#an entertainment source...source of discussion

[tobiasdrake]

I have a lot of qualms with the anime's handling of things. It's a lot of people's first exposure to Dragon Ball and forms the basis of how many in the fandom think of the characters and concepts. But there's... issues.

As everyone knows, the anime is not a 100% faithful adaptation like, say, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood is for the FMA manga. They were adapting the manga as it was being written, usually having to fit 1-2 chapters of manga into twenty minutes of television. So they had to improvise a lot.

This is where the padding and filler comes from. Filler episodes give the manga time to get ahead so they don't have to try and squeeze 1 chapter into a full episode. And fights are padded as hell with long sequences of characters charging up or spectators gawking at them because when you only have 1-2 chapters to adapt and most of it's fighting, those panels burn up a lot faster than 1-2 chapters of plot and dialogue.

This is the commonly discussed issue with the Dragon Ball anime, especially with Dragon Ball Z. For which Dragon Ball Kai was created to try and correct for.

But the issues with the anime run deeper than "There is filler" and "Fights are padded".

First, to the problem of the filler. We often use "filler" these days to mean episodic character-driven parts of a show. But I need to stress that I mean filler in the original sense of the word. These are scenes and whole episodes that do not exist in the source material and have been created just to extend runtime and delay the speed of material consumption in the adaptation process.

The issue with the anime's filler is fairly intuitive. These are scenes and episodes being inserted into a story that were not created by its author. Like you're reading Lord of the Rings and then suddenly someone's Legolas x Aragorn slash fic abruptly appears between two chapters, and then Lord of the Rings continues afterward like that didn't happen and it's never acknowledged again.

That doesn't have to be a problem if it's a really good slash fic. But the other problem with the filler is that the people they were made by are not the dedicated Dragon Ball fandom. It's not the Dragon Ball nerds who've memorized the lore and prepared an extensive essay on why Yamcha and Piccolo are secretly lovers.

They're made by animators and writers whose job is to produce twenty minutes of entertaining television for children. That's it. That's all they're here for. These animators and writers didn't have a very strong grasp on the characters, the concepts, or the mythology of the world they were writing these extra episodic character-driven moments and stories for.

It's not your local Dragon Ball nerd writing the fic; It's the nerd's brother who was looking at his phone while the nerd infodumped, who suddenly looks up and goes, "Wait, why doesn't Frieza just break out of Hell with his awesome powers? He's super strong, right? Hell couldn't hold him." Not realizing that there is actually an established answer to that question.

Consequently, the filler episodes play fast and loose with continuity and often have an adverse effect on the audience's perception of the characters and ideas therein.

Yamcha and Bulma's relationship is miserable, but the filler gives them lots of moments together to show that they really do love each other and we should be rooting for these crazy kids to work it out.

Yamcha himself is supposed to be a womanizer who eventually cheats on Bulma, but the filler plays him as a put-upon henpecked boyfriend who is chaste, virtuous, and loyal to Bulma despite her constant abuse. This has informed much of the fandom's perception of Bulma and Yamcha's relationship, as well as the backlash against their eventual and well-warranted breakup.

(Which is not to say that Bulma's a saint in the manga either. Far from it. The point is that they were miserable together, and the best thing for both of them was to split. Which you might not realize from the way the anime depicts them.)

Yamcha actually gets a lot of this because the creatives at Toei liked him and greatly embellished his presence and role within the story. Anime Yamcha is the guy who has his shit together. He's the leader of the Dragon Team, practically the deuteragonist of the show, with Krillin falling into a dipshit little brother role and being relegated to comic relief. He's Tenshinhan's rival and bro, and they push each other to greater heights through their iron bond of mutual respect.

All of this is fanfiction, and it plays a heavy role in the ultimate disappointment when Yamcha ultimately fell from a spotlight he was never supposed to be in to begin with. If you add a bunch of extra chapters to Fellowship detailing in extensive detail what a great hero Boromir was and his many adventures and his nobility and heroism... Then you're going to get an upset fandom when he dies at the end of the book and the plot moves on without him. Don't do that.

Gohan also got hit really hard by the "Toei writing checks Toriyama won't cash" brick. In filler, Toei liked to characterize Gohan as, basically, Goku Jr. He had an independent drive and desire for adventure and martial arts. He's constantly sneaking out under Chi-Chi's nose to go thrill-seeking and work on his training.

This, again, is fanfiction that creates the wrong impression of the character. Gohan is a sweet and sensitive boy who enjoys academia and aspires to be a scholar, but who is willing to get involved and fight when there are people he loves whose lives are on the line. He has a massive potential but no drive to pursue it outside of spending time with his loved ones who do it as a hobby. If he could, he would never throw another punch again outside of sparring matches with Dad and friends.

One very notable filler episode has Gohan escape Piccolo's training and return home. But then, just when he has the chance to be free, he steels himself and decides to return to the training. He's going to fight the Saiyans for himself, because he wants this, and he finds his resolve. But then manga canon comes back and Gohan comes apart emotionally during the fight with the Saiyans and can't bring himself to act, because he doesn't have the resolve and is only here under duress.

Krillin also suffers in the opposite way of Yamcha. They can't reduce his prominence in the anime, but he does suddenly turn into a hapless loser and cowardly buffoon whenever Toei gets their turn at writing him. It's even a running joke in the movies that Krillin always gets a chance to try to fight the villains and gets comically punked out of the action; He starts commenting on it in later films.

There's a point in the Cell arc where Goku and Chi-Chi make a deal to back off on the academia and let Gohan train for the Androids. The anime elects to ignore it and continues doing Tiger Mom bits throughout the rest of the arc, despite manga Chi-Chi holding to her end of the agreement.

Bulma, like Krillin, is often characterized as much softer and sweeter than she is in the manga. Except when they're drumming up sympathy for Yamcha, she's a lot more gentle and traditionally feminine. There are also a ton of filler scenes of Bulma just sitting around fretting about Goku, even when she has no idea what he's up to. They just have her, wherever she is, doing the "I can feel that he's in danger in my heart, my heart aches from the pain he must be in," bit usually reserved for couples in anime.

It's not just the characters, though. Dragon Ball filler is rife with absurd inconsistencies. There's an episode where Goku travels back in time to learn from Mutaito, the master who trained Kame-sennin and Tsuru-sennin. This episode features Mutaito teaching Goku about ki manipulation for the very first time... Despite it being between Piccolo-Daimao and the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, when Goku's been shooting Kamehamehas for years.

Like Goku and Chi-Chi's bargain, the anime elects to ignore the fact that Senzu leaves you full and satisfied for seven days. That gets in the way of doing comedic "Goku eating a truck full of food" bits, which they love to animate and add into the show a lot. So that established metaphysic doesn't exist anymore in their version.

As aforementioned, the rules of how the afterlife works get in the way of having the dead villains cause trouble, so those are gone too. Toei loves having the dead villains break out of Hell. They did it in the Anoyoichi Budokai filler arc, in the Fusion Reborn film, and again in the Super 17 arc of GT.

In the manga, when you die, you become a powerless soul. On rare occasions, a god may permit you to keep your body, allowing you to retain your strength and cultivated ki while all other souls do not. Then you enter into the karmic cycle, with evil souls spending an amount of time in Jigoku until their negative karma is purged and they are able to reincarnate.

In the anime, all souls keep their bodies, always. If your ki is really strong, then I guess Hell just won't be able to contain you. Death is just, like, involuntarily being moved to a different physical location, but is otherwise no different from being alive.

They did actually nail this in the Ginyu Force filler arc, where Kaio explicitly states that he restored the Ginyus' bodies so they could be used as a training exercise for the Earthlings. But no explanation is ever offered for why all the other villains get to keep their bodies too.

A really funny thing the anime does, not really an inconsistency so much as just an entertaining bit of guesswork, is that they clearly wanted Goku to have a love interest. There are lots of filler bits throughout the first anime shipping Goku with Chi-Chi and Bulma... and also Snow from Jingle Village.

Snow. The redhead girl from the Muscle Tower arc. They bring her back in the Piccolo-Daimao arc and it is so wild. But after Chi-Chi is canonized as Goku's love interest, we basically never hear from her again. I think she appears in the Majin Buu Spirit Bomb "Lend me your energy" bit and that's it.

Just. Hedging the fuck out of their bets so that when Toriyama finally gives Goku a romance, they'll have foreshadowed it.

Which ultimately still ended up working against the story's integrity. Because when Chi-Chi does show up to the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, it's supposed to be a huge shock. We haven't seen this girl since fucking Fire Mountain. You probably forgot she existed. Goku did.

But in the anime, we've been watching Goku pop by and hang out with her multiple times in filler just in case she's going to be revealed to be his offscreen girlfriend or something. So it completely ruins the surprise. They put in extra effort to try and foreshadow whoever Goku's ultimate ship would be, and in the process ruined a shocking reveal that was meant to go unforeshadowed.

Krillin also gets two filler shippables, Mint and Maron. And Gohan gets one named Lime. None of these characters are ever spoken of again after manga canon reasserts itself, but they don't hurt the story by existing. I'm still salty that Maron never got to meet God after winning the Nyoi-bo/Power Pole from Karin in strip poker, though. I demand my "Maron in God's Temple" scene.

There's an entire filler arc of Gohan being Great Saiyaman under Videl's nose while constantly dodging her attempts to unmask him. Which ruins the Gotcha moment where Videl nails his identity in one day because she's observant and open-minded while he's bad at faking normal. Videl's intelligence doesn't shine through in the anime, and she instead comes across as a hapless damsel for Gohan to rescue from her own self-destructive foolishness over and over.

Anime Frieza has an infinite supply of minions for the entire duration of the Namek arc when he's supposed to be down to just himself, Zarbon and Dodoria, and Appule - with those three gradually diminishing. But because they don't actually exist in manga canon, they are forbidden from influencing the plot and just hang out in his ship doing nothing. They're just there so he and Captain Ginyu can kill them in filler sequences to show off how wicked they are.

Oh, except for one episode where they get in a fight with Bulma and lose.

And that's not to mention the Garlic Jr. arc, which is a direct sequel to a non-canon film somehow happening within the anime's canon. Fuck you, that's how. Toei legitimately does not care. They don't care who the characters are, they don't care what the rules are, and nearly everything they write ceases to be canon the second the manga canon returns to the screen. They aren't really writing Legolas x Aragorn slash fic. They're writing an episode of The Simpsons and inserting it between Lord of the Rings pages.

But that's only problem 1. The other issue is the padding. And again, people say "padding" and they think of. Like. Goku screaming for ten straight minutes as he transforms. Charging up a beam attack for six minutes before firing it. Reaction shots of each individual character, some of whom aren't even present. That sort of thing.

And that certainly is present in the anime. To be sure. The manga's action is far more fast-paced than the anime. Sometimes this is, admittedly, to the manga's detriment. Goku's first Super Saiyan transformation takes like one page. It's over and done with. Vegeta throws like one or two punches at Final Form Frieza before giving up and accepting defeat.

There are moments of action in the manga that feel like this could have been longer. I will give them that.

The problem with the padding is really just more problems with filler, but in an action context. There's a lot of extra fighting inserted between panels being adapted. On paper, that makes sense as the kind of thing you might add to an episode when fleshing it out, but it has... problems in practice.

Characters will spend between 30 seconds to a full episode going through original fight choreography that the same people writing those filler episodes came up with. The problem with that is twofold.

One, this is all action happening between panels. That means that, at the end of this piece of choreography, the fight must return to the same place it was at the beginning of it. Frieza smashes Vegeta into a rock but then Vegeta suddenly gets up and they start fighting again. Nobody takes damage, nobody does anything significant, and at the end of it Frieza smashes Vegeta into the rock a second time so he can be where the manga needs him to be.

This makes a lot of the action feel weightless, because there are extended sequences of fighting where both characters are effectively invulnerable. It would ruin the story if anything changed before we get back to the manga, after all.

This filler action is where a lot of iconic Dragon Ball animation shots comes from. You shoot a ton of ki blasts into your enemy and they explode into a smoke cloud. You breathe a sigh of relief knowing you got him. But then he slowly emerges unscathed. WHAT!?

Is it because he's SO POWERFUL? Uh. No. Hitting a really powerful guy over and over usually still does some damage. It's because this part of the fight isn't really happening so he has Filler Invincibility turned on.

Goku's body is destroyed by the Kaioken but suddenly he gets a second wind and is able to jump around and throw punches like he's full of energy! Is Goku back in the fight? No. At the end of it he'll be right back where he started. It's just that this part of the fight isn't really happening so he has Filler Infinite Stamina turned on.

This is most noticeable in the Super Saiyan Goku vs. Frieza fight, which has like ten straight episodes of Filler Action. At one point Gohan's Filler Battle Lust snaps on and he comes back to fight 1v1 with 100% Full Power Frieza. He doesn't get his shit completely rocked, though, because he has Filler Invincibility turned on; he has to survive and return to the ship once the manga's ready to start up again.

This kind of stuff completely destroys the pacing of a fight. It's not a problem when the Filler Action is good. But that's where the second problem, the "Toei doesn't really care" problem comes in. The same people writing those Simpsons episodes are also choreographing these extra bits of fighting.

Filler Action is rarely innovative, rarely does anything new or interesting. For the most part, it's derivative. They lean heavily on referencing cool shots and cool scenes, and on reusing cool attacks from past arcs regardless of whether it actually makes sense.

The Shishin no Ken/Multiform technique appears one time in the Dragon Ball manga. Tenshinhan created it for use against Goku in the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai. However, it was critically flawed. Goku was able to pick apart the flaw and overwhelm Tenshinhan, delivering a crushing defeat. No one ever attempted the technique again. Because it's bad.

The anime makes it a staple of a completely different character whatsoever. Piccolo whips out Shishin no Ken all the time. He trains with it. He uses it against enemies. At certain points, Krillin and even Cell also use the technique? Everybody loves Shishin no Ken even though it's a bad technique that lost its only fight.

Zanzoken/Afterimage was a really strong technique at the beginning of the manga. But as the characters advanced in their study of martial arts, it became obsolete. Once ki sensing entered the picture and nobody needed to track a foe with their eyes, leaving a Zanzoken in your place as you move became pointless. You made five shadow clones. Cool. I can sense which one is real, so there is no value in doing that.

The anime continues using Zanzoken for Filler Action all the way through the end of its run. What about ki sensing, you ask? That's fine. Nobody can sense ki in Filler Action. The anime just forgets that's a thing when ever Toei is in the writing seat.

Characters who can sense ki are constantly losing track of their opponents in Filler Action. Kick up a cloud of dust in the air and you can get the drop on Goku. He has no way of telling where the next attack will come from if he can't see you with his eyes!

This is often used in tandem with... Looney Tunes tunneling? I don't know why that's a thing in Filler Action but Toei likes having characters go subterranean and then suddenly erupt from the ground to grab their opponent's feet. It always makes for a surprising ambush since the characters can't sense ki anymore.

Oh, and Bukujutsu. Characters in Filler Action sometimes forget that they can fly. There are so many Toei-written scenes where characters plummet uncontrollably through the air for tension or are surrounded/confronted by an obstacle that could be easily solved by going airborne, especially in the Baby arc of GT.

Piccolo breaks out the one-handed Makankosappo/Special Beam Cannon a lot. In the manga, he was doing it with one hand because he'd lost the other one. He demonstrates the two-handed Makankosappo in the fight with Nappa, and then never uses it again in either form. But it was an iconic moment when he did the one-handed one against Raditz, so one-handed Makankosappo divorced from context became a staple of his Filler Action moveset.

In the manga, characters are constantly innovating. Constantly evolving their styles, creating new and better ways of using their techniques while inventing new ones. But Filler Action is stagnant, with characters simply deploying existing attacks and referencing Cool Moments like playing cards from a deck. Genuinely innovative and interesting things, like using the sun to create a Solar Genki-Dama and obliterate Namekian Dracula, do happen but are few and far between.

Once Super Saiyan enters the picture, the anime uses it like Kaioken. Characters will try to fight without it and fail only to suddenly reveal that they can transform at the eleventh hour, long past the point where it actually would have made sense to do it. I have complained at length about this so I'll keep that part brief but suffice it to say that Filler Action characters often let themselves get beaten up really badly while coasting on their Filler Invincibility even when they have the ability to stop losing at any moment.

Power levels basically cease to exist in Filler Action. See above, re: Gohan surviving throwing hands with Full Power Frieza. But also in other ways, like an episode of Dragon Ball Super that features Goten and Trunks being menaced by a random jungle snake, and needing to turn Super Saiyan to escape from it. At one point in GT, Trunks has to turn Super Saiyan to lift a pallet full of bricks?

Toei has a general idea of "This character is to some extent stronger than that character". Except when they don't, like characterizing Yamcha as a worthy opponent and rival to Tenshinhan or suggesting that Chiaotzu would be a match for a member of the Ginyu Force.

For every "Goten and Trunks menaced by snake" moment, you also get stuff like "Pre-Namek Vegeta can destroy an entire planet in seconds with a casual shot fired from his fingers." They have no idea how powerful these characters are supposed to be at any given time, or what their abilities actually are, or how those abilities actually work. And so they make a lot of errors in both directions.

And it makes for hollow fight choreography where the moves being made are derivative and overly referential, none of the moves make sense as things these characters would be doing or would be capable of doing, and it doesn't mean anything anyway because it's happening between panels so it's all going to reset to 0 at the end of it. Except in the movies and GT and stuff where only two of those things are true.

Even the DBS: Broly movie, which I love to death, has a lot of shitty Toei-style fight choreography baked into it. Stepping through stages of Super Saiyan for no reason? Check. Characters letting themselves get shitstomped for no reason but it's fine because they're invincible? Check. Over-reliance on referencing iconic manga moments even when it makes no sense and breaks the integrity of the scene? Just once I'd like to see a Fusion Dance that doesn't Play the Hits of the two characters turning into Fat Gotenks. You know they have to wait an hour or so to try again, right? Because the movie doesn't.

So, all in all, the anime gives me a lot of grief. The manga wasn't this exceptionally crafted masterpiece. Akira Toriyama did a lot of improvising. He was writing by the seat of his pants. But he at least tried to present a consistent universe with consistent characters and rules.

So, for me, watching the various Dragon Ball animes is like being pricked by a thousand tiny needles. That's not how that works. That's not how that works. He wouldn't say that. She wouldn't react like that. Nobody uses that attack anymore. Why can't he sense his opponent? That's not how that works. He wasn't there for that scene. Why is Uranai Baba here?

weird question. how do you feel about toriyama's art, and the use of his art style?

Artistically, if people take anything away from Toriyama's work, I want it to be his talent for conveying action through still panels.

I've read plenty of comics and manga where the action is honestly pretty hard to make sense of. Like taking still images of one of those jumpy thousand-cuts-per-minute modern Hollywood action scenes where the images are taken like fifteen seconds apart and there's no real sense of how anyone got to anywhere or where that punch is supposed to land.

By contrast, reading Dragon Ball is like watching an actual martial arts film. Toriyama's panel work was a big part of what made him such a great mangaka. It's very easy to follow Toriyama's action from panel to panel; To read the visual language of the fight.

Look how smooth that is. People don't think of Dragon Ball fights as clear, concise affairs where every punch has weight and every move counts. But that's exactly what the manga is. This was Toriyama's greatest asset as an artist.

Look at how the panels follow Frieza's right leg. He's stepping forward with his right leg. His right leg is in front of Goku's face. His right leg kicks Goku into the air. Then he sweeps with his right leg. And then the right leg connects.

That whole sequence follows Frieza's leg. It's what is going to be used to hit Goku and so the action tracks it from panel to panel. You always know where Frieza's right leg is.

And it's why the whole "Characters designed by Toriyama" thing never really meant as much as it was hyped to be. It doesn't matter if he drew a guy's hair Goku-style. What matters is this. When the fists start flying, is it going to be his action?

Or is it going to be something like this?

Did Goku push Vegeta? Did he shoot him? Because he was like ten feet away from the fighting when that maneuver was completed. And then he definitely took that hit to the back of the neck but I guess he was just playing pretend?

Did Son Goku just fake a knockout so he could land a cheap-shot sucker-punch on an adversary?

(This same fight also had Goku defeat Granolah's knack for targeting someone's vitals by suddenly being able to reposition all of his organs somehow, incidentally.)

11 pages of pure action just to convey that Goku and Moro are equally matched. By the end of this, the fight hasn't actually moved in any way.

Goku and Moro chitchat with each other across a beam struggle?

Just so Goku can brag that Toyotaro knows what the Zanzoken/Afterimage is.

By contrast, Toriyama's Beam Struggles look like this.

Intense, strenuous affairs which are clearly and visibly taking a toll on both participants, in which one party ultimately and significantly prevails over the other.

In Goku and Moro's struggle, neither of them really seems to be trying very hard. Goku and Moro are able to water-cooler chat across the beam somehow and then they both just stop caring and leave. It was a Continuity Moment so Goku could call out the Zanzoken but ultimately Goku's Kamehameha achieves nothing and the fight just carries on like it never happened.

Also there's a point where Moro telekinetically yanks Goku down out of the air and then, on the next page, Moro telekinetically yanks Goku down out of the air again. What's that about?

The double-punch panel to show that they're evenly matched is... I have no idea where Moro got the strength to suddenly do that when last we saw was him recoiling from being hit over and over? Moro suddenly gains Super Armor between pages so he can be back in control of a situation where they were not evenly matched and he was clearly on the back foot.

The art is really good and, visually, Toyotaro has a good bead on what these characters should look like. But not what they should move like. It's not Toriyama's action, and you can feel that difference.

[skunkes]

new annoying little back and forth: third time this week

[luckyredeyes]

TikTok: What are we supposed to do now, go back to Tumblr?

Me, who’s been here since like 2011:

[askshivanulegacy]

Except they're not all wrong and they're not "paid fanfiction." They were written with Lucas' approval and they developed the Star Wars universe in a dry spell that lasted years. The only reason they're claimed to be "not canon" now is only because of the decision Disney made ... and that was after it passed out of Lucas' hands. He never claimed any such thing. So as far as Lucas is concerned, they're as canon as anything else.

And it's true that at the same time there are story points that conflict. All that means is that you get to explore how they might or might not still fit with other pieces of the universe, such as the movies, and which pieces you think make more sense.

There is no hard core "this is wrong" statement that you can apply to published material. The EU books are just as valid as anything else. The Star Wars universe is NOT just the movies, whether anyone likes it or not. It's a bad faith move to blockade off totally valid discussion points just because you want to gatekeep the fandom. The books exist, people read them and like them, and they get to talk about them, and no one is capable of undermining that. You don't get to invalidate real SW resources just because you don't like the conclusions some people make from them.

At the point that you want to keep your headcanons informed only by the movies, that is certainly a choice you can make. But in the wider fandom, people can and do use all the material available to them. And they will have different opinions. You don't have to like them, but there's also nothing you can do to wipe them out or to somehow magically trump them because you like your resources better than theirs.

If you don't want to see those points come up in discussions then don't have those discussions. Or frame the discussion properly up front, and it can be a fun little exercise to only consider the movies.

This is just how fandom works.

I really dislike it when anti-Jedi and Jedi-critical crowd uses EU books as a prove for their points. Why they’re all wrong:

a) The books were written by various people who didn’t consult George Lucas about what they’re going to write. Everyone understood SW as they did. When an original author has never claimed such art as canon and actually refused it – this is a definition of fanfiction, isn’t it? Paid, yes, but fanfiction nonetheless.

b) Most of these books were created way before PT. They didn’t know about the Jedi things what we know now. It becomes quite hypocritical – I mean, in the EU the clones were enemies, not allies, but somehow I don’t see any claims ‘but the clones are enemies! The EU says so!’. Even in Karen Traviss books not all the clones have a personality, but we all ignore it now, aren’t we? She wrote her books before the TCW, not knowing how the series would spin the story. So EU retcon works for the clones, but not for the Jedi?

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

Simone de Rochefort shared the email she sent to Jim Bankoff, the CEO of Vox Media who sold Polygon, on bluesky. The text of the email is transcribed below:

"Hi Jim,

I'm writing to let you know how incredibly disappointed I am about the decision to sell Polygon to Valnet. Even though I'm one of the fortunate few to still be employed, I'm still furious and heartbroken.

I was in Europe when the sale went public. A few days later, a reader recognized me at a cafe in Paris. He couldn't believe what had happened, and asked me how it was possible, in the United States, that a workforce like ours could just be disposed of. He also added, completely unprompted, that American workers should "choose violence." I just thought I'd mention that! It was cool to be recognized halfway around the world for my work. The readers have always appreciated it, even if you don't. But I'm going to tell you about it anyway.

At Polygon, we wrote stories and made videos that were unique in entertainment media - they were weird and well-researched and funny. We also got awards for our reporting (including myself and my now-laid-off colleague Clayton Ashley - we were nominated for an ASME and we won a New York Videogame Critics Circle award).

We attracted brand sponsorships, some of which my team was in the middle of working on when my colleagues were laid off. My understanding is that Vox will be doing make-good sponsorships for the businesses that had contracted with Polygon. I wonder if they will seek out Vox Media again, once that process is finished.

My colleagues who were laid off spent years building connections and trust with sources in our industry. On the video team, subjects gave us hours of their time and resources for interviews. People trusted us to tell their stories. You can't do good journalism without that trust, and that's been at minimum bruised by this sale and the dismantling of the team.

Our readers and viewers are wonderful. I applied to work at Polygon because I read a comment chain on the site that I expected to be full of sexism and vitriol. Instead I found thoughtful people having a civil and intelligent discussion. What a rarity on the internet!

Did you know that Polygon's YouTube comments have always been overwhelmingly positive? My games journalist colleagues at other sites marveled at the fact that at Polygon, I never got hate mail. Was never harassed. That I could scroll freely through the comments of any video that I or my colleagues made and see people appreciating our work. That is so, so rare.

I worked at Vox Media for 9 years. The week before the sale, as I was preparing to go on vacation, I stayed up till 5 AM so that I could finish my next video. No one asked me to do that! That was frankly stupid, considering how little you and the company valued our work. This doesn't make me look very good or very smart, but I'm including it anyway.

The truth is I like working and the feeling of productivity, and I liked what I was making. I felt like that made it worth it.

It didn't! I suppose what I am saying is that Polygon's employees did everything possible to make the site a success. We built a profitable, respected publication.

You, and Vox Media's leadership, didn't know what to do with it. You failed to make a good thing work for you. That's quite sad, and quite an indictment on Vox Media as a whole.

I used to have a lot of faith in the company's longevity. I don't anymore, because of your poor decision-making, and your failure to listen to the people who were telling you what Polygon needed.

I had always said that Vox Media is an amazing employer. That out of all the media companies, it was the best. I encouraged people who are bright and hard-working and talented to apply for work there. I felt so lucky to have my job. I don't think you know yet how many bridges you've burned with people like me who would've jumped at the chance to work for you, and let themselves be exploited along the way.

A couple years ago, a former employee told me that digital media would never love me back, and that I should leave Vox. They said I wouldn't understand how much the company takes from its employees until I tried working somewhere else.

Well, now I work for Valnet! Thank you for the push out the door!

Meanwhile, if you couldn't make a profitable website like Polygon work, then what hope is there for my colleagues at other Vox outlets?

How many unprofitable ventures will be propped up with profits from the Polygon sale, and for how long? Before you and the folks with a head for business (or so I'm told!) have to hit the ledgers again and find something to sell, or someone to let go. Or will the company just enjoy a tax write-off for 2025 and then … what?

Polygon was special, and it was valuable, and it was profitable, and you sold it, at a time when the economy was at a low point - and when Polygon, against all odds, was still making money.

This does not make sense to me. Please feel free to respond and convince me.

Sincerely, Simone de Rochefort"

[mostly-imagines]

Damian was unwilling to even consider accepting your presence. He’d been sure that you were a passing source of entertainment for his older brother, who couldn’t possibly hold positive regard towards anyone other than himself.

Jason had brought you to the manor with him while he dropped in to discuss some things with the old man. You’d told him you’d be fine to hang out with Damian until he was done, to which he scoffed and wished you luck.

So you approach the couch tentatively and smile despite the lack of attention on you, “Hi Damian.”

He merely side eyes you and says nothing.

Having expected this from him, you continue, “What are you watching?”

“The Discovery channel.” He says shortly.

You frown, furrowing your eyebrows.

He glances at you, unamused. “What?”

“Why are you watching the Discovery channel?” you ask him.

“It’s educational.” He tells you, like it’s obvious.

You nod slowly, “Yes, but…what else do you watch?”

“The Discovery channel has many different series’,” he tells you with discernable disinterest.

You tilt your head at him, “Don’t you watch shows for kids?”

He glowers hearing that, “Why would I do that?”

“…Because you’re a kid.”

He shakes his head, basically waving you off. “I wouldn’t waste my time.”

You’re not really sure why Damian is the way he is just yet. You know he only came to live with Bruce relatively recently and before that lived with his mother somewhere far. Jason’s mentioned in passing that his upbringing was a bit unorthodox and his mother is a sore subject. You don’t know Bruce well but you can take a guess that his parenting priorities don’t necessarily lie with letting kids be kids.

You shake your head, “It’s not a waste of time. Not if you enjoy it.” You pause. “It’s okay for you to be a kid, Damian.”

He looks at you like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

You sit up more, turning to face him completely. “I can’t imagine pushing yourself so hard all the time is good for your brain. Or your body.”

That gets his attention. “…What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I mean a part of normal human development involves fostering happiness through recreation and leisure. Entertainment like that functions as a stress reliever which is necessary for you to operate at your highest capacity. It’s like recharging your body and it’s important to do, especially when you’re young and can burn out quickly.”

He frowns deeply, furrowing his eyebrows, “Oh.”

You nod, thinking. “I can’t imagine your diet is any different than your dads, then.”

His posture straightens, “I eat to make me stronger. That is good for my body.” He says it like it has to be.

Your brow furrows at that as you nod, “Yeah, it is, but do you like it?”

He grimaces, “What does that matter?”

You pull back a bit, blinking at him. “Do you eat snacks, Damian?”

“Snacks are for—” he cuts himself off. “No I do not.”

“What if we watched a movie and made popcorn or something?”

He considers this with an obvious great hesitance, looking you up and down like he’s expecting you to pull out a knife any second.

“You could be wrong,” he says eventually, quiet.

You nod for a moment. “But what if I’m not?”

He eyes the rug on the floor, chin still held up. “What…do you suggest?”

You pucker your lower lip and shake your head, grabbing the remote. “Anything you want,” You flip the screen to the children’s movies, scrolling through the options. “You might like The Rescuers. Or Robin Hood. It’s about someone who steals from the rich and gives the money to the poor.”

You hand him the remote and he slowly moves through the list. You watch him look over the selection, eyes slightly wider than usual.

“What about “Bambi”? It has small animals in the picture.” He points to the little icon on the left of the screen displaying the baby deer and friends.

Your movements stutter. “Oh, uh…I don’t think that’s the movie for you.”

He tilts his head at you, “Why not?”

You take a deep breath and turn your head over your shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make popcorn, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You smile and nod encouragingly and stand before making your way to the kitchen.

Damian watches you go before thoughtlessly standing himself and trailing slowly after you. By the time he gets to the kitchen door frame you’ve already opened up a packet and are placing it into the microwave. You don’t stop at that, opening up the fridge to pour out a small glass of coke.

The popcorn is nearly done when Jason approaches from the hall, stopping next to Damian and peering into the doorway to see what’s so interesting.

He’s surprised to find that the thing Damian had been staring wide-eyed at was you, making snacks.

He looks again at his little brother, heeding how his gaze was somehow closer to fear than skepticism. But he’d seen that look before, when he’d first come to live at the manor it was the only expression he conveyed for at least two months. That look of shock that he was being treated so kindly, with such thought behind it. Jason hadn’t seen that look in a while, but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised that it was you who brought it back out.

For someone as trained as he is, it takes Damian an embarrassingly long time to register his brother's presence. He tries to play it off as though he’d always known, adjusting his posture to stand taller, chin up. He turns to face Jason, suddenly somber. “She is an adequate choice of a partner.”

Jason’s face contorts, looking him up and down, “…Thanks?”

[pucksandpower]

Black Widow

Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise

The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.

At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.

“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”

You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”

It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.

Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”

As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”

You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”

He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”

You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”

Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.

“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”

You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.

“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”

Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”

With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”

“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”

He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”

“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”

“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”

“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”

You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”

Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”

“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”

“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.

You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”

“Understandable. And the last one before me?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”

Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”

You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”

You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”

You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”

Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”

You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”

Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”

You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”

Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”

You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”

He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”

You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”

“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”

You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”

Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.

“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”

As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.

As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.

***

The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.

Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.

“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.

Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”

“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.

Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”

As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.

Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.

You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”

Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.

Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”

You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”

Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”

As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.

“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”

Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”

You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”

Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”

You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.

As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.

During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”

Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”

You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”

Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”

“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”

As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.

“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”

The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”

A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.

You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”

A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”

There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.

Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.

But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.

***

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.

“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”

Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”

“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”

Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”

“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”

As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.

Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.

“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”

Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”

You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”

George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”

Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”

You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”

As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.

Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”

Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”

As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.

“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”

Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”

George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”

“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”

Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”

For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”

George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”

Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”

As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.

“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”

George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”

Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.

During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.

“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”

The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.

“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”

Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”

But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.

As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.

Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.

They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”

Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”

George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”

For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”

Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.

You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”

The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.

“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”

Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.

“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.

You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”

As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.

“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”

George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”

As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”

You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”

Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.

Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.

***

The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.

His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

You.

Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.

For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.

As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.

“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”

Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”

Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”

“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”

You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”

Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”

As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.

“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”

Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”

Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”

You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”

Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”

You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”

Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”

“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”

The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”

You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”

Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”

Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”

Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”

Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”

Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”

You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”

Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”

As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”

You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”

Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”

You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”

As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.

He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.

“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”

As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.

“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”

Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”

You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”

Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”

Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”

Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”

You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”

Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”

Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.

“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”

You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”

Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”

Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”

Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”

Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”

As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”

Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”

Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”

Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”

As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?

He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.

For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.

After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.

[stellarsecrets86]

Sun in houses of Fama(408) Persona Chart

Other related post you might like:

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Planets in houses of Union persona chart

Sun

Moon

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Astro observation 1

Astro observation 2

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Groom Persona Chart

Sun

Moon

Mercury

Venus

Mars

Pluto

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Synastry/Composite Chart Observations 1

Review of my readings-1

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[PS: These are my personal observations. For entertainment purposes only. Have fun.]

1st House:

Your personal charisma and individuality are the focal points of fame. You are a natural-born leader whose confidence and presence draw attention. Fame is achieved through authenticity and being unapologetically yourself. People are inspired by your courage and personality, making you a trailblazer in your field. However, this placement can attract both admirers and critics, requiring a strong sense of self to handle the spotlight.

2nd House:

Fame comes from wealth, values, or material accomplishments. You may be popular for your capability to create income or for your special manner of handling money. Your talents, especially in creative or entrepreneurial endeavors, can bring fame. Stability and self-esteem are an important part of maintaining publicity. Fame may also be a result of advocating issues on financial literacy or sustainability.

3rd House:

Your fame comes from communication, teaching, or writing. You are popular because of your intelligence, wit, or ability to simplify a complex issue. Social media, public speaking, or journalism may be the source of your popularity. Relationships with siblings, neighbors, or communities will also contribute to your fame. This placement accentuates how your words have the power to inspire and influence the masses.

4th House:

Fame can be due to family history, property, or service to the family and community. You can also be noted for the conservation of traditional knowledge or service to the family or the environment. The fame is very personal and can happen later in your life. You must be very attached to your origins and be emotionally strong to carry your public persona.

5th House:

You are destined for fame in creative fields like acting, music, or art. Your playful, romantic, or dramatic nature captivates audiences. Fame might also come through children, teaching, or entertainment industries. Your ability to inspire joy and creativity in others is unparalleled. This is a highly favorable placement for widespread recognition, but it requires balancing indulgence with responsibility.

6th House:

Fame comes through hard work, service, or contributions to health and wellness. You might be recognized as a reformer in your workplace or as a healer. Your meticulous attention to detail sets you apart. Fame could stem from achievements in medicine, fitness, or other service-oriented fields. Although the spotlight may feel like a byproduct of your dedication, it ultimately serves a greater purpose.

7th House:

Your reputation may be connected with partnerships or marriage. You can be renowned through a partner, your teamwork, or by fighting for fairness and peace. The way you smooth things over can bring you fame, your appeal, or legal expertise. Partnership is one of your strong points, and people know you as a peacemaker in conflicts or arguments.

8th House:

Fame can come through transformation, taboo subjects, or working with other people's resources. You may be famous for your profundity, mysticism, or ability to uncover that which is hidden. You could even be famous in the realms of psychology, finance, or esoteric studies. Your mysterious nature and the fact that you are willing to discuss life's shadowy areas makes you memorable. This position often provides a transformative public journey.

9th House:

Recognition comes through travel, education, philosophy, or religion. Fame might be tied to teaching, writing, or promoting cultural or spiritual awareness. You are seen as a visionary or a guide who inspires others to expand their horizons. Fame here often comes with international acclaim or through ventures that connect different cultures.

10th House:

This is the traditional placement of Leo for fame and a public career. There, you dazzle others with leadership roles, where accomplishments come out in big ways, including places like politics, business, and professional work that places a demand for visibility. You have won the confidence of all as an icon commanding respect and authority figures. There's a saying, "Your integrity and ethic ensure that this is remembered over the course of time."

11th House:

Fame comes through your associations with groups, organizations, or humanitarian work. You're hailed as a champion for social causes and new developments. You can also become famous through science, technology, or activism. The need to connect through networking and collaborations aids your impact. Your connection to people on a mass scale guarantees you mass recognition.

12th House:

Your fame is spiritual or mystical. You may become famous for spiritual or creative work that affects people's subconscious mind. You can also be considered famous after your death when your work is recognized after your lifetime. This placement typically indicates fame that is associated with retreat, healing, or sacrifice to a cause.

[enwoso]

sense of familiarity | alessia russo x child!reader

this idea came out of nowhere really, well really sparked from chloe first start back in an arsenal shirt x

grumpy masterlist

the arsenal training ground was quiet in the early morning, the crisp air filled with soft chatter as players arrived one by one. the sky still held a sleep blue hue, the sun barely peeking over the horizon.

among those trudging towards the entrance was alessia with her hand occupied with her bag she took to training and you curled up in her arms against her chest like a koala.

you were not a morning person.

your tiny arms were wrapped around alessia's neck, your head resting against her shoulder, face half buried in the soft fabric of your mummy's hoodie.

you were still deep in your half-asleep state, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you had been cruelly removed from your warm bed and dragged into the real world.

"still out of it, is she?" beth smirked as she walked in beside alessia, throwing a knowing glance at your snuggled up form - it being how you arrived most days to training.

"completely," alessia sighed, adjusting her grip as you were slightly sliding down. "i tried to wake her up at home but she just gave me the dirtiest look and went straight back to sleep. honestly i'm impressed she let me get her dressed."

beth chuckled, "i like her style, i'd love a few more hours in bed too."

as more of the team arrived, the conversation shifted to their upcoming training sessions. leah, katie and kyra joining in, discussing everything from the last match to the quality of arsenals breakfast option.

meanwhile, you remained blissfully unaware of your surroundings, you just remember curling up on the sofa as your mummy made her usual pre-work out smoothie, which for the record didn't taste very nice.

you had since curled further into your mummy's hold, your little hands gripping the hoodie strings like lifelines, your breathing slow and steady.

and then—

"so where am i supposed to be goin'?"

the voice was familiar. too familiar.

your head snapped up so quickly that alessia barely had time to react, catching her coffee just in time before it went everywhere.

one second you were barely conscious — the next, you were fully alert. blinking wildly as you searched for the source of the voice.

"huh?" you mumbled, still groggy but clearly on high alert.

alessia frowned. "you okay, lovie?"

but you weren't listening. you were twisting in your mummy's arms, eyes darting around the training ground searching for the voice you had just heard.

and then you saw her.

she was there, standing a few feet away dressed in full arsenal training gear, was chloe kelly.

you froze. your brain seemingly beginning to short-circuit as you stared at chloe, your mouth slightly open along with your sleepy confusion quickly morphing into absolute bewilderment.

chloe, meanwhile, was chatting casually with one of the coaches. it being her first proper day since signing the loan agreement with the arsenal. completely unaware that she had just rocked your entire worldview.

you turned back to your mummy's arms, eyes wide, "mummy.." you whispered, your voice filled with suspicion. "i think i seeing things.."

alessia not thoroughly entertained by your sleepy little delusions as she bit back a laugh. "what do you mean, lovie?"

you dramatically pointing towards chloe, as she stood clad in full arsenal training gear, "she's here," you stated, as if you were annoying a sight of a ghost.

alessia nodded, not understand quite what you were getting at, "yep?"

"but,, but she a man city player," you said slowly like you were trying to remind your mummy of something incredibly obvious.

"not anymore," alessia smirked, "she's playing for the arsenal now."

you squinted at your mummy, as if trying to detect the lie. then, you decided you needed a confirmation from the source. you wriggling from the warmth and comfort of your mummy's arms until you were placed on the ground.

the second you feet touched the ground, you were stomping your little feet straight towards chloe, hands on your hip in all your four-year old authority.

"what you doing here?" you asked, it coming out more of demand than a question.

chloe hearing your voice and now clearly amused at the sheer confusion on your face as she crouched down to your level. "i'm playing for the arsenal now" she explained with an excited grin.

you blinked, then frowned, then blinked again. confused.

"but, you play for man city... like viv" you insisted as if chloe had simply just forgotten what team she played for.

"not anymore, tiny" chloe chuckled at your stubbornness to accept the truth. "i got loaned out, im back with arsenal until at least the summer."

your little nose scrunched up, still deep in thought. your sleepy mind not helping with all this change so early in the morning. you crossing your arms, well tried to, your tiny brows furrowing. "so.. so you're here now?"

chloe nodded with a warm smile. "that's right." there was a beat of silence as you continued to process this unexpected development. and then - like a switch being flipped your face lit up.

"oh! well, okay then!" you immediately grabbing chloe's hand, nearly knocking the poor girl over as all your previous confusion was long gone. "come on, i gotta show you around!"

nearby, alessia had been watching the whole thing along with some of the girls. they all being very invested in the interaction before bursting into laughter.

"that's one way to wake Lovie up in the morning," steph quipped, chuckling slightly as she nudged alessia.

alessia shook her head fondly, watching you enthusiastically drag chloe toward the training facilities. "honestly, we should have signed chloe weeks ago. would've saved me a lot of grumpy mornings."

chloe shot a grin over her shoulder, "guess i've got a personal tour guide now?"

"oh, you've got no choice, it's lovie's way of saying welcome back!" alessia called back. "you're hers now."

you now fully embracing your role as chloe's personal tour guide - as if she was completely new to the building.. as you tugged her along eagerly. “come on lolo, i gotta show you where we eat lunch! and i'll can show you the best spots for naps — which is very important. oh! and the best part.. the snack cupboard!"

chloe laughed, letting you just lead the way, immersing herself in your well thought out tour. "sounds  like you've got your priorities sorted, kid."

you beamed proudly as chloe just smiled, "yep! and now you do too!"

with that, you marched chloe into the training ground, her mission clear: make sure chloe felt right back at home.

[melliemell]

HEEy !! It’s the nonnie with the glasses back at it once again >:)

I’ve been thinking, annd how do you think the bsd cast (as always i would love if u added both the idiots aka dazai and ranpo) would go abt asking their S/O to move in with them? Ofc add any chara u like!!

ur awesome love u Pookie🫶☺️, — NONNIE WHO FOUND THEIR GLASSES !!!! (YIPPIE FOR THAT!)

hiii babess, hope you're doing well!!

you never fail to deliver with the cool idea, do you 👀👀

BSD ft. How they'd go about moving in with their S/O

(Dazai, Fyodor, Ranpo)

Dazai

Dazai’s not an easy man to live with and he’s perfectly aware of that. 

Would play it off as a casual remark on a random Wednesday, a teasing smile plastered in place yet his gaze won’t leave yours as he observed your reaction while acting carefree.

“I’ll get to wake up to your angelic face every morning. What man wouldn’t want that?” he’d say, draping an arm around your shoulders as you’d roll your eyes at his antics. You’d be all too used to him by now. 

But the thought would swirl in Dazai’smind for days. Feeling your secure embrace was too sweet a treat, and your chest glued to his back had a calming effect he was steadily becoming addicted to. If Dazai had the opportunity to have your warm breath tickling his nape, mind not even fully awake to complain about it as he floated in that blissful oblivion of early mornings–he was getting it.

He’d be spacing out days on end, coming up with as many scenarios of domestic life that he’d end up completely engrossed by the idea. It would be too hilarious to miss out on the play-dress of adult life. Even cleaning chores would seem exiting to him, knowing fully that vacuuming the house could just as easily turn into rawdogging it on the kitchen floor–clean or not. 

Dazai’d have you all to himself. 

Don’t expect you’d be moving in with him. He’s occupying your place the moment he gets the green flag. He’s so used to not doing anything all day that finally having a constant source of entertainment might do him some good. Not you though. Probably. But at least you’d get your boyfriend trailing after you, puppy eyes abused to the brim as he pleads for attention at every possible opportunity. 

Good luck. 

Fyodor

That’s the thing… Fyodor’s so out of the loop of normal life-living that he’d probably not have a home. Places he stays at? Yes, sure. As lavish as he wants or acceptably modest and enough to meet his needs? Very likely. But a home–a specific location he comes back to time and time again, seeking comfort in its familiarity? Unlikely. 

It would start out as him simply needing you to do little tasks for him. Fyodor’d keep an eye out on you, making sure you arrive to the specific city before him as you checked around the territory. Never staying in the same place as him but still keeping you close by. Just in case.

He’d need to establish a secure enough dependance from your side before he lets himself explore any romantic paths with you. There’s a reassuring quality to it, and Fyodor’s not the type to rush into any idea unless he’s completely prepared for the desired outcome. But once you’re together…

Get prepared for an ungodly amount of surprise visits from this man. There won’t be so much as you moving in together–the topic most likely not even discussed yet–but you gradually getting accustomed to the sight of him already at your place, waiting patiently as he sipped his cup of tea by the kitchen table. 

He’d be really good at nestling perfectly into your routine, knowing exactly where you were at all times. Not living together exactly but… existing together, maybe? It won’t be so much about the physical part, simply being in the same space together bringing a smile to his face. He’d stop arranging for his own place eventually, opting to stay with you every time you had to move to a different location.

It was unusual, but Fyodor wasn’t a usual man after all.

Ranpo

Suspiciously too eager for the moving-in together. Until you realise his plan all along–he won’t need to take cabs every time he goes home; you’ll take him home. Now isn’t that just perfect? You know where you live, and you live together. 

Ranpo never really understood the excitement over domestic life. It was definitely a win for all the attention he was going to get constantly, but it’s not like anything too major has happened. You just have to share laundry now, no biggie. 

Until the day he gets back from work, tired to the bones from dealing with people too stupid to let him do his job quickly, and alone. It’s in those late hours that he stumbles though the darkness to your home and…

There you are. Snuggled up in bed and waiting for him with a tired smile on your face. Ranpo’s chest will feel light, the weight lifting instantly as he lays beside you, cheek smashed into your neck as your scent engulfed him. He’s out cold within minutes; just having this secure presence around him would set him at ease instantly.

Ranpo really thought nothing much would change between you after moving together. And he was right, the good old dynamic of you both was still there, but… there was something else. Something new lurking in the early mornings sometimes, or the hum of your voice as you sang under your breath as you washed the dishes. 

Little things.��

Things he was exposed to constantly now that managed to make him stop in his tracks and just–exist in that moment. With you.

Ranpo’s never felt more content after stealing you away like this.

[margaretkart]

Stop Treating Greek Mythology Like Just Another Fictional Franchise

I am honestly tired of seeing people lump Greek mythology into the same category as DC Comics, anime, or any other modern fictional universe. There’s this frustrating trend where people discuss figures like Odysseus or Achilles in the same breath as Batman or Goku, as if they’re just characters in a long-running franchise rather than deeply rooted cultural and literary icons from one of the most influential civilizations in history.

Yes, myths contain fantastical elements—gods turning into animals, heroes slaying monsters, mortals being punished or rewarded in ways that defy logic. But that does not mean Greek mythology is the same as a modern fantasy novel. These myths were part of an entire civilization’s identity. The ancient Greeks didn’t just tell these stories for entertainment; they used them to explain the world, explore human nature, justify traditions, and even shape their religious practices. The Odyssey isn’t just an adventurous tale about a guy struggling to get home—it’s a reflection of Greek values, an exploration of heroism, fate, and the gods' role in human life. When people treat it as nothing more than “fiction,” they erase the cultural weight it carried for the people who created it.

Greek mythology functioned in antiquity—these were their sacred stories, their way of making sense of the universe. And yet, people will still argue that the Odyssey is no different from a DC Elseworlds story, as if it was just an early attempt at serialized storytelling rather than a cornerstone of Western literature.

Part of the problem comes from how myths have been adapted in modern media. Hollywood and pop culture have turned Greek mythology into a shallow aesthetic, cherry-picking elements for the sake of spectacle while stripping away any historical or cultural depth. Movies like Clash of the Titans or games like God of War reimagine the myths in ways that make them feel like superhero stories—cool battles, flashy gods, exaggerated personalities. And while those adaptations can be fun, they’ve also contributed to this weird idea that Greek myths are just another IP (intellectual property) that anyone can rewrite however they want, without considering their original context.

This becomes especially frustrating when people defend radical reinterpretations of Greek mythology under the “it’s just fiction” excuse. No, Greek mythology is not just fiction! It’s cultural heritage. It’s part of history. It’s literature. It’s philosophy. If someone drastically rewrote a Shakespearean play and justified it by saying, “Well, it’s just an old story,” people would push back. If someone did the same to the Mahabharata or The Tale of Genji , there would be outrage. But when it happens to Greek myths? Suddenly, it’s “just fiction,” and any criticism is dismissed as overreacting.

I am not saying mythology should be untouchable. Reinterpretation and adaptation have always been a part of how these stories survive—Euripides retold myths differently from Homer, and Ovid gave his own spin on Greek legends in his Metamorphoses. The difference is that those ancient reinterpretations still respected the source material as cultural history, rather than treating it as some creative sandbox where anything goes. When people defend blatant inaccuracies in modern adaptations by saying, “It’s just a story, why does it matter?” they are ignoring the fact that these myths are a major link to an ancient civilization that shaped so much of what we call Western culture today.

Ultimately, Greek mythology deserves the same level of respect as any major historical and literary tradition. It’s not a superhero franchise. It’s not a random fantasy series. It’s the legacy of a civilization that continues to influence philosophy, literature, art, and even modern storytelling itself. So let’s stop treating it like disposable entertainment and start appreciating it for the depth, complexity, and significance it truly holds.

[mixingandmelting]

Winter Series: Day 3 - 2D vs 3D

Summary: He finds out you have a list of 2D characters you love and would stay committed for life

Dick: has an issue with it

Has the famous Dick Grayson’s frown on his face when he finds it

Doesn’t appreciate it and despite trying to pretend it doesn’t affect him, he throws a fuss going how they’re not even real

Went to the point of his voice cracking and  high pitched when he got to the part about their shippings with yourself and to other characters you also are in love with

Grumbles when he watches and reads the series your favorites are from with you and on his own, constantly going “I can do better than them” 

If you ever were to jab him by asking if he can do something only they can do and he obviously can’t, that will genuinely tip him off and get extremely sulky where he’ll be venting to everyone both in the chatroom, joint missions, etc., while to you he pulls the pettiest of all pettiness he’s ever done

Eventually let’s up when you confront and tell him that he was obviously the only one you love and ever be with along you choosing him over any 2D character as you couldn’t imagine life without him

Also gives in and starts adding notes of his own on to your list because he does admit some of them are cool

Tim: isn’t bothered and actually cool with it

Does any eyebrow raise when he finds it

Sort of figured it was those character pairing lists but with how thorough your notes are, also entertained the thought that it was a hit list

More open minded and tries to understand why you were to enamored by un-real, fictional characters

Ends up joining you in adding notes to your list as he also gets into the same characters you like, especially seeing why with context

Literally, he’s going through the whole character-analysis meme where he discusses socioeconomic factors and symbolism to psychological influence of the character’s past during his talk with you, which is a sign that he is fangirling just as much in his own way 

He’s so engrossed he does the forbidden and starts reading/watching ahead of you for more scenes of the characters

When asked by the others about it, he’s the one getting defensive as if the list was originally his and he liked them before you

Jason: has his own list

bold of you to assume that you were the only one to have a list 

Right on spot critics how you have your lists organized and your ranking of characters

Gives you 10 points for color coordination but what were those notes in graphite? Excuse you but you are not a true stan if you write in pencil. If anything you are a coward

Doesn’t get why you’re surprised that he has his own list considering he’s into literature so of course he’d know more and up-to-date for any series that were adaptations having read the original source first

Causes an argument to break out over him gloating he’s the OG fan since day 1 to who you have ranked higher, lower, or not on your list

First off, you’re wrong. Ichigo should’ve been with Rukia and Toji is more badass than Gojo. He does agrees Drarry had potential and Stoik is a badass viking

The two of you end up staying up all night trying to prove each other who’s right and logical regarding each other’s lists and end at 5:00 AM with deciding to treat other's list with "respect"

Duke: doesn’t get it

Can’t wrap his mind around you simping over a character, in general

There’s genuinely no jealousy, he just feels confuse how you could this passionate with people who aren’t even real 

He gets it if your characters were just your favorite, he can get that. He has favorite characters from the shows he watches too but to your extent?

Passes the list off with the awkward “sure” and nod of head when you get passionate and pull up your slide shows as to why he should also stan and simp over them with you

Reminds you that the characters you’re head-over-heels for are fictional, not people in real-life 

Starts to understand why you like the characters you like so much when he joins in watching/reading whatever series you were into currently 

He does end up creating a “just-like” character list where he writes the characters’ name and from what series. No notes like you though, he still stays realistic

Damian: obliterates it on spot

Your list is gone the second he finds it. Ripped. Crumpled. Burned. Gone

Will not acknowledge that he was in the wrong seeing how you weren’t as excited with him as you are with those fake people that exists only in books and TV shows

Makes excuses how teens shouldn’t be that invested in things kids like and doesn’t seem like a mature hobby at all when he’s burning with jealousy

Pettily wages a silent war against you when you give him the silent treatment until a week passes, making him realize he probably crossed the line

During the time he figures out a way to get in your good grace again, he does try watching and reading whatever was on the list

He hasn’t and will never tell you this but you do have good taste. Just that your favorite characters shouldn’t be your favorite when one, he’s better than them and two, there were far more superior characters

Gets you to forgive him when he hands you your list he re-wrote and tolerates you having one. He still sneers at the characters on it and argues how the ones he likes are better than them

Just make sure to hide your shrine, `cause those are going to be permanently removed and never restored

[bbokicidal]

7 : 1 5 | B . C H

── .✦ content warning : fem!reader, light choking, dom!chris, pinv (unprotected), use of 'good girl, babygirl', creampie lol

Stray Temptations ; Bbokicidal 4K Event

Proposal : Boyfriend Experience Staff Member Requested : Christopher Bang Meeting Time: 7:15 AM | Wednesday Morning

Note: The reader is attempting to apply for a job at the club in this scenario.

[Location : Main Office : 7:15 AM]

Your heels click against the black tile as you step into the office, away from the hard marble-like flooring and into the carpeted room that promises a brighter future. Or, maybe not brighter; Perhaps there was a better word to use, such as… decadent, or luxurious. His cologne had stained the room; Leather with a hint of lavender and spice. His desk is black as night; An equally dark marble slate sitting at the countertop and holding a monitor, a small stack of papers, and a few decorations such as a picture of himself and one of his staff members - someone he’s especially close with - as well as a small cup that holds scissors and a few all-too-fancy pens. 

Chris sits behind his desk, leaning back in the leather-padded chair. One arm drapes over the rest while the other sits forward against his desk, a pen twirling idly between his fingers. “Sit,” he says, his voice rough and heavy.

You can’t help but feel like he’s already pulled your clothes from your body as you sit in the chair opposite his desk. 

Chris’ body pushes forward, his elbows coming to rest on the desk and his hands move over the stack of papers. He sets them aside so they’re out of his way - so he can see as much of you as possible from where he sits. “I heard you’ve spoken to the staff; Discussed wanting a job here with our Assistant Director.”

“Yes,” Your reply is unsteady; Your voice wavers and Chris’ words feel as though they pierce right through your own with how sharp and precise they are. “I’m just looking for a job. Any position, really, I’m not picky, I just -”

“Mhm,” he hums, his eyes wandering slowly away from your own and down towards your lips as you babble on about just wanting a source of income. “I’ll be honest,” He starts to cut you off, tired of hearing you speak when your mouth could be put to use in much more entertaining ways. “I’d like to see for myself if you’re fit to work here.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. “See for yourself?”

“I’m sure you’re very aware but this isn’t just a normal job. You’ll be under a lot of pressure working here - Your job is to satisfy the clients no matter what they need, so long as you’re comfortable.” His brow quirks. “You need to be able to keep up. And who better to test you than myself?”

Chris stands slowly from his chair, rounding the desk that separates the two of you. He stops in front and leans himself back against it, hips perched perfectly against the edge as he reaches to you. His thumb brushes over your jaw.

“Are you nervous, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. Of course you are - This is the owner of the club you’re applying to, standing in front of you like a predator staring down it’s prey and ready to strike at any moment. Your heart is slamming in your chest and apparently your nerves are visible on your expression despite the shake of your skull.

“Bold enough to lie to me.” His body bends at the hip, leaning down so his lips can capture your own. His tongue slides over yours in a way that tells you everything you need to know; He hasn’t even confirmed that you’ll be working for him and yet, he already owns you. Chris lets his hands fall to your sides, gently coaxing you up and out of the chair you’d settled in, and as he guides you to switch places with him your resume lands untouched by him atop his desk. Long forgotten and probably to never be looked at. If you passed this ‘test’ you were sure to get the job.

Your thighs settle against the edge of the deep marble and the owner’s hands come down around your thighs, gently pulling you up to sit atop it as he pushes in between. “This attire,” Chris breathes heavy against your lips, his eyes glancing down at the white button up and the too-short pencil skirt hugging your hips. “A perfect mix of showing you mean business while also proving you’re quite the slut,” Chris hooks a finger in the garter he’d caught sight of earlier just beneath the hem of your skirt, snapping it against your thigh with a smirk.

Your gasp is like music to his ears when his hand pushes further beneath the fabric, his fingertips brushing slowly over the sopping material between your legs.

“You want this job bad enough to be soaked,” He chuckles. “Is that a part of you showing me you’re fit for the position or did I just happen to do that to you?”

You breathe heavily, lashes fluttering in an attempt to regain your consciousness. You feel like the world is blurring around you with how close he is; His suffocating cologne, his shoulders blocking the view of the door with how broad he is. You whimper, glancing up at him. “Take it or leave it.”

“Just be a good girl and keep your legs open for me.”

His words catch you off guard as they’re accompanied by a smack to your outer thigh, the man standing between them sinking down to his knees. He pushes the fabric of your skirt up to bunch around your waist, his eyes darting to meet your own as he leans in. His breath is hot as it fans over your skin - and just the feeling of him so close to you makes you moan.

His finger hooks into the fabric of your panties and pulls them to the side before he allows himself to indulge. It’s as if he wants to learn and remember every inch of your pussy, his tongue stroking over your entrance broad and flat and dripping with spit that pools under his chin against his desktop. Chris breathes out again, the tip of his tongue flicking over your clit before swirling around the bundle of nerves while he listens to the sweetest sounds falling from your lips.

Chris looks up just in time to see your head falling backward in awe, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You fall apart quite easily,” He teases. “Are you going to come just from the feeling of my tongue?”

It’s a bit embarrassing how quickly the pressure builds within you; His hands come to hold against your hips, pressing you down against his desk to keep you still for him as his tongue lathes over you again before dipping into your entrance to get a better taste. It makes him moan this time, and each time he dives in for a little more - pushes a little further - you end up whining as the tip of his nose nuzzles right against your clit.

His tongue continues flicking over your clit even as you come against it, the man greedy with the way he laps up everything that threatens to drip onto his desk. He stands slowly (and by God, he sort of regrets getting on his knees. This carpet sucks ass…), his mouth glistening with your essence and his eyes dark with both want and need. He’s greedy, alright; Downright selfish for putting you through this.

“Still up for taking the position?” Chris quips, his smile brief but genuine as he leans in closer to you. His hands press into the desk on either side of your hips as he listens to your ragged and shaky breathing as you try to bring yourself back to reality.

Your words betray you - Your mind fails you. Nothing comes to your senses as you look up at the man between your thighs, nodding slowly in response to his question.

Chris can’t help the way his smirk grows as he leans in closer, so close to your ear that the whisper that falls from his lips makes you shudder and tremble at the invisible tone promising ecstasy. 

“Perfect,” He sighs, “Because we’re not quite done yet.” His voice is a low growl against your ear, “Be a good girl and strip for me.”

Chris steps back just enough to allow you to do so. With the skirt bunched against your waist, you opt to leave it there and instead just push off your panties and the garter that he had revealed a while back. Your hands fumble with your top, ripping open the buttons in a haste to please the man before tugging off your bra as well. 

Christ never allows his gaze to leave you, his pupils blown wide with lust. “What a good girl, listening so well for me..” he murmurs, eyes tracing the curves of your body like he wants it to be sat on the shelf in his office - Like he wants you to be his greatest possession. “Now put your hands behind you for me.”

You obey, your eyes burning holes into his own with the way you hang onto every word - waiting for the next command and ready to prove yourself to him; You’re fit for this job, you know it. You lean back on your hands, your thighs parting on instinct for the man standing between them. You know what he’s going to ask and you beat him to it.

“To be honest,” Chris sighs. His belt is undone with just one hand and it seems like a skill he’s mastered over time. “I could have hired anyone for this position. But you,” His voice held a soft growl, “You walked in here and I just knew I owned you before you even asked for the position.”

His cock slaps against his abdomen, leaking and wetting his button down as his hand pumps the length slowly. He strokes himself almost lazily as he looks you over, taking in the sight before he allows himself to dive in. Yes, he’ll admit it now; He likes to edge himself a little. “Ready?”

God, as if you weren’t ready for it the second you walked into the office. “Yes.”

“You can do better than that.”

Your breathing hitches. “I want your cock,” You gasp. “Please.”

His cock stretches you out damn near perfect. Thick and heavy, he pushes into you with care. Of course, he’s going to ruin you; But he does care about your comfort - even if he puts on a stoic expression and acts as the ‘big bad boss’ lingering around the club.

Your moans echo off the walls of his office, desperate and craving more. He can’t do much else for you, considering he barely gives you time to adjust before he sets a brutal pace. His thrusts are deep, the desk creaking once or twice beneath you as it bears the weight of his hips slapping into your own. You’re almost sure he’s going to bruise your thigh with how tight he’s holding onto it.

Chris breathes heavily, looking up at you as his hair falls over his eyes and obscures his vision. Even then, you’re beautiful; Wrecked against his desk and whining out mumbles of how good it feels.

His hand slowly trails up your body to find your throat, pulling you just a tad closer to he’s sure you’ll hear his next words. “You’re mine now,” he growls, leaning in closer to you and letting his eyes narrow as if it’s almost a threat. No, not a threat; A promise that he won’t ever let you down if you choose to stay. “Do you understand?”

You opt to nod in compliance. You can’t trust your words; You know your throat will break if you try to speak.

“All mine,” Chris sighs out the words as his head tips back, baring his throat to you and allowing you to lean forward and kiss at the skin that begs to be marked.

Before you even have a moment to think about sucking into his skin, his hand pushes further down your thigh and his thumb finds you clit - rubbing tight, harsh circles to coax you closer to the edge.

“Come for me, baby.” He demands it of you, his voice holding nothing but greed and possession.

The instant your walls tighten down around his cock, his cum floods against your walls and your cries of delight only push him further. He sinks into you as deep as he can, his hips flush to your own and he shoves himself balls deep into your pussy. His teeth sink into his lip to choke down his own sounds of pleasure with the want to hear you better.

The only sound that breaks the silence is your breathing, heavy and ragged as it mixes with his own pants of pleasure. He’s satisfied and he’s sure you’ll be happy as well.

Chris leans in, his lips slowly brushing the tender skin of your temple as he hums.

“You start on Monday.”

-

[Location : Main Office : 9:32 AM]

"Son of a bitch-!" Maxine stumbles towards the office as she pulls her blazer on, sliding one arm into the sleeve and then the other as she tosses her clipboard between her hands. Her free hand falls to the doorknob of the office and pushes it open, her body freezing in the doorway.

The room reeks of intimacy.

Her hand slowly falls from the doorknob as Chris looks up from his desk, the pen stopping against the paper he signed. He quirks a brow, curious in the woman's frantic behavior. "Can I help you?"

".. You have a meeting this morning; A proposal request, a... girl who wanted to apply for a job," She starts, glancing around the room; The stack of papers are in a different spot, the photo of Chris and Minho is tipped over as if it had been knocked into - or knocked off it's stand by the ridiculously hard rocking of his desk. "But I'm beginning to think you had a meeting this morning and I just... missed it."

"You missed quite a bit." He admits with a chuckle, setting his pen down and folding his hands together under his chin. His elbows push into his desk as he smirks. "Don't fret over it; The interview went wonderfully and she'll be starting on Monday. So you'd best not be late any time next week."

The woman nods, lips popping apart. Okay - A new hire. She could handle that. "Yes, sir." She takes a step back, ready to leave the man to his doings and not wanting to bother him any longer; He was a busy man, after all.

"Oh - and Maxine?"

Chris' quip catches her off guard and she pauses, looking back just before she closes the door behind her. "Yes?"

"Take good care of her." His eyes linger, softer than she'd seen them before - if she were honest. "I'd like for her to stay a while."

The woman smiles, glancing down before nodding and peeking back up at her boss. She hums, "Yes, sir."

-

Taglist:

@an0ther-us3r @linofthelace @breakmeoff @seungpuppymongmong

@d4ily-s-nsh1ne @slut4junho @charredchae

@wickedbutlovely @skzophreniic

[sayruq]

Last week, Politico reported that President Joe Biden would “consider” conditioning military aid to Israel if the country launches a large-scale invasion of Rafah, where more than a million Palestinians are sheltering. “It’s something he’s definitely thought about,” said one of the four anonymous US officials cited as a source. This was about as weak of a position as could be imagined: The President had definitely thought about maybe doing something. Still, even this proved too much. One day later, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan said the article was based on “uninformed speculation” by anonymous officials and that he wouldn’t be entertaining hypotheticals about how the US would respond to a major invasion of Rafah, which US officials have signaled they would accept in a more limited form. The dismissal was the latest indication of the administration’s almost complete unwillingness to even discuss imposing serious consequences on Israel for waging a war that has killed more than 30,000 people, most of whom were women and children. Instead, the administration has adopted a newfound feeling of impotence. As State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller put it last month, “The United States does not dictate to Israel what it must do, just as we don’t dictate to any country what it must do.” The absurdity of this position was made clear when a reporter interjected, “Unless you invade them.” Miller couldn’t help but laugh. It has been obvious for months that there are many things the Biden administration can do to restrain Israel and distance itself from a war that has been condemned throughout the world. The problem has not been a lack of options but a lack of political will. Daniel Levy, a former Israeli peace negotiator who is now the president of the US/Middle East Project, told me, “I think many of us who had very low expectations of the US and of Biden have had a rude awakening as to how much lower the actual performance has been [compared] to even the lowest of low expectations.”

As evidence of how important US backing has been for Israel, Levy cited veteran Israeli journalist Yoav Limor, who wrote in Hebrew earlier this month that without “Biden’s support, Israel would long ago have been forced to stop the fighting in Gaza due to a shortage of weapons, while at the same time it would have been forced to deal with United Nations Security Council resolutions (and possibly sanctions) against it.” Still, Levy thought it might take weeks or months of sustained US pressure to compel Israel to change course. In any case, Biden is under no obligation to provide thousands of bombs to a country whose leader has consistently ignored him as Israel wages a brutal war that has leveled much of Gaza and caused children to die of starvation. “We need to stick to our own values,” Ford said. “If our values say, ‘Starving children is way beyond the pale,’ then we need to react to that and take stern action, whether or not it changes Israeli policy.”

[khaire-traveler]

Hey all, this is your reminder that OddlySarcasticProductions on YouTube is not an entirely reliable source of information about Greek mythology. They do offer a pretty good baseline, I'd say, but some of their information isn't fully accurate/is based more on personal interpretation. Red, the person who discusses mythology on the channel, doesn't have a degree in Classics or anything like that, and I think it's pretty clear those videos are made mostly for entertainment. Just be aware. c:

[cosmica-galaxy]

I've been thinking about the pre-corrupted beast au, and how do you think the interaction between shadow milk and baby witch would go if they were to meet up again. However, the baby still recognizes shadow milk as their original caretaker and, of course, recognizes his soul jam.

Bonus: Baby is confused because of the two soul jams that are similar, though only one is far more familiar. Baby Witch wants shadow milk, but they also want pure vanilla, but they want shadow milk more, but they also like pure vanilla, but shadow milk is original papa and fun.

Oh, he definitely scoops them up the moment he sees them reenter his spire of deceit. He would say "Heellooooo my little one~! Did ya miss me? Of coouuurse you did! What would you dooo without little ole meeee, papa shadow milk!" and the child recognizes his voice instantly and just cuddles right into him like he never left. Despite the Gingerbrave group's and pure Vanilla's worry about him holding the child, the child is perfectly fine and leans into Shadow Milk cookie like they know him personally...in which, they do. He would also probably make a comment about "where their cute little jester outfit went" when he sees them in the Pure Vanilla style attire. "No matter! It's an easy fix! With a waaaave of my waand~"--And the child would be covered in darkness for a moment before reappearing in their original jester-like outfit that they emerged from their sealing item with--"Tadaaah! The outfit has returned! A total glow-up if I do say so myself...just look at your little bells and hat, my adorable child of deceit~!" he says as he tickles them and makes them let out happy giggles. Then, he changes his focus back to his original targets and the spire quest line would proceed as normal with the child accompany him with his "games", though not taking in the danger that everyone is in because of their innocent nature. He also plays with them while he toys with his victims, by gently tossing them in the air, hugging them close, and entertaining them while he multitasks. It's natural for him at this point to do such things. Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk will also have some heated discussions about the little one and how they should be raised. In one part, Shadow Milk gets very heated about it and reveals his very possessive nature to the cookies while his little one is being watched by Black Sapphire Cookie. "You listen to me, you imposter. I was their original caretaker and I placed them in that item for safe keeping when I got OUT of that damned silver tree. They were waiting for ME and not for YOU. It was an accident that they wound up in your care." "You haven't watched them, cared for them, and raised them for as long as I have. That worthless witch that served as their mother...was nothing short of a deadbeat! I spent WEEKS with their child at a time...in fact, I might as well have raised them on my own! The other beasts had their moments, but NONE were as close to them as I! Not even their own wretched mother...who I dealt with permanently." "You...you killed their true mother...?" "Reduced her to PIECES. She tried to take back what she didn't deserve. She barely put in the effort that I did! I was that child's WHOLE WORLD. Why should I give up what rightfully belongs to me?" Shadow Milk is a little more unhinged in his AU because of his possessive nature over the child that pretty much was his only source of company for weeks at a time. He developed an unhealthy attachment to them and ripped their true mother apart because he believes that he deserves to be their true guardian.

Pure Vanilla has to work around his possessive nature to get his soul jam, his friends, AND the baby out of such wicked clutches. So Pure Vanilla suffers a little more in this AU.