#but what explanation is there that makes sense for this

[chipped-chimera]

Okay psych nerd here who is not going to bloat this with a tag explanation and instead just write the thing:

The answer is two things -

Dehumanization / Distancing from Humanity

Moral Psychology

Here's an example in action. So I'm sure everyone knows about the Trolley Problem - you are standing near a train track at the track switch, an out of control train barrelling down the rails. On one of the tracks, are a group of men working on the rails (or tied to the rails if you prefer the image version). If you do nothing, it will collide with the group of people and kill them. On the other hand, if you use the switch and change the track, it'll instead kill just one person. This one people can reasonably complete, the usual choice being kill one to save five or whatever.

But here is another version. The Fat Man Trolley Problem (not my wording). In this version of the Trolley Problem, you are standing on a bridge overpass of a traintrack. Next to you is a very large man. Below you, are the five workmen. The train is out of control, but you realise if you push the fat man off the bridge and onto the track, his mass will be enough to stop the train and save the five people on the track. What do you do?

Naturally, this one prompted visceral reactions from people it was pitched to in studies - which begs the question, how is this version different from the switch problem? In both problems, you have the choice to sacrifice one to save many, but the mere thought of having to physically push another person onto the tracks crosses a line.

That's because a switch distances you from the situation, in a sense, you are removed from the humanity in the decision making and it's pure logic. Harm is a side-effect of flicking the switch, in a way you are less involved. Having to push the man, however, is forcing you to confront the human-ness of the situation, to look someone in the face and make that decision.

A lot of the problems in the world, and their respective government entities who are supposed to be fixing them, often have zero experience in the very thing they're supposed to be solving. They're sitting in an office, far, far away looking at a bunch of numbers spat out by a consulting agency while there are homeless in the streets. The switch they pull is so far away they can't even see the people their decisions affect. And if they think less of the people they are making decisions over, like the very, very, very obviously misplaced idea that homelessness is somehow caused by moral failing - that will distance them from the humanity of the situation even further.

I think back to an article I read about someone who had lost their husband to suicide after many, many, many years struggling, went to a conference regarding mental health. The participants of this conference would be the ones making major decisions that would affect the health and outcomes of other people. She confronts one of them, and asks them - have you ever been affected by depression? have you ever had someone in your family been affected?

He seemed shocked and startled. But he answered no.

That should say everything. Anyway this is why I think it should be mandatory for anyone forming country-wide, dramatically-impactful policies in government, especially regarding minorities and poverty - should have a MANDATORY amount of hours they have to spend per year with said people who will be affected by their decisions. And none of this distanced hand shaking for the cameras, I mean living that experience as closely as possible.

It's not that humanity is dead. It's not that we get up with the intention of causing harm every day. It's just a fact of psychological distancing that causes us to lose our connection with it. This can be unintentional, but sometimes it is intentional. It's often a tactic in war propaganda, to cast the enemy in such an evil light that the idea of killing many to protect or save your people - even if it's women and children, and disabled and elderly people, and civilians - is somehow justified.

So the next time you vote or support a cause or whatever in your life that may end up influencing the situation of people, outside of your known experience - stop for a moment, and have a think about what it is like for those individuals. If you had to physically go to them, and look them in the eyes - would you make the same decisions?

Also vote for people with lived experience into those positions to make the decisions when you can!

It confuses me how normalized it is to be so anti human. The fact that two countries voted no to food being a human right. The fact so many people are against universal healthcare. The fact that it’s normal to believe some people don’t deserve housing because they’re poor, addicts, mentally ill, or any combination of the above. I find it so hard to comprehend that humans who have experienced hunger, thirst, cold, and illness would wish these things upon others, or at the very least not care. It frustrates me beyond belief.

These are the exact values we’re taught as children, to believe all humans are equal in worth and needs, and yet at some point you’re expected to grow out of that illusion. You’re expected to accept that this is what life’s like, that the world is unfair, and attempting to fix it makes you weak and childish.

[itsrlymine]

i apologize for the really long ask but i really wanted to share my thoughts and i would make my own loa blog but i dont have it in me to deal with anons so i fear i will dump them all on you 😔 first off i want to say THANKKKK YOUUUUUU you literally changed my manifestation journey i used to be really into manifestation back in 2021/2022 and i was trying to manifest my dream face but it never happened no matter how much i affirmed or listened to subs or anything so i was just like fuck it this manifesting stuff isnt real imma just move on with my life and thats how i went about my life until you popped up on my dashboard a month ago and usually i would click not interested on any loa content but i was like you know what lemme give this stuff a chance again bc i did try the non manifesting route and it didnt work out bc when i tell you my life went DOWNHILL i used to protect myself from negative experiences by having the belief that i was simply the exception to terrible stuff but the moment i left the loa behind and was like no thats unrealistic anything can happen well guess what!! so many bad stuff happened in my life the last 2 years its genuinely crazy. so i was like lemme try this again and i went through your blog and really tried to materialize everything you were saying and read it with the attitude that what you are saying IS real instead of the doubting attitude i had towards loa advice/info back in 2022 and things really shifted for me.

so the first thing i learned is that MANIFESTATION IS REAL and more importantly NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE what i went through these past two years was proof to me that manifestation is real because once i adopted that negative mindset and dropped any positive beliefs i had my life became a nightmare and all those terrible thoughts manifested right before my eyes. for example i used to believe that i always looked pretty no matter what, this was just something part of my belief system but when i abandoned the law and everything i told myself no thats crazy i cant mAniFeSt looking pretty its unrealistic if im not pretty then im just not and bro when i tell you i was at my lowest appearance wise I WAS AT MY LOWESSTT my classmates at school would come up to me and tell me i looked so different and so dull even my mom would say the same stuff to me and tell me i changed i also noticed a difference when i looked in the mirror. the reason why i felt like manifestation wasnt real was because it just seemed really crazy to me, i felt like things materializing out of nowhere and appearances changing drastically was just like something fantastical and just not possible here in the real world. well i am here to tell you that is NAWT THE CASE! the world is not logical and im gonna tell you why. most of us here have grew up religious, and whats more illogical than religion? there are so many stories in the bible where illogical stuff happen like youre telling me some guy can turn water into wine? doesnt that sound like something out of a fantasy movie? but it happened, right? you believe in the bible so you believe in all the stuff that happened in it even the magical stuff. and another thing with growing up religious is that we always hear stories about miracles where for example a neighbor who was really sick suddenly woke up completely healthy. and we also were taught that we can ask god for anything and that god can make anything happen. i remember when my dad would teach me about religion he would say that god can make the grass is purple if he wanted to. it isnt just in religion but also in another spiritual communities and stuff they also have their own stories where things that dont really make sense logically happen. this goes to show that the world and humanity were never logical and that illogical things can happen, they've been happening since the dawn of time. people just came up with their own explanations. so get that thought that you cant change your entire face because its too crazy out of your head because it isn't. anything is possible. we literally live on a rock and we somehow move and speak and talk and somehow atoms exist so pls get with the program aint nothing logical in this life and the sooner you come to terms with that the better. nothing is too crazy because existence itself is crazy.

the second thing i learned was that MANIFESTATION IS NOT A PROCESS. i used to hear this all the time back in 2022 and it never made sense to me i was always like what tf are yall talking about???? my understanding was that manifestation is the act of trying to get something, but i was so so wrong. everything changed for me when i started approaching manifestation with the attitude that i was reminding myself of what i have, not trying to get what i want. basically stop thinking of manifestation as manifestation if ykwim. to really understand this im gonna have to talk about the whole "decide that you have your desire > affirm that you have it > keep presisting" thing and break it down.

so what do people mean when they tell you to decide that you have your desire? does it mean saying out loud "i have __" and then a few seconds going "alright wheres my ___?" no. it means you in your mind decide that its ALREADY YOURS and that you ALREADY GOT IT. i dont know how to word this any differently because its so simple its literally in the words. im gonna try an example. im assuming that youre reading this with your eyes so you have eyes. are you trying to 'manifest' having eyes? when you say "i have eyes" are you using an affirmation to get eyes? is having eyes a desire youre trying to 'manifest'? no because you literally already have eyes bro how else are you reading this with your bootyhole??? so when you say "i have eyes" you arent manifesting via affirming, youre just saying it to remind yourself because well you have eyes. you arent trying to manifest eyes because you already have them. thats what it means to decide that your desire is yours. it means to stop treating what is yours as a desire because its literally yours. stop seeing it as something youre trying to manifest because you already have it, wtf do you need to manifest for? do you get it? don't think of doing this as you tricking your mind into thinking you have your desires because AGAINN you arent tricking anything you literally already have it. when you say "i have eyes" and you have eyes are you trying to trick gour brain? no. that sounds silly. im sorry that this is so repetitive but its literally that simple idk what everyone else is doing complicating the most simple thing ever.

and now, what do people mean by affirm that you have it? does that mean using affirmations to manifest your 'desire'? (i put desire in quotations bc you already have it since you decided you do) no. it simply means reminding yourself that you do. ill go back to the eyes example. if you were to say "i have eyes" right now would you understand that as some woo woo manifestation affirmation technique? no because you already have eyes. what youre doing is simply stating a fact and reminding yourself of it for funsies. you arent trying to manifest anything because you already have it. affirming doesn't mean tricking your brain or your subconscious that you have your desire or whatever, its just you reminding yourself.

and finally, what does it mean to persist? does that mean fighting for your life trying to convince yourself that you have your desire? no. because you already have it. it simply means that everytime you ask yourself "oh why isnt this showing up in my 3d?" you tell yourself "bro what tf are you on about were not manifesting anything we already have it are you crazy?" that's all. going back to the eyes example, you know you have eyes, so if someone came up to you rn and was like "hey did your eyes come in yet?" you'd probably think they hit their head or something because your eyes are literally right there its how youre seeing their dumbass. that's the same attitude you have to have towards your 'desires'. stop thinking of your 'desires' as desires, stop thinking youre trying to manifest anything, stop thinking you have to wait for anything to show up in the 3d or that the 3d is lagging behind or whatever, stop seeing manifestation as manifestation, stop imagining yourself sending in success stories asks when you get your desires, basically just stop dawg. you already have it. "dont contradict yourself" (although again you arent contradicting anything bc you already have it im just running out of ways to simply something thats already so simple). thats what it means to manifest instantly.

anyways thats all i wanted to say. im so sorry for the horrendously long ask i would make it even longer by talking about my success now but i think you would beat my ass if i did. bye bye love u

!!!!! you ate this whole thing up. y'all better come read this.

[greengoblinswifey]

Revenge—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— Nicholas gets fired and as an act of revenge, fucks you, his boss’ daughter and sends it to him. based on this request.

warnings— daddy kink, exhibitionism, degradation, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, face slapping, ass slapping, choking, manipulation, recording sex, revenge porn, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

a/n— enjoy this as I take a break from spiraling!

The city below bustled faintly as you sat perched on your father’s desk in his office. He would probably freak seeing you sit on the place he did his work and have his meetings but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Daddy dearest was away having meetings all morning so being the heir to his empire, you were left in charge of affairs until he returned. The only ‘affairs’ you handled were typing away on your phone combatting your friend’s comments of you being a ‘nepo baby’ and sitting on your father’s desk as if you owned the place. Well, in just a few years you would.

A knock on the large glass door startled you, and you shouted a “Come in!” to indicate to whoever was stood outside could enter. You didn’t even bother to look up from your phone until you heard a deep voice greet you.

Shoes clicked faintly on the glistening tiles after you heard the door shut behind them. “Uh, good morning,” the deep voice said. As you looked up, your jaw fell slightly agape.

Standing a few feet away was nothing short of a Greek God. He was tall, muscles bulging from the tailored suit he was clad in, hair tousled but still neat and dark, beautiful eyes. You were sucker for men’s eyes right after their height.

“It’s afternoon, and s-same to you.” Your voice faltered as the man inched closer with a box in his hands.

His lips pressed together before he gave a tight lipped smile. “Sorry, a lot on my mind. Is your father in the building?”

You shook your head slowly, your eyes raking over his form as his went over yours, only more subtly. “He’s not. You’ll have to speak to me about whatever concerns you have.”

He sighed shaking his head, clearly annoyed but attempting to keep his composure. “Well, I’m just returning these last set of papers and items since your father fired me.”

“Fired you?” Your right eyebrow arched, confusion swirling your mind. How could your father ever fire someone so good looking. He was perfect. “Sit down, tell me what happened,” you continued, sweetly.

He placed the box at his feet and sat on the leather couch positioned right in front of you. With the way you were positioned, one wrong move and he would see the red and black thong barely covering your pussy.

“My name’s Nicholas Chavez,” he started. Nicholas, you could definitely moan that. “I was fired yesterday with no plausible explanation other than budget cuts. I mean no disrespect when I say this but that makes no fucking sense. I’ve worked harder than almost everyone here. I arrive on time and I leave later than everyone else. I’ve given my all to this company and this is how your father repays me?” He was angry, no doubt, and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt and sympathy you felt for him.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, titling your head and biting your lips absentmindedly, though the action didn’t go unnoticed by Nicholas. “I’ll talk to daddy for you, that’s so unfair.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I don’t think you can change his mind,” he huffed.

Clearly, Nicholas wasn’t aware of the strong hold you had on your father. In his eyes, you could do no wrong. All you had to do was pout and give him those big doe eyes and whatever wish you had would be granted.

You slid off the table seductively and sat beside him, a hand teasingly rubbing his thigh. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll talk to him and change his mind. Is there anything else you want to get off your chest? Anything I can do to help? You batted your long eyelashes, hand still rubbing his thigh as you felt him relax under your touch.

He turned to look at you, eyes darting to stare at your bare thighs then your lips. “Anything huh?” You nodded slowly, and he inched closer to you. As he spoke, you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You have the face of an angel and the body of a porn star. I bet after I’m finished with you, I could turn you into one—if you let me.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them and you tried to speak but no sound came out.

What were you doing? Your father didn’t send you here for his ex-employees to speak to you as though you were a piece of meat. But you couldn’t deny, his words left you soaked and eager.

“Not so bold now, are you?” He chuckled darkly, a hand somehow finding its way around your neck as he forced you to look at him. “You’ve been eyeing me since the moment I walked in. You’re a slut, you want this.”

“Nicholas, my father—”

He interjected before you could continue. “Sweetheart, your father isn’t here. That means I can have my way with you and show him he can’t fucking fire me and get away with it.”

He stood, pulling you up by your neck firmly but gently and put you to sit on the desk in the same position he first saw you. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as his wet tongue slid from your neck up to your ear.

“Fuck, m’gonna have so much fun with you. You’re gonna let me right? You asked if there’s anything you can do to help. This is it.”

Before you could retort, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you in a deep, all consuming kiss. His hand remained around your neck while the other roamed your body, groping your tits before settling on your thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a dream,” he muttered, pulling away just enough to stare at your swollen lips.

“W-we shouldn’t,” you finally managed to say, breath heaving from the intensity of the kiss.

He licked his lips before looking down at the unmistakable sight of you clenching your thighs. “Oh sweetheart, you know we should. Why else would you be clenching your thighs? Now say it.”

Your breathing grew heavier as he pried open your legs, fingers finding your flimsy thong before he ripped it off.

“We should.” Your voice cracked as the cool air from the air conditioner in the office hit your pussy. A smug smirk plastered on Nicholas’ face, his eyes locked on yours while his fingers inched higher until they reached your pussy.

“God, you’re such a slut. You’re soaked,” he chuckled.

Your hand gripped his bicep as two fingers found your heat, giving you no time to adjust. They worked with precision immediately, thrusting and curling as you were forced to look into his dark eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight baby,” he cooed, his fingers speeding up. You didn’t want to admit you were enjoying this but the sound your pussy was making gave you all the confirmation you needed.

Despite your efforts, you let out a low moan the second his thumb connected pressed against clit. His double efforts had you squirming on the table, your legs shaking as his fingers curled then sped up.

“You love this. What would daddy dearest think seeing his slutty daughter get used?”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a cry, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train as you soaked his fingers and the desk below.

“Fucking hell. Did you really just squirt from me fingering you on your dad’s desk. Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with a slut like you.” His words made you shiver and your head lulled on his shoulder, shame filling you but he wasn’t finished yet. Not even close.

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you off the desk and shoving you onto your knees. “Unbuckle my belt,” he uttered, tone low and commanding. Your shaky hands went to his pants, unbuckling the belt slowly. You pulled his pants down, eyes widening at the large dent in his boxers. He was hard.

“I didn’t tell you to pull my pants down but since you’re so eager, take my dick out and suck it.” Manipulation was doused in his words but at that point, you didn’t care. Or maybe you did. All you knew was that you were ready to have his dick down your throat. Your shaky hands pulled his boxers down and he sprang free, thick, long and veiny. You had to admit, the minute he walked through the door, you knew a man like him was huge.

“Take it down your fucking throat like a good girl,” he commanded, hands tangling in your braids.

With your gaze locked on his, you slowly took him into your mouth earning a low groan. As you took him deeper, your tongue swirled along the shaft, getting it sloppy the way you knew he liked it.

“Just like that, you’re a pro,” he moaned, his dark gaze staring down at you.

You deep throated him, blessed to have to no gag reflex. Your hands massaged his heavy balls and soon, you picked up a steady rhythm, bobbing your head as your mouth made filthy noises that echoed throughout your father’s office.

“Fuck, I was right. You’re exactly like a pornstar,” he began, now thrusting his hips forward, “such a fucking whore, just slobbering all over my cock.”

Your nails dug into his thighs as he held your hand and brought you down on his cock at the same pace he was thrusting into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly and all you could do was moan in response.

“I love it when a girl moans with my dick in her mouth. You’re so perfect,” he murmured.

At his praises you used as much tongue as you could, gliding it along his thick length as he fucked your throat.

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna cum. And you’re gonna swallow it all. Open up that fucking throat.”

He held you down on his cock, your nose touching his pelvis and you swallowed obediently as soon as his load filled your mouth. He moaned above you, muttering curses as the last of his cum sprayed on your tongue.

He let go of your braids and took ahold of his still hard cock. “Stick that tongue out, let me see.” You did as you were told, sticking your tongue out. He slapped his cock on your tongue and across your cheek, smirking above you. “That’s a good girl, now get up and sit on the desk.”

Rising to your knees, you sat on the desk and he positioned himself in front of you. “Now, I’m gonna give that tight, wet pussy what it’s craving but first, you have to beg me for it.”

You knew exactly what he meant and without missing a beat, you did as instructed. “P-please Nicholas, please, I need your cock.” A small slap interrupted you, whipping your head to the side, though the force wasn’t enough to cause pain.

“Call me daddy,” he growled. Your breath hitched at the pure taboo of his expectations. You called your own father, daddy. And now he wanted you to call him daddy while you begged for him to fuck you in your actual daddy’s office. “C’mon sweetheart, I don’t have all fucking day.”

“Please daddy,” you began, a look of desperation plastered across your face. “I need your cock. Please fuck me daddy.”

He was clearly satisfied and he lined the raw bulbous tip with your leaking entrance. You gasped involuntarily, feeling him slap it on your clit a few times before he pushed inside you.

“So goddamn tight,” he groaned, looking down at your pussy just swallowing him. His hand snaked around your neck once more as you adjusted to size, pussy welcoming him inside your walls.

“Daddy,” you moaned softly, as he began pounding into you. Your moans made him feral and his thrusts reflected it, the desk shaking as he slammed into you, hand wrapped securely around your neck. Your hands went to the back of his neck, clawing and clutching, feeling him repeatedly slam against that sweet spot inside you.

“You love my cock don’t you? You’re a fucking whore for me, c’mon, say it,” he demanded, pounding into you like his life depended on it.

“I love your cock daddy,” you cried out. The whole top floor probably heard your screams but you didn’t care. “I’m a whore for you, I’m your whore daddy!”

“That’s my good girl.” His thrusts grew more frantic and he reached between your bodies, rubbing rough circles on your bundle of nerves as you convulsed and throbbed under his touch.

“Cum on daddy’s cock. Cum on my cock while I fuck you like a slut on your dad’s desk.” You cried out, pussy clamping down on his cock as an intense orgasm took ahold of you. Your entire body shook and your hands went to his ass, pulling him in even deeper as you came on his cock.

“Shit, that’s my good girl, now turn around. I wanna see that ass bounce on my cock.”

He flipped you around effortlessly, pushing you flat on the table as you arched your back. “That’s it, now spread that ass let me see.” You spread your ass open and felt him spit on your pussy before his cock dragged along your folds. He sunk into you from behind, his cock angling even deeper at this angle and he slapped your ass as he began pounding into you.

“God. That fucking ass, you’re so sexy baby,” he muttered, rolling his hips as his pace increased.

You bounced your ass back against him, earning another slap and a deep moan as he fucked you against the desk. You were so caught up in his cock filling you up and hitting all the right spots that you almost missed the bright light out of the corner of your eye. Almost.

“W-what are you doing?” you rasped, still fucking yourself on his hard cock.

“Recording our first memory,” he said, though he tone was tinged with something darker.

You moaned as he slapped your ass, his other hand clutching his phone tightly as he recorded his cock disappearing inside you.

“Who’s making you cream all over his cock? Huh?” he asked, pulling your hair so your back arched even deeper.

“You are daddy! Only y-you!” you cried out, earning a low chuckle.

“That’s a good girl. Such a fucking slut letting me record you getting utterly fucked on your dad’s desk and calling me daddy while you’re at it? God,” he sneered.

Your pussy clenched even tighter around his cock at his words, the stretch burning but pleasurable and you knew you were on the brink of an orgasm.

“Gonna cum on daddy’s cock? Yeah? Beg me,” he growled, angling his phone even closer to your pussy showing just how much wetter you were getting.

“Please daddy. Please can I cum? Please let me cum on your cock, I’m your dirty slut,” you sobbed, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.

“Well since you asked so nicely, cum on my cock,” he urged.

You gripped the edge of the desk, a loud moan escaping your lips as your juices soaked his cock that was pumping inside you. You sobbed from the sensitivity, holding out your hand to slow his movements but he just held it behind your back.

“I’m gonna cum inside this needy pussy. Gonna breed you so the baby that grows inside you can be my ticket to your dad’s empire. Gonna get you fucking pregnant so I can be the father to his grandkids,” he chuckled darkly.

“Breed me daddy,” you croaked out and that was all it took.

Nicholas stilled inside you, his cock throbbing and spurting his seed deep inside your pussy. You moaned, collapsing on the desk as your pussy milked him of every last drop.

A swooshing sound you recognized as the sound an iPhone made when an email was sent snapped you back to reality. Though, you were too fucked out to mention it but it seemed Nicholas read your mind.

“Just a heads up, I sent that little recording of me fucking you to your dad. We’ll see if firing me was worth it,” he said, darkly.

“P-please,” you uttered weakly.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s already done. Daddy will see how much of a fucking slut and pornstar his innocent little girl really is. That’ll fucking show him.”

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @rain-likes-purple

[aventurineswife]

hey so feel free to ignore this request if you're uncomfortable with it. Can i ask Kinich x suicidal reader? They're already dating and the reader confide in their true feelings about slowly losing the will to live because they feel like they cant handle life.

More explanation: i imagine the reader have a laid back, cheerful and out going personality, the reader joke about offing themself everyday intentionally so nobody will take them seriously if they ever for real tell them about it.

Also i kinda see Kinich as young adult(19/20) and i think the reader is also one who is struggling with adulthood(the reader's family used to spoil them)

Note: this is so self-indulgent, im so sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable😭 should've just talk to a therapist bot on c.ai or summ.(sorry if this triggers you☹️)

“If I Fall, Will You Catch Me?”

Summary: You and Kinich have been dating for some time, your contrasting personalities complementing one another. While you wear a mask of cheerfulness and make light of your struggles, you harbor a deep internal battle against feelings of inadequacy and hopelessness. One night, unable to maintain the facade any longer, you confide in Kinich about your true feelings.

Tags: Kinich x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Vulnerability, Found Family, Struggles of Adulthood, Fluff and Angst, Supportive Partner, Healing Through Understanding.

Warnings: Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts and Ideation, Themes of Emotional and Mental Health Struggles, Potential Triggers for Readers Sensitive to Discussions of Depression or Hopelessness, Includes moments of emotional distress but concludes on a hopeful note.

A/N: I'm really glad you felt comfortable sharing this, and I want to remind you that you're not alone in how you're feeling. Struggling with these emotions, especially when the world feels heavy, is so difficult, but it’s okay to reach out and talk about it when you're ready. You don’t need to carry everything by yourself. Life can be really overwhelming, and even though it can feel like you're stuck or that things won’t change, there is support available to help you work through it. It's okay to feel lost or unsure—what you're going through doesn’t make you any less valuable. Take care of yourself, and I hope you find the peace and healing you deserve. You are worthy of it! 🫂💖🫶

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the trees of the canopy. The air smelled of damp earth and the wild, untamed beauty of nature. You sat on the edge of a rock, watching the wind ruffle the leaves, your feet dangling over the edge.

Kinich sat next to you, his eyes scanning the surroundings with that focused, pragmatic gaze of his. He wasn't one for small talk, never had been, and you appreciated that. Silence between you felt like a comfortable thing, a space where words weren't always necessary. Still, you knew him well enough by now to sense when something was off.

You leaned back, stretching your legs, trying to distract yourself from the heaviness that had been creeping into your chest for weeks. Life felt like a mountain you could never quite scale, and no matter how many times you tried to climb, it always felt like it would swallow you whole.

"Hey," you said casually, as if this was just another joke, "maybe I should just go out and... off myself, y'know? Maybe then I'll find some peace."

You tried to make it sound light, as you always did, tossing the words out like they were nothing. It was the same joke you made every day, the one you used to hide the truth. But today, your smile felt forced, and you hated the way the words tasted in your mouth.

Kinich didn’t laugh. He never did when you said that.

You glanced over at him. His eyes were locked on you, unreadable yet piercing. He didn’t say anything at first, just let the silence drag on.

Finally, he exhaled deeply, his expression softening, but not in a way that was comforting. "You don’t get to joke about things like that with me," he said quietly, his voice steady, almost too calm. "Not anymore."

Your heart skipped a beat. He'd never said anything like that before. You turned to face him, your playful demeanor slipping away as you stared at him.

"Kinich, come on. You know it’s just a joke. I’m fine," you said, trying to backpedal, but the words didn’t sound convincing, even to you.

He didn't say anything, but his gaze hardened slightly, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something deep in his eyes. Maybe it was concern, maybe it was frustration, but it was there. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the intensity of his presence filling the space between you.

"You think I don’t notice?" Kinich said, his voice barely above a whisper, but it held weight. "You laugh and joke, but I can see it. You’re not fine. I’ve seen the way you look at the world like it’s just... too much. Too heavy. Like you’re carrying something too big for your shoulders."

You stiffened, your throat tightening as the words he said felt like they were cutting straight through the walls you’d carefully built around yourself. You didn’t know how to respond.

"I’m... I’m just tired," you managed to say after a long moment. "Everything’s harder than it should be. It feels like I’m never going to figure it out. And... I don’t think I have the strength left to keep pretending."

Kinich didn’t look away. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze that made you feel like you were under a microscope. He didn’t need to speak to convey how much he understood.

"You’re not alone in this," he said softly, and for the first time, there was a tenderness to his words that made your heart ache. "You might feel like you’re alone, but you’re not. Not anymore."

The silence stretched between you two again, but this time, it felt less oppressive. Kinich’s presence beside you was comforting, even if you didn’t fully understand why. He wasn’t the kind of person who offered comforting words freely, but when he did, it always felt genuine.

"I don’t know what you’re going through," Kinich continued, his voice still steady. "But I know what it’s like to feel lost. To feel like you’ve got nothing left to give. To carry things you shouldn’t have to carry. I’ve been there."

You turned your gaze away from him, a lump forming in your throat. You hadn’t expected him to share anything about himself, and it made you realize just how much you didn’t know about him, despite everything.

"Kinich…" you started, but he held up a hand.

"I don’t want you to carry this by yourself," he said, his voice hardening slightly. "I’ll help you carry it. You don’t have to handle everything alone. Not anymore."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of him.

"I’m scared, Kinich. I don’t know how to keep going when it all feels like it’s too much," you confessed, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to remain steady.

He didn’t hesitate. Kinich placed a hand on your shoulder, firm and unwavering, and his eyes softened just a little. "You don’t have to have all the answers. Just take it one step at a time. And if you fall, I’ll be here. You won’t have to do it alone."

You blinked, feeling the walls around your heart crack just a little, the weight on your chest easing ever so slightly. Kinich wasn’t here to fix you. He wasn’t offering grand solutions. He was simply offering to stand by your side, no matter what.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

"Thank you," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. "I don’t deserve it."

He shook his head, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "Don’t talk like that. You’re not the only one who’s struggling. We all have our battles."

You nodded, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to escape. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you might be able to breathe again.

Kinich didn’t speak further. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough. And that, in itself, was a promise.

A promise that no matter how dark things got, no matter how heavy life seemed, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

You weren’t sure what the future would bring, or how you would handle everything, but you knew one thing for sure: Kinich would be by your side. And that, somehow, made everything a little easier to bear.

[brazenautomaton]

So you believe that Boeing paid off the family juuuuuust enough to get them to say that he wasn't assassinated, but not enough to stop them from saying "Boeing is responsible for his death and should be held responsible for their grotesque conduct that drove him to suicide?" Do you listen to yourself? Do you think anything you say through at all? That makes negative sense. You think that they bribed people to say that they didn't have him assassinated, but didn't bribe them to shut up about how it was their fault. You think that works. You think that makes the slightest fucking lick of sense.

The evidence you have is an apparent belief that money has evil-gravitic properties, and anything bad that happens must have originated with the closest concentration of money.

By your standard, is there any evidence that is not hearsay? Because the evidence is "all of the evidence," and I appended the assessment of the family to pre-empt the accusation it was all made up evidence. What evidence does not count as hearsay?

What is the difference between you and an Alex Jones listener? What trap does an Alex Jones listener fall into that you do not? Because all I see is "This is what They want you to believe about the bad thing, so that is enough to determine the truth is that They made this bad thing happen in the mot direct and upsetting way, and all of the evidence against that is made up by They, and anyone who does not believe this is a rube."

The rest of us know Epstein didn't kill himself because we observe facts about reality and observe when they do and do not align with a conspiracy or cover-up. Epstein's death was suspicious because the authorities did not have any explanation for anything, Epstein was in custody aimed at preventing his suicide, and then mysteriously the people watching him just failed to do that and the security camera stopped working. These observed facts about the world indicate malfeasance, because they are not what we expect to see happen if Epstein killed himself. This is not a matter of people just choosing "believe Them" or "don't believe Them."

Remember earlier this year when Boeing very clearly had a whistleblower executed? And law enforcement didn't even look for anyone or release any info about it or anything?

People keep comparing Luigi Mangione's case to the subway murderer who got off because of systemic eugenics, but I think there's something more apt about the fact that a CEO had someone executed in recent memory, with zero attempts to find a culprit, while they spared no expense at all to find (and probably frame, it's beginning to look like) someone who shot a CEO. It's always fine to slaughter if you're rich, but if you kill the rich, they will hunt you down.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 13

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Reader and Ruhn have a heart to heart and your friendship finally begins to move forward. Those from Midgard also learn some interesting information from their most recent trip.

Word Count: 5.8 K

Warnings: Some mild spoilers for Cresent City 3. If you haven't read this series, or this book I highly recommend that you do as parts of this story will make much more sense in the next chapter.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay of this chapter. December was an extremely rough month for me. I'm going to be talking with my psychiatrist about a possible medication change to see if that will give me some more energy and focus without adding to my anxiety.

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @hardcoremarvelfan for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 12 Pt2 Next: Chapter 14

Ruhn didn’t even register that he had fallen asleep until he turned over and a bright light attempted to penetrate the darkness of his closed eyes. Groaning, he turned back over, his arm draping over the plush body next to him. A soft gasp caused Ruhn to open his eyes to find (e/c) orbs staring directly at him. 

“Uh…” Ruhn cleared the gravel from his throat as he gave the woman a sheepish smile, “Hi?” (Y/N) glared at him for a brief moment. Ruhn held his breath waiting for her to berate and kick him out. However, her expression softened before she pressed her forehead against his chest. 

“You’re home,” Her voice was soft, muffled by how close her face was to his chest. Ruhn had to suppress the shiver her warm breath generated on his skin.  

“Of course,” He carefully tightened his hold on her waist. “I had no intention of not coming back. Just…took me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would.” She nodded against his chest; however, the softness of the moment was short-lived.

“You fucking jackass!” She perched herself on her elbow before smacking the center of his chest. “Do you have any idea how worried I was last night? Where the hell were you?” Ruhn couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him as he looked at her stern expression. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized through his laughter. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was out with Cassian. Apparently I looked like a kicked puppy, so he thought alcohol would make that better.”

“Don’t blame Cassian,” She narrowed her eyes. “You knew perfectly well that…” She paused, releasing a long breath through her nose. “You know what, you don’t owe me any explanation or apology. You’re a grown male and capable of making your own decisions.” Her eyes returned to his, and Ruhn had the good sense to recognize that there was more on her mind. He knew that a week of active avoidance between them would require work to recover from. 

“I do owe you at least one apology for what happened last week,” He corrected. “That is if you’re willing to listen to me now.”

“Excuse me?” The woman sat up fully. “You could have apologized at any-”

“Would you have actually listened to me before you had a chance to calm down?” He smiled softly. She narrowed her eyes again, but allowed him to continue. “I know that you needed some time.” After a moment she relaxed her expression, laying back down against the pillows. 

“I hate the fact you know me so well,” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling, “But you’re right. I did need that time.” 

“I know,” Ruhn teased, watching as she rolled her (e/c) eyes. He paused before his voice took on a more somber tone. “I am sorry for what I said on your birthday. I didn’t…I never want you to feel like you’ve been forgotten. You mean too much to…everyone here.” He paused, allowing his lackluster apology to sink in. He couldn’t tell her exactly what he revealed to Azriel a few hours ago. He couldn’t tell the woman lying next to him that he was in love with her. Not just yet anyway, not while there were things he needed to figure out if he wanted to do things right. 

“Thank you, Ruhn.” She turned on her side to face him again. “I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful. While there is a lot that needs to be…worked out; I just want things to go back to how they were before. Return to the day to day life with one of my best friends.” Ruhn could tell that her words also held a mixed bag of emotions. He doubted that he knew the subtle twitch of the corner of her lips before curling up into a half-hearted smile indicated she was attempting to prevent tears from springing to her eyes. 

“Friend…yeah” Ruhn paused. “I haven’t been a very good one of those have I? I’ve kept you at a bit of a distance, and that isn’t exactly fair to you.”  

“You went through a lot. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to.” Her voice was gentle. “And I shouldn’t be holding that against you.” 

“That isn’t the reason I’ve held back,” He admitted. “I’ve been so scared that…it's been a few years and fear has ruled almost all of my actions. I don’t want that to continue, at least not with you.” 

(Y/N) nodded, understanding evident in her eyes as her gaze met Ruhn’s. A heavy silence fell between them. Ruhn could tell that she was allowing him time to decide how the rest of the morning would unfold. As the silence in the room pressed on, she remained curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand lazily-and likely absent mindedly-following the geometric pattern of the tattoo spanning from his left bicep to his shoulder and extending down to his left pectoral. 

He wanted to savor this quiet moment. The peace of lying next to her warmth and softness. If there was ever a perfect moment to open up to the human woman, now would be the time. Ruhn recalled that when he first started to share his personal history with Agent Daybright he spoke to her of his father. He would have to start with something different this time. It was only the right thing to do to ensure that he didn’t treat (Y/N) like a replacement.   

“Would you like to hear about my mother?” His voice broke through the comfortable silence. She tilted her head up, a soft hum of confirmation.

“Please.” Her voice was soft as she looked up at him. 

“Her name is Lorin…” As soon as Ruhn began to speak to her about his mother, it was like the flood gates had finally burst open. He rambled from one topic to another, and he certainly hadn’t intended to reveal so much of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. She quietly listened to everything he shared. No judgment or pity filled her eyes. She never interrupted, only nodding occasionally to show she was following him. He even shared a few things that he had not spoken to many people about. Not only did he explain how the tattoos started as a way to cover up scars, but he also told her the meanings that each design held for him. 

A rendition of the Starsword, surrounded by a few simple stars, covered the inside of his left forearm. He recounted the details of his Ordeal, the desperation he felt to find a way to protect his friends, Declan and Flynn, his brothers if he was being honest. On the outer side of the left forearm were roses mixed with thorn covered vines. While he had grown to hate his Father’s villa in FiRo, it had been where he grew up. 

Above that, in the space of his inner bicep, was a simple design of The Embrace. He explained the image depicted Solas and Cthona coming together as one. This led to him talking to her about how each of Midgard’s houses were blessed by or honored at least one of the five major deities from his world. While Solas was the deity for his own House, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had been so compelled to have what was more commonly regarded as a symbol for the House of Earth and Blood inked into his skin. It took him a minute to realize this was the last tattoo he had gotten before their attempt to overrun the Asteri. Shortly after he had started speaking to Agent Daybright. However, he kept that last bit of information to himself as he remembered who Agent Daybright turned out to be…and which House she belonged to. 

He continued to his right arm, a series of braided knots covered the entirety of his right forearm, the design covering the area that held the worst of his scars. The outer bicep depicted a tree, its branches creating an intricately woven knot and its roots a mirror image. A perfect balance above and below. Her hands traced along each of the designs. He thought he heard her muttering to herself as she examined the tree, taking extra care to outline and follow each branch and root pattern.   

“I’ve seen this tree before,” She admitted softly. “Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. It was believed in some parts of my world to be what holds the nine worlds of the cosmos.” The woman paused, and Ruhn could see the gears in her mind twirling. “No… ” With a quick shake of her head she sat up, pushing the covers to the side. 

“No, what?” Ruhn sat up as well, moving to follow her. 

“Where did you get the idea for this tattoo?” She asked, brows bunched up together as she stared at the black ink design. He had yet to add any color to it. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what colors best suited the image. It was one of his more rare black and white dreams where it first appeared. 

“I-I saw it in a dream,” His voice was slightly hesitant. He had never told anyone that before. He always made up some story about seeing it in an art piece on Avallen decades ago. But for some reason, the truth slipped from his lips as he looked at her. 

“What was the name of the deity for that scary house in Midgard again?” Her eyes remained on the roots of the tree as her hands twisted up sheets in front of her. 

“Scary…you mean the House of Flame and Shadow?” Ruhn continued to watch as (Y/N) nodded acknowledgement. “Urd, a Goddess of Fate. While she may be considered more of the patron of that house, all of Midgard honors her in some fashion.” 

“What do depictions of her look like on Midgard?” She finally looked at him. Again, Ruhn could see that her mind was putting together bits of information. Information that he knew she would only continue to withhold. 

“I honestly don’t really know. There aren’t very many pictures of statues of her outside of the Bone Quarter in Lunathion. That’s where her temple is believed to be. Only the dead and necromancers are really allowed over there. Unless you have a death mark. Which are not at all easy to get.”  She nodded again, chewing her lower lip and picking at her thumb nail. Her (e/c) eyes staring off into the distance. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?” His use of her name snapped her out of whatever rumination plagued her mind. 

“Nothing,” She shook her head a final time before a smile took over her features. “We should probably get some breakfast going. You can tell me some more about your Ordeal and the Drop.” 

The months after Ruhn’s apology, things returned to normal for the most part. The biggest change for the better was that your and Ruhn’s friendship improved significantly. He moved all of his belongings back into your bedroom, including things that you didn’t know he still kept in the other room at all. He also resumed sleeping in the bed with you each night. The only exceptions were the times he went to Midgard, which were becoming more frequent. He explained that his friends, Declan and Flynn, had spent months looking on their own for any information regarding the Star sword and Truth Teller. This, of course, resulted in him finally opening up to you about all the events that preceded his capture by the Asteri. Listening to him recount the highlights of the year before you met had never made you feel more grateful for being a person of no importance back on your own world.  

His opening up did have perks as he also filled you in on many of the Fae traditions and life on Midgard in general. You had so many theories running through your head that your attention couldn’t be divided anywhere else when the subject of life on Midgard came up. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you listened to him so intently. The way those blue-violet eyes of his lit up…it was clear that cared deeply for those that had remained on Midgard. He missed them fiercely, his family. That’s really who they all were to him, his family. Despite Bryce and Hunt also being in Prythian alongside him, it was clear that he struggles with being separated from the bulk of his family. You had to suppress the intrusive desire of wanting to be included in that sentiment. Any time the thought arose you found yourself remembering that the events on your birthday were simply a fluke. Just because you grew close with the male, didn’t mean he saw you as anything more than a friend. He was no different in that regard to Lucien, a simple yet close friend. 

It was a strange concept to think about. You had been in Prythian for nearly five years, and you still felt like an outsider. An intruder posing as someone who is supposed to belong. To anyone looking in from the outside it would look that way. Nanny for the High Lord and Lady, friends with the first Valkyries in centuries, and routinely seen around Velaris with the elusive and infamous Shadowsinger. Regardless of what they all said or how close you had become over time, you could still feel the tension from where you were kept at a distance. You couldn’t exactly blame them either. You were mortal. You would die in just a few short decades while the rest of them would continue to live on for centuries if not millenia. 

The only person that you knew, with absolute certainty, saw you as an included member of their life was Nyx. You were well aware of how much the little heir adored you, and you adored him in turn. Knowing that there would be at least one person- 

The landing of Hunt’s feet on the cobblestones outside the townhouse distracted you from further diving into a downward spiral. The crunching of stone was followed by the beating of wings as he took off again, likely to get whomever he had left over at the Moonstone gate they built at the Sidra’s edge near the River House. No sooner than hearing the angel take off again did Bryce burst through the front door. 

“(Y/N)!” Her voice held an excited sing-song lilt. The corner of your  lip twitched up as she rounded the corner from the foyer into the parlor. Bryce’s crimson hair flowed around her, reminding you that despite her half human heritage she looked fully Fae. You tried to push the faint sting of envy, reminding yourself that she doesn’t exactly enjoy that half of her heritage. Though you knew she’d be grateful when she finally realized her long life span will allow her to have as much time with her mate and found family that many humans crave.  

“I have a surprise for you,” Bryce continued, bringing a wrapped gift box out from behind her back. The absolute look of mischievous glee on her face was the only thing that gave you any pause. You still took the fairly large box from her outstretched arms before the two of you resumed sitting on the sofa. 

“What is this? My birthday was six months ago and it’s not yet solstice,” You asked, eyeing the perfectly square package. Nothing about the box or its wrapping gave away what the contents could possibly be, and there wasn’t anything that either of you had specifically discussed her getting from a more “modern” world. 

Bryce had been kind enough to obtain some basic feminine essentials for you during some of her past trips to Midgard. You were extremely grateful for her efforts in gathering a variety of period products for you. You spent your first few cycles bleeding through scraps of cloth and felt like you were practically confined to your bedroom and the ensuite bathroom. You quickly decided that you did not want to spend a week every month in that condition. While you had asked the females in your new life how they managed their own cycles, Nesta explained that High Fae only experienced two cycles a year. Due to the infrequency of cycles the pain was reported to be nearly unbearable and resulted in many females being completely bedridden. Nesta also confirmed that scrap linens were the preferred method of keeping things clean for humans and Fae alike, regardless of the financial resources available. 

“Just open it,” Bryce encouraged, plopping the box into your lap. “Especially if you don’t want the guys to see what’s inside.” She tapped the top of the box, a shallow sounding thud indicating that the box was entirely filled with only the Gods knew what. You lifted the box, examining the meticulous wrapping. Each corner of the golden paper was tucked in tightly and secured. 

“What the hell did you get then?” You narrowed your eyes in her direction as you held the box up to your ear and began to shake it. “Doesn’t Hunt know anyway?” You set the box down when it didn’t make any sounds. 

“Nope,” Bryce chirped. “If he did, he would not have let me give that to you.” Her smile grew as she patted the box again. 

“Okay, now I’m worried.” You eyed her warily, your fingers subtly twitching against the smooth surface of the paper. “Do I even want to know what this is?” 

“Yes, you do.” She moved closer to you on the couch. “I can say with absolute certainty that some, if not all, of the items in there will be…useful in the future.” Her amber eyes shone as bright as the starlight that simmered under her light bronze skin.  You rolled your eyes at her playful insistence and quickly tore open the golden wrapping. The box itself was fairly nice, sturdy and could be easily kept to hold whatever its contents already included. 

“I swear to whatever is holy Bryce if this is some-” The words immediately died on your tongue and your jaw literally dropped. Bryce erupted in a fit of giggles at seeing your shocked expression. Inside the box was a plethora of items that made up what you could only describe as a ‘family planning care package’. You could admit upon immediate inspection that at least half the items in the box would be useful. PH balancing feminine wash, extra sanitary pads, a few reusable menstrual discs and cups. The other items…well, she was right that you definitely didn’t want anyone else seeing the contents. Especially Ruhn. You didn’t know how you’d explain the presence for the large box of condoms, two decently sized bottles of lubricant, two packages of pregnancy tests and…

“Ovulation tests? Are you fucking kidding me Bryce?” You wanted to be mad, but her laugh was too infectious. You fell into your own fit of laughter right alongside her. Through your laughter you took another look at the box of condoms.

“Fucking hell, how much sex do you think I’m going to be having?” You held up the box of condoms, a variety pack, and began to examine it. “One hundred condoms? Really?” You shook the box at her for added emphasis on just how ridiculous the item was. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure that one of my closest friends had everything that she would need.” Bryce managed to defend through her continued laughter. “Especially if she is going to continue sleeping with my brother.” 

“Bryce! You know perfectly well Ruhn and I are not like that,” You placed the care package in between the two of you while the box of condoms remained in your grasp. 

“Sure, whatever you say,” She smirked, the deep red of her lip stick amplifying her mischievous tone. “Then this can all be for whenever you do meet that special someone, which you will.” She held up a finger to silence the objection which was poised on the tip of your tongue. “I know this, because you’d be-” 

“A novelty, Bryce. Anywhere I go in this city I am looked at as a novelty.” Your voice took on a slight edge. “I am the only human living in the Night Court. Hell, I’m the only human living in all of Prythian.” You sighed, setting the box of condoms in your lap. 

“Which is exactly why I picked a variety pack,” She smirked, completely ignoring your statement. Your eyes followed her elegant finger as it pointed to the side edge of the box.  “Glow in the dark.” 

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Your laughter returned and doubled as you read the words on the box, directly under the list of flavors making up a quarter of the box’s contents. Tears of laughter quickly filled your eyes as Bryce broke down right beside you on the couch in the parlor. The two of you were so busy laughing that you didn’t hear Hunt return with Ruhn in tow. 

“What are you two so giggly for?” Ruhn smiled from the entrance to the parlor. Still facing Bryce your eyes went wide, the box of family planning items still opened between you and the half fae female. Without even needing the ability to speak mind to mind, Bryce immediately started helping you repack the box with lightning quick reflexes. 

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” You shouted, sliding the box under the couch. Once it was fully tucked away you looked up at the male. Your jaw dropped for the second time and gasped, “What the fuck did you do to your hair!” You stared at Ruhn, eyes watering as you stood to meet him. The past two months Ruhn had allowed the hair on the shaved side of his head to fill in. You had been unsure as to why, but now you knew. You lifted your hand to the right side of his head, where the beautiful waist length locks had once flowed. 

“I know,” Ruhn brought his hand up and gently grasped your fingers. His hair was short, equal in length on both sides. The style honestly reminded you of Azriel’s typical cut. However, the fresh cut combined with Ruhn’s features made his resemblance to Rhysand all the more striking. 

“You’re not sleeping next to me when you look like him,” There was no laughter in your voice. 

“It will grow back, don’t worry,” He reassured, his fingers interlacing with yours as he led you both back to the couch. His arm easily fell along the back of your shoulders as he leaned in to kiss your temple. You felt your lips twitch trying to suppress the smile. Your friendship had certainly gone back to normal, yes, but there were times when he was a little more affectionate than before. Just like he was right now. From the corner of your eye you saw Bryce’s wide knowing grin. You’d have to remind her, yet again, that your relationship with Ruhn was platonic. Even though a small part of you wanted the dynamic to go in a more romantic direction. 

“I tried to tell him he didn’t need to cut it that short,” Hunt joined in on the conversation, sitting himself on the arm of the couch behind Bryce. His own hair also appeared freshly cut compared to the last time you saw him. 

“And steal your and Cassian’s signature look? I don’t have the wings to pull it off, ” Ruhn joked, his blue-violet eyes turning towards you. “Besides, it's not exactly like I wanted to cut it.”  His thumb gently stroking the sliver of exposed skin on your shoulder. 

“So why did you?” You asked, your hand reached out again and this time he allowed you to pinch a few strands between your fingers. 

“Well, I had planned to just grow it all out.” He answered, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “But that prick was right. Even with the long hair I’d be too recognizable.” You bunched your eyebrows together as you looked between them. 

“Our father,” Bryce supplied, her tone now short and clipped. You nearly choked on air at the news. A sinking feeling in your stomach had you anticipating that this last trip was much more eventful than any of their previous trips to Midgard had been over the past few years. 

“Your father?” You angled your body towards Ruhn. “You saw him?” 

“Yeah, and we actually had a fairly interesting conversation,” Ruhn admitted. 

“If you count not immediately being turned over to the Asteri as interesting,” Hunt added, a slight smirk on his lips. You blinked, trying to prepare yourself for whatever asinine reasoning they could have had for going to such a well guarded location such as the Autumn King’s villa given their high profile fugitive status. 

“Why would you even risk a trip like that?” You focused your attention on Ruhn, even though you were fairly certain the entire meeting was likely an impromptu affair by Bryce. Both siblings had told you all about their respective histories with the selfish male that sired them. It went without saying that you had no desire to ever meet the asshole. “How do you know that he isn’t planning to just turn you in the second you all get back to Midgard? What was so important that you had to risk-”

“Easy sweetheart,” Ruhn reassured, his arm bringing you closer to his frame. “We had very good reason, and at this point seeing him and getting the information we got out weighed the risks.” He met your eyes, his expression soft as he tried to subtly comfort your worries.  

“Fine,” You relented. “What did you learn then?” You settled back into your spot on the couch as you waited for them to explain.

“We learned what the Star Sword and Truth Teller may be able to create when used together,” Bryce answered. “Something that may be able to destroy the Asteri.” Her voice no longer held any hint of the playful spirit it had moments ago. You sat up straighter. This was news you had not anticipated hearing. In fact, you had hated to admit that you long gave up any hope that you would live long enough to hear any good news for your friends in their efforts to rescue their world. If the blades could truly be combined to destroy the Asteri, well that was worth risking a visit to their father. Honestly, that was information worth risking everything. 

“What…” You were at a loss for words. “W-what can they do?” Your voice was hesitant, and you hoped that they didn’t see the true reason behind your question. You knew it was important for them to be able to go home. You also knew that once the Asteri were gone, the three of them would return to Midgard permanently. You tried to stop the thoughts of how much you would lose if the trio left Prythian so soon. Specifically, the loss of one of the people that had become so important to you. The fact that you didn’t want to be parted from Ruhn permanently hit you like a ton of bricks. It was only Ruhn’s gentle squeezing of your shoulder that pulled you back to the moment.  

“Legend has it the two blades are supposed to open a portal when combined,” Bryce’s voice was eerily calm, “Specifically, a portal to Nowhere.” 

“What?” You stared at her, waiting for a punchline that never came. “Nowhere? Really? You’re telling me the giant skull of a deceased Celestial is real and floating around somewhere in the universe?” All three of them looked at you as if you had morphed into said giant skull. “Guardians of the Galaxy? Come on, you don’t have the MCU or Marvel comics in your world?” While Bryce and Hunt stared at you with confused expressions, you could make out the subtle twitch of Ruhn’s lips as he suppressed a desire to laugh. “Nowhere is the name of the skull in the Marvel Cinematic Universe…or multiverse…point is I was trying to be funny.” 

“You are funny,” Bryce’s lip finally curled up in a half smile. “At least I assume you are when your audience knows what it is you’re referencing.” You gave her an exasperated smile before tilting your head back and groaning.  

“Okay, so what the hell does your father mean by ‘Nowhere’ then?” You asked leaning back against the couch. Ruhn’s arm remained draped over your shoulder, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes along your skin.  

“Unfortunately the fucker was less than helpful in that regard,” Bryce’s good humor was gone again at the reminder of the Autumn King. 

“She means that he wasn’t entirely sure,” Ruhn clarified. “All he found on the subject was what the blades were supposed to do and nothing more. However, he indicated that maybe the Fae archives on Avallen held more information that he had yet to locate.” You couldn’t suppress the snort quick enough. Hearing the name of the island where the Fae first settled on Midgard always amused you. Another item to the growing list of similarities between your world and theirs. 

“Well that is maddeningly unhelpful,” You shook your head softly and pulled your legs up onto the couch. You leaned your body closer to Ruhn’s. 

“Yes, but there is one positive.” Hunt gently reminded both siblings. “He already had Flynn and Dec looking in the archives.” 

“They didn’t even find anything useful,” Bryce countered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yes they did,” Ruhn snapped. “The series of maps they found-”

“Show nothing but the fact that land masses change over millennia,” Bryce spat. 

“Bryce,” Hunt’s calm tone cut through their bickering. “It may not have been what we were hoping to find, but the information is interesting.” Hunt took a moment to look towards you. “Dec and Flynn found maps of Avallen, some of which included smaller islands that had since disappeared. The disappearance of the smaller islands wasn’t over thousands over years, but within a couple of decades, which makes the information interesting.”

“Yeah, land masses don’t change that quickly Bryce,” Ruhn added childishly. You smacked his chest before shushing him. His sister responded with her own equally childish response of sticking her tongue out in Ruhn’s direction. 

“That is interesting,” You looked between Ruhn and Hunt. “But I’m with Bryce on this. How is that information relevant to defeating the Asteri?” 

“It likely isn’t relevant,” Hunt conceded. “But the land where the Starborn Fae settled in Midgard underwent massive changes and significant loss of fertile land. I don’t think that’s a coincidence when their former home underwent similar changes.” 

“The Prison island…” Your voice trailed off as Hunt nodded, a soft approving smile on his face.

“I told you she was smart,” Ruhn boasted. “Hunt and I came to the same conclusion. Something caused the islands to become barren.”

“Well according to that magical hologram Silene left, the land was reduced to its waste land status after she made it into the prison,” Bryce added. “A collection of nasties poisoning all traces of life apart from themselves.” You felt the gears turning in your mind. It was hard to argue that both islands would become practically devoid of life around the same time by chance. The list of potential reasons was endless. Anything from a saturation of dark energy to a specific spell to a lack of magic entirely. You also speculated that perhaps Midgard and whatever planet you were currently occupying were mirrors or alternative versions of each other. Though, there was more evidence that both worlds were part of the same universe rather than some type of multiverse bullshit. A confirmation of the existence of a multiverse was not quite on your bingo card for expected life experiences. Then again, neither was going through a magical portal and landing in a world that you- 

“Bryce, you need to take me to the Prison island again.” You turned to face her fully. “Please. I don’t care what Rhysand says, I need to see the island and those tunnel carvings for myself.” The half-fae female looked at you, her eyes studying the determination on your face. 

“Alright,” Bryce’s conspiratorial smile returned. You knew that she enjoyed any opportunity to piss off the High Lord. “When do you want to leave? We can even go right now if you want.” She stood from her spot on the couch.  

“Oh no,” Ruhn immediately stated, also standing from his spot next to you on the couch. “You’re not going by yourselves.” 

“I agree,” Hunt looked at Bryce. “I know that you’ve been down there several times now, but you’ve made the Drop and you’re a badass, but…(Y/N) is human.” He softened his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you Alphaholes for fucking real?” Bryce scoffed, hands immediately going to her hips. “She has daily training with two 500 year old warriors AND the two of you. You really think that she’s not a badass in her own right by now?” Despite Bryce’s faith in your self-defense skills you knew Hunt was right. Your eyes met Hunt’s, his expression reflecting what you knew was true. You may be able to defend yourself in some scenarios, but your body couldn’t heal itself in the same way if you were to get injured. The chances of you surviving any major injury were significantly smaller. However, the reminder that you were simply a fragile human stung nonetheless. 

“Yeah, I am being ‘for real’,” Ruhn met his sister’s glare. “We have no idea what kind of creatures are in the prison. We also don’t exactly know our way around apart from a single path down to that room leading to the tunnels.” Bryce rolled her eyes. 

“Well I can’t teleport more than two others plus myself. So unless you’ve managed to finally learn long distance travel through your shadows you might be stuck here as look out Big bro,” Her smile was less than friendly.  

“She needs protection Bryce, and no offense to Hunt, but if she went down he’s more likely to protect you than her,” Ruhn looked at the angel. You watched in silence as the two males just stared at each other. The two of them were clearly having a mind to mind conversation. 

“You know it's rude to have a private conversation in front of others,” You quipped, trying to help ease the tension from before. You turned and started to make your way to the staircase. “I’m going to get a warmer coat so the two of you had better figure out who's going with us by the time I get back.” 

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella

The crossed-out name means tumblr wouldn't let me tag you

[fernpetals]

Good Cop, Bad Cop V

Masterlist

Part 1 Part2 Part 3 Part 4

Yandere Tom Ludlow x Reader

Warning: Power imbalance, mention brutal crimes and crimes against women

GIF is not mine, credit to the @scarlettspectra.

Unedited Part

Before you know it, this becomes a routine. Every other week, when you have to report to the police station and end up being late, he drops you home. At this point, you can bet that you will recognise his charger anywhere.

Your steps cease when you spot the vehicle outside your workplace. You don't know why, but you take a few steps back before turning around and walking back into your office. You know that he means well, just doing his jb, but you find him a bit…intense. His gaze is enough to reduce you into a fumbling mess.

Taking out your phone, you check for any message in case you have missed it. There is none. What is he doing here?

Okay, you have not done anything wrong, it’s a new city and the cops are simply being extra careful maybe? You can show him your phone in case of any misunderstanding. You assure yourself as you take a deep breath to collect yourself before walking out.

A part of you hopes that it isn’t his car. A lot of people own a charger and maybe you are…

All hopes are dashed as soon as the car door opens and Officer Thomas Ludlow gets out. Outside the station, with the wind ruffling his hair, he appears slightly boyish, a smile might look lovely on him. Too bad, you know him as a grump.

“I received no texts.” You bite your tongue as soon as you finish that hurried explanation.

You almost see something akin to mirth dancing in his brown eyes.

“Because none was sent. Get in the car, we’ll talk on your way home.”

“Oh. it’s not that late.” 

“I can see that. This is important.” He says, rounding up and walking towards you, on reflex, you take a step back.

It’s like something in you just fails to settle down in his presence. To your surprise, he opens the car door for you.

“Please.”

You feel stupid. He is a police officer who has been nothing but kind to you, maybe not the most polite, but good, in his own way.

“Thank you.” is all you can manage before getting inside his car.

—--

“You might want to be extra cautious.” He speaks up while driving through the busy LA roads.

“Why?”

“We keep an eye on them, they keep an eye on us and you have become a common link. First in the restaurant, now visiting the police station every now and then. If anything, it confirms that one of them had been at least near that place.”

“You mean they fled when you all surrounded me?”

He hums before stopping near a food truck.

“I’m hungry, have you eaten yet?”

You find yourself taco in in his car. He has already packed some for dinner, and by the number, maybe even breakfast.

“You must be a busy man, I mean, the job is demanding.”

Officer Ludlow glances at the packed meal and nods “I barely have the motivation to cook for myself. Besides, it’s quicker that way.”

Oh, you thought him to be married. But he does not seem so.

“You have my number?”

“No?”

“Save it in your emergency contact, I suggest you get yourself a good security system and if anything. I mean anything feels odd, you let me know.”

“I–I don’t think I am of any use to them.”

“You are a woman.”

Annoyance flares within you as you fix him with a hardened stare “So?”

“I’m sorry, I did not mean it that way.”

An apology that sounds genuine and a softened gaze? That soothes you, surely, but you remain annoyed.

“What do you mean then, Sir?”

For a moment, you think you catch something dark flash in his eyes but it’s gone with a faint gulp.

“I mean, they are monsters and women are the usual victims, and targets even—they don’t need a reason, or even animosity, the fact that you are a woman is enough. These people have the record of doing unspeakable things, to men, to women, to little girls and boys.”

That does make sense. In the underworld, there is not a being more exploited than the female perhaps. 

“So, if you have a gun, good, if you don’t, get one. Keep your location on all the time and if anything goes wrong, what do you do?”

“Call 911.”

He lets out a sharp, short sigh at your response.

“Call me, that’s why I am suggesting you save my number on the emergency contact list.”

You nod, the gravity of the situation finally dawns upon you, seems like the casual decision to enter that restaurant has cost you much more than you had thought.

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

*****

Thanks to @scarlettspectra's brilliant analysis of Yandere Tom Ludlow, it has been the fuel I needed.

[tobiasdrake]

Your previous posts on how much smarter Vegeta was during the Saiyan and Namek Arcs made me think, and I believe I've pondered an explanation. And it revolves around Vegeta's poison.

See, Vegeta CAN be very smart...when he's dealing with the unsurmountable and/or incomprehensible. Problem is, when he's got a handle on the situation, or THINKS he does, he's prone to getting very overconfident and sloppy.

During the Saiyan Arc, he's dealing with the Earthlings and their ki manipulation. As you've mentioned, nobody in the Freeza Force does with Ki what Earthlings do. So he's on his guard, even when it becomes apparent that the puny Earthlings, even their token Namekian can't stand against the Saiyans. Once Goku wins their Beam-clash, he goes Grape Ape on their asses...but instead of going for the kill, draws it out to gloat, giving Yajirobe the opening for some tail-removal.

Namek has him dealing with FREEZA, THE STRONGEST BEING IN THE UNIVERSE!!! And so, instead of going head-on, Vegeta uses guerrilla tactics, whittling Freeza's forces down bit-by-bit while keeping his power suppressed. However, once he thinks he's Zenkai-boosted enough, he gets very cocky...and very dead.

The Android and Buu Sagas are where Vegeta's poisonous pride are at their worst, as he's so sure he's one of the strongest beings that he continually dismisses the warnings given by the Kid From The Future and the God of God (in this universe). "Oh, that terrible threat you're worried about? Big deal, I can take it." We all know how THAT turned out.

The final battle against Kid Buu is probably when we see Vegeta go back to being his tactical, intelligent self, as he lets go of his superiority complex and acknowledges Goku being his superior.

To be fair about dismissing Kaioshin's warnings, he makes a valid point when he brings up the fact that Kaioshin sorely lowballed the Saiyans' abilities.

Vegeta accuses that Kaioshin's been going "WTF HOW ARE YOU SO STRONG OMGGGGGGG" for the entire arc since they started fighting. Kaioshin's idea of a truly insurmountable foe is Dabra, and Dabra was only a threat because Gohan was rusy; Goku or Vegeta would have wasted him in three seconds flat.

Kaioshin's frame of reference is far, far below Goku and Vegeta's. So when Kaioshin says, "This guy is SO STRONG, you have no idea," how seriously are they supposed to take that?

Imagine if Krillin ran in going, "Guys, I'm serious, this is the most powerful foe I've ever fought!" Like. Okay. But that's Krillin talking.

Vegeta isn't right to be so dismissive of Buu. The wise course of action would be to remain cautious anyway, and that is how Gohan approaches it. In fact, being so dismissive of Buu has dire consequences for him and everyone else.

But his chain of logic does connect. It makes sense that he, at least, would think that way.

A far cry from the Semi-Perfect Cell incident, where he was just high on a speedball of mind-altering Super Saiyan effects and his own stupid ego.

[sleepergeek42]

suspebsion of disbelief is where my brain's propensity for technobabble and lore kicks in because the two honestly go hand in hand

like those all have answers and they are "season 6b", "spatial genetic multiplicity", and "laryngitis"

suspension of disbelief still applies but like in a fictional world the fictional explanations just make sense to me idk. it's an interesting difference between "whatever, a thing is happening in fiction and it's fiction what do i care" and "the explanations are usually simple and require little brain work to accept, which is still a form of suspension of disbelief"

sometimes you do have to suspend your disbelief for doctor who. sorry. "why does the second doctor look older in the five doctors?" because the doctor doesn't age but patrick troughton did. "why does the second doctor have an inexplicable human lookalike?" because he's evil sexy patrick troughton. you people are so ungrateful. "why does k9 sound different in the armageddon factor to in destiny of the daleks?" laryngitis. deal with it.

[markerofthemidnight]

Sense you asked for it. Rank P:EG based on what you think their cooking skills are, from amazing cook to constantly burns pots of water or something like that.

There’s Muffin, always coming in clutch for me! Well, since you asked for it, here’s a tierlist of how good I think every character is at cooking, AND my explanations as to why they’re ranked there! (under cut)

(p.s. I have not seen everyone’s FTEs, so I apologise if there are any inconsistencies with canon!)

Damon: I don’t know why, I just think a meal cooked by Damon would be really shitty.

Eva: We already know from canon that Eva has a very wide skill set, so who’s to say she can’t cook, either?

Wolfgang: The man thought you were supposed to pour the entire bottle of detergent in when you’re using the washing machine. There’s no way he can cook.

Grace: She at least had the common sense to correct her boyfriend Wolfie on the above, so? I assume she’d be alright at it?

Toshiko: This needs no explanation. She is literally 14. I think she’d know a lot about food in relation to romance, since that’s her talent, but actual cooking? Likely not.

Eloise: I just get those vibes from her, y’know? She probably cooks at home with her mom or something?

Desmond: Vibes and vibes only.

Jean: You can’t be a ship captain and just… not be good at cooking! That man makes the most banger seafood dishes you’ll ever taste in your life!

Ingrid: I’m not even going to explain this.

Wenona: C’mon, she’s the pioneer of the agricultural industry. She has to be at least a little good, even if she has, I dunno, personal chefs cooking everything for her most of the time.

Cassidy: I feel like Cassidy has made a lot of, like, intentionally bad dishes. Like, during livestreams and such. She’ll stream herself making a custard-shrimp pie with added hot sauce, eat it, and then end the stream ten minutes before she throws up. It’s her way of life. Following the rules and making something good for once would be a violation of who she is.

Jett: Again, vibes. Jett is the kind of person who loves food but can’t cook to save his life.

Mark: No offence, Mark fans, but I think anything cooked by him would probably be pretty flavourless. Though, on the bright side, at least he’s not a living fire hazard like Jett is.

Kai: I mean, we know he can at least make coffee, but since this is specifically about cooking and not coffee-making… I dunno, I just put him in the middle because I can’t make up my mind.

Diana: I think she’d be very into the aesthetics of cooking but not so much making stuff that actually tastes good. She’s better at baking.

Ulysses: Good-to-okay-ish when it actually turns out well, but because of his inability to smell, goldfish memory (at least, when he doesn’t have his notebook) and tendency to fall asleep while standing up, things go wrong pretty often. At least, when he doesn’t have someone helping him out.

Tozu: I’ve got a very specific idea in my head for how good he’d be at cooking: similar to Ulysses in that everything he makes would be basically five-star, but every time he enters the kitchen there’s a very real chance that at least one thing will catch fire. High-risk, high-reward. Also similar to Cassidy in that he likes to experiment with foods that absolutely do not go together (though half the time it turns out surprisingly good).

Mara: Kinda the complete opposite of Tozu! Since I imagine she’d be a good survivalist, or otherwise be obsessed with keeping her body in the best condition possible, I think she’d be very good at cooking stuff that’s very healthy and very safe, but kind of terrible taste-wise.

[lovemyromance]

Genuinely people should ask themselves "Why" before coming up with non canon explanations (biased excuses) for canon events.

Walk with me 🚶🏽‍♀️

"Azriel's actions in the BC were just lust" -> why? What purpose does it serve to take a perfectly good character and depict him as a fuckboy? The theory was made to support Gwynriel (somehow), so how does depicting Azriel as an incel SERVE that narrative?

"Elain only avoids Lucien because she's desperately attracted to him" -> why? What purpose does it serve to have Elain avoid Lucien - to a greater extent than both her sisters who ACTUALLY hated their mates at first? If she's attracted to him ... is the way to show this attraction through having them literally never interact?

"Cassian's comment about Elain in black foreshadowed that Elain is miserable in the NC" -> why? Why is she miserable in the NC? Her friends and family are there and she has hobbies and friends so why is she miserable in the NC? Because Lucien's elsewhere? Well when he IS here, she avoids him anyway so that's not the answer. Why would she be miserable? Bc she's fae? Moving courts isn't going to change that fact.

"Elain can't handle Azriel's darkness" -> Why? Why does she need to? What darkness are we talking about? Are we saying she's weak and doesn't have the stomach to handle his job (which he ALSO hates), or are we ready to admit this argument is just people playing trauma-Olympics?

"Everyone is going to end up with their mates" -> Why? Is it written somewhere? SJM has plenty of non-'mated couples. SJM has already done a fake mating bond. Why does everyone have to end up with their mates?

"Azriel only wants a mate" -> Why? Why would he only be looking for a mate, and go for the woman who literally cannot be his mate? Why isn't he just waiting for the bond to click with Mor? Why does he only want a mate when he knows mating bonds are rare and unheard of? Why has that not stopped him from having lovers in the past?

Like even if you read these books and somehow.... you came to the conclusions above... none of those conclusions make sense in the context of the novel? They don't add anything to the plot. They make Azriel's character worse for no reason. They make Elain depressed and miserable and finicky, for no reason.

If you can't answer WHY a character acts a certain way - then why would an author include that in her book? Things are written a certain way for a reason.

All these excuses/"interpretations" to explain away Elriel moments have to add up to a singular explanation.

You can't just have all this disjointed reasons why Elriel doesn't work if you don't have a single reason WHY SJM would do this. Why would she build up Elriel and then destroy them in a BC? Why would she mate Elain & Lucien and have them completely indifferent to each other?

It's not like she is pushing all these takes on us AND showing us on the page how Elain is better with Lucien or Gwyn and Azriel want each other.

Because denying the Elriel romance on the page does not automatically make Elain & Lucien fall madly in love, nor does it make Azriel realize his mate is Gwyn.

Both these things could've happened without ANY Elriel interaction. So why even include it?

Maybe it's the simplest answer: Because Elriel is endgame.

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

I have so many questions about Tai Pham’s universe (Earth-98)

Like, Green Lantern: Legacy only mentions Tai's grandmother and John Stewart as Green Lanterns from Earth, and shows that Kim Tran was the hero always thwarting Sinestro in the past. On top of that, it seems like GLs are virtually unknown on Earth, judging by how Tai doesn't recognize their symbol despite it being very prominent on the ring he inherits from his grandma.

So the natural assumption is that Kim basically takes the place of Hal Jordan in this universe and thus history plays out differently enough that Earth only has two GLs. And while other superheroes probably do exist on Earth-98, judging by the Superman poster on Tai's wall, it seems like Kim mainly operated in secret or out in space.

(While raising her family and running a store that was a pillar of her community, no less. Hal wishes he had that level of mental stability.)

But then in Green Lantern: Alliance, Irey (Kid Flash) mentions Hal, and Kyle shows up at the end! So does that mean a version of Emerald Twilight happened in this reality too?? And if so, was it still Hal who got possessed by Parallax or did Sinestro go for a different target?

Kim's hair does get those ominous gray streaks...

Tbf she was already a grandmother by this point, and subsequent flashbacks show her hair turning evenly gray over time. So this is more likely just Kim aging naturally, and not a sign of her unknowingly hosting the ancient embodiment of fear.

Parallax speculations aside, GL:A doesn't shy away from incorporating the wider DC universe. Flashbacks show that Kim not only fought alongside Superman and the Flash, but seemed to be just as much a mentor for them as she was for John. And that does make a lot of sense, she was already Green Lantern during the Vietnam War. She's been doing the superhero thing since Clark and Wally were still in diapers.

Which begs the question, was Kim part of the Justice League? Did she help found it, or was that still Hal? Was there even a Justice League in this Earth???

(Tai does suggest he and Irey form a "Junior Justice League," thereby implying that the actual Justice League does exist)

I know I probably sound like a crazy person ranting in front of a conspiracy board. Truth be told, the easy explanation is Tai Pham's story is about him and Kim's legacy, so these questions aren't important enough for Minh Le to waste time answering. And since Earth-98 is an alternate universe, there's no reason to assume that things had to happen a certain way just because they did in main continuity.

But I still have so many questions!! How did Kim get her ring? Did Abin Sur crash in Vietnam instead of America?? Do the Teen Titans exist or do Tai and Irey start that in this universe??? What about the the JSA-

*gets dragged off-stage*

If you've made it this far, thanks for putting up with the brainrot, it will happen again. Anyways, I leave you with this little headcanon: Kim probably named her family's cat after Hal

[nostalgebraist]

Thanks for this thoughtful review!

(BTW, for others – this is probably obvious but there are spoilers below the readmore, don't click unless you've read the book)

I'm going to use this as an opportunity to talk about one specific thing that bugs me about some reader reactions to my stuff. Therefore, most of what I say below will be negative (about your review), but I want to emphasize first that that's not a reflection of what I thought of it overall.

----

What I'm here now to talk about is this kind of thing:

There are parts of all his books, where I really think that the explanation for why they are the way they are is that they are "bad on purpose", and all the bullshit [note: in context "bullshit" seems to be meant as a neutral term for non-realist elements -nost] is a way of turning these shortcomings into strengths. The self-effacing voice which whispers that the characters aren't sufficiently well-drawn, are too cartoonish—well, what if that was the point? What if there was a reason for that, in the story?

And like... okay, there is sort of a sense in which this is true, sometimes, kinda. There is a grain of truth to this; it is getting at something real.

But it pains me to say that, because I don't want to encourage this kind of reading. Interpretations like this are occasionally correct but IMO they're much more common than they should be. IMO the right intuition is that this is a galaxy-brained, contrarian sort of take, a last resort you land on when you've ruled out everything else.

And not just with my work, with everything – I'm simply more aware of the problem when it comes to my work, because I wrote it and I'm aware of why I actually did things the way I did.

I've said this before, but watching the way that people react to my own fiction has been an eye-opening experience, one that has taught me things about reader (and viewer, etc.) reactions in general. Specifically, what I've learned was:

People's tastes are way more diverse than I had realized (before I started writing and sharing fiction). And they are diverse in a very fine-grained way; even if two readers have the same preferences about 90% of stuff, or 95%, they'll still diverge on some things. While it's not literally true that "every reader is a unique snowflake with a preference set that no one else shares," that is a very good first approximation of how things are.

Readers (including me!) have been trained by a lifetime of reading book/movie/etc. reviews to frame their preferences/reactions in a pseudo-objective "this is just how it is" way, like their own tastes have some special viewpoint-independent priority, a quality of "reality" or "accuracy" lacking in everyone else's tastes (which are all different, cf. 1). And this is not just a stylistic quirk of the way people write about fiction, it actually (IMO) feeds back into the underlying opinions behind the written commentary. It degrades people's ability to understand what it is they're looking at and their ability to make accurate inferences about the process of its creation.

----

Here's a sort of cartoonish schematic of the type of experience that led me to draw these conclusions. (And I suspect this is not just a thing that happens to me, I imagine it happens with any sort of work that "contains a lot of different types of stuff" the way mine does.)

Writer makes something that has X and Y and Z in it. Writer thinks X/Y/Z are "great tastes that taste great together." Writer is very pleased with the result.

Reader 1 has similar tastes to writer, says something brief about how they loved the book and it's a new favorite for them.

Reader 2 loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to X and not messed things up by doing so much Z.

Reader 3 is the reverse of their predecessor: they hate X, are OK with Y, love Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to Z and not messed things up by doing so much X.

Reader 4 loves X and Z – but they hate Y. They write a lengthy… you can fill in the rest. Imagine a whole bunch of these guys (readers 5, 6, etc).

Reader 17 has the same tastes as Reader 2: loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. But their lengthy review takes a different, in some sense "more charitable" angle, speculating that the inclusion of Z was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet X.

Reader 18 has the same tastes as Reader 3: hates X, is OK with Y, loves Z. But, they explain, X was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet Z.

Writer reads all these reviews and feels strange, dizzy. The "nicer" reviews like 17 and 18 are actually more uncomfortable to read than the "meaner" ones like 2 and 3.

"I don't know how to convince you guys," Writer thinks, "but I... I just liked all of it? I thought it was good? That was why I wrote it? (Why else would I have written it?)"

----

Or, as I wrote in that previously linked post from 2021, w/r/t TNC specifically (and making a slightly different but closely related point):

Some people say X was the worst part of TNC, some people say X was the best part. The story was a celebration of Y; the story was about how Y is laughably futile. It’s a letdown that we were never told more about Z; the reason TNC is good is that it leaves stuff like Z to the imagination. It was obvious we were meant to believe P; it is obvious we were meant to believe not-P; the ambiguity about whether P is tiresome literary masturbation; at least the story didn’t jump the shark by spelling out whether P! The reason people like TNC is, of course, that it has A, although nostalgebraist insisted on putting B in there too because he hasn’t fully perfected his formula yet / he somehow thinks B is good even though it isn’t / he thinks it’s funny how bad B is (but the joke tires). …and then someone else has same take, but with A and B flipped.

This exact sort of thing is of course happening again before our eyes with reactions to TAoHS.

I've encountered multiple readers who disliked most of the story but felt the ending (sort of) "redeemed it," and I've also encountered multiple readers who liked the story up until the ending but disliked the ending (or at least thought it was worse than the rest) – to say nothing of the many readers who liked (or disliked) the whole thing all the way through.

And this ending-related stuff is just one particularly obvious facet of a broader diversity in the overall reader response.

By now I know not to be surprised by this stuff, and even to find it kind of fun to watch... but I have to admit, it is still a dizzying and uncomfortable experience.

----

Now, as I said, it is sometimes true that things really are "bad on purpose."

But I think the interpreter's default hypothesis – which should be maintained by default unless convincing evidence against it can be brought forth – should be:

The writer thinks that the thing they wrote is good. They think the ideas are good and they think they executed them well. And they think this more-or-less homogeneously for everything in the work – there are no "bad but unfortunately necessary" parts from the writer's POV.

(At least, this should be the default with works that aren't making the writer much/any money. Obviously things are different with lucrative commercial fiction; there are plenty of well-paid hacks who know they're hacks and do it for the money, etc.)

Why should this be the default? Multiple reasons.

First: it takes a lot of effort to produce any sort of creative work. The writer thought that effort was worthwhile, for some reason – why?

The most straightforward explanation (and a very common one IMO) is that the writer simply believed in the thing that they were making. They believed the effort was worthwhile because it would yield a good product.

Second: as a writer you have an immense amount of freedom. It's difficult to overstate the extent of it. You are playing God, you decide the way that literally everything will be.

Obviously there are some constraints, cases where one part of a story will imply the existence of another or whatever.

But it's very rare that you actually get forced into "doing a thing you know you are bad at, badly." After all: why do that? No one's forcing you! Just do something else! You're God, you control everything!

(Note that this applies also to the very act of writing anything. No one is forcing you to write at all. If you can't come up with good ideas, nothing prevents you from just not writing your bad ones.)

Third: at least in my experience, "playing God" in this way requires a certain state of mind, a certain boldness and self-assurance, which is incompatible with thinking "yeah this is gonna suck but I have to do it" – but is very compatible with thinking "I am making something excellent and every part of it is excellent, hell yes."

Fourth: because of the previously noted diversity of reader preferences, it should not be surprising to any given reader that they find some parts of the work much better than others, even if the writer thought it was all excellent.

This outcome is predictable from the X/Y/Z stuff I talked about above. No clever interpretive work is required to explain it; it arrives pre-explained; it's simply what happens by default.

And finally: because, as I noted above, I think all of us are infected with "reviewer brainworms" and we need to be mindful of this fact.

(Just to be clear, I am not accusing OP of being more infected with said brainworms than anyone else; I'm still on my soapbox, giving a generic rant about a general issue, with OP as merely a jumping-off point.)

We've grown accustomed to the casual conflation between our own tastes and some (usually hazily imagined and under-theorized) sort of "objective, ideal artistic standards."

Outside of a few edge-case eccentrics who can be ignored for my present purposes, we do not do this because we've become intellectually convinced that

(a) such objective standards make sense and really "exist" or at least really matter and

(b) they just so happen to match our own preferences.

Rather, we've fallen into this habit because it's what the pros do: there's a standard style that professional critics and reviewers write in these days, and that style implies these stances. And if one writes (and thinks, in one's inner monologue) in this style, one can easily fall over backwards into uncritically believing (a) and (b) for no better reason than "I seem to already be talking as though I believe these things, hence it would be simple and convenient if I really did believe them."

But – even if we bracket the philosophical questions of whether (a) is in fact true, and (if it is) whose tastes in particular ought to be elevated in the way (b) presumes – even if we table all that for another day, still we ought to keep in mind how weird and audacious a move this is, this simultaneous assertion-without-explanation of the (a)+(b) pair.

We've gotten used to it by exposure, because "the pros" have normalized it. But in actual fact it is a pretty wild thing to just go and assume, given the X/Y/Z/etc. diversity of actual opinion!

If (b) is true for you (general "you" not OP), then it can't be true for me, because we're both unique snowflakes to a first approximation; indeed if (b) is true for you then (to a first approx.) it is only true for you. No one else's tastes have this magical relation to reality, just yours.

Holding the belief (b) about a given reviewer is conceivable-but-wild if we're only considering them in isolation. But once we bring a 2nd reviewer (with non-identical tastes) into the picture, who also believes (b), it's literally impossible to maintain that both of these people are fully right.

And then of course in real life there are not 2 but many, many readers out there, all of them unique snowflakes. And, while it is socially normal in our social context for each one of them to write like they're the chosen one blessed with that special (b)-magic, if you read enough such writing and actually think about what you're reading, it can't help but feel like a sort of game, like playing make-believe. As with most games, it can be very entertaining (for all parties involved), but we shouldn't confuse its amusing conceits for properties of the real world.

In the real world, the writer has their tastes, and you have yours. These tastes are probably not identical. The writer may be aware of the diversity of readerly tastes, and may thus be aware that tastes like yours are out there, but they have no special reason to consider you in particular, elevating you above all the other readers who are non-identical with them (and with you). The writer is dimly and abstractly aware of you, at best, as just another one of the people who will come along later, dislike some of their choices, assume that these choices were wrong in some "objective" way the writer knew about at the time, and then speculate as to why the writer would do something they know is wrong. For every choice, and every way of making every choice, one can imagine a reviewer who responds to it in this way, and quite often these reviewers actually materialize once the work is available for consumption. If you try to reason about these guys in advance, as a writer, it'll stop you in your tracks (if nothing else because there are 2+ of them whose takes are mutually incompatible). You've gotta have some other standard of value to rely on.

So, as a reviewer, if you ask "why would someone ever make a choice I don't like?" and try to pick at this question, you are quite likely heading toward a dead end. The writer wasn't thinking about you (or people like you). They were applying their own, distinct standard of value.

Better to ask: "suppose there was a person who actually liked all of this. What would they be like? How would they be similar to me / different from me? And what, if anything, can I conclude from that?"

The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

My fourth novel, The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, is now available in full.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

[schraubd]

Things People Blame the Jews For Volume LXXIII: Los Angeles Wildfires

The raging fires that have torn through the Los Angeles area are gripping the world's attention. Natural disasters like these don't typically have a direct culprit to blame, though of course, in a more abstract sense changing weather patterns brought on by global climate change play a role. Or, you know, it's a Jew thing. Jewish control over the weather is well-known trope to readers of this series, and few can forget congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene contributing "Jewish space lasers" to the antisemitic dictionary. But a variety of far-left groups now are making their own entry into the genre by tying the fires to America's support for Israel. For some, the rhetoric seems to be one of divine retribution, akin to how Mike Pence thinks of hurricanes ("When US taxes go to burning people alive in Gaza, we can’t be surprised when those fires come home."). Others play the game where America's foreign aid budget is presented as dollars out of hard-working American pockets, or, in this case, the Los Angeles Fire Department budget -- never mind that those pots of money have nothing to do with one another and in any event the widespread meme that the LAFD faced a draconian budget cut last year appears to be false (the fire budget is actually $53 million more than it was last year, but if I fact-checked every subclaim in this series I'd never get any sleep at all). More broadly, I was just thinking about how the immediate right-wing pivot to blame the fires on "DEI" (by which they mean, the fire department has women in its leadership) reminded me of classic antisemitic conspiracy theorizing -- the immediate impulse to find the Jewish connection and shriek "this explains everything!" Whereas some pin every bad thing in the world on "the Jews", others do the exact same thing but plug in "diversity" or some other analogous buzzword as their "explanation of first, middle, and last resort". Remember when the Wall Street Journal blamed the collapse of the Silicon Valley Bank on the fact that it had one (one!) Black director in its board? It's the same play. The conspiracy theory "explains everything" because it always "explains everything", because that what a conspiracy theory is -- it is a way to immediately, reflexively, and automatically explain anything and everything by reference to whatever it is you hate. The "wildfires are caused by DEI" takes the rhythm of an antisemitic conspiracy theory and applies it to a new context. But while I certainly enjoyed basking in that familiarity, it is always reassuring to know that someone would go the OG route and blame the Jews and Jewish institutions directly. Not that I had any doubt it would go that way -- it always does, sooner or later. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/HbFjEmx

[oceanwithouthermoon]

im confused about the time loop, i thought since theyve lived 6 extra years but didnt actually grow 6 years older that theyre mentally 16/17 still and havent experienced that brain development but i saw someone say the time loop doesnt affect their brains? because memories are a physical part of your brain and they still remember everything

its very unlikely that asou thought this deeply about this or had this real world information, and i say this because its actually physically impossible to apply real-world logic to this, even if we apply the fair amount of suspension of disbelief that naturally comes when talking about psychic powers, unless you cherry-pick it to get the answer you want.

its canon that the time loop does not effect memories (ex: toritsuka knowing he transferred to pk years ago, since the brainwashing only effects his ability to comprehend that fact too deeply. if it affected memories, there would probably be some crisis over why he was suddenly living in a different area, even if short lived due to saikis brainwashing 😭) and in real world logic, yeah that would naturally make me assume that the time loop doesnt effect the brain and that would mean it would be continuously maturing as it normally would, HOWEVER... if thats the case-

1: i find it hard to come up with a way saiki would turn back time on peoples bodies but not their brains? your brain is not magically floating in your head, its an organ that connects to every functioning part of your body, and saiki canonically reverses time on the WHOLE of something and is unable to reverse it for just one part. we know for a fact that he reverses time on their bodies obviously, people dont grow, so i dont think this would make sense.

2: babies and toddlers would probably be extremely intelligent and probably frustrated to be stuck in little baby bodies lmfao

3: there would probably be an epidemic of old people being diagnosed with dementia or other disorders.

these are the two areas of life where your brain is changing at an extremely rapid pace. old peoples brains deteriorate pretty rapidly so if peoples brains were deteriorating faster than their bodies it would be pretty concerning and noticeable. maybe itd go unnoticed if it was like a year but six years??

neither of these things happen as far as we know, and we WOULD know since we do see plenty of little and old people in the show, plus saiki would probably feel extremely guilty about it 😭

again, its unlikely that asou thought this hard about it since all together it doesnt make sense. you cant try to apply one piece of real world information that theres no in-universe indication of, but disregard other real world information as you please and call your very specific interpretation of that cherry-picked information "canon", see what im saying? but if i had to try to give a reasonable explanation (for fic purposes or something), it would be most likely that it does affect their brains but saikis brainwashing functions in a way that manipulates peoples memories as well somehow when hes doing the time loop, making them able to remember the year even though their physical brain development was reversed. again, asou probably just didnt know or take into account the fact that memories (as well as other things that affect your mental state and all that) are a physical part of your brain though lol

[magebastard]

when i’ve slept so soft against her

ship: neve gallus x rook ‘tula’ ingellvar

wc: 791

rating: g

notes: gay thoughts wouldn’t leave my gay brain

Neve realizes, eventually.

An understated gold ring on her middle finger becomes, three on her right hand. A subtle jeweled earring—too ornate, too fine to wear on the job—dangles from her left ear. She’s acquired a small collection of thin, gold bracelets.

(“They won’t jingle. If you ever want to wear them while you’re out on a case.”)

She has. A few times.

They’ve collected kisses and precious trinkets alike since that late afternoon at the docks. Tula isn’t versed in flirtation, only a wind-chilled honesty. It all sprouts like mint—the attachment, the fondness. What’s worse; this thing between them doesn’t feel a thing like the heady romances Neve is used to. There are no midnight trysts under the mage lights in Dock Town. There’s no dark mystery of a person to crack. It’s a dangerous unknown.

Tula throws herself like a blanket over the flames of Neve’s doubt. She’s honest because she cannot help it. It touches the bruise of Neve’s heart when she explains—lectures on—all of the reasons why it makes sense for them to be together.

“You’re a detective, I’m a scholar. We have a shared passion for understanding.”

“You love bad coffee, and I am uniquely horrible at making it. I can provide a valuable service.”

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and I’m a great admirer of beautiful things. We’re very clearly two halves of a whole.”

“If we’re having an academic discussion about size and softness, it’s obvious to me that your hands and mine are remarkably suited to hold one another.”

The debates are weak and only growing weaker as they carry on. Rook makes a compelling argument.

And when the gifts start…

Wordlessly she slides a thin golden band up to rest just above Neve’s knuckle. There’s no fuss or explanation. The detective in her cows at the fear of discovering why, so suddenly, Tula decided to give her this. But her own hands are bejeweled so haphazardly. Must be a Nevarran thing.

She’ll go with that.

Softly, softly steady hands gently adorn her in discreet, complimentary jewelry. Neve tuts.

It‘a all very sweet and exasperating. She could believe it entirely benign. If only it weren’t for her pesky propensity to put the pieces together.

“This is your grave dowry, isn’t it?”

Her dark eyes instantly betray her excitement.

“It was! The practice of Watchers hoarding gold is customary and—in my opinion—darling. It’s expected within the Mourn Watch but there are greater intentions for the wearer in death. At some point, I suppose I just-,” she stops short with a soft ‘hm’ as if only just realizing her own thoughts.

She gazes off for a moment. Tula will do this. Some errant idea will seize her, some undeniable fact will flit about, wisp-like in her mind and take her far from the conversation she was just a participant in. Neve is intimately familiar with both sides of this happening.

“I only wanted you to have them. I imagined you wearing them.”

Tula reaches for Neve’s hand and she gives it. They’re sat limbs akimbo, facing each other on Neve’s cot. They try not to think about the groaning effort of the wood beneath them.

“If it makes you uncomfortable-,”

“Not uncomfortable. I’m not much of a jewelry kind of girl, usually. An earring, at most. I’ve never thought to wear bracelets. I don’t tend to collect anything, save evidence. I don’t know if you’ve caught on—I have quite a case of tunnel vision when it comes to the job.” Her thumbs skate over Tula’s own set of rings. (Sparser, now.) “It’s a nice change.”

“They suit you.” Imploring fingers trace the thin chain resting in the dip between her collar bones. The soft touch, the chill of her skin sends a thrill up Neve’s spine. She wants to flatten her palm over that hand, pressing the print of the other woman firmly into her chest.

“It’s usually a practice for married couples. Parceling and sharing a dowry like this. I’m sorry. Again, I wasn’t-,”

“Trouble,” around a stone in her throat.

It was a mistake. A honest mistake. They haven’t been in the most reliable state of mind—neither of them have, since all of this began. And this is just one of many missteps they’ve taken so far. It isn’t even so terrible of a thing to forgive.

It was a silly mistake. No hidden meaning to be found. Tula wanted Neve to wear her jewelry and that itself was a sweet thing. It was enough and it still is. She desperately tries to catch the kite-string of her thoughts before they fly too far too fast.

I would share them. The rings, the bracelets. Say we’ll stay. Prove me wrong.

Neve loosens only one ring on her index finger, gently pulls the hand from her neck and presses it, reluctantly into Rook’s open palm. She swallows.

“No harm done.”