#'NEW RULES APPROVED!!!!!'

[ace-and-ranty]

I love people disparaging the reading comprehension of this website, for shortening the WGA's tentative deal to snappy "The strike is over!" headlines

Babe, that isnt poor reading skills, that is marketing speak. Everyone does this.

[quoththemaiden]

You ever read a fic and realize a month later that you've fully accepted part of it as headcanon because it's just that good?

The fic: Factory Settings

The author: Anonymous

The quote:

This is how Crawly learns that Hell will also not be implementing a suggestion box any time soon (at least, not until he explains how to make the concept fruitless and cruel), because Satan responds to this input by picking him up and tossing him back into the fire. It makes an effective point to the rest of the Dark Council, though Crawly himself doesn't really learn anything except that he'd rather keep as far away from Satan as possible going forwards. When he manages to get out of the flames again, there's a war on. They stick him in the lowest rung of the most miserable cannon fodder demons, where he utterly fails to distinguish himself as any kind of worthwhile fighter, but manages to rise through some of the ranks simply by virtue of not dying among his fellows every time Satan decides to just throw wave after wave of bodies at the Enemy. Eventually he gets command of his own battalion, which he approaches as a kind of a puzzle where Satan or the Dark Council will tell them to do things that will definitely get them obliterated by Heaven's forces, and Crawly tries to figure out how to not actually do those things or get obliterated without also being caught out and punished by Hell. They promote him some more, until he says the wrong thing and gets demoted back to the bottom again. In this way Crawly learns that there is a trick to getting ahead. Beneath a certain point, evading attention (and therefore punishment) is still a viable option, whilst getting above a certain point lowers the odds of meeting a grisly end. Get too high and they start keeping too close of an eye on him and expecting him to do things he'd rather not, and noticing if he doesn't, so it's better not to reach that point. But stay too low and it doesn't matter if they're noticing him or not, they'll just throw him directly into trouble as an expendable body. It takes finesse to succeed enough to not be on the front lines while failing enough to not be immediately promoted to a command position either, and one of the most useful things he discovers is how many other demons will just lie and take credit for his accomplishments if he doesn't step in and stop them. Then they get the promotions and Crawly stays under the radar, and everyone wins. Well, no, actually everyone suffers and it's awful and miserable and he hates every single moment of it. But he manages.

Maybe season 3 will spell out what Crowley's ranking in the demonic hierarchy had been in season 1, but if that doesn't happen, this is getting my vote.

[raininyourblackeyes]

from the reddit discussion about the newest isu communication:

do you happen to know a bit more about it? and maybe in the end it's an addition (towards increasing base value), not exactly a loss (again, only about base value)?

but well. the fs jumps layout are about to look pretty differently, aren't they?..

To be honest my ISU hating posting had nothing to do with the Euler thing lmao but rather with the choreo spin since I hate choreo elements in general. That is I hate their judging because of the fixed BV and ridiculous GOE scale since it opens the door to an even more lax judging.

About the Euler, this is actually correct. Bear in mind that this decision is still pending, but it will 90% go through since it's already in the guideline. As per the phrasing in the guidline combinations such as 2A+1Eu+3S+3T will now be allowed counting as a three jumps jumping pass. This can be a quite interesting change, bringing some variety to the jumping layout we're used to right now. I think seeing a program with let's say 3Lz+1Eu+3S and then a 2A+3T+2T could be fun to see in one program. This is of course ignoring that most skaters make the Euler look like an ugly step out rather than a half-Loop...

The change in BV wouldn't be significant given the small value it had before in my opinion.

[not-krys]

Fictober 2023: The Traveling Adventures of Mr. Fox and Miss Mouse Part 2

Prompt #4: Do You Even Know What This Means?

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Rating: Teen

Characters: Mitsuhide Akechi, 'Miss Mouse' (Fem!Reader Insert using a moniker)

Summary: Detective Mitsuhide is given the task of returning a runaway bride to her husband back East. Miss Mouse, as she's calling herself, refuses to return.

Notes: 1880s America / Historical Travel AU, Fem Reader Insert, so feminine terms will be used to refer to the reader (lady, miss, missy, girl, wife, etc), Mitsuhide also being a manipulative lil shit but what else is new?

Had brainworms for this AU back in February of this year and have now decided to expand upon it for this year's Fictober entry. For the first part of the story, check this link!

Also up on ao3!

And thanks to @bluetri4ngles and @drachonia for beta reading this for me! And I know @lorei-writes was excited about the first part, so here's a part 2, love!

WC: 2487

—------

He had only closed his eyes for a minute. Mitsuhide had sworn it had only been a minute, but it seemed a minute too long for his liking. Maybe it was the swaying of the train, maybe it was his own fatigue catching up to him–he didn't know what would have caused him to be so unaware–but in the next moment, the sun had dipped behind the flying tree line, the lands out the window seemingly flatter and grassier than when he had departed. He was still sitting in the booth he had sat at with the lady in the purple dress, the girl he was supposed to be bringing back home, but there was no sign of his companion, not even a lingering scent of the lavender she had in her hat.

Well, this wasn't good.

She did have the good grace to cover his food with a napkin (untouched), and a little note thanking him again for the help earlier and letting him know that she was retiring to her cabin for the evening. Even had the audacity to sign it as Miss Mouse with a cute doodle of a mouse in a bustle dress next to her signature. Mitsuhide sighed.

He thought of returning to his own car for the evening, following suit of the lady, but he was stopped by a passing steward who handed him a note. A telegram, rather, with a hushed message.

"201." he said simply, his face strangely stiff, even for a railroad steward.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow as the man walked away, pushing up his glasses, seemingly. With a defeated shrug, Mitsuhide looked over the telegram, his white brow now furrowing.

"Husband growing impatient. Bring girl home. Threats of bankruptcy and setting building on fire. Doing best to stall. Please hurry. KB."

"Kyubei," Mitsuhide crumpled the paper in his hand, looking back out at the orange and purple tinged scenery.

"Doing things thousands of miles away is easier said than done, my friend." Mitsuhide closed his eyes and stood up, going back to his cabin to think. He was in for a long ride and Miss Mouse would surely hate him when she learned of his true intentions. A sad thought, to be sure, but there was a reason mice and foxes weren't the best of friends, after all.

-----

Miss Mouse, rather you, had retired for the evening after leaving your savior, Mr. Fox, behind in the dining car. As much as you had enjoyed his company and that he had saved you from some rough gentlemen that seemed hell-bent on harassing you, you couldn't stay with the dashing Mr. Fox.

Or rather, Mr. Akechi, you thought with a sigh, remembering the sight of his bellflower-stitched holster.

Yes, even word of the white-haired detective had reached your noble circles. A tall man with a deep voice and a grin that was just asking for trouble. You almost couldn't believe that Mr. Akechi, the famous detective, had boarded on a train, the very same train that you were on.

Being rescued by him certainly did a number on your heart, but the reality of the situation soon sank in after you'd had a minute to think.

Mr. Akechi likely wasn't here for a leisurely train ride through the countryside. In all likelihood, he was probably paid to bring you back home, back to that disgusting pig of a man that had swindled you out of your family and their money. You felt your blood boiling at the thought of that man's hands touching yours, and your stomach churning as he smiled a lecherous grin at you.

No, it wouldn't do you any good to waste another thought on the man. You needed to think of a plan, to find some way to escape a detective like Mr. Akechi. It was your only hope if you wanted to keep your freedom.

You sat in the comfy chair in your room, contemplating what to do next. A planned stop was coming within a day or so, you thought. You could slip into the crowd and sneak aboard another train. Although the possibility of getting caught made your heart stutter and cower out in the end.

You could also sneak into the crowd and wait for the train to leave, then just explain to the staff that you had simply missed your train and would wait for the next one. A simple enough excuse and a believable one. You could get lost in the town nearby, say you lost track of the time, and just wait in town for the next available train to take you to California. Mr. Oda would understand, wouldn't he? People get lost traveling by trains all the time, surely?

Although, it would look suspicious if you took your trunk with you into the rail station as if you meant to stay longer and not get back on the train. Would you be willing to risk leaving your belongings to elude the detective? You had heard stories of people losing their way with no belongings and dying out in the great unknown.

Maybe, you thought, perhaps you could buy more supplies in the rail town without it looking suspicious and just leave your original belongings on purpose? People lost luggage all the time anyways, right?

You sighed. Who knew starting your new life in the West was going to require this much of a daring escapade to elude both your suitor and a suave detective?

No, he wasn't that suave. He was here (possibly) to whisk you back home! That took down his handsomeness some. No amount of charm he could exude would persuade you into going back. Not ever.

You looked over at your hat, little lavender springs already starting to wilt. You frowned and stood up, taking the hat into your hands and pulled the sprigs out, setting them aside to press later.

You sat the hat back onto the table and prepared for bed, stripping the purple overdress and petticoats from your body, breathing in deeply.

Rocked by the swaying of the train, you laid in the provided bed, pulling the feathered blanket over your head, hoping to come up with a more solid plan in the morning, and a stronger hope of not seeing a certain white-haired Mr. Fox in the dining car again. Your rescuer could easily transform into your kidnapper and you sincerely hoped that wouldn't be the case. His kindness and wit had warmed you, but warmth had a habit of dissipating if there was a stiff breeze present.

You closed your eyes, hoping against hope that Mr. Fox was just here for a leisurely train ride and nothing more.

-------

The early morning sun and rumbling stomachs roused the passengers of the westward bound train. Mitsuhide brushed his hair back as he replaced his hat, noting the lessened dark circles around his eyes. Who knew that following a girl across the country would do wonders for his sleep habits?

With a yawn while buttoning up his waistcoat, he headed back to the dining car with a flourish of his jacket, finding you once again, enjoying a light breakfast and, thankfully, no unscrupulous gentlemen around to ruin your meal time.

Well, save for one unscrupulous gentleman, he thought sadly.

You jumped a little as your sudden guest seated himself, golden eyes training on you like a fox that had trapped a little mouse under his paw.

"Good morning, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said as he sat across from you, his dangerous grin lighting his face.

"G-good morning, Mr. Fox." you returned, cutting up your eggs with a frown, "I see you are in better spirits than yesterday. Did you have a good sleep?"

"I did, thank you for asking." he said a touch thinly, remembering the state she had left him in yesterday. "I'm heartbroken, however."

"Heartbroken?"

"You left your dear husband to fend for himself in the cold dining car all night. And after such a gallant rescue yesterday, too."

You froze.

"I never said you were my husband. That was you fibbing to make those other gentlem-"

"Yet rumors are already spreading that we are arguing and you sent me here in your anger."

"…Beg your pardon?"

"You left me in the dining car when you were angry with me. The staff and a few married couples looked on in pity. It was quite embarrassing."

"Wait, you really did sleep here all night?" You asked, worriedly.

"Feel my hands, dear, and see how cold they are."

You stared at him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. You then looked down at his hands, frowning.

"You're wearing gloves."

"Yes, I am. So are you. Quite a mind for detail, Miss."

"Your hands wouldn't be cold if you were wearing gloves." You said, "plus, the passenger cars are all heated through steam. You wouldn't be cold at all."

Mitsuhide smirked.

"Then, perhaps, you could rub my back? The chairs here are quite comfortable for sitting in, but sleeping in them certainly isn't the best idea."

You frowned deeper.

"Teasing, Mouse." he said, "I was only teasing you. I went back to my cabin and slept quite deeply."

You returned to your eggs with a pout.

"Well, Mr. Fox, some of us don't need or appreciate being riled up like that first thing in the morning."

"I was being serious about the rumors, however."

"You and I are not married."

"No, but I did put on such a spectacular show yesterday, so much so that seeing us apart has made others curious."

"Then quell those rumors." You said firmly.

His sly smile made you pause.

"I'm afraid It would be in your best interest if I didn't."

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"A young, unmarried woman traveling alone is just asking for trouble," Mitsuhide explained. "A married woman traveling with her husband at least has him around to protect her."

"And you're offering to be my husband for my protection?" 

"Precisely."

"Why? Why do you want to protect me so badly?"

Mitsuhide paused, seeming caught for a brief moment. His placid look soon returned, however.

"It's in my nature to protect young ladies in distress such as yourself."

You huffed. So, this was how it was going to be?

"I was doing fine."

"Yesterday proved otherwise."

"I was going to ask for help from the steward and have them confined until we get to the next stop. That is, until you intervened."

"And if they escape their confinement after the train reaches the next stop, what then? They could kidnap and have their way with you, whatever their perverted minds were thinking of doing to you once you were alone."

"I-"

You paused, now the one trapped in the logic trap. You had only wanted to escape that horrible match and now… You were alone against a fox dead set on trapping you, the fox not even being the worst of the dangers in front of you, you were beginning to realize.

"Though your bravery in striking out on your own was admirable, you must also understand the world we're in, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said. "A woman without a man to support her won't last very long, especially out here in the unknown."

He rested his chin in his palm.

"What I'm offering is protection, so that what happened yesterday won't happen again. Better yet, a worse outcome won't come to pass so long as I'm here."

You looked at him, studying him.

"And if I refuse your protection? If I escape at the next station and flee without you by carriage? By stagecoach? Even by a horse?"

"Trouble much worse than yesterday will find you." Mitsuhide frowned, not the least bit thrilled at the idea of physically chasing you across the vast countryside aside from the comfort of the train. "Even fleeing by your own two legs would leave you at the mercy of the elements along with the evil men trying to catch your tail."

You looked away, not hungry anymore.

"Do you know what all this means, Mouse?"

"I know what it means." You bit back. "And I hate that you're right."

"Hate it and me as much as you want, Miss Mouse. So long as you agree to lie about us being married. It's for your protection, after all."

You sighed in defeat.

"I have half a mind to make you sleep in the dining car again, Mr. Fox."

Mitsuhide chuckled, pushing your plate back towards you.

"So long as you keep being my wife, Miss Mouse. I'll even sleep on the roof if you tell me to."

Much as you didn’t like him in this moment, you still had your standards.

"No, don't sleep on the roof, please. However, as your wife," you shoved the plate towards him this time, "I want you to eat."

Mitsuhide blinked in surprise.

"You didn't finish your dinner yesterday because you were helping me. The steward told me when I arrived here this morning."

"And I remember telling you I lost my sense of taste ages ago."

"Your belly doesn't care about your lack of taste." You pointed your fork at him. "Besides, I can't have my ‘husband’ collapsing from hunger if he's supposed to be protecting me from all the nasty villains that are coming after me. It's the least I can do as your ‘wife’. That’s what you wanted, correct?"

Mitsuhide chuckled after a moment.

"You're kinder than I deserve, little wife."

"I'm not your wife.” you repeated. “I pity the poor waif that takes your hand someday."

"You and me both." He never pictured himself getting married, however nice a thought it was. He couldn't put someone through his life guilt-free, wouldn’t dream of putting someone through his life, not even his worst of enemies.

Instead, he took his pleasure in eating off your plate, ignoring your pointed scowl as he snatched your fork when your back was turned to order more food. The small domestic atmosphere, though with many more strings running underneath it like the tracks beneath them, it made him smile genuinely inwardly, having the taste of a humble life he would never know otherwise, he felt. 

He had been surprised that you remembered him not eating the previous evening and had thought to remedy that, despite knowing who he was, evidently, based on the change in demeanor this morning. You truly were too kind to him, at least suspecting his true intentions and yet still thinking after him enough to remind him to eat.

His true heartbreak would come when he had to take her back home, he thought with a sigh, forced to feed this kind little mouse to a much more despicable creature than him, the thought causing more displeasure and annoyance than it should have. 

What was this little mouse doing to him, causing such troublesome thoughts in him?

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

Lord help me if I do not play PLA to completion NOW

[agdab]

this job is going to fix my daddy issues oh my fuckin god

[daydreamerdrew]

The Avengers (1963) #16

[sapphia]

USA please listen to me: the price of “teaching them a lesson” is too high. take it from New Zealand, who voted our Labour government out in the last election because they weren’t doing exactly what we wanted and got facism instead.

Trans rights are being attacked, public transport has been defunded, tax cuts issued for the wealthy, they've mass-defunded public services, cut and attacked the disability funding model, cut benefits, diverted transport funding to roads, cut all recent public transport subsidies, cancelled massive important infrastructure projects like damns and ferries (we are three ISLANDS), fast tracked mining, oil, and other massive environmentally detrimental projects and gave the power the to approve these projects singularly to three ministers who have been wined and dined by lobbyists of the companies that have put the bids in to approve them while one of the main minister infers he will not prioritise the protection of endangered species like the archeys frog over mining projects that do massive environmental harm. They have attacked indigenous rights in an attempt to negate the Treaty of Waitangi by “redefining it”; as a backup, they are also trying to remove all mentions of the treaty from legislation starting with our Child Protection laws no longer requiring social workers to consider the importance of Maori children’s culture when placing those children; when the Waitangi Tribunal who oversees indigenous matters sought to enquire about this, the Minister for Children blocked their enquiry in a breach of comity that was condemned in a ruling — too late to do anything — by our Supreme Court. They have repealed labour protections around pay and 90 day trials, reversed our smoking ban, cancelled our EV subsidy, cancelled our water infrastructure scheme that would have given Maori iwi a say in water asset management, cancelled our biggest city’s fuel tax, made our treasury and inland revenue departments less accountable, dispensed of our Productivity Commission, begun work on charter schools and military boot camps in an obvious push towards privatisation, cancelled grants for first home buyers, reduced access to emergency housing, allowed no cause evictions, cancelled our Maori health system that would have given Maori control over their own public medical care and funding, cut funding of services like budgeting advice and food banks, cancelled the consumer advocacy council, cancelled our medicine regulations, repealed free prescriptions, deferred multiple hospital builds, failed to deliver on pre-election medical promises, reversed a gun ban created in response to the mosque shootings, brought back three strikes = life sentence policy, increased minimum wage by half the recommended amount, cancelled fair pay for disabled workers, reduced wheelchair services, reversed our oil and gas exploration ban, cancelled our climate emergency fund, cut science research funding including climate research, removed limits on killing sea lions, cut funding for the climate change commission, weakened our methane targets, cancelled Significant National Areas protections, have begun reversing our ban on live exports. Much of this was passed under urgency.

It’s been six months.

[rightnewshindi]

हिमाचल में सीपीएस और मंत्रियों से मिलने के लिए नए नियम हुए लागू, अब बिना मंजूरी के नहीं होगी मुलाकात

Himachal News: हिमाचल प्रदेश सचिवालय में प्रवेश के नियम बदल गए हैं। बता दें कि अब मंत्रियों, मुख्य संसदीय सचिवों के कार्यालयों से मिलने के लिए पहले रिसेप्शन से संबंधित मंत्री और सीपीएस व अन्य अधिकारियों की शाखा को फोन किया जाएगा। सचिवालय प्रशासन विभाग ने इस बाबत निर्देश दिए हैं। अगर किसी से मिलना आवश्यक होगा तो प्रवेश के लिए संबंधित कार्यालय से ईमेल भेजी जाएगी। इस औपचारिकता को पूरा करने के बाद ही…

[crossdreamers]

Japan Court Rules Trans Man Can Change Gender Marker Without Surgery

Them reports:

A Japanese court this week approved a transgender man’s legal gender change without first requiring sterilization, marking a major step forward for trans rights in the country. Takakito Usui, 50, won recognition of his gender before the Okayama Family Court’s Tsuyama branch on Wednesday. “I want to thank my family. I feel a new life is beginning,” Usui, a farmer living in the rural Yamagata Prefecture, said at a press conference on Wednesday following the ruling. Usui previously petitioned to change his legal gender in 2016, the paper noted, but was rejected because he had not been medically sterilized, as was then required under Japanese law. In October, Japan’s Supreme Court struck down the 2003 statute requiring trans people to be sterilized before obtaining legal recognition.

More here!

[macleod]

LGBTQ+ workers who are misgendered by their employers or blocked from accessing restrooms consistent with their gender identity will now get additional workplace protections as a result of new guidance issued Monday by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.

It’s the first time in 25 years that the EEOC has issued new rules on workplace discrimination — a change precipitated in part by the 2020 Supreme Court case Bostock v. Clayton County, the landmark decision that found that LGBTQ+ workers are protected from workplace discrimination.

For LGBTQ+ workers, the EEOC’s guidance strengthens the impact of the 2020 Bostock decision, affecting an estimated 3.6 million employees. It also clarifies the requirements for employers.

Emily Martin, the chief program officer for the National Women’s Law Center, said in a statement that the guidance “makes clear that federal law does not allow workplaces to be in the business of using harassment to enforce sex stereotypes about how employees should live, present, or identify. This is illegal discrimination, plain and simple.”

The guidelines were approved by a 3-2 vote in the five-member commission, including by Commissioner Kalpana Kotagal.

Source: Chabeli Carrazana via The 19th, April 30th 2024.

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[libraford]

I've been thinking about the proposed gender transition regulations (ohio) because it paints a strange painting about what it's like to be a young queer American.

At the same time that they're trying to increase the restrictions of HRT and surgery to 21, they are trying to lower the working age and increase their hours past 30, deny them lunch breaks. Moms for Liberty (now calling themselves Awake Americans) are trying to remove queer content from schools, claiming that it's pornographic. They're practically adults when you're using them in the workforce, but children when they want to learn and children when they want to be happy.

You can enlist in the military at 18. You can get a tattoo at 18. You can get your nipples pierced at 18. You can work an exploitative job at 18. You can buy pornography at 18. Vote at 18. Gamble at 18. Get married at 18. Get cosmetic surgery at 18 (unless you're trans.) You can drink and smoke legally at 21 without 6 months of therapy and the approval of a board certified psychologist, endocrinologist, and one of three medical ethicists in the state.

But you can't transition. Because the state thinks that you're too young and don't know yourself well enough to make that decision, but it will let you die in a war.

The comment period for this rule change ends January 19th at 5pm. Send an email to mh-sot-rules@mha.ohio.gov with the title "Comments in Gender Transition Care Rules" and tell them how the new rules would impact your life or the lives of those around you.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

TRANS OHIOANS - START STOCKPILING YOUR HRT AND PLAN HOW YOU WILL BE ABLE TO CONTINUE YOUR TRANSITION CARE

Ohio has taken a page out of Florida’s book and is proposing to effectively ban adult transition care via the requirements of numerous specialists - a psychiatrist, endocrinologist, and a bioethicist.

Since most trans people get their HRT from nurse practioners via the informed consent model, this will create undue burden on both trans people and the medical system -- the bottlenecks will effectively ban transition care for adults. This is what has happened in Florida, and Ohio's rules look much more draconian and surveiliance-heavy. All trans healthcare will be reported to the state.

These new rules have not taken effect yet. Trans Ohioans should plan for the worst now.

The rules are open to public comment through 5pm Friday, Jan 19, 2024. The full copy of the rules and how to comment are below:

https://mha.ohio.gov/about-us/rules-and-regulations/rules/draft-rules/gender-transition-care

As a Floridian who saw the writing on the wall and fled his state (my clinic hasn't been allowed to fill HRT prescriptions since May 2023 now) -- do not delay on making preparations. If this is approved, the rules will likely catch everyone by surprise. Start talking with your providers now and plan out your options assuming the ban will take place.

Informed folks to follow on Twitter:

Alejandra

Erin

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Year - 2023 Edition

Welcome to our special edition newsletter recapping the best news from the past year. I've picked one highlight from each month to give you a snapshot of 2023. No frills, just straightforward news that mattered. Let's relive the good stuff that made our year shine.

January - London: Girl with incurable cancer recovers after pioneering treatment

A girl’s incurable cancer has been cleared from her body after what scientists have described as the most sophisticated cell engineering to date.

2. February - Utah legislature unanimously passes ban on LGBTQ conversion therapy

The Utah State Legislature has unanimously approved a bill that enshrines into law a ban on LGBTQ conversion therapy.

3. March - First vaccine for honeybees could save billions

The United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) has approved the world’s first-ever vaccine intended to address the global decline of honeybees. It will help protect honeybees from American foulbrood, a contagious bacterial disease which can destroy entire colonies.

4. April - Fungi discovered that can eat plastic in just 140 days

Australian scientists have successfully used backyard mould to break down one of the world's most stubborn plastics — a discovery they hope could ease the burden of the global recycling crisis within years. 

5. May - Ocean Cleanup removes 200,000th kilogram of plastic from the Pacific Ocean

The Dutch offshore restoration project, Ocean Cleanup, says it has reached a milestone. The organization's plastic catching efforts have now fished more than 200,000 kilograms of plastic out of the Pacific Ocean, Ocean Cleanup said on Twitter.

6. June - U.S. judge blocks Florida ban on care for trans minors in narrow ruling, says ‘gender identity is real’

A federal judge temporarily blocked portions of a new Florida law that bans transgender minors from receiving puberty blockers, ruling Tuesday that the state has no rational basis for denying patients treatment.

7. July - World’s largest Phosphate deposit discovered in Norway

A massive underground deposit of high-grade phosphate rock in Norway, pitched as the world’s largest, is big enough to satisfy world demand for fertilisers, solar panels and electric car batteries over the next 50 years, according to the company exploiting the resource.

8. August - Successful room temperature ambient-pressure magnetic levitation of LK-99

If the claim by Sukbae Lee and Ji-Hoon Kim of South Korea’s Quantum Energy Research Centre holds up, the material could usher in all sorts of technological marvels, such as levitating vehicles and perfectly efficient electrical grids.

9. September - World’s 1st drug to regrow teeth enters clinical trials

The ability to regrow your own teeth could be just around the corner. A team of scientists, led by a Japanese pharmaceutical startup, are getting set to start human trials on a new drug that has successfully grown new teeth in animal test subjects.

10. October - Nobel Prize goes to scientists behind mRNA Covid vaccines

The Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine has been awarded to a pair of scientists who developed the technology that led to the mRNA Covid vaccines. Professors Katalin Kariko and Drew Weissman will share the prize.

11. November - No cases of cancer caused by HPV in Norwegian 25-year olds, the first cohort to be mass vaccinated for HPV.

Last year there were zero cases of cervical cancer in the group that was vaccinated in 2009 against the HPV virus, which can cause the cancer in women.

12. December - President Biden announces he’s pardoning all convictions of federal marijuana possession

President Joe Biden announced Friday he's issuing a federal pardon to every American who has used marijuana in the past, including those who were never arrested or prosecuted.

------

And there you have it – a year's worth of uplifting news! I hope these positive stories brought a bit of joy to your inbox. As I wrap up this special edition, I want to thank all my supporters!

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

[schakira]

(Unedited Version, Patch 0, May 14th 2024)

Approval Ratings — You now get to intimately know when your entourage approves or disapproves of your choices. You get to accurately see how you fair within their approval ratings.

Info tips — Every now and then, a little window in your field of vision shares crucial tidbits of information to you. Very situational, but always helpful.

Field of View — When crouching, you can you see exactly where people are looking, and you can also tell if people have detected you, whether or not you can see them. (This includes cameras, animals...)

Model Equipment — Once per week, you can declare one outfit; this outfit will remain clean, temperate, and comfortable for the rest of the week, but you will not be able to take it off. You will not be getting dirty or sweating, if that's a concern. You will remain clean, and in a stasis appearance-wise, for 1 week at a time.

Check / Examine — You can check people and get a detailed description of who they are, their strength, their health, their life's story.

Turn-Based Action — Once per day, you can force people and objects to abide by the rules of turn-based encounters. Stuck at an intersection between cars? Turn-Based. Someone keeps cutting you off when you talk? Turn-Based. Not even I know the true ramifications of this.

Emote — Observe movements done by someone; you can set them as emotes. Maximum of 60 emotes. Emoting does not tire you, or exhaust you. You can delete and replace emotes. (The exhaustion can be interpreted however you want.)

Fishing — Fishing, now turned into a mini-game. You'll always catch something within a few seconds!

3rd person view — You can now toggle your vision between 1st person and 3rd person view, and navigate the world like so whenever you want.

Quick Grab — You can quickly grab and acquire anything within arm's reach, in the blink of an eye.

Menus, settings — Change the video, sound, and control settings of your brain's sensory inputs.

Subtitles — You can toggle subtitles on or off. Can not translate.