#and they all cited different incidents!!!

[reasonsforhope]

Double dose of articles about how crime is actually plummeting

From the UK:

"Seventy-eight per cent of people in England and Wales think that crime has gone up in the last few years, according to the latest survey. But the data on actual crime shows the exact opposite.

As of 2024, violence, burglary and car crime have been declining for 30 years and by close to 90%, according to the Crime Survey for England and Wales (CSEW) – our best indicator of true crime levels. Unlike police data, the CSEW is not subject to variations in reporting and recording.

The drop in violence includes domestic violence and other violence against women. Anti-social behaviour has similarly declined. While increased fraud and computer misuse now make up half of crime, this mainly reflects how far the rates of other crimes have fallen.

All high-income countries have experienced similar trends, and there is scientific consensus that the decline in crime is a real phenomenon.

The perception gap

So why is there such a gulf between public perception and the reality of crime trends? A regular YouGov poll asks respondents for their top three concerns from a broad set of issues. Concern about crime went from a low in 2016 (when people were more concerned with Brexit), quadrupled by 2019 and plummeted during the pandemic when people had other worries. But in the last year, the public’s concern about crime has risen again.

There are many possible explanations for this, of which the first is poor information. A study published in 1998 found that “people who watch a lot of television or who read a lot of newspapers will be exposed to a steady diet of crime stories” that does not reflect official statistics.

The old news media adage “if it bleeds, it leads” reflects how violent news stories, including crime increases and serious crimes, capture public attention. Knife crime grabs headlines in the UK, but our shock at individual incidents is testament to their rarity and our relative success in controlling violence – many gun crimes do not make the news in the US.

Most recent terrorist attacks in the UK have featured knives (plus a thwarted Liverpool bomber), but there is little discussion of how this indicates that measures to restrict guns and bomb-making resources are effective."

-via The Conversation, May 13, 2024

And the United States:

"[The United States experienced a spike in crime rates in 2020, during the pandemic.] But in 2023, crime in America looked very different.

"At some point in 2022 — at the end of 2022 or through 2023 — there was just a tipping point where violence started to fall and it just continued to fall," said Jeff Asher, a crime analyst and co-founder of AH Datalytics.

In cities big and small, from both coasts, violence has dropped.

"The national picture shows that murder is falling. We have data from over 200 cities showing a 12.2% decline ... in 2023 relative to 2022," Asher said, citing his own analysis of public data. He found instances of rape, robbery and aggravated assault were all down too.

Yet when you ask people about crime in the country, the perception is it's getting a lot worse.

A Gallup poll released in November found 77% of Americans believed there was more crime in the country than the year before. And 63% felt there was either a "very" or "extremely" serious crime problem — the highest in the poll's history going back to 2000.

So what's going on?

What the cities are seeing

What you see depends a lot on what you're looking at, according to Asher.

"There's never been a news story that said, 'There were no robberies yesterday, nobody really shoplifted at Walgreens,'" he said.

"Especially with murder, there's no doubt that it is falling at [a] really fast pace right now. And the only way that I find to discuss it with people is to talk about what the data says." ...

For cities like San Francisco, Baltimore and Minneapolis, there may be different factors at play [in crime declining]. And in some instances, it comes as the number of police officers declines too.

Baltimore police are chronically short of their recruitment goal, and as of last September had more than 750 vacant positions, according to a state audit report...

In Minneapolis, police staffing has plummeted. According to the Star Tribune, there are about 560 active officers — down from nearly 900 in 2019. Mannix said the 2020 police killing of George Floyd resulted in an unprecedented exodus from the department...

In Minneapolis, the city is putting more financial resources into nontraditional policing initiatives. The Department of Neighborhood Safety, which addresses violence through a public health lens, received $22 million in the 2024 budget."

-via NPR, February 12, 2024

[themanfromeire]

Wolfstar's!Child - Mama Raised a Little Bitch

Parents!Sirius Black & Remus Lupin x Teenager!Reader (ft. Jegulily)

Reader's gender and Hogwarts house is unspecified

This is my first work of the series - if you have any suggestions or requests, let me know!

~~~

Fucked was not a strong enough word to describe how totally and utterly screwed you were now.

When you had first gotten your Hogwarts letter, your uncle Regulus had fallen to his knees (metaphorically) to beg you not to be like James, or your papa Sirius. Remus had joined in too, with both of them citing that ‘Sirius and James were bad enough’ as their justification.

With a promise you had intended to adhere to, you departed to Hogwarts. 

In your defence, you believed you would never even come close to breaking it - you had been going strong for four years now, dedicating yourself to academia instead of continuing the Marauders’ legacy, much to the horror of your godfather and papa.

They had made a big deal about ‘disowning you’, opting to name Fred and George Weasley as their heirs, who were more than happy to accept. You believed it to be a joke. For the most part.

However, now there was a blot on your record - a spill of crimson Chardonnet on a white bedsheet if you will.

A blot that came in the form of Hera O’Donnell.

With her snide remarks and condescending attitude, she strutted around Hogwarts like she were the headmaster herself - as a lioness scoured a savanna for a deer to sink its fangs in to, she paroused her peers, searching for the easiest one to prey upon.

You were her chosen doe. 

In her skewed vision, you wore shoes too big for you to fill - the weight of the Lupin-Black left you crushed by expectations and drowning in inadequacy, waves of failure washing over your head and coating the inside of your lungs with a thick layer of incompetence.

But your head remained firmly above water.

Despite her taunts and jibes being fruitless at first, Hera had hunted you down and separated you from your pack, and now, her teeth finally began to pierce your skin.

 Logically, you should have informed someone. You were not alone - your dad and papa were forever on your side, along with your godfather James, godmother Lily, Uncle Regulus and all of your aunts and uncles, composed of your parents’ Hogwarts friends.

But Hera awoke a different part of you. Something more spiteful. Something more primal.

Reporting it would not be as satisfying. As gratifying. But revenge would be.

If anyone asked you about what had happened to Hera O’Donnell, you would simply claim something along the lines of how ‘her appearance had improved with the addition of a skunk tail.’ It amused your peers, undeniably, but the staff not so much.

Even as your head of house sat you down and informed you of the consequences of transfiguring someone like that and the numerous procedures that Hera was undergoing at St. Mongo’s, having been transferred there for more specialist care, you could not find it in yourself to care. 

However, you absolutely did find it in yourself to care when a crimson envelope fell into your bowl of cereal the next morning. 

You had expected your parents to be informed of the incident, naturally. But a howler? That you had not. Staring at the envelope, Hera’s words swarmed your mind. What if your parents now saw you just as Hera had?

With a quiet sigh escaping your lips, and sympathetic glances from your friends, you opened the envelope, hoping to get it over sooner rather than later. The voice of Sirius Black erupted from the envelope, filling the entire Great Hall.

‘MON AMOUR I AM SO PROUD OF YOU! TRANSFIGURING SOMEO- Oi, Rem, get off! I’m jus-’

‘I TOLD YOU OUR KID WOULD BE A FUCKIN’ GOD AT TRANSFIGURATION!’ Came a proud voice of Remus Lupin, cutting your papa off. ‘LOOKS LIKE YOUR PAPA AND GODFATHER NEED TO REINSTATE YOU AS HEIR AFTER ALL, SWEETHEART!’

As Remus declared that, two very loud and audible sighs of disappointment left the lips of Fred and George. The howler continued, and the sound of a door being slammed open was heard before the voice of James Potter joined in the chorus.

‘WERE NONE OF YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT THEY TRANSFIGURED SOMEONE?!’ James cried out incredulously and overdramatically, however, he quickly forgot his dramatics in favour of the Marauders’ legacy.

‘NOW ALL YOU NEED TO DO, PRIY, IS TO BECOME ANIMAG-’ the sound of skin hitting skin rung out as Lily slapped a hand over James’ mouth to stop him from accidentally revealing that they were illegal animagi, despite the fact that they legally could register, but they all couldn’t be bothered. James and your papa said it was funnier this way.

‘Darling, as impressive as it is, please don’t transfigure anyone else,’ Lily chastised you gently. She had to at least give off the illusion that they were disciplining you, but you could hear the pride underlining her words and the smirk on her lips.

‘Now, I think it’s best we end this now, hm?’ came the still sophisticated voice of your uncle Reg. ‘Unless we want the entire Hogwarts populous to know James’ social security number.’ There was a chuckle from both the howler and the Hogwarts students at that remark.

‘I want you to know that I am proud of you. The family needed something a little more…Slytherin.’ Regulus remarked before the Howler burst into flames and tore itself up.

Silence filled the Great Hall as everyone took a moment to stare at you and process what had just happened. You looked up and your eyes caught Harry’s.

‘Good job,’ he mouthed at you, giving you a bright smile and a thumbs up from the Gryffindor table, beside a very peeved Fred and George.

Maybe you weren’t so alone or fucked after all.

[ghost-bxrd]

Been mulling over Titans Tower and it's really interesting to me how it's treated in Fanon as compared to how the events transpired in canon. it's a really fun topic! Honestly, the original writing in canon is DOGSHITE but not for the usual reasons people cite.

Here's what does make sense in canon but is largely ignored (this is using canon characterisations at the time): First, it's all about the whole Titans team, not just Tim. They really downplay his death a lot, did not put up his statue or honour him whatsoever. Plus the hero community tends to victim-blame him a fuckton. Jason is showing that his death could've happened to anyone. Second, Tim and Jason are just two yearish apart—Jay died at 15, Tim becomes Robin at 13—so those Titans are more like his colleagues than anything else; he's not some older guy beating the shit outta them. Third, Tim’s indifference to Jason's comments and his cockiness about being a better Robin are pretty on-brand for his early portrayal as Robin. (I think fanon Tim derives a lot of his characteristics from his Red Robin run, which is valid as well! But here in particular we have Robin Tim... who... was... uh... a bit of an asshole when he was written back then and the HUBRIS on that man? Immaculate.)

What still makes this absolutely dog shit is the dialogue and how Jason is pouring his heart out to someone who he doesn't really care about. Jason... just doesn't operate this way... Why's he trauma dumping on... tim... ???? It makes no sense whatsoever because Jason really is someone who'd keep those vulnerabilities to himself. Why would he open up to... CANON TIM??? He makes scathing remarks when faced with Bruce and Dick because he knows the knife twists then and at he cares about their reaction. But not tim ????? Canon UTRH doesn't even mention Tim ????? ???? So in the end it's still shit imo.

I also find the use of Pit Madness in fanon super interesting, despite it not being canon. It's used to propel the Titan's Tower incident, which fascinates me because it shows how people are willing to work around its flaws to maintain consistent characterization in their works (which is !!! cool !!)

It's so interesting how many other incidents that do occur in canon aren't as well known as this one aren't given much thought. But this one is and it's interesting how people try to work with it regardless of it's flaws originally!

I'd really love to hear your opinions about it and how flexible you are with the Titans tower incident! :) How do you work with your Jason and your Tim? because it's cool to hear your analysis etc etc

Hooo boi okay i was planning on replying to this earlier but this deserves a proper, thought out response (which I’m shite at but I’m trying here. Words are hard.)

For one, I wholeheartedly agree with the whole trauma dumping thing.

Obviously we all have different tastes in media and I know there are quite a few people who enjoyed the confrontation with Tim, which is totally fine, but personally… yeah, not my thing.

I got into the Batman/batfam fandom via fanfic, so my first introduction was some version of Titans Tower I believe. I was super intrigued by the characters and the tidbits of lore sprinkled throughout that I immediately began reading up on them and digging through the internet for more info and background story on them. Which then quickly evolved into the part where my adoration for Jason’s character began and a short phase where I absolutely despised early canon Tim.

Like— all the victim blaming. He seriously couldn’t mention Jason without adding something derogatory about getting himself killed, which sat so, so wrong with me. Not to mention the Titans just accepting a new Robin right off the bat and joining in blaming Jason for his own death. I’m pretty sure that was the point where I swore off comics for a long while and decided to live off fanon 🤣

And then Jason’s part in the Titans Tower incident. I think part of how weird the canon event was is due in part to how the writers fumbled to depict trauma? Or maybe they just outright hated him because I know a lot of people back then despised Jason and his run as Robin.

Whatever the reason, I think I genuinely cringed when he revealed the Walmart Robin costume he was wearing. And then the trauma dumping.

Jason is smart enough to know Tim wouldn’t care about his grievances. I mean- dude just broke into his hideout to attack him, I think Tim’s about as done with Jason as with any other criminals, regardless of his past. And all that is proven by Tim fighting back tooth and nail without pause. He doesn’t even react to the accusation of the missing statue in Jason’s honor. Like, he genuinely doesn’t seem to care. And why would he? They don’t know each other.

And yeah maybe he was trying to beat some sense into Tim (which is still wrong but— vigilantes I guess? Idk) and make him quit Robin, but Jason’s also smart enough to know that Robins don’t quit easily. And then, as soon as Tim is down for the count and can’t keep fighting, Jason leaves. Just like that. No actual murder attempt, no kicking-while-he’s-down (at least as far as I remember).

It makes no sense. What would Jason be gaining from that encounter? Why would he blame the kid that replaced him and not the guy that did the replacing? Hell, it would make more sense for him to go after the Titans than Tim. Not the mention him casually doubting Tim’s talents when he must have done some background checks on him.

It’s why I like the idea of Pit Madness I guess, and that Jason actually went to the tower with the intent to kill. Because that way the entire thing wouldn’t seem so… pointless.

As for how flexible I am with the Titans Tower storyline, it really depends on the route people choose to explore. But I’m a huge sucker for the “Jason was Tim’s Robin” trope where there’s at least a mild amount of hero worship going on. 👁️ Oh, and happy endings. I can’t deal with tragedies.

But yeah these are my thoughts on it. Obviously no hate to whoever enjoyed the comic mentioned above 💚 we’ve all got different things we resonate with after all~

[piosplayhouse]

I think one of the worst sins a wangxian fic can commit is when they put wwx and wen qing in a loveless sad marriage just for cheating drama because you know if they stayed in a loveless marriage they'd probably just be doing it for platonic marriage tax benefits, which wwx would be THRILLED to do. It's like his enrichment toy to go through all their bills and tax forms and rent and find any inconsistencies he can call an agent to fuck with about until they come away with charges taken off. And of course this takes a huge burden off of wen qing, who's the main breadwinner keeping wwx's part time ac-cunt-ant part time semi legal freelance electrical engineer / witchery enterprise running. And of course when wwx meets lwj he can have the big dramatic I'M MARRIED! pearl moment when he sweeps him off his feet and lwj is like . "What. Don't cheat on your wife, that's extremely selfish wei ying. Think about her feelings". And wwx is like "nooo we have like a mutually beneficial relationship. Like she's the alligator and I'm the bird that picks dirt out of her teeth . Or she's the shark and I'm the remora . You know. But we could be different. Like 2 lions having too many incidents of gay sex to cite on the incidents of homosexuality in animals wiki article."

And then they kiss

[dovveri]

what if nerd momo x bimbo reader author I need u

failing maths, but getting the girl

synopsis: momo and y/n have hated each other ever since an incident in first year. now, y/n's failing a class and momo offers to help.

warnings: mentions of blood and cuts, overbearing parents, drugs, implied sex

w/c: 4.0k

a/n: this is kinda funny for me bcs im blonde and my dad keeps making jokes in chinese about how im ltr a blonde bimbo now. anyway i combined these 2 reqs bcs im lazy forgive me anon/s

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

"y/n!"

you turn in the corridor, almost crashing into the burly man behind you who yells a "watch where you're going blondie!" before rushing off to a class he was probably late to.

you spot your friends who had called you, grinning and waving you over, "can't go one day on campus without running someone down can you?" a friend teases.

you pout, "i didn't walk into anyone yesterday!"

"no but you got stuck in the revolving door outside the chem building."

you whine at their teasing, you were a naturally clumsy person! sometimes you'd mix up salt and sugar, and sometimes you'd lose your car keys only to find them still in the ignition keyhole of your car from the last time you used it.

"so you coming to that party tonight? i heard some famous dj from the states is playing."

"awwh really?! i can't tonight i'm failing that dumb math class i have to take and i have a quiz tomorrow so i gotta study."

"you're failing everything y/n, what difference would one night make for you anyway?" a scoff from a student passing by, who you recognise as the infamous hirai momo from the back of her head and the evil way she sends a side-eye at you and your friend group in disgust.

"i wouldn't be if it weren't for your sad ass hirai!"

"stop looking at my ass and get your eyes on some books for once."

momo was meant to be your roommate in first year. although you had accidentally locked her out in the rain for 5 hours while you were hooking up with someone you can't remember the name of anymore. that was during orientation week, safe to say she was pissed and completely drenched when you finally let her in. she filed for a roommate change not long after, citing "poor etiquette and stupidity that could infect my genius", and being the university's most promising academic scholar, she pretty much got whatever she wanted. meaning she also got you assigned to the harshest tutors and markers as her own form of personal revenge, essentially making you fail most of your first year courses. which is why you were even taking this math class again.

the problem arose however, when you find out you would actually lose your scholarship if you failed another class. so failing was definitely not an option.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

“you failed.”

“what!? but i studied all night! i even brought the right calculator model this time!”

“miss l/n, bringing the correct calculator doesn’t help you if you don’t know how to use it. and neither does studying all night if you haven’t been coming to class for most of the semester.”

you’re gaping at the professor in disbelief.

“i’m afraid you’ll lose your scholarship if you fail the upcoming final exam. take this as your final warning. good day miss l/n.”

the door is shut in your face while you're still left trying to process exactly what just happened, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

a familiar scoff behind you brings you back though, "what is y/n l/n doing here outside the staff meeting room? what? about to blow one of your professors for marks or something?"

you spin, stepping into her space, faces inches away from each other, "you jealous or something hirai? i'll blow you too if you beg."

you revel in the way her cheeks immediately flush, a slightly shaky finger pushing up the glasses on her nose as she looks away, "jokes on you l/n. i don't have a dick dimwit."

"you don't need one for me to make you feel good."

she's sputtering, moving around you quickly to escape, knocking on the staff door. you smirk, reveling in the slight win over her but immediately forgetting the feeling of triumph when you realise you're still fucked for your final in 2 weeks.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

"y/n, you know i love you, but i cannot explain this again in any other way."

you groan, hands coming up to pull at your hair.

"but you got like a high affliction or something for this class last year! if you can't teach me i'm actually royally screwed, pleaseee?"

"it's high distinction sweetie. and just because someone's good at something doesn't mean they're a good teacher. sorry to break it to you but i couldn't teach my little cousins how to multiply fractions without wanting to commit homicide."

you wrinkle your nose, "gross dude they're literally related to you."

"no babes homicide means i wanted to kill them."

"oh... i guess that's better?"

"focus! c'mon you remember how to do the cross product right?"

"i don't get ittttttt!!!!!!! isn't that just multiplication? a times b equals ab!"

"this isn't algebra it's vectors. cross product isn't multiplication y/n."

you groan again, facepalming the desk in front of you.

your friend sighs, "sorry y/n i have to get going now. promised my boyfriend i'd go watch his game tonight."

"what?! you can't leave me here!"

your friend's already packing up their stuff though, "sorry! good luck with the studying though!"

you wail in goodbye, sitting up again and slapping your face a few times, trying to hype yourself up.

two minutes later, and you're still absolutely nowhere.

you decide to go out for a quick stroll rather than start a campfire in the middle of the library with all your papers. the evening breeze feels refreshing against your skin as you take in the sky. breathing in a deep sigh and closing your eyes briefly.

definitely the wrong idea when you crash headfirst into something that yelps a "what the fuck!" followed by the sound of smashing glass and a whine of pain.

your eyes are quick to open and you stare down at a bleeding hirai momo next to what looks to be a ruined 3D print of a final project or something.

"oh shit momo! are you okay?" you crouch down quickly, trying to collect the glass pieces that have broken, yelping when a piece digs into your skin.

"has all that bleach finally reached your brain y/n? who goes for broken glass with their bare hands?" she's frowning, rubbing her head a little and inspecting the cut across her arm.

"i-i'm sorry i-"

she sighs, "save it. i've had a long enough day as it is. being around you any longer is just gonna increase my chances of dying to some freak plane crash or something." she's standing up and brushing her hands off on her pants muttering to herself, "i'll have to call security to come clean this up."

you realise then that her eyes look a little puffier than usual, slightly tinged with red, the telltale signs of crying.

you suddenly feel terrible. whatever you had just broken seemed like an extremely intricate piece of work, and she was still bleeding down her arm but she didn't seem to pay it much mind, taking a phone out of her pocket and dialing security.

you step to the side and wait for her to finish talking on the phone. she doesn't realise you haven't left yet, swearing under her breath as she assess the damage once again.

when she turns and sees you again, she scowls, "what are you still doing here bimbo? don't you have a dick to ride or some jewelry to shine?"

you ignore her, blushing instead, "you're still bleeding."'

she looks surprised at that response, glancing at her arm again briefly and shrugging, "it's whatever. i'll clean it up later."

you wrap a hand around her wrist then, still not meeting her eyes, "let me? it'll be hard to bandage it properly with your left hand. and i kinda owe you for all of-" you gesture vaguely with your other hand at the ground, "this."

she's tugging her hand back quickly though, "don't bother. you'd probably make it worse. just go home y/n."

you sigh exasperatedly, "won't you just let me help! i feel bad okay? i can't just leave you here bleeding onto the concrete waiting for security to come clean this up."

she's surprised at your outburst, eyes locking onto yours and then nodding slightly. you don't let her rethink her decision as you drag her back inside the library, heading into the storeroom where you knew they had emergency first aid supplies.

you sit her down on the chair and rummage through the small kit for some alcohol wipes to clean the wound first.

she's eyeing you with a sort of caution, but is quick to clench her eyes shut and gasp at the first sting of disinfectant.

it's quiet for a bit while you work on cleaning her wound.

"where'd you learn first aid?" she speaks up first, eyes meting yours again.

"my little sister used to play around a lot with the rougher kids in the neighborhood. so she was always coming home with scratches and cuts and my mom was at work most of the time so i had to learn to take care of her myself."

momo hums, "guess that didn't really translate to taking care of yourself then huh? i mean with the way you're always tripping over air and stuff, you're more of a danger to yourself than a serial killer would be." there's no malice to her words this time, just lightly teasing you and you smile.

"i am sorry by the way. for breaking that. it looked like it'll be pretty hard to replicate."

"nah. i can just print another one tomorrow don't worry."

you both fall into silence again as you finish cleaning her wound, going to collect a few of the bandages to start wrapping around her arm.

you clear your throat a little awkwardly, "so... long day?"

she chuckles humorlessly in response, "something like that."

"wanna talk about it?"

she bristles then, and you're quick to correct yourself, "i mean you don't have to. just... making conversation."

it's quiet for a little longer and you're finishing wrapping her up, grabbing a small adhesive to stick it all together when she sighs. "sorry. just had a lot of pressure from back home lately. my parents keep wanting me to hurry up and graduate so i can go back to japan and take over the family companies. they called earlier saying how they're cutting off my funding for next year if i continue to drag out my studies."

"what? but you're only 23. don't you have like, things left you wanna do before you're all old and unable to move anymore?"

she giggles a little, its the first time you've heard that from her, "yeah tons actually. i've always wanted to see the northern lights and stay in one of those cute little igloos in finland, maybe go to antarctica and do some research there."

"okay! do that! what's stopping you?"

she smiles at you sadly, "my parents won't allow it. they'd disown me for not taking over their companies. and frankly, i'd be broke without them. i don't have the kind of money to keep living abroad like this if they were to stop supporting me."

you tilt your head a little in confusion, "can't you find a job?"

she's laughing then, a full, nose-scrunching laugh, "not with the classes i'm taking. i'd have to either take part-time study, which my parents would literally kill me for because it's 'embarassing' and would bring shame on our family name, or... never sleep again and take a night job or something."

you frown, sitting back on your heels.

"thanks for this by the way. you're still hurt though, do you want me to do you?"

"-and don't make a weird joke about that." she interrupts you before you can even open your mouth.

you pout, nodding a little as she laughs, and grabs the first aid box from you, gently placing your hand in her lap and cleaning your fingers.

you're caught by the way her eyebrows furrow a little in concentration, her teeth biting into her bottom lip slightly, and you can't help but think she looks cute.

you're brought quickly out of these alarming thoughts though, when she asks "how come you're in the library so late on a friday night anyway? never thought the day would come."

you groan, remembering the stack of math papers you have sitting on your desk, "i have to study for a math final coming next week. if i fail i lose my scholarship and i can't let my mom pay for any of this. she's already worked hard enough getting both my sister and me through school."

momo looks surprised at your admission, "oh. i'm sorry. i didn't know you were on scholarship."

you hum, "yeah most people don't assume it from looking at me." you tease a little, flipping your blonde hair over your shoulder and giving a little jingle of your bracelets.

"i'm not materialistic or anything but i enjoy having things that make me look nice y'know?"

she rolls her eyes, placing bandaids carefully onto your fingers.

"you don't need any of those things anyway."

you're caught again, unsure whether that was a compliment or some new way of torturing you.

she clears her throat, "all done."

you look at your hand, cutely littered with some winnie the pooh bandaids she must have found in the first aid kit.

you beam up at her, "thanks!"

she blushes a little and looks away from you, shyly rubbing the back of her neck, "hey look... i can help you study for that test next week if you want. don't want you losing your scholarship over something simple like that. plus i kinda helped go through all the first year math exams for some extra credit with the head of department."

you're shocked at first, and then jumping and squealing, bringing her up with you, "what?! you will?! oh my god thank you!!!!! holy shit oh my god i'm not gonna fail oh shit i'm-"

she's shooshing you in an instant though, a hand clamped over your mouth, eyes darting behind you, "y/n! we're still in a library!"

you grin when she lets you go, whispering loudly, "thank you!"

she's rolling her eyes and letting herself be dragged over to your table, praying that she didn't make the wrong decision deciding to help you.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

momo's standing outside your lecture theatre, waiting for your class to end. you texted her saying you were getting your final results back today so she decided to pop by and make sure everything was okay.

once students start exiting the class she slips in, walking towards the professor who's packing up her stuff..

"momo! good to see you here. although i'm a little surprised. i wasn't expecting you."

"hey professor kwon. i'm just here to-"

momo's attacked from the back, you're squealing as you latch onto her excitedly, waving a test paper in front of her face, "i passed! momo look i passed! with a 62!!!!! that's higher than i've ever gotten!!!!!"

"miss l/n. i didn't know you knew momo." professor kwon is looking you up and down with a little distaste but you ignore it, squeezing momo even tighter in thanks.

"y/n- stop- wait lemme see that-" she snatches the paper out of your hand and scans it, eyes lighting up when she confirms you did in fact pass.

"congratulations! all that hard work really paid off."

you're blushing, "couldn't have done it without you hirai. c'mon, come out with my friends and i tonight to celebrate!"

"o-oh i don't know about that y/n... i've got-"

"study yeah yeah you always do. but you've gotta relax every now and then you know?"

"miss l/n is right momo. you're the most hardworking student here you should give yourself a break every now and then."

you're nodding fiercely, "right right! thanks professor kim!"

she looks at you with a glare, "kwon. its professor kwon miss l/n."

you're nodding, waving her off shaking momo, "c'mon pleaseeeeeeee? i'll pay for everything. as a thanks for helping me. and i can afford it now too since i won't be losing my scholarship which is also thanks to you so..!"

momo's still uncertain, hand at the back of her neck again, a nervous tick you've picked up on.

"oh professor i just remembered!" you're switching back to your professor, excitement and attention everywhere, "you were looking for outstanding students to tutor next semester right? how about momo? she's the only reason i passed this final and trust me when i say i'm a pretty difficult student to teach."

"oh?" the professor looks towards momo who's eyes have widened, "i had actually planned on asking you regardless but seeing as you were very successful with miss l/n it's just even more proof that you'd be a great teacher. what do you say momo? it's paid decently and great on your academic and work transcripts as well..."

you're looking between your professor and momo with full eyes.

momo looks like she's about to reject the offer, you knew it was because her parents expected her to be back in japan next year but you stop her before she's able to say anything.

"momo! this is great! this is exactly what you need! a job while you're still at uni so you can study at any time but still get paid for it!"

"y/n..."

"it's okay momo. think about it and let me know if you're interested and you've got the job 100%. i've got to get going to my next class now but goodbye girls, congratulations miss l/n but i hope i won't be seeing you in my class next year."

"oh definitely not professor kim!" you wave enthusiastically, giggling at the way the professor sighs in defeat.

you look back at momo who still looks a little stunned.

"well? what do you think?" you ask her excitedly.

"i- i don't know... there's a lot to think about..."

you tilt your head to the side a little in confusion, a gesture momo was beginning to grow fond of.

"i can't just abandon my family y/n. it's a decision that will take me some time to go over." she smiles at you gently, you can't believe this was the same girl who used to call you mean words and intentionally pray on your downfall.

"mm okay. i don't really get it but as long as you're happy in the end it doesn't matter. now c'mon! you coming tonight or not?"

she sighs fondly, "yeah yeah just this once. and we better be home by 12!"

you're pulling her along again scoffing, "riiiiiiiiight 12pm maybe."

"y/n!"

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

momo was most definitely out of her comfort zone. she mostly stuck to the bar, avoiding eye contact with people who tried to approach her. she quickly ordered another drink, hoping the alcohol could at least ease her nerves.

you were most definitely in your zone. you adored being able to dress up and let loose, especially when everyone else is so drunk you’re no longer the only person falling over themselves. you could laugh a little and have fun as well.

you could feel momo’s eyes on you and you ached to drag her out onto the dance floor and join you but she was adamant on staying by the bar when you had tried.

you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or maybe you were just attracted to her now after you’ve spent a whole week studying with her pretty much every minute of every day. but she looked good. you licked your lips as your eyes trailed down the slant of her jawline, her neck and clavicles outlined in the halter top she was sporting. your eyes politely moved past her chest but darted straight down to the abs that she apparently had hidden from the entire student body. how did she even have time to have abs when she always had her nose in a book or was in a lab conducting experiments?

you snap out of it when you realise said abs were moving closer to you for some reason, and suddenly she's all in your space, shoving someone behind you that you hadn't even realised was there in your momo-induced daze.

you turn to see a man with half his shirt unbuttoned and a look of surprise on his face. "the fuck dude?"

momo says nothing, reaching for your drink instead, sticking a finger in and swirling it around for 2 seconds before bringing it to her lips.

that was hot.

"rohypnol."

"what? what the fuck are you on about?" the guy is annoyed, drawing the attention of bystanders as they create a small circle around the three of you, you spot your friends in the crowd looking at you in confusion silently asking what's going on?

you can only shake your head, attention moving back to momo who's standing up straight, almost chest to chest with the guy now.

"rohypnol. a drug belonging to the benzodiazepine class of drugs that inhibits the central nervous system causing the user to experience extreme drowsiness and even blackout in some cases. it can also cause the user memory loss and brings the user to a higher state of intoxication in a rapid amount of time. it's street name is roofies."

the man is sputtering now, "w-what? what is this bullshit? what are you tryna say huh?"

"that you tried to roofie my friend here. do you want me to call the police? have them check this drink for traces of the drug?"

"what!? the fuck?!"

momo sighs, her eyes closing for a second, "is your vocabulary only limited to what? and the fuck? it's getting tiring talking to you."

he's gaping like a fish, the people surrounding you have called security over and they're tying his hands behind his back and he's left squirming against them, yelling more curses as momo stands stoically, watching him get taken away.

she sighs when he's out of sight and turns to you with a smile, "you should be more careful. you could've been hurt tonight."

you can't even think straight and the music is being turned back up, and momo looks so good, you can't help the way you're pulling her in by the waist and planting your lips on hers.

she makes a sound of surprise and is shocked for a second, but closes her eyes and returns the kiss, maneuvering you a little so she can place the spiked drink on a nearby table before her hand returns to you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other on your shoulder.

you're a little desperate when you claw at her abs that are now within touching distance, and she giggles into the kiss. you mutter a small shut up, reattaching your lips, feeling all the adrenaline of the night pumping through you as you mould yourself against her.

"god is it weird that- that kinda turned me on a little?" you're speaking between breaths, her lips swallowing up your words, not letting you catch a break.

she hums lightly against you, "which part?"

"the- when you were talking- about all those chemicals- and whatever-"

she breaks away from you then, an eyebrow arched and a hint of a smirk on her face, "you get off on me talking nerdy?"

you want to wipe that smirk off her face. "take me home and i'll show you what i get off on."

her eyes darken considerably, and she's tugging you towards the exit, grabbing the spiked drink and pouring it down the drain first to make sure no one drinks it. the little action of consideration even when you're both overwhelmed with lust just gets you more wet.

you send a quick text to your friends saying you had to leave early, and then you're in a cab, lips on each other's again, hands roaming and exploring every inch of available skin.

you suppose the one good thing out of that math exam was it bringing the two of you together at last.

[nobrashfestivity]

In 1803, a round vessel drifted ashore on the Japanese coast and a beautiful woman emerged, wearing strange clothing and carrying a box. She was unable to communicate with the locals, and her craft was marked with mysterious writing. This story of an utsurobune, or “hollow ship,” in the province of Hitachi (now Ibaraki Prefecture) is found in many records of the Edo period (1603–1868), and Tanaka Kazuo, professor emeritus at Gifu University, has studied the topic for many years. What drew him away from his main research area, applied optics, to investigate this curious episode? And what really took place?

“Like a Flying Saucer”

Tanaka says he began to research the ship after the deadly subway sarin attacks in 1995 by the Aum Shinrikyō cult. “There was a lot of coverage of Aum founder Asahara Shōkō's prophecies and claims to be able to float in the air. Yet the cult’s senior members were part of the scientific elite. I started giving lectures considering paranormal phenomena from a scientific perspective, which meant that I was collecting all kinds of materials for teaching, such as about UFOs in the United States and Japanese folklore. While doing so, I came across the utsurobune legend.” He adds, “Long before the American UFO stories, the craft depicted in Edo-period Japanese documents for some reason looked like a flying saucer. This was fascinating to me.”

UFOs became a modern sensation after the media reported US businessman Kenneth Arnold as having witnessed “flying saucers” on June 24, 1947. A flood of similar stories followed from around the world. Most famously, a UFO was alleged to have crashed to the ground near Roswell, New Mexico, in July 1947. “In the end, though, no wrecks or alien bodies were recovered,” Tanaka says. “There was only the ambiguous testament of witnesses. It was the same with all the other UFO stories from around the world—they were mysteries without any substantial evidence. The utsurobune legend, however, has a number of documents to examine as leads, so in this sense, for researchers it’s a mystery with substance.”

A book published in English by Tanaka Kazuo on his research.  There are similar oral traditions about “hollow ships” across Japan in the Edo period. Tanaka’s research is focused on the various documents that describe the 1803 incident in Hitachi and include illustrations of a beautiful woman and a strange vessel, although they cite different dates. One of the best-known sources is the Toen shōsetsu (Toen Stories), an 1825 collection recording fantastic rumors, which was written by the Toenkai literary circle and edited by Kyokutei Bakin, famous for his lengthy historical romance Nansō Satomi hakkenden (The Eight Dog Chronicles). Others are Nagahashi Matajirō's 1844 work Ume no chiri (Plum Dust), as well as collections like Ōshuku zakki (Ōshuku Notes), Hirokata zuihitsu (Essays by Hirokata), and Hyōryūki-shū (Records of Castaways), which gathers stories of foreign ships washed up in Japan and of Japanese sailors who came ashore overseas.

Picture 1-  Hyōryūki-shū (Records of Castaways) by an unknown author. The text describes the woman as being around 18 to 20 years of age, well-dressed, and beautiful. Her face is pale, and her eyebrows and hair are red. It is impossible to communicate with her, so it is unclear where she is from. She holds a plain wooden box as though it is very important to her and keeps her distance. There is mysterious script written in the boat. (Courtesy Iwase Bunko Library in Nishio, Aichi Prefecture)

Pictures 2 and 3- Unknown (maybe  Mito bunsho)

Picture 4-   From Ōshuku zakki (Ōshuku Notes; around 1815) by Komai Norimura, a vassal of the powerful daimyō Matsudaira Sadanobu. (Courtesy National Diet Library)

Picture 5-  From Hirokata zuihitsu (Essays by Hirokata; 1825) by shogunate retainer and calligrapher Yashiro Hirokata, who was also a member of the Toenkai circle. (Courtesy National Archives of Japan)

This post is mostly sourced from  nippon.com and japantoday

[cara-delaney-author]

One thing that's been gnawing at me about the new Hbomb video and the... everything in it is the realisation how some people are "I always knew XYZ was a plagiarist!"

Okay, that is great. Genuinely, I'm happy that you recognised it early. But that is so, so hard to do nowadays. There's genuinely so much plagiarism out there, and it's incredibly exhausting to try and spot it.

Not just because a lot of plagiarists hide it with a lot of effort. But because there is so much stuff out there, it's impossible to be able to recognise it all. That's what makes it so easy to get away with it for so long - there's a decent chance it just gets lost in the noise, and nobody ever hits both your content and your plagiarised sources close enough together to notice.

How do I know this? Because I used to enjoy two channels run by the same person - one about media (primarily gaming, mostly sci-fi and horror), and the second channel was a "tales" channel, dedicated to recounting true stories, or urban legends. Think the Franklin expedition, the Bloop, or Dyatlov pass.

Well, I say "recounting", but during the video about the Donner Party I realised that I was listening word for word to the Wikipedia article about the incident. I'm not kidding, I pulled up the article and just. Read along. For the entire rest of the video.

Turns out almost all of the videos on that second channel are like this. No, there is never a single source cited (which I didn't realise because I was watching on the PS4 and didn't see the description), and a cursory glance at the comments showed nobody ever mentioning this. I know I only noticed because I'd looked up the Donner Party earlier that week (which is why I was watching the video), and recognised some of the specific phrasing. Until that point, the video had been presented as if the Youtuber was reading from his own notes, sort of like a half-freeform presentation based off of bullet points. Which it very clearly wasn't, now that I went and checked half a dozen of his videos and found the exact same thing happening in every single one. A few minutes of intro written (hopefully) by the Youtuber himself, and then just a reading of the Wikipedia article with no attribution whatsoever.

So now I can't enjoy either channel anymore, because I have to assume the main channel is also 100% just someone else's words read out loud without the original creators' permission. And even if it isn't? The whole thing is soured for me now regardless.

My point is that a lot of systems today are set up to enable this kind of behaviour, from the absolute deluge of "content" to the easy to replicate tricks like flipping footage and applying filters to trick people into not recognising it as stolen. And then the piece moves on too quickly for the average viewer to stop and wonder why something might feel familiar.

Nobody is a bad person for not recognising plagiarism, even if it is incredibly blatant in hindsight. But if you see a video or read a long essay, that makes grand claims and shows you a lot of different things, but never cites any sources... if you have a few minutes, maybe check to make sure you're not consuming something that was wholecloth stolen from more deserving creators.

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part seventeen

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

-

The lifeblood of Shinra is power in its many forms - Mako, money, military, medical... - but its nervous system is intelligence.

Shinra controls all the major print media, radio and television stations and has its own, not entirely public, publicity arm that makes sure that those things stay in line. It works from within the Public Service Department, of course, and it has its fingers in everything from print houses to public libraries to theatres and cinema. Very few things go out into the world without Shinra Public Service's stamp on it.

And the Department has, always, an ear to the ground for rumours. Everything from a Department head's illicit indulgences to lowly janitor voicing work-related complaints at a bar, Turks are often the first to know about. Some of those rumours could be ignored, others had to be suppressed, some were given a megaphone, and the rest… were dealt with according to procedure. 

Whenever there's anything at all noticeable out in the wilds, the Turks notice. And when SOLDIER First Class takes a leave of absence, it's noticeable.

When it's Sephiroth, it's a potential disaster - PR, or otherwise. And the fact that he cited Shinra Medical Research Department as his reason….

Sephiroth doesn't take time off. He gets it assigned in the form of downtime, which he then uses to train, but he never requests it. He never takes any form of sick leave either - he doesn't get sick. And he rarely, if ever, cites the Medical Research Department in any way in written form.

The man has a… notably awkward relationship with the department, what with it being run by his father. Who is, by all accounts, one of the most abusing and manipulative men in Turk records. Hm.

"First signs of a little rebellion from our Silver General," Reno suggests, lounging casually back on Tseng's office couch. "Or the first cracks in the ice?"

Tseng hums, leafing through Sephiroth's file. It's a lengthy one - even the unclassified folder is thicker than any other SOLDIERs - but has remarkably little about Sephiroth's psychology. It was considered a non-issue, because Sephiroth was classified more as company property, rather than as an employee. Employees need to be managed - property is used or stored.

It makes it difficult to estimate, or even guesstimate his potential reaction - or the eventual fallout.

"They accidentally killed him with an injection," Rude comments, sitting across from Reno. "It's reasonable cause."

"Reasonable cause to lose his shit and go crazy sword killer on us all," Reno says, crossing one leg over the other. "Like that guy, what's his face - went whacko on a mission and slaughtered his whole squad in Wutai."

"No such incident occurred," Tseng says, inflectionless.

"Yes, yes, and that particular jungle burned down to the ground completely by coincidence," Reno snorts. "Just saying - that guy went through only a fraction of what Sephiroth's gone through. If the Elite among Elite is cracking, I'd like to know what happened the last time SOLDIER lost their marbles. You know, for reference."

Though a fair point, it's not a good point of reference for Sephiroth though - Sephiroth is on a whole different level of dangerous.

Lowering the folder, Tseng rests his elbows on his desk and steeples his hands. "SOLDIER look after their own," he comments, more to himself than to his underlings.

"And thank fuck for that," Reno agrees heartily. "But again, it's Sephiroth."

In previous cases of SOLDIER showing especial signs of stress, they were taken care of by other SOLDIERs. They even did a decent enough job covering up the usual issues that plagued SOLDIERs thanks to Mako injections - the side effects of memory loss were something of an open secret, but as long as it didn't affect SOLDIER effectiveness, it was being overlooked.

Usually Turks could trust SOLDIER to clean up their own messes… but sometimes a jungle had to burn. Tseng didn't really want to go poking around SOLDIER, but…

Sephiroth is more than a potential incident with massive casualties they might need to take care of. He's the face of Wutai War - and the company's second most valuable asset, right after Mako extraction technology itself. An incident simply isn't permissible, when Sephiroth is concerned. However… it might not be preventable, either.

Sephiroth is the only member of Shinra military that cannot be swept under the rug if he becomes an issue. Nor is there much anything they can do to control the man. Sephiroth answers to Lazard and through him to Heidegger… but he's owned by Hojo. And Hojo barely answers to the president.

How troublesome.

"I want a full, detailed accounting of everything Sephiroth has done post-op, and everything he will do going forward, until we can safely classify him as no longer a concern," he decides. It's barely an effort to maintain control, he knows, but there's not much else that can go, with a VIP target like this.

Hopefully being watched would make the man exercise self-control - rather than make him feel controlled and all the more stressed. 

"And if he loses it and starts slicing and dicing everything that moves?" Reno asks. "Because, no offence, boss, you don't pay me near enough to get in the way of that." Rude hums in agreement.

"I pay you enough to make sure no one important does either," Tseng says, giving him a look. "Distract, divert and minimise loss of valuable company assets. Which includes Sephiroth himself."

"What fun that will be," Reno decides and rolls to his feet with all the grace of an alleyway cat. "Alright. Off I go to poke my nose where it doesn't belong."

Rude hums and stands up, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. "What's the operating procedure concerning information leakage? Sephiroth is a public figure."

"Standard OP. Suppress anything that might bring trouble to the company," Tseng says and leans back. "Nothing has changed, for now, so let's concentrate on getting Sephiroth quickly and smoothly back to Wutai." Where any incidents would be much easier to suppress.

"Here's hoping our famous Elite First won't make that impossible," Reno says. "Like, by very publicly going Tonberry on someone's ass."

Tseng sighs. "Reno…"

"I'm going, I'm going," Reno cackles. "Coming, Rude?"

"Mn," Rude hums and nods to Tseng. "Sir."

Tseng waits until they're out of the office before leaning back with a sigh.

The SOLDIER program has made one hell of a difference for Shinra, both in military power and in terms of publicity. Now if only Medical Research stopped treating them like disposable lab rats… 

Running a hand down his face, Tseng shakes his head. Not his department. With that thought he turns to his computer and on to what is his department - and begins writing a report on what it would take to neutralise Sephiroth, if it ever became necessary. 

-

No personal privacy in this company. SY would really like for people to stop being concerned about him now, please and thank you.

[thehoundera]

In the recently published Cass Review (2024), there is consistent mention of the prevalence of autism in the ‘trans and gender-diverse’ population, which is ‘three to six times higher’ than in the cis population ‘according to some studies’, such as Warrier et al., 2020 (Cass 5.41). The report cites concern in de Vries et al. (2011b) about whether autistic trans adolescents are experiencing “a general feeling of being just “different”” or a ““core” cross-gender identity”. A parent is quoted saying that their child, formerly bullied due to ‘ASD’, became a ‘celebrity’ and received ‘social kudos’ upon coming out (Cass p. 160); autistic children, including underdiagnosed “teenage girls”, are noted to have trouble “fitt[ing] in” (Cass 5.43) and “express[ing] how they are feeling about […] their gender identity” (Cass 5.44). There is also a note that a higher % of adolescents who discontinued puberty suppression were autistic (Cass 14.23). (I cannot examine the relevant commissioned study yet, but would note that the raw number here is likely to be very low.)

The obvious subtext here is that autistic trans children are less trustworthy about their articulation of transness than neurotypical trans children, and should therefore face more gatekeeping and vetting. In the report, it is noted that children, who know about this preconception, are routinely refusing to disclose neurodiversity to clinicians for fear of discreditation (Cass 11.11); the report’s response to this is to advocate for mandatory clinical screening for “neurodevelopmental conditions, including autism spectrum disorder” at point of entry for adolescent patients (Recommendation 2). I’m not going to get into the full scope of problems with this; there is no evidence that autistic people are impaired in identifying their own gender, or that the higher incidence of transness/gender diversity in the autistic population is symptomatic of misidentification. But I am going to talk about one study cited in Cass:

“In contrast [to the patients in the original Dutch study of puberty blockers], in a detailed study of young people with ASD and gender dysphoria (de Vries et al., 2010), it was noted that “‘while almost all adolescents with GID [gender identity dysphoria] are sexually attracted to individuals of their birth sex, the majority of the gender dysphoric adolescents with ASD were sexually attracted to partners of the other sex” (Cass 8.29). [highlights my own]

Anyone who is familiar with Blanchardian typology will recognise what is going on here: baseline expected attraction to individuals of one’s ‘birth sex’ (i.e. trans straight attraction) is contrasted with a suspect population who experience attraction to ‘other sex’ individuals (i.e. trans gay attraction). ‘Other sex’ attraction is used to devalue claims to transness in all trans populations, especially trans women, as it marks them both as desirably recuperable to cisheterosexuality and as unable to perform either legible homosexual gender variance or sufficiently authentic — i.e. straight — future transness, rendering them an ideal plausibly deniable target of gendered abuse. Transphobic fantasy fixates on the trans woman who pursues/‘predates on’ women, and trans men who pursue men are also a disproportionate target of anti-effeminate mockery. (This model also obviously erases bisexuality, which Cass itself notes is a high incidence sexuality among all trans groups (Cass 8.3), and uses bioessentialist sex terminology — it appears that if I exclusively dated a trans woman I would be classified here as ‘attracted to males’).

It shouldn’t matter regardless; autism and sexual orientation both shouldn’t impede someone’s right to medical autonomy. However, given this claim is clearly being used to delegitimise autistic trans people — including in the original study, where they claim that ‘adult transsexuals not sexually attracted to their natal sex show in some studies less satisfactory postoperative functioning compared with birth-sex attracted transsexuals’ — it is notable that the claim is false. It is obviously false the second you look at their data. They have a sample of nine adolescents (which would prove nothing even if the majority were ‘non-birth-sex attracted’) and the claim is still wrong about their own data.

De Vries et al (2010) is a nightmare of a study. It’s an analysis of 16 children with ASD who attended a Dutch gender clinic between 2004 and 2007 — specifically 7 children (ages 7–10) and 9 adolescents (ages 12–18). All the patients are misgendered throughout. There are also deeply disturbing comments about the sexual arousal and genital discomfort of children as young as 7, suggesting that the children seen at the clinic were asked deeply inappropriate and traumatising questions from admission. Various aspects of the under-11s’ profiles are immediately provoking, such as what the ‘behavioral program’ that reduced an 8-year-old’s ‘dressing up’ consisted of, or why certain children were referred to the clinic at all (some seem to have presented primarily with cross-gender behaviour rather than cross-gender identification). In any case, the sexual orientation of the under-11s clearly isn’t known, and the Cass Review’s claim is specific to adolescents anyway.

Of the adolescents, all of whom have a stated sexual orientation, we have:

AFAB 12-year-old, attracted to boys

AFAB 16-year-old, attracted to girls

AFAB 18-year-old, attracted to girls

AMAB 13-year-old, attracted to ‘neither boys nor girls’

AMAB 14-year-old, attracted to boys

AMAB 15-year-old, attracted to both girls and boys

AMAB 16-year-old, attracted to boys (specifically ‘homosexual’ boys)

AMAB 16-year-old, attracted to girls

AMAB 17-year-old, attracted to girls

By my count, to use their terminology that’s 3 adolescents with solely ‘other sex’ attraction (and I would note that one of those is 12 years old), 4 with ‘birth sex’, 1 bisexual and 1 with no stated attraction. THAT IS NOT A MAJORITY. EVEN IF YOU INCLUDE THE BISEXUAL IT’S NOT A MAJORITY.

There’s a more salient aspect of this whole thing, though: the outcomes of the adolescents. The only adolescents approved for ‘SR’ — sexual reassignment, i.e. surgery — at this gender clinic were the ones who are ‘birth sex attracted’. The AFAB kid attracted to boys was ‘not eligible for SR’ and ‘happy being a ‘tomboy’ after counselling’; the bisexual AMAB kid was rendered ineligible and ‘referred for cognitive behavioral therapy around disturbing sexual arousal’; of the two AMAB kids attracted solely to girls, one was rendered ineligible but still had a ‘strong wish for SR’ at followup, while the other dropped out of the clinic, was ‘unwilling to assent to a treatment plan’, and got surgery abroad (good for her). ‘Non-birth-sex attracted’ trans adolescents here are obviously systematically gatekept from surgical interventions, and there are murky suggestions of conversion therapy, while most of the ‘birth-sex-attracted’ trans adolescents were awaiting surgery or hormones at followup.

But wait, there’s more. The study itself argues for lower ‘postoperative functioning’ of ‘non-birth-attracted transsexuals’, citing Smith et al. (2005) on ‘Transsexual subtypes: Clinical and theoretical significance’. (This study is straight up Blanchardian; it literally says that trans women attracted to men have a ‘more convincing cross-gender appearance.’) What does ‘postoperative functioning’ mean? It means that gay and bisexual trans people have ‘significantly more psychological problems’ than straight trans people — which would seem evidently explainable by a) less understood etiology of transness in non-homosexual-presenting trans youth, which means later treatment & more gatekept treatment, and b) worse cultural treatment of gay trans people.

So, the Cass Review took a study full of glaring markers of sexual misconduct & conversion therapy being enacted on trans children, quoted a statement about the data that is obviously incorrect if you look at the data for five seconds, used it to make a point intended to discredit autistic youth / paint them as delusional heterosexuals, and ignored blatant evidence of a long and documented history of gay and bi trans people being blocked from necessary healthcare interventions.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Ruthie Blum

Following the strike on Saturday in Gaza that eliminated 19 Hamas and Islamic Jihad terrorists, international media outlets promptly published the lie told to them by residents of the Strip about the number and identity of the casualties. Nothing novel about that.

Since the start of the war on Oct. 7, the press has cited Gaza Health Ministry figures—and the global bodies that gleefully buy them—to bolster false accusations of crimes committed by the Israel Defense Forces against civilians in the Hamas-run enclave. Nor has factual evidence caused the claims to dissipate.

This is partly the fault of the IDF, which is often very late in refuting the rumors. Worse, its spokesman’s unit rarely seems to prepare in advance for the anti-Israel propaganda onslaught that always comes on the heels of military moves that provide photos of rubble—whether or not the images even depict the areas under discussion. Indeed, sometimes, the pictures are taken from other countries and conflicts.

What makes this failure of preemption especially disturbing is that IDF Spokesman Daniel Hagari is always quick to announce the launch of investigations relating to the potentially inappropriate behavior of soldiers in and beyond the battlefield. The phenomenon is part of Israel’s obsession with having the “most moral,” rather than fiercest, army in the world.

Since Israel’s ethics are intact, it shouldn’t be necessary to prove it at every juncture, especially not to those who wish it ill or never give it the benefit of the doubt. Still, playing catch-up with sensationalist reports is both exhausting and ultimately pointless.

After all, once a piece of juicy slander is out there, it’s hard to reverse its damage. The current deception is a perfect case in point.

Take CNN’s headline on the incident, for example, which reads: “Israeli strike on mosque and school in Gaza kills scores, sparking international outrage.”

Then there’s the post on X by chief European Union Israel-basher Josep Borrell, who hastened to write: “Horrified by images from a sheltering school in Gaza hit by an Israeli strike, w/ reportedly dozens of Palestinian victims. At least 10 schools were targeted in the last weeks. There’s no justification for these massacres.”

The predictable list goes on.

But here’s what actually happened. The IDF and Israel Security Agency carried out a pinpoint attack on a Hamas command-and-control center that was embedded in a mosque inside a school compound. As Hagari’s office explained, albeit with customary tardiness, “The strike was carried out using three precise munitions, which … cannot cause the amount of damage that is being reported by the Hamas-run Government Information Office in Gaza.”

Furthermore, it added, “no severe damage was caused to the compound where the terrorists were situated. Prior to the strike, numerous steps were taken to mitigate the risk of harming civilians, including the use of a small warhead, aerial surveillance and intelligence.”

That’s not all. It turns out that men, women and children were located on different floors of the building in question, and Israel’s security forces targeted and hit only the level on which the terrorists were located. It’s the kind of feat for which the IDF continues to arouse awe among urban-combat experts.

By now, anyone who denies that Hamas purposely ensconces its warriors in schools, mosques and hospitals, using the people it controls as human shields, is either sympathetic to the terrorists’ goal of annihilating the Jewish state or serves as a fellow traveler on that pernicious journey.

All other arguments about what’s going on in Gaza constitute ill-intentioned background noise that should be ignored.

[cellarspider]

12/30 Things come to a head

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⛬

We return to that shambling mass of a film, Prometheus.

Content warnings for body horror, contagion-y stuff, something that loosely be described as medical horror, It’s Been 0 Days Since Our Last Incident, and me, going on a ramble about movie gore to distract myself from The Madness.

There's a lady in this scene who's had a number of speaking lines so far–the maybe-chemist. She has a name, but it doesn’t matter.

But I'm going to call her Doctor Frankenstein.

They have just got the helmet off the head, revealing that it’s truly, unmistakably humanoid. They have noted that there are “new cells” on the head. In the business, we call that “decomposition”, but Doctor Frankenstein is not concerned with this. In fact, she immediately proposes a new plan.

Doctor Frankenstein has had the brilliant idea to plug a big cable into the head like it’s a guitar amp, and zap it with electricity to wake it up.

Yes. This is what the movie goes with.

You know, Alien included a similarly shambolic first examination of an alien subject, but it was performed because said alien was attached to a man’s face, and all they had to try and fix that was the contents of a cargo ship’s medbay, with the only qualified personnel being the corporate android who had been ordered to consider the crew expendable. The crew of the Prometheus has no such excuse.

Well, except for David, he has precisely the same excuse, but he’s not trying to poke wires in anybody’s ears.

Doctor Frankenstein calls for enough amperage to run three electric kettles (cite 3), then all the way up to two Titan RTX graphics cards before the head starts to get what appears to be a massive migraine. 

I know this expression well, migraines can feel very much like someone is subjecting me to unnatural horrors.

This is getting a little extreme, though. Yes, when the head starts pulsing, they realize they may have made a mistake. 

I’d say this was inexplicable behavior on their part, unbelievably hasty and foolish–and I will say it, actually, it deserves to be said. But in context, this is the team that did so little prep for entering the alien structure that they didn’t notice the giant fuckoff skull carved into the outside of it.

Knowing how much Shaw and Holloway read into the intentions of the Engineers from the depictions they found on Earth, they probably would’ve interpreted this as a good sign, somehow.

Anyway, they put a sneezeguard down over the head before it explodes.

Good job everyone. This is like what would’ve happened if Napoleon’s savants took one look at the Rosetta Stone and decided “maybe we should try hitting it with hammers. Surely that’ll make the knowledge fall out.”

From a horror perspective, this scene only works in two contexts: First, gross-out. Generally found in schlock, exploitation, and outsider art flicks, the tone of gross-out content can be highly variable, but there are two general trends I'd mention, which are of relevance to this movie.

First, gross-out tends to exist in that weird alternate space where lots of comedy movies do: characters will behave in unreasonable ways for no apparent reason. Within the film, this is treated as the universal norm, besides maybe a straight man character who highlights the absurdity. Gross-out is often like that, but pushes different boundaries of acceptable behavior than a traditional comedy.

This is, bafflingly, what Prometheus increasingly feels like. It feels like it's transitioning into gross-out schlock, and yet it never goes all the way.

Second: the audience for gross-out is largely self-selecting. If you're watching John Waters' Pink Flamingos, you expect things to get messy. You are looking forward to things getting messy. A head exploding is perfectly par for the course in gross-out horror. One might even be disappointed if there wasn't an exploding head.

But again, this movie was not marketed on gross-out. It was marketed as a tense, Alien-esque horror movie. If you followed that premise like I did, you're not in the theater to view a debauched spectacle, you're there for the movie to put a well-paced squeeze on the characters and your nerves, where half the horror comes from having the room to really think about how frightening the core concepts of the series are.

Does Alien involve some shocking gore? Sure does! But in Alien, Kane's fate is not there to make you laugh and exclaim "ewww!" at how far the film's gone, the film tries to make you very aware of how horrifying his demise is.

So, there's an alternate way this scene works, if you're coming in from that perspective. I don't think the movie intended this as much as the gross-out, but it's what I drew from it at the time: the scene works if you decide not to focus your sympathies on the human characters at all, or even David, and think about it from the perspective of the head. 

It’s patently impossible that what they did actually “woke up” the brain inside that skull. But if we sink to the movie’s level and entertain the idea for a moment, what in the hell have they just done to this Engineer? The last thing the head would’ve remembered was running, falling, decapitation, and then this. They just tortured this poor bastard for no adequately explained reason. There’s none! “I think we can trick the nervous system into thinking it's still alive” is the entirety of the explanation. It makes about as much sense and seems as thoughtlessly violent as anything in Mad God (2021, content warning for body horror). 

I already spent all my anger about desecrating bodies in the name of shambolic pseudoscience, I have no more rage to give for now. And similarly in the theater, I hit my limit. I’d already hit a different limit back when they landed the Prometheus on top of some archaeology, but now I’d fully given up on this movie being what I’d hoped it would be. 

The maddening thing that keeps me obsessed with it is that it keeps throwing random scraps of that hypothetical movie into the mix anyway, bouncing me like a yo-yo between scenes. 

But for right now, the yo-yo is still on the descent. Having exploded the first sample of alien biology ever touched by science, they apparently stuck some of it in a generic, science-y DNA machine. What does the DNA machine tell them? 

“DNA match”. 

The movie does not actually explain what this means. It thinks it does, but in a very vague and handwave-y way that ends up being even more hilarious than if they’d just been out-and-out wrong. Because this is what I do for a living, I want to science at this for a bit. 

But I’ve written enough about it for an entire post on its own, so that will wait until next time.

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Citations for alt-text rambles, as well as some text-text rambles:

1. https://www.behance.net/gallery/78297841/Semiotic-Standard (contains a high-quality download for the symbols, should ye wish them for yourselves)

2. https://www.sculpturedepot.net/clay-wax-tools/product.asp?Steel_Tools 

3. Doctor Frankenstein calls for 30 amps first, then 40, then 50 in the space of several seconds. According to wikipedia, an electric kettle is about 16.6A, and a 288W high-performance graphics card would require 24A. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orders_of_magnitude_(current) That graphics card isn’t mentioned by name, but it matches up with the wattage reported by Tom’s Hardware for a Titan RTX (cite 4). Running with two of these things, you might be able to run 4k Ultra settings on some games without tanking your framerate. They could’ve been playing video games and seen way more exploding heads.

4. https://www.tomshardware.com/features/graphics-card-power-consumption-tested 

5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alien_(film)#Design

6. https://www.reddit.com/r/MovieDetails/comments/f4rf63/for_the_chestburster_scene_in_alien_1979_the/

7. https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8e/2f/9b/8e2f9b0716746aac7ce5b2f369bf4082--aliens--scene.jpg

8. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karyotype#Human_karyogram 

9. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centromere 

10. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centromere#Telocentric 

11. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G_banding 

12. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proteinogenic_amino_acid 

13. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hula_language

[triplesilverstar]

There's different, and then well, there's different

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Eriks X F!Reader

CW: Sick, awkward, misunderstandings, grinding, body dysmorphia, orgasm, plant dick, blow jobs, p in V sex, creampie, first dates, sharing a bed, making out, hand jobs, tentacles

Word count: Roughly 12.5K words

A/N: Well part two… Not fully sure how I feel about it but there is… a lot of smut and feelings. Essentially you and Eriks make up after you end up sick and you’re both idiots.

After the events in the well you thought you and Eriks might move a little closer, but if anything the two of you were somehow more awkward. Fingers brushing one another when handing the other something? Burning blushing messes stumbling over your words. 

Helping one another with laundry? Almost no words were shared as you seemed to trip over one another. Trying to keep out of the other's way and looking to the side with burning faces. 

After a week of it, Sheryl was starting to get a little annoyed. The memory of you both coming out of the well-drenched and the way you were stumbling told her something had happened while you were down there, and the bulge in Eriks' pants gave her a damn good idea of how it had been in the right direction. She hadn’t expected it to be one step forward and six back for the pair of you, sitting on her rocking chair and tapping your fingers. Something needed to be done or the two of you would stay this awkward for the rest of your lives and Granny wanted to see a happy couple in her home once more.

It didn’t help you had been feeling under the weather the last two days, tucked in your room and hiding under the covers with Lina bringing you tea and warm watery soup. Nor did it help that Eriks kept muttering under his breath how this was his fault and he should have been more worried about getting you into dry clothes.  With his bouts of self-depreciation, he refused to go to your room, and Granny knew there was no way you were going to leave it of your own accord, not when she could hear you coughing up a storm. 

It had to be eating at both of you as the last few times you had been sick Eriks had shooed Lina away from your bedside, citing he could look after you and still get his own chores around the house done. So seeing the pair of you avoiding each other wasn’t sitting well with the old woman, not one bit. Cane in hand Granny pushed herself to her feet and called out for Lina, she had a plan and an easy way to hatch it. 

“Eriks!” Sticking her head in the kitchen Lina found the only male in their little household. 

“What’s wrong Lina?” Something in her voice had Eriks on edge as he turned with his cup of coffee in hand ready to run at a moment's notice if it was required.

“Granny and I need to go into town. Do you think later you can bring our sick patient some tea and soup?” Well if Eriks thought he was having a good day his mood plummeted, he’d been avoiding you far too embarrassed after what had happened down in the well. 

Yet the sight of you in his lap eyes pinched shut as you found your release was all he could say when his eyes closed, he’d had several sleepless nights, and hearing your coughing during the night wasn’t helping. He’d been too enraptured in watching you come for him instead of putting your health first, and the shame added to the weight eating at him. 

It didn’t help that since the incident in the well he was having a much harder time keeping a certain part of his anatomy under control adding to his sleepless nights as his sex throbbed painfully inside of his slacks that he refused to loosen. The mass of fleshy tissue twitched and Eriks despised the reminder of his inhuman nature, even before you’d ridden him he’d find himself shoving his pillow over his face and howling into it as his hips jerked against nothing trying to find release. Now there was no way he could give himself any form of release, certainly not while you were coughing through the night and he hated that it was because of his needs.  

With those thoughts rattling around in his skull, how could he even think to try and help look after you this time when the fault was his? 

“Eriks?” 

His head snapped upwards as Lina’s hand landed on his forearm, her bottom lip between her teeth with worry. “Just lost in thought, Lina.” A gentle smile on his face in an attempt to ease her concerns. “I think I can manage to deliver some soup and food this afternoon.” A quick pat of his larger hand over hers. “Now show me what you’ve been feeding our little invalid.” 

As Lina showed him the watered-down soup that had been made for you he did his best to keep a smile on his face. It wasn’t beyond his notice how Granny had been pestering him about seeing you while you were sick, and it was suspicious both she and Lina were heading into town. Yet Eriks wouldn’t voice anything no matter how much he wanted to stay away from you since as far as he was concerned he was the reason you were sick once more. 

You groaned as you reached from under the rough spun cotton sheets you had wrapped around your form. Trying to grab one of the clothes you used to blow your nose into, yet even that small action left you feeling exhausted. Struggling to sit up and lean against the headboard with your neck tiled so your airway was open. Damn, you hated being sick.

Well. More sick than normal since you'd never be rid of your respiratory issues. The cough that plagued you was nothing compared to this right now as your chest burned and everything hurt. 

Your heart especially. Ever since the incident in the well with Eriks, you felt. Dirty. Not because of the act, but more the fact you had thrown yourself at him like some kind of a bitch in heat. You shouldn't have kissed him, and now you couldn't even bear the thought of looking at his rugged face knowing how far you'd let things go. He shouldn't have had to sully himself with you, you were just a bandit who was lucky enough to have someone find you who thought you were worth saving. 

Spreading your fingers across your chest to try and put pressure on the ache that you hope is just the sickness as a knock sounds against your door. Is it time for your next round of soup and tea already? “Come in.” Flinching at the sound of your own hoarse voice.

The door slowly creaks open, Lina usually just bounds right in, and turning towards it you wince. 

Eriks. 

Well, this is just the kind of embarrassment you need right now. At least your skin is already flushed from being sick and you hope he doesn't notice just how covered in sweat you are. Who are you kidding, you're drenched, the only way he wouldn't notice was if he was blind.

“Granny and Lina had to head into town.” His voice is low and you could have sworn you heard a hint of sadness in his voice, but it could just be because your head is full of phlegm. “I've got some soup for you, and some tea.”

“Thank you, Eriks.” It's raspy but at least you know he's there to play nursemaid, not because of his own choice. It's better that way. The smallest nod in your direction as he places the small tray on the table at your bedside and with a shaky hand you reach over for it. 

“How are you feeling?” His voice is soft as he asks and instead of leaving he lowers himself into the beat-up wooden chair that creaks as his weight settles on the sand-smoothed edges. Only for a coughing fit to take you barking and turning away from him. “That good huh?” Chuckling at his own little joke and you have to smile, something about the tall broad man always sets you at ease. 

“I’ve certainly felt better.” Trying for a second time to pick up the bowl and accompanying spoon with shaking fingers. A small spoonful of soup and you lose some of it with the shaking of your limb, but at least it’s warm as it flows down your sore throat. With your eyes closed you try to take a deeper breath to help settle yourself as the bowl is moved from your lap and a weight settling next to you has the mattress dipping. 

Opening your eyes you shouldn’t feel as surprised as you are at seeing Eriks near you on the bed, the warmth of his thigh transferring from the blanket to you. “That seemed painful. Could I give you a hand?” Those blue orbs hidden behind his orange glasses are pleading with you once more and as much as you feel selfish you know you need the help. Nodding and letting him have the spoon from your sore fingers. 

You feel foolish as the handsome man slowly spoons feeds you, unlike the last time when he helped it was more the company than it was needing help to feed yourself. Neither of you speaks as he feeds you, at least until the spoon is clacking against the bottom of the bowl. “I’m sorry.” That mournful tone is back in his voice as you gaze at him with heavy eyes. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for Eriks.” At least with the soup your voice doesn’t sound as hoarse as it had been. “It's not like you gave me respiratory issues.” 

“Except you wouldn’t have been cold and wet recently if it hadn’t been because of me.” You can barely handle the sorrow swimming behind those glasses of his. 

“Eriks, I threw myself at you.” Another coughing fit as you turn away from him that has enough force to make your whole body shake. “You were kind enough to sully yourself with me, if it’s anyone's fault it’s mine. I should have just helped you up instead of acting like you were a piece of meat on display for me to drool over.” Reaching over for the tea that you hope is at least still warm, Eriks is quick to take your hand and steady it as you raise the mug to your lips. Lukewarm. At least it’s better than being cold. 

“You didn’t throw yourself at me. I should have had better control of myself.” You watch as his adams apple bobs while he stares at you for a moment. “You’re sick because of me.”

“Don’t be silly” letting him take the mug from your hand and returning it to the bedside table. “Eriks when the water isn’t right from the heater I get sick, you can’t blame yourself for that.” A tiny bit of bravery on your part as you slip your hand into his and give it the briefest of squeezes. “Really, if someone needs to apologize for anything it is me. You don’t need to pretend to return my feelings for you, can we just put what happened behind us and go back to being friends?” 

It’s his turn to frown as his thumb sweeps across your knuckles his grip on your hand having shifted. “Why would you think I need to pretend to return your feelings?” Blinking slowly as you watch him wrap his metal hand outside of his flesh one encasing yours. “You deserve better than me. Someone whole, that isn’t me.” You can feel the dampness from your eyes as it starts to form and spills down onto your lashes, you were preparing for him to let you go but that doesn’t mean it helps to lessen the sting any more than it does. “Maybe it’s a good thing that for once, I want to be selfish. Avoiding you because you being sick is my fault isn’t the best way to show my affection.” 

“What are you talking about?” Trying to follow what he just said while dealing with the pain in your chest isn’t helping your head.

With a chuckle, his metal palm reaches up to cup your cheek and you melt into the cooling sensation along your burning skin. “I’m trying to say you need to stop thinking that I don’t care for you.” Leaning closer and planting his lips on your sweaty brow. 

If you weren’t confused before you certainly are now, as your mind races to try and catch up to his actions. Turning your face away as best as you can as another coughing fit hits you so you aren’t exhaling germs in his face, your brain finally processes what he’s been saying. “Eriks, please. I can’t take such teasing.”

“Oh, you silly thing. I’m not teasing you.” His voice is soft and gentle as he tilts your face back toward his, placing his forehead against your searing one. “I care for you, far more than I should.” As he closes the distance to your lips you turn your head so they press against your cheek.

“I don’t want you getting sick too.” Your laughter leads to another coughing fit with your eyes closed from the violent force of it. The coolness of Eriks' skin leaves your flushed face and the weight on your bed is gone as the mattress shifts. Did you ruin things once more between the two of you? 

“I won’t get sick.” Opening your eyes to find him sitting on the chair bent over and unlacing his shoes before removing his glasses and placing them beside your cooling tea. “Now let's get you comfortable.” He gets behind you on the bed and uses his large palms on your sides to adjust you so you’re leaning against him instead of the headboard, with Eriks easily able to pick up your drink for you and help to support the weight of it while you sip the now tepid drink. 

“I will admit, you’re softer than the headboard.” With his heartbeat under your ear, you aren’t going to say anything about the fact you can feel and hear it thundering. “Are you sure you won’t get sick?”

“No Sweetness, I won’t” Pressing his lips to the crown of your head and gently sweeping his fingers along your spine with his free hand. “Though if I do, I’m sure you’ll return the favor.” 

“Nah, I’m gonna let Lina look after you.” Chuckling as you take another sip of your drink. Relaxing more against him before parting your lips. “Does that mean that offer for a next time is still on the table?”

“When you’re better. Naughty thing.” His warm breath washes down around your head as he chuckles and you think you can see the vaguest blush on his cheeks at the question. 

“When I’m better than.” It is long before you drift off to the sound of the heartbeat thumping under your ear. Eriks removed the mug from your fingers long before you had the chance to drop it, eventually letting himself fall into a light snooze as his own exhaustion from his sleepless nights has caught up to him. With you propped against him, your airways are clear and you don’t spend that much time coughing.    

When Granny and Lina returned home the first thing Granny did was check on the two of you, smiling to herself as both of you were snoozing away. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of Eriks' shirt as his hand rested on your hip over the fabric of the sheets wrapped around your form. 

“Those two really are stupid.” Sending Lina the side eye as she leaned against the doorframe looking at the two of you.

“Someday when you’re older you’ll understand Lina.” Sheryl chuckled, a shooing motion sent at Lina to have the young girl on her way as both blood-related family members left the pair to rest.

“If I’m going to look as dopey as Eriks does right now, no thank you.” With her hands in her pockets, Lina went to go about her chores, missing the twinkle in her grandmother's eye. 

‘Aw to be young again.’ Granny thought as she headed for the living room, glad the two of you seemed to be on better terms once more. 

“How are both of you adults?” Lina questioned as you sat at the table with a tea and Eriks helped her with the dishes looking as equally confused. “You both act so stupidly around one another. Like a pair of idiots.”

The mug is about halfway to your mouth and you just keep blinking at the girl, it’s been a few days since you and Eriks had your reconciliation and the two of you have been closer. That first night Eriks even stayed in bed with you, of course, he said it was to help make sure you could breathe right for the first time in days but still.

“Lina, what are you talking about?” If Eriks face is anything to go by he’s just as confused as you are. 

“That! See! You’re both just so dumb, I have to do everything around here!” With the final dish washed the teenager is stomping off, leaving Eriks to dry the last few pieces and you to stare after her. 

“That.” 

“Was strange” Eriks finishes for you, as he works the cloth in his hand before placing the plate he had been holding back into the cupboard. Shaking your head a little you go back to drinking your tea, waiting for Eriks to finish. 

“She just sees the two of you as still dancing around one another instead of doing something about it.” Granny frightens you badly enough that some of the tea you had been drinking goes down the wrong way, coughing violently until Eriks is rubbing the space between your shoulder blades.

“Granny, you need to stop sneaking up on people like that.” Eriks is chastening the older woman while you keep coughing feeling your chest start to burn from the exertion. Too bad Granny just chuckles as she takes up her usual seat at the head of the table. 

“I just made it out of bed Granny, are you trying to put me back into it again?” With Eriks still leaning over your body you find one of your hands reaching up to land atop the one he has on your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

“Only if Eriks follows you there.” You shouldn’t have tried for another drink of tea, as this time you’re sputtering and Eriks is flushed red dragging a hand down his face.

“Sheryl.” It’s a long groan from him as you pound on your chest, goddamn it almost as if the old woman is trying to end you. 

“Don’t Sheryl me. The two of you are like a pair of young Tomas too skittish to do anything but croon at one another.” 

“Granny. We’re just getting around to admitting we're attracted to one another, can’t we don’t think at our own pace?” That has the old woman huffing at you, and as much as you want a bit more tea you aren’t going to risk it at the moment. 

“I’ve seen water freeze faster.” You feel Eriks give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze at Granny’s latest outburst. 

“Maybe we aren’t comfortable pushing that boundary yet, we haven’t even had a date.” You could kiss the tall blond as he spouts more sense than you’d be able to manage at the moment. 

“Then go on a date.” Once more you blink, and Eriks is doing the same as the two of you stare at the older woman who has a smirk slowly splitting her face open. “That my dear little love birds is why Lina thinks you’re both stupid.” 

With a bit of planning, and once you felt like you could stand for more than a few minutes you and Eriks did have your date. It wasn’t much, just the pair of you heading into the saloon in town and having a meal in the back corner away from prying eyes. Sharing a few chuckles as you ate before heading back home, arm in arm as soon as you were out of sight of the town.

Arm and arm made it sound sweet when in reality you both had wandering hands that were roaming the skin of the other, and as the house came into view your underwear was damp and there was a clear bulge in his pants. Giggling as Eriks spun you by your hand so your chest was flat against his, caged in by his metal arm, and laughing as his lips dragged along the skin of your neck before reaching your ear. “Did you enjoy tonight?”

“I did.” Tapping your fingers along his shoulders and slowly moving them back to tangle in his hair. “I’m not ready for it to end yet though.” You whisper, tilting his head so you can kiss the edge of his jaw.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” There’s an edge to his voice again, the same kind that had laced his words when the two of you had been down in the tunnel and you had been grinding down onto his body. 

“You said when I was better.” Another kiss to his jaw, next to the first as you start to drag your fingers along the back of his scalp. “I’m better Eriks. Please. I want to make you feel as good as you did me.” 

“A first date and you’re ready to get into bed with me?” You jerk against his body as he ever so lightly nips at your earlobe, a clenching in your core at his light teasing. 

“Technically we were in bed together before the first date.” And done far worse, and that single thought of wanting to make Eriks feel as good as he had you is a driving factor in your motives. You want this beautiful handsome man a moaning mess under your touch. 

“Are you really sure you want this?” You can feel how his body is torn, from the way his fingers tighten their grip on you but he places a gap from where your chests are pressed together. His voice is laced with both a growl and a hint of doubt that you aren’t fully sure of a reason for. 

“Of course I do. I’m rather attracted to you Eriks.” Sure movements as he turns his head as your mouths find each other, tongues wild and you can taste the sauce from his meal as your kiss grows sloppy. Panting when you feel his hips jerk and it sends a line of fire along your spine, far too lost in the kiss to do anything except try to grind back and keep your fingers tangled in his hair. 

When his hands land on your butt and lift you upwards you respond by wrapping your legs around his. Aware you’re moving from the shifting of his legs and the sound of gravel crunching under his boots as he carries you back to the house, stopping just before the door. “Yours or mine?” 

“Mine” Breathless as you answer him. “I’m farther from Granny and Lina.” 

“Right.” Like that your mouths reconnect and you have to admit he’s far more put together than you are at the moment. Able to walk, think, and make out with you all at once and with the occasional kneading of your flesh in his hold as his tongue slides against yours. You keep your hands busy dragging one hand along his scalp while the other rests on the nape of his neck is all you can manage with how distracting his lips are. 

Both of you freeze when the floorboard in the middle of the hallway creaks as Eriks steps on it. You know the one because the entire time you’ve lived in the house it’s made a noise at even the smallest pressure. Part of you is praying that neither Lina nor Granny sticks their heads out from their bedrooms to see the cause of the noise, you don’t need either of them to see you and Eriks with drool running down your chins and faces flush with desire. 

Or for Lina to see you and Eriks looking as desperate as you are, with your legs wrapped around his waist you can feel the tent in his pants pressing deliciously against you. 

A few heartbeats later Eriks is moving once more, sticking closer to the sides of the hallway before pressing your back against your peeling door. His lips drag against your neck as he hoists you higher in his hold slipping his metal arm under you so he can work the handle to open the space. His strength often surprises you, and this time is no exception as your core tightens licking your lips as your fingers dance across his shoulder blades wanting to keep him pressed tight against you. 

Inside Eriks uses his foot as best as he can to close the door and while it doesn’t quite slam it is louder than he intended. At the look of apprehension on his face, you're using his long hair like a lease, taking fistfuls of it to pull his head back so you can kiss those bruised lips of his once more. The tension seems to melt from him, quickly responding to the kiss with fervor as he strides more into the room.

You expected to feel the lumps of your mattress under your body, not to hear the creak of the wooden chair in your room almost as if the old furniture doesn’t want to support both of your weight on it. You lean back to unwrap your legs from his body, and Eriks lets out a sigh as he slides so the old dowels are supporting him with his mass more centered on the chair. “Damn, you are one handsome man.” Breathless as your fingers slide along his neck, smiling down at him as he sends you a sheepish grin in return. 

“Nah. I’m nothing compared to you sweetness.” Ghosting his hands along your side as you both adjust so you’re straddling him more comfortably. Moving closer and rubbing the point of your nose against his as you catch more of your breath, wanting to enjoy the feeling of his heaving chest and the heat from his hands as it sinks into your body. 

“I’m starting to think you’ve never looked in the mirror.” Toying with the hem of his shirt as you bite your lip, nervous of what you’re about to ask him. “Can I.” The intensity of his gaze has you halting for a moment, his hands on the outside of your ribs, and you are certain he has to feel your heart beating like a drum under his flesh plam. Yet as intense as his blue eyes are, you can’t remember when his glasses disappeared, all you can see is adoration in those shining orbs. “Can I help you with your shirt?” 

It feels almost childish to ask since the two of you had been grinding against one another on your way back to the house while sharing salvia. Yet some part of you wants to make sure this time neither of you feels like they’re taking advantage of the other. 

“Only if you’re gentle with me.” He’s teasing you, as he gives your sides a brief squeeze before resuming the exploration of your clothed upper body. “After all.” Tilting his face more to kiss the bottom of your chin. “I’m shy.” You feel the deep chuckle he lets out as his lips remain pressed against your skin, no doubt able to feel as you nervously swallow. 

Taking a moment to settle yourself before leaning back with your fingers interlaced behind his neck so your thumbs can brush the stubbled edge of his jaw. “I’ll treat you with the utmost care.” Slowly sweeping your fingers down his neck to his shoulders the heat from his skin radiating into the tips, Eriks is always so warm you wonder if he doesn’t feel like he’s cooking in his skin. As your fingers reach the first button you stop to look into his eyes, waiting for a signal this is something he truly wants since he didn’t give you a yes or no answer. 

A small nod and you unsnap the first button, it doesn’t reveal much more but you still roll your back as you bend to plant a quick kiss on the pale skin. Feeling the briefest flick of his fingers along your sides you look up, seeing his chin lowered to watch you a bright pink blush across his cheeks. Emboldened you undo another, taking your time to slip the hard plastic through the fraying hole focused on your task and the new patch of skin revealed to you. 

Every button undone has the same pattern repeating, you kissing the newly revealed skin and as the expanse grows letting your fingers wander over his knitted flesh. Tracing the edges of the larger ones and the fine wires that run along his chest, paying special attention to the patch of rough gouged flesh that was directly over his heart. As more and more of his battered body was revealed the shifting of his hands along your body slowed until they stopped, gripping your hips as if trying to ground himself. His breathing growing more ragged by the minute and that pink blush had grown to a vivid crimson that was spreading up to the tips of his ears and down his chest in line with your tender caresses. 

Eventually, you came to a point where you couldn’t kiss his skin under the buttons anymore, his hold on your body not allowing you to slip off his lap as you worked your way downwards. Instead, as your fingers kept undoing his shirt and exploring the newly revealed skin you began to retrace the path your lips had blazed, listening to his strained breathing grow heavy as he inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth. The fire inside of you burning hotter and you could understand his reactions since you doubted you were fairing much better. 

As the last button was undone and your digits toyed with the hem of his pants you kissed the point of his chin. The short hairs from his stubble pricking your lips and you felt yourself growing damp in his lap, wondering how it might feel pressing against your thighs since you knew from the making out earlier he knew how to use that tongue. 

Letting one of your fingers slip beneath the hem of his pants he lets out a low growl, the hand on your hip flying up to the back of your neck so he can tug you against him and smash his mouth against yours. All thought leaves you at the ferocity of the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as if it’s his and his alone to with as he pleases and another flood of wetness spreads from your core. Moaning against his lips as the wet muscle of his tongue seems to plunge into your mouth as if he’s fucking you and you’re swimming in a haze of desire and arousal, you’ve never been kissed like this before. Damn if you don’t enjoy it as the burning in your lungs as he seemingly steals your breath. Except your pleasure turns to panic, slapping his shoulder as you pull away coughing like mad and trying to hide in the crook of your arm.

You ruined things once more. 

“Sorry Sweetness, sorry.” The hand that had been on your neck is rubbing your back in large soothing circles his face close to yours as he tenderly places his lips to your temple mumbling. “I shouldn’t have let things get that intense, keep coughing get it out of your system until you can breathe.” It’s like the cooing of a dove in your ears as his hair slips forward like a veil shielding the two of you. 

“I feel” Coughing another you sigh as the burning in your chest lessens “Not so sexy after coughing in your face.” That has Eriks chuckling, his metal hand gently on your neck as he keeps rubbing circles in your back and using the tip of his nose to try and get you to look at him. 

He’s wearing that soft broken smile that makes you think you might love this mysterious man far more than you should. “I still think you’re rather sexy, but if you feel that bad about coughing in my face how about we even the score here and I help you take your shirt off.” 

“Technically your shirt isn’t off. Yet” You tease as you lean back to rub your face hoping you haven’t covered yourself spittle from your lungs having a fit. The pressure in your lungs starts to ease and Eriks raises one of his eyebrows at you before giving a soft chuckle. 

“Fair is fair.” Rolling his shoulders you feel your brain shortcircuit for a moment at the shifting of his pectoral and abdomen as his shirt slips down his back. The hint of a smirk on his face no doubt at your gobsmacked expression as the white fabric slides down his pale skin before catching at his elbows. Tilting his head you thought you saw a glimmer of light in his eyes as they soften while staring at you. “Help me?” A gentle plea that you almost missed with his distracting upper body fully revealed. 

Your eyes widen a little embarrassed with yourself before taking each of his arms in your hands and pulling the sleeves off him. More battered skin revealed and as you remove his flesh arm you’re glad you started with his prosthetic. Lifting his hand to your mouth to skin one of the smaller scars just past his wrist, keeping your gaze locked on his. “I want to map every inch of you until I can close my eyes and draw it in the sand. Every bump groove and ridge.” It’s husky as it leaves your lips and you feel a warmth spreading along your back once more at the sheer look of adoration on his face. 

“I think your body would make a far nicer picture in the sand than mine.” His prosthetic is playing the edge of your shirt, the chill from the metal sinking into your skin feels lovely compared to the heat building inside of you. With his hand still encased in both of your smaller ones you feel the fidgeting of his fingers and don’t miss the self-depreciation in his tone. 

“I’d say flattery will get you nowhere, but I’m sitting on your lap all hot and bothered so I guess it’s working.” Letting go of his hand and watching it slowly fall to his lap between both of your bodies before hooking the bottom of your shirt with your hands and pulling it up and over your head. A low groan from the blond in front of you and you can feel the rumble well aware he’s enjoying what he sees. “Just remember, I think you’re beautiful. I’d rather if you didn’t talk down about what I enjoy.” Left in your bra the chill from the room sweeps in and your skin rises in goosebumps almost immediately. Eriks is quick to react as his flesh hand starts to rub along your arm.

“Maybe you have strange taste.” That teasing lilt is back in his voice and you roll your eyes at him before a thought hits you. Giving your hips a roll and feeling his length twitch under you as he lets out a soft groan. 

“Maybe.” Laughing before leaning closer to his body again and pressing against him, feeling his warmth sink into you. “Doesn’t change how I feel about you though.” Tipping his jaw back with both of your thumbs something he lets you do as the muscles of his neck go lax. “Now kiss me again, and I don’t care if you steal my breath this time.” 

As your lips crash together this time it’s far more tender but that same undercurrent of yearning is there, as his tongue tangles with yours. As the kiss progresses it’s obvious he takes his ques from you about how exuberant he’ll be, kitten licks of his tongue against yours which you started. This time it’s you controlling the kiss as you run your tongue along his teeth, feeling the point of his canines and shuddering surprised by how much the thought of those dragging against your skin turns you on. Unconsciously your hips are starting to rock against his once more until your shifting has your core sliding just right and you pull back panting. 

“Damn, I want more than just this heavy petting.” Your fingers move to his belt once more only for him to grab both of your wrists once more. Looking at him in confusion, why does he keep stopping you? 

“I… I’d rather if you let me just take care of you.” Lifting both of your hands to his mouth and kissing your fingers. “Please.” He’s pleading with you and it’s desperate.

“Eriks, what’s wrong.” The alarm bells in your head are going off and your heart starts to feel heavy in your chest. Does. Does he not really feel the same way about you as you thought? Has this all just been him letting you do as you want because he feels guilty? 

“I.” His head lolling backward and you hear the softest thump as the back of his head hits the wall. “I don’t think you’ll like what you find there.” His chest heaving as he takes a deep inhale and you almost swoon at the sight as he seems even bigger than before as he holds that breath for a time that would have you coughing a storm. Eventually letting it out before raising his head and catching you in those blue orbs that are swimming in sadness. “Please, Sweetness. I’ll give you whatever you want with my hands and mouth, I want to watch you come undone for me again. And again.” Unshed tears are forming in his eyes and your hands are cupping his cheeks as your heart feels like it’s breaking. 

“That’s not fair Eriks. I don’t just want you to make me feel good, do you not trust me? I don’t care what I find down there, everyone is different.” Letting your voice trail off, not that you’ve had a huge amount of experience but when you’re on the run as a bandit sometimes you sadly see more dicks than you want on the side of trucks as people relieve themselves. Blinking back your own tears as you map his face with your thumbs watching those sad blue pools is eating at your soul in a way you didn’t know was possible. “Please Eriks, trust me. I don’t care what you have down there. I just want to make you feel as good as you do me.” 

You wanted tonight to be a happy night, to return the pleasure he’d given you in the well tenfold. Now you just wanted to crawl into your bed and cry and something in Eriks seems to give. “You do me make feel good sweetness. If I tell you I’m willing to at least try will you let me? I promise it’s very much me and not you.” Both of his hands are sweeping along your skin, a plan forming in his own mind on how to distract you from the mass between his legs. If he can give you another mind-blowing orgasm you might forget about wanting to get his pants off. “I just, I’ve been turned away before.” Just once a long time ago he remembered someone seeing his not-so-normal sexual organ and it left a scar that no one would ever see. 

You suddenly feel like an asshole again, projecting your thoughts onto him when the truth was he just wasn’t as confident about his body. Which you can understand, he was covered in scars some of which were huge and looked like rough worm leather. “I’m sorry Eriks, I’m being stupid again.” 

“Hush, we’re just figuring things out.” Tilting his head in your hands so his lips can press against one of your palms, mouthing at the skin gently. “Do you want to stop for tonight? I think this time it might be me who killed the mood.” 

“No, no baby. I wanna keep going.” Turning his head back towards you and kissing him deeply this time, no hurried motions or exploring just trying to convey your feelings towards the half-naked man under you. A half-naked man running his hands along your sides and sweeping around your belly and back as they moved, exploring your skin, shivering from the duel sensations. An action that has Eriks removing his metal hand from your sides. Pulling back to whispering against his lips “I want all of you to touch me.” Before closing the distance again, a moment of hesitation before the limb goes back to its gentle exploration once more. 

His gentle exploration doesn’t last long as his hands start to fondle the sides of your chest and your covered breasts. His larger palms almost covered the entire mound of one and it sends a tingle along your spine at the idea of him playing with them directly. “I’m starting to think maybe I should pull this off too?” Teasing him as you switch to planting random kisses along his face, enjoying the warmth flooding your chest as you slowly reintroduce grinding on him into the equation. 

“Let me help.” His breath washes over your face as his head tilts down to watch as his fingers toy with the fabric before the flesh one slides back to undo the fasteners. You almost have to laugh at how serious his face is, as if he’s working on something far more intricate than a bra, and once you feel the band around your ribs loosen it’s your turn to roll your shoulders so the straps trail down your arms. 

As the material falls away he freezes and you feel a rather violent twitching in his pants while his eyes are locked on your chest. An involuntary lick of his lips as he slowly moves the fabric lower and the groan seems to rumble out of him. His blue eyes dart up to yours and you have to hold back a snort at his next question. “Can I touch them?” 

You can’t hold in your laughter as your body shakes from the mirth as you remove the rest of it and toss it where you think your shirt went. “No, I just took it off to tease you.” Catching his face in your hands and kissing him again, letting out a soft moan as you nibble on his lower lip. “Of course you can.” Your voice is breathless again and being the gentleman he is, Eriks doesn’t rush to fondle your chest. Instead lifting his hands to your back and pulling you hard against him and going to a deeper kiss again, letting his hips lift so when you next roll against him the hardness between his legs is rubbing along your clit. The fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin adds a layer to the sensation with its texture, drenched in the slick pouring from you. You almost come from the feeling and Eriks must sense it, his grip tightening on your body panting against your lips.

“Let me make you come again Sweetness, just keep grinding against me.” You do as he asks, letting your hands roam across his shoulders and rolling your hips. Small noises leave you as Eriks rests his hands on your hips, using it as leverage to lift your body higher on his and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. 

Your back is arching, your clothed cunt still rubbing against his cock through his pants as he sucks while you moan far louder than you’d intended. He doesn’t let, pulling more of your skin into his mouth and using the tip of that tongue of his to circle the nub in the center, going this way and that. All while keeping your hips moving. Your hands are flying to grip his head, great fistfuls of his hair tangled in your fingers as you grind against him desperately.

The sound of his sucking and slurping is obscene and you feel the pressure inside of you building and damn if you don’t want more of it, forcing his head against your chest. Eriks must enjoy it as he grunts in response and starts to lick at your nipple with his tongue flat covering the entire surface of sensitive skin. A few more grinds against each other and let you a startled cry as you come, feeling that tingle run up your spine. Slumping a little against him as you relax, a wet pop as he removes his mouth and slides his lips along the skin until his head in between both of your breasts. Mouthing at the skin between them while you catch your breath. 

“Eriks?”

“Yes, Sweetness?” His voice muffled against your chest, even though you aren’t keeping him pressed against you anymore he seems rather content with his face buried in your skin. 

“Will you please let me return the favor this time? I feel guilty you’ve let me come twice on you now.” Carding your fingers gently through his hair and you feel his exhale as it wafts against your skin, cooling the spit he’s left behind that makes you shiver. 

“You’re bound and determined aren’t you?” His voice is almost mournful as he asks the question. 

“Yes. I don’t want to only just receive in this relationship.” Tugging on his scalp gently so he leans backward. “Even if I just touch you through the fabric Eriks, please.” You can see the flickers of fear in his eyes, leaning down so your foreheads are together not sure if your words will help with his apprehension. “I just want to see you come undone too, to know I did that.” Biting your lip as you watch those expressive blue orbs and the warring emotions inside of him. “Have you ever touched yourself while thinking of me?” You aren’t fully sure why you asked the question, perhaps remembering when he asked you something similar in the well and it has his straining cock throbbing impossibly warm through his clothes under you. 

“No.” Your face falls again at the admission and your shoulders slump. “Because I don’t deserve to. I don’t deserve any relief like that.” You don’t miss the dejection in his voice, but you think you see something glimmer in those eyes like hope. 

“Maybe you should let me judge that. I won’t force you, but I want to see you relax and not carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.” You almost add on something but it doesn’t feel right. Not yet. It’s too soon to call him that L word. 

“I’m afraid this will end if you see me. All of me.” 

“You should know by now I’m not that shallow. I want all of you Eriks, and I’ll wait a lifetime if that’s what it takes.” His fears are valid, but at this point, you don’t care what he has between his legs you just want to see that undercurrent of a sad smile that always has been wiped from his face.

A long exhale and you feel him pat your ass with both hands tilting his face to kiss you quickly. “Alright, Sweetness. You win.” He uses his grip on your hips to help you stand before he does the same, gripping his belt and working on undoing it before pausing and bending to remove his shoes. 

You swallow and work quickly to do the same, hearing him pause while you’re bent over. “What are you?”

“Getting naked, just like you.” Lifting your head and sending him what you hope is a dazzling smile “Fair is fair right?” 

That has him chuckling as he stands again, undoing his zipper before stopping. “Could you? Could you maybe sit on the bed?” He’s nervous again, and you nod feeling the light give of the mattress under you. Another swallow on his part and he gives you the softest smile almost as if mourning something. “Well, here we go I guess.” Hooking his pants and underwear in one go sliding both down his thick thighs and stepping out of the fabric.

It’s your turn to swallow as you gaze at him dappled in the light of the moons shining in through your window. A canvas of more scars and metal along his legs, the light making the bits of his unblemished skin almost translucent in comparison. It’s hard to not stare at the length bobbing between his legs and you suddenly understand why he was so nervous. It’s not a normal cock by any means, covered in bumpy ridges almost like inter lapping scales climbing upwards. You almost don’t miss the thinner stalks of what look like tendrils wrapped around him, a light purple-blue sheen to them as if lit from within. 

You must have been silent for too long as Eriks coughs. “I should get dressed.” Bending and reaching for his pants and you’re reeling, dropping from the bed in front of him and gripping his thighs in your hands. 

“No. You shouldn’t.” Moving closer and pressing your lips against his thigh as close to his sex as you can. “I won’t lie. I might be a little surprised.” You look up at him and stand to rub against the muscles under your palm. “Eriks, I need you to not be you for the next little bit and actually talk about yourself. I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. Can you do that for me?” While keeping eye contact with him you try to keep your face as close to his cock as possible, feeling it twitch beside your head as your breath hits it. This close you can see the globs of clear fluid pouring from his tip and damn do you want to wrap your lips around it and suck. 

“Wait” There is no mistaking the confusion in his voice. “You still want to-”

“Eriks.” Cutting him off you squeeze his thighs as hard as you can to make sure you have his full attention. “I want to feel that cock of yours inside me and ride it until we either break the bed frame or I’m too exhausted to move. But first I want to lick you all over and suck you off, and I need to know if I can do that.” Ending your little rant with a press of your lips close enough to the twitching appendix that you can feel it brush your cheek. 

You don’t miss the tears falling from his eyes as he looks at you on your knees in front of him, raising his prosthetic to ghost over your other cheek and brush your hair from your eyes. “You’re amazing my sweetness.” His voice catches in his throat as he speaks and you just smile up at him. 

“Nah. I just want to make you feel as good as you do me.” Chuckling up at him as he uses his flesh hand to wipe at his eyes. “Now come on big guy” Smirking as you let your eyes flick to his cock so he catches both meanings. “Can I start licking or what?” 

“You can.” He chuckles eyes still misty “Just be careful of the thinner strands around me, they sometimes have a mind of their own.” It really is funny to see the pink return to his cheeks while he's still looking at you like you're the best thing to ever happen to him. With that small warning, you tilt your head and run the tip of your tongue along a few of the ridges avoiding one of the tendrils. The sigh Eriks lets out at your action makes your heart beat faster and a burning start in your belly. The fact he's so responsive from such a small touch has your head running a mile a minute, wondering just how reactive and sensitive he could be. 

“Eriks?” You question again as you swipe your tongue along another section of his ridged length. Hearing him moan you press your lips together before looking up at him with your full attention. “Do you touch yourself the way I touch myself when I think about you?” His cock throbs right next to your face but the crimson flush on his face is telling. 

“No. I don't. It's not exactly human-looking.” Seeing his swallow you move closer and mouth at the space between two of the tendrils and suck lightly. “I never thought you'd want me, so I ignored what I wanted.” 

“Stop that Baby. Because I want all of you and I don't just mean your body.” You start placing kitten licks along his length moving upwards towards the head seeing a pool of clear fluid starting to bead along ridges. “I want all those soft smiles you have, and the sad ones you wear when you think no one is watching.” Placing another few licks as you keep working feeling your clit pulse and hearing his breathing grow eractic. “I know there's so much to you that you don't share and some of it you might not ever share, but I wanna be the one you share it with.” The next few words catch in your throat, too hard to verbalize as you come to terms with the fact you might feel a lot more than just lust for this beautiful and broken man. Instead wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking, tasting the liquid and almost groaning as it floods your mouth. Your pussy clenches and a line of fire sweeps up your spine while liquid drips from you like a faucet. Both of his hands reach to tangle in your hair while a low hum seems to echo from Eriks and it has you doing proverbial laps of happiness before you pull off his cock. “No more not touching yourself, alright? Now. What happens if I do touch these?” You tease placing a quick kiss on one of the tendrils, gasping in wonder as it flutters away from his length for a moment before landing flat against his dick. 

Letting Eriks push your head back and look up to see a shy smile on his face again and that crimson flush is covering his entire face and chest now. “I did say they have a mind of their own.” 

“Did you like that at least?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, because I'm going to enjoy this.” Using a bit more force as you move your head back in and this time wrap your hand around his base with your fingertips just brushing your thumb. A noise not unlike a keening coming from inside him as he throbs under your fingers and his tip is covered in fluid again. Starting to pump his cock and keeping the pressure light with his tendrils wrapped around him you’re amazed at the amount of fluid leaking from him. Feeling it coating your fingers and dripping over them as you reach the top, at least you don't have to worry about chafing. Nibbling on the head and feeling your body respond as more of the fluid lines your lips, rubbing your thighs together and they glide against one another with the wetness that has dripped out of you. Doing your best to commit each and every bump to memory under your digits as the humming starts in the room again and you realize it's all coming from Eriks. It adds to the throbbing of your sex and the way your entire body seems to clench in anticipation. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know the liquid from Eriks must be doing something to you, you've never felt this turned on before. Almost as if you're hyper-aware of everything from the way the skin on your fingertips drag along the bumps of his cock, to the sweat at the edge of your hairline and under his palms, all the way to the tingling of your toes against the floor. Every nerve, every fiber of your being seems more in tune with how you feel and how Eriks is making you feel. 

Hearing a short groan and glancing upwards you swoon internally at the way he's biting his bottom lip trying to keep his noises contained and the way his eyes are shut with his brow pinched. His focus on trying to keep himself from letting you hear him is adorable, well or him just trying to keep the keep house from hearing just how good you make him feel might be more accurate. “If I wasn’t worried about the rest of our family I’d tell you to stop holding back those noises.” Not waiting for him to answer you slip your mouth over his tip and suck once more, hearing a whine from Eriks as his hips buck trying to sink more of him into your warm mouth. 

“Sweetness, you’re gonna be my undoing.” Ignoring him you close your eyes, hand still pumping his length while hollowing your cheeks and sucking as hard as you can. If he’s telling you that you want him to let himself go, to let some of the tension and fear he seems to carry fall away from him. Well and your pussy clenches and throbs around the idea of swallowing a load of his cum down your throat. Moving your hand faster and letting the tip of your tongue flutter against the opening in his cock. The amount of fluid coming from his slit is too much as it seeps from the corners of your mouth, trailing down your arm to your elbow before dripping to the floor. It’s making a mess all you keep thinking is how you can’t wait to feel him inside you, as the bumps seem to shift and pulse and his tendrils wiggle under your fingers. “Swee- Augh” Eriks can’t even finish as his release hits the back of your throat with enough force to make you jump. 

The sensation of liquid spattering against your face also has you a little confused, popping off his dick and gently releasing his length from your hand. Reaching up scoop some of the liquid off your cheek looking to see the pale blue of it and tilting your head. Your libido is running high from the load you just swallowed and you react on instinct by sticking two of your fingers in your mouth and sucking. 

It makes you cum from the salty taste and you can’t help but moan as your eyes roll back in your head. You never thought you could find release just from sucking Eriks off, let alone licking his release off your fingers. The weight of his hands coming to rest on your shoulders and rubbing gently. “My tendrils have my ah, actual release. If that makes sense.” You hum feeling boneless as you open your eyes to see him kneeling in front of you and his cock is still bobbing between his legs. 

“Eriks?”

“Yes, Sweetness?” His voice is soothing, using one of his hands and what you think is one of his socks to pat at your skin to clean what is apparently his real release from your skin. 

“Please let me ride you.” Like this, he’s at your level and you lean across the space looking for his lips. Sighing as he shifts to meet you and it’s a brush of swollen lips against dry ones, low mewls and whines from both of you and your hands move to press against his chest. Feeling his heartbeat under the scarred skin and it’s racing as quickly as yours. 

“I think we should move to the bed first sweetness.” You both chuckle and you feel like the amount of his skin pressed against yours isn’t enough. No, it’s nowhere near enough, you want to be wrapped in his limbs and yours clutching his as your chests align. 

“Then get on the bed because I’ll follow you anywhere right now.” You want to feel that ridged length of his deep in your core, after having a taste and your fingers wrapped around him you can only imagine the way it’s going to feel against your walls. And you’ve never been patient. 

Sliding your hands up his chest and struggling to get your feet under you to stand and drag Eriks to the bed with you. To say you're not successful is a bit of an understatement barely able to get even to your knees before stumbling, suffice to say Eriks doesn't budge from his place across from you. “Hush Sweetness. We have time to get there.” A light press of his fingers as they trail along your arms so he can grip your hands in his as he maneuvers you so you're sitting in his lap feeling his cock throb against your inner thigh and leaking even more liquid between the two of you. “I'm not going anywhere, just give me time to get used to your affections.” 

It's awkward but you relent somewhat since more of your body is wedged against him, the sensation of his arms encompassing you as he presses his forehead against the side of your temple. His eyes shine once more while he just breathes, the metal in his chest indenting your skin. “If you want to call me wanting to jump you that bad as affections fine. Just know it runs a lot more than skin deep.” Chuckling as you start to play with some of the strands of his hair while watching him. 

“You seem to be taking all of this rather” He pauses as if looking for the right word while his flesh hand runs along your back. “Calmy.” 

“Oh I'm not calm, my heart is beating so hard in my chest that I'm surprised you can't see it moving and my skin that isn't touching you feels like it's burning.” Your voice is soft as you admit it and the churning in your stomach starts up again as the muscles in your stomach start to react to your growing arousal. “If you mean more about you and the extraordinary-looking length between your legs? Well, I'm a little surprised but it isn't going to change how I feel about you.” Turning in his lap so even more of your bodies are pressed together. “I think in time if you want to tell me more you will, but for now I'm happy. Well.” Letting your voice drop into a playful tone and licking the tip of his nose. “As happy as a girl who wants to feel her lover's lovely cock in her can be when he’s making her slow down and wait.”

“So we're lovers now?” A soft little laugh escapes him at your antics but the growing smile on his face more than gives him away. “That seems presumptuous.” Angling his head to tilt yours up for a quick brush of his lips over yours and remaining close so the two of you share the same breath. “We only had one date.” 

“One date and a lot of mind-blowing orgasms.” You counter letting the hand that wasn't curled in his hair slide down his chest to wrap around his length again. “I wouldn't mind more of either if that's what it takes to convince you.” 

“So forward my sweetness.” Still teasing you a little before gripping your hand and removing it from his cock to kiss the back of it. Watching his face grow somber before letting his gaze land directly on yours. “Do you really want me that bad?”

“Of course I do Eriks.” 

“Alright then. I guess I'll let you ride me but um, don't mind my tendrils doing their own thing? Ok?” Taking the time to spread your fingers and kiss the tip of each one before you find yourself laughing. 

“I'll try not to I guess?” You really don't know what to expect from them but you can't see them doing anything crazy. Taking a sharp inhale as the muscles of his abdomen flex and he starts to stand taking you with him. Every time he shows his strength like this it makes some primal part of your brain hum, it's so rare to see compared to when he tries to hide that ability under the guise of his loose clothing and easygoing mannerisms. yet moments like now as he stands with you in his arms serve as a reminder and you can't help but lick your lips. With steady steps even if he doesn’t have far to go he’s careful as he lowers you to your feet beside the edge of the bed frame. 

Fingers grasping the coarse material that makes up your bedding and tugging on the layers until it’s just the sheet that covers the mattress remaining and you gesture to it. “I guess this is your last chance to back out if you want.” Trying to keep your tone playful since you know if he does decide he doesn’t want this it will shatter your heart even if you refuse to voice how much you’ve come to care for Eriks. 

“The same goes for you too.” Slipping onto your bed and trying to get comfortable he lets out a soft groan as he settles in the center and lifts his hands to adjust your pillow under his head. Dappled in the moonlight with every portion of him framed on your mattress you shake your head. 

Carefully joining him and settling so you’re hovering above his stomach aware of his length twitching just behind you. “No, I want this.” Certain your flush has to be visible in the same pale light as an inferno rages across your skin. 

His flesh hand dancing along your arm since like this he can’t reach your face without leaning upwards. “You won’t break me, so let your legs relax.” His words are tender and you have to smile as your heart beats to it’s own song, shaking your head before bending to kiss him soundly on the lips. Almost like a promise as neither of you presses too hard before you lean back and shuffle down, lifting yourself higher so your pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. 

You sort of get what he meant now about the tendrils. There are five of them in total and each one is moving as if of it’s own accord and none of them are wrapped around his length anymore, just connected to the base of him. You give him a single pump and another flood of fluid spills from his tip with an audible gasp. Lowering your hips you slide the head of his cock around your pussy lips, smearing the liquid across both of you before stopping to look him in the eye. 

Licking your lips at the look of desperation on his face as if he’s trying to hold himself back once more. “Ready?” 

“Yes. Just be gentle. It is my first time you know.” Teasing you a little more once again before giving you a nod. Letting yourself relax you lower your hips, sighing as he starts to spread you open as you slowly sink onto his cock. With his shape even from the start, you feel the tension inside of you build, the bumps and groves of his dick hitting against clusters of nerves has you reeling. 

“You feel so good.” Eriks' voice is guttural and you keep moving your hips up and down, working more and more of him into your slick channel on each descent. Already your lungs are burning with all the panting you’re doing, you know you aren’t going to last with the way your walls are clenching around him. Every movement seems to have new sensations and the sweat starts to pour freely down your body adding to the mess of liquid under both of your bodies where you’re joined. 

“You too.” It takes effort to pant those two small words and when your hips are flush with his you throw your head back feeling the tendons strain. You’ve never felt this full, stretched to the limit with Eriks as deep inside of you as he can go. “Fuck.” It’s all you can think with the warmth of his cock spreading inside of you and his tendrils writhing between your bodies while you adjust to him splitting you open. 

“You feel so good!” As hot as you feel you glance forward to see the tears running down Eriks' face. “I’m not gonna be able to last.” Every part of his body is tense, the veins in his neck throbbing and you bite your lip starting to grind your hips. You know if you try to ride him right now neither of you will make it past the first few rounds. 

“Then let go Eriks.” You pant as you lean forward to add the slightest tilt to your pelvis and almost see stars, planting your hands on his chest and whining low in your throat. Every bump of his cock adds to the pressure against your walls as you grind down onto him. His heart is thundering in his chest and you feel the fluttering of his muscles under your fingers before the sound of fabric ripping reaches your ears. His knuckle-white grip on the sheets was so tight he tore the fabric. “Eriks, please baby, let go with me.” Rolling your hips harder now as you realize you don’t want to drag this out, you want to feel him let go and turn into a pile of goo with you. 

Starting to lift your hips as your breathing grows erratic with the slamming of your body against his. That coil in your body so tightly wound that you’re just hanging on the edge ready to tip over. A low moan from Eriks and his hands are on your hips helping you to move up and down his length. “I need a little more.” Choking the words out as his face screws tight, you can’t blame him with his different sex he might need more stimulation to the sides of his cock than you do. 

“Almost” The word is hoarse and you feel like you’re a dam ready to break from the floodwater. A wordless scream passes your lips as something starts to play with your clit, the texture soft yet hard at the same time. Glancing down where the two of you are joined are three of his tendrils rubbing against the bundle of nerves in tandem. Adding and decreasing the pressure before crisscrossing over the slick skin. 

Eriks is starting to slam you down and meets your movements with ones of his own and you slump as your vision goes white as the tide of your orgasm washes over you. Your body quakes in ways you didn’t know was possible as nerves twitch from the force of your orgasm. Sighing when Eriks pulls you down onto him a final time and you feel as he pumps a searing load deep inside your cunt, smaller sensations of hot liquid bursting across your belly and butt as his tendrils release their individual loads.

You’re numb as Eriks pulls you down against him so your head is resting over his heart as you both bathe in the afterglow catching your breaths. Unaware of the passage of time as you listen to his soothing heartbeat while your fingers start to trace random patterns across his chest, feeling his fingers dancing along your back doing the same. You don’t want to move enjoying how full you still feel. 

“I guess you ended up too exhausted after one round. I thought you wanted to ride me all night long.” There’s nothing but soft gentle teasing to his words as you turn your face to look up at his grin. 

“Give me a few minutes to recover and we’ll go again.” A pause after your words before you both start to laugh shaking against one another. “Did you enjoy your first time?”

“Greatly. I can’t wait to have more of them with you.” Still feeling his chest shake with mirth you can only do the same. 

“Alright, but if you want to go again I think you need to take the lead this time.” You aren’t even sure if you have the strength to slide off his body let alone have another round of sex as an active participant. 

“Once you’re not as exhausted I want to try again.” Grumbling as he tries to close the distance to kiss you but you don’t have the energy to reach him, so instead he settles for planting a few quick pecks on the top of your head. 

The next morning you’re barely able to move, finding yourself wrapped in a bedsheet as Eriks slips from the room to get a bath running for the two of you with a sheet around his own hips. Only to walk into the hall just in time to meet Lina and Granny. 

“You two kept me up all night.” The sassy teen snorted brushing past him without a second glance. “I hope you broke the bed!” Called over her shoulder as a parting shot. 

As Eriks turned a shade of crimson to match a coat he had left behind Granny just started to chuckle. “I see the two of you had a good time.” Leaning on her cane and patting his forearm in a reassuring manner. “Look after her today, I don’t think she’ll be going too far.” Before moving past Eriks who is looking to the ceiling now, wondering how the two of you can soundproof your room for future occurrences. 

For now, however, he needs to get that shower going and maybe get a glass or two of water for the two of you to drink. One thing is for certain, the man once known as Vash the Stampede certainly enjoyed losing his virginity, and with a woman who didn’t care he was different. 

Maybe he’d get the chance to tell her he was certain the feeling budding in his heart was love. Feeling his feet growing cold he got a move on, planning to spend the day telling you how wonderful you were and doting on you until you swatted at him in annoyance. 

Blissfully unaware of a man with a cross wrapped in a white cloth and straps had started a search trying to find him. 

Well, time to hide in a hole

Chapter one

[leeeeeeef]

still thinking about the similarities and differences between miles edgeworth and trucy wright's upbringings,,, like i get that its no big secret that miles and trucy both lost their biological fathers in the courtroom in incidents regarding forged evidence and wrongful convictions and that their adoptive guardians were somehow involved in gregory/zak's disappearance and that miles and trucy both may or may not have played some role in their disappearances as well (whether it's perceived or unintentional)

but also i think its kind of interesting how trucy didn't become a defense attorney like phoenix did, but rather stuck with being a magician like her bio parents and grandfather. and phoenix supports her in all of her endeavors!!! phoenix loves trucy regardless of her occupation, and it's such a stark contrast to how manfred completely shapes miles's career, personality, etc. miles ended up not following in gregory's footsteps, and it's completely different to how trucy was allowed and even encouraged to continue her family's business.

also i love how phoenix brings trucy and apollo closer together even before they find out that they're half-siblings. and even more, trucy and pearl are almost like sisters to each other (capcom please give us more trucy/pearl interactions pleaseplease please) and since phoenix was a friend of the fey clan long before he met trucy, there's no doubt he had a hand in their friendship. anyways what i'm trying to say is that phoenix puts effort into making sure his daughter has a vivid social life - an extensive support system that she can rely on.

on the other hand, miles and franziska's siblinghood is entirely different. as much as i love their dynamic, it's pretty clear to see that a big part of that dynamic is their rivalry. franziska doesn't want to fall behind miles; she becomes a prosecutor at around the same time that miles does, even if she's seven years younger than him; her entire motive is to beat phoenix in court as a way to surpass miles; and in aai1 fran and miles are competitive with each other (albeit in a sibling way but still). and i get that this is pretty much completely speculative but i cant help but think that maybe manfred had some hand in that?? perhaps pitting them against each other as a way to isolate miles from any sort of familial connection,, i like to think that fran and miles seeing each other as siblings shows how they free themselves of manfred's polarizing influence. 

and i haven't watched the anime but i heard that manfred makes miles study in europe for a while?? in a country where he can't understand anyone else (at least until he learns the language),,, and compared to trucy's upbringing, miles had been so isolated from everyone, from his sister, from his childhood friends, and that isolation was in no small part due to manfred's influence.

(another note: i feel like trucy's and miles's differing social skills show this disparity even more; miles is a lot more socially awkward and standoffish due to how isolated he is while trucy is very comfortable and friendly with others, possibly due to how trucy has had a lot more opportunities for socialization. i can see why someone might chalk it down to trucy working as an entertainer but miles's profession also requires a level of social adequacy in the form of persuasion, so it's probably more than just their jobs)

i think it ultimately comes down to how manfred and phoenix perceive miles and trucy. im pretty sure manfred says at one point (im too lazy to find the screenshot to cite it..) that his treatment of miles served as a sort of revenge against gregory, corrupting him from a young age to completely purge gregory's influence. he sees miles as a vessel of his hatred towards gregory, almost like an extension of gregory himself. meanwhile phoenix sees trucy as,, well... a person - his daughter, with all of the wants, personality traits, and idiosyncrasies that make her /her/. and even though zak has done so much to hurt phoenix, phoenix doesn't let that get in the way of his love for trucy. hell, it's even reflected through their surnames; miles keeps his father's first name, showing that manfred doesn't really see miles as an adoptive child, while trucy changes her last name, showing that she and phoenix truly are father and daughter.

also. like. im sorry for tying this back to wrightworth but it's kind of poetic that miles ends up holding phoenix in such high regard. it's as if phoenix represents a life that miles might have had a long time ago; a symbol of security and warmth and unconditional love that was robbed from him at such a young age. it's especially apparent since phoenix and miles are childhood friends, like phoenix is a literal remnant of miles's past.

but there's one monumental similarity between miles and trucy that i've neglected to mention, and it's how they both learn to use the influence of their predecessors for good. although manfred had made miles a prosecutor as a way to get back at gregory, it's clear that miles still holds the values and morals that gregory had instilled in him close to his heart. and with phoenix's help, miles eventually learns how he can help others as a prosecutor. miles remains a prosecutor, just like manfred, and even retains many of the same mannerisms and fashion choices. however, his motives and morals, as well as the impact that he leaves on others, are undoubtedly his own, with the compassion and conviction that he had held since he was a child.

and it's no secret that troupe gramarye has their own history of scandals. but the heartless, manipulative way that magnifi, zak, valant, and even mr. reus treat both members and outsiders of the troupe,, it's nothing like trucy's brand of magic. her magic is so much kinder (yes, even the knife dances and catching bullets between her teeth) and she has so much more respect for the other magicians she works with. even when she inherits the troupe, her shows are traced with cheerfulness and wonder. she performs magic simply to put smiles on faces, even after the death of (as far as she knows) her only remaining biological family, even after being held hostage, even after being accused of murdering someone she had so much respect for. and that's probably more than anyone else in the troupe has done.

[strawberrycables]

additional context on the Olympics boxing situation:

[ID: screenshots of a comment made on Reddit by user RampantNRoaring, under a post that links to an article titled 'Logan Paul Admits To Being "Guilty Of Spreading Misinformation” About Imane Khelif, The Algerian Olympic Boxer'

"In the interest of spreading… actual information, I’m copying my comment from another thread, because this is infuriating.

The short(ish) version is that she's a cis woman who been competing for years against other women, and there was no issue, including at the 2020 Olympics. Never any question of her gender or testosterone levels, no articles, no headlines, no commentary from her opponents, nothing. She doesn't even have a particularly stellar record, though she's been improving in recent years.

She was even tested at the 2022 World Championships and they didn't find any problems. She took the silver medal without incident.

Up until the 2023 World Championships - **when she beat a Russian boxer.**

Quick backstory on the IBA, the boxing organization that tested her and oversees the Boxing World Championships: it's been in contention with the IOC for years for issues of corruption and concerns over refereeing and judging, but things have gotten worse over the past few years. The IOC was concerned about the IBA's complete financial dependence on their sponsor: Russian-owned Gazprom. The IBA also elected a corrupt Russian president in 2020, and in 2022 they (wrongly) declared his re-election opponent ineligible, so he won an uncontested re-election. Multiple countries including the US and UK boycotted the 2023 World Championships because the IBA suspended Ukraine and un-suspended Russia and Belarus in 2022, against IOC guidelines. All of this ultimately resulted in the IOC severing ties with the IBA, which hasn't happened with any sport in decades. They fucked up so bad that the IOC may drop boxing altogether; another organization has risen up and is attempting to replace the IBA in order to save boxing at the Olympics.

Anyway. Imane Khelif competes in the World Championships in 2022, undergoes testing, no eligibility issues, takes the silver medal. She competes in 2023, no eligibility issues. Gets to the Round of 16, beats a Russian boxer...suddenly, she gets tested again and based on the results of that test AND her test from 2022, they declared her ineligible.

The IBA never said what kind of test it was, just that it wasn't a testosterone test, nor did they explain the results, citing privacy. In an interview with Russian state-owned media, the Russian president of the IBA said that they did a DNA test and found that Khelif had XY chromosomes, but again...look at the source, the audience, the track record of corruption, the timing...

Plus, they did this test in 2022 and didn't have any issue with the results? They used the 2022 test as part of their basis for disqualifying her - even though they allowed her to compete in 2023, up until she beat a Russian athlete.

So there's no evidence that she has higher testosterone. She competed in the 2020 Olympics without incident, even when other female athletes with high testosterone were withdrawn. And the IBA didn't administer a testosterone test.

There's also no other information, testing, questions, or anything that she has talked about that would allude to any sort of chromosomal or hormonal difference. She identifies as a woman and always has.

People are diagnosing her with all kinds of conditions but there’s actually no evidence for any of it aside from one vague test that an extremely corrupt organization associated with Russia subjected her to when she beat a Russian athlete, the results of which were only discussed by the Russian president of the corrupt organization when he talked to Russian media." /End ID]

link

[hopeymchope]

Hope's Peak and... Whatever is Going on with the "Talents" They Study

Hope's Peak Academy! Where only the greatest talents are invited to focus on the areas in which they excel (and to be studied by the staff).

The people working at Hope's Peak Academy in Danganronpa (whether staff, scientists, or Steering Committee) are pretty consistently presented as being dedicated to researching and understanding the nature of talent. They talk like talent is this hazy concept that only certain people somehow possess, so they're out to crack the code of its mysterious origins.

We have top men working on the origins of talent right now. .... TOP. MEN.

Now, I know we all eventually learn just how much of a shitshow HPA was and how corrupt its primary operators were. But the evidence of their crimes is mostly focused on how they take their interest in "Talent" much too far. So long as it furthered the study of "talent," human experimentation, endangering the lives of students, and much, MUCH more were totally on the table as far as HPA's Steering Committee was concerned. Which is very bad, yes.

However! I think the issues with HPA's intentions ran even deeper. The people in charge weren't just corrupt; they were also stupid. And this is evidenced by many of the "talents" they identified and researched.

See, Hope's Peak makes no real distinction between the types of talent they identify and accept into their walls. Even though there's a MASSIVE DIFFERENCE between the talent of someone like Junko Enoshima vs. that of someone like Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. Y'know?

(I strongly doubt I'm the first to observe how bullshit some of these "talents" are. But since I can't find any other conversations about this on Tumblr, I'm going to move forward with making my own commentary. Sorry?)

BTW, consider this: If Komaeda were somehow born earlier and was an adult by the time the 77th Class entered HPA? He could've easily been one of the staff members putting Hajime into that metal coffin.

In descending order of "I can see why they were interested" to "WTF is this," here are the four core types of Super High School-Level "Talents" that Hope's Peak Academy welcomes within its hallowed halls:

(DISCLAIMER: I include V3 students as some of the examples cited below. YES, I know they don't attend Hope's Peak in their game's main storyline. However, they attend Hope's Peak in both UTDP and DRS. That's good enough for me; you can always ignore those examples if you disagree.)

CATEGORY (A) Talents that seem to come innaately/naturally to those who have them. These are either your wunderkind types, or they otherwise gained their talent seemingly overnight. — (e.g., Yasuhiro Hagakure, Junko Enoshima, Nagito Komaeda, Miu Iruma)

My Thoughts: Okay, SURE. I get why you'd want to study how this can happen and where these kinds of skills come from. No notes.

CATEGORY (B) Talents that are developed over a lifetime of practice and/or hard work. Most Hope's Peak students we know about seem like they slot into this category. — (e.g., Nekomaru Nidai, Mikan Tsumiki, Kaede Akamatsu)

My Thoughts: My first reaction is "What is there to study/research about this?" Do the Hope's Peak staff not know that working on something for a long time can make you get way better at that thing? Y'all reminding me of Hajime in the now-classic @reddpenn comic where he is legitimately shocked to learn people can gain skills through practice. :P But HOLD UP; let's give them the benefit of the doubt here for a sec. Perhaps Hope's Peak's personnel are wondering why only some practitioners of these talents can reach such a noteworthy level of skill by the time they're teenagers? That's the most reasonable conclusion to draw about the inclusion of these students.

CATEGORY (C) Talents that are only noteworthy because these students demonstrated some above-average skill relative to their age or because they garnered attention through one specific incident. In other words: These individuals aren't nearly as exceptional as those in the previous two categories of talent, but at least they seem pretty decent at what they're being identifed for? — (e.g., Mahiru Koizumi, Shuichi Saihara, Kaito Momota)

My Thoughts: I hope I'm being clear enough about what I mean by this category. But if not, I'll try to clarify: Shuichi was supposedly recognized for his talent solely because he caught one murderer. Mahiru's photography is almost solely portrait photography and therefore not particularly noteworthy to most photographers; she's just pretty good at the one thing she happens to do. (And in truth, her mom's reputation probably played a role in her own Hope's Peak invite.) Kaito being able to pass a basic Astronaut screening exam at a younger age than is usually allowed is neat, but it's not like he's been an exceptional trainee or even gone into space; he's just the "Ultimate Astronaut" because he cheated his way into taking a test early and did surprisingly well at it. Maybe we're meant to think "Oh, Kizakura or whoever could somehow tell these students have the innate potential to be truly spectacular" or somesuch?? But that interpretation requires putting a lot of faith in this questionable-ass system (and the one HPA scout we're familiar with — a known alcoholic). Do these people REALLY demand further study? Is there ACTUALLY anything to be gained by learning about their "talents"??? I... can't see it, y'all. I don't get it.

CATEGORY (D) Talents that aren't even really a talent at all, they're just a position/title someone gained by being born. — (e.g., Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, Sonia Nevermind, Keebo)

LIVE HINATA REACTION

My Thoughts: Okay, so MAYBE Sonia was recognized by Hope's Peak as the the absolute pinnacle of refinement and royal behavior or something? But I kind of doubt it based on her actual behavior (and weird interest in serial killers) in DR2. And there's no way in hell that Fuyuhiko is the baddest-ass Yakuza, even among teenagers. You scratch that kid slightly. and you get the babychild undernearth. And Keebo? His talent is HIS OWN EXISTENCE. His "talent" is actually just his creator's talent, FFS. He's not even "High School"-AGED in reality; he's just programmed to operate at a mental capacity of approximately teenage-level. So ultimately, I'm asking: What is there to STUDY about any of these?! These aren't even TALENTS, frankly! These have got me wondering if there's some other reason to include these particular students... like perhaps Hope's Peak wants to extend their tentacles into the power/influence afforded by Novoselic royalty/the Yakuza? Or perhaps they wish the leverage Keebo's A.I. technology in their own pursuit of creating of an "Ultimate Talent"? Point is: THESE 'TALENTS' ARE SEVERELY SUS. (I have to wonder if the larger public and Reserve Coursers ever complained about how sketchy some of this shit sounds?? SURELY they did.)

ADDENDUM/NOTE: There are also those who hover between the various categories I've cited. This includes those who might be a mixture of two categories, or those whose background is hazy enough that it's not clear whether they always had their talent (A) or developed it over time (B). But I think the above list encompasses everyone we know about, either in one or multiple categories.

CONCLUSION: Hope's Peak is so vague and weird about what they define as "talents" that it's tough to say what on Earth they believe they're studying over there. Because the methodology they were employing for identifying these talents is super loose, they're inviting over SOME fascinating subjects right alongside a bunch of teenagers who... really can't reveal much of anything about anything?

How did Junko Enoshima learn to easily analyze the patterns all around her to the point that she was able to accurately predict most outcomes? GREAT question! You may genuinely be able to unravel something about inborn skillsets and unusual brain development from such a case.

How did Mahiru Koizumi become a great photographer? Uhhh, she observed some stuff from her mom and just tried a decent amount of portraits, I suppose. But she's not even that amazing frankly, she ain't taking any award-winning pictures or using any particular artistry. She's just good at smiling portraits. That's it. You ain't gonna learn shit from this.

How did Fuyuhiko become the Ultimate Yakuza? Because YOU decided he was! And that was just because of his inherited leadership role! He has NO special talent, wtf are you idiots doing?!?!

ANYWAY, that should cover all of the Hope's Peak students we've ever me—

Oh, right. There's ONE weird half-exception to this list, which I guess I'll explain for anyone who wants to be extracirricular about this topic.

BONUS! Outlier Case: Makoto Naegi (in DR1 only)

My Thoughts: In the original Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, the player/viewer/reader is made to believe that Makoto Naegi possesses no talent at all. Instead, Naegi was merely this year's winner of the annual drawing at Hope's Peak, and THAT IS IT. He was just drawn from a proverbial hat, and his presence is just a randomized factor. And SURE, by the end of the game/manga/anime, he's declared the "Ultimate Hope," but it's not like he was brought into the school based on that talent, so that's not particularly relevant. What I'm saying is simply this: DR1-era Naegi is the only known Hope's Peak student who doesn't fit into the above four categories. ............ Though this was later retconned, of course. Stories such as Makoto Naegi's Worst Day Ever (which came out alongside the first release of DR2, a mere two years after DR1 first hit PSP) and Danganronpa 3 would state that Naegi always possessed some unpredictable form of Komaeda-style inborn "luck" even if he wasn't necessarily aware of it. Which slots him into category (A). AS SUCH, he was only an outlier for literally THE FIRST INSTALLMENT OF THE SERIES. And since the first installment didn't really delve as much into the sketchy, obsessive ways the Hope's Peak scientists chose to study their roster of "talents," his outlier nature isn't really relevant anyway. I don't feel any need to justify "Makoto Naegi as portrayed in 2010-2011 continuity" for his inclusion in the class roster.

..........................but if I DID have to do that, I'd say including him among the students makes him the Control Group. :P

[huramuna]

flowers for my lover - oneshot.

alicent hightower x healer ofc

my sapphic heart bleeds for alicent.

wordcount: 1.6k

follow & turn on notifications for @huramuna-fics for notifications about my postings!

content: smut (specifics under cut), fluff, angst, alicent experiencing happiness, mentions of rhaenicent, graphic depictions of death (specifics under cut), implied murder, i hurt my own feelings by writing this

i bet on losing dogs - mitski • time to say goodbye - sarah brightman & andrea bocelli

warnings: thigh riding (non-descript), death by hanging

“Shh, Alicent— you’ll get us caught,” she giggled softly as the two women were pressed up against one another in the corridor. “It is highly inappropriate for my queen to be so close to me so late at night.” 

“Inappropriate? I find it adequately appropriate,” Alicent hummed, pressing a kiss to her ear. “You don’t wish to displease your queen, do you, Lady Primrose?” 

“May the Gods strike me down if I ever displease you, my love.” Primrose returned her kiss in earnest, their lips melding together like two puzzle pieces. They slipped into Prim’s chamber and locked the door. 

It had been four years since Driftmark, four years since Aemond had lost his eye, four years since Alicent had wielded the Catspaw blade and cut Rhaenyra, four years since Viserys had all but denounced the children he had with Alicent in favor of Rhaenyra.

It was a hard four years indeed. Aemond had to relearn to do everything and then some. Lady Primrose had been hired at the Keep to help with his adjustments, being half-trained as a septa traditionally with all the wit of a maester. 

She had honey blonde hair— not white blonde like Rhaenyra— and a soft figure. Primrose and Alicent had fallen into a quick companionship with their shared resiliency to help Aemond. Her eyes were a soft green, one being a bit more faux forest green than the other. She had one fake eye, a prosthetic forged from the Citadel. It was almost unnoticeably different unless one knew her intimately. She lost her eye at a young age due to an accident, but was a bit touchy with the details.

The companionship between the queen and her son’s counselor flourished over the years. They couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it became more than just friendship— or if it even ever was. 

Alicent loved Rhaenyra. She always would in some form or fashion, no matter the ever deepening rift between them. She still thought of her, when she would smell something or hear her voice in the wind. Alicent felt haunted by Rhaenyra’s ghost, even though she wasn’t dead. 

Primrose helped pull Alicent from her depression, just as she helped Aemond. The incident at Driftmark made the queen feel so alone, truly and utterly. Her father cited understanding and wrote off her explosion as a moment of clarity— but it was one of the worst nights of Alicent’s life. Mayhaps it was a moment of clarity in its own way, as she saw she was truly solitary. She had been since she married Viserys. Until Primrose. 

Primrose’s fingers wafted through Alicent’s hair in soft, soothing motions as they laid in the tub together, the steam rising around them, pinkening their skin. Alicent laid her head against her lover’s chest, drawing little circles against her skin with her pointer finger. They didn’t speak for a while, just happy to be in one another’s presence uninhibited, uninterrupted. Moments like these for them were few and far between. 

The queen’s brow furrowed softly as she focused on one spot in particular, wriggling her bottom lip in thought. 

“What is it, love?” Primrose asked, stilling her ministrations on Alicent’s scalp.

“… nothing— I just…” Alicent let out a tiny breath, suppressing the urge to pick at her cuticles. Primrose caught the small micro-expression that she would give before doing so, entangling their fingers together. “I’m afraid… for the future. The King is… more and more ill each day. I fear what will happen after.” 

“If everything stays the course as it has been for the last two decades, Rhaenyra will ascend the throne,” Primrose responded, using her free hand to hoist Alicent against her a bit more, pushing her up at her bottom, earning her a snort. “Are you afraid of that?”

“I’m afraid to see her again. I’m afraid she will be… different. More than she was before. I fear what ideas Daemon has been putting in her head.”

“People change over the years, sweetling. Mayhaps she’s grown more, matured. You did say she was always smart and driven when she needed to be— do you think Daemon could poison her so easily? Surely she’s more clever than that.” 

“He’s always had a hold over her for reasons I don’t understand. It… it likely has something to do with their blood. Something we wouldn’t understand– all my years and I just… don’t… understand.”

“Some things aren’t meant for us to understand, my love,” Primrose murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Alicent’s forehead, “Things may be tumultuous in the future— so let us just enjoy our brief respite now.”

“Hmm,” Alicent hummed, “An apt idea, a truly novel one.” 

The water swirled between them as Alicent slotted her thigh between Primrose’s legs, pressing softly at her core. When they had first begun their illicit affair, the queen was increasingly shy, never having found pleasure in the act of sex before. It took a year for her to loosen up and let go of her premonitions. 

Primrose undulated her hips against the queen’s firm leg, murmuring sweet nothings into her auburn hair. 

They stayed together in the bath for long after the water turned tepid and cold.

—

It was the days leading up to Rhaenyra’s arrival to King’s Landing that had Alicent in a tizzy. She was constantly flitting up and down corridors, meeting with her father and making sure everything was in line. 

She was so supremely stressed, her nails were red rimmed once more, like in her youth. She longed for just a moment’s reprieve with Primrose— something to take the edge off. The Queen didn’t even crave sex at that moment, just the overwhelming, soul wrenching need for her lover’s skin against hers, to be held like a child and weep against her soft body and not be the queen for just an hour. 

All she wished to be was Alicent. Primrose gave her that, Alicent’s title and regality stripped away once she stepped into her chambers. She felt something akin to freedom and wondered if this was the same elation her children felt atop dragonback. 

What Rhaenyra wished for all those years ago— to ride Syrax across the narrow sea and eat nothing of cake and share frosting tasting kisses. 

Alicent’s heart clenched, wept still at the thought. She wished they would’ve done it— she wonders if Rhaenyra wishes the same. 

The queen knocks upon Primrose’s door late in the eve. It isn’t unsightly for her to check in on her son’s therapist, it was quite normal. 

No answer. 

She knocked three more times before returning to her own solar. A sinking feeling was within her gut. 

—

The morn of Rhaenyra’s arrival was a storm, the keep bustling with servants and courtiers alike. 

Alicent bustled up to her father’s tower, the Tower of the Hand, at his behest. 

“Daughter,” he said, hands placed neatly behind his back as he stood near the window, adjusting a telescope. “I much appreciate your quick arrival.” 

“Of course,” Alicent replied. “Though, what could possibly be so pressing to summon me this morn? I hardly have a moment to spare otherwise.” 

Otto turned to her, his face grave. “You were fond of her, I know.” 

“… father? What are you speaking of?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible. 

He gestured to the telescope with a nod of his head. 

Alicent looked at him, then looked through the lens. The image she saw horrified her more than anything. Bile rose in her throat as she stumbled back, vomiting the contents of her breakfast onto the floor. 

Her father held her upright, drawing soothing circles upon her back. 

What the queen had seen, she would never forget. The telescope was aimed at a dead tree over the hill, near the cliffs to the bay. She was wearing white, her blonde hair swaying in the wind, her face purple and bruised. 

Primrose. Her Primrose— swinging from a ratty rope. Hanged upon the tree like a rag doll. Around her were City watchmen, ready to cut her down and take her to the Silent Sisters. 

“Wh… who—,” Alicent murmured, her mouth tasting of acid and sorrow, burning her throat. “Who did this?” 

“… we are unsure. There will be a full investigation into her death, I assure you.” 

— 

There was no such investigation. Primrose’s death was thrown to the wayside and forgotten about, as the events of Rhaenyra’s arrival and the subsequent death of the King made her murder a mere smudge at the bottom of a page, scratched over and blotted out.

Alicent tried to forget, she did. 

And at the point in her life where all of her children were dead, everyone she’d known, save for her granddaughter, were rotting in the ground, scattered to ashes in the wind, or decomposing underwater— she still couldn’t forget. 

She couldn’t forget Primrose’s face as she swung from the tree. 

On a rare outing, she ventured to the cemetery. Primrose’s remains weren’t here, of course, she had been burned en masse with those who perished at the Dragonpit during Aegon’s crowning. 

But, there was an almost unmarked headstone. There was no name, no indication on who it was— save for a crude chiseled depiction of a rose with an eye above it. 

Alicent, wracked with fever, demanded to be taken. She laid one last flower, this one fresh amongst the hundreds below the stone, which were now withered and barren— one last fresh flower. 

Alicent Hightower died that same night of winter’s fever. 

She had been murmuring, wanting to see her sons, her sweet Helaena— Princess Rhaenyra, too. 

And Primrose.