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5ummit · 4 months

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AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

#ao3 #ao3 stats #psa #my words #fandom #I doubt anyone is even going to read this but I needed to get it out of my system and at least try to stop this from spreading #if you know me #you know I get Big Mad about misinformation #don't take anything at face value #do your own research

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tybaltsjuliet · 1 year

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here's the thing about charles dickens. [discussion of his antisemitism, misogyny, and racism ahead.]

his last, unfinished novel, the mystery of edwin drood, features helena and neville landless, heroic and sympathetic south asian (sri lankan, specifically) characters, and the racism they endure in an english town is relevant to the plot to the point where neville ends up falsely accused of murder. in the wake of the indian rebellion of 1857, dickens applauded the english brutality against "that oriental race," and called for genocide.

fagin is called "the jew" 274 times in the first half of oliver twist. an article in the jewish chronicle asked why "jews alone should be excluded from the 'sympathizing heart' of this great author and powerful friend of the oppressed." at first, dickens dismissed this, and claimed he was just being accurate about london's criminal makeup. but he was moved enough by eliza davis's letters to him on the matter that he halted the printing of the latter half of oliver twist so he could change the text and remove the antisemitic language therein.

dickens was an abolitionist who despised chattel slavery in the united states, and called emancipation a "moral duty." dickens didn't think black americans were intelligent enough to vote, and he wrote an entire character in bleak house who is a joke to be disliked and mocked because she'd rather oversee charity missions to help children in africa than be a proper mother and tend to her own family at home in england.

speaking of one's own family at home in england, dickens smeared his wife, catherine hogarth, publicly so he could justify separating from her and taking up with a younger woman. catherine hogarth was likely mentally ill, likely living with postpartum depression. she was also an author in her own right and loved her family dearly. her reputation never recovered in her lifetime from the claims he made about her. in dickens's novels, time and time again, from nicholas nickleby to david copperfield to our mutual friend to the mystery of edwin drood, men who menace and take advantage of vulnerable women are portrayed as the worst kind of villains, deserving of whatever grisly ends come to them.

charles dickens was both privately and publicly a raging asshole in many ways and the world would be worse off without him, because he wrote for bourgeois, comfortable victorians, the very people who so often failed to "think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys." in the same breath that he calls agnes fleming, who opens oliver twist as an unwed mother dying in a workhouse, "weak and erring," he dares to add that "i do believe that the shade of that poor girl often hovers about that solemn nook-ay, though it is a church." he calculated jo's death to the page in bleak house for maximum effect. but when he wrote of the orphaned crossing-sweeper, "dead, your majesty. dead, my lords and gentlemen. dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order. dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. and dying thus around us every day," people listened.

i dedicated years of my life to reading him and studying him and thinking about him and writing about him and his novels. now, i turn to condemn him; now, i turn to justify him. i wish i had a time machine so i could shake his hand. i wish i had a time machine so i could publicly debate him. i wish i had a time machine so i could break his nose.

charles dickens gives me courage and hope. charles dickens makes me want to tear my goddamn hair out. he is everything i despise and everything i love about the victorian age in one; the term "a man of his time" ought to have been invented for him. the leaps and bounds the victorians made for progress in the public good are only matched in greatness by the extremity of their atrocities against their "fellow-passengers" on this earth. the way we think about nearly every modern social ill can be traced back to the 19th century; the way we think about nearly every modern idea of social justice can be traced back to the 19th century. every last one is writ large and small in dickens's novels. he and his age are the greatest contradictions in human history and that's why i can't shut up about them, ever, even when i am exhausted by them, even when i am inspired by them, even when it was two centuries ago and it shouldn't matter anymore, but it does. it always will.

#filthy victorians; they made me what i'm made of.#;swan has a word.#;the long nineteenth century.#;they who call the whole world brother.

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vhagarlovebot · 5 months

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MAKE THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS, TAKE THE MOMENT AND TASTE IT | AEMOND TARGARYEN

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU summary: in wich aemond is not afraid to make his move. very, very publicly, making the whole internet go insane. pairings: actor!aemond x singer!reader content warnings: faceclaim is sabrina carpenter but you can imagine reader as you'd like, some cursing, taylor swift/travis kelce inspired plot, use of y/n because it is necessary!! if you don’t like it, sorry. note: omg i can't believe i'm doing this, hope you enjoy this piece little piece as much as i enjoyed making it! as i say; being delulu is the solulu. and here i am feeding into all out delusions. comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! love you, mwah. 💋

TWITTER ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 13, 2023.

Liked by taylorswift, aemondtargaryen, gracieabrams and 1,221,948 others

yourusername oldtown i couldn’t love you more. had the best first night with you and we still have three more to go! thanks so much to everyone there, i couldn't do this whout you. see you tonight for round 2? 🤍

view all 9,328 comments

user1 i can't believe i couldn't be there

zendaya had the best night with u!

yourusername thank u sm for coming, love you. 💗

user2 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user3 i don't now if i wanna be her or if i wanna be with her

user4 I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT I SEE AEMOND TARGARYEN IN HER LIKES

user5 I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE AT FIRST user6 I mean he was at Oldtown night1 so... user7 HE WENT TO HER CONCERT? user8 BESTIE HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE PICS?

troyesivan see you 2night oldtown. ✌️

AEMOND TARGARYEN INTERVIEW ‣ AUG 25, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ AUG 25-26, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ SEPT 21, 2023.

Liked by jace_velaryon, therhaenatarg and 891,648 others

fairyhelaena friends and family for the weekend @ highgarden. 💚🌺🪴🍃🕊️

view all 4,778 comments

lucerys03 looking 💯 as always.

baelatarg stop lying to yourself

user9 OH MY GOD IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS

user10 is that @yourusername in the second slide???

user11 yes!! she's in the fourth one too

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user12 it's impossible that she doesn't know about what aemond said, right? user13 knowing how jace is i'm sure she already knows. they probably were giving her a hard time lol

user14 Y/N hanging out with aemond's family but not him would never not make me laugh

user15 he's out there telling the world he likes her and she still hasn't say anything user16 and she doesn't have to. leave the poor girl alone user17 i mean she spent the whole weekend with aemond's sister and nephews, maybe he was there too user18 sorry to disappoint you but he's in king's landing user19 bro must be fuming, everyone in his family meeting his girl except for him

Liked by oliviarodrigo, nicholasgalitzine, aemondtargaryen and 955,899 others

yourusername took a couple of days off to hang out with some friends. see you in a bit for the second and final leg of the cruel summer tour! 💌

view all 11,565 comments

user20 she's glowing

user21 wait- i feel like i've seen that guy before

user22 that's because he's aemond's nephew and also an actor

fairyhelaena my pretty 🌟

user23 THAT'S LUKE VELARYON???????

user24 HE IS !!!!! user25 yes he is, she was with aemond's family during the weekend

user26 idk why but i have the feeling that aemond saw these pics and ran to call luke

user27 and was probably screaming at him for an hour lol user28 another reason for aemond to hate him user29 he doesn't hate him, he's family user28 you can hate family user30 stfu it is well known that they have had their differences but they're in good terms now user31 besides who are we to talk about it? that's private. there are comments under aemond's posts of them joking with each other lol user30 idk why she's talking shit.

user32 WHY IS SHE WITH HIS FAMILY BUT NOT WITH HIM?

user33 what world are we living in

iMESSAGE ‣ SEPT 31, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 10, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 28, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ DEC 04, 2023.

let me give you a kiss if you make it here! and let me know if you'd like a part 2 of this little smau. as i said comments & reblog are greatly appreciated!

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smau #social media au #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #modern!aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you

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sunshine-zenith · 10 months

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A thought — Ballister and Ambrosius’s relationship probably wasn’t public in the movie until the end. They probably weren’t secretive about it, given how Todd (someone neither of them like or would confide in) was clearly antagonistic to Ambrosius after Ballister’s jailbreak, but even then that just might be because their connection was well known — they liked each other more than any of the knights liked them, most being neutral overall to Ambrosius and outright bullies to Ballister. No one in the public seems to know about them

Media perception is a reoccurring factor in the movie, with the opening scene giving exposition in the form of a news cast. During it, Ballister is shown to be controversial, with a there being a few comments questioning the Queen’s choices related to him. Ambrosius is also brought up as someone everyone’s looking forward to seeing officially knighted, with no one questioning his relationship with Ballister or even bringing it up

While everyone is fearing and hating Ballister after the Queen dies, Ambrosius is still popular among the masses — people stop him in the streets to get his autograph. Nimona, who admittedly probably didn’t do much digging into Ballister beyond the initial news reports on the Queen’s deaths, seemed surprised that Ballister and Ambrosius had a connection. She even had an “ohhhhhh” moment after picking up on their vibe the first time they saw each other post-arm chop (and yeah she initially calls Ambrosius Ballister’s nemesis, but she clearly clocks that something romantic was going on given the “arm chopping is not a love language!” comment). She also asks if he wants to die in a (literal) closet, which like. Y’all.

Before the Queen’s death, all their PDA is in private (on the catwalk) or subtly around other knights (helping each other put on their armor with lots of heart eyes and lingering hands). Otherwise, their interactions are those of Two People Who Are Close but aren’t necessarily explicitly romantic (Ambrosius wanting to throw hands on Ballister’s behalf, teasing each other, Ambrosius cheering with the crowd). Granted, there wasn’t a lot of screen time for them to just be happy before Everything Went Wrong.

We can’t really judge whether they were private from their interactions after the Queen’s death, since most are focused on a “so this traumatic thing happened and I don’t know where we stands right now” vibe or have them just fighting. The three times Ambrosius says he loves Ballister, one was just the two of them on the catwalk, one was in a mental rant and not actually out loud, and one was while they were trying to hide their identities. Ballister continues to defend Ambrosius, saying he’d believe them if they could just talk and that the arm thing is just “complicated,” “part of their training, up until Ambrosius outright tries to arrest them (which might as well be a breakup without saying “we’re breaking up”).

In the comic, the Director says she knew about their relationship and that she disapproved. Given how much she manipulates things, it wouldn’t surprise me if she knew in the movie, and encouraged them to downplay things at least — “you should keep your private lives private so you don’t taint your public images/yes we support you, obviously, but you’re here to protect the people, not show off to them/you don’t want to overshadow things with more controversy, wait a few years until after you’re knighted/what if this is just a phase, it would be a mess to clean up if you go public now/people will talk if they hear Gloreth’s only current descendant, a promising young man, is being courted by someone they aren’t certain about who comes from nothing and can’t pass your genes on/you have each other, shouldn’t that be enough?/etc.”

We don’t see them be in a relationship publicly until after the wall — the symbol of fear of the unknown, systematic abuse and oppression, refusal to learn and grow, and let’s be real homophobia/transphobia — comes down and the Director — the one going to murderous extremes out of fear of change — is dead

I dunno. This movie is a large celebration of being queer, but it’s also about how queer people are demonized by society to the point of everyone suffering. Ambrosius is the model minority everyone loves but no one knows because all eyes are on him; Ballister is both tokenized and targeted from the moment the public meets him, having to prove himself over and over until the public unquestionably turns on him entirely; and Nimona is called a monster for just being herself. All three already had to hide who they really were. I’m not 100% sure if Ballister and Ambrosius were out or not about being together, but it’s not a stretch to see, and it fits in with the themes/arcs of this movie

#this is a mess #nimona #nimona movie #spoilers #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ballister x ambrosius #ambrosius goldenloin #the sun shines #meta #cy meta #long post #broke 100 #broke 500 #broke 1000

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velocesainz · 2 months

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Le reali

(CS55)

F1 masterlist | main masterlist

summary: Carlos hasn't publicly dated anyone in over 3 years and people get suspicious. He tries to tell his friends that he's dating the heiress of Italy but they don't believe him until a special moment.

Warnings: None, cursing?, fluffy

Pairing: Carlos x Italian!princess!reader

Carlos showed the entire text chain to y/n and as she scrolled through the responses bursted into laughter at lando's response to Carlos.

"Love, I wasn't pissed. I was just annoyed that he was feeding into rumours. Poor Lando must've been scared out of his wits" y/n told Carlos.

Carlos chuckled "Lando deserves to be scared out of his wits from time to time darling. How else would he function effectively and not spill our secret in front of the entire world?" he told y/n

"I guess you're right" y/n laughed.

"Amore?" Carlos called out to y/n

"Si, Corázon?" Y/n replied adjusting in the bed to meet his eye.

"Do you ever want to go public? I mean I'm not forcing you to go public, just asking. We've been together for 3 years now" Carlos asked with a thoughtful and soft expression on his face.

"Of course Corázon, I would love to. Do you want to maybe go public on the day of the Monza GP? I've already gotten an invite and will be giving out the trophies" y/n replied with a soft smile.

"That would be absolutely wonderful amore" Carlos said softly and held her close.

Timeskip:

"Ready to go sis?" y/n's brother asked her as it was time to leave for the GP

She was only going to go for the race day otherwise it would seem suspicious to the public and they wanted to be extra careful.

"Yea yeah let's go" Y/n called out grabbing her brothers hand and getting into the car.

She was more than ready to reveal to the world her relationship with the love of her life

Meanwhile: (Carlos Pov)

"Mate is your girlfriend ever going to come or are you just pranking us all?" Charles asked me while everyone was waiting around in the paddock for y/n to come.

"Yea mate, no shame in saying you haven't been able to get girls for the past 3 years. At least don't live in the delusion that the direct heir to the Italian throne is your girlfriend."

Nobody believed me except Lando since he's met her but everyone thinks me and him are pranking them together.

I would get my sweet sweet revenge.

But deep down I was scared. I was planning to propose to her soon. If I got on the podium today, I would propose and I've never been more scared for a race in my life.

Her entire family would watch me race for their country and would also find out about our relationship because she was very private and didn't share even with her family. Would they approve of me? Would they force me and her to break up?

Just then her family walked into the paddock and everyone immediately stood up and greeted the family but she was not in sight.

"So Prince b/n how do you feel about your sister dating our friend over here?" Fernando asked her brother and dragged me into his view

"Dating? I wasn't aware that my sister was dating anyone. That too with a commoner? Not expected." Her brother replied and my heart slowly sank to my stomach.

The rest of the grid came up to me.

"See Carlos? How would you be dating Prince y/b/n's sister without him knowing? Stop living in your delusion" Max said

"Mate such delusion isn't good for you at all. You should start seeing the team therapist a little more" Charles added.

The rest of the grid exchanged glances of amusement and worry while Lando came over to me.

"Don't worry Carlos, I believe you. Don't listen to them. You and Y/n have a beautiful relationship and she told me that she didn't want to inform her brother of her relationship status since she, frankly, hates him" Lando told me and I felt slightly better.

but her brother didn't approve of me, why would the rest of her family? I was internally panicking when Y/n's father King f/n came up to me and took me aside

"So you're the lad dating my daughter huh?" He asked me

"Si señor, I love Y/n with all my heart" I responded slightly nervous about his response

"She made a good choice, how long have you both been together? She didn't give me many details" He asked

"We've been together for 3 years senor. We met when I was invited to the royal house for my medal" I replied feeling better that at least her father approved of us

"And no proposal?" He said with a smirk on his face

"I was planning on proposing to her if I get on the podium for the race today and also wanted your blessings señor" I answered

"Good good. I've seen that she's been much happier around the palace ever since she started dating you. She truly loves you and you have mine and her mother's blessing. May you both be forever happy together" with that he left as I the race was about to start.

I gave Ricciardo my ring box and gave him all the instructions before getting into the car.

After the race:

I couldn’t believe it.

I had won in Monza.

The crowd was going absolutely wild as I got out of my car and the mechanics lined up outside tapping my helmet congratulating me.

I felt like I was in a dream.

I looked over to the vip box and I saw y/n in all her glory.

The look of admiration she had and her soft smile made me fall for her all over again.

That was when I knew nothing else mattered.

It didn’t matter to me that her brother didn’t approve of our relationship. It didn’t matter to me that my friends didn’t believe my relationship.

I had her and that was all that mattered.

The podium ceremony came quickly and y/n’s brother gave out the p2 and p3 trophies.

Then came my turn and y/n walked into the podium with the most elegant red dress I’ve ever seen.

She looked absolutely ethereal and I couldn’t wait for her to be mine forever.

She handed me the trophy and I raised it over my head after which I leaned in to kiss her.

The crowd went absolutely wild when they saw the scene.

I took the ring box from Ricciardo and got on one knee and I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

“Y/n. You have made me the happiest person these past 3 years and it would mean the world to me if you were with me for the rest of my life. Y/n m/n l/n will you marry me?” I asked her pouring the emotions out.

“Yes Carlos! Of course I’ll marry you” she said and hugged me tight.

I slipped the ring on her finger and we kissed once again.

Timeskip:

“Hey Carlos, sorry about all the comments we passed. We really couldn’t believe that you were actually in a relationship with the princess of Italy. We apologise for our actions” Charles apologised to me on behalf of the rest of the grid

“It’s ok mate, I myself can’t believe that I bagged a literal princess” I laughed

Y/n came back to me and it was time for us to leave.

In the car y/n sat leaning her head against my shoulder

“Our wedding is going to be one of the most celebrated occasions in Italy you know? They’re going to keep it as a national holiday and it will be broadcasted live on tv for everyone to see. Are you sure you’re ok with that?” She asked me in a soft voice

“Of course amore , as long as in the end I get to be with you. I’m ready to do anything.”

A/n: hope you guys enjoyed this fic. Took me a while to come up with it. Would appreciate feedback and suggestions. Also please send me any requests you have! Kissies ✨

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mysunshinetemptress · 6 months

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Your Royal Support

Leah Williamson x Royal!Reader

Warnings: none fluff talks of Leah’s ACL recovery

Disclaimer: for the purposes of this story actual timelines have not been taken into account I.e Princess Diana and Prince Charles separation.

You hadn’t had to dress in your dress uniform since June when you attend the Royal Garter, but here you where fixing your sash again out of nerves you looked in the mirror before looking at the sleeping form of you fiancé in bed. Leah and her family had travelled to Windsor yesterday to watch the 26 year old footballer accept her OBE and unlike the other recipients of the awards taking place this morning they all slept at Windsor castle, you where happy to sleep in a hotel but your father had insisted on it stating family stay with family when they visit not in a hotel and it wasn’t like the castle couldn’t accommodate them.

Leah stirred slightly as you turned holding your aiguillette in order to stop them from banging together and creating noise wanting the younger girl to sleep a bit longer knowing today was going to be long. You walked towards the bed and leaning down you kissed her head “I’ll see you shortly my love.” Watching her a moment longer you left knowing your Equerry James was standing waiting to give you the rundown of the day.

You had attended a few meetings before the ceremony regarding the statement that would be made at the end of the month regarding your engagement to Leah, you refused to make any decisions without her input stating that whatever information you received would be relayed back to her. You had left that meeting to a flurry of texts from Leah and Amanda, both looking for you in a form of panic as Leah grew more nervous of this afternoon’s ceremony. You called Leah immediately and you could have sworn the ringtone hadn’t even sounded before she answered “hello my love.” Leah sighed hearing your voice “everything ok.” Leah shook her head before realising you couldn’t see her “I don’t think I can do this Y/n.” You looked around the corridor of the castle before walking down towards the left and stopping when you came across the window you where looking for peering out of it you could see into the apartment you had left this morning now though you could see Leah pacing the room with Amanda sat on the couch both dressed. You smiled before beginning to talk again “your already halfway through Le.” Leah shook her head “that doesn’t make sense Y/n the ceremony isn’t for another hour and a half I’m not even close to being half way done.” You smiled once again watching Amanda try to get Leah to sit “your already dressed, your hair is done and although I tell you every morning you don’t need it you have makeup on although on a day like today I understand so you are already ready for the ceremony waiting for it to happen after those two it only has to happen and then we go out later, that’s four things on a check list two completed two to go your halfway done.” Leah sighed again “you always know what to say.” You laughed “if I didn’t by now then you should reevaluate our relationship it’s my job to know you.” Leah smiled before stopping “wait can you see me.” You laughed again watching Amanda and Leah look around the room trying to figure out where you could see them “I told you, you call, you ever need me in moments you feel like no one can see you I can, I see you.” Leah turned looking out the window before spotting you waving at her “oh I love you.” You laughed nodding along “I know but I loved you first.” Leah laughed at the statement you made every time she told you she loved you, you had said you had fallen in love with her when you where on a royal engagement with your older brothers to the Arsenal academy as a kid. You had never publicly had a relationship until her and even then it was rather private stating you had known from the moment your hands touched you knew there was nobody else and even stated you didn’t mind waiting as she dated other people because you knew it was going to be you who she loved last. You smiled at her once more before talking again “I better go I have a meeting with Will about you know what, see you shortly darling.” Leah blew you a kiss before hanging up and turning to her mum who had been watching the interaction.

You stood down the hall waiting for the Williamson family to arrive fixing you uniform nervously before your head shot up at the sound of a wolf whistle, you couldn’t help you face become hot at the sight of Leah walking at a fast pass in order to reach you “I love it when you wear your uniform, your keeping that on all day.” You smiled nodding “sort of have to but I can take the jacket off when we start dancing later thank god.” Leah smiled before placing her hands either side of you cheeks pulling you into a kiss “I’m so proud of you.” Now it was Leah’s turn to blush “seriously Le I am and I worry I never tell you enough but I’m proud of you for one everything you have accomplished in your football career, two for how high you have held your head through these difficult months but mostly I’m proud of you I’m proud of you knowing who you are, never forgetting where you came from while you look forward to where you want to go in the future for understanding you have a voice and using it not just when the public see, I’m proud of all the time you have been in so much pain and admitted to it, whether it is your acl or your endometriosis I’m proud of you not letting anything or anyone define you and I’m proud to be your fiancé I will tell you that I love you how much I have always loved you till I can no longer speak but I need you to know I’m also just as proud of you, thank you for loving me, allowing me to love you, for taking on the crazy that I and my family are and the burden our status brings, for being there when I need you for collecting me and all the baggage but thank you mostly for your support I hope I have supported you as much as you have and will always need because you are always there for me.” Leah melted into your arms “don’t make me cry before I have to go stand in-front of your brother and then the press.” You kissed the top of her head chuckling slightly “but you have and I know how proud and loved I am from you I never understood what love was or how we are meant to only be in love with one person for the rest of our lives until I met you y/n now I don’t want anyone else to be there holding my hand in the hard times and making me smile as hard as I do in the good ones I know trust me I do.” You pulled her into a kiss once more before separating to hold her hand as her grandfather cleared his throat to gain your attention “well are you kids ready.” You nodded pulling Leah into you before turning to the door nodding to the hand stating you where ready when they were.

You stood beside Amanda holding her as Leah stepped forward to receive the award looking at you briefly at something William had said before smiling. “I can’t wait till you both get married.” You smiled at Amanda “any idea where it’s going to be yet.” You shook your head slightly “no not at all Papa has said we could use Westminster Abby, that holds roughly 2000 people but I don’t know it’s already getting televised that’s more people seeing our relationship than either her or I want if I’m being honest, he has also said we could get married here at St George’s chapel like Harry and my cousin but if I’m being honest I would marry her in a registry office with you guys as witnesses but I’m not allowed.” Amanda smiled squeezing your arm “I know your role is hard that there are so many eyes looking at you constantly wishing you harm, but she has told me that for you she would stand in front of them all and protect you no matter what, I worried about her being with you I’m ashamed to say but I did your mother died after marrying into your family, your sisters in law have been torn from limb to limb in the media, as a mother you want to protect your child and that’s all I want for her happiness and protected and for a while I didn’t see you being able to protect her, but then you drove through the night after she got a concussion and you postponed meetings and appearances when she did her ankle and you sat and held her so tight yet so gently when the doctors told her she had endometriosis and you promised her and I you would find the best doctors to look after her should she ever need it, but recently you have shown me your in it for the long run with her acl injury that you would do anything to protect and support her through her worst and best and I feel so much more at peace, it’s you and her until the stars come calling and you really have shown us all that.” You pulled Amanda into a hug feeling yourself tear up. “Thank you.” Amanda laughed lightly “I should be thanking you.” You shook your head “ thank you for being the mum I always needed.” At this Amanda hugged you tighter.

William stood talking to Leah before they both turned to see you talking to Amanda “you know she never knew our mum not really anyway she was to young when she died but she is so like her in the way she loves.” Leah looked at him confused “my mum had a good heart when she fell in love with something she fell hard and she did everything she could to express it whether that be speaking about charity’s or loving her kids. Y/n loves you wholeheartedly and that is the best trait my mother could have passed down to her.” Leah smiled at him looking at you and Amanda hugging “I hope she knows I love her just as much.” William smiled “she does trust me.” William presented Leah with her badge before pulling her into a hug “and we can’t wait for you to join the family.” Leah smiled one last time before stepping back bowing slightly and walking over to you and her family. You stepped back allowing the Williamson’s to grab Leah first a habit she didn’t always appreciate but she understood before you scooped her up into a hug “my girls an OBE.” Leah laughed “I can do you one better my girls a literal princess.” You laughed grabbing her hand waving to your brother before exiting the room and into a private quarter where you couldn’t help but grab her and kiss her not caring who was watching.

“I love you.” Leah smiled into the kiss “I loved you first.” You smiled back before grabbing her into another kiss

#leah williamson x y/n #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso #british royal family #prince william #royalty #awfc

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fxrmuladaydreams · 4 months

Text

sober realizations (cs55)

carlos x mclaren social media!reader

summary: carlos realizes just what he’s lost and it destroys him

notes: this is the final part to this little series, there will be no more after this

prev part

Carlos could feel the guilt eating away at him, everyday the feeling growing stronger. He can’t help it, not when you look up at him and make his heart do somersaults in his chest with something as simple as your smile.

He enjoys having you near him, close to him, more than he thought he would. He likes feeling you pressed up against him when you sleep, he likes being able to hold you in his arms.

He almost stops breathing when you ask him to make your relationship public. Of course he wants to be able to show you off, to be able to call you his love in front of other people, but he knows that sooner or later the bet will come back to bite him in the ass.

He can feel the disappointment radiating off of you when he tells you that he wants to keep your relationship private. His heart breaks at the frown that rest on your face.

“I want to kiss you in the paddock.” Your words are soft, as if saying them too loud will break an unspoken rule. “I want to be able to kiss you in front of other people, maybe then Lando will stop with the teasing.”

“You want to kiss me in front of Lando?” Carlos tries to lighten the mood, to bring back your smile, and he feels relief when you laugh.

“No, I just want to be able to kiss you whenever I want to. Whether that be in front of Lando or not.”

He wants that too, but he knows kissing in front of Lando will eventually turn into kissing in front of Pierre and Lance.

“I don’t know mi amor.” He sighs. “I don’t want anyone else to ruin what we have.”

He feels bad when you sigh and lean your head back down against his chest, defeated.

He thinks over it in his head. Maybe, maybe it would be okay if you went public. He’d have to talk with Pierre and Lance, make sure that they knew he wanted nothing to do with their bet anymore first, but maybe everything would work out.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, pulling you tighter against his chest. “If you really want to, we can go public.” He says softly.

You quickly lift your head up to look at him, and Carlos thinks the smile on your face is absolutely worth the risk.

Later that night he texts the two boys, making sure they know not to say anything.

To Pierre and Lance

The bet is off. Y/n and I are dating, and I really like her. She can’t find out about it.

They both reply, agreeing to forget the bet even happened.

Everything was going well, the rest of the grid supported their relationship, well Lando was a bit dramatic about it but you could tell he was happy for the couple. Of course there were some not so nice comments from fans on social media, but Carlos had made sure to praise you publicly any chance he had.

Though the two of you were happy as could be, Carlos still couldn’t get rid of the little nagging voice in the back of his head, reminding him of what he’d done to get to this point. It seemed like everyday he was looking at his phone, making sure he, nor Pierre or Lance, had said anything to anyone that might reveal what had happened.

He tried to brush it off whenever you asked him about it, shoving his phone in his pocket and instead just enjoying holding you in his arms.

As time went on the little voice in his head quieted down, to the point where he only thought about the bet once a day.

But it seemed there was a higher power that wanted to build him up, then promptly tear him down, because everything fell apart in Singapore.

Carlos felt like he was on a high he could never come down from. He was the first driver to break the Red Bull winning streak during the season. He was going to her his national anthem on the podium. And he had you by his side to experience the whole thing with him.

He grinned down at you from the top step of the podium, blowing you kiss. He sprayed champagne over you after he’d made sure to soak Lando as well.

After the race he was exhausted. He just wanted to stay in the hotel room with you and celebrate his win privately. His desire to keep you all to himself only grew when he saw you in that damned red dress.

He groans when he sees you, attempting to coerce you into ditching the club and staying in, but you want him to have his shining moment.

He made sure to keep you close to him in the club, afraid you’d get swept up in the crowd and disappear from his sight. He thanks everyone who congratulates him as you make your way through the crowd to the other drivers and WAGS.

“I’ll be right back amor.” He says as he presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with Lando to go talk to Pierre and Lance.

The two of them are very clearly celebrating Red Bull’s broken winning streak, throwing back drink after drink after drink. They cheer when Carlos walks up to them, only quieting down when they’re sushed.

“Y/n looks good tonight.” Lance says as he watches you with Lando.

Carlos snaps his fingers in front of his face to pull his attention back to him. “Yes, she looks beautiful. Now it’s very important that you don’t bring up the bet, alright, in fact, don’t even talk to her, ignore her.”

Pierre is about to respond when Carlos feels your arms wrap around his waist. He puts an arm over your shoulders and hopes that you can’t feel his heart beating out of his chest.

“They’re so cute!” Lance coos at you.

“You’ll have a great story for your kids about how you met.” Pierre laughs.

Carlos feels his blood run cold.

He tries to distract you, to pull you away from his two intoxicated friends before his secret begins to unravel, but he’s unsuccessful.

“It was all a bet?” You ask him, turning around with tears in your eyes.

Carlos hates this, he hates that he’s the cause of your pain. He reaches out, to hold you or wipe your tears away he doesn’t know. “Mi amor-”

“Don’t call me that.” You take a defiant step back from him, lulling yourself out of his reach.

Most of what happened next is fuzzy in Carlos’ mind, he was far too overwhelmed with the atmosphere of the club and the thought of you slipping through his fingers. Well, it’s all fuzzy until you question his feelings for you, asking if he had hired the photographer in Spain.

He’s quick to defend himself, telling you that his feelings for you were never fake, and that he would never hire someone to take photos of you like that.

He knows his fate is sealed when you leave him there after pulling cash from your bag and shoving it in his chest. He tries to follow you, to chase after you so he can fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness, but your words from earlier ring true. People wanted to celebrate Carlos. They pull him in different directions, acting as obstacles between him and you.

When he does finally manage to pull himself outside he practically spins around looking for you in all directions. You left without a trace though. He hates that you left him sure, but he can’t ignore the discomfort in his stomach at the thought of you walking back to the hotel alone at night in the middle of Singapore.

He sprints to his car, and breaks a handful of traffic laws just to get back to the hotel as quick as he can.

He runs to elevator, aggressively pushing the button for it, as if willing it to be faster. He takes quick strides to the door of your shared room.

He opens the door to find you hunched over your open suitcase that rests on the bed, shoving your clothes inside. When you turn back to look at him with your red eyes and tear stained cheeks it feels like someone’s stabbing a knife into his chest.

“Y/n, what are you doing? Where are you going?” He asks, attempting to pull your hands away from your suitcase, kneeling down next to the bed.

“I’m leaving Carlos. I’m going home.” You sniffle.

“The plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.” He says.

“I found a flight that leaves tonight.” You tell him as you continue to shove clothes in your bag.

Carlos notices you’re still wearing your red dress, probably having decided that wearing the dress to the airport is the price you’re willing to pay to leave faster.

“Y/n, please, let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to explain Carlos. You made a bet with a few other drivers that you could get me to fall for you. And it worked. You won.” You sigh.

“But I promise you, I never lied about how I felt.”

“That doesn’t matter Carlos!” You exclaim, exasperated. “You took the bet. The reason you dated me and actually started getting feelings for me was because of a bet. Do you think you would’ve ever actually tried to approach me without the bet?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Exactly.” You sigh. “That bet was the foundation of our relationship. And I can’t live with that.” You zip up your suitcase. “I’m going to leave now, and you’re not going to follow me. Everything will go back to the way it was before. You stay on the Ferrari side of the paddock, and I’ll stay on the McLaren side. We never have to see or talk to each other again. We will go back to no longer existing in each other’s lives.”

“But I want you in mine.” Carlos stands up.

You shake your head. “I don’t want to see you right now Carlos. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to see you again. If you have any respect for me you’ll honor that.”

Carlos let’s his eyes take you in one last time, then gives you a stiff nod.

You leave him there, closing the door behind you before he lets his own tears fall from his eyes.

He become more invisible in the paddock, at least to you. He no longer walks past the McLaren building. He tries to distance himself from your area of the paddock. He becomes just a name on the grid, moving up and down as the races progress.

At the end of the first week you’re surprised to see an Instagram story he’s tagged you in. It’s a black screen with a generic font that writes out

Y/n and I are no longer together. Please respect our privacy, her’s most importantly.

You sigh and set your phone down. Lando sits across from you. He was furious when you told him what happened, promising that he had no idea what was going on. You believed him, and fell into the hug he had offered. Ever since he found out he had been by your side, acting as your guard dog. He was there to snap at paparazzi that tried to ask about the absence of Carlos in your life and yours in his, and keeping an eye out for a figure in red.

“You should just tell them what he did to you.” He suggests one day after a run in with various cameras.

“He’s your friend.” You shake your head.

“No. He’s an idiot. He deserves to face the repercussions of his actions.” He grunts.

You smile and shake your head. “Thank you Lando, but I’m fine.”

He gives you an unconvincing nod.

The truth is, you did start to feel fine after a while. You had grown used to your old routine again, even if a small part of you missed the Spaniard.

Carlos on the other hand was a mess. Everyone at Ferrari could tell. He was starting to become the shell of a person. Staring blankly into space when not in the car, yet driving with an agression they’d never seen from him before.

He did have a serious talk with his publicist and PR team amidst the breakup.

“I want those photos from Spain gone. I know we can’t control what fans post on social media, but I want any new site, any gossip pages to get rid of those photos. I don’t care how much it costs, I want them gone.” He figured that making sure the photos of the two of you on the beach were wiped from publications was just a small step in making things right.

He mostly kept to himself now, and was starting to show visible signs of a lack of care for himself. Dark circles appeared under his eyes, his once always perfect hair now laid flat on his head. Charles tried to coax him into social outings, but Carlos was quick to deny, instead choosing to stay by himself, getting more time in the gym or on the SIM.

Charles had come over to the McLaren building with a look of defeat on his face. Lando trked to shoo him away, claiming that Ferrari drivers were not allowed in the building. You brushed him off, inviting Charles to sit with you.

“How are you doing?” He asks.

You sigh. “I know you’re here to talk about Carlos.”

He nods. “He is not doing well Y/n…”

“Yeah? Well I’m hurt too-”

“No, of course he should be sad, what he did to you was horrible, and I’m sorry.” He tells you. “But he’s starting to look… unhealthy…”

“Unhealthy?”

Charles tells you about Carlos now, his insistence on overworking himself, piled on to his clear lack of sleep. You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t hurt a little at that.

“I don’t expect you to just forgive him, but maybe talk to him? It could help him turn back into his old self…” Charles shrugs.

“I’ll think about it. Thank you for telling me Charles.” You nod and give him a quick hug before he leaves.

Races go by, and you can’t seem to find the strength to actually seek Carlos out. That is, until the Las Vegas Grand Prix.

It was exciting being in Vegas. You knew that you were going to have a lot of good opportunities to get some good social media content of the boys, but were deflated when you heard that the first free practice session hadn’t even lasted ten minutes.

You were shocked to hear that it was due to Carlos’ car hitting a drain cover, but relieved to hear he was okay.

You hung around the McLaren building waiting for the FIA to decide whether or not to continue with the first free practice, then to eventually start the second free practice. You struggled to keep your eyes open in the early hours of the morning, happy when you could all finally go get some sleep.

The next day the news was announced that Carlos would be facing a ten place grid penalty that resulted from his crash.

Surprised eyes watch you as you carefully step into the Ferrari building. No one stops you when you seem to take calculated steps to the driver’s room’s. You stop outside of Carlos’ room and take a deep breath. It had been a month and a half, surely by now you would be okay seeing him again.

There’s no answer when you knock on the door, but you hear a soft shuffling when you call out his name.

Carlos is just as surprised as everyone else when he peeks out the door and sees you, maybe even more so.

“Y/n… come in.” He steps to the side, opening his door further for you.

You take a few cautious steps inside. He tries to tidy up the small room, quickly throwing his clothes that lay haphazardly on his couch onto the shelf with his spare fireproofs.

You walk over and take a seat on the couch. He does as well, making sure to keep some space between you.

“I’m sorry about practice. And your car.” You say after a few minutes of silence.

“It’s okay.” He sighs.

“No it’s not. It’s not your fault the FIA didn’t properly cover the manholes on the track. It’s not right for them to give you a penalty because of it. You don’t deserve that-” You stop when you notice his staring at you. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

He gives you a small smile. He’d do anything to keep you here rambling away with him. He scoffs shaking his head. “I deserve a lot worse than a ten place grid penalty.”

“It looks like you’ve put yourself through worse recently. You need to take care of yourself Chili.” The nickname surprises the both of you, as does the soft hand to his cheek as you inspect his face.

You pull your hand away when you realize what you’ve done. Carlos immediately misses your warmth.

“I didn’t tell anyone…” You break the silence again.

“You should have.” He replies, looking down at his lap.

You shake your head. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with that out.”

“You’re far too kind to me mi amor.” Again, the term of endearment is accidental, something that wasn’t meant to fall from his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

A knock on his door cuts him off. “Carlos, we need you back in the garage in ten minutes.”

“I should probably go…” You slowly stands up.

“Right.” Carlos clears his throat, standing up as well. “Thank you. For coming by.”

You nod. You walk to the door, but stop, turning back to him. “If you ever want to stop by McLaren, for lunch or something…”

He nods. “I would love to.”

He feels his heart skip as you give him another small smile before leaving. You’ve given him the smallest second chance, but Carlos decides that he’s going to hold onto that and never let it go, because he’ll be damned if he screws this up a second time.

#carlos sainz x reader #cs55 x reader #formula one x reader

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jkslipppiercing · 4 months

Text

So show me | Part 1 | jjk

♡ summary: your boyfriend has always been a fan of PDA, unlike you.

♡ genre: angsty, not really fluffy, a lot of frustration, miscommunication

♡ pairing: boyfriend!jk, frustrated!jk, whipped!jk

♡ warnings: oc is self-conscious, both of them are severely frustrated, not much in this lol, little bit of cursing, y/n is super horny, suggestive content.

♡ WC: 2.5K.

♡ a/n: well hello again! i'm back lol. this is the first part of the "show me" series! i hope you like it <333 this is my first go at angst, and im trying to ease myself into it 😭😭 i have zero clue as to what im doing please help <3

▪︎ general taglist

▪︎ index

▪︎ previous/next

enjoy!!

"That'll be $22.50."

You smile sweetly at the cashier, opening your purse to pay.

Handing over the money with a grin, you thank her.

"Can I get it gift-wrapped, please? That would be great."

Christmas is about a week away, and the holiday vibes are clear as stockings and ornaments hang on every wall of the store. Decorated christmas trees shine with bright colorful lights and the festivity of the shop you're in makes you feel warm on the inside, in addition to the amazing smell of cinnamon.

On that note...why does it smell so good in here?

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday, multiple reasons why. one of the many is spending time with your loved ones...and buying them gifts.

Something about seeing them so happy just makes you feel happier by ten-fold.

The cashier smiles in return before she nods, holding the item as she turns her back to you and starts wrapping.

Meanwhile, you take the time to admire the little details of every single decoration-taking it all in- just when you feel a presence behind you.

Jungkook steps close, engulfing you in a tight embrace and humming softly. You welcome the feeling of security, humming back at his body warmth as he back-hugs you.

"Hey baby."

you giggle. "Hi."

"You done shopping?" He asks from above you, his chin pressing into the tip of your head. He had drifted off earlier on and left you to do your shopping, telling you to call for him if you needed any help.

"Yep. I asked for gift wrapping. Should be done in a few."

"Mmm, good."

Jungkook hums, dipping his head down. he inches towards your neck, resting into the crook of it and humming in a deeper- more suggestive- manner.

The sole sound has you kind of- blushing? Even though your cheeks never got that red, your eyes water and your breath hitches. You call it 'blushing' in your book.

He always does that kind of hum when you're doing a good job pleasing him...stuffing his cock-

His hands that were once wrapped around your arms and trapping you now release, only to circle around your waist instead, this time more intimately.

You love these kinds of moments, though you can't help but notice that the cashier is almost done wrapping your gift.

You find your eyes glued to her movements, almost anxious.

Jungkook's hand inshes dangerously close to your tit, and you grow slightly self-conscious in response, eyes still set strictly on the cashier's hands.

Her seeing you and your boyfriend in this situation would be kind of...awkward?

It's not that you don't appreciate the affection, you've just been more of a private person. Always loved to show love when alone, but never been a fan to do so publicly.

Jungkook, though? If PDA (Public Display of Affection) was a person? It would definitely be him.

Trying to voice out your thoughts, you whisper to him.

"Jungkook."

"Hm?" Again, that oh-so-beautifully-deep hum.

Fuck.

He snuggles his head even deeper into the crook of your neck, making it harder for you to think.

"We're in public."

He raises his head a tad bit, so you can hear him better.

"We're the only people here."

"Still, the employee could find it uncomfortable-"

"Are you uncomfortable?"

You're not.

You love jungkook.

Of course you're not uncomfortable.

You just care about people's opinions...a little too much.

Privacy is your thing, and you've always stuck to it- making sure not to make anybody feel a certain type of-

"Oh."

When you take too long to respond, your bad habit of overthinking the simplist of things pulling you under, jungkook's arms slip and waver.

He stays silent.

Jungkook was never silent.

He completely untangles and detaches himself from you.

"That's not-" You try to explain yourself, but the cashier beats you to it as they turn around and walk over to you.

"Here you go."

You accept the neatly wrapped box and thank her, rushing to leave. Your breath catches in your throat when you see jungkook already through the exit of the store.

You fucked up.

---

Under any other circumstances, you would've welcomed the pitter patter of the rain against the car's surface with wide, open arms.

But instead, you want to shrink; let the world split in half and swallow you whole.

Jungkook hasn't said a single word since you've left that store.

He went straight to his car, waited for you, then directly drove off as soon as you got into the car with him.

Not. A single. Word.

You observe him, taking note of how automatic- distant- his actions are. With one hand on the steering wheel, he rests the other on the armrest as he stares straight ahead. It's like he can feel your gaze burning a hole to the side of his face, but he's numb to the heat. Your eyes beg his own to look, but his are deaf...far; so far away.

You shouldn't have stayed quiet.

Mentally groaning at your stupidity, you lean your head against the window.

The rest of the ride home is silent.

---

"Jungkook."

No answer.

"You can't keep ignoring me like this."

Well, he can.

He proves that to you when he lets the barbell join the floor with a hard thud.

Only a small grunt of triumph escapes him, but otherwise; silence.

He hasn't spoken to you.

He parked the car under your apartment building- in its usual spot- exiting the car and heading to your home.

-silently.

He entered the apartment and left the door open for you, changed into his usual workout attire, and headed into his personal gym.

-silently.

It has been an hour since he's been in here, not sparing any effort to check on you.

You're getting quite frustrated with him. It's just- unreasonable.

He has his reasons for acting this way- you'll give him that- but where'd all the communication go?

You've been with Jungkook for well over a year now, and it feels weird; whatever this is. It hasn't ever happened before, probably because a similar situation has never occured.

You'd always hold hands in public, and it was never a problem for you.

But as a first real relationship...guess you were growing self-conscious about it.

What if they saw?

Will they speak?

Your train of thought cuts off as the sulking man grunts again, this time louder; intended to grasp your attention back to him.

He must've seen you zoning out.

"Enough, Jungkook."

Your words leave a tangy taste on your tongue. You really don't want to argue with him what-so-ever, but this is ridiculous.

he's being ridiculous.

You two could've talked it out to figure what the problem was- you should.

Instead, you're running after a person that keeps looking back to make sure you're still there.

He wants you to feel like you're genuinely being ignored, which is just- again- unreasonable.

Okay, the earlier...incident hurt him a little bit- and maybe a little more than that- that much is evident.

Jungkook merely scoffs at your words,

yet again ignoring you.

Fucking hell,

he's actually pissing you off.

"Giving me the silent treatment?" Your eyes sharpen with challenge, and his own light up with one of their own.

He leaves whatever he was doing to cross his arms and properly stare you down, almost belittling you- no, not almost, he is.

You've always known just how much Jungkook loves a challenge.

"Fine by me." Your smile is so sweet- but it's wrong. It's not the kind of smile he's used to.

And with that, you exit the gym, grab a random book, make yourself a cup of coffee, and prepare yourself for the long night ahead.

---

It's been...two hours.

Two long hours of utter torture.

And you've read a total of five pages.

Dammit.

Instead of reading, you're embarrassed to admit how instensely you've been ogling him for two hours straight.

He's just so hot.

The way he lifts weights like they're nothing.

The way his groans and grunts fill up the quiet space- and the whole entirety of your thoughts, leading them to other, much more sexual, places.

The way those exact sounds resemble the ones he's likely to make during sex.

You can basically feel your underwear sticking to you, your arousal evident.

For the first time since you've sat on this bench, stubbornly so, with your book and cup of coffee, he flicks a gaze over you.

Indifferently.

It makes your blood boil.

Your eyes lock.

his cold,

yours set ablaze by intense emotions of frustration.

You rip your gaze away from him to set it on your book, only to look back up at him two seconds later.

He slings a towel over his shoulder, grabs a bottle of water and unscrews the lid.

gently placing the bottle on his lips, he opens his mouth and chugs a mass of water all at once.

He repeats the motion once...twice... and your eyes are glued to the way his adam's apple bobs.

A thick lump forms in your throat, your breaths quickening. Must be...horniness.

You take the chance to properly look at him;

hair ruffled, body hot, muscles bulged.

Theres a slight sheen of sweat highlighting his neck, and a vein pops out from the way he's angling his neck up.

Your senses heighten.

He sets the bottle down, only to turn to you.

You try your best to hide the hormones.

Your eyes then trail down his neck to his collarbones, and you almost drool.

Scratch that, you're definitely drooling.

He looks fucking divine.

Well, of course.

He always does.

He looks as divine as it feels to love him.

You've always loved Jungkook. You still do. From the moment he waltzed into your heart with no foul intention and swept it off its feet, you knew you were absolutely done for.

Wrecked,

Ruined,

No longer containing any available capacity in your whole being to love anyone else.

Anyone but him. Even saying you love him more than you do yourself wouldn't be over-exaggerating...it would be true.

Call it obsession?

So be it.

A subtle scoff turns your attention back to him; body erect and all guarded up, his body language almost makes you tense up yourself.

You know for a damn straight fact that this is going to lead to an unpleasant conversation- even more so an argument- but whatever it is that's sizzling between you two like static electricity needs to die down.

It was never like this.

Tension,

Frustration,

Miscommunication.

"Bold of you to stare at me like that." His eyes never leave yours a second when he speaks.

He locks his hands behind his neck and rests them on his nape. His forearms bulge, and your eyes physically hurt from how hard they're trying not to gape at him.

Knocking his head back, he stares at you through his lashes with hooded lids and the most beautiful dark eyes.

You would've found the sight quite attractive- you do- but the subtle dig aimed at your staring attracts your attention more.

"Better get used to it, then." You stand, maintaining a protective stance yourself.

You're not angry, or...defensive, thought you might be a little shameless.

You just want this to end. For everything to go back to the way it was.

He smirks.

Your eyes harden.

"Oh yeah?" He lazily strides in your direction, and you cross your arms, almost acting nonchalantly.

Your irritation is evident and so is his, but the tension is so heavy on your shoulders, it makes your muscles tense.

His steps shorten until he's only a few feet away.

Not too close,

Not too far,

Yet feels like hundreds of miles apart.

"Wonder where that's coming from."

"Guess you'll have to find out."

This time, it's you who smirks when a sudden spark of challenge ignites in his irises.

"What i'd like to find out," He lowers his voice, his tone calm; in contrast to the dark storm reflecting the thoughts of his mind through dark, fogged up orbs. "...is what the hell on earth it was that happened today."

You stare at him, contemplating your options.

"I felt self-conscious."

The response is quick, but you're satisfied. You want to be completely honest. That's the best way to go at it.

You notice how he blanks out before you look away. Almost like he's fighting with himself over what to think of the response, his eyes portray the most intense feelings of complexity.

Quickly covering the slight feeling of confusion with frustration, his brows tug together, and in another context, you would've found the action to be adorable.

"Self-conscious? About us? What-" He scrambles to understand, and your eyes widen by an inch. "-are you- like- not sure about us? Anymore?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" You directly jump to answer his questions with one of your own. Your own brows join together, and the frustration builds further.

"Fuck, y/n." He gives you his back, walking in the opposite direction.

"What- I didn't even mean it like that!" Your voice raises slightly, purely in expression of desperation.

Why is this so complicated? It wasn't even that big of a deal.

He looks at you over his shoulder, his features bitter.

"How did you mean it then?" He scoffs, but his words come out quiet, serious, and clear of sarcasm. They come out hurt.

"Look- I just-" You take a deep breath, staring at the floor. "I don't want to fight."

You look at his feet, directing your gaze to a place where your mind doesn't feel overwhelmed. When you look at him, you want to look at his eyes, nose, lips...all of him. When you look at him, you see nothing but him. The whole world disappears when you do.

When you look at him,

You can't think about anything but how much you love him.

And right then it's like the whole world stops.

Like it's just you and him, in this gym, with nothing and no one else but each other.

"Fight?" His eyes rage with a thousand different broken emotions all fighting over dominance at once.

He shifts closer to you, only eager to show you the true weight of his love for you.

His index finger hooks under your chin and tilts it up to meet his eyes, only making your breath catch.

"I'd drop to my knees and beg if you wanted me to."

You feel your eyes water. There's nothing you could possibly think to say to him in this moment, except...

"I love you."

He returns a sad smile.

"Show me."

He cups your cheek.

Strokes it with his thumb, once.

Twice.

And in his presence remains a cool gust of air as his touch lingers and leaves a fire awakening.

Just then you realize: the fire that seems to spread further and further is that of love, nestled in between the teeny crooks and tiny nooks of your heart; the wildfire seemingly one of pleasurable pain.

Gone is jungkook, and welcomed is the loneliness as you hear the shower turn on.

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hope you liked it! dont hesitate to share your opinion <3

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theabigailthorn · 5 months

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Hey I’ve been a fan for a little while now, and I just wanted to say that you’ve been an inspiration for me, a younger transfemme. But I do wanna also ask: what’s it like being a trans woman with her life together? I’m 19 (as of sending), been on hrt for almost 5 months, and have been trans for a year and change. But I’m scared. So, I guess, I wanted to ask: does being trans ever become the norm, my baseline? What’s it like after 2-3 years? And does it get any less confusing or scary?

I think there are a few things going on here.

I don't have my life together as much as it might seem; I just don't show you all the ways it's not. I don't talk publicly about the auditions I don't get, or the things I try and fail at, or the insecurities in my own head that hold me back sometimes, or the handful of decisions I've made that were bad calls and which still keep me up occasionally. I've talked about trauma and mental illness in the past, but I only ever discuss stuff I'm comfortably over - when I'm overwhelmed or in the middle of a crisis I don't post about it. I don't set out to deceive you by presenting myself that way, I just keep my most private stuff private. Everybody has failures and regrets and insecurities: "it's a sign of having lived," as my friend Phoebe told me today. But you see a curated version of me that appears not only more together than the real person, but more together than any real person.

Also, if you're 19 a lot of your life hasn't been in your control until pretty recently and a lot of it still might not be. I'd say it's okay to not feel like you have it all together. You just transitioned, which I think is one of the hardest things a human being can do: you can give yourself credit for that even if you feel like you're not settled into it yet. Congratulations!

As for it becoming the baseline, I mean yeah? Kinda? At least for me. Sometimes I forget. I had a moment today in the gym where I saw a man and I was like "Oh yeah, I used to be one of them, sortof? Weird!" The first year is the hardest, or so they say. I wouldn't say I get less confused or scared now, just scared and confused in different ways. I worry less about getting attacked in the street than I did in my first year, for example. (I'm lucky and privileged in that regard.) But I worry a lot more about other people. I struggle a lot with survivor's guilt, which is something only people who survive get! Anyone who's had a drink with me in the last six months has heard me beat myself up because the night of The Prince premiere in New York was the night of Brianna Taylor's vigil in the UK. That wasn't a deliberate decision - the premiere was booked and paid for months before she was even killed - but I've become a lot more sensitive to those sorts of feelings precisely because I spend less time worrying about myself. I'm more aware now of what my transness means for other people. Like, I made an ironic joke when I came out that I'd become The Transgender Princess of TERF Island, and it's kindof haunted me since - I didn't set out to become "a famous trans person" but it's happened a little bit and it's going to happen a lot more next year. That comes with serious responsibilities and a few mild drawbacks, as well as perks, obviously. So I guess that's a longwinded way of saying I might be a weird person to ask this question because, at least for right now, my transness, my whole self, doesn't just belong to me.

Oh also, some great advice I got from my friends: Paris: "Only change the things that bother you on your good days," and Mattie: "Don't believe anything you think about your life after 9pm."

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adisquietfollows · 1 month

Text

The reporters interviewed Amit Soussana for eight hours and doctors she spoke with immediately after her release. They also reviewed medical records, videos, text messages and photographs.

Full text under the cut.

March 26, 2024

Amit Soussana, an Israeli lawyer, was abducted from her home on Oct. 7, beaten and dragged into Gaza by at least 10 men, some armed. Several days into her captivity, she said, her guard began asking about her sex life.

Ms. Soussana said she was held alone in a child’s bedroom, chained by her left ankle. Sometimes, the guard would enter, sit beside her on the bed, lift her shirt and touch her, she said.

He also repeatedly asked when her period was due. When her period ended, around Oct. 18, she tried to put him off by pretending that she was bleeding for nearly a week, she recalled.

Around Oct. 24, the guard, who called himself Muhammad, attacked her, she said.

Early that morning, she said, Muhammad unlocked her chain and left her in the bathroom. After she undressed and began washing herself in the bathtub, Muhammad returned and stood in the doorway, holding a pistol.

“He came towards me and shoved the gun at my forehead,” Ms. Soussana recalled during eight hours of interviews with The New York Times in mid-March. After hitting Ms. Soussana and forcing her to remove her towel, Muhammad groped her, sat her on the edge of the bathtub and hit her again, she said.

He dragged her at gunpoint back to the child’s bedroom, a room covered in images of the cartoon character SpongeBob SquarePants, she recalled.

“Then he, with the gun pointed at me, forced me to commit a sexual act on him,” Ms. Soussana said.

Ms. Soussana, 40, is the first Israeli to speak publicly about being sexually assaulted during captivity after the Hamas-led raid on southern Israel. In her interviews with The Times, conducted mostly in English, she provided extensive details of sexual and other violence she suffered during a 55-day ordeal.

Ms. Soussana’s personal account of her experience in captivity is consistent with what she told two doctors and a social worker less than 24 hours after she was freed on Nov. 30. Their reports about her account state the nature of the sexual act; The Times agreed not to disclose the specifics.

Ms. Soussana described being detained in roughly half a dozen sites, including private homes, an office and a subterranean tunnel. Later in her detention, she said, a group of captors suspended her across the gap between two couches and beat her.

For months, Hamas and its supporters have denied that its members sexually abused people in captivity or during the Oct. 7 terrorist attack. This month, a United Nations report said that there was “clear and convincing information” that some hostages had suffered sexual violence and there were “reasonable grounds” to believe sexual violence occurred during the raid, while acknowledging the “challenges and limitations” of examining the issue.

After being released along with 105 other hostages during a cease-fire in late November, Ms. Soussana spoke only in vague terms publicly about her treatment in the Gaza Strip, wary of recounting such a traumatic experience. When filmed by Hamas minutes before being freed, she said, she pretended to have been treated well to avoid jeopardizing her release.

Ms. Soussana said she had decided to speak out now to raise awareness about the plight of the hostages still in Gaza, whose number has been put at more than 100, as negotiations for a cease-fire falter.

Hours after her release, Ms. Soussana spoke with a senior Israeli gynecologist, Dr. Julia Barda, and a social worker, Valeria Tsekhovsky, about the sexual assault, the two women said in separate interviews with The Times. A medical report filed jointly by them, and reviewed by The Times, briefly summarizes her account.

“Amit spoke immediately, fluently and in detail, not only about her sexual assault but also about the many other ordeals she experienced,” Dr. Barda said.

The following day, on Dec. 1, Ms. Soussana shared her experience with a doctor from Israel’s National Center of Forensic Medicine, according to the center’s medical report, which was reviewed by The Times.

Siegal Sadetzki, a professor at Tel Aviv University medical school who is helping and advising Ms. Soussana’s family as a volunteer, said Ms. Soussana first told her about the sexual assault within days of her release. Professor Sadetzki, a former top Israeli health official, said Ms. Soussana’s accounts have remained consistent.

Ms. Soussana also spoke to the U.N. team that published the report on sexual violence, but The Times was unable to review her testimony.

A spokesman for Hamas, Basem Naim, said in a 1,300-word response to The Times that it was essential for the group to investigate Ms. Soussana’s allegations, but that such an inquiry was impossible in “the current circumstances.”

Mr. Naim cast doubt on Ms. Soussana’s account, questioning why she had not spoken publicly about the extent of her mistreatment. He said the level of detail in her account makes “it difficult to believe the story, unless it was designed by some security officers.”

“For us, the human body, and especially that of the woman, is sacred,” he said, adding that Hamas’s religious beliefs “forbade any mistreatment of any human being, regardless of his sex, religion or ethnicity.”

Mr. Naim criticized The Times for insufficient coverage of Palestinian suffering, including reports of sexual assault by Israeli soldiers on Palestinian women, which have been the subject of investigations by U.N. officials, rights groups and others. He also said “civilian hostages were not the target” of the raid and said “we have from the first moment declared our readiness to release them.”

A Hamas planning document found in one village shortly after the Oct. 7 raid, which was reviewed by The Times, said: “Take soldiers and civilians as prisoners and hostages to negotiate with.” Video from Oct. 7 shows uniformed Hamas militants abducting civilians.

The Abduction

Ms. Soussana lived alone in a cramped single-story home on the western side of Kibbutz Kfar Azza. After hearing sirens warning of rocket attacks on Oct. 7, she said, she sheltered in her bedroom, which was also a reinforced safe room. From her bedroom, Ms. Soussana listened as the attackers’ gunfire grew closer.

The small kibbutz stands roughly 1.5 miles from Gaza, and it was one of more than 20 Israeli villages, towns and army bases overrun that day by thousands who surged across the Gazan border shortly after dawn. Some 1,200 people were killed that day and about 250 abducted, Israeli officials say, setting off a war in Gaza that local health officials say has killed at least 31,000 Palestinians.

Ms. Soussana was at the kibbutz almost by chance. Sick with a fever, she had been recuperating the previous day in the nearby city of Sderot, with her mother, Mira, who pressed her to stay the night. But Ms. Soussana drove home to Kfar Azza to feed her three cats, she said.

The youngest of three sisters, Ms. Soussana had grown up in Sderot. She qualified as a lawyer at a local college and worked for a law firm specializing in intellectual property. Her colleagues considered her a diligent, quiet and private person who kept her distance, her supervisor, Oren Mendler, said in an interview. In Kfar Azza, Ms. Soussana said, she rarely involved herself in village life and was not part of the local WhatsApp groups, which left her unaware of the extent of the attack on the kibbutz.

At 9:46 a.m. that day, she heard gunmen outside, prompting her to hide inside her bedroom closet, according to messages on her family WhatsApp group reviewed by The Times. Twenty minutes later, her phone died.

Moments later, “I heard an explosion, a huge explosion,” she said. “And the second after that, someone opened the closet door.”

Dragged from the closet, she said, she saw roughly 10 men rifling through her belongings, armed with assault rifles, a grenade launcher and a machete.

Part of the house was on fire — a blaze that would ruin the building.

Over the next hour, the group dragged her through a nearby field toward Gaza. Security footage from a solar farm near the kibbutz, which was widely circulated on the internet, shows the group repeatedly tackling her to the ground as they struggled to restrain her. At one point, a kidnapper picked her up and slung her across his back. The video shows her flailing so hard, her legs thrashing in the air, that the man tumbled to the ground.

“I didn’t want to let them take me to Gaza like an object, without a fight,” said Ms. Soussana. “I still kept believing that someone will come and rescue me.”

The Abuser

The kidnappers attempted to restrain her by beating her and wrapping her in a white fabric, the video shows. Unable to subdue her, the attackers tried and failed to carry her by bicycle, she said. Finally, they bound her hands and feet and dragged her across the bumpy farmland into Gaza, she said.

She was badly wounded, bleeding heavily, with a split lip, she said. The hospital report prepared shortly after her release said that she returned to Israel with fractures in her right eye socket, cheek, knee and nose and severe bruising on her knee and back. The report stated that several injuries were related to her abduction on Oct. 7, including punches to her right eye.

After reaching the edge of Gaza, Ms. Soussana said, she was shoved into a waiting car and driven a few hundred yards into the outskirts of Gaza City. She was untied, dressed in a paramilitary uniform and transferred to another car filled with uniformed militants. A hood was placed over her head, though she could still catch glimpses of her surroundings from under it, she said. After a short drive, she was hurried up a staircase and onto a rooftop, she said.

After the hood was removed, Ms. Soussana said, she found herself in a small structure built on the roof of what she would later realize was an upscale private home. She remembered that militants were busy taking more guns from a box. Then the gunmen hurried downstairs, and she was left alone, facing a wall, with a man who said he was the owner of the house and called himself Mahmoud, she recalled.

“After a couple of minutes, he said I can turn around,” Ms. Soussana said. “And I was shocked,” she added. “I find myself sitting in a house in Gaza.”

She said Mahmoud was soon joined by a younger man, Muhammad. She remembered Muhammad as a chubby, balding man of average height with a wide nose.

Later that day, they dressed her in a thick brown garment that covered her body, she said. They gave her three pills, which they said were painkillers. It was the only time that she remembers receiving any kind of medicine in Gaza, let alone medical treatment.

Fitted with a fan and a television, the room appeared to have been prepared for her arrival, she said. There were three mattresses, she said, one for her and two for the guards.

Early in her captivity, her guards chained her ankle to the window frame, she said. Around Oct. 11, she said, she was led by the chain to a bedroom downstairs. She understood that it belonged to one of Mahmoud’s sons, and that his family had been moved to another place.

The chain was reattached to the door handle, she said, next to a mirror. For the first time since her capture, she could see what she looked like.

“I saw the chains and I saw that my face was all swollen and blue,” she said.

“And I just started to cry,” she said. “This was one of the lowest moments of my life.”

The Jail

For the next two and a half weeks in October, Ms. Soussana said, she was guarded exclusively by Muhammad.

She recalled that the room was almost permanently shrouded in darkness. The curtain was usually drawn shut and there were rolling power outages for most of the day, she said.

She said Muhammad slept outside the bedroom, in the adjacent living room, but frequently entered the bedroom in his underwear, asking about her sex life and offering to massage her body.

When he took her to the bathroom, Ms. Soussana said, he refused to let her shut the door. After giving her sanitary pads, Muhammad seemed particularly interested in the timing of her period, she said. She said she had spoken in a mix of basic English and Arabic; she had learned a little Arabic at school and her mother’s family — Jews from Iraq — had sometimes spoken it during her childhood.

“Every day, he would ask: ‘Did you get your period? Did you get your period? When you get your period, when it will be over, you will wash, you will take a shower and you will wash your clothes,’” Ms. Soussana recalled.

When it arrived, Ms. Soussana said, she was exhausted, afraid and undernourished; her period lasted just one day. She managed to convince him that her menstruation continued for nearly a week, she said.

She tried to humanize herself in his eyes by asking the meaning of Arabic words she heard on television. She also promised that her family would reward him financially if she was returned without further harm to Israel, she said.

In the afternoons, two associates of Muhammad would join him at the apartment, bringing him a cooked meal, she said. Some of this food was given to her as her one meal of the day.

The Israeli strikes on the neighborhood became more frequent and frightening, Ms. Soussana said, noting that some shattered the windows. As the bombing intensified, she said, she started feeling sorry for the civilians, wondering why Hamas had never built bomb shelters for its people.

“I felt for them,” Ms. Soussana said. “Just think about growing up like this — it’s scary.”

The Assault

Early on the morning of the assault, she said, Muhammad insisted she take a shower, but she refused, saying the water was cold. Undeterred, he unchained Ms. Soussana and brought her to the kitchen and showed her a pot of water boiling on the stove, she said.

Minutes later, he brought her to the bathroom and gave her the heated water to pour over herself, she said.

After washing for a few minutes, she heard his voice again from the door, she said.

“‘Quickly, Amit, quickly,’” she recalled him saying.

“I turned around and I saw him standing there,” she said. “With the gun.”

She remembered reaching for a hand towel to cover herself as he advanced and hit her.

“He said, ‘Amit, Amit, take it off,’” she recalled. “Finally, I took it off.”

“He sat me on the edge of the bath. And I closed my legs. And I resisted. And he kept punching me and put his gun in my face,” Ms. Soussana said. “Then he dragged me to the bedroom.”

At that point, Muhammad forced her to commit a sexual act on him, Ms. Soussana said. After the assault, Muhammad left the room to wash, leaving Ms. Soussana sitting naked in the dark, she said.

When he returned, she recalled him showing remorse, saying, “I’m bad, I’m bad, please don’t tell Israel.”

That day, Muhammad repeatedly returned to offer her food, Ms. Soussana said. Sobbing on the bed, she turned down the initial offerings, she said.

Knowing that Ms. Soussana craved sunlight, she said, he refused to open the curtains, leaving the room in darkness. Desperate for daylight, she accepted the food, believing that she had no other option but to placate her abuser.

“You can’t stand looking at him — but you have to: He’s the one who’s protecting you, he’s your guard,” she said. “You’re there with him and you know that every moment it can happen again. You’re completely dependent on him.”

The Israelis

Ms. Soussana said her captors moved her away from the border after a major, hourslong bombardment overnight. Based on the extent of the explosions and snippets she caught on television, she later concluded it was around the start of Israel’s ground invasion of Gaza on Friday, Oct. 27.

On the following day, she was hurried into a small white car, she said. The driver headed southwest toward what she would later be told was the central city of Nuseirat.

“Muhammad is sitting in the back seat next to me, and with the gun pointed at me,” she said.

The car stopped outside what looked like a United Nations school and Ms. Soussana was ushered into a busy street, she recalled.

She said she was handed over to a man who called himself Amir. He marched her up the stairs of a nearby apartment block and into another private home, she said.

For the first time in weeks, she was free of Muhammad — but terrified to be entering yet another unknown. “‘Oh my God,’” she remembered wondering. “‘What’s going to happen to me?’”

The man ushered her into a bedroom and shut the door behind her, she recalled. Inside, she found two young women playing cards, next to an older man lying on a bed and an older woman sitting in a chair, she said. Ms. Soussana was wearing traditional clothes from Gaza, she recalled.

“They looked at me and I looked at them, for like half a minute,” she said. “Then I asked, ‘Are you Israelis?’”

“Are you Israeli?” Ms. Soussana remembered one of the women replying.

The Tunnels

Three weeks after her kidnapping, Ms. Soussana had been united with four other hostages. Hugging them, Ms. Soussana broke down in tears, she said.

The identities of the four others were shared with The Times on the condition that their names would not be used to protect those still in captivity.

A few days after her arrival, she was summoned to the apartment’s living room, Ms. Soussana recalled. Amir often played here with his children.

On that day, the guards wrapped her head in a pink shirt, forced her to sit on the floor, handcuffed her, and began beating her with the butt of a gun, she said.

After several minutes, they used duct tape to cover her mouth and nose, tied her feet, and placed the handcuffs on the base of her palms, she said. Then she was suspended, hanging “like a chicken” from a stick stretching between two couches, causing her such pain that she felt that her hands would soon be dislocated.

They carried on beating and kicking her, focusing on the soles of her feet, while simultaneously demanding information they believed she was hiding from them, Ms. Soussana said.

She still doesn’t understand what exactly they wanted or why they thought she was concealing something, she said. At one point, the head guard brought over a spike, and made as if to poke her eye with it, pulling away just in time, she said.

“It was like that for 45 minutes or so,” she said. “They were hitting me and laughing and kicking me, and called the other hostages to see me,” she said.

Ms. Soussana recalled that the kidnappers untied her and returned her to the bedroom, telling her she had 40 minutes to produce the information they wanted or else they would kill her. She said one of the young women was so frightened that she asked Ms. Soussana if she had any last messages for her family.

In mid-November, the hostages were separated: The two youngest women were taken to an unknown location, she said, while Ms. Soussana and the older couple were driven to a house surrounded by farmland.

They found the house full of gunmen, who ordered them to sit on the floor. Suddenly, the older woman began to scream, Ms. Soussana said.

The woman was looking into a shaft that descended into the ground, Ms. Soussana said. “I hear one of the drivers telling her: ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry. It’s a city down there.’”

“Then I realized,” Ms. Soussana said. “We’re going into the tunnels.”

The Release

A ladder, several stairs and a series of narrow sloping passageways led the three hostages deep underground, she said.

By the time they reached the bottom, the guards said they were 40 meters deep, something they hoped would reassure the hostages, she said: The Israeli bombs could not reach them there.

Ms. Soussana said a big gunman in a mask was waiting for them at the bottom. Initially, he started shouting at them, telling them that Israel had killed his family, she said, but then quickly stopped, removed his mask and took a different tone.

She said the man introduced himself in English as Jihad and told them his father had worked in Israel and had even had his Israeli boss to dinner, in the years when Israeli civilians could still enter Gaza. He spoke in Hebrew at times. Jihad said he had learned some from watching Israeli television and sang them a famous song that he had heard on a children’s show, Ms. Soussana remembered.

“I was shocked,” Ms. Soussana said. “Suddenly, he was the most humane guy we met there.”

The ground shook every time a missile struck nearby, making her fear they might be buried alive, she said. The tunnels were dark, damp and too narrow for two people to pass each other. And their subterranean cell was so short of air that they were left dizzy and panting after taking a few steps, she said.

Israeli troops would later capture and photograph the tunnel. Ms. Soussana identified fabrics and mattresses in the pictures.

Their captors spent little more than an hour a day in the tunnel, ascending to higher levels overnight for fresh air, Ms. Soussana said. The hostages pleaded with the guards to bring them, too.

After several days, the kidnappers gave in, brought them back to the surface and drove them to another private house, Ms. Soussana said.

They were still there when Israel and Hamas agreed to a hostage deal and a temporary truce, which went into force on Friday, Nov. 24. The following day, the three hostages were driven to an office in Gaza City — Ms. Soussana’s final detention site.

Every day brought hope and disappointment. It was never clear which hostages would be freed, or when.

On Thursday, Nov. 30, which turned out to be the last full day of the truce, the guards were making lunch when one of them finished a phone call and turned to Amit.

“He says: ‘Amit. Israel. You. One hour,’” Ms. Soussana recalled.

Within an hour, Ms. Soussana said, she was separated from the older hostage and driven through Gaza City. The car stopped, and a woman in a hijab climbed inside. It was another Israeli hostage: Mia Schem, who was also being released.

They were taken to a junkyard, Ms. Soussana recalled. Around them, she said, their guards changed from civilian clothes into uniforms.

Finally, the two women were driven to Palestine Square, a major plaza at the heart of Gaza City, where a raucous crowd waited to see them handed over to the Red Cross. Social media video showed that Hamas struggled to control the onlookers, who surrounded the car, pressed up against its windows and at one point began to rock the vehicle, Ms. Soussana said.

After a tense few minutes, the Red Cross officials managed to transfer the women to their jeep.

As they approached the Israeli border, a female Red Cross official handed Ms. Soussana a phone. A person who said he was a soldier greeted her in Hebrew.

“He said, ‘A couple more minutes and we’re going to meet you,’” Ms. Soussana said. “I remember, I started to cry.”

Aaron Boxerman and Isabel Kershner contributed reporting.

Patrick Kingsley is the Jerusalem bureau chief, covering Israel and the occupied territories. He has reported from more than 40 countries, written two books and previously covered migration and the Middle East for The Guardian. More about Patrick Kingsley

Ronen Bergman is a staff writer for The New York Times Magazine, based in Tel Aviv. His latest book is “Rise and Kill First: The Secret History of Israel’s Targeted Assassinations,” published by Random House. More about Ronen Bergman

A version of this article appears in print on March 27, 2024, Section A, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: Israeli Hostage Tells of Sexual Assault in Gaza. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

#jumblr #antisemitism #bring them home

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norrizzandpia · 6 months

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Heyy, I don’t know if your requests are open, if they are just ignore this.

I was just reading “quiet night, loud morning” (btw I love your writing and this one is definitely one of my favourite stories you wrote) and I had an idea for a story, but it is kind of similar with the one I was reading, so I thought of giving the idea as a base for a whole new story that you could do.

Y/N was dating Oscar and no one new, but everyone suspected. And she lived with one of the boys (maybe she could be someone’s sister or daughter). And the story would be basically various time that they almost got caught. I imagine moments like: they’re roommates was out for some reason and they get a call or a message of noise complaints (y/n and oscar were being loud in the apartment and the neighbour tried to call her but she didn’t answer, so they called the roomate); or maybe they get caught getting out of the drivers room together and they were all messy; oscar or yn were caught with hickeys; the two of them going missing together; etc. And then in the end, you could make them getting official caught but like in a scandalous way, maybe caught having sex in a clubs bathroom by one of the boys or so.

If you don’t like the idea just ignore the request, is completely fine.

Btw sorry if it got hard to understand, English is not my first language, but I hope you understood my idea.

Have a good day <3

I understood this perfectly and I absolutely love it 🧡 I’m not sure if you’ll like this but I’ve taken the idea and made it the second part to an imagine i just posted “Loving You in the Shadows” This just really fit perfectly with the way I saw the story going hope you like it!

Sneaking Around (Loving You in the Shadows Pt. 2) (OP81)

Summary: After getting together, Y/n and Oscar find themselves wanting to keep their relationship private. Unfortunately, they can only try so hard.

Warnings: sexual conversations, light smut, Oscar and y/n being dumbasses, language

After that night in the garage, Oscar brought Y/n up to his room and the events that ensued ranged from incredibly inappropriate to family friendly. They laid tangled together, naked forms stuck together, and spoke softly about the future of whatever was blossoming between them.

“I want you to be mine.” He whispered against her hair, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

She giggled, giddy over the words she had wanted to hear from him for so long, “Me too.”

He turned her over slightly, so he could lean down and kiss her sweetly, “So, then it’s settled! You’re my girlfriend! I’m your boyfriend!”

His exclaims had Y/n laughing, her smile stopping his heart as it always did, “Osc, I love you, but that was way too cringy.”

His head tilted, teeth peaking through his grin, “Say it again.”

Kissing his cheek and letting her mouth rest next to his ear, “I love you.”

He sighed, dropping his head onto the pillow below him, “I never want you to stop saying it.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I-” She laughed, bed sheet falling down her chest as she rolled onto him and poked his chest.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “Okay, that’s good.”

“Never want to hear me say it again?” She challenged, his hands resting on the warm skin of her hips.

“Nah, every day I’d like to hear you say that.”

Quietness followed, the two letting their hands trace scars and marks across the other’s body. It was only a few minutes later that the thought popped into Y/n’s head and she blurted it out, sick of all the secret feelings.

“Can we keep it a secret for a while?” She inquired, hands coming to splay across his chest.

He looked up at her with confusion, “Why?”

She breathed out, “Because, Oscar, being a female driver and Lando’s little sister, it’s already thought by everyone else that I get hand outs. Being with you publicly will just add to that. I can’t have that risking my seat anymore than all of it already is.”

He frowned at her, “I don’t think you get hand outs.”

She smiled softly, “I know you don’t and I love you for that. But, not everyone is as kindhearted as you.”

Her hands in his hair made a smile take place rather than his prior frown as he said, “Okay, we can keep it a secret for some time.”

“Thank you, pastry.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

—

Oscar’s booming laugh bounced across the walls of Y/n and Lando’s apartment. He was on the verge of peeing his pants as he gripped onto the counter, hunched over, as he watched Y/n try and get up from the fall she took.

“Y/n! How the fuck did you do that!” He exclaimed, wheezing interrupting him every so often.

His laugh was contagious and, even though her ass felt bruised all over, Y/n found herself joining him in the giggles, “I don’t know! Why didn’t you clean up the water you spilled?!”

He scoffed loudly, smile ruining his fake annoyance, “Because you were yelling for me to come help you put away your laundry!”

As they caught their breaths, he walked over to her, pulling her into him by her waist and letting his hands move to rest over her ass.

“You okay, though?” He asked, kissing her cheek quickly.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

Her head swiveled around suddenly, “Where’s my phone?”

He cocked his head, “Mmm, not sure. Did it get lost in the couch when we…” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She smacked his shoulder, “Stop it! Because of you, when Lando and I sit on that couch to eat dinner, I’ll have to think about you over me.”

His jaw dropped, “Because of me?! You were the one who decided to wear the shortest, tightest shorts and a shirt with my name and number on it. You knew what you were doing.”

She smiled mischievously, “Yeah, I did.”

“Okay, but seriously, Oscar, where’s my phone because I don’t want to miss a text or call from Lando and have him come back here early because he ‘thinks I’m dead’.”

“Has that ever really happened?”

“Yes,” She deadpanned, “Lots of times. If he comes back here early, there’s nowhere for you to hide and I’ll have to try to explain to him why you’re here, why the couch looks like it went through a tornado, and why I’m wearing a shirt with your shit on it.”

“You used to wear this same one before we started dating.”

“Yeah and he would always say something about it.”

“Surprisingly, Lando was right about us loving each other.” He laughed, giggles coming back forcefully.

They only grew when Y/n detached herself from his arms and ran across the room, falling once more on her ass, “HOW THE FUCK?” She yelled as Oscar fell to the floor in a fit of giggles.

“HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” He yelled back, the two of them hunched on the floor, clutching their chests as they began to cry.

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW! DID YOU SPILL WATER ALL OVER THIS GODDAMN PLACE?!” She tried to crawl to him, but gave up when her wheezing took over her body.

He shook his head, “THERE’S NO WATER OVER THERE! THAT WAS ALL YOU, BABY!”

“DON’T ‘BABY’ ME, YOU BITC-” She began, but was interrupted by loud vibrations coming off the coffee table behind them.

She glanced over, seeing her brother’s face brighten her screen.

“Shit, it’s Lando. Be quiet.” She rushed out, scrambling on her knees to grab the phone.

He sat still on the floor, watching from afar as she answered.

“Hey, Lan, what’s up?” She said softly.

“The downstairs neighbors just called me and told me that you’re being loud. They said they tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.” Lando informed her.

Her face dropped and she looked at Oscar as he stared blankly at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be quieter.” She whispered, face draining.

Before she could hang up, however, her brother stopped her.

“Y/n?” He began, to which she let out a sound confirming she was still there, “They said there was another voice along with yours. Usually, I wouldn’t mind that, but they said this person was calling you ‘baby’ and…” He trailed off.

“And what, Lando?” She pushed.

“They said it sounded like you were having sex.” He said quietly, his voice communicating how uncomfortable he was.

She tried to conjure up a lie for the truth, “Oh, well, um, I was watching a show and there was a sex scene, so maybe it was that?”

“Mhm,” He gave, “Y/n?”

“Yes, Lando?” She said again, still looking at Oscar, completely lost.

“You would tell me if you were dating someone, right?”

The question stopped her, she felt incredibly guilty responding with, “Of course. You’re my brother.”

“Okay, well, that’s all. Just be quieter if you can please.” He said softly.

“Okay, I will. Bye, love you.”

“Love you too.” And the call clicked, signaling its end.

Y/n looked at Oscar before he was whispering, “Guess we need to hangout at my apartment now, then.”

—

“Do I look okay?” She asked, staring at Oscar and waiting for his approval.

He cringed, “I mean, yeah, you look like you just got fucked.”

She groaned, head falling forward, “Oscarrrr”

He shook his head, walking up to her, “It’ll be fine! Just walk out there with confidence, no one will know.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes, “You want me to walk out of your driver’s room, looking like I just had sex, which I did, and pretend nothing happened with confidence?”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, when you put it like that,”

She took a deep breath and walked toward the door, “You know what? It’s fine, so long as no one sees us walk out together. Especially Lando.”

Of course, the world hated their guts as they both shuffled out and were met with the confused look of Oscar’s teammate and Y/n’s brother.

“Lando!” She smiled, her voice sounding strained.

His eyes shifted between the two of them, “What were you two doing?”

Oscar was quick, “What do you mean? We were just hanging out like we always do.”

Lando shook his head, “No, I heard noises.”

“No, you didn’t.” Y/n said immediately, silence falling upon the three as Oscar and Y/n tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

“Are you two together? Did I miss a love confession?” He quizzed, finger waving between the two.

Y/n and Oscar gasped obnoxiously simultaneously, “What?! No. For the love of God, Lando, we do not like each other.” Y/n said, deflecting and defending.

Oscar nodded, agreeing with her unwaveringly.

Lando’s hip popped out and his arms folded together across his chest. His mouth opened to counter, but his sister got there first.

“Oh, hell no. I know that stance. That’s your sass stance. I’m not dealing with that, Lan. Ain’t no fucking way.” She brushed off, screaming on the inside, before moving past him and walking away.

Lando was left to stare deeply at Oscar, “Anything to tell me, Piastri?”

Oscar shook his head forcefully, hands coming to surrender, “Nothing, Norris.”

Lando walked past him, stopping next to him and grabbing his bicep harshly, “Hurt her, I’ll kill you. Don’t test me. I don’t care what kind of friendship I’ve developed with you. I’ll cut a bitch.”

—

“What’s that on your neck, Y/n?” Daniel quizzed, a smile gracing his features as the two hung out in Alpha Tauri’s hospitality.

She looked at him blankly, “What?” Her eyebrows drew together, pulling out her phone to open the camera and check what he was referring to.

She tried to keep her anguish in when she saw the purple hickey on the side of her neck, memories of that morning with Oscar filling her brain. They had had to be quick with Lando saying he would be to her hotel room at any moment, but Oscar had still somehow found time to mark her skin the way he always wanted to.

She blinked, staring at Daniel and trying to find an explanation, “Oh, I’m not sure. Must’ve hit my neck on something.”

She went back to her food, trying to stop the conversation and any following questions, but Daniel’s next statement had her choking.

“You know, I say Oscar with the same kind of mark earlier today. Asked him what that was all about. He told me he had spent the night with a girl before, saying she had been eager.”

Y/n just kept her eyes on the bowl in front of her, willing herself into a small hole, “Hmm, so weird. No correlation there though.”

He nodded, face telling her he didn’t believe either of them for one second, “Yeah. No correlation.”

—

“Lando, have you seen your sister anywhere?” Alpha Tauri’s main race engineer asked, seemingly frazzled.

Lando shook his head, “No, but have you seen Oscar?”

The man murmured a ‘no’, eyes frantically looking over the crowds in search of her y/h/c hair, “You can’t find him either?”

“No,” Lando’s eyes widened slightly when the idea came to his head, “Hey, has Oscar been mentioning Y/n a lot more lately?”

Pierre, the race engineer, laughed, “I don’t know how he could talk about her anymore than he already is. But, come to think of it, I feel like they’ve been together a lot more lately.”

“Yeah…” Lando trailed off, leaving the conversation to try and see for himself. His body moved quickly across the paddock, looking in every room in both McLaren and Alpha Tauri buildings. When he came up empty, he resorted to searching random corners of the track.

He was pacing by an alleyway when he caught a glimpse of Oscar’s hair, his head whipping around to inspect. He didn’t approach, wanting to see what he had stumbled across. Unfortunately, Lando couldn’t see who was with Oscar, their body being covered by his as it caged them into the wall, but it seemed to be someone he was romantically involved with. Lando watched as Oscar’s hands gripped onto the hips of this woman, his head leaning down to catch her in a kiss. When he saw the way Oscar’s hips ground into hers, Lando turned around and practically ran back to where he had been before.

Though he couldn’t make out who Oscar was involved with, Lando had an inkling it was his sister, a reality he had wished for her for so long.

—

Lando never got up in the middle of the night. It just never happened, he was a deep sleeper. However, for one reason or another, he was awoken with a thirst he had to quench. His eyes drooped as he slipped out of bed and into the hallway to his and Y/n’s kitchen. He stood, leaning on the cool counter, pouring himself a glass of water when he heard small noises coming from her room. At first, he thought she was watching a movie, but then he heard a deeper groan emit from the closed door and his ears strained to listen. He inched closer, trying to understand what he was hearing, but as he continued to hear almost inaudible sighs, he figured he’d just go in to check on her, wanting to make sure she was getting good sleep.

Abandoning the water fully on the island, he moved to stand with his hand on her doorknob. He hesitated, something in his mind nagging at him and telling him to walk away, but the another side, the protective side, told him he needed to make sure she was okay. Truly, if he had been a bit more awake, he would’ve clocked the category of sounds coming from the room; if he had been more awake, he would’ve walked away; if he had been more awake, he wouldn’t have opened the door and see his sister having sex with his teammate.

“SHIT!” He screamed, shrieking as he covered his eyes.

Oscar, his dick still buried inside his girlfriend, grabbed the duvet and pulled it quickly over their connected bodies. Y/n, whose legs were wrapped tightly around her boyfriend’s waist, yelled at Lando to get out, the boy still standing there with his hands squeezed over his face.

He ran out, sounding on the verge of tears. The door slammed shut behind him and Oscar dropped his head onto her shoulder, “I fucking swear to God. That cannot be the way your brother finds out about us.”

She gently pushed him off of her and grabbed their clothes off the ground, covering herself and preparing for the state she would find Lando in, “Looks like it is.”

The couple came out shamelessly, heads stooping low as they met Lando, the man sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

“Lan, I am so so so sorry.” She whispered, hand clutching Oscar’s.

He lifted his head, squinting at her, “I’m not fucking mad, just so shocked at you two being together and seeing… that.”

“Shocked?! You were one of the people who continuously told us we loved each other.” Oscar argued.

Lando shook his head, “I didn’t think you would go through with it. I thought the two of you would just stay friends seeing as you were both too scared to say anything.”

Oscar shuffled, “Well, she forced it out of me.”

Y/n nodded, giggling, “Yeah, I did.”

“Thank God, you did.” Oscar smiled down at her.

No matter how much he wanted to claw his eyes out, Lando knew he wouldn’t ever want to stop seeing how happy Oscar made Y/n. He felt relieved to know that the person he was leaving her to smiled at her that way, made her laugh that way, made her eyes twinkle that way.

Even though he wanted to claw his eyes out now, he was fully aware that he never wanted to stop seeing the love they shared.

It was so special and he was so elated his sister, out of all people, got to experience it.

He stood up from the couch, walking over to his sister and hugging her softly, whispering in her ear, “You picked a good one. I’m happy for you.”

He pulled back, loving the easy smile on her face, and moved to Oscar. He pulled him in for one of the few hugs they had ever shared, whispering in his ear, “I still stand by what I said before. Hurt her and you’re fucking dead, bitch.”

When the brother pulled away, he continued, “I don’t mess around when it comes to Y/n.”

Oscar chuckled and nodded, “Neither do I.”

And those three words reaffirmed everything Lando knew in his heart.

Oscar was good for her and, even though it had taken him so long to admit, he would love his sister in the way Lando always wished for her to be loved.

Cherished, protected, prioritized, and respected.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

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Uncle Sam paid to develop a cancer drug and now one guy will get to charge whatever he wants for it

Today (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. Tomorrow (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

The argument for pharma patents: making new medicines is expensive, and medicines are how we save ourselves from cancer and other diseases. Therefore, we will award government-backed monopolies – patents – to pharma companies so they will have an incentive to invest their shareholders' capital in research.

There's plenty wrong with this argument. For one thing, pharma companies use their monopoly winnings to sell drugs, not invent drugs. For every dollar pharma spends on research, it spends three dollars on marketing:

https://www.bu.edu/sph/files/2015/05/Pharmaceutical-Marketing-and-Research-Spending-APHA-21-Oct-01.pdf

And that "R&D" isn't what you're thinking of, either. Most R&D spending goes to "evergreening" – coming up with minor variations on existing drugs in a bid to extend those patents for years or decades:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3680578/

Evergreening got a lot of attention recently when John Green rained down righteous fire upon Johnson & Johnson for their sneaky tricks to prevent poor people from accessing affordable TB meds, prompting this excellent explainer from the Arm and A Leg Podcast:

https://armandalegshow.com/episode/john-green-part-1/

Another thing those monopoly profits are useful for: "pay for delay," where pharma companies bribe generic manufacturers not to make cheap versions of drugs whose patents have expired. Sure, it's illegal, but that doesn't stop 'em:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/topics/competition-enforcement/pay-delay

But it's their money, right? If they want to spend it on bribes or evergreening or marketing, at least some of that money is going into drugs that'll keep you and the people you love from enduring unimaginable pain or dying slowly and hard. Surely that warrants a patent.

Let's say it does. But what about when a pharma company gets a patent on a life-saving drug that the public paid to develop, test and refine? Publicly funded work is presumptively in the public domain, from NASA R&D to the photos that park rangers shoot of our national parks. The public pays to produce this work, so it should belong to the public, right?

That was the deal – until Congress passed the Bayh-Dole Act in 1980. Under Bayh-Dole, government-funded inventions are given away – to for-profit corporations, who get to charge us whatever they want to access the things we paid to make. The basis for this is a racist hoax called "The Tragedy Of the Commons," written by the eugenicist white supremacist Garrett Hardin and published by Science in 1968:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/10/01/the-tragedy-of-the-commons-how-ecofascism-was-smuggled-into-mainstream-thought/

Hardin invented an imaginary history in which "commons" – things owned and shared by a community – are inevitably overrun by selfish assholes, a fact that prompts nice people to also overrun these commons, so as to get some value out of them before they are gobbled up by people who read Garrett Hardin essays.

Hardin asserted this as a historical fact, but he cited no instances in which it happened. But when the Nobel-winning Elinor Ostrom actually went and looked at how commons are managed, she found that they are robust and stable over long time periods, and are a supremely efficient way of managing resources:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/04/analytical-democratic-theory/#epistocratic-delusions

The reason Hardin invented an imaginary history of tragic commons was to justify enclosure: moving things that the public owned and used freely into private ownership. Or, to put it more bluntly, Hardin invented a pseudoscientific justification for giving away parks, roads and schools to rich people and letting them charge us to use them.

To arrive at this fantasy, Hardin deployed one of the most important analytical tools of modern economics: introspection. As Ely Devons put it: "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’"

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

Hardin's hoax swept from the fringes to the center and became received wisdom – so much so that by 1980, Senators Birch Bayh and Bob Dole were able to pass a law that gave away publicly funded medicine to private firms, because otherwise these inventions would be "overgrazed" by greedy people, denying the public access to livesaving drugs.

On September 21, the NIH quietly published an announcement of one of these pharmaceutical transfers, buried in a list of 31 patent assignments in the Federal Register:

https://public-inspection.federalregister.gov/2023-20487.pdf

The transfer in question is a patent for using T-cell receptors (TCRs) to treat solid tumors from HPV, one of the only patents for treating solid tumors with TCRs. The beneficiary of this transfer is Scarlet TCR, a Delaware company with no website or SEC filings and ownership shrouded in mystery:

https://www.bizapedia.com/de/scarlet-tcr-inc.html

One person who pays attention to this sort of thing is James Love, co-founder of Knowledge Ecology International, a nonprofit that has worked for decades for access to medicines. Love sleuthed out at least one person behind Scarlet TCR: Christian Hinrichs, a researcher at Rutgers who used to work at the NIH's National Cancer Institute:

https://www.nih.gov/research-training/lasker-clinical-research-scholars/tenured-former-scholars

Love presumes Hinrichs is the owner of Scarlet TCR, but neither the NIH nor Scarlet TCR nor Hinrichs will confirm it. Hinrichs was one of the publicly-funded researchers who worked on the new TCR therapy, for which he received a salary.

This new drug was paid for out of the public purse. The basic R&D – salaries for Hinrichs and his collaborators, as well as funding for their facilities – came out of NIH grants. So did the funding for the initial Phase I trial, and the ongoing large Phase II trial.

As David Dayen writes in The American Prospect, the proposed patent transfer will make Hinrichs a very wealthy man (Love calls it "generational wealth"):

https://prospect.org/health/2023-10-18-nih-how-to-become-billionaire-program/

This wealth will come by charging us – the public – to access a drug that we paid to produce. The public took all the risks to develop this drug, and Hinrichs stands to become a billionaire by reaping the rewards – rewards that will come by extracting fortunes from terrified people who don't want to die from tumors that are eating them alive.

The transfer of this patent is indefensible. The government isn't even waiting until the Phase II trials are complete to hand over our commonly owned science.

But there's still time. The NIH is about to get a new director, Monica Bertagnolli – Hinrichs's former boss – who will need to go before the Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions Committee for confirmation. Love is hoping that the confirmation hearing will present an opportunity to question Bertagnolli about the transfer – specifically, why the drug isn't being nonexclusively licensed to lots of drug companies who will have to compete to sell the cheapest possible version.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/19/solid-tumors/#t-cell-receptors

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

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sandfordsmostwanted · 1 year

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No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content... ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma.

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out. Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway. And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together. As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other. It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned. Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real. It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began. A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college. Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated. (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song)

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

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