

Then, like all living things the wraith crosses, the hand begins to wither. Flesh pulled taut against skeletal fingers before eating away at itself the way maggots do; reveals the muscles underneath and the tissue between bones until those desiccate too. Until all that’s left are pale off-white bones that fall in little thunk-thunks to the dirt at its… levitating burial wrappings.

Uncertainty hangs over their heads crisp and icy, prickles like needles at Taylor’s skin and tries to choke him from the inside with every breath.

Now what?

The witches strike first. Try to get the jump on the bloodwraith while its back is still turned with three right hands extended and three burning spheres of fire brought together in Daniels’ power and sent hurtling forward.

Like that’ll make a difference.

The blaze collides against the creature’s spine and even manages to set a few tattered edges of it’s billowing wraps alight. But fire is like all things; needs oxygen to breathe and live. And nothing lives that close to the wraith’s existence. Cassiopeia’s hand proved that.

What would have happened if they’d done nothing; if they had fled, or held their breaths and stayed very still? Would they have been spared? Would Reimonenq’s soul take its newfound freedom and flee beyond the Veil?

It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Because they act — they lash out first. So technically there’s nothing against the retaliation coming.

Maybe if they’d kept Cassiopeia alive she could have banished it before the slaughter.

And it is.

The ghastly, gleeful grin Taylor swears he can see twisted back upon its lips will haunt him for some time; whether it’s really there or not.

The bloodwraith makes quick work of the ones who bound it to bone. It may have enjoyed the hunt every other time before but this — this it has been waiting for from the moment it was birthed in blackness and greed. Taking no time to savor their screams.

Not that the Elders go quietly — each new barrage of magic changes the air pressure and makes Taylor’s eyes swim dizzy and confused. They send spell after spell and chant after chant at the bloodwraith’s face, it’s torso, the space between it and the ground. They try to swallow it up with a tear in reality, send blood from their open veins to slake its thirst; things magic might not even be capable of but are made real in those desperate last moments.

As if the universe, the forces Beyond, the things that bind The Fate in rules against intervention give the witches all the power their mortal bodies can hold. In the same way a death row inmate is given a feast for his last meal.

The wraith’s tainted touch is too good for them. Keeps them whole, maybe even alive long enough to continue toying with. It can’t have that.

So it plunges through Millet’s abdomen bodily. Cleaves her in two uneven pieces and the rest of her splattered on the stone wall at her back. The viscera is dark, almost black against the bleach-white bones that emerge like a butterfly that could only come from the mind of H.G. Wells.

Vion’s cloudy eyes are plucked from his skull with veins and nerves snapping like taut strings. His mortal mouth isn’t wide enough to fit the wraith’s claw until it is — but only after flashing the onlookers with the bottom half of the smile he never learned how to give. Like scooping stew out of the pot with knives his organs come out mangled, misshapen.

The smell is awful and Taylor wants to look away but he doesn’t. Forces himself to watch each new torture and indignity those husks are subjected to. Because they are husks now. There’s no way anyone could be alive after that.

Even when he feels Nik’s tension closer than before and a hand inches its way up to the corner of his eye he brushes it aside. “You shouldn’ have to see this,” the Nighthunter whispers. And he’s right. He shouldn’t have to.

But the Coven Elders only have themselves to blame for that. They were the ones who pulled him into the dark and horrible. “I will anyway;” his equally voiceless reply.

And then there’s Elder Daniels. Made to watch the evisceration and mutilation of her kin. The last witches to fall to The Bloody Hand. That’s her fault, too.

It backs her into the Millet-strewn wall but she does not cower. It rakes talons through her throat her gut her four limbs but she does not scream. It hovers in the air over the pile of her it created but she does not look away — eyes brighter in death than they ever were in life.

The hardest part comes after. Waves of nausea and anguish and the taste of blood at the back of his throat that leave him shaking, crying even though he knows there was no other way — that someone had to die. It takes time but the feelings and all their overwhelming wrath do fade.

Belatedly he realizes — the last of the Coven Elders, those tiny wisps of purpose and ill, have left this world.

The fallout of them remains.

The bloodwraith hovers there among its finest work. Takes them in maw dripping blood and tissue stained red and reeking of death and righteous revenge — but still, silent as the grave.

Without tether or ruling hand there is nothing left inside its hollow ribs. Its great work is done.

Elric is the first to speak, voice cracked from exhaustion, and Taylor isn’t the only one who jumps slightly at the broken silence.

“We must destroy the creature before its nature overpowers the echoes of its former self.” Not that he has to tell anyone twice.

“Think it’ll sit still long enough fer us to put it through a woodchipper?” Kristof isn’t joking.

But Elric shakes his head; doesn’t humor even outlandish ideas. “I… do not know.”

Katherine favors her left side as she hobbles close enough for Ryder to prop her up. “We could pursue another necromancer — but the odds of one being close enough to get here in time…”

“An’ I definitely don’ have enough arrows to banish it to the Veil.”

“So we’re fucked?”

“Every passing moment deteriorates its complacency. It will go rabid.”

“If we had the totem —”

“— the Elders would still be alive, so stop lookin’ at me like that mother.”

Through the din of arguments and ideas tossed forward and debunked Taylor sees their guest again. Watches as The Fate holds his gaze then looks out, slow and with purpose. Over the grass and gravel stained black that now shines like glass under the revealing moonlight.

The stars shine much the same but the trails left by Elric and Garrus’ valiant effort in cornering the witches are a different beauty. Something ethereal and as bright as it is dark. Scorched trails of obsidian creating beauty in destruction.

With all the weird and cryptic help they keep giving, he’s gonna need to get The Fate a fruit basket delivered or something.

“Do you have enough strength to do it one more time?”

Elric looks at him with a furrowed confusion — takes a moment to understand before he withers further. “I worry not even Garrus’ aid will be enough to burn the beast. Not alone.”

Taylor’s heart sinks, but Nik catches it before it gets too low.

“So help ‘em out, Rook.”

“Me?”

“You did it before.”

“Yeah but not on purpose.”

“So get Elric to channel it to you again.”

Then his father is at his side with pale palm turned up in offering. “You are not the same person you were then. You may not need my help.”

Everyone’s stopped arguing now; listening intently. Talk about stage fright.

“Yeah I — I don’t think so. The other fae, the ones inside…”

“Not all of us have the touch to do such wonders.”

And isn’t that just great. “Obviously. Why would it ever be easy?”

He throws a look to Garrus, still half-caught in Krom’s arms though looking far less on the verge of unconsciousness. Not that Krom worries over him any less. They catch him looking and their smiles are matched; happy, relieved, sheepish. Makes Taylor have the just-barely resistible urge to shake his head and say “those crazy kids.”

What’s the use arguing at this point?

“Okay. I mean — however I can help.”

Of course the stone troll is reluctant to let Garrus go, takes more than a fair bit of coaxing from Ivy but he does. “I haven’t stretched these muscles in a century,” comes the anticipated complaint, “and now you have me conjuring twice in one evening?” But Garrus doesn’t hesitate as he takes his position back up.

Elric directs Taylor nearest Isadora; doesn’t argue when Nik follows like an extension of him.

“I’ll be okay.” Not that he doesn’t appreciate the support.

“I know —” then, after a beat, “— still. Don’t have to leave you, so I won’t.”

A hush falls with the fae men in their positions. The outcast, the Lord, and the halfling in a triangle around the dormant wraith.

He knows he shouldn’t but that’s never stopped Taylor before. Cautiously reaches out with that feeling inside and tries, more out of curiosity than anything, to search for anything that remains of Reimonenq within its cursed bones.

But he’s just met with a void. Blacker than black — no revenge, no vendetta to carry out; nothing at all.

So he pulls it back… and feels the faint whisper of death like velvet on his cheek.

It’s as ready as they are for all this to be done with.

Not that he was expecting a lesson on a chalkboard or anything — Conjuring Grimfire 101 — but there’s a distinct lack of any kind of instruction that leaves Taylor more than a little lacking. Has him looking back and forth to mirror the men in everything he can see.

One minute the uncertainty is there; building inside of him a threatening mass of the unknown — and then it isn’t.

It’s just gone.

Whatever takes its place—not confidence, not quite—is enough, somehow. He knows it’s enough.

Looking down Taylor isn’t surprised to see wisps of black flame licking at his palms. Both enveloped and not, but not a burn in sight and so so beautiful.

It doesn’t take much. Barely even a gesture but moreso the power to let the grimflames take to the world beyond him.

Taylor, Garrus, Elric — they aren’t three people and three flames anymore. They’re one in the same; send their combined will forward. Rushing, racing on still winds lapping and hissing at one another until they seek home in the only thing they can.

A column of midnight fire erupts towards the sky as the bloodwraith is consumed. The last of its flesh, the tendrils of cloth, the thrice-burned bones engulfed in a fire that bathes the entire garden in light.

Taylor prepares himself — muscle memory — for a stinging wave of heat that never comes. And the sight is as captivating as it is terrible, as magical as it is destructive. Colors without names taking the wraith’s shape within the black — aberrant and awe-some.

Higher and higher the grimfire clamors for the abyss; seeks home in a darkness just as endless. The colors within grow to a blinding brightness as, within, the creature is devoured.

The Council of New Orleans watches as one. Blooded and bruised and alive. Shadows of light in lashes across every face like a ritual of cleansing.

Cadence shoulders the combined weights of Kathy and Cal; holds them up with tears in his eyes.

As Kristof watches, jaw slack, Octavia lumbers up to him with blood-matted fur and noses at his palm, turns a golden gaze up to the place where the fire and the heavens meet. Even Isadora finds herself held captive by the sight.

Vera’s hands cup her elbows, the glowing shadows catching on her curls and every teardrop that collects at her chin. Behind her Tonya stands shrouded in the dark of her daughter’s figure. The only one focused on something else.

But it makes sense. Don’t ask him how but it does. It isn’t just the bloodwraith that is forced to make peace in the fae fire’s glow. It shines on all of them and chases away every shadow left in the chambers of their hearts. Leaves within Taylor a feeling of profound peace; of understanding.

From tip to temple the remnants of the bloodwraith scatter upwards, rainbow embers scattering to every corner of the city — further even.

Upturned palms slowly close with curled-in fingers; Garrus, then Elric. Elric who looks at his son with pride to which nothing can compare. Taylor almost doesn’t want to let it go. Wants to let it build and stay in this beautiful monument to everything… everything.

Instead he closes his hands and snuffs out the light.

The curtains close.

Cade pulls away gasping; covers his mouth with the back of his hand with something akin to shame burned into his red eyes. Katherine gives him time; lets the vampire come back to himself with her bare arm still offered; just in case.

It isn’t lost on Taylor — or anyone, really — that the huntress was content to push half a wine glass of her blood towards Isadora de la Rosa. That the vein was a luxury only Cadence was allowed.

Cadence who holds her arm gingerly as he smears blood from his nicked thumb along the skin and lets it heal.

All around them the Mardi Gras decorations still shimmer with delight. Enticing them to forget their worries and relax; to enjoy themselves in a way they might finally be allowed, now. But the night isn’t done yet. Neither are they, no matter how much they might wish otherwise.

Two ashtrays pass between hands. Inside; a thin layer of blood shared among them like a church sacrament. The unspoken rule — take just enough to heal your wounds, because the likelihood that either vampire was willing to part with more than they could afford was slim.

And he cares about the rest of his friends — he does. He’s glad to see the bruises fading from Kathy’s ribs where her shirt is hitched up; to see Cal testing the motion of his arm where Octavia had helped relocate his shoulder. He’s glad — yet it doesn’t stop him from devoting the majority of his attention to Nik.

“No physical signs of a concussion,” mumbles Cade through his careful examination of the man’s pupils; flashes the mini-light from Taylor’s keys between them just in case, “and as any possible wounds would be internal there isn’t much my blood can do that it wouldn’t have done already.”

But Ryder will only humor them for so long. The frustration is already starting to tick in his brow. “Cool, then will you lay off?”

“Nik —”

“I’m fine Rook, see?” He gestures with arms spread wide and what is that supposed to prove? Can anyone blame him for worrying? Would anyone dare to try?

No, not like this. Not when the events of the night still hang over those gathered like an anvil on a very thin rope. Only when it drops it won’t be for comedic effect.

All they need is someone to cut the cord.

Good thing Nik Ryder has never been one to sugarcoat anything. Or hold his tongue for that matter.

“They weren’t wrong, you know, the Coven Elders.”

Which is so the wrong thing to say and gets a couple hundred pounds of angry sweaty werewolf in his face, growling; “The fuck’d you just say, Ryder?”

Even Isadora’s disapproval isn’t so easily contained. “Poor taste, Nighthunter.”

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Looks Kristof square in the eyes with a matching frown and a set jaw.

“You could ignore it before, but you sure can’t now. Things around here have gotten way outta hand. Each one’a you only cared about what was right under your noses. I ain’t sayin’ they went about it the right way but to walk outta here with nothing changed would be almost just as bad.”

That he doesn’t end up with a broken jaw is surprising on its own. When Kristof actually steps back as if to listen? Well Hell went straight from frozen over to a winter wonderland.

“Continue,” prompts Elric then, since no one else is willing to offer the floor to him. Why would they? Who wants to be told everything they’ve done wrong? Especially when it leads to… well.

“I didn’ think about the state of things until I saw what was goin’ on inside Persephone. Told myself it wasn’t any of my business —”

“— which it is not,” Tonya interrupts, and meets the glare Vera snaps at her with a hard set to her jaw. “Nighthunters have always been a complicated party. No allegiances, no code of conduct but their own. And now this one wishes to dictate to us all of the things we are at fault for as though he stands on some sort of higher ground?”

Vera just shakes her head, dislike rotting into distaste on her tongue.

“Unbelievable. You still don’t think you have any blame to take in any of this.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to keep this city safe?”

“Oh I’m well aware, mother,” the words lash out on the tip of her tongue; make Tonya recoil however slight. “In fact — that, that right there — that’s half the problem here! That’s exactly what Ryder’s talking about. You stand there actin’ like a martyr when all you’ve done—all you’ve really done—is bully, bribe, and threaten your way into power. How long do you think it’ll keep now?”

She’s no longer the woman who went running at the smallest sign of danger. It’s a thing to behold, really.

And Vera isn’t the only one. Even with all of his huffing and puffing Cal steps up and looks Kristof square in the eyes. There’s a set to his jaw and his eye is still a little purple but hell if he’s backing down now.

“Now don’t you go makin’ trouble for yerself, pup,” his kin warns, but what else could he possibly lose that he hasn’t already?

“Anyone who disagrees with you makes trouble.”

“Yeah, and?”

The younger wolf’s joints pop and crack as he cranes his neck from side to side. Both of them rearing to go even after everything.

“That’s no way to lead a pack.”

Kristof snorts through a cherry-red face. “An’ I take it you’ve got a lotta thoughts you been holdin’ in.”

“You could say that.”

“Until you’re an Alpha I don’t think you’ve got much of a say.”

“He may not, but I’ve a few thoughts, cher.”

There’s a very Et tu, Brute? vibe in how Octavia places herself in the familiar space between the argument. Back then and here in the now Octavia remains a voice of reason to compensate for the one her Alpha just doesn’t seem to have been born with.

His nostrils flare. “Tavvy…”

“I ain’t sayin’ the pup’s right, but you an’ I both know he’s got a point. Things have been good for us, Kristof. Good for the pack.”

“Yeah, why the hell d’you think that is?!”

“I’m not sayin’ you ain’t sacrificed to keep us goin’. An’ I’ve backed you up on every single thing to date. But Kristof Jensen so help me if you raise your voice at me again I will whoop your furry behind to kingdom come and that’s a promise.”

The Alpha and his Beta square off, eye to eye. She commands the space around her despite behind several heads shorter than him. Being part of a pack means something deeper than most can understand and it radiates out from them in viscous tension.

He’s an Alpha; he can’t back down. But she’s his partner — so she won’t.

And Cal, who can’t tell if he has the other wolf on his side or just not on Kristof’s, refuses to let himself be pushed out of the conversation.

“Uncle,” one word that snaps all attention back to him, “you picked up the pack when we needed it most. You know they’re grateful — you know I’m grateful —” and there’s something hidden unspoken in Cal’s words, something from before all this but can’t be held back any longer, “— you were the Alpha they needed when I couldn’t be.

“But the pack can’t be more important than the community it’s part of. You can’t pull away from the rest of New Orleans and call it keeping everyone safe. Not when it leads to shit like this.”

There’s so many emotions and reactions twisting on the Alpha’s scarred face; Taylor doesn’t even attempt to reach out to feel them for fear of empathy whiplash.

So he’s just as surprised as everyone — Cal and Octavia included — when the wolf deflates; sags his shoulders and reaches out for the Beta to find a home crooked under the weight of his arm.

“Now ain’t the time to get into the nitty-gritty.”

Before Cal can object, Octavia squares him away with a single glance. Maybe not now, but soon. And that’s more than before, so he’ll take it.

To everyone’s surprise Isadora steps forward with a steely eye.

“My father was no saint. Since inheriting his seat and estate I have come upon a number of… gruesome things; things he was content to keep from me, and no doubt from the rest of the Council.”

If anyone notices the way her eyes flick to Cadence, they don’t mention it. “But I think that is the point Ryder makes; we, this Council, are supposed to be the ones making decisions for the betterment of this proud city. Instead we have burrowed our heads in the sand, contented ourselves with turning a blind eye to one another’s wrongdoings lest our own come to light.

“We cannot continue like this. The Council will not survive it. New Orleans will not survive it.”

Murmurs of agreement echo throughout the foyer; Elric stands.

“We are tired; we are battle-worn. Yet we have ignored our obligations to the city for long enough I think. If we are to be the ones to bring about a positive change then the time to act is now.”

“Now?” asks Tonya in protest, “don’t you think we should postpone this — at least until Mardi Gras has settled?”

Nik drags two stools forward. Taylor takes the hint and he isn’t the only one — Krom and Ivy join him in grabbing chairs and other seats until everyone has a place to get comfortable.

“No time like the present.”

[harrypotterfirsttime]

JK Rowling’s essay about why she’s a TERF: Full Overview

Be forewarned, this is going to be LONG. I started reading the Goblet of Fire today and saw that JK Rowling has written and posted an ESSAY about why she’s speaking out about her blatant transphobia. I never intended for this blog to be about her, but since this is happening while I am attempting to read the series for the first time, I feel compelled to address it.

“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.”

I cannot fathom how she believed this would be a good idea and not add to the toxicity surrounding this issue. During pride month. When Black Lives Matter is protesting for equal rights. How is this necessary?

“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.”

First of all, Maya didn’t lose her job. Her contract was simply not renewed by her workplace, something that she was not entitled to under any law. JK Rowling also continues to falsely assert that Maya’s belief was that ‘sex is determined biology’, when she actually asserted that under no circumstances is a trans woman a woman nor a trans man a man, and the judge ruled that it did not fit all five necessary limbs to be a philosophical belief (it actually only failed the last one). The judge ruled that the ‘under no circumstances’ part of her assertion was absolutist, and that is what ultimately failed the fifth limb. [source]

“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.”

Not much to say here, except that this paragraph is meant to tell us that she’s considered including this debate in a fictional book she’s writing for some reason, and that she has allegedly had time to talk to all of these extremely knowledgeable people who all failed to inform her that trans people don’t actually hurt her or take anything from her.

“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.”

First off, this goes against the statement a spokesperson made for her when this happened, stating that she had a ‘clumsy middle-aged moment’ and liked the tweet by ‘holding her phone incorrectly’. The tweet she liked also had no content that she could research, it was a baseless claim that men in dresses get more solidarity than cis women (which I won’t even dive into, we have so much more to cover). [source] I also won’t dive into the use of ‘wrongthink’ as if we are all characters in George Orwell’s 1984, simply because nobody is controlling her speech, she is simply facing consequences for the shit she chooses to fling at the wall.

“Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Burns 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.”

Just take a moment to laugh at the fact that she misspelled Magdalen Berns’ last name. But to clear things up, yes, Magdalen was suffering from a fatal aggressive brain tumour, but no, she was not a brave young feminist, she was an extremely outspoken transphobe, who regularly made videos misgendering, slandering, and twisting the words of trans people and trans activists in order to victimize herself. The vast majority of trans people will agree that you shouldn’t date anybody that you don’t want to date, or have any kind of sex with anyone that you don’t like. But Magdalen took it a step further, and said that NO lesbian could have sex with somebody with a penis and still be a lesbian, and NO lesbian could have a penis, despite trans lesbians continuing to exist to this very day. [for sources, Magdalen’s twitter and youtube channel remain active]

“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.”

Can we salute the man who decided to tell JK Rowling that he composted her books, because that’s absolutely hilarious. But really, I just want to point out that no matter how many threats of violence JK Rowling thinks she is getting, transgender people are subjected to much more abuse both online and in real life, and it affects their wellbeing much more directly than simply being called a cunt or a bitch on twitter. [source] While JK Rowling thankfully isn’t killing trans people, she’s disappointing so many of her LGBT+ fans who looked up to her and found comfort during their childhood in her books that encouraged people to be brave and be themselves.

“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’ll tackle this paragraph from top to bottom. Firstly, the reason you believe the overwhemling majority of people supported you is because many of those who don’t (myself included, until now) simply rolled their eyes and ignored you, because you are not worth our time. We have lives to live that are unconcerned with your bigotry. Second, I hope those people who were working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people have since left their jobs, because they have no business serving a community who they secretly harbour unsupportive ideologies about. And finally, the idea of supporting and helping trans people (specifically trans youth) is DANGEROUS to young people, gay people, and women’s and girls’ rights is simply false. No women’s rights have been repealed in favour of trans people’s rights (mainly because trans women continue to shockingly be women). In fact, trans youth with parents who are very supportive and affirming show a statistically significantly lower rate of both depressive symptoms and suicide attempts. [source] [specific graph]

“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.”

I can completely understand taking a step back from Twitter for mental health reasons (perhaps we all would have been better off if this had been an indefinite hiatus). To be clear, no activists are claiming the right to police your speech. People are speaking up against your speech because it is hateful and contradictory to current research about transgender people and the best way to treat and support us effectively. Some people maybe using misogynistic slurs, which I don’t condone, but let us be clear that TERF is not one of them.

“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.”

The first two sentences in this paragraph are true. Viv Smythe, a trans inclusive cis radfem, is credited with coining the term TERF to describe her fellow radical feminists who are ‘unwilling to recognize trans women as sisters’. It has also become widely used to describe feminists who exclude trans women from their feminism, even if they are not radfems. [source] I don’t care about who has been called a TERF, all I need to know is that they are transphobes, which they should feel equally disgusted at the fact their behaviour warrants the label. Trans men do not want to be included in radical feminism because we were ‘born women’, and JK Rowling including this as if it is an excuse is appalling. Trans men are not women, therefore we do not appreciate radfems claiming to support us based on their obsession with what genitals we were born with.

“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).”

I cringed hard at ‘speaking as a biological woman’, because that’s just the kind of language that TERFs consistently use to make it clear that they are NOT under any circumstances to be mistaken for trans. The notion that these people, institutions and organizations are ‘cowering’ out of fear of being transphobic as opposed to wanting to openly support and welcome trans people as they would any other person is extremely biased. And as a last note, people using clownfish are trying to show that sex is noy cut and dry binary, it varies between species, and there is so much more to it than ‘XX vs XY’ and ‘penis vs vagina’ like JK Rowling and company seem to think.

“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.”

I don’t think anyone will argue that JK Rowling’s charitable trusts and funds are a bad thing. But her need to specify that these have an ‘emphasis on women and children’, imply that survivors of domestic and sexual abuse cannot be men or trans people, and for some reason pointing out that MS can present differently in men and women, are all red flags that these are issues she’s injecting into her charitable efforts, as opposed to actual threats to the causes she supports. The fear that transphobes have over people being classified by the gender they experience and walk through life presenting with instead of the genitals they have underneath a few layers of clothes is ridiculous, especially when you strip it down like this.

“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 movement to secure equal rights and protection under the law for transgender people will not have a negative effect on children or education, other than allowing kids to learn more about the diversity among people they’ll interact with throughout their lives. And once again, nobody is trying to tell you that you cannot say these things, only that you will face consequences for saying them, like Donald Trump does daily. Trans people and activists don’t even have the power to affect the right to freedom of speech, so this is a moot point.

“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.”

There is a lot to unpack in this paragraph. And I don’t have the room in this already much too long post to dive into detransitioning, so I’ll say this: it sucks that some people transition only to realize they shouldn’t have. But these people are a staggering minority of people who do transition, and there is no external person they can blame for believing them when they relay their symptoms (as doctors are supposed to do) and acting accordingly, with the patient’s consent. The issues I have here are the language JK Rowling uses to say young women are transitioning, purposefully misgendering trans masculine people. And implying that people are transitioning because they are gay, because their families or society push them to not be gay and instead transition, is absolutely laughable. Studies have already shown that society as a whole is much less accepting of transgender people than they are of gay people and lesbians. [source]

“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.”

There are a number of factors that could have led to such an increase in referrals, and no studies have a definitive answer, though most speculate that the increase in acceptance and visibility of trans people is likely a major contributor. [source] Additionally, I personally believe that more trans women seeked transition years ago because it was impossible to be accepted as a trans woman without fully medically transitioning, whereas trans men could get by without transitioning and simply presenting as their gender. Now that transition is more acceptable and available, trans men do not need to hold themselves back from transitioning, but unfortunately, with more visibility has come more vitriol that is specifically aimed at trans women, and this could discourage them from transitioning or coming out at all. I won’t dignify the statement about autism in afab trans people being prevalent other than saying that cis people can be autistic, trans people can be autistic, and implying that neuro-atypical people cannot make informed decisions about their bodies and healthcare is abhorrent.

“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.’”

Lisa Littman’s study can be read here. There are a multitude of issues with this study, and many big names in psychology and gender studies have spoken up about the issues in her conclusions and in the methods to begin with, which are unscientific and deeply flawed. [source] The biggest flaw, in my opinion, is that the study interviews parents of trans youth as opposed to the trans youth themselves, and takes the parents’ limited knowledge of their child’s inner thoughts and experience as fact without consulting the trans person at all. Additionally, recruitment for the study was mainly done through anti-trans organizations. All of this information is available in the original study and in the rebuttal. Because of this, I cannot take anybody who cites Lisa Littman or her study seriously, because it is not credible whatsoever.

“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.”

There are reasons clearly stated above why Lisa Littman and her work should be discredited for publishing this work and claiming it to be a study (especially because it was not published in any journal and was therefore not subjected to peer-review). Also, for argument’s sake, why do people like JK Rowling take people’s word for it when they report their sexual orientation, but not their gender? Why should one be recognized as innate, but not the other? Both can only be determined by the individual and their internal thoughts and feelings and urges and sense of self. Nobody can be persuaded to be trans any more than anyone can be persuaded to be gay, or lesbian, or bisexual.

“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.’”

I didn’t think it needed to be said, but a single psychiatrist’s experience is not representative of the entire reality. Many people misquote studies in order to make them work for their agenda. Studies show that trans people have higher suicide attempt rates, not higher rates of actually killing themselves. To insert personal experience like Marcus Evans did, I attempted suicide multiple times, and experienced high levels of depression and anxiety directly tied to my gender dysphoria, all of which has been alleviated since being allowed to medically and socially transition. There are hundreds if not thousands of other trans people who will report similar struggles to myself.

“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.”

Comparing having OCD to suffering with gender dysphoria and all the side effects it can have (many of which she listed here) is offensive. So is saying that she, too, may have transitioned, because she clearly is very comfortable as a cis woman. Trans men do not transition to escape womanhood, we transition because at our core we know we are not women and this causes us deep turmoil, on top of all the sexism and misogyny we face as a result of moving through the world being perceived as women while in the closet. Comparing the admittedly terrible experience of growing into a world riddled with sexism and misogyny to that same experience topped with multiple deeper levels of emotional turmoil is just not a comparison any cis person can make or attempt to understand, which is difficult to hear and accept for JK Rowling I’m sure. If there were online communities when JK Rowling was struggling with severe OCD, she likely would have found sympathy in other people who have OCD. The following implication (out of nowhere) that there are trans people online luring in teenagers with unrelated mental health struggles trying to ‘persuade’ them to transition is just ridiculous and I cannot believe she attempted to make this comparison.

“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.’”

More people than JK Rowling is probably aware of feel ‘mentally sexless’ in youth, because they have no crippling discomfort regarding their gender identity, and either do not feel pressure to prescribe to gender stereotypical behaviours or actively rebel against it. According to brain studies, everyone is technically a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ because there remains to be no such thing as a male brain or female brain. [source]

“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.”

Just to clarify for JK Rowling, trans men and trans women both existed in the 1980s, and long before that. If she had been a trans man, she would have been able to pursue a social or medical transition. Those trans people in the 80s also turned to books and music to get through their struggles. It has been long documented that women and girls have negative feelings towards their bodies that are mainly rooted in the misogynistic society we all have to grow up in, and it’s a battle that trans people fight to end alongside cis women. I think JK Rowling will also find that trans people are at the forefront of making it known that gender roles and stereotypes are not necessary and should not be the standard for being a man or woman; women do not need to like pink, frilly things and men do not need to like monochrome, masculine things. Trans people are also huge advocates for finding yourself and living your life in the way that is most authentic to you, without focusing on whether your body is ‘male’ or ‘female’ and fighting against stigmas surrounding that obsession.

“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.”

First of all, the number of kids who “desist” from their gender dysphoria are not reliable. Mainly because the methods in these studies are not robust (ie one study defined gender dysphoria as exhibiting any behaviour that was not typical of their gender, such as boys playing with barbies and girls playing with monster trucks; another study classified subjects that did not return to the clinic and did not follow up as desisters without confirming). [source] Additionally, studying children who do exhibit true gender dysphoria, the main factor determining whether it will persist or desist seems to be the intensity, and not at all related to peer relations. [source] Trans people wishing to transition medically may no longer need to subject themselves to extensive and unnecessary therapy to convince medical professionals that they are who they say they are, but they still need to wait on very long lists for our turn to access hormone replacement therapy and surgeries, and can spend all of that time being sure that we are indeed trans and want these medical treatments. JK Rowling is also purposefully misreporting facts in regard to Gender Recognition Certificates. In order to get one, one must be over 18, have lived as their true gender for at least 2 full years, and provide two medical reports (one from a gender specialist and another from a general practitioner) citing that they have gender dysphoria. If they have not had any medical transitional treatments, the medical reports must state whether they are waiting for them or why they are not pursuing any, in direct contradiction of JK Rowling’s assertion that any man can get this certificate. [source]

“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 find it hilarious that JK Rowling believes that 2020 is more riddled with misogyny than the 80s, and even the 90s. There is only backlash against feminism that isn’t intersectional and purposefully excludes groups of people for reasons rooted in ignorance and bigotry, like TERFs. Her personal belief that things are worse for girls are not reflected in society as a whole for a multitude of reasons. Although I’ll give that Donald Trump being president is a failure of the American people and highlights the bigotry of Americans, it is completely unrelated to trans people, and I’m not sure why it is relevant. I’d even argue the existence of incels is due to the fact that women are no longer forced into relationships and marriages the way they used to, no longer have to find a husband because they can work and live without leaning a man for financial stability, and can say no to sex with less repercussions (except a very small minority of men throwing tantrums about it). Comparing trans people fighting against TERFs and wanting to re-educate them to incels, Donald Trump, and misogynistic men is just a blatant attempt to derail the conversation. JK Rowling refuses to see that she is not being told to shut up because she’s a woman, she’s being told to shut up because there’s a transphobe. (On a lighter note, this reminds me of the post of a comic where homophobes were told to hit a beehive like its a pinata, and Christians got upset for being targetted, without Christianity ever being mentioned....seems relatable here)

“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.”

I think all trans people will admit that people with vaginas have shared experiences because, well, they have the same body part, the same way all people with arms can relate to having arms. What we are arguing though, is that womanhood is not tied to having a vagina, or the struggles that come with having one, even though those experiences may be shared by many women. Many women may also share the experience of playing with barbies or being part of a soccer league as a child, neither of which have to do with being ‘biological women’. Pushing the absurd accusations of segregation and some weird political plan, trans people don’t pretend that we’re the same as cis people. There are material differences between trans women and cis women, and between trans men and cis men. There are also material differences among cis women and cis men. Our argument is that these material differences are not a valid excuse to exclude us from being women and men.

“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.”

Trans people are not claiming that being a woman is a costume, or an idea in anyone’s head, or a pink brain or any gender stereotype. Men do not know what it is like to be a woman. I have absolutely no idea what it feels like to be a woman, because even when presenting as one, I did not feel womanhood or any kinship with other women, because I knew that on a deep level I was not a woman. But on to less personal experiences. Inclusive language shouldn’t have quotation marks around it. Those you call female people (which I call afab, or assigned female at birth) do not all identify as women, and do not all like the label female. Therefore, using inclusive language such as ‘people who menstruate’ and ‘people with vulvas’ includes all the women who have vulvas and menstruate (because not all cis women do), and also includes the people who do not identify as women or associate the word female with themselves, despite menstruating or having a vulva. This is not an attack on women, this is not the same as misogynists using these facts to degrade women. It is simply language being used in a more encompassing way that in no way harms cis women, no matter how much JK Rowling or any other transphobe tries to play victim.

“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.”

It goes without saying but obviously I am sad to learn that JK Rowling is a survivor of domestic abuse and sexual assault. It pains me to know she went through something so traumatic and that her daughter also either witnessed or experienced similar horrors. I do however have a problem with weaponizing these experiences as a reason to continue being a transphobe.

“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.”

Again, I am deeply saddened knowing that JK Rowling had experiences that caused lifelong struggles for her at the hands of someone she gave her trust to and had to endure throughout her first marriage. It is interesting that she feels she is able to sympathize with trans women who suffer similar abuses, despite her blatant disregard for trans people’s struggles on display throughout this essay.

“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.”

‘Natal girls and women’ is another transphobic dog whistle. There is a non-offensive way to say this, which I am sure if JK Rowling has done all the reading she has claimed to do, she must have stumbled upon the word ‘cisgender’ at some point. It effectively communicates the same information without alienating trans people and implying they are less than cis women. Trans women are not ‘men who believe or feel like women’, and this long standing myth that cis men will use the guise of being a trans woman to gain access to public bathrooms and changerooms has been thoroughly debunked, because trans women have been using women’s bathrooms and changerooms for years with no issues. [source] And scroll up for the claim that Gender Confirmation Certificates are given out to any man who decides to be a woman for a day above, this is just more misinformation, no ‘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.”

First of all, JK Rowling is blatantly lying. The Gender Recognition Act Reform has been completely shelved by the Scottish government in light if the more pressing need to fight the coronavirus on April 1st, and I cannot find any updates on this being considered by the government. [source] The only trans related news out of Scotland I can find is that on June 5th, the Scottish government included trans women in the definition of women in guidance for school boards, which will have none of the effects that JK Rowling is fear mongering about. [source] Again, I am upset to know that JK Rowling is a survivor, but she is using this revelation as a weapon to make people fear that it will happen to others as a result of trans people gaining access to the same public spaces as their cis counterparts. Women’s and girls’ safety is NOT being put at risk by trans people using a bathroom or changeroom.

“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.””

This is misinformation. On Saturday evening, JK Rowling took issue with inclusive language being used in an informational and medical piece about coronavirus, which is in the best interest of getting the information out to the necessary people. I would stop reading an article that said it was concerning the health of women or females, because I do not consider myself a member of either category. I have, however, menstruated in the past, and continue to have a vulva, and if an article used that language, I would continue reading, because it would concern me. She then went on to strangely imply that trans people were removing the right of gay people and lesbians to be attracted to the same sex, which has never been true, and I don’t have time to get into the same-sex vs same-gender attraction debate, nor is it relevant to her original tweet. It’s ironic that Simone de Beauvoir’s quote relates more strongly to trans people and activists fighting for liberation instead of continuing to be bound by a transphobic society.

“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 only people who have any reason to feel any negative way about what a trans activist might say to or about them is a transphobe, so I can only assume the people JK Rowling is talking about are transphobes. The following sentence is just more fear mongering about ‘woman’ being redefined to include trans women, as if that somehow invalidates cis women or puts them in any more danger than they were in before. Predators are predators regardless of the existence of trans people existing. Trans people are not, nor do we have the power to, infringe on any right to free speech or thought, but transphobes will continue to face consequences for their speech, in way of trans people and activists exercising our own freedom of speech. The assumptions made about people who are okay with trans people in single sex spaces are baseless and completely unfounded, only biased assumptions that serve JK Rowling’s personal agenda. Even if these polls are true (she offered no sources), just because public majority agree with something does not mean it is right. History has multiple examples of this.

“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.”

Again, more fear mongering, because women’s rights are not being repealed or altered by granting similar rights to trans men and trans women. I find it entertaining that JK Rowling ironically fails to see that trans people are not the loudest voice, when she has clearly been the loudest voice internationally and has gained huge amounts of attention from her words, much more than any trans person has about this subject. Gender critical people feigning concern for trans youth aren’t excusing the harm their ideology does to trans youth (one example is the idea that trans youth must wait until 18 or even 25 to transition to be sure, and not ruin their fertility or body). Then comes the idea that the ‘good trans people’ who agree with JK Rowling and gender critical feminists and TERFs are getting a bad name from the trans people who just want to be allowed to change for the gym and pee in the right changeroom or bathroom. If more cis women are becoming transphobic, it has much more to do with loud voices like JK Rowling than it does with trans people, again, just fighting for equal rights and protections under the law.

“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.”

I find it deeply troubling that JK Rowling chose this moment to come out as a survivor. It is extremely manipulative, claiming not to want sympathy, when she knows all decent people will feel hurt for her going through such experiences, and weaponizing it for her transphobic agenda. JK Rowling cannot expect empathy and understanding from any trans people or activists until she stops actively advocating and spreading ideology that directly works against the fight for equal rights and protections for trans people, that in no way infringes on the rights and protections for women. Until she stops trying to twist everything about trans rights into her own victimization, she will be stuck in the classification of transphobe, and TERF is she continues to align her views with radical feminism.