#the decline has been exponential

[bauliya]

as someone who was doing academic/professional research and applying to graduate school last year and is doing professional research and applying to graduate school this year the difference in how inaccessible research has become in just TWELVE MONTHS is STARK and so deeply felt. I am lucky enough to have someone’s institutional IDs but it’s insane how I needed that to write the most basic lit reviews/application materials when I spent the last ~5 years in a broke third world public university with almost no institutional access and managed just fine. the destruction and hobbling of sci-hub, libgen, internet archive, and other open source resources is nothing less than mass epistemic violence against global south students and it’s only going to compound every year as the materials these platforms have access to become increasingly dated.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from The Conversation:

In humans and other animals, ageing is generally associated with a decline in biological function. But scientists are now discovering older animals perform vital roles in populations and ecosystems.

Unfortunately, however, old animals can suffer the most from human activity such as over-fishing and trophy hunting. And the value of old, wise animals is not usually considered when we manage animal populations and seek to protect biodiversity.

Our new review, published today in Science, draws on evidence from around the world to argue for a new approach called “longevity conservation”.

The loss of old and wise animals has devastating global consequences. Clearly, more must be done to prioritise their survival.

Cold-blooded (ectothermic) animals such as fish and reptiles tend to keep growing throughout their life. This means older individuals are generally larger than younger individuals.

Being bigger has benefits, especially when it comes to feeding and reproduction. It’s widely known the number of offspring increases with age in fish and many other ectotherms. But it’s only recently been discovered that older mothers of some fish and sea turtles produce exponentially more offspring as time goes on. Their young may also have better chances of survival.

Survival rates are can be higher in offspring from older mothers in other species too. For example, in birds older parents and their helpers often provide more food and better habitat for their chicks, improving fledgling survival rates.

Females from a range of species tend to select older males as mates. These males commonly assume crucial social roles, such as leading long distance movements like migration, and regulating social structures, such as reducing aggressive behaviour. These behaviours influence decision-making with direct consequences for group and offspring survival.

Some animals draw on experience accumulated over the course of their lifetime in order to make better decisions. In elephants, mothers and grandmothers are repositories of knowledge.

This “grandmother effect”, first studied in humans, also occurs in whales. Wise grandmother killer whales, which no longer reproduce, help their families find food when it is scarce and this benefits survival.

In a wide range of species, new research is showing how older individuals transmit their knowledge to others via a process called cultural transmission. The benefits of old age extend to animals such as migratory birds, pack-hunting carnivores, and even fish. For example, taking all the big fish from some populations has diminished their collective group memory often needed for migration and knowledge of spawning areas.

[elliesgaymachete]

I think Game of Thrones damaged collective expectations for television media and is the reason for the decline of full length low budget seasons.

We all know HBO is high budget cable even before, but Game of Thrones was arguably the first time one of their shows became so massively, globally successful. People who had never consumed fantasy media in their lives were watching Game of Thrones. It became mainstream culture rather than nerd culture so your coworkers weren’t going to make fun of you for liking it. In fact, your coworkers probably watched it too.

Before this the only TV shows that achieved anywhere close to this level of popularity (and even then were not nearly as popular as Game of Thrones) were network shows, usually TV comedies. These were low budget and had full seasons! Things like HIMYM, Big Bang Theory, The Office. You either watched them or knew multiple people who watched them. Sometimes TV dramas also reached this level of popularity—Shondaland shows to name a few. Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal, How to Get Away with Murder. Even if you didn’t watch them, you had heard of them. These were also network shows. Low budgets, 22 episodes. Not to mention network television is FREE so it has the potential to reach a much wider audience than cable.

But Game of Thrones exploded into common popularity. Even people who didn’t watch much television watched Game of Thrones. And you know what they had because it’s an HBO show? Insanely high budgets and 10 episode seasons. They were basically making ten short movies released as TV seasons. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that itself, it worked well for Game of Thrones. The problem is how its affected television production since then. Sure shorter seasons and miniseries have existed before, but it feels like they’ve been in an upward trend ever since Game of Thrones

Every studio with a streaming service wants to create the next mega popular phenomenon like Game of Thrones so they copy the formula. Big budget, shorter seasons. Quality over quantity. But in doing so they neglected the main format television has used for quite a while. Network seasons are fewer and far between with smaller budgets and shorter seasons so they can invest more in the high budget shows. And a few of them were good, but somewhere along the way, they lost sight of the quality part and throw microbudgets at shows for six episode runs and are surprised when no one gets invested after only six episodes when we used to get 22 episodes and since no one’s watching anyway they just cancel it without giving the show a chance to find its legs. If it happens to get a lucky with a second season but there’s not EXPONENTIAL growth in viewership? Cancelled. Why is no one watching tv anymore? Why does no one want to pay for our streaming service that releases maybe one show you like every other year? Why why why they ask when they ruined a perfectly good formula and make things less and less accessible

[reasonsforhope]

"A net-zero power system is closer than we think.

New research, published by RMI, indicates that an exponential surge in renewable energy deployment is outpacing the International Energy Agency’s most ambitious net-zero predictions for 2030. 

That’s right: Surging solar, wind, and battery capacity is now in-line with net-zero scenarios. 

“For the first time, we can, with hand on heart, say that we are potentially on the path to net zero,” Kingsmill Bond, Senior Principal at RMI, said. “We need to make sure that we continue to drive change, but there is a path and we are on it.”

And that’s really good news.

Exponential growth in renewable energy has put the global electricity system at a tipping point. What was once seen as a wildly daunting task — transitioning away from fossil fuels — is now happening at a faster pace every year. 

Based on this new research, conducted in partnership with the Bezos Earth Fund, RMI projects that solar and wind will supply over a third of all global electricity by 2030, up from about 12% today, which would surpass recent calls for a tripling of total renewable energy capacity by the end of the decade. 

Global progress in the renewable energy sector

China and Europe have been leading the way in clean energy generation, but the deployment of renewable energy has also been widely distributed across the Middle East and Africa. 

Research from Systems Change Lab shows that eight countries (Uruguay, Denmark, Lithuania, Namibia, Netherlands, Palestine, Jordan, and Chile) have already grown solar and wind power faster than what is needed to limit global warming to 1.5°C, proving that a swift switch to renewable energy is not only feasible — it’s entirely achievable. 

In order to make that switch, globally, wind and solar need to grow from 12% to 41% by 2030. Denmark, Uruguay, and Lithuania have already achieved that increase in the span of eight years.

Meanwhile, Namibia, the Netherlands, Palestine, Jordan, and Chile have grown solar and wind energy at sufficient rates for five years...

The economic impact of climate progress

Not only is this an exciting and unprecedented development for the health of the environment, but this rapid transition to clean energy includes widespread benefits, like jobs growth, more secure supply chains, and reductions in energy price inflation. 

This progress spans both developing and developed countries, all driven to accelerate renewables for a number of different reasons: adopting smart and effective policies, maintaining political commitments, lowering the costs of renewable energy, and improving energy security. 

And with exponential growth of clean energy means sharp declines in prices. This puts fossil fuels at a higher, uncompetitive cost — both financially and figuratively. 

RMI suggests that solar energy is already the cheapest form of electricity in history — and will likely halve in price by 2030, falling as low as $20/MWh in the coming years. This follows previous trends: solar and battery costs have declined 80% between 2012 and 2022, and offshore wind costs are down 73%."

-via Good Good Good, July 12, 2023

Let me repeat that:

For the first time in history, we are on an actual, provably achievable path to net zero emissions

[asgardian--angels]

I’m a biology student and fuck. Just fuck. Every post I see talks about the world ending and all life coming to an end. I know that’s not the case (I hope) but just…god. Kamala was gonna be shit with the environment but trump seems keen on speed running the time we have to put a dent in this. How do you stay hopeful? What do we have to hope for?

Hi there fellow biologist :)

First let me just say, Kamala Harris most certainly would not have been shit with the environment. She would have done quite a lot to work on climate change (she has not emphasized this at rallies because it was not a priority issue with voters, but her policies were there, and democrats consistently are progressive on environmental policy enough to make corporations angry), and Biden during his presidency has accomplished a heck of a lot to undo Trump's previous weakening of federal environmental protections and strengthen them further. My hope is that they together will continue to try and pass what they can in their remaining months. I hope in my previous posts I was not coming off as too cynical - I'm scared, as we all are, but I have great faith in the passionate and hardworking scientists in this field who have dedicated their entire lives to tirelessly protecting our planet, at all scales. We just need more of them, and that's where you come in.

How do I stay hopeful? Because of people like you, students in the biological sciences who feel strongly enough to take this career path. The next generation of environmental stewards, in a time where scientists are exponentially more knowledgeable about threats to the environment and solutions to them than ever before. Especially now, these fields are shifting from old white guys (no shade to [most of] them) to young women, people of color, and queer people in STEM, who are eager to bring new perspectives and approaches to the field that I think will bolster our resolve and increase our success.

Despite the doom and gloom, we also have made incredible strides forward to improve clean air and water, restore habitat (particularly wetlands, reversing decades-long trends of waterbird declines, as well as reversing raptor declines), ban DDT, track species declines through long-term monitoring by generations of dedicated scientists, train more effective science communicators to engage people of all ages, especially children, with the natural world to forge crucial emotional connections needed to recruit them to conservation causes, and so much more. Here's a big one - MOTUS, the system we now use to track migrating birds on their worldwide journeys, developed just in the past couple decades. Because of it, we now know in incredible detail where individual birds and populations overwinter, the routes they take, and the threats they face at different times of year - thereby being able to much more effectively target our conservation efforts. Shifting baselines work in both directions; it's easy to forget within a generation or two how much we've lost (atlantic cod used to be so abundant they jumped into fishermen's boats, passenger pigeon flocks darkened the skies for hours), but it's also easy for young people to not know how much we've gained - bald eagles used to be so rare it was a spectacle to see one, the rivers just half a century ago would literally catch on fire from the levels of pollutants, and acid rain - remember acid rain? we fixed that!) In my field specifically, we've been rediscovering once-thought-extinct bee species left and right in the past few years, because dedicated young bee researchers have put in renewed effort to search for them when no one else did. Now we know where they are and how to protect them, and some of them aren't even considered rare anymore!

You more likely than not have a professor for some class who's pushing 80. That's because in this field, we never quit. Protecting the environment is our passion, our lives, our heart and soul. It's our calling, and we couldn't think of doing anything more important with the time we have on this earth. Every stride forward we've made only happened because individual scientists, regular people, cared enough to fight for what they believed in. Often it's a slow process, and often we don't truly grasp the scope of what our own work will lead to in the grand scheme of making change. But every species out there that's still persisting is because someone loves it a whole lot. Maybe a lot of people love elephants or big cats, while just one single person loves terrestrial leeches. But heck, it only takes one person to completely change the trajectory of a species and bring widespread public attention to it! I love telling people about bee species they've never heard of, that exist right in their own state. They might go home, google it, and keep an eye out for it next time, or better, plant the flowers it specializes on. I put a call out on iNaturalist for users in my state to search wetlands for a rare wetland bee with only a couple of records in the state - within a couple months, half a dozen more sightings popped up. Just like that. The bee was considered rare, but no one was looking. They had no idea there was anything to look for. Now? Not so rare, maybe - a good sign!

I stay hopeful because I know that the planet needs us, and we need the planet. The people who love nature will never stop fighting to protect it, and every single action does make a difference, whether we know it or not. I could ask myself why I give talks at public libraries where my audience is 10 people at best, even when the drive is 6+ hours. Because one, just one, of those people might be inspired or moved by my words, and choose to take action. For all I know, I've started a domino effect that will cascade into something huge. I worked with and briefly mentored an undergraduate student in bee science a few years ago - he's since gone on to work on a huge project to digitize bee specimens locked away in dusty drawers for decades, bringing to light dozens of species for which we previously had little to no information or images, improving the resources available to other researchers to identify their specimens and thus be able to monitor these rare, specialized desert bees. You can't know the impact you'll have. You just have to do the work, and always give all you can, and love doing it.

Some might think it's too little too late - but that's relative. There's no such thing as the apocalypse. Nature continues on, in whatever form it needs to. In a way, we've decided what our benchmark is; prevent the loss of biodiversity, preserve ecosystem services. But the natural world has already changed, since the moment any human stepped foot onto a new continent or island and brought plants and animals with them. We put value on species, on ecosystems, because we love them. We think they are beautiful, that they have intrinsic or extrinsic value, and that they deserve a continued place in this world. We have lost species, and we will lose a lot more. But isn't preventing even one extinction worth it? We fight tirelessly to manage the spread of invasive species, to restore even little patches of urban habitat, when someone could look at those and say, 'what's that point? that won't make any difference.' But tell that to the species that live there. The planet keeps running because of small, local changes carried out by thousands of people, and a handful of big changes (like policy) undertaken by a few ballsy folks. Neither would work without the other. Every time I get my hands in the dirt and plant a new species in my pollinator garden, it gives me hope. I'm investing in the future. By being here, studying biology, you are too. It all gives me hope.

[paradoxbeta]

WHO IS EOC? i am very curious now!!!

>:) okay SO

tumblr picture formatting is utter garbage and i dont want these to take up too much space so im cramming these drawings into one row (or not if this crapsite breaks on me, because it seems to be REALLY fighting me on this, so if it ends up not making a nice little picture row know that i tried my best). but this is effigy of composure!

he has a couple problems, but the big one is that his superstructure has a terrible parasite situation. the parasites are flat, thin, and able to make it into grooves and pipes the inspectors cant reach. flushing out doesnt do much to dislodge them and they breed faster than they can be killed, so theyve happily made their homes in this sheltered, food-rich haven (to the obvious distress and horror of the host iterator). originally the concept for these parasites were much closer to centipedes and had the placeholder name "synapcipedes," but ive since started leaning more towards an obvious tapeworm motif for them because its gross and i enjoy it morbidly. it also has some pretty cursed implications if you think about it for too long which i have decided are funny/really disgusting/so stupid that they have to stay. i still flipflop between considering them centipedes vs tapeworms though and i dont think thatll ever be rigidly defined. the ambiguity is nice to toy with

on the top 10 list of "things that are not fun" having turbo worms has to be somewhere up there, so eoc has it *rough,* and kind of sort of eventually barrels off into the deep end because of it. his futile attempts to clean his own structure are frustrating enough, and the constant feeling of bugs crawling all over the inside of his body (which only gets progressively worse with time) does no favors either. however, the real big reason why he mentally declines is just because there's a ton of centi-worm things eating like fire through his neurons and other what-have-yous that iterators need to think and function. i think if he only got hit with one of these 3 things then he might have been able to hang onto his sanity, but with the triple combo he doesn't really stand a chance of doing much except stalling his functional death. which is good on him because if i was an iterator and my overseers told me i had a structure infestation, my mental health would have just preemptively swan dived off a bridge before anything even happened

anyhow, exponential parasite population growth meant exponential increase in all this other fun stuff, which means the time from the beginning of the infection to the time eoc is considered officially gone is startlingly short (for iterators, at least). it still took quite the while because losing your marbles is a loonnnng process, but still, yikes. its unfortunate because eoc was a real jokester pre-everything, and a cool guy to talk to. he was one of those people who could come up witty comments for anything like hed been ripped from the script of a sitcom. oh yeah, also, should have mentioned this earlier, but he ends up accidentally amassing a scavenger cult mid-insanity which goes hilariously bad because he's barely aware it's happening. nothing really works out for this poor iterator.

tldr: eoc gets parasites, they erode his brain, he goes nuts about it, (accidentally amasses a cult,) dies

[sparklypepper]

@hungarianmudkip69 recently asked @vaspider about the spread of HIV. The excellent discussion there focused largely on qualitative aspects, notably what was going on socially in the 1970s and 80s, HIV's subtlety and long incubation periods, and exponential growth (along with a great refutation of accidental needle sticks as a dominant vector).

I've got a math and physics background - I have some extremely relevant intuition, but I still prefer being able to find real-world numbers to confirm that I haven't misapplied it. I encourage checking out all the links in this post; there's a lot of great information!

We can't literally go back in time and test everyone for HIV, but it is possible to model and estimate, e.g. this 2021 report from the CDC (US-only).

The second graph of figure #2 is very close to what we discussed:

(MMSC is male-to-male sexual contact and IDU is injection drug use; see the article for other details.)

Again, these are estimates, so we can't take the exact numbers as fact, but let's look at the big picture. HIV likely first arrived in the US around 1970; it first gained public attention in 1981, when the CDC reported cases of what we now call AIDS. At that point, the estimate is an order of magnitude of tens of thousands of HIV infections.

The original asker was interested in the behavior of a "patient zero" (see also "Debunking the Myth of Patient Zero", an excellent video linked in that thread). These numbers help us see how little effect one hypothetical person's behavior could have had on the end result. As long as the virus was transmitted at all, it was going to reach the highest-risk populations eventually, and spread once there, whether it took one hop or ten. It was also essentially impossible to notice the pattern and infer the existence of HIV/AIDS in the US until multiple people in the same community developed AIDS and contracted unusual infections - which most likely means that it's reached that high-risk population, and ten years have passed.

Tens of thousands of infections is simply the result of exponential growth during those ten years; stopping it from becoming an epidemic would've required everyone's behavior to have changed. Different behavior, different transmission, different number of hops early on would more likely have changed how long it took to spread widely enough to become noticeable, not whether it did. (An unfortunately familiar concept, in the year 2023.)

The authors also mention that "trend data comparing subpopulations is likely to be robust for each period examined", so let's look back at those individual lines. Injection drug use (IDU) actually was a fairly significant means of transmission by the 1980s, and by the mid-80s, the spread among gay/bi men (MMSC) was beginning to decline. At the end of the decade, IDU may even have passed MMSC. Simultaneously, transmission was still rising among straight people. It shouldn't be too surprising that straight sex became significant; there are rather a lot of straight people!

The CDC also has us covered for a more current picture, as of 2017-2021 in the US:

This does vary greatly by country. Notably, as of 2022 in England, 49% of new diagnoses were among heterosexuals, compared to 45% among gay/bi men. (Do keep in mind that there are far more straight people, so still, a far higher fraction of gay/bi men were diagnosed.)

I personally find that I get the best understanding when I'm able to combine some direct evidence/data with an understanding of the history and social forces; hopefully this piece helps at least one person out in that way!

[Finally, as a footnote: trans women also exist (hi I'm one) and have historically been at high risk. I am unsure to what extent trans women are omitted versus misgendered in the above data. I wanted to focus on historical estimates over time here, and unfortunately wasn't able to find that for trans women, but this review article links to and summarizes some data from two meta-analyses.]

[foolishsweet]

Aughh Tsukasa peaked in terms of writing on his FES side stories, and ever since it isn't that he is declining, more so he is getting stuck in a loop of struggling that despite any progress he makes, and that feels stagnant.

He tries, he fails, he comes to terms with it, and relatively succeeds, only to face another wall again, and repeat.

The worst part is that people are saying they want him to face failure and it being a big thing, but he literally has been failing. The victories he's been having are all actually quite small.

My only hope is that this is all building up frustration.

Both for the reader and Tsukasa himself, experiencing the slow drag of constantly trying to grow further yet only being able to make small steps after his exponential growth from the previous arc.

Rather than a fear of failure, and making that a big thing, it would fit him more a fear of a lack of progress that has been constantly hinted at.

That despite His best efforts and His attempts to take it all in stride, that he gets tired and frustrated. Tired of waiting. Tired of not knowing what to do.

Bc they brought that up back again in detective Tenma despite closing it in his World Link chapter, and I want that to be for a reason.

Under the cut is more wishful thinking (more so fanfic writing), but feat. The rest of WxS this time

I hope the side story from the Hinomori Tenma Autumn event works as foreshadowing.

That WxS notices that Tsukasa is getting stressed out, so they take him somewhere else with the excuse of them looking for show inspiration, when in reality it is just them trying to get him to relax.

Only for that to fail terribly bc Tsukasa is only thinking about the show and not actually destressing, which makes him actually blow up on them like he did in the main story and feel guilty afterwards.

I want WxS to reassure him that it's fine, and that maybe they went about it the wrong way and if there is something else they could do to relax without thinking about the show this time.

Could be a number of things from this point, like:

Going back to Phoenix Wonderland to ride the ferris well again and talk

Going somewhere with a piano so he can get his feelings out by playing with them present.

Doing something fun like walking around the city.

Going to a music event unrelated to shows.

Hang out in the sekai and explore some more.

After All that He could come back the next day with a half written script that points to how he has been feeling and how their outing made him feel as well. (Not really describing it all on the plot but like, it having the overall feeling of everything, similarly to how the Play of the autumn leafs wasn't about his trip, but held the fluffy and laid back feeling of the trip).

I'm not sure where it could go from there, but they would end up talking about it at least...

Also, if you ask, I want Tsukasa to blow up again because he has been waaaaaay to calm(?) these days and I think he deserves to explode for real at least just once.

But also I just want WxS to hang out. Like friends. No show in sight, just a bunch of teenagers having fun with each other.

God it's been a while since my last long pseudo fanfic post, how much are we betting this concept goes to another unit? And who? Lmao(pain)

[preservationofnormalcy]

ITEM FILE #4911

ITEM: “Extranormal Tickle Me ████”

ITEM DESCRIPTION: This item is nearly identical to a mundane version of the toy, save for the addition of a logo and words “Ο ΚΑΛΥΤΕΡΟΣ ΓΟΝΕΑΣ,” archaic Greek for “To the Best Parent” embroidered on the left foot. Analysis of the thread used for the embroidery revealed that it is composed of pure gold with no other trace elements.

ITEM HISTORY: Recovered from the wreckage of the ██████, Kansas Kmart after the Black Friday Riots of 1996, the item is for all intents and purposes a completely mundane example of the toy. However, when placed into a retail setting for more than two days, those viewing the toy are seized with an intense, overwhelming desire to possess it, and are willing to resort to extreme measures, up to and including violence or theft, in order to claim it as their own. The feeling has been noted to be almost exponentially more intense in parents, but even childless individuals experience it, describing the feeling afterwards as a desire to take the item and resell it for an inflated price. The moment the toy is removed from a retail context, all anomalous properties seem to cease.

Similar toys seem to have been at the nexus of incidents in 1998 in █████████, Pennsylvania and 1999 in █████, Utah, where their anomalous properties caused violent fights to erupt over possession of the toy. In exit interviews with Office personnel, all the participants shared a corroborating experience of rage induced by a desire to possess the toy. ███ ██████, one of the individuals arrested after the brawl in Pennsylvania, claimed that "I don't know what came over me; it was just a toy, but, I knew that I couldn't let that [[expletive]] Cynthia have it; my daughter needed it; *I* needed it."

With the rise of online marketplaces and the decline of physical stores and so-called “fad” toys, incidences of similarly anomalous items seems to have ceased.

ADDENDUM 4911 2021: Item file 4911 was archived in 2002. In 2020 it came to the Office's attention that internet auction or marketplace websites were proliferating gaming systems (most notably the Playstation 5) engraved with the same inscription as the previous toys. All users engaged in selling these specific devices had some variation on the username "Golden_Apple". Investigation is ongoing.

[flamemittens]

TOO LATE. I SEND WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION. FOR THE FLOWER ASK: FERN

Flower Language Prompts from here.

Pairing - Gortash x Fem!Durge. 730 words.

*Now extended and on AO3*

Fern - "In a world of magic, the greatest miracle was you."

She has always surprised him.

Is still surprising him, even after all this time, after all they have been through together. She’s been a particular triumph to discover, to puzzle out, to learn over the years—and a frustration at times too, if he’s honest.

The living weapon he met in those early months, and sought to wield himself, has long since become, in a word, more. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hells, none of this was. Hands that were only supposed to shake once in agreement, now firmly clasped together, oftentimes sweat-slicked and longing.

She has her more chaotic, unknowable, and frankly odd moments, and he has learnt how to deal with it all. She is silk laid over a serrated blade. However, she has become a kindred spirit in so many ways he was not expecting. A hand-crafted match.

Tonight, she’s here in his chambers once more, perched on one of his knees as she thumbs through a sketchbook on his desk. She had declined his offer of a proper chair when she arrived earlier via the terrace windows as per her custom—for once blessedly clean of the aftermath of her calling—instead opting to sit herself down on him and simply respond- ‘This will do’.

“Very well, you infuriating woman” was his retort, slipping a hand round her hip to steady her. “Here. I have something for you to look at.”

And now, he sips at his whisky as he watches her study the schematics. He offers her no hints, but it does not take long for her to discover the amendment. Her face lights up when she sees it, tapping the page with an elegant index finger. “I see you have solved your potential problem with the exponentially high-power requirement at high velocity. This low friction spherical joint design should take care of that.”

He never doubted her. Still, every time, the feeling of being understood, even appreciated, touches him in a way he does not know how to parse. He’s not even sure he wants to.

“And the fusion of biological ideals with that of the mechanical? This is…this is brilliant, Enver.”

He feels almost foolish at how easily the praise stokes the warmth in his chest nursed by the alcohol. His hand reflexively grips her hip a little tighter, as the other swirls the amber liquid in its glass. An idle thought floats to him—he recalls how she had once told him how much she liked the scent of the whisky on his breath. The taste of it on his tongue.

“Yes” is all he offers.

She stops and considers him for a moment, head canted to the side as if somehow the angle will make things clearer.

“You are in a strange mood tonight. You are quiet. Laconic. What ails you?” she tuts, placing her hand on his forehead in a parody of concern for his temperature.

She then shifts closer, and cards her fingers through his hair, nails lightly raking his scalp. It’s soft, too soft for them. He should stand up, take his leave—but he doesn’t. Instead, he thinks about all the things he wants to say to her; the words sit dangerously, blasphemously, close to the tip of his tongue amongst the whisky. He swallows it all down.

“As you wish” she says after a spell, lips curling upwards in a fleeting smirk. He catches it, as he always does. “Keep your secrets, Lord Gortash.”

She does not push him. She knows not to, for the most part.

Suddenly she sighs, closes the book, and stands up; he briefly mourns the loss of the warmth, and wonders if she will insist on making her departure now. He would not blame her. He is poor company tonight. He opens his mouth to try asking her to stay, but before his brain can supply the words, she turns and settles in his lap, straddling him, hands smoothing down his shirt collar—she’s a familiar, comforting weight even as her orange-gold eyes assess him further. A lesser man would wilt under such scrutiny. But not him. A lesser man—and the world is full of damnably lesser men—would not be able to know her, to value her, to match her—nor be able to coax one final climax from her when she thinks she has given her all. Only he can.

To that end, he reaches up and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. It’s easier to fall into their usual routine—offering a suggestion, an invitation.

“It’s late. Shall we retire, my dear?”

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Ten Minutes -

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: Elvis just might get jealous of his children, the stove, the ironing board and anything else that has your attention one hectic morning before he has to go to the Army Base

Warnings: 18+- Pregnant sex, housewife kink, cum dumping, tiny bit of 60’s style degradation, people knowing you’re going back in the house for this?! free use if you squint, dry humping a frozen pea package

Pairings: Army Elvis x wife!reader

Universe: Sarge & lil Mama

Circa 1958

“Lil darlin’, I-I’m sorry but I -not even your pancakes are distraction’ me this mornin.”

You paused, baby spoon of apple sauce half lifted to Ella’s tiny mouth and a wad of sausage stuck in your own cheek, to meet your husband’s glassy eyes. You were startled, not by what he said, but by the fact that since you had last glanced at him he had morphed, his face was now flushed, lips slack and eyes swimming -he looked so close to finishing just sitting here squirming at breakfast that you feel a tingle of shock rip through you at the sight.

Some mornings are nice and intimate, some mornings are rushed but satisfying, few morning are luxurious due to his need to be at the base early, but occasionally there are mornings like this one -where the babies didn’t sleep for you during the night, he didn’t sleep well either and every second of your waking hours this dawn is spent getting him ready for the day and preparing for the horde of relations and fans bound to flood in as soon as he returns this evening. It’s not ideal and you weren’t unaware of his longing looks but after his initial declining of your offer to have you while you changed the babies’ nappies -well, you had assumed he was too tired to want it that much.

But Elvis Presley, for all his raw need and traditional entitlement to your “yittle cunt” was a caring young man, he saw you worked off your feet and the way you were breastfeeding a baby while flipping pancakes and he knew that it was a bad time, all morning it had been a bad time. And he really tried to tell himself he could go one single morning without release. He had broken a pill addiction, he’d sweated it out and gone manic in the nights and still showed up for duty, surely, surely he could leave for once without being buried inside you.

But watching you capably swivel around your duties, swollen belly lush beneath your apron and pair of heels on, breast hanging out of your dress as his clueless child got to suck on those gorgeous nipples of yours, minutes ticking by and his ride to base about to arrive…he had gripped his fork harder and tried not to let it bother him that you seemed fine about being left empty for the morning. He had told you he’d be fine, he ought to have been fine.

But the babies were getting your attention, the stove was getting your attention, hell!- his ironed slacks got your attention but he was left to scarf down pancakes without so much much as a momentary brush of contact. Lack of sleep was making him testy, then testy turned nearly weepy as his deadline drew near.

You looked so soft and nurturing in your little domain that the once small interest his cock took in the proceedings had grown exponentially, watching you lean over the table with your generous bust displayed as you poured him orange juice and flashed him sleepy smiles, asking him about what he had planned for the day -as if he wasn’t struck mute and pussy dumb.

Now the zipper of his slacks was scraping the skin of his retracting

foreskin and he’d take a million sermons from you about the importance of wearing briefs if you would just, -touch him somehow. So he broke, broke down and admitted he couldn’t distract himself enough to prevent him waddling out of here with a flag poll between his legs. So you stared back at him in confusion, trying to decipher his meaning in the half minute allotted you before-

-Just then the sound of a car horn blared outside, his signal to leave, making you both jolt and the friction of it made him whimper, his first thudding against the table causing the babies’ eyes to widen at the sound.

Your eyes scanned from his own glassy ones down beneath the table, to the sizable tent in his khaki pants and you let out a gasp at the way Little Elvis was visibly twitching in fruitless need against his fly, a tiny dark spot forming on the light fabric from his weeping cockhead.

“Oh daddy, you shoulda told me.” you whimpered in sympathy, eyes locking with his burning one’s, apple sauce sliding off the forgotten spoon and down to the table with a splat. “I-it’s time to go, you’ll be late…”

Elvis may be the man of the house, he may have seen to your every want and provision, he may have chosen your haircut and your exercise regimen, but you were commander in chief of mobilizing the troops. If it were not for your punctuality and stern discipline in this regard, the Presley’s would never arrive anywhere within the range of punctuality. He depended on you for this firmness and it was the first true taste of power he gave you in your admittedly imbalanced relationship.

“Oh lord, we gotta get you calmed down!” you wring your hands and his eyes grew wide at your denial of his need and before he could protest, you hopped up from your seat and booked it to the freezer. Pulling out a pack of frozen peas you came back to your astounded man and placed them in his lap, kissing away the hissing cry he let out as the frigid pack landed home on his crotch.

“I’m gonna go out and tell the Major you’ll be in the drive shortly, I’ll buy you time till that little problem calms down, alright?” you were very earnest and grown up right now, kissing his sweaty forehead while holding his chin in your hand and it sunk in for him at that moment that you still craved an escape.

Abashed by the incredulous and almost angry set of his features, you glanced down to his problem and noticed how both his legs bounced beneath his clenched fists, no doubt trying to distract himself but only succeeding at bouncing the veggies against him, adding to the friction.

“Honey,” he said very low and slow, as if trying to impress a fact of life upon, “this ain’t a boo-boo, it ain’t gonna go away like that-“

“I can’t let you be late!” you wailed and his eyes started towards the babies in concern for their witnessing you raise your voice.

“I am not going out there like this-“ he swore, to himself or to you or to the army you didn’t know, but he looked near ready to cry himself, frantic red splashed across his cheeks and throat swallowing thickly.

“I know, I know,” you soothed, glancing towards the door as a more insistent set of blaring came from outside, “just, just try to think about cleaning latrines or diapers or something, Elvis, please! Please, we can’t have you being court martialed over this.”

“It’d be worth it!” he snarls, and you back away from him on instinct, slowly shuffling backwards towards the door to make that obnoxious horn shush, innocent eyes watching as something vicious takes over your husband’s face at your abandonment. As you put a clammy hand on the door handle, signifying your intentions, his lip curls up in cruel derision and you watch horrified as his lithe body undulates off the seat, hips spearing upwards in a calculated pump, the crinkly bag of peas clasped to his crotch. It was obscene and inflammatory and he leers at you cruelly as you fling the front door open, nearly suffocated by the weight of his glare.

“What about the babies?” he hollers after you as you step over the threshold into the early morning sunshine, suddenly outraged and switching tactics at you abandoning your family to stop his commanding officer from walking in on him putting on an unseemly display with a bag of vegetables. -Like you were the villain here.

“They’re strapped into the high chairs, they’ll be fine!” you assure him, trying to keep your voice unaffected by lust and pausing halfway out the door to look back at him, still glowering from his seat at the kitchen table, legs spread wide in the chair, eyes fiery and dark and the front of his pants wet from thawed frost.

Married though you were, your patience taxed though it often was, petulant though he could be, nothing could cloud your appreciation for that sight and the sheer eroticism that glowed from your man when he was revved up. It shimmered around him like an aura of desire and seemed to make his surroundings shrink and tremble from his ravenous energy. You spun away from his hypotonic stare and the suffocating closeness of your little home, shutting the door to block it out before your knees buckled and he got his way.

You swish your way down the short drive to the gate and buzzed it open, allowing the Major and his car to roll on in, a greeting on his tongue and an inquiry as to where his recalcitrant sergeant was.

“He’s coming right out!” you state confidently as he braked near the door, “I’m afraid baby Jesse dumped a bottle in his lap right as you pulled up.” and you laughed gaily as if at a funny memory, and that made the Major laugh too, because you were a pretty woman laughing and it was the polite thing to do.

More polite than unabashedly admiring the way your breasts jiggled from your mirth or how your cheeks seemed flushed and warm, like maybe you’d just been made love to, or embarrassed within an inch of your life. Elvis Presley was a lucky sod and the Major may have envied his younger subordinate but he didn’t dare try anything more than polite chit chat a good four feet apart from you.

It takes all your self possession not to scuff your shoes in a nervous tick as the moments go by and Elvis doesn’t show, his Major eyeing you up and making the most insane small talk all the while, his eyes drifting to the front door.

“Maybe I should go check on him.” you mutter, voice tight in embarrassment and full of nervousness as to what you would find in your kitchen

The Major nods encouragingly and you scamper up the walk and into your house. You haven’t much time to shut the door behind you before you register Elvis’ still sat in his seat and chewing a pancake, it gives you a swooping feeling that whatever is about to occur will be a first in your relationship. You lean back against the door in a slump and take in his cool and powerful demeanor, army jacket still slung over the chairback and tie not fully cinched, and you know for a certainty that somehow you’ve overstepped.

“You scared of me?” he asks, voice low like a rumble and it contrasts with his soft face, such a large voice for so gentle a man. But there is no anger in it, just a demand for truth.

You ponder his question, realising that there were times that you felt anxious around him, a symptom of learning him still while he had studied you for years. But, “No, sir!”, you did not fear him. There was no doubt in your mind that he would never harm you.

“Alright.” he nods, face schooled into neutral pensiveness, “Then dontchu ever run from me again, lil girl. My woman doesn't run from me, am I understood?” he didn’t need to raise his voice to make you, and plenty braver men than you, shudder and nod obediently. “Here’s how this is gonna go,” he eyes the way you clutch your skirt hem in your hands, balling it up nervously and exposing your knees while at it, “you’re gonna go out there and tell the Major I’ll be driving myself. And he’s not to object, you’re to convince him, and then you’re gonna come back inside where you belong and take care of my ‘lil problem’. Ya hearin’ me, mama?”

“I hear ya, daddy.” you whisper, knees knocking briefly just from anticipation and he doesn't fail to notice it, palms the thawed pack over himself while giving you the first genuine grin you’ve seen all morning.

“Go’on now.” he points to the door like you’re a puppy and swallowing thickly around a numb tongue you do as you’re told, you go out again and tell the Major that your husband has suddenly grown an affinity for taking a cab through the German streets to base. That he’ll make up the ten minutes that may put him behind. You offer no excuse, there’s none to give, your flaming face probably says it all. You distract yourself from his scrutiny by the sight of that old busybody neighbor watching your interaction through her binoculars. The Major is concerned that he’s done something to offend and the moments tick by and you grow more and more weary standing in the drive dumbly shrugging off his questions as you feel the babies kicking inside you and your own slick starting to slide down you leg, your well trained kitty already preparing for your husband the second he said he was gonna have you.

The front door swings open causing you both surprise and a very smiley and smarmy Elvis comes to provide reinforcements, just in his pants and shirt, good mornin’ing the Major as you watch his body buzz imperceptibly.

“Where’s the other parts of your uniform, Sergeant Presley?” the Major asks him with amused patience.

“My cover is in the dryer, sir, just ten minutes’all it’ll need.”

“You put a hat in the dryer?”

“Yessir.” he grins whitely, loping his arm around your waist and tugging you closer to him, hand splayed on your lower belly and it’s like he might as well be fingering you, your pussy contracts and jolts so strongly at his touch. “Baby Ella spilled her juice on it.” and he makes a little motion of benevolent exasperation as if to say: babies, who can tame ‘em?

“Mrs. Presley said it was your pants.” the Major wasn’t a stupid man and he liked Elvis well enough to make life a little hard for him.

“Did she now?” your husband exclaimed, “Aww well, no, no uh, it was the hat, alright, she gets a lil fuzzy headed sometimes sir, don’t ya, sweetheart?.”

“Yes Elvis.” you felt like you were spiraling somewhere high in the deep blue yonder with the feel of him pressed against you and his fingertips rubbing suggestive circles on your hipbone.

“Sergeant Presley.” the Major is grave.

“Yessir?”

“Hats are meant to get wet.”

Elvis shuffles behind you a little as he adjusts his grip on your waist and you are certain it is to hide the front of pants. “Yessir, course sir, but, but it’s also ma jacket, sir.”

“Oh no, your jacket!” the Major's face gleams with sympathy, “No soldier should ever have to wear a wet jacket. General Paton said so himself once.”

There is a pause and a eyeing up between the two men over your little head, Elvis now entirely behind you and his chin digging into the top of your scalp as he rests it on your head. You train your eyes at the upstairs window of your neighbors house and the watching figure in it.

“How long will this jacket take to dry?” the Major broke first.

“Fifteen minutes, sir, checked the dial right before I came out.”

“Sure you did.” the Major smiled, “Which means with all this chit chat there’ll only be about five left, am I correct?”

“Ten, sir.”

“Eight.”

Elvis shifts behind you again, “Wearin’ a damp jacket is poor recompense for a fella who bought ya an extra pair of fatigues last month-“ your husband never brought up his own generosity and so to do so suggested he was in dire straits.

“Alright, alright, ten minutes!” the Major throws his hands up and jerks open the car door, seating himself inside, “I’ll be waiting” he adds pointedly as your husband barely manages a salute before shuffling you in front of him back to the door posthaste, hands full of your belly and breast.

“Wave to Mrs. Meyer, lil’, don’t forget your manners, I’ve got my hands full.” Elvis giggles behind you and you wave to her and her binoculars while sticking your tongue out just as he pushes you back over the threshold.

The door clicks behind you both and he sighs at having ten minutes alone with the exaggerated curve of your spine and the feel of your lush bum against his cock -while you survey the mess of apple sauce and sweet potatoes the babies have flung at each other while in your absence, it’s on the walls and maybe the carpet and you’ll have to scrub it before anyone comes over and -and you’re being spun and backed against the entryway wall before you can take another step. He towers over you, hands engulfing your shoulders and thumbs meeting at the base of your throat, and the natural respect he elicits as your husband is magnified by the uniform. The causal dominance that pervades his every action is unbearably strong and you both feel the shudder that rips through you, a slight smirk taking over his face at the effect he has on his little wife.

“Now, we got nine and a half minutes, lil mama,” he nuzzles his nose against yours and his thumbs rub up the column of your throat, “and you best not waste it by making your daddy extract an apology from ya. You better give it willin’ and quick.”

“What’d I do?” you whimper, confused and needy, spreading your legs to accommodate him as he crowds you, trying to trap a meaty thigh between them so you can grind.

“You called poor, achey lil Elvis a problem.” he reminds you, pulling away from you and denying you friction as he undoes the plain army belt from around his elegant waist.

Tears prick your eyes as you realize your good intentions were mistaken for reluctance and you’re quick to gasp out, “I’m so sorry daddy, I didn’t mean it that way, just trying to help!”

He hums as he pulls out his cock, the engorged and vibrant length of it looking particularly lewd sticking out of his drab and pressed uniform, “Don’t need to apologize to daddy, lil mama, I knows what you intended and I appreciate ya,” he murmurs real solem and you wait intently for instructions on how to make this right, “But lil Elvis here needs a kiss for bein’ treated like a damn owie when all he’s ever done to you is fill ya up and rub ya real nice. He gets reeealll weepy and small when you’re mean to him.”

You bend so fast to penitently kiss the goey head of his uncut cock that he has to stumble back a bit to give you room. He cries out as your lips smooch his dripping head and he winds his hand in your hair and yanks you off desperately, pressing you to the wall again and devouring your tacky lips with his own. He pulls away from you panting and wild, looking very boyish again now he’s convinced of your own fever, and without a second thought he grips the front of your dress and rips the fastened placket open, buttons flying everywhere. He groans down at the sight of you in heels with your pantyless cunt exposed, a sign of your obedience to his house rules.

“Turn round now,” his voice is gentle but gone beyond rough as he maneuvers you to lean and face the wall, hands splayed against the dry wall and back arched by instinct, “we ain’t got much time, and while it would serve ya right if I left you clenchin’ round nothin I can’t ever be cruel to the likes of you Mrs Presley, so you best be ready for me.”

“Please, daddy, I’m ready.” you lay your burning cheek against the cool drywall, feeling him flip up the scrap of skirt still left, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as the babies knock the remaining food off their trays.

“Spread those pretty legs, mama.” the toe of his show nudges your instep and you arch and spread further, readying for the burning plunge of his entry.

What you get instead is a resoundingly loud spank against the sopping wet oasis between your legs and it hits just right, pain and pleasure enough for you to shudder and gush through your folds and down your legs to his immense delight.

“Now that’s for being a hypocrite.” he crows and he is suddenly prying something between your stiff fingers and the wall, you realise in a daze it’s his watch. “You count the minutes out to me, alright?” he commands, splaying the hand wet from your cunt across your belly as he does indeed push inside you this time, and it makes you spasm, barely able to hold yourself upright from the feel of him pushing through the fluttering aftershocks of your petite orgasm. The squelch is deafening in the quiet house and it’s all the assurance he needed, his tone cocky as he bottoms out,

“Actin’ like I’m a damn imposition when you’ve got a ‘lil problem’ yourself. And I do mean little, this tiny pussy is a greedy little menace, make no mistake.” he sets a hard and deep pace that is meant to make him burst in under eight minutes, and you take it like he’s taught you to, with deep breaths and moans and a constant irrepressible clenching of your vaginal walls, “Hell, baby, you’re gushin’ so bad I can hardly stay in, why, the Major was liable to smell ya you’re so oiled.”

“I-I-I wanted you!” you wail in protest through the rough smacking of his hips against your butt, “I really did. I-I always do, I-I just d-didn’t want it to reflect badly on you.”

“I know, I know, real sweet of ya.,” he coos in your ear, hot breath tickling your neck as he grunts and huffs from exertion, “But peas baby? Really?”

“I didn’t know-“

“You’d don’t know much of nothin’ but how to take cock.” he chuckles at your answering whine, his large hands wandering ceaselessly over your wobbling curves.

Your legs start to give out from the overstimulation, having hit your peak too soon and now being subjected to a merciless battering of your sweet spot, you mewl out the passing minutes and claw at the wall. Your obvious desperation sends a thrill through him, egging him on through his burning thighs to give you all he’s got before the clock runs out.

“Little problem” he mimics your own voice mockingly in your ear, but it’s huffy as he’s getting worn down too, “little problem. A-a-anything about t-t-this feel little, sweetheart?” he jams himself in deep as you howl, bent at the waist and scratching the paint, head hung between your shoulders as you try to endure the horrifyingly delicious ordeal.

“Elvis, Elvis, Elvis,” you chant, eyes going fuzzy as you stare down at your shoes.

“Almost, honey, almost,” he whines himself, arm coming around your chest and hauling you upright against him, like his own little doll as he mouths at your cheek and ruts up inside you desperately. “Bein’ so good, so good for me, good lil wife like always. Don’t make ‘em like you no more, I got a keeper and, oh Lord Jesus help me I can’t breath, goddamn baby, I -uh, uh uh, huh, uh,”

You throw your arm back and grip his ass, pulling him deep and the drag of him makes you jolt, “C’mon daddy, show me I did good, give me that cream, gonna be raw without it.”

He sounds like he’s choking, burning hand squeezing your bare breast so hard a little milk dribbles out over his knuckles and he bucks up into you deep, so deep and it’s the most blissful feeling being the cause of this complete loss of control on his part as you feel the soothing splatter of his cum paint your walls.

He staggers back into the opposite wall with you still limply impaled, your heels scuffing the floor, and you both pant, his cheek smushed against yours and his hands cradling your full belly. “How’s that now?” he wheezes and you grin at his need to keep the upper hand after the pathetic amount of mewling he just let out, “You all full’n happy now, hmm?”

You nod shyly and take a hand from your belly and guide him down to your dripping foldings and you both hum at the heat coming from the poor abused petals. “Swirl it around daddy,” you remind him, “I’ll get all bruised if you don’t spread it around, ‘member what you taught me?”

“Mhmm, yeah, gotta spread it round, that’s right.” he swirls his exiting spend around your puffy cunt and he gives your little bud one last pat with his broad palm before pulling his cock out fully and picking your boneless body up in his arms.

He lays you on the couch tenderly, eyeing the torn dress falling off your ripe figure, and his heart swells at your sweet acceptance of him, the way you look content and knowing lying there wrecked and oozing. A building little cry from the high chairs snaps him out of his daze, reminding him of the ticking clock and the rest of the world outside of your warm eyes. He bends down and kisses you firmly, a quick but unmistakable show of thanks.

“I’ll get her.” you tell him, making to haul your jellied self off the couch.

“No, no stay, I’ll bring ‘em to ya.” he pushes your shoulder back down softly, trying to wrestle his pant fly closed as he makes his way towards the babies.

“There’s an extra pair of pressed trousers hanging in the laundry room.” you murmur through your tingly haze at the sight of his drenched slacks.

He gives you a grin of his own and shucks off the ruined pants halfway across the kitchen, hobbling with them to the adjoining laundry room, warbling to Ella which predictably makes her hush her crying for a brief moment to watch him pass in infantile astonishment.

“How’m I doin’ mama?” you hear him holler over the sound of the kitchen faucet running, he having stripped the babies of their sweet potato covered onesies and chosen to carry them at arms length to the sink, one by one, and hosing them off there.

“Thirty four seconds, Sarge.”

He appears over the back of the couch, a wet and naked baby in each elbow crook, his shirt sticking to his chest from their dampness, and you laugh at the hopelessness of the Major believing any of your excuses. “Here’s the lil critters.” he plops them on your exposed chest and you clutch them to you as they start to root around for a nipple, never satisfied.

He tugs on his jacket and cinches his tie, smoothing his hair back, hat clutched in his hand and he looks so very presentable striding over to you while you’re here in disarray, covered in children, cum and fabric scraps.

He pauses beside the couch to survey the pile of humans he loves, “Never seen’a prettier sight in all my life.” he whispers earnestly and you know he means it, all teasing gone.

You stretch your hand out to give him his watch back and his fingers linger over yours as he takes, and it thrills you like it’s the first time. “See ya later, soldier.” you whisper against his lips as a car horn blares outside.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

Defund the police blamed for post-covid cognitive decline, apparently lmao. Since when has a citation ever stopped a traffic accident? This is like blaming 2020 "lockdowns" on children still suffering learning losses (e.g. "Not having an exponential increase in test scores for the 20th year in a row) in 2024.

By TJ Martinell

The number of annual traffic fatalities in Washington state has jumped from 528 in 2019 to 810 in 2023, a 51% increase since 2019, according to the Washington Traffic Safety Commission.

The reasons given for the increase vary, ranging from fallout among law enforcement staffing via the defund the police movement in 2020 to increased substance abuse amongst drivers.

Both the WTSC and the Washington State Patrol last year made public statements about the rise in traffic fatalities that made 2023 the deadliest since 1990. At the time of the statements in August 2023, there were 417 traffic fatalities, a little more than half of the annual total.

While deaths by police pursuit in the past have hogged the political spotlight despite being statistically insignificant in comparison, commission staff have described the state’s traffic fatalities as a “safety crisis.”

WTSC Director Shelly Baldwin noted at the WTSC’s Thursday meeting that “our increase is kind of across the board,” but also “Washington is … kind of really an outlier by itself” among the states.

“Motorcycles [fatalities] has reached a high that they've never seen before historically,” she said.

Speculation as to why traffic fatalities increased varied. Mason County District Court Judge George Steele, who represents the District and Municipal Court Judges' Association on the commission, told colleagues that “a lot of pressure on policing started in 2020. Police departments had trouble filling their ranks. In my county … there was a period of time almost every DUI case that came across my bench was responding to an accident. Driver went off the road. sometimes joke with people if we just get rid of ditches, we wouldn't have any more problems. Ditches seem to be catching a lot of drunk drivers.” He added that “there's not enough people out there. I think it's pretty clear that enforcement has suffered during all this time. Lack of people are available to take the jobs, fill the, fill the ranks of what had to and, as a result, in case they're not being enforced, you're going to get more of the behavior. If you don't look at that part of it, you're not to be having a whole lot of success and making inroads into that problem.” WSTC Distracted Driving Program Manager Janine Koffel remarked that “I think a fundamental challenge that we face with speed management is the lack of perception of risk by drivers, perception of risk that they're going to get a ticket. If they're going to get stopped for speeding and that they'll get a ticket, they have a low perception of risk for serious injury or fatal crashes.” She said a statewide survey they conducted found that 78% of drivers admitted driving at 10 miles per hour or more over speed limits within a month’s time. “We need to work cooperatively to determine strategies and messaging that…really pivot the perception of risk in relation to speed risk,” she said. “That's where enforcement plays a critical role. We need citations for everyone, soccer moms, and all.” Another fallout from 2020 has been increased use of substances such as alcohol or cannabis by drivers, according to WTSC External Relations Director Mark McKechnie. At the same time, he said there are a lot of drivers who are able to get a license without going through a driving education course. “If they haven't had that basic education as their foundation on what the rules of the road are and how to drive safely and how to understand those risks from speeding and other behaviors, then it's hard to remind them of something that they may not have learned well in the first place,” he said. He added that “we need more sidewalks and protected bike lanes and we need infrastructure that encourages people to slow down.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Published: Mar 30, 2023

For over a decade, the Gender Affirmative Model has been the standard of care for gender dysphoric youth across the West. Yet, despite its widespread and long-standing use, good evidence to support it remains elusive.  Maybe that’s because there isn’t any.

A new paper reports on results from a survey of 1,655 parents of children who developed gender dysphoria during adolescence or soon after. American Academy of Pediatrics guidelines recommend affirming these kids in their new gender, and supporting them along the path to social, medical (hormonal), and surgical transition.

The results of this survey provide strong support for Dr. Littman’s Rapid-Onset Gender Dysphoria (ROGD) hypothesis, which suggests that gender dysphoria in this group may resolve with time and good psychological and social support, if needed.

Key Findings

Key findings of particular concern are that these children tend to have emotional problems that predate their gender-related issues by nearly four years. Furthermore, children with mental health issues were more likely than those without to have taken steps to transition.  Children who were referred to a gender specialist were also more likely to have taken steps to transition. Parents reported feeling pressured by these specialists to transition their child. And parents reported a decline in their child’s mental health and social functioning after transition.

History of Gender Dysphoria and Standards of Care

About 15 years ago, Western countries began experiencing an exponential rise in adolescents and young adults suddenly developing gender dysphoria and being referred to gender clinics for treatment. Around the same time, a new philosophy on transgenderism began to take root:  Just as there is nothing wrong with being attracted to the same sex, there was nothing wrong with identifying with a gender that did not match your biological sex.  In other words, being transgender is perfectly normal. It is not a mental illness.  If a trans person does have any mental health issues, it can be attributed to the extreme distress of having to live in a body that does not feel right (gender dysphoria), and the stress of living in a judgmental, transphobic world.

Out of this philosophy grew the Affirmative Care Model. This model focused on reassuring (affirming) people that their gender identity was real, normal and natural, and helping them take steps to relieve their gender dysphoria through social, medical (hormonal) and surgical transition. In order to address their social distress from lack of acceptance, much effort is devoted to creating a supportive environment among friends, family, schools and society in general.

Although there was almost no evidence to support it at the time, the Affirmative Care Model quickly became the standard of care in most Western countries.

In 2016, Dr. Littman noticed an anomalous spike in teenage girls suddenly declaring themselves transgender and became concerned.  She conducted a survey of their parents to learn more about this new phenomenon.  Based on what she found, she proposed that a new sub-category of gender dysphoria had emerged, this one sharing more similarities with anorexia and other eating disorders than with the previously recognized types of gender dysphoria.  Dr. Littman described Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria (ROGD) in her seminal paper published in 2018.

ROGD develops suddenly, during or after puberty in a person who would not have met the criteria for childhood gender dysphoria. Most often, these kids are white, highly intelligent and come from well-educated families. ROGD affects mainly girls, and groups of friends often come out as trans together. The influence of social media is believed to play a role. They often have a prior history of mental health issues, developmental difficulties or have experienced a traumatic or stressful event before developing gender dysphoria. A prior history of self-harm and difficulty fitting in with their peers are also common. Sadly, transitioning is not likely to help these kids with their issues as it does not address the root cause.  In fact, it has a good chance of making things much worse.

The ROGD hypothesis suggests that for these unhappy kids, “gender dysphoria” is a catch-all phrase for any kind of distress, and transition is the cure-all solution

Since the publication of Littman’s paper, the ROGD hypothesis has come under fire from proponents of the affirmative care model.  It’s easy to see why:  The affirmative care model is based on the premise that being transgender is perfectly normal. The ROGD model suggests that this particular kind of gender dysphoria – and the desire to transition – is most definitely not normal. It’s a maladaptive coping mechanism.

Unfortunately, there is little evidence to support either hypothesis.

The World Professional Association for Transgender Health’s newest Standards of Care, published in Oct. 2022 admits, “A key challenge in adolescent transgender care is the quality of evidence evaluating the effectiveness of… gender-affirming medical and surgical treatments.” “The number of studies is still low and there are few outcome studies that follow youth into adulthood.”

Testing the ROGD hypothesis presents its own challenges.  In North America, gender clinics are still using the affirmative model as a standard of care, which views taking steps to transition as medically necessary and thus, would be unwilling to test the ROGD model. Further, ROGD has become such a contentious topic at universities that any academic who broaches the subject risks career suicide. Just ask Dr. Littman and Dr. James Caspian.

Survey Results

Concurring with Dr. Littman’s findings, our survey indicates children who are most likely to develop ROGD are of European descent (78.9%), with above-average intelligence. They are also more likely to be female (75%). Their gender dysphoria develops around the age of 14 for girls, and 16 for boys. This may be partly due to the fact that boys go through puberty later than girls.

Their parents are more likely to be progressive and hold positive views towards LGBTQ+ rights.  Frequently, parents went out of their way to make sure the reader understood this when they told their stories. Many had family and friends in the LGBTQ+ community, and some were members themselves. They just didn’t feel it made sense in their child’s case.

A majority of these kids were dealing with mental health issues (57%) that began around the age of 10, well before they developed gender dysphoria, and 42% of them had received a formal psychological diagnosis.  The most frequently-reported issues were anxiety and depression. Self-harm was also prevalent in girls. Attention deficit disorder, autism, and obsessive-compulsive disorder were reported in numbers higher than the general population.

Very often, these kids had experienced a stressful event before they developed gender dysphoria (72.6%). Some described issues that would be overwhelming even for an adult to deal with, such as the suicide of a close relative, receiving a serious medical diagnosis such as cancer, being sexually assaulted, or being present at a mass shooting. Sometimes, the stress was more mundane, like moving, breaking up with a girl- or boyfriend, or having a good friend turn on them, but the child was having a hard time dealing with it. During the lock downs due to COVID, the strain of isolation was especially hard on these kids.

Parents also reported that their kids were having a lot of trouble fitting in with their peers at an age when being accepted feels like the most important thing in the world. Only about a quarter of parents reported that their child was well liked, and only one third said their kids got along well with other kids.

Parents reported their kids spent an average of 4.5 hours per day on the internet and social media.

When asked whether their child had friends who came out at the same time, 60.9% said their daughters did, compared with only 38.7% of their sons.  The average number of friends who came out were 2.4.

“My daughter used to be so lonely her only friend was her guinea pig. At 11, a girl at school befriended her as did her group of friends. All of a sudden, my daughter said she was bi, then gay, then pan, then poly, then fluid, now trans. Her mental health is deteriorating and the psychiatrists (this is her 6th) seem to push their own agenda and label me transphobic. I KNOW my daughter. When no social group will welcome you and one finally does, you’ll conform to fit in, to not lose the only ‘friends’ you have.”

~Parent of an ROGD Kid

Transition

The majority of the children had socially transitioned at the time parents completed the survey (65.3%), and girls tended to socially transition earlier (age 15) than boys (age 17). In general, parents reported that their children had not started taking puberty blockers or hormones, and surgery was especially rare.

Girls who had friends who socially transitioned were more likely to do so themselves (73.3%), compared with only 39.5% of boys who were more likely to transition if they had a friend who did so.

One very concerning finding was that children with preexisting mental health issues were also more likely to socially transition than those without. This is worrisome, because children with emotional issues may lack the judgment needed to make serious, and sometimes irreversible, decisions about their bodies.

Another troubling finding was that children who received a referral to a gender specialist were more likely to have transitioned. This is especially concerning because 51% of parents who took their kids to a gender specialist also reported that they felt pressured to transition their child.

Effects of Transition on Mental Health and Social Functioning

When asked about the state of their child’s mental health after social transition, they were much more likely to say it had worsened than improved.

Sadly, the change in the quality of the parental relationships also declined, as shown in the table below:

Conclusion

The results of the largest survey to date on gender dysphoric adolescents support Dr. Littman’s ROGD hypothesis. These youth are most likely using “gender dysphoria” to describe general feelings of dysphoria that they have no other name for, and do not understand.  Transitioning will not help them. It can only cause irreversible harm and make things much worse.

Sweden, Norway, Finland, the UK and some States are backing away from the gender affirmative model, citing the lack of evidence and amid the growing number of detransitioners, many of whom are launching lawsuits against the gender specialists who harmed them. (See Ritchie Herron and Keira Bell, Michelle Zacchigna and Chloe Cole.)

Yet here in North America, the United States and Canadian Governments, the American Academy of Pediatrics and most other medical associations, are doubling down on the gender affirmative model.

If they truly want to “do no harm”, then they must follow Sweden’s lead and stop transitioning minors.

==

This should be good news. We have good reason to believe that distress can be resolved by treating the underlying cause, rather than through invasive and irreversible hormones, drugs and surgeries. How can this be a bad thing?

Because it's not about helping distress; if it was, they'd applaud the best treatment that causes the least harm. But it's about using anxious kids as pawns to remake society according to Queer Theory.

[raptorfae53]

Ãrohwan Trapinch, Vibrava and Flygon. (Bug - Dragon)

Far removed from its mainland relatives desert origins, this pokemon line is adapted for a life in the trees, sporting an extra set of arms,clever nimble claws and long prehensile tail,with their wings vestigial and osteoderm-like, rendering these pokemon flightless.

These pokemon sport voracious appetites and have made themselves an enemy of farmers since humans first arrived in Ãrohwa by devouring all manner of crops. With the advancement of technology in the aftermath of the great cataclysm however these pokemon have grown wary, with their numbers declining rapidly as a result of their former victims ire to the point they have been considered extinct a few times in the last century. (Every time a search is put out a few are found,with one particularly sparse search ending after a flygon,relaxing on a particularly brittle branch,fell out of a tree and onto a passing conservationist)

To those with the luck (or lack thereof) to be training an Ãrohwan Flygon, this food based motivation is everything to training one of these pokemon. Like many dragon types training can be long and drawn out, not helped by the self centered attitude most Ãrohwan Flygon have. Having experience with strong pokemon and having said strong pokemon on hand as well as instilling a rewards system for a job well done are known to work exponentially in training this evolutionary line, and if trained well can result in a strong battler and companion,just make sure you keep snacks on hand!

Design inspiration down below:

Flygon is a personal favourite pokemon of mine and it seems the eternal middle child of the 2000s pokemon games dragons. No fancy mega evolution/temporal variant like fellow hoennite (hoennese?) Dragons salamence and altaria and the misfortune of being the same type as garchomp with lesser stats,hence folks gravitating towards it or the plethora of other hoenn or sinnoh dragons (including a trio of actual gods) over it, so I felt it fair to throw the poor guy a bone as well as finally bestow upon it a regional variant with the bug typing people have been confused it didn't have since 2002 (something something antlions).

The main reasoning for said typing is one of its primary inspirations, the coconut rhinoceros beetle.

Native to mainland Asia but introduced to much of the Pacific including Samoa and Tonga where parts of Ãrohwa are based upon. This beetle has been a scourge of these islands crop plantations since it arrived, munching through palm plantations with reckless abandon, free from predators such as shrews and click beetles since the beginning of the 20th century, a voracious creature befitting a dragon.

The other inspiration for this regional form are mekosuchine crocodilians .

You're first reaction to that information was probably what on earth a mekosuchine is?

Simply put mekosuchines were a family of crocodilians found in Australia and the Pacific until as recent as 3000 years ago (with a specimen belonging to the family found in the same St Bathans assemblage as the inspiration for an earlier 'mon koikekkai,hence the inclusion in a NZ based region) that encompassed a wide range of niches both semi aquatic like you'd expect a crocodile to do, and terrestrial, with the genus the family is named for, mekosuchus itself speculated by some to be arboreal:

Anyways I hope you like the first of the regional variants I've thought up for this region because these three won't be the first or last, unlike some (paldea), see you soon with some more art!

[ceslatoil]

WIP: The Gilded Cage, Chapter 7

SO to @cthulhu-of-the-night for the artwork! This is a sneak peak at Chapter 7 of my Genderswapped Billford Fic The Gilded Cage! Enjoy!

November 18th, 189X

My Dearest F,

My work continues as always. In the last week I’ve shred my adventures involving the wicked undead, lake dwelling monsters, and the irritating company of judgemental unicorns! Through correspondence with Mr. Armitage back in New Jersey, the recounts of the exploits have exponentially increased the sales of The Fantastical Nature Journal exponentially!

However, as the days grow caldera and the nights long and dark, I’ve found it harder to leave the warmth of my home. Luckily, Bill has offered up a new assignment that I can complete within the comfort of our private library: I am to translate the encrypted lost texts of Circe Mecc! We were able to find the journals within Gravity Falls’ small historical archive. Her alchemical texts are all in a difficult code, but I have been able to decode several passages. It seems that beyond her work on creating a philosopher’s stone, the woman was attempting to use a combination of evolutionary theory and alchemical practices to create artificial life! In a few months, I should be able to discover even more about this fascinating, mysterious figure.

I wish that all of my tasks were so intellectually rewarding. After the death of my spouse’s business associate, Bill has announced intent to throw a New Year’s Eve masquerade ball, supposedly to get everyone’s mind off the tragedy. Personally, it just sounds like an excuse to throw an elaborate dinner and wear silly outfits. Poor Susan, the cook, is quite put out by all the recipes for canapes and elaborate entrees she’s been expected to learn in a few weeks time.

Bill is in high spirits though: she has commissioned a pair of costumes for us both! I’m to be Andromeda, Princess of Aethiopia, and Bill will be the dreaded sea monster, the Cetus.

I’ve attached in this letter an invitation for you. I’ll understand if you decline, the trip is long and it sounds like your mentor has been keeping you busy. However, it just feels strange to not invite my best friend. I hope you are keeping well!

Warm Regards,

R. Cipher

[hit-song-showdown]

Year-End Poll #31: 1980

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Blondie, Pink Floyd, Olivia Newton-John, Michael Jackson, Captain & Tennille, Queen, Paul McCartney, Lipps Inc, Billy Joel, Bette Midler. End description]

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From here on, I know that the number of people who follow this blog who were around to see these songs on the charts will increase exponentially. To be honest, I am very intimidated. Please be nice to me.

The 1970's exists in a weird time in pop culture history, because it really feels like an island. Any decade that begins with the Beatles breaking up and ends with the murder of John Lennon is going to exist in a strange place culturally. Combine that with the previously mentioned decline of disco, the simultaneous rise in inflation and unemployment, and President Carter's declining popularity leading to Ronald Reagan's landslide victory. It was clear that whatever the next decade was, it wasn't going to be like the 70s.

But during this year, Reagan wasn't in office, so I don't have to talk about that yet.

Musically, you can see the last bits of the 70's clinging on. Disco, despite being famously "killed off" still has its place on the charts. Funkytown, for example, is often brought up in pop culture mythology as being the "last big disco song". I'm mostly bringing it up because I feel bad that I had to crop the song's composer, Steven Greenberg, out of the banner. The one good thing about the charts moving away from orchestras and ensembles is that I don't have to worry about cropping people out.

But in addition to the endings, the dawn of the 1980's also comes with its new beginnings. For one, Michael Jackson's solo career will take him from the standout star of the Jackson 5, to the king of pop music itself.

I talked a bit about the rise of punk rock in the 70's, but I didn't go into that much detail because the scene didn't have much presence on the charts. The Clash may have been "The Only Band That Matters", but that wasn't the case to the data compiling the Hot 100. However, while punk rock has seen little mainstream success on the charts, several of its descendants will come to define this decade. Most notable here is Blondie, kicking off the decade with one of its first new wave hits. This movement will only continue to grow from here, especially when we get to the second British Invasion, as well as pop music becoming more image-focused during the MTV era.

Which means I will no longer struggle to find pictures of the artists features in these polls.