#and how much proof we have that corporations suck

[reasonsforhope]

"How much safer has construction really gotten? Let’s take a look.

Construction used to be incredibly dangerous

By the end of the 19th century, what’s sometimes called the second industrial revolution had made US industry incredibly productive. But it had also made working conditions more dangerous...

One source estimates 25,000 total US workplace fatalities in 1908 (Aldrich 1997). Another 1913 estimate gave 23,000 deaths against 38 million workers. Per capita, this is about 61 deaths per 100,000 workers, roughly 17 times the rate of workplace fatalities we have today...

In a world of dangerous work, construction was one of the most dangerous industries of all. By the 1930s and early 1940s the occupational death rate for all US workers had fallen to around 36-37 per 100,000 workers. At the same time [in the 1930s and early 1940s], the death rate in construction was around 150-200 deaths per 100,000 workers, roughly five times as high... By comparison, the death rate of US troops in Afghanistan in 2010 was about 500 per 100,000 troops. By the mid-20th century, the only industry sector more dangerous than construction was mining, which had a death rate roughly 50% higher than construction.

We see something similar if we look at injuries. In 1958 the rate of disabling injuries in construction was 3 times as high as the manufacturing rate, and almost 5 times as high as the overall worker rate.

Increasing safety

Over the course of the 20th century, construction steadily got safer. 

Between 1940 and 2023, the occupational death rate in construction declined from 150-200 per 100,000 workers to 13-15 per 100,000 workers, or more than 90%. Source: US Statistical Abstract, FRED

For ironworkers, the death rate went from around 250-300 per 100,000 workers in the late 1940s to 27 per 100,000 today.

Tracking trends in construction injuries is harder, due to data consistency issues. A death is a death, but what sort of injury counts as “severe,” or “disabling,” or is even worth reporting is likely to change over time. [3] But we seem to see a similar trend there. Looking at BLS Occupational Injuries and Illnesses data, between the 1970s and 2020s the injury rate per 100 workers declined from 15 to 2.5.

Source of safety improvements

Improvements in US construction safety were due to a multitude of factors, and part of a much broader trend of improving workplace safety that took place over the 20th century.

The most significant early step was the passage of workers compensation laws, which compensated workers in the event of an injury, increasing the costs to employers if workers were injured (Aldrich 1997). Prior to workers comp laws, a worker or his family would have to sue his employer for damages and prove negligence in the event of an injury or death. Wisconsin passed the first state workers comp law in 1911, and by 1921 most states had workers compensation programs.

The subsequent rising costs of worker injuries and deaths caused employers to focus more on workplace safety. According to Mark Aldrich, historian and former OSHA economist, “Companies began to guard machines and power sources while machinery makers developed safer designs. Managers began to look for hidden dangers at work, and to require that workers wear hard hats and safety glasses.” Associations and trade journals for safety engineering, such as the American Society of Safety Professionals, began to appear...

In 1934, the Department of Labor established a Division of Labor Standards, which would later become the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), to “promote worker safety and health.” The 1935 National Labor Relations Act (NLRA), which legalized collective bargaining, allowed trade unions to advocate for worker safety.

Following WWII, the scale of government intervention in addressing social problems, including worker safety, dramatically increased.

In addition to OSHA and environmental protection laws, this era also saw the creation of the Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC), the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA), and the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH).

OSHA in particular dramatically changed the landscape of workplace safety, and is sometimes viewed as “the culmination of 60 or more years of effort towards a safe and hazard-free workplace.”"

-via Construction Physics (Substack newsletter by Brian Potter), 3/9/23

[theocddiaries]

Alfred: I don't understand. What are we watching? Bruce [Pointing at a camera footage on the TV]: Okay, look. I fell yesterday at the market. Dick and I have been having a little disagreement as to what happened. Just watch. I stop to fix my shoe, and then Dick… Right there. He makes way for this very attractive woman, whom he conveniently leaves out of his retelling of the story. Now, right here, Dick backs up, pushes his butt into the cart, pushes me into the cans. Do you see that? It's all his fault! Just like I said! I was right! Suck it! Cass: When did you get this? Jason: Oh, my God. That's why you wanted to come separately. Steph: You went to all that trouble just to prove you were right? Bruce: It really wasn't that much trouble. I went to the store, found your friend Jordan, the bag boy, who got me the manager. He gave me the address of the off-site security office. I filled out some paperwork. Sally faxed it to corporate. Three minutes later, I'm buying a pack of DVDs and burning a copy. Piece of cake. Tim: …It's like a sickness. Bruce: What? None of you believed me, so I got proof. You should all be sucking it right now. Kate: Please stop with the "sucking it," Bruce. They're children. Clark: Yes, children are very impressionable. You'll never know what they'll pick up. Lois: Ugh! Okay, Clark, I'm sorry that I blamed it all on you, okay? But we both need to look at our actions. I mean, if we're thinking about adopting another baby, then we need to-- Diana: You're adopting another kid? Clark: That's not the way you make an announcement! Banners! Banners! [Puts on music] 🎶Ah, let's give the boy a hand 🎶 Jason: What the hell's happening here? Dick: Is that from Footloose??? Clark [Turns off the music]: Really, Lois? You couldn't even share telling our friends. Kate: Why are you upset? This is such good news. Lois: No, we're a little on edge because Conner has been acting out, like he doesn't want a sibling-- Clark: Yeah, because Lois taught him to hate sharing. Lois: And, or, because Clark wears him like a fanny pack. Alfred: Oh, stop blaming each other. No kid wants a sibling. I remember Bruce hated his cousin so much, he stuck her in a dryer when she was two. Kate: You put me in the dryer? Bruce: …I did. But it wasn't 'cause I hated you. My friend Thomas said that it wouldn't run with a kid inside it, and I knew it would. I was right. Dick: Good governor. It's been going on since you were five? Bruce: …Oh, my God, it is a sickness. What would make me have that need at such a young age? Kate: How long was I in that dryer? Because- I-Is this why I'm afraid of tumbling? I had to quit gymnastics! Dick: A childhood without tumbling?! [Faces Alfred]. You knew this, and just stood by and did nothing? Alfred: Okay, okay. What's done is done. All you can do is learn from your mistakes. And in that spirit, I would like to propose a toast to our young master Damian. This week, he did something he wasn't supposed to do, like we all do-- Diana [Interrupting]: Like we all do!. Cheers, my young warrior! Alfred: No. Not yet. Master Damian stood up like a man. He admitted he was wrong, and he took his licks. And I'm very, very proud of him. Diana: Aaaand now we clink. Alfred: No, we clink when I say we clink. So Master Damian made a mistake, but he didn't take the easy way out. He's got guts. He's got integrity. And as far as I'm concerned, he's the best-- Damian: Okay, stop, stop! I didn't do any of that! Miss Diana broke into the locker and threw the necklace inside, and then we ran away like cowards! I'm sorry, Alfred! I'm sorry! Alfred: Aha! I knew it. I was right! I was right! Everyone: … … [In realization]: Ohhhh. Makes sense. Alfred: … [Drinks in silence].

[thetwobosses]

Hearing about Volition's abrupt shuttering has left me in a weird empty, mourning mood tonight.

When I first started playing Saints Row: The Third almost exactly ten years ago, little would I know how much it'd end up changing my life. I found my best friends through Saints Row's Tumblr community, friends I keep up with daily even though all of us have since moved on to different fandoms. I got to know many other amazing people in the community, through all the shared art and headcanons and roleplays. And I got deeply invested in the creation and development of my OCs, these silly and badass and tragic imaginary people who shared my headspace almost every waking moment of my life for several years.

All this I got from a game series its studio had clearly poured their hearts and souls into, even through all the constant corporate meddling in the development processes over what must have been the last fifteen years, and now finally, a sudden death knell. Volition the studio is no more, its staff laid off without warning or fanfare. And it's just so unfair to everyone who'd worked on the games, and I hate that it's yet more proof (as if we didn't have enough already) that the current system of giant game publisher oligopolies gobbling up everyone they can get their hands on and then taking them behind the shed to be shot when they don't immediately return a double of their investment just shouldn't. fucking. exist.

It sucks. I don't have much more to say except that I hope the now ex-Volition game developers all end up finding new and maybe even better employers soon. And just maybe there'll be some new studio rising from the core of the Volition creative team. We'll see.

[silverstarfics]

Me? Posting this a day late? Nooo, totally not. Shhh, it’s definitely still the 21st June and I absolutely haven’t missed @thunder-pride bisexual day...

Okay, fine. I started writing at 23:30 and by the time I finished this I was too tired to proof it. But hey, it’s finally here! Welcome to the Scott/Tycho fic that was meant to be funny but somehow ended up being angsty? Why am I even surprised anymore...

AO3 link

Tonight was a classic example of why Scott hated PR events. Nearly everybody was fake – letting expensive labels speak for them or sucking up in the hopes of a power grab – and there were eyes everywhere. There was no escape.

And it should have been easier because at least this time he’d had an ally in the room, only they couldn’t be seen to be talking because the press were already sniffing around and they both knew that their relationship would be a big conversation.

Scott was determined to keep it private for as long as possible. He’d been through this before. Every time the tabloid headlines proved too much for his partners and the relationship inevitably crashed and burned. He refused to let it happen again. Not this time. Especially not when he’d really started to fall for a certain person.

“Are you still sulking?” Tycho discarded his suit jacket as though it were a used tissue rather than a very expensive example of Italian tailoring. “Because if anyone has the right to sulk, it’s me. I had to watch a lot of very pretty women flirting with my boyfriend.”

It was a relief to be home. Scott finally let the tension drain from his shoulders as he glanced at Tycho over the kitchen island. Tycho flopped grandly onto the couch and offered him a sunny smile which proved that he wasn’t truly annoyed. If anything, there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Five hours,” Scott complained. It was possible that he was being a little overdramatic. “Five hours of corporate bullshit. Do you know what’s even worse? I had to flirt back. Just for appearances’ sake. Because the PR team say I have an image to maintain.”

“Business is better when the CEO is hot and single.”

“Yay,” he deadpanned. “So, I have to pretend to be perpetually single. Great.”

Tycho leaned back against the couch with a fond smile. “I feel like you’re focussing on the wrong part. Take it as a compliment.”

“Nah, Scotty’s crap at that,” Gordon piped up, seemingly materialising out of thin air. It was approaching one in the morning, so there was no reason for him to be in the pool, but he had a yellow towel slung around his shoulders and was steadily dripping water onto the floorboards.

Tycho jumped. “How many times do we have to discuss this? Stop sneaking up on me.”

Gordon’s grin was full of teeth. “It’s an initiation process. When you get used to it, you’re officially a part of the family.”

“Do I want to be? Seems like a nightmare.”

“Oh, yeah, it totally is,” Gordon confirmed. “But dating Scooter means you get all of us too. It’s a joint package. It’s great fun! Just wait until John does creepy shit like randomly appearing above the holoprojector in your room at five in the morning.”

“Gordon,” Scott sighed.

Tycho raised a brow. “John’s going to do what now?”

“John is not going to do anything,” Scott cut in with a meaningful glare at the nearest projector.

Even if their Eye in the Sky wasn’t awake, EOS would undoubtedly pass the message along. It was bad enough dealing with his planet-based siblings, let alone John’s various schemes. The second his family had realised he was actually serious about this relationship, they’d taken it upon themselves to check if Tycho was suitable, to quote. It was funny right up until Kayo’s overprotective streak had made an appearance. Tycho probably still had nightmares.

Gordon sidled across the floor, then whispered something to Tycho. Scott knew that distinctly mischievous grin. He knew it all too well. It was always the precursor to trouble. It was made so much worse by the way Tycho’s face lit up with a slowly dawning smile.

Scott eyed them suspiciously “What?”

“Nothing,” Gordon sing songed. “I’m just… you know. Catching up. Becoming besties. Reminding Tycho of the way you become a flustered mess whenever someone you genuinely like flirts with you.”

Scott stared at him for a long moment. “That’s such crap. And why are you even here? Go to bed and stop bothering us.”

“Uh huh. Okay. Sure.” Gordon made no attempt to move. “You are the worst at taking compliments.”

“I am not-” Scott took a steadying breath. “I get compliments all the time. Such as this evening.”

“Nope. Doesn’t count. I’m talking about genuine compliments.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“No, no.” Tycho had a wicked grin on his face. “Keep going.”

Gordon let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, really? Well then. Scott will have, like, an actual meltdown if you tell him-”

“Gordon, I swear to God, I’m gonna disinherit you. I’ll do it. Just one more word and I’ll call my lawyer.”

“Do it, I dare you.”

“You think I’m bluffing?”

“I think you’ll turn the same shade as Three if Tycho says you did a good job tonight.”

The situation was swiftly spiralling out of control. Scott let out a loud, obviously fake laugh and tried to play it off as casual. He glared at Gordon, trying to communicate an increasingly desperate hope for him to leave, because sure, maybe this was hilarious to the squid, but Scott kind of wanted to sink through the floor and maybe burn up in the Earth’s mantle right now.

It was made worse by the way Tycho’s smile faltered as he glimpsed Scott’s genuine unease. “Wait. This isn’t just a joke?”

“Can we not… not do this?” Scott gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles paled. His voice sounded horribly strained even to his own ears. “I’m sure it’s really funny, but I think I lost my sense of humour about three hours ago. So. Can we just… not?”

Gordon’s amusement faded. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care what you meant, Gordon.” Scott cursed the hint of betrayal which had crept into his tone. He snatched his discarded jacket from the counter and shouldered past his brother which hadn’t been his best idea to date given Gordon was still soaking wet. “It’s late. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Scott,” Tycho called, voice pitched with honest concern.

“Scooter? C’mon, I was just joking around. I didn’t mean it seriously.” Gordon’s bare feet smacked against the floorboards as he broke into a jog to catch up. “Hey, Scott! Jeez, would you wait up for a second?”

“What?” Scott whirled on him. Gordon’s eyes widened as the shout faded in the dark corridor. For all the times he’d driven Scott up the wall, it was still rare for him to actually snap. “What is it now?”

Gordon hesitated. “I just wanted to-”

“Wanted to what? Make another joke? At my expense? Jokes are supposed to be funny. I don’t know, maybe you do find it funny. It’s hilarious that I can’t take compliments because the only time anyone gives me one is when they want something from me. Go ahead and laugh. But I’ve had a shit evening so I’m having a few problems seeing the humour in it.”

The silence dragged on for a painfully long minute.

“You never told me that,” Gordon whispered.

“Then congrats. Now you know.”

Scott wasn’t angry as such – mostly just hurt because Gordon’s jokes rarely crossed the line into downright cruel – and so still experienced a rush of regret because his little brother looked as though he’d been slapped.

“Get some sleep, Gords,” he muttered, more softly this time. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“No, Scott, really. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, bud,” he sighed. “I know you are.”

“Are we okay?”

“Are we…? Of course we are.” He shook his head at the sight of Gordon’s relieved smile. “Dumbass.”

What might not have been alright was his relationship, but that was an issue he didn’t want to consider until he’d slept for a few hours. He retreated to his room and finally changed out of the cursed suit. He was still trying to coax creases out of the jacket when the door closed and he sensed another’s presence in the room. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“I considered giving you some space,” Tycho began cautiously, “But then I couldn’t help myself.” There was something unbearably gentle in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Scott didn’t look up from the jacket. He’d crumpled more creases into the fabric by curling his fists in it but he didn’t know how else to control the wealth of feeling in his chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Gordon poked at a subject he knows I’m uncomfortable with, that’s all.”

He could sense Tycho standing just a few feet away, uncertain as to how to proceed. It was the wrong side of too late to even think anymore, but Scott was reluctant to postpone this conversation until tomorrow. He’d done this before. He knew how it went.

People liked the idea of him – the persona carefully curated for the public – but fled as soon as they glimpsed the broken pieces beneath the mask. But he hated how much it was going to hurt this time. It was almost enough to make him turn around and pretend that there’d been no harm done, that it had just been an overreaction on his half, anything to give him just a few more hours of being loved.

“If you want to leave,” he said heavily, “I won’t hold it against you.”

Tycho visibly double took. “Sorry, what? Why would I want to…? I’m very confused right now, which is rare for me. What is this? What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you an easy out. I won’t judge you for taking it.”

“I don’t want out. I want you. I’ve made that very clear over the past couple of months.”

“Yeah, well.” Scott still couldn’t look at him. “Everyone wants me until they realise- I’m not easy to love. I get that. There’s always a point when people recognise that I’m more than they signed up for. And they leave. So, if you’re going to do that, I’d rather you did so now, because it’s already gonna hurt like hell and it’ll only get worse the longer you stay.”

“Scott.”

“I’m not going to do… this. Just- Okay, it’s late, so don’t leave, but there’s a spare room down the hall. I can drop you home tomorrow.”

“Would you let me get a word in edgeways?” Tycho’s fond exasperation was tainted by concern. He stepped closer to brush a hand against Scott’s arm. “It’s very easy to love you. It’s a little harder to know you, I’ll admit that, but only because you’re constantly trying to keep from letting anyone in. But loving you? That’s not a challenge.”

Scott searched for his voice and found only a pathetically small croak. “Okay.”

Tycho’s tiny huff suggested that he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Okay?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Look at me?” Tycho’s murmur seemed so very loud in their silent room. And that thought in itself was a rush because when had his become theirs? “Please?”

Scott finally dropped the jacket onto the chair and twisted to face him. He was hyperaware of his own heartbeat – frantic with fear because vulnerability was so much worse than a dangerous rescue – and the burn behind his eyes. Tycho took a final step closer, running a hand up his arm to cradle his face – no judgement, just pure affection – and he wasn’t sure what to do with that acceptance.

“This entire time,” Tycho continued softly, “I’ve been worried that you’ll call this off. Because the first time we met, you were risking your life for mine. How can I possibly match up to that? If you look up hero in the dictionary, you’ll find your name beside it. Now, me? I have ideas. Fantastic, revolutionary ideas. But I’m not selfless. I don’t pretend to be. So, it baffles me that out of the two of us, you’re the one who believes he’s difficult to love.”

Scott lowered his forehead to Tycho’s shoulder. Fingers curled around the nape of his neck, easing away tension, moving to run through his hair. He exhaled shakily and let himself be held.

“You’re clever. You’re compassionate. You’re remarkable. I could go on for hours.” Tycho’s smile was audible in his voice as he added, “Oh, and by the way? You did a great job tonight.”

Scott swatted him half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“You know I had to say it.”

“Hmm.”

“I love you,” Tycho promised. “And I’m not going anywhere. Even if your brothers do try to give me the shovel talk every time I visit.”

“Oh, god.”

“Alan’s the worst offender which makes it harder because I always want to laugh. He’s just not intimidating in the slightest. That being said, I do agree with them. If I hurt you at all, I will happily hand myself over so that Kayo can complete her oddly specific list of threats.”

Scott gave a tired laugh. “They mean well.”

Tycho shot him an affectionate smile. “I know they do. They love you. And so do I.”

[robcognitivepersonality]

The Mastermind & the Promoter

How I get along with ESTPs as an INTJ

First, let’s toss all that is Chad about ESTPs and start from zero. Extraverted Sensing is gathering local detailed data at high fidelity and intensity. Like a high resolution camera which you have a long range control of the hue and contrast settings. Introverted Intuition is recalling global holistic data. Working together, Ni/Se users compare the details of reality against their vision. ESTPs take a step further by “painting” their holistic Ni canvas and materializing it onto the Se real world.

You traveled far and studied about everything that could be relevant to your vision. With Introverted Thinking, you’ve built from what you’ve seen as a guide to a utopian dream, a philosophy, or a set of ethos. With Extraverted Feeling, you believe these are the life principles everyone should abide by. Fe/Ti users are students and teachers of ego management. ESTPs take a step further to influence others by becoming the living proof of their own ideas.

You’re constantly picking up micro expressions, reading body language, researching deep convoluted literature, or analyzing theories. You can amplify the details out from both the physical and the conceptual. It’s not uncommon for ESTPs to have many advanced degrees, speak multiple languages fluently, and excel at just about any hobbies they’re passionate about. So instead of being the dumb jock the MBTI community has made you to be, I see ESTPs as the most potentially gifted out of all the types.

"Well, my legs may be too small for my body, but my head is too large, although I prefer to think it is just large enough for my mind. I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind... and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge. That's why I read so much, Jon Snow." - Tyrion Lannister, from A Game of Thrones

That’s the thing about ESTPs — y’all make it look so simple. Your NiTi understands that life can be overwhelmingly complex, yet you see that it works around a few thematic factors. And as long as we respect and make our moves based on those factors, it all becomes easy and intuitive. Let life happen, stay on course and we’ll figure the rest out as we go. Our energy is best spent on the now; focused towards our goals.

Like many ideas though, it’s easier said than done. You look into people’s eyes and you see how it can be complicated for them. People have many reasons why they’re not working on their goals. Of course there are some considerable excuses. But it could be a lack of confidence, fear, confusion, anger, or just plain laziness. Your SeFe sees those emotions and pulls them right out to the surface to deal with them.

Through my SeTe, I see that we live in a cold and over-complicated machine that sucks the souls out of us and programs us into mass manufactured drones. I see that many of us get bogged down spending our lives on unwanted obligations, unhealthy habits, and unfulfilling jobs. I try my best to navigate through it and be free and happy. To stay pure with ourselves and live as sincerely as we can. We both want that.

‘Free and happy.’ I was camping during a summer vacation on one of the tiny islands in the Philippines where I could walk around the perimeter in a half hour. There was one shack where a family lived to upkeep the island. I watched the kids all day playing tag on the beach, swimming as far out as they can, driving dad’s boat, carrying big smiles without a weight of burden. I asked myself — when did I grow up? When did things get so complicated?

"Yeah, fuck politics, man. Yeah, like literally that’s feckless. I’m telling you, I’m on my ‘kindness conspiracy’. As long as I’m kind to people, like if we live by an ethic of kindness, if we foster trust amongst each other, it will matter less what corporations and politicians say, because we’ll be able to trust our society’s cohesiveness." - Dave Chappelle

As a kid I couldn’t wait to be a grown up. I didn’t think too hard about it, I just wanted to be a big grown up like Mom and Dad. I did well in school, got a good job, and made lifelong friends. I’m grateful that I got to pursue my passions and cross a lot of my goals off the bucket list. Yet with all of the money and possessions I have, I really longed for that pure weightless joy these kids had. Don’t get me wrong, I’m living a good life. But I guess it really is just complicated.

I gotta admit. When you try to pull out my Introverted Feeling, I feel manipulated. As an INTJ, I’m possessive about my emotions. Only I can deal and experience them, I don’t outsource the control of them to anybody. I feel very seen when your darty eyes are pointed in my direction. I feel you weeding through my bullshit. I feel you are testing me for who I am as a person.

It can easily be a tug of war, until I take a moment and remind myself it doesn’t have to be. The ESTPs I’m close with are all good natured and genuinely curious. In the back of their minds, they understand we mean nothing in the scale of the universe. And they’ll ask “So what are you gonna do about it?” Without beating around the bush, I’m challenged to answer how I’ll be using my limited time on this Earth.

Having NiFi, I’m constantly contemplating how to attain the most self-realized life possible. I have this sheer curiosity for what I’d find out in being the best Me, the truest Me. But I honestly have no idea what it means to be all that I can be. There’s no standard nor proven roadmap to this. I come up with my own plans, constantly considering the rules of my environment and consulting my feelings. That’s what’s complicated. Without any instructions, I spend so much time in my head trying to figure life out.

"Money is a tool — it’s the means, not the end. Inspiration is the metric that dictates whether or not a project is a success. It’s more realistic than trying to aim for radio play, or trying to satisfy an A&R, or the other gatekeepers on these platforms. I don’t even know how to create with those things in mind. But if you tell me the goal is to inspire? That makes my job a lot easier." - Nipsey Hussle

So when you ask what I want to do in life, I want to look back during my last years saying to myself that I did pretty good. I want to be happy, stay healthy, see my parents enjoy their retirement, help out in the family, grow old with my friends, and do good in society. I’m afraid of how naïvely simple that all sounds. I can’t underestimate how difficult reaching these goals can be. In today’s environment, it seems logistically impossible without an abundance of time, money, and luck. Having only one shot at life, I have to do my due diligence to figure out how to best accumulate these resources.

As you’re focused on me trying to answer, I realize what you’re doing is checking up on my ikigai — a Japanese word which doesn’t exist in other languages that essentially means ‘a reason to get up in the morning’ and ‘a reason to enjoy life’:

The word ‘ikigai’ is usually used to indicate the source of value in one’s life or the things that make one’s life worthwhile (for example, one might say: ‘‘This child is my ikigai’’). Secondly, the word is used to refer to mental and spiritual circumstances under which individuals feel that their lives are valuable. There is a difference between ikigai and the sense of well-being. Ikigai is a more concerned with the future: for example, even when one feels that one’s present life is dark, possessing a desire or goal for the future allows one to feel ikigai.

Ikigai gives individuals a sense of a life worth living. It is not necessarily related to economic status.

Ikigai gives individuals a sense of a life worth living. It is not necessarily related to economic status.

Behaviours which make one feel ikigai are not actions which individuals are forced to take, but they are spontaneous activities which people undertake willingly.

Ikigai is personal; it reflects the inner self of an individual and expresses that faithfully.

It establishes a unique mental world in which the individual can feel at ease.

- Noriyuki Nakanishi, Department of Public Health, Osaka University Medical School, “‘Ikigai’ in older Japanese people”

ESTPs have an intuitive sense of this concept. You understand that the sum of small joys in everyday life results in a more fulfilling life as a whole. Ikigai is all we need. As long as we keep it pure and close to us, everything’s gonna be alright. And to do that, we must live in the moment. Having faith for the future means to enjoy the now, to enjoy every little thing and everyone we come in contact with. As someone who’s so future oriented as I am, I appreciate you for reminding me that.

I have no philosophical idea why we try to be happy. Maybe it’s tied to our will to survive. Whatever it is, I just know it feels beautifully good. To feel like those kids in the Philippines, to live each day like that and eventually to fondly look back. We’re given a chance to live, we should see how special that is. For you to teach me that, you’re a gift anybody would be lucky to have.

[fansideblogtocjcherryth]

Notes Of Book 5 Defender

from September the 30 of this year. Yay I forgot I could use open library 

Chaper 1

Okay damn it, they call him blond, still think of him as brown haired though.

The area seems to be a meeting place of tabinis dead dad.

We meet caljeiri , tabinis son being a bit slow at ateving

Valasi is gonna be rolling a bit in the grave sooner or latter.

Emeritus might be the astronomer who kind of saved the world from Deana Hanks bullshit, thank you.

Oh so now the conservatives want the space shit so badly huh?

Jago and banichi being wonderful as always.

Oh would you look at that they missed a flight.

He is now worried about some strange behavior and potential political bullshit 

So children are not raised by the parents but are Kind of raised by the village, so to speak 

Bren is concerned for the kid because it hits a bit close to home for him. 

he admits that an aveti could hurt him on accident

Everyone is a bit worried due to the new changes.

It's so funny how some poeple are just fighting over who gets to raise tabini's kid.

It "bren scared his computer may have been tampered with time"

They made it to the space shuttle

Chapter 2

Jago helps him with his coat 

Ginny Kroger is back. And holy shit this book has 18 chapters? 

It's funny how ginny says that the islands been wet. also the open library has an book mark thingy that works even after you get logged out?

nearly half a year before he and Ginny spoke

the attendant is apologetic about not being able to provide drinks but bren is okay with that.

ginny saying baji-naji kind of implies that there is humans kind of believe in the chance  

there starship is moving along smoothly in being built

bren thinks that tabini may have gotten his son to maybe meet bren.

i have a feeling this books biggest themes are about relationships with the younger generations can maybe make things better.

its been six years since brens been on the island

its kind of good that things have been a bit better.

they made it to the location

Chapter 3

 its kind of surreal now that i keep seeing vodka this much in a book. 

wow bren really dose not like dealing with the island at all.

Jackson areospace is the island's space port that is also helping get businesses like sundrink and peterson's to the workers of the ships

yeah fuck you heritage party, fuck you.

tom lund have been stuck in office for two months 

there is so many discussions of corporation power struggles that hits a bit to close to home for me.

Brens gonna try to call tom to keep him from being a political rival to him. 

sandra Johnsons actually been okay and gave bren some plant cuttings

his femily is messed up as usual.

he kind of sucked at solitaire on his computer while pretending to work.

4

the stewards gave bren his bullet proof vest and formal coat .

it sounds like the everyone kind of won, bit by bit, the humans got the library of human achievement and the atevi manage to have a pretty great economy  but the ship folk are being a bit grumpy.

it seems like ramirez and shawn and tabini have been able to work together to keep things together.

he realized he forgot his gloves in the hold of the ship, luckily jago is kind enough to be a shield him from the cold. 

kate shugart is waiting to welcome ginny while bren is with banichi, jago, tano and algini.

bindanda is here and cooking as ever. and jase is gonna be with them for dinner.

well brens still paranoid about dying.

wow geigi's place looks sick.

its kind of funny that there is video games and spices in his luggage.

they are just so proud of the robots aren't they?

yo bren, be cool with cajeiri, hes just a kid.

well sandra got married and had kids. neet. oh dammit barb again, its been two years already.

okay false alarm, it because his mother is in pretty bad health.

knowing narani is like maybe a 3 times grandfather is rather funny

well bren did manage to get his staff some stuff, like a Bowl for narani , a old book for bindanda , some letters from families of the smaller staff, books for both tano and and algini with a litter for tano from his father

banichi and jago gave out some things as well perticullerly a florid shirt, to everyone elses laughter to the serious algini, he at first accepted the shirt smoothly then took it off when Jase was coming in.

5

Jase is wearing his casual's for his meeting with bren instead of atevi formals.

okay so the Astronomer that saved there ass in the second book from deanas bullshit name is emeritus / Grigiji .  

Grigiji and geigi seem to be one of the atevi that are in the ships an apreciated as well

some how bindanda managed to get some fruit up to the ships.

bren explains to jase that there may be something suspicious with the ceremony that tabini gave and might have been a political move.

jase really adores the oceans and have been trying to get a chance when they can.

so it seems like yolanda and jase have been on and off kind of romantic relationship.

seems like yolanda is acting suspicious and remirez is kind of hesitent to get jase to leave his spot on the captian 

bren is gonna talk to geigi tomorrow after breakfast

jase tells bren to go to bed cause he looks tired and bren to himself admits that he missed jase.

he sends a message to toby to try to contact him

even jago admits he needs to sleep and joined him soon after. 

6

toby dose not call him back so bren is hoping that the help crisis he was told of was solved.

geigi it seems to be there neighbor on the ship and bren likes walking around for the excrsice 

it seems like there was a little bit of conflict with the atevi and the humans , some times kinds of stupid.

so geigi is in the the construction office. thats a little neet.

geigi is just so kind with offering tea to bren and talking about what has happened with Ginny and Jase.

oh my god geigi is trying to recreate a place for fishing , fish hatcheries and even for fish to escape the net.

so it seemed like the ship folk actually agree more with the atevi on fish and fruit stuff then meet.

kaplan is back an a little tired, also ramirez been taken to the hospital , oh crap

7

well it looks like a gaurd of ramirez named  Mr Jenrette is risking the wraith of bren by denying  bren and geigi to check on ramirez.

Geigi is just so polite and understanding about the situation. banichi and the security of geigi are tense as hell

oh shit ramirez is fucking dead , we hardly knew thee and the on coming shit show.

well the good news for jase at least is that Ogun is gonna take charge. also I think Ogun is african coded maybe due to the skin description and the name coming from an Orisha of african religious origins https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ogun

bren has to explain in ragi about whats gonna happen as ogun and jase go with the phoenix to explain the passing.

bren sends a message to those affected by Rasmirez death to visit him if they need to talk.

as he is taking with his staff , it sounds like something is going on down there and no messages are able to get out, great.

oh crap shit might be going down soon with some this gonna be bad. he tells ginny to maybe not talk to her on the phone and maybe talk to his staff instead in case she hears something.

oh shit they might be a riot soon due to the rumors that the ship that got so badly wreaked might not have been so wreaked.

well he tries to get paulson to get more info on the rumor and holy hell ramirez asked to die when he confessed that the ship they thought was gone was still alive.

well shit jase is already on a meeting and bren warns him the rumor is out.

bren even tells jase that maybe telling the truth will not get poeple pissed at them for the deception.

banichi heard everything and talks with him on his feelings about being lied to a bunch of times.

bren hopes jase comes back with answers

8

the announcement of the death of rasmirez is announced.

bren hopes there gonna be honest but luckily they are are honest. note to self need to translate "God, Jase, actomen'shi not eshtomeni!" bren was talking about

he mandges to get a message to Mogari-nai about the shit show. also worrying about tabini cuse he is not responding.

welp the political shit is causing bren to panic about potential traiters again, great.

the atevi and him descide to tend to the funeral, with bullet proof vests

bren sounds pissed with how ogun speech to stani ramirez and noticing he has not seen yolanda in the crowd

well shit some one is pretty pissed about how the missing ship reounion is still out there and ogun is refusing to answer questions.

kaplan , you and polano and pressmen are true bros to the crew.

so it seemed like ramirez keep quiet because some one on the missing ship told him to. that is some loyalty right there.

he , paulson, ginny and geigi all agree to meet in the offices of geigi to discuss the shit show. 

bren is just so godamn cool when he needs jase to get confidence about being a leader figure.

oh jennertte in in the meeting with them.

jase is having to smake a meeting about the whole shit show while bren translate into mosphei

trying to figure out why ramirez would not say anything about the shit show is harder then it looks.

since what they know , even tamun didn't know about the secret, would have fucked everyone over if he did.

the offical situation was they saw something while they were surveying a system, whent back and thought the reunion was fucked up then fled back to where we are.

oh shit ramirez wanted the ship built to maybe go back so he got the president of the island and tabini involved to maybe try to go back there to rescue them. that is an ugly feeling for poeple like ginny.

two choices. never go back to that ship or try to launch a rescue.

holy hell ramirez might be a fucking clever dick, he may have lied to everyone but he did tell the truth to the leaders and considering the concept of man'chi for tabini means that the atevi tied to tabini might be more likely to help.

bren this chapter really knows how to make an empowering speech on a fly in this chapter, holy heck is he good.

9

Bren is now asking for any new messages that may have come. narani says no.

he gets jago, banichi , tano and algini to go to a room with him to explain that the meeting was a success to keep 

some of them are wondering if the captian is gonna try to screw over jase. bren Dosen't think so. it seems like humans are less likly to get jeylious of others taking alies from you.

bren is more worried about the humans rage at being lied to by ramirez because this is a lot bigger then something small.

bren sends a message to tabini that also expresses how worried his messages are even getting to him. he even gets the cousin of narani , I think goes by Nadi , to get the message to tabini as quickly as possible

bren asks Dala if there have been any rumors , it sounds like the man'chi is rather confused by the changes going on . also it sounds like the massage has not been given due to the major Domo eidi who says that some one is there to answer.

bren is having a crisis of faith and scared of being disfavored.

great bren is now convinced that ramirez may have been assassinated.

toby Finnaly called back and it sounds like brens mom is not doing great and oh boy what a nasty argument they are now in.

bren admits he is putting his foot down on being used as a way for his mom as a tool for her and his birth family's emotions .

he makes a letter to barb to be for his mother who he is convined that she is acting this way to get his attention.

during breakfast bren gets a message from jase about voting to try to find the ship that made all this shit go down and to do that they are gonna need to leave the planet.

after the call he asks for his indoor coat that makes him feel so much better. 

it seems like a ship is being sent to them unannounced. suspicious , bren suggests they meet the shuttle 

bren warns Jase about the shuttle

10

they set up the place to welcome who ever might be in the ship.

bren , jase and geigi await the shuttle on the lift and ogun assumes it ilisidi .

Ilisidi is now here and brought cajeiri along with here. Bren first reaction to the kid being here is kind of funny "A child. A boy. A protocol disaster "

For a good minute that have to save the boy from zero gravity.  Jase thankfully succeeded in getting him down when ilisidis cane fails.

Ilisidi is able to help get the kid into cenedis hand to get him down.

Iliside was able to hatch 14 wi'itikiin chick's from where she lived.

Bren feels bad for the boy and is able to introduce him to jase and geigi

Ilisidi is having a bit of a "kids these days"

Yolanda appears with ogun us here and telling ilisidi about the quarters being ready.

Bren is being worried about babysitting a six year old and entertaining a scary old lady.

Ilisidi just says to bren that they are going with jase to the missing station when ever he like it or not.

Well it turns out they knew his message would arrived about the death . So it kind of made the theory of the assassination void.

New theory , yolanda might be planning something. 

He gets his staff to start packing up for the trip to the location.

11

Bren is worried about how jago and banichi are staring at him.

The robots where wanted for the mission so that they would get fuel instead of humans

They are hopeing that they do not encounter the hostile forces at all during the trip.

Sabin wants more ships before the shit while ogun wants to get to the shit.

Sounds like sabin kind of dislikes atevi

Bren working with sabin is gonna be a pain, ain't it?

Bren was able to charm both captions to tell everyone of the truth about what they are doing.

Sounds like three days is gonna get nasty.

12

Jago and bren and banichi is gonna have a bad time telling the news about the three days to ilisidi 

Holy hell ilisidi , cenedi and maybe ambitious atevi like tabini teaching method for caljeiri is "sink or swim little fucker" 

He gives orders that narani to stay at there home base to try to protect what they got. As well as tano and algini

Bren feels cast aside by the whole shit show.

Damn the staff are a bit pissed about bren trying to get them to leave and away from danger 

well shit it seems like yolanda may have been the un liked child compared to jase by ramirez favoritism . kind of like what bren when through with his family.

he sends a letter to jase that in case he ever felt like it he could talk to him.

jago and banichi left suddenly 

he gets surprised at his resentful jealousy when he realizes that yolanda is staying instead of him.

13

he visits with yolanda and feels a little better around her when she tried apologizing for her rudeness

he invites banichi to kind of make him feel better of having 3 people at dinner instead of two.

after dinner he gets her to talk about the shit show after in his office.

 yolanda gets suspicious when she gets suspicious

she admits she is scared of the aiji and bren gives her some advice on dealing with him. having to be cautious and both stand up to him. turnabout 

wow this chapter is kind of like a therapy session for him and yolanda . she is kind of messed up like him. 

yolanda tells him to take care of jase due to him being affected by ramirez kind of rejecting him for yolanda due to him being tied to the atevi.

also jase hates sabin

jagos worried about ilisidi and geigi are up to something.

great there might be more shit.

14

okay so he finally gets a message from tabini . okay so he is to become the lord of the heavens as well as geigi to be his replacement while he is away. 

so tabini dose not trust jase.

yolanda may have fucked up on the translations.

bren, you are giving me more vibes of a worried wife to a far away husband , please do not give me more reasons to ship you with tabini.

toby sent a message back and have a realisation about his behavior.

barb sends a message and damnit barb , leave him be about that.

gets a bunch of letters by geigi and ilisidi and news from mainland.

bren writes a letter to tabini about what he is planing on doing , worries about the situation and his well wishes to tabini.

he gose to yolanda to try to contact jase.

jase and him agree to meet. 

he sends a letter to barb and toby about what was going to happen.

15

hes in from of the ship and panicking about the future.

he talks with algini and tano to try to take care of everything and yolanda . the two of them are nervous and flushed with flightiness . this is one of the few times the two nervous.

its a freacking count down of 98%

oh my god the bren hugging Algini and Tano scene , oh my gawd so cute . "one dose not hug a atevi , not as a rule . he broke that rule , for his soul's sake , and embarrassed them." algini hugs bren fisrt then tano

the staff are just fucking wonderful.

banichi and jago resure him of his worries and doubts might not be important

jesus bren has anxiety about airplane , why doesn't he get therapy? hope he gets therapy.

ilisidi and caljeiri are there ,the kid looking anxious as ever.

bren is miserable to the title of lord of the heavens. wishes he was back in tobys boat.

geigi asks if yolanda favors fish , bren says she perfers fruit instead.

ilisidi after saying good by to geigi is mad about jase be not there. jase is in a meeting but meets them soon.

ilisidi seriously threatens caljeiri with out supper if he dose not behave about asking about where the ship is steered.

bren notes that the atevi would see pairs or twos as really unerving.

he drags jase back to thank him for the design and to give him the message from yolanda.

this whole chapter is another kind of odd therapy like session exept for jase.

well crap the tape they need is with sabin from jenrette. the other one they may need in in a deeper part of the archives . 

holy hell ilisidi might be able to delay the shit to give them time.

16

Ilisidi , banichi , cenedi , jago and 3 of cenedi's men. 

poor kaplan, having to explain that sabin isn't found in any where.

sabin is pissed  there are on the bridge of the ship.

Calms down when bren is telling her that ilisidi has invited her to suppor . Cheeky bastard is a description sabin gives bren.

Bren is already missing his estate now.

Bundles of stuff floating around in zero gravity and the staff trying to control the scene is kind of funny

Asicho in a bathrobe is a scene I hope some one is able to draw.

He sends a rather sad letter to his mom 

Asicho she helps bren get dressed and ribbon in his hair.

Thanks to bren being the lord of the heavens jago is in a official like relationship with him.

17

He is around in ilisidi diner with those around him .

They are waiting for jase to come by with sabin and the kid is with them. 

Remembering that they are in zero gravity makes so much of the scene just kind of funny that a bunch of them have to float around.

Sabin being disgusted by being offered a pillow.

Wow ilisidi is being Blunt about wanting the tape jase seeks from sabin, even though jase finesse the situation.

Young rascal of a grandson, what a descriptive word for caljeiri from ilisidi

Well the kid thinks it's funny sabin thinks he is 16 instead of six.

Well crap shit starts to hit the fan when he notices a white globe 

Ilisidi did you just give sabin some of the alkaloids that got to bren in the first book? You sneaky fuck

 Jase is upset at how ilisidi and bren may have used the sauces to give her food poisoning to give him a chance to get what they want.

They are getting sabin to the sick bay and bren advises them to give her treatment.

It kind of makes me really happy that bren keeps telling the humans that they are the aliens in the situation.

Holy hell that speech he gave to sabin , is is considered a badass boast , a reason you suck speech , heroic motive speech or a blase boast? 

Jase gets kind of control of the ship .

Revels was trying to keep jase from talking to jenrette about ramirez.

Manages to get sabin to not be be a complete pain and to get the truth about shit going down. 

18

They are at the bridge and bren talks to jase.

They comment that sabin kind of could try to repay the favor of inviting sabin to dinner first.

He misses Bu-javid,  the clutter of things.

Even though he is going to a whole new thing, he is very relived for the first in a long time that no one wanted to kill him.

[writingpracticetime]

Interactions with other villains

From the notes of Mitchell Newman:

Let me set the scene.

First, the Discreet Entrepreneur’s Network, or the DEN as it is appropriately titled, is a loosely organized guild of sorts for villains to meet and exchange illegal goods and services. It’s members are vicious, super-powered criminals of all stripes--master thieves, serial killers, unethical scientists, the whole spectrum. They’re dangerous, violent, and not at all kind to non-members, or even new members.

Second, we have Constructor. A famous hero and  goody two shoes who only ended up in prison for protesting a mass eviction. More to the point, an (admittedly, not self described) pacifist who at the time was famously bad at combat.

The DEN should have torn Constructor to pieces, and this whole problem should have ended there. Instead our goody two shoes swipes dozens of members and eventually breaks the whole network into pieces.

How?

---

You have always been bad at public speaking.

You don’t stammer.  But seeing lots of eyes on you makes you freeze and all of the words you planned slip away. It doesn’t help that at least half of the people in this room are murderers, but they would have the same effect if they were third graders.

You wish Sandy was here again. She was always good at coaching you through these things. The only reason you ever made it through interviews or press talks was because of her prep work.

"The pipeline," you try again.

The Organizer quirks an eyebrow at you. For a second he looks to his assistant, a pale woman whose eyes are fixed on, and then he motions at you. "Go on."

"the pipeline they're building," you try again. "Its damaging to the environment. The people don’t want it there. And it’s. Illegal."

The crowd actually bursts into laughter.  You’re too used to talking to politicians.

---

Afterwards, Bonfire nods sympathetically at your grimace on your way out.

“There’s a reason I’m not a member,” she tells you.

“Did you hear? Did I…?”

Did I do good? It’s the sort of approval you used to seek from Sandy. You stop yourself, because you already know the answer regardless. Not a single person in that room approached you to join your next operation.

“There’s still the two of us,” Bonfire shrugs. “Best not to work with too many, anyway. That’s how snitches worm their way in.”

“Yes but…”

“Wait!”

A reedy voice calls after you. You don’t recognize the stick figure man who darts after you, eyes darting.

“Wait, okay okay okay okay,” he says, quickly. “Constructor. I’m--Cyberscout. I, your pitch, I mean--”

You wait. You hear a flare of irritation at your shoulder.

“Okay, your pitch sucked,” Cyberscout says. “Didn’t you used to go on TV? Man. N-not to down you or anything, what I mean to say is, just… I can help you with that. Not with your speaking skills, but getting the word out other ways, and doing some information gathering for you. So I’ll sign on. Pay back the favor.”

“Favor?”

“Yeah, uh. You jailbroke me,” he says. “I don’t work for nothing, normally I’d ask for a favor or cash but… since you already did me a solid… just this once.”

You hold out your hand, and like that you make your second ally.

---

Your second venture into the DEN goes better. You practice with Bonfire and Cyber ahead of time, so your voice is stronger. When you enter the latest venue, you nod at the Organizer and the silent pale woman next to him, taking a deep breath and refusing to feel intimidated.

Again, you  describe what you’re opposing as wrong. Again, you talk about the people’s wishes. Again, you call it illegal, and again there is snickering, but instead of falling silent your voice booms.

“Are you going to pretend you all don’t care?” you ask, and you hear yourself echo from the back of the hall. “How many of you have been thrown into solitary Akonite cells for store robbery, for having? How many of you got beaten by guards? Now CEOs are lining their pockets with medications they got from experimenting on prisoners just like you have been, and they go completely free. This is illegal, against the public good, all of the things they say about your own actions--and yet the men doing this go free.”

Dead silence.

“If the hypocrisy doesn’t make you furious,” you say. “That’s because you have no fight left in you.”

---

When you leave the conference, you know Bonfire heard because she’s smirking.

“Better?”

“Better,” she agrees. “Still no takers?”

“They’re probably worried about losing face,” Cyberscout says. “I mean, I was. But after a talk like that, just wait. They’ll trickle in.”

And they do. Days after, a greying old woman approaches you. She seems hesitant to meet your eyes or speak at first but when she does his tone is cold, brusque, and to the point.

“You may have heard of me, you may not have,” she says. “But to the point, I know a few things about unethical experiments, how they are run...and how to help the subj--victims. If you are willing to look past my past indiscretions, I can be an asset.”

“I care more about what you’re willing to do now than anything you’ve done in the past,” you tell her.

She holds out her hand stiffly.

“Call me Asag,” she says. “Dr. Asag.”

---

At your third DEN meeting, the Organizer’s lips thin as he sees you. He once again exchanges whispers with his assistant before glowering at you. You brush him off, and stand to explain your next venture.

“One more thing,” you say. “Before anyone here thinks of joining, this is going to be a no-kill operation.”

“What?” booms a hulking figure in the back. “Are you fucking serious?”

“No interrupting,” the Organizer drones, but you speak up.

“Wait,” you say. “Let him talk.”

The man steps forward, and you have an instant flash of recognition. It would be impossible not to recognize him, actually. You don’t think you've met anyone else that big.

“You don’t know shit about what it’s really like out there!” the giant says. “You really expect anyone to go out and not defend themselves?”

“I didn’t say you can’t defend yourselves,” you explain. “I said you can’t kill anyone.”

“You can’t get shit done if you’re not willing to kill,” the man says, darkly.

“Really. And how has that worked for you? Wait--” you make a show of trying to remember him. “Oh wait, I know. It got you in prison. Where I broke you out, without killing anyone.”

There is actually some laughter. In your favor this time. It makes you grin.

“Hobbes, right?” you ask. “It’s possible to fight and neutralize someone without killing them, and it’s usually better that way because then the feds can’t justify using as much force against you.”

“Then I’d like to see you try to neutralize a real super,” Hobbes spits.

“Alright,” you say. “Come at me then, and I’ll show you.”

“Absolutely not!” the Organizer shouts. “There will be no fights during conventions!”’

You don’t even spare him a glance. “Outside, then”

The Organizer hisses at the entire crowd follows you both, eager to see blood. “This isn’t--the rules--”

After a fight that admittedly takes a lot more out of you than your previous efforts neutralizing low ranking heroes, Hobbes grumpily becomes your next ally.

---

More and more come to you. Some asking for monetary compensation, some asking for prison breaks in the future, and some who seem to be as drawn to your ideals as you are, deep down.

With each venture, the Organizer seems less and less happy to have you appear, until one day when you are about to come to another gathering you find yourself barred.

“You’ve broken enough rules,” the Organizer says, darkly. “You aren’t welcome in the DEN anymore.”

“What rules?” you ask.

There are a few, of course. Some minor things here and there, but nothing that got anyone else banned. He tells you, and you are about to object but someone else cuts in first.

“You’ve been cutting into his profits.”

It’s the pale assistant. Her voice is weak and thready, like she can barely speak up.

“What are you talking about?” the Organizer sneers. “I never--”

“He’s been working with some of those corporations you’ve been undercutting with your, um, stuff,” she says, her voice getting higher. “B-both sides. Always got to work both sides, he thinks. Get some villains to help, sell out the others.”

Other people inside are listening, murmuring. The gathering of villains are getting agitated--clearly, this is news to all of them, as well.

“Please,” the assistant says. “I have proof. I’m a--I read minds. I can tell you everything, just get me away safely and I’ll--”

He turns on her and attacks, hands around her throat. You don’t even have to think about it. You slam concrete into the Organizer’s face, and all hell breaks loose. Someone grapples you--and then Hobbes wrings them off you. Bonfire, always drifting at the edge of the event, darts in and jerks the coughing assistant out of the fray. And with that, your last venture at the DEN becomes an all out brawl.

You decide it’s still better than public speaking.

---

---

MN: So, real talk for a moment. How did you do it? Money? Threats? Brainwashing? I know there were a few mind control types in your group.

#4598: Hm?

MN: How does a hero go to a bunch of violent crooks and end up leading them?

#4598: The only way you can. With their consent.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Go For Broke

Pairing → Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Characters → Brief mentions of Knives Out characters (maybe?)

Summary → A little bet has big consequences.

Word Count → 2.7k

Warnings → 18+, Swearing, Smut, Angst

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

Prompts → Bee's 7K of the Week Challenge; Monday - Ransom Drysdale, Tuesday - Smangst, Friday - Work Function, Saturday - The Dating Bet, (a blink of a praise kink for Sunday).

AFG2021 Square Fill→ "I said 'be sexy', not be a fucking blowfish" @anyfandomgoesbingo

A/N → As I mentioned above, this is for @negans-lucille-tblr writing challenge - congrats on 7k baby!! (I even kept it under 3k for you it wasn't going to be!) This is my first time writing for Ransom, and it doesn't have any connection to Knives Out, it's an AU.

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated💕

Firefly’s Masterlist

You carried two steaming mugs of coffee and nudged the ajar door open with your foot to Ransom’s office. He had leant back on the large leather chair and was taking in the views through the floor to ceiling windows.

He spun round in his chair and you were hit with the scent of his cologne, it had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. His legs parted wide, and the sight was something to behold; the thickness of his thighs and the way his large hand rubbed the top of one.

It was never going to happen between you two. He was Ransom Drysdale, a well-known playboy and skirt chaser. And you, you were his assistant.

He wasn’t the type of man you were after. You wanted someone permanent, someone, that wasn’t just a fuck buddy. But at least you got a little something for the spank bank every now and then.

“Like what you see?” You were caught red-handed by his crystal blue eyes and the lopsided smirk that you adored.

You brought the iPad in front of him to life, “This is your schedule for today. Harlan said that he’s rescheduled the board meeting with Walt to next week so we can relax a little bit. Said there was something to do with taking a risk or gamble?”

Ransom’s head snapped up, and his tongue darted out across his lip, a nervous tick that you’d long ago discovered. You felt a warmth bloom at your core and tried to hide the way your thighs nestled together to ease the growing heat.

Ransom scooted backwards in his chair and announced, “I need to get out of here.”

“You’ve just arrived, you can’t play hooky, you’re the boss.” You protested.

“That’s exactly why I can,” Ransom asserted and pulled his coat back on. “Let’s get lunch at that diner we went to last month. It’s quiet and nobody knows me there.”

You had become used to the whirlwind that Ransom brought with him the second he entered a room, but this was different. He seemed on edge rather than angry and you weren’t sure what had happened in the ten minutes you were away making a coffee.

“But I just made us coffee.” You pouted at him; he knew that you needed that delicious nectar.

“I’m buying lunch now get your coat,” Ransom demanded.

You rolled your eyes and did what you were told, much to your chagrin.

Ransom had driven like a mad man in his classic beamer to get you to Ruby’s Diner in record time. You scolded him once or twice when he just missed the red lights. But he didn’t seem to relax like he usually did when he entered.

All was forgiven when the waitress placed two steaming plates of burgers and milkshakes on the table. You were in heaven and thanked the waitress as you dunked a chip in the sauce.

“What is wrong with you today?” You asked.

“What are you talking about? I’m just being my usual self.” Ransom shook his head and threw the raggedy napkin across the table away from him.

You remained silent and continued to eat, allowing him to stew over whatever it was that was eating at him. It didn’t take you long to demolish your lunch, but Ransom still hadn’t touched his food. All he had done since you told him off was chew on his lip and glared at the sugar dispenser.

“Okay, seriously, you need to start talking.” You challenged.

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, “Okay, but you can’t freak out.”

“What did you do?” Your eyes went wide as your mind ran wild with all the crazy things that he could possibly do in the last twenty-four hours.

Ransom looked up at you and laughed, “I can’t take you seriously right now.”

“What?” You frowned, feeling a mixture of confusion painted across your features.

His hand gripped your chin and his thumb swiped away at the sauce that you’d long forgotten. The heat on your cheeks grew tenfold and you coughed when he hadn’t removed his hand from your jaw.

“Ah yeah sorry. Sauce.” He stammered.

You smirked, you’d never seen him this worked up before, what had gotten into him, “So?”

“Okay, don’t fucking freak out on me but someone in the office wanted to make a bet with me. About you.”

You stared at him, all of your thoughts emptied out into the diner, “I’m sorry, what? I think you need to say a bit more than that.”

Ransom explained how one of your co-workers approached him and placed a bet that he wouldn’t be able to bed you before the corporate summer party.

“Who the fuck was it?” You growled; hands clenched on the edge of the seat.

“I’m not telling, I don’t want you to start a fight. You’re my favourite pers-assistant.” Ransom shook his head and began to nibble on the fries. His face screwed up at the realisation they were cold.

“Hold on. You agreed, didn’t you?” Your heart raced.

“I did. I have a reputation to uphold.” He smirked, “and was worth it, you should see your face right now.”

You scowled harder, “how much was the bet?”

“Ten thousand.” He shrugged.

“Fuckin’ hell Ransom, you’re cocksure, aren’t you?” You laughed at him, “why did you accept it?”

“That’s loose change to me.” Ransom shrugged and brought the replaced milkshake to his lips, tongue curling around the straw.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But I want half.” You explained, mirroring his action with your own milkshake.

Ransom choked on his drink and quickly rushed out his words, “you what?”

“We aren’t having sex, Ransom.” You rolled your eyes and placed the drink down, “If they ask, I’ll just say we did. It keeps your reputation intact. No harm, no foul.”

“They want proof.” He raises his eyebrow.

“Fuck sake, okay. Come over to mine tomorrow night and we’ll take some fake dirty pictures.” Without waiting for a response, you stepped out of the booth, “Now, I do have some work to do and funnily enough, so do you.”

“Anyone would think you were the boss.” Ransom playfully sulked and placed some money on the table.

“I might as well be.” You gestured towards the door, “Move it.”

The black baby doll was just perfect for this photo session. It was a little see-through, but your modesty was covered with the lace detailing skimming the tops of your thighs. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but you had to get this over with sooner or later. With one final look in the mirror, you steeled your nerves and opened the bathroom door and slowly walked to your bedroom.

“Hello,” You anxiously stuttered, “Where do you want me?”

Ransom’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, his large hands rubbing along his thick thighs, just the way you had admired yesterday. You internally berated yourself, this wasn’t sex. It was all fake. It was an easy win for you both - Ransom kept his reputation and you got a nice little pot of gold for a rainy day, or week.

“Just lay down on the bed and look sexy.” He commented, unhelpfully.

You nodded and shuffled around until you found a comfortable position, with your arms draped above you. It didn’t feel sexy, it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Why is this so hard? You took a deep breath and tried to relax your body and turned to face Ransom. He’d moved the left side of the bed, his phone in hand ready to take the shot.

“Ready?” Ransom asked, and you thought you saw a sparkle of sincerity in his eyes with his one worded question.

“Yes,” you said and gave him your best pout and ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“I said ‘be sexy’, not be a fucking blowfish.” Ransom snapped.

You bolted up from your position, kneeling on the edge of the bed to get back on his level but it was no use, the man was still towering over you, “I’m trying, I’m not exactly in the mood.”

Ransom raised his brow from above, and you hadn’t quite realised how close you were to him, his stomach mere inches from your chest. The lack of response grated on you, his face was irritating, and you were ready to shove the five grand up his ass.

“Actually, this could work.” Ransom pulled off his shirt and revealed the tight muscles. Your anger morphed into desire; you wanted to reach forward and touch him but kept your hands refrained at your sides. “Now, look up at me and bite your lip.”

“Perfect.” He smiled down at you and cupped your face. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek and paired with his words; a shiver ran down your spine.

Instinctively, you bit down your lip and unbuckled his belt to the sound of the camera shutter. Hands traced Ransom’s abdomen and he sucked in a breath as you stroked a sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and looked up at him, “maybe we should have some photos where your face is in it too?”

Ransom didn’t need to be asked twice, he pulled down his chinos and exposed his thick muscular thighs. Your mouth watered and warmth bloomed in your tummy at the sight of the black Calvin Klein’s hugging his groin.

You rearranged your position to lie down amongst the sheets while Ransom crawled onto the bed to kneel between your legs. His hand cupped under your knee and hoisted one of them up to his hip.

“You might need to take this one,” he handed the phone to you.

Just as you went to take the photograph, Ransom’s other hand slid underneath the baby doll. It sent another wave of pleasure through your body. His smooth hands stooped just beneath your breast and it almost made you whimper. Almost.

With an attempt to gather your bearings, you decided to focus on his phone and snap a few pictures of this new position. But seeing those little images captured and whizz into the corner made you want more. There was no point denying it as you felt the tell-tale signs of your arousal between your legs. But did Ransom want it?

Ransom moved the sheer material up and lifted your leg higher, over his shoulder. Before you could ask what, he was doing, his body dipped down, his lips so close to pressing against your stomach. Oh god. Your body instantly betrayed you as your hand went straight into his messy short locks eliciting a deep groan from Ransom. His hot breath fanned across your skin, goosebumps raising in its flow.

You took some more pictures, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties, the heat growing and growing up your body. Ransom returned to kneeling and you noticed the prominent bulge in his pants, and you finally got your answer. He did want it.

A mischievous smirk replaced the smile on your lips, “you’ll want to take these.”

You sat up and turned around so that you were kneeling in front of him and giving a great view of your behind. Ransom couldn’t restrain himself, his hands instantly gripped at your hips and pulling you back towards him. He growled and you whimpered as he rutted between your cheeks.

“Ransom, the photos?” You sang out and smirked into the pillow.

“Oh yeah, right.” Ransom spluttered and began to take the photographs from this new position then you heard the soft thud of the phone dropping onto the mattress, “hang on a minute.”

Gracefully, he spun you around and managed to get underneath you to seat you just above his hips. You were entranced by the dark lust-filled eyes that studied your body, following the hands that skimmed along your waist.

His touch sent sparks across the exposed skin of your chest, his fingers toying with the lace trim as they descended the plunging neckline and over your breasts. You rocked against his stomach, giving you just a little bit of pleasure from the friction at your core.

Ransom bolted upright, one arm wrapping around you while his other hand brought you closer until his mouth met yours. The kiss was heated, it pulled you deeper into the need for more, to have him deep inside of you. Ransom’s tongue swiped along your bottom lip, demanding access and you obliged without hesitation.

You’d only thought of him, like this, late at night and alone. It was nothing compared to your wildest fantasies to have him kissing you like this or to feel him hard beneath you. You squirmed to feel him better, but he broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” He panted.

Your stomach plummeted at the thought of him regretting what had barely started, “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have,” Ransom avoided eye contact and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than you already had done, “we just got carried away.”

“Ransom, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will kick you out.” You raised your eyebrow in a challenge.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Chatter and laughter filled the gaps of the song blasting through the speakers set up around the roof terrace. The large projector screen reeled through photographs of colleagues, in and out of work, successes in the tabloids and social media. Pool water splashed over the edges with each dive-bomb or flirtatious swish between colleagues. You watched on behind the sunglasses and relished in the sunshine beating down. It was rare to have such perfect weather and you wanted to soak up as much of the rays as you could.

The moment you spotted Ransom talking to a few people over at the bar, you thought now would be the best time to approach him. It had been a few hours since you arrived, and you only last saw him the morning before, and a few weeks since that first night. You both wanted to take things slow, it wasn’t how you expected things to happen but neither of you regretted it.

The nearer you got to the bar, you suddenly felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. Side glances from the Marketing girls, a laugh, and a grimace from a few others. Then you saw Ransom rushing up to you but also looking behind.

Before he reached you, you spun around to the projector and saw a display of all the photos you and Ransom had taken that night. Your stomach dropped, nausea taking over until you were about to collapse on the floor.

Hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you on the spot. You looked at the terrified gaze of Ransom. His lips were moving but your ears buzzed with the hum of blood pumping through. Unable to process what had happened, you tried to escape. To get away from the people that were staring, gawking, at you. At you and Ransom on the screen and then down to the pair by the bar.

“Please talk to me,” Ransom pleaded, “I didn’t know that’s what she was going to do.”

“Did you sleep with her?” You asked, your mind reeling with how this could be a vendetta against Ransom, and you’re caught in the crossfire.

Ransom’s eyes widened, “Yeah, probably a year ago.”

“You fuckin’ idiot. Get out of my way.” You tried to walk past him, but he blocked your path.

“Can I come with you?” He asked face paled.

You scowled, “No. Move.”

Ransom followed you, weaving between the crowds of sniggers and laughter. You could hear him pleading, almost begging for you to stop but you refused. You needed to get out of there and he was making it more difficult.

You skimmed the edge of the pool and Ransom grabbed your bicep, attempting to stop and turn you around. Without a second thought, you spun and shoved him. He fell backwards into the pool with a great splash. It only made you feel good for a split second until he resurfaced.

“Consider this my notice, I quit.” You turned on your heel and left the party, your job and Ransom behind.

The End.

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[cherryfabi]

Angels Like You- 1

A/N: Hi! This will be a new series. It is inspired by Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus. I hope you like it! Feedback is always welcome. 

Warnings: Cheating, smut, daddy kink. I think that's all.

Word Count: 2.5k

It all starts with a lie. People are used to saying them. At times they are necessary, but we find ourselves in trouble when more and more derive from them, creating a vicious circle.

It is foolish and irrational to believe that lies will never be known.

And for the past six months, Harry and Y/N have been doing just that. They’ve been lying. They've been seeing each other despite the fact that they both knew they shouldn't and couldn't, but they did anyway. We humans love the forbidden. We love everything that we know we cannot have. Every human falls into temptation, always. Harry and Y/N were no exception to this.

Both of them met when Y/N’s boss, Jeff, asked her to accompany him to an important dinner, she agreed. What she didn't know was that she was going to find the man of her dreams there, but unfortunately, he was already married.

It was none other than Mr. Harry Styles who Jeff was meeting that night. A serious, wealthy, attractive, and hardworking individual. He was well-known all over the world because he owned major corporations, hotels, and other businesses.

It is safe to say that he is everything a woman wishes for in a man. Every woman wanted to be with him. Everyone loved him because, after all, what's not to love about him? He’s successful, kind, respectful and handsome. What is there not to love? Well, maybe there is something... he's not who he appears to be.

Nothing is ever how it seems, and Harry is no exception; Y/N knows this better than no other person in the world.

It was late at night, and Harry was lying next to Y/N in her bed, talking about anything and everything. His business, his marriage, his life, and his issues. She cuddled up to him and listened to him. One of Harry's favorite things about her is how good of a listener she is. He also knows she’s trustable and nonjudgmental.

They lay in silence after Harry is finished, just enjoying each other's company.

“What’s on your mind?” Y/N asks him.

“You.” He answers immediately.

“Me?” He gives her a nod and she giggles.

“I’m thinking about all the things I want to do to you right now.” He says.

He kisses Y/N on the lips, she smiles and wishes it would never end.

“Let me get you out of these pajamas, princess.” Harry whispered in her ear.

Y/N quickly stands up and lets him get rid of her clothes.

He looks at her with hunger in his eyes and she can’t help but giggle a bit from how he’s looking at her.

“You look beautiful, angel.” He says. “Tits so nice, baby. So hard and perky for me.”

He leans down to reach her breasts and sucks on them. Harry loves her breasts, he always tells her how much he loves them.

“Could spend all day on your tits alone, but I know you're aching between your legs.” He says. “Right?”

“Yes, daddy.” Harry hated being called ‘daddy’, but that changed soon after the word slipped out of Y/N’s lips. Now, he loves being called that, but only if it is Y/N who’s saying it, otherwise he would find it weird.

He starts to kiss his way down to her crotch.

“I’ve barely done anything and you’re soaking, love.” He says once he reaches her pussy. “You smell so good,”

Just when he was about to have a taste of her, she interrupted him.

“Why do you still have clothes on? It's not fair, I’m the only one naked.” She pouts.

“Can you just let me do what I want?” He says. “You know what? I’ll just fuck you. I won’t even waste my time getting you ready, you’re already dripping.” He says, taking his clothes off.

His cock springs up hitting his abdomen. His tip swollen and red.

Seconds later she watches him position himself between her. He takes one of her legs and places them on his shoulder.

“This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, daddy.” Y/N answered. “Please, daddy, fuck me.”

“I don't want to hurt you, so tell me if it hurts.” She nods. “Love when you’re a good girl for me, makes me feel so good when you’re a good girl for me. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

He stares at her pussy for some seconds before slamming into her causing her breath to hitch, and her walls to clench so tight around him she feels her pussy is pushing him out from the tightness.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, nearly pushing my cock out.” He moans. “Clench around me.” He orders.

She listens to him and clenches her tight cunt around him. His trusts get harder by each passing second. He pushed his hips in a constant rhythm, pushing into her roughly. The thrusts got so rough that every time he’d thrust into her, the headboard would hit the wall with a loud noise.

“This is all you are to me, just a tight hole that I can fuck.” He moves one of his fingers to her clit and starts moving it in circular motions. Her moans get louder, and Harry starts to push into her faster and deeper, so fast that she can’t control the noises coming out of her mouth. The pleasure was too much for her and she tried to close her legs, but she didn’t succeed since Harry removed his finger from her clit and pressed her thighs really far apart. She knows that if he continued with this, she wouldn’t last too long and Harry would not let her come. It’s too soon, he would obviously not let her come just yet.

He starts circling her clit faster and harsher than before and she closes her eyes with pleasure. Even though she can’t see him, she knows what face he has right now. Eyebrows furrowed while he stares where their bodies connect. His breath getting uneven and his grunts increasing, meaning he’s not going to last either.

“I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still so tight. Can barely move.” He moans.

He then starts to circle her clit again, trying to make her come.

In no time she feels that familiar build in her stomach. Her legs start to shake uncontrollably, fighting so hard to not come. She knows she can't come, not when he hasn't explicitly told her that she has permission to do so.

“Daddy, I’m about to come. Can I come?” She asks between moans, not sure if she could take it anymore.

He removes his finger from her clit. “Come,” He says.

So she does, she comes immediately after he says the word.

Soon after she feels him twitch inside of her and hears him grunt so deeply before talking to her.

“I can come inside of you, right?” He asks. She barely registers what he’s saying but nonetheless, she nods.

He thrusts into her slowly two more times before he spills all his warm come inside of her.

He stays inside of her for some seconds before slowly pulling out.

“You did so good, princess.” He tells her. She knows his orgasm hit him just as amazing as hers by the tone of his voice.

He lays back beside her. She cuddles him while they try to recover their breaths.

Y/N enjoys the comfortable silence there is, but she also does not like it. Everytime they finish fucking, she feels guilt. She feels guilty for messing around with a married man. Sure, she is aware that his marriage is failing and that Harry is dissatisfied with his current wife, but Y/N is also aware that this is not morally correct. She is well aware that she should not be doing this. And the ring on his left hand is proof of it.

She also feels pain, though. See, this is the thing about their affair: they both knew they had to keep whatever they had a secret. They couldn't reveal what was going on between them to the rest of the world. It would have been damaging for both of their reputations. She wished they could show the world how happy they were together, but they were unable to do so. Nonetheless, she wished for it.

Both he and she have enjoyed their secret relationship, of course, to different extents. Y/N knew Harry was only interested in her company and the incredible sex they shared, but Y/N fell for him, she knew the feeling was not reciprocal. She didn’t exactly know how to put into words what she felt for him, but whatever it was, she knew that this feeling was just one-sided. Whatever feelings she had for him were irrelevant at the end of the day; they couldn't be together for more than one reason.

“Harry?” She breaks the silence, he hums in response. “What are we? What am I to you?”

Harry turns to look at her.

"Y/N, I'm married, you know we can't be together even if I wanted to."

"Even if you wanted to?" She repeats. "So even if you weren't married, you still wouldn't want to be with me?" She gets out of bed and puts on her clothes.

"That's not what I meant, Y/N. Don't put words I didn't say in my mouth."

"Yes, you may not have said them, but isn't that the truth?" She sighed.

He doesn't respond and this infuriates her.

“I’m taking that as if I am just a good fuck to you.” She answers. He turns to look away. “I’m sick of this, Harry. I’m tired of the role I play in your life. I’m tired of the lies; I think we should stop this, we shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

“You’re the only thing that makes me happy at the moment, I don’t want to lose you.” Harry spoke.

“You’re unbelievable! You're married, Harry! Right now, you should be with her, making your wife happy, and she should be making you happy as well, not me. You’re using me, and I'm not going to put up with whatever we've got right now.”

“How come you’re bringing this up now? We’ve been doing this for almost seven months now, and you have never complained about it, what’s different now?” He’s mad now too.

“If you want to stay with me, then divorce her. You always tell me you’re unhappy with her, then divorce her. I want a stable relationship; I'm tired of playing games; I want a normal relationship.”

“Y/N, you know I cannot give you what you’re asking for.”

“Then go, Harry. Get out of my house. Clearly you are never going to give me what I want, I’m done wasting my time.”

Harry sighed, knowing that there was nothing else he could do or say to make it better.

At the end of the day, she was right. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. So, really, what else could be done? Both of them stood in different places in their lives, and there was no way they could’ve made it work.

They both knew their relationship would end eventually, but neither expected it to end this way, on this day. Their relationship had ended for good; it was the most natural thing that could have happened.

Harry deep inside always knew that he didn’t deserve Y/N. He knew she deserves someone who would give her their entire love, someone who did not keep her a secret, she deserved someone much better than him... but he was too selfish to admit this.

“If that is your final decision, I will respect it. Bye, Y/N.”

And this is what Y/N meant when she said that she knows him and knows that he is not what people think he is. She knows that the only thing he cares about is himself, no one else, even if he tells you otherwise. And this is just what he has done. He’s trying to make her feel guilty for the decision she just made, but she will not let this affect her because she knows that he is as guilty as she is.

Harry might seem like a good and wise man, but on the inside he is a misery.

Y/N knows that he hurts people without remorse. And she has just experienced this firsthand.

Now all she has left to do is move on from this and live the normal life she used to have before she met Harry.

___

It's been two months since Y/N saw Harry for the last time. Two months since Y/N lies alone in her bed, not knowing anything about him. Two months since they shared their last kiss. Two months had passed since they called it quits.

After the breakup, Y/N is doing the best she can be. A breakup is never easy, but theirs was even worse. It was even harder for her to overcome because it was full of secrets, lies, and toxicity. But right now she’s alright. She has realized that she likes the life she has right now, there are no secrets, no lies… she likes it way better, but a part of her still misses him.

She deeply regrets getting with a married man. But on the other hand, she does not regret having met him. With him, she lived one of the best months of her life. She got to know a side of herself that if it weren't for Harry, she might never have known. Not everything with Harry was so bad at the end of it all.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you about something.” Jeff said to her.

“Yes?”

“Come in and take a seat.” Jeff said, indicating Y/N to come inside of his office. “So do you remember Mr. Styles?”

When Y/N heard his surname, a last name she thought she'd never hear again, she tensed up. “I do.”

“Good, well, he was just talking to me a few moments ago and said he needed an assistant, and I immediately thought of you.” He gave a warm smile. “I think you're a fantastic assistant, and you'll make a lot more money with him than you are here. He's also an amazing boss. What do you think? I believe this would be a fantastic opportunity for you.”

“But I’m your assistant.” Was all she managed to say.

“Don’t worry, at the moment I don’t think I need one, but he does. What do you think? Would you be interested?

Y/N knew that this would be a great opportunity, and she would have an amazing salary, but was it worth it? She was well aware that Harry and her were not on the best terms, but she knew that this job was a great opportunity.

“Sure, I’ll take it.” She said.

[the-coda-project]

The Coda Project | 1.02 - Inherit the Flames

After reuniting Tommy Collins with his family, Dean and Sam stop for the night in a town called Rifle.

They’re about two hours out of Blackwater Ridge, at a dumpy motel on the edge of a town called Rifle, and Dean’s been staring at the tree-print wallpaper for so long that he’s started detecting patterns in the branches.

A cheap plug-in air freshener in the bathroom has the whole place reeking of artificial pine. Between that and the walls, Dean’s starting to feel as though the wilderness they just barely managed to escape from has followed them here. Hell, maybe they didn’t escape. Maybe he’s still strung up in the mine; maybe the wendigo is still tossing him around like a ragdoll, scrambling his brains just enough that he’s dreaming of a motel that doesn’t exist.

Outside, an eighteen-wheeler passes on the I-70, close enough to make the windows rattle. Dean shifts in his bed as if a different position is going to be enough to distract him from how badly his ribs ache. His scratched-up neck feels raw as road rash.

No matter how hard he tries, sleep still feels so far out of the realm of possibility that he starts wondering how long he should lie here before he can cut his losses and call it.

But then Sam pipes up—“Hey, can I ask you something?”—from across the room, not bothering to check first if Dean’s awake, and immediately he wants to just keep feigning sleep until morning. He might have sought out his brother’s company only a couple of weeks ago, but right now, with the memory of Sam’s dismissive attitude toward helping the Collins family fresh in his mind, he doesn’t feel much like talking to him.

“Dean.”

He presses his eyes shut, ignoring the part of himself that’s berating him for being childish. Whether he can get to sleep or not, he’s too goddamn exhausted to talk about anything that isn’t life or death.

If he thought there was even a chance that his brother was angling to talk about Jessica, he’d be sitting up and listening in a heartbeat. But his tone is inquisitive, not hesitant, and Sam’s been so closed-lipped about his grief that Dean only knows how much her death is affecting him because of how loud and frequent his nightmares have been.

“Dean,” Sam says again, slightly louder. “I know you’re awake.”

With a huff, Dean tilts his head to squint at him across the gap between their lumpy mattresses. He grimaces as the motion pulls at the claw marks on his neck. He’ll be lucky if they don’t scar, but maybe it’d be better if they do. Maybe it’d help if he could see something visibly fucked up when he looks in the mirror. Maybe that would make it easier to explain away the revulsion he feels when he meets his own eyes.

“Dude, can it wait until after I get a solid four hours?”

Bullheaded as ever, Sam ignores the question, sitting up and tucking his shaggy hair back behind his ears. He looks twelve years old. Dean figures he always will, in some ways.

“Did something happen with Dad? Before he took off, I mean.”

“Like what?”

He’s not sure why he bothers asking Sam to clarify.

Maybe it’s just to buy himself some time; to give himself a second to come up with some version of the truth that doesn’t amount to Dad’s an overbearing, pigheaded prick, just like you’ve always said, and if I didn’t think he was in trouble right now I’d be glad to be rid of him for at least another month.

Even thinking it makes him guilty. Like he’s a bad son for being so angry with the guy. But he’s gotta believe that his actions are the important part here; proof that no matter how much he hates his dad sometimes, he still loves him enough to want to keep this family as connected as he can.

Still, a part of him is wondering if it’s really worth it anymore to keep up the act. If his clinging to John and clinging to Sam is just making things worse for all of them. Making John think he’ll put up with whatever he throws at him. Making Sam think he doesn’t care enough to take his side against John when he’s being unreasonable.

A part of him wonders—but it’s not a big enough part to win. The thought that something might have happened to him keeps him from letting the bile spill.

Because if they can’t find him—or worse, if they do find him but they’re too late—Dean doesn’t want Sam to have more reasons to be angry with a dead man than he’s already got.

It’s not as though Dean’s not used to keeping this shit locked down, anyway. There’ve been other disagreements, other fights, other circumstances over the years that he knows weren’t even close to being fair on him, but that’s just his life. It sucks, but it’s how it’s always been. No use complaining about it if it’s never gonna change, and after living this way for twenty-two of his twenty-six years, he sees no reason to consider change a possibility.

In the grand scheme of things, this particular incident doesn’t even make the top five list of awful things John’s put him through. The honors there go to that time with the shtriga, abandoning him at Sonny’s and then uprooting him as soon as he let himself get comfortable, the hunt he sent him on as a seventeenth birthday “present”, the night he told Sam not to bother coming back if he left for school, and the simple act of raising his kids into this shit in the first place.

This one might make it into the top ten, though. He hasn’t decided yet.

“Well,” Sam says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You said you hadn’t heard from him in… what, three weeks before you got that message? Seems weird that it was so long, is all. You were on a hunt, he was on a hunt… it’s just weird that you weren’t checking in more often.”

Dean rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. There’s a water stain on the popcorn tile overhead that almost looks like a cactus if he looks at it the right way.

Christ, he could use some tequila right now. Maybe he can find them a case further south while they wait for some sign of John to turn up. Someplace warmer than the mountains in Colorado. Someplace where he can roll into town, waste a ghost, and then knock back a few drinks on a motel patio without having to talk to anyone at all.

“I mean, you usually check in more than that, right?” Sam goes on, and Dean sighs. He lifts one hand to rub at his brow.

“Yeah, usually.”

“So… what happened?”

“Nothing you gotta worry about,” he says, and immediately knows it was a mistake. Sam zeroes in on what Dean didn’t say just as intently as anyone else would focus on what he did.

Maybe he should go to law school after all—he’s already got the artful-conversational-trap shit down.

“You had a fight.”

“Sam—”

“No, c’mon Dean. You asked me to help you find him. If you had a fight before he left, that seems like it might be relevant.”

“It’s not.”

“So why won’t you just tell me?”

“It was nothing,” he insists. “Dad isn’t exactly Mr Congeniality, Sam. We fight all the time.”

“No, me and Dad fight all the time. The two of you are usually on the same page.”

Dean suppresses a snort and rolls onto his side, his back to Sam now as he looks at the narrow strip of moonlight edging past the thin motel curtains.

“You know I’ll just ask Dad when we find him if you don’t—“

“Jesus, Sam. It was nothing. Just a stupid disagreement about the hunt we were on. You know how he can get.”

“What was the hunt?”

“A witch in Louisiana. We had different ideas about what was going on, but it’s done, the witch is dead, and it doesn’t matter anymore. Okay?”

“That’s all?”

It’s not all.

Thanks to a botched salt-and-burn in Kentucky the previous month, things had already been tense well before they checked into a motel in Souffran, Louisiana. It only got worse when they ran into a woman Dean knew on their second day in town.

She’d been a civilian, last he’d seen her. Said she was a hunter now.

John had been ready to leave as soon as he found out she was already looking into it, but Dean wasn’t so eager.

It wasn’t that he thought Marisa was helpless—far from it, in fact. She’d been teaching capoeira when Dean met her in Texas a few months back. Had the thing terrorizing her students been corporeal, he has no doubt that she never would have needed any help in kicking its ass. But she was inexperienced as a hunter. Green as they come.

Dean didn’t love the idea of her taking on whatever was killing kids in Souffran alone.

When he told John as much, his dad just gave him a sly look, as if he thought the only reason Dean cared was because he was looking to get into Marisa’s pants. Dean wasn’t, for the record. As he saw it, it was his fault that she’d decided to try hunting on for size in the first place. He figured he owed it to her to back her up while she was still so new.

At first, all they’d had to go on was two kids who’d gone missing and turned up dead a week later without any visible injuries beyond a circular burn in the center of their chests; a girl named Lucy Parker who’d disappeared without a trace from her grandmother’s backyard yesterday but was yet to be found; and half a dozen wildly inconsistent reports of strange lights being seen in the swamp running along the north edge of town.

John had been convinced that they were dealing with a fi follet—a kind of malevolent will-‘o-the-wisp known to enact vengeance and drain the blood of children. When Dean disagreed with him, explaining to Marisa that the whole thing felt witchy to him, and pointing out that neither of the kids who’d died had shown any signs of blood loss, John got pigheaded and petty.

He called Dean arrogant. Accused him of acting like John was an idiot ever since they left Kentucky. Spat, “You spend one day showing a civvie the ropes and now you’re an expert, huh? Well go ahead, kid. Handle it on your own.”

And then he bailed.

Left Dean and Marisa to track down a missing eight year old on their own, and made Dean feel about three inches tall when he did it.

It took them almost a full two days to track the thing responsible. A witch, like Dean had thought, who’d been draining the kids of their life force in a desperate, last-ditch effort to stave off some sickness that was eating away at him. But the spell he’d been using was unstable and ineffective, and he’d been haggard and jittery when they found him in a rusty little shack out in the middle of nowhere.

Lucy Parker was right there with him in the room, suspended in mid-air by some unknown force as pale, flickering light leached from the center of her chest and down into a copper bowl on the floor beneath her. Her eyes were wide and rolled back to the whites. Her mouth was open as if she were screaming.

Marisa shot the witch point blank, right between the eyes, and Dean had darted forward to catch Lucy before she could hit the ground. He’d spent the entire time terrified that they were going to get to her too late; that she’d turn up dead before they could figure out where she’d been taken or how to deal with the thing that had taken her.

When she landed in his arms, he’d almost been sick when he felt how cold she was. How limp.

But after a second, she gasped, and coughed, and then she was clinging to him. Shaking.

He couldn’t put her down. She wouldn’t let Marisa take her.

He’d been forced leave the shack while Marisa dealt with the witch’s body and destroyed all the evidence before some local could stumble upon it, and when she’d emerged gray-faced and bloody half an hour later, with the crackle of fire just audible over the steady croak of frogs in the nearby water, he’d known that Marisa wasn’t going on any more hunts.

Lucy still refused to let go of him once they got back to the car, so he’d let Marisa drive them back to town, sitting in the back seat with the kid clinging to his side and sobbing snot into his jacket. He hadn’t even minded. If he didn’t think it would scare her more, he might have let himself cry out of sheer relief at finding her.

Late that night--once Lucy was back with her grandmother, and Marisa was on her way back to San Antonio, and Souffran was far enough in the rearview that it was safe to stop for the night--Dean had called John. He didn’t pick up.

Just sent Dean’s call straight to voicemail, then texted him coordinates for a poltergeist case near Mobile, Alabama an hour later. A few days after that, more coordinates directed him to the voodoo hunt in New Orleans.

So yeah, a witch in Louisiana is not all. Not by a long shot. He doesn’t tell Sam that, though. What would be the point?

“Yeah, that’s all,” he lies, still staring at the gap in the curtains. Another truck rumbles past, air brakes hissing as it slows to take the town exit. It’s so loud that he’s not sure that he’d manage to sleep here even if he wasn’t a headcase. “C’mon, I gotta crash, man.”

For a minute, it seems like Sam’s gonna keep at it. Like he’ll needle at Dean until he spills everything out onto the pilled carpet between them. How scared he is. How angry. How resentful. All the ugliest feelings that seem to be pressing up his throat and onto the back of his tongue like bile.

But he doesn’t. Just sighs, sounding as tired as Dean feels, and says, “Yeah, okay. Night, Dean.”

Dean grunts in reply, and Sam starts snoring after a half hour. Another half hour after that, his nightmares begin. Low, helpless murmurs of Jessica’s name and high-pitched whines of terror that stick in Dean’s chest like buckshot.

With dry eyes and an ever-present lump in his throat, Dean pushes out of bed and heads for the bathroom, taking the laptop as he goes.

If he’s lucky, he’ll find them a hunt before Sam wakes up. He can get them back on the road as soon as the sun rises. Keep them focused on something that isn’t the complete lack of leads on John.

If he’s not, maybe staying up will wear him out enough to sleep tomorrow. He’ll take what he can get.

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[delusion-of-negation]

top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

[bard-llama]

Welp. Officially got laid off today, along with 56 other people. Knew it was coming, but it still fucking sucks. I’ve been there seven fucking years, and I won’t make it to eight. And none of this had to happen. If the funding emergency is even real - and we still haven’t been presented with proof that it is AND the goal post kept moving - the bargaining unit came up with HUNDREDS of ideas on how to cut costs and raise money to make up the deficit. Management rejected Every. Single. One. They were never interested in saving jobs, they’re interested in building a “new LEE” and getting rid of people that stand in the way of their vision. Because apparently cutting the executive salaries would be “against organizational values” but laying off 57 fucking people isn’t.

I’m sad, yeah, but mostly, I’m fucking furious. I feel taken advantage of for believing in the mission of an organization that is so clearly run by people who do not give a fuck about solving educational inequity. They’re just in it for the power trip and the money and they thrive off of burning the passion out of the rest of us. No wonder they were so against us unionizing. I’m just... fuck this. These fuckers just ruined 57 families’ lives and means of income for a goddamn power trip. And then they have the fucking gall to pretend to care about us as they shove us out the fucking door.

If anyone out there knows Mike Buman personally, punch him in the face for me, will you? And maybe add a knife to the mix, just ‘cause. You can tell him it’s “for the kids”. That’s what he’ll tell us is the reason 50% of the fucking bargaining unit is getting laid off while NONE of the executive staff are. Well, no, he’s a fucking coward and hasn’t said a damn word to us through this whole thing, so he’ll have someone else say it, but that will be the message. “It’s for the children. Sorry you can’t make rent, but think of the children who will be better served in this new LEE! Running like a startup tech corporation is definitely the right choice for an equity-focused nonprofit!”

I call bullshit, Mike. When was the last time you even interacted with a child that wasn’t your own????

And you know what WASN’T in the budget to be cut? The fucking software that PAYS HIM MONEY and every single staff member despises using. Conflict of interest anyone? 

I just. Fuck management. I don’t care where you work or how friendly they seem. They are NEVER your friends. EVER. People in power only ever care about keeping that power. And I have a lot of people I thought were friends to show for it.

As for what happens now... I’m not entirely sure. I’m in a pretty lucky situation, fortunately. I’m already barely paying rent (in a ‘it’s barely being enforced way’ not a ‘I can barely afford it and on the cusp of homelessness’ way) and have a potential job lined up. The severance package is actually pretty good - the union managed to win that much at least. They fought tooth and fucking nail for it, but our stewards at least managed to get us a good deal there, even if they could only save two jobs. THAT’S how unwilling management was to negotiate. 

Anyway, I’ll apply for disability and unemployment and however you spell the AZ version of medicaid, which I should qualify for now, but I’ll have (shitty) health insurance through February, at least. My last day will be Feb 1 and I can’t actually sign the severance agreement until Feb 2, so I’ve got a bit of time.

Gods, I wasn’t crying until I started looking at all the other staff members laid off and just... this didn’t have to happen. This didn’t fucking have to happen!!! I don’t give a fuck what happens to management at this point, but all of my brilliant colleagues deserve so much better and I’m going to miss them so much. And we’re all spread out across the country, so the odds of seeing each other again are pretty nil and that really sucks. ‘cause this - I want you to understand: while management was prioritizing their own agenda, the bargaining unit (115 people) really came together to support each other and brainstorm ideas and work together to problem solve and honestly, it was really inspirational and heartwarming. And we FOUND solutions! We found BILLIONS OF DOLLARS to cut and ways to fundraise! We even came up with more stable funding methods! And management rejected all of them. They were never interested in saving the people of LEE. And that, I think, is the most heartbreaking thing of all, because each and every person poured their heart and soul into this fucking organization and in return, they gave us the fucking finger.

[prorevenge]

Mess with minors and my job? Lose your job and your boyfriend.

Tl;dr at the end because this is a doozy.

Alright circa 2014 I worked for a large movie theatre chain in a small Midwestern city. Job was pretty awesome outside of the shit pay and essentially no way to move up. I like to think I am good at my job and I try my hardest no matter where I work. In this particular situation I was one the most tenured employees at the theatre save for two other folks who had worked there part time on the side, and had full time jobs elsewhere.

So for the sake of this story I need to tell you about Jane (not actual name). Jane started working for the theatre 2 months before me. They worked elsewhere as a supervisor and was looking to move up at the theatre. Right after I started one of the managers left to work at a different theatre and the supervisor moved up. We had two managers, one general manager (basically the highest level at the theatre), and a supervisor which is a manager in training. (This is important.) Jane somehow got the supervisor position even though there was another person who essentially was promised the position due to their continued service at the theatre for almost 8 years. There were rumors about Jane sleeping with the GM when she started and this situation got them going again. I didn’t care too much because why would I, I am but a lowly peon in the corporate machine. Anyways Jane moved up and the tenured crew member left the company because they got screwed over.

Once Jane moved up we had a whole meeting about her moving up and how the theatre focuses on professionalism and ensuring no favoritism was happening. Specifically referencing how normal crew members shouldn’t fraternize outside of work with management.

Jane didn’t really listen to that though. She continued to hang out with the crew members who were mostly underage and would do various things like go drinking with minors, taking them to bars and buying them drinks or simply buying alcohol at a store and letting them drink at her house, I honestly have no issue with the drinking at home deal, just adding context, as well smoke weed with them and post pictures on Instagram. Oh yeah I forgot to mention Jane had a secret Instagram where they would post pictures of themselves with their friends from the theatre. They chose Instagram because none of their family or their boyfriend used Instagram and no one would know right?

Even more damning was her relationship with a 19 year old that worked at the theatre. She had a boyfriend who had been with her for years and honestly supported her for all intensive purposes. Not only did she have a 19 year old side piece, but also was messing around with a 17 year old. I even caught them messing around in the break room one time. She essentially threatened me with my job if I told anyone. Honestly she could’ve just told me to please be quiet and I would have just judged her silently.

Fast forward about a year or so and another one of the managers left for a new job. Jane obviously moved up and someone else took the supervisor position. Now I won’t go into too much detail, but despite my tenure and performance I was looked over for the promotion. A newer crew member who was really good friends with Jane got the position over me. This was confirmed by the other manager who let me know that Jane was definitely in good with the GM, who ultimately made the final decision. That being said I was beginning to sour and making minimum wage for years at a job that couldn’t give a shit about my efforts and continued performance. That being said I was preparing for an exit.

Before I get into my exit, it is important to note that Jane had and most likely still has a problem with me. I have talked about some issues I had with her, but I never escalated or even confronted her about anything she did to me up to this point. I honestly left it be. But I didn’t like her and the fact I didn’t like her or play along with her bullshit infuriated her. So much to the point where she made my life hell at the theatre. When she was a supervisor she didn’t have much power but when she became manager she began giving me shit shifts, convincing people that I was weird and to avoid me (I mean I am weird but not like avoid me weird), threatening me physically, threatening my job, her and her gang of misfit assholes also slashed my tires (I have no solid proof, but my car was parked in the employee lot and ya know only employees can get in), beyond that she also made fun of my girlfriend (my now wife) for having an invisible illness (MS), she would make her life hell because she had a disability and had some minor limitations. Add together all of this, plus my GF went off to college, plus getting looked over for the promotion, suffice it to say I found a new job.

I had a few close friends at the theatre including my now wife who I met while working there (silver lining right.) I had let a few of them know about the new job, but told them to keep it on the DL since it was still two weeks away. I had put my two weeks in with the GM and asked that he also keep it on the DL since Jane and her posse would fuck with me. I told him that I wanted to tell everyone myself so it kept him quiet.

Now the important thing about my new job is that it essentially paid me double my wages from the theatre. All of my friends were stoked for me, I was taking a job that would also have me making more than the managers at the theatre but also a job that put me on a better track in life. That being said with Jane and I butting heads on multiple occasions and her track record of messing with me, she decided to get one last attack on me. She started a rumor that I was just going to call out on all of my shifts the two weeks before my new job started.

With her last act of revenge in motion, the GM approached me and let me know that he wouldn’t be scheduling me the last two weeks. I tried to explain to him that the rumors were bullshit that I needed to work because it would be my only source of income. I told him that Jane started the rumor and I started to tell him all of the other stuff as well. He of course didn’t believe me and told me that Jane wouldn’t do what I was saying she would do. So it was her word vs mine. I contacted my new job who let me know that my start date was firm and that their budget wouldn’t allow me to start until two weeks later as originally planned. Now here I am essentially jobless for two weeks. Now I was upset, but I was also lucky. I was still living with family and didn’t have to pay rent, so I sucked it up and essentially told myself that I would just take a forced two week vacation. But Jane didn’t stop there. She escalated again by having one of her cronies call my new job and tell them that I got fired. I was luckily able to talk down my new boss by letting him know that this wasn’t the case that I put my two weeks in and everything else, but that was the last straw.

I left my last day at the theatre and while it was sad and I was upset that I wouldn’t be able to work out the last two weeks of my job that I had for years, I was focused and determined on revenge. Rule #1 of living a secret life and having a secret Instagram is not add every body and their mother to the page. I had a friend of a friend who also didn’t care for Jane let’s call them Joe. Joe and I had gone to high school together and briefly worked at the theatre together. He and Jane were part of the same group at the theatre until they had a small falling out. Nothing crazy but he wasn’t exactly happy with her. I talked to Joe and we discussed my issues with Jane over some lunch that I bought for him. (Food is the key to all revenge plots.) Once we ate and discussed my problems with Jane I asked for his help. I needed access to her Instagram. Ya know the secret one, showing her hanging out with underage employees, drinking alcohol and smoking weed with them, and also some mushy posts about her 19 year old boyfriend, as well as some moderately racy photos with her 17 year old fling. With very little discussion he gave me full access.

I took screenshots of essentially everything. We are talking 2-3 years worth of illicit and moderately illegal activity. More than enough to get her fired and to raise some questions in her relationship. I took the screenshots and I printed them on the most high quality paper/material that CVS had to offer. I also copied them too a few flash drives for good measure. I purchased two yellow padded envelopes (can never be too safe), and I filled them both with copies of all of the posts as well as a flash drive with additional copies. As well I included a note in each one for the appropriate parties.

One of the envelopes was taped to the back door of the theatre. There was somewhat of a blind spot so pulled into the parking lot from the rear and snuck around the corner mission impossible style to tape the envelope to the back door. On it was the GM’s name, as well in the letter I merely stated that one of their managers had a secret Instagram with a lot of damning evidence of not only favoritism, but also fraternizing with underage employees amongst other wrong doings. In the letter I also requested her immediate termination or the information would be provided to the district manager as well as our corporate office. I made sure to put it somewhere the GM would see on his morning sweep when he opened the theatre. The second folder and letter was delivered to her home by Joe. Joe agreed to this as I knew Jane’s schedule and had a good idea of when she would be gone and he knew where she lived from previous hang outs.

With both folders delivered it was only a matter of time. Before I knew it I was receiving death threats from Jane’s gang. All of them saying that they knew it was me and that Jane was going to come after me, that she never did anything to deserve this. It didn’t matter to me of course, I no longer worked there and would hopefully never have to deal with them again. From what I heard she was taken into the main office of the theatre and the GM let her have it. He ultimately had to fire her because there was very clear proof that she was in direct violation of many of the rules and conditions of her employment. As well her boyfriend with proof in hand kicked her out of his home.

Last I heard she moved farther north and hasn’t held down a solid job since. Her family didn’t want much to do with her once everything came out with her cheating on her boyfriend. Also the part about fooling around with a 17 year old tends not to sit well. In the end I started my new job without fail and moved on from that place. Haven’t see much of anyone from there since.

Tl;dr: Manager makes my life hell, continues to hang out and fool around with underage crew members, lives to regret it. Enjoy losing your job and your boyfriend.

(source) story by (/u/Ike09161995)

[davidmann95]

How'd you like the new Death Metal special (and, more broadly, this week's comics)?

pretenderoftheeast said: Comics this week (12/9/2020)?

Batman: Black and White #1: The first of a platter of anthologies today:

* The Tynion/Moore story is predictably fire.

* JHIII is JHIII. Also he does a really nice surprising story about how Batman’s relating to this moment of the time, but let’s be real, you’re here because JHIII, and be assured he is JHIII as helllll here and it’s great.

* Dini/Kubert plays as the former building a story around accommodating requests by the latter, but that’s not a bad thing, and glad to see Kubert’s kept up the pace since his DK3/Up In The Sky creative rejuvenation.

* Ok I’m a philistine who has no idea what that Emma Rios thing was about but it was certainly pretty.

* Wilson doing Batman is surprisingly disappointing, but Smallwood doing Batman definitely isn’t.

DC’s Very Merry Multiverse: Not a very merry time! I hate to say it given this should be so geared to my interests, but this is the weakest overall effort we’ve gotten from one of DC’s quarterly anthologies in a good long while, at least among those I’ve picked up. Not to say it’s a dud, there are several nifty little stories in here including the much-hyped first appearance of Kid Quick (destined to become the Flash of Future State) and really almost everything here reaches ‘pretty okay’. But for $10, and a creative space that should reach so much more than ‘pretty okay’, I don’t know that this is a justifiable recommendation unless you’re understandably desperate for all the President Superman content you can get your hands on.

Tales of the Dark Multiverse: Flashpoint: I’m surprised I got it too, but the preview grabbed me and in practice it was a fun, mean little high-concept adventure of Reverse Flash being a total cock.

Wonder Woman #768: Credit where it is due, this has been getting a bit better in its closing stretch.

Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: This ruled. Obviously there was the one story folks are most interested in, but almost all of the tales in here lived up to being a ‘final’ story of sorts for their leads.

* The Titans bookenders were pretty nice even if it’s hilarious that their big rallying cry basically amounts to “by god, our book may be shit, but we’re valuable IP so we’ll never be cancelled!”

* Green Lantern is basically an epilogue to Johns’ run sans the baggage of bringing back Johns (that we get in two weeks with Secret Origin and god forgive me I’m so looking forward to that), and definitely one of my favorite efforts from Lemire.

* Wonder Woman’s the stinker in what’s nominally her own event. I can parse the roots of most bad Superman stories one way or another, but I just can’t understand what’s behind most bad Wonder Woman stories beyond that the people handling it simply don’t give a shit.

* Astonishingly, the Green Arrow and Black Canary chapter in here might be my favorite of the bunch? Simone at her best, a really sweet slice of playful, sincere romance about two characters I’m not by default invested in but ended up quite caring for here.

* This Aquaman story is everything I generally hate in Aquaman stuff, a big long maudlin speech about the weight of the world as he swims through a black featureless ocean, except here between the real heart Sebela brings to the script and the mood artist Christopher Mooneyham manages to evoke, it all clicks together.

* The Batman Family story feels like it can’t quite make its pacing work, but it’s still a heartfelt little ode to the theoretical power of the concept.

* Hey, that Mark Waid guy? Turns out he can write him some Superman. It’s not perhaps the total barnburner you might have expected - I imagine he’s saving his biggest hits for later - but it’s a very solid execution of a gangbusters concept, and Manapul steals the show with absolutely sensational, gorgeous scenic Superman imagery. I’mma say 60/40 in favor of them doing a Superman project together on either a main book or Black Label (I know Manapul was supposed to be locked into a creator-owned thing with Scott Snyder but that was ages ago), because this is a paring that’s yielded some immediate results and I imagine everyone knows it. And given my upbringing, nice to see a big, iconic, beautiful Superman story with him rocking the mullet.

Anonymous said: Haha holy shit Crossover is literally Cates taking that page where Spawn meets all the corporate heroes locked up and spinning it out into a series

Anonymous said: Does Crossover #2 hold the crown for the funniest, dumbest, most baffling opening page ever?

Crossover #2: Readers I’m not too big to admit I laughed my ass off at the first page, and at least a little bit for the actual reasons intended. The sense of homaging that Spawn scene in the context of a book about “Gosh, isn’t IP the best folks?”, or Cates’ dialogue...(shall we say) proving why he likes the concept of ellipses enough to name a character after them aside though? That it’s already crossed the line with its central metaphor from “indefensibly insensitive in its ridiculous self-centeredness” to “out-and-out cartoonishly offensive” somehow actually makes it more rather than less palatable; there’s no longer the secondhand embarrassment of waiting to see how bad Cates is going to handle this, it simply is the worst it could possibly be and readers have to accept and perhaps revel in the sight of him stepping on rake after rake. I cannot wait for him to finally give an interview on this book where he explains what the hell he thinks this looks like, and I hope my dad keeps somehow enjoying it forever because I totally wanna see what pit this descends to next.

Penultiman #3: This is absolutely agonizing and probably the most relatable take on a ‘superman’ ever.

Home Sick Pilots #1: A new creator-owned book from Dan Watters (whose big two credits include the stupendous “Afraid of America” with John Paul Leon in the last Batman Secret Files, and the upcoming Future State: Superman/Wonder Woman) and Peter Cannon’s Caspar Wijngaard, this new book set against the backdrop of a Californian high school’s punk scene in 1994 describes itself as “Power Rangers meets The Shining (yes, really)”. The former influence isn’t much in play yet, but thus far this is a book that merges building tension and freewheeling dopey teen bullshit to an extent that’s subtly impressive as hell, and seems likely to proudly take a place among the current horror comic renaissance.

Warhammer 40,000: Marneus Calgar #3: Ok again I don’t have any experience with this franchise but you’d better believe that cultural osmosis was enough that I popped for BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!

King in Black: Namor #1: Kurt Busiek’s return to Marvel...sucks? Such is the power of Knull I guess even if he doesn’t manifest within the actual story here, this is a complete nothing of a comic and I’m not tuning in for issue #2.

Avengers #39: Eh, I’m not liking Aaron Avengers when it gets remotely serious nearly as much as when he’s doing stuff like having them finally help Blade with all those vampires or Captain America assisting with the delivery of an exploding space-baby in the back of a muscle car.

Anonymous said: That new Guardians of the Galaxy was something else. What do you think the odds are that Comic Books, with a decade or two of hindsight, recognizes Ewing as one of the best to ever do it?

Guardians of the Galaxy #9: I lack much context here beyond recalling from an interview that this is Ewing’s way of grappling with the ideas from Steve Englehart’s original unrealized vision of Star-Lord’s character arc, but wherever it stems from this is a hell of a comic.

S.W.O.R.D. #1: This is everything I’ve wanted from the non-Hickman X-books since the moment HoXPoX ended, and so much more, and also it is basically hilarious that Ewing is all but explicitly using his clout to force Marvel to let him to Ultimates3 under a currently cancellation-proof banner. Most importantly of all, Ewing has already mastered the subtle art of writing not merely Magneto, but the infinitely superior Jonathan Hickman Magneto. And good lord Schiti and Gracia, I already knew they were top-tier but these pages’d make a grown man cry.

[medranochav]

my moms been living with us for 4 months now. her stay was initially tolerable but is now triggering and I find myself regressing in a lot of ways. Her grief has evolved into torment and per her m.o. she'd like for her issues to take first priority. Except, my sis and I are grown now, and as a therapised household (literally we've all been in counseling, babies included) though we still lean on each other for support, we ultimately don't function codependently.

And beeecause that's not how we grew up, I think my mother is now having to contend with the reality that she has to do the emotional work of surviving her many traumas (and currently her many dramas) on her own. We support her but we can't fix it for her.

Currently, it's a crisis a day and she's spiraling into mini catastrophic states everytime. Which was sufferable at first because despite my labored support, I still maintained my boundaries and didn't adopt her distress as my own. The problem now is the increasing frequency with which these crying spells are taking place. Not to mention the fact that she's been doing so in front of the kids; something that would normally be acceptable because my sis and I make space for feelings (even our own) in our home. The difference being, we do so responsibly. We listen, we talk, give affection and/or space but always with the fundamental knowledge that our emotions belong to us individually and only we can be accountable for them. A gentle reminder that though part of a unit, they still have agency and accountability.

This interdependency makes way for a more compassionate exchange. Whenever they see us cry or be vunerable, the kids have the wherewithal to approach us without attaching themselves to our emotional circumstance. It's an empathy that perceives our emotional reactions as relatable but still not their responsibility. I've seen our work proven time and time again.

One example is when my sister's [redacted] died and the boys spotted her crying on the couch. Without being prompted, they approached her independently, commiserated, hugged and kissed her and shortly after went back to playing on their electronics. It was such a graceful display of emotional validation that demonstrated their love for her without sacrificing their own desires in doing so. Truly remarkable, that at ages 5-8 they maintained boundaries while still being there for their mom.

They're also there for one another but it's seldom a sinking ship. And when emotional support is rejected they respect that as well, without taking it personally [tbh that has more to do with concepts of mandatory consent that we impart on them, but as is evident, it applies. #intersectionality] It's an ongoing practice that I'm proud to be a part of, considering the kids have codependent figureheads in both their maternal and paternal families. WE'RE TRYING TO BREAK CYCLES HERE.

Yes, our home is a safe space for emotional processing but always leveraged with the emotional balance of self reliance, awareness and resiliency. The kids have proven to have the capacity for this and through teaching them, so do we.

It's human to have outbursts, but my mother's pattern is proving to be less intrinsic and more deliberate. She needs an audience in order to experience catharsis. A potentially reasonable behavior except for it's her only one. So it's imbalanced and seeks refuge in the reliance of our total empathy.

Furthermore she's disingenuous in her emotional performances. When approached out of concern, she responds with the proverbial, "I'm ok." Like, its subtle but super manipulative to say that, when we can CLEARLY see she's not. The kids see and hear her, the least she could do is not gaslight them. And I'm not saying her tactics are successful but it exposes the bby's to unnecessary dysfunction and covertly teaches them to assume the responsibility of communicating her emotion for her. She's also non verbal and unpredictable and tho not at her best rn [like, literally who is? this year has wrecked us all] she and we deserve proper communication.

The mind games are soul sucking and triggering for me in a way that is not for my sister. Though we share a mother, the repective versions of her that we experienced as children differ greatly.

My sister's the eldest and spent the first couple years of her life as the only child to a very young mother living alone in America after being displaced by the civil unrest in her native El Salvador. By age 3, with the addition of a new baby sister (my moms 2nd) she was sent to a country fully at war. My sisters would spend the next half decade of their lives in sunny wartorn tropics, watched over and raised by our family of four women. A blissful antithesis to their future with our mom. Upon the return to their forgotten country of origin (USA) and severed from the only family and community they've ever known, the girls were whisked away by a mother they barely remembered and a baby brother they had never met... marking the beginning of my mom's descent into single motherhood.

My mom resented having a brood of kids, namely her 2nd and 3rd, who's father was abusive and absent. Don't know much of the facts outside of what she would ritualistically berate my siblings about during her brutal tantrums -as if it were their fault they simply existed. The second born, my other sister, left home at 12 and has been estranged ever since and the third, my brother, has recently severed bonds abruptly claiming a new life with a woman he's known barely a year yet now calls wife. Proving that despite being raised by the same woman we all had different mothers.

Since my siblings endured a childhood with a volatile, violent woman who managed her emotions thru physical abuse... when she wasn't, she was neglectful of them, turning her attention onto me... the youngest (four years removed from the rest of the pack). I bore witness to said abuse until I was 5, when it was litigiously exposed, forcing her to abandon corporal punishment and rely solely on mental/emotional abuse. That's the version of my mom I got.

I was 10 when my sister left for college. Just my brother and I remained. Similarly to each other we both lived in service to our mother. Whereas his duties were more physically laborious, mine consisted of full on emotional labor. I spent most of my childhood navigating a homelife that was so saturated and occupied by my mother's opera of a life, that there was no room for my feelings, thoughts, desires or identity. I was her plaything, a person sans agency. My age and vulnerability proved advantagous when grooming me. I learned to behave in ways satisfactory to her needs. I was made to react to (and collect) her emotional distress, endorse her judgements of others, perform well in school as a testament to her rearing, and accept her violations of me as normal. I was a shackled spectator, whose own emotions were mere reflections of her dramatizations. I was tailored to be the MOST convenient. So I kept secrets and coped alone. I knew just enough abt myself to remain human but lacked the vision to actualize it. And because emotional abuse is so insidious in its indoctrination, I was really none the wiser until I too moved away years later.

I'm almost 30 now and I'm a mess. I can't establish enduring relationships, I'm fat, I'm broke, I'm debilitatingly avoidant, socially inept, codependent, confused and lack significant self worth. I spent the past decade delving deep into undoing all the work done to me to keep me a reliable supply for my mother and coming to terms with all the time lost in doing so. I've had glimpses and proof of another life but this year sent me back to old coping mechanisms and devastatingly familiar relationships. I read that by its very nature, all pandemics have to end and I thought I was strong enough to share a definite time&space with my abuser for the foreseeable future.... but with no end in sight, I kind of really wish I had established a clearer version of myself and where I stand in this family, to her.

Similar predicaments flung us both to the south and having her here is like a screen forging images of the same dysfunction I exhibited upon my arrival 7 years ago. There's so much I wish I could tell my former self, namely, "it's not your fault. you're not alone. you don't have to try so hard and tomorrow is another day" And perhapz it's this layered vision of myself as seen thru her that compels me to want to save her, but doing so requires me to get too close to a flame I've yet to extinguish. Im not foundationally sound enough to go up in flames and rebuild afterwards, I need a few more rounds of therapy for all that. I'm a stitch away from coming apart at the seams. Weak construction, but I'm still standing. I have more life to live and can't risk the breeze of my mother's chaotic whims to topple what's taken years to forge. I love her, because she's the only mom I got and because she's the kids' only access to our motherland. How can I reconcile this version of me with this version of her?

[peachdoxie]

Aliens? Please explain

If you’re reading this, beware of MAJOR SPOILERS for the entirety of the Stormlight Archive so far, and brace yourselves for a massive infodump. Also I tried to put this under a read more but for whatever reason tumblr put it inside the ask itself.

Yes, there are many aliens or descendants of aliens in the Stormlight Archive. First, though, a bit of an astronomy lesson...

Stormlight takes place in a dwarf galaxy, with a series of planets orbiting different stars. This is known as the “cosmere,”  Some of these planets are known as Shardworlds, meaning they have been Invested with magic energy (called Investiture), which manifests differently from Shardworld to Shardworld.

The cosmere is comprised of three Realms: the Physical Realm, the Cognitive Realm, and the Spiritual Realm. The Physical Realm is much like ours, though it has magic in it. The Cognitive Realm is the Realm of thoughts and minds, where ideas - how something thinks of itself - exist in pseudo-corporal forms (the exact metaphysics is unknown). The Spiritual Realm is the Realm of souls and how they Connect to each other. Note: everything has a soul, even non-living things. All three Realms exist universally in the Invested parts of the cosmere.

The Cognitive Realm is the most important of the three Realms in this discussion. While the Cognitive Realm roughly maps to the Physical Realm, distances aren’t quite the same, meaning that some things that are physically far apart are closer together in the Cognitive Realm. Some things have more cognitive presence than others (think humans vs a rock) and this corresponds to the size of their manifestation in the Cognitive Realm. Since there is very little cognitive presence in outer space, due to it being a vacuum, planets end up very close to each other in the Cognitive Realm.

It is possible for a person to transition between the three Realms at certain spots, called Perpendicularities, provided that that person is aware of how the cosmere works and/or is Invested enough to transition between Realms on their own. From here, they can “physically” navigate through the Cognitive Realm, using the shortened distances between planets as a way to “worldhop.” People who worldhop are called worldhoppers. Worldhoppers are the cosmere equivalent of extraterrestrial life.

Every book in the four main cosmere worlds - Stormlight, Mistborn, Elantris, and Warbreaker - have featured at least one worldhopper, though you have to be rather cosmere-aware to spot him sometimes (I’ll give you a hint: he often takes the form of a beggar or storyteller, and thinks himself very witty...). In Stormlight, which takes place on the planet Roshar - also the name of its only continent - there have been at least 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...plus another 10.............a lot. Big things are happening on Roshar, cosmere-wise, and a lot of people are making their way there, mostly for unknown reasons.

But this is in present-day Roshar, and not actually that big of a spoiler. This information is all part of the behind-the-scenes story of the cosmere that we get glimpses of through the various books and short stories. So what’s up with the big plot twist that most of the characters from Stormlight are descended from worldhoppers, aka aliens?

Well, for that we need to turn to some theology: specifically, Vorin theology, the main church in eastern Roshar that many of our beloved Alethis follow (or outright reject, in one case). Vorinism’s basic cosmology is as follows:

Humans once lived in the Tranquiline Halls, a world of peace.

The Voidbringers came from Damnation and drove them out to Roshar.

The ten Heralds fight the Voidbringers during each of the Desolations, a time of cataclysmic destruction that wipes out nearly all of humanity. They are accompanied by the Knights Radiant: normal people given the ability to Surgebind, or the ability to manipulate Roshar’s Investiture.

In Ahariatiam, the Last Desolation, the Heralds finally forced the Voidbringers back into the Transquiline Halls, where to this day the Heralds continue the fight against them.

Humans, when they die, return to the Tranquiline Halls. If they excelled in their Callings - what they are best at and devote themselves to developing - they will join the Heralds in their fight against the Voidbringers. Normal people just sleep, waiting the day when the battle is over.

The exact nature of the Tranquiline Halls is never explained, nor how the humans were expelled by the Voidbringers, but since it’s where human souls return after they die, it’s not a physical place so much as a metaphysical place. It’s like Heaven on earth. It’s not a physical place you go to so much as a non-physical place where your soul goes. This is how the Tranquiline Halls and Damnation (basically Hell) are treated in the Stormlight Archive by the practitioners of Vorinism.

Quite frankly, the average Rosharan doesn’t seem that concerned about the nature of the Tranquiline Halls. That’s a matter for the ardentia, the monks of Vorinism. Instead, Vorins are more concerned about Voidbringers. Though supposedly they’ve been trapped in the Tranquiline Halls with the Heralds, there are many folktales and superstitions about the Voidbringers still existing on Roshar. Knowledge about what, precisely, Voidbringers were is hard to come by. It’s been 4500 years since the Last Desolation, 2000 years since the Knights Radiant abandoned their oaths and betrayed mankind (an event known as the Recreance), and 500 years since a group of ardents known as the Hierocracy attempted to take over all of Roshar, purging as much information as they could of the Knights Radiant and the Recreance. This included much of the information about the nature of the Voidbringers. What _is _known is that they were extremely powerful and very dangerous, bent on destroying humankind after chasing them out of the Tranquiline Halls.

In the first book of Stormlight, Jasnah Kholin, the foremost scholar in all of Roshar (and avowed renouncer of Vorinism), discovered the origins of the Voidbringers: the parshmen. See, humans are not the only sentient humanoid species on Roshar. There are the parshmen, people with hardened carapace instead of skin, who are slaves to most of the kingdoms of Roshar because of their obedience, endurance, and low intellectual ability. Jasnah theorized that, at some point since Ahariatiam, humans figured out how to enslave Voidbringers into parshmen. This is quite the startling realization, because Jasnah, among others, believes that the Voidbringers are coming back. The Last Desolation may not have been so final after all....

In book two, the Voidbringers return. Enough parshmen who weren’t enslaved and retained enough intellectual ability to function (known as the Parshendi) summoned the Everstorm, a cataclysmic hurricane from their god Odium that returns to parshmen their ability to think, thus freeing them from enslavement. And it turns some parshmen into Voidbringers, and each pass of the storm returns more and more of them. The disgraced Knights Radiant have also begun to return, supported by their god, Honor, in order to fight the Voidbringers and protect mankind.

All of this changes in book three, Oathbringer, in chapter 111, “Eila Stele,” towards the end of Part Four, over a million words into the series. The Eila Stele is the oldest known written document on Roshar, carved into a stone and believed to be from before the Desolations began, rumored to be written by the Heralds themselves. However, until Oathbringer, it was written in a dead language called the Dawnchant, for which translations have been lost. Through a specific use of Investiture, though, Jasnah and her scholars are able to translate the Dawnchant and provide a translation of the Eila Stele, which reads:

They came from another world, using powers that we have been forbidden to touch. Dangerous powers, of spren and Surges. They destroyed their lands and have come to us begging.

We took them in, as commanded by the gods. What else could we do? They were a people forlorn, without a home. Our pity destroyed us. For their betrayal extended even to our gods: to spren, stone, and wind.

Beware the otherworlders. The traitors. Those with tongues of sweetness, but with minds that lust for blood. Do not take them in. Do not give them succor. Well were they named Voidbringers, for they brought the void. The empty pit that sucks in emotion. A new god. Their god.

These Voidbringers know no songs. They cannot hear Roshar, and where they go, they bring silence. They look soft, with no shell, but they are hard. They have but one heart, and it cannot ever live.

The original Voidbringers were not parshmen. They were humans who invaded Roshar after destroying their home planet, likely escaping through the Cognitive Realm and emerging into the Physical Realm on Roshar, the nearest planet.

The first and last paragraphs are where we find the proof of this. “They came from another world” is fairly clear, as is “They destroyed their lands.” The last paragraph is where we learn that the Voidbringers were humans, not parshmen, who actually call themselves the “singers”. The references to the Voidbringers bringing silence is due to the fact that singers are attuned to the Rhythms of Roshar, a cosmere-wide series of vibrations throughout the Spiritual Realm, though singers are the only ones able to feel/hear them. Humans cannot, and are therefore “silent.” They also are “soft, with no shell,” referring to the fact that they have skin instead of carapace.

The tl;dr of everything else is that after humans fled to Roshar, they were given land by the singers, who took pity on them. However, humans then tried to conquer other parts of Roshar that belonged to the singers. The singers’ gods (spren, aka parts of Honor) betrayed them for the humans, and so the singers turned to Odium - who had followed/chased/been brought by humans to Roshar from their original home - for help in order to fight back against the humans. In response, the Heralds worked with Honor to trap Odium’s soldiers in Damnation, ushering in the cycle of Desolations. The term “Voidbringer” is associated with Odium, and so basically anyone who’s allied with Odium, and thus became associated with the singers, as they were the soldiers of Odium. Eventually, the humans won. Or so they thought. Now, Odium and his soldiers returned, and humans once more are fighting to defend themselves from the Voidbringers.

This is where our beloved characters find themselves: fighting another war against Odium and the Voidbringers and facing another Desolation. Except this time, the rightfulness of the war is brought into question. Are the humans right to be fighting against the people who were just trying to defend themselves from humans in the first place? Previously, the humans had Honor on their side to ensure them of the morality of their battle, but Honor was killed by Odium shortly after the Recreance, when the Knights Radiant gave up their oaths upon learning the truth about the Voidbringers. Humans have no God to guide them anymore.

We haven’t yet seen the fallout from the translation of the Elia Stele. Pretty much immediately after the translation was published, an Everstorm approached, with only hours to prepare for a massive battle in which Odium made his first major overture of war. The book ended shortly thereafter. We will have to see what happens in book four, which comes out in November.

So yes. The biggest plot twist of the Stormlight Archive thus far is that it is actually a story about dealing with the effects of an alien invasion in which the aliens won but then forgot they were aliens. In book four, there our heroes will have to grapple with the dubious morality of their way and the themes of the book will include discussions about postcolonial theory and decolonization. In this essay I will