#i am not asking for the principle to be explained to me

[lizbethborden]

I'll go ahead and reveal some ignorance. Hopefully it doesn't make anyone lose respect. I understand why people aren't going to vote for Biden, but generally speaking I don't see people talking about a practical alternative? People who vote independent are going to split the Dem vote. People who don't vote are just not voting. Okay, you guys do your thing, I understand the principles behind your actions. That said, it is most likely that under those circumstances, just like in 2016, Trump will be elected. If Trump is re-elected, Project 2025 will probably be initiated in some flavor, the goal of which is to reshape American politics after Trump's re-election in order to establish Christian nationalism in law, roll back measures that protect the climate, expand presidential powers, remove protections for gender and sexual minorities, etc. Trump already took many actions while in office to advance goals like these. So, I'm not going to go up to anyone and castigate them for not voting for Biden. I understand why they are not voting for Biden. But what is the thing that follows from that? What's the next step? What's the alternative? What are our options for preventing this initiative from taking place? How do we act following the election?

[kakusu-shipping]

karma again! just out of curiosity since i'm a bit confused, but are you a system with a korosensei fictive?

No, but I can totally see how you'd get that idea, the way I talk is confusing. I'm surprised you're the first to ask honestly.

You know how some people waste resources with like, Character AI chat bots? It's like that, but the computer is my brain.

I'll get really hyper focused on a character and build up their personality, reactions, likes and dislikes and such in my head until they're basically fully functionally in there and running on their own, talking to me or other characters bounding around up there.

For most it's temporary, they'll run for a month or so straight and then shut off to rest. They're still THERE, just not on.

But for Koro-Sensei he's basically always on. I'm constantly running his programming because I like seeing how he reacts to things, mostly media I'm into at the moment, and I feel very confident about how I visualize him.

So no, not a system, no alters, it's just me and my wildly overactive imaginary Koro-Sensei program against the world.

[honey-pages]

Mine - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Viktor performs oral on virgin Reader.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Oral. Virgin Reader.

“How do you know so much about everything?” You joked. 

You had not expected Viktor to take it so seriously. He seemed a little wounded. 

“Do I appear to think I know so much about everything?” He asked in response.

“I didn’t mean it like that Viktor” You explained, “I just meant that you are so intelligent and knowledgeable, sometimes I can feel a bit out of my depth.”

“Ah” He looked saddened “I had never considered that you would feel this way, you keep up with me so well”

The sight of him disheartened hurt. 

“I think it’s really attractive.” You try to reassure him, “When you know so much. It’s never a negative”

He chuckled, “You find my knowledge attractive?”

“Well, I find the whole of you attractive, but there’s something special about hearing things that you are clearly well-educated in.”

“Oh really?” He asks, “My education isn’t strictly academic you know”

Viktor looks amused, leaning forward on his elbows across the table at you. You had been flirting in his study for some time and it appeared to be coming to a natural conclusion. You were nervous though still confident in the experience being positive and what you wanted. You were very inexperienced sexually and this long period of flirtation proved enough for you to decide exactly how you wanted it. 

“Teach me” You state.

“Teach you what?” He asks with a bemused smile.

“Something non-academic”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

“Follow me to my bed, Miss (Y/N).” He invites.

Viktor’s bedroom is adjoined to his study, the two spaces linked by a door. As he stands, he reaches out a hand and you take it and follow him. His bedroom is clean, warm and dark, with a small lamp in the corner and a made bed to the right wall. Viktor closes the door behind you.

Viktor leads you to the bed and sits next to you. He turns and looks at you for a long while, examining the curves of your face and the familiar look of your skin. He is honoured you are trusting him in this way and equally excited at being in this position. He had felt romantically towards you for quite some time however was not sure you returned his feelings. Today had given him the courage to pursue them, your flirtatious conversations had become a green light encouraging him to indulge himself in your affection. 

You could see something in the way he watched you, judging and perceiving. He raised his hand to your face, his thumb swiping over your cheek and moving to grip the back of your head, playing with your hair. He pulls you in for a passionate kiss. 

“I am going to teach you” He manages, between breaths and kisses, “how my tongue feels.”

At this, Viktor increased his urgency, kissing you hungrily. He reclines you onto his bed, your head on his pillow as he lays above you, supporting his weight on his arms. He slips a knee between your thighs. 

“I will start with the basic principle” He starts, licking at your tongue gently, as if testing the temperature.

“Then maybe I will introduce some alternative methods” He continues, removing his mouth from yours to follow the curve of your jaw to your neck. When at your ear, he stops. His breath is warm and heavy, and it sends shivers through you when he speaks. His knee is pressing into you, its weight unbearable. The pressure against you was enough to make your hips move on their own, riding his thigh. 

Viktor watches you attempt to find friction, he grins, finding the sight amusing. 

“All it takes is my knee to elicit this reaction Miss (Y/N), I will make easy work of you with my mouth.”

You try to flirt back, “Viktor- “

Viktor’s knee is moving now, grinding at you relentlessly. His mouth is licking and biting at your neck, trailing to your chest. He shifts his weight to hold one of your hands, lifting it above your head and pinning it there. With his other hand, Viktor lifts your shirt, rearranging your bra to get a better view of you. 

“I am going to give you a demonstration” Viktor lowers his mouth to your breast, tilting to the side so you can view what he is doing with his tongue. Viktor licks gently at the very tip of you, then beginning to swirl his tongue around the sides, takes you into his mouth sucking with firm pressure. The feel of him and the sight of his tongue and lips on you makes you grind harder against his knee. His mouth is hot. His hand cups you and he squeezes, incorporating teeth to gently graze you. Between nips of his teeth, he rapidly flicks his tongue, continuing this with long smooth strokes. 

Viktor moves his mouth to kiss you again, he shifts down. The pressure of his knee is removed, and he shuffles towards the lower end of the bed. Kneeling, he pulls down your trousers, manoeuvring them under your hips and off down your legs. He discards them at the bottom of the bed. He lays flat on his front, face hovering just above the top of your thighs and hooks an arm under each of your legs, pulling you under his mouth. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asks.

He spreads open your legs slowly, laying them flat before him. He takes in the view, grinning happily. 

“I have often thought about this moment”

Viktor coats his fingers with his mouth, using the saliva he has already worked up. His fingers drip with it as he teases you open, sliding against your folds, holding you open and sensitive. 

“You are exactly what I imagined. No one before has had the pleasure of tasting you, have they Miss (Y/N)?”

You stumble, “No.”

“You belong beneath my tongue. You always have done.”

Viktor’s fingers circle your clit, tracing small shapes.

“Are you a virgin, Miss (Y/N)?”

You get quite nervous at the question. You were. You weren’t sure how Viktor would react. There was no reason why you though that he would react negatively, you had gathered he was experienced. If at least, more so than yourself. You had just become quite protective over it; you wanted the situation to be comfortable and equal.

“Yes.” You reply quietly.

You feel a blazing heat as Viktor closes his mouth around you, lapping with broad strokes against your clit. The inside of his mouth is wet, and you feel his saliva coat you, spreading warmth down and across your thighs. His tongue feels so smooth, he curls it and flicks it to achieve maximum sensation, and you are instantly coming undone. 

“Viktor!” You moan out.

“You moan so purely” He teases, “It is fitting that the only thing to have ever fucked you is my tongue.”

You push up and against his mouth. His words are sweet and when he speaks, your body reacts. You are desperate for him, for more of him. He thrusts his tongue inside. You instinctively wrap your hands into his hair. 

“Oh Viktor- “

He speeds up, flatly spreading his tongue between your entrance and your clit, focusing on either when reaching them. At your clit he rapidly flicks and sucks, increasing pressure and focus. 

“Just focus on the feeling, I want to hear the noises you make.”

You feel a strange rising in your core, like a building heat threatening to explode. It is raising as he quickens. Viktor is grinding into the bed, you notice it in his hips, he’s writhing. He wants you just as much as you want him. 

“You are mine” He murmurs, the words lost in the muffled sounds of the both of you. “Once I’m done having you on my face, I’ll have you on my cock.”

You are both desperate. You for release, and him for touch. 

“Viktor, Can I have- “Your words fail you.

“What do you want, Miss (Y/N)?”

“You, your cock, please- “

“Do you need it, Miss (Y/N)?” He asks, making eye contact while flicking his tongue backwards and forwards. 

“Yes Viktor, please” 

“How do you expect to take me when you haven yet experienced all that my tongue can do?”

Viktor tightens his grip and forces you down with more pressure against the muscles of his mouth. The feeling is rising again, that unfamiliar pleasure. You are near the edge you just can’t tell what that edge is, until you are spilling over it, desperately grinding over his tongue, coating his nose and chin with thick wetness.

“I’m- “You scream out.

Viktor drinks it down, swallowing you whole. He doesn’t dare move his mouth, he keeps his pace and encourages more and more from you. Your pleasure is blinding. 

“I can’t take anymore!” You moan out, trying to grip at his arms to loosen up their firm grasp on your thighs. 

“You are capable.” 

You are shuddering against him, sweating. He leaves a few little kisses over your clit before pulling away. His face is wet, his hair dishevelled. You notice the thick outline of him straining against his clothes. 

He reassures that you are comfortable before stating, “I am going to make you mine, Miss (Y/N).”

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz

[ezrazone]

i will never be “anti-AI” (not a description of a principled political stance by any measure) because my actual experience with the technology is explaining to mohamed and other people who’ve asked me for fundraiser advice not to put machine-generated images on their campaigns. why? because tumblr users are distrustful of these images and may become stingy with their money or even drum up false accusations of scamming. reactions to AI have brought out a level of human cruelty that no infographic about industrial-scale water expenditure can obscure.

mohamed is lucky because i have hand-made art for him. how many millions of people will never have that same opportunity because westerners are genuinely just as stingy with their empire’s blood money as they are with the craft they claim to be preserving through their crusades against technology?

my prayer today: use your skills for good. make some art for mohamed or for somebody who you know needs your unconditional care right now. stop fighting with the shadows on the wall and step into life. may god protect you and protect mohamed’s family.

(edit: rbs off on this post but mohamed’s fundraiser continues.)

[liahaslosthermind]

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭~ Part 1

Part 1 of The Spy Master's Secret Find more ACOTAR works here! Summary: The Inner Circle has questions they need answered, too bad the one person they rely on for secret information is also the one who doesn't want to answer it. Warnings: Swearing, Cas and Rhysand fight, mention of *that* Solstice conversation, but I actually write Rhys as not an asshole in this one

Part 2 out now!

“It would certainly be me!” Nesta yelled, her voice joining the many that were arguing in the Inner Circle. 

Her mate let out a bellowing laugh, finding the statement ridiculous. She wouldn’t have been as pissed, had he not doubled over when realizing how very serious she was. 

“Nesta, don’t be ridiculous. You could be attached to him for 100 years straight and it still wouldn’t hold a candle to either me nor Cassian.” Rhysand stated, the air of superiority around him while making such a statement caused a shoe to fly at his head.

“Don’t be an ass, Rhys.” 

“Of course, Ferye, Darling.” The High Lord slumped down a little at that. 

The argument had been going on for far too long and after far too many drinks consumed, there wasn’t a resolution in sight.

“Well, now that we have established Nesta is out of the running, does anyone want to nominate themselves? Or will it only be Rhys and I?” Cassian asked.

Everyone was silent, minus Nesta who was angrily huffing at both her mate and his brother’s arrogance. 

“Good. Now, Rhysand, tell me what in Prythian has possessed you to think he would ever pick you over me?”

“What! Cas, you cannot actually be serious enough to think it would be yo-”

“If I remember correctly, one Solstice night a few years ago dethroned you forever.”

“That is not fair and you know it! Plus, we have made up tenfold.”

“Doesn’t matter, its about principles.”

“Please! Cassian, what the fuck do you know about principles?”

“Oh, I’ll show you principles alright-” Was all the General said before he promptly tackled Rhysand to the ground. 

Everyone else in the room just rolled their eyes. It seemed the fight would never end. 

“What am I looking at?” Lucian asked as he walked in on the brawl, noting how Amren and Mor were in the corner exchanging money for the bets they had already placed on the two Illyrians still fighting on the ground. 

“Cassian called himself Azriel’s best friend.” Elain explained as she moved over slightly on the couch, beckoning her mate forward. 

“I thought he was?” Lucian replied.

“Thank you!... I knew- I liked… you, Vanserra” Cassian managed to get out while Rhysand tried and failed to put him in a headlock. 

“I still think it's me.” Nesta grumbled. 

“I don’t understand why you all can’t ask Azriel himself?” Gwyn pitched in. 

The two brothers stopped their fighting as everyone looked to the priestess. 

Clearly, the thought hadn’t crossed anyones’ mind.

They all slowly turned to the Shadowsinger, who had been sitting in the chair by the corner of the room, shadows dancing around him, clearly enjoying the show as much as he was. 

“Come on, boy. Put the two most powerful idiots in Prythian out of their misery.” Amren said commanded 

The rest of the Inner Circle waited impatiently for Azriel’s response, which he purposefully took a pause before answering to torture them.

“Cassian, Rhysand, you both are my brothers. But I wouldn’t classify either of you as my best friend.” He finally responded. “What the fuck?” “Are you serious?” They yelled over each other.

“Ha! I knew it had to be m-” Nesta was cut off by the hand Azriel raised, pausing her thought. 

“Nesta, you are a very dear friend of mine. I appreciate our friendship very much… but it isn’t you either.”

The tension building from everyone’s anticipation was almost suffocating. 

The Spy Master opened his mouth then, deciding better of it, closed it. Getting out of his chair and walking to the door without a word. 

“Hold on!” Rhysand yelled and the House of Wind shut the door in front of Azriel, as if it too wanted to hear his answer.

Unamused, Azriel turned around to the sea of expectant faces.

“Azriel. You don’t think your… shadows are your best friend, right?” Cassian asked, a pitying tone in his voice.

Az’s shoulders shook with silent laughter at the string of curses his shadows sent at the General, even if Cassian couldn’t hear them.

“No, I don’t. But they don’t appreciate the tone, Cas.” Azriel answered as he watched his shadows menacingly circle Cassian. Finally deciding to put everyone out of their misery, he replied: 

“You don’t know her.” 

Before walking into the shadows, escaping the shouts of vulgarity that filled the room at his nonresponse.

A/n: Do y'all want a part 2?

Update: Read part 2 here!

[relicsongmel]

Iris, Miles, and their mutual "secret"

The Ace Attorney fandom is no stranger to discussions of homoerotic subtext in the game's script—pretty much everyone who's spent more than five seconds here will be able to tell you that. Screenshots of lines that imply romantic tension between same-gender characters are all over the place, to the point that many fans are drawn to the series purely by its reputation as "the gay lawyer game." Some scenes are more well-known than others, but one I find brought up fairly regularly is this conversation between Miles and Iris:

This is optional dialogue that can be triggered by presenting incorrect evidence on Iris' Psyche-Lock during the Investigation portion of Bridge to the Turnabout. The argument here is that the "secret" Iris is referring to is the same as her own: that being, a romantic interest in Phoenix Wright. Which is definitely hilarious when you consider that Iris has known Miles for less than a day and she's already reading him for filth (granted, she could have been clued in by the similarly infamous "indispensable friend" line, and she's also exceptionally good at reading people despite Miles thinking otherwise). As a Narumitsu shipper myself I am not immune to enjoying that interpretation; however, I feel like there's a lot of nuance in this scene that isn't often addressed by the fandom at large. Which is unfortunate because watering it down to just Iris calling out Miles for being the gayass he is (to be fair. she's not wrong) does a MASSIVE disservice to both of their characters, and I'll explain why.

My bone to pick with the usual analysis of this scene is mostly centered around the larger conversation to be had regarding the treatment of female characters in fandom spaces. All too often they tend to play second fiddle to the male characters, and a similar principle holds true for ships with their canonical male love interests: mostly ignored in favor of the the more popular M/M ship(s). At best these women are sidelined, at worse they are flattened into wingmen for the boys (as is frequently the case with many AA girls and Narumitsu, Iris included), and at the absolute worst they are demonized for their perceived "competition" with whatever gay ship is most popular and therefore the Only Valid One for the male characters involved (as exemplified by some very "passionate" fans that I generally try to avoid interacting with). Whenever this scene gets brought up, the focus is almost always exclusively on Miles and what the interaction says about his relationship with Phoenix; Iris is only relevant insofar as she's the one initiating Miles' Homosexual Moment™—you could replace her with almost any other character and there'd be a similar level of neglect for their role in the interaction. Only very rarely will you see attention given to what Iris' question about Miles' secret means when she is the one asking it, and what it can tell us about her relationship with Miles/what she thinks of him, and vice versa (absolutely wild how even Miles himself is often flanderized despite being the fandom's golden child). It's all too characteristic of the systemic misogyny that has plagued fandom since its inception, which is deeply frustrating to me as someone who adores Iris as much as I do (if that wasn't obvious by now). So that said, let's dive deeper into what I think the missing link is here: namely, the Iris-Miles dynamic as it pertains to their relation to Phoenix.

Iris and Miles is one of my favorite relationships to explore in the whole series—but as I've described above, unfortunately a lot of people get it wrong in my opinion. Discussion about the two is frequently centered around Narumitsu Love Drama—which is a conversation worth having, don't get me wrong—but the elements at play there aren't always represented the way I envision them, which again, is frustrating. Take the idea of potential jealousy, for instance: it's pretty standard love triangle fare that can be (and often is) quickly turned into demonization when it's used in a shipping context, character assassination be damned (re: Narumitsu fanfic authors that project their personal dislike of Feenris onto Miles via his jealousy of Iris and/or how they tend to portray Iris unfavorably). However, it's not inherently a bad thing to explore: personally, I do believe that there is mutual jealousy between the two of them. Miles might not have the full context of Iris' history when this conversation takes place, but he's emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on what Iris means to Phoenix, and vice versa. And him being a jealous hoe about it isn't out of the question when you consider that he's a bit of a loner by nature and doesn't have many close friends or outlets for socialization outside of his job. The crucial element that's sometimes missed, though, is that Miles not only lacks the self-awareness to realize he's a jealous hoe...he's also a self-sabotaging jealous hoe.

And the same can be said for Iris, who is similarly introverted and doesn't often leave her home at Hazakura Temple.

The whole reason Miles is peering into Iris' heart in the first place can be found in this exchange, after he breaks her Psyche-Lock:

Miles uses the Magatama in order to gain the answers he needs to bring the truth to light and get Iris acquitted, and he does so for the express purpose of reuniting her with Phoenix so they can find closure—in fact, he reiterates this to her multiple times. He obviously recognizes how Phoenix is suffering from what happened between them (I'd argue he sympathizes with Iris' plight as well) and has resolved to do what he can to help him heal, but there's no reason for him to be so insistent that she rectify things with Phoenix when it does nothing but harm his own chances with him. Unless, of course...that's the whole point.

To convince Iris to reveal her secret so he doesn't have to face his own, because he thinks himself undeserving.

And Iris, noticing this because she empathizes with that feeling of unworthiness, calls him out on it in an almost uncharacteristically forward manner when she asks him what he's hiding.

Takes one to know one, indeed.

Iris highly respects Miles for taking on her defense despite the risk to his job as a prosecutor. She's willing to trust him after hearing he's a friend of Phoenix, hearing him out and letting him reason with her. She still keeps her cards close to her chest in some regards, but she's more honest with him than she's been with anyone else in her life apart from her sister. She sees his commitment to the truth and how it starkly contrasts with how she's lived her life to this point, and thinks that this is the type of partner Phoenix deserves—not someone like her, who only knows how to survive using lies and deception. She sees so much strength in him but still recognizes the insecurity lurking beneath his tenacity, which is why when he falters in his logic, she takes a leap of faith and gives him one last chance to examine his reasons for pushing the burden of his unspoken affections onto her, as if to say: "Look in the mirror. Is this really for me? Or is it for you? Do you really seek the truth for its own sake, or do you merely hope to find one truth so you might run from another?"

Her question to Miles is a gamble—a coin flip of self-sacrifice. If she loses and he presses on, she has to face the secret within her heart she's been suppressing for five years. But if she wins and he gives in to the truth in his, she has to live the rest of her life watching it unfold and knowing she threw away her chance to finally stop living in fear of her own love.

Either way, there's no escaping heartache for her anymore.

Miles and Iris both want what's best for Phoenix and prioritize their vision of his feelings over their own. However, they are also both deeply emotionally repressed people who find difficulty in being direct with their feelings, and are predisposed to self-sabotage due to childhood trauma. These tendencies may manifest in different ways for both of them, but the fact remains that such people would likely not compete for a person's affection in the traditional sense, which is exactly what we see with how Iris and Miles deflect their feelings for Phoenix. These selfless, lovestruck idiots toss that man around like a game of hot-potato because their mutual self-hatred for the ways they've harmed him has rendered them terrified of the reality of what he means to them, and desperate to find a way out of admitting to it. It's the most compelling explanation I can think of for why the usually unassuming Iris makes such a bold judgment about what Miles might be keeping locked away, and why Miles goes to such lengths to make sure she talks to Phoenix and tells him the truth—his agreement to defend her was conditional on that exact promise. They go through this whole song-and-dance of playing wingman to ignore their own feelings while still trying to bring Phoenix the happiness they think he deserves—and then they wonder why seeing Phoenix give the other one attention burns them up inside.

Because they’re dumb. And I love them.

TL;DR the Iris Psyche-Lock scene in BttT is so much more than just "haha Miles gay" and I wish people talked about it more. Also Iris and Miles are way more similar than they appear at first glance and if I think about it for too long it makes me physically ill thank you for coming to my TED talk

[jewreallythinkthat]

One of the reasons I think there has been such a breakdown between the "progressive" left and the Jewish community is actually something that I've watched before fostered in left wing spaces for well over a decade and that is looking for offence.

When someone says something antisemitic, that does not mean they are an antisemite. I remember when the BLM marches took place, people rightly pointed out that there is a lot of unconscious bias against PoC and that being called out for eating something you didn't realise was problematic does not mean you are actually racist, just that you need to think a bit more when talking about a subject which in many cases, doesn't affect you as such. The same principle should apply to antisemitism.

If I say someone has said something antisemitic, their first reaction (on the left wing - because the right will proudly nod that yes, it was antisemitic) is often "you're calling me an antisemite and trying to silence me, Zionist". This is not true. What I am saying is that you are saying something that is discriminatory, invoked blood libel, accused Jews of ruling the world etc etc. I fully believe most people do not realise they are doing this. The point of dog whistles is that you are not supposed to recognise them, that's how they propagate. Anti-jewish racism is one of the oldest forms of hatred and it stretches back multiple millennia so it makes sense that it's literally inside the common vernacular. That doesn't mean everyone using it is an antisemite.

Instead of immidiately jumping to the defensive, I wish people would take a moment to ask, in good faith, "why would a Jewish person find this antisemitic?" Take the opportunity to learn, to better themself. Do not assume every Jew is trying to silence you - assuming the worst every time of Jewish people is a type of antisemitism so please try and put yourself in their shoes and maybe even ask them to explain so you can do better in the future.

Just a general overview, here's a couple of ones to look out for (a non exhaustive list).

1. Replace the word "Zionist" in what has Ben said with "Jew". If it sounds like something leeched out of Nazi Germanh or the Soviet Union, it's probably going to be antisemitism.

2. Saying you don't think any country should exist but focusing exclusively on the destruction of Israel. The only thing that makes Israel unique is that it's a Jewish majority country. So why is that the only county you actively want to get rid of?

2.1 Holding Israel to a higher standard than any other country is antisemitic as laid out above in point 2.

3. Assuming the worst of Jews and Israel every time is antisemitism. It's no different to assuming Black people are always out to get you or all Muslims are terrorists. If it's racist to do this to one minority group, it is racist to do it to any.

4. Tokenizing extremists in a community (Ben Gvir and the West Bank settlers on the right wing in Israel, the Neturi Karta by the progressive left when discussing I/P) is racist. If you only listen to Jews who prove your point, you are actively excluding the majority of a community so you can beat them down, this is racist.

I don't like calling people antisemitic because most people are not actually that, what they are is uneducated on antisemetism because the majority of that education is not being done by Jews - let alone Jews who represent the majority of the community.

But if you refuse to talk to Jews in good faith when they try to explain why what you have said is antisemitic, you are running the risk of moving from "ignorant user of antisemetic language" to "antisemite" (also a note, ignorant not meaning stupid but rather that you do not know something).

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car Au part 11

Previous. Masterpost

When Duke woke up, he remembered the fight he had with Bruce last night. All in all, it was actually what Duke wanted to happen in a way. Duke got full access to “fix” the Batmobile, but just the way Bruce made it sound was just… Infuriating. Like, sure, blame the newly 17 year old kid who had only moved the car, not even a hundred feet, for everything wrong with the car. Being benched until he figured out how to get whoever was possessing the car sucked though.

The good news is that the only people who would be awake to bother him or ask unwanted questions would be Alfred and maybe Tim. If Tim got on his case it would be simple to call in Alfred or to threaten him with calling in Alfred. The only other people that use the cave like the front door are Dick and Jason. Both would be up for hiding the issue from Bruce once explained. Dick would be a bleeding heart to a potential meta/alien kid getting stuck because of their powers. Jason would keep the secret just on principle, especially if told Duke got blamed for something he had no hand in. Jason would probably help set the kid up after he gets out of the car too, assuming Bruce doesn't pull a Bruce. It would be nice to not be the only meta in the family though, and the kid would already know about the family, but that would be the kids choice.

After a short breakfast, Duke made his way back down to the cave, only to hear a…Rave?

He made his way through the cave following the muted music to… the car…

“What in every hell are you doing?” Duke could not help to exclaim as he saw the Batmobile, for lack of a better comparison, dancing.

The car was strobing its headlights from the yellow driver's lights, to the brights, to the color changing LEDs Jason and Dick put in for a party prank that Bruce never removed, all to the beat of some techno that had to have been in Tim's Playlist. The car stopped in its perceived dancing to open its door in another mockery of a wave causing the music to become almost deafening as the door opened. Duke had to cover his ears as the kid in the car panicked and set off its alarm before turning everything off. If Duke thought the cacophony before was deafening, the silence after was even more so.

“Seriously, what the hell kid?” Duke said with as much incredulity as he could muster.

The car responded with a slow turning of its front wheels and a quieter sound of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Beiber playing, which could have been from either Dick or Steph’s playlists.

“You know what? I am not going to deal with song names and lyrics to guess from. Give me a second.” Duke went to the Batcomputer and found Tim's folder containing all of the sound bytes and clips that he uses when he gets real malicious with the power points for his team, the JL, or for Bruce when he is being exceptionally pissy, and downloads it onto a large USB stick. It took a little longer than Duke expected, but within an hour the USB was downloading its new playlist into the Batmobile’s radio storage. The sound bytes should be better than songs, right?

“GOOOOOOODDDDDD MOOOOORRRRRRNNNING GOOOOOOOTTTHHHHAAAAAAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!”

“God dammit Tim”

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[liloinkoink]

HEY GUYS CANNOT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS BUT DO NOT MAKE A C.AI BOT OF ME, LIKE LITERALLY ME ???????

girl am i in the twilight zone right now. what is this.

hey guys so like fun fact in case you did not know i am a real human person. you can message me. my ask box has been open all like ten years i have been on this website. my messages have been open since they added that feature to tumblr. youre allowed to just talk to me. you do not have to make a fake, 2D version of me to roleplay talking to me

related, i am a real human person, and this is an incredibly weird and dehumanizing thing to do. i don’t know how to explain that any more clearly. i didn’t think i would need to? like. i’m not a creator playing an RP character. i am not fictional. i am literally just a guy on tumblr. this is really fucking a weird thing to do to me

also, i am very vocally anti generative ai and anti chatbot. this is not only incredibly dehumanizing, but incredibly violating of my principles as a writer and as a person. i have never been shy about this. i talk about it all the time. this is incredibly disrespectful

but just like. to reiterate. make sure this is fully and clearly stated, bc apparently it needs to be stated explicitly

1) do not make AI chatbots of me. i am a human being who is very easily accessible. you can just talk to me. my messages are open

2) do not make AI chat bots based on my writing or characters.

3) do not put any of my writing through any kind of generative ai. ever.

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do SMAU for Toto Wolff with wife reader where she is a huge bookworm and he always so supportive about her passion And the Internet has gone crazy about it. Thanks :))

Bookstagram - Toto Wolff x BookwormWife! Reader

Plot: Taking a look through your bookstagram and how supportive Toto Wolff is of your love for reading. Encouraging you to pursue your dream of writing.

Credit to multibabydoll for the GIF

You loved reading and books. Before you met Toto, you used to be a bookseller and then worked for a publishing house. You actually met Toto because of the influx in Motorsport Romance's that made your company send you to a race to get some ... hands on experience and you ended up having your own sort of Motorsport Romance with a Team Principle.

You ended up marrying Toto and at first it was hard, but when COVID came and you ended up working from home since then so coming to the races had been much easier.

y/user

Liked by lucyscore laurenroberts and mercedesamgf1

y/user: My reads of the month! Really loved both of these and I can’t wait for book to from Lauren!

Book 1: Things We Hide From The Light by Lucy Score

Book 2: Powerless by Lauren Roberts

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lucyscore: I’m glad you enjoyed this one!

-> y/user: it’s really good!

fan1: i love these!

toto.wolff: Is this the book you were reading on the plane?

-> y/user: Yes, the other one I read at the race track!

laurenroberts: babe! I’m glad you enjoyed! Come to a book signing and I’ll get you a proof of Powerful!

-> y/user: no stop! I’d love that!

DM’s

laurenroberts: Hey Babe, got an event on 29th November, in Florida. You want to come as my special guest?

y/n: id love that! Thank you so much for the invite! I’ll just need to talk to my husband. I’ve never travelled solo and I’m a nervous traveller!

laurenroberts: That’s fine! Just let me know as and when babe!

“Babe, can we talk for a second” you asked your husband as you walk into the kitchen where he is sat with his morning coffee.

"Yes honey what is it?" he asks looking over at you, pushing a glass of orange juice towards you.

"Well, one of the authors that I really like invited me to a book signing.."

"Oh that's amazing sweetheart. Are you going to go?" he says checking his emails not fully paying attention.

"Well, thats the thing. It's over a race weekend... and" you start but his head bolts up to interrupt you.

"You better not be asking for my permission for if you can go, you know you don't have to ask!" he says almost as though he's offended you with think that of him!

"No, no of course not. But I'm scared to go alone, you know how I am!" you explain and he nods remembering the last time you guys flew.

"Well, how about I buy you a nice first class ticket and make the experience worth it. I'll pay for a fancy hotel and a spa evening for when you land ... how does that sound" he grins pulling you into him kissing your forehead.

"You don't have to do that for me!" you exclaim feeling bad!

"Ah no honey, I do this all for you!" he smiles pulling you in for a full kiss.

y/user

Liked by stephaniegarber and ashleyposton

y/n: What do you guys prefer, Romance or Fantasy. I love finding quiet corners at the race track!

Tagged 8 People

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stephaniegarber: Did you enjoy it?

-> y/user: It was so good! I moved straight onto Legend! And Toto brought me OUABH!

ashleyposton: I see those outlines! Thank you for your review on goodreads!

olivia_blake: ahhhh, i hope you enjoy it!

fan1: Y/N is definielty a motorsport romance girlie considering she literally lived one!

->fan2: i forget about this!

"Baby, you have to stop packing so many books!" Toto laughs as he gets out his card to pay the extra bagging expense where your bags had ended up being overweight.

"I'm so so sorry! I didn't realize how many I'd take back with me, American Books are so much more floppy than the ones at home... even though I prefer our covers!" she answers, going to get her card out.

"I'll pay baby don't be silly!" Toto laughs tapping his card as air port staff come over and help you guys take the bags away.

"You are my little book worm aren't you!" he grins pinching your cheeks like an older lady.

"Stop!" you say swatting his hand away.

y/user

Liked by toto.wolff and others

y/n: Toto helped me rebuild my book nook AND took me out for a book haul! It's up on my YouTube now!

Link

Tagged 1 Person

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sarahjmaas: looks amazing!

toto.wolff: I'm happy to help baby!

-> y/user: BEST HUSBAND.

You and Toto had spend the day putting up the swinging chair, and making the room cozy with fairy lights.

He had started to organize your shelves in colour coordination order making a rainbow. You felt so bad when your need to have them in genre and alphabetical order took over.

"Baby, as incredible as this looks, I'm never going to find any books!" you argued and he looks and pulled out Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros.

"See I found you current smutty dragon book!" he smiles handing it to you and your eyes widen at the lingo he was using.

"Have you been... watching my videos?" you ask in shock.

"Mmmm yes honey. i find them very amusing!" he admits and you just stare at him in shock.

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton and toto.wolff

y/n: He looks like this so that I can look like this …

I LOVE MY HUSBAND

Tagged One Person

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fan1: shes so unserious ... lmao

fan2: and you look fab!

You were thankful that Toto worked as hard as he did, he treated you all the time and you treated him in return.

Your husband was so supportive and was without a doubt the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Taglist:

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[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

do you think alhaitham is a yearner for kaveh or the other way around

Anon thank you so much for this ask <3 it turns out that this is more complicated than I thought. since alhaitham is so embarrassingly obvious, I think kaveh’s own version of ‘yearning’ can be overlooked, so thank you for giving me an opportunity to explore both! I am using your ask as an excuse to show how embarrassing alhaitham is, he has no shame!! therefore i've had to split this answer into two posts!

alhaitham essentially building his life around kaveh being a part of it is ultimate down bad behaviour:

the house: alhaitham’s character stories give us very little about alhaitham’s life after his fallout with kaveh and his graduation. we’re told that he moves out of his grandmother’s house to move into the research facility gifted to him and kaveh? and it’s only after he moves in that he’s told by a third-party that kaveh has no need for the property, so only then does he convert the property into a house

So it seems he moved in with some expectation of encountering kaveh at some point, especially considering it was their joint property. There’s no reason given why he opted to move out of his grandmother’s house but I think it's interesting that kaveh’s character stories detail that a house is not a home without other occupants who understand him without words, which causes him to sell his parents’ house as he was the only occupant, which parallels with alhaitham moving out of a house in which he also is the sole occupant, into a property which ties him and kaveh together

The bulletin boards/academic journals: although it isn’t specified who made the first journal critique, if it falls in line with alhaitham incessantly responding to all of kaveh’s bulletin board points, I’d like to think that alhaitham reached out first here, just as he moved into their joint property without actually knowing that kaveh had no use for it – although they had separated at this point, regardless of who reached out first, alhaitham was still actively pursuing kaveh’s perspective here, as this was the only instance of kaveh being in his life… oh….

during the archon quest: alhaitham mentioning kaveh without any prompt whatsoever lives in my head, even more so that this seems to be a musing that he didn’t even mean to say out loud? Sick!!

And when kaveh eventually returns, alhaitham says that he doesn’t want to have to explain the whole thing to kaveh, so he should leave the house of daena before kaveh returns, but he doesn’t?

Special mention of the gathering in the grand bazaar where alhaitham equates his own happiness to that of the people of the gathering, and then immediately mentions how he must have taken both keys leaving the house, indicating that another reason for his happiness increased because kaveh has returned, and that his way of life has been maintained - meaning that kaveh is one of his priorities (i brainrot more about this here)

Alhaitham’s story quest: the motif of kaveh ensuring alhaitham’s content is returned to with force in alhaitham’s story quest with establishing kaveh as someone alhaitham chooses not to be objective about, with kaveh being framed as alhaitham’s priority

(additionally, this expression, absolutely criminal)

kaveh’s hangout and voice lines: kaveh is shown once again to be an exception to alhaitham’s objectivity, as alhaitham inserts himself into kaveh’s ‘fate’ to offer him a place to stay when kaveh’s choices led him to selling his house, having no place to go – this overturns alhaitham’s principle of being uninvolved with people’s fates, and pulling kaveh back to shore, as opposed to standing on the sidelines

kaveh’s hangout is really special to me as it showcases alhaitham’s whole understanding of kaveh, not only his inner psyche, but also how to secure kaveh’s happiness through an indirect action, as kaveh’s heart meter increases once seeing the response a student wrote to his annotations, it demonstrates that alhaitham’s care towards kaveh is most explicitly shown with actions

a parade of providence: alhaitham becomes the event's commentator solely to investigate Sachin to see if he influenced kaveh’s father, attempting to give kaveh closure and alleviate his self-destructive mindset. in the same vein, alhaitham leaves kaveh note that in a language the two learnt together for their thesis commenting on kaveh's ideologies and how it can lead to suffering.

this really solidifies that alhaitham's care is demonstrated in actions, and that a shift in communication is needed to properly show this. It’s here that alhaitham’s actions are the most explicit, and this leads to the major improvement in their relationship (which i explore more in detail here)

cyno's second story quest: thank you for chronic book gripper alhaitham reading his book when kaveh is out of the living room, and immediately putting it down when kaveh enters and begins telling alhaitham about his day, for alhaitham to encourage.

the animation that was so essential for the devs to include of alhaitham watching kaveh sketch when kaveh’s back was turned is such a comic example of yearning, it’s actually ridiculous

also alhaitham smiling when being asked to stay in the house of daena to work with kaveh??

alhaitham is one big yearner, he is that guy and he has no interest in beating the allegations!

the second part of this answer will explore kaveh's version of yearning!

[missingbat]

Some very strange AU with suffering, murder, depression, blood-- & A FLUFF, OF COURSE♡(>ᴗ•)♡(>ᴗ•)

And I came up with some random foolishness when I was poisoned and had a fever for three days. Please note that they may contradict each other because I am an inattentive person(ಡ‸ಡ)･ﾟ｡

Ichiji began to have the beginnings of emotions at the moment X, and since he is not a stupid boy, he realized that Judge was leading him by the nose, brainwashing and blah blah blah. Well, he didn't want to dance to someone else's tune, so he cosplays Sora — he swallowed the poison that she drank when she was pregnant, and that's the result. A crippled teenager runs from the assassins of Jerma, cursing the whole world and himself, as well as trying to find a cure so as not to end up like a mother.

In a fit of rage, he cut up his tattoo, and when he came to, he realized that he was now just a weak, pathetic person who was bleeding and who could die from such 'stuff'.

He was taken in once, and then he found out that the family that took him in had been killed by the assassins of the Judge.

Ichi, before meeting the Pirates of Spades, worked as a mercenary and informant who is constantly on the run and has no contact with anyone for a long time.

He says he doesn't have anyone and can't go back anywhere.

Because of the appearance of emotions, he is constantly under stress and endlessly replays in his head the crimes that he committed and could not influence, but still hates himself and blames himself.

Haphephobia is in a very advanced stage. Partly due to ignorance of the consequences after using poison, you never know what will happen to the surrounding people.

Out of habit, he holds back any emotions, and in principle behaves like an arrogant asshole.

The hump is literally loaded with various weapons. If you take it in your hands, you will get a loud metallic crackle of all that metal. But he walks noiselessly, lol.

Like the most normal and ordinary man, sleeps with a dagger in his arms. (Don't go near him, he'll throw a knife at you)

Severe cognitive imbalance when he looks at himself in the mirror.  Ace, like Luffy's real brother, will blurt out that Ichiji looks like Little Red Riding Hood when they first meet. Ichi will say that he must have been hit hard on the head as a child." (WTF? How did you know?!?)

"I'm not a good person, Ace. You don't know anything about me."

Periodically there are attacks of coughing with blood, but he, of course, does not say anything to anyone, does not explain, but snaps and says not to go where you are not asked to go.

One day Deuce is going to get all worked up about how it's really not right and normal for Ichi, that he should be chained up in bed, not running around with a stupid capitan and covering his ass. Ichiji will tell that Deuce is doing the same thing." And Vinsmoke is right, BUT Deuce DOESN'T DO THAT WHEN HIS ORGANS ARE MELTING(＃`Д´)-- (Ichiji persuaded Deuce to keep quiet, and Deuce decided to keep a low profile on this "I can handle it myself".)

Deuce vaguely resembles Niji(if you get stoned in the end and get your eyesight -10, but still-), so Ichiji feels some kind of softness towards him. he or she trusts him more than the others.

I'm still trying to figure out how tumblr works, even though I don't understand English at all and use a translator to understand what's going on (￣ ￣|||)

[glitter-stained]

Damasio, The Trolley Problem and Batman: Under the Hood

Okay so @bestangelofall asked me to elaborate on what I meant by "Damasio's theories on emotions in moral decision-making add another level of depth to the analysis of UTH as a moral dilemma" and I thought this deserved its own post so let's talk about this.

So, idk where everyone is at here (philosophy was mandatory in highschool in my country but apparently that's not the case everywhere so i genuinely have no clue what's common knowledge here, i don't want to like state the obvious but also we should recap some stuff. Also if I'm mentioning a philosopher's or scientist's name without detailing, that means it's just a passing thought/recommendation if you want to read more on the topic.)

First thing first is I've seen said, about jason and the no killing rule, that "killing is always bad that's not up for debate". And I would like to say, that's factually untrue. Like, no matter which side of the debate you are on, there is very much a debate. Historically a big thing even. So if that's not something you're open to hear about, if you're convinced your position is the only correct one and even considering other options is wrong and/or a waste of time... I recommend stopping here, because this only going to make you upset, and you have better stuff to do with your life than getting upset over an essay. In any case please stay civil and remember that this post is not about me debating ethics with the whole bat-tumblr, it's me describing a debate other people have been voicing for a long time, explaining the position Damasio's neuropsychology and philosophy holds in this debate, and analyzing the ethics discussed in Batman: Under the Red Hood in that light. So while I might talk about my personal position in here (because I have an opinion in this debate), this isn't a philosophy post; this is a literature analysis that just so happens to exist within the context of a neuropsychological position on a philosophical debate. Do not try to convince me that my philosophy of ethics is wrong, because that's not the point, that's not what the post is about, I find it very frustrating and you will be blocked. I don't have the energy to defend my personal opinions against everybody who disagrees with me.

Now, let's start with Bruce. Bruce, in Under The Hood and wrt the no kill rule (not necessarily all of his ethics, i'm talking specifically about the no kill rule), is defending a deontological position. Deontology is a philosophy of ethics coined by christian🧷 18th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant. The philosophy of ethics asks this question: what does it mean to do a good action? And deontology answers "it means to do things following a set of principles". Basically Kant describes what are "absolute imperatives" which are rules that hold inherent moral values: some things are fundamentally wrong and others are bad. Batman's no-kill rule is thus a categorical imperative: "Though Shall not Kill"🧷, it is always wrong to kill. (Note that I am not saying Bruce is kantian just because he has a deontology: Kant explained the concept of deontological ethics, and then went up to theorize his own very specific and odd brand of deontology, which banned anything that if generalized would cause the collapse of society as well as, inexplicably, masturbation. Bruce is not Kantian, he's just, regarding the no kill rule, deontological. Batman is still allowed to wank, don't worry.)

In this debate, deontological ethics are often pit up against teleological ethics, the most famous group of which being consequentialism, the most famous of consequentialisms being utilitarism. As the name indicates, consequentialist theories posit that the intended consequences of your actions determine if those actions were good or not. Utilitarism claims that to do good, your actions should aim to maximise happiness for the most people possible. So Jason, when he says "one should kill the Joker to prevent the thousands of victims he is going to harm if one does not kill him", is holding a utilitarian position.

The debate between deontology and utilitarism has held many forms, some fantastical and some with more realistic approaches to real life like "say you're hiding from soldiers and you're holding a baby that's gonna start crying, alerting the soldiers and getting everyone in your hideout massacred. Do you muffle the baby, knowing it will suffocate and kill it?" or "say there's a plague going on and people are dying and the hospital does not have enough ventilators, do you take the one off of the comatose patient with under 0.01% chance of ever waking up to give it to another patient? What about 1%?", etc, etc. The most famous derivative of this dilemma, of course, being the infamous trolley problem.

This is what is meant when we say "the UTH confrontation is a trolley problem." The final confrontation at the warehouse is a variation, a derivative of the utilitarian dilemma that goes as follows: "if someone was trying to kill someone in front of you, and that murder would prevent the murder of thousands, should you try to stop that murder or let it happen?"

Now, here's a question: why are there so many derivatives of the trolley problem? Why do philosophers spend time pondering different versions of the same question instead of solving it?

My opinion (and the one of much, much smarter people whose name i forgot oops) is that both systems fail at giving us a satisfying, clean-cut reply. Now, most people have a clean-cut answer to the trolley problem as presented here: me personally, I lean more towards utilitarianism, and I found it logical to pull the lever. But altering the exact situation makes me change my answer, and there is very often a point where people, no matter their deontological or utilitarian velleities, change their answer. And that's interesting to examine.

So let's talk about deontology. Now my first gripe with deontology it's that it posits a set of rules as absolute and I find that often quite arbitrary. 🧷 Like, it feels a little like mathematical axioms, you know? We build a whole worldview on the assumption that these rules are inherently correct and the best configuration because it feels like it makes sense, and accidentally close our mind to the world of non-euclidian ethics. In practice, here are some situations in which a deontologist might change their mind: self-defense killing, for example, is often cited as "an exception to the rule", making that rule de facto non-universal; and disqualifying it as an absolute imperative. Strangely enough, people will often try to solve the trolley problem by deciding to kill themselves by jumping on the tracks 🧷 which is actually a utilitarian solution: whether you're pulling the lever or you're jumping on the tracks, you are choosing to kill one person to stop the people from being run over. Why does it matter if it's you or someone else you're killing? You're still killing someone. Another situation where people may change their answer would be, like "what if you needed to save your children but to do so you had to kill the ceo of united healthcare?" Note that these are only examples for killing, but the biggest issue is that deontology preaches actions are always either good or wrong, and the issue with that lack of nuance is best illustrated with the kantian problem regarding the morality of lying: let's say it's the holocaust and a family of jews is hiding in your house. Let's say a nazi knocks on your door and asks if there are people hiding in your house. You know if you tell the truth, the jews in your house will be deported. In that situation, is it morally correct to lie? Now, Kant lived before the Holocaust, but in his time there was a similar version of this problem that had been verbalised (this formulation is the best-known derivative of this problem btw, I didn't invent it) and Kant's answer, I kid you not, was still "no it is not morally acceptable to lie in that situation".

And of course, there are variations of that problem that play with the definition of killing- what defines the act of killing and can the other circumstances (like if there's a person you need to save) alter that definition? => Conclusion: there is a lot more nuance to moral actions than what a purely deontological frame claims, and pushing deontology to its limits leads to situations that would feel absurd to us.

Now let's take utilitarianism to its own limits. Say you live in a world where healthcare has never been better. Now say this system is so because there is a whole small caste of people who have been cloned and genetically optimized and conditioned since birth so that their organs could be harvested at any given moment to heal someone. Let's say this system is so performant it has optimised this world's humanity's general well-being and health, leading to an undeniable, unparalleled positive net-worth for humanity. Here's the question: is this world a utopia or a dystopia? Aka, is raising a caste of people as organ cattle morally acceptable in that situation? (Note: Because people's limits on utilitarianism vary greatly from one person to another, I chose the most extreme example I could remember, but of course there are far more nuanced ones. Again, I wasn't the one to come up with this example. If you're looking for examples of this in fiction, i think the limits of utilitarianism are explored pretty interestingly in the videogame The Last of Us).

=> Conclusion: there is a lot more nuance to moral actions than what a purely utilitarian frame claims, and pushing utilitarism to its limits leads to situations that would feel absurd to us.

This leads us back to Under the Hood. Now because UTH includes a scathing criticism of Batman's no kill rule deontology, but Jason is also presented as a villain in this one, my analysis of the whole comic is based on the confrontation between both of these philosophies and their failures, culminating in a trolley dilemma type situation. So this is why it makes sense to have Bruce get mad at Jason for killing Captain Nazi in self-defense: rejecting self-defense, even against nazis, is the logical absurd conclusion of deontology. Winick is simply taking Bruce's no-kill rule to the limit.

And that's part of what gets me about Jason killing goons (aside from the willis todd thing that should definitely have been addressed in such a plot point.) It's that it feels to me like Jason's philosophy is presented as wrong because it leads to unacceptable decisions, but killing goons is not the logical absurd conclusion of utilitarianism. It's a. a side-effect of Jason's plot against Bruce and/or, depending on how charitable you are to either Jason's intelligence or his morals, b. a miscalculation. Assuming Jason's actions in killing goons are a reflection of his moral code (which is already a great assumption, because people not following their own morals is actually the norm, we are not paragons of virtue), then this means that 1) he has calculated that those goons dying would induce an increase in general global human happiness and thus 2) based on this premise, he follows the utilitarian framework and thus believes it's moral to kill the goons. It's the association of (1) and (2) that leads to an absurd and blatantly immoral consequence, but since the premise (1) is a clear miscalculation, the fact that (1) & (2) leads to something wrong does not count as a valid criticism of (2): to put it differently, since the premise is wrong, the conclusion being wrong does not give me any additional info on the value of the reasoning. This is a little like saying "Since 1+ 3= 5 and 2+2=4, then 1+3+2+2 = 9". The conclusion is wrong, but because the first part (1+3=5) is false, the conclusion being wrong does not mean that the second part (2+2 =4) is wrong. So that's what frustrates me so much when people bring up Jason killing goons as a gotcha for criticizing his utilitarian philosophy, because it is not!! It looks like it from afar but it isn't, which is so frustrating because, as stated previously, there are indeed real limits to utilitarianism that could have been explored instead to truly level the moral playing field between Jason and Bruce.

Now that all of this is said and done, let's talk about what in utilitarianism and deontology makes them flawed and, you guessed it, talk some about neuropsychology (and how that leads to what's imo maybe the most interesting thing about the philosophy in Under the Hood.)

In Green Arrow (2001), in an arc also written by Judd Winick, Mia Dearden meets a tortured man who begs her to kill him to save Star City (which is being massacred), and she kills him, then starts to cry and begs Ollie for confirmation that this was the right thing to do. Does this make Mia a utilitarian? If so, then why did she doubt and cry? Is she instead a deontologist, who made a mistake?

In any case, the reason why Mia's decision was so difficult for her to make and live with, and the reason why all of these trolley-adjacent dilemmas are so hard, is pretty clear. Mia's actions were driven by fear and empathy. It's harder to tolerate sacrificing our own child to avoid killing, it's harder to decide to sacrifice a child than an adult, a world where people are raised to harvest their organs feels horrible because these are real humans we can have empathy towards and putting ourselves in their shoes is terrifying... So we have two "perfectly logical" rational systems toppled by our emotions. But which is wrong: should we try to shut down our empathy and emotions so as to always be righteous? Are they a parasite stopping us from being true moral beings?

Classically, we (at least in my culture in western civilization) have historically separated emotions from cognition (cognition being the domain of thought, reasoning, intelligence, etc.) Descartes, for example, was a philosopher who highlighted a dualist separation of emotion and rationality. For a long time this was the position in psychology, with even nowadays some people who think normal psychologists are for helping with emotions and neuropsychologists are for helping with cognition.(I will fight these people with a stick.) Anyway, that position was the predominant one in psychology up until Damasio (not the famous writer, the neuropsychologist) wrote a book named Descartes' Error. (A fundamental of neuropsychology and a classic that conjugates neurology, psychology and philosophy: what more could you ask for?)

Damasio's book's title speaks for itself: you cannot separate emotion from intelligence. For centuries we have considered emotions to be parasitic towards reasoning, (which even had implications on social themes and constructs through the centuries 📌): you're being emotional, you're letting emotions cloud your judgement, you're emotionally compromised, you're not thinking clearly... (Which is pretty pertinent to consider from the angle of A Death in the Family, because this is literally the reproach Bruce makes to Jason). Damasio based the book on the Damasio couple's (him and his wife) study of Phineas Gage, a very, very famous case of frontal syndrome (damage to the part of the brain just behind the forehead associated with executive functions issues, behavioural issues and emotional regulation). The couple's research on Gage lead Damasio, in his book, to this conclusion: emotions are as much of a part of reasoning and moral decision-making as "cold cognition" (non emotional functioning). Think of it differently: emotional intelligence is a skill. Emotions are tools. On an evolutionary level, it is good that we as people have this skill to try and figure out what others might think and do. That's useful. Of course, that doesn't mean that struggling with empathy makes you immoral, but we people who struggle with empathy have stories of moments where that issue has made us hurt someone's feelings on accident, and it made us sad, because we didn't want to hurt their feelings. On an evolutionary level (and this is where social Darwinism fundamentally fails) humanity has been able to evolve in group and in a transgenerational group (passing knowledge from our ancestors long after their death, belonging to a community spread over a time longer than our lifetime) thanks to social cognition (see Tomasello's position on the evolution of language for more detail on that), and emotions, and "emotional intelligence" is a fundamental part of how that great system works across the ages.

And that's what makes Batman: Under the Hood brilliant on that regard. If I have to make a hypothesis on the state of Winick's knowledge on that stuff, I would say I'm pretty sure he knew about the utilitarism vs deontology issue; much harder to say about the Damasio part, but whether he's well-read in neuropsychology classics or just followed a similar line of reasoning, this is a phenomenally fun framework to consider UTH under.

Because UTH, and Jason's character for the matter, refuse to disregard emotions. Bruce says "we mustn't let ourselves get clouded by our emotions" and Jason, says "maybe you should." I don't necessarily think he has an ethical philosophy framework for that, I still do believe he's a utilitarian, but he's very emotion-driven and struggling to understand a mindframe that doesn't give the same space to emotions in decision-making. And as such, Jason says "it should matter. If the emotion was there, if you loved me so much, then it should matter in your decision of whether or not to let the Joker die, that it wasn't just a random person that he killed, but that he killed your son."

And Bruce is very much doubling down on this mindset of "I must be stronger than my feelings". He is an emotionally repressed character. He says "You don't understand. I don't think you've ever understood", and it's true, Jason can't seem to understand Bruce's position, there's something very "if that person doesn't show love in my perspective and understanding of what love is then they do not love me" about his character that I really appreciate. But Bruce certainly doesn't understand either, because while Jason is constantly asking Bruce for an explanation, for a "why do you not see things the way I do" that could never satisfy him, Bruce doesn't necessarily try to see things the way Jason does. And that's logical, since Jason is a 16 years old having a mental breakdown, and Bruce is a grown man carrying on the mission he has devoted himself to for years, the foundation he has built his life over. He can't allow himself to doubt, and why would he? He's the adult, he's the hero, he is, honestly, a pretty stubborn and set-in-his-ways character. So, instead of rising to the demand of emotional decision-making, Bruce doubles down on trying to ignore his feelings. And Jason, and the story doesn't let him. Bludheaven explodes. This induces extremely intense feelings in Bruce (his son just got exploded), which Jason didn't allow him to deal with, to handle with action or do anything about; Jason says no you stay right there, with me, with those emotions you're living right now, and you're making a decision. And there's the fact Bruce had a mini-heart attack just before thinking Jason was dead again. And there's the fact he mourned Jason for so long, and Stephanie just died, and Tim, Cass and Oracle all left, and the Joker is right there, and Jason puts a gun in his hands (like the gun that killed his parents)... All of that makes it impossible for Bruce to disregard his emotions. The same way Jason, who was spilling utilitarian rhetoric the whole time, is suddenly not talking about the Joker's mass murder victims but about he himself. The same way Jason acts against his own morals in Lost Days by sparing the Joker so they can have this confrontation later. That's part of why it's so important to me that Jason is crying in that confrontation.

Bruce's action at the end of the story can be understood two ways:

-he decides to maim/kill Jason to stop the insupportable influx of emotions, and him turning around is his refusal to look at his decision (looking away as a symbol of shame): Bruce has lost, in so that he cannot escape the dilemma, he succumbs to his emotions and acts against his morals.

-the batarang slicing Jason's throat is an accident: he is trying to find a way out of the dilemma, a solution that lets him save his principles, but his emotions cloud his judgement (maybe his hand trembles? Maybe his vision is blurry?). In any case, he kills his son, and it being an accident doesn't absolve him: his emotions hold more weight than his decision and he ends up acting against his morals anyway.

It's a very old story: a deontologist and a utilitarian try to solve the trolley problem, and everyone still loses. And who's laughing? The nihilist, of course. To him, nothing has sense, and so nothing matters. He's wrong though, always has been. That's the lesson I'm taking from Damasio's work. That's the prism through which I'm comparing empathy to ethics in Levinas' work and agape in Compté-Sponsville's intro to philosophy through.

It should matter. It's so essential that it matters. Love, emotions, empathy: those are fundamental in moral evaluation and decision making. They are a feature, not a bug. And the tragedy is when we try to force ourselves to make them not matter.

Anyway so that was my analysis of why Damasio's position on ethics is so fun to take in account when analysing UTH, hope you found this fun!

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

How about a little of fluffy, huh?

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: you find out about your version and Wanda in another universe.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

SIGHTS

As you walked back to the camp, water droplets slid down your skin, the night breeze bringing a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Your mind was in turmoil, recalling Wanda's little show by the lake. The trees seemed quieter, as if even nature was trying to absorb what had just happened.

"Did you really have to do that in front of everyone?" you asked, breaking the silence, but your voice came out hesitant, almost shy.

Wanda glanced at you sideways, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "And what exactly did I do?"

"Oh, come on, Wanda," you said, exasperated. "Lifting that guy into the air, threatening to erase them all from the multiverse? That’s not exactly... educational."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “What are you talking about? I was perfectly reasonable, if you want to know,” she said, her tone bordering on cynical, as if her threat to erase people from existence was something ordinary and completely justifiable.

"Reasonable?!" you repeated, your voice a bit louder than you intended. "You almost gave the poor guy a heart attack! He’ll never look at a campfire again without remembering you."

Wanda stopped walking, turning to face you with an expression that was both amused and exasperated. "He should be grateful," she retorted, as if explaining something obvious. "If I wanted to, he wouldn’t even remember what a campfire is."

"Oh my god! You’re impossible!" You crossed your arms, trying to look firm, but the way she was looking at you— that mix of unwavering authority and irresistible charm—made your heart race. "You know that’s not the point, right?"

She took a step closer, tilting her head slightly. "And what’s the point, then, dorogaya? That I should have let that bunch of filthy teenagers disrespecting nature go unpunished? I have principles, sweetheart! And none of them can see you like this except for me."

"I’m not talking about me," you replied, but your tone lost strength at the end of the sentence, because deep down, you knew there was something comforting—and, in a way, exciting—about the fact that she had defended you so fiercely.

"Oh, but I am," Wanda murmured, the intensity in her eyes making you feel as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. "No one will desire you in my presence. No one will even dare to think about you, and read my lips when I say, darling: I will know what they’re thinking. I always do."

You exhaled heavily, but tried to hide your smile at your witch’s over-the-top monologue. "Wanda… please."

Wanda turned to you, crossing her arms as she tilted her head. "Are you... worried about them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but she just made a hand gesture.

"Happy?" she asked casually, beginning to walk again as if nothing had happened.

You furrowed your brow, quickening your pace to catch up with her. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

Without even looking at you, Wanda gave a small, satisfied smile. "They’ve forgotten everything, dorogaya."

Your eyes widened. "What do you mean 'forgotten everything'? Did you mess with their minds?"

She shrugged, fingers playing with a strand of her own hair. "Just enough to make sure no one will remember my ‘little show,’ as you call it."

You stared at her, a mixture of fascination and unease growing inside you. "You can do that? Alter memories?"

"I can do many things," Wanda replied, finally stopping and turning to face you. She seemed slightly amused, as if relishing your curiosity.

"Like what?" you asked, unable to contain the question.

Wanda leaned slightly toward you, her eyes shining with that characteristic mix of mystery and power. "Ah, milaya moya," she murmured, her voice low and enticing. "If I told you everything I can do, you wouldn’t sleep for weeks."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Is that a promise or a warning?"

"Both," she replied, laughing softly before continuing to walk.

Unable to resist, you hurried to walk beside her. "You really are something, Miss Maximoff."

Wanda stopped abruptly, making you almost stumble in your hurry to keep up with her. She turned to face you, an expression that wavered between surprise and amusement. "Something?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow as a smile danced on her lips.

"Yes, something," you reaffirmed, crossing your arms with an unexpected touch of boldness. "A force of nature, maybe. Or maybe a goddess with a heroine complex. But definitely something."

Wanda’s eyes sparkled, and you realized there was something more there. It wasn’t just amusement. It was admiration. Fascination. As if she was seeing something in you that intrigued her as much as you were intrigued by her.

"You’re bold," Wanda said, her voice soft but tinged with provocation. "Do you know what happens to people who challenge a goddess?"

"I have no idea," you replied, shrugging. "Maybe you should show me."

Wanda tilted her head, a dangerous yet charming smile forming. "You really want to know what I’m capable of, don’t you?"

"I do," you replied, firm, though your heart was pounding like a drum. "I want to know what makes you the woman you are. I want to see everything you can do. Because, if I’m going to be by your side, I need to understand... you."

For a moment, Wanda was silent, just watching you. Then, she stepped forward, closing the gap between you. Her fingers lifted to trace a slow path along your face, as if deciding how far she would take you on this journey.

"You have no idea what you’re asking for, dorogaya," she murmured, her voice like honey dripping. "My power isn’t just strength or control. It’s chaos. It’s destruction. It’s everything you fear and desire at the same time."

"Then show me," you insisted, your voice almost inaudible, but filled with determination. "If that’s what you are, I want to see it. All of it."

Wanda smiled, but this time, there was something deeper there—maybe a touch of respect. "You’re brave. So brave, lyubimaya. But be careful what you wish for."

She extended her hand to you, her eyes glowing with a deep red intensity. "Come with me. And I’ll show you what I’m made of."

You hesitated for a second, but just enough for Wanda to intertwine her fingers with yours, pulling you with her. "Hold on," she said, her lips curling into a smile that was as terrifying as it was beautiful. "You asked for this."

And then, with an almost imperceptible snap, the world around you began to change.

Wanda guided you with a firm yet strange touch through the veil between worlds. Reality around you unraveled in a tangle of colors and shapes, as if every line that composed the fabric of the universe was being unfolded before you. The air seemed to vibrate, charged with something incomprehensible—a raw, terrifying power.

"Welcome to the Multiverse, dorogaya," Wanda said, her voice soft as a whisper, but filled with an authority that made you shiver. "Get ready, because there’s no turning back."

Before you could respond, the first vision took shape.

The room seemed like it was from a dream. White, smooth, and flawless walls reflected the soft light streaming through large windows. Outside, there was a perfect garden, with well-manicured lawns and flowers of all colors. The house was a reflection of what Wanda seemed to believe was an ideal life: simple, cozy, and full of love.

Wanda was barefoot, wearing a light red dress that swayed with her movement. Her hair was loose, and she appeared... ordinary, but in an almost supernatural way. In her arms, a chubby, smiling baby played with strands of her hair as she looked at him with a tenderness so intense it almost broke your heart.

Vision stood beside her, smiling in a way you didn’t think possible for someone made of vibranium. He looked so human there, so... present. With one hand, he caressed Wanda’s face, and with the other, he held a small music box that played a soft melody in the background.

“This was my utopia,” Wanda began, without looking directly at you. Her eyes were fixed on the scene, as if she were immersed in the memory. “A perfect creation for a perfect life. A home where I could have everything the real world denied me.”

You realized the setting seemed like a reflection of an ideal from the 1950s or 60s — a perfect suburban life, almost like a magazine advertisement. Yet, the longer you looked, the more artificial everything seemed. The flowers in the garden had no scent. The sunlight didn’t warm. And suddenly, you realized there were no sounds from the outside.

“It was an illusion, of course,” Wanda continued, with a hint of melancholy. “But for a while... I wanted to believe it was real. I needed to believe. I did this for Vision. For myself. For my children.”

The scene abruptly changed. Now, the same room was dark, almost in ruins. The baby in Wanda’s arms had vanished. Vision was lying on the floor, lifeless, with a hole in his chest where the Mind Stone should have been. Wanda was kneeling, her hands stained with blood, her eyes fixed on the void.

“That’s when I realized,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “None of this was mine. I was living a lie. And the truth... the truth was more cruel than any illusion I could create.”

You wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in your throat. Everything around you screamed of pain, loss, and despair.

“I tried so hard,” Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you. “I tried to be good, I tried to be strong. But the more I lost, the more I became... this.”

You glanced at the woman, seeing tears held back in her large green eyes. Why doesn’t Wanda cry? Why does she keep everything to herself? These are questions you would like to understand and deconstruct with every reason she gives you.

This version of Wanda was a whirlwind of emotions, chaos personified. You saw her in different moments, different worlds, all versions converging on the same point: Vision. He was the center of her universe, and Wanda did the impossible to bring him back — to recreate the love she believed was her only anchor.

In the first scene, she was kneeling in a cold, metallic room, holding Vision’s lifeless body. It was a version of him without glow, without movement. The pale light reflected on her face, bathed in tears that flowed uncontrollably. Wanda murmured softly, almost inaudible, like a desperate prayer: "Please, come back to me. Please..."

You could feel the urgency in her voice, the kind of desperation that defies reason. She tried using her magic, her hands trembling as a scarlet glow surrounded Vision’s body. But it was futile. He wouldn’t return.

"I refused to accept death," Wanda explained, her voice low, as if confessing a terrible secret. "I thought I could deceive fate. That, if I wanted it enough, I could bring him back."

The scene abruptly shifted, and now you saw her in another world, facing a legion of colossal beings, each one more threatening than the last. They seemed to be guarding something — maybe an artifact or a secret she wanted. Wanda was at the center of the battle, her powers turning the ground into lava, the sky into darkness.

"I destroyed entire worlds," she continued, her eyes fixed on the scene. "I fought against those who tried to stop me, against those who said I was wrong. I didn’t care. I would do anything to bring him back."

You saw another Wanda, this time creating an entire world. She stood with her arms raised as houses rose from the ground, people took form out of nowhere, and a perfect blue sky stretched above everyone. At the center of this world was Vision, smiling, alive, as if nothing had happened.

"I created entire realities," Wanda said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "But none of them were real. He... wasn’t real."

The last scene was the most devastating. Wanda was alone, watching a version of Vision disappear before her eyes. He touched her face one last time before fading into dust, and she remained motionless, as if there was no more strength left in her to react.

"For so long," Wanda said, her eyes filled with a pain that seemed endless, "I thought love was sacrifice. That everything worth having had to be earned with pain. But I was wrong."

She turned to you, the intensity in her eyes as crushing as everything you had just witnessed. "Love shouldn’t be this, right? It shouldn’t be pain, or loss, or despair. But it was all I knew."

You felt your heart tighten. You wanted to touch her, comfort her, but it seemed too small in comparison to everything she had faced.

"You showed me something different," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Something I never thought I deserved. You showed me that love can be... healing."

This time, the air was thick with tension as you entered that ruined house, used as a temporary refuge by Wanda Maximoff. The walls were cracked, and the smell of dust mixed with something else: magic, raw and pulsing, like a storm about to explode. The organization that had sent you knew she was dangerous, but you weren’t there as an agent or a heroine. You were there as a social worker, someone who had worked with people who had lost everything — and Wanda Maximoff was exactly that.

She was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, her eyes glowing with an unsettling scarlet hue. There was no apparent pain or mourning on her face; just a dangerous emptiness, the kind that swallows worlds.

"Leave," was the first thing she said, not even looking at you directly.

You didn’t leave.

"I just want to talk," you said, keeping your voice calm, even though your heart was pounding like a drum. "Nothing more."

Wanda laughed — a dry, bitter laugh, without joy. "Talk? Is that what they call interrogation now?" She finally raised her eyes to meet yours, and the weight of her gaze was almost physical. "I don’t need your pity."

"It’s not pity," you replied, not backing down. "It’s... concern."

Suddenly, the air around her shifted. It was as if an invisible hand was trying to grab you, crush you. Wanda raised her hand, and you saw the scarlet threads of her magic dance around her like serpents ready to strike.

"Do you think you can help me?" she whispered, her voice laced with sarcasm and something deeper: pain. "Do you think you can come in here and fix everything with your sweet words? I could end you before you even finish that sentence."

But she couldn’t.

The magic around her shattered like glass, vanishing into the air before it could touch you. Wanda’s expression transformed into something you would never forget: surprise. She tried again, raising both hands, muttering words in an ancient tongue, but nothing happened.

"Who are you?" she asked, standing slowly, her eyes fixed on you like a predator finding something unusual.

"My name is Y/n. I’m a social worker." You took a deep breath, trying to seem calmer than you felt. "And I think you need help."

"You idiot! Who sent you? Are you a witch? How do you know how to manipulate my magic?" she shot angrily.

Your hands were sweating, and you felt a strong urge to rush to the bathroom — but something completely insane inside you told you that you needed to stay.

You took a hesitant step forward, keeping your hands visible at your sides. It was like facing a wild animal, where every movement needed to be calculated.

"I’m not a witch, and no one sent me," you said, your voice calm but firm. "I’m just a social worker. And I’m here because you’re hurt."

Wanda laughed, but it was an empty, bitter sound. "Hurt?" she repeated, taking a step toward you. "You think you can help me? I’m the Scarlet Witch. I don’t need help from anyone, especially not from a... social worker."

"Maybe you don’t need it," you replied, trying to ignore the heat at the back of your neck and the trembling in your legs. "But maybe you want it."

Her face hardened, and for a moment, you thought you had made a fatal mistake. But then something changed. Her eyes lost some of their intensity, as if your words had touched a part of Wanda she was desperately trying to hide.

"Why aren’t you afraid of me?" she asked, tilting her head. "Everyone is. I can feel fear in people. But in you... there’s nothing."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "Maybe it’s because I see beyond that," you said, taking another step. "I see someone who is hurt, who’s lost so much, but who is still here. Still fighting."

"You don’t know anything about me," she murmured, but her voice was quieter now, almost unsure.

"Then tell me," you responded softly. "Let me get to know you, Wanda."

There was a long silence. She watched you as if trying to decide whether you were real or just another broken piece in her world. Finally, Wanda sighed and turned her back, crossing her arms.

"You’re stubborn," she said, not looking at you.

"I hear that often," you replied, trying not to smile.

She chuckled softly, but it wasn’t a cruel sound this time. When she finally turned to you, there was something different in her eyes. Something more human, more vulnerable.

"If you’re going to stay, then stay. But don’t expect me to trust you anytime soon," she said, pointing to a worn-out sofa in the corner of the room.

"I don’t expect," you replied, carefully sitting down. "So, you can’t kill me with your red power balls, nor read my mind. What’s that supposed to mean?"

Wanda let out a disbelieving laugh, actually incredulous. Red power balls? She thought with a roll of her eyes.

"I don’t know." It was a low murmur.

"Maybe a sign that you should give me a chance…" You said with your shoulders shrugged and a sheepish smile on the corner of your lips.

Wanda could never have imagined that you would keep coming back, again, and again, and again — in fact, neither could you. A not-so-friendly conversation and death threats turned into a tea afternoon where Wanda told you about life in the Avengers before everything; then a lunch on the beach where you told her about how you almost drowned when you were 9 — that day, you saw the most genuine smile she could give you given her current conditions, and you felt your heart beat differently for the redhead. Then a dinner at your place — where you learned to make paprikash just to see her smile and complain that the dish lacked pepper — with wine, where Wanda cried missing her boys, and you were officially classified by her as: "the best shoulder I’ve ever cried on, and believe me, I never cry."

Wanda hadn’t realized how important your presence had become in her life, not until you needed to travel for an important case. She missed you, and that confused her. After all, how could a visit so unpleasant and peculiar make her want... for it to be daily? That you would visit her every day and bring the cinnamon rolls from that bakery on your street that she loved so much. That you would learn more Sokovian recipes just to make her smile.

Then the kiss happened in one of those moments of silence, when words were no longer necessary. You were sitting next to her, watching the sunset through the broken window of the house she called her temporary home. The sky was tinged with shades of orange and red, as if the universe itself was painting a canvas just for the two of you.

Wanda seemed calmer that day. Her shoulders weren’t as tense, and the eyes that always seemed to hold storms had a soft, almost peaceful glow. She suddenly looked at you, and there was something in her expression that made the air feel thicker.

"Why do you stay?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.

"Because I want to," you replied, without hesitation.

She tilted her head, as if trying to understand something that didn't make sense to her. "You're strange," she murmured, but there was a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips.

"I prefer 'unique,'" you responded, teasing, though your voice trembled a little.

Then, before you could say anything more, she leaned toward you. It was a hesitant movement, as if testing the waters, but when her lips finally met yours, everything else disappeared.

The kiss was everything both of you had imagined it would be — and more. It was soft, but filled with emotion, as if Wanda was pouring everything she couldn't say in words into that moment. You felt her hand move to your face, her fingers tracing your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss.

When you pulled away, she looked at you with something new in her eyes: hope. "You're not like anyone I've ever met," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Neither are you," you replied, smiling.

Months later, after your wedding in the Russian summer, when Wanda told you she was pregnant, the smile on her face was so wide it seemed to light up the entire room. You were sitting on the couch of your new home, a place you had chosen together, far from the chaos and painful memories of the past.

"I can hardly believe it," she said, placing her hands on her still-flat belly, but with eyes shining with genuine happiness. "After everything... after everything that happened, I never thought I would have this."

You held her hand, squeezing it gently. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, Wanda. And these babies already have the best mother they could ask for."

The following months were a mix of nerves and joy. You had never seen Wanda so happy. She decorated the twins' room with soft colors, but couldn't resist using a bit of magic to create constellations shining on the ceiling.

"I want them to grow up knowing that the entire universe is within their reach," she explained, smiling at you as she adjusted the details with a wave of her hand.

The day Tommy and Billy were born, Wanda cried. Tears of genuine happiness, as she held the two little ones in her arms. You were beside her, holding her hand, unable to hold back your own tears.

"I never thought I could be this happy," she whispered, looking at you.

"You deserve this, my love," you replied, kissing her forehead.

Exactly seven years later, when Wanda and you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready, this time for Seline, Wanda could hardly believe it. It was as if the universe was finally giving back to her everything it had taken before.

Wanda looked at you that day with the same gaze she had in your first kiss — full of love and hope. "You gave me this," she said, placing her hand on your belly, moved by feeling the baby's heartbeat against your skin. "You gave me everything I thought I could never have."

You laughed, wiping away a tear that escaped. "That's not how it works, Wanda. We did this together."

During Seline's pregnancy, Wanda seemed even more radiant than before. She spent hours reading storybooks to the twins, and often you would wake up in the night to find her caressing your belly, softly murmuring in Sokovian.

When Seline was born, you knew your family was complete.

"She's so perfect," Wanda said, with a soft smile as she held the little one in her arms.

"She has your eyes," you replied, feeling a wave of love flood your chest.

And in that moment, as you looked at Wanda and the three children you had brought into the world together, you knew that everything you had been through — all the pain, all the sacrifice — had been worth it.

The path back to the camp seemed almost irrelevant in the face of the intensity that was growing between you. Each step you took on the trail was an extension of what you had shared in that intimate moment, when Wanda had opened a piece of her soul to you. The words she had spoken echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t the words that mattered at that moment — it was the feeling.

You felt a mix of adoration and a deep desire for her, and Wanda seemed to understand this as clearly as you did. But there was something more, an urgency in both of you, as if fate had brought you together once again for another dance, this time with immeasurable depth.

"You asked me to show what I’m capable of," Wanda said, breaking the silence between you. Her voice was soft, but there was something threatening in the way she spoke, something that could only come from a woman who knew the power she possessed, yet remained vulnerable. "Do you still want to love me after all of this?"

She turned her face to you, and her eyes were shining with a mixture of insecurity and provocation. The silence between you seemed to carry centuries of repressed desire, of lost and found loves, as if you both were made for this moment, but had lived countless lives and universes before finally being here, together.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands rose to Wanda’s face, touching her gently, as if you feared she might disappear at any moment. But she didn’t disappear. She was there. And you, without words, simply looked into her eyes, trying to convey all the love and certainty you felt.

"I want to love you because of all of this," you said, your voice firm, but heavy with something more — a promise, an oath made with heart and soul.

When your eyes met, the distance between you vanished, as if the entire universe had been reduced to this single moment. Time stopped. And deep down, you felt something like the touch of past lives, as if you had been there with her, in some other place, in some other time. Something that transcended everything that had happened, all the struggles, all the deaths and rebirths.

She leaned in slowly, and her lips touched yours with an unexpected softness, as if testing the moment, measuring the intensity of her own desire. But soon, the softness turned into urgency, as if, finally,

Wanda knew there was no turning back. And you, with your heart racing, matched every movement of hers, with the same intensity, with the same hunger. It was as if everything around you had disappeared, and there were only the two of you. No universe, no past, no pain.

The kiss was like a river flowing between mountains, gentle and impetuous at the same time. When Wanda’s lips touched yours, there was no more space for anything — no fear, no doubt, just the need to be consumed by her, to surrender to what fate had already drawn. It was as if everything had been a preparation for that moment. Your souls recognized each other immediately, as if they had known each other since the beginning of time, as if they had met in all past lives, in all universes, in all reincarnations. The feeling of something eternal, something that couldn’t be broken, settled between you.

It was a soft touch at first, a silent exploration, but soon the need for more became apparent. Wanda’s tongue slid against yours, and the tension between you dissolved in the intensity of that contact. It was more than passion; it was a union of everything you had been and everything you would still be. The kiss became more urgent, as if, by touching, you were rediscovering each other, merging. The world around you disappeared, the sound of the rain, the shadows of the night — everything became secondary. There was only the heat of bodies, the exchange of breaths, and the silent magic dancing in the air, reflecting the indescribable connection between you.

Wanda slowly pulled away, as if reluctant to leave that moment. Her eyes were darker now, but there was something deeply different in them. Something deeper than any expression you had ever seen in her before. Something immense, an ocean of feelings overflowing without words. And you knew. You knew that, in that look, she was giving you her soul, all the pain, all the love, all the hope.

She touched your face with trembling hands, as if wanting to engrave the outline of your being into her memory, as if she needed you desperately, as if her happiness now depended on you. Her voice was hoarse, broken, but filled with a sincerity so pure it seemed to tear her very heart apart.

"You are everything I need," Wanda murmured, almost like a plea, like a truth she was finally accepting. The desperation was there, in her eyes, in the tone of her voice. "I never knew what it really meant to live until now... until you."

Those words settled in your chest with the force of a silent scream. And then, without needing to respond, you moved closer to her, your bodies fitting together as if they had always been meant to do so. It was as if, by being together, the entire universe became lighter, clearer.

And in the touch, in the exchange of heat, you knew. You knew that she was desperate to be saved, to be happy, to find a home. It wasn’t just about the love you shared, but everything she wanted to build — a life, a family, a future. That kiss was not just passion: it was a promise. A promise that, together, you could create something that would resist time and fate.

When she pulled her face away slightly, breathing heavily, you saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the fragility of someone carrying the weight of an entire world on their shoulders. But you also saw something more — a renewed strength, a confidence. Because, even with the pain she carried, she knew you were there, by her side, for whatever came.

And you whispered back, with a soft but firm voice, so Wanda would know what you felt, without doubt, without hesitation. "I’m here, Wanda. Forever. And we will build all of this together. As many times as it takes."

She smiled, a smile mixed with tears and hope, as if, at that moment, the world was finally a place worth conquering. You knew their future would be unpredictable, but you also knew, with an almost palpable certainty, that they had found each other for the last time. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.

The kiss that followed was gentler, but no less intense. It was as if, in that moment, you were building a new beginning. The future, uncertain and challenging, seemed promising, because by her side, Wanda had everything she had always needed: you. And by your side, you had everything you had always wanted: her.

And so, in the silence of the night, with the rain tapping on the windows and the distant echoes of the camp, you and Wanda surrendered to this truth. A truth stronger than any magic, stronger than any fate. Because what you shared was eternal, and nothing, no one, could destroy it. The connection between you was stronger than anything that could be said. Stronger than any magic, stronger than any destiny. It was something intangible, yet as real as the air you breathed. Something eternal, that would withstand any battle, any pain.

And so, in the silence of the night, between the distant echoes of the camp and the touch of your bodies still tingling from the intensity of the kiss, you both knew that nothing else mattered. Because, in the end, you were together.

~*~

Oh. I need her.

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[rotthepoet]

Invisible String Theory (Anon!Slytherin Boy x Reader)

Chapter 4

warnings; NSFW, Stalking behavior, violence and self-inflicted injury(punching a wall), dumbification for like three sentences, some boys beef, reader has a panic attack, like kinda cliffhanger?

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

To Whom It May Concern,

Please leave me alone. 

Regards.

The folded letter sits on the mantle of the Slytherin common room fireplace. It taunts me. The soft, orange flicker casts long shadows over the room. Like a kid expecting Saint Nick, I wait. Patiently. Even as my eyes drift shut, exhaustion claiming my body, I prevail. Just a glimpse. Just a moment of eye contact. To know, to see, to end. A yawn racks through my body, and I stretch my arms above my head, my back popping.

Pinned.

A shrill shriek escapes me when a strong grip pins my wrists together above my head, and as soon as the scream leaves my lips, I’m released. Panic surges through my body, goosebumps plaguing my skin with a cold shiver, I stand suddenly and whip around to find–

Theodore.

It’s just Theo.

He has a sheepish look on his face, and he moves around the couch to gently lead me back to sitting, settling in beside me. He watches me lean back against the overstuffed cushions, releasing a deep sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was going to be funny.”

“No, no, it was. I’m just on edge,” I assured him, and shut my eyes, just for a moment.

Nott rests a hand on my knee, a friendly gesture, as he starts to rub small, comforting circles on the skin. “It isn’t helpful to stay up and wait for… It. Let’s get you in bed,” He whispers, and I shake my head.

“Just a bit longer, it’s the principle of the matter,” I explain, sighing and opening my eyes again. My eyes lazily scan the common room, abnormally empty, which makes me wonder about the time. Theodore sighs beside me and clicks his tongue. He shakes his head at me and suddenly, his arms wrap underneath my knees and around my back, and I yelp as I’m lifted off the couch. I wrap my arms around Theodore for the safety of my life, kicking my legs in protest.

“Let’s get you to bed–”

“Am I interupting?”

Nott and I’s head both snap towards the sound of a new voice, and a tall body stands in the shadows. Theo’s grip tightens on me, and I can’t help but squeak as his fingers dig into the soft skin of my thighs. The figure steps forward, his hands in his pockets, built like an athlete with wide, strong shoulders. Silver light passes through the Black Lake into our windows, casting an otherworldly glow across his face, and onyx eyes meet mine. 

“Riddle, you scared me,” I let out a shaky breath, slowly dropping my leg to the floor despite Theodore’s best effort to hold onto me. Speaking of which, he looks particularly upset. Maybe he doesn’t like being scared as much as he likes to scare people. “Anyone else planning on jumping out tonight? So far, I have two-for-two,” I try to laugh, but it falls silent as I notice the electric glare between the two. Another spat, I assumed, nothing surprising despite their tight-knit friendship. 

“You aren’t writing back to him, right?” Mattheo asks me, glancing at the envelope on the mantelpiece. Sheepishly, I look away and rub my goosebump covered arm. “It isn’t really writing back to him if I’m asking him to leave me alone–” “Asking?” “Telling. Telling him to leave me alone.”

Theodore scoffs and his hand finds the small of my back. “Let’s go, it’s too late for this,” He suggests, but with the way he gently leads me away from Riddle leaves no room for argument. I cast a glance over my shoulder and mouth a good night, not wanting to further upset whatever Theodore is brooding over. 

“You shouldn’t talk to him anymore,” Theodore mutters, leading me to my dorm room.

“What?” I ask, brows furrowing at his comment, “Look, whatever petty little fight you two are having will blow over,” 

“Not this time,”

“You say that every time, Theo!” I groan in exasperation, “You can’t just tell me who to hang out with just because you’re mad at them!”

Nott grunts in frustration and drops his arm from my back, stopping in his tracks. “Fine. Since, you want to be stupid-”

“Stupid?”

“Did I stutter?” He snaps, and my stomach churns suddenly at his tone, “Since you want to be so stupid, you can figure this all out on your own. No, actually. Go to Riddle. See how far that gets you.” He practically snarls at me, his once welcoming eyes now an angry rapid waiting to drown me beneath its waters. His gaze is suffocating. Angry.

“Fine,” I snap right back at him, but my voice is more confident than I feel, “He’ll be more helpful than you!” 

A sickening crack. That’s all I heard as Nott slams his fist against the stone wall, and a gasp leaves my lips in pure shock. Loose rock crumbles to the floor, skidding across the dungeon floor.

Theodore grips his first, his chest heaving with labored breaths, and blood drips from his balled fist to the floor. Before I can say anything, he turns on his heel and stalks away, leaving me alone outside my door.

Anxiety and anger seep into my stomach, and my brows knit with frustration. I push open my door, scanning my room, and my stomach drops when I find a bouquet of fresh red roses laying atop a heart shaped box of what could only be chocolates. I turn on my heel, but Theo’s name gets caught on my lips as I try to call for him, and suddenly, I feel very, very unwell.

Shit.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I sat next to Mattheo at breakfast out of spite. Maybe it’s petty, but as Mattheo rests his elbow comically against my shoulder, Theodore glares at us from across the table. Draco continues talking at Theodore, unaware of his complete lack of focus on the subject at hand. I make eye contact with him for a moment, just a moment, and it sends a cold chill down my spine.

My eye drifts down to Theo's wrapped fist and wrist, his fingers tapping rapidly on the wood of the table. His stormy eyes never leave me even as I turn my gaze away, Parkinson catching my attention with a call of my name. 

“You got mail,” Pansy hummed, passing out each morning parcel. My anxiety creeps back up my neck, and I swear I feel Theodore still staring at me as I carefully tear open a crisp envelope. My hands shake as I slowly pull the nauseatingly familiar paper out, now stained with a deep crimson, and I hold my breath as I open it.

~

To Whom It May Concern, My Darling Future Husband,

Please leave me alone. I’m so sorry for being an insufferable brat recently. I really miss you, and I love you.

Regards. Yours, even if I need my attitude fixed.

I want that written word for word in your next response, or I promise you won’t like what I do to you. This is your last warning.

Yours.

P.s. You aren’t thinking about taking this to the headmaster, are you? It wouldn’t work out for you, love. Don’t be stupid. I hate when you don’t use that clever little brain of yours. Although, I wonder what you would look like fucked dumb.

~

A sob catches in my throat and fear courses through my body. The letter itself reeks, metalic, copper. I curl over in place, feeling my heartbeat quicken exponentially as I wrap my arms around my own stomach. A wave of nausea washes over me like a tsunami, and tears fall from my eyes as they squeeze shut. 

The outside world drowns away, any commotion muffled into a distant buzz as my ears start to ring. I’m hyper aware of the hand placed on my back, and beyond the buzz I can almost make out the voices of the friends surrounding me. 

Hey.

My brain feels fuzzy, and it flickers from one worst case scenario to the other. Pins prick at my skin painfully, making tears fall harder from my eyes.

Hey. 

I try to steady my breathing, but I can’t help but gasp for air.

Hey.

Hey, Hey, Hey, Look at me, Look at me.

I don’t look though, I can’t look. My body feels too light as my thoughts drift away, and the last thing I feel is strong arms catching me as I fall over. 

[aventurineswife]

The Weight of Ignorance

Summary: Struggling under the weight of Ratio's high expectations, you question whether you are truly capable of meeting his standards. After a harsh critique on your latest work, you find yourself in an emotional confrontation with your mentor. Beneath his demanding exterior, however, lies a deep care and a personal vulnerability that he rarely shows. Through this moment of connection, you come to understand his intentions and resolve to rise to the challenges ahead.

Tags: @valssafeplace2, Ratio x Reader, Platonic, Parental Relationship, Angst with Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Teacher-Student Relationship, Found Family Themes, Emotional Vulnerability.

Warnings: Themes of Academic Pressure and Self-doubt, Mentions of Rejection and Personal Insecurities, Emotional Angst, but with a comforting resolution.

The marble halls of the Intelligentsia Guild echoed with the sound of hurried footsteps. Dr. Ratio walked briskly, his hair catching the light of the high chandeliers. His presence was commanding, a blend of intellect and confidence that both inspired and intimidated those around him.

You struggled to keep up, clutching your notebooks tightly against your chest. Being under the mentorship of Dr. Ratio was both an honor and a burden. His standards were impossibly high, and you often felt like you were drowning in the deep waters of his expectations.

Today had been no different.

“You failed the theorem.” His words from earlier still rang in your ears. The disappointment in his voice had cut deeper than any criticism. “An error so fundamental, I wonder if you truly understand the principles I’ve taught you.”

You had tried to explain, to defend yourself, but the words stuck in your throat. The weight of his judgment was suffocating.

Now, as the two of you entered his private study, the silence was deafening. He gestured for you to sit, his piercing eyes scanning you critically. You obeyed, feeling small under his gaze.

“Do you know why I push you so hard?” he asked, his voice calmer now but no less firm.

You hesitated, unsure if this was a rhetorical question. “Because… you believe I can do better?” you ventured cautiously.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Partly. But also because ignorance is a disease—one that spreads if left unchecked. You, of all people, should understand the responsibility we bear as scholars.”

You looked down at your hands, shame creeping up your spine. “I’m trying… I really am.”

Ratio sighed, running a hand through his wavy hair. For a moment, he seemed less like the indomitable intellectual and more like a weary teacher. “I know you are.”

The admission surprised you, and you glanced up at him. He was staring out the window now, his expression unreadable.

“I was once like you,” he continued, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Young, overwhelmed, desperate to prove myself. But the world is not kind to those who falter. The Genius Society rejected me despite my achievements. Do you know why?”

You shook your head, the thought of anyone rejecting someone like him unfathomable.

“They said I lacked the ability to connect with others, to nurture potential in those beneath me.” He chuckled bitterly. “Imagine that. A flaw in my character, not my intellect.”

For the first time, you saw a crack in his armor. The weight of his own expectations, the pressure he placed on himself—it was all there, hidden beneath the layers of confidence and condescension.

“I see potential in you,” he said, turning back to you. “That’s why I’m hard on you. But potential means nothing without discipline. You must rise above your limitations.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Ratio’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You won’t. Not if you keep trying. Mistakes are inevitable, but ignorance is a choice. Choose to learn, to grow, and you’ll never truly fail.”

The weight of his hand was both grounding and reassuring. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

“I’ll do better,” you promised, your voice steady.

“I know you will,” he replied. “And I’ll be here to guide you. Always.”

For all his sharp edges and high standards, Dr. Ratio cared. It wasn’t always easy to see, but in moments like this, it was undeniable. You left his study that evening feeling lighter, ready to face the challenges ahead.

For him. For yourself. For the knowledge that could change the universe.