#developing on Ethics in my brain lately

[joelletwo]

v crying in the notes ur all (a few comments.) so stupid. the cancer detecting ai is Good. the goblin tool for disabled and nd people is Good. everything else is ontologically bad and completely distinct and the Good things warrant no criticism or investigation. if we're arbitrarily picking and choosing bc we like the outcomes of some things i need ai art back on that list bc i think ai art fucks and plagiarism rules and i want to see it forever

[cursedwoman1859]

Arm Candy (Silco/F!Reader)

“I need someone who can look pretty on my arm and be trusted not to make off with the silverware from a topsider estate. That’s you.” Silco needs a plus-one for a fancy topsider party. You don't really have a choice but to agree.

AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Words: 5.8k

Content: Resolved sexual tension; semi-public sex; vaginal fingering; dirty talk; dubious business ethics

---

It wasn’t often you got called into Silco’s office first thing in the morning. You were a paper-pusher, not one of the battle-hardened henchmen who usually hung around the Last Drop, and your work mostly kept you at your desk. Calculations came as naturally to you as breathing, and you could crunch numbers faster even than Silco himself. In the few months you’d been working for the Eye of Zaun, you’d made yourself indispensable. You helped keep track of the Shimmer shipments going to and from Zaun, you effortlessly slipped the profits from the drugs business into the earnings from the various factories and bars and properties that Silco owned, and once a week you’d spend the evening alone in the office with your stern, exacting boss while you went over that week’s financial reports. Silco needed someone to cook his books, and you prided yourself on being the best damn chef in the undercity. You kept to yourself, you prayed he never noticed your furtive glances up at him when he was absorbed in his work, and you did not cause trouble.

So it was only natural that your stomach twisted itself into knots as you stepped into his office, and that those knots tightened when he looked up from the paper he was reading, his bicoloured stare pinning you and making your walk to stand in front of his desk feel like miles instead of metres.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said when you were near, and the way his eyes flicked over you, almost too quickly for you to notice, did nothing to calm you.

“I did,” he said, his chair creaking as he leaned back in it. You’d definitely never wondered if it could hold two people. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

You could swear that sentence made your brain fritz like a faulty wire. “I, um—” Absolutely nothing was the real answer, but for some reason you didn’t want to admit that. “I made plans with…Ran and Dustin,” you said, saying the first names that came to your mind even though you’d never shared more than small talk with either of them.

Silco’s eyebrow raised as if he could see right through your lie. Which he probably could, because it was completely transparent. “Then cancel them. I need your help at an event.”

“What kind of…event?” you said, your mind reeling with all the things Silco could be alluding to. Shakedowns, back-alley deals, assassinations…

“Don’t look so frightened,” Silco said, taking a cigar from his ashtray and lighting it. He took a deep drag, letting the smoke billow around him as he spoke. “Are you familiar with Ko Shosu?”

It took you a moment to remember the name from some of the background research you’d carried out on Silco’s competitors. “Doesn’t he own that factory that makes gears or something?”

“The very same. He’s hosting a party at his residence topside tomorrow night and unfortunately, I’ll need to make an appearance. Shosu seems to think we’re acquaintances. And on top of that, I happen to know that one of his associates has run into some financial trouble as of late. His factory makes components that are essential to the Shimmer-tanks we’re developing. Now isn’t that a stroke of luck?”

“You want to get to this associate so you can get him to work with you?”

“Exactly. His name is Rupert Torek and he’s run up gambling debts with some very unsavoury people. I’m sure he’ll be cooperative once he realises I can lend him enough money to get himself out of debt before his wife finds out.”

You decided not to ask how Silco could have information like that on someone he’d never even met. For your sanity’s sake, it was better not to know. “And why do you need me, sir?”

It might have just been your imagination, but you could swear Silco looked you up and down again. Slower this time. “I thought that would be obvious. I cannot exactly show up to something like this alone. I need someone who can distract Torek’s wife so I can get five minutes alone with him, and who can look pretty on my arm and be trusted not to make off with the silverware from a topsider estate. That’s you.”

“I, um—” you floundered for a minute – the words look pretty on my arm setting your heart racing, which was stupid, he’d literally just said he wanted you to be his arm candy for a night, it meant nothing – and Silco raised an eyebrow at your hesitation.

“You’ll be paid overtime for your trouble, of course,” he said.

“That wasn’t—thank you, sir,” you said quickly.

“Good,” he said, flicking through some of the papers on his desk, his focus already slipping back to his work. “Meet me outside Ko Shosu’s house at eight sharp. Wear something nice and do not be late.”

It was a struggle to focus on your work for the next two days. The figures that usually came so easily to you seemed to blur together until you had to triple-check your spreadsheets in case you’d made an error while your mind insisted on screeching Silco think’s I’m pretty over and over like a stuck record. You were sure he’d meant nothing by that offhanded comment, but that didn’t help anything.

It was almost a relief when the next evening rolled around just so you could focus on doing something.

But that relief didn’t last long when you realised you didn’t have the first clue what you should wear to a party at a topsider’s fancy estate. There wasn’t time to hit up the markets even if you could justify the expense, so you settled for a black dress that was simple, but showed off your figure without showing too much of anything else, as you could at least guess that anything shorter than the knee-length hem of your dress might not go over well among the stiff, buttoned-up topsiders. You’d had the dress a long time and had to stitch it once or twice, but surely nobody would notice a little thing like that.

You felt strangely buoyant as you made your way through the upper districts of Zaun, where at this time in the evening business was just starting to pick up. Lines were forming outside the nicer clubs, the street hawkers were packing up to make way for the crowds, and the air nearly sparkled with Shimmer residue as you passed the open doors of some of the edgier establishments, where topsiders went to get a taste of the undercity without actually having to venture below. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to be annoyed at the arrogant topsiders who came to Zaun to indulge in all the things they couldn’t in Piltover before returning to their cushy homes and easy lives. Tonight felt like an infiltration, and it was you who would be inserting yourself somewhere you could never belong.

-

You met up with Silco outside the gates of Ko Shosu’s estate. He’d gone straight there from a meeting with some topsider businessman, and he was dressed as elegantly as he always was. As you approached you glanced at the people milling around on the wide driveway, and you suddenly felt underdressed.

“You’re almost late,” Silco said by way of greeting, and the nervous knot in your stomach only tightened.

“Sorry, sir. Border guards held me up. You know how they are.” The Enforcer at the checkpoint on the bridge had made a huge fuss over your ID photo having a slightly different hairstyle than you did now, just being an asshole because he was an Enforcer and he could.

“Hm,” was all he said as his eyes raked over you, and your mind instantly went to those little stitches in your dress. You suddenly felt as if he could see every little flaw in you, and the feeling only worsened when a couple of women in glittering floor-length gowns swept past, arm-in-arm and laughing airily.

“Do I look all right?” you said just to break the tense silence. “This is the best I have.”

“You look perfectly acceptable,” Silco said, and that was almost worse than if he hadn’t said anything. Acceptable. You’d be lucky if you weren’t mistaken for a servant. “Shall we?” he said then, offering you his arm. When you hesitated, he rolled his eyes. “Take my arm. We have to at least appear as if we both want to be here.”

“Do you want to be here?” you said as you curled your hand around his elbow, trying to ignore the jolt you felt at touching him, even if he was wearing a coat.

He scoffed. “Of course I don’t. But needs must.��

As you made your way up the long driveway, you couldn’t help but gawk at your surroundings. You knew this wasn’t even close to being the grandest house in all of Piltover, but at that moment you could have believed it. There were at least four floors, the upper two ringed in balconies spilling over with hanging flowers and vines. The next closest house had to be at least a hundred metres away, and in the dark space between you could make out the open expanse of a lawn lit by a ring of ground-level lamps, and manicured trees on each side. You couldn’t imagine what the topsiders would do with such a space – you could probably fit a whole other house in there, even one as large as Shosu’s.

And when you entered the house itself, you actually gasped. “Someone lives here? It looks like a palace.”

Silco shot you a glare as you stared at your surroundings with wide eyes, barely even registering the doorman who came to take your coats. “Remember how I said you were the only one I could trust not to fill your pockets? Don’t make me regret it.”

But you were hardly listening as your eyes roved over the crowded ballroom. It was a sea of fine suits and jewel-toned gowns, with servants darting through the throngs like the quick little fish that lived in the shallows of the river, trays of drinks and tiny pastry-like things balanced on their fingertips. Music drifted from somewhere you couldn’t see, almost drowned out by the chatter, and diamonds glittered at fingers and throats – and even on the ceiling, you noticed as your eyes drifted upwards, or at least it seemed like the chandeliers were draped in strings of gemstones that scattered the lights in every direction.

“Concentrate, girl,” Silco muttered close to your ear, making you shiver. “Remember why we’re here. Torek is over there,” he said, though you couldn’t possibly guess which of the guests he was indicating. “Do you remember your task?”

You dragged your eyes away from the spectacle before you to meet his mismatched eyes. “Keep his wife distracted while you get him to consider working with you. I’ve got it.”

“Good. We won’t need to stay long – an hour at most, then you can go home and do whatever you’d like. Maybe you can even catch Ran and Dustin.” As he said this the corner of his mouth tilted up, and you realised with some shock that the Eye of Zaun was teasing you.

You shrugged in what you hoped was nonchalance. “It takes as long as it takes. You know I’m not one to rush a job.”

“I’m aware,” he said as you started to make your way through the crowd, weaving through the throng as if you weren’t aiming straight for your unfortunate target. Perhaps it was because people knew he was from the Undercity, or maybe whispers of the things his people did in dark alleys and dingy establishments travelled ahead of him, but the dense crowd of people seemed to loosen before him, as if people suddenly remembered they had other places to be when he approached. If it offended him, Silco gave no sign, but instead he leaned in to you again. “He is close now. Laugh like I’ve said something terribly clever, you look petrified.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, but you did as he asked anyway, and it seemed to help. The tension you had felt in the air around you receded a little, and before you knew it Silco was shaking hands with a tall, portly man. You barely heard as he introduced you as his guest for the night, your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears. Rupert Torek had an open, kind face, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he smiled, and he didn’t seem surprised that Silco had sought him out. You wondered if he had any idea how fucked he was.

“We haven’t met before! I’m Liana, Rupert’s wife,” a voice at your side said, making you start, though you quickly smoothed it over with a smile as you turned to the woman who had appeared next to you, introducing yourself and hoping you sounded like you knew you belonged here, just like she did.

Liana glanced between you and Silco, who had already captured her husband’s full attention. Her brows lowered slightly, and you wondered if she had suspicions about her husband’s gambling. “I didn’t know Silco had a partner,” she said carefully.

“Oh, we’re not…together,” you said, laughing airily. “I’m just accompanying him tonight.”

“I see,” Liana said, though now her smile seemed frozen in place, and you wondered if you’d offended her somehow. But nevertheless she called over a couple of her friends, whose names you quickly forgot, and for a moment you were very pleased with yourself. There was no chance Liana would try to join her husband’s conversation while you had her distracted like this.

It was at this point that things started to go wrong.

In hindsight, you should have realised what Liana thought you were implying when you’d said you were accompanying your boss, and what a topsider would think of that particular occupation. But you were a few minutes into a banal, vapid conversation with Liana and her friends about something that you weren’t really paying attention to before you realised that they all thought you were a whore he’d hired for the night, and apparently found this very offensive judging by the bladed smiles and barbed compliments that started heading your way. It didn’t help that you were inadvertently showing much more skin than any of them – and how you were supposed to know the current fashions topside, you had no idea. Pretty soon your fingers were itching to take off one of your high-heeled shoes and beat Liana’s face in with it, but you couldn’t exactly square up in the middle of a ballroom as if you were in a Zaunite dive bar.

So instead, you just played dumb.

You let the thinly-veiled insults, the insinuations that you didn’t belong among them, glance off you. Nobody spent their whole life in Zaun without growing their own kind of armour. Right now yours was keeping your smile frozen firmly on your face, and so Liana was too busy with you to notice that her husband was making a business deal with the Eye of Zaun himself, right under her powdered nose.

That thought made you glance over at Silco, and the second your eyes met his, you felt a strange sort of calm descend over you. Rupert Torek was still chatting away, not even a hint of discomfort on his round face. Silco gave you a minute, almost imperceptible nod, raising his glass of wine slightly.

It had actually worked.

You tried to keep your face blank. That only became harder when Silco turned his attention back to Torek and you realised that when you’d looked over at him, he’d already been watching you.

-

Soon after, you excused yourself to go to the ladies’ room. You were pretty sure Liana and her friends forgot all about you as soon as you were out of sight – or at least you hoped so. You didn’t want to know what they’d be saying about you as soon as you were out of earshot.

You didn’t head to the bathroom, though. Instead you went out the way you’d come in, not bothering to collect your coat from the doorman as you went down the stone steps as fast as you could without running.

As soon as you were outside, away from the glare of the house’s lights, you felt the tightness that had settled in your chest loosen. You hadn’t even noticed the anxiety creep under your skin with every barb Liana and her friends had thrown your way, but when it finally dissipated you wondered how you’d been able to breathe at all.

You should go back now that you’d got your fresh air. You couldn’t just disappear.

But one glance back at the shadowy figures moving through the ballroom windows had you moving away from the house, into the shadows of the grounds where nobody would notice the Zaunite girl who was hilariously out of place among them.

The pathways were lit by low electric lights, and there was nobody else out here. You chose a path along the edge of the grounds, shielded on one side by a high wall and on the other by a huge rosebush bordering the lawn. You weren’t sure whether you were really supposed to be out here, but nobody stopped you as you wandered further into the grounds. 

Eventually you found a bench and you sat down, tipping your head back to watch the stars in the sky. You’d only ever seen them when Silco sent you up to Piltover on business, and on those nights there was never time to stop and really look at them. Down in the Undercity it was difficult to see the sky at all through the smog, let alone the dozens of stars that shimmered through the haze of Piltover’s lights.

For some reason you couldn’t name, tears sprang to your eyes unbidden, and you tried to blink them away without ruining your makeup.

Of course, that was the moment you heard footsteps approaching.

“Drinking alone already?”

Your head snapped up to see Silco strolling towards you, and it was then that you realised you still had your glass of wine in your hand. You sighed, taking a sip as your boss sat down next to you.

“Just needed some air,” you muttered as Silco slung his arm over the back of the bench. It didn’t escape you that if you leaned back, he would have his arm around you. “How did it go with Torek?”

“I expect we’ll be getting a visit from him or one of his associates in the near future. His wife wasn’t too much for you, I take it?”

“I handled it. But they’re all just so…ugh.”

Silco chuckled as he pulled a cigar from somewhere in his coat, and you tried not to let the sound startle you. You’d never heard Silco laugh before, not even a little, and the sound was surprisingly warm. “Don’t worry, we won’t have to do this again for a while.” You watched as he held the cigar between his crooked teeth as he flicked his lighter, the strange angle of the lights highlighting his sharp cheekbones as he took a long drag.

“You know, I don’t think we’re allowed to smoke out here.”

“I don’t care.” He blew a long puff of smoke out into the crisp night air, staining it with a rich scent of tobacco and spices. “Is something bothering you?”

You searched for words to explain the anger tightening your throat, but came up with nothing that made sense. You were a numbers girl. Words were Silco’s thing. You shrugged. “It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m asking, so I would say it does.” His voice had hardened, and you glanced over at him in alarm, though he didn’t look angry.

You didn’t want to push it, though, so you sighed and took a sip from your wine to buy a few seconds, feeling Silco’s mismatched gaze on you the whole time. “It’s just…all they did in there was bitch about things. What I was wearing, how I acted, their husbands, their lives. And yet…” you gestured vaguely at your surroundings. The gardens that must have needed a whole team of people to maintain. The lawn that sat empty when it could have grown enough food to feed a whole street of hungry Zaunites. The house. “They have all this, but it’s all they’ve ever had, so they can’t even see how privileged they really are. Meanwhile we have to scrape every penny just to put food on the table and some people in Zaun don’t even get that. If I lived up here I’d never complain about anything ever again,” you finished, and by now you were speaking into your wine glass, your eyes fixed on the ground.

Silco was quiet for a moment, and you didn’t dare glance up at him to see if you could gauge what he was really thinking. You’d never been so candid with your boss before, and you half expected him to leave and pretend tonight had never happened. The very last thing you expected him to say was, “What if I told you that tonight had been something of a test of your loyalties?”

Now you did look up, and he was watching you with that kind of calculated detachment he was so good at, though something in the hard lines of his face had softened. Or maybe it was just the moonlight.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

He took his time answering, taking another long drag of his cigar and releasing the smoke in a ring. “You’ve been with me a short while now, and you’re a very talented accountant. With your skills and some forged papers you could easily find work topside. Something with less risk and more pay.”

You flushed at his insinuation. “You pay me just fine.”

He rolled his eyes. “All wages are higher topside, you know that. You could have walked out of that house with a whole list of people who would pay you far more than I can for the same work, but you didn’t. Instead you stood there and allowed me to work on Torek while everyone in that room thought you were just some girl I’d hired for the night.”

You started to splutter a protest, but it died on your lips when you realised Silco was right. If you’d revealed your real job it would have raised Liana’s suspicions.

“It’s a long road ahead of us until Zaun is an independent nation. The topsiders won’t let us go without a fight,” he said, his voice dropping in case you weren’t alone in the gardens. “There will be times when you are tempted by offers of money, better jobs in better places, employers who won’t ask you to break the topsiders’ laws every day. I needed to know that you were true to the cause, that you would remain loyal to me even when you had the opportunity to make things easier for yourself.”

“You were giving me an out,” you said as it clicked into place. “Why now?”

“Because by now, you know exactly what you’re getting into by staying. Your choice to work for me is a genuine one.”

“So did I pass? Your test, I mean.”

“We would not be sitting here now if you had failed.”

You weren’t involved in the…bloodier side of Silco’s business, but you weren’t ignorant to it, either. You knew what he did to people he suspected of disloyalty. Would he really have let you go if you’d wanted? Or would you have disappeared into the shadows of the Lanes, never to be heard from again? You wouldn’t be the first. But then you realised that you’d never been afraid of that, because you would never give him a reason to doubt your loyalties. Zaun had to break free of Piltover, and he was the only one with the wits, the resources, and the sheer bloody-mindedness to finally cut the undercity free.

A sudden cold breeze blew in off the river, making the hedges surrounding you tremble, and you became acutely aware that you had left your coat inside. Before you could give yourself the chance to think better of it, you leaned back, and as you’d suspected, Silco didn’t move his arm. He didn’t quite put his arm around you, but he traced a circle on your bare shoulder with the back of his thumb, almost as if he was reluctant to touch you in case he scared you off.

“We can return to the party if you wish,” he said, and now he was near enough for his warm breath on your ear to send shivers along your skin that had nothing to do with the chilled night air.

“I prefer it out here.”

“As do I.” He held his cigar between his teeth as he reached into his coat and produced a small metal hip flask.

You couldn’t help but snort as he uncapped it and the smell of whiskey hit your nose. “You brought your own alcohol?”

He took a swig and then passed the flask to you. “Better than the swill they’re serving in there.”

“That swill is probably very expensive.”

“So is this. Drink.”

You took a small sip and were proud of yourself when you didn’t cough, even though the whiskey was strong enough to make your eyes water. A pleasant warm sensation spread out from your chest as you swallowed, though, and you shivered as you licked a drop off your lip. “Definitely tastes expensive.”

You looked up at him, and Silco’s eyes quickly snapped away from your mouth as he made a vague hum of agreement. For a while neither of you spoke, and you only passed the flask back and forth in companionable silence. The music that drifted towards you on the wind picked up in pace, and you heard the occasional drunken shout in the distance. Still nobody ventured into the dark grounds.

“Earlier I told you that you looked acceptable,” Silco said all of a sudden as he tapped out his half-smoked cigar and put it back in the tin. “I believe I should have told you that you look lovely instead.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, and you risked a glance up at your boss – who had told you that you would look pretty on his arm, who had trusted you with this mission and had noticed when you slipped off to be alone. Nobody ever did that.

Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe you were delusional or perhaps just stupid. You didn’t really know why you did it, but before you could think better of it, you leaned over and kissed him.

It was only a quick, chaste press of your lips against his, and you instantly regretted it when Silco stayed completely still against you. You jerked backwards, already apologising. “I’m so sorry sir, I shouldn’t—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Silco’s hand was firm on the back of your neck as he pulled you towards him and kissed you. Properly this time. It was your turn to freeze in shock, but you quickly got over it as his tongue danced against yours and you tasted whiskey and smoke. You eagerly let him in as he deepened the kiss, shivering as his hand slid up your leg from your knee to your thigh, and for the first time that night you were glad of your too-short skirt.

You gasped in surprise as he pulled you onto his lap, barely breaking the kiss as he made you straddle him, your skirt riding up as your thighs spread. Feeling bold, you ran your hands through his soft hair, and he hummed in approval as you raked your nails through the short hair at the base of his neck. In response he gave your ass a firm squeeze, grinding you down onto his lap.

And onto the hard length beneath you.

You circled your hips against him as he moved down to your neck, holding you in place with a hand in your hair pulling just tight enough to hurt as he bit more than kissed you, leaving marks that would definitely be impossible to hide in this dress. You couldn’t give a shit. No way were you going back into that stupid party after this.

“Tell me how long you’ve wanted this,” Silco said, emphasising his point with a sharp snap of his hips up against you.

“I—” you started, but you could only focus on his hands creeping up your thighs again. Except this time, they didn’t stop.

“Go on,” he coaxed, as if you were supposed to focus on anything except his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. You hissed as he tugged them down and the cold night air hit your pussy, and it faded into a whimper as he trailed his fingers along your lips, pausing to circle your entrance in a way that made your back arch. “And don’t you dare try to lie to me, sweetheart, because you’re already wet for me.”

“Um…” you tried to focus on anything but the soft, barely-there brush of his fingers against your pussy. Every time you tried to grind against his hand he moved away, keeping his touch just a little too soft, the bastard. “I think – maybe…”

“A few weeks?” he prompted.

“Mm – no…”

He raised an eyebrow, but rewarded your answer by pressing his thumb against your clit, though he still refused to give you what you wanted. Needed.

“Months?”

“Longer. Since… I wanted this since my first day working for you.” Finally, Silco slid one long finger into you as his thumb drew an agonisingly slow circle over your clit, and your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

“Do you want to know a secret, my lovely?” he said, his fingers moving faster, obscene wet noises filling the air.

“M-hm.”

“I have you beat. I’ve wanted this since I interviewed you.”

Your eyes flew open at his admission just as he sank another finger into you without warning. Later. You could think about what he’d said later. For now you just let yourself enjoy the curl of his long fingers inside you, the expert ministrations of his thumb on your clit that sent waves of warm pleasure up your spine.

Until the bastard stopped.

He withdrew his hand from you, and his fingers glistened in the moonlight from your wetness. Your eyes widened as he licked them clean, then he motioned for you to stand. “Get up. Go and stand at the end of the bench.”

You followed his directions on shaky legs, and Silco followed, casually strolling around to stand behind you. You had a good idea of what he intended. He trailed his fingers up your bare arms, then fisted one hand in your hair while the other held your bicep in a bruising grip. “If you want this to stop,” he purred in your ear, “say the word now.”

You only pushed back against him, feeling his hard length behind you.

“I thought not.” Then he bent you over the arm of the bench, the ornate steel armrest digging into your hips as he lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down to your knees. You weren’t sure if you shivered with the cool breeze or the anticipation as you heard him unbutton his pants, his hand still in your hair. Then you hissed as you felt the press of his cock against your centre, arched your back as he slid it through your wetness before finally sinking into you as his free hand started playing with your clit once more.

Your voice rose in a high, keening cry as he sheathed himself inside you, easing the ache of his entry with his fingers on your clit. He stopped abruptly, pulling you up by your hair. “Hush now,” he hissed in your ear as he let go of your hair and shoved his fingers in your mouth. You could taste the echo of yourself on his skin. “You don’t want them to think you really are my whore, do you?”

You choked around his fingers for a moment before you relaxed your throat enough that you could shake your head and make a garbled nuh-uh sound, which earned you a low chuckle.

“I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart,” he said as he started to move, setting a quick, urgent pace that reminded you that anybody could come around the corner and see you bent over a bench with the most powerful man in the Undercity driving into you from behind as you gagged on his fingers. Every thrust of his hips ground yours against the metal armrest, and you knew you’d surely have bruises in the morning. “I wish we were somewhere I could fuck you properly. Take you apart piece by piece until you’re nothing more than a writhing, crying mess in my bed. But perhaps you do like the idea of someone seeing you, seeing how well you’re taking me. How wet you are.” His breathing was becoming shallow as he fucked you, but that didn’t stop the stream of filth from his mouth. “I don’t know about you, but I would kill to see the look on Ko Shosu’s face when he realises we used his party to lure his friend into our web and then defiled his rose garden right under his nose.”

He said something else after that too, but you’d stopped listening to his words and let the low, rough cadence of his voice be the final push you needed over that peak you’d been approaching, once interrupted and now higher than ever. Even Silco’s fingers in your mouth weren’t enough to muffle your cries as you came, your thighs shaking from the strain of standing while your walls clamped down on Silco’s cock, over and over again in waves of agonising bliss. He followed soon after, and you felt a warm rush as he spilled himself inside you with a groan he muffled in your neck.

For a moment you both stood there, catching your breath. You sighed in relief as Silco removed his fingers from your mouth, and after tucking himself away he cleaned you up with a handkerchief before pulling your panties back up for you. “You felt just as good as I’d imagined you would,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your abused scalp.

“Is that something you imagined often, sir?” you said teasingly.

“Most nights,” he murmured into your hair. “And perhaps some days, too.”

Well, damn. You had no idea what to say to that, other than, “Me too.” Maybe you had actually drank too much. “Take me home,” you said, leaning back against his chest as he straightened out your skirts. You felt him smile against your hair.

“It would be my absolute pleasure.”

[sesshy380]

Time for my breakdown of the four main characters for my WereKat AU! (Forewarning: This is going to be a long post and there will be a lot of images)

Throwing a tag to @resuri-art! You are the reason this AU appeared in my brain, therefor you must suffer the consequences! 😂

I'm going to start with Bakura, since he's kinda the most 'normal' out of the four (I use the word 'normal' very loosely)

(Click each image for better viewing)

Bakura is the only Human in the group. He's not like most Human's however, as he was found and raised by Naga when he was very young. He knows he obviously had a human family once, but he doesn't remember them.

His Naga family had to learn a lot when it came to raising a Human child ('They eat HOW many times EVERY DAY???'). Can you picture little Bakura trying his hardest to unhinge his jaw like his Naga sister, Dia, so he can eat a rat whole? He developed some rather unique eating habits due to this, which is how he first met Ryou.

Being that he's Human, walking into a butcher shop that specializes in Therian meats got him some very unpleasant looks. The proprietor wasn't very thrilled either, and was giving him a hard time. Cue Ryou's entrance.

Ryou is a Vampire (despite his very not-vampire aesthetic). But he's not just any Vampire, he's from one of the most highly respected Ancient lines: Necrophades. Despite his elevated status, he’s never felt like he belonged among Vampire society. He’s viewed as an outcast since he doesn’t share their hierarchical standpoint on things, but because of his status there is nothing the other Ancient lines can do about it.

Ryou doesn't follow the typical Vampire tradition of feeding off thralls, but instead prefers other, more ethical sources. His meeting with Bakura came about when he went to visit his regular butcher, who he pays well to save the blood of the animals he harvests.

Ryou found Bakura to be quite intriguing, and after some time the two began dating and moved in together.

Humans are notoriously monogamous, while the other races (due to their longer lifespans) are known for having polygamous relationships whenever it suits them. Being that Bakura was raised by Naga, his views when it comes to relationships is similar to Ryou's. Which is why he eventually found himself with not one, but two partners.

Say hello to the little spitball of energy and attitude that is Kat.

(Second image is to show off her markings when in her standard appearance)

Kat is a Felidae, which is a feline Therian (were-beast). She's pretty secretive about her background, only mentioning that she is the illegitimate offspring to a Kemati noble.

Bakura met her at the very popular casino/popular hotspot, Geal'drache, where she works as a cocktail waitress serving drinks to the patrons. She didn't treat him with the same disdain most people treat Humans with. They started talking, and as soon as he mentioned his boyfriend being into tabletop RPG's, her inner nerd flooded out.

No one really knows when it happened, but it started out with Kat coming over for campaign nights, to coming over to plot new campaigns, eventually staying the night on occasion because of how late she and Ryou stayed up plotting new nightmare mode campaigns, to her just suddenly living there. Somewhere along the way, Bakura acquired himself a Therian girlfriend. He's not really complaining. Everyone's cool with it, so why should he?

Then Ryou's old boyfriend, Amir, came back into the picture.

(Yay! Amir has markings too! He was my fave to design! His hair so floof!)

Amir is a Leona, which is a lion Therian. His brother, Marik, is the current King of the Kemati nation, and their older sister, Ishizu, is Marik's advisor to the crown. The three also have an older adopted Pantera (panther) sibling, Rishid, who is Marik's personal guard.

Long before Ryou met Bakura, he and Amir spent some time together as a secretive couple. Due to the politics involved in Amir's life, he couldn't be openly seen with Ryou. When Marik ascended the throne (due to a very unfortunate 'accident' that befell his father one night), Amir felt stuck between his duties and his secret lover. Ryou made the decision for him and told him if and when things changed, to come seek him out.

It's been ten years, but Amir hasn't forgotten what Ryou said...though, ten years isn't much when you live for centuries.

Amir found Ryou again, but was a bit shocked to see who he was now living with...and openly in a relationship with. He always knew Ryou to be a bit...eccentric...when it came to who he dated, but Amir never could have imagined Ryou with a Human.

Amir, like most everyone else, sees Humans as less than the dirt beneath his feet, and tolerates them simply because that was what one did. The idea of being in a relationship with one? Disgusting.

But, he hates the idea of losing the person he cares about most due to his own prejudices, so he simply tolerates Bakura's presence for Ryou's sake. The fact that same Human is also dating his childhood friend/devils advocate has nothing to do with it.

Seriously...his old flame and his childhood friend??? What's so special about that human?????

And there you have it! Four crazy people that are now living together and have their own weird relationships with one another!

Oh, bonus! Forgot to add that Therians like Amir and Kat have TOE BEANS (which is why their shoes are designed the way they are, so that not only is there room for toe claws, but also so there is room if they shift into a full beast).

(I cheated, because I can't draw feet any more than I can draw hands. Pinterest image that I used as a base trace here)

[orchestratedemotion]

The lovely @glasscushion tagged me to talk about 2024 books and I'm all too happy to oblige!

In this essay you will learn that I've never known peace... anyway. If you'd like an unedited ramble about books, please read on!

University completely ruined my ability to read for fun. Books were my first love, prior to high school I easily read 50+ books a year. In high school this dropped to 30-ish, and post high school, well. I was averaging maybe 5 books a year.

2024 was my first year of post-grad, full-time work and I finally remembered that books are a thing that you read, they're not just decorative. I started with a goal of 12, made that 25 when I smashed that in May, and finally finished the year on 30.

Working in public policy put me (a non-fiction fiend at heart) into an environment full of well-read people with great recommendations, so my 2024 reads were mostly non-fiction. I have a background in public health and genetics, this is definitely reflected in my reads. There was also some political commentary in there, a lot of critical thinking about the future of AI, and a handful of F1 releases.

My top 5 non-fiction reads:

Empire of Pain - Patrick Radden Keefe. A delve into America's opioid crisis through the lens of a New York Times journalist. It's 500 pages but didn't feel like it, I flew through it like it was the most gripping novel. I would recommend to anyone who loves long-form or investigative journalism.

Code Breaker - Walter Isaacson. This is an accessible yet interesting look at the long history and development of the CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing technology and explores it's incredible potential and the surrounding ethical considerations.

The Coming Wave - Mustafa Suleyman. What will the future of AI look like, and what do we as a society need to do to prevent the worst case scenarios that people love to throw around? A call for guardrails and effective AI policy.

Maybe You Should Talk To Someone - Lori Gottlieb. I really do love a memoir. The story of a therapist and her therapist, overlaid against the stories of her own patients.

Shortest Way Home - Pete Buttigieg. The memoir strikes again, and what can I say? I'm a sucker for an eloquent man with a brain and a moral compass.

Bonus: My Brother's Ashes are in a Sandwich Bag - Michelle Brasier. You HAVE to listen to this one as an audiobook. Michelle is a comedian, using comedy to process the death of her father and brother to genetic cancer which will almost certainly impact her at some point in her life. I've never laughed and cried so hard simultaneously. Her storytelling style is so me, I've never felt so seen.

My fiction reads tend to be mostly literary fiction, in 2025 my goal is to diversify the voices I read. I only read 7 fiction books in 2024 so a top 5 seems ridiculous, but I loved:

The Work - Bri Lee. I am fond of Bri as a non-fiction writer. I've devoured all of her work and love her Substack, so couldn't wait to get my hands on her debut novel.

The Pairing - Casey McQuiston. Anything Casey releases I will love, this one is no different. I yearn for Europe with good food and wine, so this was always going to be the book for me.

Open Water - Caleb Azumah Nelson. I'm late to the party on this one, but this tiny little book gets under your skin and packs a punch.

I've already finished 5 books for 2025, I'm trying to get back to my roots and finish 52 - I'm excited to give it a go. I've joined the reading challenge of my local book store and a few different book clubs, mostly to try and increase my fiction intake and get out of my comfort zone. (I'm reading Pride and Prejudice rn! She's a classics girly now!)

Wish me luck, see you for the 2025 wrap up. If you've made it this far, please talk to me about books! Follow @ caitrambles on Storygraph!

[wildchives4]

made the mistake of reading replies on drake's twitter. the video where he kisses the 17 y/o and comments on her breasts he was 22 and people are saying that's the same maturity level, the age of consent in canada is 16, the age of consent in colorado (where it happened) is 17, etc. i hate how incapable of nuance people are when talking about this. i have to rant because i'm upset lol

look back on when you were 17. would you or would you not have been flattered if a 22 or 23 y/o was attracted to you? i actually was in a relationship with that exact gap at that age. i do not think i ever would have entered that relationship if i had not been flattered by his attention.

our maturity gap was definitely way less significant than with the 32 y/o i started seeing at age 19, not least of all because i, personally, hadn't attended school since age 15 and had generally been through some more "adult" experiences while he had only slept with one other person before. that didn't change the fact that at 22/23, he had lived in the largest city in america, sans parental support, for 4 years and had a wealth of experiences that equipped him for life in a way that, looking back, i see i couldn't even comprehend. this was generally one of my healthier relationships, but i can see in the rearview mirror that when the relationship was unhealthy, it was due to the maturity gap. (and it was not a "healthy" relationship.)

if you're 22/23 or older, envision a 17 y/o. maybe you have worked with a teenager in food service or retail, maybe you live near a high school and see teens around often. envision those people! did or do you genuinely see them as on equal footing with you physically and mentally? can you imagine being attracted to them? i hope not. i take back the shit i said about never being certain about anything bc i am certain that no 17 y/o actually carries themselves in a way so as to present like an adult

age of consent laws don't reflect this/the actual morality of the situation and are generally designed to be relatively forgiving (of offending adults). our society doesn't value the wellness of minors. shocking! you shouldn't base personal ethics on national or state laws. shocking!

it's true that from a biological and psychological perspective, both a 17 y/o and 22 or 23 y/o are "young adults." i think i recently saw a post saying that the "your brain isn't fully developed until 25" thing is a myth, which is incorrect. your prefrontal cortex finishes developing around age 25, ending "adolescence." but biopsychological markers aren't the only relevant factors here :)

our society (the u.s.) is constructed in such a way that very different activities and preferences are expected of and inherent to someone in their late teens vs. someone in their early 20s. said constructs include but aren't limited to the age of majority (18), college (usually 18–22, with a distinctive shift toward more complex studies around age 21), the drinking age (21), etc. these constructs aren't identical across all western cultures (the only ones i feel entitled to make conclusive statements about) but do mostly culminate in a separation of ppl in their late teens and early 20s.

also, it's not like you enter adolescence with your prefrontal cortex at one stage of development and it stays like that until it magically matures at age 25. it's a process, and someone in their 20s is more mature than someone in their teens. period.

actually, it's shown that "adult" experiences during adolescence impede development/maturation, not speed it up. this is relevant because people in their 20s who are interested in teens often point out that those teens are more mature than others due to their experiences with sex, drug use, etc. in fact, they are less capable of sound decision-making than other teens. huh!

it's fucking weird for a person in their 20s, especially someone whose social circle is on the other side of college and other definitive early 20s experiences, to be into teenagers! period. sorry.

re: the drake incident in particular, he was also in a position of power over the girl, being that she was a fan of his very, very popular music. like, to say it wasn't super fucking odd of him is just creepy! he, himself, says in the video that he would "get in trouble" for it or something like that. he obviously doesn't gaf about not only consent laws, but the maturity and power differentials that contemporary/progressive thought bases distaste for relationships between adults and minors on.

ppl bring up that the girl, now 31, has brushed the incident off. duh! she was 17 and a famous rapper was attracted to her. it was a passing moment between two strangers, she's not a "victim." people are using the video to point out that drake has been into teens this whole time. we don't know if he has victims. also, the # of people who think victimhood is defined by whether or not someone identifies with it is extremely concerning.

in general, i really wish people would think more critically about this topic. i'm lucky in that i had experiences that sort of enlightened me as to why this sort of thing is wrong/harmful to developing young people, but it really fucking sucks that i have to constantly read ppl who don't have the first idea of what going through a relationship with a power/maturity differential, or this particular power differential, is like talk about it like ppl who are against it are being dramatic. it is legitimately hurtful to me. psychic damage. i don't imagine i'm the only one. like. can y'all shut the fuck up? 😭

[opiatemasses]

What would you do if you knew this sooner? Children's safety in sport

In a recent eye-opening lecture, the topic of children playing contact sports was brought to my attention. The lecturer, Jack Hardwicke, deserves commendation for his dedicated work in exploring the realm of safety in contact sports and the issues around CTE. Given my own experience in sports coaching for primary school children, the topic resonated, and this prompted a deeper reflection on the importance of ensuring the well-being of young athletes.

The societal norm surrounding contact sports, despite their impact on the brain, has long been overlooked. The prevalence of concussions in athletes, with 3.8 million concussions occurring annually in the U.S., raises serious concerns about the ethical and healthy practice of contact sports.

Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), a disease resulting from repeated head impacts, is now affecting younger individuals. This irreversible form of dementia should be a cause for alarm, especially considering the lack of a cure. Recently, there has been a notable surge in research focused on CTE, particularly in relation to younger athletes, highlighting the urgent need for understanding and preventive measures.

Head impacts pose significant risks to health, as no level of impact can be considered safe. The age at which individuals first experience impacts and the exposure they endure amplify the likelihood of developing brain health issues and neurodegenerative diseases. Given these concerns, it prompts a critical question: Why do we permit contact sports in physical education programmes for individuals aged 10 and over.

The physical education curriculum plays a crucial role in exposing children to contact sports, but another question arises: are we allowing or encouraging them? Growing up, participation in physical education often felt obligatory, leaving little room for informed consent. Should sports like school rugby be compulsory?

Considering that the brain continues to develop into one's mid-to-late 20s, exposing children to the risks of serious concussions can have lasting adverse effects. This raises the question of why we permit children to engage in contact sports without proper informed consent, especially when we have age restrictions for various other activities. For example, to vote, to drive a car, to watch certain movies, etc. The inconsistency is striking; we insist on age-related guidelines for activities such as voting, driving a car, and even watching certain movies. So, I believe, it's time to critically examine the rationale behind this disparity and advocate for the safeguarding of our children's neurological well-being.

Safety equipment, while seemingly a solution, falls short in providing adequate protection. Even cushioned helmets cannot fully protect the brain from potential trauma. The argument that physical education teachers are trained to handle concussions does not address the fundamental issue of preventing brain injuries in the first place. An article that was insightful over this issue was arguing what schools need to know head injuries that are caused by contact sport.

A possible solution lies in revaluating our priorities. We need to move away from prioritising contact sports over the well-being of children's developing brains. While sports undeniably offer numerous advantages such as socialisation, promoting physical activity, and encouraging healthy competition, it is crucial for adults to discern between enjoyable activities and those sports that inherently jeopardise the well-being of children.

Proposing a bold statement, children should not be allowed to play contact sports until the age of 18, when they can provide informed consent regarding the associated risks of issues like CTE and concussion. There is now compelling evidence to shift societal norms around contact sport within children and the upcoming movement towards protecting children from brain injuries.

Would you let a child run repeatedly into a wall? Knowing the implication covered in this blog, I’m intrigued to know what you think.

N0915145

[vegantinatalist]

This is my last ask and I'm done I swear lol

Anyway I was talking about women who confidently and consensually slept with men (not corecien/pressure or rape). Do those women bother you or nah you could careless?

Also is it just me or do women treat sexuality like fashion statement?

Straight pretending to be bisexual

Bisexual pretending to be lesbian

Lesbian pretending to be asexual

Everyone else pretending to be asexual or whatever

(I'm not including women who truly were unaware of their sexual orientation or those who lied out of safety reasons. I'm talking about women who live in places that allow them freedom to be unapologetically themselves)

I don't see this behavior in men at all to be honest. I mean what's so special about a sexual orientation? I believe this obsession that women have with identifying leads most to believe that female sexuality is fluid while male sexuality is rigid. Anyways your thoughts?

lol i dont care if you keep sending asks forever, its fun -dont care. -i think women in this male dominated late stage capitalized country with no third places are psychotically lonely and bored. i mean fuck i know i am. also with nothing for their brain to chew on they develop fixations and ocpd symptoms. so they fixate on sexuality and gender and things tangentially related to identity and other people. they want friends and to be loved. they want community. -I will say i dont think sexuals are usually lying about their attractions. like i dont think straight people are ever pretending to be bi tbh, they probably do feel attraction to women and would fuck a woman if a woman offered and did the pursuing, but men are more likely to snap them up any time they are single. men will do the pursuing, they are much easier to attract, theres more of them, theyre very convenient, they do so much labor and stuff. ive been hit on by a woman maybe twice in my life and by men ten billion times. its just a numbers thing, like i did the math once and at best there are 20 lesbians within 100 miles of me. i think its kinda weird that people get so on bi womens asses about dating mainly men, like what do you expect when theres bajillions more straight men around them than wlw? and if you have any other qualifiers than just what their sex is, that narrows it down even more. -the only time i see bi/het people pretending to be lesbians/gay is because of the whole gender ideology thing. -sexuals lying about being asexuals just happens for a lot of reasons. i mean nowadays the ace community is saying ace is a spectrum and you can have lots of sex and be ace so its no wonder people are confused. people who want love more than sex feel crazy in this society of brainless connection-driveless people. seems everyone is an aromantic sexual sometimes

-men are doing it, but more out of fetish than desire for connection or to be perceived as an ethical person, like the autogynephiles

[silliestlittlestar]

Toxic friends?

I have this friend, let's call her L. She became my friend two years ago and instantly bonded because both of us have (or had--in my end) a restrictive ed. Fast forward back to the present, L has lost a visibleish about of weight. It's around 15 to 20 pounds. I have gained weight through that time. I don't know why but as time went on this schoolyear I've getting more and more negative when I'm near her.

I don't know if it's envy because when I get upset around her my mind isn't instantly moving towards the fact that she's lost weight. It might be because she tries to make herself seem perfect when It's just obvious that she's delusional. I feel bad thinking so but it's so obvious. She tries to adopt the Pilates princess, tumblr y2k aesthetic meanwhile being a perfectionist.

She makes me feel negative towards my grades and work ethic and my eating habits (it's not her fault for that, I've developed binge eating habits and I grow envious when I see her controlled self eating carrots for breakfast). It might be envy. I don't at all want to be an envious person but that's the only answer I can come up with for this situation. It's felt like she's been distant from me lately but I feel that I just feel bad over her not needing me to be there with her as her friend because I thought we were really close. This could also be one of those situations where friends playfight a lot but later on it's not really "play". Just "fight".

I think I just thought that L was really really close to me when she isn't really, we just so happened to already know each other and have many classes together, at least, that's how I'm starting to think she sees it.

The disordered part of my brain is telling me that if I control my eating and get thinner, she'd want to be my friend again. It's not like we dropped each other, it's just that I want her to have a reason to want to be around me. I feel like she's repelled by how disgustingly average my build is while she admires her silhouette. She's not extremely skinny, around 120 pounds, but to put it in perspective I'm around 150, meaning that I do look large next to her. I'm going to use this as motivation to reach that seemingly distant and impossible goal of 90. I reach and reach for that number yet It feels like a dream, like something that's never going to happen. It's nice to daydream about, though. I hope I get to put that strenuous number chasing behind me and finally reveal those two digits on the scale that I've been desiring since I was in the single digits in age.

[thrill-kill-kult]

I have! A lot of opinions about the increased push for STEM, the way we put down the arts and humanities, and the advent of AI.

What it boils down to is that I think we are fundamentally using AI wrong. It’s a fantastic tool for doing what computers were initially made to do: automating difficult STEM work.

I don’t think there should be a divide between STEM and arts/humanities. The two fields are intertwined in many ways, and recognizing this as a strength is the first step to good STEM work. You have a lot of people, such as myself, who are creative with STEM. This creativity is where good theory and experiments come from. Many STEM disciplines, *especially* computer science, are highly creative.

AI should not be stepping in for those humanistic creative practices. That’s not the best way to use it. It honestly seems to confuse AI more when it’s fed that creative data; over time, ChatGPT has begun to fail more often at providing correct answers on basic math problems, and I’d imagine some of this failure has to do with being fed data and chats that are asking it to think creatively. Computers work on logic and certainty, and this is where they are most helpful.

I would never ask AI to do some of the creative sides of my work. I develop my own ideas- for example, lately, I’ve been doing some work on a UI which I have sketched out and written down my plans for. I know what I want it to look like and do. ChatGPT comes in when a chunk of my code doesn’t do what I want it to, or when I’m having trouble coding a certain function. In short, AI doesn’t decide what my buttons look like or where they go, but it’s great at fixing a mistake that prevented my button from working.

We’re at a pivotal ethical point with STEM. We need to define acceptable uses for AI. And I think the best way to do that is to come to an understanding that AI is not best used emulating human creativity (something it can never achieve with the heart, soul, and original thought human brains have), but it is best used to assist on and solve the difficult logical problems that get in the way of creative STEM pursuits.

It’s wrong to use AI for art or writing, and to have it replace the real creative humans that work tirelessly on the art we enjoy, but it’s also wrong to read all AI as bad and ignore the possibilities it has opened for us. We need to shift our societal mindset, and the best way to do that will be with better education.

The AI issue is what happens when you raise generation after generation of people to not respect the arts. This is what happens when a person who wants to major in theatre, or English lit, or any other creative major gets the response, "And what are you going to do with that?" or "Good luck getting a job!"

You get tech bros who think it's easy. They don't know the blood, sweat, and tears that go into a creative endeavor because they were taught to completely disregard that kind of labor. They think they can just code it away.

That's (one of the reasons) why we're in this mess.

[ntenvs3000w24]

10: Reflect as an interpreter

We learn good thinking and behaviour from our parents, siblings, and teachers when we are young. Through experience we learn lessons of what is right and wrong. In a sense, you are a reflection of all the people that surround you. What you know is wrong is typically what these teachers tell you is wrong, and vice versa for what you know is right. Because they have far more life experience than we do and because we want to avoid making the same mistakes they did, we look to our elders for guidance. Even though it would be advantageous for us to learn vertically from our parents to ourselves, we learn from our shortcomings and improve with time. We can start making our own conscious decisions and developing our own sense of right and wrong as our brains mature and as we get older. We may no longer follow the "guidelines" of those around us since we have learned and experienced things of our own. I feel like I've moved into a new phase of my life lately where I'm much more aware of the decisions and actions I make.  I constantly strive to be the best version of myself because of this. It is human nature for me to make errors, therefore this does not imply that I will never do so, but I will make an effort to always grow from them.

Having said that, I must admit there are certain ethics that I hold myself to. Respect is something that I really believe is essential to having as I grow as a person and as an interpreter. Respecting others is a reciprocal act of respect for oneself. Since I am an interpreter, it is crucial that I recognize the diversity of my audience. Recognizing privilege goes hand in hand with this as well. I have to be considerate of the audience's necessities because everyone has different challenges and life experiences (Beck, Cable, & Knudson, 2018, pp. 133-137). I can create an experience that is meaningful and helpful to everyone in their own ways by bearing in mind that some people may have opportunities that others do not (Beck, Cable, & Knudson, 2018, pp. 130–131). 

By recognizing my own opinions and being open and honest about nature and the environment, I want to satisfy my audience along the way. The majority of individuals  who visit nature centres or enroll in guided interpretation activities do so primarily out of a desire or motivation to learn more (Beck, Cable, & Knudson, 2018, pp. 42-46). When I consider the environment and take out all man-made structures from it, I consider how all we have is this earth. Furthermore, everything that humans have made originates from the earth itself. My intention is to make my audience aware of this idea and the significance of protecting the planet we live on. The first step to strengthening our efforts to create a sustainable earth is to educate ourselves and others about the environment.

As I consider how much I have grown as an educator over the last ten weeks, I consider my future goals and the duties that will accompany them. I feel obligated to apply my interpreting abilities to benefit others around me. I want to serve as the foundation on which relationships with people and the environment are built. It does not necessarily need to be an interest in the birds, trees, or bugs, but a growing inspiration from the world around us. One of the most enlightening experiences of my life to date was travelling to Europe, as I have already discussed in my blog posts. I never really wanted to travel till then, unless it was to escape the cold Ontario weather. Today, I have a bucket list full different locations in the world I wish to go see. Not only is visiting these locations a dream, but it has also completely altered my priorities, ambitions, and life path. Therefore, although it may appear to be nothing more than a deep-seated urge to travel, it is much more than that on the inside. 

In a comparable way, I hope that by using my interpretive skills, I might ignite this spark in those around me. By my art, I am able to share my enthusiasm for a subject and inspire others to feel the same way. This reminds me of other professors I've had. Even if I may not be interested in a particular subject, it becomes much more engaging to me when I hear my lecturer passionately discuss it. 

As I've already stated, one essential quality for anyone working as a wildlife interpreter is respect. It is crucial that I demonstrate cultural sensitivity to the various cultures I may encounter in accordance with my goal to explore the world. One day, I want to improve my cultural competency so that I may learn more about the various cultures that exist throughout the world. Cultural competency as well goes beyond only being respectful to a culture, but to actively want to learn more about the culture and act upon this desire. By doing this, I will be able to foster an inclusive environment for my audience so they feel respected.

As an interpreter, a learner, and a human being, I will never be perfect.  In any subject, mastery requires focus, practice, and the ability to learn from failures. I may learn by experience and acquire the information I aspire to possess one day by travelling. According to David Kolb's experiential learning theory (Murrell & Claxton, 1987), learning happens through an ongoing cycle of experience, observation, conceptualization, and experimenting. I can also use techniques like self-assessment and reflection in order to improve. These two strategies can lead to increased interpersonal connections, better mental health, and personal growth (Rusu, 2019). The world is always changing and along with the world I am aswell. My dreams and motivations can change at anytime, but what is most important is the way I treat those around me. 

For my readers, I would like to know whether you have a period of time in your life that you believe truly changed the direction of your life, much like my trip to Europe did. Was there ever an event that you reflect on and realize that your expectations for the future were different before? What did you feel like after this experience?

References

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage for a Better World (1st ed.). Sagamore Publishing. https://www.sagamorepub.com/products/interpreting-cultural-and-natural-heritage-better-world

Murrell, P.H., Claxton, C.S. (1987). Experiential Learning Theory as a Guide for Effective Teaching. Counselor Education and Supervision. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.1556-6978.1987.tb00735.x

Rusu, M. (2019). The Process of Self-Realization – From the Humanist Psychology Perspective. Scientific Research. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2019.108071

[mmilochondria]

Random essay i wrote in class but not for class:

Writing is quite an outlet for me. Whether it’s in the form of poems, journaling, or the occasional homework essay that I actually enjoy. So here’s sort of a brain dump, inspired by a post I saw describing an art classroom and how it’s the opposite of a liminal space. It made me think of Burroughs’ class. I loved Burroughs’ class. I’m in Rosati’s writing class. I hate this writing class. It makes me feel stupid. It makes me feel like a bad student. It makes me feel like I don’t know how to write. I loved Burroughs’ class. It feels like it died. It’ll never be the same again. I miss the classical music that you could only hear if you walked in the class early or stayed late or the very rare times that everyone was so focused on their work. I miss the artwork everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Whether it was current student work, past student work, Burroughs’ own work, it was everywhere. I stared at that mark making and brush work and portraits and whatnot for so long. I was so inspired. I miss the paint on the floor, especially the stain that was my fault. I miss the smell of linseed oil every now and then. I miss the maze that was tables and easels that you had to shuffle through without disturbing any work. I miss the chemical burn mark on that one table. I miss critiques and the way people work stop and then shuffle-run through it while we were in the hallway. Critiques would hurt sometimes. Patricia was always amazing and everyone was good in their own way but I wanted to be the best. Good wasn’t good enough. I wanted to be better. Now I’m here in college knowing that the majority of students here FAR exceed my skill level. It doesn’t bother me so much anymore. I think. I know I have to keep working and I’ll get there soon. But, instead I’m in writing class. I’m not in my studio. I’m going over the structure of a topic sentence that I’ll eventually use in a stupid essay about stupid political and social ethics that I don't care to write about. Part of me wants to revolt and turn this essay in instead. I know that would yield no benefit. I know I would get a 0. I know Conor would’ve appreciated it regardless. I know I should have switched to Conor's class. Curse the part of me that’s still in high school. Where they govern us like prisoners and nothing is in your control and you can’t change anything. If you don’t like the class you’re in too bad. If you fail it’s your fault. If the teacher and you don’t click then you’re being disagreeable. You’re not just another human being. You are ward of the school. You are cattle. Stay on the right side of the hallway. Don’t run. Don’t speak in class. Don’t do math that way, do it my way. Write what I said to write. I don't care that you don’t care about it. I know this will not benefit you in any way in the future. I know you’re right. Do it anyway. I am in power. Do as I say.

Art is different. Sure you have those teachers but there’s an understanding in the art department. That your art is your own. That it’s subjective. That it will live past you. Past this class. Past this teacher. Past the grade. That it will become its own being and develop meaning that you didn’t even put into it as time goes on. That it is every layer you painted on it as well as the paint on the floor. And the pillar in the middle of the class. And the eraser shavings on the easel. And the underclassman who watched you do it. And the music you listened to while making it. And the hour and a half dedicated to it daily. And the side conversations you got distracted by. And every change you made on your own. And every change you made because Burroughs suggested it. And every reference you used. And every time you didn’t use a reference because you thought you knew what it looked like. You didn’t. That it is every splatter in the sink from washing your brush. And the layer of dove soap you used up doing the same. The person you made eye contact with at the sink across from you. The brush you had to switch to because someone stole the other one. The laugh you let out when the group across the class said something wild. The tears you let out hidden behind your easel because there are other things going on. There are so many other things going on. There's so much going on. It's the partner that became an ex in the middle of the project. It’s the friends that you lost that you still see in every brushstroke.

Art is so much more than what’s on the page. Yet it’s nothing except what you see on the page. Does that make sense?

The art is the depression you fought to make it.

I'm proud of you.

[microcosmicworld]

Genesis a line of ancestral DNA 🧬

Late concept of social communities made our genesis untraceable

I've made a programme to trace genesis

Prevent stealing children exchanging children stop IVF stop donation of eggs and sperm and stirring biological organic tissue extreme experiments because bad people persons use them to their needs

Late achievements in medicine did not improve physiognomy in mankind

Plastic surgery did not improve genesis in mankind

Genesis is a complex niche of DNA chromosome combination of ancestors

Medical experiments are now labeled a distraction weapon given wrong chemicals wrong surgery

Preventative medicine is of a paramount to prevent amortisation of the body

Families cannot run with different genesis intellectual genesis physiognomy genesis

Bigger proportion of the world are low IQ learning disability level compared to England

Teaching did not improve IQ nor body physiognomy brain development in terms of intellect and not a size of the body and brain

Use of medical equipment would be forbidden

Access to medical practice would be limited to high IQ ethical medical practitioners who have settled lawful status and family relationship

Divorce causes vulnerable spouses

And most of all genesis DNA 🧬 is worth more than all the money on the world because matching proper pair to improve mankind in total is of paramount money cannot buy

Genetics is not genesis

Bad genetics can be forbidden around the equilibrium established civilisation

They did not made the equipment they would not be using the equipment technology

Family members can run separate genesis from ancestors and not consecutive genetics of parents

This is my thesis protected by the crown of England

[gyrovagi]

so truthfully i'm pretty sure The Scenario as i have been referring to it originated in my brain as 'okay how contrived would a situation have to be for caden trevelyan and solas to have gay sex about it.' and then it got derailed as i thought about it and the scenario does not involve anything approaching gay sex. it's literally just a weird situation that nobody enjoys that changes nothing. (shrek they dont even have dental voice) caden doesn't even convince solas to cut off his leg

i've mulled it over too much though and i'm fully writing a fic (Which has made my recent google searches look fucking crazy) so now it's a canon incident for caden and is i think... if not exactly a turning point for his relationship with solas, it's Defining. if that makes sense.

anyway what happens is at some ambiguous mid-late-game stage, maybe even right after exiling the wardens, caden makes it his next priority while corypheus is firmly on the backfoot to clear out the red templars in emprise du lion. (i know judging by levels the game wants you to go here lies the abyss -> wicked eyes and wicked hearts but caden would prioritize the politics.)

this is going great! up until right after capturing suledin keep, he fucking collapses in the middle of the stairs. turns out he's been walking around on a pretty nasty leg wound that's been infected by red lyrium. there's inquisition troops in the area and a healer among them but solas is undeniably the best healer on hand (and the only mage). so now he's in the position of - for the second time - keeping this guy alive when he can really only guess about the thing killing him. the new developments are 1) cassandra isn't threatening him with execution if caden dies, though the power vacuum if the inquisitor perished now would definitely not be pretty 2) solas and caden have barely restored what can charitably be called a 'semi-functioning working relationship' after caden punched him in the face.

(varric and cole are here also. cassandra's back at skyhold dealing with the Rammys of seeker secrets and potential divine candidacy.)

after some tense aggressively polite conversations about power and vulnerability, several cryptic comments from cole, and one episode of house md, solas finally figures out that caden quit lyrium cold turkey and hadn't told anyone except his advisors, cassandra, and the apothecary who was trying to work out something to help with his + cullen's withdrawal. it follows that lyrium withdrawal has weakened him and caused the red lyrium infection to progress as dramatically as it has. solas concludes that there are essentially two options: try to cut the infection out, which being kind of out in the middle of nowhere with limited supplies means a very real risk of losing the whole leg if not dying anyway, or (temporarily) go back on lyrium, in the hopes that with untainted lyrium back in caden's system, it will be able to counteract the effects of the red lyrium. solas has conducted a few experiments that seem to indicate this would work.

caden, being the stubborn asshole he is, goes. cut my leg off then. i'm not going back on lyrium. and solas is like in any other situation i would respect your decision, if not your reckless methodology, but this has gone past obstinance into sheer stupidity. this is no mundane ailment. red lyrium is dangerous and you are extremely vulnerable at the moment. what i am suggesting is temporary and you can wean off safely this time. if you do not do it you will die. caden replies not if you cut my leg off :) i'll do it if you don't have the stomach for it. and solas storms out of the room and angrily requests varric talk some sense into trevelyan as a friend since apparently the boy (Caden is 25.) has lost his fucking mind

varric of course is not very happy about the idea of amputation either but caden cannot be budged and there's not a lot of time to wait around for him to change his mind. solas briefly seriously debates the ethics of putting lyrium in the wine. and the pasta. ultimately he decides that this isn't justifiable, even if he doesn't care that caden would never forgive him for it, he wouldn't be able to live with it himself. what he can live with is calling caden's bluff.

so solas brings in Ye Olde Thedosian Amputation Instruments and tells caden, if you insist this is your decision, very well. but i refuse to do it. you said you'd do it yourself, so you can, and i'll make sure you don't bleed to death. caden of course meant it when he said it but that's still a whole different beast from actually Cutting Off Your Own Leg. of course he can't do it.

caden fumes silently for several minutes. solas ends up watching him limp out to retrieve his lyrium kit (which caden's kept in his things, of course, because it doesn't count if it's not an active choice he makes every day). his hands shake preparing the dose but he snaps at solas when offered help. when he finally downs it he asks simply to be left alone. there's not much we have to say to each other, i think.

within a week or so, his condition's much improved. owain shows up because he received word that a) his brother was in bad shape b) there's dragons need hunting. bull came with for dragon hunting and maybe also so he could give a direct report to the qun on whatever the hell the red lyrium situation is out here. (sidenote because i've been thinking it and i need to shoehorn it in somewhere i'm not saying owain and bull fuck but i'm not saying they wouldn't fuck.) caden decides it's probably best to minimize mage exposure to red lyrium so he suggests solas head back to skyhold and help figure out the next move against corypheus. he goes on a kind of awkward brotherly dragon hunting expedition with owain.

the whole incident is never discussed again ❤️ caden is pretty pissed remembering the whole thing when solas DOES give him an impromptu amputation. oh so if you're arguably at fault for my limb requiring amputation then you have no qualms cutting it off.

(i'm undecided between caden having successfully quit lyrium by trespasser, or if it's too evil to be like. actually once the red lyrium infection set in to that point it could never be fully cured just held back by going back on lyrium, so actually caden's options are still either take lyrium or cut your leg off or die. need to ponder the shrimplications for his character and their relationship and the themes and narratives of it all.)

well i guess the inaugural post (apart from my personal friend bluebeard's wife) gets to be this whiteboy sketch that i drew and then stared at like. this is too much. i dont know how exactly but in some way its too much

[bitchesgetriches]

On poverty:

Starting from nothing

How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety Net

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Ask the Bitches: “Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?“

Understanding why people are poor

It’s More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich

Why Are Poor People Poor and Rich People Rich?

On Financial Discipline, Generational Poverty, and Marshmallows

Bitchtastic Book Review: Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado

Is Gentrification Just Artisanal, Small-Batch Displacement of the Poor?

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Developing compassion for poor people

The Latte Factor, Poor Shaming, and Economic Compassion

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Stop Myself from Judging Homeless People?“

The Subjectivity of Wealth, Or: Don’t Tell Me What’s Expensive

A Little Princess: Intersectional Feminist Masterpiece?

If You Can’t Afford to Tip 20%, You Can’t Afford to Dine Out

Correcting income inequality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

One Reason Women Make Less Money? They’re Afraid of Being Raped and Killed.

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better

Are Unions Good or Bad?

On intersectional social issues:

Reproductive rights

On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights

How To Get an Abortion

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

You Don’t Have to Have Kids

Gender equality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

The Pink Tax, Or: How I Learned to Love Smelling Like “Bearglove”

Our Single Best Piece of Advice for Women (and Men) on International Women’s Day

Bitchtastic Book Review: The Feminist Financial Handbook by Brynne Conroy

Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace

Queer issues

Queer Finance 101: Ten Ways That Sexual and Gender Identity Affect Finances

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Racial justice

The Financial Advantages of Being White

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander: A Bitchtastic Book Review

Something Is Wrong in Personal Finance. Here’s How To Make It More Inclusive.

The Biggest Threat to Black Wealth Is White Terrorism

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell Now

Youth issues

What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans

The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships

Ask the Bitches: “I Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?”

Identifying and combatting abuse

When Money is the Weapon: Understanding Intimate Partner Financial Abuse

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Say ‘No’ When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?”

Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?

On mental health:

Understanding mental health issues

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown

Bitchtastic Book Review: Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

Coping with mental health issues

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

On saving the planet:

Changing the system

Don’t Boo, Vote: If You Don’t Vote, No One Can Hear You Scream

Ethical Consumption: How to Pollute the Planet and Exploit Labor Slightly Less

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

Season 1, Episode 4: “Capitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?”

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

Shopping smarter

You Deserve Cheap Toilet Paper, You Beautiful Fucking Moon Goddess

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

Fast Fashion: Why It’s Fucking up the World and How To Avoid It

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

[bellygunnr]

Crosstalk

Halo is just rvb deep lore or some shit. good luck

---

The obsession starts small, of course. A bit after the shock of grief, a bit after one last foray into his tour has him come to face to face with an artificial intelligence. Augustine, a digital refugee of yet another felled Human destroyer, cycling endlessly in the implants of a dead man. It's with him that Leonard learns two things-- "smart" AI are the burned copies of dead human brains and the degree of separation is almost none. He is reminded, once again, of an empty coffin and a uniform at his doorstep.

It's too late for that. For her. The UNSC had abandoned salvaging the dead within two years of the Great War, so paltry obligations were all they had to offer. So she may be gone, but he isn't.

So what he does is this:

He finishes his tour. He goes back home, to the little girl tucked away inside its fragile walls, minded by distant family on her mother's side. She goes to school-- her eyes are bright and sparkly, and she is excited, oblivious to his application for higher education. A degree on top of his degree, now with sharper focus. All pictures of her mother are whisked gradually away from the walls and disappeared into his study. He holds Augustine close to the chest. AI theory, neurology, and military strategy become his new normal.

Dr. Halsey is a treasure trove of knowledge. The leading scientist in all things AI. World-shaker, world-builder. She speaks of living tissue and flash clones and skeins of code, bleeding in and out of each other until they're one and the same. Unfortunately, several boards of ethics reject this, and he learns to duck red tape and ONI obfuscation. His doctorate is by the skin of his teeth.

And while he is straining, biting at the outer edges of his limits, his daughter is growing older. Graduating. He holds her at arms length, if only to hide the fact that his late nights are spent inside UNSC archives, his days away from home spent analyzing scorched brain tissue. AI matrices that implode in infancy.

It's not all for naught. He develops ideas, a strategy. Employing it is a different matter entirely, but the War is worsening, desperation peaking.

But he doesn't get his "in" until someone else fumbles in front of him. A lone data signature, easily traceable. Easily identifiable.

He has a letter drafted and sent within the hour.

It could destroy his career. But he has a feeling it won't.

Colonel Ackerson may just be that, a colonel, but he's vocal, known, and controversial. A hair-trigger reflex for wanton destruction that'd get him court-martialed if the enemy was, in so many words, human. He'd been subject to his tactics and they were... inefficient.

But he was either smarter than he looked or playing a dangerous game, digging where he was digging. Beyond AI forged from flash clones, there were the theoretical augmentations on monkeys, the full-bodied transformation of human into superhuman. Leonard knew what he was doing here-- but what was Ackerson after?

And how did he get here?

At any rate, the letter works. Evidence is compiled in advance.

"I'll make sure the UNSC sees this within the hour, if you don't want to work with me."

Dr. Leonard Church, ultimately, had less to lose than the Colonel ever did. This is what he tells himself, despite his wife's words playing quietly, constantly, in his left ear.

"I know how to get your plan approved, you just have to back mine. We'll call it an experiment. Different ways to achieve the same end."

"Don't you understand that humanity hinges on my project?" Ackerson demands.

He's a short man with a mean mug. Leonard cocks his head.

"Then think of my project as a long term investment on yours," Leonard says evenly. "Simple enough."

All he needs is to obtain the funding. Once he has that, he's home free. The UNSC and ONI, hell, the UEG, are all too busy to deal with the particulars of what he does, after all.

Ackerson holds out his hand. Leonard accepts it, trying to hide how his muscles shake with relief.

Finally.

[prolifeproliberty]

@libraryofneith thinks nobody is aborting “fully formed” babies.

Depending on your definition of fully formed...you’re still wrong, because late term abortion exists in the United States through all nine months of pregnancy. There aren’t very many abortions in the third trimester, but they do happen.

Anyway, let’s focus on the majority of abortions, which happen between 4 weeks (when most women find out they’re pregnant) and 20 weeks. This covers approximately 99% of abortions.

First 8 weeks

According to Guttmacher stats from 2016, 2/3 abortions happen in the first 8 weeks. Assuming we’re talking about abortion that a mother chooses after finding out she’s pregnant, we’re talking about 4-8 weeks from the first day of the last menstrual period, which is 2-6 weeks after fertilization.

Most abortions in this range are done either with medication abortion or vacuum aspiration.

4 weeks LMP/2 weeks from fertilization:

(From BabyCenter - note this is a cross section)

This is really the last point in pregnancy where you can use the “clump of cells” cliche. Even still, this little “blob” is forming the cells that will become skin, sweat glands, lung tissue, other internal organs, and even the beginnings of the brain.

From fertilization, the new human being has a complete set of distinct DNA and everything he or she needs to grow and develop, as long as the basic human needs of food, water, oxygen, and shelter are provided.

5 weeks LMP/3 weeks post fertilization:

(From BabyCenter)

Heartbeat begins! At 3 weeks and 1 day after fertilization, the embryo’s heart begins beating between 105 and 121 beats per minute.

Also during this week, limb buds begin to form and skeletal muscles begin to develop.

Reminder: at this stage of pregnancy the mother’s period is about 1 week late, meaning some women still may not know they’re pregnant if their period is irregular or they don’t track.

6 weeks LMP/4 weeks post fertilization:

(From BabyCenter)

The brain develops rapidly during this week. The cerebellum appears, and the left and right hemispheres begin to form. We also see the beginnings of the eyes, two buds that will form the lungs, the kidneys, and the gonads (yes that’s the scientific term) which will form either ovaries or testes depending on the embryo’s DNA.

7 weeks LMP/5 weeks post fertilization:

(From BabyCenter)

We can see those limbs forming!

Voluntary and reflexive movement begins this week, even though mom can’t feel it yet. We also get more brain development, including the cerebral cortex.

The beginnings of hands, feet, fingers, and toes are also forming during this time.

8 weeks LMP/6 weeks post fertilization:

(From BabyCenter)

Starting to look a little more “like a baby!”

Brainwaves can be recorded on an EEG this week. The embryo also gets early tastebuds - and gets the hiccups!

Fingers and toes begin to separate during this week, and bones begin to develop, starting with the clavicle and jaw.

So there’s your first 8 weeks, when 2/3 abortions happen.

Scientifically, these are individual organisms, members of the human species and offspring of human parents. Otherwise known as human children.

An additional 29.2% of abortions happen between 9 weeks LMP:

And 15 weeks:

(Fully formed enough for you?)

The U.S. Supreme Court is currently scheduled to decide on a case regarding an abortion ban at 16 weeks.

Here’s my question: if abortion is okay because they’re “just clumps of cells,” tell me at what point during the first trimester you would make the cut off. At what point is the baby too “developed” to be ethically killed?